#who the FUCK turned this spotlight on im STAGE CREW

[woodscreature]

Caught.

[remingt0nleith]

thorns | remington leith

try & find the hidden palaye royale song title in the fic! & additional A/N at the end. 

A/N: hi wow long time no write :( SORRY! I have ideas and I try to write then my brain just doesn’t want to put the ideas on the word document. + y’know having depression doesn’t help things bleh... BUT I did write a full something finally (yay bare minimum author things!) This was requested! gonna keep trying to turn out requests & work on dark cherries also my birthday is on thursday and i’m turning 24 (wow im getting old help) & also the bastards comes out the day after so yay! lets chat about it when its out ok?

Request: Where Remington cheats on the reader and she finds out, but he does everything he can to get her back? 

Thorns - A Remington Leith one-shot. || 1.9K words || under cut.

The catalyst for a ruined night came in a round of shots. Emerson poured the amber liquid into hot pink shot glasses that the boys had picked up days prior. Remington wasted no time in downing his, barely flinching at the bitter taste that now coated his tongue. 

“Slow down there, cowboy” 

Sebastian laughed before throwing his own shot back, placing a hand on Remington’s cheetah print covered shoulder.

“We can’t have our lead singer fucked up out of his mind, can we?” 

The eldest brother chided playfully as he took the bottle from Emerson and poured more shots.

As the brothers drank and talked anxiously about their first show of a new tour, Remington’s phone buzzed in his back pocket, taking it out he suppressed an eye-roll at the message filling his screen;

My Love <3: HEY BABY JUST WANT TO WISH U LUCK TONIGHT YOU’LL KILL IT. LOVE U. 

He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him lately, usually, he’d be thrilled at the love and adoration his girlfriend of three years was showing him. She was always cheering him on, listening to his music, and supporting his band in every way she could. Although she was unable to come to most shows due to a fast-paced work schedule she always made a point to let the band of brothers know they had her support. That should’ve been enough to keep Remington happy but recently he had become cold towards his girlfriend and as he put his phone away without responding all thoughts of her disappeared as well. 

Remington headed backstage after the show still high from the performance. The adrenaline from the encouraging crowd and kick-ass concert his band delivered had Remington feeling happier than he had in months. Once in the dressing room, the boys quickly changed out of their sweaty stage attire into more relaxed outfits, and like clockwork, shots were once again being handed out.

Once everyone had a decent buzz going the boys and their crew headed out to a nearby nightclub to celebrate the success of the show. Remington realized halfway to the club that he had forgotten his phone in the dressing room, a fact that didn’t phase him, in fact he was happy to be rid of the constant ringing. 

Once inside the packed club, Remington waved goodbye to his brothers and made his way to the bar.  His buzz had diminished slightly in the car ride and that was a no go for Remington so he ordered a drink, which quickly became two, then three before he headed to the dance floor. 

Packed in a sea of bodies the singer danced to the music, enjoying the happiness that came from the night’s events as well as the alcohol in his system. When a manicured hand grabbed him and pulled him close, he didn’t object, instead, he wrapped his arms around the dark-haired beauty. 

The pair danced together to the techno music blaring overhead, strobe lights illuminating their faces, hands roaming freely over each other’s bodies before the woman leaned in and planted a sloppy kiss to Remington’s lips. 

If there was a moment of panic, a spark of recognition somewhere in the sober part of his mind, Remington ignored it. Instead, he deepened the kiss with the gorgeous stranger, when the pair eventually pulled away from the kiss, they headed to the bar for more drinks. 

When Sebastian came to let Remington know it was time to head to the hotel, the frontman wasted no time in asking this new girl if she’d like to go with him. Much to the dismay of the older (and wiser) brother, she said yes and everyone piled into the van and were chauffeured back to the hotel to continue the party. 

Morning light filtered through the window a sign of a new day, but as Remington opened his eyes the gravity of last night hit him. He was alone in his hotel bed, the white sheets crumpled and covered in streaks of makeup (his or hers, he wasn’t sure). Flashbacks of last night filled his mind and all at once he realized the hickeys on his body were from a stranger, the realization filled him with shame and dread. 

He found his phone which had been placed on his nightstand by one of his brothers or their touring manager (who always cleaned up after the boys’ wild nights) and on it were several unread texts and calls which came in at varying points of the evening. 

[9:13 pm] My Love <3: It should be time for u boys to be on stage! I’ll be stalking twitter for updates and vids love u 

[12:02 am] My Love <3: Watched a ton of vids that are already being posted! Get back to me when u get this my love so proud of u xx 

[3:56 am] My Love <3: Guess your phone died or your out celebrating a great night. Call me when you see this or wake up. I love you. 

[10:20 am] 5 missed calls

[10:27 am] *attached photo* REMINGTON.... FUCK YOU.

The photo on his phone screen displayed the girl from last night under the covers as a passed out Remington slept beside her. The caption didn’t say anything besides a winking emoji and she tagged him and his band’s account. 

Instantly, he was dialing his girlfriend’s number, hands shaking as he paced around the spacious hotel room desperately waiting for an answer.

“Hello?” 

Rose answered, soft voice hoarse from hours of crying. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry..” 

Remington started to explain, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he could form them.

“Save it” 

Rose snapped before continuing her voice harder and more assured now than it was just moments ago. 

“I never thought you’d do this even as the band started to gain an audience, I told myself that I had nothing to worry about. All the pretty girls and boys didn’t matter because what we had was strong but it sucks being proven wrong huh?” 

Remington’s sudden surge of tears prevented him from speaking as the pain in his chest grew with each word. The saddest part of it all was that she was right and that ripped him up inside. 

“Rose I-” 

he whispered, voice barely audible even to himself. 

Instead of an answer he was left hearing the sound of the call disconnecting. 

The tour passed by in a daze for Remington and while his brothers desperately wanted him to be more present, they understood. He’d get on stage and sing, forgetting about the pain in his heart for that hour or so, as soon as the curtain closed the ache in his chest was back, a cruel reminder to the life-changing mistake he’d made.

Rose had cut off all contact with her now ex-boyfriend instead choosing to go through Emerson to inform him she was moving out of their shared apartment in LA. 

Each night in his hotel bed, memories of the past three years filtered through his brain until he exhaustingly cried himself to sleep. 

Remington used Emerson’s phone to send a series of texts to Rose to apologize, to accept full responsibility but the only reply he received was instructions to give Emerson his phone back and to leave her alone.

Just as quickly as the tour started it was now coming to a close a few months later. The boys were back in LA for a sold-out show in typical Los Angeles fashion. Remington never stopped trying to get ahold of Rose -- he sent flowers to her new address, letters where he begged for her back, apologizing and pleading for her forgiveness yet he was never awarded a reply. He didn’t blame her at all but that didn’t mean the pain hurt any less, he’d do anything for a second chance. 

Shots of vodka were taken, cheers and high fives were given and the boys hit the stage.  Remington gazed out into the crowd, a see of silhouettes behind bright stage lights.  After a few songs, Remington sat down at the end of the stage, dark boots quietly thumping against the side. 

“Y’know fans like to think we’re perfect” 

he stated which earned a chorus of “I love you’s” as well as cheers from the crowd. 

He smiled before continuing, 

“As much as I love to hear it, it’s not true and sometimes we royally fuck up. I fucked up and these past few months have been hell so I wrote this song.”

The crowd applauded as they watched their favorite singer head to the piano, the spotlight shining on him as he sat down. 

“This song is called Thorns,” 

Remington began to play a hauntingly slow ballad about losing the love of your life and how apart of you is lost as well. 

The pain in my heart is defeating me

Cracking me open for all to see

I’m numb to life, deep inside

Needing you to realize, you’re the better part of me

An illusion of love is what I fear

Taking each step is now unclear

A rose garden in my dreams,

You leaving now in front of me

Take my heart it’s filled with thorns

A rose trapped inside a perfect storm

Throw me to the wolves I’m on my knees

Begging for my rose to please believe

I made a mistake that I can see

Yet this pain without you is deafening

My heart of thorns cuts me deep 

Paralyzing me and making me weak

Please my rose I beg you, have sympathy.

The rose garden in my dreams,

But you’re leaving right now in front of me

Take my heart it’s filled with thorns

A rose trapped inside a perfect storm

Throw me to the wolves I’m on my knees

Begging my rose to please believe 

I love you Rose it’s all I know, I’m sorry for all my sorrow

By the time the song ended, Remington had tears blurring his vision. He was so wrapped up in playing the song he didn’t realize he had started to cry but to the audience that just made it so much more beautiful. 

After the show, Remington hurried off the stage in order to collect his emotions but in the dressing room sat Rose. Her blonde hair was curled and she wore a red dress and in a true movie moment a dozen roses sat in her lap. 

“Rem that song…” 

she started but before she could finish, Remington ran over and threw his arms around her, hugging her to make sure she wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

“I’m so sorry”

he whispered once she hugged back. 

“The flowers were from Seb” 

Rose mumbled, green eyes flicking down to them after their hug. Sebastian must have ordered them because he knew what Remington was planning. That was his older brother alright, always playing the papa bear role. 

The singer’s mind was racing a mile a minute, he had a million questions but all he could do was apologize. 

Rose shushed him with a chaste kiss before speaking,

“By no means have I forgiven you completely. That song however beautiful doesn’t make everything go away but I’m willing to work on us”

Remington nodded, happy she was here and willing to give their relationship another shot.

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” 

he whispered, wrapping her in another hug.

They knew it would be a long road to get back to where they were before but Remington was happy he had his Rose back in his life. 

xx

A/N: omg that song was not that good I came up with it on my own though and I’m not a lyricist lol hope u enjoyed xx 

[anythingandeverything1d]

Bandmate Harry

“Thank you and goodnight!” Harry yelled, walking off stage. You finished the drum solo, allowing the rest of the band to walk off and then followed suit, waving to the crowd as you walked by. You meet in the circle backstage and high five the rest of the band and Harry.

“We killed it tonight!” you screamed with a smile. Harry gave you the look and you settled down, waiting for the end of show meeting. Some of the tour crew joined in and you rolled your eyes. They were always acting like they were part of the band. 

“Great job everyone. Rest up tonight, we do it again tomorrow. Does anyone have any notes they'd like to share?” Harry asked looking around the circle.

One of the lighting guys raised his hand, “What did you think of the lighting tonight, specifically the spotlighting during Falling and Treat People with Kindness?”

“I loved it, great job.” Harry smiled.

“Actually,” you cut in. “I do think you could do a better job. I mean you basically blinded the band during Cherry. We’ve had this problem for weeks now..I feel like we shouldn't have to keep bringing it up.”

Harry gave you a warning look and you gave it right back to him. “I’m sorry about that, is there something you suggest us changing?” the lighting man asked. He looked embarrassed, and he should have. He wasnt doing his job.

“I don't know? Maybe figuring out your job?” you remarked back. Harry intervened. 

“Its been going great. Thank you. I don't feel like you need to change anything and its my call.” He shot you a look and you rolled your eyes. “Meetings over, everyone get some sleep.” You turned to walk towards the bus when Harry grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you into his dressing room. “Sit.” he ordered.

You sat on the couch and crossed your arms looking up at him. “What do I owe this pleasure?” 

Harry was pacing in front of you. “How many times have we had this talk now?”

“I don't know...” you grumbled.

“Exactly because its happened too many times. This is getting ridiculous (y/n). The way you treat the tour crew is absolutely unacceptable. You do not run the shows, you are not in charge, and you do not have the ability to talk to people like that. They are equivalent to you and your position on our team.”

“But-”

“No. No buts. This is the last time we are having this talk or you are gone. You're also grounded.”

“Grounded?!” you yelled standing up. “You cant ground me!”

“I just did.”

“Youre not my parents.”

“You're only 16, and your parents left me in charge of you while we were away on tour so yes. Yes I can. No going out tonight.”

“Or what?”

“Or you will be out of the band. I will send you home.”

“You wouldn't do that.”

“I can easily find a drummer, probably one who treats the crew better too.”

“Harry..” you moaned.

“No. Don’t Harry me.” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at you. “You know that I love you. You know I don't want to have to remove you from the tour...but I will if I have too. Understood?”

“Yes” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Yes I understand.”  you said. “Now can I go?”

Harry sighed and nodded his head. You walked back to your dressing room. You threw your phone onto the couch and screamed. He thinks he can march in here and tell me what to do. He thinks he's my dad. I don't have to listen to him. I can do whatever I want. Im basically an adult now. Having Harry as your older brother or parent figure on tour was fun...most of the time. He played games, kept you updated on drama, listened to your drama and made sure you were always okay and comfortable. Other times though, like tonight, he overstepped his big brother role. Your phone buzzed and you saw a text from Noah, your boyfriend. *Im outside.* You smiled and ran to the door. Noah was waiting backstage and you tackled him when you got outside. He squeezed your bum and grinned. “Hey you. Ready to go?”

“Go where?”

“Theres this dope night club. They are going to do a Cold Play night.”

“Really?” you asked.

“Yeah. Lets go. We can get food before.”

“Okay let me just grab my jacket.” You kissed his cheek and ran inside. When you walked past Harry’s room, you could hear the shower going. He won't even know. You taped a Do Not Disturb sign on your dressing room door and locked it on your way out. You met Noah outside and he took his hand pulling you to the car waiting.

Your first stop was getting dinner. The two of you stopped off at a restaurant downtown. “Got lucky that you had the night off.” Noah said stuffing another fry into his mouth.

“Yeah. Harry went off on me today again.”

“Again? What for?”

“He thinks that I’m being rude to too many people. The thing is..those people aren't doing their job.”

“Yeah, its not really his place to tell you either. He's not your mom and dad. He's not even related to you.”

“Exactly. He tried grounding me.”

Noah laughed and you kicked him under the table. “Im sorry but thats ridiculous. He grounded you?”

“Yeah thats what he said.”

“Well who does he think he is?”

“I don't know.”

“Well just forget him. We are going to have fun tonight. I’ll even get you drinks.” He winked and you smiled. Noah was 21. He was a bit older than you but you needed an older guy. The ones your age were so immature. After finishing dinner your phone buzzed. *Want to come play games with us?* You rolled your eyes and ignored Harry’s text. He texted again, *Come on (y/n)..you cant stay mad forever*

You texted him back a middle finger emoji and turned your phone off. He was not going to ruin this night. You grabbed Noah’s hand and followed him into the club. When you enter its wall to wall people. Viva la vida is playing and you instantly jump up and pull Noah to the dance floor where you're singing along, “I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing, Roman Cavalry choirs are singing, Be my mirror, my sword and shield, My missionaries in a foreign field, For some reason I can't explain, Once you go there was never, never a honest word, And that was when I ruled the world” 

The night was going smoothly. You hadn't heard anything else from Harry and Noah was a lot of fun. He was buying you drink after drink and you had to admit you were feeling it. You were slurring words and tripping over other people. Paradise started playing, it was one of your favorite songs and you instantly started singing. “When she was just a girl she expected the world, But it flew away from her reach, So she ran away in her sleep and dreamed of, Para-para-paradise, para-para-paradise, para-para-paradise, Every time she closed her eyes” Noah came over and danced with you. He roughly pulled you back against him, his fingers digging into your hips. “ow” you mumbled. He kissed down your neck and reached his hands up the skirt you were wearing. “Noah-”

“Shh have a little fun baby.” His fingers pushed through your panties and his lips were sucking on your neck.

“Stop. This isn't what I want to be doing.” You were sobering up real quick. You turned around to push him off but he grabbed your butt hard enough you were going to be bruised. You whimpered in pain.

“Don't be a little pussy.” he said harshly.

“Noah let go.” You pushed against his chest harder and he laughed. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you in. 

“Stop fighting (y/n). Just let loose a little.”

“No. Stop.” you pulled away and he grabbed you again “Noah let go. Serious-”

“She said let go.” Harry’s deep voice growled behind you. Your stomach sank. You looked back and Harry looked lethal, it almost scared you. Noah laughed and looked at you.

“Look its your pretend parent.” He expected you to laugh but you were afraid of both situations and didnt do anything. Noah gripped your wrist harder. “Isn't that funny?”

