#like there were moments w my industrial i thought it was infected but was actually just irritated and dramatic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[geddy-leesbian]

also good news. last night my bridge piercing was really swollen and was sore/sensitive enough it hurt a bit if I rubbed the corner of my eyes and just generally looking horrible, to the point I was considering taking it out bc I was worried it was rejecting/getting infected/just bad in a way that necessitated removal, but decided I'd give it a night and take it out if it didn't look better when I woke up. it looked slightly better when I woke up but was still sore so I was thinking if it still looked bad when I went to bed I'd give up and take it out. just looked at it tho and it looks WAY BETTER. and it didn't hurt at all when I was cleaning it just now!! BRIDGE PIERCING HERE TO STAY BABEY!!!!!!!

[ohnobjyx]

Taking care of you

Hi, guys! I initially wrote this post for an ask, but it got too long to be included, so I separated it in another post.

Disclaimer: fake info.

I’d like to highlight the moments they take care of each other. It must be because of how my own relationship works, but I really feel there’s something real between them when I see them just caring for each other.

Dd taking care of gg

From gg’s angle, I think the biggest clue is not just him taking care of dd, but letting himself be taken care of. From my experience, a independent, proud and competitive person like gg admitting that he doesn’t want to do something, asking for help or letting others defend him like dd does, shows a great deal of trust in the other person. He trusts the other one to do the right thing, to say the right words. And that’s present from start to finish in all of their events.

In the Thai fanmeeting (0:13-0:40 here), when asked a difficult question, gg and dd both said: “you answer”. Gg said in a very low voice “I don’t want to answer”, so dd inmediately turned to the reporter and thought of an answer. However, his answer was too short, so gg jumped in to complete it. Gg is perfectly capable of taking care of himself in events and interviews. He has done so before and continues to do so. However, whenever he’s with dd, he relaxes more, and lets dd take the reins or   even asks him to (he asked him in this segment, but dd always rushes to defend him if needs arises, like the “you look at the waist” or the “why rush into marriage” moments). That doesn’t mean that he just disconnects, but remains attentive so he can help dd too if necessary. The way they rely and complete each other is really cp goals.

In CQL bts (the scene of the boat), dd keeps peeling lotus seeds for gg and giving them to him. Gg just naturally takes the seeds from him, and when YB hands him another stem, he just hands it to dd. If it wasn’t dd, just any other coworker, I don’t think gg would bear to just sit there and have another person peeling lotus seeds for him. He’d probably peel them himself, because that’s the “polite” thing to do. However, there’s no such need with people you’re really close to, and gg just sitting there speaks volumes of their closeness to each other.

(And note that when YB asks dd to pass him a lotus seed, dd just throws an unpeeled one to him, and YB has to peel it himself, because dd is only peeling lotus seeds for gg. Dd’s double standards).

In TTXS 11th anniversary, dd brings gg as his special guest. Gg says: “wang-laoshi please take care of me”, and dd answers: “I can’t even take care of myself”. But in the episode, he never leaves gg’s side, slows down the dance so gg can follow and jumps in to dance himself when gg is asked to and uncomfortable to say “no” (note that he also defended gg in the Thai fan meeting interview, when the reporter asked if gg could dance for them, dd was the first one to answer “no”)

Gg’s hearing is quite poor, so he often misses hosts’ questions. Dd is used to it by now: sometimes gg doesn’t even needs to ask him and dd will already be turning to him to repeat the question to him. I can think of at least three times that dd helped him like that: (1), (2) and (3)

(In Tencent Awards night, gg didn’t even hear the host telling him to stay for a bit, and only stopped after seeing dd. He didn’t hear anything the hosts said either. What is remarkable is that dd started to explain as soon as he turned. How did you know that gg hadn’t heard anything if you were facing the other side, dd?)

In Nanjing concert (191101), gg had a infection in the throat (faringitis). He could barely talk in the practice, and it’s part of the reason he’s much more silent in that concert. His throat was bothering him at the end of the concert, when they were both singing WuJi, so dd just simply sang his lines for him, hitting the high notes even though his voice isn’t suited for them. He continued to sing the leading voice of the song, just so gg could rest his voice. Gg’s reaction is so sweet too (his surprised stare, their smiles, gg nodding his head giving his thanks... judge for yourselves). He was smiling much more afterwards too.

Gg taking care of dd

But of course, gg also takes care of dd. As I’ve said, this goes to them both.

We’ve the famous knee pads moment in the 9-minutes boat video. Gg notices injuries in dd’s knees and looks very sad when he asks “b-but these are new injuries?”. They even bicker for a second, but gg keeps looking at dd’s knees and out of concern asks him to wear knee-pads. We all know that more than a year after that, dd is indeed listening to gg’s words, even though at first he laughed at them and asked “who would wear knee pads?”.

In the same 9-minute boat video, gg also asks him “I heard yesterday was so hot that an extra fainted... how were you?”. From my pov, this video allows us a small glimpse into how they interact, and by dd’s answer I think it’s usual for gg to be caring and attentive of dd. Even when they are playing and joking around, gg keeps in mind dd’s health, like when he said “yes, I’ll let you off since you haven’t slept for 2-3days and that’s sad. Rest well, please” here.

I don’t even think gg was thinking of anymore than just friendship with dd at that moment. But it already started to show that he cared a lot about him.

There are also multiple instances of gg taking care of dd’s throat. For some reason, it seems dd is very prone to colds and coughs (he once said he was the kind of kid that got sick every season, and I don’t think the idol life workload is doing anything to fix that).

Bxg digged out that gg gave dd a certain brand cough drop in the Thai fan meeting (and it’s the same one he was sharing with the other hosts in SDoC). Then we jump at Tencent Awards night. Gg sees that dd has something candy-like in his mouth and inmediately asks: “does your throat hurt?”. The amount of knowledge necessary here: as his cohosts from SDoC demonstrates for us, when we see a friend eating a candy, it’s more normal to ask “oh, you’re eating a candy?”. But gg inmediately knows that it’s a cough drop, most likely because he knows that dd doesn’t like sweets and snacks and he gave him those. From there, we jump to gg’s worry about dd “does your throat hurt?”.

In TTXS episode with gg, at the end, when they are eating meat skewers, gg advises dd to eat less of them: “they have black pepper, it’s bad for the throat”. For me, it’s a sign of how gg takes care of dd in a more domestic and daily basis. The comment is taken naturally by dd, as if he’s used to it.

(Actually, I’d like to know what gg has to say about dd eating so many spicy hotpots with his cough. In traditional Chinese medicine, “spicy, sweet, oily and alcohol” are the four prohibitions for people who want to take care of their voice and their throat. By gg’s comments and the brand of cough drops he gives dd, I’m almost sure he wouldn’t like dd mistreating his throat like this).

