Texts | Palmer Bros.

what's your dream role?

“fuck me, this is a hard one. let’s keep this strictly shakespeare, ‘cause i could riff all day on contemporary theatre and how much tragicomedies speak to me on a spiritual level. so yeah, the dream role would have to go to everybody’s super problematic fave, iago. he’s an enigma of a character - with unpredictable emotions, motives, tactics, and some of the best soliloquys willy ever wrote. he’s fucked up in so many ways, and i wanna sink my teeth into him and take him on. i’ve been craving a puzzle.”

oofscenestlr​:

one thing that’s held through the past few years of dealing with nat is that he somehow always manages to make it about him. she had first hand experience, the constant days and nights when orson would pair them together was like a thorn in her side. getting through scenes was tough, but she tried to stay professional about it. so what if she was a try-hard? she was doing more than half the people here anyway.

“i’m not even gonna try and respond to that fucked up theory. just some advice for you - maybe get your head out of your ass and realize the world isn’t in love with you. in fact, the world has a lot more things going on than falling to their knees to worship you.” she’s bitter, it’s true. and maybe this was a losing fight, but she had to hold her own. she was a perfectionist, that much is true, and if nate couldn’t see there was anything to gain from that, it was lost on him. but trying so hard to impress orson’s ghost? grace had no respect for orson anymore. “have you considered i work so hard to get where i am for myself? and not for the fake validation of some ghost busy haunting our school and the real murderer?”

giving somebody shit for actually caring about something, especially their craft, is the lowest hanging fruit and while nate knows that, it doesn’t stop him from standing behind his words. because yeah, while grace’s work ethic was something fierce, she had generally not been a nice person from the moment nate met her. and in the wake of orson’s death, she still didn’t seem to get it. and maybe she never would. “save me the fucking diatribe about how you’re so different from the rest of us and how much you’ve sacrificed to get here. ‘cause if you wanna compare notes, we could be here all night,” nate takes another long inhale of the joint and closes his eyes.

for a moment he thinks he can feel it — the warmth of this particular strain — but it doesn’t last long. clearly whatever he had going on right now was not going to be solved with just one smoke. 

it’s a small revelation that he chooses not to focus on, so nate turns back to grace instead. “look, did you come outside to just yell at me about petty shit or did you wanna smoke and try to chill the fuck out for once? i mean, aren’t you tired of all this fighting? i know i am. i’m fucking tired, grace.” nate pushes himself off of the railing he was leaning up against and extends the joint to her. things were changing around here — and while drugs weren’t going to fix any of their issues, nate didn’t have it in him to keep throwing insults back and forth. not tonight, at least.

juliansbennet​:

date & time: after rehearsals/whenever mads’ half bday is (i can’t do math) location: the castle (kitchen) availability: closed @aldysfool​​

“this was sweet of you to do,” julian said as he whisked together the dry ingredients, knowing his best friend could use a pick-me-up since the detectives released their statement. despite only becoming friends the start of their third year, he couldn’t imagine a future without mads in it. after all, he was already looking at apartments for their post-graduation plans. “i just hope nobody tries to kill the mood,” he added, unable to maintain his usual pep. he firmly believed none of them were killers, but he started to wonder if his peers knew more than they were letting on.

the countertops in the kitchen looked a complete mess, and they had only been in the kitchen for less than half an hour — nate had spilled a cup of sugar, dropped two eggs, broken a saucer, and now something was sticky under his shoe. he was just trying to make a sheet birthday cake. while baking was always a chaotic experience, nate loved every second of it, and glad that julian agreed to help him this time around. after measuring a tablespoon of vanilla, nate whisks the wet ingredients. “well, i kinda spread the word that i’d put a hex on people if they came in here while we were working, so maybe somebody will take me seriously for once.” nate plugs in the hand mixer and slides it over to julian. “but then again, someone’s an actual killer around here, so i wouldn’t be surprised. ...speaking of which,” nate pauses the hand whisking because fuck he should’ve just gone with the cheesecake factory gift card and been done with it. mads’ half-birthday had already passed anyway, but something about birthdays always cheered nate up — and honestly, he was sort of freaked about where they would all be in just a few months. nate leans over in a low, half-joking tone, “if it comes down to it, i’ve got a hundred on mads’ bail money.” 

