#if we want to get technical though we didn’t have a theatre program

[moonmoonthecrabking]

society collectively looks at choirs and goes “gayest shit i’ve ever seen” and honestly love that for us

[dynamightsfave]

Hidden talent - Luke Patterson

(gif not mine! credits to owner)

AU: alive! luke patterson x oc

summary: in a world were none of the boys have died and instead live in the same timeline as julie, luke’s girlfriend has a hidden talent only her mother knows about

warnings: slight cursing, nothing much

a/n: this is the first thing that i publish, and i’m still trying to figure out how tumblr works, so if anyone reads this, please bear with me people

masterlist

***

Heather had been friends with Alex since they were in diapers. Every memory of her childhood she had, he was there too, since the beginning. The only ones she had he wasn’t in were the ones at family meetings. He was even there when she went to the dentist! That’s how tight these two were.

So it was kind of inevitable her meeting his band. Sunset Curve had been all he and Julie —her other best friend, along with Flynn— could talk about since they had started it. They had met the other members in the music program, something Heather had never even thought about joining, regardless of how many times her mother had told her she had an incredible voice and should definitely let the world listen to it. However, the raven haired girl preferred to keep her voice to herself, like her small little secret.

Meeting Luke and Reggie —she already knew Bobby— was easily one of the best things that could’ve happened to her. She hit it off with them instantly, as she had never really had any trouble with making friends —she was the sociable one out of the Heather-Alex duo, and the mom friend out of the “Triple Trouble” trio. Her and Flynn had denominated themselves as the band’s managers and marketing team, and the others had to admit, they were doing a pretty good job.

While Flynn took the social media part, promoting the band on every platform she could think of and posting stuff like teases of new songs, short rehearsal videos and performance dates and places; Heather had taken the people approach. She had recruited her cousin, Willie —who she suspected only wanted to help her because he had a massive crush on Alex, and not because he “wanted to help his favorite cousin”—, and they had both skated the streets of LA, putting up posters and throwing them around, telling people to “tell their friends!”, a catch phrase Reggie had come up with.

 [...]

“I got us a night at The Hollywood Club!” Heather entered the Molina garage with a proud smile and arms on the air, getting immediate cheers “I know, I know, I’m awesome” she bowed.

“Hey, I was there too” Willie pushed her aside, leaving his skate on a corner and plopping on the piano seat “In fact, if it wasn’t for Caleb owing me one, you wouldn’t have gotten that gig. I’m his messenger boy”

“Okay, listen you little shit, it was me that had to offer herself to clean the place up after the show, so I don’t wanna hear any more lies coming out from you” she narrowed her eyes at her cousin, but the skater only rolled his eyes.

Luke, beaming, reached out to Heather’s arm, pulling her onto the couch with him. The two had been dating for nearly three months, and anyone that didn’t know that could’ve thought they’d been together for years, just by seeing how deeply they cared for each other. Alex had been a tad overprotective of the girl when Luke started to flirt with her, but Julie and Flynn made him realize that if anyone could match Heather’s adventurous and forward personality, it was Luke.

Heather came up with an idea, something to do, and most people —including Alex, who over the years earned experience in this kind of things— would disregard it immediately, because it sounded, and most likely was, crazy. Not Luke. Luke would just smile and do it with her. Hype her up even. They found in each other a safe to talk, the craziest ideas and dreams coming to life. Still, they knew when to draw the line, and realize that maybe cliff diving in the middle of November wasn’t the best thing to do.

Luke liked to get the things he planned, make them real, and with Heather he felt like it was possible. Sure, he had the band to make his music dreams come true, but —and this can come out as shocking— he wasn’t just music. There were so many other things he wanted, and Heather was the first person that encouraged him to let them all out, the first person that listened to all the things he wasn’t as good at but he still liked, and forced him to get out of the studio to do them.

They were basically perfect for each other.

“Besides,” Flynn had pointed out with a teasing smirk and a knowing look that was also in Julie’s eyes “you’re going to end up dating her cousin, so it’ll be fair in no time�� Alex had left that conversation blushing like a fool and with his mind a little more at peace.

“You’re incredible, babe” the lead guitarist kissed her cheek “When is it?”

“This Friday night” she answered, making herself comfortable in his arms “That gives you two days to rehearse some songs, maybe even come up with a new one. How’s my musical genius doing with that, Jules?”

“We have a few lyrics left on Finally Free, but I’m sure that we can have it done and perfected by Friday” she smiled, showing her adorable tooth gap “I’m gonna need to borrow your boyfriend for that, though”

“Sure, two musical geniuses work better than one. Meanwhile, Reggie and I have a date”

“Huh?” Luke’s head turned so fast, Heather thought for a second it would snap from his neck.

“Yeah, we’re going to watch the last Star Wars movie. We told you guys to come and you didn’t wanna, so we’re going by ourselves” Reggie could barely contain his excitement, the smile on his face making it impossible for Heather not to copy him.

“Speaking of which... if we don’t leave now, we’ll be late. Let’s go!” the girl pecked her boyfriend as a goodbye, ruffling Bobby’s hair after and blew a kiss to both girls and her best friend.

“I don’t get a kiss?” Willie pouted, but Heather only kissed her middle finger and flipped him off “Love you too, cuz!” he called, but Reggie and her were already out and the only response he got was his light laugh.

  [...]

The two friends were meeting Carrie Wilson at the theatre. Nobody would’ve guessed that the lead of Dirty Candy liked Star Wars, but Heather had known her since kindergarten, and she knew the girl.

They all technically knew her, being Bobby’s fraternal twin and all, but the boys didn’t consider her an actual friend until the girls started inviting her to their hang outs, seeing as they were all friends. Luke and her often had friendly bickering of which band was better, Reggie discovered that she could be a wonderful addition to the mischievous duo Heather and him had formed, and Alex found his perfect dance partner one night playing Just Dance. It was safe to say that she had been welcomed into the group.

“You guys are playing at The Hollywood Club?!” was the first thing he strawberry blond said when they arrived.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie winked, then turned to Heather “Damn, Flynn is fast. We have good managers”

“That you do, Reg” she passed her arm over his shoulders. It was a little awkward, because she stood on her tippy toes, but they made it work.

“Can you get me a performance too?” Carrie pouted and made puppy eyes “I need a marketing team like yours”

“C’mon Care, it’s literally my cousin and I in his skate and my roller skates and Flynn with a phone and Wi-Fi. You could do that too” Heather waved it off “Plus, you can have daddy make a call and you’ll be able to play at the Madison Square Garden. Shit, we could do that too, we have Bobby. Why am I putting so much effort into this?”

“You know I’m trying to earn my own spot, Heath. Being famous because my dad isn’t as satisfying as knowing I made a place sold out because they liked me and not the daughter of Trevor Wilson”

“You’re doing great, Carrie” Reggie encouraged “Your songs are good, and your dance moves are killer. People don’t just go to your shows to see if they can meet your dad”

“Thanks Reggie, but I’m pretty sure you only go to my shows to see Kayla” she smirked, and both girls watched their friend flush red.

“T-That’s not true!”

“Really? I guess I won’t give her your number then; she’ll be real disappointed”

“She asked for my number?”

But Carrie just chuckled and walked ahead with Heather by the arm, leaving the gaping boy behind for a few seconds before he snapped back into the real world and chased after them, asking the same question again.

“I’ll see what I can do for ya” Heather smiled “But you’ll have to fight Luke by yourself when he finds out I’m helping our rivals” she finished in a dark tone, laughing along with Carrie.

“Yes! You’re the best Heath!” she squeezed her in her arms.

  [...]

Friday arrived sooner than planned, and that left Flynn and Heather to get the band’s asses to the place. Flynn was on the phone with Caleb, assuring him that they were just stuck in traffic and they’d be there soon. They were actually trying to calm Alex down.

“Hey, look at me. Bird, look at me” Heather had her hands on his shoulders, doing her best to get him to breathe with her “You’re the best drummer I know-”

“I’m the only drummer you know, Feathers!” the anxious boy stressed.

“You’re the best drummer I know!” she exclaimed over him “This isn’t any different from our other gigs. You’re gonna get up on that club’s stage, and you’re gonna kill it. I’m gonna be on the side of the stage like I always am, with Flynn. I’m there if you need anything, which you won’t because once you get into the song, you’ll be crazy amazing”

“Okay, I can do this” he nodded to himself, taking deep breaths along his best friend.

“Hell yeah you can” she laughed softly “You good?”

“Yeah, I think so”

“Great, then let’s go people! We have an audience to impress!” the others, behind them, cheered with her and started to go to Ray’s van, were the instruments were waiting.

“Hey” Alex took a hold of Heather’s wrist “Thanks, Feathers” he smiled at her, using the nickname he gave her when they were three.

“I’m always gonna be there for you, Alex. You know that. I’m the Feathers to your Bird, we’re a package deal” she smiled back, then wrapped her arms around him “I love you”

“I love you too”

  [...]

Alex did amazing. Obviously.

The whole band was incredible, and the people in the club absolutely loved them. Heather had stayed at the side of the stage like she promised, but from where she stood she could spot Flynn with Carrie, Willie, Nick and Kayla all jamming and moving their bodies along to the song in their chairs. She clapped and hollered once the show was over, a huge smile adorning her face.

“You were right” the man himself, Caleb, clapped next to her “They are really good”

“I told you, dude. Any chance we’re able to play here again?”

“I’ll call you” he offered, and Heather didn’t think it twice before shaking hands with him “I’m closing in half an hour, and I want this place spotless for tomorrow” he smirked.

“I thought you were joking! You have people for that”

“A deal is a deal” and he left. Heather groaned and threw her head back.

“Why the frown, Princess?” at the voice of her boyfriend, the smile was back on her face.

Luke was a sweaty mess, not that she cared. She took a couple of seconds to admire his “after show” glow. Because yes, he was glowing —both literally, because sweat, and figuratively. After every performance, there was a glow to all of them, pure happiness radiating from them. You could see it in their smiles and heavy breaths, but Heather liked to see how their eyes glinted with the ecstasy of doing what they loved. It appeared while they were on stage, and it stayed for some time after performing in front of an audience. When they were rehearsing or jamming in the studio it was more relaxed, content, but on a show it was almost magical.

“What are you looking at?” Luke laughed after drinking some water, with his eyes squinting as he smiled out of pure glee.

Heather too his sweaty face in her hands and planted a firm kiss on his lips. She had never cared if the boy was sweaty and therefore by hugging or kissing him she’d get all dirty and smelly. If she wanted to show him affection, then she would.

“You guys killed it up there” she told him after a moment with a proud smile “Amazing, baby”

“Thanks, Heaths. Sang that solo for you” he added with a smirk, hand slipping around her waist.

“I saw” she answered as she passed her arms over his shoulders and around his neck “You looked really good while doing it too” the smirk widened and the hold tightened, bringing her closer to him to kiss her again.

“Take your lovey dovey acts somewhere else!” Bobby booed, nearing his friends.

“Hey, just because your sorry ass is alone doesn’t mean you have to hate on us” the raven haired girl replied with a teasing smile.

The boy scrunched his face and mocked her, which went back and forth between the two until Heather’s teasing and playful smile turned to a excited one.

“Wait! Oh, she’s looking again!” confused, the rhythm guitarist went to look behind him, but Heather shot her hand to stop him “Don’t look! Not yet... Okay now. See that pretty blond? She’s been eyeing you all night, dude!”

“For real? You think I should go talk to her?”

“Are you stupid? Of course you should go talk to her, did you not hear what I just said? Wait, here, clean some of this sweat” she took a towel and dabbed it over him, then pushed him forward when he didn’t move “Move, Bobs!”

“Thanks Heaths!”

The couple watched their friend jog over to the girl and introduce himself, saying something that she found funny. “I’m an amazing wing woman”

  [...]

The club was officially closed. After a couple of Caleb’s songs, that Heather had danced to with Flynn —more like they made a fool of themselves, but at least they had fun— and then she helped them put their instruments back in the van. Now, she held a mope in her hands, swinging aimlessly from side to side, humming to the band’s songs.

“I believe, I believe that we’re just one dream...” she picked up the pace of the song, closing her eyes as she jumped on top of a chair, spinning on her spot and using the mope as a micro “And we’re standing on the edge of great!”

The girl continued to sing her heart out, unaware of the pair of eyes that followed her very movement, watching the private show she put up for herself. When she finished the song, she let out a content sigh and a small chuckle.

“Woah” the word escaped Luke’s mouth before he could stop himself, causing Heather to jump and turn around.

The boy stood just by the entrance, an awestruck expression on his face. Red flushed Heather’s face, and she opened her mouth to stutter out something, but Luke didn’t let her, taking long strides to her.

“Heather, that was incredible! Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?”

“I usually like to keep the singing to myself, when I jam with you guys it’s quiet”

“Babe, you could be the lead singer of Sunset Curve! I’ll retire if that means you get to show everyone your voice”

“No” she quickly dismissed “Do not give up your dreams, Luke Patterson, you’re not allowed to do that. Not for me, not for anyone”

“But, Heath, your voice!” Luke was making big gestures, trying to get his point through.

He couldn’t understand how his girlfriend didn’t let anyone know of her huge talent. When he walked inside of the club again to help her, he couldn’t have imagined the scene that was playing in front of him, how she looked so carefree. She sounded like a goddess. It was a pleasant surprise, to say the least.

“I don’t like to be in the spotlight, Luke” she explained “You guys were born to perform in front of people, but I like to keep it behind closed doors. You understand that, right?” she took his hands, looking up at him through her lashes. He sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, I get it. But I really hope it’s not the last time I hear you sing” Heather laughed and shook his head, as Luke’s face lit up with an idea “Oh! You could perform for all of us in the studio! You’re cool with that, right?”

“I’ll sing with you and perform with you at the studio” she agreed, squealing when he picked her up and twirled her around “But you have to promise that if you guys record it, it won’t end up on social media”

“Of course, anything you need” he nodded quickly, bringing her lips to his “If I get to hear that voice again, I’ll even sell my guitar”

“I told you not to joke with that!” she chastised, hitting him on the chest and getting out of his hold. She rolled her eyes at his laughter and smirked to herself, handing him a piece of cloth “Make yourself useful and clean those tables, Rockstar”

Luke frowned, but complied.

He made her sing along with him in his car all the way back to his house, and suddenly realized that he had been an idiot for a long time. Why hadn’t he made her sing with him before? It was his new favorite thing to do.

[tessadoesstuff]

Sunset Queens - Chapter 6

For The Naboo Review Day 6 - Culture

Sorry this is late! My laptop corrupted my chapter 6 & 7 so I’m re-writing them :/

full story on ao3

Padmé Naberrie dips her toes in the canal outside her home, watching the water run over her bare feet. It was brisk but not too cold, and it’s a hot day out, so Padmé performs an ungraceful scootch forward across the sidewalk, closer to the water, and drops her legs down into the canal, submerging them up to her knees. The bottom of her dress is wet by that as well, but Padmé can’t bring herself to care. The rich purple fabric drifts beautifully in the current.

With a sigh, Padmé flops backward, sprawling her upper body on the stone pathway. Padmé can’t bring herself to care that she is technically in the way. No one uses this pathway, not since construction left it a pathway to nowhere when Padmé was little.

Padmé pulls the blue-purple hood down from around her face and lets the sun shine on it. It’s immediately warm – the sun is beating down today – but Padmé finds she doesn’t mind. After being inside of Theed Palace all day, it feels nice rather than unpleasant.

Padmé was going to miss doing this once she was queen rather than queen elect. From what she’s seen thus far, the queen of Naboo can’t exactly get away with lying in the street. Really, Padmé wasn't expecting things to get easier after she was elected, but she had hoped that maybe she would be easied into the increased workload of being queen. Padmé doubts she has ever been more wrong. Padmé barely feels like she has time to sleep anymore. Padmé has only made time to do this by ignoring her schoolwork.

