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loverboytrashmouth · 3 years

Text

Wish You Were Sober

pairing; Reddie

word count; 4k

summary; Eddie is tired of Richie flirting like a madman whenever he gets alcohol in his system.

a/n; so i decided i’m making a kind of series of reddie fics i write based on songs, bc i’m the type of bitch that listens to any music or intakes any kind of media and thinks “iMagiNe tHiS bUt rEdDiE<333″ so ya there’s that lol. here’s a lil angsty one shot based on wish you were sober by conan gray, aka a superior song if u ask me. as always, read on ao3 here if you’d like and enjoy ! :)

Nirvana blared through the speakers and traveled throughout the too small apartment owned by some random guy in one of Richie’s classes. Richie didn’t know him too well - he thinks his name is Chris? Collin? Something with a ‘C’ - but, hey, a party’s a party, and free booze is free booze.

The trashmouth was chatting loudly over the music with Bill on a dingy leather couch, waiting for Stan and Eddie to return with more drinks. Richie was already significantly further along than his friends in terms of his drunken state, all obnoxious laughs interrupted by hiccups and long, gangly limbs flailing more wildly than usual. It almost should be concerning to the other Losers, having only been at the party for less than a couple hours and their friend already being long gone, but it was what they were used to. Since they were 15 and stealing liquor from their parents, the Losers constantly saw Richie’s “go big or go home” attitude with drinking. They assumed it was just Richie wanting to be the life of the party and center of attention, whether that meant going shot for shot with Mike, accepting any type of drinking related dare from Beverly, etc.

Richie let them believe this, because it was better than telling them the truth. It was easier than admitting to them that around the same time he started sneaking a copious amount of vodka from the Tozier’s alcohol stash, he was also realizing certain feelings he had for a certain Loser.

Richie Tozier loved Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie was sure it was just one of those basic laws of the universe, one that’s impossible to ignore and inevitable to come to pass. Despite this, living in a small town like Derry meant getting the shit kicked out of you if you even look at another guy for too long, soulmates or inescapable love or whatever be damned. Richie had gotten beatdowns left and right from neighborhood bullies for being a “faggot” before he even knew what the word meant, so he, unfortunately, knew this from personal experience.

But now, sitting in an apartment in Manhattan of all places, attending NYU with three out of six of his best friends, away from those assholes in Derry, Richie thought he’d loosen up. Let himself be brave.

He soon learned that was easier said than done; who knew what 19 years of internalized homophobia could do to a man?

It’s not like he was afraid of being more of an outcast; he was already a loser with a capital “L,” and he, along with the rest of his friends, carried the title like it was given to them by the Queen herself. Deep down Richie knew the rest of the Losers wouldn’t even bat an eye at the fact that he liked dudes the way he should have liked girls, so he wasn’t afraid of losing them either. And deep, deep down, Richie also knew there wasn’t really anything wrong with him. Why would he feel such a way if it was supposed to be such an unnatural and vile thing? He couldn’t help who he was, who or how he loved, and God, he loved Eddie so much he thought he could just burst with it sometimes.

That shred of acceptance, though, was buried so deep in his lanky form, and the only way to reach it was through a ridiculous amount of shots. Or beers. Or just about anything with a decent alcohol content, really. He’d even settle with wine if he had to.

When Richie was drunk, he was able to be more clingy and face less consequences. He was already an affectionate guy, constantly pinching Eddie’s cheeks and throwing a lazy arm around the shorter man’s shoulders whenever he could. With alcohol, though, he’d give sloppy cheek kisses and intertwine his fingers with Eddie’s and allow his face to form a subtle blush when an intoxicated Eddie would lean into it.

“Sorry for being all over ya last night, Eds. You know how gross and clingy I can get,” he’d say the following morning, and then they’d fall back into their rhythm of bickering and ‘your mom’ jokes. Business as usual, like clockwork every time they’d get wasted.

Richie thought it was going well, that his feelings were going totally unnoticed, that he was stealth. Until this particular college party, that is.

Richie’s attention left his conversation with Bill about the newest Die Hard film when he felt the couch sink next to him, turning to meet eyes with a mildly tipsy Eddie. The taller man’s face immediately lit up, a goofy smile spreading across his chapped lips.

“Hiya, Spagheds! What’s cookin, good lookin’?” Richie slurred out, his arm finding its way around Eddie’s waist and using his other hand to snatch the mixed drink his friend was holding out for him. Eddie responded with his usual scoff and eyeroll, but Richie noted an extra bite to it that he wasn’t used to getting from him.

“Don’t call me that, asshole! And haven’t you ever heard of personal space?” Eddie grumbled, wiggling himself out of Richie’s side embrace and putting some distance between the two. The arm that was once around Eddie made its way to Richie’s own body as he dramatically grasped at his chest.

“Eddie, baby, you’ve wounded me! Since when do you pass up some signature Tozier cuddles?” Richie was met with a simple huff in response as Eddie avoided his gaze. Richie’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at the lack of attention he was receiving from the man who would usually be giving him the most attention, but he was overall too drunk to overthink. With a shrug, Richie downed his freshly made drink in record timing before crunching the plastic cup in his hand and tossing it over his shoulder, causing Eddie to scoff again from next to him. Stan spoke up from beside Bill before Eddie could ream his friend about his lack of care for tidiness.

“Maybe you should start on some water, huh, Rich?” Richie gasped dramatically, turning to look at Stan as if he had just told him pigs fly.

“Staniel, did you just ask moi to drink water? What’s the point of free booze if you’re not gonna take advantage?” He asked incredulously before standing, wobbling on his long limbs for a couple seconds and giggling a bit before regaining his balance. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go see if my boy Chris has any good brewskis lyin’ around.”

“Isn’t his name C-C-Connor?” Bill asked, shaking his head in amusement. He seemed to be the only one enjoying the trashmouth’s antics this evening, as Stan’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern which he tried to pass off as annoyance, and Eddie still kept his gaze elsewhere. It was the latter that made Richie itch for another drink.

“Whatever the fuck, Billiam. I’ll be back in a jiff, my loves! Try not to miss me too much!” Richie exclaimed with a bow, breaking out his British accent for his next sentence. “But if I find m’lady Mary Jane, don’t wait up, lads! Pip pip!”

