Scenestlr​:

the most honest day(s) of them all! 

let’s get weird.

texts | palmer bros.

nate: j

nate: jasonnnnnnnnn

nate: how ya feelin, champ?

do u are have stupid?

hell yeah brother!

📱 better late than never! hehe

What ringtone my muse has set for yours:

um, this was obvious, right?

What contact photo my muse has set for yours:

What my muse thinks of the way yours texts:

nate thinks teddy is adorable, so however he texts is adorable by association.

How quickly my muse responds to your texts:

v quickly — nate’s phone is important for all drug & sex-related activities.

How often our muses text:

maybe not as often as you’d initially think  — i’m sure they lots of each other throughout the week! (again, drugs & sex)

How often our muses call:

again, maybe not as much as you’d think. i mean, they’re too busy doing other things these days, so. (other things = you guessed it, drugs & sex)

Does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours:

nope! nate answers those late-night calls reaaaaal quick.

Last text(s) sent from my muse to yours:

[ sent, 2:28 a.m. ] : u up? 

[ sent, 2:32 a.m. ] : so what’s the verdict on inviting hudson in for that 3some? yay/nay?

[ sent, 7:55 a.m. ] : sorry, i was definitely KIDDING. .....................unless????

where: courtyard between FAB & alderidge hall; when: tuesday afternoon, before the read-through; who: @joseqhine​.

as usual for someone who has an unhealthy dependence on drugs to get through each day, nate is outside smoking before the cast’s call time  —  just something to take the edge off. he places his copy of macbeth down to stub out the cigarette when he looks up and sees a familiar face. he bursts into laughter when he sees her. josie’s the kind of person that nate didn’t ever get along with; and looking at her, it still blows his mind that she and mads were ever close. he thinks she’ll probably walk by and ignore him, but nate just can’t let this opportunity pass him up. “what’s up, lady ‘duff? memorize that scene yet?"

me on the surface: who trying to get smoked OUT

me on the inside: these vices are a temporary substitute for the feeling of contentment I so dearly long for

me deeeeeeeper on the inside: im trying get SMOKED OUT BOOYYYYYYYY

 harryzhangs​:

“badass is one word for it,” harry grins. she just can’t get used to the idea that half the school, maybe more, considers all of them to be murderers. as hilarious as it would be to watch josie throw a tantrum and get kicked out of the show, as nate suggested, everyone’s usual antics feel rather tainted by that fact. harry doesn’t know how nate does it, putting on a joking front like this when he was the one to find orson laying there, bled-out and lifeless. he’s got to be a far better actor than her, just for that. “hopefully she’s just really into the irony of it, and not playing some kind of sick joke on us. that would put a serious damper the inevitable rehearsal storm-outs from… josie, you said? my money’s on mathias first.”

nate laughs as he considers the idea that heidi would be capable of putting the fourth years through a psychological thriller like macbeth only to get them busted for actual murder when it was all said and done. “nah, heidi doesn’t seem like the type to put that much effort into a long, convoluted plan like that. ...oh shit, unless she was orson’s other lover and this is her revenge....! dun dun dun!” nate laughs and shakes his head, trying his best to keep a light disposition about the possibility of what any of them could be facing. was there any other choice? after a moment, nate’s mind drifts back to the whole ‘co-conspirators’ angle, and he looks over at harry. he wonders about how much she knows, but more importantly, how much she’s willing to share. “but hey, you’re easily one of the smartest people in this bunch. ...i wanna know what you really think.” nate looks around to make sure no one else might be around, “it’s still wild to even say out loud, but there can’t be an actual murderer among us, right?”

bxstvrd​:

Jonah’s eyes flickered to Nate, and he looked at his roommate, really looked at his roommate, for what felt like the first time. When he thought of Nate, he thought of lightness and air, of loud bravado and effortless friendliness. He almost wanted to fight Nate, wanted to argue with him and insist, no, you’ve never felt like this, no, there’s no way you know what this is like, and yet, he found himself believing Nate completely, without a shadow of a doubt.