These days, Padmé’s mornings are spent with her future handmaidens, undergoing extensive training in order to be able to protect themselves, conduct themselves properly, move as a team, and all the other duties that a handmaiden performed that were less publicly well know. (Spying. The handmaidens are spies.) After that, Padmé has two hours for all her studies and then has to rush back to the palace to shadow Queen Réillata for the afternoon, and often for more formal events in the evening as well. Shadowing the queen is no walk in the park – she is for all intents and purposes, another one of the queen’s handmaidens, and carries herself accordingly.

Both her parents and Panaka actually think she is with Queen Réillata right now. Padmé feels a little guilt for lying to them. Not a lot though, since the water and sun both feel really nice.

“Padmé?” A familiar female voice carries down the hallway, and Padmé sighs.

“Go away, Sola.” Padmé groans. Her sister is the only one who knows to find her here.

“Oh, is that your sister’s name? I confess I couldn’t remember other it when we spoke, so I just called her Lady Naberrie.” The voice calls back, and Padmé’s brain restarts as she’s suddenly able to place that voice.

“Queen Réillata!” Padmé shoots upwards into a sitting position as she catches sight of just the queen’s feet. Unfortunately, as she pulls herself up from her sprawled position, she does it far too quickly, and Padmé pitches forward and with a screech, Padmé falls into the canal. The water is only cold until she’s fully underwater, and when she resurfaces, finds the water a nice, cool temperature. Padmé hadn’t realized how warm she was until now.

“Are you alright, Padmé?” Queen Réillata moves to the edge of the canal, a concerned look on her face. Padmé can’t help it. She giggles a little.

“I’m fine.” She looks down at the purple and blue handmaiden’s gown she’s wearing, which is now as completely wet as she is. “I don’t think I’ll be able to wear this tonight though.” She comments, which to her surprise, pulls a full laugh from Queen Réillata.

“Do you want a hand getting out?” The older girl asks, crossing the street to where Padmé had been sitting. Padmé bites her lip. She knows she really should get out. This is the queen in front of her, and she does have places to go soon. Every lesson the Diplomatic Youth Program taught her says that Padmé should get out of the water now. But Padmé doesn’t really want to get out of the water.

In Padmé’s moment of hesitation, Queen Réillata launches back into conversation. “Is the water in this part of Theed cold this time of year? I know some of the canals are snowmelt, but I don’t know if they are here.” Padmé is struck by how much Queen Réillata knows that she still doesn’t know but answers the question anyway.

“It’s not to cold. It’s nice actually, on such a warm day.” Padmé responds. “I didn’t know any of the canals were snowmelt – but I don’t think this one is cold enough to be?” She adds, her own confession. Queen Réillata nods in acknowledgment.

“Alright then.” Queen Réillata responds casually. Then, in her long sky-blue gown and matching cloak, without so much as removing her ornate gemstone necklace, Queen Réillata throws herself into the canal next to Padmé. It sends ripples through the water that throw Padmé around not unpleasantly, and Padmé feels her grin widen even as she’s taken with shock.

When Queen Réillata resurfaces, the water and the current have washed all of her ornate makeup off, leaving only the big grin to decorate her face.

“Your Majesty!” Padmé protests and Queen Réillata makes a face at that.

“Please, just call me Réillata.” She insists and then splashes Padmé. Before she knows what she’s really doing, Padmé splashes Réillata back. Somehow, without the elaborate makeup, Réillata feels less… untouchable. Padmé supposes that’s the purpose of the makeup.

“I… okay,” Padmé responds with a smile, which is brightly returned. Gently, Réillata moves through the water to where Padmé has been treading and catches one of her hands.

“Padmé, is everything alright with you?” Réillata asks, which catches Padmé totally off guard.

“What?” Is her dignified response.

“You gave my handmaidens and I quiet a fright when Captain Panaka told us you were supposed to be with us,” Réillata says in a soothing tone of voice that places no blame, but still, Padmé feels a rush of guilt.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just…” Padmé trails off, trying to explain what had happened without sounding lazy or ungrateful.

“You just needed a little break?” Réillata finishes, and Padmé ducks her head.

“Yeah.”

“That’s totally alright.” Réillata finishes, and Padmé glances back at her in surprise. “We all need that sometimes. This can be a lot, especially at the beginning.” Réillata pulls Padmé into as much of a hug as she can while they both tread water. “Next time, just let me know, and I’ll cover for you with Panaka.” She whispers to Padmé conspiratorially.

“Really?”

“Oh absolutely. We’ve all been there. He can be… a lot.” Réillata says as though confessing a great secret. Padmé snorts.

“Definitely.” She ducks under and out of Réillata’s embrace. “We should probably go, there’s still probably time to get changed before we have to be back at the palace.” Réillata grins.

“Or, we can use the change of clothes I brought to go see a show at the theatre instead.” She says sneakily, and Padmé can’t help but look at her in surprise. Réillata shrugs. “It’s important for me to spend some time with my successor.” She pauses. “Also, a queen needs to take a night off here and now as well.”

[amerrierworld]

Curtain. (ii)

Carol (2015) fanfiction

Pt 1: x

Word Count: 1,874

Warnings: Swearing, but that’s it.

June - three days earlier

"We need to have any photos before the start of the run, so you have until next week to finish them. Can you do that?"

"Of course, Miss Gerhard."

"Oh, please, call me Abby. Dannie did say you were too polite for your own good. I don't bite, you know."

Therese blushed and glanced down, fiddling with the buttons on her camera as Abby led her backstage. The stage manager gave her a quick tour, and Therese scanned the premises, looking for the best angles to see the stage from the wings. The seats were empty and the lights were dim, focusing on the minimalistic set of a living room as the backdrop of the show.

"Anyways, it's an early preview so there'll probably be loads of kinks to work through as the show progresses tonight, and knowing our director, she'll probably pause the show a lot. You have free range of backstage and the seats to do as you please. The last photographer we worked with during rehearsal only showed up with blurry photos, which sent the PR team into a fit."

Therese was testing out her camera on stage, moving from the wings to the front seats as Abby gestured around. There were few workers around, cleaning and preparing for the preview of the theatre's production of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

"So! All we're asking for is some good photos of our lovely actors, the stage, and whatever tickles your fancy. It's a small show and we need all the promotion we can get," Abby continued. Therese nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek as she glanced around the theatre, taking note of the lights and seats.

After agreeing on her deadline and payment, Abby was typing in her theatre contact in Therese's phone in case anything came up, and the young photographer was quick to hurry out of the theatre, bustling with excitement for her job later that day.

-

August

"Cheers to finally being done!" Dannie exclaimed dramatically, popping open the bottle of champagne.

"Oh, stop it Dannie! I've been crying since the curtain call," Gen scolded him, whacking his arm with her purse. The actress was dressed impeccably, a silk silver dress draped around her voluptuous frame like she came straight from the silver screen. Therese felt inadequate with her simple green turtleneck and black dress pants.

"Seriously though folks. Congratulations on an incredible run," Dannie said. "I almost cried this time around. Almost."

"You sound just like old bat Gerhard, y'know," Richard stepped in, who was sitting across from Therese with a wide, arrogant posture and his arm slung over Gen's shoulders possessively. "I swear that lady has a stick the size of a tree trunk up her fuckin ass."

"Maybe she wouldn't be so uptight if someone just hit his marks," Gen said coldly. Richard's gaze darkened considerably, but all Gen did was sip her champagne, flicking auburn hair over her shoulder in that celebrity-style manner that Therese couldn't help but admire.

From what Dannie had told her, Gen and Richard had been on and off during the show, creating tension left and right. A classic backstage romance filled with just as much drama as the show they were in. Apparently it helped the actual tension needed during the performance, though that was really the only thing it was good for.

Closing night had been a huge success either way. Critics had raved about their electric performances, tiny hiccups going unnoticed by the audience. Therese was overjoyed to see her images in papers, on posters and on the theatre's website, her name printed in the corners of the photos. Gen had asked Dannie to bring Therese to their small celebration at the restaurant they were sitting in. She desperately wanted more female companionship after being surrounded by the likes of Dannie and Richard.

"Speaking of the fucking devil," Dannie commented, nodding his head to the front door of the small restaurant. Therese turned and caught the sight of Ms. Gerhard -no, Abby, she corrected herself- wearing a stunning jumpsuit. On her arm was a tall, familiar blonde beauty and Therese sucked in a breath as time slowed down for her while watching the two walk in.

Director Ross was dressed in a timeless black suit, bowtie and high heels, hair swept up in a sleek hairdo. The way they walked together was like watching power and confidence personified in the two women.

Therese took a sip of her water to help the blush that she felt creeping up her neck.

"Ah, shit, no way, why they gotta go out for dinner the same place we are?" Richard grumbled. "I really don't want to talk to them."

"Nonsense! They deserve just as much praise as we do," Gen snapped. She stood up from her seat and waved at Abby, who caught sight of the actress easily. Gen always had a way of commanding the room whenever she felt like it.

Therese felt her excitement plummet as she noted that only Abby was approaching their table. The blonde stayed back in their booth, shrugging off her blazer, revealing a crisp white button down that made Therese squirm.

"Fancy seeing you lot here," Abby said, leaning on their table. "Celebrating, I assume?"

Dannie held up the champagne and grinned. "You got that right, boss."

Therese kept her eyes fixed on her glass, afraid that by looking at Abby her gaze would give her away. Were the two a couple? No, of course not. They  were coworkers. Nothing more, right?

"Well I saw Gen and just wanted to come over and congratulate you guys. It was a terrific run, despite everything," with a pointed look at Richard, "so you deserve a well-earned night out."

The other three all responded to Abby with some sort of thanks and Therese forced herself to look up at her and smile. Her eyes were met steadily by the brunette, and though the gaze was firm, Abby smiled nonetheless.

"Good to see you again, Therese. A wonderful job on those photos, by the way."

Therese smiled, beaming proudly. "It was an honour, Abby."

What the fuck? An honour? Am I even saying coherent things? Therese tried to keep herself nonchalant and cool, though a prickling sensation on the back of her neck made her flustered. She looked around and found a pair of deep blue eyes staring back at her from the booth across the restaurant. Ross was looking at her intently, fingers grasping a martini glass. Therese felt her mouth go dry.

"I best get back, enjoy your night," Abby said and with that walked away. Therese lost contact with the blonde's eyes as Abby got back to their booth, their sudden and immediate chemistry forgotten.

Reminding herself to breathe, she tried tuning into Dannie arguing with Richard over some theatre related technicality, and she was filled with the sudden and desperate urge to abandon the three and run over to Abby and the director to hide away, just to get to know this Ross lady better.

"But hey, Terry, you're gonna come back to the theatre soon right? With your pictures and all that?" Richard's annoying voice brought her back to reality.

"Oh, I don't know," she shifted uncomfortably. "I've got a different job starting next week, so photography might be on hold for me for a while."

She chewed her lip, not wanting to say anything else. She had nothing against Dannie or Gen, but after her and Richard had broken up she tried to avoid talking to him as much as possible. In group settings, she was fine, and with their intimate circle of friends it was hard to avoid him so she didn't mind putting up with him.

But no, this job was hers. Not Richard's, Dannie's, Gen's. It was a step into a different direction for herself. And even though she told herself it was more for the pay, she couldn't help but be excited about the kids she was going to meet.

Dannie shifted the conversation to some lewd story from a theatre when he had been just starting out and Therese felt she could breathe again.

-

"Who is that girl sitting next to Dannie?"

"Therese? Oh, she was the photographer we had in just before the run, don't you remember?"

"Hmm right. I thought she seemed familiar," Carol sipped her martini slowly, eyes darting over to the petite brunette again.

"Stop it," Abby scolded.

"Stop what? I'm just getting a good look. It's been a long time since I've seen her."

"Whatever you're thinking of, Ross, you better cap it. I'll have you know she's a terrific photographer and I want to hire her again, though I won't be able to do that if my artistic director decides to... involve herself."

Carol smirked but backed down, leaning back against the seat and glancing out at the dark street, illuminated by hazy lights dancing in the fog that had spread over the city.

"You all set for September?" Abby asked. Carol's smile disappeared, her fantasies of the brunette forgotten as she looked at the year ahead.

"I have no idea, Abby. I haven't had Rindy for a full month since, well, since this whole mess started. Plus it's the beginning of the school year for her, you know how anxious that can make her."

"And you. You're always a mess when those things start up."

"Hush. At least the first week is cleared up for me, I can relax and take Rindy to school, pick her up, make her meals..."

Carol drifted off again in her non-working, stay at home mom dream that was finally happening in just over a week. Her and her daughter together without a show, without court, without fights... Bliss, she thought.

"You haven't forgotten our meeting with Jeanette though, right?" Abby asked cautiously, brows furrowing. Carol's head snapped up.

"What?"

"The meeting to finalize that you're stepping away from the theatre? C'mon, Carol."

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry Abs. I genuinely forgot." Carol whipped out her phone and hastily looked up the email Jeanette sent them. Wednesday. 3pm. At the exact time she was meant to pick up Rindy, she'd be on the other side of the city.

"Fuck," Carol groaned. "I guess I gotta get a sitter for Rindy then." God, she couldn't wait to be done work.

"Do they not have an after school program at Rindy's school? Just let her hang out there and we'll pick her up once we're done. It won't be more than an hour, Carol, I don't know if it's worth getting a sitter."

"No, you're right. I'll call them tomorrow and see what they can do," Carol sighed, putting her phone away.

Suddenly feeling the urge to check, she glanced over at the party from across the room, trying to catch a glimpse of the photographer again. She was disappointed to see that only Gen and Richard were left, who were at it with their usual banter at their table while eating. Dannie and Therese had disappeared.

"Carol," Abby warned.

"I know, I know. Sorry." Carol forced herself back to the conversation. "I'm hopeless, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are, you nitwit."

A/N: Life is insane, y’all. This story stumped me for a bit, but here I am. Hope you’re all good, let me know your thoughts <3 

[swanlake1998]

Pointe Magazine Article: "Our Studio Is Failing Its Students of Color": One Dancer's Experience of Racism and Microaggressions

By: Alexis Carter-Black

Date: July 10, 2020

(cw: racism, anti-black racism)

I recently spent a Saturday night with my husband and my 17-year-old dancing daughter, who sobbed at the foot of our bed. My daughter revealed her experiences with implicit bias and overt racism in school, and especially in the dance studio.

For six years, she has danced at a classical ballet school tied to the city's ballet company. The previous six years were spent at a mid-sized recreational/competition studio. I want to recount a few examples of the racism that my daughter shared that night.

Several years ago, her competition team was performing Disney's Peter Pan, already known for its racist imagery and narrative. My daughter was the only Black girl on the competition team and was cast as a Native American. While preparing for the competition, one of her teachers was braiding her hair as part of her costume, when this teacher exclaimed loudly that my daughter's freshly washed and flat-ironed hair was "greasy and nasty" and that she "had to go wash her hands after braiding her hair." I complained to the studio owner, who defended this teacher with the typical refrain, "she didn't mean anything by it." We left this studio a year later. That teacher—who had a litany of incidents displaying racist microaggressions toward the few dancers of color and bullying behavior toward other students—is still teaching at this studio today.

Next, my daughter walked into a less-than-welcoming atmosphere at her current classical ballet studio. As the school joined the American Ballet Theatre's Project Plié initiative (the purpose of which is to expand diversity and inclusion efforts at ballet schools around the country), a few teachers openly criticized the studio's efforts, demonstrating to their students of color their lack of commitment to the idea of diversity in ballet.

