harryzhangs

[harryzhangs]

( FLASHBACK! )

DATE & TIME: november 26, 2019 :) a lil after 3am :) LOCATION: u know where :) AVAILABILITY: taken @bxstvrd​

there was no getting around it, harry zhang was drunk.

to be honest, it was shocking she wasn’t even more drunk, with the fact that closing night had been followed by what were probably the strangest vibes she’d ever felt at a show afterparty. first there was that weird fight between chandler and grace back at the castle-- harry had only glimpsed it from a distance and didn’t overhear much, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen her roommate look that upset. then orson and mads seemed to have fought, but harry had no clue why, as she was making it a point to avoid mads as much as possible these days. then, her peers kept disappearing throughout the night. she hadn’t seen grace since the official party, mathias and josie snuck off earlier only for harry to catch them acting weird as fuck later on, then hudson and teddy left too, and jesus, where the hell was orson? this was his house, after all, and he’d been m.i.a. for an hour now.

these were all oddities harry would’ve been far more concerned with if she’d been sober, but instead she stretched out across the white carpet of orson’s living room, waving up at jonah. “get down here with me, the room looks dope from this angle,” harry called at him over the music that played on despite the lack of any remaining party. the last people to leave had been jason and saffi a few minutes ago, and harry knew she and jonah should’ve followed them, but she wanted to delay getting back to the castle just a bit longer. harry was still riding that post-performance high, and she was going to get full mileage out of it. after all, they didn’t have many of these left until they’d be graduating from alderidge.

“i know i swore off having anything to do with her anymore, but i’m pretty sure mads and i are gonna have sex soon,” harry sighed out of the blue. “probably a super bad idea, right?”

#me: i could do a couple flashback threads! #me immediately: #dlfskjkdlg also im sorry i made this long i rly am #( interactions. ) #( ft. the villain )

[harryzhangs]

the comic, the villain, the supporting role

THE COMIC: what's the most ridiculous thing you actually attempted thinking it would work?

“Trying to win a street race against Victor Caprioli with my own car. I mean, you’ve seen that thing, right? And Victor drove a fucking porsche.”

THE VILLAIN: what do you wish you could take back? how would you fix it if you could?

“Everything from the night Orson died. Just all of it. I’d keep my emotions in fucking check and not encourage a vengeful rampage. But it happened, it is what it is.”

THE SUPPORTING ROLE: how do you deal with betrayal?

answered

#Anonymous #( ask meme. ) #and here we have a rare glimpse into harry's absolutely insane private escapades

[harryzhangs]

leading man, temptress, & understudy

THE LEADING MAN: if you could play anyone in any form of media, who would it be and why?

“beatrice in much ado. i don’t know, i’m just drawn to those kinds of outspoken heroine roles. and much ado was the first of the comedies that i ever read, so i’ve got a soft spot for it. i know the shakespeare choice is predictable, but if my dream role isn’t shakespeare, then i’m at the wrong college.”

THE TEMPTRESS: what trait are you most proud of?

“i’m a good fucking actor. like, i know i am. but i don’t feel a need to take up the spotlight, really. i thrive just as well when attention isn’t on me-- which, let’s be honest, is most of the time-- as when it is.”

THE UNDERSTUDY: who are you most envious of—real or fictional—and why?

“i was super jealous of the american twin from the parent trap who got to live in that amazing mansion in napa where her dad owned a fucking vineyard. i still want that life. i’m not sure who else i can say here, since i don’t really get jealous in real life-- that’s just not my thing.”

#juliansbennet #( ask meme. )

[harryzhangs]

saffijackson​:

Saffi looked Harry up and down, weighing a few things in her head. It was well known that the suspicion was that whoever spray painted the building either killed Orson or was working with whoever did. However, Saffi couldn’t see Harry as a murderer. Sure, every true crime documentary had serial killers neighbors all saying He was so normal! I never suspected! But then those documentaries usually went on to describe all the ways the man in question was absolutely, very obviously not normal. Saffi didn’t know Harry that well, but she seemed normal. At least, as normal as anyone else at Alderidge, which was a pretty low bar.

