#your ocs and mcs always have this soft fierceness about that that i kinda love

[lilyoffandoms]

Jordyn Heart for @rosesnink

I’m still taking requests for this sort of sketchy thing (doesn’t have to be Choices). Find more info here.

My Art Ish Thing Tag (Choices Edition): @storyofmychoices @aallotarenunelma @twinkleallnight @thosehallowedhalls @dutifullynuttywitch

[rulesofthebeneath]

how bout a dance: part 1

<AN> Ok... so this is the Bullshit. It’s a bit of a departure from what I normally write, but I had this idea and it kinda got stuck in my head, and with the help of @euphonyinestetica and @ajaysbhandari it kinda came to life. It’s basically a post-college ajay x mc au, where basically they broke up when he went to college and now, well... you’ll have to read to find out. I’m really excited to share this all with you guys. Projecting a total of 13 parts, major OC usage. Please please let me know what you think, Feedback is Life. Crediting: @euphonyinestetica as cowriter and fierce editor. Tagging: @pixelburied, @witchiegirl, @lilmissperfectlyimperfect, @anlashokk, @itsbrindleybinch. I hope y’all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! </AN>

The cold March wind blew Grace’s hair across her face, temporarily blinding her. She sighed with thinly veiled exasperation and reached up to fumble it into a messy ponytail with numb fingers. She hitched her scarf up to cover her exposed neck and buried her nose into it, trying to shield herself from the cold. Continuing along 43rd Street, her chapped hands made their way back into her coat pockets. She cursed her Brooklyn apartment for being so far away, she cursed the six hours she’d already spent on her feet waitressing that day, and she cursed the entire state of New York for being so damn cold.

She finally reached the theatre, a tiny thing nestled between shops and restaurants on the upper west side, and silently slipped inside the stage door. It was still thirty minutes before rehearsal was supposed to start, but Grace took the saying “early is on time, on time is late, late is fired” to heart and didn’t want to leave anything to chance. She reached the stage and set her things down in a chair. Then, she went off in search of a bathroom so she could change into her dance clothes.

A few minutes later, she was back onstage and a few of the other actors were there, along with the director, Charlie. Charlie was a man nearing his sixties with an impressive head of hair that he insisted was real. From the two rehearsals they’d had so far—the table read and the first sing-through—Grace gathered that he was the gentle kind of man, a rare find in New York City. He tended towards the eccentric in his creative decisions, but Grace had had worse directors. She was interested to see how he would direct this musical. She shot him a smile in greeting—he was in the middle of a conversation with their producer—and then sat down near a group of the other actors to start stretching.

The musical she’d been cast in was Bonnie & Clyde, and Grace had never been more excited to be in a show. Well, maybe she had been more excited for her first show ever back in high school, but this was the first time she was the lead in a paying production. It didn’t pay much, granted, but that was what her day job (and Actor’s Equity) was for. She was in theatre for the passion, the heart, the excitement, and she was very eager to see what doors this would open for her. Grace had heard of people getting discovered in even less prestigious theatres.

A guy not much older than her, Kevin, played Clyde. He plopped himself down beside Grace and offered her a fist bump.

“Your hair looks messed up,” he said by way of a greeting. “It’s hella windy out there.”

Grace rolled her eyes but paused her stretching to attempt to pull her hair into a reasonable braid.

“Better?”

“Much,” he grinned at her. “How was the pub?”

“Same as always. Full of rude people. How was the drugstore?”

“About the same.” He sighed. “I can’t wait until tech week… Like yeah, all the ten of twelves will be hell but it’s a more pleasant hell than eight hours at the cash register.”

“Retweet,” Grace said absently. Her eyes followed the director as he climbed up on stage, having just ended his conversation. He was flanked by the stage manager and the producer, a middle-aged lady that Grace hadn’t met before but had seen watching the first read-through. She didn’t think it was normal for the producer to come to so many rehearsals, but she knew she was hardly an expert. Charlie clapped his hands once to draw the attention of all the actors and everyone’s attention turned to him.

