#the works of mr. william shakespear

[uwmspeccoll]

Shakespeare Weekend!

This weekend we return to Nicholas Rowe’s (1674-1718) The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes. Published in London in 1709 by Jacob Tonson (1655-1736), perhaps the most prolific of Shakespeare publishers, this second edition holds an important place within Shakespearean publication history. The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes is recognized as the first octavo edition, the first illustrated edition, the first critically edited edition, and the first to present a biography of the poet.  

This week, we introduce you to the second which consists of all comedies, including A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Merchant of Venice, As You Like It, Taming of the Shrew, All’s Well that Ends Well, Twelfth-Night; or What You Will, and The Winter’s Tale. A full-page engraving by the French Baroque artist and book illustrator François Boitard (1670-1715) precedes each play. 

In addition to Rowe’s editorial decisions to divide the plays into scenes and include notes on the entrances and exits of the players, he also normalised the spelling of names and included a dramatis personae preceding each play. The only chronicled critique of Rowe’s momentous editorial endeavor is his choice in basing his text on the corrupt Fourth Folio. 

Perhaps of interest to some of our readers is the exceptional use of signature marks and catchwords throughout the volumes of The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes. Found on the bottom of the pages, the signature marks and catchwords helped the bookbinder or printer make sure the pages were sent to the press in the right order and that subsequent leaves were bound in the correct order. Signature marks through the use of a letter and number combination marking the first page of a leaf or section, and catchwords by way of anticipating the first word of the following page.  

View more volumes of The Works of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes here.

View more Shakespeare Weekend posts.

-Jenna, Special Collections Graduate Intern

#Shakespeare Weekend #William Shakespeare #Shakespeare #Nicholas Rowe #The Works of Mr. William Shakespear #Jacob Tonson #François Boitard #A Midsummer Night's Dream #Merchant of Venice #As You Like It #Taming of the Shrew #All's Well That Ends Well #Twelfth-Night or What You Will #The Winter's tale #signature mark #catchword #etching

[daltonsluvr]

IN THE COMPANY OF THE STARS

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

summary: amongst the peaceful covering of the astronomy tower, you find an unlikely comfort in the presence of none other than theodore nott. (1.2k wc)

authors note: first little drabble to bring me back out of my writers slump - and who better than boyfriend no.1 to do so??

"Is this seat taken?" You turned around at the voice, to see none other than Theodore Nott standing behind you, his hands in his pockets, indicating at the space next to you.

Technically, the seat he wanted wasn't a seat at all. It's a part of the Astronomy Tower floor, of which you were sitting on, your feet dangling over the edge. You had a book in your lap, which had been left long forgotten as you looked ahead of you at the stars which danced upon the night sky. It really was the prettiest place in all of Hogwarts.

Slowly, you shook your head, and he nodded in response, taking a seat beside you. It's strange, you thought to yourself, watching him closely as he too dangled his legs out in front of him. The two of you knew each other from classes and such, yet had only interacted a couple of times, usually to ask for a quill or something along those lines.

You realised then just how weird you must have looked, watching him so intensely, and so you forced your attention back to the landscape around you, focusing on the trees ahead.

A few beats. 1, 2-

"You come here often?" he broke the silence first, turning to look at you. You hadn’t noticed until that moment just how startlingly beautiful his eyes were - dead, but with a softness behind them. It was entrancing, to say the least.

"Yeah," you answered, meeting his eyes. "The stars don't ask too many questions, so they're pretty great company when I need some peace." You hadn't meant for the comment to be funny, yet you watched as a chuckle escaped his lips: a beautiful sound, really.

"Didn't think you'd ever be a quiet person," he half-laughed, his eyes crinkling slightly. "Anyone could hear your voice from a mile off."

"Even the loudest of us need some quiet, sometimes," you responded, shrugging your shoulders, and swinging your feet slightly. "This must be a regular spot for you then, huh, given your notorious 'Mr Silent' status?"

The statement was true - this was the most you had ever heard the boy spoke, to anyone. It was his turn to now shrug, before leaning back on his hands. "You could say that."

You assumed the conversation had reached its natural end, and so you took the book you had on your lap and opened it to the page you'd bookmarked, and began reading.

"Romeo and Juliet?" A voice from next to you read, and you turned once more to see Theodore now reading the cover of the book, raising a brow in your direction. "You read muggle literature?"

"Shakespeare is one of the greats, I'd be stupid not to," you answered. Upon seeing the look on his face, you continued, "Don't tell me you've never read Shakespeare."

He shook his head, and you laughed, endearingly. "You are seriously missing out, Nott. Muggle or not, he's amazing. A real genius."

"Well, talk to me, then," Theodore looked down at you, his eyes piercing through your own. "Tell me about this guy and his books."

"They're plays, really," you started, almost unsure as to whether or not to continue. But he looked at you, almost daring you to continue, and so you did.

It was unusual for you to find someone so interested in talking to you, especially about something as niche as the works of William Shakespeare, but then again, Theodore Nott really wasn't like anyone you'd ever met before.

"-this book was one of the first my mother gave to me, and so its always been my favourite," you finished eventually, your voice growing slightly hoarse from talking so much. "Sorry for talking your ear off."

"No worries," he said in return, sending a small smile your way. "The b-play, certainly sounds interesting."

Looking between him and the book, you reached out to him, book still in your grasp. "Here, take it. To borrow."

He looked at you, almost questioning you with his eyes. "Why?"

"Everyone needs to read Shakespeare at least once in their lives, and I'm guessing none of your friends own any of his works, right?" He shook his head once again, and you shook your own in mock exasperation. "Honestly."

You coaxed him once again until he took the book from your hands, and you watched as he felt the cover of it. "It's a bit battered, because it's the one my mother got me when I was younger. And I have written inside it, so you may want to ignore that as well."

You got up, book officially out of your hands, and you dusted off your robes. Finally ready to go, you made to leave, until he called out your name. You turned around to look back at him.

"Thank you." was all he said, a smile lighting up his features with genuity.

"No problem, Theodore-"

"Theo."

"Theo. No worries, Theo," it was your turn to smile as you turned to leave, leaving the Slytherin boy alone.

— —— — — —

"A boy left this for you." A small first year girl approached you no more than a week later, a box in their arms, which they had outstretched towards you. You were sat by the window in your common room, Transfiguration homework in your lap as you worked through the questions McGonagall had set you.

"Did the boy leave a name?" you questioned, looking cynically at the box in front of you, which you had taken from the girl.

"No, he said you'd know who he is." The girl gave you a small fleeting smile, before skipping off, presumably to go and sit with her friends.

The box was noticeably small, and could be carrying nothing more than a couple of things, you thought to yourself, as you carefully opened it.

As soon as you saw the contents of it, though, a smile spread across your face, and you had no doubts of who the box was from. You had never pegged Theodore Nott to be one for dramatics, so you couldn't understand why he had decided to return your book in a box, but nonetheless you appreciated the sentiment.

You picked up the battered copy, the pages just as beautifully crumpled as before, and you found yourself smiling again. A note lay underneath the book, and you picked it up to read what it said.

The play was great - you clearly have good taste. Shakespeare truly is one of the greats. Astronomy tower at 8? — T.N.

Delicately folding the note and putting it in your robe pocket, you took back the copy of Romeo & Juliet in your hands, and began to flip through the pages.

His chicken scratch handwriting tattooed the pages - not overlapping the actual text or your writing, but still written as nearly as he could in numerous corners of the book.

You laughed as you read through a few of them, most of which were his sardonic comments about Romeo's idiocy, and in turn Juliet's naivety.

Eventually closing the book, you set it aside, and smiled to yourself. You weren't exactly sure how you'd found a friend in Theodore Nott, but you were certainly glad that you had.

#daltonsluvr #imagines #multifandom #multifandom imagines #harry potter #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theo nott #theodore nott oneshot #imagine #writing #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter oneshot #hogwarts #hp #lorenzo zurzolo

[totheblood]

begging for rain. (three)

󠁐# THREE; the harder that it takes to undo

PAIRING: ex!ellie williams x nextdoorneighbor!reader

SUMMARY: moving to a new town can be tough, especially as you are trying to hold everything in your life together. after you meet ellie, your life completely changes, but for the better? well that's still up in the air

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x,

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

A/N : ok this was the longest chapter i've written to date so... please enjoy.... ONE AI AUDIOS IN THE FIC ! please please please like and reblog/reply/send asks, comments, the whole nine yards… it is so appreciated!

TWO YEARS AGO

It felt weird to be in Ellie’s house.

Ellie opened the door to a cozy living room with warm beige walls and wicker furniture that had been well-worn by time. An old acoustic guitar leaned against one wall and a record player sat atop an end table, surrounded by piles of vintage vinyl. The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and old books, creating a comforting ambiance. Family photos and posters dotted the walls, giving an insight into Ellie's life that made you feel like a intruder but also made you want to know more. 

"Nice place," you said, removing your shoes at the door.

"Thanks," Ellie smiled, leading you to the living room. "You can drop your stuff there. We'll study at the table."

You took a seat at the sturdy oak dining table and ran your fingers over its smooth surface before settling into it. Scattered papers littered the table, some lined with handwritten lyrics, others with doodles intertwined in colored ink. You opened up your English books and laid out your homework, feeling a sense of warmth emanating from the room. The aged furniture added an air of familiarity, like you were being invited into Ellie's private world. Ellie seemed to be working on physics homework, while you had an English essay on Shakespeare to tackle. The juxtaposition wasn't lost on you—Ellie with equations and you with Elizabethan English.

You both settled into your work, the atmosphere tinged with concentration. Occasionally, your eyes would drift towards Ellie, watching her brows furrow in thought or her lips move silently as she read through her notes. Each time, you'd catch yourself and refocus on your own work.

"So, how are you finding the essay?" she finally broke the silence.

"It's... okay, I guess. Mrs. Porter has a way of making Shakespeare sound like rocket science."

Ellie chuckled. "Ah, the age-old struggle. To be or not to be confused, that is the question."