I’m sure most of you has noticed the next one, but gg always clears the seat for dd. He did so in Nanjing fan meeting, and took the papers and the pen away so dd didn’t sit on them, and again cleared the seat next to him in Tencent awards. So when gg wasn’t sitting next to him in w/ibo night, dd simply sat with a water bottle behind him, and gg noticed when he sat in dd’s seat later, when dd had left.

(It’s also interesting to analyze gg’s movement in Tencent Awards. Everyone in that sofa where sitting widely apart from each other, so a pen placed next to gg shouldn’t bother dd if he simply took his seat keeping the same distance everyone was keeping. But gg assumed naturally that dd would be sitting next to him).

(At the left, an actress who is rumoured to follow other actors cp’s, and was seen observing gg and dd that night quite closely).

Also from Tencent Awards night, dd was confused as to how to leave the stage, which gg kindly points him the correct way. The same thing, though much more subtle, appears again at the w/ibo night, when with a glance from dd, gg points the way with his fan for dd.

Gg also cares about dd’s career. In c-culture, connections and relationships with important people play a large part in your success in any industry. So at first gg was standing between ZLY and dd, but when he noticed ZLY talking with dd, he just gently pushed dd towards her, so they could chat.

This is why I don’t really believe in the famous video of a “jealous gg moment” (when they got off stage and were walking down the stairs, dd looked at ZLY, and that glance was supposedly seen by gg, who stormed off, leaving dd behind). I think gg didn’t react like that because of dd (though he did look at him), but because someone signaled him from afar. 

Dd even waited for ZLY to get on stage, and offered his help to her because she was wearing a long dress. This was also seen by gg, who turned to check if dd was following. If this moment didn’t get a reaction from gg, and he doesn’t react poorly when they both chatted at his side, I don’t know why dd just looking at her afterwards would sit so badly with gg (and we get back to the fact of ZLY being married and with a baby).

At the Nanjing concert, in the first day, when gg and dd were singing Wu Ji, there were some problems with their earphones. You can actually see them trying to fix it from here. However, dd ends up taking off his, and there’s a moment of silent communication, where I think dd was asking gg to cue him the start of the next part of the song (which is dd’s). From here, you can see gg keeping up with the beats of the song, and see him pointing with the mic towards dd when is his turn to start singing.

I particularly love this Wu Ji interpretation from them, because it’s first dd asking gg for help, and inmediately after, dd taking care of gg.

They rely on each other, trust each other and they move around each other like the other one is meant to be in their personal space. Neither gives or receives more help from the other, they are in an equally balanced relationship. Now you can take this and compare it to real relationships you know of to get your own conclusions about whether it resembles a romantic relationship or a strong friendship.

[ragehappysecretsanta]

Author: http://teamcrazydicks.tumblr.com

Recipient: http://oxfordsemicolon-rebel.tumblr.com

Summary: It was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission. Gavin wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Now he’s stuck in a hospital room with the Vagabond, waiting to get discharged. There are a lot of things they both don’t want to tell the other about.

[For the prompt 'FakeAHCrew!AU. Person B is injured on a heist, the rest of the crew goes to comfort them. Unknown to the crew, however, is that Person A was also injured but doesn't want to reveal the injury for whatever reason.']

Warnings: Rated T, minor description of non-fatal injuries

WordCount: 5328

-

The Fakes didn’t go to hospitals. Not if they could help it. That was one of the unfortunate downsides to having a face synonymous with a spot on the LSPD’s most wanted list. They had the foresight to have an RN on their payroll instead, and a few industrially-stocked med kits in most places they might land after a job went south.

So when Gavin came to and, through a haze of drugs, pain, and exhaustion, blinked his eyes open and deduced he was in a hospital room, the thought that lazily floated to the forefront of his mind was, shit. His eyes tracked along the wall, the hanging TV that was off, the open window that showed it was sometime in the afternoon. He wasn’t cuffed to the bed, and there weren’t any cops at least. That was good. He relaxed again, knowing he was too weak to struggle to his feet and break out.

The next thought he had didn’t float so much as navigate through the mental debris currently clouding his brain was that it was supposed to have been a simple reconnaissance mission. Easy. In and out. Little to no chance of getting shot. Gavin was the hacker, the tech guy. He didn’t handle getting shot well. Save that for someone like –

Gavin jumped in his skin when the door banged open, grunted in pain a second later from the involuntary movement. The room had a small entryway, probably where the bathroom was, so there was a stretched pause between the door shutting again and the intruder appearing in Gavin’s line of sight.

Ryan stepped into the room. It took a moment for Gavin to realize it actually was Ryan; he had only caught the Vagabond out of the makeup and mask a handful of times, so it took a moment for his eyes to comprehend what he was seeing. That, and the guy had materialized wearing baggy jeans and a sweater, for Christ’s sake. His long hair had been cut short. He was giving Gavin an eyeful of some expression. Anger? Blame? Then he just sighed, twisting a little Styrofoam cup in his hand to take a sip from the opened top.

Gavin tried to unstick his mouth and ask if the other man had come to put him out of his misery. But Ryan beat him to the punch, speaking up in that usually dry tone of his. “Of course you wake up in the five minutes it takes me to get some coffee.” He took another, pointed sip out of the cup.

Gavin tried to eke out an apology, but all that seemed to come out was air. Ryan placed the cup by Gavin’s bedside and moved behind his line of sight. He heard the sound of water being poured and was, some moments later, presented with his own cup with a long straw. Ryan held the cup while he drank. “Michael and I are alright,” Ryan prefaced. “You were – well you weren’t on death’s doorstep or anything, but you were out of it for almost three days. Lots of superficial cuts; you’re on antibiotics for the infection on some of your deeper lacerations. They had to dig out some shrapnel in your abdomen and they were considering some physical therapy, due to the fact that they don’t want you to move around a lot for a while.”

Gavin looked up at Ryan, processing everything he said. “A while?”

Ryan shrugged. “They wanted to play it by ear, I guess. Don’t worry, as soon as you can stand I’m getting you out of here. If you need extra help, we can get somebody, do it in the privacy of your place.” Gavin nodded, leaning further against the pillows. Ryan put his water cup on the bedside table and took a seat next to his bed.

“How did you even get us in here without the police finding out?” Gavin took a breath. “I mean, I probably look like someone who survived a bomb attack.”

“Yeah, had to say something about letting off too many fireworks and not getting away in time.”

“Fireworks?”

“Considering we have a lake house and like throwing barbeques with our neighbors.”

Gavin squinted. “We do? Since when?”