Before Richie could step five feet from the couch, an aggressive hand was yanking him back by the wrist. Losing his footing due to the intrusion, Richie stumbled once more, nearly toppling onto Eddie. The shorter man’s tight grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him from sending them both back onto the scratchy leather of the couch below. Richie beamed at the attention he was finally receiving, despite the glare Eddie was boring deep into his features.

“Sit the fuck down, Richard. You’re not drinking anymore fucking beer and you’re definitely not smoking anything. You’re drinking some water and I’m taking you the fuck back to your room, asswipe,” Eddie said sternly, getting as close as he could to Richie’s face with the height difference between them. Richie couldn’t help but love when Eddie got like this; sure, he was red in the face more with anger than with the alcohol, but the anger was backed by mountains of concern. It reminded Richie how much his love cared about him, even though he was sure their forms of love differed. There was still some kind of love there, and sometimes, that was enough for him.

Although Richie felt his chest swell and he wanted nothing more than to ease Eddie’s anger and please him, his mouth rambled before his brain could tell it what to say, as usual.

“If you wanted to get me alone, Eds, all ya had to do was ask,” Richie slurred with a wink, slowly bringing his hand up Eddie’s arm, his calloused fingertips slightly teasing the warm skin. Eddie’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red, from anger or something else, no one was sure - until Richie’s hand was being swatted away, the smack of it loud enough for Bill and Stan to hear over the music from their spot on the couch. Richie mumbled a curse under his breath as he rubbed the skin Eddie came in contact with, a sting lingering there. He opened his mouth to speak again, some kind of excuse or apology on the tip of his tongue, but never got it out due to Eddie’s voice cutting him off.

“Stop doing this, Richie! Just stop! I’m tired of it!” Eddie's voice was slowly rising, and the tremble that laced within his words acted as some kind of magical potion; suddenly Richie had never been so sober.

“Hey, Eddie, it’s okay. I’m sorry, whatever I did I’m sor-” The apology was interrupted with another signature scoff as Eddie looked at the ground, shaking his head, breathing out a humorless chuckle.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing,” he said with a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking Richie in his eyes once again. Despite the apartment being dark with the exception of a couple of lamps scattered around the area, Richie could see the glistening threat of tears waiting to spill from the doe eyes he loved so much. His heart ached.

“Of course you don’t know what you’re doing, Rich, because you’re too fucking drunk! You’re always too drunk. I just… I just wish you were sober for fucking once!” Eddie practically screamed, before his voice softened with hurt again. “I just wish you’d act like this with me without fucking booze.” There were a couple beats of silence between them, two pairs of dark eyes swimming with gallons of emotions simply blinking at one another, the only noise coming from Eddie’s sniffling. Richie did all in his power to search for a response, but for once in his life, the trashmouth was at a loss for words. After what felt like forever, Eddie finally ended the moment by turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door, leaving Richie to stand in dumbfounded silence while his intoxicated brain processed the scene that just unfolded. His thought process was interrupted by a voice coming from the couch.

“Wha-what just happened?” Bill asked, his amusement from earlier in the night completely dissipated and replaced with a mix of confusion and concern.

“Richie’s oblivious and a dumbass is what just happened. Nothing new,” Stan deadpanned from next to him. Richie snapped his body towards the pair, making his head spin and reminding him of just how drunk he was. He blinked at the two in an attempt to adjust his sight before raising his hands in defense at Stan’s comment.

“What are you talking about? Do you know what that was about?” Richie asked, pointing towards the direction Eddie stormed off in. Stan rolled his eyes before standing up and grabbing Richie by the shoulders with both hands, giving him a serious look.

“When we went to get drinks, Eddie talked to me. About you. About how you act when you’re drunk, all over him and shit, more than usual. And how much he likes it, but he hates that he likes it, because you only do it when you’re drunk.” Richie continued to gape at his friend, clearly not connecting what Stan’s words meant. Stan sighed, scrunching his face in annoyance and gripping Richie’s shoulders tighter. “He’s in love with you, asshole! Either tell him you love him too, because trust me, everyone except him knows you do, or stop leading him on. It’s fucking ruining him, man!”

Realization finally hit Richie, his eyes welling with tears as Stan’s grip on his shoulders softened. “He- He is? Are you sure? This- This isn’t funny, Stanley. A-Are you sure?” he breathed out, and if it wasn’t for the weight of the situation, he’d made a joke about how he was sounding like Bill, nervous stutter and all. Stan gave a slight nod and responded, but Richie didn’t hear what he said. His mind was suddenly racing; find Eddie. tell Eddie. kiss Eddie. EddieEddieEddie.

Before he knew it his feet were running just as fast as his thoughts, not 100% sure where he was going, just knowing he needed to find Eddie. Richie raced out of the apartment building into the chilly air that was New York City on a late November night, frantically scanning the streets. His eyes soon locked on a figure about half a block down, leaning against a mailbox, head in his hands. Even with the distance between them, Richie could tell he was trembling, either from the cold or from crying, he wasn’t sure. As he felt the sharp breeze across his skin exposed by the rips in his jeans, he assumed probably both.

Richie thought better than to call out his name, opting instead to slowly approach Eddie. He did his best to labor his breathing in his short walk over, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation that was about to take place. The confrontation that would bear all feelings, all confessions. All of the walls Richie had been building around himself since high school would finally come down.

He wished he had another drink.

“Eds?” He spoke softly, possibly the softest he’d ever spoken, as to not scare Eddie and send him running. The shorter man lifted his head from his hands, and Richie’s heart broke even more at the sight before him. Eddie’s eyes were red and puffy, a wall of hurt extremely evident in the soft brown. His nose was runny, and his lip quivered as he looked away when he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Don’t call me that,” he practically whispered, just loud enough for the other to catch it over the bustle of traffic in the streets surrounding them. Although he was avoiding the other man’s gaze like his life depended on it, Eddie made no attempt to walk away. Richie took that as a small win.

“Eddie, talk to me. Please. What’s up? It’s just me and you, man. C’mon.” Richie wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Eddie. Offer a comforting hand on his shoulder, run his fingers through his hair, hold him close, tell him everything would be okay. But he didn’t dare move.

A car honked down the street, offering the only noise that cut through the thick silence when Eddie didn’t take Richie’s offer to speak. The former stayed silent with his head down, finding the dirty concrete under his pristine white converse highly interesting. Richie let out a sigh.