My daughter has been dismissed and ignored, given limited encouragement and few corrections. Other students—white students—have openly questioned why she received call-backs and why she was chosen for certain parts (which were few and far between). We asked for private lessons to improve her technique. We were told that the school "did not believe in private lessons" and that my daughter would only benefit from taking class with other dancers. However, we consistently watched as other dancers in the studio were offered private lessons.

Every year, there was some new rule change, like resetting the minimum level for joining the youth ballet. My daughter was consistently placed in the level just below the cut-off. Each year, my daughter watched students who were clearly not as skilled as she was promoted to the next level. She asked her teachers what she needed to work on to improve. Some simply ignored her request. Those who responded stated that she was a hard-worker, was technically proficient and was not behind. However, her placement and treatment were inconsistent with those statements. The teacher who had been the most unkind stated that she should not be "making excuses" for her placement, even though the conversation was phrased as "What can I work on to improve?" When my daughter received a high score on her ABT test, this same instructor pointed out in class that the ABT examiner "must have really liked you." She did not make the same statement to the white dancers who scored well.

In recent years, my daughter has begun to dread dance. She does not want to take certain teachers' classes and begs to skip on the days that they teach. She knows that she will be placed in a lower level, ignored in class, criticized for her body type and height, and told not to use her muscles (a common critique of Black dancers). She has asked to quit dance altogether. I continue to encourage her to work hard and improve, and they will not be able to deny her—advice that I honestly do not even believe anymore.

We have few options for classical ballet in our city, which is why we have chosen to stay. I have hired private teachers from outside of our studio. We have traveled outside of the state to attend summer intensive auditions held by other schools and companies. After spending time in privates and attending other summer intensives, my daughter has received comments from her teachers about how surprised they are at how much she has improved. Yet, her status never changes. She is not elevated. She is not nurtured. She is not supported. They have torn her down and depleted her confidence and self-worth. And then they tell her that she was not moved up because she lacks confidence—the very thing that they have taken away from her.

My beautiful dancing daughter with her long lines, gorgeous port de bras arms and high arabesque has been denied equal treatment in the dance world. She stated a couple of years ago, "It just seems like they want me to fail." At this point, I cannot disagree with her. As she enters her senior year of high school, I worry if she will get into a college dance program. I worry that she has already lost too much time to make up for what she did not receive from her studio.

Our studio is failing its students of color. Tolerating bullying teachers. Promoting one Black student as the poster child for the studio's commitment to diversity, while ignoring other promising students of color. Giving one-year scholarships to Project Plié students while not nurturing the growth and retention of all students of color.

My daughter sat sobbing at the foot of my bed because she has done everything right, yet the world that she loves and has embraced since she was 5 years old does not see her and does not love her back.

[enthusiasticmusicalquotes]

QUESTION OF THE DAY #6: Send me your most unpopular theatre opinion. Something that might make someone want to fight you. Please don’t be offensive (racist, misogynistic, etc.), but other than that…go as hard as you want. Spill all the tea.

MY ANSWERS: 1) The Pretty Woman score fucking slaps idek, 2) Come From Away (or even Bandstand...) should’ve won the 2017 Best Musical Tony, 3) I prefer the West End Heathers cast album to Off Broadway, 4) Shows shouldn’t sweep the Tonys just because they’re Best Musical worthy...shows that aren’t too critically acclaimed but have really impressive elements should get recognition too.

SUMMARY: Out of 37 responses: 5 were about Dear Evan Hansen, 3 were about Hamilton specifically, 2 were about: Rent, ALW, Wicked, In The Heights, Be More Chill, etc. etc....if your favorite musical is one of these and you get easily offended i wouldn’t read these.

NOTE: I agree with some of these, I highly disagree with others. I do not endorse any of the things that were said, I am simply sharing them with you all. These were what was sent to me. I’m going to number them so if you want to complain about or agree with one you can send me an ask with the number you’re referring to. 

1. howmuchchildrens said: unpopular opinion: i really liked the 2012 version of les mis. i liked russel crowe as javert.

2. Anonymous said: Unpopular opinion: Bootlegs harm to local theatre communities, though I do not believe anyone intends for that to be the case. While it's possible to bootleg responsibly (and I might even say it's beneficial to do so), those who may not know the intricacies of theatrical copyright law or who haven't heard the horror stories from a theatre that's been hit with legal action DUE to a bootleg may record or watch a show irresponsibly, which can greatly harm other routes of theatre accessibility.

3. Anonymous said: Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals are mostly terrible. He only got and stayed popular because a lot of other musical creators and taste makers died in the AIDS epidemic

4. Anonymous said: Almost all musicals using the songs of one artist are cash grabs with no plot or point.

5. Anonymous said: If your musical only has 1 woman OR the women only get sad/romantic songs you need to do something else with your life.

6. nerdshrimp said: Unpopular opinion: Next To Normal does a better job of portraying the effects of mental illness than Dear Evan Hansen does. N2N also doesn't romanticise mental illness & excuse shitty behavior like DEH tries to

7. Anonymous said: Hadestown is a lesser show on Broadway. I fell in love with the live album, and I was so excited for it to come to Broadway. I was so disappointed to see the changes they made. Orpheus and Eurydice's relationship is less interesting and more generic. The changed lyrics are often sloppy and not as good as the original. They fucking wrecked Epic III. Also, no hate to R/ee/ve, but he's just not a good enough singer to convince me that he could soften the heart of Hades. His high notes are awful.

8. Anonymous said: opinion: we are the tigers deserves a broadway run or at least a proshot

9. bimystique said: e/c is NOT A GOOD FUCKING SHIP. the ENTIRE PLOT OF PHANTOM OF THE OPERA is christine trying to escape erik's abuse. WHAT FUCKING PART OF THAT IS ROMANTIC TO YOU PEOPLE.

10. Anonymous said: unpopular theatre opinion(s): Dear Evan Hansen is Very Bad for its handling of mental illness, Hamilton is overrated and praised too much, and high school/college musical theatre programs can be just as good as Broadway. (also, musical movies would be better if they hired broadway actors, but that's not an unpopular opinion)

11. Anonymous said: I don’t like Lin Manuel Miranda and Hamilton is overrated

12. Anonymous said: I don’t like dear Evan Hansen..... at all. I think it’s kind of boring and really overhyped.

13. Anonymous said: unpopular opinion: in the heights is far better than Hamilton. both are good but ith hits different yknow

14. Anonymous said: The bring it on and legally blonde musicals are BAD! The movies are 100 times better

15. Anonymous said: unpopular opinion? wicked is the epitome of white feminism. it's preached as super great for representation but we literally got the first black glinda in 2019?!?!?!? and before that woc could only play elphaba who's villainized and deemed evil by the whole city

16. Anonymous said: Not so much an opinion as a reaction, but of all Lin's works (ITH, Bring it On, 21 Chump Street, Hamilton), 21 Chump Street gets the biggest emotional reaction of all the cast recordings. The second Justin is like "I don't want your money" (And then later on with the "...what the heck did you.... dooooo", I am a complete goner. Worse than Abuela Claudia and Philip Hamilton's deaths combined

17. Anonymous said: Whenever Je.ssie Mu.eller hits certain notes, she sounds like Tommy Pickles from Rugrats.

18. Anonymous said: aotd6: not everyone knows what im talking about, but the cats 2016 broadway revival choreography was WAYYYY better than the original. the original had a lot of creepy uncomfortable moments and the new one looks way cleaner and up to date

19. Anonymous said: raoul is better than the phantom in every conceivable way

20. Anonymous said: I hate Anastasia so much. it's such a boring show and the music is uninteresting. I wanted to like it so bad but GOD is it boring.

21. Anonymous said: In the Heights.... Overrated.

22. Anonymous said: I do not know if this is an unpopular opinion or not, but here is my opinion: Musicals that are entirely or nearly entirely songs (Hamilton, Hadestown, In The Heights, etc) are the most valid bc I can understand the plot without using wikipedia (I'm looking at you, Jagged Little Pill, I love you but what is your plot????)

23. Anonymous said: I'd rather have a bad film adaptation than no film adaptation

24. Anonymous said: Rent sucks and while it was a stepping stone for more ""controversial"" topics to appear on Broadway it's actually biphobic and features several generally terrible people doing generally terrible things and doesn't actually address the real crisis at all; it's all performative wokeness. The only real good it did was cast a bunch of "nobodies" for the time and make theater somewhat more accessible.

25. stardust-and-seas said: Dear Evan Hansen doesn't properly address mental health despite being about mental health and resolves nobodies character arcs satisfactorily. It's another show that reaches its hands around the throats of marginalized teenagers saying "look I'm relatable!!" The songs taken out of context are significantly more powerful than when placed in the context of the show, which gives us exactly zero evidence of Evan's work to improve and also never resolves Evan's u healthy goals in the first place.

26. stardust-and-seas said: Be More Chill is a raging dumpster fire and the only decent song from it, Michael in the Bathroom, reads as a whiny rich white boy whose potential social anxiety and depression is left ambiguous, which is exactly what it is. When taken out of context it better exemplifies the othering that happens to marginalized groups but lets be real here: bullying/cliques don't happen to "just anyone"; it's the marginalized groups that are othered and abandoned for not being "normal"

27. stardust-and-seas said: There's a difference between shows that don't take themselves seriously because they're meant to be fun and light and shows that pretend not to take themselves too seriously but want to be taken seriously by the audience and the latter always ends up mediocre at best

28. redueka said: i think that dear evan hansen handles every issue it presents badly. i also think that beetlejuice was badly directed

29. Anonymous said: Well I don’t EVER condone cheating, I’m team Jamie in the last five years. He tried so hard to make their relationship and life good, and Cathy gave him nothing in return

30. youcanlolyoucansayohwell said: The answer of the day- I don't get the BMC hype. I'm out of the age bracket it's meant for that might it be. I enjoy it but I don't think it's the greatest thing in the world like some theatre fans do.

31. Anonymous said: i like the rent 2005 recording better than the obcr

32. Anonymous said: unpopular opinion ? : the music of wicked just like isn’t that good. like it’s good but it’s not like, Good, yknow. it’s pretty standard it doesn’t stand out to me. kinda boring

33. Anonymous said: mari.ah r.ose fa.ith is not a good regina george. everything she says sounds monotonous and while i understand she's trying to play off the ""whatever"" teenager (she does this a lot with her teenage characters), 90% of the time she sounds and looks like she doesn't want to be there; her voice is great but most songs feel unnatural and forced and she changes them too much. she's just not selling regina to me as a believable character (this is all from a technical point of view)

34. Anonymous said: Unpopular Opinion: as much as i like musicals based on movies (like waitress), i think not every movie needs to be a musical.

35. Anonymous said: Unpopular opinion (?) the emojiland musical Kinda Slaps

36. Anonymous said: as one of my high school tech theatre teachers once said: "Andrew Lloyd Webber is overrated"

37. Anonymous said: sorry to whoever likes it but Seussical is an absolutely nonsense crackpot plot disguised with okay-to-good music, like I don't even know where to start. I was in the show and didn't even know there was an entire secondary plot line featuring sending children to war until we were halfway through rehearsals

[labyrinth-runner]

1. What was your first fanfic 2. best concert you've been to (Or if you haven't done a concert one you'd like to go to) 3. do you have any pets? If so i want to know all about them!

1. The first ever fanfic I have written was “The Way Forward is Sometimes the Way Back.” It is a Labyrinth fic that was published on  12/31/2014. I still have not finished it. I have not updated it in four years. I wrote it when I was.... 16? It’s... It definitely feels like “oh this is authors first fanfic” when you read what I’ve written for it lol. Idk if I’ll ever finish it. If I do, I might re-work the first few chapters and fix things.

2. Oh man, any of the Trans-Siberian Orchestra Concerts I’ve been to. My favorite... might be the one I went to in 2018 though, because that was the last and only one I got to go to with my dad. The first time I had bought tickets to see them had been in 2015 and because I didn’t give him a reason why he needed to take the day off from work (it was supposed to be a surprise) he didn’t. So I ended up going with my grandpa that year. The year after was the last time they came to RI and I caught that with my best friend. The year after that... that was the one I finally got to with him. And last year I went with my boyfriend because I’ve created this tradition for myself and honestly it never feels like Christmas until they play 12/24 Sarajevo. I’m friends with or follow half the members on facebook and instagram. They’re great people, I’ve met them. I always have the lighting and sound designers sign my program because my dad was a technical director for theatre my whole life and he always worked on lighting and sound. They’re... they’re truly a show. 

3. I haaaaave... Four Rabbits and one cat. My cat’s name is Sam Adams. But, she’s a girl so it’s Samantha Adams. She’s named after the Revolutionary war figure, not the beer. We have a family of bunnies and a Zoey (also known as Zozo). Zoey does not get along with the other three buns, but she’s a ham. The other three... so... story time lol.

We took in Boo, a small black lion head bunny when I was in high school because my bf at the time said if this family didn’t find a home for the bunny then they’d feed her to the snake. So of course we took in this bunny in October. Hence the name Boo. Flash forward around thanksgiving. I wake up to a note saying “look in Boos cage” Boo. Had. Had. BABIES. So. It was like “I didn’t know I was pregnant” bunny edition. We had EIGHT rabbits in the house at this time because we already owned Zoey and another bunny who has since passed name Juliet. So Boo had: Rudolph, Halley’s Comet, Larry, Clara, and Georgina. We found homes for Rudolph, Clara, and Georgina. Comet was mine since like day one. She has a little white streak on her head. I’ll post pics of the babies if you want but I’m on desktop rn so that’s a mobile tumblr endeavor. And we also kept Larry because Larry is an asshole but my grandma loved him. So now we just have Boo, Larry, Halley’s Comet, and Zoey. 

[lifeascaty]

Can you detail you journey to getting a WB pitch? I need some inspiration

I mean, I don’t know how detailed you want because technically this is a journey 18 years in the making …

2001: Watch LOTR: TFOTR. Fall in love with it. Decide this is what I want to do. Not sure what this is but know it has something to do with films. Director? Writer?

2001-2009: Write constantly. Write badly. Write badly, constantly. Act in all the school plays because it’s the closest you can get to film as a 13 year old. Join the media club at school and make shitty short films. Direct two theatre shows as a 17 and 18yo. Write and direct my own play at 19. Join the National Youth Theatre in London and work backstage on a West End production of Mamma Mia. 

2010-2013: Go to university for English Lit. Harass the Creative Writing Dept. until they let me into their creative writing classes, even though they have a stupid rule about them not being available to English Lit students. Take two screenwriting classes, alongside a prose class. Graduate and win a UK screenwriting competition with a script I wrote while in undergrad. 

2014-2016: Work in an office doing boring office stuff. Work as a PA on British TV show. Work at film festivals. Take an Oxford Uni DfCE YA Literatue class. Take a few meetings in London. Take a UCLA Professional Program year-long class in Screenwriting. Apply to the only two UK film schools worth bothering with. Get accepted immediately by one but it’s the one I’m least impressed with so I don’t accept. Get waitlisted by the big name school who talk about how much they love my script but say it’s too American. Cry. Have an American friend tell me if they say I’m too American then I should just come to America. My Dad says “fuck these UK film schools” and says he’ll help me apply to America. 

2017: Can’t just move to America (visa issues!) but can apply to US film schools. American education is very stupidly priced compared to the rest of the world, so apply for a Fulbright scholarship ($50,000). Get the scholarship. Move to America to attend UCLA for an MFA in Screenwriting. 

2018: Write a pilot I love with a professor I love. Hear about the BAFTA Scholarship ($10,000) and apply. Get accepted. BAFTA holds an event for their scholars, which includes meeting managers. I meet a manager who asks for a sample. I send the pilot I love. Turns out he loves it too. He asks for a second sample. Loves that also. He sends me a contract. Yay! (Also turns out I was the only person who signed with a manager after that BAFTA event, which shows how tough it is, even when you reach that level.) We work on my samples and continue to polish them ready to send out to the industry. 