“Since you needed medical attention and we’re the only two people in the Crew who can have a normal civilian identity.” He held up his left hand, Gavin noticed there was a gold band on it.

“Don’t tell me…”

“Yep. I’m carrying yours. You’re a size nine, right?”

He was. Gavin didn’t need to think long and hard about how Ryan might have figured that one out. “I don’t know why you’d even ask, as if you didn’t already size me for that and my casket, too.” Ryan smiled.

“I didn’t size you for your casket. I don’t think they even do that anymore. You think I’m making you your own coffin? I’m a busy man.”

“Not so busy that you couldn’t sit by your apparent husband’s bedside.” Finding that his hand was fine to move, he drummed a pattern on the sheets, then yawned.

“Well,” Ryan said, “I was kind of poking at what you got from the USB stick. Trying to see if I could get any damning evidence on those guys. Some locations, names.”

“Anything?”

“I found the name Lemuria, not sure if that’s their gang’s name or some drug or what. It’s all encrypted, and I can’t get any further without a cipher.”

With some effort, Gavin rolled onto his side. He sighed; despite the effort of moving, his back ached from laying that way for so long. “I made a de-encryption program a while back that uses a lot of the more popular ciphers. We can program more in too, if we can find any that might work. If you call Geoff I can tell him to bring my laptop over and –”

“No,” Ryan interrupted.

“No?”

“Not yet. You just woke up.”

“Yeah, exactly. I’m awake.”

“After being out for three days.”

“What, you think I don’t know my own code?”

“No, I just –” There was a loud rap on the door; a moment later a woman in maroon scrubs came through the door.

“Oh! Mr. Foster, you’re awake, that’s great. How are you feeling?”

Gavin blinked. “Uh, a bit sore, from… everything, yeah. But good, otherwise. In one piece.” She smiled at him.

“I’ll grab the doctor in a few minutes then. We’ll see if we can get you something for the pain. Did your husband explain your injuries?” Gavin’s eyes slid over to Ryan, who now had on an expression of worried fondness. He swallowed.

“Uh, yes, he did. Lucky he was here when I woke up, yeah? Like, like sleeping beauty. Right?”

The nurse forced a laugh. “Right. I’ll be back in a minute.” She shut the door.

“Sleeping beauty?” Ryan asked, after a moment.

“Whatever, I have to pretend we’re together, don’t I?”

“So you throw in fairy tale references? You might be laying it on a little thick.”

“You’re laying it on a little thick, sod off.” Gavin thought about turning so his back was to the other man, but the idea made most of the muscles in his abdomen twinge in pain, so he stayed where he was.

“Sod off,” Ryan echoed. “How terribly British of you.”

“W – I am British, what are you on about?” Ryan shrugged.

“You could be Welsh. Or Irish, right?”

“I could not.”

“Scottish.”

“Don’t even –” Gavin squinted. “What’s your name?”

“…Feeling alright there?”

“No you knob, I mean your – cover name, or whatever.”

“Oh, uh. Mark Forster. And you’re Thomas Forster.”

“Okay, so, Mark,” Gavin growled with annoyance. “I’ve had it up to bloody here with you.”

Ryan, surprisingly, laughed. “Did you just ask about our fake names so you could yell at me?”

“You said I was laying it on thick. Fighting is like – taking it off, then, right?”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“You don’t make sense.”

---

The doctor had checked on him some time later, and keeping up the charade of being a naïve man that was too careless around some fireworks while his vitals were checked and the doctor not-so-subtly warned him about being more responsible had, unfortunately, taken a lot out of him. Well, that or the morphine drip. Either way, he slipped back to sleep without really noticing. He may have had a dream. Something with deserts, a mission that should have been easy but wasn’t, a trap, a bomb, sound and light melded together…

He was slowly woken by the sound of voices. Someone else was in the room. He didn’t tense, knowing that would just cause more pain, instead he laid still and tried to make out the conversation.

“…Yeah, here, don’t spend it all in one place.” A man’s voice said. There was some shuffling, stuff moving around.

“Thanks, but really – why are you here?”

“Geoff says he needs the codes, Ryan.” Gavin nearly furrowed his brow at that voice. That couldn’t be Michael, could it?

“I’m working on it.” The sound of keys being hit on a laptop.

“…Why can’t Gavin work on it?” There was a petulant edge to his tone. Definitely Michael. Gavin nearly interrupted them, wanting to make sure the other was okay and figure out why the hell he was here, but his natural drive to eavesdrop got the best of him.

“He’s a bit incapacitated, as you can see.”

“Well if you woke him up –”

“I’m not going to – Michael, do not.” There was a pause. Someone shifting on their feet.

“Thought you said you could get him out of here soon.”

“Soon. Not yet. He’s not… I don’t want to break him.”

Michael scoffed. “Look, I know Gavin is like, 130 pounds soaking wet. But he’s hardier than you’d think. He hates it when he thinks he’s laying around doing nothing. He already hates being behind the scenes all the time.”

“I know. Just… He was talking, earlier. I think he can go home tomorrow. Or the next day. Tell Geoff I’m not breaking him out until I know it won’t actually break him.”

“…Fine. Yeah, alright. You’re probably right. But as soon as –”

“I promise.”

“Okay. Um. Do you want me to – ?”

“No. I mean. No thanks, cover, and everything.”

“I’m sure even the most attentive of husbands are allowed to go home, Ryan.” There was a pause, and Michael sighed.

“I mean, it’s just – you don’t have the most airtight disguise?” Gavin desperately wanted to open his eyes now.

“What are you talking about? It’s fine.” Another pause, Gavin imagined it was full of Ryan giving Michael a doubtful stare. “Alright, well, text me if you need something. Or if he needs something. And if he gets worse, or whatever – let me know. I’ll see you guys.” Footsteps, and a door swinging shut. Gavin exhaled very slowly through his nose.

“I know you’re awake,” Ryan murmured. Gavin cracked his eye open. “I could practically feel you spying on us.” Gavin answered with a smile, and Ryan rolled his eyes, his lips twitching despite himself.

“What were talking on about?”

“Couldn’t you tell?” Gavin shrugged, content to play dumb for the moment. Ryan shut the laptop he had been using, carefully putting it under his chair and resting a tote bag – which Michael had probably given him – on top. “The rest of the Crew’s getting… antsy about what files you might have found when you got that USB drive into the computers at their base. It’s all encrypted but you can figure it out, I imagine.”

“I mean, yeah, probably. I could take a look, but you’re probably going to say no, yeah?”

“No’s right. So far as we know they were just distributing drugs; no reason to treat them like a gang going to war with us yet.”

“Even if they did set up a bomb in their sham base and have it detonate when we tried to leave?”