You laughed, and for a moment, the tension of the day seemed to lift. "You're not so bad at this, you know," you said. "Maybe you should consider a career in stand-up."

"And give up my dream of becoming a rockstar physicist?" she feigned surprise. "Never."

You smiled at her enthusiasm. "A rockstar physicist, huh? That's a first."

"Well, what about you? Any grand plans?"

You hesitated, thinking about your dad for a moment. You blinked, looking down at the book in front of you before looking back up at Ellie.  "I'm not sure. I used to think I had it all figured out, but now... everything's so uncertain."

Ellie put down her pen and looked at you, her green eyes softening. "Uncertainty isn't always bad, you know. Sometimes it's just room for something new, something better."

You looked at her, really looked at her, and felt something shift inside you. "That's pretty wise for a 17-year-old."

She blushed a little, turning her attention back to her notebook. "Well, don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain. Plus, I’m almost 18."

The rest of the study session went smoothly. You’d occasionally sigh and drop your head in frustration, making Ellie stifle a giggle and demand you get back to work. You had only known her for a day and was already falling into a rhythm with her. You didn’t want to go home, but the sun was beginning to set and you wanted time to rest. Time to think about the day you had and try to make sense of it. When it was time to leave, Ellie walked you to the door.

"Thanks for coming over. It was fun," she said, her hands twisting together.

"Yeah, I had a good time too," you replied, feeling a strange mix of happiness and reluctance to leave.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Ellie's words echoed in your mind: "Uncertainty isn't always bad... it's just room for something new, something better." And as you walked back across the dirt path to your house, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, something new and better had already begun.

You walked into your room, shutting the door behind you as if to seal off the world outside. It was your sanctuary, a little haven where you could breathe, think, and just be. You tossed your backpack onto the bed and sank into your chair, letting out a sigh as you looked around. Your room was still a mix of unpacked boxes and half-arranged furniture—a physical representation of your current state of mind, unsettled yet hopeful.

Picking up your phone, you noticed you had an unread Instagram DM. Your heart skipped a beat; could it be Ellie? Unlocking your phone, you saw the message was from Ingrid. Curiosity piqued, you opened.

ingrid.xoxo: Hey there, newbie. How was your first day?

You felt strange reading her message. Like it was something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Was she just being friendly or was there something more? You quickly typed back.

y/nsworld: hey! It was a little overwhelming but good overall. how was your day? 

Almost instantly, she replied.

ingrid.xoxo: Same old, same old. But seeing a fresh face around made it more interesting. 😉

The winking emoji caught your attention. Was she flirting? A little flutter of excitement mixed with confusion settled in your stomach.

Before you could process it further, the front door opened and closed loudly. It was your mom, finally home from work. You heard her footsteps coming up the stairs, and a few seconds later, she knocked on your door.

"Come in," you called.

The door swung open and your mom stepped in, her face tired but lighting up when she saw you. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your first day at the new school?"

You looked at her and smiled. "It was good, Mom. Made some new friends, and Ellie from next door is really nice. I went there and studied after school."

"That's wonderful," she said, her eyes shining with relief. "I was so worried you'd have a hard time adjusting."

"I mean, it's still the first day, but so far, so good," you said, shrugging. The relief on your mom’s face made you uneasy. You wanted to make this transition easy for both of you, but there was a newfound pressure building inside of you. You had to make it work here, even if you were unhappy. There was no escaping this place, and you suddenly felt trapped. Before your mind could go any further, she was speaking again. 

"That's my brave girl," she said, coming over to give you a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

As she left the room and wished you a goodnight with a firm kiss pressed to the top of your head, you sat back and sighed. Your phone buzzed again. Another message from Ingrid.

ingrid.xoxo: So, got any plans for the weekend? Maybe you'd like a tour guide to show you around. 😊

There it was again, that undercurrent of something more than just friendliness. You found yourself smiling, both intrigued and uncertain. It was as if life, in its own whimsical way, was presenting new possibilities, each more complicated than the last.

You glanced back at the door, then at your phone, then at the unpacked boxes still sitting in your room. Everything felt like a question mark, and as Ellie had wisely noted, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Lying back on your bed, you stared up at the ceiling, pondering your response to Ingrid, your new friendships, and the unpredictability of life itself. Uncertainty, as it turns out, could indeed be the room for something new, something better.

And so, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, you typed out your reply to Ingrid, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself.

y/nsworld: a tour guide sounds fun. i'm in. :) 

PRESENT DAY 

When Ellie's text popped up on your phone two days ago, you almost deleted it without reading it. The mere sight of her name on your screen was like a splinter you couldn't remove—small but persistently painful. She wrote that she missed your friendship, and though you wanted to scoff at her audacity, a part of you hesitated. Her words, "Can we at least talk? Just as friends?" echoed in your mind. Against your better judgment, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, and before you knew it, you found yourself typing, "Fine, but this doesn't mean anything." Now, as you stepped into the quaint coffee shop where so many of your past memories were brewed, you questioned that decision.

"You're early," Ellie remarked, her voice as flat as the expression on her face.

"I had nothing better to do," you responded, matching her tone as you stepped into the coffee shop. It was almost empty, the aroma of freshly ground coffee mingling with the subtle tension that had settled between you two.

"Of course, you didn't," Ellie sighed, sliding a cup of coffee your way across the wooden table. On it was marked with your order, two pumps of hazelnut, two pumps of vanilla, and one pump of almond, extra cream. 

You looked at the cup, then back at Ellie. "You remembered how I like my coffee."

"I'm not completely useless."

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip while simultaneously biting your tongue. You had every right to tell her she was useless, but you refrained. It was perfect, just the way you liked it. "What do you want, Ellie?"

Ellie sighed, looking uncomfortable for a moment before speaking, "I wanted to talk. About us."

You almost snorted into your coffee. "Us? There is no 'us'. Not anymore."

"I know I messed up, okay? But can't we at least—"

"Messed up?" you cut her off, feeling the familiar surge of anger rise within you. "You didn't just 'mess up', Ellie. You broke something. Something that can't be fixed."

Ellie flinched as if you had slapped her. The look on her face almost making you feel guilty. But she didn’t have that right anymore, and you weren’t about to let her back in.

 "I know. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But can't we at least try to be civil? For the sake of our friends, if not for us?"

You looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment you were back in her living room, struggling with physics homework and discussing the uncertainties of life. Back when things were simpler, easier. But that was a different time, a different you, and most importantly, a different Ellie.

"Being civil is a far cry from what you're suggesting," you said finally, breaking the silence.

Ellie sighed. "I know I don't deserve a second chance. Hell, I don't even deserve your friendship. But can't we at least try to be... something?"

You stared at her, pondering her words. The Ellie sitting in front of you now seemed so different from the girl you had fallen for. And yet, there were moments, fleeting seconds, when you could almost see traces of the old Ellie—the one who made you laugh, who made you think, who made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

But those traces were just that—fleeting and insubstantial. The real Ellie, the one sitting in front of you, was a reminder of a chapter you had painfully closed.

"We can try," you said finally, "but I can't promise anything."

Ellie nodded, a mixture of relief and regret flashing across her face. "I guess that's all I can ask for."

As you both sipped your coffee in silence, the weight of what was left unsaid hung heavy in the air. And yet, for the first time in a long time, it felt like you could both breathe a little easier.

But as Ellie's eyes met yours, you couldn't help but wonder: in the quest for something new, something better, had you both lost something irreplaceable? There was something substantially broken between the two of you now, innocence on both parts lost. 

TWO YEARS AGO

You found yourself standing in front of your bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection as you pondered what to wear for this so-called 'tour' with Ingrid. You wondered if you should aim for casual or if Ingrid, with her meticulous style, would expect something more. After rummaging through your wardrobe, you settled on a simple pair of jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt. Casual, yet presentable. You threw on a light jacket, considering the morning chill, and took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied but not entirely confident, you grabbed your phone and headed downstairs. Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, bowl of cereal in front of her with her spoon in one hand and phone in the other.

"Going out?" Your mom looked up from her phone, her eyes scanning your outfit.

"Yeah, a girl from school is showing me around town."

"Ah, great. Text me if you need anything." Her eyes returned to her phone, but not before you caught the fleeting look of relief. There the pressure was again, and in turn your sinking stomach. 

"See you later, Mom," you said, heading for the door.

"Have fun, sweetheart!" she called out as you closed the door behind you.

As you approached Ingrid's car, you noticed her already leaning against it. She was wearing what could only be described as the epitome of 'casual chic'—ripped jeans, a designer top, and a pair of sunglasses perched effortlessly on her head. She looked up from her phone and greeted you with a broad, almost rehearsed, smile.

"Ready for your grand tour?" Ingrid inquired, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than you were comfortable with.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied, cautiously optimistic about the day ahead.

The interior of Ingrid's car was as meticulously maintained as her appearance. The leather seats were pristine, and the air was scented with something floral, bordering on overpowering. She started the engine, and you were off.

The first few minutes were filled with awkward silence. You sensed that Ingrid was waiting for you to initiate conversation, but you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to open your mouth to speak. Finally, she broke the ice.

"So, first stop, the infamous Longview Park. You'll love it—it's where everyone hangs out," she said, her voice tinged with enthusiasm that sounded slightly rehearsed.

"That sounds fun," you responded, forcing a smile.

As you drove through the town, Ingrid began to pepper you with questions. They started off harmless enough—questions about your old town, your interests, your favorite movies. But as the drive continued, the questions began to probe deeper.

"So, why did you move here? If you don't mind me asking," she added hastily, as though realizing she might be venturing into sensitive territory.

"My dad passed away. We couldn’t afford to live there anymore, so we had to move," you replied, trying to maintain composure. You had rehearsed this response, but it still felt like you were ripping off a Band-Aid every time you said it.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ingrid responded, her voice softening for the first time that morning. But before you could reply, she was off again. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The abrupt switch in topic caught you off-guard. "Uh, no, not right now," you stammered.

"Really? Someone as hot as you? I find that hard to believe," she said, her eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road.

"Um, thanks," you muttered, not entirely sure how to interpret the compliment.