2019: Scripts get sent out. Start going on generals in March. My second (possibly first?) ever general is with a company who decide they really love me and want to attach me to one of their properties. It’s a book-to-TV adaption. Spend months working with them and a larger studio on that pitch. Start taking the pitch out over the summer. At the same time, I meet with Blumhouse. The meeting is going okay until they suddenly latch onto an idea I mention. They want it, but I don’t really have it. The script’s in terrible shape. I only mentioned it because they weren’t resonating with any of my other ideas and I was getting desperate. Panic-write the script in 3 days. Sell the script. Yay! On another general with a big company. They tell me they love me and were looking to staff me but the diversity hire has gone to someone else. Not willing to give up, I mention an idea I’m working on. They like it and want me to come in and pitch it. Start working on a pitch for my own, original work for the first time. Manager starts sending out the pitch to companies to see who’ll take the meeting with me. Meanwhile, my other scripts are still going out. Warner Bros is interested in one of those other scripts and has me come in for a meeting. They pass on that project but, while we’re talking, I’m determined not to walk away empty-handed. So I mention this other project I’m taking out as a pitch. They really respond. Ask me to come back in and pitch it. Pitch is arranged. 

& voila. That is my detailed journey as to how I got my second meeting at Warner Bros. & I’ve actually been on the Warner Bros lot plenty of times before, taking meetings with other companies that have first-look deals with Warners and so have office space there. I really hate the idea that any of the success in this industry is overnight. Like, everyone I know has put in blood, sweat, and tears. But also, a lot of people (for understandable reasons) aren’t willing to be open about all the failures they had along the way. When I was still at UCLA, I didn’t post about my pitches and generals because I understood that I was very lucky and I didn’t want to make anyone feel shitty about not yet having those opportunities. (And I say ‘yet’ because they’re all talented fuckers and it definitely is just a question of time and access before they do get them.) 

But now I’ve graduated and people back home don’t really know what I’m doing any more so I’m being more open about this shit. Partly so people back in the UK recognise that I’m still doing stuff, I swear and also because I don’t want to contribute to the unhealthy idea that you graduate from film school and are suddenly a success. So I post on my insta stories every time I have a pitch or a general, and I’m trying to make it more natural to talk about it on here too. I try to make it clear to people that 99.999999% of pitches don’t go but that it’s okay and doesn’t mean shit about you as a writer. Failure and struggle is part of this damn industry and people need to be more open about that instead of acting like their success just magically happened. So yeah, sorry if you follow me on insta and are sick of the pitch posts but I’m trying to do something mentally healthy. 

I have no idea if any of this helps for your inspiration, but basically: stick at it, realise it takes years of work, but eventually skill and persistence will win out. (And also know that even if you get a meeting at Warner Bros you’ll still feel like a nobody and a fraud so you may as well enjoy every little part of your journey along the way.) 

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Forty - Klaus searches the Hospital

“You sure it feels okay?” Isadora asked. 

Duncan shrugged. “I mean… not okay, no, but the medication makes it better.” He sat up a bit more, glancing at the door. “You think we can get clothes on now? I don’t like the hospital gown.” 

“We’ll have to wait until the doctors finalize everything.” 

“And then they ask for money and we have to explain we’re orphans on the run from the law.” 

“Technically,” Isadora cocked her head, “The Baudelaires are on the run from the law. We’re running from a madman and his acting troupe.” 

“Oh, God,” Duncan slapped his forehead. “Isa, we’re just on the run from a theater kid.” 

Isadora burst out laughing. “You say that as if we’re not huge theater nerds!” 

“He’s worse than us, though.” 

“How?” 

Duncan giggled a little, curling up his knees to hug them. Then he glanced over at the door, his face falling slightly. “When do you think they’ll be back?” 

“Soon.” Isadora said, patting his hand. “They’re just running up to the library of records and coming back once they get that file. Then we’ll all figure out what it means.” 

“Where did you say the telegram came from?” 

“Black Cat Coffee. You know it?” 

Duncan shook his head. “Must be a local café, instead of a chain, or we’d’ve seen adverts, right?”

“You’d be surprised how many companies exist without our knowledge, Dun.” 

“Though,” Duncan pressed, “I bet if we figure out where there are Black Cat Coffees, we can find where the original note was sent from. Meaning-” 

“We can find Lemony’s friends.” 

Duncan nodded, smiling a little. “Then hopefully they can tell us where they sent the third part of the file. So whatever’s in it, we can have it all together, and-” 

Isadora held up a hand; when Duncan stopped talking, he, too, could hear frantic footsteps in the hall. She stood up and moved to the door, opening it slightly and peering through. “Uh-” 

She leapt back as Klaus pushed the door the rest of the way open, tumbling his way in. He kicked the door shut as Sunny screamed from his back, and then he raced to the corner where the edge of Duncan’s bed met the wall, pulled the Sunnybag off his back and leaned it against the wall, and then dropped a second bag beside it. 

“Klaus…” Duncan said quietly. “Why do you have Violet’s bag?” 

Klaus opened his mouth to respond, and then burst into tears. 

Sunny wailed from her bag, struggling to get out, and Klaus crumpled to the ground, hugging himself and rocking. Duncan shared a terrified glance with Isadora, and then he leapt off the bed, throwing his arms around his friend. 

“It’s okay. Klaus, breathe. Klaus, breathe. You need to talk to us. We need to know what’s happening.” 

Isadora raced over and knelt between the Baudelaires, but before she could move to help Sunny, the toddler finally tore through the bag’s straps, tumbling to the ground. Still screaming, she raced for Klaus, flinging herself against his leg. 

“Klaus, Klaus, look at me.” Duncan leaned back, taking Klaus’s face in his hands and making eye contact. “Look at me. We’re here. We’re listening. What do you need?” 

Isadora shook, putting one arm around Klaus and one around Duncan, careful not to touch the bandaging around his shoulder. Klaus kept shaking, trying to slow his tears, and she finally said, “Okay, one thing at a time. Have we been found?” 

Klaus shakily nodded. 

“By Olaf?” 

Another nod. 

Isadora took a deep breath. “Where is Violet?” 

Klaus gripped the edge of his shirt, and then reached down and grabbed Sunny’s hand. Though the toddler was also crying, she looked up at him and nodded, scooting closer. I’m here. We’re here. We’re getting through this.

“She- she’s still there…” Klaus whispered. “She said she’d meet us here but- but there’s no way. I waited at the bottom of the building, nobody came out of the window… she didn’t come out… they must have her…” 

Duncan shuddered, then glanced at the clock. Damn, it was already, like, six AM. How late had they reached the hospital? How long had they been here? How long…? 

“Do you know who was there?” Isadora asked. 

“I- I think it was just Esme, but… but the rest of em will have to be here.” Klaus said. “They have Violet, they’re going to kill her- Isa, they’re going to kill her-” 

“We won’t let that happen.” Isadora said. 

Duncan narrowed his eyes, and then, his investigative brain whirring into overdrive, he said, “If Esme is here, are your parents?” 

Klaus blinked away more tears, and Isadora reached to wipe his eyes. “I- I think so. I- that’s what they want. To kill us in front of them. He’s going to kill her.” 

“If your parents are here, then they won’t leave for a while.” Duncan considered. “They’ll have your parents in the hospital, but there are still doctors and nurses running around, so they won’t be able to hide them for long- unless they’re knocked out and under a pseudonym.” 

“What?” Isadora asked. 

“We put me under a pseudonym.” Duncan said. He had gone into reporter mode- facts now, emotions later. It was a tricky mode to be in sometimes- he was pretty much banned from family funerals after what had happened at Aunt Margery’s- but for now it was helpful, and he could tell. Klaus was looking at him, something shining in his eyes that wasn’t tears. Someone had a plan, so there was hope. 

Duncan leaned over, picking up Sunny and bouncing her on his knee while he thought, ignoring a throb in his shoulder. “We put me under a pseudonym,” he repeated, “So Olaf will put- no, no, if he wants to torture them, that’ll be loud. They’ll need to be in a wing where people won’t question screams. He won’t kill Violet yet, there are too many people here. Too many witnesses. But he’ll have to hide her… until he gets you.” 

“Us?” Sunny asked. 

“He wants maximum pain for your parents, right? So he needs you two for that… and he must know you’re here…” 

Sunny whimpered, and Isadora put a hand on Klaus’s knee. 

“Violet probably doesn’t have long, though, so we’ll need to move fast. We need to get out and look for her- search every room. Though, I suppose breaking out without paying for my treatment could be an issue, they’ll track us down.” 

Isadora considered, and then said, “We could leave you here.” 

“We’re not splitting up again!” Klaus cried. 

“Uise!” Sunny squealed. “We could wear a disguise!” 

“Not a bad plan.” Duncan nodded. “I bet there’ll be a storage closet somewhere. We’ll throw on doctor’s coats, beards, wigs, whatever. If Olaf can get by with disguises then so can we.” 

“We can’t search every room in the hospital, though.” Isadora said, shaking her head. “This place is enormous, I’m not even sure we could find a comprehensive map.” 

“We’ll have to try.” Duncan began, just as they heard a low buzz. They jumped, before realizing it was from an intercom above them. 

“Attention, patients,” said a cold, eerily familiar voice, and Sunny hissed while Klaus glared at the speaker as if intending to catch it on fire with his eyes alone. 

“Fuck.” Isadora muttered. 

“Babs, your former department head, has just retired to take up an occupation that involves jumping off roofs.” Olaf said coldly. They could almost hear his shiny eyes above his voice. “I am Doctor Mattathias Medicalschool, and I am now in charge. Everything shall continue as planned, but we would like to announce an exciting new program- tonight, we will be performing a cranioectomy on a fourteen-year-old girl in the operating theatre. It’s a very dangerous procedure that will hopefully go well- but, well, accidents happen. We hope to see you there. Proceed.” 

The intercom turned off, and the children looked to each other, all with levels of fury rising in them. 

“Well,” Klaus said, “There’s Violet.” 

“We can’t wait til tonight. We can’t let him do something.” Isadora said. “We’ve gotta get her out of here.” 

“Cri?” Sunny asked. “What’s a cranioectomy?” 

“Well,” Klaus said, “‘ectomy’ means ‘to remove,’ and ‘cranio’ means…” his eyes widened. “Head.” 

They stared at each other in horror, and then Duncan said, “Okay. We find a supply closet, we disguise ourselves as doctors, we find Violet and/or your parents, and we get the fuck outta here.” 

“We can’t just walk into random rooms, though. What if they expect us to do surgery?” Klaus said. “We need some reason to-” 

They heard a distant singing, then, outside their door. 

“We’re volunteers fighting disease! And we’re cheerful all day long! If someone said that we were sad That person would be wrong!”

They looked to each other. 

“The Antivaxxers.” Klaus nodded. 

“Antivaxxers it is.” Isadora shrugged. “Now let’s get out of here before a doctor comes by and finds out we don’t have money.” 

It was relatively easy to slip into a supply closet. They managed to get surgical masks on, and Isadora tied her hair into two buns while Duncan messed up Klaus’s hair. They had to help Sunny into a lab coat so that she didn’t trip over it, rolling up the ends and sleeves, and once they were all prepared, Klaus held her hand most of the time as they walked out. 

When the Volunteers Fighting Disease passed by, Klaus waved his hand. “Excuse me!” he called through his mask. “We have the day off and would like to spread cheer with you all!” 

The Bearded Man, at the head of the group, gave a wide smile. “Well, of course, brothers and sisters!” he gestured, and the other Volunteers cheered. “Come on over and grab a heart-shaped balloon!” 

Klaus cautiously lifted Sunny up so she wouldn’t get trampled, hoping nobody questioned why he was carrying a “doctor.” Nobody did, of course, and Isadora and Duncan stuck by him, holding heart-shaped balloons to try to obscure Sunny from view. Duncan flinched every now and again, and once in a while someone bumped into his shoulder which elicited a gasp, so Isadora made sure to stick close by him, hold him by the arm and make sure he stayed upright. 

From room to room they went, singing along to the repetitive, annoying jingle with too many verses to keep track of but the same tune for each one, meaning Isadora and Duncan, who were trying to sing along, kept mixing up lines- not that anybody noticed, the Volunteers were too preoccupied cheering the patients. While they held balloons, Klaus scanned the beds of every room, trying to see if anyone was Violet in disguise, wearing a mask that could conceal her face, or if there were any beds she could be hidden under, closets she could be stashed in. Isadora and Duncan kept standing by the edge of the volunteers in case any of them needed to be distracted from Klaus tearing up wardrobes behind them, but thankfully nobody seemed to notice. Or care. 

They went from room to room, floor to floor, hour after hour. But by the time afternoon had come, they were still only about halfway through the hospital, and still had no sign of Violet. 

“What do we do?” Duncan whispered, as they continued down the hall and the Volunteers sang around them. 

“We need to find where she is specifically.” Isadora murmured. 

Klaus considered, and then said, “Duncan, you said she may be under a pseudonym, right?” 

“Yeah, probably.” 

Klaus hesitated, and then stopped them as a group of Volunteers went into a room. The Bearded Man was holding open the door, and Klaus said, “Excuse me, sir, may I see your patient list? I believe I may have forgotten about a patient of mine today-” 

“Oh, of course, brother.” the Bearded Man shrugged, handing over the clipboard. “I hate reading the names of all these sick people anyway. Too depressing.” 

“Thank you!” Klaus waved. 

The Bearded Man went inside, letting the door slam behind him, and once it did, Isadora whispered, “Fuckin antivaxxers, man.” 

“Ocu!” Sunny shouted. “Come on, let’s find somewhere to look that over!” 

“Right, yeah.” Isadora nodded. “Into another storage closet to go over these patient names.” 

They found one nearby, and once they ducked in, Klaus moved to a sidetable, unclipping the papers and spreading them out. “Okay, so we’re going to need to figure out which name is Violet.” 

“We could cross out everyone we visited.” Isadora said. 

“That’ll take forever.” Duncan groaned. 

“Visi.” Sunny said. 

“She’s right.” Klaus said. “We can cross out the wards we visited and at least narrow it down.” He handed some papers to Isadora, then reached just the papers of where they hadn’t been. “Okay, what fake name do we think she’d have?” 

“Easiest would be anagram, I’d say.” Duncan shrugged, leaning over the table. 

“Ana?” Sunny asked. 

“It’s a word or phrase with the letters scrambled in order to encode it.” Duncan explained quickly. “Like… if they hid you and called you ‘Yunns.’” 

“Eeo.” Sunny narrowed her eyes. “I can’t read.” 

“Luckily, we can.” Isadora said. She glanced around the shelves of the closet, and ran to one, taking a can. “Alphabet soup. Sunny, bite these open, we’ll use the noodles.” 

“What?” Duncan said. 

“Everyone take the letters to ‘Violet Baudelaire.’” Klaus understood, nodding along. 

“And scramble names along.” Isadora said. 

“Actually, we can narrow it down more. It’ll have to have a ‘V’ in it, won’t it?” Klaus said. “So anyone with a V-” 

“We check there.” Isadora nodded. “Hurry it up.” 

With the three of them working along, it only took about a half hour of flipping papers, scrambling names, before Klaus triumphantly held up a paper. “Laura V. Bleediotie.” he announced. “Anagram for Violet Baudelaire. We found her.” 

“Thank fuck. Also, I’m not doing this doctor shit anymore.” Duncan took off his white coat, tossing it to the ground. 

“You can’t just walk around the hospital without a disguise.” Isadora sighed. 

“It’s too hot!” 

“Deal.” 

Duncan sighed. “It’s pressing on my bandages and it hurts.” 

Isadora narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying that just to get sympathy or-” 

Sunny held up her hands. “Gaughgit!” “Let’s just go get Violet, okay?” 