“Okay, you don’t have to talk. I’ll do all the talking. I’m the Trashmouth after all, aren’t I?” Richie offered a lame chuckle when his attempt at a joke fell flat, Eddie not breaking his frown even slightly. Richie cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing. “Look, I talked to Stan, he told me what you guys talked about, and -” He was cut off by the same humorless chuckle he heard in the apartment minutes ago, but this time it dripped with sadness rather than anger.

“Dammit, Stanley, you fucking traitor,” Eddie mumbled mostly to himself. He shook his head with a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, making them impossibly redder, before willing himself to look at Richie, his voice finally reaching above a murmur for the first time since leaving the party. “Secret’s out, I guess. I’m a fucking cliche. The fuckin’ queer that fell for his best friend.”

All Richie could do was silently stare, mouth slightly agape and eyes comically blown, amplified more so by his glasses. Sure, Stan had told him this not even five minutes beforehand, but hearing it from Eddie himself was an entirely different experience. He figured under different circumstances, Eddie would probably be laughing at how dumb he was sure he looked. Instead, the shorter man looked at him expectantly with tears still in his eyes, clearly waiting for some kind of response, and expecting the worst. They stood this way, basically a mirroring of what played out in the party upstairs before Eddie stormed out, for a solid minute before it was - once again - Eddie who broke the silence.

“So much for doing all the talking,” he muttered, the volume of his voice lowering, Richie realizing as Eddie looked back at the ground that he was closing in on himself once again. “Good night, Rich.”

“No,” Richie finally spoke, his arm darting out to grab Eddie’s hand before he could even adjust his feet to leave. “Please don’t walk away again. Please.” His voice broke on the last plea, his own eyes finally beginning to water. Eddie was still staring in the opposite direction down the concrete path he was planning on following before he was interrupted, but was staying put, not rejecting Richie’s hand in his. “There’s so much I wanna say to you, Eddie. So much. I just… Shit, I just don’t know how.”

Richie was crying just as much as Eddie was at this point but quieter, unable to pull himself together as much as he wanted to be brave. Eddie turned his head to face Richie with his glare still hardened, only softening when he saw the state Richie was in. Eddie had known Richie since they were literal children, and he knew better than anyone that Richie Tozier didn’t cry like this. Not unless something was truly eating at him. The anger Eddie felt towards the situation seemed to have completely disappeared as he comfortably squeezed Richie’s hand, giving him encouraging eyes.

The taller man used his free hand to rub the tears from his eyes, giving him a better look at Eddie. They were standing fairly close to the lone street light of the block, the faint orange tint of the bulb complimenting Eddie’s lightly tanned skin and chestnut eyes. Without thinking, Richie brought his hand up to Eddie’s face, cupping his cheek and wiping a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb. He continued softly rubbing at the skin there after the tear was gone, his thumb dancing across the freckles, his mind flooded with thoughts of how beautiful the man before him was. Eddie closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in the feel of Richie’s touch.

Unable to find words again but refusing to let the moment slip out of his fingers for the third time of the night, Richie did the only thing he truly knew how to do; he acted impulsively.

If asked, Richie wouldn’t be able to pinpoint exactly when he decided to kiss the man he’d loved since he was 15 in the middle of Greenwich Village at one in the morning. Before he knew it, the hand on Eddie’s cheek slid down to his neck, pulling their lips together before the shorter man could react to the shift in Richie’s hold on him. As much as he didn’t want to admit the fact, Richie knew he wouldn’t have taken such action if it weren’t for the alcohol flowing through his veins, but at this point he didn’t much care. When their lips met, he forgot all about the booze, and became drunk on Eddie.

Eddie kissed back without hesitation, letting go of Richie’s hand and easily snaking his arms around his neck, with a comfortability as if they had done this thousands of times. It was sloppy due to the pair’s mixed tears along with their lack of experience, but nevertheless the two men kissed with purpose, as if the fate of their livelihood depended on this moment. Perhaps it did.

By the time they pulled away and rested their foreheads together, Eddie’s fingers had found themselves tangled in Richie’s dark curls, and Richie’s hands were gripping Eddie’s hips for dear life. The kiss hadn’t lasted too long - thirty seconds or so, if that - however the energy both men poured into those short seconds left them panting heavily, their breath tangling together, hot in the other’s face in the midst of the cold air around them.

“That was better than talking,” Richie breathed out with a wet chuckle, causing Eddie to finally crack his first smile of the night. It was a small one, the corners of his mouth curving only lightly, but Richie saw that his happiness had made its way into his stare.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie whispered with no real bite in his words before bringing their lips together again, this kiss softer than the last. While their first kiss was filled with the passion built up from years of mutual pining and secrets, their second let them convey the deepness of their love without words to speak. A tender peck of their lips told Richie everything he needed to know; this moment was very much real, and Eddie Kaspbrak very much loved Richie Tozier.

And if the kiss wasn’t enough, Eddie made sure to tell him when he pulled out of the kiss and rested his head on the taller man’s shoulder, pulling him into a proper embrace.

“I love you, Rich. I- I think I always have,” he confessed, his voice slightly muffled from where his face was buried in Richie’s neck, but the other man heard him loud and clear all the same. Richie released his grip on Eddie’s hips and wrapped his arms around him, letting himself breathe out a sigh of relief as he held him impossibly closer.

“I love you too, Eds. So fucking much, fuck.” Richie pressed a kiss to soft brown waves, breathing in the clean scent of lavender shampoo mixed with light cologne, his senses filling with just Eddie.

Standing in the middle of a bustling city they barely knew in the wee hours of a Sunday morning, arms wrapped tightly around one another, ignoring the strangers that walked past them most definitely giving them some variation of judgemental stares, Eddie and Richie had never felt more at home.

“Alright, Trashmouth,” Eddie started, reluctantly pulling away from Richie’s hold. Richie pouted at the loss of feeling Eddie’s body pressed against his own, making the latter chuckle and playfully roll his eyes. He pressed a quick peck to said trashmouth before continuing. “We can talk about this more in the morning. Right now, you need water and sleep.” Richie slapped a toothy grin onto his chapped lips after, once again, being reminded of how intoxicated he still was, falling back into his goofy demeanor with ease.

“Ya gonna take care of me, Dr. K? Ugh, what a dreamboat,” he replied, miming a cartoonish faint. Eddie simply giggled and grasped Richie’s hand once again, interlacing their fingers and leading him in the direction of their dorms. Richie fell back ever so slightly as to not get caught looking at Eddie like the lovesick dork he was, feeling a warmth grow in his body he was sure wasn’t due to the alcohol.