So, they believed she didn’t kill him. But did she believe that Harry even did what she was claiming? She didn’t seem like the kind of person who would do all of that but then again, maybe there was a side of Harry people didn’t see. An interesting side… 

They relaxed their shoulders and softened their face, not letting their guard completely down but showing that they weren’t angry either. “Okay,” they said. “Okay. I… I believe you. Due in no small part to the fact that my finger prints are now on this can and if someone turned this in we could both be fucked.” That was mostly a joke, but also partially a valid concern. “What do we… do with this?”

.

The tension in Harry’s body started to dissipate as she noticed Saffi relax, indicating that thankfully, Harry had been convincing. She didn’t entirely trust Saffi, but now it seemed like she’d have to. And that was still the best-case scenario. To their credit, they didn’t seem the type to go against their word to someone-- and they were right, if they turned Harry in, there’d surely be questions for Saffi as well now. Harry wondered, absently, if Saffi’s concern meant she had more to hide. But that was a question to ponder some other time.

“I’ll just throw it out. Leave it in the bag so it doesn’t catch anyone’s eye. That’s what I meant to do in the first place, I just never got around to it.” Harry replied quickly. She didn’t offer an explanation as to why she hadn’t just done that before, mostly because Harry wasn’t entirely sure of the reason herself-- was she in denial over how much trouble she’d be in if this actually got out? Compared to the other crime that had been committed that night, this felt like nothing... but still, it was serious destruction of private property. Could be deserving of jail time. Not exactly something to fuck around with.

“To be clear,” Harry pried gently, lowering her voice so reduce the risk of being overheard through the Castle’s paper-thin walls. “Does that mean you won’t tell anyone about this?”

#( interactions. ) #( ft. the statue )

[harryzhangs]

THE SUPPORTING ROLE

THE SUPPORTING ROLE: how do you deal with betrayal?

“definitely not well. it’s happened to me enough times, coming from people i trusted, that i just throw up my defenses and lash out at this point. i don’t really know how to let things go. i mean, i stopped talking to my best friend from high school. i still act like i hate josie more than two years later, even though i don’t, because my grudges don’t go away. but i think it’s my right to do that when someone hurts me so fucking badly, isn’t it?”

#joseqhine #she would NOT give this honest of an answer but for the sake of the meme.... #( ask meme. )

[harryzhangs]

ensemble ask meme.

THE CHAMELEON: ever done something without your parents finding out?

THE COMIC: what's the most ridiculous thing you actually attempted thinking it would work?

THE INGÉNUE: what’s something you wish would happen, but know won’t?

THE JUVENILE: do you have a favorite poem? poet?

THE LEADING LADY: how far have you gone to get ahead? would you go farther?

THE LEADING MAN: if you could play anyone in any form of media, who would it be and why?

THE SCENE STEALER: what traditions or rituals or mantras have you created for yourself?

THE STATUE: do you prefer to blend in or stand out?

THE STUNTMAN: are you an optimist? why or why not?

THE SUPPORTING ROLE: how do you deal with betrayal?

THE TEMPTRESS: what trait are you most proud of?

THE TOMBOY: what is your biggest regret? would you change anything if you could?

THE UNDERSTUDY: who are you most envious of—real or fictional—and why?

THE UTILITY: do you usually instigate arguments or do you try to diffuse them? which would you prefer?

THE VILLAIN: what do you wish you could take back? how would you fix it if you could?

#ok lets fuckin. lets do this #( ask meme. )

[harryzhangs]

bxstvrd​:

DATE & TIME: i cant tell time im gay LOCATION: The Woods AVAILABILITY: Taken @harryzhangs​

“Okay, that one definitely looks like a dolphin.” Jonah pointed at a cloud above their heads, thick and grey, probably a sign of an encroaching storm, but for now, it was just a fun game. “See,” he said, indicating the slight curve that could be a fin. “And there’s the tail.”