Ingrid seemed to take your discomfort as a cue to change the subject. "We're almost at Longview Park. It's truly the heart of our community," she declared, as if rehearsed.

As you pulled into the parking lot of Longview Park, you took a deep breath. It was time to see what this 'heart of the community' was all about.

he car rolled to a stop, and Ingrid switched off the engine, her eyes twinkling like she was unveiling a secret treasure. "And here we are—Longview Park. It's like the social hub of our high school world."

You opened the car door and stepped out, looking around. The park was sizable, dotted with large oaks and willows that offered generous shade. A playground occupied one corner, bustling with the laughter of children, while a pond shimmered peacefully in the mid-morning sun. People were everywhere—jogging, playing Frisbee, or simply lounging on the grass. It had a communal feel.

Ingrid led you along a gravel path, her steps confident and rehearsed as if she'd walked this path a thousand times before. "See that gazebo over there?" she pointed, "That's like the unofficial meet-up spot for parties and hangouts. And over there is the infamous 'Lovers' Lane' where couples go to... well, you know."

Her words were punctuated with a suggestive wink that made you feel slightly uncomfortable. You chuckled nervously, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

As you walked, you couldn't help but notice the way people looked at Ingrid—long enough to show interest but not too long to risk her noticing. She seemed to command attention effortlessly, and you couldn't tell if it was her charisma or if you were completely missing something

"Everyone loves to be here on weekends," Ingrid continued, her tone casual but her eyes scanning the area, as if looking for someone or something in particular. "It's a great place to catch up with friends or make new ones. Like we're doing right now."

She shot you a smile, the kind that was meant to be endearing but felt slightly off-mark. You returned it nonetheless. "It's a nice place. Very... lively," you said, choosing your words carefully.

As you neared the pond, you spotted a familiar face sitting on one of the benches—Cat. And next to her, unmistakably, was Ellie. They seemed engrossed in conversation, their faces inches apart. A pang of something—was it jealousy?—stabbed at you, but you quickly brushed it aside.

"Hey, look who it is!" Ingrid's voice brought you back to reality. She had followed your gaze and was now staring directly at Ellie and Cat. "Want to go say hi?"

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted was an awkward run-in, but before you could voice your concerns, Ingrid had already started walking toward them.

"Hey Cat, Ellie!" she called out, her voice unnaturally high. Both heads turned in your direction, and the range of emotions that crossed their faces in that brief moment was unsettling—surprise, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Hey Ingrid," Ellie finally spoke, her eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before returning to Ingrid. "What brings you here?"

"Just giving our new resident a grand tour of Longview Park," Ingrid replied, her arm casually draping over your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine but chose to ignore it.

"That's nice of you," Cat chimed in, her eyes narrowing slightly as they settled on you. You couldn't tell if she was being sincere or just sizing you up.

"Yeah, it's been fun," you said, forcing a smile. But your eyes met Ellie's once more, and the unspoken words hung heavily in the air between you.

"Well, we won't keep you," Ingrid said abruptly, as if sensing the tension. "Lots more to see. Come on," she tugged at your arm lightly, and you followed her back to the path, leaving Ellie and Cat behind.

As you walked away, you felt Ellie's gaze burning into your back. You wanted to look back, to catch one last glimpse of her, but you resisted. Whatever was or wasn't happening between you and Ellie would have to wait. Right now, you were on Ingrid's turf, and you couldn't help but feel like a pawn in a much larger game.

"Shall we continue?" Ingrid asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you replied, but your thoughts were already miles away.

The door clicked shut as you slid into the passenger seat, your thoughts still reeling from the encounter at the park. Ingrid revved up the engine and pulled away, humming softly to the beat of the song playing on the radio. You looked over at her, everything about her seemed staged. 

"How did you like the park?" she asked, casting a quick glance in your direction.

"It was... interesting," you said cautiously. "It's a nice place, very lively. Lots of history, I imagine."

Ingrid chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea. It's like the theater of high school drama. Anything and everything happens there."

Her words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but feel like there was a deeper meaning behind them. But before you could ponder it further, your phone buzzed. Glancing down, you saw Ellie's name flash on the screen.

Ellie: hey. can we talk later?

You felt a mixed bag of emotions, but you were mostly nervous. You hadn’t taken the group's warning and hung out with Ingrid anyays. It wasn’t like she was two fingers deep inside of you, but with the way Cat and Ellie looked, it seemed that way.  You were about to type a response when you noticed Ingrid's eyes flicking toward your phone screen, then back to the road.

"Who's that?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of curiosity.

"Just a friend," you said, choosing your words carefully. "We're supposed to catch up later."

"Oh," she responded, but you could sense a change in her demeanor, a tightening around her eyes. "Well, I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."

"No, not at all," you reassured her, quickly typing a response to Ellie. "Sure, let's talk. Text me when you're free."

As you pressed send, you couldn't help but wonder about the timing. Why did Ellie want to talk now? And what was it about? Your thoughts were interrupted by Ingrid turning up the volume on the radio, her fingers drumming rhythmically on the steering wheel.

"So," she began, breaking the momentary silence, "we've covered quite a bit today. Any highlights?"

You pondered the question. "Well, the park was a highlight, I guess. It's always good to know where people hang out. Makes me feel less like an outsider."

Ingrid smiled, but there was something about it that made you uneasy. "You're not an outsider, you know. You're just new, and new can be exciting."

"Thanks," you said, your phone buzzing again. This time it was a text from your mom asking about your day.

Feeling the need to switch gears, you asked, "So, how long have you been living here? You seem to know everyone and everything."

"Born and raised," she declared proudly. "It has its pros and cons, but I like it. And yes, I do know a lot of people, but it's not hard when you grow up here. Everyone kind of knows everyone."

"That must be nice," you said, though a part of you wondered what it would be like to have that much history in one place—so many connections, but also so many ties that could bind you.

"Yeah," she paused, her expression turning serious. "But it can also be a bit suffocating, you know? Sometimes you just want to break free, start fresh somewhere new. Like you."

You looked at her, intrigued by this sudden glimpse into her thoughts. "Well, starting fresh isn't as glamorous as it seems. It has its own ups and downs."

"True," she conceded. "But at least it's a blank slate."

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed again. Another text from Ellie.

Ellie: i really need to talk to you. it's important.

This time, you couldn't ignore the urgency in her message. Something was up, something significant. You looked up to find Ingrid watching you, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, but her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

You hesitated, weighing your options. "Actually, I might need to cut our day short. Something's come up at home."

Ingrid's eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in them—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe something else.

"Of course," she said, finally breaking eye contact. "Life happens. Let's get you home."

You stepped out of Ingrid's car, waving goodbye as she drove off. Your phone buzzed as you approached your front door, another text from Ellie.

Ellie: can you meet me at the grind? it’s about two blocks away from our house. i can drive us back. 

 You texted back a quick "on my way" and made your way over.

Ten minutes later, you walked into The Grind, the local coffee shop where the whole town seemed to be at this moment. As you scanned the room, your eyes met Ellie's. She was seated at a corner table, her phone face down and her fingers nervously tapping a rhythm against her coffee mug.

"Hey," you greeted as you approached, pulling out the chair across from her.

"Hey," Ellie replied, her eyes meeting yours briefly before averting. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. Sounded like it was urgent. What's up?"

"I saw you today," she began cautiously, "with Ingrid."

A knot formed in your stomach. "Yeah, she was showing me around. Why?"

Ellie hesitated, looking down at her mug, and tapping the handle. She closed her eyes for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Be careful with her. She's not what she seems."

"I mean I heard what you guys said about her at lunc but," you replied, taking a sip of your coffee. "She seems harmless."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Cut right above her shoulders, the choppy layers suited her face. "Ingrid has a way of getting close to people, and it's not always for the right reasons. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Your eyes met, and you felt a strange warmth spread through you. Ellie was concerned for you. But why? She had only known you a day. You searched her face for an answer, for anything, but you came up short.

"Do you have something against her?" you asked, not hiding your skepticism.

"No," Ellie was quick to respond, "it's not like that. I've just seen her ruin friendships, relationships. She's manipulative."

"You seem serious," you remarked, detecting a tinge of something in her voice—was it jealousy?

Ellie looked down at her mug, her fingers ceasing their tapping. "I just don't want history to repeat itself, okay?"

"History?" you questioned, leaning forward. "What happened?"

She looked up again, her eyes meeting yours again, but this time they were vulnerable, exposed. "Ingrid and I had a thing once. And it felt more serious than her ‘things’ with Cat and Dina. And let's just say it didn't end well."

Now it made sense. The hints, the caution—it was personal for Ellie.

She held your gaze, her eyes searching yours for something you couldn't name. "Also," she paused, as if weighing whether to continue, "You’re my friend now. I care about you. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with unspoken words.

You finally broke the silence. "Thank you for telling me, Ellie. I appreciate it."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, yeah. Of course"

As you left The Grind, your thoughts were a swirl of confusion and clarity. Ellie's concern had added another layer to the already complicated dynamic of your new life. But through it all, one thing became clear—Ellie cared about you, maybe more than she was willing to admit.

And as you replayed the conversation in your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that Ellie wasn't just warning you about Ingrid. She was also staking her claim, marking her territory in a landscape that was becoming increasingly complicated.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

[m1ndbrand]

"all it took was..." — The new President

WARNINGS: Coriolanus Snow is it's own warning(Snow after the 10thGames, 2 years after to be precise); Mentions of death and corpse(small description, nothing big).

SUMMARY: The 12th Hunger Games winner unfortunately fortunately gets the attention of President Snow.

WORDS: 1.384

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the franchise The Hunger Games characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. I do claim what I wrote and only that.

A/N: If you know the tragedy of Coriolanus by William Shakespeare some names will be recognizable...Also I'm sorry but this chapter won't be the continuation of their little...encounter— but I promise, it's going to happen!

TAG-LIST: @sorry-mrs-jacobs; @phoward89;

MASTERLIST

He was never someone who believed in the stars and whatever they might mean to some people.

It seemed completely idiotic and beneath someone from the level of education, you would get from the Capitol to have this belief that in his humble opinion, of course — was archaic and beneath him.