Richie still drinks after this night; old habits die hard, of course. However, Richie didn’t have to be drunk anymore to admit he loved Eddie. He told him sober and drunk, day and night, and vowed to remind Eddie just how much he loved him until the day they died.

#my writing #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fic #reddie fanfic #reddie angst #it #it chapter one #it chapter two #it 2017 #it 2019

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cat-brodsky · 4 years

Text

The Secret History: Abridged (part 2)

Fair use disclaimer: The following text is intended as a parody and literary commentary of the published book “The Secret History” by Donna Tartt. Some direct quotations from the book, constituting a very low percentage of the original, have been integrated in the parodic text where appropriate. The author of this text neither profits nor intends to profit from it.

Dramatis personae

The farmer, brutally murdered by four rich kids on a drug trip

Richard Papen, the narrator, a slightly less starry-eyed youth slowly growing addicted to drugs

Julian Morrow, a Greek professor who doesn’t actually care about his students

Bunny Corcoran, killed on Easter, lying at the bottom of a ravine covered by snow

The Toffs minus one:

Henry Winter, increasingly exasperated as the Greek class spirals into self-destruction

Francis Abernathy, gay, neurotic, and slowly descending into alcoholism

Charles Macaulay, a full-blown drunken abuser

Camilla Macaulay, the token girl

Judy Poovey, the only character in the book with both brains and heart

The Corcorans, Bunny’s large family, grieving and “grieving” the loss of their son

Georges “I told you so” Laforgue

Cloke Rayburn, the friendly neighborhood drug dealer

William Hundy, the friendly neighborhood bigot

the greek chorus (played by a person in a floral bedsheet toga with two sockpuppets)

The Fans, seated in the front row of the audience

Chapter 6, in which it snows on Easter

Richard: Just for the record, I don’t consider myself an evil person. What we did was terrible, but you know, none of us were exactly bad!

Richard: Anyway, that’s totally unfair. I thought murdering Bunny would be easy, but for some reason now I’m having nightmares and everybody is on edge and we’re scared the cops are onto us!

Judy: Want some Demerol?

Richard: Sure, nothing could go wrong with thaaa- oh wow I’m hiiigh.

Francis: ohgodI’m so damn nervous - oh, hi, Richard. Wanna f-

Charles: And I’m three sheets to the wind. Soused. Pished. Drunk.

Francis: Gimme some.

the greek chorus: and that’s gonna be a theme for the rest of the book

The Toffs (minus one): We need to act normal. How do we act like normal people. We could say we were watching some of that new-fangled cinematography whilst the murder, I mean the accident, happened. Do we call the cops? Wait, uh, not yet...

Julian: My student has been absent for more than three classes in a row, should I be concerned? Haha, just kidding.

Cloke: Man, I don’t like this. You know Bunny’s always broke, but he’s been flush with cash lately. And he’s always wanted in on my... pharmaceutical business. You think he ran afoul of some real bad guys and got himself killed?

Henry: Oh, he just might have.

Cloke: Damn. Let’s go search his room before calling the cops.

Charles: He had a cut-out of the newspaper with the farmer murder! Oh well, good thing I managed to swipe it.

The cops: He’s been missing for a week and nobody informed us? What’s wrong with you people?

Judy: Richard, have you heard about Bunny? I’m sure he’s alright, but... If you want to talk, or need anything, I’m here.

The search for Bunny: begins

The reporters: present

William Hundy: Daymn right I saw ‘im! He was in a back seat of a white car, with some arab type folks. Now I ain’t saying they was terrorists, but you know them daymn arabs-

Henry: Who’d have thought people are going to make things up? And who’d have thought giving him money would look suspicious?

Francis (drunk): I’ve had to spend time with the Corcorans. How utterly terrible. One of the damn children running around ruined my favorite scarf. And they didn’t even notice - what’s more important, their dead son or my scarf? By the way, Richard, I am definitely not attracted to you.

Julian: One of my own students - missing? I would be sorry for his parents if they weren’t so... low-brow. But he's such a sweet boy, so silly; I'm really very fond of him. If anything should have happened to him I don't know if I could bear it. Goodness me, this is altogether so very exciting, so dramatic!

Henry, stars in his eyes: There’s divinity in the midst of us.

The FBI agent: We found drug paraphernalia in Bunny’s room.

Mrs. Corcoran: How dare you!

Cloke: I want a lawyer.

Camilla: Did you know Henry had us kill a piglet after that accident with the farmer? Blood can only be washed off with blood, he said.

Richard: Haha, that’s so Henry.

the greek chorus: and then the body is finally found

Chapter 7, in which everyone takes drugs

Everyone in Hampden college: mourns in a sufficiently dramatic way

Julian, writing a letter: Dear Richard, this is all too hard for me. I fear I have a case of the vapours and thus, I shall not return to Hampden until after the funeral. Who cares about the classes you’re taking with me, amirite?

The Toffs: stay with the Corcorans in preparing for Bunny’s funeral

Mr. Corcoran: my son... oh god my son is dead ...you boys want a brewsky?

Mrs. Corcoran: And those flower arrangements we were sent are atrocious. Simply shameful.

Francis: What do you mean we have to sleep in the basement? That’s just wretched.

Richard: This funeral is so inconvenient. I don’t know how I’m gonna get through this. And the food they serve us is terrible.

Henry: And the garden is so ugly.

Camilla: I can’t take it. Let’s steal some drugs from the Corcorans.

Cloke: Lemme show you where the missus keeps the good stuff.

Francis and Henry (drunk): Gimme some.

Charles, Cloke et al: get stoned the morning of the burial

Richard: Bunny’s grave is just terrible to look at. Oh, I cannot even.

the greek chorus: farmer who?

Chapter 8, in which it all goes to hell

Julian: Henry is such a sensitive young man. I fear this is hard on him. And Edmund and him were so very close. But why did he have to read such a... modern poem at the wake? I would have suggested something from Phaedo.

Richard: Time for more drugs

Charles: Time for more whiskey

Francis: Time for a shopping trip!