He rested his head back on his hands, arms spread eagled, letting himself enjoy this crisp winter day before it turned into a frigid winter night. After a moment, he glanced over at Harry, elbowing her in playful annoyance. “Stop sexting your girlfriend, Harold. This is deeply important and requires your immediate attention.”

.

“Why are your shapes always so wholesome, I just keep seeing dicks and headless babies,” Harry replied with a glance at where Jonah pointed, attention flickering back and forth from her phone. She was a bit torn on how she felt about this retreat-- she did like the outdoors, particularly activities like this, but did they have to do it in the dead of February?

“I’m texting my dad. Don’t be fucking gross,” she rolled her eyes at Jonah, but smiled all the same and shoved her phone into her coat pocket. “But speaking of sexy stuff and my girlfriend, I’m going to be leaving you in our tent tonight, just so you know. I’m due for a grand romantic gesture.” Harry turned her gaze toward the sky and pointed. “That one looks like a foot.”

#( interactions. ) #( ft. the villain ) #ensembleevent

[harryzhangs]

teddynewell​:

“oh, fancy.” teddy squeals and then he makes his way over to the cabinet by the fridge. this wouldn’t be the first, and certainly not the last time he steals food from his peers. but teddy likes to think that he makes up for it in other ways. for starters, he always brings alcohol and “treats” for everyone whenever they have parties. taking the small white package, teddy takes a seat by the small kitchen table. he stiffens slightly at harry’s question. he really doesn’t want to lie to her but it’s not like he can tell her the truth either. so he goes for a middle ground instead. “i had a nightmare. and it was horrid, so please don’t make fun of me,” he replies with a pout. “what about you?”

with the kettle warming, harry takes a seat at the kitchen table pushed against the opposite wall, drawing one knee up below her chin. “can’t make fun of you if i don’t know what the nightmare was,” she points out jokingly. “otherwise it’s not fun teasing, it’s just bullying.” harry offers a slight smile, not pressing for the contents of the dream-- she can guess it must’ve been bad if teddy needed to leave his bed and walk around the house to shake it off. his returning of the question makes her pause; she already gave him the answer about grace’s snoring, which is a lie, of course, but harry’s never been someone who was easy to see through. for most people, anyway. “no nightmares here, the snoring’s just loud sometimes,” she shrugs, sticking to her story. “are you sure you’re okay, teddy?”

#( interactions. ) #( ft. the juvenile )

[harryzhangs]

pvlmer​:

jason let out a little laugh at harry’s teasing. it was a fair comment, since he never really seemed to make many decisions and he always just went with what everyone else wanted. “i aim to please,” he said, his dry humor shining through. “othello is definitely a solid choice. and yeah, i feel that. i’m that way with a lot of like my dream roles – i think about them so much that i get in my head watching other people play them.” although he did watch other people play them, in order to study and learn from their performances, it often made jason feel a little insecure. even though he knew he could play the roles, he would always compare himself to those others, and to everyone else for that matter. jason settled into the couch, and set his eyes on harry’s laptop.

“oh, yeah, it was intense,” jason said. “i mean, i didn’t really tell them much because i didn’t have much to tell them. they did ask who would want to vandalize orson’s home so i said it could be someone, but it could also be anyone because orson certainly got on a lot of people’s bad sides. what about you? was it rough?”

.

her attention was piqued when jason brought up his police interview, specifically when he mentioned saying who could have vandalized orson’s house. harry hadn’t gotten the impression that jason was the sort to name anybody to the police, unless he had good reason... so of course she was curious. particularly because of the fact that one of the people really responsible for the vandalism was sitting right next to him, and if he suspected someone else-- well, harry wanted to know about it. it made her incredibly stressed to think about one of her innocent classmates falling under suspicion because of something she’d actually done, this messy rampage she and jonah had undergone.