“Yeah.” you fake laughed and pulled your wrist free of his grip. He stumbled forward but Harry stopped him. Harry’s hands were on his chest and his normally bright and cheerful eyes were full of anger. 

“When a girl says let go. You let go.” Noah swallowed, recognizing the different side of Harry he was seeing. “Do you even get that she's underage. She's 16 fucking years old and your giving her alcohol and trying this shit? Its illegal.” Noah nodded and tried backing up.

You suddenly got very afraid Harry was going to hit him. “Harry.” you grabbed him and pulled him back. “Lets just go okay? He's not worth it.” Harry seemed to calm down a little. He turned his anger to you and pointed at the door. 

“Now.” he grabbed your hand and pulled you from the club. You didnt even say anything. You didnt know what to say. You had been caught red handed.

Harry pushed you into the passenger seat of his black SUV. He buckled you in and then jumped in the driver side. Without saying anything he just started driving. “I’m sorry.” you said. “I know you said not to go out but I just thought it would be fun and Noah said there was a cold play night and I love cold play and” Harry didnt even look over. You sighed and dropped your head into your hands. You started crying, you weren't sure if you were scared after what happened with Noah, drunk from the alcohol, or frustrated that you screwed up with Harry. “I shouldn't have gone. I know I didnt listen. I’m sorry.” Harry pulled over and parked the car. He turned and looked at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked calmly.

“Yeah..” you wiped the tears and looked at him. “I-”

“Stop. I want you to seriously think about it. Are you okay?” You were still crying when you nodded your head. Harry got out, walked around opened your door and hugged you. His arms tightly wrapping around your body. He rubbed your back and just held on until you calmed down. He wiped your cheeks and smiled. “Breathe (y/n).”

You took a shaky deep breath and nodded. Harry had gotten back in the car and was driving somewhere past the arena. “Where are we going?” You started to panic. What if this was it, what if he was sending you home now? “Please...Pleasedoonttakemehome” you cried. 

Harry laughed and shook his head. “I’m not taking you home.”

“Where are you taking me?”

Harry pulled into a frozen yogurt shop and smiled. “Come on.” He handed you a cup and told you to get whatever you wanted. You loaded it with fruit candy and chocolate. Harry sat down with his at a table and you followed suit. He watched you calm down while eating the yogurt. “Now. Are you ready to talk about this?” You nodded tears forming again. You tried blinking them away but it wasnt working. “(y/n) youre not in trouble.” Harry said with a sigh.

“I’m not? But-but you said”

“I know. I was wrong. I shouldn't have punished you like that. Its just that youre so frustrating sometimes. I want you to understand where this is all coming from. Youre like my baby sister and I don't want you to make bad decisions. I don't want you to turn out a total bitch.”

You smiled and nodded. “I know.”

“I shouldn't try and parent you. I shouldn't have grounded you. I just need you to know that talking to the crew like that isn't okay.”

“I know. Im trying I really am.”

He nodded. “I know. Thats why Im letting you lying and sneaking out go tonight.”

You nodded. “It won't happen again.”

“I know. I also think we should talk about boys. Can’t you find like a nice church boy? Someone your own age.”

“Harry you do realize I’m always around older guys right?”

“Yeah, which is fine. Just don't date them. There have to be other options. I mean that guy was an absolute dick.” You laughed and Harry laughed. “I don't want to see you get hurt. I thought you were going to end up hurt tonight.”

You nodded. “I almost did but my big bro saved me.”

“I always will.” 

---

Got this request forever ago (SORRY) but I hope its what you were expecting! Let me know how old you all are also, I’d love to write more in your perspective vs mine!

xoxo

[aghasexxy]

ONE WOMAN SHOW PT. 2 | Im Jaebum

Pairing: Reader x Im Jaebum

Words: 1688

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Stripping/ Teasing

Summary: you work at the most famous strip club in Los Angeles and you have customers that come in asking for you all the time. Including one mysterious man whose father is the head of the K-Town mob. And who closes down the club once a week to discuss “business”.

The sound of the city spills into the club on a very packed Friday night. The last Friday of 2019. The last Friday of the decade. Our doors have been open for less than an hour and the club is already filled to the brim with men and women unable to walk steadily. I look across the club from backstage, laughing at the chaos out there. But those people don’t matter to me. Only one person does. And he’s nowhere in sight.

“Y/N,” I turn around to see my best friend Wendy. She’s grinning ear to ear as usual. She grabs my face with her delicate hands. “Could you pretend to be excited please? This is the final Friday of the decade!” She squeals like a kid in Disneyland. “I promise I’m excited. I’m just expecting someone,” I look back towards the bar. “Would that someone be JB?” I look back at her with a smirk and roll my eyes. “Y/N! You need to stop fucking

around and just go for it! He obviously wants you!” A whistle breaks through the sound of the dancers laughing and chatting. Our boss calls us for a final pep talk before the night truly begins.

“Ladies!,” he exclaims, demanding the attention of every dancer. “First and foremost, welcome to the end of the decade,” we all erupt in hoots, hollers, and applause. “We’ve really kicked ass this year and I’m so proud of all we accomplished. Both on stage and behind the scenes. To say we ended the year off with a bang is an understatement,” he whips out a stack of cash from his back pocket, snickering at everyone’s slack jaws. I stand arms crossed, completely unimpressed. “We helped sell a lot of product this year, all without any raids. Good work!” We all clap and talk amongst ourselves. He gets our attention again. “Okay for tonight, the lineup for the main show is Claire, Denise, Angie, Loren, Tabitha, Wendy, and of course,” I roll my eyes and smile as all the girls look to me and cheer my name. “Our star Y/N!” The room erupts in applause and I try to shush them. “Okay ladies! Go get dressed! We start in 45 minutes!” Applause erupts as we all rush to the dressing room.

I apply setting spray to my face to finish off my makeup look for the night. Looking in the mirror, I am in awe of the work of art I created. Wendy whistles at me from across the room and I giggle. She walks over to my vanity. “Yo mami you got a man?” I turn around. “Wendy why are you like this?!” She shrugs. “I’m pretty sure that whoever wrote the best friend manual included one of the rules to be “hype up your best friend in the most obnoxious way you know how”,” she kisses my cheek. “So that’s what I’m doing!” I stand up and take off my trench coat to show her my outfit of choice. The lights in the room flash which means that the show is about to begin. The girls scatter like roaches and I call Wendy over. “I’m wearing his favorite lingerie tonight for my set,” I say slyly as she grins from ear to ear. “Ahhhh I love that one! You’re gonna be breaking necks tonight for sure! If not his then everyone else’s!”

An hour goes by and Wendy is just now wrapping up her set. A member of the stage crew comes back to the dressing room. “You’re up in 10 Y/N,” I nod and make some final touch ups. Wendy peels around the corner, her hair in her face as she tries to catch her breath. “You killed it out there!,” I yell, running over to hug her. “How was the crowd? Did you see JB?” I pull back and before she can answer, I get called to the stage. On my way out, Wendy gives my ass a nice love tap. “You’ll find out,” she says as I walk to the side stage.

The announcer goes on stage before me and starts my introduction. The audience cease their hoots and hollers so that he can speak. “Ladies and gentleman, we all can admit that nothing is sexier than when we come home after a long day of work and the first thing we see is our significant other walking around in your favorite lingerie set,” men start whistling and I can’t help but blush. “And tonight, for those single, lonely souls, you’ll get to experience that fantasy for the very first time.” The audience erupts in applause along with the other performers watching behind me. I can’t help but just smile. “Y’all have been waiting for her all night! Here she is, our stunning duchess Y/N!” As the audience loses their minds once again, I let out a breath and stand tall. Here we go.

Wasabi by Little Mix starts to play as I strut on stage. Bills start to fly the moment I come into view and men are on their feet cheering for me. They don’t mean shit to me of course. My eyes scan the room, hoping to lock onto piercing brown ones. I keep smiling as I strut down the catwalk to the pole in the middle. I take off my robe, earning an eruption of applause and whistles. I look out on the floor again when I lock eyes with him. JB. There he was, sitting right in my line of vision. His smirk accompanied with him man spreading in his chair was enough for me to get on my knees right then and there. I twirl around nice and slow, giving him something to look at. He’s probably having a hard time keeping it together right now: his favorite dancer in his favorite lingerie set performing for strangers instead of just him. I press my back against my pole, dropping low in slow motion. My eyes never leave his. Maybe I should punish him for being late, show him who’s boss.The music stops and I receive a standing ovation from the crowd. Everyone was on their feet including him. The MC comes out on stage.

“Wow Y/N! Another show-stopping entrance! You know what time it is! Time to pick a lucky guy in the crowd to give him a lap dance!” The sounds of whoops and hollers at this point are deafening. “Now Y/N, what song would you like to dance to?” I turn to the DJ. “Play Rules by Doja Cat for me, please.” The MC fans his face dramatically as the crowd goes crazy once again. I look back out and see JB. His eyes burn into me like daggers. I know what that look means.

“DJ, if you would,” the MC asks as he scurried offstage. The music starts and my eyes start to wander. I walk onto the floor, locking eyes with every horny middle-aged man I see. I blow kisses, wink, and smile and it’s enough to get tens of hundreds of dollars thrown my way. The floor vibrates from the intense bass in the music and I am locked onto my target. JB looks me up and down as I circle around him. My fingers drag across his broad shoulders and I take a seat on his lap, licking my lips as I lock eyes with him. “You wanna play with me, baby,” he whispers softly to me, my pussy clenching and instantly getting wet. The men around us were cheering JB on and whistling loudly. I stand up and reach out my hand, answering his question with a simple head nod. He snickers and grabs hold, triggering another roar of applause from those watching. We walked back to the stage where a lonely chair sat. The spotlight shines over it as the metal gives off a supernatural glow in the white light. He sits down, not leaving my eyes for one second. “You know the rules sir,” I lean in, his cologne overwhelming my senses. “No touching,” I whisper sensually. I stand up and turn around. I look at him as I bend over, my ass being the only thing he has his eyes on. I come back up slowly and smack my ass. I can’t help myself from smiling at the evil mug on his face. This is torture for him. He wants to wreck me to no end, I know he does. But house rules say otherwise. I strut back over to him, kicking his left foot out. “Spread your legs,” I demand. I climb onto his lap and I feel a pulsating sensation from under me. “You like that?” I ask sweetly, like I’m not torturing him. I slowly start to grind on his clothed dick and he lets out the deepest moan I’ve ever heard in my life. I feel myself getting wet at the sound of it. “Yeah daddy?,” I whisper, grinding him a little faster. I stop and lean all the way back. My hands graze the ground along with my head as our crotches stay glued together. I come back up slowly, my breast threatening to pop out into his face. I come all the way up and the song is over. The crowd cheers and I get a standing ovation. He leans in closer to me and our noses barely graze each other’s. “I’m going to make a mess of you Y/N. You’re mine,” I bite my lip and giggle. “I hope that’s a promise, babe.” I wink at JB and stroke his face before turning around to address the audience. “Thank you for coming out tonight everyone! Happy new year!” The crowd yells it back and erupts in applause. I turn back to JB. “Let’s give a big round of applause for my performance partner tonight!” Whistles and claps follow as he walks off stage. I just know by the look in his eye that the next time I see him, he will have his way with me. And I can’t wait.

[doom-dreaming]

WAIT WHAT HAPPENED???? i cant find spoilers anywhere im dying

Fuck you Tumblr why do you post things before I finish them.

OKAY. MAJOR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!!!THIS IS PRETTY MUCH THE WHOLE MAJOR PLOT. I WARNED YOU.

(I got all this from Char’s Twitch stream, btw. Watched it last night. Cried. Screamed. Ate my hands off. You know.)

This is going to be twins-centric because that’s just who I am as a person, but here’s how it goes:

After the cutscene where the twins steal Lilith’s power, you head to Promethea.

Maliwan!Zer0 is actually Katagawa.

(At some point, Maya joins the crew, I haven’t watched any Athenas gameplay actually. But she’s here during the next event, which is important.)

The Promethean Vault Monster is the Rampager. It has multiple elemental attack stages. Once you go in and come back out of the Vault, Maya is arguing with her apprentice Ava, who snuck along to fight even though she was told not to. The twins show up, take the remaining life force from the monster.

Maya and Ava try to leave. Ty grabs Ava, Maya phaselocks Troy so Tyreen lets go of Ava. TURNS OUT TROY CAN LEECH TOO! SO HE LEECHES MAYA. COMPLETELY DUSTS HER.

Tyreen seems surprised, saying “I thought you could only leech from me?” and it’s at this point that the power balance starts to shift.

So he can phaselock now.

Then you go to Eden-6. I missed a chunk from the arrival to the opening of the Eden-6 Vault.

The Eden-6 Vault is guarded by the Gravewarden, who has multiple attack phases and elements and can shift the area on a slant, so be careful. Once you kill it, Tannis shows up because she’s figured out a way to neutralize the power so that the twins can’t use it.

Tyreen whines about being hungry and Troy says you suck. You go into the Vault, and when you come back out, Tannis is suddenly phaselocked and teleported away by the twins.

This prompts a rescue mission back on Pandora - the Pain and Terror quest. Well. So Tannis is a siren. She manifested Angel’s abilities. So she makes it out of this okay.

Over the ECHOcomms, the twins start getting more interesting. Troy pushes his way into the spotlight, stepping on Tyreen’s toes, ignoring her, stealing her catchphrases, etc. He says he has a big surprise for you.

The next time you get to Sanctuary, you get to see this surprise.

TROY AMPS HIMSELF UP ON ERIDIUM AND PHASELOCKS THE MOON and starts pulling it toward Pandora because it turns out that the Great Vault? Is Pandora. It’s the whole planet. And Elpis is the key.

So naturally, the Raiders send you down to stop him. You fight your way through to the twins, Troy is getting increasingly angry and starts legitimately screaming over the ECHOcomm (which I only found hot, sorry not sorry); well, you manage to cut off his eridium supply, but uh oh, the moon is still being charged?

YEAH. HE’S LEECHING FROM TYREEN TO CHARGE THE FUCKING MOON. I CAN’T MAKE THIS SHIT UP. (If I had, it would be better.)

This cues his boss fight. He has beautiful red wings. He’s so fucking gorgeous.Tyreen is screaming the entire time, saying that Troy’s going to kill her. He mostly ignores her.

Once you land the killing blow, it triggers a short cutscene where Troy staggers toward Ty (already on the ground) and says “Ty…we…almost…made it” and then he dies.

Lilith, Tannis, and Ava come in. Ava touches Troy’s arm. Her siren powers manifest. Lilith says they never belonged to him anyway. :(

AND THEN TYREEN GETS UP. She looks down at Troy and says “Troy….you did it.” And then puts her hands on his head AND FOR A SECOND I WAS EXPECTING A RESURRECTION BUT SHE FUCKING DUSTS HIM. VAPORIZED. BYE TROY I NEVER GOT TO HOLD YOU OR PET YOUR HAIR OR [REDACTED].

She takes the cam-bot out of his arm, which is the only part of him left, and makes a very peppy, very determined broadcast…..and then smashes the camera and disappears.

Time to go to the Eridian homeworld, as it’s the only way to shut down the Great Vault opening.

Once on the final planet that I forgot the name of, you meet up with Typhon DeLeon, who’s been stranded there for decades. As you fight through Eridians and Maliwan to do what you’ve gotta do, you learn the backstory.

Typhon and his wife Leda crashed on this planet. She was pregnant. She had twins. “The boy was always sick and the girl talked circles around me.”

Yeah. Those twins.

Typhon thought they would like staying on this planet, but they saw it as a prison and left - some time after their mother had died. Typhon regrets keeping them there, says he shouldn’t have told them the stories about the Great Vault, says he feels remorse for what they’ve become.

I was crying a lot.

You apologize for killing Troy and he says something like “I’m sorry about my boy but I’m glad he can’t hurt people anymore.” Fam. Fam my eyes are just water.

Through the fighting, Tyreen gives you little tidbits on their childhood, and the one that killed me was how she mentioned stargazing with Troy, who said that they would shine brighter than the stars. Flat-out sobbing by this point.