Francis was always generous with his clothes. He gave Charles and me his old suits by the armload. I still wear a lot of those suits: Sulka, Aquascutum, Gieves & Hawkes.

the greek chorus: no comment

Henry: is gardening

Francis: gets diagnosed with an anxiety disorder

Charles: crashes his car driving drunk

Charles: makes out with Camilla in full view of Richard

Francis: Yep, they're doing it. Haven’t you noticed? Him and I slept together once or twice too, big deal. Hell, Richard, if you drank as much as he did, we would have screwed too.

Richard: ...Jesus. And I’m stuck with these people until I graduate.

Charles: falls asleep outside while drunk

Richard: Well, he has a fever of 103 Fahrenheit, which, going by my premed education means uh... Judy, what do we do?

Judy: Go to the hospital, of course! Wait, take my car. I’ll give you the keys.

Julian: So young Charles is in the hospital? Dearie me, you all must be grieving for Edmund. Though, is death really so terrible a thing? It seems terrible to you, because you are young, but who is to say he is not better off now than you are?

Francis: Oh, and I think Camilla and Henry have been sleeping together. And she moved out of Charles’ place. I think they had an argument.

Richard: Well, I’m not taking sides, but this is a really bad time. You should go see him.

Camilla: ...Charles was physically abusing me. I’m afraid of him. And I can’t stay at Francis’ place, because he’d fold like a wet tissue.

Richard: So is that it? You're protecting your own interests?

the greek chorus: DID YOU JUST-

Richard: What if Charles goes to the cops?

Camilla: He’d never do that. And Henry is looking out for him.

Richard: Sure, that’s why Henry’s been sending him whiskey.

Richard: Time for more drugs. I’m on soooo many drugs. Did... did Henry plan it all out? He... he totally planned it out.

Henry: is gardening

Henry: For my entire life, I’ve been dead inside... but everything changed the night I killed that man.

the greek chorus: finally someone remembers the farmer

Henry: You don’t care much about other people, do you, Richard?

Julian: A most terrible thing has happened. A letter, purportedly from the late Edmund, has been delivered to my office - filled with profanity and wild accusations and references to some... murder. A forgery, of course. It saddens me greatly that someone would do that. I wonder who...

The Toffs: oh no

Julian: Why, by Jove, this is the letterhead of the hotel where Edmund and Henry stayed on winter break!

Henry: ...I can explain. You see, during that bacchanal you sanctioned, we went a little wild and wound up recreating The Bacchae - it wouldn’t be authentic without a little killing, right? It was just an accident, we didn’t want to bother you. But then Edmund found out, and he, well... overreacted. He was having some personal problems, you know, family problems... Professor, you said it yourself - we must do what is necessary! Really, it was a mercy killing.

Julian:

Julian: ...why, that's terribly interesting. Anyway, I have just been urgently called away from the university. Istran royal family, you understand.

Henry: But-

Richard: But-

Julian: Gotta leave now, toodaloo!

Henry and Richard: ...son of a-

Richard: You know, in hindsight, Julian is kind of a huge prick. I even wrote down that his inability to see anything in true light was his most attractive quality. Turns out he used his students to boost his ego like some sorta cult leader.

Richard: And you know what’s messed up? I still admire him.

Dean of Studies: Cozy place Julian’s got here, doesn’t he? Well, now that he’s done a bunk - three weeks before final exams - I regret to inform you that you guys will have to switch your majors or something. I doubt the school will keep teaching Greek.

Dean of Studies: After all, there was so little interest in the subject that Julian only had six students, right?

The Toffs: ...SON OF A-

Francis: Charles has gone off the deep end. We’ve gotta take him out to the country, let him keep drinking there.

Charles: Henry’s trying to kill me.

Henry: Am not.

Charles: Are too!

Henry: We need to get him into rehab or something-

Charles: walks in with a gun

Henry: Never mind.

Charles starts shooting; Henry wrestles the gun from him.

Richard: Oh no. I’ve been shot.

Henry: I’m so done with y’all. Why do y’all have to be so incompetent? Can’t a man commit a murder in peace? And worse, Julian has up and fled! I loved him! I believed him! Duty, piety, loyalty, sacrifice my ass! I’m outta here.

Henry shoots himself.

the greek chorus: he lived like a Roman and died like a Roman - from lead poisoning.

Camilla, Charles, and Francis exit stage left

Richard: ...Uh, I’ve been shot? Hello? Anyone?

The Hippie enters stage right. Together with the greek chorus, they start carrying Richard off-stage.

The Hippie: It’s all a metaphor, man. Henry has a limp, from the car accident, right? Well, he’s Satan and he’s here to ruin lives. Julian gets off scot-free, but it doesn’t matter cause his soul is damned, man! That Donna chick is Catholic, right? That’s why Bunny was going on about sin and forgiveness - cause he knew what up and he has a chance in purgatory, man, but the others are Pagans so they don’t. Deep, man.

the greek chorus: man, you’re high like a kite.

The Epilogue, in which nobody is happy

Richard: Yeah, well... Everyone except me dropped out. Turns out that our group was only really held together by Julian’s cult-like teaching and Henry’s blind devotion. And that once we couldn’t pretend to be better than everybody else, we stopped wanting to see each other. Or it might have been the two murders, who knows.

Francis, in the hospital after a suicide attempt: So, my grandfather found me with Kim, a nice young lawyer, balls deep in me, and threatened to disinherit me-

Richard: That old homophobe!

Francis: Oh, no, that's cause Kim is Korean. Anyway uh this is my beard - my dear Pricsilla whom I'm gonna have to marry.

Richard: Or you could actually... work for a living.

Francis: That’s inconceivable. I mean, you work, but you are used to menial labor.

Richard: So... what does Charles do these days?

Camilla: He drinks.

Richard: Good old Charles. Anyway, Camilla, will you marry me?

Camilla: Not a chance.

Richard: Oh well. At least I got Henry’s brand new car out of this whole mess. That’s a net gain if you ask me.

the greek chorus, narrating: “As a writer I’m giving the reader signs to help create the story with me. The reader is bringing his or her own memories, intelligence, preconceptions, prejudices, likes, dislikes. So the characters in your copy of the book are going to look and sound different than in mine. I have my own ideas, but once the book is out there it’s not really mine anymore, and my own idea isn’t any more valid than yours.” Donna Tartt, 2019.

The Fans rush onstage.

Fan 1: Henry did nothing wrong!

Fan 2: Who wants to have a bacchanal?