It was… surprising, to say the least. That perhaps the feeling in his chest, of waves threatening to overwhelm him, of that not-so-gentle hum of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, maybe he didn’t have to explain them to Nate. Maybe Nate knew already.

“How do you… let them?” he asked, quiet, sincere. Because this, this was the hardest part for him. Somehow, he’d managed to convince two people, Helen and Harry, that he wasn’t just this shitty black hole that consumed and consumed and never gave anything back, and they were there. They wanted to help, and Jonah could not, for the life of him, figure out how to let them.

He wanted to be saved. He wanted to be saved so badly it was killing him. And then, the words were leaving his lips before he could stop them, pure terror infused into every breath, because this was his greatest fear, and he didn’t know why he was asking Nate, didn’t know how he’d allowed himself to trust in less than thirty seconds, but here he was, spilling over and spilling out, and god he just hoped Nate would understand. “What if I let them… what if they try to save me and they can’t? What if every good thing about me has rotted away and when they try to peel back all the bad and find what’s left, there’s just… nothing? What then?”

Jonah had lost his appetite completely, the banana set aside and forgotten. There was no humor that was going to penetrate this, now that Nate had dredged it all up to the surface, like pulling some great shipwreck up from the bottom of the ocean. He was the wreck, and he was somehow also the storm.

“Don’t give me the same bullshit everyone else does,” he said sharply. “The whole everyone can be saved, nobody is too broken crap. Because there are people who are just… born wrong. There are people where no matter how hard you try to be good, it doesn’t take. What are those people supposed to do?” What am I supposed to do?

.

nate hears jonah, and he can’t help but hear the voice of someone who’s clearly wrestling with a lot of heartache and unresolved trauma. while nate’s first instinct is to make jokes or run away from most (emotional) situations, he chooses to sit in it this time. and it’s hard, because it reminds him of some dark places he pulled himself out from. places he wanted to forget about. nate tries to remember that there isn’t any shame in that  — in fact, there’s a pride he can take in looking back at all the things he’s been through. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and all that cheesy shit.

but nate doesn’t say any of that, because again, jonah isn’t in the space to hear it; in this moment when his roommate is being his most vulnerable, nate wants to help him however he can. not because it’s a good thing to do. because he wants to. even if it might not be what jonah wants to hear.

“now, you’re smart enough to know that life isn’t that cut and dry. it’d be boring if it was. there isn’t just good and bad in the world — this shit is complicated and messy and...sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s worth the trouble.” nate moves to sit at the edge of jonah’s bed and faces him. it was time they got on the same level. “but let’s say you’re right. let’s say...there are some people who are born wrong and have no chance of being ‘saved’, whatever that means. why, then, consider the possibility of opening yourself up to being rescued? that’s some self-fulfilling prophecy bullshit that i don’t agree with. holding the people you love to unrealistic expectations is the quickest way to fuck things for them and for yourself. but if you were honest, you’d admit that you don’t want to push them out. because you hope, at some point, that their kindness will rub off on you.” 

nate sighs, because he realizes he’s gone deeper than he’d like on a post-breakfast conversation, but it’s too late to turn back now. at least they’re talking. “jonah, i’ve been where you are. hell, depending on the day, i’ve been a skip away from spending all day in the bed myself. but expecting to be ‘saved’ is not the answer. you know who needs saving? kittens in trees. princesses in fairy tales. babies, like literally all the time.” nate leans forward as if he’s telling jonah as secret.

“unfortunately, you and i are none of those things. there is no saving us, because life just doesn’t happen to us. we have the means to change things, to work towards something different for ourselves. and guess what? sometimes, we gotta get down and just fight for it. so do yourself a favor, do those people who love you a favor, and fucking fight for y-ourself, man.” his voice cracks for a second, but he doesn’t care.

it’s then that nate realizes his eyes are wet. he wipes them dry with the back of his hands. 

“....shit.”

.