There’s at least one ECHO log I saw that’s from the twins as they fixed up the ship to leave the planet, I’m sure there’s more scattered around. If we find some of them as really little kids, I’m going to cliff dive without a bungee.

Just as you start to close The Great Vault, Tyreen shows up. There’s a confrontation, Typhon restrains her….she fights him…and kills him. And fucks off to complete her mission to become a god.

Tannis opens a portal back to Pandora, you’re transported to The Great Vault. Tyreen BECOMES the Destroyer and it’s honestly grotesque. There’s a vaguely Shadow of the Colossus style fight with her and then…it’s over.

There’s some talking. The moon is still too close to the planet. Lilith makes the executive decision to take that into her own hands and flies into the moon and…….becomes a firehawk moon shield? I’m still not sure.

UM. YEAH BUT IT WAS A LOT AND I’M NEGLECTING SELF-CARE BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO HEALTHILY COPE WITH PIXEL BASTARDS THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK.

[angrylizardjacket]

and then there was light [4] {Roger Taylor}

A/N: 5060 words. part 4? part 4. it’s a bit of a darker one and before you ask, there will be a part 5, you know i wouldn’t end it on a cliffhanger and do you dirty like that.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

The moment Roger steps foot into the meeting about the design of the shows for the upcoming American legs of the ‘Night at the Opera’ world tour, he’s pretty sure he’s already mentally checked out. Freddie’s doing all the talking, to literally no-one’s surprise; the man has big ambitions for his own costumes, and knows the other guys will pipe up about their own needs when they get to meet with just the costume designer. John Reid brings up the technical requirements, Roger’s got the ‘galileo’s from Bohemian Rhapsody playing on repeat in his head as he stares into the middle distance, and it’s Deaky who sits forward.

“We’ve got a pretty solid idea for the lights; Freddie and I have been consulting with a designer in America; she’s freelance, used to work for EMI, she’s reliable.” He assures, and Roger’s thinking ‘hey that sounds familiar’ but Reid seems satisfied and they’re already moving on to the staging and sound equipment needed. 

Roger doesn’t connect the dots at first; it’s been almost four years since that fateful American tour, and they’ve had other tours come and go since, and as far as the others are concerned, they’re pretty sure he hasn’t spared you a thought since arriving home at the end of that tour. But he does, even if he doesn’t mean to.

The tour after you’d quit working for EMI, someone drops a parcan side of stage, and his heart is in his throat when he realises he was waiting to hear you yell ‘okay that one wasn’t my fault’ or something similar. All he hears is a faint apology, and a call from someone to get a broom. The scheduling’s different this time around, he can’t even have a cigarette in an empty theatre without some stagehand buzzing back and forth, or a band member trotting across the stage as they practice. It would be so much easier to lay on the stage if the rest of them were confined to one place while they played, like he was behind the drums. It’d be boring as shit, he would be the first to acknowledge that, but it would mean he would get stepped on less during lunch, and that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make with the toe of Freddie’s shoe poking at his waist.

Nothing serious had come his way in that time, or rather, he’d never found anyone who could hold his attention for more than a week or two. People became dreadfully boring when all they wanted to do was faun over him and fuck him; not that it wasn’t fun at first, it was always fun at first, but there was a lack of variety, a sinking sensation that these people were more attracted to the idea of him that left a sour aftertaste.

But now he’s here, new company, new album, second leg of the new tour, new chance to sample all different women across this great nation. He’s already a little tipsy from his multiple jack and coke’s on the plane when they land, and he’s passed out on the tour bus before it even gets to the first tour stop. Once in Conneticut, he’s dragged from the bus, and informed that as soon as the tech crew had finished their meeting, they could start loading in their instruments. 

“How long have they been here?” Brian asks the stage hand, and the guy shrugs. 

“A couple of hours; the Floor Tech wanted the drum risers set up before she gave the brief.” He tells them as he lead the band in to the theatre, where most of the crew were milling about on stage. 

“She always did have a flare for the dramatic.” John says with a grin where his eyes were trained on the stage, and Freddie hums in agreement, which only serves to confuse Roger further until he sees an all too familiar figure climbing the drum risers with a clipboard in hand.

“Alright guys, can I have your attention, please?” Even after all these years, the sound of your voice hits Roger square in the chest. “I wanna make this as quick and painless as possible, so after today we can bump in and bump out without any hassles.” You addressed the crowd with an easy confidence from your place at the top of the drum risers, tapping your nails against the back of the clipboard in your hands, wearing the overalls he’d seen you in so many times before.

“You can call me Spotlight; I’m the Head Floor Tech for the tour, as well as lighting designer; those of you on my lighting team, you’ve got a copy of the lighting plan, and I’ll be talking to you about how we’re gonna run it after this. Next time, I’ll get some help from the stage hands to set up the drum risers, I had a few people help me today to get them set up early, but that’s just because I like being tall.” With a sharp grin you pause as a titter of laughter spreads around the group, “stage management team, you’re in charge of making sure side of stage is set up with anything the band needs, and that it’s clear of unnecessary clutter and people, and running cabling for the sound guys; they’ll tell you what they need.”

After a beat, you look around the gathered crowd, and nod firmly, a gesture which a few of them return.

“If you have any questions, remember; find your Light.” You point directly at yourself. “We break for lunch at one, but until then we’ve got a lot to get through; let’s get rockin’.” Grinning brightly, you hop down from the risers into the crowd of crew members, ushering a bunch, each holding a sheet of paper, off to the side, as the others scattered like cockroaches under light.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Roger finally finds his voice where he’s still standing, a little dumbstruck, alone in the aisle of the theatre where the others had left him behind.

“Didn’t you hear her speech? Spotlight’s our lighting designer.” Freddie calls over his shoulder, eyes wide and innocent, as if he hadn’t set this all up without thinking to mention it to Roger.

“Our what now?” He splutters, jogging a little to catch up to the other band members as they made their way towards the stage. He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, or what will happen when he gets their; the last thing you’d said to him was that you were stupid to think he was above his reputation, while you were in tears, and then it had been three years of nothing. He’s not going to run, at least he’s pretty sure he’s not; he’s self aware enough to know he was in the wrong last time you spoke, that he was an asshole, but he’s not going to be a coward. Not again.

“That was quite the speech.” John waits patiently until the crew who made up the lighting team had dispersed before addressing the familiar face at the centre. You turn, eyes bright and smile brighter, casually making your way towards him and the rest of the band.

“Yeah, I really feel in my element, you know?” It’s with an easy familiarity that you pull John into a hug, giving him a firm squeeze. “Good to finally see you again.” And then you’re hugging Freddie, and then Brian, and you stop short in front of Roger. It’s a stalemate, neither one wanting to be the first to look away, but both unsure of what to do. In the end, you don’t even offer him a handshake, just nod, and you turn back to the others.

“How’s Pippin been?” Freddie asks, and you’re about to answer, but Roger cuts in.

“Hang on, can someone fill me in here? Lovely to see you, by the way, just a little confused as to how you got here.” He says, and you’re lost for words, just blinking rapidly, trying to process the whole situation.

“Did you not tell him I was working with you guys?” Your words come out incredulous as you turn your gaze upon John and Freddie, who seem just as bewildered as you.

“I thought he’d cotton on when I mentioned an American designer who used to work for EMI.” John mused, turning his gaze on Roger, who frowned, thinking back to the initial meeting he’d just mentioned.

“I did,” Brian piped up, before casting a smile at John and Freddie that was just a little bit confused, “though I wasn’t a part of this little setup.” He tried to reassure the drummer.

“In my defense,” Roger started, before his gaze dropped, “I wasn’t paying attention, design isn’t exactly my forte.” He admitted, and you had to shake your head at that, exasperated and already a exhausted.

“Pippin’s good.” You go back to John’s initial question. Pippin isn’t so much a person as it is a touring version of a Broadway musical that had opened a year ago, to great success.

It turns out a written letter of recommendation from both the lead singer, and bass player of Queen goes rather far in the industry. After taking some time for yourself, you call up EMI to beg them not to fire you, however it turns out you needn’t have; both John and Freddie had given glowing reports of your work ethic and skill, and the man on the other end of the line is just eager to know when you were next available. 

The moment you’re on site next, they tell you you’ve been promoted to Floor Tech; they hand you a roll of gaff tape and a drill and a whole new set of responsibilities, heaped onto your usual load. You don’t even remember who had been performing, the tour had only lasted a month, all you know is that they were calling you Spotlight from the moment you’d arrived; apparently it was what Freddie had called you, and John had to clarify.

John is the first to contact you again, through EMI of course, and he becomes something of a comfort when you consider taking your career beyond the company that kept you firmly in the one position on tour. Freddie calls you less often, and never about business; it’s John who gives you the courage to leave EMI, and he’s the one who helps set up as a freelance theatre and event crew member. 

People had been head hunting you from tour to tour, beyond even EMI, some smaller acts even giving you the full Lighting Designer role. They expect you to sit back, let a stage hand or an assistant to take care of it, but every time you watch someone else focus a spot, your fingers itch to be doing it yourself. Dedicated to a fault, Roger had once called you, you think about it every time you climb an unsteady ladder, and think perhaps that he’s right.

The moment Pippin announces it’s tour, and puts out calls for crew, you’re first in line for the job, putting your hat in the ring for lighting, but happy enough to take any crew role. Not that you don’t love working with bands, but there’s a certain finesse that comes with theatre lighting that you can’t get anywhere else in the world. After two years, and the support of both John and Freddie, you find yourself as the assistant Lighting Designer, as well as Head Floor Tech, and once you step foot onto the tour bus, everything else becomes history.

Speaking of history, later in the day, after the rest of the crew have broken for lunch, you’re wedged under the drum risers, running some cables, when you hear someone climb up them, taking a seat at the drums.

“If you play one beat-” You’re cut off by Roger’s yell of surprise, as he’s so startled he almost falls off his chair.

“Holy shit, who is that?” He’s breathing heavily, voice panicked, and for a moment you take pleasure imagining clutching his hand to his chest like a delicate, little grandmother.

“Take a wild stab in the dark,” you mutter, unwedging yourself from beneath the structure, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. Almost immediately he’s frowning, and you’re thrown back to the moment almost three years ago where you’d been here before, looking up at him from behind the drum risers after you’d changed out the light mid-show. Clearing your throat loudly, you break the moment, getting to your feet and making your way to the side of the stage.

“What are you doing here?” He calls, watching idly as you go about counting out fly lines until you get to the one you’d been looking for. You’d gotten here early to go through the fly-line procedure with the Duty Tech for the venue, and now you lowered the LX bar it was attached to with ease after making sure there was no-one in the way. Your focus made something in his chest tighten, and he feels like he’s being taken back in time; you’re beautiful when you work, passionate and skilled, meticulous, that hadn’t changed. Roger has to look away.

“My job,” and you just sound tired when you say it, already securing the meticulously placed lights onto the bar you’d just lowered, going along and fixing them to the metal in a neat line. An uncomfortable silence spreads between you, punctuated only by the scrape of metal against metal, and the rattle of the safety chains.

“What are you doing here?” You don’t even try to hide the snippiness from your voice, not even turning to look at his as the accusatory words hang in the air.

“I’m having a smoke in what I thought was going to be relative peace, it’s something I do, okay?” Voice defensive, you hear the rustle of cardboard and hear the click of a cigarette, your annoyance growing with each passing moment.

“No, it’s what I do. It’s what I did three years ago, you just started showing up. You stole my relative peace.” You snapped, turning to him, a blazing fury in your eyes at his words, before your lip curled in disgust, “And you don’t even do anything with it.” You scoffed, and he went quiet, sulking behind his drum kit. Sensing he wasn’t got to talk back you turn back to your work.

The moment you turn away, he sees the way you heave a sigh, angry tension draining from your shoulders, a little hunched as you concentrated. Your hands shake a little as you fiddle with the safety chains. There’s still that confidence there, the ease with which you moved about the stage, but unlike around other people, when it was just Roger - though he suspected you were pretending he wasn’t there - you just looked... weary.

After that first town, he keeps his distance for a few stops, though the other band members look to keep you company on occasion. But then... he’s there again. Quiet this time, he just watches where you hold yourself like royalty at the top of a rickety ladder, so sure of yourself. He’d forgotten the sight of you in your element, and it hits him like a truck.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You snap when you chance a glance down and see his awestruck expression looking up at you. The shock comes when he actually looks abashed, averting his gaze, picking up his drumsticks and tapping out a rhythm that you’re pretty sure you recognise.

You’re both too stubborn to give the other one the peace of the theatre at lunch, however, while you’re content with stewing in silence as you worked, Roger, to no-one’s surprise, is not.

“How’ve you been?” He brings himself to ask. You stop where you’re replacing a gel on one of the drum riser lights, taking a long moment to consider your words carefully.

“Busy.” Tired. The subtext comes through loud and clear, despite your short answer, and once you’d finished with the light, you stand, before taking a moment to stretch your back out from behind hunched over.

“Working a lot?” I can tell. He answers after a long pause, almost sympathetic, and you know he’s not really responding to the words you’d said out loud.

“Yeah, non stop.” No subtext, just responding at face value, before your eyes up to the mostly finished rig. Afternoons were for last minute fixes and focusing, there wasn’t much left you could do, unless you were willing to ask for Roger’s help.

“When did your last thing end?” He asks, and you click your tongue as you turn on your heel, burned out gel in your hand, heading for a bin.

“Two days before this one.” You admitted. When you’re met with silence, you turn, and Roger’s frowning at you, almost disbelieving.

“You’re not still sleeping on the tour bus, are you?” He asks, and you roll your eyes before you tell him your accommodation is paid for this time around. You’re the first to leave, for the first time since everything had started, you leave halfway through to actually eat lunch, leaving Roger to himself.

When he’s drunk after the show, leaning against some local pub, with a girl leaning against him, heavy enough that the two of them would have tipped over if it wasn’t for the counter, he can’t get you out of his mind.

“I didn’t ruin her career.” His eyes go wide as the words, with something akin to revelation, escape him, and the girl makes a noise of confusion, her fingers ghosting over his chest, but he can’t even bring himself to enjoy it.

“I didn’t ruin her career!” He announces, excited and pleased in his inebriated state, sitting himself so forcefully on the arm of Freddie’s chair that he spills part of his drink. Freddie makes a noise of confusion, looking up at the blonde, and Roger gesticulates enough to spill more of his drink, ignoring Freddie’s yelp. “Spotlight! She said I’d ruined her career!” 

“When?” Freddie asks, just as John pops out from seemingly nowhere.

“Well you certainly didn’t help it. That was me.” Roger doesn’t care that John’s drunk, the way bassist says it, so serene and matter-of-fact, makes it sting just a little bit worse. His mood instantly flips.

“Can you piss off? Go be her best friend somewhere else.” Roger snapped, and he knew he’d regret being so sharp with John the following morning, but it seemed John himself knew that Roger was in a mood, and obligingly fucked off, seemingly not taking it to heart. “When we broke up, she accused me of ruining her career.” And he realises too late, when Freddie’s eyes go wide with realisation, that he’s said too much.

“Is this where you tell me exactly what went down between you two?” He asked, tapping Roger’s leg with excitement. The blonde, however, stood abruptly, glower on his face.

“No. Fuck off.” 

Roger spends almost fifteen minutes banging on the door of the tour bus before he remembers that you’re not in there, and falls into bed alone, fully clothed.

“The fuck did you say to Freddie last night?” The moment he steps foot onto the stage at lunch, you’re waiting for him, already livid. He’s tempted to turn and walk right back out the door. “Apparently he doesn’t know the real reason that I went home last ti- !” 

“Of course he doesn’t!” Roger snapped back, on the defensive without a moment’s hesitation. “It makes me look like a fucking wanker and he’d kick my ass; he adores you!” And that was enough to shock you into silence, grip loosening on the gaff tape in your hands. “They all do.” He said, and your expression turns unreadable.

“I know.” You finally said, a new, strange quality to your voice, it’s something akin to shock, but not quite, and Roger doesn’t know what to say next. “What about you?” You finally ask, voice a little defensive. It hurts to see you look at him with such a judgemental eye, though he’s well aware he deserves it.

“Doesn’t matter, does it? I could apologise a thousand times and you’d still be pissy.” He huffs, and you cross your arms, cocking your hip.