Fan 3: omg look at my character moodboards

Fan 4: What if we kissed over a copy of the secret history

Fan 5: dark acadamia(sic!) aesthetic

Fan 6: Donna Tartt died for our sins

the greek chorus:

the greek chorus: FUUUUUUUUUUUU-

Curtains.

#the secret history #donna tartt #dark academia #henry winter #tsh

44 notes · View notes

mirroring-mirrors · 7 years

Text

Heathers (1989) Sentence Starters!

Dear Diary...

Real life sucks losers dry.

If you want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly.

You're beautiful!

What is your damage?

Do they even have Thanksgiving in Africa?

This wouldn't be that bizarro thing you were babbling about over the phone last night, would it?

Hey, I'm really sorry I couldn't make it to your birthday party last month.

Think I'd probably miss my own birthday for a date.

I was looking around the other day and I dug up.. these old photographs.

I was talking to somebody.

Check this out. You win five million dollars from the Publisher's Sweepstakes, and the same day that what’s-his-face gives you the check, aliens land on the earth and say they're going to blow up the world in two days. What do you do?

Why can't we talk to different kinds of people?

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

Do I look like Mother Theresa?

Does it not bother you that everybody in this school thinks that you're a piranha?

What are you gonna do with the money?

I'd pay Madonna a million bucks to sit on my face and have her ride like the Kentucky derby..

That's gotta be the most spooky-assed question I ever heard.

You wanted to be a member of the most powerful clique in school. If I wasn't already the head of it, I'd want the same thing.

You used to have a sense of humour.

You know, maybe you should see a doctor.

God, _____, drool much?

Greetings and salutations.

There are no stupid questions.

That's the stupidest question I've ever heard.

Let's kick his ass!

We're too old for that kinda crap.

You gonna eat this?

What'd you say, dickhead?

Can you bleach out urine stains?

I thought you had given up on high school guys.

Did you have a brain tumour for breakfast?

So, tonight's the night. Are you excited?

You blow it tonight, and it's "keggers with kids" all next year.

So, what was the first week of spring vacation withdrawal like?

Hey kid, isn't the prom coming up?

I gotta motor if I want to be ready for that party tonight.

Are you gonna pull a super-chug with that?

If you're nice, I'll let you buy me a slushie.

I see you know your convenience-speak pretty well.

That thing you pulled in the caf today was pretty severe.

Yeah well, the extreme always seems to make an impression.

Did you say a cherry or coke slushie?

Is your life perfect?

I don't really like my friends.

Maybe it's time to take a vacation.

I want to kill, and you have to believe it's for more than just selfish reasons

So, when you go to college, what subjects do you think you'll study?

How's my little cheerleader, huh?

Come on, now look, I don't feel so good, okay?

Hey, let's do it on the coats, it'll be excellent, huh?

You know, I have a little prepared speech for my suitor when he wants more than I'm prepared to give him.

Save the speeches for Malcolm X.

You don't deserve my fucking speech.

I sound like a fucking psycho!

You stupid fuck!

You goddamn bitch!

You were nothing before you met me.

Lick it up, baby. Lick.. it.. up..!

Monday morning, you're history.

I'll tell everyone about tonight.

Dreadful etiquette, I apologise.

I saw the croquet set-up in the back. You up for a match?

Thank you, that was my first game of strip croquet.

I use my grand IQ to decide what colour gloss to wear, and how to hit three keggers before curfew.

I say we just grow up, be adults and die.

I'm a no-rust-build-up man, myself.

Don't be a dick.

I think last night we both said a lot of stuff we didn't mean.

How the hell didcha get in here?

What did you do, put a phlegm globber in it or something?

I'm not gonna drink that piss.

Grow up!

You think I'll drink it just because you call me chicken?

Just give me the cup, jerk.

I just killed my best friend.

What're we gonna tell the cops?

I can't believe this is my life.

I'm gonna have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin instead of Stanford.

At least you got whatcha wanted, y'know?

It is one thing to want somebody out of your life, it is another thing to serve them a wake-up cup full of liquid drainer.

We did a murder, and that's a crime

You might think what I've done is shocking -

People think that just because you're beautiful and popular, life is easy and fun.

I die knowing no-one knew the real me.

Have you done this before?

Keep things business as usual.

We must revel in this revealing moment.

You call me when the shuttle lands.

Where's your urge to purge?

Sorry to hear about your friend.

Let's talk emotions.

Are we going to be tested on this?

How many networks did you run to?

What're you talking about? You hated her, she hated you.

Gosh, pop, I almost forgot to introduce my girlfriend.

Goddamn will somebody tell me why I smoke these damn things?

I gotta motor if I want to be ready for that funeral.

Jesus, God in Heaven, why didcha kill such hot snatch?

Jeez, people are so serious.

Hi, I'm sorry.

I just want my high school to be a nice place.

Did that sound bitchy?

So, we on tonight, man, or what?

That pudwacker just stepped on my foot.

When I get that feeling, I need sexual healing.

Sorry, I'm feeling a little superior tonight.

Seven schools in seven states, and the only thing different is my locker combination.

Our love is God.

Let's go get a slushie.

The funeral yesterday must really have been rough, eh?

It's more tasteful than it sounds.

I left them drunk and flailing in cow shit.

No, don't shut up, I'd like to know exactly what I did.

Yeah, I didn't expect to be calling either, I just guess my emotions took over...

I was wondering if you wanted all those things you've been saying to really happen?

It's always been a fantasy of mine to have two guys at once.

Listen, my Bonnie and Clyde days are over.

Do you take German?

Tell me the similarity is not incredible.

The joy we shared in each others arms was greater than any touch down, yet we were forced to live the lives of sexist, beer guzzling jock assholes.

I mean, if you don't have a brewski in your hand you might as well be wearing a dress.

So, should I just whip it out, or...?

I was kind of hoping you could rip my clothes off me, sport?

Did you miss him completely?

Hey, I heard something out there, I'm checking it out.

Does this answer your question?

You believed it, because you wanted to believe it.

Your true feelings were to gross and icky for you to face.

I did not want them dead!

My teen angst bullshit has a body count.

Are we going to prom or to hell?

I've seen a lot of bullshit.

Is this as good for you as it is for me?

I need a copy of all this by Monday for my Princeton application.

It was chaos, fucking chaos.

Chaos is great!

Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling.

We scare people into not being assholes!

God, you can be so immature!

Hey, they're playing our song!