They nodded, and Klaus picked up Sunny again as they set out. Klaus directed them up the stairs, scanning the halls for the right room number, his hand shaking a little as he held the paper in his hands. 

When they reached the room, Isadora tossed it open and ran in, and then slid to a stop. 

“Klaus, there’s nobody here.” 

“What?” 

Duncan raced ahead, looking around. There was one bed, pressed against the wall and a little rumpled, as if someone had just been removed from it. As the Quagmires moved to it, ducking down to see if maybe she was beneath, Klaus stepped into the room, placing Sunny on the ground and squeezing her hand. 

“She’s not here.” he whispered. “She’s not here.” 

“Of course she’s not here,” said a voice behind them, and Klaus stiffened, “We’ve already moved her.”

Duncan and Isadora instinctively dove under the bed. Klaus turned to see that Count Olaf was walking forwards, his shoes clacking against the ground as he did. Klaus’s first thought was he probably can’t see the Quagmires from here. His second thought was oh, shit, he can definitely see us. 

Olaf stopped at the doorway, crossing his arms, and then he smiled and nodded. “Great disguises. I wouldn’t have recognized you if I hadn’t told you what to wear.” 

Klaus froze in confusion, and Sunny cocked her head. Then, carefully, Klaus said, “Oh, yeah. We, um…” 

“You almost look like a boy.” Olaf shrugged. “Good work there. Now what are you doing here? You’ll be needed in the Operating Room in just a few minutes.” 

Klaus shook slightly, and Sunny squeezed his hand, before saying, as clearly as she could, “Knife.” 

“Yes, we were trying to find a sharper knife.” Klaus nodded, nervously laughing. “Can’t perform a cranioectomy without a proper knife!” 

“Of course.” Olaf smiled wickedly, and then said, “Of course, we’ll need more weapons, too, for when her bratty siblings show up.” 

“Her siblings, yes.” Klaus muttered. 

“Once we have all of them in one place… then we can begin the real show, won’t we?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, you find that sharper knife,” Olaf said, “And then hurry down. If you’re late, I’ll have to start without you. And we wouldn’t want that. You’ll want to be there.” 

“Of course…” 

Olaf turned and walked away, and Klaus quickly kicked the door shut. Once it closed, he turned and said, “You two need to get out of here.” 

“What?” Isadora crawled out from under the bed, helping Duncan to his feet. “What did he-” 

“He thinks we’re his troupe members. Probably the white-faced women.” Klaus muttered, squeezing Sunny’s hand. “We have to go or he’ll realize he was wrong. We’ll go in, free Violet, and meet you outside. We’ll need to… to find a way out… but you can’t be seen with us. It doesn’t seem like he knows you’re here.” 

“We’re not leaving you!” Isadora shouted, stepping forwards. “Not when that bastard wants you there! It’s a trap, Klaus, and you know it!” 

“A trap, yes, but he doesn’t know we’re… us.” Klaus gestured to his and Sunny’s disguises. “Sunny can probably bite whatever ropes are holding her, I’ll find a way to stall and get her out, and… we’ll meet in that unfinished wing of the hospital, hide there for a bit, and then find somewhere to run. We can… can probably hijack a car… we’ll figure it out.” 

“Klaus! We’re not leaving!” Duncan insisted. He hugged himself, and said, “There’s gotta be a better way. You can’t just walk down there and expect to get out.” 

“Sacer.” Sunny smiled quietly. “That’s why we’re sending you outside.” 

“Then you won’t get caught with us if we get found out.” Klaus said. “We have to protect you.” he looked to Duncan’s wound, his face paling a little. “We’ve done a shit job of it so far.” 

“Klaus…”

He picked up Sunny, holding her close. “I’ll protect Sunny as best I can, but he expects to see us down there. If things go bad, he’s got a good chance of slipping away in a crowd due to her size. You go get the Quagmires if we get separated, Sunny, okay?” 

She nodded, but Duncan just shook his head. “There’s gotta be a better way.” 

“Well, if you can think of one, I’d love to hear it.” Klaus sighed. “Because we’ve got about five minutes before we have to be down in the surgical ward.” 

Olaf walked down the hall, leaned against the wall, and then pressed his walkie-talkie. On the other end, Esme said, “Your idiot henchpeople have just gotten the ugly little girl sedated, and I’m taking care of keeping the others quiet. This better be good, we don’t have much time.” 

“It is.” Olaf’s eyes shone. “The brats are on their way to the theatre. Be ready to begin.”

[soupandtissues]

They still go to the theatre even though the theatres themselves had long since replaced the straw floor and wood seats with plush cushions and air conditioning.  Even though Shakespeare had written all of his plays hundreds of years ago now and they had seen them dozen of times.  It was still entertaining to see what new actors brought to the roles and how others imagined scenes would look on their stage.

In fact the more intricate props and better special effects had even gotten Crowley to admit that not all the gloomy plays were terrible, just most.

That night though it wasn’t the play that was bothering Crowley, since it technically wasn’t Shakespeare they were seeing it was a re-imagining as they called it.  Instead it was a slight tickle in the back of his throat that just would not leave.  Not to mention the itch in his nose that he would really rather not mention, because it was getting worse.  It clung to his nostrils making them twitch and run no matter how he rubbed at them.  He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him.  He felt perfectly fine until the lights went down.  Then it hit him, quite literally as an actor picked up a smoking thurible and swung it up so the smoke drifted over the first few rows of seats.          

“Heh’ggnxtch!  Hh’gntCHu!”

The harshly stifled double did absolutely nothing but intensify the burning tickle of what Crowley now knew was an allergy attack.  But he also knew he had to restrain himself, because one thing that hadn’t changed in all the years was that no theatre goer wanted to be distracted by someone else in the audience.  So pinching his nose shut Crowley made his way quickly to the exit before the building fit overwhelmed him.

He’d barely made it out into the lobby though before the door opened again and Aziraphale came out too.

“Crowley, what on Earth is the matter with you?” he asked, miffed at their evening being so abruptly interrupted.

Crowley held up one hand as his other arm ready itself.  Then his breath hitched sharply and his nose was pressed firmly into the crook of his elbow.

“Hah’itchu! Issh! ISSHUu! Heh-heh’ASSHu!”

“Goodness!”

“In a manner of speaking.  The incenses they’re using are the real deal.  I should commend them for their flawless a-authenticity-huh’assh! ESSHuh!”

Crowley sniffled thickly and Aziraphale pulled out a tartan handkerchief and passed it over.

“This is completely out of style you know,” Crowley said, but accepted it anyway.

“But clearly still practical.”

As Crowley worked to clear his nose of the offending irritant Aziraphale flipped through the show program.

“According to this the last church scene should end right before intermission we only have two scenes left to wait for.”

“You don’t have to stay out here you know.  Bloody stuff probably smells great to you.”

As a matter a fact it did, but Aziraphale didn’t bother to mention that.  Instead his just put a comforting hand on Crowley’s arm. “The point of tonight was to spend time with you not sit in the dark alone, because you’re allergic to the props.”

Crowley pressed the handkerchief to his nose one last time to hide his smile.

“All right then.  I’ll buy you an ice cream while we wait and we can miss the intermission rush.”

“Sounds delightful.”

[philosopherking1887]

Letter to Tom Hiddleston

As I posted before I saw Tom in Betrayal in London, I wrote a letter (composed on the computer then transcribed by hand on nice stationery, which caused some flare-up of my tennis elbow...) to give to him after the show. I didn’t get into the stage door line fast enough to be able to see Tom; he only went partway down the line before going back in. (I’m not sure if that was his idea or his handler’s. Charlie Cox, meanwhile, did go all the way down the line; I got his autograph on my program and a couple of photos of him, though not with him.) But some house manager/handler person was collecting letters, cards, and gifts, and when I asked skeptically whether he would actually give them to Tom, he said, “100%”. So in theory, Tom actually received this and might read it. Maybe it was dumb, or presumptuous, or outright rude, but I expressed my condolences for what the MCU did to his character. If Tom isn’t actually as depressed about it as he seems, it won’t matter -- he’ll ignore it like the rest of the nonsense fans probably write to him -- but if he is, maybe it’ll help a little to know he has allies.

Anyway, here’s what I wrote.

---------------------------------------

Dear Mr. Hiddleston (or Tom, if I may),

I’m a philosophy postdoc at [redacted], in London for an on-campus interview for a lectureship at [redacted]… which actually isn’t until next week; I extended my trip a few days on the front end so that I could catch one of the last shows of Betrayal before the run ended. It’s more than a little silly, but I’ll admit that a large part of the reason I was hoping [redacted] would invite me for a visit no later than mid-June was so that I’d have an opportunity (or excuse) to come see you act in person.

Like many people you’ve heard from, I’m sure, I became a fan of yours through your portrayal of Loki. I was blissfully ignorant of the MCU until 2015, when a friend invited me to see Avengers: Age of Ultron. My interest was piqued when I learned that Joss Whedon wrote and directed it, since I greatly admire his work. So of course, because I wasn’t raised by wolves, I had to go back and watch all the previous MCU films in chronological order. I wasn’t really hooked until I watched Thor, but not because of the title character.

Loki’s story was deeper, more tragic, more Shakespearean than I expected from a comic book movie, even in this golden age (though perhaps not from one directed by Kenneth Branagh). It was striking that the villain (seemingly) died not as a direct result of his wicked actions, in the Wile E. Coyote-like fashion favored by Marvel and Disney movies, but by suicide, prompted by his father’s rejection. He was three-dimensional, flesh and blood, and never lost the audience’s sympathy even in his cruelest moments—like Shylock, Cassius, or Macbeth. Then, when Loki turned up again in The Avengers, more desperate and ruthless but fundamentally the same proud, wounded spirit, I was fully drawn in. (Whedon’s incisive writing certainly didn’t hurt.)

I needed to know who played Loki with such poise, charm, and pathos. After getting caught up on the MCU (including another nuanced, twisty, show-stealing appearance from Loki in The Dark World), I needed to find more of your work. I watched Unrelated, Archipelago (ouch), The Deep Blue Sea, and the Henry installments of The Hollow Crown. I went to see Coriolanus when it was shown in a local movie theater; I watched Crimson Peak, The Night Manager, and I Saw the Light when they came out.

And the amazing thing all of these performances had in common is that you disappear into each role, inhabiting each character completely. You make the most diverse characters equally believable, from the selfish frivolity, with an undercurrent of sadness, of Freddie Page or Prince Hal to the grim inflexibility of Caius Marcius to the inscrutable chameleon Jonathan Pine and, of course, the mercurial, self-destructive Loki. When you speak Shakespeare, the words flow as naturally as if you grew up in Elizabethan England, and the meaning comes across so lucidly that I feel like I did, too. I had no idea what Coriolanus was about when I went to see it (generally not recommended with Shakespeare), but I found myself as effortlessly caught up in it as if it were an episode of Game of Thrones. Nonetheless—and this is what drew me to your work in the first place—you put the same kind of thoughtfulness and conviction into the most (apparently) frivolous roles that you do into Shakespeare.

I haven’t heard anyone say this or ask you about it in interviews, maybe because they know you wouldn’t be able to say anything publicly if you agree or maybe because there are so few people who feel this way, but I want to express how sorry I am about what was done to your character, how thoughtlessly all your masterful work and dedication were thrown away—in Infinity War, yes, but even more insultingly in Thor: Ragnarok. Maybe I was just imagining it, but I sensed from your comportment during the press for Ragnarok, however gamely you talked up the humorous new tone (you are, after all, a professional), that you weren’t entirely happy with the way Loki and (to an even greater extent) Thor were “reinvented”—or, more accurately, bowdlerized, made into caricatures rather than characters: Loki was turned into an effete, hedonistic cartoon cut-out “trickster” who betrays people for shits and giggles because it’s “in his nature”—completely disregarding, or rather attempting (successfully, for most audiences) to erase, his complicated, compelling motives for his misdeeds in previous films; and Thor was turned into a compassionless, narcissistic bully (however much the movie tried to make out that Loki was the narcissist) and, to use some technical terminology, a fratty douchebro. This mean-spirited retcon, which gleefully mocked its predecessors and the people who liked them (especially with the parody of Loki’s death scene in The Dark World), was not the conclusion to the trilogy that Thor, Loki, or their fans deserved. It was not the conclusion you deserved, after the heart and soul you put into the character.

All that is to say: even if Marvel didn’t understand or appreciate what they had in your Loki, some of us do, and we are grateful for the dignity and compassion with which you incarnated a character who suffered from emotional abuse, social ostracism, and mental illness (Ragnarok cannot make us believe that all of these problems are mere “childish fixations,” to quote the director, or a lazy failure to “grow and change”). I hope the Loki TV show turns out to be worthy of the character as you, Branagh, and Whedon shaped him, not another cynical effort to cash in on Loki’s fans while making no secret of the contempt in which we are held, especially because most of us are female, and bowing to the dislike of the Reddit crowd that can’t understand why a cerebral, slightly androgynous, morally ambiguous character is more appealing to women than the standard self-certain male power fantasies (must be because women always go for assholes, right?). I haven’t decided yet whether I want to subscribe to Disney+ so that Marvel knows exactly how many people care about Loki, or boycott it in protest of how the MCU has treated Loki and his fans. Maybe I’ll compromise by using someone else’s login…

To conclude (finally; we academics tend to wax long-winded): Thank you for all your magnificent work, which clearly demonstrates your respect for both your craft and your audience. You’re a true artist, and you manage to elevate everything you act in (your eyebrow movements furnished most of the sincere pathos in Ragnarok). I hope you will continue to act both in the theater, which is obviously your true passion, and in film and TV so that your work is accessible to a larger audience. Or do more of those National Theatre Live things; best of both worlds.

Sincerely, etc.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

The Chair

Prompt/Summary: “I walked into this restaurant and you thought i was your blind date and i just kind of went with it because i don’t want to eat alone”, as well as based off of George Strait’s “The Chair”

Klaine; AU Alternate Meeting; ~1800 words

A/N: This is like two weeks late bc in case y'all have forgotten I'm the slowest writer in the world lmaooooooo

I hope you don’t mind but I changed it up a little, and this is what happened!

Written for @somefeministtheatrepls ‘s birthday! She’s literally one of the best people I’ve ever met (or.. Not technically met but you get the gist) the best beta a girl could ever ask for and the memeiest meme queen you’ve ever met in your life! Thank you for literally making my day every time I open up my messages and for reminding me of the little things that make life worth living :)

I’m so lucky to have so many supportive and amazing friends in this fandom!

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

*

Three times.

That made three fucking times, including tonight, that Cooper cancelled on Blaine. All he wanted was a night out with Cooper to catch up, but instead he’s angrily huffing his way out of the restroom after yet another argument with his notoriously flaky older brother. 

But of course, of course, Cooper cancelled on him without giving any heads up first. And now Blaine had to go back to that bar and finish his drink (he paid eight dollars for it and he’ll be damned if he lets it go to waste) and look like that one pitiful person every bar has that drinks alone and—

His racing thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he was greeted with the sight of a pale man with perfectly sculpted hair, nodding and smiling politely at the bartender as she takes his order. 

The only thing he could think was How the hell am I going to get him to talk to me?

Before he knew what he was even doing, Blaine walked right up to the man and said, “Excuse me, I think you’ve got my chair.”

The stranger turned and looked at him with wide eyes, likely horrified at his apparent rudeness. “Oh-oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—“ he got up to leave but Blaine stopped him.

“No, no!” He exclaimed, gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “That one’s not taken, so I don’t mind if you sit here, really.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, concern lining his face. 

Blaine chuckled lightly. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s usually packed here on Friday nights, and I’d hate for you to have to stand all by your lonesome.”

“Thank you. I’d hate to wait for this blind date all alone.”