“At least once would be nice.” You level a cold glare at him and his gaze snaps back at yours, surprised. “You never once apologised, you know that?” And your voice is low, hurt and honest. “Are you even sorry for what happened?”

“It was three years ago-” He sighs, but you cut him off, shifting your weight to your other foot, swallowing thickly.

“So that’s a no. Glad to see where you stand.” And you turn to cross the stage to where you’ve already got the ladder set up, but he makes his way to you in three long strides, making to grab at your upper arm. The moment he does, however, you whirl around, slapping him, hard. “I told you to never fucking touch me; did you think I forgot?” And he sees why you were so eager to leave; there’s tears in your eyes, so close to breaking and streaming down your cheeks, your lip trembling. Something about your voice is so raw, it hurts worse than the slap.

“I am sorry.” And he sounds so fucking sincere, but you just glare at him, unashamed where the tears have begun to track down your cheeks. 

“You had your chance to say sorry; you had your chance to beg for forgiveness, but you told me I could leave; so I did, and so did your fucking opportunity.” But you can’t bring yourself to step back, frozen in place where he’s less than a foot away. Every fibre of your being is betraying you, wanting to be around him, close to him, after what he did.

“I’m sorry what happened between us;” his voice is so level, carefully controlled, you know he’s think hard about what he’s about to admit, “I fucked up, I know that; I’m sorry. It was three years ago but I’m still sorry. I’ve been sorry for a long time now.”

“Since it happened?” You asked, and he didn’t drop your gaze, answering without flinching or hesitation.

“Since I started worrying I’d lose you; I know what I’m like, I knew what I’d end up doing.” He admitted, and the words clearly didn’t have his intended impact as you stumble back, free hand clutching your chest.

“And yet you still-” And quietly, so quietly you’re not even sure he hears it, the words come out as more of a defeated whimper than anything else; “How could you not tell I was in love with you?” 

He’s in shock, and you barge past him, leaving as you can no longer contain your aching heart, and you head to the hotel you were staying at down the road, taking the rest of the lunch break to cry.

When you return, the rest of the crew has filtered in, Roger looks guilty, and Freddie and John look about ready to commit violent homicide, which was unsurprising for Freddie, but there was something comforting about Deaky wearing the expression too. In less than a week, the whole crew knows, and wherever you go, you feel yourself followed by pitying stares, which won’t go away, no matter how hard you throw yourself into your work.

“You’re working yourself into the ground.” Roger tells you a week later, watching the way your arms tremble as you focus a light, and it takes you a moment to blink blearily at him. “Don’t forget the security chain.” He adds, and you scowl, before looking at the light itself, and hurriedly affix the security chain to the rig. You insist that you’re fine, making your way down the ladder to scoop up another parcan, but you almost immediately drop it. 

“I just need some food.” You try to insist, your hands shaking as you leave the light where it is.

You don’t come out after shows, and it’s not gone unnoticed. The rest of the crew think you’re just dedicated, personable for the most part but prone to bouts of standoffishness.

“Oh you should have seen her on our first tour,” Freddie muses to an enraptured crowd at an afterparty, a few crew members listening with a bright-eyed attention, “that woman risked life and limb for our show.” And he sounds so proud when he says it, but something twists uncomfortably in Roger’s gut.

Cracks don’t show around other people, Roger’s noticed; you’re smile’s bright enough and your voice is loud enough that they don’t see the way your hands shake. Or how tired your eyes are. But then there are moments, you stand as if in the eye of the storm, gaff tape and drill in hand, watching as people follow your instructions without question, and you look up to see Roger tweaking his drums, and the two of you share a look. It’s a little indecipherable, he’s concerned and you’re just... tired. He wants to offer to help, but as soon as the moment arrives, it’s passed, and you’re off to the next task.

The air between the two of you has lost it’s angry tension; after saying your peace, after hearing his apology, there’s no fight left. Just a lingering disappointment, a quiet like the moment after a world-weary sigh. You don’t have to pretend around Roger, you both know he’d see through it if you’d tried.

“You should come get a drink after; you look like you need it.” Roger laughs, but there’s no humour in it. Without missing a beat, you decline, you don’t even bother coming up with an excuse. 

“I’m worried about you.” The tour is almost three weeks in, and you’re asleep against the proscenium arch when he walks in. You wake with a start at the sound of his voice, reaching out for the light you’d been fiddling with before you’d passed out. When you look to him with confusion, he repeats himself slowly. “I’m worried about you; are you sleeping okay?” 

“As if that’s any of your business.” You snapped back, and Roger kept quiet. It only takes him a day to figure out that sleep isn’t really a luxury you allowed yourself; you were the last out every night after bump out, sometimes staying until two in the morning, and from what the crew said, you were always the first up, running through check lists, accident reports, and going over anything that needed maintenance. 

When Freddie asks you to come out with them after a gig, you find it difficult to say no, he helped get you this job after all, but you’re there for barely half an hour before Roger sees you slip out the side door, drink untouched.

John asks if you’re okay one afternoon when you drop a stack of gel frames without warning, jumping almost a foot in the air and looking like you’re about to break into tears from shock, but seems content when you explain you’re just tired. Tired doesn’t even begin to cover how overworked you are.

The night you finally decide to relax a little, bump out having been miraculously fast, you’ve got the next day off. The others cheer you on as you down drink after drink, the alcohol hitting you hard and quickly, and the world gets blurry as you find yourself on the dance floor. It’s easy to drink too much, because for the first time in a long time, you’re relaxed, not worrying about the pretty, dickhead blonde who worries about you when he really shouldn’t. 

You’re drunk enough to admit to yourself that part of you likes the attention he’s giving you, it feels like vindication for the heartache you went through all those years ago. Part of it’s not even vindictive, part of you just likes the way he looks at you, the way his smile made your heart beat just a little faster; you call that part a fucking traitor and have another drink.

You don’t remember leaving the bar, but you come back to your body when you’re leaning against a streetlight for support, halfway through telling someone to fuck off.

“Ya’ not my caretaker, Roger,” you sneer, “you don’t need to look after me or whatever this is. Go help groupies home or to hotel or whatever.” You spit, and push off from the light, turning on your heel, almost topple over, and right yourself.

“Light, that’s the wrong way.” He calls, exasperated, and you turn again, this time actually crashing to the ground and grazing your hand on the way, before you get to your feet. He’s come over to try and help you, but you swat him away.

“You don’t get to call me that.” You stalk ahead of him in the direction he had come from, back toward the hotel, and he follows only a few steps behind.

“Fine, Y/N; you’re legless, let me help.” And after a moment of intense eye contact, in which you try to weigh up your options, you begrudgingly loop your arm through his.

“You’re still on my shit-list.” You inform him, and he hums in acknowledgement. “Why are you doing this?” You follow it up with.

“I’m not the asshole who fucked you over three years ago, and I’m not gonna let you get yourself killed for this show.” He said through gritted teeth, and you just smiled, a little dreamily.

“But what a way to go.” And he came to an abrupt stop. It took you a moment to realise, and looking back, you tugged on his arm to keep him moving. He just frowned at you, a little concerned. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it.”

“If I have to fire you to get you to take a break-” He threatened, and you scoffed, expression turning bitter.

“I’ll drop a light on you.”

“You’ll drop a light on me by accident before then anyways!” He crowed, and your expression fell, contemplative. “Just let me help; what do I have to do to make you actually rest? What do I have to do to prove myself?”

[how-to-survive-a-factory-tour]

How to Survive a Factory Tour - Chapter 4

A Sanders Sides / Charlie and the Chocolate Factory FanFiction

PREVIOUS

———-

OH. MY GOD. YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE THIS!

I... still haven’t opened the Wonka bar. Six days it’s been in my fridge, and it’s still sat there. Uggggghh, what am I doing? Why don’t I just open it up?! I mean, I know it’s gonna be a normal bar of chocolate, no point building it up. I guess I just don’t want to face the fact I wasted money...

Thomas finally noticed the bar. He asked me about it, and I told him the truth, as well offering him the chocolate. But, nope, it’s Thomas, with his heart of gold. He insisted I have it. Said I should get something nice for Christmas. Did I mention it’s Christmas Day today?

Anyway, as I was saying, I still haven’t opened the bar. Is there something wrong with me? Well, apart from the poverty, lack of healthy diet, lack of a proper education, unbridled self-loathing and crippling anxiety.

I know. I need help. Too bad I can’t afford it!

”You need help,” are also Remy’s first words to me after I also tell him all this. I answer with the same response I gave you, but he has an answer to that too. “Look, my parents are loaded! And they think you’re a good guy, Virge. I’m sure they’d pay for you to have a few appointments with a therapist.”

“Oh no. No no no. I am not accepting charity. No thank you.”

Remy rolls his eyes. “Fine... but the offer still stands.” He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling. “Oh, and the third ticket was won.”

I look up. “You’re kidding.”

”Was I kidding the other times?” Remy asks, sliding me his phone across the counter. “Will you please bow down to the esteemed Prince Roman!”

I raise an eyebrow, looking down at the news story on the phone. The subject of the photo is Hispanic, with tanned skin and broad shoulders. Just looking at him, I can tell he likely has a six pack under that white shirt. He has emerald green eyes, as bright as the gemstone, and red-brown hair, styled perfectly to accentuate his facial features. He’s pretty much exactly like those models in magazines that lower your self-esteem by 100% after one second of looking at them. He’s stood in front of a large house – no, let me rephrase that, A FUCKING MANSION – in the photo.

I get this horrible feeling he’s gonna be a self-entitled bastard.

-

As I run on stage, I bathe in the applause of the audience. Valerie and I stand hand in hand, taking our bow. After, the music for the encore plays and the whole cast sings the final chorus of Beauty and the Beast. I belt out, trying to make myself heard over everyone while also still sounding glorious.

The music rises to a crescendo before coming to a fabulous end, and that applause, oh how it drives me! We bow one final time before I look over the sea that is the standing ovation. I spot Dad and Pa and direct a wave to them, when suddenly I see someone throw something out of the corner of my vision. Valerie catches it and I peer over her shoulder.

”A Wonka bar?” I raise an eyebrow. “I thought roses were the traditional things people threw.”

”I guess the Wonka-mania over the past few weeks changed that slightly,” Valerie replies. She pauses before holding the bar out to me. “Here.”

”What? No, I can’t possibly take this! It was thrown to you!”

“Just take it, Roman. You’re much more invested in Wonka’s competition than I am. You want this more,” she presses the bar into my hands.

I look between her and the bar, and then back to her. “Val, if I weren’t the gayest man alive on this earth, I would kiss you right now.”

I plan on opening the bar afterwards when I get home, but when I turn back to the crowd, they all start chanting the same thing, over and over.

”OPEN IT! OPEN IT! OPEN IT!”

Valerie starts chanting along as well and, pretty soon, the cast and crew join in. Everyone’s staring at me, chanting the same thing, asking the same thing.

I grin to the audience before starting to peel back the wrapper, and everyone falls silent. Being on stage, I still feel like I have to treat this like a show and build up dramatic tension, so I peel the wrapper slowly at first, before ripping it off at the last second.

The light of the spotlight reflects off the golden glow and the audience bursts into cheers as I read the slip in the wrapper.

WONKA GOLDEN TICKET

I’m completely speechless, the grin on my face explaining everything I’m feeling inside.

Valerie finally snaps out of her shock. “You know what, on second thought, I’ll have the bar back please.”

I chuckle at her words, pulling the ticket out from the wrapper. I hold it above my head, once again bathing in the applause.

-

There’s a long silence after I finish reading the article about Roman Prince.

”...Nothing to say about him?” Remy asks. “C’mon, sis, spill the tea!”

”Well... I don’t mean to be rude, but- “

”He seems like a stuck-up asshole, doesn’t he?”

”Well, it sounds hypocritical coming from you-”  I’m interrupted by Remy calling me a bitch before continuing, “but I think you may be right. But maybe its not too bad. I mean, I know one good stuck-up asshole, and they’re my best friend.”

”Are you trying to compliment me or offend me? I really can’t tell anymore,” Remy asks.

”You decide,” I shrug.

”So, how many Wonka bars have you bought?” Remy asks.

”One.”

”Yas, queen! You bought one!”

”I bought it ages ago and haven’t opened it, and likely won’t.”

”Less yas...” Remy sighs. “Virge, every time I come in here, I give you a free chance of winning a ticket. Please, do something for yourself for once! I mean, come on, you’re spending Christmas Day working!”

”Says the one who’s spending it buying Starbucks instead of with his family,” I respond. “Thomas needs the money more than me! Look, the bar’ll probably be opened eventually – be glad you got me to buy at least one.”

Remy nods. “I guess...” He takes his drink, pays and drops a tip. “See ya!”

I wave in response as he leaves before turning to the next customer. “What can I get you?”

-

”I could not eat another thing...”

I hear Emile’s statement from the kitchen, chuckling. As I cut the Christmas pudding, I call out, “Desserts ready!”

”Actually, maybe I could have a little more.”

I chuckle again, putting the servings of pudding into bowls, grabbing spoons and heading into the living room. Mum and Dad are curled up on the sofa in each other’s arms. Emile is flicking between channels on the TV, most likely trying to find one of his favourite cartoons. I hand everyone a bowl of pudding before sitting on an armchair, snuggling into my Christmas jumper as I eat.

Once I finish, I feel my eyelids growing heavy. I yawn, stretching, before resting my hands on my full belly. Time for a little nap...

I’m not sure if I even actually fall asleep, however, as the next thing I know, Emile is calling my name.

”Pat! Patton! Look! Look at the TV!”

I yawn, stretching as I sit up. I open my eyes, looking at the screen. My eyes light up upon seeing the news: the third ticket has been found!

Roman Prince, a guy from Spain, has managed to get a ticket. He seems rather fun, telling the story about how he won the ticket like dramatic fairy tale. And he’s into theatre and musicals! I wonder if he likes cartoons...

”You gonna make friends with him?”

I nod. “Of course! It would be rude to only make friends with Logan and dismiss the others.”

Logan Berry... So adora-

NO, PATTON, STOP IT!

*

My friend Joan and their partner Talyn are the only ones who know about my family situation. Because of this, they took the liberty of inviting me round their apartment for Christmas Day. We’re currently all bunched up of the sofa, watching A Muppet’s Christmas Carol in our onesies (Joan in a Pikachu one, Talyn in a Charmander one, and myself breaking the Pokémon theme with my unicorn onesie).

Joan and Talyn have actually offered that I move in with them a few times, as they have a spare room in their apartment. However, I don’t want to intrude. Sure, I already treat it like a second home, but these two are a couple, they need their privacy.

Half way through the movie, just as the Ghost of Christmas Present brings Scrooge to the Cratchits, my phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to see a single message from my brother, a single emoji: 🖕

”The third golden ticket’s been found.”

Immediately, Joan pauses the movie and they and Talyn look over my shoulder. They look confused.

”My brother blames me for him not getting a ticket, despite it only being my fault one time,” I explain.

”Man, your brother’s a dick,” Joan says.

”He just does it to get my parents’ approval.”

”I still think the reasons they hate you are complete bullshit,” Talyn adds. “I mean, seriously?! I’m pretty glad I’ve never met them in person.”

I just shrug. “When I was little, I was this baby who they could dress up and pretend was the perfect child. Then, I grew up and turned into a completely different person. It’s understandable they’d find it hard to accept.”

”I know, but their lack of acceptance is way too bad compared to normal parents,” Talyn continues.

Meanwhile, I google the third Wonka ticket. “Roman Prince... Oh, fuck, he’s a musical theatre geek. Great... That’s not going to be annoying...”

---------

NEXT

Taglist: @clone-number-1, @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing (added you because you seem into this fic)

[auspicioustarantula]

Again, not really a headcanon, but consider: Newsies theatre AU. Everyone's either an actor or a techie, it's a week until the show, and everyone is freaking the fuck out. Hilarity ensues.

OKAY so this got pretty long so i put it under the cut!!