That's it! We're breaking up!

You can't bring them back, you must know that.

I am not trying to bring anybody back, except maybe myself.

And to think there was a time when I actually thought you were cool!

Blow up a couple of toasters or something.

Kind of scary though that everybody has got a little story to tell.

What is this? Blackmail?

I'll ask you to do me a favour, it'll be one you'll enjoy.

Don't you start getting cocky on me now.

Do you know I'm still a virgin?

Nice guys finish last. I should know.

Are you telling me this is not a time for troubled youth?

I don't patronise bunny rabbits!

I guess I picked the wrong time to be a human being.

You were out of control!

Hey babe, I need a name.

God has cursed me, I think.

What are you trying to do? Kill me?

That's about the least private thing I can think of.

If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?

If you're happy every day of your life, you wouldn't be a human being, you'd be a game show host.

What do you say we knock off early and buy some shoes or something lame like that?

People love me!

People love you, but I know you.

Some people need different kinds of convincing than others.

Don't talk to me like that, OK?

Jealous much?

Why are you such a mega bitch?

Want to go out tonight? Catch a movie, you know, some miniature golf?

I knew you'd be back... I knew it.

You were wrong, and I was right!

You've been depressed lately.

Get off of my bed, you fucking psycho!

Do you think you're a rebel? Do you actually think you're a rebel?

You're not a rebel, you're a fucking psychotic!

What do you think I'm gonna do with it? Take out their tonsils?

I've got a meaningful marked-up Moby Dick, what else does a suicide need?

Is this turning out weak, or what?

My afterlife is so boring.

If I have to sing Kumbaya one more time...

I loved you! Sure, I was coming up here to kill you...

Our burning bodies will be the ultimate protest to a society that degrades us.

Talk about your suicide pacts, eh?

What do they want, a written invitation?

Whether to kill yourself or not is the most important decisions a teenager can make.

Put your hands on your head.

Do you think that just because you started this thing you can end it?

I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you, I swear to God!

How do I turn off the goddamn bomb, asshole?

You want a clean slate as much as I do.

The only place where different social types genuinely can get along with each other is in heaven.

Do you know what I'd love, babe? Cool guys like you out of my life.

You've got power... Power I didn't think you had.

Now that you're dead, what are you gonna do with your life?

You look like hell!

My date for the prom kind of flaked out on me...

I was wondering, if you aren't doing anything, maybe we could rent some new releases? Pop some popcorn?

#heathers #heathers 1989 #rp meme #sentence starters #ooc #long post #i tried to narrow it down but look #100 follower celebration

188 notes · View notes

abbyeliseportfolio-blog · 5 years

Text

The Interview

Act I

Scene I

SETTING: An average Monday morning in the le Kea

office. The new up and coming French furniture company with rows of cubicles filled with general murmurs across them. The sounds of phones ringing and keyboards clacking are interrupted by MS. SNIDER’S heels strutting across the tile floor.

AT RISE: KIM is found pouring MS.SNIDER a cup of

coffee, frantically before she enters her personal office. BRAD CHADLEY is found running into ANNA’S office while she’s preparing for their upcoming interview for a new hire, SAM WILHOUSKI.

NARRATOR

It’s an average Monday morning in the le Kea office, with the sound of general murmurs across the cubicles, phones ringing and keyboards clacking, the sound of Ms. Anna Snider’s heels panic Kim.

(PLAY HEEL SOUND)

(Kim panics)

(Freeze Frame - Kim holds up name card (huffs))

This is Kim, she works here.

(Kim begins to pour coffee for Anna)

As Kim begins to frantically pour Ms. Anna Snider’s coffee she approaches the receptionist desk.

(Anna Enters. Annoyed- grabs coffee aggressively (Folder in

hand))

(Kim continues to type)

(Freeze Frame) - (Kim holds up Anas name tag in front of

her)

Ms. Anna Snider, Top Dog at le Kea. A 33-year-Old woman with the jaded nature of a retired 67-year-old. Known for her ruthless business acumen, professional unprofessionalism, and aggressive passive aggression. As cold and unapproachable as the iron fist she rules the office with.

(Ana sits down at desk, begins to examine paperwork)

(Brad enters door, dropping items - disheveled)

BRAD

I’m here! I’m here! I’m here!

(Freeze Frame - Brad stops at receptionist desk)

(Kim holds up his name card)

NARRATOR

And this is Mr. Brad Chadley. President of his former frat, three-time beer pong champion, and Anna’s lackie. Only just graduating from Brewski University he takes orders from only two people: Anna and his mother.

ANNA

(rolls eyes)

What are you wearing?

BRAD

(looks at himself)

What? Come on! She won’t see my pants! I’ll be sitting at a desk right?

ANNA

Do you see a front cover on this desk?

(gestures to table with sass)

BRAD

I gotchu.

(pulls out sheet from bag and covers his desk)

(Kim enters as Brad is pulling sheet out of bag - begins to

start covering desk)

KIM

(Kim confused by the odd scene in front of her)

Ummm. Ms.Snider. You have an interview today.

ANNA

Thank you, Kim.

(waves Kim off)

Brad, really.

(rolls eyes - annoyed)

BRAD

(finishes cover desk - proceeds to sit)

See all better! I told you you wouldn’t see my pants!

ANNA

(rolls eyes again)

Okay. Anyway, can we get on the same page about this interview, please?

(Anna says impatiently)

BRAD

Yes, yes okay so what are we thinking?

Good cop, bad cop-type roles? I’ll be serious and write stuff down while you, ya know, ask all the difficult questions.

ANNA

Uhh okay, you’re right. If he’s anything like you, we aren't going through with this interview, though.

BRAD

What?! What’s the supposed to mean?

ANNA

Nothing, nothing. It’s just -

(Brad interrupts)

BRAD

You know what. I’m going to stay silent, and if need be, I'll make a noise or two to acknowledge you and him.

ANNA

Fine.

(Kim Enters)

KIM

Excuse me. Ms. Snider. They are here.

(Brad begins of panic)

BRAD

(Huffing)

Okay, serious face. Come on, Brad. You got this.

(Breathing Heavily - uses hand gestures to try and make serious face)

ANNA

Okay, seriously, Brad. Calm down, you act like you’ve never interviewed someone.