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.”

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?”

chandlerrosen​:

chandler walked into the refectory, copy of macbeth in tow, in search of a cup of coffee. their first read-through was coming up soon and she had to make positive she was prepared. eyes would be on her, and many of her peers could smell fear and insecurity, and wouldn’t hesitate to capitalize on it. grabbing her coffee, she headed for a table near the window to read in peace, when she noticed someone was trying to get her attention. “oh, hello,” she said coolly, smiling a bit when he called her ‘lady ‘beth,’ reminding her of her latest success, “congratulations, by the way, i can’t wait to see you as a witch. i’m sure you’ll make it your own!” looking around the refectory as if expecting heidi to come and scold her for not spending every waking moment poring over the play, she turned her attention back to nate, “sure, nate,” she said hesitantly, sitting across from him with her cup of coffee. chandler was preparing for the worst; though nate was mostly harmless, he had a tendency to say whatever was on his mind, regardless of how it would be received. which is quite admirable, in a sense, but often got on chandler’s nerves, especially in moments when she was particularly vulnerable and emotional. still, he had a good sense of humor, and chandler appreciated about seventy percent of the things that came out of his mouth. “what is it?”

to be honest, nate hadn’t had much personal interaction with chandler. he knew her well enough to understand that she had obviously been through some shit these past couple of months, probably tenfold since she actually still, uh, cared - or cares - about orson. nate had thought about reaching out, but he didn’t know if that would’ve just been weird or if chandler wanted to even be around him. but there she was, sitting down at the table. and now nate didn’t know if he’d have the nerve to say what had originally been on his mind. he stalls for half a moment, hopefully not long enough to notice. “...i just wanted to get your quick opinion on something, actually. take a listen.” he lets out his best cackle, trying to embody the crones and hags of generations before. it’s loud, but just when other students start to turn and look their way, nate stops. he grins, “not bad for an amateur try, huh? it’s all part of my plan to slowly submerge myself in the role until i’ve lost my mind and i don’t know who am i anymore. ugh, can’t wait.”

“you feeling good about lady m, right? 

harryzhangs​:

harry chuckles in agreement to his comment about the food. she knows nate doesn’t owe her an answer, but she has to admit she’s curious as to how the rest of her peers are doing tonight. over the years she’s discovered that people seem comfortable confiding things in her, and her time at alderidge has been no exception. harry doesn’t mind it, though– on the contrary, it’s really one of the only methods she has of feeling close to people. she nods sympathetically when nate continues; if there’s one thing she understands right now, it’s not liking the presence of those detectives inside the refectory. of course, his phrasing makes harry curious… nate was the one to find orson’s body, but she still wonders if there’s anything else he could be hiding about that whole night, like she is. she wonders about it constantly, truth be told. not just in regards to nate, but to all of them. harry might not know exactly what happened, but she’s damn sure she and jonah aren’t the only ones with secrets.

“i get that,” harry agrees before taking another drag from nate’s joint. with this one, she starts to feel it a bit, a nice calm spreading over her that only weed could ever cause. “it’s hard to move forward with all these reminders of what happened. especially when we don’t know what they’re looking for, or… who they might suspect, you know?” she shivers before passing the joint back to nate.

he misses his therapist. she always had a good way of giving clarity to nate’s thoughts and challenging him to think deeper, as any professional should do. while the fear of what certain truths would come up has kept him away recently, nate thinks back to many of their conversations and tries to remember any piece of actual therapy he got from those sessions. because maybe, he’d stop feeling like he was going crazy. maybe he’d be able to get the image of orson’s dead body out of his head. maybe he’d be able to face whatever the fuck was going on with jason. 