Fate and stories written on the stars were all but a way of fairy tales being made, a topic on some and even a very important one at that "merging" some characters together like the universe itself deemed them a pair, one in two.

Star-crossed lovers.

How he hated that idea, he couldn't believe he even fed it to—

Let's not dwell on that topic, he had better things to do, like arrange a new Games Maker for the 12th Hunger Games.

Doctor Volumnia Gaul is no more, some freak accident with one or more than one mutt; it wasn't clear, the body was far too mutilated to be recognised by anyone at all if not for the DNA tests and well...the place of the accident, a place only a few people were able to enter and of course Doctor Gaul was one of those people, him included in the small pool.

It was slightly weird however how the mulls were able to break free, the reporters debated it for the first days the case broke daylight, but the theory was quickly suppressed.

After all, mulls were still in being tested and we're highly volatile, their behaviour unstable and unpredictable. And of course, accidents happen.

But the world continues to go around and so shall the Capitol, he needed to find someone and fast. 

He should have looked more into it, the selection that is. But he had more important things in his place, strength the security in the several points of entry on all distractions, the training of the peacekeepers and the change of the uniform like he so petitioned for just to name a few.

The new and young president had more important things to worry about than some person who would probably be soon replaced if so needed.

The theme he chose ,he didn't even try to remember the man's name, was an advanced-looking arena; a sign of the year the Capitol got a new President. Coriolanus liked the idea. It painted his future reign as one that would lead them into the future, lead them into a better time.

It painted him as a good leader.

The reaping ceremony passed without a problem. Some students clearly didn't like something— their tribute lack of attributes to make them win or the idea of having to participate in such 'twisted games' as the rebel-like-youth liked to name his games. He honestly couldn't care less, blue-ice-like eyes looking straight at the screens with a fake polite smile when the camera twists at him, showing his all too polished self composed with a deep red suit and thick coat that made his figure even more imposing than it normally is.

He would soon return to his manor and actually work, the two hours of the opening ceremony put his work ethic behind schedule more than he liked to admit.

There was much to be done to make the Capitol and the Districts into the way he saw fit and Coriolanus shouldn't waste more time than he already has.

Not even a day later he would have the files of everyone who chose to review. For some reason the late president did this— the threat of the Rebels was still very much a problem and he was of course scared shitless by them so all 'useful' information was of course turned into two paper pages that it was his duty to read through.

Coriolanus was just about to skim through them all but the very first file caught his attention, District One female tribute.

Not the girl's image he didn't even look at it properly, he already saw every tribute face on the reaping ceremony... all looked underfed and clearly not fit for an entertaining games in terms of pure brutal strength, the mentors would need to sell them well to the Capitol. No it was her name. Her last name rang a bell.

A big warning bell was inside his head and it made his eyebrows furrow, hand picked up the two-page long file and flipped through the description of her family. Something was amiss, he could feel it in his bones. Something was wrong. 

Coriolanus could almost feel the hunger tearing at his stomach, his small sweaty hand tightly gripping his equally moist cousin's hand as they received the news of his father's death.

His other small hand gripping the files of several names of supposed rebels that could be the reason behind his father's death. Blond hair falls against his sweaty forehead as at that time he didn't understand why he had to read the names of random men.

Brutus.

His hand grips the file on his hand, veins popping up as his eyes skim through the contents of the file, once and then twice. He didn't even sit down, reading in silence for 10 minutes over and over again to look out for another word, sentence, or anything more.

Only two people are still alive from her family— grandmother and little brother, Valeria Brutus and Menenius Brutus, then they got the last name from her grandfather. His hand moves the paper right and left, trying to see if her grandfather's first name was there. But it wasn't. It probably wasn't deemed to be useful information since he is dead. Putting the papers down he turns with a sigh to his window, chin rising as he looks to see all the perfectly arranged garden of pure white roses in the front of his mansion.

No this shouldn't matter. It didn't matter, not now. He got what he wanted he won, the victor. He was still standing with or without his father.

The nostalgic feeling of feeling hungry regrows once again and it makes him nauseous, sharp eyes turning to the face of the girl on the page. She looked like every other girl he reminds himself as he starts a little too long at her face. Eighteen, one more year and she should have been safe from the reaping.

A smile creeps on his lips. Amusement dancing in his eyes like he had just read a good enough joke.

He couldn't sleep.

Coriolanus hated to be in need of something even if it was just a simple pill to go to sleep. He was better than that, he could sleep alone thank you very much.

Couldn't he just get the information he wanted? He could, he had the resources, and he had the needs to if he so pleases, so why not?

No.

No, he wouldn't lose to this...whatever this is, curiosity, need— want to know. Closure.

Maybe that was it. Know the person or people that did this to him. To his family. The people that made him starve and struggle. Envy and step on people that he knew were living better than him, growing to bring them down so he could feel himself high above them all. Know the people that in a way, made him the way he is now.

Rising he presses the inside of his palms to his eyes.

For fucks sake— Shut the fuck up! 

His mouth was open. Eyes shot open and hands grabbing tightly the silk covers, knuckles turning white. Did he shout those words? Wasn't it all in his head? His hands were shaking, face was slightly flushed red from anger.

It's one of those episodes.

Rising he curses under his breath, feet carrying him to one of the small tables with some pills on them. Deep eyes thin as he tried to look into the colours of the various drugs that looked like they were thrown there and he picked a deep purple one in the midst of the rainbow and quickly gulped it down without water.

His attention is caught by the silver-like glow of the moonlight slipping through his windows, blue tired-looking eyes looking up at the sky, they find the stars instead of the moon that sings for attention. Wishing to catch a stray star amidst the ones that stay. Maybe he could catch it as it falls.

With those thoughts, sleep would soon catch him.

Previous

#coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #dark!coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas x you #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #thg x reader

[letrune]

The best writer?

Dedicated to @bitterkarella and taken a bit of... okay, a LOT of tone from their works. Check them out!

A dark room, with robed figures standing around, uneasily shifting their weight as their leader rises.

JKR: Hello children… I am the bessst author all around, they sssay, and it isss true. ?: Ehem, excuse me, sorry, coming thru. Hello, everyone. Allow me to introduce myself. I am The Bard. JKR: William Shakespeare: You may know my tales. I know you do, you happily cribbed from some.

JKR: I ssaid I am the bessst children'sss author… ?: Oh, sorry, pardon for intruding. Hi. Erich Kästner. You may know me as the man who wrote Emil and the Detectives. JKR: Britisssh author, asss I sssaid… ?: Pardon me for interrupting, I am A. A. Milne. I, well, can't help to notice what you said, and how it was, well, not so truthful.

JKR: Asss I sssaid, I am the bessst adult human female author all- ?: Oh, excuse me. Beatrix Potter, greetings everyone. So, I have heard that you got my name in your little story? JKR: …I never even heard of you. Beatrix Potter: Now that would be quite a feat, when almost every British child, especially from your background, grew up with Peter Rabbit… And I made research on fungi. JKR: Mosssst prolific writer of all timesss!

The darkness near them falls asunder and the sound of a typewriter can be heard. As she turns, she sees a man, sitting on a throne made of books, typing with no real pause. ?: Hello all. Isaac Asimov. I don't think I got to say more. JKR: I don't know you. Asimov: Then you never opened a sci-fi book from the past 80 years. Nor any chemistry book worth its salt. Speaking of, did you finally checked some of the biology books referencing me, or are you still making up things?

Jkr: …mossst versssatile- ?: Oh, pardon me, Enid Blyton. You may know me as the one who gave the world Noddy, the Famous Five and the Naughty Girl series. JKR: You write about naughty girlsss? Like a male would? ?: Oh, sorry. I have to say, you misunderstand what she meant by that word. Oh, where are my manners? Just call me Mr. Rogers, please.

JKR woke up, drenched in sweat. She brushed off a few hundred pounds off of herself, still sticky from the sweat, and grabbed her phone to go on eksh dot com. However, the parental lock was still on.

#the midnight society #fanfiction

[harrysarchive]

A request where Harry styles is a college football star student who has a crush on his single sexy proffesor, reader. One day, reader asked him to see after class

after class: h.s.

pairing: fratboy!harry x professor!reader

summary:

"i can tell you like the thought of this rendezvous with me." i smirk and she gasp.

"that is very inappropriate mr. styles."

or

fratboy harry has a hot professor and she calls him in after class.

warning:

SMUT 18+ PLEASE

p.s.a i didn't write the exact request but this is what i felt comfortable writing! thank you for the request! <3

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘'𝐒

𝐏𝐎𝐕

i let out an exaggerated sigh as i make my way to english literature, introduction to romantic poetry was the lesson of the week. at least the professor is bangin' hot. thick thighs, amazing curves and what looks like a d-cup set nicely on her chest.

professor y/l/n.

she was a recent graduate of the University of Georgia, the current school i was attending. a full ride football scholarship, i was the best wide receiver in the nation, uni's form all states where trying to pull me. i made the decision to attend UGA on logistics, the best football team in all the states, currently undefeated.

"you ready to see our professor?" niall snaps me out of my thoughts wiggling his eyebrows.

"bloody hell, yes. i don't think i could thank my advisor more for forcing me to do this class." i snicker and he chuckles shaking his head.

"tell me 'bout it." he comments licking his lips and i scrunch my face in disgust.

"watch yourself horan." i mumble as i see a group of girls waving at me and sending winks my way, i send them a wave before averting my eyes.

niall throws a punch at my arm before starting a light jog and i huff out a laugh before following him. sooner than later we find ourselves in professor y/l/n's lecture hall.

"romantic poetry is the poetry of the Romantic era, an artistic, literary, musical and intellectual movement that originated in Europe towards the end of the 18th century." professor y/l/n's states as she walks around her desk, a gray pencil skirt hugs her curvy hips, her freshly shaven legs on display, and a black turtleneck that sticks to her skin like glue. "i've decided to take a different route then the normal, 'Sonnet 18 by the beloved William Shakespeare', and instead we will start this unit with something from my background, 'El Beso' by Angelina Weld Grimké. which translates to 'the kiss', Grimké wrote the poem about a love song, full of passion, yearning, and confused emotions."

i lick my lips and pull my bottom lip between my teeth, she sits back on the desk and her hips plush out even more.

i never would've thought i could listen so much in a class.