“it was fine. intense, like you said, but i didn’t really have anything to tell them either.” she shrugged, gaze remaining on the movie as though this was nothing more consequential than small talk. “you think someone here vandalized his house, though? who do you think? no pressure, obviously-- i’ve just been wracking my brain trying to imagine any of us doing that kind of thing.”

#( interactions. ) #( ft. the utility )

[harryzhangs]

harry grew up in westborough, south san francisco, a middle-class area about a 20-minute drive from san francisco proper. most of her extended family, on the other hand, lives in the richmond district of san francisco, home to the large chinese community in which her dad was raised. he’s the youngest of four, all born in san francisco to immigrants zhang yong and feng mian. her grandparents and relatives still live in ‘the richmond’ or other areas of san francisco-- with the exceptions of the luo family, who reside in nearby oakland, and harry’s cousin dean, who moved to san diego three years ago.

born to roy zhang (roy was married to mindy schwartz and had a son with her before divorcing in 1996. he later married diana zhang [née liem] and had 2 daughters):

dean zhang-schwartz (27, ross butler) - the oldest of the cousins who only shows up in san fran every now and then. no one ever really knows what he’s up to but he’s a chill dude

angela zhang (19, brianne tju) - vegan, only shops in thrift stores, studied abroad in amsterdam last semester and won’t shut up about it

april zhang (16, haley tju) - that one girl who’s super sweet and outgoing and actually deserves her high school popularity. their grandma’s FAVORITE

born to wendy luo (née zhang) & peter luo (yes, they’re peter and wendy, the joke has been made about a billion times and their kids are absolutely exhausted by it):

eric luo (20, brandon soo hoo) - a history major at uc berkeley and harry’s favorite™. that has nothing to do with the fact that they’re both the gay cousins, not at all

jenna luo (15, madison hu) - speaks 5 languages that she mostly taught herself, which would be more impressive to everyone if she wasn’t also a brat

born to philip zhang & heather tan (philip and heather have been living together and raising their kids for 20 years but never got married and have no plans to do so, a fact which has been hotly discussed at many a zhang family gathering):

lilly zhang (17, leah lewis) - starting at alderidge in fall 2020! but she’ll be studying creative writing, not theatre. likes to correct everybody’s grammar to seem smart

mason zhang (12, ian chen) - imagine a 12-year-old boy. yeah.

born to colin zhang & henrietta spaulding (the most tragic love story of our time rip):

henrietta “harry” zhang (22, natasha liu bordizzo) - “the family brain cell,” as eric calls her. best known for never responding in the zhang cousins group chat, and firmly believing mason shouldn’t even have a phone in the first place

#nobody asked for this in the SLIGHTEST not even me #but it happened anyway #( about. ) #( ft. family ) #( headcanons. ) #( edits. )

[harryzhangs]

bxstvrd​:

Jonah stilled, listening to Harry, her injured hand resting, palm up, in his. How could she believe it was her fault? He didn’t understand, couldn’t make sense of it. Because without him, that whole night wouldn’t have happened. Without him, Harry would be safe, insulated from whatever hell was sure to rain down on them when the detectives started looking, really looking, into who had vandalized Orson’s house. All the more reason why they shouldn’t be here, never mind the ghosts that lived in these walls. Never mind that Jonah half hoped, half dreamed, in his drunken delirium, that Orson would come bursting through the door and lecture him and Harry for getting blood on his most expensive carpet.

“It’s not your fault,” he insisted, emphatic, holding her hand in his like something small, delicate, a bird with clipped wings. He was caught in an unsolvable paradox: here he was, filled to the brim with the overwhelming urge to explain to Harry how wrong she was, how much he needed her, how none of this was her fault because it was all his. But the second he told her that, the second he forced her to reconcile how much of this had gone wrong because of him, the second he gave her a real, palpable reason to leave him and never look back. Jonah couldn’t afford to lose any of the people he’d allowed to get close to him and his tiny, fluttering, terrified heart, but Harry… she would be the worst of them all. Something he would never recover from.

