Where: the Refectory, The 4th Year Table; When: Post-announcement, Before Read-through; who: @chandlerrosen​.

📱 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????

harryzhangs​:

as enjoyable as harry finds the winter masque every year, even she needs a moment away from the crowds every now and then. tonight, it’s reached beyond a simple need for some fresh air– the constant presence of the detectives, making her paranoid that they’re watching her every move, has caused a nervous stir within harry that makes it difficult for her to keep her usual composure. she should be worry-free and having a great time catching up with her friends, but instead she’s worried about suspicion and fractures among her peers and the can of red spray paint wrapped in a plastic shopping bag under her bed. 

she exits the refectory and slips off her heels, stretching her toes against the wet grass (that’s the funny thing about washington– everything is always rain-soaked. harry’s californian sensibilities still aren’t used to it). it’s cold, but in a bracing, refreshing way that harry doesn’t really mind at the moment. she takes a small wander, eyes fixed on the stars above her (the ones she can actually see through the clouds, at least), hardly noticing she’s coming up on nate until she’s just a few feet away from his back.

“two such opposèd kings encamp them still. in man as well as herbs– grace and rude will. fuck, i skipped a line, didn’t i?” harry grins, folding her arms against the chill. “well, i guess that spoils that i won’t be playing friar laurence tonight.”

when he hears harry interjecting with more friar lines, nate lets out a breath of relief. while he hadn’t necessarily gone outside to be alone all night (just a quick sec to catch his breath), nate had a split second of worry that whoever joined him was going to kill his vibe before it even got started. harry wasn’t one of those people. with the friar’s weed soliloquy replaying in his head, nate considers that he’s done his best to stay away from the alcohol tonight - this performance was too important, given the circumstances  - and he should be rewarded before he has to go change into costume. fuck it.

nate laughs and turns to face harry, “aww, that sucks. well, please know that i’d pay good money to watch you transform into the friar any day. monastic tunic and all.” when the lighter ignites, nate rolls the joint between his fingers until the flame bites into the paper. at the sight of the burn, nate slips his lighter into his back pocket and glances over harry. before he raises the joint to his lips, he motions to her bare feet, “your night must be going as well as mine if the heels have come off,” he takes a hit and then extends the joint to her. harry looks like she could probably use something to take the edge off. it could be a long night.

“you want it in? i don’t have cooties. pinky swear.” 

📱

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.

𝖉𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊, 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘  — nate’s audition for macbeth.

alriiiiiiiight, so! a few ooc notes: nate loves macbeth, but i genuinely don’t think he ever really considered he was the protagonist/hero type, so that’s why he chooses to steer away from those roles. should he have given it an honest shot? i’m not sure ─  i don’t think he’ll know what to do with himself if he even got the title role, macduff, or even malcolm. frankly, i just don’t think he’d be inspired enough by them to put his all into it. anyway. enjoy! // triggers: mentions of drug use. word count: 1400+? google doc for better viewing!

so, here’s the thing: nate didn’t know what the fuck was happening anymore.

ever since heidi made the announcement of their spring play, he had been feeling one step behind everybody else. while most of his classmates jumped on rehearsal spaces, monologue runs, and every other kind of audition prep and/or ritual, nate couldn’t seem to share in their enthusiasm. and it scared him. there was something eerie about it all ─ like some kind of storm had formed over the department and no one seemed to notice, or worse, care. or maybe they were better at hiding their fears than he was. nate had tried his hardest to prepare for this audition properly, but he hadn’t been able to focus long enough to even give it an honest try.

serious talk about what happened that night had pretty much ceased amongst the group, but now it felt like no one had given the winter masque a second thought. did everybody know something he didn’t? either way, he had been so distracted that the auditions came sooner than he realized. nate considered just waltzing in and recycling one of his faves from hamlet, because as much as he wanted to go for the big roles, he felt like this wasn’t the play for him to take that risk. nate already had a lot of other shit to deal with on a daily basis, and he convinced himself he would be a liability if he even considered the thought of going for, say, the title role. and in all honesty, the amount of emotional and psychological lifting he would have to do in order to portray macbeth (lady ‘beth or macduff for that matter) accurately was something he just didn’t have the capacity for at the moment. 

so that’s where he was the day of auditions. the waiting was always the easiest part for him ─ being able to send quick texts or share jokes backstage was where nate shined. he didn’t think about the stage, or heidi, or the audition piece, because right now what mattered most was making sure other people felt comfortable and strong going into their auditions. lately nate had grown introspective as fuck, and he didn’t really understand why. 

or maybe he did, but he didn’t want to acknowledge the facts as they were: he and teddy were having their drug-induced fun, but it was unsustainable by the way things were going; jason was probably guilty for something, and nate was sad that he was still too afraid to just confront him; discovering orson’s body had done something to nate, and he hadn’t stopped worrying about his own mortality since. he didn’t want to end up like that ─ drugged up, miserable, and alone. nate wanted to be this upstanding, nice guy, but there was this heaviness that had been creeping up on him after all these years of destructive behavior. and of course everyone saw the silly, carefree nate who was so easily relatable and funny all these years that it would be near impossible to believe by almost anyone that he had a personality beyond popping vallies like candy and sharing internet memes in group chats at 3 am. fuck. 

he doesn’t hear his name at first, because he’s too busy thinking about a lot of other shit, but then he hears his name called once more, and nate comes back down from the stratosphere for two seconds to remember oh yeah, he has something really important to do right now. like audition. nate walks out on the stage just like every other audition for alderidge, except this time when looks up and sees heidi’s face, a fire ignites under his ass.