“So they’ve got secrets and don’t want competition. We don’t have the resources or the man power to go off on a crusade just yet.” Gavin hummed, trying to remain somewhat reasonable. Ryan had a point, as he usually did.

“So you’re trying to put off any retaliation for as long as you can?”

“Any rash retaliation.”

“Ooh, going behind Geoff’s back using me, huh? That’s dirty, I like it.”

“What? It’s not just that. I wasn’t lying about you being out of commission either. You still can barely sit up right now.”

“I can sit up. You saw me walk to the bathroom earlier and everything!”

“After I saw you fail to sit up and need me to pull you to your feet, yeah.” Gavin sighed. Stupid Ryan and his stupid points.

---

He was out in the desert. There was grit in his teeth, sand digging into the side of his face where he was laying. He squinted, seeing the fiery remains of a blown out building. The hideout he went to inspect. He knew he was injured, but he didn’t feel pain, not yet. Instead he kept staring, watching the flames crawl up in the sky, higher and higher. The glass blew out of the windows, leaving smoking holes in the building.

A figure stood in the upper floor. Somehow, their shadow was darker than the smoke. Gavin squinted, trying to breathe in something that wasn’t kicked up sand or ash.

It was Ryan. No. The Vagabond. Still in the skull mask, melting from the heat. He didn’t seem to react any other way, just standing in the window, watching him as black rubber dripped down his face.

Another part of the building exploded, chunks of brick coming right towards him.

Gavin sat up in bed, breathing harshly. He was distantly aware of how his abdomen pulled and stretched painfully from his use of those muscles. He sighed, running his hands through his hair, then pressing them to his eyes for a moment. It was a bad dream, even if it was very loosely based on real events. “Just a dream,” he whispered to himself. When he moved his hands away, he realized it was nighttime, and Ryan was gone. A dim light shining from the room’s entryway suggested he was in the bathroom, or had at least left the light on, should Gavin need stumble his way to the toilet at two in the morning.

…Which may have been the case. With a steeling breath, Gavin swung his legs to the side and stood up, hobbling over to the bathroom door. It had been left ajar, so Gavin just pushed it the rest of the way open. He squinted as his vision filled with bright light.

“…Ryan?”

Ryan’s sweater was tossed over the closed toilet lid, and the man himself stood at the sink. Gavin could see a flash of red from the mirror, and when Ryan turned to face him, he realized the color was from an angry line of broken flesh along Ryan’s side, which the other had tried to patch up with thread. It was holding, but it obviously wasn’t healing well, if the irritated look and the mess of bloodied gauze in the sink was any indication.

“I thought I shut the door,” Ryan mumbled after a pregnant pause.

“What happened?” Gavin hissed, stepping further into the room in case Ryan got the idea to shut him out.

“Nothing I can’t handle. I’m just changing the bandages.”

Gavin’s eyes grew wide, hand coming up as though he was about to reach out and touch Ryan’s wound. “You got hit in that explosion, didn’t you?”

“It’s nothing, Gavin, go back to bed.”

“It’s not nothing, Ryan. Look at it! It’s infected, or – it won’t heal right.”

“It’ll heal just fine, Gavin,” Ryan snapped. “Stop yelling so I can patch it up.”

“We’re in a hospital!” Gavin said, edging closer, hand still outstretched. “Why don’t you have them fix it for you?”

Ryan turned around, face twisted into a scowl. His mouth was opened, ready to hurl another insult, but he didn’t seem to realize how close Gavin was, or where his arm was; instead Gavin’s forearm knocked painfully against the gash, and Ryan hissed through his teeth, pressing hard at the wound. Gavin looked on for a moment, the way Ryan hunched from the pain. He backed up a step. Then another, gears turning in his head.

“Ryan,” Gavin said slowly, “I’m gonna call the nurse. And you’re gonna make up some bullshit story, and you’re gonna get actual stitches. Please.” Ryan frowned, fingers pressing harder against his side. “For me?”

The renewed pain did most of the convincing, and after a moment Ryan’s stance wilted. “Fine. For you, Gav.” Gavin internally breathed a sigh of relief. Even though Ryan had said yes, he didn’t take his eyes off the other man, backing out of the bathroom to maintain a line of sight for as long as he could. He dashed towards the bed, hitting the call button with his thumb before edging back to the bathroom’s doorway. Ryan hadn’t moved, still staring out at him.

His eyes were blue, so blue, and Gavin would have given anything to have his sunglasses on, to be able to look away without the risk of losing whatever game they were playing.

Both their heads snapped towards the entryway when one of the nurses knocked on the door and let herself in.

“My husband hurt himself,” Gavin said immediately, pointing at the side he was still holding, “and he didn’t tell anyone.” Ryan shot him a glare.

“Yes, thank you, dear, I was about to tell her that,” he supplied.

“Well you didn’t the first time around, did you?” Gavin replied, more than a little righteous.

The nurse gave Ryan a look that very much meant he’d be getting an earful later. “Why don’t we have you fill out some paperwork while we wait for an exam room to open, sir? Follow me.” Ryan hastily grabbed at the sweater still on the toilet, pressing it to his side. He glanced over at Gavin.

“Uh, is it possible that – afterwards – I can come back here? I don’t want to… leave my husband alone for too long.” She looked between the two of them.

“We’ll see what we can do.” She moved to the side, sweeping her arm so that Ryan walked in front of her.

“See you soon,” Gavin murmured. Ryan gave him another glance. It wasn’t icy or heated or annoyed. It was something else. Something he couldn’t place.

Before he could try, Ryan murmured a “see you,” before ducking out of the room. The door shut behind them.

Gavin sighed, looking down at himself. There was a small smear of blood along his forearm. He washed it off in the sink, tossing away the bandages. He splashed water on his face. Somehow, despite the drugs and residual tiredness, he had a feeling he wasn’t going back to bed just yet.

---

Gavin was refreshing his twitter feed for the seventh time when Ryan walked in, wearing a blue sweatshirt with the name of the hospital along the chest. “Hey,” he said, shutting the door. Gavin saw he was still favoring his injured side. Actual stitches probably pinched more than the gauze and fairy dust that Ryan had been using to keep himself together before.

“Hey. Nice shirt.”

Ryan tugged at the hem of it. “Yeah, well. Something about not wanting to put on an old sweater covered in dried blood, I guess.”

“Could’ve just called someone and have them bring a shirt down.” Ryan gave him a look. “What, you could have done.”

Ryan sighed, and instead of sitting down in his usual arm chair, he sat on the edge of Gavin’s bed, by his waist. He angled his body so he didn’t have to twist himself to look over at the younger man. “I’d appreciate it, if, um. You didn’t tell them about – this.”

