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lena-in-a-red-dress · 5 years

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Ok random paring... Lena learns she is related to... Morticia Adams. Goes for a visit and boom family love. Now she has a crazy family that embraces her and it's just freaking strange. Kara is a bit on the fence of this family but Wednesday just stares her down. Kara is terrified of her. Hurt my aunt and I'll end you alien... And walks away.... It was just a random thought but you do random parings so wanted to share with you :)

Moira Frump is her twin sister’s maid of honor. Sure, it’s a night wedding, which is strange (and so are most of the groom’s family), but they arere many and joyous and even Moira can tell that these strange people love Morticia very much, and that they GET her, in a way no one but Moira ever has.

So, they’re good in Moira’s book.

She laughs and dances right along with them to macabre yet lively music, and kisses her sister on her pale cheek.

“I am so happy for you,” Moira murmurs. “You deserve every joy.”

“As do you, my sweet sister,” Morticia returns. “And you will find yours.”

Morticia has an odd certainty of the future, so when Moria meets Lionel just a few years later, she thinks she’s found her joy. He’s loving, ans generous, and makes her feel like the only woman in the world.

Until his wife finds them.

Moira bears her daughter alone, save for her sister’s unwavering devotion. And when she holds the smallest, most perfect baby girl in her arms, Moira finally understands.

Lena is her joy. Her happiness.

And Lena fluorishes under her mother’s love, and loves her auntie just as much. Morticia visits frequently, delivering blankets and jumpers black as night. The only trouble is, mail often gets lost on its way to the Addams home, so when Morticia receives word of her sister’s death, it’s far too late.

Lena’s been claimed by her father, and no one on Earth will tell her his name.

Morticia grieves the loss of two people: her twin, and her beloved niece.

Years pass, and eventually Morticia starts her own family. She honors her lost in her own way. She names her daughter for Moira’s favorite day of the week, and gives her son the name of Lena’s favorite stuffed animal.

But then, when she and her family find themselves (temporarily) evicted from their home, she sees her sister’s face on the cover of Forbes magazine.

No. Not Moira.

Lena.

She knows it as a certainty, and the blurb beneath confirms her given name, though it seems Frump was buried along with Moira.

When they return home, Morticia pens a letter to her niece. She fills the page with elegant script explaining herself and her ardent wish that she would come visit.

No need to reply. Just come.

And Lena does. Against every better instinct, Lena listens to the echoes of memories she has of her Auntie Mor, of warm hugs and black blankets. She drives herself to the address in the letter, and almost turns back at the sight of the gothic home and crooked fence and EXPANSIVE graveyard.

The gate opens for her without a touch, and she makes her way up the drive. When she raps the great bronze knocker, the sound echoes in her chest.

This was a bad idea.

Except… It’s not. Her aunt cradles her face and tells her she is the very image of her mother. She meets Gomez, and Wednesday, and Pugsley, and Fester, and every one else who comes to see the long lost niece. They accept her immediately, and declare her an Addams on principle– being back from the dead is a very Addams thing to do, after all.

Lena loves them. She loves the strange humor and very honest love between them all. She loves how Wednesday is her unwavering self, and how Morticia supports her in all her dark endeavors.

Wednesday reserves her judgement for a good while, and tests Lena’s mettle by letting herself be caught attempting to electrocute her brother.

Lena wants Wednesday to like her, and wants to honor the spirit of choice that Gomez and Morticia seem to encourage. So despite her concerns, Pugsley is totally happy to be strapped down in his electric chair and Lena makes a choice.

“You’ll get better voltage if you add a capacitor.”

Wednesday immediately joins Team Lena, and god help anyone who means her cousin trouble.

And when Lena begs Kara to come meet her family, she does indeed get a warning from Wednesday. And Pugsley, and Fester, and even Itt, she thinks. Gomez doesn’t bother, and Morticia knows better.

“She can destroy you herself, my dear. She won’t need my help.”

And if Lena starts to wear more black, and chooses darker shades for her lips and nails, no one seems to mind.

But what truly touches Lena soul is the night Morticia leads her out to the graveyard out back (and side and even a little in the front). She regales Lena with the tales of the Addams family laid to rest. They are all remarkable, either in the way they lived or the way they died, and Lena feels as though she comes to know them a little, through Morticia’s affection.

When they slow to a stop, Morticia informs Lena that there is only one headstone in the entire cemetery that does not belong to an Addams.

Lena reads her mother’s name, and her date of death, and there in the still of the graveyard, she feels the world fall silent.

She notes how clean the stone is, how fresh the flowers are, and realizes that she never once before this moment knew where her mother had been buried. And that she never thought to find out.

Morticia takes her hand, and looks at her in that vague, yet eerily intense way she has.

“She loved you very much, my dear,” her aunts says softly. “I have always been drawn to the dark, and macabre, but you and your mother both have always been children of the light.”

Lena’s eyes fill with tears.

“I know she is so proud of you.”

And for a night, Moira is finally mourned by the two people she loved most. Together.

#lena luthor #the addams family #am i the weird pairings person now?#is that my new lot on life?#i am... surprisingly okay with that #for the record i dont consider this a prompt #its a headcanon #supercorp

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justabigassnerd · 5 years

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Need help rehearsing?

Pairing - Gabe Goodman x reader

Word count - 1766

Warnings - swearing and mentions of bullying

A/N - I’m sorry, y’all were probably expecting something Newsies related but I defied your expectations and post about Next to Normal. I’m lowkey in love with this musical and so I wanted to write about my favourite character from this show, for the sake of this fic Gabe is not dead.