"as like your other projects in my class you will either make a short story, making it easier for the common eye to read or, you will make a photo reflection. with that being said i would also like a short summary over 'El Beso.' she smiles at the class, "any questions?" no one raises their hand except, well me. "yes mr. styles?" she cocks an eyebrow.

"what is the grade point based on?"

"like all your other projects it depends on efficiency, the structure and etcetera." she replied folding her hand in-front of her chest, "also if i could see you after class mr. styles, we need to talk."

my heart drops to the pit of my stomach and i gulp down the knot in my throat, "of course professor y/l/n."

i'm fucked.

"thank you so much for working hard today! i cant wait to see all of the things you guys have come up with. there will be a short quiz over El Beso next class so study hard!" professor y/l/n shooes everyone out, class ticked by at the slowest rate known to man kind.

i stand awkwardly at the foot of her desk and wait till she turns around beaming a smile at me.

"ah mr. styles! exactly who i wanted to see. please follow me to my office." she starts walking towards the direction of the locked office and opens it with her key.

"now no need to be scared, just wanted to talk to you about your grades." she smiles pointing me to sit in the chair in front of her desk.

she slides into her rollie chair as well and pulls out a manila folder with my name on the top right corner.

"okay it's just that you seem to be doing exceptional in my class, you are one of the top students that i have."

"but..?" i wait for the wooing factor that's bound to happen.

"but you are barely passing your other classes." she pulls out what looks like a report card you would get in grade school.

"a seventy is passing." i state bluntly as i look over the grades.

"that is true mr. styles, very true but how are you making seventy precent in all other class and passing mine with a ninety percentage average?"

it's because you make me focus.

"how do i make you focus?" she answer the question i thought was just in my head.

"i don't know okay? i mean look at you! you're the hottest professor i have! it hard not to pay attention when you are the professor!"

her eyes widen at my outburst and her ears flush, she straightens herself out and i notice that she squeezes her thighs together.

"i'm sorry? that i distract you?" she stutters putting her glasses on the top of her head.

"i can tell you like the thought of this rendezvous with me." i smirk and she gasp.

"that is very inappropriate mr. styles."

i get up and make my way towards her side of the desk pulling her chair out, i let my hands travel up her sides and to her shoulders, massaging them slowly as she lets out a whine.

"tell me this doesn't turn you on. the thought of you and me. me bending you over this goddamn desk and me fucking you senseless." i whisper in her ear and a shiver runs down her spine.

"we can't." she says bluntly causing a chuckle to leave my mouth.

"i didnt ask if we could did i, love?" she holds back an answer and i bring my lips to her neck pressing kisses on her sensitive skin, "i asked if this turns you on."

she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and murmurs, "fuck it." before spinning around and crashing her lips with mine. i eagerly kiss back slipping my tongue between her mouth, she lets a moan slips out. i slip between her legs and my arms grab underneath her thighs picking her up with ease.

"wait," she whines pulling apart and pushing my chest.

"what baby?" i practically cry out wanting nothing more than to kiss her puffy lips again.

"the door, i didn't lock it."

i let out a chuckle before dropping her to her feet and briefly pecking her lips, quickly locking the door. y/n leans over the desk, the plump of her ass sticking out.

"so you do want this?" i muse as my hand runs along down arch of her back.

"shut up and fuck me." she grunts through gritted teeth causing my cock to swell in my pants.

i slip a hand through the front of her skirt splitting her sleek folds before my thumb makes contact with her sensitive puffy clit rubbing tight circles, her whimpers and moans start to fill the air, "you're soaked baby." i mumble in her ear and she shivers.

"please." she pleas, grabbing ahold on her skirt hiking it up and they bunch on her plump hips.

"wanna taste ya cunt first." i groan sitting in her chair as i pull down her red lace thong, "ya tryna to kill me."

pressing a kiss to the arch of her back i make my way down to her puffy cunt, jesus fuck, i spread her glistening folds pressing a kiss to her clit, she lets out a breathy moan before pushing her hips back licking a broad stripe through her folds, muffling my own groan of pleasure.

"oh harry." she shuddered pulling her hand to her mouth, trying to suppress the small moans and whimpers that were trying to escape her.

"no," i growl against her and slap her plushy ass, "let them out, i wanna her you."

her jaw fell open as a beautiful pornographic moan erupted through the room, knuckles white as they fisted the bottom of the desk, nails digging in the wood leaving small angry marks, her hips pushing back into my face.

my hands were around her thighs, pulling her closer to me, holding her still as she huffed out a breath through her swollen lips. i begged her with my actions, digging fingers into her beautiful melanin flesh and willed her to cum on my face.

"har, 'm gonna cum!" she moaned bucking her hips.

"do it." i spat shortly.

she lets out a high pitched moan as her orgasm hits her, i let her ride it out coaxing her swollen clit. my hands quickly unbutton my pants and i yank them down along with my boxers.

"got my cock leaking honey." i muse lightly fisting my bulge.

"fuck me please." she whines arching her back further.

"yeah you want my cock bad?" i tease swiping my swollen tip through her velvet folds.

not wanting to tease us both any longer i positioned my cock at her entrance, pushing inside her in one fluid motion. she moaned loudly, my hands moving to her lower back, fingers digging into her skin i groaned at the feeling of being inside her. i fucked into her at a torturously steady pace. she grounded her hips down to meet my movements, desperate for more, silently begging me to meet that soft spot inside of her. my hand moves to her neck, wrapping around her throat and she whines.

" 's good." she slurred as her legs start to buckle.

i pull her up with the hand that's around her neck, moving it to her face before turning her head to give her a bruising kiss. once we pulled away i push her down again my hips snapping faster craving a release. i looked at her like she was artwork, displayed just for me in a pornographic arch. my pace was fast, smooth and shallow thrusts, keeping my hips angled so my cock could hit that spongy place that makes her eyes roll back.

"faster h! please!" she cried pushing her hips back, i rocked my hips faster against her before looking down where we connected, i gather saliva in my mouth before spitting between us.

"that's it baby, that's it, take it like a good girl." i gasp out gripping her hips with an iron grip not letting her run from my thrust. i felt her spazzing around me and a choked moan left my lips, my hand moves around to her front and my thumb connects with her swollen pearl.

"cum for me baby." i grunt and she lets out a whine clawing the front of her desk.

she clenched around me and i let out a gasp as we both finally released. my thrusts we're starting to slow down, giving her a sharp pump keeping my cock there as her orgasm hit her. she screams my name as her eyes closed and legs shook. i stood above her as i waited for her pulse to calm down. i let out a breathy chuckle before pulling out and grabbing a tissue for the box of her desk. i quickly clean her before placing a kiss on her plump ass and pull her thong up.

"what do you want for dinner love?" i ask as she pushes her skirt back into place.

she turns around with a smile on her lips before pushing me to sit in her chair and sitting in my lap, "dunno, we haven't gone grocery shopping this week, we have nothing in the fridge."

i play with the diamond ring that rested on her left hand before bringing it to my lips and placing a kiss on it.

"i can go if you want sum pet."

"yeah been craving your chicken parm." she groans out rubbing her stomach, i let out a chuckle before kissing her lips.

"okay want anything else?"

"those crisps i like, the spicy ones." she hums running a hand through my hair, "best fiancé out there."

"yeah? 'm the best?" i tease her and she nods.

a/n: PLOT TWIST😭🤣🤣 i knew i wanted them to have a real relationship but i didn't know if i wanted it to be a "they use to date" relationship or a "they're engaged" relationship😋

also a lil introduction about me i'm 19! my full name is emily but please call me em! i am mexican (MEXICORRY RISE🇲🇽) my pronouns are she/her/hers. i've been a fan of harry since xfactor days so i'm not new to this fandom🫶🏽 that's all you get rn ;)

-all the love,

em

xo🐝

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x poc #harry styles x you #harry update #harry x reader #harry angst #frat boy harry #harry smut #harry styles x y/n #harry fluff #harrys house #harry au #fandom #fanfic #fic reading #fic rec

[hotcocoabuns]

Today I bring you… *drumroll*

Edit: I forgot to tag the lovely artist that inspired me write these. @levionok, ask and you shall receive!

Teacher!Hob headcanons (mixed with an aftertaste of dreamling because I’m mentally ill about them)! Plus a bonus, mildly NSFWish, bit because, as much as I insist on writing sexy shit about them, I’m shy in front of an audience

Teacher Hob headcanons

Hob drives a motorcycle to university. it’s very important to me, ok? (picture him in a well worn leather jacket, distressed blue jeans and taking his helmet off/putting it on 😭💦🥴)

Hob’s outfit game slides from the most “cleans-up-nicely”, contemporary style, to the “just woke up with a migraine this morning after pulling 3 all nighters grading essays” half-made bun and T-shirt. His students can tell at what point of the school period they are depending on Mr Gadling’s looks alone.

Some of Hob’s literature students have taken to playing a game consisting of making him rant about William Shakespeare. He’s become scarily good at keeping his thoughts about the playwright to himself through the ages, and he can manage entire classes teaching his works without issue (maybe Will is still important or whatever). Still, once every blue moon, a student is able to get him riled up enough to trigger one of his signature “Shakespeare’s overrated” monologues. They have kind of a formula figured out: Bring up the topic of the bard’s possible inspirations, or the possible muse for Sonnet 130 and you’re pretty much a winner. He gets… passionate about it, to say the least.

Hob writes short quotes on the board at the beginning of his classes, hinting at the topic of the day. He makes his students try to guess it. He can be quite creative, which makes guessing more difficult. So, if they get it in the first three tries, he let’s them leave a bit earlier. As a treat.