“Blind date?” Blaine asked, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Yeah, my roommate set me up with this guy she barely even knows from her Diction class. She said he’d be here, waiting at the end of the bar—” His eyes went suddenly wide, as if coming to a realization. He looked down at his chair, finally noting that he had the end seat, then looked back up at Blaine. “Oh, my God, I’m an idiot. You’re my blind date!”

Now, Blaine wasn’t particularly proud of what he did next, but he really just couldn’t help himself. The man sitting next to him may have just been a stranger, but he was the type of stranger that he could see himself having a life with. Right now he was just somebody, but Blaine felt that if he got to know the man better, he could be somebody to him. It sounded ridiculous, but Blaine felt a connection as soon as he saw him, and he wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass.

“Yup! That’s me. Can I drink you a buy?” Blaine fumbled clumsily over the words before wincing at them. Nice going. “Sorry,” He continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “What I mean is can I buy you a drink? Anything you please, really.”

“Anything I please?” He teased. “Such a gentleman. Thank you.”

Blaine chuckled sheepishly, deeply hoping that the man couldn’t see his heart beating through his chest. “You’re welcome… I uh, don’t think I caught your name.”

“Kurt,” he smiled. “Kurt Hummel. And it just occurred to me that you must be Aaron.”

Blaine froze for a moment before figuring out how to get himself out of the hole he dug himself into. “It’s uh, Blaine, actually. But it’s fine, I’ve been told my name is kind of out there.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “It is not okay, Rachel is just terrible with names. If you’re not a fan or a casting director, she’ll forget it as soon as you walk away.”

Well, that’s convenient. 

“She sounds lovely,” Blaine joked. “But I’d really love to hear more about you, Kurt. What do you do?”

“Well, right now I’m interning at Vogue.com headquarters with Isabelle Wright when I’m not at school. Over at NYU.”

“Wait a second, you go to NYU?” Blaine asked in astonishment. “Me too!”

“Really? What are you studying?”

“Music Education with a concentration in voice, minor in musical theatre performance.”

“Wow, that’s an impressive mouthful—and course load, I’m sure. I’m in fashion merchandising, but I was actually thinking of adding a Musical Theatre minor, too.” Kurt took a sip of his drink and smiled at him through the straw. “Any advice before I audition for the program?”

Blaine leaned in towards Kurt. “Well, Dr. Williams has terrible taste—and he’s sexist, but that’s besides the point right now—so try to avoid audition dates where he’s on your panel. You’ll get points for Sondheim just because of the difficulty level, so if you have anything of his in your back pocket, I’d go with that. Or, you know, one of those classical killing my baby Arias would probably work too.”

His heart fluttered when Kurt let out a snort, bringing a hand to cover his face. Whatever you’re doing, Blaine, keep it up. 

They talked for several more minutes, each glad to be finding out more and more about the other. As time ticked on, Blaine talked about every subject from his annoying older brother Cooper to his opinions on the lack of administrative support for performing arts. In turn, Kurt told Blaine about his family and how life changing his experience in vogue had been.

“Who’s playing tonight?” Kurt asked after the conversation came to a natural lull. 

“I don’t know, but they’re pretty good, aren’t they.” Blaine replied. He sat still for a moment, watching Kurt as he nodded his head along to the beat and mouthed the words. Blaine smiled and got up from his chair to extend a hand to Kurt. “Would you like to dance?”

Kurt smiled and nodded, making Blaine’s heart flutter. “I would love to.”

Kurt took Blaine’s hand and lead him to the dance floor where other couples were gently swaying along to the song played by the band.

You look so good in love You want him, it’s easy to see You look so good in love I wish you still wanted me

“You like this song?” He asked with a light giggle, acknowledging the fact that Kurt was lowly singing all the words against his ear.

Kurt chuckled. “I uh, yeah. My mom went through a pretty big George Strait phase before she passed and I used to listen to him when I missed her.”

Blaine furrowed his brows sympathetically. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks… there was this one song that I would listen to when I was really missing her, but I can’t remember the name.” He frowned and twisted his face in thought. “It’s something about West Virginia to Tennessee? And all I have is this beat up leather bag…”

Blaine’s eyes lit up in recognition. “I know that song!” He exclaimed. “We did a Pure Country themed party a few years ago for my best friend's birthday and that song was part of the soundtrack. I’ll be right back.”

Much to Kurt’s dismay, Blaine released him from his comforting grip and made his way through the sea of people towards the stage where the band was playing. He gently noted that his arms felt much too cold without the man he just met in them.

He was suddenly interrupted by a buzzing noise in his pocket.

New Message: From: Rachel ⭐️ Hey, Kurt, sorry this is such late notice I just got out of rehearsal for the spring show but Aaron (Adrian? God, I don’t remember his name) texted me like an hour ago that he wasn’t going to be able to make it tonight.

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows in mild confusion before typing out a response. 

New Message: To: Rachel ⭐️ His name is *Blaine* first of all

Secondly, what do you mean? He showed up before I even got here.

No? Send a pic, make sure we’re talking about the same Aaron/Adrien(?)

Kurt glanced warily around the bar, feeling a little weird about Rachel’s demand, but nonetheless quickly snapped a picture of the curly haired man and sent a picture her way. 

Cute, but not Anton (I think Anton IS the right name, though)

Wait, so this date I’ve had has been with a complete stranger?

Oooooh, mysterious!

RACHEL

Well… is he a total creep?

Kurt glances up back at Blaine, waiting patiently by the stage to request the song Kurt told him about, looking dreamy as ever with his seemingly permanent yet genuine smile and toned arms and olive skin and...

No…

He’s actually kind of perfect.

In that case, you’re welcome. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Kurt was about to respond that the only he wanted to do with this gift horse was kiss him on the mouth before the lead singer of the band spoke up into the mic.

“This one goes out to Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine happily made his way back to the paler man, extending his hand out to him. “I believe this is your song, Mr. Hummel.”

Kurt slipped his phone back into his pocket before taking Blaine’s hand and heading back out onto the dance floor.

'Cause I'm carrying your love with me West Virginia down to Tennessee I'll be moving with the good Lord's speed Carrying your love with me It's my strength, for holding on Every minute that I have to be gone I'll have everything I'll ever need Carrying your love with me

Blaine felt Kurt wrap his arms around him a little tighter at the chorus. “Is everything alright?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Kurt nodded. “I just… that was really sweet of you to request this song for me.” He admitted, feeling oddly vulnerable about admitting such strong feelings for the stranger in front of him. “I know we just met but… I really like you, Blaine. More than I’ve liked anybody in a long time.”

“I really like you, too…” Blaine trailed off and gnawed on the inside of his lip nervously. “But to tell you the truth… that wasn’t my chair after all.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes playfully and let a smile break loose. “I know.”

Blaine drew his head back in confusion. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah,” Kurt ducked his head shyly and laughed. “Rachel, my roommate texted me about halfway through our date that my blind date wouldn’t be coming.”

“Oh…” Blaine felt color rise to his face. “Look, Kurt, if you want me to go,” he jabbed his thumb behind him. “I get it. I promise I’m not some random weirdo, but I totally get if it freaks you out.”

Kurt responded by pulling Blaine closer. “It doesn’t. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to have been stood up.”

Blaine let out a sigh of relief. “Me, too.” He further explained at Kurt’s confused expression. “My brother was supposed to meet me here to catch up, and this is like, the third time that he’s bailed on our plans.”

Kurt hummed in mock thoughtfulness. “I suppose that means you know better than anyone that the third time’s the charm.”

“I suppose I do,” is all Blaine said before finally leaning in and pressing their lips together.

[tessadoesstuff]

Sunset Queens - Chapter 1

For Day 1 of the Naboo Review: Found Family

(Shhhhh I know it’s a day late.)

Chapter 2

on Ao3

Padme Naberrie dips her toes in the canal outside her home, watching the water run over her bare feet. It was brisk but not too cold, and it’s a hot day out, so Padme performs an ungraceful scootch forward across the sidewalk, closer to the water, and drops her legs down into the canal, submerging them up to her knees. The bottom of her dress is wet by that as well, but Padme can’t bring herself to care. The rich purple fabric drifts beautifully in the current.

With a sigh, Padme flops backward, sprawling her upper body on the stone pathway. Padme can’t bring herself to care that she is technically in the way. No one uses this pathway, not since construction left it a pathway to nowhere when Padme was little.

Padme pulls the blue-purple hood down from around her face and lets the sun shine on it. It’s immediately warm – the sun is beating down today – but Padme finds she doesn’t mind. After being inside of Theed Palace all day, it feels nice rather than unpleasant.

Padme was going to miss doing this once she was queen rather than queen elect. From what she’s seen thus far, the queen of Naboo can’t exactly get away with lying in the street. Really, Padme wasn't expecting things to get easier after she was elected, but she had hoped that maybe she would be easied into the increased workload of being queen. Padme doubts she has ever been more wrong. Padme barely feels like she has time to sleep anymore. Padme has only made time to do this by ignoring her schoolwork.

These days, Padme’s mornings are spent with her future handmaidens, undergoing extensive training in order to be able to protect themselves, conduct themselves properly, move as a team, and all the other duties that a handmaiden performed that were less publicly well know. (Spying. The handmaidens are spies.) After that, Padme has two hours for all her studies and then has to rush back to the palace to shadow Queen Réillata for the afternoon, and often for more formal events in the evening as well. Shadowing the queen is no walk in the park – she is for all intents and purposes, another one of the queen’s handmaidens, and carries herself accordingly.

 Both her parents and Panaka actually think she is with Queen Réillata right now. Padme feels a little guilt for lying to them. Not a lot though, since the water and sun both feel really nice.

“Padme?” A familiar female voice carries down the hallway, and Padme sighs.

“Go away, Sola.” Padme groans. Her sister is the only one who knows to find her here.

“Oh, is that your sister’s name? I confess I couldn’t remember other it when we spoke, so I just called her Lady Naberrie.” The voice calls back, and Padme’s brain restarts as she’s suddenly able to place that voice.

“Queen Réillata!” Padme shoots upwards into a sitting position as she catches sight of just the queen’s feet. Unfortunately, as she pulls herself up from her sprawled position, she does it far too quickly, and Padme pitches forward and with a screech, Padme falls into the canal. The water is only cold until she’s fully underwater, and when she resurfaces, finds the water a nice, cool temperature. Padme hadn’t realized how warm she was until now.

“Are you alright, Padme?” Queen Réillata moves to the edge of the canal, a concerned look on her face. Padme can’t help it. She giggles a little.

“I’m fine.” She looks down at the purple and blue handmaiden’s gown she’s wearing, which is now as completely wet as she is. “I don’t think I’ll be able to wear this tonight though.” She comments, which to her surprise, pulls a full laugh from Queen Réillata.

“Do you want a hand getting out?” The older girl asks, crossing the street to where Padme had been sitting. Padme bites her lip. She knows she really should get out. This is the queen in front of her, and she does have places to go soon. Every lesson the Diplomatic Youth Program taught her says that Padme should get out of the water now. But Padme doesn’t really want to get out of the water.

 In Padme’s moment of hesitation, Queen Réillata launches back into conversation. “Is the water in this part of Theed cold this time of year? I know some of the canals are snowmelt, but I don’t know if they are here.” Padme is struck by how much Queen Réillata knows that she still doesn’t know but answers the question anyway.

“It’s not to cold. It’s nice actually, on such a warm day.” Padme responds. “I didn’t know any of the canals were snowmelt – but I don’t think this one is cold enough to be?” She adds, her own confession. Queen Réillata nods in acknowledgment.

“Alright then.” Queen Réillata responds casually. Then, in her long sky-blue gown and matching cloak, without so much as removing her ornate gemstone necklace, Queen Réillata throws herself into the canal next to Padme. It sends ripples through the water that throw Padme around not unpleasantly, and Padme feels her grin widen even as she’s taken with shock.

When Queen Réillata resurfaces, the water and the current have washed all of her ornate makeup off, leaving only the big grin to decorate her face.

“Your Majesty!” Padme protests and Queen Réillata makes a face at that.

“Please, just call me Réillata.” She insists and then splashes Padme. Before she knows what she’s really doing, Padme splashes Réillata back. Somehow, without the elaborate makeup, Réillata feels less… untouchable. Padme supposes that’s the purpose of the makeup.

“I… okay,” Padme responds with a smile, which is brightly returned. Gently, Réillata moves through the water to where Padme has been treading and catches one of her hands.

“Padme, is everything alright with you?” Réillata asks, which catches Padme totally off guard.

“What?” Is her dignified response.

“You gave my handmaidens and I quiet a fright when Captain Panaka told us you were supposed to be with us,” Réillata says in a soothing tone of voice that places no blame, but still, Padme feels a rush of guilt.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just…” Padme trails off, trying to explain what had happened without sounding lazy or ungrateful.

“You just needed a little break?” Réillata finishes, and Padme ducks her head.

“Yeah.”

“That’s totally alright.” Réillata finishes, and Padme glances back at her in surprise. “We all need that sometimes. This can be a lot, especially at the beginning.” Réillata pulls Padme into as much of a hug as she can while they both tread water. “Next time, just let me know, and I’ll cover for you with Panaka.” She whispers to Padme conspiratorially.

“Really?”

“Oh absolutely. We’ve all been there. He can be… a lot.” Réillata says as though confessing a great secret. Padme snorts.

“Definitely.” She ducks under and out of Réillata’s embrace. “We should probably go, there’s still probably time to get changed before we have to be back at the palace.” Réillata grins.

“Or, we can use the change of clothes I brought to go see a show at the theatre instead.” She says sneakily, and Padme can’t help but look at her in surprise. Réillata shrugs. “It’s important for me to spend some time with my successor.” She pauses. “Also, a queen needs to take a night off here and now as well.”

[scouthearted]

How To See Theatre Cheap!!

What’s the number one complaint I see about theatre from people both into it and who want to get into it but haven’t yet? It’s the price. I get a lot of friends who don’t understand how I can afford to see so much theatre, or who just assume I’m personally rich. Really, being a third year theatre student has just granted me a lot of knowledge about the tips and tricks on how to engage with this art form for cheap... and sometimes even free.

Bootlegs are the obvious choice that I know most people know about as far as cheap and accessible theatre goes. However, even if you wanna say “fuck you” to rich producers, know that bootlegs put the theater itself at risk, and can impose huge fines on them, which can bankrupt smaller theaters... just because they didn’t catch someone filming! Because of this, it’s not the most ethical choice and it’s especially bad if you want more theatre to be accessible. I’m choosing to keep this masterlist bootleg-free for that reason, and while I encourage people to add on their own tips and tricks, I ask that they also follow that rule!

Note for the super broke: tips and tricks that are 100% free are in bold for quick reference! Bolded but starred are those that may be free, or are free with caveats.

SEE THEATRE IN PERSON:

Usher. Contact your local community and small professional theatres and see if they are looking for volunteers. Many times, those that need volunteer ushers allow them to see the show for free! Ushering is easy and a good opportunity to get to know other theatre fans. Keep in mind: there may be a dress code or physical requirement for the job.

Shakespeare in the Park. TONS of cities across the world do this... if you don’t see your city on here, that’s not a dealbreaker either, as my city is going into its 26th year of SitP and still isn’t on the list. It’s a great chance to see Shakespeare performed, an absolutely different experience than reading Shakespeare in high school English.

High school productions. Often, these are a lot better than you might expect, especially if you are near a performing arts high school or just a school with a good theatre department. High schools often do big-name shows, usually for $10 or less per ticket!

College productions. They operate similarly to high schools, but with (usually) a larger budget and better talent pool. They may also be more experimental or obscure in their season selection. I recommend attending shows at schools that have a theatre major, as those productions often are classified as “pre-professional...” think professional theatre with lower prices, often under $15 a ticket.