“Actors,” he said in his booming voice. “I have an announcement. Last night, I was offered a job directing an off-Broadway production. I have loved the work that we’ve done in our short time here, but I have to do what’s best for my career. So I’m sorry to say that I will be leaving you, effective immediately.”

In the pause where he took a breath, Kevin muttered a shell-shocked “what the fuck” from beside her. Grace didn’t really know what to think. Her mind had gone blank, save for one phrase that she couldn’t stop repeating: failure. The first production that she was a lead in was now officially a failure. She shook her head as she realized that she was going to have to start the nerve-wracking audition process all over again, the processes that gave her twenty rejections before one measly job. The best job opportunity of her life so far: a failure.

The other actors had broken out into mutters too, all of them looking as shocked as Grace felt. A voice from the back spoke up above the noise and all eyes fell on her, a woman that Grace vaguely recalled as playing Blanche, as she stood up.

“So the show’s just done then?” she asked, her voice trembling but still somehow managing an accusatory tone. “After everything we’ve done?”

The director’s eyes widened. “No, no, of course not!” he stuttered, his hands flying up in front of his chest, taking a few steps back. “I’ve arranged for Annette Keiser,” he indicated the stressed producer, “to conduct interviews for a new director as quickly as possible. In fact, I believe her first appointment is in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, yes. We’ll have a new director by Monday, I promise you that you won’t be out of work. I know of a few promising young directors that are interested in the show that I’ve contacted since last night. I’ll make sure that we only get the best.” Annette announced in a strained voice, giving away how stressed the normally bubbly woman was. “Now, I have to go prepare for my first appointment. Everyone is dismissed until Monday.” With that, she and Charlie walked off the stage in opposite directions. The stage manager nodded at the group of actors for whom the shock still hadn’t worn off, then scurried off stage to inform the techs of the new development. The actress that played Blanche walked over to Grace and Kevin, both of whom were still sitting on the floor mid-stretch.

“Well, that was a surprise twist,” she said in a soft, lilting southern accent.

“No shit, Rosa,” Kevin chuckled, causing Grace to smile. He got up and started brushing off his pants. “Hopefully I’ll see you on Monday, Grace. You too, Rosa,” he said, then sauntered off the stage.

Rosa rolled her eyes in his direction, also biting back a laugh. She stuck out a hand to help Grace up. After a beat Grace took it, smiling.

“So I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink,” Rosa said. Her words broke a little of the worry in Grace’s heart, and she started to giggle.

“Where do you live? There’s a good pub in Brooklyn, does a nice fish and chips and an even better whiskey.”

“Ooh, fish and chips does seem like it would hit the spot. Whiskey too. I live in Brooklyn, so it sounds alright to me.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Neither stopped to change out of their dance clothes, but just bundled back up and threw their bags over their shoulders, and both recoiled as soon as the cold wind hit their faces.

“Ugh. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Rosa complained. “The place I’m from, it never snows. The summer heat’s brutal, though.”

“Oh, where are you from?”

“Texas,” she answered in an exaggerated accent. “Real southern belle right here.”

“Damn,” Grace replied. “You’ll have to help me perfect my accent. This whole musical takes place there.”

“If there is a musical anymore,” Rosa rolled her eyes. “But anyways, enough about that. Where are you from?”

“Oregon,” Grace sighed. “But I went to southern California for college, so I’m not quite used to this cold either.”

“Oregon, huh? Farm girl?”

“Small town girl.” She hummed a couple bars of “Don’t Stop Believin’”, making Rosa laugh. “My parents own a diner. I think everyone was surprised when both me and my twin brother ditched Oregon for LA. We both went to USC, and he plays for the Chargers now. I guess in comparison I’m the underachiever,” she joked, trying to laugh off the accidental reveal of too much information. Rosa, bless her, smoothly ignored it and changed the subject.

“So your family’s all over the place, huh? Everyone I know is still in San Antonio. We’re all either there or Mexico, but I haven’t seen my Mexican family in a long time.”

Grace hummed in sympathy. “My twin and I were adopted. It was a closed adoption, so I still have no idea who my birth parents are, other than that they were Thai. My adoptive parents—my real parents—don’t have good relationships with their parents so I don’t have much extended family. Our family was basically the whole town.”