He’s a MASTER storyteller. It’s one of the reasons why his lessons are so in demand and almost always full. His intonation, rhythm and body language are captivating. Sometimes, he’ll wear full-on costumes (with props and everything, the sweet man) to make his lessons more entertaining and interactive. Mr Gadling may be a little exotic, but that’s part of why he’s so popular at uni. (Something something, Dream’s rather private, but the pride that swells in his chest at Hob’s narrative abilities is undeniable).

Hob showed his students an antique fire weapon once (it was one of his, from the 17th century) and proceeded to baffle them after. demonstrating how to safely dismantle it, quickly put back it together, charge it and shoot it in record time. Like he’d been there when they first were made… Hey, Mr Gadling certainly has a variety of interests, huh?

So many faculty members have a crush on Mr Robert Gadling. He’s damn handsome and his easy smile melts even the coldest of hearts. He never seems to return anyone’s romantic sentiments, though. He insists there’s someone in his life already, but no one’s ever seen them?? And Hob won’t even tell their a name??? (He’s still a bit possessive about Dream’s name. It took him 600 years to get it, for god’s sake).

Cue the entire university slowly getting invested in Mr Gadling’s love life.

Bonus NSFW!

Dream enjoys visiting Hob at the uni. Sometimes, he’ll materialise in lecture halls, wait for him at the door, at the halls, at his office… Hob’s prudence is constantly hanging by a thread because Dream has taken a liking to showing up with nothing but his pitch black robe on and getting Hob to push him against the wall and maybe fuck him on his desk, if they have time.

#dreamling #the sandman #sandman #dreamgadling #dream x morpheus #dream x hob #hob x morpheus #hob x dream #dream of the endless #dream #dream the sandman #hob gadling #morpheus #dreamling headcanons #headcanons #the sandman headcanons #sandman headcanons #these are more like a ultra-short drabbles because i couldnt stop writing what the hell #i thought they'd be harder to write so imagine my surprise when the ideas wouldn't stop coming #anyway my thirst is really starting to show so imma stop there

[broadwaydivastournament]

Broadway Divas Tournament: 2A

Donna Murphy (1959) “DONNA MURPHY (Anna) received the 1996 Tony Award, as well as Drama Desk and Outer Critics Circle nominations for her performance in The King and I. She also received the 1994 Tony and Drama Desk Awards for her portrayal of Fosca in Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine’s Passion. Last summer she was featured as Dorothy Trowbridge in Mr. Lapine’s Twelve Dreams at Lincoln Center (Drama Desk nomination). Other Broadway Credits include: Edwin Drood in The Mystery of Edwin Drood, The Human Comedy, and They’re Playing Our Song. Off-B’way: The Whore in Michael John LaChuisa’s Hello Again (Drama Desk nom.), Rose in Song of Singapore (Drama Desk, Outer Critics Circle noms.), Hey Love; The Songs of Mary Rodgers, Privates on Parade, Showing Off, Birds of Paradise, A…My Name is Alice, Little Shop of Horrors. Regional work includes Miss Julie (McCarter), Pal Joey (Huntington), Williamstown, Portland Shage Co. and Goodspeed. She made her feature film debut in Jade, and co-stared (sp) in “Someone Had to Be Benny” for HBO. Other TV includes: Francesa Cross on Stephen Bocho’s “Murder One,” “Law & Order,” “A Table at Ciro’s” (PBS Great Performances), “Another World” and the American Playhouse Production of Passion. Ms. Murphy can be heard on the original cast recordings of Passion (Grammy Award), and Hello Again, and is featured on Leonard Bernstein’s New York on Electra/Noneshuch.” – Playbill bio from The King and I, December 1996.

Mary Beth Peil (1940) "MARY BETH PEIL (Anna Leonowens), before joining the 1982 Los Angeles production of The King and I, received national acclaim for her television portrayal of Alma Winemiller in Lee Hoiby's opera Summer and Smoke (based on the Tennessee Williams play), produced by PBS and the Chicago Opera Theatre. As a member of New York's Theatre for a New Audience she has apperaed in many productions of Shakespeare. A Graduate of Northwestern University and a First Prize winner of the Metropolitian Opera Auditions, Mary Beth has been featured in opera and musical theatre with such companies as The Metropolitan Opera National Company, the New York City Opera, the Lake George Opera and the Minnesota Opera. She has appeared as soloist with the New York Philharmonic, Honolulu Symphony, Buffalo Philharmonic, the New York Young Concert Artists and the Cincinnati Area Artists Series. Favorite musical theatre roles that she has performed include Rosabella in Most Happy Fella, Magnolia in Show Boat and Kate in Kiss Me, Kate." - Playbill bio from The King and I, March, 1985.

NEW PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT: ALL POLLS HERE

"We have Donna Murphy as Dolly. We have Donna Murphy as Aurelia. What are we doing to get Donna Murphy in a Mame revival so she can hit the Jerry Herman trifecta? I need this woman back on a stage immediately and genuinely, I cannot tell you how much money I'd be realistically willing to shell out. And on a more personal note? What do I have to do to get Donna Murphy to look at me like she wants to devour me whole? The things I want to do to this woman... She has chemistry with every single person she crosses paths with. I need her carnally."

"Mary Beth Peil's hair deserves a Tony Award of its own. She started going grey almost twenty years ago and never looked back. A grey-haired octogenarian who's actively out here being hot and sexy and showing skin is quite possible one of the hottest things in the world. Let me reiterate: I want to fuck this old woman."

#broadwaydivastournament #broadway #broadway divas #tournament poll #musical theatre #donna murphy #mary beth peil #round 2a

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Twenty One, Blood and Cards

(A/N- I apologize for the long wait and the short chapter, life has just rough lately but we’re back)

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty, part two

You felt your body stiffen up as Ango approached you, your eyes glancing over at the doctor and her face had an “I’m sorry” expression written all over it. You internally rolled your eyes, you suppose it could not be helped. Dr. Stevenson put on her best smile and gestured to you. “Ango Sakaguchi, this is Miss (Name). She is one of my friends here from Yokohama.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Name).” Ango said, his tone dead as he extended his hand to you. You almost shook it but then your memory snapped back to William’s words…

“From what I hear you two have the same if not similar abilities”

If he touched you he could know your plans and previous conversations, so you settled on folding your hands in front of you and bowing your head. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

You heard a hum from the government agent as he tucked his hand that he held out to you into his pocket, his eyes narrowed at you. You could could feel your palms grow sweaty under the gloves. There was a silent tension between the two of you as you figured out what he was trying to do and him figuring out that you know. This silence was broken by someone calling the doctor’s name and she was dragged off somewhere else to socialize.

“So what do you do?” You asked even though you fully well knew, better to be socialize rather than be suspicious.

“I do work for the government, and you?”

“Oh I work as a florist.”

“Your employment files said that you left that job a number of months ago.”

Your stomach hit the floor, had he been researching you? The government’s knowledge on members of the society should be limited, Dr. Stevenson, Victor, and Jane Austen at most. So the chances of him knowing you were a member of the Society was low, to him you should just be a friend of the doctor’s who was invited to this party like most other people in the room… unless someone told him.

“Well, I do mostly side gigs now, weddings, and what not-“

“I suggest you stop lying before you dig yourself a deeper hole. I know you’re a member of the society.”

You kept up your innocent face and began turning away from the large crowd, taking to the sides of the room. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ango followed beside you, his eyes doting around the ballroom to make sure no one was watching the two of you. “Dazai told me about you after the Guild incident.”

You stopped in your tracks, if you didn’t feel sick before, you sure feel sick now. This man actually knew Dazai, most likely to the point where he would have no problem sharing details about others in his life, or there was a deal made, hard to tell when it came to the suicidal detective. You glanced around the ballroom as well to make sure no one else was watching you before you grabbed Ango by his suit jacket, and dragged him into the hallway. You glared up at him before doing a double look to make sure no one was there. “What did Dazai tell you about me?”

“That is information I’m not going to give for free. You tell me first, what is the society really up to tonight.”

“Do you actually think I will tell you that?” 

“And do you think I would tell you what I-“

“Ango, I’ve been looking for you.” You couldn’t have been more relieved that when you heard the voice of William Shakespeare, who had just stepped into the hallway after you two. William smiled, looking at the two of you. “I believe a Mr. Taneda is looking for you.” 

Ango sighed and stepped away from the two of you, right before he went back inside, he looked at the two of you, the light reflecting off of his glasses. “I suggest you don’t try anything, we will know.”

You and William stood there as Ango walked back into the ballroom. Then not a moment later, William grabbed you by your sleeve and began leading you away from the ballroom. “Hey what’s going on?”

“I just lied, I needed to get you away from them.” William’s smile and all but fades as he led you to the grand stairwell in the lobby of the hotel, which was mostly empty now, seeing as many of the guests were at events. “The auction was cancelled, they found blood splattered all over the displayed.”

“Who’s was it?”

“I have a hunch because Gaston’s communications went dark about forty minutes ago, right before the blood was found.” You felt like your body went completely numb, and you must have dazed off for a moment because the next thing you know William is snapping his fingers in front of your face. “Stay with me, it’s a shock factor, but knowing Gaston he will be alright.”

“What are we going to do now? What about Miss Jane?”

“I have the room number of where they presumably are staying, I am going to go try and sneak her out. Meanwhile you are going to go investigate the scene of the auction, figure what happened, and get that lot the Port Mafia wanted.”

“Huh? how did you-“

“Know?” William cut you off and chuckled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a map. “I have been working in the organized crime business for quite awhile, and I’m an actor and you are not the best liar.” 

“Oh fuck you.”

“Hm, I’m married.” William handed you the map and pointed to a room on the twentieth floor of the hotel. “That’s the conference hall where the auction was supposed to be. Emma and the others is going to be distracting our law enforcement friend, but I would say you have about thirty minutes.”

“Thanks, William.” You watch as William gives you a smile before he turns to go down another hallway at the top of the stairs. “Good luck.”

William stops to look down at you and gives you a smile. “Thanks, I’ll see you on the other side of this.”