Hamilton lottery. If you live in or relatively near NYC, London, Chicago, Dallas, Detroit, or San Francisco, you can and should enter the lottery to win two $10 tickets. You can enter every single day, and I’ve personally known people who have won, so the chances may not be as small as you think!

Pay What You Want Theatre Nights*. Often, community and smaller professional theaters will have nights where you can contribute as much or as little as you choose (some theatres have lower limits, but not all). These nights are often ones that aren’t as popular for audiences, such as Wednesday or Thursday, but they’re a great way to see things cheap.

Improv class graduation performances. Improv classes are becoming a huge thing among people who want to socialize without drinking. Often, these classes will conclude with a performance that’s open to the public and super cheap (my local improv school has $6 shows). Check local improv theatres or acting schools for more details.

Local festivals. Some local festivals are home to children’s performances (such as are orchestrated by Missoula Children’s Theatre), local improv, free musicals, etcetera. They’re a great place to scope out a little bit of the scene.

Discounts! If you’re a student, a senior, active military, or a veteran, you are almost guaranteed to get a discount. Other discounts may be available... see the next point.

Call and ask! If you can’t find any ways to see cheap theatre on your local theater’s marketing or website, don’t be afraid to call and ask for deals, promotions, or opportunities not listed. Theatre professionals want butts in the seats, and we want people to be engaging in this art form! We’ll do our best to help.

Playwrights Welcome*. On the off-chance you’re a member of the Dramatists Guild, you can see shows at certain theaters for free. A full list of the participating theaters is at the link, as well as further details on the program. You do have to pay Dramatists Guild dues, so not very free... but if you’re already a member, take advantage of this!

LEGAL RECORDINGS

Movie musicals. Yes, I know, we hate them, but they’re readily available and easy to get for cheap on DVD, or streaming online legally. Check out The Phantom of the Opera, Hairspray, Into the Woods, West Side Story, Sweeney Todd, Les Miserables, and many more. Many are available on Netflix!

BroadwayHD. This streaming site is exclusively for high quality professional theatre. If you have $8.99 a month, you can watch SO MUCH theatre. They also do individual rentals, but it’s more expensive to do an individual rental than to just pay for the month. The selection used to be small, but is growing quickly, and showing your support might convince other productions to put legal recordings up!

National Theatre Live. Performances from an absolutely fantastic theatre, broadcast to movie theaters around the world. Tickets run a little more than a movie ticket, but less than a live theatre performance, and they’re INCREDIBLE. 

DVD and Blu-ray selections. Often, shows are in fact recorded and available for purchase, usually older or closed shows. While the article is a little bit old, the linked article makes some suggestions, but more can be found with a little bit of looking (or check out this wikipedia article).

PBS Great Performances. Opera, musicals, concerts, plays, dance, and more... the complete theatrical experience, for free on PBS. You can watch some of them free no-strings-attached online, too, but others require a subscription service.

Starkid. This theatre company does parody and original comedic musicals (with surprising depth!), and they’re posted on Youtube for free. There’s a ton to choose from, and they’re a really good time and a great gateway if you’re intimidated by the PBS stuff.

AUDIO RECORDINGS

LA Theatre Works. Performing plays in the style of radio plays, you can stream some very good stuff if you’re interested in just listening. It’s a lot like a podcast! I also recommend poking around on their website to find more shows than on this page (and if you ever get a chance and have a little more money than this, they tour and you can see them live. It’s really cool!). 

Off Book: The Improvised Musical. Think Starkid, but audio only, smaller casts, and also, completely improvised. Every week, the podcast weaves a brand new improvised musical, along with a guest or two (including people like Travis McElroy and Felicia Day). 

Audio plays* (like what LA Theatre Works are doing) are a little tricky to find sometimes, but a little research can get you a long way. Here’s some that I found just in trying to dig more up, including Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and the famous production of War of the Worlds. Audible is known to have a growing selection of audio plays, if you’re okay with using and paying for Amazon services.

THEATRE EDUCATION

Podcasts. Continuing on the audio theme, there’s a ton of amazing theatre podcasts that can teach a lot about the business and the art form alike. Here’s a list of twenty podcasts ranging from the explicitly educational to the news-oriented. Note, it’s about five years old. 

Theatre classes*. These are often astronomically too expensive for this list, but there is a little trick (though your ethical mileage may vary). Many theatre schools offer a free first class, like a trial offer. This is meant to help the student and teachers alike determine if the class is a good fit, but it’s also a great chance to go and learn something for a couple hours. You may then decide not to pay for further lessons at that theater, or you may decide you like it so much you want to splurge!

Guest workshops and masterclasses. If you don’t want to do the above, or if you have exhausted your local theater options, be aware of guest workshops and masterclass opportunities near you. While proper classes often run in the hundreds of dollars for a six to eight week course, these one-off classes can be as cheap as $10 sometimes, with the majority I’ve seen where I live being around $25 or so (the upper limit I I placed on things that make this list). You may be surprised at who is leading your class, too (plenty of Broadway actors run classes), and if you want to pursue theatre as a career, a masterclass or workshop looks nice on a resume.

Playing Shakespeare. The entire series can be found on Youtube, and it’s a series one of my professors personally recommended for those who want to learn how to do Shakespearean roles better.

Youtube in general. Honestly, just looking up “theatre masterclass” brings up a ton of credible and amazing stuff.

Volunteer. Learning by experiencing is truly something you can do, and there’s plenty of community theatres that would die for a good volunteer. Even if you don’t want to be on stage, there’s plenty of technical positions that cater to any and all skill sets.

[themangoeswrite]

Potluck

Slight tw for homophobia, implied usage of slurs but nothing outright said. These are my ocs by the way ~~ In everyone’s defense, it was supposed to be a normal potluck.

    It was the usual gathering of the Theatre parents and kids for Theatre and Tech Theatre orientation. Every year, Roman would invite all of the kiddos and their parents to a potluck in the Auditorium of East High School, to talk with the parents about their kid or kids and try to find out what kind of support he’ll have from the parents for the year.

    As usual, Daniel, Daffodil, Patton, and Alya were all there to show their support and also to try and reign in any kiddos or parents who tried to snoop around or do anything bad. Adrien, Axle, and Alexandre were all there too, to help out and show support. Stormy was there, his dad Logan following as Stormy showed him around the auditorium, pointing out a couple of the little scuff marks and telling him stories.

    Luka was there, xyr parents noticeably absent from xyr side, but no one commented on it, Daffodil and Alya simply hugging xem and asking xem if xe had any stories from theatre class. Paris and Rose were there, all smiles and sunshine as they infiltrated the group of parents and kiddos. Milo was there with their moms Adelina and Vivienne, who gave everyone a hug, playfully winking at Daffodil and Alya. 

    They were all smiles and laughter, exchanging stories. Logan even cracked a couple jokes, although he stayed away from the puns as the singular pun that he made had Patton bowling him over with a hug and a squeal. Roman flitted about, moving between his family and the other families, making sure everyone was content and kind. He made jokes and witty remarks that quickly gained him the approval of every parent he talked to.

    Daniel leaned against Adrien, a soft smile on his face as Adrien discussed the latest set design project with Luka. There was a small tug on his pant leg, which made Daniel look down, seeing a small child that couldn’t have been older than seven looking up at him.

    “Are you an angel?” The little girl questioned, wonder in her gaze. Daniel chuckled, breaking away from Adrien to kneel down to the girl’s height.

    “What makes you think I’m an angel, kiddo?” He asked, a kind smile on his face.

    The girl grinned at Daniel and said, “Momma says angels are beautiful and kind and that they spread love. You’re really pretty and you smile nice and the boys who you’re with are happy so you must be an angel.”

    Daniel laughed unintentionally, love swelling up in his heart for this tiny child who thought he was an angel. “Well, first of all, the two that I’m with aren’t both boys, kiddo. And do you want to know a secret?” The girl nodded furiously, curiosity in her eyes. “I’m not the angel here, you are.”

    The girl gaped at him, wondering how in the world she could be an angel. “You see, you said angels are beautiful, and you must be the loveliest lady I’ve ever seen. Angels are kind, and you are the sweetest little girl I’ve ever met. You made me really happy, so you must spread love to many others. Therefore, you must be a little angel. But if you don’t know it, then heaven must have sent you down for a super secret mission.” The girl smiled shyly at Daniel. He smiled softly at her, offering a hand to her. “I’m Daniel, by the way, what’s your name, kiddo?”

    “My name’s Isabella, but my mommy calls me Bella.” She replied, shaking Daniel’s hand before asking for a hug. He obliged, giving her a hug before pulling away.

    “Where’s your mommy, Bella?” He asked, a kind smile on his face as he put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged. “I don’t know, she said she was gonna find sissy’s teacher. She said if I couldn’t find her, to find the king man with a crown and he’d help me out.”

    Daniel grinned, knowing the king man was his dad. “The king man with a crown is my dad, kiddo. Do you want me to take you to him?” She nodded again, smiling widely.

    He stood up, offering a hand to her. She shook her head, crossing her arms. “Wan’ to ride on your shoulders.” Daniel thought about it for a second before shrugging and kneeling down again, helping her up. She giggled, putting her hands on his head to stabilize herself before insisting they go to the king man.

    He grinned widely, making his way through the crowd to find his dad and putting a bit more bounce in his step so that Bella giggled just a little bit more. Eventually, they found Roman talking to a woman animatedly. They were discussing whether or not Tech Theatre was a safe class, and Roman was explaining that it was very safe as he took every precaution to make student’s safety the number one priority.

    Daniel stopped, kneeling down for Bella to get off. She smiled widely, bowing to Daniel as if he were a prince. He bowed back, a smile on his face as well. She thanked him for the ride before hugging the woman’s leg. The woman looked down and smiled, ruffling Bella’s hair.

    “I hope you didn’t walk here alone, sweetheart, I told you to stay put for a minute.” She said, not scolding, just curious. Daniel stepped up, “She didn’t. She came over and asked if I was an angel so I thought I’d bring her back to her mom.”

    The woman smiled, holding a hand out to Daniel. “Well thank you, young man. I’m Avari.”

    He shook her hand, about to introduce himself when Roman put his arm around Daniel and gave him a side hug. “This is my son, Daniel. Isn’t he handsome? He’s taking Technical Theatre too, so he can tell you about the safety measures we take to ensure everyone is okay. I have to go check that no one’s finished the brownies before I could have one, if you don’t mind my leaving.”

    Avari waved him off with a smile. “I’ll be okay talking to your son, Mr. Candorless, you go eat those brownies.”

    He nodded thankfully at her, before heading over to the brownies and taking a few. Daniel entertained Avari’s questions, telling her all about how safe everyone was in Tech Theatre. She ran out of questions eventually, and thanked him for putting her mind at ease before waving him off to go have fun with his friends, and to eat a couple brownies as he was too thin.

    He returned to Adrien and Luka with a grin on his face and a couple brownies, handing one to each of them as he ate one himself. Adrien put his hand around Daniel’s waist, smiling softly at his boyfriend.

    “What? Why are you smiling like a cheeseball?” Daniel asked, pushing Adrien’s chest slightly, but not enough to move them away from each other.

    “Because you are an actual angel, mon coeur.” Adrien said softly, resting his forehead against Daniel’s. “You helped that little girl and you are just the sweetest boy I know. I love you.” Daniel blushed, moving his head to hide in the crook of Adrien’s neck.

    “Shut up, asshole.” Silence hung in the air for a minute before Daniel muttered, “I love you too.”

    A smile appeared on Adrien’s face as he kissed the top of Daniel’s head before feeling a wad of paper hit the back of his head and turned slightly to see Paris making paper into a ball and throwing it at them. “Hey losers! If you’re gonna be gay move out of the way of the brownies, cowards!”

    Daniel laughed, pulling away from Adrien, picking up the paper ball and throwing it back at Paris. “You call us losers, I take the rest of the brownies!” Paris made an offended noise and ran at Adrien, throwing him over their shoulder.

    “You take the brownies, I take your boyfriend!”

    “Hey! Put me down!”

    Needless to say, the next few minutes were hilarious, a combination of struggling, deals, and a treaty to ensure peace that a reluctant Logan drew up for them. They all had smiles on their faces at the end of it, except for Logan who looked less than amused before Stormy grinned up at him, which made him smile smile softly.  Roman tried to scold them, but one grin from Daniel who had a bit of brownie stuck in his hair had him laughing so hard his attempts did not prevail. They did promise not to fight or kidnap anyone else though.

    Roman left the kids with a sigh and talked to another parent. Logan informed him briefly that he would be gone for a little bit and therefore would be unable to watch the kids. Roman waved off his concerns, saying it would be fine before turning back to the parent.

    Patton came up to Roman, lacing his hand into his boyfriend’s and leaning his head on his shoulder. Roman smiled, gently placing a kiss on top of Patton’s head before smiling and continuing his conversation with the other parent. He finished the discussion with Jeremy- the parent of John- and turned to Patton, smiling softly at his boyfriend. Roman took Patton’s hands in his own, kissing them both lightly. “How are you, my love?”

    Patton giggled, smiling widely at his boyfriend. “I’m alright, I wanted to see how you were! After all, you’re doing a wonderful job of keeping everyone entertained and content with the content of the theatre program, you certainly deserve a patton-the-back!”

    Roman laughed, putting Patton’s arms around his neck, placing his own around Patton’s waist and spinning them around. “You’re wonderful, Patton.” He said softly, placing his forehead against Patton’s. His boyfriend smiled and booped Roman’s nose. “You, my good sir, are the loveliest boy I know. You’re capable and strong and-”

    Roman cut Patton off with a gentle and chaste kiss, pulling away sooner than either of them would like. “I would kiss you breathless, but unfortunately, we are in a public place, with kids that I have to teach. So, rain check?”

    Patton nodded. “Rain check.”

    They pulled apart, hands still linked, but no other indication that they were together. Daniel and Adrien walked up to the two, smiling with their hands intertwined. “So, dads.” Daniel started. “That was pretty fuckin gay there.”

    Patton stared disapprovingly at Daniel. “Kiddo, you know we’re in a school setting. No swearing.” Daniel muttered an apology. “And you’re hecking right it’s gay, we’re your dads, for gosh sake.”

    Roman, Daniel, and Adrien all stifled a laugh. He had a point though. Alya and Daffodil came up to the four of them, and asked what they were laughing about. “Dads were making out!” Daniel announced happily, sure that Alya would join in on the teasing.

    He was right. Alya joined in, teasing Roman for being unprofessional and kissing while on the clock. His protests about how he wasn’t even on the clock were waved away and laughed at. Roman pouted, upset that his family was ganging up on him, so Patton kissed him on the cheek to cheer him up which started another round of teasing.

    Unfortunately, it also prompted something else from someone else. A slur was muttered, not loud enough so that everyone heard it, but loud enough that Alya, Roman, Daffodil, Adrien, and Daniel heard the word and stiffened. Alya turned to the person, and asked, “I’m sorry, sir, what’s your name? Also, what did you just say?”

    “Dominick. And I said-” He repeated himself, much to the anger of Alya and Daniel.

    Daniel’s free hand clenched into a fist, upset, but he quickly relaxed it. He couldn’t afford to get in a fight. Not here. Not now. Not when it could cost his dad his job if he wasn’t careful. Instead, he held onto Adrien’s hand tighter.

    Alya had a little less self control. “I’m sorry, but what gives you the right to hate on us for being a family? For being who we are?”

    Dominick rolled his eyes. “It isn’t normal. It isn’t appropriate. You should at least restrain yourself around the kids or they’ll get the wrong idea. Girls and girls shouldn’t be together. Boys and boys shouldn’t be together. Girls should be with boys, boys should be with girls. Boys should work out in the field and girls should be in the kitchen, where they belong. Now go fetch me a brownie, sweetheart.”