“And miss out on prime blackmail material?” Gavin said with a smirk. The way Ryan was looking at him made him think his attempt at a joke had fallen flat. “Hey,” he started, touching Ryan’s arm. “Did you know when you first joined the Crew, that I kind of hated you?”

“You didn’t hate me,” Ryan said immediately. “You were scared of me.” Gavin felt a flush rise to his cheeks.

“Well – same thing.”

“No. Hate and fear and definitely different things.”

“The point is, either way, I wasn’t real keen on you. Thought you were, well – all the stuff that made you scary. You were the Vagabond, and you’d probably find out where I lived and slit my throat, or something. Michael said I was being a prick about it, but you know how stubborn I can get.” He picked at the jagged line of his thumbnail for a moment, trying to get his thoughts straight. “Then there was this time, after some job we did or something, and everyone went out to celebrate, got absolutely trashed, and you, ‘cause of course you don’t drink – had to take us all home. You even had to take Geoff n’ me through the door.” Watching up through his eyelashes, he saw Ryan crack a small smile. “I guess the right word’s selfless. And dealing with drunk people is absolutely the worst. ‘Specially us. Guess after that I started thinking, well, there’s more to you than a mask. You’re one of us. Really, properly, one of us.” He let out a small cough, mouth feeling dry for more ways than one. “Guess what I’m getting at is – you are more than a mask, Ryan. Even if its… convenient for you to not be, most of the time. Doesn’t mean any of us see you as this unfeeling evil mastermind or something. Doesn’t mean you should see yourself that way either.”

He could see Ryan twist his mouth the way he did when he was trying to work out a problem in his head. It carried on like that for a handful of agonizing, pulling moments, him curled up in the hospital bed he was getting increasingly sick of, Ryan hunched in that blue sweatshirt that was maybe even more ridiculous than the sweater he once had on. Is this what he looked like on the odd weekend, Gavin couldn’t help but think – did Ryan have an old hoodie and sweatpants that he’d lounge around in all day? What did he do in those quiet moments when there was no mask, no face paint, no jacket; just himself, the man, and no one else around to put on an act for? Ryan’s eyes flickered back over to him and he stiffened slightly, as though the other could read his thoughts.

“So you’re not going to tell anyone?” he reiterated.

“Uh – not if you quit being an idiot and admit if you need help,” Gavin said slowly. Ryan sucked on his teeth, nodded once, and stuck a hand out.

“Then we have a deal.” After a second, Gavin reached out, shaking Ryan’s hand once. His fingers were calloused, rough, and warm.

They parted, and the other man gingerly sat down in the hospital chair. Gavin put his phone on the bedside table, curling up on his side to face Ryan. “Stiches hurt?”

“I always forget how unpleasant they are when they first put them in.” Gavin winced in sympathy, grateful in retrospect he was unconscious when they dug around at him. “Didn’t help that I waited so long before getting them done right.”

“How’d you manage that?”

Ryan shrugged a shoulder. “Once they put you in for surgery I snuck around and found some supplies. I figured I’d be set for a few hours or so, but when they finished with you and said you couldn’t leave for a while…”

“You could have left,” Gavin said pointedly. “I wasn’t going anywhere. Wouldn’t have even known you were gone, matter of fact.”

“Gavin, we had all almost been blown up. Excuse me if I was feeling a little paranoid. If those guys somehow were able to trace our whereabouts, I mean, hell, we’re both practically sitting ducks right now. I don’t think they’re tracking us, but…”

“You didn’t want to risk it,” Gavin finished, “got it. You’re rather thoughtful, aren’t you?”

Ryan yawned, pressing a fist to his mouth. “I’m full of thoughts, might as well put some of them into action.” He slumped further into his chair. “Forgot how much getting proper medical attention will take out of you, too,” he added.

“Gonna go to sleep?”

“Might as well.” Ryan had been gone a few hours, but it was still dark outside, for now.

“Can’t be comfortable in the chair.”

“It’s not,” He shifted again. “I’ve made it this far.”

“Well now I know you’ve got fresh stitches in you – maybe we can switch spots?”

“No – you’ve got it worse than me, you need the bed.”

“You’re going to get a neck cramp or something.”

“I can handle a neck cramp, Gavin.” Ryan replied easily.

“Well – we could try to share, I guess,” he said. “You know, technically the bed’s bigger than a twin. We could squeeze.” Ryan’s brows raised minutely.

“…You sure?”

“We’re both tired, and –” Gavin couldn’t exactly explain what else. Something had obviously shifted between them in the last couple of hours. A silent admittance of something that they knew was there, but didn’t realize was a mutual feeling. They’d had a ‘moment’, as Michael probably would have said. Didn’t that count for something? He moved to the far side of the mattress and turned down the covers. “Come on.”

Gavin was half surprised when Ryan actually got up, kicking off his shoes and slowly settling into bed, facing him. Immediately it was obvious that it was a tight fit. Parts of them were either pressed together or nearly touching; Ryan’s body heat immediately flooded against Gavin’s front, and a warmth settled in his stomach. Ryan rearranged the pillows into something more comfortable. “This alright?” he asked. Gavin honestly didn’t know what bit he was referring to.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, not sure where along Ryan’s face he was allowed to linger on. Instead he just closed his eyes, willing himself to the edge of sleep. Ryan was here, he rationalized. He was safe. They both were. There was no reason he had to stay up and wait any longer.

He fell asleep much sooner than he thought he would.

---

A nurse coming to check on their vitals woke them up; in the back of his mind, Gavin was thankful their cover story had them legally married. Somehow it made it a few degrees less awkward.

Even when they were alone again, Ryan stayed in bed with him, staring up at the ceiling. Gavin’s chin rested on the top of his shoulder.

“Now that we’re both patients,” Gavin started, “how’re we gonna get out of here?”

“Not up for sneaking out?” He shook his head. “I texted Michael last night, said we’d probably be ready to leave by today. I’m sure he’s planning something.” Gavin hummed in acknowledgement, staring blankly up at Ryan’s profile.

“Being here is not fun,” he managed. “Glad you decided to keep me company.”

“I guess I’m glad you forced me to get stitches.”

“You guess.” Ryan chuckled, turning to face Gavin full-on.

“It’s nice to have someone looking out for me, then. Even if I didn’t think I needed it. How about that?”

“Better.” Their noses were nearly touching, they were so close. Ryan looked soft; bags under his eyes and the sunlight hitting his hair, pillow creases on his cheek.

Gavin was still surprised to find out that Ryan’s kiss was as soft as he looked. In all honesty, he had expected something harder; Ryan trying to get a reaction out of him, or gain an upper hand, like a mind game. Or maybe he just never wanted to think about it, was too afraid to put the effort into it and feed the thought more power. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, not because of nerves, but because Ryan’s fingers were nervously hovering just above them, wanting but unsure if he could touch.