› davey is in charge of publicity and is also assistant stage manager. he gets all the photos taken and flyers printed and runs curtain. basically everything that needs to get done, he gets done. he’s honestly surprisingly chill despite everyone running to him with the slightest problem. he doesn’t really mind it, but sometimes it can get obnoxious. however, he keeps a cool head around the rest of his peers because more stress isn’t going to help solve the problem.

     » “davey! someone was making out with jack in the costume closet earlier!”

     » davey, knowing full well it was him: “okay, thanks for letting me know, i will talk to him about it”

› jack is always on for sets. even though he’s an extremely skilled painter, many people overlook his construction skills–not only does he help design the set, but he’s there every weekend with a screw gun in his hands. jack doesn’t get the sets fully finished until the middle of tech week (”i’m ALMOST done, i swear, i just have a little bit to go”) because he wants to make sure they’re PERFECT, so even though it’s pretty stressful they always turn out incredible. has worried davey more than once by precariously balancing on several chairs and a small stepladder

› kath is the leading lady and al is the leading man. as you can tell this has its…fair share of problems!

     » “i can’t kiss her! i’m gay!”

     » “suck it up, buttercup. i don’t want to kiss your twink-slurping mouth either”

› race is student choreographer & ensem! nobody really listens to him at first cause he’s always like. goofing off kinda but once they realize how good he is at putting stuff together they all snap to it. he’s really good at breaking down all of his steps and never minds staying an extra half hour to work on a hard bit with a struggling dancer. he makes sure that everyone looks really good on stage and is shy to take his own solos but usually choreographs some jump splits for himself. also he has no concept of personal belongings backstage? if he can see it it belongs to him

     » kath: “who took my curling iro–RACE”

› finch is dance and fight captain. he’s basically race’s right-hand man. he picks up choreo easily and is almost always featured in some shape way or form. in addition to this, he choreographs the fights (nobody thought he was legit until one day out of nowhere he punched a transphobe and knocked his teeth and out and every1 was like o fuck, he knows whats up)

› spot runs spotlight. that’s all i have to say

› romeo is head of the tech crew and runs sound! he knows SO MUCH about sound systems and microphones and his crew runs tight. they are the best working part of the entire production. nobody ever misses a light or sound cue, not even from day one. cue-to-cue? those bitches don’t even need that. they’re just That Good

› buttons and elmer are in charge of costumes and they take their job very seriously!! elmer snapped his ankle within two weeks of rehearsals and was really bummed that he had to pull out, so buttons (in pity) asked him if he wanted him to help with costumes. elmer, as it turns out, has some serious organization skills and their planning sessions sparked a relationship! they’re in love 

     » elmer: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SPILLED COFFEE ON YOUR COSTUME, ALBERT. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE WE TOLD YOU. DON’T EAT OR DRINK IN COSTUME”

     » albert: “i am going to dehydrate”

     » buttons: “then diedrate, bitch”

› les is the kid they bring in from the middle school to play the child role

› crutchie is student director! he thought he was going to have to beg medda to let him help but she let him join immediately. this was not. the best idea

     » crutchie: May I Help You Direct, it is my favorite show, blease

     » medda: you sweet summer child you are going to keep me sane

     » crutchie, .4 seconds later: I SAID STAGE L E F T, FUCKERS

@jd-sammy | @suddenly-im-respecsable​ | @sherbertlemon1129 | @wellkickyouhalfwaytoqueens​ | @suffering-bi​ | @astrobluehairedgemi​ | @madamedelagrrandebouche​ | @fairly-awkward-trashcan​ | @spacedustsilmarile​ | @insane-tomato​ | @iamliterallyaghost​ | @maxvanna​ | @pineapple-of-saltiness​ | @batlemonrepellent​ | @musicgays​ | @c0ronas​ | @dying-poet​ | @broadwait​ | @raveyqueen​ | @offbrandbroadway​ | @constantly-singing​ | @hopeful-broadwaybaby​ | @fameworks-quicker​ | @racinghiggins​ | @brooklyn-noozies​ | @seasickdolphin​ | @no-1481​ | @queer-theatre-ace​ | @thedelanceybruddas​ | @daavenport​ | @kpop-kk | @broadwayandbookblog | @plutograce | @stopthe-presses | @elmers-half-a-cup | @and-i-lostmy-shoe | @awkwardstranger98 | @backgroundnewsies | @spot-me50-papes | @chewybats

[shipwrecknights]

SANDIPURWARA 2K19

Ok this is gonna be the longest post ever but i HAVE to write this so bear with me

My annual school theatre production just ended yesterday and the post production blues are at an all-time high. I am terrible at farewells; I’m not a very sentimental guy, not very expressive and I can’t articulate affection well without preparation first. This isn’t my first production, in fact it’s my fourth. I have literally been through this every year for four years in a row and every time it hits hard but this year the feeling is nearly overwhelming. My family and friends always ask my why i keep going back, seeing that the trainings take so much out of me every year. But the fact is, they will never understand. The love that i receive in return from this production....my god. These people are really my family. Never have i met a group of people so easy to talk to, to confide in, who complains so much about having to train and yet come back every day and give it their 80% (lol). I am SO thankful that they are in my life. I’ve watched this project grow over the years and these people have also watched me grow; from an actor in Ziarah and Cinta Mawar, to a scriptwriter in Kalbu and finally a stage manager in Sandipurwara. In 2015 i was a boy with literally no friends in uni, no interest at all in Malay theatre and now I have a 50+ pax strong family gained over the years. In no particular order, these are just some of the people that made Sandipurwara so special for me: To the PDs: Thank you for pulling me into this show. I was adamant about joining intro this year because i felt that i had to move on in life, and that 3 years was a nice number to leave at. When Halijah texted me (nearly begging) to take up the role as ASM, I just thought what the heck. She is my friend and I should help. Halijah and i met in 2016 during Ziarah. We were both cast members and we weren’t close close, but close enough to joke around every day. I always thought she was hilarious. And a very talented actor. She’s the kind of person that makes everyone in the room laugh with her crazy antics, even when the mood is tense, which was almost always the case. I always say to her “Tu lah siapa suruh jadi PD,” not to mock her capability, but just as a running joke because we were always one of the lazy ones who just wanted to go for smoke breaks during training. And yet there she was this year leading the whole ass project. She has balls. The shit that she went through this year. I feel so sorry for always being honest with you, about your leadership style, about the first script that we all turned down, for always replying to you in a stern, I’m-pissed-off manner. You don’t deserve all that. But I’m honest because I always knew you could be better. Four years is a long time!!! You are essentially like my baby sister now. I hope we can hang out more often, go to gigs together maybe. Anyways you fucking did it jah. I couldn’t be more proud of you, couldn’t be more proud to have worked under you. Some people were skeptical when you wanted to be PD but you definitely proved them wrong. I will never forget you and Zu during Ziarah, acting in the training room at block A level 5, getting scolded by Abang Mok, and crying, and STILL continuing the comedy scene. All with tears rolling down your face. Fuck. You were trying so hard and that made me wanna cry too. Congrats Jah. I love you so much and thank you for everything. (anyways emo night pe) As for Naj, we also met in 2016. She acted as the mother of my best friend in the show, and she really suited the role LOL kidding. But Naj is a good actor and dancer, AND a brilliant admin person, something that I can never do ever. What i like about her the most is that she is quiet, takes all the shit she receives and just get the work done without much noise. Basically the opposite of us all. This year she took up the role of APD, and did it while still being herself. I’ve always respected her, seeing her take up so many important roles the past few years. Someone once said to me, Naj is like one of the most senior person here, starting all the way from Iman, but never once did she mention that or use it as a way to assert her seniority. Thank you Naj. The world needs more humble + hardworking people like you <3 And then there’s Shakir. Fucking hell, where do i start. I wasn’t too fond of you when I first met you. Your face and mouth sometimes really mintak kene rembat. But one day it really hit me (and it upset me quite a bit): YOU ARE JUST LIKE ME. Hahahaha fuck we were both cursed with the dying need to speak our minds and filter absolutely nothing. I guess from that day on I just learnt to tolerate your shit because I understand you. You’re probably the most articulate guy in all the intros (but not in malay obviously). Even though your rhyming poems are corny as hell, I respect that you always speak to us in such a concise and inclusive manner, always try to get your opinion across as tactfully as possible, always thinking of how others would feel, even when you’re an insensitive fuck deep down. You always try to mingle with all the departments, which makes it look like you’re friendly, but we all know you just don’t want to feel FOMO. You are the APD that no one wanted but we all NEED. I’m glad we got a bit closer this year because I feel that being so alike, we can learn a lot from each other. Its a shame we didn’t get to see the Jacket Pelacur ™ this year, but we all know you’re busy making moves silently and to that I wish you all the best. I will never forget out stressful trip finding paint and kain, the girls searching for our felt pads while we stand around doing nothing at Spotlight, and you asking me about haram keropok at Daiso wihle I’m almost crying about the damn skirting. Also, good luck with your stint as the MCMS president. You are the first malay-muslim club president that constantly sleeps in girl’s laps, says the f-word, says Bismillah at the end of a speech instead of the beginning, and changes pants at the storage area without the conscience of even closing the door. You do you bro. I will pray that you see the light and be a better person, but thank you for constantly checking up on me and always being a brother. Love you bro #idkmanidk

To my SM Irfan: Bro. Brooooooo. You are one helluva guy. Sometimes I felt that you were overemotional about many things, something that an insensitive guy like me could never understand. But the more you opened up to me, the more I learnt to understand that you just have a very big heart. You get stressed very easily by very small things people say. But that always pushed you to work harder. I always look at you working so hard to plan our PT/crew sessions, and yet some nights you text me shit like im sorry, i feel like im not doing enough as an SM. BRUH. Kau stop it. But that really sums up what kinda person you are. Truly a humble guy that just wants to go around spreading joy to people with his lame-ass puns. I couldn’t have had a better partner. It was tough doing SM things with no third ASM, and come to think of it we been through so many obstacles that only you and I know about. Constantly texting each other about the shit we have yet to do and don’t know how to do, skyping till 3am at night when there’s training at 10am the next morning. It was a great learning process working alongside you. When we hugged just before the last show, you immediately started to cry and that made me tear up, so I pulled away and got the fuck away from you because I didn’t wanna cry as hard. We are two very ugly criers. I am truly sorry if i have ever wronged you, went away to smoke while you’re busy doing stage work, raised my voice at you, and especially sorry that I made you plan all the PT sessions by yourself. I’m sorry if i ever made your life more stressful. Thank you for showering the crew babies with so much love and attention on my behalf. I think your leadership was more than sufficient and that without you, this show couldn’t have been what it was. Love you Erphie baby To Fitri: FITTTTT. I think you were the one who pulled me into auditioning for the first production in 2016. I rmb just randomly coming to the audition and you were being over-appreciative, thanking me for coming haha. You’ve been there for me right from the start. Always supporting me in everything I do, no matter how shitty my acting was, and no matter how bad I was at script writing. You really are the mother of Introspeksi. But you are also like my sister, my teacher, my maid, my best friend, and my girlfriend (rarely). Truly the MVP of Introspeksi, you always selflessly help the PDs and casts every single year, shower us with love and push us to grow. I love that you always tell us to renew our niat whenever we come for training in order to help us get through the exhaustion, the scoldings, and everything negative. I feel sad whenever you get scolded by Abang Mok because I know you’re just trying your hardest to prolong the legacy of this special project. Even though you’re not the pioneer PD of Intro, I feel that you’re the one that started this big family because thanks to you we’re all involved in this crazy business. There’s really nothing I can do to repay you so I’ll just say thank you, for making my life in uni much much better. Continue being the strong, independent and ambitious woman that you are and I’m very sure you’ll be very successful one day. Love you Fit you’re my idol <3

To Zahir: My man. Another person that I’ve been through so much with. I miss our days with izzah and the bebs, sitting at the skatepark and under void decks till 3am, literally laughing till we cry. Those days I will never forget. Acting alongside you in Cinta Mawar, playing two really redundant roles, was also a fun experience although you were upset that your scenes were cancelled on show day hahaha. I knew you always wanted to act some more ever since that show. And then there’s Kalbu, writing the script with you was one hell of an experience, kita kene kecam every training by everyone, script lambat script lambat, script lambat macam cb. (f u shakir) No one knew how hard it was to write such a serious script under close scrutiny of two PDs, numerous advisors, and ofc Abang Mok. And yet I think we managed to have some, if not most, of our ideas remain in the final cut of the script and I’m still very proud of that. I’m sorry for all the times I scolded you, saying you weren’t putting in enough effort, etc. This year you finally got casted as a main and bro I’m so fucking proud of you. Wasn’t confident with your acting at first but during the show, as i watch you and Hidhir from the side curtain, i thought to myself, damn these guys r really trying so hard and it’s really paying off. Your role was really made for you and I’m so happy that your goofing off on stage actually made the show 10x more entertaining. Dalam diam, you’ve contributed so much to the club, and introspeksi, and you did it all while always making everyone laugh. You’re really a one-of-a-kind friend and we all love you. Didn’t really get to show my appreciation to you after Kalbu (idk why we all never post anything) but bro thank you for everything, thanks for the hard work, thanks for all the laughs, for the lepak/jam sessions, the (two) fitspo sessions, for the subtle looks/touches whenever a cute girl is nearby. No matter how rarely we meet I’ll always treasure this friendship man I love you (I ain’t never gonna stop loving you....biiitch) To Jannah: I know I didn’t spend as much time with you this year as I did in the last, but you know I love you janz. Everyone keeps pulling out the “mana nak lepak dgn kita lagi” shit on me, but you were always impartial and the most cool about it. I hope you know that I cherish our time together from Cinta Mawar and Kalbu, no matter how much we drift apart. Anyways congratulations for another brilliant year in acting. From the start, I knew you were our only hope for the cast. You have always been disciplined, practicing at home, staying in character, doing research, coming on time every training, etc. Your dedication to Intro always impresses me. You, Durr, Win, Zahir and me went through so much crazy shit man in Kalbu. I will never forget. All the passive aggressive texts, trying to get me and Zahir to buck tf up, us not meeting all the script deadlines, sharing personal stories with each other, writing the script at Woodlands AND the masjid till 5am, and all the laughter. So much laughter was shared. It feels like there was no proper closure for Kalbu, cos the four of us never really showed our appreciation to each other/say our farewell properly. No idea why. But well here it is now. Thank you Jannah for everything. You were the first person to make me cry backstage before the final Sandi show. Kau just masalah, aku tengok muka kau je nak nangis. AND even when the final show started, when I saw you singing so enthusiastically (and badlly) at the handheld mic on stage left, swaying left to right even when no one was watching, man that made me tear up too. Never stop being you, the kind-hearted, sisterly figure that everyone feels comfortable being with. Lepak soon, love you baby girl <3 To Durr-baby/daddy: What a guy you are. Even though you’re younger, I’ve always looked up to you from the start. Wise beyond your years, you’ve always been that calming voice for when I’m stressed out with Intro. You always help us out so selflessly, sometimes it makes me feel uncomfortable/guilty thinking about it. But its ok because you always show how sincere you are when lending a hand. This year, you’re just an advisor, who doesn’t need to come that often. But yet you attend every training, stood alongside Irfan and I, almost playing the role as the third SM. I appreciate every time you take charge and give out instructions to the crew when you notice that I’m stressed out/can’t lead very well. And you do all this without overstepping any boundaries, always respectful to the two of us. And to think you were and APD and VP of the club last year. If all future exco members follow in your footsteps, i’m sure MCMS will breed an amazing group of individuals. Tapi kau pun satu masalah. I clearly said don’t go behind and see Jannah, you will cry. Kau pergi jugak. Kau just nak semua orang nangis dengan kau hahahahahahahaha its ok bro i understand crying hURTS SO GOOD. Thank you Durr for the countless nights of sending everyone home even when you’re exhausted. Thank you for always keeping me and Irfan grounded in chaotic times. Thank you for the kekek times at stage left, staring at the transitions with me and shakir like its visual ganja, muttering those two comforting words into my ear, “double pivot”, and for always reminding me and everyone that letting out our feelings is fucking important to survive. Love you durrbaby stay sweg A special shoutout to the new friends I made this year, Hidhir and Junie. Ya’ll are just gerek. Thank you for joining our intro family even when you really didn’t need to, and for giving your all for every scene. Firstly I have to say y’all (+ Zahir and Hazeeq) made our saturday mornings a living hell. Wake up late, sick, heavy traffic, phone died, and all the cock reasons ya’ll gave. It got to the point that Junie gave me her house number to call her mum to wake her??? Just hal. Sampai show day dia lambat, faham eh. But anyways. I’m so glad you two decided to join this year. Thank you for being so easy to talk to, as a sister and brother, thanks to Hidhir for welcoming us into his home that one fateful night, for always spreading love and hugs and being emotional as fuck during debriefs. Thank you Junie for being so open with us, always sharing your stories, even tho we never ask. Thanks for pushing yourself even with all the heavy criticism from the directors. If you need your mic box to be checked again, just hmu. To Hazeeq, you alr helped us last year in Kalbu, but this year returned again as another main cast. The best part about Hazeeq is that he is friends with e v e r y o n e and always goes around the room to have conversations with every single person. Proper friendly guy, I’m gonna miss your hugs and kisses every night and your “Sorry I’m sorry....she correct.....I wrong.” Stay gold my brotha, a guy like you is not easy to find so pls make sure you never change.