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“y/n you’re going to be late for school hurry up, Gabe is waiting!” Your mum calls from downstairs, you groan as you grab your hoodie after brushing your hair, throwing it on as you head downstairs. You see your mum, holding out both your school bag and an apple, both of which you grab swiftly and join your childhood friend Gabe Goodman who is waiting patiently for you and you leave the house together. Gabe and you have been friends since you were both about three or four, your parents moved and they introduced themselves to the Goodman’s when they found out that your parents had you they quickly became excited, saying that they had a son your age and from then on in your parents became close with Diana and Dan and they always brought you whenever they went round to their house and you grew up with Gabe, you two quickly becoming close friends. When you hit high school however, Gabe quickly joined the jocks and athletes while you stuck to yourself. You were still friends, but Gabe hung out with his friends at school while barely acknowledging you, it hurt when he ignored you, but you knew that if he got seen with you his reputation would be fucked. What you didn’t know was that Gabe felt bad for ignoring you all the time, he’d watch as you’d shrink into a shell as soon as you arrived at school that was non-existent when it was just you and him, he hated seeing you pushed around and he wished that he could protect you from the assholes that inhabit your school but because he’s a fucking idiot he hid behind his ‘friends’ and didn’t do anything about it.

“So, Gabe, why are you walking in with me instead of driving in with Luke?” You ask as you start the five-minute walk to your school, confused as to why Gabe was risking walking with you.

“Can’t a guy walk his best friend into school?” He jokes, nudging you slightly with his shoulder, but when he sees the unimpressed look on your face, he immediately drops his jokey persona and gets serious.

“I honestly just wanted to hang out with you for a bit, I know we hang after school, but it hasn’t happened for ages because I’ve always got football practice and I just miss you.” Gabe says, this caught you off-guard, Gabe was never this straightforward with anyone, not even his own mother, he was always cocky and jokey. He never wore his heart on his sleeve, not ever. Before you can reply you realise that you’ve arrived at school and you stop walking.

“You go in Gabe, you don’t want to be seen with me.” You say, urging him to go before his friends spot you two together. He looks at you with sad eyes before hurrying into the school building to meet up with his friends. You wait for a bit before heading in yourself, you keep your head down as you go to your locker and gather your books. As you head to your first lesson you notice the cast list for your school’s production of ‘Addams Family’ which you auditioned for, and you approach the board with anticipation and when you look you see your name y/n l/n next to Wednesday. You bagged one of the main parts, you feel your heart flip with excitement, and you can’t wait to tell your parents. They knew you longed to be on Broadway or in theatre in some shape or form in the future and they supported you no matter what role you got. The whole day seemed to fly past as you hurried home to tell your parents of your role in the show, when you told them they almost immediately called the Goodman’s and insisted they had a celebration round at your house and before you knew it the Goodman family had come round, including Gabe and his younger sister Natalie who both congratulated you with large hugs. You were surprised that Gabe was even there, you thought he had football practice.

“I figured today would be a good day to skip practice and I guess my instinct was right.” Gabe says, answering the question you hadn’t even asked. You all head into your garden as the sun was shining and your parents wanted to make the most of it while it lasted. Your mum brought out drinks for everyone, while your dad set up the barbeque to make burgers and hot dogs. You were almost embarrassed at how much your parents were doing to celebrate but it felt nice to be appreciated by someone.

“y/n/n, if you ever need someone to rehearse with just come around and ask for me, I’ll help you out.” Gabe says, smiling at you and before you can protest, he speaks up again.

“I don’t want an argument, I’ll be there to help, I promise.” Gabe says, holding out his pinkie finger, you laugh and lock your own pinkie with his. You’ve both been pinkie promising each other things since you first met, and it doesn’t seem like it will ever end.

“Thank you for offering to help Gabe, it’s very sweet of you.” Your mum says, smiling at the both of you, the barbeque runs smoothly with everyone wishing you luck with the show and promising to come and see it. When the Goodman’s have gone home you start going through the script you received from your director earlier in the day and that night you go to bed happier than you have been in a long time.

Gabe stuck true to his word and helped you rehearse at every given opportunity, he would have to play multiple characters at once and it would be funny watch him embody so many different personas at one time. One day you needed to go through a crucial scene in the show, so you asked Gabe to read in for Lucas, Wednesday’s love interest in the show, everything ran smoothly, you remembered all your lines and when you reached the end Gabe faltered.

“It says that they kiss, you need practice?” Gabe says, laughing slightly at his own joke, you giggle but shake your head.

“I think we can stop there, no need to kiss.” You say, not noticing the quick flash of sadness that crosses Gabe’s face. He checks his watch before scrambling to his feet.

“I need to go home.” He says, you stand up and hug him.

“Thanks for everything Gabe.” You say, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you back before pulling back so he can leave.

The time for the school production rolled around and while you were waiting backstage excitedly for the show to start, a very nervous Gabe was sat in the audience, a bouquet of flowers laid across his lap. He had confided in Diana about his feelings for you, and she offered to help him pick out flowers for you. When the lights dimmed and the show began, Gabe found himself transfixed on you for the entire show as you acted and sung your heart out. The others were good sure, but to Gabe you stole the show and owned it, he knew he had feelings for you, but it felt like this show helped him admit to it. When the show was over and the bow happened, Gabe saved his applause for you, he clapped widely as you took your bow, his heart surging with pride for his best friend. The Goodman’s and your parents waited for you in the theatre’s lobby, when you emerged from backstage your parents pull you into a large hug, followed by Dan and Diana, and then Natalie who played the piano for the show and you congratulated each other. Then it was Gabe who held out the flowers.

