Harryzhangs​:

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚌 & 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚗​: 

“tybalt, the reason that i have to love thee, doth much excuse the appertaining rage, to such a greeting: villain am i none; therefore farewell; i see thou know'st me not.”

teddy is having the time of his life playing the lead young lover, romeo. one of his favorites to play, ted has memorized the lines since he was sixteen. so he is trying to make the most of it, trying to enjoy it and forget the policemen in the audience or the heavy weight of orson’s absence. if he was still here, teddy knows he wouldn’t be playing romeo. so he is giving it his all. as a last fuck you to his mentor. 

and so he plays the part of the lover trying to make amends with the in-laws. 

“i do protest, i never injured thee, but love thee better than thou canst devise, till thou shalt know the reason of my love: and so, good capulet,—which name i tender, as dearly as my own,—be satisfied,” he finishes his line with the most charming smile he can muster. it’s not hard, trying to charm his way around julien. it’s almost playful, the way he looks at him, hoping tybalt would understand romeo’s attempts at peace.

but they all know it won’t be like that. and tragedy, much like in real life, is just about to ensue.

( @aldysfool​ )

nate had been buzzing for the past two weeks since he got the assignment to prepare for arguably the best character in the play. there hadn’t been a day when he rehearsed his lines, or gone over every single piece of stage combat sebastian taught them. mercutio was complex by design; flamboyant, yet provoking, cynical, yet insightful. nate happily stepped into this role.

“o calm dishonorable, vile submission,” nate moves to purposefully - but gently - push teddy behind him, rolling his eyes in the process. he faces his peer, and with a wink, “alla stoccata carries it away.” nate loosens the cape draped around his shoulder and calmly folds it over before handing it to romeo. this is the scene of r&j, and dammit, his goal was to die in style. nate reaches for the hilt of his weapon strapped to his side and he calls out for his dueling partner, “tybalt, you rat-catcher!” nate unsheathes his rapier and makes a swift turn to point at julian. nate tries not to imagine julian actually managing to kill him, so he flashes his best grin as he finishes the taunt: “will you walk?” giving nate a character with more motives than making the audience laugh? orson hobbs has left the chat. ...wait, he’s dead. fuck.

he breathes and he focuses back on good ol’ mercutio - who extends a cat metaphor while managing to look somewhat intimidating. “will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher by the ears?” nate tosses his weapon between his hands as he makes a wide circle around julian. nate goes to make eye contact, “make haste,” and taps the rapier twice against the ground, and it reminds him that it’s real metal which stresses him out - but nate clenches his jaw and gets into position anyway. “lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.”

/@juliansbennet​

pvlmer​:

the entire debacle that happened during the masque had jason a little shaken. of course, he knew he wasn’t a murderer. he didn’t actually kill orson and he didn’t even know who did. but he did know that what the mysterious person said had some truth to it. jason could’ve saved orson and he didn’t. whether that was the right or wrong decision was something that jason was still trying to figure out. of course, it was morally wrong to deny someone help when they’re begging for their life. but is it morally wrong if that person is a dick? the jury (jason) was still out on that one. 

it was a question that kept jason up at night. and specifically, it was the question that was keeping him up tonight. after the events, he fled to his room, wanting to be as far away from the refectory as possible. it was like the person screaming murderer was his own conscience, which just freaked him out a little too much. he was in his own world once he got back into his room, despite his roommate being there. it was like he was alone because everything just faded and he was left with just his thoughts. his mind started to wander and worry. not just about the night where he left orson for dead, but the other members of the program. as much as he felt like he didn’t belong with them, he couldn’t help but feel some sort of anxiety over whether they were okay or not. the anxiety was the worst when it came to his brother. as much as people talked about how theater kids became family, nate was his family.

just as he was thinking about nate, he heard a knocking on his door. he yawned. it was some ungodly hour in the morning, but god knows that jason didn’t sleep at all so it wasn’t like he was getting woken up. he stumbled towards the door, his movements slow and jagged as he was starting to have a migraine from the lack of sleep. he opened up the door to see nate and without thinking, jason pulls his brother in for a hug. “hey, are you okay?” he asks when he lets go of the embrace.

the door opens, and nate drops his phone in the process of hugging jason, because his brother is okay and that is enough to extinguish any fear in nate’s mind. when they hug, nate suddenly feels very stupid, because of course nothing bad has happened (yet), but he also realizes it’s kinda fucked up how triggered he was by the events from the ball. but the hug helps. the hug is warm and familiar and it’s exactly what nate needs right now. as they separate, nate starts to feel a little dejected, but jason asks him a question and he pulls himself out of it so quickly, it’s hardly noticeable.

“am i okay? uh, i don’t know jason, let’s see: pretty sure i sprained my ankle during the fight scene earlier, was accused of murdering our old director, went back to my room and realized i’m almost of happy pills which also stressed me out because my dealer says they won’t be back until next week, then i tried calling and texting you fifty million times; speaking of which, where the fuck is my—”, nate looks down and picks his phone off the floor, shoving it in his pocket. there’s another crack in the screen’s spider web and the battery life is at 3%, but what’s life without a lil’ danger? nate takes a breath. he can feel himself getting worked up and it’s too late (or early, technically) to take any more drugs. he sticks to a strict schedule.