and that’s exactly who he’s thinking about when harry mentions the detectives and potential suspects. nate hopes he isn’t wearing it all on his face and lowers his head as he brings the joint back to his lips. two long puffs and the joint is barely hanging on at this point. he shrugs, “yeah, things like this make it really hard to move on. and that’s all i wanna do at this point. ...for my sake but mostly for jason’s — i mean, everybody’s sake, y’know,” nate panics a little, so he stands up and knocks the ash against the railing. nate slides his suit jacket off and offers it to harry. “i should probably get back inside and keep the party going. i started a petition to play firework over the sound system, so...gotta check on that progress.”

📱 :)

What ringtone my muse has set for yours: 

this chorus for sure.

What contact photo my muse has set for yours: 

What my muse thinks of the way yours texts:

nate’s kryptonite is a lame convo, so as long as julian keeps it fun, nate doesn’t really care about how he texts. because, let’s be real, nate is in the emoji using-lowercase writing-triple texting-five exclamation points gang. he would have no room to complain.

How quickly my muse responds to your texts:

pretty quickly. mostly because nate’s phone is an extension of his hand; he’ll respond between scene run-throughs, in class, during a presentation, showering, and sleeping (it happened once). it doesn’t really matter.

How often our muses text:

since they’re roomies, i imagine they text pretty regularly. if not for nate to talk shit about everything going on, then to send julian funny memes.

How often our muses call:

exposing nate in the worst way right now: he hates phone calls, but loves using facetime/video chats. it’s kinda his thing. he just likes looking at people’s faces when they talk, okay? and yes, he will call at the worst times.

Does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours:

uh, i don’t see why he would. if julian’s calling, nate’s picking up the damn phone.

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

[ sent, 3:28 a.m. ] : uhhhh i just tried humming while plugging my nose - almost blew my brains out? i think i popped a blood vessel??? my feet are numb????? am i dying??????????

[ sent, 4:52 a.m. ] : hey thx again for not makin me in2 a nate kabob the othr night during the r&j scene. ur a professional & i <3 u

[ sent, 7:24 a.m. ] : breakfast run, buckaroo!!!! u want anything? if jonah doesn’t txt me back in 10 min i’m bringing him burnt toast & a lemon wedge.

@juliansbennet

where: the castle; when: post-shit show that was act V, scene iii, in the wee hours of the morn.; who: @pvlmer​

watching act V, scene iii was a surreal experience — one minute he was wrapped up in teddy’s performance as romeo, waiting for that sweet final line before The Death, and the next — “murderer!” ripped into the room and nate felt his heart drop into his ass. he had wanted a lot of things in that moment, but his first thought was to get to jason. between all the commotion and the general consensus amongst his peers to get the fuck out of there no matter what, not long after, nate finds himself outside of jason’s room, knocking as hard as he can. rhythmically, though.

while it hadn’t been very long since they had scrambled off, nate had this feeling that if he didn’t talk to jason soon, it would be too late. too late for what, he didn’t know — but the words “orson is dead because of all of you” kept ringing in his head. while nate doesn’t feel so guilty about the part he played in orson’s death, that doesn’t help him feel any better about everyone else; especially jason. the images replay: orson’s body, the blood, the watch, the red and blue lights — nate was spooked. and if was thinking clearly, he would’ve caught up to jason the second they left instead of losing him in the rush of it all. but with five texts and two calls which each ended in incoherent gibberish on nate’s part, he was sure jason got the hint  — things were urgent. so there nate is, knocking even harder. ....wait, did jason even tell him that he was back in his room?

“shit!” nate pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls up his recent call list. he calls jason again, because the thought of his brother getting cornered by some pissed off liberal arts majors is enough to send nate’s anxiety skyrocketing into the stratosphere. “pick up the phone, dammit. pick up the phone.” 

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!”