Last but definitely not the least, my CREW BABIES. Y’all are surely an odd bunch, all randomly coming to help our production. But ya’ll are the best crew I’ve ever seen in my 4 years here!!! Never complaining, even when you come to training and do absolutely nothing. Always understanding towards me and Irfan, listening to what we say, and helping out when we don’t know what to say. Working so hard on the sets and props, ya’ll are always on autopilot and didn’t need us to guide you all the time. Thank you Alfiera (you basic bimbo bish), Aliah, D.Hadi, Hadi Shy, Haziq (ma man), Sheeda, Syazwani (non-tudung), Syaza Aliah (my twine girl u saved my life every show ily) and Zana (my only stage left buddy). I love you all I swear. Special shoutout to DIBO DEE, Dibo baby thank you so much for all your help. You’re so crafty and creative and calm and cool when you do work. I love how your voice changes when its time for serious work and how you go around spreading love and giving sweets to everyone. Can never forget the moaning sounds that erupted from your phone during our dry run hahaha U STAY COOL DIBO ILY. And!!! Special special shoutout to my 3 fav crew girls: Rania, Wani and Sofiyah!!! Idk if ya’ll are my adiks or girlfriends but rest assured I love being around you guys and i’m glad we got close thru this show. You’re all too damn young but trust me if i could I’d marry all of you HAHA. To Rania, thanks for being a walking meme factory, I still can’t believe i’m friends with a 19 year old ffs. But hey you have great taste in music just like me. We can have a date lying down on the beach while listening to the XX and Arcade Fire one day ok. Thanks for shaving your legs for me, calling me every day to pray subuh (I don’t deserve you) and for being so candid about yourself to me. I’ll text you if i’m 30 and single ok pls be my backup plan. God bless you baby girl i love you. To Wani, sorry for saying that you’re too emotional when ya’ll were upset after getting shit for wardrobe things. But you’re so cute when you’re mad?? Hahaha and sorry for saying that you’re conservative (tho there’s nothing wrong with that) just because you’re a madrasah girl. Actually you’re pretty open about everything. Thanks for being a kind hearted person, always looking out for me, and putting up with the nonsense that me and Shakir talk about. Love you Wani if you miss me just hmu and I’ll be there. To Sofiyah, uuuu fuckin’ weirdo. I love how casual you are about everything and how I don’t have to think of what I say around you. Also, I admire how you always kept your shit together even when people were shitting on you about wardrobe things. Thank you for picking up the role despite having no experience in past Introspeksis. You did great man. Continue to participate in the coming years and I hope you get a guy as meaty as Hidhir or has a nice body like mine (#2 best body). Please curb your thirst for skinship and kembali ke jalan yang benar. Hahahahahaha love u Soffy baby see u soon xx And to everyone else, those unmentioned, please know that I love you guys too. Nana, Shaik, Yus and Aishah y’all are my seniors who i look up to whenever we’re doing a show and your knowledge and advice are always valuable to us. I always see you guys as who we’re supposed to grow into in the field of arts, even tho korang berbual merepek 75% of the time. Nana your play-flirting makes me turn off my comms headset but you’re an amazing amazing actor, SM, PD, and now lights technician. My respect for you has always been 10/10. This year you never shout at me, very good. Aishah, your acting has always been crazy good and this year you reminded us again. Thanks for being the big sister figure to all of us babies, while at the same time spewing inappropriate sexual nonsense 24/7. You da besttt. Shaik and Yus, thanks for being the big bros that i never had, always so cool and quiet but so talented with the music. And of course the musicians, who practice so hard every day, hitting the rebana till your hands bruise, coming early everyday to go through every riff/melody/tune and taking all the new ideas from Abang Mok and giving it life. Y’all are so amazing and you continue to be the best part of our shows every time. The dancers, I watched you guys train from the start!!!! Honestly it was very scrappy at first, and you guys went through so much drama and changes and getting shouted at, and of course injuries. All the bandages and patches and ankle guards were worth it cos you guys were amazing on show night, I know because I watched from the side curtain every time. Love the fight song number so much <3 For the rest of the cast, those with supporting roles, ya’ll were equally amazing and some of you even with one scene got an ovation from the crowd. Thank you for the hard work day in day out despite not landing a major role; your patience and understanding made the show what it was; a gathering of unique characters from different walks of life all for a single purpose.

Finally, I’m really sorry if i have wronged anyone in any way, which i prolly have. I love all my friends and never have any intention to hurt them. This shit that we did together was SO special and people will never understand the bond that’s been forged here so I hope these friendships lasts for as long as they possibly can. What Yus said was spot on: there is no “final year” or “last show” because Introspeksi is a family and you can never run away from that :’) Ok PEACE OUT ILY’ALL

[turtle-steverogers]

In the SPOTlight

this is for my main bitch, @labert-dasilver ‘s, birthday.  thank u for being my partner in crime, the other half to my chaotic duo, the al to my race, the angst filter to my wild 3 am ideas.  i truly don’t know where id be without u.  happy birthday, queen!!! i love you

oof ima note that i’m basing the workings of this off my own theatre director and cue to cue and shit yeah #theatre life

warnings: none

ship: sprace

editing: nopee

“Alright, we’re running Step in Time!  Full tech,” Medda Larkin, Manhattan High’s theatre director called through her megaphone from the top of the house, “Why isn’t Antonio on stage, and Sean!”

Spot Conlon peeked his head out of the booth, “Yes, Miss Medda?”

“Why are the house lights still up?”

“Sorry! Sorry,” The house lights lowered gradually, until only the lights on stage and cyc lights were up.

“Thank you!” Spot shot a thumbs up out of the booth and turned back to the lighting board.  At that moment, Racetrack Higgins ran on stage, looking entirely frazzled with his button down shirt untucked and suspenders half on.  He had a broom tucked under his chin and he was struggling to straighten out his costume.

“Antonio, where were you?  We can’t start Step in Time without our Bert,” Medda reprimanded, her voice coming out tingy through the megaphone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Race called, sheepishly, snapping his suspenders up and propping the broom over his shoulder, “I misplaced my old broom so Whiz had to find me another.”

“God bless Whiz,” Medda sighed, “What would we do without her?”

“Crash and burn, probably,” Finch called from one of the spots.

“Anyway, we all ready?” Medda called, drumming her fingers haughtily.  Race and Katherine, their production’s Mary, called confirmations and the music started up.  Race began to sing, his voice filling the theatre, but as soon as he started, Medda called for him to stop.  The music cut out abruptly and Race and Katherine blinked at each other in confusion.

“There’s supposed to be a spot on Race,” Medda said, “Who else is on spot besides Finch?”

Spot grumbled to himself, sticking his head out of the booth to peer at the other spot booth.  It was empty.  Figures.

“Uh, looks like Romeo isn’t doing what he’s supposed to,” Spot called back, “Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Medda answered, growing impatient, “But we don’t have time for this.  Get someone else to do it!”

Spot let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his short hair, “Uhhh, fuck, uh Jack?” He turned to his crewhead that had previously been scrolling through his phone on the mildewy futon that they kept in the booth.  They really had to replace that thing.  

“Yeah?” Jack said, looking up and abandoning his phone beside him.

“Could you take over the lightboard?  I gotta go run Romeo’s spot.”

Jack shrugged and wordlessly plopped himself at the station.

“Thanks, man,” Spot said, already jogging down to Romeo’s vacant position.

“Is everything handled?” Medda asked.

“Yep!” Spot shouted.

“Lovely,” Medda placed her megaphone down, “Start at the top!”

Race and Katherine scrambled back over to stage left, Les and Smalls, who were playing Jane and Michael, on their heels.

The song restarted, this time with both of the spots, and everything went smoothly until, “Sean Conlon, why is the spot still on Antonio!  It’s supposed to be on Katherine, you know, the one actually dancing right now!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Spot called, blushing.  

“Back to the top!”

Race and Katherine exchanged exasperated glances as they slumped back over to their starting position.  They made it through almost the entirety of the song when, “Sean Conlon, for the last time, get the spot off of Mr. Higgins and on Ms. Plumber!”

Race smirked in the direction of the spot that had been following him almost feverishly for the past two minutes, “Hey, Spottie, for someone literally named after his craft, you’re pretty distractible.  I mean, I understand that these pants really make my ass pop, but you still gotta do your job correctly.” Spot felt his face heat up as he watched Katherine smack Race’s arm.

“Nah, just highlighting your ugliness,” Spot retorted, trying to keep the embarrassment out of his voice.

“You’re really bad at comebacks,” Race called smugly, “‘Specially when you’re flustered.  I can’t see you, but I can practically feel your blush.”

“Screw you, Higgins!”

“You wish, Conlon!”

“Alright you two,” Medda interrupted, waving her hands to stop the boys’ bickering, “Keep the flirting to your own time.  We need to finish this scene.”

This time, Race blushed as well, but they set up for the beginning of the song nonetheless.  No mistakes were made this time, no doubt a result of Spot attempting to avoid further ridicule.  The actors hit their final pose and Spot slowly brought down the spotlight, then jogged back to the booth to bring up the house lights.

“Thank you for finally pulling that together, guys,” Medda addressed the cast and crew, “Take, say, fifteen minutes to break and then we’ll plug through the rest of the show with tech.”

Spot let out a breath of relief as everyone dispersed.  Cue to cue days were always long and breaks were far and few in between, so it was nice when they were finally granted one.  He grabbed his water bottle and exited the booth to refill it.  When he got out, he found Race standing by the water fountain, eating an apple.

Butterflies bubbled in Spot’s stomach upon the sight of his long time crush up close, but he ignored them and feigned confidence, “Aye, Higgins, no eating in costume.”

Race looked up in surprise, hastily moving to hide the apple, but stopping when he realized who Spot was, “Whatever,” Race said, biting into his apple.

“That’s no way to treat your resident lighting designer,” Spot said, bending over to fill up his bottle, “Ya know, actors should really learn to respect us techies more.”

Race quirked an eyebrow, “And techies should learn to follow the correct actor when working the spotlight.  I mean, c’mon, Spottie, am I really that irresistible?”

Spot straightened up, a new sort of challenging intensity in his eyes, “Yeah, actually, you are.”

Race’s eyes widened and he reached forward, pulling Spot in by the front of the shirt.  Before their lips could connect, one of the assistant stage managers, Elmer, peeked his head through the stage door, “Five minutes.”

Spot and Race didn’t break eye contact as they answered, “Thank you five!”

There was a moment of tension where neither boy moved, then Spot leaned in and kissed Race.  The taller boy melted into the kiss, releasing his grip on Spot’s shirt in order to hold his hips.  Their lips fit together soundly, and Spot could feel the butterflies spark up again as warmth spread throughout his body.  They broke apart after what could have been hours, both of them smiling serenely.

“Hey,” Race murmured, “I think I’m a spotlight and you’re on lighting crew ‘cause you turn me on.”

Spot furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, taken aback, “Was that a lighting pick-up line?”

Race nodded, “Sure was.”

Spot threw his head back in laughter, Race joining him a moment later, “Real classy, Higgins.”

“Ah suck it, Conlon.”

TAG LIST:

@bencookisagod

@we-dont-sell-papes

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@well-the-kids-do-too

@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn

@thatpoorguysheadisspinning

@labert-dasilver

@andthewoildwillknow

@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog

@sunshine-e-cigarettes

@have-we-got-news-for-you

@musical-shitposts

@thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

[madhouse-at-midnight]

Ok so funny story

So in English class we're reading this book called Of Mice And Men. And there's this one character (who doesn't have a fucking name because sexism) who we call Curley's Wife. I promise this is important. Ok so yesterday we were doing a thing called "acting" where she gave us the first line of every character we've met so far. First though, we had to practice with our partners. Another kid joins us because his partner is off doing. . . Whatever she was doing. Now there's another character named Slim whose line was "Its brighter'n a bitch outside. You the new guys?" I really wanted to swear in class without getting my ass stuck in the principles office again. So while we were practicing I called it but there was a mixup so instead I ended up saying Curley's Wife's line (see I told you). Now Curley's Wife's line was "I'm lookin' for Curley" but since she's a very flirtatious character I had to act like that. So after she decides to pick some of us to "act" in front of the class. And then I decided (why I don't know) I was gonna play Curley's Wife. So she asked if anyone wanted to play her and I raised my hand (WHY) and she actually called on me (Oh no). All we had to do was step forward and say or line like the charter would. Easy yeah? Well when my turn came I leaned against the whiteboard, started twirling my hair, smiled and said in a soft high pitched voice "I'm lookin' for Curley" and everyone and I mean EVERYONE starts laughing (like lol that was funny) And my teacher just looked at me and said "that was a bit too accurate for us" SHE ACTUALLY SAID I DID IT WAY TOO ACCURATELY AND THEN MY FRIEND SAYS "I never thought I'd see the day where that would ever happen" and my other friend is like "Why aren't you on the stage? YOU SHOULD BE IN THE SPOTLIGHT NOT STAGE CREW" and I die laughing for the next bajillion years. Conclusion: APARENTLY IM GOOD AT ACTING MORE SPECIFICALLY LIKE REALLY FLIRTATIOUS WOMEN LOOKING FOR THEIR DAM HUSBAND

[s1utspeare]

>:)

someone mentioned me and theatre in the same sentence so that means they’re getting my One-Paragraph-Directorial-Staging-Ideas-From-Off-The-Top-Of-My-Head here goes babe ccc. 

Supplication/May I Be Worthy of My Meat: okay so this one is getting done in the square, with five different staging areas separated by lights; there’s one big square in the middle, and a smaller square on each side. During each separate part, one of the areas is flooded, the others are left in blackout. The actor playing Xiao-ge moves between the squares, but never crosses through the middle playing area; the other actors for each scene are left in their squares (recurring actors move during full blackouts). 2.5 is done outside of all squares. For the +1, the lights come up full and you see the actors from the past parts in tableau while the +1 happens full on in center, to indicate how this has all been built on past experiences. There’s also a masque scene after 2.5 where the actor playing Xiao-ge is forced away from the playing areas to a cacophony of lights and sound, and then we light on Pangzi and Wu Xie frozen, waiting. Maybe we have actual tech and makeup crew do special effects makeup as the audience and Xiao-ge watch. 

Should I Read Into This: traditional staging. The hospital bed set-up is center-stage and the focus of the piece. As it continues, however, pieces of equipment and machinery are removed so that Wu Xie’s feelings cannot continue hiding behind reasonable doubt; it’s eventually bare-bones and they have to confront the emotions

You Who Hungers Me: bro we need all the intimacy workshops for this one. I really would like to have raised platforms for this one, particularly suspended playing areas with ladders in between them, or a stacked set, so that the actors are having to climb and jump and run after each other, pulling each other up and taking turns supporting and being supported. like. as much as i love this piece we can’t do the actual sex onstage. For the most part. At the climax (haha) we put a scrim down over the front and then it gets Handsy in Silhouette. 