“the point is, sweet brother o’ mine, i’m not doin’ so hot, but we gotta talk. like, now.” nate’s stomach grumbles, and he huffs. “also, i could really use a grilled cheese.”

what was your first thought when you saw orson was dead?

“thoughts couldn’t evolve into words, just emotion. i was horrified, because i hadn’t ever seen that much blood before. (by the way, zero out of ten; would not recommend.) then there was fear, of what happened to him and if there was some fuckin’ murderer just strolling about campus; confusion, because i found something that put jason at the crime scene and that didn’t make any sense to me at all because he’s my brother and he wouldn’t do something like this or surely he’d at least he’d tell me; anger was up next, at myself and then towards orson. wanna know something? i didn’t call the police right away. seriously debated it, actually. and as fucked up as it sounds, i got a slice of joy out of all of that. the puppet strings had been severed.”

ofhelens​:

Matching Nate’s light tone with her own japes (or at least, passable attempt at a joke - humour was never something that came easily), Helen’s expression wrinkled into an easy smile. “All those heretical dances in the woods? Or is that too The Crucible for Shakespeare?” She thought about telling him how the notion of running away felt appealing to her sometimes too - how dancing barefoot under moonlight felt like solace. Was it fear or bravery that kept her anchored? “Me…neither. I hope Heidi knows what she’s doing - I’m not sure she does…maybe I should offer to swap with someone? Like Jonah?”

.

nate laughs and makes a mental note about asking heidi her particular thoughts concerning the witches. suddenly, the idea of dancing barefoot onstage along with saffi and grace is hilarious, and he definitely wants it to happen. “oh please, i’m sure willy would’ve loved the crucible. fear, lies, hysteria, and witchcraft are the exact words i’d use to describe the scottish play, y’know? a match made in...purgatory? hell?” nate shakes his head at her response, “helen, it’s literally going to be fine. try not to worry so much about it. i’ll keep you entertained from the wings when you’re onstage, or whatever, until you’re comfortable. it’s our last show. we’ve gotta give it our best shot.” nate smiles at her, but hearing jonah’s name makes him a little anxious, so he backs up for as second. 

“but uh, speaking of jonah....have you talked to him lately?”

.

when: immediately after the released police statement; where: the lake; who: @pvlmer​.

nate was sure he was about to lose it. sure, when he had gotten pulled away for a moment to chat with the detectives some time ago, he had convinced himself that everything would be fine. but now, sitting at the edge of the lake, nate did not feel the same way. like suddenly with that statement, everything was that much more real and it scared him. but not just for his sake. jason. nate had called him earlier and told him they needed to meet, but didn’t say for what. he just knew it was about time they talked. about everything. with thoughts burning a hole in his head, nate glances back when he hears footsteps approaching. he throws another stone across the lake. it goes right in. “i swear i’m better at this. at least, i used to be.”

harryzhangs​:

harry snorts, trying to keep her attitude about it light and unaffected. a good sport, that’s what she has to be. it’s what she’s always been. no one needs to know just how fucking exhausting it’s become. “don’t wear it out, i’m not sure how they even fit the whole thing in one line on the cast list,” she catches up to nate with a grin. “you excited for the read-through? i’m considering starting a betting pool on the fights that’ll probably break out over the course of this whole process.”

nate’s eyes grow wide with mischief, “oh, you know i want in on this. i’ve got ten bucks and a bottle of cheap tequila that says josie will throw a temper tantrum and get herself kicked out of the play before hell week.” nate laughs and slows his pace towards the building, because honestly class is dumb and they’ll be out of here before they know it, as he considers the circumstances. as much as he was excited to dig into macbeth, he just couldn’t shake a thought. “heidi really just said ‘fuck it’ and gave this group of accused conspirators of real murder the chance to act in a play about murder, huh? i think it’s kinda badass, not gonna lie.”

Send 📱 To Find Out About My Muse's Phone

What ringtone my muse has set for yours:

What contact photo my muse has set for yours:

What my muse thinks of the way yours texts:

How quickly my muse responds to your texts:

How often our muses text:

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📱

What ringtone my muse has set for yours:

this shit is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s.

What contact photo my muse has set for yours:

What my muse thinks of the way yours texts:

nate loves how mads texts. never a dull moment, and he appreciates that.

How quickly my muse responds to your texts:

pretty soon unless he’s sleep. if he’s getting a text from mads, they’re 99% talking shit, 1% making plans to talk shit. and nate is a messy bitch who lives for drama.

How often our muses text:

i’d say every few days or so  — probably in bursts? like, tons of texting on wednesday and then not another burst until saturday. but that’s because nate calls.

How often our muses call:

often! nate doesn’t think texts truly encapsulate mads’ voice. so he facetimes her, especially if she hates it.

Does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours:

nah, but then he forgets to call her back. every. single. time.

Last text sent from my muse to yours:

[ sent, 10:39 p.m. ] : wanna get fucked uuuuuuup tonight???

[ sent, 10:42 p.m. ] : or u could keep me company while i make some edibles. i’ve got a fancy brownie mix & a lot of shit to get off my chest.