“You did amazing out there.” He said, trying to conceal his nerves, you take the flowers gratefully and hug him tightly, he uses that opportunity to pick you up and spin round.

“My best friend is going to be a star.” He says when he sets you down again, you laugh and shove his shoulder slightly, Gabe then takes a deep breath and asks if he can speak to you in private. You nod and hand your flowers to your mum and you lead Gabe to the prop cupboard after making sure no one is inside and shut the door behind you.

“What is it Gabe?” You ask, he takes another deep breath and runs a nervous hand through his sandy blond hair.

“I like you y/n, like more than a friend like you, and I know I’ve probably fucked up our entire friendship by saying that, but I had to say it, I couldn’t keep it in forever.” Gabe says, avoiding eye contact with you.

“I like you too.” You say, making him look up at you with his dazzling sapphire eyes wide with shock.

“You heard me Gabriel, I like you too.” You repeat, laughing at Gabe’s reaction, but he quickly catches you off guard by pressing his lips against yours. You start to kiss back, running your hands through his hair before you realise what your doing and pull away.

“Gabe, we can’t do this, I’m me and you’re you, your friends will kick you off the team, your reputation will be ruined I can’t do this to you.” You say, panicking about what you’ve just done. Gabe catches your flailing arms and holds your hands lightly in his own and you look deeply into his crystal blue eyes and find yourself calming down.

“y/n/n, everything will be alright, they can say shit about me but I don’t care, I just scored the most beautiful girl in the world, I don’t care if my reputation get ruined, I didn’t really care about it to be honest, I only stuck with them because of football, I just wanted to be with you, now that I got you I see no reason to be with them anymore, and if they try to do anything that hurts you I will not hesitate to beat their asses up.” Gabe says, reassuring you, you nod trusting Gabe.

“Now, can we try that kiss again, to make up for the one we didn’t do while I was helping you rehearse.” Gabe says before pulling you back in for another kiss which you return gladly, beyond grateful to have this amazing boy in your life and even more grateful that he’s now your boyfriend.

#next to normal #next to normal musical #gabe goodman x reader #gabe goodman #aaron tveit #aaron tveit x reader

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melchixr · 7 years

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Curator’s Assistant (part four) ((finally))

Anon said: I just read your Currators Assistant fic and its? So good?? Do you think there will be a part 4 up anytime soon?

BIH my life has been wild lately. I’m writing and directing a play???? I’m morticia in addams family?????? I’ve written two short film scripts and I’m currently in the process of directing and acting in one of them???????????? life is wild. so sorry i haven’t been writing for this blog lately. i still love it so much i just never have time????

words: 1400

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

“That is the single most illegal thing I can think of.”

“Wendla, I’m begging you,” I pleaded and leaned against the desk. “I’ll do literally anything for you to tell me his address.”

The very pretty museum docent laughed. “You really think I am going to just tell you where this kid lives? You could go and murder him with that information! We all know that you hate him. It was a fact Hanschen used at Staff Trivia Night.”

Instead of asking why I wasn’t invited to Staff Trivia Night (which might be because I once told Hanschen to suck his own dick in front of a crowd on ten year olds when he got the year on a painting wrong), I just looked into her big blue eyes and pouted some more. “Melchi, I love you but you’re an idiot.” She said jarringly. “What makes you think I even know how to get that information. I just greet people who come in and tell them where the bathrooms are.”

“Well… Your best friend is the registrar….”

After a long pause, Wendla let out a long sigh. “Do you want me...To break into Martha’s office? Like a common criminal?”

“Well if she were still here three hours after closing, I would just ask her. But since we’re the only two here with no lives on a Saturday night, I gotta ask you. So pretty please?”

The woman stepped out from behind the tall desk. She was definitely beautiful. She had this charming, youthful glow about her that made her feel like a little girl. But she was in no way childish. Wendla had put me in my place more times than I’d like to admit. And with her wife, Ilse, being head of security, I pity any man who dare mistake that childish glow for ignorance. I once watched her scissor kick a grown man in a bar for asking her what color her panties were.

“Fine,” She muttered and glared at me with the rage of a billion sons. “But only if you tell me why.”

My defenses suddenly went up. All senses were standing on high alert as I responded instinctively. “What? I don’t need to explain myself to anyone!”

“If you’re having them do illegal activities for you, then yes, you do!”

Damn, she’s right.

After a pause to think, I took a deep breath. I was definitely not ready. But I didn’t think I’d ever be. As I spoke, I untucked the bottom of my dress shirt. “Ok so...Do you know how you felt they day you found out Ilse was your soulmate?”

Wendla looked at the red lettering on her forearm. Her eyes were filled with nostalgic joy. “Oh yeah... first day of senior year and she had just transferred to my school. And we were in English together. I thought she was funny and smart so I invited her to have lunch with my group. Then when she sat at the table and asked me what I was having….I felt like a thousand needles were pressing my arm.�� She looke dup for only a moment, breaking out of her memories. “It was amazing…”

“Were you scared?”

“Not really,” Wendla replied. “I was so happy to have met my soulmate. And to have a soulmate so pretty and smart and charming. And also get to start having guilt free sex with her and know it was for the rest of my life.” She looked down to see me unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom. “What the hell are you doing?”

Instead of responding, I lifted up my shirt to reveal my right ribcage. What used to be covered in black writing was not dotted in a very light red. But what it was is still very obvious. “Because I was really afraid.”

