If You Could Trade Places With Any Of The Fourth Years, Who Would It Be?

scenestlr​:

grace scoffs softly at his comment, “i’m not surprised you’d find it so boring. i still don’t know how the hell you got pandarus last semester.” the cast list came as a surprise for her, to see him in  such an important role in trolius and cressida. she didn’t care for that role, nor did she want to take it from him - but that very essence of knowing he didn’t deserve it struck her to her core. the very bitter and evil thought of maybe nate hooked up with orson like chandler did to get that role crosses her mind. grace lets that anger subside, just for a moment, as she hears his next question.

she presses her lips together, she’s used to his typical comments and jabs - just as he was hers, but that felt pointed. the whispers were one thing, but a direct accusation to murdering someone feels different. she holds little respect for how he gets his ways, on and off the stage. it’s a dirty move, something they shouldn’t be joking about. “you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” she forms her words carefully and malignantly. “i don’t have to prove my innocence to you, palmer.”

it’s always nice to know that while most things change, others would remain the exact same. for example, nate has done a lot of soul searching over the course of his twenty-two years — contrary to what he presents to most people, he’s done a lot of growing up; compared to grace, who, unfortunately looked like she was always gonna be hater. yikes. nate rolls his eyes at her comment about pandarus, but is satisfied that she’s still salty about it. point for him.

“well i hate to break it to ya, but you haven’t been proving much of anything to me in these past few years i’ve known you,” he cringes a little at the harshness, so he follows up, “...besides the fact that it’s clear to me and everybody else that you’re secretly in love with me, which honestly, i don’t blame you. but the whole ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ trope is kinda played out, don’t you think?” nate brings the joint back to his lips, and he hides his smirk behind the smoke. messing with grace was his favorite pastime, but there’s something about this night that has nate feeling particularly weird, so he keeps talking for no good reason.

“all i’m saying is, you don’t have to try so hard. especially since orson....y’know. bit the dust.”

where: alderidge hall, 3rd floor classroom; when: the day after cast announcements; who: @ofhelens​.

senioritis was definitely a real thing, and honestly, if nate could spend all day in the rehearsal space until graduation, he would. but today, even as excited as he was from last night’s news, nate couldn’t help himself from falling asleep in the middle of a class he forgot he had been taking for the past two weeks. he jerks awake, realizing the class is over and everyone is getting up to leave. after he closes his bag, nate looks up and spots helen. she was the studious type, right? he makes his way over to her. "hey, did you happen to catch any of that? i closed my eyes for two seconds and now class is over.” 

ofmadsle​:

It seems like Nate and her had the same idea, though she didn’t expect to find anyone outside yet. She needed a moment, a breather to herself. So much happened before the break, with Orson’s verbal take down against her to his damned death, who knows what happened in between? She wasn’t sure how she could show her face, when she was sure every anxiety she felt was written all over it. Mads supposes she should be grateful that the ball was a masquerade after all. 

Still, she’s glad to find Nate, though she supposes she’s caught him in a private moment. There’s an urge to make a joke- is that the original Augustus Waters monologue?- but she holds her wit in for once. Instead, she makes her step a bit louder, hoping he’d hear her so she wasn’t catching him completely off guard. She racks her brain, wondering what comes next, but all she could remember was Romeo’s next line. Clearly, she wasn’t the Friar. “Good morrow, father.” She smiles softly, grateful for a friendly face. 

seeing mads always lifts nate’s spirits, so it’s easy for him to smile back at her and respond so easily, “benedicite.” to be honest, he probably could’ve done that whole scene by heart — there was something about ro & jules that just got to him. nate welcomes her company with open arms, because in situations like these, two was always better than one. it’s hard to be left alone with his thoughts for long periods of time. with mads there, nate manages to forget about the detectives, orson, and the long night ahead of them, if only temporarily.