He focused his attention to her wounded hand, to cleaning the cut and bandaging it up. That was something he could do, something he’d been rather good at, back on William’s farm, tending to the injured animals. Maybe, if he kept his hands busy, he wouldn’t fucking cry again. “I regret letting Orson mean so much to me. I regret letting him get inside my head and change my reality to fit his purposes. I regret putting so much stock in his praise, and I regret every stupid, miserable, fucked up thing I did to try and get him to love me, the way he loved Mathias, the way he loved Chandler.” That one slipped through his lips, and even he paused, caught off guard, puzzled (to say the least) by what that meant, but he pressed on. “I regret everything I did up until the curtain fell on Troilus and Cressida, but at the end of the day, there’s nothing I can do to change any of it. If I’d known it would land us here, I’d change it all in a heartbeat. But I didn’t know. And we’re still here.”

He took a deep breath, winding gauze around her hand, applying pressure to the wound. He felt surprisingly sober, even though his hands were shaking as he tended to Harry, even though his cheeks were blotchy, and his eyes were red. “What I’m trying to say is… you can’t blame yourself for what happened that night because you’re not the one that got us there. I got did that all on my own, and you, you were just doing the best you could with what you had. With the mess I dumped in your lap and begged you to fix. And you did, Harry, you fixed it. For that one night, everything made sense. It was me and you, imploding together. And that’s what I needed,” he said, glancing up at her.

That’s what was so horrible about it. Harry thought it was her fault for pushing them to that place, but that was exactly what Jonah had needed, that freedom, that release, that frustration expelling from him like toxins leavinIg his body. If all that had happened that night had been petty vandalism and Orson had lived, Jonah would have woken up the next morning feeling more rested than he had in months, despite the hangover, and that was the worst part. “It’s not your fault because you gave me what I needed, and I’m– I’m wrong for even needing it in the first place.” He thought of how angry he’d been that night. He told everyone, even Harry, that he barely remembered what happened, but he did. Every detail, the texture of his rage, the weight of it in his chest, he remembered.

Jonah swallowed thickly, looking away from Harry because he couldn’t cry, he refused to cry, and thankfully, he had the excuse of putting all the medical supplies away, leaving them exactly where they’d found them. He’d wrapped her hand, to the best of his ability. They could deal with anything more back at the Castle. “C’mon, Haz,” he said, taking her uninjured hand in his and squeezing hard. “Let’s get out of here.”

.

She could see the gears turning in Jonah’s mind, the urge to argue with her and bear the whole weight of this himself being fought back. Because he was so used to assuming the position of the bad guy that he couldn’t accept that things weren’t always his fault. What happened that night hadn’t been all his fault; if Harry couldn’t take the whole blame, even the most objective of observers had to admit she was responsible for much of it. What Orson had done to Jonah certainly hadn’t been his fault, and the fact that a part of Orson’s hold on him remained, even in death, made Harry hate the man even more.

Jonah’s regrets spilled out and Harry listened with an even stare, keeping her eyes fixed on his hands as they tended to her injury. It made her ache to be reminded of all the ways Jonah had been hurt by this, but she stayed silent, let him pour all of it out into this dark, empty bathroom where the man they both knew was truly responsible had once lived and breathed. Harry breathed an inhale of surprise at Jonah’s admission of wanting Orson to love him the way he’d loved Chandler... not because she was surprised Jonah felt that way (she had more than picked up on his repressed sexuality confusion by now), but because she wouldn’t have expected him to say it out loud. From the way he paused, Harry figured he hadn’t expected to say it either.

Once it was all out, she rose carefully and nodded in agreement, a strange veil seeming to have lifted over their evening. She kept her hand in Jonah’s, but was silent through their procession toward the exit of the house and back outside into the waiting woods. Only once they were beyond the reaches of the house, the castle looming once again in the distance through the edge of the trees, did Harry speak up again, having finally processed everything that just happened in her drunk brain.