“Holy shit, Melchior,” She gasped. “Why didn’t you tell anyone. Who is it?” Normally, soulmates are a big deal. You find out who yours is and you tell everyone you know. Your coworkers, your family, your dog, the strangers you see on the street. People tend to throw parties even, introducing themselves to the world as a sign that true love is everywhere.

But I let my silence speak for me instead. Just like how I was deadly silent the day it happened. Wendla knew almost immediately, telling by my expression. “Oh no… It’s Moritz isn’t it.”

I let my shirt fall back down and buttoned it again. “And the day after it turned, he resigned. Didn’t even tell it to my face. Just dropped it in my office on top of his completely cleared of desk. Didn’t even sign it.”

Wendla didn’t say anything. She seemed to just know immediately what she had to do and took off towards the stairs.

As I waited for courage in the dimly lit parking lot, I rolled over my options. A large part of my brain told me to toss the paper right out the window. I could just do what I’m good at and ignore it.

Ignore it by having sex with strangers who also hadn’t met their soulmate’s yet and playing pretend that the words on their body were my own.

Telling people who asked that I was one of the rare ones who just doesn’t have a soulmate and play pretend to be the one in a million.

Making plans to live out the rest of my life alone with a cat and a library and play pretend that I don’t want to wake up next to someone every day.

Just go home and take a cold shower and play pretend that the words are still black and I still don’t know who it could possibly do.

But my eyes trailed back to the piece of paper in the passenger seat. On it was a hastily scribbled address in pen along with a doodled heart and a small ‘go get him!’.

I couldn’t help but put Moritz’s face on all the fantasizes I’d been having since I was a little kid. Of taking my soulmate to a park and holding their hand. Going ice skating with my soulmate in the winter and cuddling in the taxi on the way home. Baking bread with my soulmate and messing up the recipe but not caring because they’re so cute. Having my soulmate steal my blankets from me in the middle of the night and getting revenge by tickling them until they beg for mercy.

All my life, that soulmate had been a blur. A shapeless, faceless form that carried all my hopes and dreams for a perfect life. Now it’s Moritz Stiefel with his dumb messy pouf of hair and his dark circles under his hazel eyes. And his long, pale face framed perfectly by that pair of crooked glasses that sat so precariously on his nose. And the splash of dark freckles that marked randomly along his cheeks and neck.

44 Oxford Street

Suite 2

And my car was pulling out of the parking lot.

Oxford Street wasn’t too far from Bellevue Road, where I knew Otto lived. And if I go from there onto Stoneybrook Street and took one more left onto Bradford Lane, it’s right there.

The apartments were smaller than I imagined. Just a little two story brick duplex. It was perfect split into two narrow halves with two doors, each other having a small front porch. That of Suite 1 had a plethora of potted plants all with little garden ornaments and trinkets in them, as well as an American flag and a “This House and My Heart Belongs To My Yorkie” sign.

Suite 2 had a dead plant and one overflowing ashtray.

My mind sure new how to pick them.

For a long while, I just sat in my car in front of the house. The neighborhood seemed nice, sorta busy, but still cozy. It seemed like a nice place to live. So why should I come barging in and ruining it all for him. He left for a reason. So who the hell am I to track him down after he very specifically did all he could to get away from me?

His fucking soul mate that’s who.

I made sure to not look back as I charged toward the front door on a mission to fall head over heels for this human trainwreck.

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hellojalapeno · 7 years

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Preface: This post is the reason I started this blog over a year ago. I've been running away from it for probably longer than that. Yesterday morning on Twitter, I was triggered by the suggestion that there is a "recipe" for sobriety. I don't know this person or their struggles and I really have no interest in calling them out but I wanted to respond to the original poster but found there was way too much to say. It was time for this. I don't know how it's going to be received but it's extremely personal and I am writing it from my own perspective (it's the only one I have) so if it feels like I'm "making this about me" then I guess I'm sorry for that. I have to warn anyone reading this that this post is a bummer to say the very least.

My brother, Sam, was born 1 year and 9 months after I was. We were about as different as two children could be - I was loud, boisterous, bossy, and commanded attention while Sam was quiet, sensitive, sweet, and easy going - but we were best friends. To be honest, I always kind of felt like he was my child as much as he was my parents'. That feeling multiplied when my parents divorced and we moved with our mom 6 hours away from our dad and the only home we'd known. I felt protective and responsible for Sam and for his happiness. I had the typical "I can mess with my brother but you can't" mentality of an older sibling and leapt to his defense at any perceived slight.

I don't remember exactly when Sam started drinking, it wasn't like he advertised it to our family. I remember nights when we were teenagers and he would come home drunk. I, in my youth group fueled fervent Christian phase, would cry and write him letters in a tone I thought at the time was pleading and heartfelt but was probably more scolding. I can't remember giving him the letters - in all likelihood I just threw them away - but I do remember tiptoeing into his room to take off his shoes after he had passed out.

I remember my senior year in college, I bought tickets for us to see Black Sabbath at Ozz Fest. He took a train to Chicago and when I got to the station to pick him up he was wasted from drinking liquor out of a Scope bottle the whole way up. I had become a social drinker by that point and found the situation at least a little amusing, if not a tad annoying . We took the El to my school cafeteria where they were having a midnight pancake breakfast and where Sam kept disappearing to smoke cigarettes. He apologized for years for "embarrassing me" and for trying to smoke on the train. I know I told him I hadn't been embarrassed but I don't think I told him I had been much more worried than embarrassed.