“yo. my name is nathaniel palmer and…,” he resists the urge to say, ‘and welcome back to my youtube channel’, “i’ll be auditioning with iago’s soliloquy from act two, scene three of othello.” maybe it’s the look on his face or how he takes a few steps backwards from the edge of stage, but heidi doesn’t verbally respond and nate’s thankful for it. his nerves are already bad enough, so he closes his eyes and counts his deep breaths. he tries to remember something of what he’s learned before. the exhale expels the fear, the inhale centers him in place. by the time he’s opened his eyes, iago takes form. 

“And what’s he, then, that says I play the villain?”

at base, iago is written off as one of willy’s cruelest characters; he’s manipulative, cold, and intense as hell. but nate understands a part of iago, though, where who he presents to the world is not always how he feels behind the closed doors. honest iago, just like honest nate, has dark tendencies. but while nate has chosen to run from his (via literal running, drugs, or sex), iago sees no other choice but to embrace it. and here, in a rare moment, nate allows himself to embrace it too. where does that darkness come from? nate’s eyelids are low and he moves slowly, but each step is calculated in a wide S shape towards downstage center. in this moment, there are only two players: nate as the predator, and heidi as his accomplice and his prey. "─His soul is so enfettered to her love / That she may make, unmake, do what she list, / Even as her appetite shall play the god / With his weak function.” his breath is a little shaky, so he takes a beat to collect himself. 

if orson could see him now, he’d probably laugh to spite nate’s attempt at pulling out something else besides the humorous, non-threatening fool. but that’s where orson was always wrong. humor was present in everything, especially in moments of high drama and danger ─ like conspiring to see the downfall of one’s appointed general, for example. and as long as humor is there, nate knows how to tap in. so he smiles then laughs, short and dry, before switching tactics and continuing with the piece. that’s the thing: navigating iago was second nature for nate, because he had become an expert at thinking on his feet and blending in wherever seemed necessary. it’s what he had to do to survive, and he wasn’t going to apologize for that. neither did iago. 

 “─When devils will the blackest sins put on, / They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, / As I do now.” 

iago was basically airing out nate’s dirty laundry right there on the stage, because holy shit, how else would devils know how to act, how to behave, how to charm like their heavenly counterparts? maybe they didn’t ─ but fallen angels did. and nate never once felt like he was an angel, even when he was young and his family tried convincing him otherwise. he had a lot to be grateful for of course, but there was an anger that lurked deep below the surface. it manifested in his bad behavior in school. in his drug abuse. in his relationships. and that was no one’s fault, he’s had to realize. even though he wants to blame someone so badly. anyone, really. maybe that would help him hurt less. 

the audition comes to a close, and the room is so quiet he can hear his heart beating through his chest. heidi breaks the silence at first, but nate feels a little lightheaded, so he non-verbally motions for her to hold her thought. putting on iago’s jealousy, his speech patterns, and his demeanor takes a little more effort to let go, so nate has to shake him out. literally. exhale to expel, inhale to center. 

damn, he misses his therapist. 

after another few seconds of obnoxious bouncing around, nate turns on his heel and beams in heidi’s direction. honest, silly nate was back in control. he hears her question for the second time and doesn’t miss a beat, “oh, sorry i didn’t mention it earlier. that was my audition for one of the weird sisters ─ the first witch, if you wanna get more specific.” she looks at him expectantly, but his grin refuses to falter. what else had she been expecting from him? nate thinks about his classmates, especially jason, and doubles down on his decision. it would be better this way. “and no, i’m not interested in other roles.” nate crosses his arms behind his torso and sways from side to side. there’s a lot more he could say, and in fact, a lot has already been left unsaid. but that was always the case, wasn’t it? 

nate shrugs, and just like that, his audition is over.

“what can i say? i guess i’ve got a thing for sexy, bearded hags.”

text → nate & zahra

zahra: first witch! that's HOT

zahra: you've already cursed josephine in the group chat, so i'd say you're perfect for the role

nate: fuck yeahhh! hey congrats to YOU btw - how ya feel about banquo?

nate: lmao i mean, did i lie?????

nate: also, what do u think about macbeth as a crime noir? a 60s psychedelic trip? a pirate fantasy? cause i have FEELINGS

zahramalik​:

LOCATION: fine arts building rehearsal hall TIME: after heidi’s announcement, before the auditions AVAILABILITY: closed @aldysfool​

“Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe. All may be well.”