“You should know,” she started without introduction, “that you’re not wrong for anything you feel or need, ever. Even when you do the wrong thing, you’re not... there’s nothing wrong about you, about who you are. So. That’s that.” There were a million more unsaid things Harry wanted to make him understand, but they’d both said more than their fair share already tonight, and she wasn’t certain she could make all the words make sense, anyway. Harry had never been the best at putting them together in ways that properly expressed the magnitude of all she felt. That was why she preferred Shakespeare’s words, putting what she couldn’t say into sentences that had already been spoken for hundreds of years.

Instead of saying more, she turned in toward Jonah and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close and burying her face in his shoulder. She just held him there for a minute, hoping that in the same way she’d sensed what he needed on the night Orson died, this was what he needed now. It was certainly what Harry needed, anyway. She felt as though something incredibly cathartic had passed between them that night, and that even if they were still both broken, messed up people, each of them had the other to sit with in that brokenness. Harry had never been known like that before, and for once, it didn’t terrify her. For once, here was someone she knew she could fully trust to take care of her.

A light flickered on in one of the castle windows, and Harry’s attention perked, her body drawing back from Jonah’s but one hand linking once again in his. The two of them continued back toward their beds, exhaustion cresting over them like a wave as the drunken high wore off. Harry still didn’t say more. For tonight, there was nothing more to say.

FIN.

#this thread was such a rollercoaster and i had no idea it was going to go to the places it did and make me cry #but here we are! #( interactions. ) #( ft. the villain )

[harryzhangs]

“he refuses to discuss this with me. rent is 13 years overdue”

#( isms. ) #( ft. olly ) #this is exactly what he looks like and exactly how she talks to him when no one else is at the house

[harryzhangs]

saffijackson​:

Saffi gave her an incredulous look. “Girl, you’re a good actress, but you’re not that good.” She held the spray paint can out towards the other girl. “Do you want tell me what this is? And explain why it’s under your bed? Or do you just want to keep pretending like you’ve never seen this before even though it was so obvious I saw it within 3 minutes of stepping into your room.”

They both knew what this can implied. And with tensions rising among all the fourth years over the cast list and the police reports, this discovery had gravity. Saffi didn’t necessarily want to rat Harry out or blame her for something. She wasn’t a snitch and she truthfully didn’t care that much either way what happened to Harry. What she did care about was herself. If having this evidence meant that she had something to divert police attention away from questioning her in the future she was going to keep hold of it.

.

Harry was caught, there was no getting around it. Sure, she could keep playing dumb and let Saffi come to their own conclusions, but what if those conclusions were even worse than the truth of what had happened? She had to think fast and smooth this over. Now. And it wasn’t as though Saffi had a great history with Orson... so maybe she’d even understand.

“Fine, okay. It’s mine.” Harry kept her voice level, eyes scanning Saffi for a reaction. She knew Saffi wouldn’t have any particular reason to keep this quiet-- but it wasn’t as though they had much stake in turning her in, either. Harry would just have to count on the hope that Saffi felt some kind of loyalty to her peers, even if it wasn’t specifically to Harry. “I’m the one who painted those words on Orson’s house and trashed the place. Which I obviously wouldn’t have done if I’d known he’d actually end up dead, but...” Harry trailed off. The decision not to mention Jonah’s name had been an incredibly easy one. If Saffi decided not to keep her secret, Harry wasn’t going to drag Jonah down with her if she could help it. “That’s it, though, I swear. I didn’t fucking kill him. I have no idea who would.”