————————

You made your way up to the auction hall. You slipped in and closed the door behind you, everything was dead silent, it felt almost far to quiet. You stepped down the aisle, between all the chairs, and put to the stage where they had the items on display, but most importantly the blood. It was splatted out over the stage, so you had to tie up your skirt so none would stain the white fabric. You slipped off your glove and kneeled down to investigate it. You ran your index finger through the red substance before bringing it to your nose and taking a smell and the pungent scent of iron hit you, definitely blood. You looked over the stage and then something caught your eye. You stood up and walked over to it, looking it over before bending down and picking it up with your gloved hand. It was a playing card it seemed, though some of the diamonds on it were off.

“You’re quite far from the party.”

You jumped up at the voice behind you, tucking the card into the neckline of your dress. You turned to see the blond man with the orange sunglasses and a long tan coat and a cap covering his head, Yukito Ayatsuji. You remembered him as the detective that William had pointed out that worked with the Special Division. He had followed you.

“You followed me.”

“That I did, good to know you can see the obvious.” He bit back sarcastically, he stepped onto the stage where you were, looking down at the blood at his feet. He hummed as his eyes landed back on you. “I’ll make you a deal, I’ll ignore everything I saw in here, which adds up to very incriminating evidence just so you know, if you do something for me.”

“If I refuse.”

“Well then, I’m sure the Hunting Dogs and the Special Division would love to see all of this.”

He was blackmailing you. You just wanted to punch him to wipe off that smug look on his face, but thinking logically if ignored everything he saw in this room you could get your hands on that book the Port Mafia wanted, but then you would be in his debt…

“So? I don’t have all night.”

#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #original character x reader #bungou stray dogs oc #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere dazai #yandere chuuya #yandere mark twain #yandere mori ougai #yandere Fukuzawa #Yandere Edgar Allan Poe #Yandere John Steinbeck #yandere fyodor #yandere jouno #Yandere Ango #yandere tecchou #Yandere Paul Verlaine #Yandere Yukito Ayatsuji

[pagansphinx]

The Pre-Raphaelites' Top Best List

In 1905, William Holman Hunt wrote a book Pre-Raphaelitism and the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, where he recounted the formation of a declaration regarding immortality in the arts. Written by Hunt and Dante Gabriel Rossetti in 1848, it reads like a who's who of intellectuals, poets, and philosophers — among others. With a zealous, youthful approach to the relevance of each, they chose a star rating to establish the priority the list members held for the Pre-Raphaelites. Interestingly, Raphael, whose work was the catalyst for the movement's rebellion, is listed and awarded one star. It makes me want to go back in time and have dinner with Hunt and Rosetti and ask them about the inclusion of Raphael and also Columbus, curiously, in their list.

William Holman Hunt • Self-portrait • 1867 • Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence

Once, in a studio conclave, some of us drew up a declaration that there was no immortality for humanity except that which was gained by man’s own genius or heroism.  We were still under the influence of Voltaire, Gibbon, Byron, and Shelley, and we could leave no corner or spaces in our minds unsearched or unswept.  Our determination to respect no authority that stood in the way of fresh research in art seemed to compel us to try what the result would be in matters metaphysical, denying all that could not be tangibly proved.  We agreed that there were different degrees of glory in great men and that these grades should be denoted by one, two, or three stars… Gabriel wrote out the following manifesto of our absence of faith in immortality, save in that perennial influence exercised by great thinkers and workers:

We, the undersigned, declare that the following list of Immortals constitutes the whole of our Creed, and that there exists no other Immortality than what is centred in their names and in the names of their contemporaries, in which this list is reflected:

Jesus Christ****, The Author of Job***, Isaiah, Homer**, Pheidias, Early Gothic Architects, Cavalier Pugliesi, Dante*, Boccaccio*, Rienzi, Ghiberti, Chaucer**, Fra Angelico*, Leonardo da Vinci**, Spenser, Hogarth, Goethe**, Flaxman Hilton, Kosciusko, Byron, Wordsworth, Keats**, Shelley**, Haydon, Cervantes, Joan of Arc, Mrs. Browning*, Patmore*, Raphael*, Michael Angelo [sic], Early English Balladists, Giovanni Bellini, Georgioni, Titian, Tintoretto, Poussin, Alfred**, Shakespeare**, Milton, Cromwell, Hampden, Bacon, Newton, Landor**, Thackeray**, Poe, Hood, Longfellow*, Emerson, Washington**, Leigh Hunt (Author of Stories of Nature*), Wilkie, Columbus, Browning**, Tennyson

Dante Gabriel Rossetti • Self-portrait • 1847 • Pen and ink on paper

#art #painting #fine art #art history #pre raphaelite brotherhood #oil painting #ophelia #john everett millais #pre raphaelite manifesto #19th century british art #art movements #literary painting #shakespeare plays

[gone2soon-rip]

SIR MICHAEL GAMBON (1940-Died September 27th 2023,at 82,Pneumonia).Anglo-Irish actor forever remembered by millions of Harry Potter fans as Professor Albus Dumbledore,in the last 6 films of the Harry Potter film franchise.

Gambon started his acting career with Laurence Olivier as one of the original members of the Royal National Theatre. Over his six-decade-long career, he received three Olivier Awards, two Screen Actors Guild Awards, and four BAFTA Awards. In 1998, he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II for services to drama.

Gambon appeared in many productions of works by William Shakespeare such as Othello, Hamlet, Macbeth and Coriolanus. Gambon was nominated for thirteen Olivier Awards, winning three times for A Chorus of Disapproval (1985), A View from the Bridge (1987), and Man of the Moment (1990). In 1997, Gambon made his Broadway debut in David Hare's Skylight, earning a Tony Award for Best Actor in a Play nomination.

Gambon made his film debut in Othello (1965). Other notable films include The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover (1989), The Wings of the Dove (1997), The Insider (1999), Gosford Park (2001), Amazing Grace (2006), The King's Speech (2010), Quartet (2012), and Victoria & Abdul (2017). Gambon also appeared in the Wes Anderson films The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004), and Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009). Gambon enhanced his stardom through his role of Albus Dumbledore in the Harry Potter film series from 2004 to 2011, replacing Richard Harris following his death in 2002.

For his work on television, he received four BAFTA Awards for The Singing Detective (1986), Wives and Daughters (1999), Longitude (2000), and Perfect Strangers (2001). He also received two Primetime Emmy Award nominations for Path to War (2002) and Emma (2009). Other notable projects include Cranford (2007) and The Casual Vacancy (2015). In 2017, he received the Irish Film & Television Academy Lifetime Achievement Award. In 2020, he was listed at No. 27 on The Irish Times' list of Ireland's greatest film actors.Michael Gambon - Wikipedia

#Sir Michael Gambon #Irish Actors #Anglo Irish Actors #British Actors #Actors #Professor Dumbledore #Albus Dumbledore #Harry Potter #Harry Potter Films #The Singing Detective #The Cook The Thief His Wife and Her Lover #Notable Deaths in September 2023 #Notable Deaths in 2023

[uwmspeccoll]

Shakespeare Weekend

We are halfway through Nicholas Rowe’s (1674-1718) The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes! Published in London in 1709 by Jacob Tonson (1655–1736), this second edition holds an important place within Shakespearean publication history. The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes is recognized as the first octavo edition, the first illustrated edition, the first critically edited edition, and the first to present a biography of the poet.  

This week, we explore the third volume of The Work of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes. The third volume encompasses historic plays including a Shakespearean Henriad depicting the rise of English kings. The volume is comprised of King John, King Richard II, Henry IV Part I, Henry IV Part II, King Henry V, King Henry VI Part I, and King Henry VI Part II. While the plays have recurring characters and settings, there is no evidence that they were written with the intention of being considered as a group. A full-page engraving, designed by the French Baroque artist and book illustrator François Boitard (1670-1715) and engraved by English engraver Elisha Kirkall (c.1682–1742), precedes each play. 

In addition to Rowe’s editorial decisions to divide the plays into scenes and include notes on the entrances and exits of the players, he also normalised the spelling of names and included a dramatis personae preceding each play. The only chronicled critique of Rowe’s momentous editorial endeavor is his choice in basing his text on the corrupt Fourth Folio. 

View more volumes of The Works of Mr. William Shakespear; in Six Volumes here.

View more Shakespeare Weekend posts.

-Jenna, Special Collections Graduate Intern 

#shakespeare weekend #nicholas rowe #the works of mr. william shakespear #king john #king richard II #Henry IV #King Henry V #King Henry VI #jacob tonson #henriad #François Boitard #Elisha Kirkall #engravings

[rosencrantzsguildenstern]

Gnomeo and Juliet are both garden gnomes caught up in the feud of who has a better garden, Gnomeo's owner Mr. Montague or Juliet's owner, Miss Capulet. But they'll make their romance work even if none of the other garden gnomes get along.

I think this is a really well done way to adapt the story where quite a few characters die for children to understand the main story points without full commitment to the tragic side. Also, every one who is anyone in this is amazing! The Friar, Nurse, and Paris steal many scenes. And the epic battle at the end with the lawn mowers?!?! love it. Plus, William Shakespeare does make a bit of an appearance.

Viola is a gifted soccer player who's school has just cut girl's sports. When her twin brother Sebastian decides to go to London to chase a gig, Viola decides to enroll in his new school as her brother. "His" roommate Duke is both a complete hottie and the captain of the soccer team. In order to score a place on the team "Sebastian" agrees to help Duke get with his crush Olivia. However Olivia is totally gone for "Sebastian"! Shenanigans ensue as the difference between girls and guys in both love and sports is explored.

This is a hilarious and irreverent take on Twelfth Night starring Amanda Bynes and Channing Tatum. It's incredibly quotable, tons of fun, and a great modern adaptation.

Shirtless Channing Tatum. Positive messages about masculinity! Very quotable. Random acting part for Vinnie Jones. Amanda Bynes at her comedy peak! The shoehorning in of a Shakespeare quote at the end from a play that isn't twelfth night! Peak 2000s romcom

#DUODECIMAL FANS U FOUGHT SO HARD ILL FIGURE OUT SMTH FOR U LATER #she's the man #gnomeo & juliet #tournament #Oh this is finally postable it was glitching

[laundrybiscuits]

Content notes: Stancy, homophobic slur, high school theater production

Steve wouldn’t normally go to this kind of thing—he didn’t, his whole freshman year, even though a junior had invited him. He and Tommy H. knew that being an upperclassman didn’t automatically make you cool, even then. 