Zahra ends Claudius’s monologue on her knees. She’d manage to run through it without forgetting her lines that time, but it wasn’t her strongest performance. Claudius’s guilt for murdering King Hamlet was hard to tap into, which was ironic, considering how Zahra had plenty to feel guilty about. 

After a beat, she smacks her hands on the top of her thighs and looks up at Nate expectantly. “It’s trite, isn’t it? I know it is.” Zahra groans reaches over to grab the copy of Hamlet beside her and flipped to the dog-eared page. “I know I can pull this off. It’s just… I feel like Heidi’s going to expect someone to do Claudius for Macbeth and I don’t want to be predictable.” 

She shuts the her book with a huff, clearly frustrated with herself. “Should we even keep trying? Or is Heidi going to take one look at us and make me Hecate and you the Porter?” It was harsh, but Zahra was in a limited supply of optimism after years of dealing with Orson. How could she be sure that Heidi was any different, or even willing to see her as a contender for the lead?

going through audition pieces with zahra was the best distraction, because to be honest, nate hadn’t done enough homework to decide on who he was auditioning for. in fact, a day or two prior to this, he’d joked to heidi about trying his hand in lighting or set design. needless to say, she didn’t find it funny. so there nate was, slow clapping to zahra’s performance of claudius and flipping through his copies of the bard’s four great tragedies with his feet propped up.  

“okay, now that’s just going way too far. first of all, even heidi knows the porter is too good of a scene stealer role for a third year, or even a second. plus, she might surprise us and decide to cut hecate altogether. i know i would,” nate smirks and shrugs as he flips through Othello. nate knows that the more he procrastinates the higher the chances he won’t get anything good. especially for a show like ‘beth. but nate ignores the thought, mostly because he doesn’t know how to process it just yet, and points at zahra.

“and while it might not mean much, i think you’d kill at this role, too. who’s your competition, you think? i could take ‘em out for you. .........like literally, i’d just throw them off by asking them out to a really fancy dinner.”

📱

What ringtone my muse has set for yours:

the palmer boys. (and yes, this is the ringtone.)

What contact photo my muse has set for yours:

What my muse thinks of the way yours texts:

i think nate probably wishes jason wasn’t so serious allllll the time, but he’s happy to hear from him either way.

How quickly my muse responds to your texts:

not gonna lie, nate might not respond as quickly because he’s trying to think of the best answer to come up with? 

How often our muses text:

before orson’s death, i think they spent a good amount of time w/ each other so there weren’t many texts exchanged. now, i think there’s some distance between them (so more texting is involved). and a good chunk of it is probably family related.

How often our muses call:

nate loves a video chat and he calls jason ALL the time when he can. i wanna say that he prefers that to texting because he can never get a good read on jason’s mood via texts. so he has to see his lil’ face.

Does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours:

before orson’s death, absolutely. things were fine. they were fine. there was no real reason to call him back, right? but these days, that’s definitely not the case. nate doesn’t know what jason might be calling him about. he answers before the first ring is done.

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

[ sent, 8:48 p.m. ] : going on a donut run, wanna join? gotta feed the ladies and then heading that way.

[ sent, 8:49 p.m. ] : also yes, i’m still feeding those cats behind the FAB. they’re important to me, ok? trust me on this.

[ sent, 8:56 p.m. ] : omg pick up ur phone - there’s too many of them back here!!!! i’m trapped & scared!!!!!!!! SOS

[ sent, 10:00 a.m. ] : hey, this is ur weekly reminder that i love u very much, kiddo. i know i don’t say it all the time, but i’m proud of u. seriously. also, call mom back.

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?”

teddynewell​:

when nate calls, teddy answers. he didn’t hesitate to meet him at the anchor. hanging out with nate always meant a fun time, it meant forgetting about the weight of the world on his shoulders. teddy’s eyes widen at the sight of the fireball shots. it’s a weekday. not that it had ever mattered before, but it still throws him off for a second. he turns to look at nate and his smile widens. “i’m so so proud of you, you have no idea,” he tells him. teddy really likes hanging out with nate. there’s something about him, something teddy can’t pinpoint yet. “oh, wow. i feel so special.” he wraps his arm around nate’s shoulders, raising his own glass. “let’s toast to us, and to you, to getting you absolutely wasted tonight.”

"here here!” nate laughs and downs his first shot with ease. at this point, the smooth, fiery shots were like a rite of passage for him before the actual drinks for the night. and no, he didn’t care what day it was. nate had seriously considered waiting until a larger group of the fourth years could occupy a couple of booths in the back and wreck havoc, but the reason to celebrate was urgent. luckily, he could always depend on teddy to meet up with him for some potentially dumb decisions to be made. the night was still young, after all. “i’m proud of us, teddy bear. we did it! between you as malcolm and me as first witch, we’re gonna steal the hell out of this show. sidebar, why have i never called you that before?” when the second round comes, nate picks them up and motions towards the pool table in the back corner. “either way, that’s some cast list, right? chandler is going to kill lady ‘beth, for sure.”