#( interactions. ) #( ft. the statue )

[harryzhangs]

teddynewell​:

teddy gives harry a little smile. he doesn’t quite believe her. but he won’t push any further. it’s not like he can be fully honest with her either. oh, i was up because i had yet another nightmare of the night i killed orson. yeah, right. “i’d love some tea,” he says instead, following harry into the kitchen. she is a soothing presence, a nice change from his previous nights of wandering around with his demons. “if you put on the kettle, i can find us some cookies,” he offers. “i’m sure someone must have something good we can steal.” and then he gets on with his search, randomly opening cabinets. the night is already going way better than teddy had expected.

there was a time when she might’ve found teddy an annoying presence-- and harry doesn’t think that’s totally faded-- but a certain fondness developed regardless, making her glad for the company as the two of them make their way into the kitchen. she grabs the empty tea kettle from the corner by the stove and fills it up, before setting it down and igniting the flame beneath. she doesn’t fight teddy on the suggestion to steal cookies from someone; god knows she’s done the same plenty of times in this kitchen. “i think i saw some shortbreads in the cabinet by the fridge. you know, the really good chessmen ones.” she remarks. “so, what’s keeping you awake then?”

#( interactions. ) #( ft. the juvenile )

[harryzhangs]

joseqhine​:

WHEN: friday after the police report WHERE: the anchor WHO: @harryzhangs​

Josephine was well acquainted with the allure of addictive substances. Some days it was cigarettes, others it was weed, on select days it was cocaine with Mathias in the small room tucked away in Orson’s home. But today, it was just plain old alcohol. The end of the week had come kicking and screaming, and after classes had ended on Friday afternoon, Josie had headed straight for the Anchor, texting Matty on the way there and telling him to meet her out the back. She needed something stiff and she needed lots of it. Something about having the words person of interest following you around all week had Josie even more on edge than she normally was - angry and frustrated and still on the weird edges of grieving. 

When Josephine entered the bar, she saw Harry almost immediately. It was still relatively quiet inside, the dregs of most students still yet to finish classes and pack themselves to the walls of the small pub, and so it wasn’t very hard to see her. (Although, Josie had always had quite a talent for finding Harry, even in the most crowded of rooms.) Shoulders stiffening and jaw setting, Josie walked slowly towards the bar, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck and finally setting it down on the countertop, right next to Harry. “What, no girlfriend to keep you company?” She said in way of greeting, throwing her coat on top of the barstool before taking a seat. Turning to the bartender, Josie ordered one craft bear with a flashy smile that immediately dropped when she looked back at Harry. It was hard to know what to say. She hadn’t needed to sit right next to her ex classmate, but it was the seat she had chosen, and now Josephine wasn’t so sure her plan of attack was such an inviting idea anymore. She was tired. She didn’t want to fight. (But it was all she knew how to do.) “You were awful quick to try and defame me in the group chat the other night, got anything you want to say to my face now that I’m here? Anything you want to confess? My name coming up in your interview, perhaps? Confession or not, it was nice I was the only one you seemed to respond to, though. Love living in your head rent free, as Chandler would say.”

.

It seemed that Harry was developing a pattern of being approached at the bar by people she truly couldn’t want to talk to less. She’d been slowly nursing her beer, but at the sight of Josie drawing near, Harry brought it up to her lips in a swift gulp. By now, the sting-- no, the heartbreak-- of what happened between her Josie (or rather, what Josie had done to her) was faded, although not exactly healed (could she heal from something she’d never gotten real closure from). But it still made Harry flush with anger to see her so unaffected by how she treated the people around her, by the damage and hurt she caused. In short, she’d made up her mind that Josie was rotten to her core. And once Harry passed judgement on someone, it was usually quite difficult to make her sway from her position, no matter how much time passed.

“Really? I think you know better than most people that if I’d brought you up in my interview, I would’ve had no problem telling you so,” Harry replied evenly, no patience for matching Josie’s passive aggressive tone. She was too tired to be anything but honest and straightforward with the girl, as she’d always been when it came to telling Josie exactly what she thought of her. “Yeah, you’re right, you still piss me the fuck off because I’m bitter over the fact that you broke my heart and never apologized. I’m glad it makes you feel good to know that, Josephine, I really am.” Harry raised the beer to her lips again, finishing it off in a huge draining gulp. A burp made its way up and she let it out unabashedly, not one to care for how she came off to Josie anymore. It was incredibly frustrating that a person could mean so much and so little to Harry at the same time.