After a few steps in silence, Rosa spoke up again. “Well, I bet that soon enough both you and your brother will be big stars.”

“Aw, Rosa.”

“No, seriously though. You’re an amazing singer, I heard you during the first sing-through. I thought, damn, how does such a big voice come from such a little person?”

“I’m not that small!” Grace protested. Rosa just laughed from a height six inches taller than Grace. Grace adjusted her bag on her shoulder, accidentally hitting a passerby in the shoulder.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” She whipped her head around to apologize to him, tucking her bag closer to her. She'd only lived in New York City for a few months, and hadn't yet succumbed to the rudeness the people of the city were so known for.

“That’s okay!” he shouted over his shoulder, not even looking back. He must have been in a hurry. But when he turned his head, Grace thought the recognized him. The black mop of hair, the tortoiseshell glasses, the crooked grin that she’d barely caught before he turned away. She stopped in her tracks, dodging pedestrians to try and get a better look at the retreating man.

Rosa noticed Grace had stopped and walked back over.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” Grace started breathlessly. “I just... thought I saw someone I knew.”

Rosa raised an eyebrow.

“It probably wasn’t him. I haven’t seen him in, God, seven years? Yeah, no way that was him.”

“Is there a story there?” Rosa asked.

Grace’s face flushed a bit. “There is, but… you’ll have to buy me a few drinks first.”

“Hell, I’m not made of money,” Rosa laughed. “I live in a shoebox for 1300 a month, if I could buy you more than one drink I would.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll tell you later, it’s not anything too interesting.”

“Whatever you say.”

The two finally reached the Brooklyn pub after a long subway ride that was a welcome reprieve from the cold. The inside of the pub was warm with soft yellow lighting. It was clear that it was more of a hole-in-the-wall than anything classy, but they both were more comfortable with the casual setting. They both sat at the bar and the bartender made a beeline over.

“Hey, Grace! Back so soon?” he teased. Grace rolled her eyes.

“Just looking for some food and some drinks for my friend and me. Our director left the production, so we might be out of a job soon.”

Rosa swatted her. “Don’t say that! It’s bad luck.”

Grace turned to her in surprise. “You were saying the same thing not even an hour ago!”

“I’m trying to be optimistic!” Rosa retorted, making them both laugh. Grace turned back to the bartender.

“Aaron, do you know if anyone has a shift this weekend that needs to be picked up? I didn’t get scheduled at all.”

“We’re closing for a renovation this weekend, remember? Getting new wallpaper.”

Grace wrinkled her nose as she looked around at the peeling wallpaper, completely torn off in some places and horribly stained in others. “Good, we need it. But that just means I’ll starve this weekend.”

“Better eat hearty tonight, then. Employee discount, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Grace brightened up. “Two Old Fashioneds, then, and two plates of fish and chips.”

“Comin’ right up,” Aaron said as he turned to grab bottles off the shelves. Rosa turned to Grace.

“So, spill. Who was that guy on the street?”

“It probably wasn’t even him,” Grace deflected.

“Well, who did you think he was?”

Grace let out a long sigh. “That guy just… looked a lot like my high school ex. That’s all.”

“Oh, so what’s the story there? Messy breakup? Lots of drama?” Rosa rested her chin on her hands, eager for the story.

“Ugh, no, not at all. He was two years older than me, so we broke up when he went to college. He went to NYU, so we decided long-distance wasn’t really an option. It sucked a lot because we were together for almost a year and a half, but there’s no bad blood between us or anything. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, so I was just surprised. But that probably wasn’t even him. A lot of guys these days like the glasses and blazers-with-jeans look.”

“Hmm,” Rosa hummed, a little disappointed. “Wouldn’t that be weird if it was him, though?”

“Yeah, really though,” Grace laughed. “Honestly, I’m not really sure what he’s up to nowadays. We don’t really talk, and he’s not too active on social media. Whoever that man was, he just gave me a serious blast from the past.”

Aaron set their drinks down, and they both smiled gratefully before picking up their glasses and clinking them together.

“To the new director,” Rosa suggested.

“To the new director!” Grace responded. “Whoever they are, they’ll have a hell of a job.”