I remember Sam moving to St. Louis with his girlfriend to attend college. I remember how hard it was to reach him during that time period and worrying about him nearly constantly. I had the distinct feeling several times that he was homeless. He later admitted that he had been at times. When he and his girlfriend finally broke up (for good) and he moved back in with my mom I was relieved but concerned about the effect of our small hometown on him.

I remember going home for Thanksgiving, pregnant with my son. It had been hard but I had come to terms with the fact that he was a problematic drinker (it was still hard for me to use the term alcoholic but I was trying). He agreed to go outside and talk with me and I begged him to get help for his drinking. I had a list of places he could go, fees they charged, types of treatment. I spent days researching and compiling it. I had written a script so I wouldn't forget everything I wanted to say. He wouldn't look at me. He looked like he hated me which broke my heart so much that my chest physically ached. I still have a hard time thinking about his face that day. He was silent. I told him I loved him and that I wanted my son to have his smart, creative uncle in his life. I gave the list that he refused to take to my mom. I cried and couldn't stop. I cried the entire nine hour drive back to North Carolina and for weeks after. I finally filed away my notes and the copy of the list I had kept and told myself I had done all that I could do. I told myself that for me and for my baby I would have to put this away and remove myself from it at least for awhile. Months later he called and told me he had lost another relationship over his drinking and wanted to seek treatment. I was wary but so happy. He had never reached out like that. I never heard another thing about it.

I remember when Sam got a DUI driving home to my mom's house. When he went to court, the judge told him he had never heard of someone having such a high blood-alcohol volume and still being able to stand. He gave him a ten day jail sentence and mom and I hoped it would be a good thing for him. My mom took him to jail to surrender right before his birthday, right before Christmas. We tried not to imagine him detoxing in jail.

I remember my mom calling and telling me that she had to take Sam to the hospital. He hadn't been eating and had been throwing up blood. When they initially went to Urgent Care, the nurse guessed he was either diabetic or alcoholic just from the smell in the room. They sent him to the ER immediately. Since Sam hadn't been eating and had only been drinking liquor, his body was trying to get nourishment from somewhere and it just couldn't. The doctors told him that if he didn't stop drinking immediately he would be dead in five years. To me that seemed optimistic. They offered to help treat his withdrawal and, according to my mom, he had accepted. For weeks, my mom reported to me that Sam was in a daze from the medication but I wasn't sure what it was from. I went home for Thanksgiving and on my last night there, Sam was clearly drunk. I went home and wrote him another letter begging him to stop. Telling him how much we loved him and that mom and I didn't want to lose him. Telling him that we would do anything, ANYTHING to help him. Feeling like the words I wrote were feeble compared to how much I really felt those things. I remember hoping upon hope and taking walks at night and thinking of what songs we might play at his funeral and begging God or whoever to please help my brother.

I remember Sam called me when I was headed to the store to pick up a few things for Christmas dinner with the kids. He told me for the thousandth time that we were the Addams Family and I was Morticia. He wasn't particularly coherent. I texted my boyfriend, Josh, afterwards that I hadn't understood any of the conversation. My mom claimed he had been taking the detox medication.

I remember being on a flight to Nashville with the same thoughts running on a loop in my head. Please get there in time. And the words no one would say to me and that I kept having to force myself to say - to my boss, to my best friend, to Josh - My brother is dying. Josh picked me up from the airport and hugged me but I couldn't speak. I kept starting sentences but not knowing how to finish them. I stared out the window and thought the same thoughts and hoped we would get there sooner but also that we would never get there. He held my hand. I cried. I told him angry, hateful thoughts. I looked into the night and just remember seeing dots of light and snow but not registering anything else.

It was late when we pulled into the hospital parking lot and I realized how much I was dreading seeing my parents. To my surprise, my mom had already called my dad and he was there. I dreaded them both leaning on me. I dreaded having to share my pain with them. I felt mean and angry. My mom was outside smoking when we got to the emergency room doors and she led us to the ICU with our hands linked together. My dad hugged me when we got to the room but all I could look at was Sam, lying in a hospital bed motionless with tubes coming out of his face. Everything looked so orderly. I don't know if I even got a chance to step toward his bed before a nurse entered the room. His words seemed fast and shocking and nonsensical. He seemed to think my parents had told me more than they had. You and your mother and father will have to make a decision....Not much we can do. He used the words "choice" and "decision" but it was clear there were no real choices and that there really was no other decision we could make. I felt like I was in the center of a crowd and the room was shrinking. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say but I felt that he was looking at me expectantly. I felt like collapsing. I already knew this was the situation but my heart wasn't ready. "Ok" I think I said, "Ok."

 I remember Josh hugging me tightly. I remember my mother's tearful eyes. I remember going to Sam's bed and being surprised at how warm he was. Staring at the blue geometric tattoo on his upper left arm. Looking for a place on his face where I could place a kiss. Noticing the blood in the corners of his mouth. Rubbing his hand. Not wanting to disturb him but knowing he couldn't be disturbed. I remember his breath and how even with the machines he would struggle from time to time. We left the hospital and, alone with Josh, it was hard to walk. I kept wanting to just crouch down on the floor. I told him I didn't want to leave and he told me we didn't have to. We drove to the hotel where I lay awake all night in the dark with the same thoughts in my head: Tomorrow. Tomorrow your brother will die. I still regret leaving the hospital.