“Besides,” Harry lowered her voice, “we both know I should’ve brought your name up to the police, and Mathias’. I’m not a snitch-- no matter how much the two of you make me want to claw my eyes out-- but when are you going to come clean about whatever the fuck your shady asses were doing that night?”

#i couldnt find a spot to slip it in naturally but just know that despacito is def playing in the bg while they're having this convo #( interactions. ) #( ft. the leading lady )

[harryzhangs]

aldysfool​:

nate laughs as he considers the idea that heidi would be capable of putting the fourth years through a psychological thriller like macbeth only to get them busted for actual murder when it was all said and done. “nah, heidi doesn’t seem like the type to put that much effort into a long, convoluted plan like that. …oh shit, unless she was orson’s other lover and this is her revenge….! dun dun dun!” nate laughs and shakes his head, trying his best to keep a light disposition about the possibility of what any of them could be facing. was there any other choice? after a moment, nate’s mind drifts back to the whole ‘co-conspirators’ angle, and he looks over at harry. he wonders about how much she knows, but more importantly, how much she’s willing to share. “but hey, you’re easily one of the smartest people in this bunch. …i wanna know what you really think.” nate looks around to make sure no one else might be around, “it’s still wild to even say out loud, but there can’t be an actual murderer among us, right?”

harry chuckles; it feels oddly nice, to joke about the ridiculousness of it, this strange and grim conspiracy they’ve all found themselves tangled up in. but her smile disappears at nate’s question, and its implicit reminder that this is all too real, that there are more secrets and possibly more guilt than any of them are willing to admit. it makes her stomach turn, to consider what nate is suggesting, but she thinks about how thick the air has been since orson’s death, the way it’s refused to clear even as time puts distance between them and his grave. she thinks about the weirdly disconnected look in helen’s eye, everything that happened with chandler, even the way mathias and josie must have known more about orson than anyone else. but harry’s expression remains unchanged. “i don’t believe it. i get that the cops have to cover all their bases, but there’s no way anyone here could do that.” she shakes her head. “what about you?”

#( interactions. ) #( ft. the comic )

[harryzhangs]

chandlerrosen​:

Chandler spent most of the day hiding in her room with Zahra, afraid that she would run into Josie or Mathias, or worse, the police. But nicotine took its toll on her stomach, and she couldn’t ignore its rumblings forever. Regardless, the pasta she had on her plate, while appetizing under normal circumstances, did nothing to quell the ache in her stomach. Perhaps if she stared at it long enough, she would miraculously feel better, both physically and emotionally. She stabbed a noodle and put it in her mouth, chewing out of habit, barely tasting the sauce as she decided nutrients were important, even if she saw little point in them now. She was roused from her meal (if it could be called that) by a familiar voice, and a smile stole its way onto her face as she greeted Harry.“ You know me, always brooding,” she lazily joked, the irony of her chastising Jonah for that same behavior not lost on her, “but please, sit. I could use the company.” She pushed the pasta around her plate as she thought of what to say, worried that maybe Harry hated her too, “how have you been holding up? Since…you know.” She leaned slightly across the table and lowered her voice to a whisper in case someone was eavesdropping on them. 

Harry raised an eyebrow, recognizing this behavior, this kind of deflection. It was the exact same kind of shit she did all the time, herself. Trying to turn the focus onto the people around her when she was the one feeling like she could fall apart at any second. Although she supposed, for Chandler, this probably already was falling apart. If things weren’t at that point for her, Harry couldn’t think of what falling apart looked like. “Me?” She lowered her voice to match Chandler’s, realizing the draw of not drawing attention to themselves. “I’m fine, you know-- other than my girlfriend being a person of interest in a murder case, but--” Her eyes searched Chandler’s, betraying concern, and serious concern at that... but not pity. And certainly not judgement. “What about you? I mean... all that shit people were saying to you, about you, it was way over the fucking line.”

#( interactions. ) #( ft. the tomboy )