Carefully, Gavin reached up, his own hand tucking along the side of Ryan’s neck, and then he felt fingers brushing the hair along his nape.

Gavin hadn’t really thought about what it would be like, him and Ryan. There was always… something there, but it had never been made concrete. He just got the impressions of things, how they’d clash and fit together. Their usually erratic sleep schedules; who would make the coffee. Would kissing someone with a beard feel too rough after a while? Ryan weaved the perfect couple story so easily for him at the hospital; could it have been like that? Would it have been? It was all probably too much to think of, this early in the morning with so little sleep. Or maybe Gavin would never be well rested enough to have all the answers when it came to the man that was still kissing him, holding him carefully, sharing the too-small hospital bed.

The sound of a phone buzzing drew them both apart. Ryan reached for his cell, squinting adorably at the screen as he made out the letters. His mouth turned, before splitting into a grin.

“Text from Michael,” he said, showing Gavin. “Breakout in fifteen minutes. Keep a lookout for Lindsay.”

“He’s dragging Lindsay into this?” Gavin asked with a groan. Ryan kissed him again in answer.

---

Fifteen minutes later, and it turned out Lindsay was an absolutely necessary element. She opened the door dressed in cat-covered scrubs, pushing a wheelchair. “Get in, fucker,” she said, gesturing to the thing. Gavin did not feel particularly at ease getting situated in said wheelchair, even as Ryan kept up the pace, walking by his side. Lindsay actually chatted with a doctor while they all shared the elevator going down. Then, as they passed reception, she let out a good hearted laugh. “Man, hospitals are too trusting.”

“You could say that,” Ryan answered, walking through the front parking lot. Michael was waiting for them in a nondescript car, honking the horn when they caught his line of sight. Gavin managed to slide into the back seat without hurting himself, and Ryan joined him. Michael and Lindsay sat up front, neither noticing the way Ryan very carefully drew the seatbelt over himself.

“Are we just leaving the wheelchair there?” Gavin asked, as they pulled away.

“Apparently,” Ryan muttered, looking out the back window. “I wouldn’t have minded a free wheelchair.”

“’Course you wouldn’t,” Gavin said, before tapping on the driver’s seat in front of him. “Michael! How you feeling, boi?”

“Eh, got another scar, but I’ll live.” They pulled onto the highway. “What about you? How was it being Ryan’s fake husband for half the week?”

“Did you have to kiss?” Lindsay asked.

“You always want my friends to kiss,” Michael complained.

“I mean, you could kiss your friends, but you always say no.”

“Because I’m literally married to you! Why would I try to go around kissing other people?’ That devolved into an argument between the two of them. Gavin let out a breath and relaxed into his seat. Hanging out with Ryan had been fun, but he had missed everyone else, too.

As he relaxed against the leather, his arm stretched out, catching Ryan’s hand. He nearly pulled back, but Ryan was faster, entwining their fingers and giving a quick squeeze. He looked over. The older man was staring out the window, but Gavin could practically feel the smile the other had on.

Gavin felt himself smile at the thought. He squeezed back.

[wordcreatr]

Frankly, my hair is becoming a bit of an issue, and I’m in dire need of a COVID-19 pandemic haircut.

This was me pre-pandemic.

This is me today.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to write a concerto — or invent a time machine.

My hair hasn’t been this out of control since college when I started growing it long because a girl I had a slight crush on told me to (Yes, I had all the will power of a drone, and no we never dated). I used to refer to the inevitable ugly stage as the Bobby Brady phase, which transitioned into the Industrial Mullet before it reached a state when others began referring to me as the Wild Man of Borneo. And it’s even worse now because it’s losing pigment so is more flyaway — and it’s thinning.

When my friend Neil Griffiths, an officer in the Royal Navy, saw a recent online photo of me, he posted ‘Steady on, Ludwig!’ Besides Beethoven, I’ve also been compared to Doc Brown from Back to the Future, Horshack from Welcome Back, Kotter, the Heat Miser, and any number of 19th-century pompadoured villains and maybe a modern-day televangelist. 

Ludwig van Beethoven

Doc Brown

Horshack

The Heat Miser

I’ve even been compared to Shrek, a New Zealand sheep who kept eluding the annual shearing roundup by hiding in caves. He spent six years on the lamb (yeah, I’m not apologizing for that one) and had 60 pounds of fleece shorn from him after someone finally caught his wooly ass.

I think I found my spirit animal.

Like Shrek, I can’t remember the last time I had a haircut. Maybe some time toward the beginning of the year? As the pandemic ramped up here in Arizona, they initially listed barbershops (along with nail salons) as essential businesses, but then shuttered them after public outcry. Not that it really mattered to me. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve been getting my hair cut by Rosalinda, my Mexican Mom, for coming up on 20 years. So even though the barbershops are open, she’s the only person I trust with my hair. But, she and her husband, Alfredo, fall into the older category of citizens, so even though I don’t go out much, I’m not taking the risk of possibly infecting them. Besides, like I said, I rarely go out and when I do, I (usually) wear a baseball cap. On the plus side, my coworkers find my hair humorous when we have video meetings, so at least I’m bringing something to the table.

Zero F***s Given

When I was younger and out trying to meet women, I would have had a lot of anxiety if I had looked this crazy. Today — and I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not — but I pretty much don’t give a fuck. My biggest worry is whether I’ve walked out of the house with pants on or not (trousers for the Limeys). This is actually a valid concern as I tend to spend my days wearing boxers and a t-shirt, maybe leaving my property once or twice a week to shop. I’m so used to it, I walked into Fry’s grocery store the other day wearing plaid shorts and for a horrifying moment, I stopped in my tracks because I wasn’t sure if I’d actually put my shorts on before I left home and was instead clad only in my plaid boxers. It was one of those breathtaking moments, the kind you have in a dream when you suddenly realize you’re out in public and you’re butt-ass naked. If someone in security was monitoring the front door and saw the look on my face and my eyes darting around as I stopped up short, he probably would have said “Hey keep an eye on this guy. I think this old fucker is getting ready to steal something.”

The Houseguest keeps telling me to grow my hair out till January, but I think it’s more for her amusement than her looking out for my interest because occasionally I’ll walk into a room and she starts laughing.

Speaking of unruly hair, the Houseguest was complaining hers was looking a bit witchy lately, so she got her boyfriend to help her cut it yesterday. He did the back, and she did the front and sides. It actually looks pretty good despite him asking about haircutting techniques during the process. I am so thankful it turned out okay because I was NOT prepared for all the crying and wailing a hack job would have resulted in. I had another friend in college whose boyfriend misunderstood her request that he cut 2 inches off her shoulder-length hair, and gave her an unintentional bob  — there was lots of boohooing that day.