The next day at the hospital the decision was officially made. Time was both too slow and too fast. I remember asking my mom if she was going to call anyone to let them know. "I don't want to. I don't want anyone here." She said. "What about his friends," I said. "He loves them. Don't you think they should have a chance to say good-bye?" She hesitantly agreed and contacted Sam's ex-girlfriend who we knew still cared for Sam a lot and she got the word out. The first person to show up was Ricky, dressed in his work clothes. Ricky was a name so familiar to me that I couldn't believe I had never met him. Sam had referred to him as his best friend so many times. I remember Ricky sitting by Sam's bed, staring at the floor. Others started arriving, so many I couldn't keep track. They kept vigil by his bedside as we waited for hospice to arrive. They played songs, they rubbed his skin with lotion, they cried with us. I drifted in and out of Sam's room, Josh standing carefully and steadfastly by my side. I sat outside of his room and thought terrible thoughts. You decided that your brother would die. That thought weighs heavily on me even still. I kept feeling afraid the nurses would come by and tell us we couldn't have all these people in the ICU - there were so many of them, crowding around his bed and lining the hall. Everyone was quiet - hugging, crying, and occasionally offering some memory of Sam. The hospital staff kept a reverent distance.

The waiting was excruciating. The estimated time that the doctor would arrive to remove the machines came and went and I couldn't decide if I wanted more time or if I wanted this to be over. My father kept questioning when they would arrive which felt like sandpaper on my raw emotions. Did he realize what we were so impatient for? I kept waiting for people to start leaving. This was a lot for anyone to take, more than anyone should have to bear. But they stayed.

Finally, the doctors and nurses arrived to begin. They asked if any of us wanted to stay in the room while they removed the machines and they and Josh cautioned us that it was a difficult process to watch and that it might be better if we didn't. I wanted to stay with him and I still wish I had but I knew if I did that my parents would want to also and I didn't think they could handle it. We stepped out and all waited in a cluster by the closed curtain. I had no idea what to expect from any of this. They told us that without the machines he might live a few days or weeks or he might pass very quickly.

When they opened the curtain, my parents, Josh, and I went back in and took places by the bed. I stood on his right side by his head. I watched his chest move up and down three times. I watched three last breaths escape his body, the last the most precious. Then he stopped. That's a moment I wish I had never had to have but that I would never give up. I don't know how long it took for me to turn around to be enveloped by Josh, sobbing loudly into his chest.

The next few days were raw as I began the process of saying good-bye to Sam. Two years later, I am still going through it and starting to realize I always will be. Sometimes the thought of that process ending makes me scared because it feels like the only piece of him I have left. Sam was my other half for most of my life and without him I feel half empty and not completely sure who I am. I am fortunate to have so many amazing people in my life - my mom, my kids, and my soulmates @ponystarwars and @juanincognito - they have helped me through and given me a reason to keep going. Sometimes I still feel alone in the world without my brother. Sometimes I feel like I don't want to keep doing this life without him.

Sam was incredible. He was NOT his alcoholism. Sam was kind to a fault. Sam was creative and talented and smart in a way I can't describe and in a way I've never seen before or since. Sam was genuine and thoughtful and introspective and selfless. Sometimes I think he was too good for this world. Knowing he isn't here anymore to spread his goodness makes me want to be better myself to make up for it. I am lucky to have had him as my brother for 35 years. I hope writing this can help me share more of him here and help me remember his goodness.

So in response to the issue of how to get sober, I know Sam and I know his kind heart and if there was some simple way to recover and keep us all from this hurt I know he would have done it. I know he must have carried a terrible, guilty weight knowing we were hurt by his drinking. I don't have an answer for this, I wish I did. Just know if you're out there, struggling with this from either side, that I'm out here too and there are more like us. We are not alone.

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stagemanadventure · 5 years

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Calling Musicals vs Calling Plays

For this month’s entry, I wanted to research the differences in calling and cueing musicals versus plays. After watching the video in class of the calling of cameras for Grease:Live, I started looking for more videos of people calling shows.

The first one I found is of the Deputy Stage Manager of the Addams Family UK Tour calling the opening number. There are quite a few cues in this number, but she stays calm the whole time. When she has time after calling a standby a receiving a response, she even thanks her crew. When some cues are so close together she can’t even call numbers she still makes her go very clear and calm. It’s also interesting to note that she is looking back and forth between her calling script, her cueing desk, and her monitors. At all times, she is aware of these things and still is calm and on time!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kR3DKMg47HI

After seeing something this rapid, I wanted to see if I could find something a little slower, and really, I was looking for a play. The only video I could find of calling a play is this one of someone calling “The Crucible”. This is clearly much slower paced than the calling of The Addams Family. This SM has time to call numbers every single time. This version of the play has video, sound, light, and stage cues, which could be intimidating. However, everything seems to go together as far as cues go and when things don’t, its one thing that goes alone and doesn’t have anything following it for a little while.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LDR0GIjLmuw&index=5&list=PLTBEM69b3uHOUJub2SqWuSuN1n3oa-zaR

Then, I started thinking to myself, I wonder how crazy this can get. So, I started looking around at score-reading and calling for operas. This was pretty much as crazy as I has ever seen it. This SM was calling from a score AND paging backstage giving places at the same time. While in the video its hard to hear him since he is calling from stage right, if you watch his mouth you can tell he pretty much doesn't stop calling things from the second the music starts. He also does this thing when calling spots where he places his finger on his monitor in the place where the spot needs to hit and waits for the actor to approach the spot on stage and then he gives the go. This was an interesting thing because what if the actor misses the spot exactly? Clearly this technique only really works if you have very specific landing points that are well rehearsed. In more natural pieces it would be hard to make things that exact without losing the casual feel.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yexowCY_zjM

In thinking about what I want to do as a stage manager, I think I would love to work up to something as quick paced as the opera caller. To stay as calm as he was while also calling pretty much nonstop is not for the faint of heart. I think it would eventually be fairly easy for me to get there though. As someone who grew up in music programs, I learned to read music early on and its been a skill that has constantly helped me in my progression in theatre.