My Heart in Its Basket of Bone: ok im bringing in @humanlighthouse​‘s version of this fic too bc i love the double tandem of it going on. We’re doing it like The Last Five Years, where the same story is happening simultaneously, but Wu Xie is delivering his lines on one side and Xiao-ge is on the other. They’re both physically connected, but whenever they speak, they’re spotlight and away from the other, until they finally wake up together at the very end. Every other character speaks over the god mic. 

Unrestrained Summer Fun: the love of my fucking life. It has to be a coming-of-age comedy movie. I’m thinking very Scott Pilgrim, with animated screen effects and lots of freeze-frame fourth wall breaks. Love that for me. Also a lot of Wu Xie’s gay inner monologue. Like, at all times. 

Amen, Amend: as much as i love this fic how it is i want more. if this were workshop i’d be saying “where the FUCK is the other half this should be a full-length, not a one-act.” so we’re making it a full-length. We start out with the meat of Amen, Amend as the very first scene, then double back so we can find out how we got here, but every so often, there’s a soundscape of sheets rustling, heavy breathing, and Pangzi’s voice. 

(Out Here Is) Wondrous, But Not For the Timid: It’s a fucking audio drama. Of course it is. I’m a slut for audio dramas, they’re one of my favorite things, and this one would be PERFECT for it. Li Cu’s snark. Wu Xie’s banter. I love them. Plus I want Space Ambience going full force in people’s headphones. 

Bodies in Motion, Bodies at Rest: DID SOMEONE MENTION NEWTON’S FIRST FUCKING LAW???? this one’s all about the kinesthetics, babes. I’m talking blank stage. I’m taking we’re doing the gravitational real estate with our bodies. I’m talking long swatches of time with no sound whatsoever. The actors have to carry this one on their fucking backs, literally. It’s all them. It’s all them. 

Autumn Showers, May Flowers: a ten-minute. the absolute sweetest shit you’ve ever seen in your life. every time Wu Xie kisses Xiao-ge on the forehead, all other characters freeze and Xiao-ge comes and gets to have a private freak-out soliloquy with the audience before returning to wherever he was and unfreezing time. 

I think that’s... all the ones I’ve read??? or remember enough to actually put staging ideas into lmao. 

once again i fucking love theatre good night

21 for the meta ask game?

21 from this ask list - What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)

Oh fuck? I’ve honestly never considered it. Uhm...I think I tend to write stuff that is more lyrical, that tells instead of shows (oops?), so I feel like a film would be super boring or bland?? 😭😭 but a webcomic could be cool, because it’d be easier to incorporate thoughts!! Now I’m also yelling thinking about @s1utspeare staging like, a play of Swiftly Tilting. Where is her Tony

Man idk honestly this is SUCH an interesting question??? I wonder if folks who’ve read my stuff have an opinion???

[slytherverse]

hey do you have any more things from fall play?

yes i fucking do pull up a chair kid

-so last night was opening night

-darbus keeps demanding a bookshelf even though there is NO ROOM ON STAGE and NO POINT

-"oh and that prop should go on the BOOKSHELF, oh WAIT" -actual thing she said

-shes already rejected 4+ bookshelves that people had to haul in from their houses

-and get this: we finally find a fucking bookshelf that will fit onstage and doesn’t look like a modern-ass bookshelf and darbus makes us take it off. HALFWAY THROUGH ACT 1. DURING THE SHOW. WITH AN AUDIENCE.

-BYOB (bring your own bookshelf) has become a running gag

-a week ago, prop crew sent me on a mission to steal furniture from another school bc i guess none of them have a car

-i showed up at this place and the lady wasn’t there, she decided to leave early.

-so eventually someone else went a few days later and they only had this ottoman thing and not any of the stuff we needed.....

-the assistant stage manager ordered bread but it was an hour late so she called to ask them what was up because the store is 5 minute drive and somehow she accidentally called the international headquarters??? and complained??? and they sent us 3 DOZEN bagels for free???? 

-god bless that girl

-last night i was locked in a dominance battle with the outdated wheelchair lift outside the theater

-i lost

-one lady made it down the stairs into the theater but then the lift decided to stop working. after the show i just snuck the poor gal and her walker out the back door and across the lawn because no steps but i felt so bad about it

-this goddamn lift. you need to hit the fuse box across the stage to turn on this blinky-ass red light THEN find the right key THEN fold it down THEN load up the person THEN sloooowwwwwly lower them down THEN do all that backwards to reposition it. and now it’s frozen in the down position since last night. 

-and after several attempts to make it move again while people are coming into the theater, i walkie the asm to turn off the fuse box “before this amber alert gives someone a fucking seizure” and then everyone knew what was up

-im ticket manager and house crew head and i dont know who decided to put the asshole with the worst memory and worst people skills in charge of those things but i’m close to my breaking point ok

-a prop crew kid suck her hand in the cake because it was dark backstage

-and in case i haven;t gone over this yet let me say: THE ACT 1 SCENE 1 SET CHANGE IS THE WORST

-we have to move 2 giant flat set pieces including sandbags quietly into a corner AND set up an entire house with a couch, rug, table, chairs, rack, plant, and BOOKSHELF with books on it in no time flat (hehe)

-(we’ve never actually done a successful set change)

-during the dress rehearsal the day before, sound and lights didn’t get the memo that one of the characters was doing a complete costume change between acts so they lit up the stage while no one was on it

-it went like that for 30 seconds, then they decided something was up and struck up the jazzy music again while the lead was naked backstage freaking out

-this went on for several excruciating minutes. darbus was in the audience and she yelled at us all through the webcam we were using to see what’s going on onstage. 

-during this same performance, stage crew had to move the furniture back a bit right before the curtain call so the cast would have room. apparently light crew didn’t get that memo either because they went full spot while we were still moving shit and we all froze like deer in headlights. stage-crew-in-headlights is now another running gag.

-somehow last night the classroom we used as the boys changing room locked and locked all their costumes inside

-crew traditions. we all have my little pony tramp stamps now

-the stage manager’s birthday is today and the asm’s birthday is tomorrow so prop crew is getting a cake for them with “NOT THE PROP CAKE” written on it in frosting

-last night the school’s resident nuns came to see the show. they did not preorder tickets nor pay for them, but i digress. they live here.

-so the head nun (aka the school principal aka the one who banned all lgbt-related content from the hall displays aka all-around tool) came and managed to knock a spotlight out of place and got mad at light crew for it. 

-while this was going on, right after the fatal act 1 scene 1 set change that requires all of stage and prop crew, a girl comes in late and wants to see the show. she missed the one set change and thus the one window to sneak in late people. if it were ANYONE ELSE i would have turned them away but it was this sweetheart sophomore who i can’t fucking say no to so i have her and her mum wait outside until a mini blackout and that takes 15 awkward minutes all while shes being really nice and understanding and i’m trying not to have a mental breakdown because of the lift and the set change

-after all that the one house crew recruit who actually listened to me when i said not to hang out inside the theater told me that the head nun tried to kick that  sophomore sweetheart out of school 

-for context, she was really sick last year, like, she knows about the wheelchair lift all too well and jokes about red ribbon week because “i’m on 30 different drugs and none of them are BATH SALTS”

-in other news, i really want to dropkick the head nun into the stratosphere

-how is this show somehow not the worst we’ve ever done

[appreciatedinretrospect]

From Boston To Berkeley: A Love Letter To The East Bay

I suppose it started with the four pitchers of PBR at the Pike Bar in Long Beach. We went from talking about how great it would greta to see Rancid and Dropkick to all of the sudden my friend had bought everyone tickets to the Boston to Berkley show at the Greek Theatre in Berkley. Something about seeing Rancid in their hometown with the legendary Dropkick Murphys co-headlining felt like an irreplaceable memory.

Like Clockwork, when I see the sign for the Oakland Coliseum from the freeway I know I’m back where I belong. My relationship with the Bay Area is indescribable. It’s not just a place I like to invade for a weekend, it feels like home. The East Bay in particular has always accepted me in spite of the fact that I don’t give it the time it deserves from being such a good host. I am a defender and believer in San Francisco, Berkeley, Oakland, etc. This was my third time driving up there from Los Angeles this year. You’d think I would have chose somewhere else one of  those times but I keep coming back.

Trying to repeat something that was beautiful once before is a dangerous route to take. It’s like seeing an old girlfriend over and over again. That being said, Berkeley always gives me something new along with the comfort and familiarity. This is also my fifth time seeing Rancid. Part of me wishes that number was quadrupled. Another part had that same feeling of realizing what feeling I was trying to recapture. But Rancid is a unique entity of punk rock. They make every show matter. Rancid gave me somewhere to belong and community with positivity and freedom. That’s how you find your identity.

The show takes place August 20th, 2017. On August 19th, my crew decides to go see the documentary Turn It Around: The Story Of East Bay Punk. The film’s title comes from the Turn It Around compilation put out by Maximumrocknroll in 1987. Green Day produced the film with director Corbett Redford. For anyone into music from the east bay or punk rock in general, this movie is a must see. We’ve all seen a crappy punk doc but we let it slide because of the character or that we did learn something towards the end of movie. Something always gets left out though. I’m not sure what wasn’t covered in this movie. They took the time to make sure that everyone was represented. A bunch of kids took the piss out of punk, cherished it, believed in it and lived it. For what it’s worth, they created a scene and a history that has influenced the entire punk rock community. At times it wasn’t pretty. Sometimes there was poison. But it all lead to great things and a lineage that’s unbreakable. I feel even more connected to the city I love. I feel even more connected to punk rock. I couldn’t find a more appropriate thing to do than walking up Berkley’s campus to Greek theatre and go see Rancid.

I hate college campuses until one shows me that I don’t. Being at school was never a good vibe. Berkeley obviously is the outlier of that sentiment. When Im’ there I have a sense of pride and my surroundings are overwhelming. The air feels better. I feel as though I’m a part of it. Just as I do whenever I go see Rancid. The Greek is perfectly designed. I’ve never enjoyed an outdoor venue more. There isn’t a bad seat in the house including the lawn area. It feels colossal and like someone’s home all at once. I didn’t keep in mind that there would be a curfew for an open venue on a college campus. That resulted in missing Kevin Seconds and The Selectors. That’s the second time something like that has happened with Kevin Seconds. I’m coming for ya Kev. Suddenly my frustration has dissipated. As soon as I sit down Dropkick comes out. The sun is right about to set. Typically that takes the air out of a headliner’s show. Dropkick Murphys are a beast of a whole other nature. There’s no dismissing a Boston band. 

The calm before the storm took the form of battle cry that is the opening song on the new Dropkick Murphys album The Lonesome Boatman. Then The Boys Are Back kicks in continuing the build until the four count on the high hat sending the crowd into a seemingly controlled chaos. My group came to the conclusion that we needed to be in the pit for this show. I typically don’t care about that shit these days. The occasion seemed to call for it this time around. There was a lot of firsts amongst my group. The Barroom Hero/Do Or Die/Never Alone/Boys On The Docks medley was intense. As was Going Out In Style. Something about it screamed penultimate. We the audience felt like we had to get it in while we could. Shipping Up To Boston into the appropriately titled Until Next Time sent us off on a high before Rancid. Damn I’m getting old. It’s exciting to watch vets destroy a stage like that with a level of excellence.

The sun starts going down and from the exact spot we were originally in, we can see Rancid prepping backstage. They’re with friends and family. Observing them gave off the same vibe you would get at a backyard BBQ. Matt and Tim both are warming up. Tim grabs his guitar first and sits on a road case. The guitar looks like it feels the mast natural. Lars is pacing and eventually grabs his guitar from his tech. He spends what little time there is left to get his right hand going. Tim then steps out onto the stage alone and slowly to see who all came out and he takes off his hat. The first chords of radio change the energy in the audience again. There were moments that grabbed you every other song.

Dead Bodies is the point in the set where I lost my voice. I was so excited to hear that song. Not because I hadn’t heard it at the majority of the other shows I attended as much as I didn’t expect it. Lars gave a speech that should be used as a standard for what punk rock stands for in 2017 in the current political and social climate we’re living in.

“Because we have freedom of speech I can say for all of us up here it doesn’t matter. We don’t give a shit if you’re black, if you’re white, if you’re gay, if you’re straight, if you’re trans, if you’re fuckin muslim, catholic, christian, buddhist…makes no difference to us. If there was never freedom of speech we would have never had punk rock, you understand? Once you start telling people what to say and what to think, that is called fascism. I know that because my mother experienced it as a child. That’s bullshit because we fucking do not tolerate racism, sexism, or any of that bullshit.” 

My eyes welled up from the pride of being a lifelong Rancid fan. That needed to be said. Nothing is more important than unity and equality so we can live in peace and party. I don’t know a place quite like Berkley. They seem to get it. I won’t forget that moment from Lars. Going into Telegraph Avenue after that gave me a new meaning for the song. I walked that street to get to the show. Different people’s ideas matter on Telegraph Ave.

Olympia always seems to resonate with a crowd in an interesting way. Tim sings the last verse and gives the last chorus to the crowd. We were one with the band. I then realized that these  untouchable punk rock deities were just one of us. What moves people around Rancid is the interaction with their audience. You don’t know whether to look at the crowd or the band. We’re a part of the show. There’s no commands of participation, we just know when to do our part. What Rancid represents is upfront. I can’t stress how authentic and from the heart those songs are. They become anthems that can almost be sung like football chants or at a pub.

I crowd surfed my way out of the pit during Ruby Soho to get a head start on the foot traffic to the back. I was separated by my group during all the excitement. Tim walks out with a white Fender acoustic playingJohnny Cash’s Folsom Prison Blues under one spotlight. As soon as Tim finishes the second verse both headliners appear on stage to double down on the party. They follow it up with the Ramones’ Cretin Hop and If The Kids Are United by Sham 69. If you have any knowledge on skinhead culture or the Oi scene outside of the shaved heads you see on the news, you would know that If The Kids Are United might be the most important Oi song of all time. It’s a unity song that was song in the face of the fascist national front. The Rock Against Racism show was to make a clear distinction from fascist skinheads. What an appropriate way to end a punk rock show in 2017. Both Rancid and Dropkick had to honor the bands that paved the road for all of us to sing together.

Seeing Rancid in their hometown was a cathartic experience. I wasn’t just a tourist in paradise. It belonged to us punks that night. Berkeley always stops what it’s doing and allows me to be a part of it. I’ve been sheltered by the bay and I’ve been tested by it. Punk rock has tested me just as much as it’s sheltered me as well. Family will do that.

[despairstation13]

Dancing with the 100 Billion Stars || Day Three

This was it, huh? The final day of the Talent Show. You supposed it was a nice little distraction from the motive, but what were you all going to do after this? You would still have to face your worst memory again. You weren’t sure how much you could take this. These kinds of thoughts weren’t right to have right now. The Lights were dimming, so you thought to yourself that you would allow this to be one last distraction.

Rich's entrance was surprisingly not very flashy. He just stepped on-stage and gave his small audience a little wave with one hand, holding some cards in the other. He didn't need to hype anything up, really. His presence made his performance already fairly flashy.

"Hey. I know we have a resident street magician on the station, but, listen. My only talent apart from persuading people to gamble away the last of their money is--"

He shuffled the deck. With a sudden brrrap, cards flicked from one hand to the other, halved, formed a bridge, shuffled again, and came together in a nice rectangular bundle once more.

"-- magic card tricks! Yes indeed, dear audience. I'm not gonna take long here, just one trick. I don't usually get to show this one off at casinos, but the people on cruises lose their minds over it if they've had enough Daiquiris. For this trick, I'll need a volunteer from the audience."

A brief pause, and Rich scanned his audience for anyone even remotely making eye contact. There was a lack of reaction, before, thankfully, a nervous hand was raised. It was Ciel. Rich broke into a smile. "Ciel, Ciel, perfect, perfect, come up on stage if you will, darling."

When Ciel had joined Rich on stage, he kept shuffling his cards as he spoke. "For this trick, Ciel is going to pick a card. Don't tell me what it is! Just take a look, maybe show it to the audience."

Ciel quietly did as instructed, as Rich splayed the deck face-down, and she picked a card. She held it up- ace of spades- and replaced it in the deck. Rich snappily began to shuffle cards again, taking a few steps away, and turned to face his audience.