Surprisingly, the Houseguest actually gave me first crack at the job a couple of weeks ago when she made an offhand comment about having me trim her hair for her. I stared at her, incredulous, and said absolutely not.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Have you not been observing me for the last 18 years?” I asked, staring at her. I mean, she even reads my blog for God’s sake. There was no way in hell I was getting roped into something that might require an ear being reattached or a scalp transplanted.

After thinking about it for a second, she acknowledged that, yeah, it was probably a dumb idea. Plus I wasn’t about to break my vow.

The Vow

I still have nightmares about this. When I was a kid in the UK, around 8 years of age,  I had a lock of hair hanging in my eyes, annoying me. So I tried trimming it with scissors right before we were leaving the house to go to Mass one Sunday. A fairly simple task, right? No. I succeeded in removing the offending lock by cutting a large and very obvious rectangle out of my bangs. My mom was so mad and said I looked like I was simple. She tried disguising it by wetting my hair and slicking my bangs over but to no avail. And even worse, I was an altar boy. Naturally, I didn’t want to go up in front of the congregation with fucked up hair, but my mom was a big believer in serving the Lord and paying for your mistakes, so this was a two-for-one. So there I stood in my black cassock and white surplice, as people in the front rows snickered at my bangs, disrespecting my sacred role in the celebration as the bell ringer and the lighter of candles. Humiliated and seething, since God refused to smite them, I could do nothing to avenge my shame. That day,  I swore I would never take scissors to my — or anyone else’s — hair ever again (my brother Kevin had recently butchered a neighbor kid’s hair–he was an ugly kid before the haircut and my brother did him no favors).

Anyway, so that’s what’s up with my life right now. We’ll see how long this plays out.  I thought about buzzing my hair with clippers, but I gave my dog trimming clippers away after my dog died. Plus, I never did a good job on her anyway. She always came out looking like a moth-eaten baby seal.  My friend Carlos’ wife, Tiffany, saw the same photo that Griff saw, posted “Good Lord!” and offered to buzz my head with her clippers, but I’m not sure I’m ready to go down that road. Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion I have a misshapen head.

So, barring an unexpected pandemic haircut, it looks like the Wild Man from Borneo may be hanging around for a bit longer.

In Need of a Pandemic Haircut Frankly, my hair is becoming a bit of an issue, and I'm in dire need of a COVID-19 pandemic haircut.

[newyorktheater]

On his 90th birthday, Stephen Sondheim sang Happy Birthday to Andrew Lloyd Webber…while washing his hands for 20 seconds in his bathroom sink — a playful gesture that is an instantly iconic moment for this new era.

It was Andrew Lloyd Webber’s birthday as well; he turned 72, and the younger composer had more straightforwardly wished Sondheim a happy birthday from his piano room.

They both did this live on the one-night only resurrected Rosie O’Donnell Show (watch here), a fundraiser for The Actors Fund that lasted three and a half hours on Sunday night and featured dozens of Broadway stars, performing from their home via home cam. It was all a reflection of an emerging aesthetic in theater, in the face of the stay-at-home mandate to curb the spread of the coronavirus. Call it the theatrical equivalent of home cooking.

Some of Rosie’s guests had messages meant to inspire. “We lived through a Plague before,” Judith Light said, referring to AIDS. “We were together then, and we’ll be together now.” Click on the photographs of other guests for the captions.

Aaron Tveit

Adrienne Warren in her bathtub

Audra McDonald and Will Swenson “We have shelter, we have each other, and that’s all we know,” she said and then sang “Smile” while he played guitar.

Ben Platt

“Many people in the entertainment community are living on the edge ,” said Brian Stokes Mitchell, , chair of The Actors Fund , which is trying to help — and why he’s hoping we’ll all contribute.

Chita Rivera

Patti LuPone singing “Smile”

Alan Menken

Barry Manilow

Bernadette Peters

Bernadette Peters showing off her life ask

Billy Porter

Rose with Cynthia Errico

Darren Criss singing Being Alive

Gloria Estefan

Harvey Fierstein

Jordan Fisher with his pianist neighbor

Kelly O’Hara

Kristin Chenoweth

Laura Benanti told Rosie she’s working on a project with #FoodCorps to feed schoolkids who would normally get free school lunches. Doing this kind of work, she says, is the way to keep her stress at bay.

Lauren Patton from Jagged Little Pill, wearing a t-shirt with the title of her show-stopping song from the show, “You Oughta Know”

Lea Salonga

Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker

Neil Patrick Harris with his kids

Rob McClure

Titus Burgess, Rosie’s first guest

Sondheim Birthday Celebrations

…Stephen Sondheim, 89, nine-time Tony-winning composer, listening in the studio to a recording of the Broadway revival cast album of Sunday in the Park with George , 2019

#Sondheimat90 rewatching the videos of some terrific performances of his songs, several from his 80th birthday concerts, and rereading some of his best lyrics. “Everybody rise!” Stephen Sondheim’s greatest roles and the actors who played them

New Theater and the Emerging Pandemic Aesthetic

Perry Yung with his silent son in La MaMa’s Downtown Variety #1

At home, Lin-Manuel Miranda singing from Hamilton live for The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon

The Rosie O’Donnell Show was meant to be a one-time affair. So was 24 Hour Plays’ “Viral Monologues” — 20 scripted monologues by established playwrights for well-known performers. Similar “home cooking” hybrid theater shows have sprouted up in the last few days aiming to be regular series — including the twice daily Stars in the House, with hosts with hosts Seth Rudetsky and James Wesley, and the daily National Yiddish Theater’s Folksbiene Live, as well as La Mama’s weekly Downtown Variety — the first of which I reviewed, Downtown Variety #1,

There are also plays that had been slated for the stage that are experimenting with online runs, some free, some charging admission. Launching today (March 23) are Ren Dara Santiago’s “The Siblings Play” at Rattlestick Playwright Theater in New York, and Lauren Gunderson’s “I and You” from the Hampstead Theater in the UK. There will be more such online runs, given Actors’ Equity’s new, temporary contracts that allow select producers to record and then release performances online to ticket buyers. (The agreements do not apply to Broadway, which already include rules for “media capture.”)