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viralhottopics · 7 years

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‘Feud’ star Jackie Hoffman on being a character actor: ‘Aging isnt as frightening for us as it is for the pretty people’

Jackie Hoffman steals the show as Mamacita.

Image: Kurt Iswarienko/FX.

Youd have to possess a pretty colorful character, not to mention some serious acting chops, to steal scenes away from Jessica Lange while she’s channeling screen diva Joan Crawford. Fortunately, Jackie Hoffman has both.

From the moment she makes her first appearance in Feud: Bette and Joan, you cant take your eyes off Hoffmans tightly-wound but infinitely patient Mamacita Crawfords sternly Teutonic live-in housekeeper, valet, mother confessor and all around Gal Friday, who is never far from the movie stars side and always faithfully and fiercely on her side, even when Crawford believes no one else is.

Mamacita is, delightfully, a true-life construct: Anna Marie Brinke was Crawfords German-born maid/personal assistant, hired shortly before the actress began mounting her planned comeback in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? Brinke came recommended by her own daughter, one of her nine children and a maid to a Westhampton neighbor of Crawfords: she impressed the star with her preference for scrubbing floors on her hands and knees over using a mop.

SEE ALSO: ‘Feud: Bette and Joan’ is about so much more than Hollywood’s most infamous catfight

According to Crawford, the Latin-flavored nom de guerre was bestowed upon Brinke because the actress had just returned from a Brazilian vacation in Rio de Janeiro and obsessively added a -cita suffix to everything upon her return. Mamacita would remain in Crawfords service, often contentiously, until a fateful moment in 1974 when she decided to return to her native Germany because she was, as her grandson later related it, tired of having things thrown at her.

Hoffman has a work ethic to rival the real Mamacitas. A veteran of Chicagos fabled Second City comedy troupe who headlined many solo shows, she went on to become an award-winning force off and on Broadway, with star turns in productions including The Sisters Rosensweig, Hairspray, Xanadu and The Addams Family, with occasional forays to Hollywood for film and TV appearances in the likes of Kissing Jessica Stein, Garden State, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and 30 Rock.

And, as Mashable learned during our freewheeling conversation with the actress, in sharp contrast to Mamacitas minimalist approach to communication, shes a conversational tour de force as well.

You had us at hello with Mamacita.

Does Mamacita ever say hello? I dont think hello is a word that comes out of her mouth.

What got you excited about her when the role came your way?

Oh my lord have mercy! First of all, the audition material was so secret that all the names were changed, so they didnt use the name Crawford, they didnt use the name Mamacita. Then I found out later what it was and I had bought, in my 20s, a copy of Joan Crawfords [1971 advice book] My Way of Life, and the gay man inside me, pardon the expression, knew exactly what it was and fell in love with it.

I remember her talking about Mamacita, and then when I heard the characters name is Mamacita, at first I was a little freaked out, because I said, Oh my God, Im playing a Hispanic woman! And then I remembered I was, like, Holy crap Mamacita! Oh my God! There are no adjectives to describe how I felt at that point, just with the whole thing. I still cant get over it.

I was looking up some information on her, and Mamacitas German maiden name was in fact, Hoffman.

Yes, it was, spelled the Jewish way with two Fs and one N. Which is comforting, because I like to think she was Jewish because if not, judging from her age, she was a Nazi.

Did you go on treasure hunt looking for more bits and pieces of information about her once the job was yours?

Im not that dedicated an artist. My treasure hunt consisted of hitting a key on Google and looking at My Way of Life and just making it up on my own.

When you thought about who she was and how you wanted to play her, what was the key into her? When did that big lightbulb go off over your head?

I dont know the lightbulb may still have not gone off. I took German, clean, and putting up with Joan Crawford, and that was all I needed to know.

Youd read Crawfords book had you been a little bit of a student of her at any point?

Im more of a slob, but I remembered things like packing with tissue paper in the sleeves, and if I ever made a dinner with like fish and cauliflower, I always remember, [imitates Crawfords voice] Dont put two white foods on the same plate. Then, whenever I take a picture, I remember from reading this in her book: Always look up and to the right. So I am a student of Joans.

Mamacita is not wholly a broad comic caricature, but theres something inherently funny when we meet her, just in juxtaposition to Joan Crawford.

Right. I think she provides a relief from the intensity of those two dames.

It must have been fun to figure out the rapport with Jessica Lange, and get how they were going to coexist and be codependent together.

Yes, as Jessica got more comfortable, she got more abusive, unfortunately! So youll see that as we unfold. Like, Oh, this is an actress I can fuck with.

Did you give it back?

I set a boundary.

We do learn that theres more depth to Mamacita than we might have guessed early on. How quickly did you know that about her and were able to prepare for?

I knew going in that she was a human being and she had to be fully rounded. Im cheap whore of an actor: Im barely in this episode. What the fuck? But yeah, theres such great writing on the show, and the wardrobe is genius, the wig was genius, the writings great, and that all helped a lot.

What do you think her function in the story of Feud is, ultimately?