But love has him doing some crazy stuff, he guesses. Tommy H. and Carol are going to find out about this eventually, but he’s willing to put up with their teasing because Nancy likes Shakespeare.

She’s so smart. He never thought he’d be into a girl like Nancy Wheeler, but something about her just has him all mixed up, and he loves it. She’s a little uptight and particular in a way he never would’ve bothered with, last year, but now he’s way more mature and he can see the spark she has.

It’s like a movie, the way he looked at her and saw how beautiful she was underneath the nerdy getup, and now they’re together and this is his happy ending and everything is going to be perfect forever. They’re going to go to the same college and get married when they graduate, and have a bunch of kids; Steve’s going to work for his dad, and Nancy’s probably going to get some fancy secretary job or something when the kids are old enough to go to school. He bets she’d be really great at that kind of thing. 

It feels really good to have that kind of security in his future. He’s a simple guy, he doesn’t want to change the world or anything, he just wants a real home and a real family with Nancy. And that means doing stuff she likes, which is why he’s crammed into an auditorium seat, watching some chubby freshman with plastic leaves stuck in his afro squeak, “A merry hour was never wasted there! But, uh, look, fairy, here comes Oberon.”

Someone shakes a sheet of aluminum from offstage, and a blonde girl in a tiara and shiny princess gown with bright colors painted around her eyes steps onto the stage. 

She just stands there for a second, and Steve’s starting to wonder if she’s forgotten her lines when Nancy nudges him and tilts her head meaningfully to the back of the auditorium, where Eddie Munson is strolling down the aisle like he’s got all the time in the world. 

It takes Steve a second to recognize Eddie. While the blonde girl’s costume is all neon and pastel, Eddie’s got coal-black makeup smeared over his eyes almost like a mask. He’s wearing some ridiculous outfit with a lot of black lace and a silky, billowing black shirt cinched at the waist with a belt so thick it looks almost like a corset. 

When he saunters past Steve’s row, it becomes clear that he’s also wearing knee-high leather boots. 

Someone a few rows away coughs, “Faggot,” and a cloud of giggles rises in the auditorium.

“That’s enough, Paul,” says Mr. Williams, in a way that doesn’t sound like he’s going to do anything about it if Paul ignores him. 

Eddie must not have heard, because he doesn’t even glance over. “Ill met by moonlight,” he sings out. His voice drops to a smoky purr. “Proud Titania.”

He jumps right up onto the stage, only stumbling a little bit, and drops to one knee to kiss the blonde girl’s hand. 

She yanks it away, sneering. “Jealous Oberon—fairies, skip hence. I have foresworn his bed and company.”

The old-timey language is pretty hard for Steve to follow, but even if the words don’t make any sense, it’s not hard at all to understand Eddie’s tone when he looks up at the girl and says in that low, clear voice, with just a hint of steel: “Tarry, rash wanton. Am I not thy lord?”

Jesus. Steve always thought of Eddie Munson as kind of a burnout loser—the kind of guy who’d be a virgin living in his mom’s basement until he was really old, like twenty-five or something. 

But with his ragged metalhead rat’s nest pulled back from his face with small braids, leather cords wrapped around his wrists and throat, Eddie doesn’t look like a loser at all. Steve bets the drama girls are practically throwing themselves at him all the time. 

After the show, Nancy smiles up at him. “What did you think?” she asks. 

Steve tucks her more securely under his arm and smiles back. “I liked it,” he says. “Didn’t think I would. But I guess you’ve got pretty good taste, Nancy Wheeler.”

He leans over to kiss her, slow and sweet, and he thinks that there’s nothing else in the world he could possibly want.

purify our misfit ways on AO3

Fic-specific asks

#fic: purify our misfit ways #askbox #ask games #couldn't pass up a chance to do this one too! #I've decided that in this universe Jeff was Puck and that's how he and Eddie met #(I think I have the timelines right?) #also I couldn't figure out a way to fit this in but Barb painted some scenery which is why Nancy actually wanted to go

[emailsfromanactor]

About the Authors of Emails from an Actor

From Letters from an Actor:

William Redfield made his first appearance on the stage in 1936 at the age of nine and has been acting ever since. He has appeared in a wide variety of roles in productions from Our Town to Out of This World, from Junior Miss to A Man for All Seasons. He has also been in a number of motion pictures, the latest of which is Fantastic Voyage. He is a charter member of The Actors Studio. Mr. Redfield is married and has two children. He lives in New York City.

We'll get to know Redfield very well through his writing, and he was well-known enough that he has a Wikipedia page as well as IMDB and IBDB pages with long lists of credits. That Our Town mentioned was the original 1938 production, in which he played Si Crowell. He also did a lot of radio work, including 80 episodes of CBS Radio Mystery Theater, many of which can be heard here and here. And here are some film clips:

Redfield died in 1976 at the age of 49.

From John Gielgud Directs Richard Burton in Hamlet:

Richard L. Sterne is an actor by profession, and his credits as a young actor are indeed impressive. A graduate of Northwestern Uni­versity, Mr. Sterne appeared on Broadway in John Gielgud’s produc­tion of Hamlet starring Richard Burton, obtaining first-hand the material for this book. He toured with the National Repertory Thea­tre under the directorship of Eva LeGallienne, appearing in Liliom and She Stoops to Conquer. Mr. Sterne also appeared with the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, where he played Romeo in Romeo and Juliet, as well as other roles in Love’s Labours Lost and Henry the Fifth. He was narrator of the film Good Night, Socrates, which won first prize in the Venice Film Festival in 1963. Acting, however, is only one of Richard Sterne’s talents. A musician-composer, he was musical director for the Champlain Shakespeare Festival in Vermont in 1965, and composed some of the music used in Gielgud’s production of Hamlet. Mr. Sterne is now living in New York City with his wife, actress Joann Rose, and was recently in Euripides’ The Bacchants at Lin­coln Center.

We'll barely get to know Sterne through his book at all, which is a shame. He seems like an interesting person - I mean, he hid under a platform for six hours to secretly record two of the biggest stars in the world! Ah well. It's also hard to find information about his post-book life. He's on IMDB and IBDB, but apparently he hasn't done much screen or Broadway work. I did find a page for him on Backstage, with a recent headshot and Off-Broadway and regional credits. Looks like he was acting as recently as February 2020, alternating in the non-singing role of the Coroner in Porgy and Bess at the Metropolitan Opera. In 1982-83 he worked with Eva LeGallienne again in her Broadway revival of Alice in Wonderland, starring Kate Burton - Richard Burton's daughter - as Alice. Here's a photo from that!

He's on the left under that big mask. So here's a photo where you can actually see his face, from a 1982 production of Henry IV, Part 1:

Sterne was interviewed for an article about The Motive and the Cue in April 2023, and as far as I know, he's still alive.

And about the editor, who is not an actor but will always be a theatre kid at heart: Hi, I'm @bewareofitalics, I've decided I'm okay with being perceived! When I'm not sending emails from 1964, I do things like write fanfic, document the Twelfth Night productions I've seen live, make deliberately terrible fandom valentines (I have Emails-relevant plans for this year :D), and recommend (or not) random obscure musicals. As far as I know, I am also still alive.

#emails from an actor

[shower-phantom-ideas]

As a child little William Lancer was made fun of for having a “lame” or “boring” name. So he set off to prove to his classmates that William was a cool and famous name! This of course leads to him finding William Shakespeare and discovering how famous he was. Which did impress his friends to the max!

As a child he became fixated on learning about Shakespeare. He was a little fact spot of anything and everything he as a child could know about the man. Which eventually lead to him actually reading the works and not just w fun facts about the man. This lead to him reading more from that era. He was obsessed. His parents greatly encouraged this too since it was such a brilliant topic for a child to like. As a child always seeking out his parents attention and approval this just fuelled his passion even more. Reading was the best thing in the world to him and learning about books and their authors breathed life into the boy.

His tenth grade (i think its actually 11 in other countries) English teacher had been named William as well. They had taught him his love of English. And his love of learning. William Henthorne had a real love for teaching. He was strict but truly wanted his students to succeed so he went out of his way to help them outside of class. Mostly teaching his lesson of the day again but with more questions during his planning period (in my school teachers had a period, 1/4 of the school day, where the didnt have a class) so students could come back and have a second go at the material during their lunch break. Mr.Henthorne showed him the joys of learning that he wished to show others. He wanted everyone to know how great it felt to learn something from someone wo really cared.

When he finally got his degree and became a teacher his very first class had a William in it. A young freshman names William Starnes. The boy hated his name and went by Bill. Of we couldt have that. William Lancer made it his goal to get this child to see the greatness that the name William held. He showed the boy the wonders of Shakespeare. He was a fresh teacher who hadnt had the life sucked out of him by the horrible pay and treatment yet so he was a wonderful teacher. And finally it all paid off when at the end of the first semester (half the school year) young Mr. Starnes asked if he could speak to him after class. Of course Lancer had no way to know what this chat was going to be about but he held his hopes high that it would be another victory for the name William. He was right but also still lost his personal challenge to make Bill want to use his given name. Young Spencer said that they dont hate the name William any more but it just wasnt for them. OH! “Them” oh well Lancer could easily accept a loss here. If they wanted a more neutral name than William to feel comfortable then who was he to deny them that. In the end all that mattered is that the child was passing his class and was feeling comfortable enough to share with him something so personal. Lancer swelled with pride knowing that while he failed to get his student to use their given name William but succeeded in making them not feel so alone and to be more comfortable with themselves. And really that was much better than anything else. Even if William is the superior name of all names.

#someone accused me of writing William propaganda so i had to show them what william propaganda was #you know who you are #its 2:13 am btw #william lancer #danny phantom #i just wrote this man a backstory and life because its william #i dont even know the other options they r so lame #how to get me to post lol #idk why i am so passionate about william #besides the fact that its his name and perfect to bw his name