For details on these and other online theater, including a roundup of theater-oriented online streaming services and Broadway fare on Amazon Prime and Netflix, check out my post: Where To Get Your Theater Fix Online, Old Favorites and New Experiments (Plus Lin-Manuel Miranda & Joshua Henry) #DontScreamLiveStream

  Time Out for Humor, Uplift, and Advice

THINGS YOU CAN DO IN QUARANTINE:

– Late nights – Quick bites – Party games – Deep talks – Long walks – Telephone calls – Thoughts shared – Souls bared – Private names – All those photos up on the walls

— Jorge Molina (@colormejorge) March 16, 2020

Advice for surviving isolation from @NatanSharansky, in solitary confinement in a Soviet prison for 9 yrs: 1 Remind yourself “This is a kind of war in which each of us is a soldier” 2 Don’t depend on outside events. “Create your own world” e.g. learn a language 3 Laugh and sing

— New York Theater (@NewYorkTheater) March 22, 2020

Artist and Theater Support

The Broadway League and the 14 Broadway unions hammered out an “emergency relief” agreement that, for a few weeks anyway, will support the Broadway cast and crew now without employment, and continue their health insurance.

Financial Fallout of the Coronavirus New York’s performing-arts scene has taken hits before—after 9/11, during the recession that began in 2007, after Hurricane Sandy—but its elimination for an indefinite period of time is unprecedented….��All theatre people, except the ones who have institutional jobs—we’re gig people,” Daniel Goldstein, co-writer of “Unknown Soldier” whose day job, as an associate director on the Broadway show “Come From Away” is also now gone, said. “We’re no different than a handyman. When the theatres closed we were literally all unemployed. Everyone I know is unemployed.”

A little tiny bit of good news? https://t.co/BIBim1GQ4Z

— Helen Shaw (@Helen_E_Shaw) March 20, 2020

“The New York Community Trust has announced that it’s administering the NYC COVID-19 Response and Impact Fund, a massive system of grants and interest-free loans from what we hope is a bottomless bucket of money. A consortium of more than a dozen funders — including the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, Bloomberg Philanthropies, the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation, the Ford Foundation, and the Rockefeller Brothers Fund — have pooled around $75 million in funds to relieve social services, arts, and cultural institutions.”

From the COVID-19 Fund’s page:

“Your organization is eligible to apply for a loan if you:

Are a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization Are based in New York City Have annual non-governmental revenue of $20 million or less Receive New York City or New York State government funding Have a track record of delivering effective programs and services equitably for New York resident”

  Entertainment industry workers who are facing financial hardships due to coronavirus shutdowns may be able to get some help from a new $100 million fund set up by @netflix. https://t.co/QzQhADLqxM

— New York Theater (@NewYorkTheater) March 20, 2020

In @Variety, @RepAdamSchiff suggests how Congress can change the way unemployment insurance is calculate, to benefit freelance entertainment workers. https://t.co/8kf0wcLQnz pic.twitter.com/f74OzOoROC

— New York Theater (@NewYorkTheater) March 20, 2020

https://t.co/lIWm9YNYSi pic.twitter.com/YG0gRq2Bt5

— Patti LuPone (@PattiLuPone) March 18, 2020

The Coalition of Broadway Unions and Guilds (#COBUG) — which includes 13 unions, including @ActorsEquity, @SDCWeb, @Local_802_AFM. @IATSE (including 6 locals) — “calls on New York City and State to provide emergency assistance to arts workers impacted by #COVID19 “

— New York Theater (@NewYorkTheater) March 18, 2020

5 Ways to Help Theatres and Artists During the COVID-19 Crisis

“The role that nearly 100,000 arts workers play [in NYC] cannot be overstated.”

— New York Theater (@NewYorkTheater) March 18, 2020

  Grim Coronavirus News

New York has now become the epicenter of the coronavirus in the United States, as the Atlantic Magazine coronavirus tracker makes clear. New York State has about half of all the cases in the U.S., and the vast majority of the cases in the state are centers in the New York City region.

Coronavirus in N.Y.C.: Region Is Now an Epicenter of the Pandemic “Three weeks after its first coronavirus infection was discovered, the New York City region reached an alarming milestone on Sunday: It now accounts for roughly 5 percent of the world’s confirmed cases, making it an epicenter of the pandemic and increasing pressure on officials to take more drastic measures….As of 8 p.m. on Sunday, all nonessential businesses were ordered closed… Residents were told to stay inside except for necessities like food, medicine and short bouts of exercise.”

This is the best and clearest explanation of why people need to stay at home you could ever wish to see pic.twitter.com/49MgadlctI

— Alan White (@aljwhite) March 22, 2020

When Will Broadway Reopen?

Given the exponential spread of the coronavirus, and the ever-more drastic measures promised to try to curb it, the initial goal of reopening Broadway on April 12th is looking increasingly unrealistic.

Broadway isn’t coming back until the summer — at best — producers speculate to Michael Riedel, & @TheTonyAwards not until Fall. But Broadway WILL come back. https://t.co/bBpKAD7j2J pic.twitter.com/y2meUhNxjV

— New York Theater (@NewYorkTheater) March 20, 2020

Cancellations

Since the shut-down of Broadway on March 12th and of all New York City theaters on March 15th, there has been such a steady stream of news reports, e-mails and Tweets announcing cancellations, that it’s easier to point to what is actually staying open or still scheduled – nothing, really, except what’s happening online.

But several cancellations in particular sting.

Show Score, the critic aggregation site that had already cut back, is shutting down — they hope temporarily.

Laurie Metcalf of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf

Mark Addy of “Hangmen,” which will not open on Broadway

  On the day of the news of the “emergency relief” agreement guaranteeing payment for those working on scheduled Broadway shows, both “Hangmen” and “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf,”  shows that had been scheduled to open this season, announced that they would not return when Broadway resumes.

—

Announcing our very happy news 🙂 pic.twitter.com/bLP8t96X4V

— Ruthie Ann Miles (@RuthieAnnMiles) March 21, 2020

Rest in Peace

Gerald Freedman, 92, renowned director, artistic director, and educator whose students included Robin Williams and Mandy Patinkin, was a 21-time Broadway veteran, beginning as a directorial assistant to Jerome Robbins on the original Broadway production of “West Side Story.”  Among the dozens of shows he directed Off Broadway was the original production of the musical “Hair” at the Public Theater. He went on to become for 21 years the dean of the School of Drama at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts, which named its theater after him.

Gayle Austin, KathleenChalfant, and Julia Miles at the founding of WP Theater

Julia Miles, 90, founded the Women’s Project Theater in 1978, to address the conspicuous underrepresentation of women artists working in the American theater. She also founded the League of Professional Theatre Women.

Remembering our founder, Julia Miles

Sondheim in the Bathroom at Rosie’s Party! Support for Artists. When Will Broadway Reopen? #Stageworthy News of the Week On his 90th birthday, Stephen Sondheim sang Happy Birthday to Andrew Lloyd Webber...while washing his hands for 20 seconds in his bathroom sink --