She kind of plays a husband/friend/sounding board for Joan. Shes probably the only person that Joan really is herself with, and really tells the truth to. So we learn a lot about who Joan really is through Mamacita, I think. Theres a couple of episodes where shes wasted and says that Im the mother she never had, and youre the only friend Ive had. It gets really, really touching near the end. Like the last scene we shot together, it was just beautiful. So I think Joan shows her a side that she doesnt show anybody else. So it helps to tell the whole story.

It comes through that Mamacita really cares for her, and wants to protect her.

Yes, she does. I would think I would have some love for her, to put up with all of the shit that I put up with.

Throughout your career, have you seen Hollywood or celebrity-type figures with this kind of person at their side? Has that been a reality that youve noticed?

Oh wow, what a question! I know Ive seen people with posses and entourages. I just remember, one of my first movie events was the film I did in, like, 2000, Kissing Jessica Stein, and I remember this woman walking around there was an actor, a very talented actor named Scott Cohen in that movie, and he had this woman going, Hi, Im Scotts publicist

Oh my God, really? People had people around them. The very first pilot I did, like in the mid-’90s, people said My assistant. Im like, Really? Really? You have a personal assistant? So its just a phenomenon that I still cant get over.

SEE ALSO: ‘Feud’ star Jessica Lange on the ways Hollywood is still failing women

Youve had a tremendously prolific career, but I imagine you havent had to deal with the genuine burdens of fame, a lot of the BS that people have to deal with because of a super high profile.

Yeah, thats kind of you: nobody knows who the fuck I am enough to make my life trouble.

Is that the best way to do it?

Its mixed. I did this film I got replaced on with Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher, and I saw the press literally chase them like Dodi Fayed and Princess Di though the tunnel, like, on foot. Im like, Holy crap! The shit they have to deal with. So I would imagine its kind of a mixed blessing. I get letters from 13-year-olds wanting a Playbill signed by people more famous than me.

You have some substantial stuff in Feud. Tell me what that was like to be able to dive deep. She doesnt disappear often. Shes always kind of right there.

God bless Ryan [Murphy] and Tim Minear and Gina [Welch] and those writer/producers, man. God bless them! Because … as there were plenty of days where Im opening doors and handing people beverages, and I was like, Fuck this! Then Im the maid! It could have been like that.

But theyre so smart, and they so want to get their message across, and I was honored, especially like, I think this interview coincides with episode 4, which is where Im encouraging the lovely Alison Wright, about her script, and telling her about the future, about women in cinema, and women in media. Im so honored that I got to tell that message, that I so badly, of course, want to tell. Its an important thing that has to be told.

Look what happened: its turning around a little, but here we are 50 years later, and still no one gives a fuck. Its still such a male world. To be part of Team Ryan Murphy, whos doing everything they can to fight that, is just such a great thing.

It really is shocking how much this fifty-year-old story is resonating, especially here in L.A., where people are watching the show and seeing women literally facing some of the same problems as they were in 1962 Hollywood.

Right. Thats how it was so kismet, because Jessica and I, we both wanted to tell that story. And Jessica and Susan, like, they have careers like Crawford and Davis, where they were like, Fuck you, and they kept working. But both Jessica and Susan were like incredibly, breathtakingly beautiful. For beautiful women, usually youre just, like, fucked. Its over. But they got past it. They went beyond it and they conquered.

When youre in the ugly, unfuckable category like I am, well, We didnt want to fuck her when she was younger, so we might as well hire her when shes older. I think character women at least have that, not that there are many roles. Aging isnt as frightening for us as it is for the pretty people.

Have people in the industry been that crass to you in those terms, in the way that, say, a Jack Warner expresses himself about how he feels about Crawford and Davis?

No, nobody says the word unfuckable, but we know thats what its all about. I put things in the crudest terms. Im the Jack Warner, really.

Have you noticed how popular Mamacita has become? Shes all over the Internet.

No, I have no idea. Im not all over the Internet. I look at my three Twitter followers, and a couple of 15-year-olds are like, Go, Mamacita! I have no idea.

I think the phrase that they would use is breakout character.

Thats excellent. Yes, on Twitter, I call her MamaTweeta.

You got to step back into mid-century Hollywood for a bit what was the best part of that experience?

The whole thing was like a five-month gay mans orgasm. I kept emailing my friends like, Im not allowed to show you anything, but trust me… We werent allowed to take pictures, but even like a jar that they put cotton balls in every object, it was just a breathtaking world. Every costume, the attention paid to every detail, and the beauty. It was ridiculous.

My filthy fingerprints are on every object and every item of clothes because I kept touching everything. Look at this! Look! And, when this was done, I was like two years old. So it would rush like, Oh my God, my mother had something just like this and I remember this when I was a little girl So it had that also.

Everybody in Hollywood is lining up hoping to work with Ryan Murphy right now. He and his team are championing these stories about women that other people seemingly arent telling. Were there any other interesting discoveries about joining Ryans troupe?

Wow that may be too intelligent a question for me! It was a great lesson. Im always huge [in my performance]. Im really theater folk, and Ive done film and television work, but its always like, Bring it down, bring it down, bring it down. And Ryan, from day one, hes like, No, dont make it that cartoony. Shes German, she has purpose and this is just from handing a Pepsi bottle to Jessica for four hours.

He really was reining it in, and you saw that, even larger-than-life characters like Crawford and Davis, theyre people, and he wants everybody to be really real, and I think thats one reason why the things he does are so effective. He really comes from a place of truth. He really made me a better actor for it.

Feud: Bette and Joan airs Sundays at 10 p.m. on FX.

WATCH: What film stars really think about Hollywood’s diversity issue