— ✶

“come on mads, you know we’re basically two-thirds of the weird sisters in the living flesh. think about it: we strut onstage with our sexy beards, our couplet rhyming, and our — arguably — wicked ways, and then vanish before the real tragic shit goes down. it’s a no-brainer.” it’s a few days later after all the events from the masque ball and heidi’s announcement of their final play, and nate is, for lack of a better phrase, fucking thrilled. on this particular afternoon he has made plans to hang out with mads, and unfortunately for her, he hasn’t shut up yet.

“so, what do you think — do you love it? do you hate it? are you gonna kick my ass right now?”

outside the refectory, early in the night, open starter. 

in theory, masque balls are pretty badass. while nate never needed a good excuse to put on a costume and party, he did appreciate the way aldy really went up for the ball every winter. from the lighting fixtures to the material of the tablecloths - someone had their priorities straight when it came to using that 60k/yr tuition. when the ball began, nate had floated between the tables - laughter lingering behind after every encounter. this was his element. it’s too bad the detectives were watching, or he might’ve found a way to spike the drinks a while ago. well, the night’s still young. he spots the dance floor. 

five consecutive songs later - because music is an experience that most take for granted - nate shoves an app or two (or three) in his mouth and makes through the back doors of the refectory. it had barely been two hours, but his anxiety was still rising and he was becoming agitated. this would need to be fixed before the performance tonight. the air is chilly and thin, perfect conditions for a visit from mary & juan. nate reaches into his shoe and pulls out a lil’ skinny joint and a lighter. but he hesitates to put it to his lips.

“within the infant rind of this small flower, poison hath residence and medicine power.” feeling pensive about friar lawrence’s words, nate huffs, not noticing that someone’s joined him.

bxstvrd​:

DATE & TIME: around twilight….u know for the Ambiance LOCATION:Outside the FAB AVAILABILITY: Taken @aldysfool​

Jonah hated rehearsals with everything in him this semester. Hated being relegated to the background, hated watching other people twirl through the spotlight, hated that he would never again feel the golden hue grace his face at Alderidge. He’d snuck out early for a smoke, knowing that he wouldn’t be in anymore scenes, but he turned, surprised, when he heard the doors of the FAB swing open behind him, feeling a certain awkwardness when he realized it was Nate coming out to break his solitude. Because living with Nate, he could avoid him easily, had mastered the art of hiding in plain sight from both of his roommates, but out here, in the open, he couldn’t avoid him… and he was even more surprised to find he didn’t want to.

There was a surprising amount of discomfort when his desire to stay brushed up against his instinct to run, and it made Jonah irritable when he didn’t want to be. He caught himself, thankfully, before he lashed out and said something he didn’t mean, but he did say, brusquely, without looking at Nate, “I hope you didn’t come out here because of me. I was fine before, and I’ll keep being fine after you’re gone, so… there’s no need to check on me. And if you didn’t follow me out here, well, great, but there’s plenty of space that you can occupy that’s not also in my space. So.”

.

rehearsal nate is a different kind of nate; less partying, less recreational drug usage, less deviant behavior. except on the weekends. and yeah, macbeth is fun and he’s actually not hating rehearsal. even being onstage with grace isn’t the total soul sucker it used to be when orson was around. heidi felt different as a director, and nate appreciated her willingness to play along with his antics — to some degree, at least. there came a point in rehearsal when he wouldn’t be needed for a while, and while nate normally loved to sit in the back of the rehearsal space and doodle in his script while watching his fellow thespians work on stage, his phone buzzes and he doesn’t even look at it to know what time it is. he grabs his backpack and heads towards the doors. 

when he opens them and sees jonah, nate smiles for only a moment before it’s replaced by a raised eyebrow. the moodiness on this one. nate rolls his eyes, “somebody’s in a good mood. ...anyway, you don’t own the sidewalk and secretly we both know you enjoy my company, so there’s that. now if you’ll excuse me,” he looks around, “i have a date.” the lights around the FAB aren’t bright enough to completely illuminate the surrounding grounds, but nate is sure that he’ll find what he’s looking for if he stands here long enough. 

“quick, random question: you allergic to small, furry animals?”

bxstvrd​:

Of course it was Nate.