Wordlessly, he stood there a few seconds, head bent low, deck of cards in one hand... when suddenly and without warning he flung them up high in the air. Cards flew and scattered, all over the stage and all over the audience, fluttering down and showering Rich. But amongst the blur, Rich's hand seemed to shoot out and nab something, and as all the cards fell to the floor, he held up one card for all to see with a sparkling grin on his face.

"Is THIS your card?!" He exclaimed, wheeling to show it to Ciel, who had luckily not borne the brunt of most of the raining cards. She scrunched up her nose slightly, placing a hand on her dizzy head. "Ah... no, Rich. That one's not my card." She seemed... slightly disappointed. Rich's face fell, looking at the card.

"Wh... What?" He frowned, and looked between Ciel, his card, and the audience. "That... no, are you sure? I'm sure I did that right. I thought..."

He trailed off, looking at Ciel with real embarrassment. His opportunity to show off, and he blew it. He walked back to Ciel quietly, looking at the floor, and there was a few seconds silence before he spoke again.

"... Ciel, dear, would you do me the favour of checking your pocket?"

Ciel hesitated a moment, and searched her pockets. She blinked. Trying not to bring the rest of the contents of her pockets with it, she removed and held up a folded card. "I- uh-" She unfolded it, looked at it, and held it to the audience. Ace of spades. "Y... Yeah. That one's the card. How did you, uh...?"

Rich gave a coy smile and dipped away, giving a sweeping bow to his audience and taking off his hat. "Magic! Thank you all very much! And thank you, Ciel. You can keep the card if you want to, it's for you. Thank you, thank you, thank you all very much."

Ciel stepped off stage, and Rich kicked some of the cards onto the audience as he went to leave too. "As much as people love it, the staff hate me doing that trick on cruises. Big mess. I hope someone else cleans this stuff up." He didn't leave the way he came, instead jumping off the front of the stage and landing like Tarzan with an "Oof". His performance ended as quickly as it began.

The Assistant was the one to pop on stage next. 

“Welcome Gamers to my lets play of Despairs Darkest Days by MINGHUA Games. I told miss pigtails to prepare something, buuuuut I guess my  request was fallen on deaf ears. Im not very happy, but that’s ok! I Managed to get this game off of the internet and we’re gonna play it now! Isn’t that cool!

After about 20 minutes of just watching the assistant brutally mash on an Xbox Controller, despite the fact that this was a PC Game, he finally threw it away.

“Damn thing is too hard for me! Ah well, that’s all the time I have for me! So, Seeya!”

Candela approaches the stage with a solid confidence previously unseen by the other contenders. While the others may have been determined in their talents, she exhibited a demeanor of general apathy, as if this was simply a trip to the grocery store.

She steps onstage and takes a seat in a chair, legs crossed, hands connected politely. And then she states.

"Audience, go ahead, please, I will answer any question in my power that you would like to know."

Candela notices only a few people raise their hands in excitement at the premise of having more knowledge. She's slightly glad some here are active in the legendary pursuit.

Mi asks: "HEY ONEE-CHAN DO BEES EVER TRY TO NEST IN YOUR HAIR"

"That's...an unfortunate yes. I was home to quite a few on a recent venture to an archaeological dig in South America.

"Ko asks: "Is it possible to do sleight of hand in zero gravity?"

Candela answers without hesitation. "On December 2009, Oleg Kotav, Timothy Creamer, and Soichi Noguchi took to the International Space Station to become a part of the official crew. Oleg took it upon himself to bring playing cards, and it has been claimed he used the function of his uniform in conjunction with the situation of the gravity to transfer cards through his sleeves while seemingly giving away no tells."

Lastly, Kuukai slightly raises his hand. He asks: "How can a large corporation even do something like this without anybody knowing?"

And Candela smirks slightly, answering. "Well, isn't the answer simple? Nanotransen is the perpetrator of this usurpation. This must have been the intention of them from the start. I had suspected such a thing, and further submit the evidence that none of us actually know how to operate a space station. In conclusion, this company is entirely responsible for this twisted game. Now, the reason why? That hasn't been asked."

And with that, she gets up...and walks off stage.

Toki hopped on stage, somewhat easily despite the fact she was holding....was that a sword?! The fuck?!

She stood on stage, footing on proper stance for a ballerina whilst hoisting up the weapon like it was a newly born Simba, proclaiming,

"Aight, be warned, don't try this at home!"

And oh dear jesus. She opened her mouth and, like the world's daintiest sword swallower, she slid the whole thing down her throat. Once enough to grab it was left poking out of her mouth, she waved her hands fluidly before taking it all back out again. Ending with a polite curtsy, Toki hopped off stage.

If you had been paying attention, you would notice that there was one final act left. The act of the SHSL Marksman Dexter Quinn. As you were waiting, you saw Kitao go up on stage and put a fresh apple on a small raised podium, before going to the back and starting to turn all the lights off. It seems like he had opted to use Kitao as his stage assistant instead of the one who made it his entire Namesake. After a couple seconds of anticipation in the pitch blackness, a single spotlight shined down onto the stage; with Dexter Quinn right in the center of it. He had his cape folded into himself, before extending his arm and throwing it all out in a rather cool and dramatic manner.

"Welcome all, to the final act of tonight! Any good theater knows to save the best performance for last, and certainly tonight, we are going to deliver!"

Dexter seemed like he threw his arm out too far, as he had to regain his balance after throwing it. Never the less, he managed to regain his composure.

"*Ahem. Notice! A common apple in vertical distance. Now, prepare to be amazed as I pierce it with... with... With this arrow! Without even aiming directly at it! Yes... I know its impossible, you might say... but we've all been given talents for a reason! So Let me Ahem* L-Let me showcase that notion now!"

Dexter didn't seem to be feeling all too well from the looks of it, but, none of you were from the motive. In fact, you were all getting rather scarred by it. You silently hoped that someone would kill someone soon to end this madness. Dexter proceeds to turn to the audience, before pointing towards the top of the door to the restaurant. He pulls back the blue compound bow that he has, eyes up the rest of the room for a couple seconds, and then fires!

You all started to shout as the arrow began to ricochet around the room. Especially after firing, one might notice that Dexter's face seemed to get especially pale, much more than it already was.

"W-Wait! That's not-!"

And before you realized what had happened, the spotlight above Dexter had went out, leaving you all in the pitch black darkness. Almost Immediately after it had went out, you all heard a sickening crash, before the sound of something hitting the floor. You all started to audibly panic, getting up from your seats and trying to find another way to get the lights back on. Eventually, from the back, Kitao had managed to turn on the rest of the lights, only to reveal...

...

...

...

...

...

Ding Dong Ding Dong! 

"Attention Crew! A Dead Body Has been discovered on the Stage of the Station Restaurant."

...The dead body of the SHSL Marksman, Dexter Quinn, slumped over the side of the stage.

It only took a couple seconds before the screams began. Some of you ran out of the room, while others ran up to the stage to try and help Dexter, a futile venture. You all heard the announcement, and that could only mean one thing.

"Wow! Congrats! One of you sure did a number on That weird Poser over there. Good riddance too. Now then, In a couple hours, we will hold a Crew Trial. Ill send the Case File to your PDA's right away, so you better get moving, before I get bored!"

So it was real. Someone had actually ended the life of Dexter Quinn. You didn't want to believe it, but there was no denying it now. Once again, you were going to have to uncover the murderer's heinous plot.

[therunningpa]

New job & night shift novella

So I’ve been at a new job the past 6 weeks. I’m still a hospitalist, but I’ve moved to night shift. It’s a long story for another time, but basically I was getting burned out and it was either change shifts or move to a different department altogether. Because I love IM so much I am desperately clinging to it for the time being. In my current role, I only do new admissions and consults.

Since I only post now, like, once a year I figured I might as well write a nice long story for you guys! Because also, when have I kept things short, ever?

So, here you go, a narrative of my day (night?).

I leave my house, clutching my tote of Campbell’s Double Noodle soup cans, rice crackers, and Gatorade. I kiss my husband, tell him I love him, and remind him to please finish cleaning the kitchen for me. He needs a lot of reminding. I need a lot of therapy. We’ve had a lot of therapy. It’s been a year sober for him and the anniversary has been hard, bringing back the guilt big time. It’s been more down days than usual the past month and as I leave the house I can only hope I won’t get any liver patients or alcoholics tonight.

I pull in to the hospital, badge in through various doors, end up in the office. The day shift is coming to a close. “Hey!” my coworkers greet me, “Feeling better?”

“Tons! Not a hundred percent but good enough for active duty.”

My terrible med seeking external ED dump patient from earlier this week had given me her norovirus. I’d spent the previous night out sick, puking and near-syncopizing. (FYI- use the bleach wipes next time!!)

I check in with the three physicians I’m working with that night. One, a seasoned night shifter, a quiet man I dub “The Machine” because of his deftness and ease at admitting patients. One, a seasoned nocturnist, another quiet and confident man who could run a thousand codes without screaming “fuck!” not even once. The third, an exceedingly nice new residency graduate who recently started with us and is probably reconsidering the job after his first week on nights. They have a lot of patients coming from outlying facilities, but no one arrived yet.

I sit around for an hour and a half, check emails, clear my inbox of the previous day’s results and check up on a few of those patients, eat a cup of noodles, rub my belly, think about how I shouldn’t have had coffee, then, all at once, I have 3 admissions I’m called to see. Yes, it’s true, they really all do come at once.

I triage them, and go see first an unfortunate lady who is bleeding and clotting. Or rather, likely to bleed. She has a genetic disorder predisposing her to clots and bleeding, and has come in with chest pain. The chest CT showed a pulmonary embolism, one in each lung. I’d hoped they’d be subsegmental, but they weren’t. I meet with her, spend a long time talking. I tell her I’ll call the hematologist and get back to her. I put out a page.

I jump up to the orthopedics floor to see my next patient, a 73 year old lady with COPD and osteoporosis who fell down the stairs at home and probably broke her sacrum. She’s straightforward enough, other than saying she’s intolerant to everything IV opioid except fentanyl. Which she’s not going to get outside of the ED. I write for oxycodone and IV ketorolac and pray her pending labs show normal renal function.

The hematologist pages me while I’m writing patient 2′s note. He recommends a heparin drip, so it can be turned off quickly if patient 1 starts to bleed. He also says he has no idea what to do with her after that, as far as a long term plan. I text my attending and let him know the plan for tonight. While I’m finishing my note, he texts me back an SOS that patient 1 is refusing heparin because she’s afraid of bleeding.

I go back to the ED, I print out UpToDate, visit the poor lady with the PEs again. I talk about risks and benefits, types of heparin. She has some cognitive impairments from a stroke, but she gets it enough that she has capacity. She still declines the heparin, wants us to “watch her” overnight in the hospital though. I check in with bed control, ask for an IMCU bed since she’s refusing blood thinners, and am told there are no ICU beds left. She’ll have to go to the regular floor.

My third patient is a prisoner with history of peptic ulcers and GI bleed coming in with worsening anemia. Actually, he never shows up from the outside hospital because of some officer conflict. His name gets handed off to the next shift.

Fourth patient shows up in the IMCU, from an outside hospital. The notes he comes with are scanty. Acute on chronic hyponatremia, ?dementia. Hypotensive. Weak. I hope he can give me some history. When I walk in he tells me he’s in a hotel in a different state and doesn’t remember how he got here. He denies any symptoms or concerns. It’s 11 pm, but I dial his elderly wife and bless her, she’s up, and gives me the full scoop. He ends up with a slew of labs, head CT, cardiac echocardiogram.

Fifth patient was not supposed to be admitted. Just discharged 2 days ago with COPD flare, end stage COPD on home oxygen. I read the ED notes in the chart, indicating the family demanded the patient be admitted because they are unhappy and that we are being investigated for discharging her too soon, or was it the nursing home was being investigated for not taking care of her the past 2 days? Or both? The discharge summary from my PA colleague indicates the patient refused hospice the last stay. Awww nawwww. I go and see her. It’s late and at least that means the angry family has gone away. I sit with the patient, she’s very anxious, I’ve taken care of her before. I listen for a long time, answer questions, sometimes the same question over and over. She eventually admits her memory ain’t so good anymore. She then marvels “you’ve asked me more questions than anyone else has today”. I hope that’s a good thing. I go through her extensive workup and again conclude that “I am so sorry, but what you have is not fixable. I think we need to focus on trying to get your symptoms better, but we can’t cure you”. She agrees to at least have a palliative care consult. She grumbles about her bad nursing home experience and says her family called to have the bed held for the following day. I waggle my eyebrows at her “You know, if you don’t hold the bed they’ll give it up and then you’ll have to be here through the weekend and then we can see if your preferred nursing home has a spot now, But, you didn’t hear that from me!” She beams. Somewhere, a social worker has rolled over in their grave and pledges to haunt me in my dreams tonight.

I run up to my office again and eat some more noodles, drink Gatorade, rub my gastroparetic-feeling tummy, and finish up my notes just as one of the physicians strides in with a cardiology consult for a patient who just had a STEMI, now in the coronary ICU. They were found to have multivessel coronary artery disease, received a stent. “Should be easy” he says, “Cardiology has done everything!”.

Except, they haven’t. Patient is from outside our system. Needs an entire medical record update. I also notice his blood sugar is > 300 and there’s no insulin ordered. I add “Type 2 Diabetes” to his problem list. I go in and see him, expecting him to be asleep at 1:30 in the morning, but he is wide awake and surrounded by family. He’s a good soul, we have a long talk about diabetes. His wife has a lot of cardiac questions and try to answer as able. His nurse pops in. “His blood pressure is greater than 150 and they want him under that post cath. There’s no medications ordered”. I step out, sigh. Honestly, I have no idea what cardiology does or does not want for an antihypertensive in their post cath patient. I have a sneaking suspicion it also varies widely by the cardiologist. I wish they would order this shit on their people already. I’m just here for the diabeet-us. Gah! 

“What do they usually do for the post cath protocol?” I wonder out loud.

“How about some PO metropolol?” a nurse asks.

I make a face “Really? They do that?”

The nurse looks horrified “Um, yeah, all MIs should be getting that!”

I shake my head “No, I know that, that’s not what I meant, I just mean it’s not going to act rapidly and it’s not going to do much, I mean maybe IV metoprolol but-”

She looks further horrified “No, they never do IV!”

I wanted to say “but I would never give that”, finishing my thought, but instead I shrug and give up. “I’ll ask the attending.” 

I don’t work in the ICUs that often, and I especially don’t know the night crew being new at this job. It’s true what they say, sometimes you need to earn your stripes with some ICU staff, especially if you’re a PA. Also, goddammit cardiology, order your antihypertensives! And beta blockers! And statins! (Also, I love you my cardiology people out there, please don’t take my 2 AM thoughts too seriously to heart, ok?)

I trudge back to my office, finish writing notes and checking labs and imaging that have come back. The demented hyponatremic guy does not have a brain bleed. The COPD flare bounce back has a normal procalcitonin. The untreated PE has normal blood pressures. Broken sacrum indeed does have normal renal function. I order new labs for the day crew. I report out to my docs. Around 3:30 AM I hang up my coat, collect my soup and Gatorade cans to recycle, and stumble out the cold wintry parking garage. I cast a few glances, good, no creepers trolling about, get in my car, and drive home.

I drive through the industrial part of the city and through spotlights and fog I see that the operations are already going at this ungodly hour. Backstreet Boys is playing on the radio. I pull into the back alley outside my house. I tentatively feel my way through the backyard, trying not to fall on my ass on the ice over our sidewalk, like I did the other night. I slip inside, and am completely delighted to see that not only has the kitchen been cleaned but there’s a loaf of homemade banana bread sitting out, steaming a little still. I hear a soft pitter-patter and my puppy steals down the stairwell to greet me. She wiggles from head to toe and jumps on me, playfully stealing my lanyard of keys and running away, shaking them. I took her home one day from a rescue this past summer, pretty much against my husband’s will, and I secretly believe she at least 75% the reason his depression lifted. He now agrees. I let her out to pee, then tread upstairs and wash my face and put on my pajamas, kiss my sleeping husband. I’m too wired to sleep though, maybe because I spent the last day and a half sleeping off the norovirus, so I go back downstairs, eat some banana bread, and start to write.