    What happened next happened very fast. There was a flash and a crack and a groan and then the douchebag was on the floor. Quickly, Daffodil moved to restrain Alya, pulling her away from the douchebag. Roman and Patton sprung into action, clearing the parents from the auditorium and leading them to the blackbox. Adrien and Daniel ushered the kids to their parents, making sure that the little ones didn’t see the man on the floor.

    Once everyone was out of the way, Patton kept them entertained. Daffodil and Alya moved off to the side, making sure Alya hadn’t hurt herself. Roman returned, sitting down and checking Dominick’s pulse. Adrien and Daniel hung back a bit, wary of Dominick but still holding hands.

    Logan returned from the library with a book in hand, pausing as he took in the scene before him. “I was gone, for five minutes, and you’ve already knocked someone out, and you didn’t even try to stop her?” He motioned to Alya and Roman respectively when referring to them. “Are either of you going to explain yourselves?”

    When no one answered, Daniel stepped forward and said, “To be fair, he was a genuinely shitty person. He called us a slur and told us we shouldn’t hold hands to give the kiddos the wrong impression.”

    Roman nodded. “He was, unfortunately, incredibly shitty.”

    Logan sighed, rubbing his temples and muttering that he should get paid for this. “Well, wake him up, we need to check he’s okay. Douchebag or not, he was assaulted on school property, and you attacked first.”

    Alya reluctantly nodded, waking the douche up. He was disoriented and confused, so she spun a tale of how he had assaulted a kid and was hereby banned from school property. Turns out, he didn’t even have a kid that was there. He was just there for the food. So, win-win I guess.

    They all went home and cuddled. Happy ending.

[vvirgils]

Merry Crisis-A Moxiety Fic for all your Christmas needs

Pairing: Virgil x Patton

Description:human AU also technically highschool AU but it’s break so who cares, Roman makes a cameo, fake dating, mutual pining, tooth-rotting fluff, excessive gayness, all that good stuff

Words: 2,817

Warnings: Deceit sneks his way in.

Summary: Virgil doesn’t like having a Christmas party at his house, especially when his ex is going to be there. But having Patton by his side, as a friend-or something more?-makes it better. 

This is my gift to @brighter-side, I hope you enjoy the moxiety and have a wonderful holiday season! Also, shout out to @syzyji for beta reading (i’ll be over soon). Shout out to me for putting like, way too many cliches in here. Someone stop me. @secretsanders @fandersfic-moxiety

“Patton, I need a major favor,” Virgil said, holding the phone to his ear. He checked around the corners of the hallway. No family in sight, and they wouldn’t think anything of him calling his best friend. They were going to be at the party too, and they couldn’t know.

“What is it?” Patton asked, “Is it something big? You’re calling really late.”

“You know Deceit,” Virgil said, looking up and down to make sure no one was up. He checked his watch. 11:00.

“Of course I know Dylan. He only broke your heart into a thousand little pieces and made you an emotional wreck for a week, and by week I mean month.”

“He’s going to be at the Christmas party my family is having. And I need him to think I’ve moved on or he’ll try to pull some more manipulative bullshit over on me, and I really can’t take that right now, Pat,” Virgil said, taking a deep breath. “Could you pretend to be my boyfriend for one night?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Patton said. “It’s tomorrow, at 4:00?”

“Uh-huh. Good night, Patton,” Virgil said.

“Good night.” Patton hung up first, for once in his life.

Ugh. Why did Virgil’s life have to be this complicated? Patton was the only person he trusted to be a fake date, but he also was the only person who Virgil wasn’t sure about in terms of feelings. As in, did he have a crush, or were they just really close friends?

Both of them were gay, too. Well, Virgil was “sexually ambiguous,” but he liked guys. Which Patton was aware of. There were so many possibilities for what could happen between them tomorrow night; Virgil didn’t get any sleep until one.

Patton tapped the red button and put his phone down. Was he actually doing this? Fake-dating his best friend, who he kind of had a few feelings for.

And by a few he meant all of the feelings. He’d had a crush on Virgil for years, but had never gotten it together enough to ask him out. Courage had never been Patton’s strong suit. No matter how much he wanted to be in a relationship, he was always too scared to initiate. Too terrified of getting his heart broken, of being toyed around with. Of someone not caring about him.

If anyone cared about him, Virgil did. Maybe fake dating wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. Fantasies were already swirling around his head, and Patton turned off his phone and shoved it under his pillow. He fell asleep almost immediately, thoughts of Virgil the last on his mind.

***

Virgil woke up in the morning to three texts from Patton.

Should I wear smth special?

Nvm checked the evite

Can I punch D? plz?

No, Virgil replied, I want to do that first. Just show up and be arm candy.

Lol i’m sweet that should be easy.

You’ll do great

He turned off his phone and actually got out of bed. It was...noonish, and he had to get ready for the party. Breakfast came first, but then Virgil was staring at his all-black wardrobe thinking What am I going to wear to a Christmas party?

There wasn’t a single ugly Christmas sweater, or even something red and green. He could get away with black jeans, but not a black t-shirt. Sighing, Virgil called Patton.

“Hey Pat,” he said. Thank goodness they were the same size.

“What’s up, Virgil?” Patton asked, “Is something wrong?” The concern in Patton’s voice was adorable, and Virgil really wished he could actually get the guts to ask him out one of his days.

“So, my wardrobe is um…not quite right for a Christmas party,” Virgil said, “As in, I should have gone shopping for something that is not black like, last week. Do you have a Christmas sweater or something that I could borrow?”

Patton laughed over the phone, and Virgil automatically smiled. The simple sound always cheered him up. “I was actually going to give it to you for Christmas next week, but now is as good a time as ever. It actually matches um, mine,” Patton said. He’d actually thought about taking cute couple pictures in matching ugly sweaters when buying them-but Virgil couldn’t know that. “Because it was a 2 for 1 deal. But it’ll really make Deceit pissed if he thinks they’re, you know, matching because we’re a couple.”

“Yeah, totally,” Virgil said. “Just bring it to the party, you know where I live. See you then.” If only they were actually wearing matching sweaters as a couple…but it wasn’t a possibility. Someone as wonderful as Patton couldn’t possibly like him in that way.

“Will do, see you. Love you,” Patton said. It was their standard goodbye, but he wondered if Virgil could hear what he really meant every time he said it.

“Love you too.” Virgil ended the call and threw the phone at his bed. He did have to get dressed.

***

Like the overeager pining idiot that he was, Patton showed up early. It was three-thirty, he had no business being there, and Virgil was happy to see him.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Virgil said when he opened the door to see Patton. “I am officially sick of Christmas decorations. Glittery snowflakes are the worst.”

“They look really pretty, though,” Patton said, taking in the winter wonderland that Virgil’s living room had been transformed into. “Oh, here’s your sweater.” He handed Virgil the red and green bundle.

“Does this have Christmas lights on it?” Virgil asked, examining the sweater.

Patton pushed the button at the hem of his sweater to make the lights on his sweater turn on. “Yes. Aren’t they great?”

“Not exactly my style,” Virgil said, “but alright. Come on in.” Patton walked in, took off his coat, and put it away in the closet.

Virgil slipped the sweater on over his black t-shirt. “How do I look?” He flicked on the lights.

“You look, um, really good, Virgil.” Patton couldn’t believe how attractive Virgil looked. It fit him perfectly, and the tacky lights almost looked sophisticated on his lean frame. Virgil had done away with the dark eyeshadow today, probably at the request of his mother, and he looked incredibly cozy. Patton wanted to snuggle into his arms.

“Thanks, Pat. Care to give me a hand with stringing oversized Christmas lights across every surface in the house? It should be more bearable if we do it together,” Virgil said, trying to keep things as normal and platonic as possible before guests started showing up. Patton’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and Virgil realized that he was going to have a hard time only pretending to be in love with Patton.

***

It didn’t take long after the party started for the house to fill up. People, people everywhere. If this party wasn’t at his house, Virgil would have stayed home. He kept up his job greeting people at the door and taking their coats, since it beat having to make actual conversation inside. Patton stuck around, although he had a better shot at talking to people at the party than Virgil did.

His parents had invited everyone that Virgil and his brother knew. Since Roman was involved in a gazillion extracurriculars, and had friends from every theatre program he’d ever done, most of the guest list was his friends. Virgil had invited one person: Patton, because he didn’t really know anyone else well enough to want them at his house.

Virgil wondered when people would stop showing up. The closet was getting full, and he wanted to sit down, but the doorbell kept ringing. He opened it again, expecting his father’s coworker, but instead.

Dylan. Great. “Hi, thank you for coming,” Virgil said, plastering a smile on his face as his ex stepped through the doorway.

“I’m happy to be here, V,” Dylan said, handing him a plate of cookies covered in saran wrap. “For you and your family.”

“Thank you very much.” He handed the cookies to Patton. “Hey babe, could you go put these with the rest of the desserts.” Chills darted down his spine as Patton’s face lit up at the words.

Patton gave him a peck on the cheek, and Virgil felt a patch of heat grow where Pat’s lips had been. “Sure thing, hon.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

“Can I take your coat?” Virgil asked Dylan, who was still standing there. He wasn’t sure if he had registered what had just happened between Patton and Virgil, but at this point Virgil didn’t really care.

“Sure thing.” Deceit shucked off his coat and deposited it in Virgil’s arms before walking past him. So he had noticed.

Ever the drama queen, Dylan turned around at the last second to face him. “You know, I didn’t think Patton was really your type.” He disappeared into the party, leaving Virgil grinding his teeth as he put Dylan’s coat away. What a nightmare.

Just then, Patton returned to a very grumpy Virgil. “Did he do something while I was gone?” Patton asked. When Virgil didn’t answer right away, Patton pressed, “Do I need to punch him?”

“No, absolutely not. He just…made a comment. You ready to make him incredibly jealous of how cute of a couple we are?” Virgil looped an arm around Patton’s shoulders.

“Yes,” Patton said, looking away as he blushed. Virgil was so warm, and they were so close. He really, really wanted to kiss him. “Snack table?”

Heat rushed to Virgil’s cheeks. “Snack table.” They walked over, saying hi to people as they passed. Several people took note of their closeness, and the way that Virgil was, er, pretending to look in love with Patton.

It was working, so that was great. They had a good time, eating food and holding hands, looking casually flirtatious enough that anyone would think they were together. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too awkward. Talking to each other felt normal, they were just…holding hands at the same time. Not bad. People bought it.

Most importantly, Deceit bought it. He spied them laughing and talking together from across the room. Virgil could feel his glare burning into the back of his neck, but he didn’t really care. Patton was laughing at a joke he had told.

Then, Dylan started to walk over.

***

“Hey Patton, you know that thing couples do where they stare into each others eyes and start walking off into the distance and everyone assumes they’re going to the bedroom to get it on,” Virgil half-asked, taking a quick glance at Deceit. Yep, he was still moving in this direction.

Patton looked startled by the statement. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Why do you mention…?” He trailed off, following Virgil’s line of sight. “Oh.”

“We should probably do that,” Virgil said. “I do not want to talk to him right now.”

“Ok.” Pat wrapped both his arms around Virgil’s shoulders and gave him a look that made Virgil’s legs turn into jelly. “I’m whispering something that only the two of us would understand and is probably um, PG-13,” he whispered.

“I’m replying something that’s a little closer to R-rated,” Virgil said, his voice dropping a few octaves. He rested his arms around Patton’s waist. Patton had no idea that Virge was such a good actor, must be a side effect of having Roman around. Still, he was blushing like crazy, and couldn’t stop himself from taking a gratuitous stare at Virgil’s lips.

They stood up, and just in time. Dylan was trying to get past a gaggle of gossiping middle-aged women.

“Is this, um, when we realize that there are other people and switch to holding hands and shooting each other covert stares as we move to a more private area?” Patton asked, his eyes sending a much more suggestive message. It took Virgil a moment to register what he had said.

“Sure, but not without giggling at an inside joke,” Virgil said, laughing a little as he took Patton’s hand. They half-jogged to Virgil’s bedroom, strategically staying as far away from Deceit as possible.

***

Virgil shut the door behind them. He could have sworn Deceit had followed them down the hallway.

“So, now that we’re far away from your snakelike ex, what’s next for the couple who needs some alone time?” Patton asked, still holding Virgil’s hand as he sat down on the bed.

“I guess the cliche would be a long makeout session and then fade to black,” Virgil said, only half-joking. He would really like to be kissing Patton right now.

“Is this your life or a Hallmark movie?” Patton asked, giving Virgil a look of mock confusion. “The Virgil I know would rather watch Coraline.”

“Maybe my tastes have changed, you know,” Virgil said, trying to look anywhere but Patton. So this was the end of their disappointing fake-dating charade.

“Really, because I have like, twenty movies I need you to see,” Patton said, enthusiasm building in his voice. He inched a bit closer to Virgil on the bed.

“Don’t subject me to the torture just yet,” Virgil said, “I’m just recovering from a certain liar who I do not want to get back together with.” At least Patton is holding my hand, he thought.

“Fine, but after the party…” Patton sighed. Virgil’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

Hoping it wasn’t anything big, probably just an automatic message or something, Virgil opened it up. One message from Least Favorite Brother Named Roman

ur ex is about to barge into ur room in like 10 seconds bc hes a massive asshole i guess? Some bs like that

Virgil took one second to process the text before turning to Patton and kissing him full on the mouth. Both of them froze, shocked, but then they kept kissing. Virgil’s hand reached up to caress Patton’s cheek. Patton deepened the kiss, making it slower, softer, more passionate.

It was, without a doubt, the best kiss Virgil had ever had. Patton wasn’t forcing his tongue down Virgil’s mouth, he wasn’t even in a hurry to take his shirt off. There was just his soft lips and the gentle tug around Virgil’s waist as Patton pulled him closer. For a second, Virgil forgot the moment wasn’t real, and they were just kissing in case someone happened to barge in. He got lost in the faint taste of chocolate chip cookies and the smell of Patton’s shampoo.

His phone buzzed again. Virgil was just going to ignore it when Patton broke away from the embrace. “You should probably, um, check it,” Patton said.

Nvm he just left in a hissy fit

“I am going to kill my brother,” Virgil said, turning his phone off and flipping it over.

“That seems a little…harsh. What did he do?” Patton asked, still trying to sound normal. He didn’t feel normal. He felt anything but normal. Virgil had just kissed him, like, out of the blue, and it was an excellent kiss. Probably the best he’d ever had, and Patton wasn’t even sure if it was real. Or why Virgil had kissed him. His brain was still too muddled to figure it out.

“So, he texts me that Deceit is about to barge in here because he’s an asshole, blah blah, so I…” Kissed you, Virgil thought but didn’t say. “Then, he texts me that the snake has just left the party. I was really nervous and I thought something very bad was going to happen!”

“Well, it’s a good thing that it didn’t,” Patton said, trying to be the voice of reason here, even as his heart was slowly breaking into pieces. So it wasn’t real. “I mean, it wasn’t a bad kiss.”

“Yeah, that’s a good thing,” Virgil said. He took a deep breath to steady himself. Locking lips with Patton had really done something to him. Maybe he should like, tell Patton that it meant something to him, that he actually had an enormous crush on the dude.

So, Virgil opened his mouth to say, “I really like you and I’ve kind of wanted to date you for real for ages but now that I’ve kissed you I feel like I can’t not tell you.”

At the same time Patton said, “Virgil, I’m in love with you and I really hope that the kiss meant something to you because it did to me. I’ve liked you for a long time and I want to be more than friends.”

They both stopped, looking into each others eyes. “We’re idiots,” Virgil said. “Absolute idiots.”

“Maybe we should have skipped fake dating and gone straight to the real thing.” Patton smiled, and Virgil smiled back. It was real. All of it.

“Nothing about this is straight, and you know it,” Virgil said, pulling Patton in for another kiss. This was better than any Christmas present.