Well-meaning, kind-hearted, persistent Nate. Jonah half wished it had been Julian who’d come back to the room solely because at least Julian was used to his moodiness, his snappishness, his cruelty. Nate… still seemed to think there was some shred of good in him, and Jonah, who’d be mean to a rock for sport, somehow couldn’t find it in him to treat the other with the same callousness he presented towards the rest of the world.

Didn’t mean he didn’t hate every second of being aware of his soft, incurable heart.

“I’m awake,” he mumbled, barely above a whisper. He refused to let Nate see him, refused to roll over and get up. And besides, even if he wanted to do either of those things, he couldn’t find the energy. “I’m not hungry.”

But he did have to find the energy. He wouldn’t be left alone if he didn’t at least try to assert himself. And so, it was with enormous effort that he sat up, rubbing tiredness from his eyes, before turning to face Nate. “If it’s alright with you, I don’t feel much like talking. I think– I’m coming down with something.” A total lie, but it was easier than telling the truth.

He couldn’t quite meet Nate’s gaze, knew his eyes always gave too much away, before finishing with, “You should go to class. I’ll be fine.”

nate sighs in relief, because while it seems like jonah’s going through a lot of other shit, at least he’s not dead. but he doesn’t look great, so nate attempts something most people don’t dare to do and bursts jonah’s personal bubble to take his temperature. which is really just the back of nate’s hand against jonah’s forehead, but it’s all nate needs to know that something’s up. 

“yeah, you’re comin’ down with something alright,” nate turns towards the food, “it’s pretty common, i think. almost as common as the cold,” he finds two forks and picks up the drink carrier, “and it’s been going around the department these past couple of weeks, so it’s actually not surprising you got it.” nate puts the food on a nearby surface, kicks off his shoes, and sits down on the floor next to jonah. “you know what it is, right?” he pushes one of the warm containers into jonah’s lap and hands him a fork and syrup. 

“just a classic case of bullshit, jonah. and while it’s normally contagious, lucky for you, my immune system is already shit so missing class is common for me.” nate opens up his own waffle container and takes no time to bathe it in syrup and butter, before he looks back up at jonah. “look. i don’t know what’s going on, or why it’s happening today, but i do know that obviously something is up with you and while you’re not obligated to talk to me about any of it, i’m not letting you face it alone on an empty stomach. so. we’re going to sit here and eat these Belgian waffles, because letting breakfast food get cold is a crime i don’t think i’m willing to commit. ...oh shit, you’re not on a gluten-free kick, right?”

where: the castle’s library; when: earlier in the week after the cast announcement; who: @hudscnwilliams​.

although the castle’s library wasn’t as expansive as the main one in alderidge hall, nate still found some good stuff. it had been a pretty long day even by a monday’s standards, and nate had waited all day to scour the library for non-Shakespearean references on witches in the 1600s. and if he was lucky, nate was hoping to find something that would resemble an actual spell, or at least ingredients for a potion. maybe he’d practice on his peers, y’know, totally as a joke — or method acting. there was a book he had climbed up to reach, but had misjudged its weight, so it slips out of his hands and brings down almost the whole row with it, a book knocking him in the head in the process. nate hops down and starts to pick things up off the ground. “...i’m okay! ....i think! ....if anyone cares!” 

where: the anchor; when: the night after the cast read-through; who: @teddynewell​.

for once, nate makes it through the day without falling asleep in class and/or skipping to smoke some weed, because he looks forward to hanging out with teddy all damn day at his fave spot: the anchor. while it didn’t have the beats and the strobe lighting of a rave, nate couldn’t deny the charm of the place for students and professors alike. plus, nate practically lived at the anchor his sophomore year, so the staff was like an extended family at this point. after ordering two fireball shots, he leans against the bar and turns to teddy. with a grin, “you’ll be proud of me. i haven’t taken a single drug all day - scout’s honor - just so i could get wasted with my favorite drinking partner.” when the glasses arrive, nate order two more and slides the first shot over to teddy. he raises his glass. “what should we toast to?”

📱

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.