(Anna says annoyed)

(Brad still trying to get into part, breathing heavily)

(Kim enters as Sam follows behind her)

(Brad still scrambling - Anna trying to calm him down)

NARRATOR

(Kim holds up Sam’s name card - annoyed)

And this, ladies and gentleman, is the one and only Sam Wilhouski. Bright, cheery, and the right girl for the job… this job. With a master’s from Cornell University, she's ready and eager to get started. New to the harsh professional job market and not ready for these two.

(Anna and Brad both rise to shake her hand)

ANNA

(leans in and whispers to Brad)

I thought it was going to be a man.

BRAD

(grunts)

(Brad quickly looks, down realizing Sam can now see his

pants)

ANNA

(sticks hand out)

Good morning, Anna Snider, pleased to meet you.

SAM

Pleasure to meet you, Sam Wilhouski.

(Shakes Anna’s hand)

(Brad still standing - sticks out hand)

BRAD

(shakes Sam’s hand - grunts)

SAM

(Tilts head, confused by Brad’s grunting and the sheet over his desk)

(Everyone takes their seats - Sam places resume in front of them simultaneously)

ANNA

This is Mr. Brad Chadley, my assistant. Don’t worry about him, he’s better with papers anyway.

BRAD

(looks at resume, pushes it aside, pulls out coloring book (in a folder) + crayons)

SAM

(looks at Brad, again confused)

Okay…

ANNA

(cuts off Sam)

Sam. What an… interesting name. Is it short for anything?

SAM

(looks at Anna)

Oh no, it’s just Sam.

ANNA

Really? Are you sure your mother didn’t mean to call you... Oh, I don’t know, Samantha, Sammy… Samuel.

SAM

Isn’t Samuel a boy name?

ANNA

(Says casually)

Now you see my confusion.

SAM

Excuse-

ANNA

(cuts off Sam)

Well then… Sam, tell me a little bit about yourself.

(looks at a question list, looks at Sam)

Your qualifications? Experience? What makes you think you have a place here working in our wonderful le Kea corporation?

(pushes question list aside)

BRAD

(Grabs list and starts writing in it)

SAM

Well, I graduated from Cornell with a masters in Business-

BRAD

(grunts)

(pushes question paper to Anna)

ANNA

Cornell? Well...

(Reads questions, looks at Sam)

What sorority were you in?

SAM

Um… well, I never really joined one. But I was a member of Cornell’s Student Body Government and president of business and marketing team-

ANNA

So, no...

(looks at paper)

wild pledging stories?

SAM

No. In fact, pledging was severely reprimanded on campus.

BRAD

(smirks and scoffs) (grunts and continues coloring)

ANNA

Well, enough about that. You were talking about experience in the field?

SAM

(kind of on edge)

...I wasn’t-

(pulls herself back together)

While I was an undergraduate, I participated in multiple internships with various businesses- Small, up and coming ones and a few large, more prominent companies. And while completing my master's degree I was working as a team leader for various marketing projects at the Ithaca Silverworks Company-

ANNA

What were you earning in the position?

SAM

(a little shocked)

The expected wage? I was still a college student so that was where most of my assets went, but I had enough for the typical things like housing, food, clothes, and a couple hobbies-

BRAD

(loud grunt, Shows audience paper - points, smiles, nods head)

SAM

(very confused)

ANNA

(looks at paper again)

Interesting, and how much on shoes?

SAM

… shoes.

BRAD

(laughs quietly)

ANNA

Come on, we’re both women here, Sam. Just between you and me, how much did you put aside just for a new set of heels? We’ve all done it.

SAM

I don’t see how any of this has to-

ANNA

(waves hand)

Hobbies. You said you have hobbies. What do you do?

BRAD

(grabs paper again and writes in it)

SAM

I like hiking. When you live in a big city you don’t normally get to see wildlife that often, so getting away and walking the trails is a great break. I’m also not much of an art person, but I’ve been going to painting classes recently because why not try new things you know -

BRAD

(Looks up from his coloring book. Slowly goes back to

coloring)

SAM

And I guess I’ve been trying to -

ANNA

You said you live in a big city. Where?

SAM

. . . I don’t think I’m required to answer that.

ANNA

And why not?

SAM

Because this is supposed to be an interview about how I could benefit the company, not my current residence.

ANNA

We don’t like tardiness here, Sam. What if you’re late one morning? How am I supposed to know if it’s just a traffic issue or pure laziness? How long am I expected to wait for your eventual arrival?

SAM

That doesn’t change the fact that where I live is very personal. And if me being late is what you’re concerned about, I assure you that will most likely never happen. You’ll also have my contact information in case it ever does.

ANNA

You not answering this question is very unprofessional.

SAM

You asking that question is very unprofessional.

BRAD

(hold back a laugh)

ANNA

(Elbows him/glares at him)

(gets very serious)

What do you know about this company, Sam?

SAM

(gets serious as well (kind of like a standoff))

I know that it’s a new, up and coming French furniture company that has just recently decided to open international locations.

ANNA

And are you aware of what we expect from our employees?

SAM

Well, I would expect professionalism.

ANNA

Precisely. Because we believe an employee is a living representation of le Kea. Everyone has a role and it only takes one member of the workforce to ruin said image. Keeping that in mind, you’re aware of my concern now, correct?

SAM

(looks at Brad)

BRAD

(looks back. Flashes a peace sign. Goes back to coloring)

SAM

Of course.

ANNA

(stops being serious)

Great! Now, if you were an animal, which one would you want to be?

SAM

(shocked and confused)

What?

BRAD

(stops coloring and crosses his arms)

(grunts)

ANNA

(serious)

If you were an animal, which one would you want to be?

SAM

What does that have to do with-

ANNA

Are you refusing to answer another question, Sam?

BRAD

(shakes his head)

SAM

I don’t mean to, I’m just confused as to how that answer will determine-

ANNA

If a penguin walked through the door right now wearing a sombrero. What would he say?

SAM

I don’t even know how you expect me to answer that-

ANNA

We require our personnel to be able to handle situations that force them to think on their feet and quickly. And I must say, you aren’t performing very well.

SAM

Just a second ago you were interrogating me about where I live and now you’re asking random animal questions. Sorry if I’m confused-

ANNA

Miss Wilhouski, many of our employees are a bunch of young guys who put in long days. They’ve made their place known here in the office, and you know how boys are. Do you think you’re ready to be in that kind of environment?

SAM

(very confused)

What even are you trying to-

ANNA

You aren’t a nark, are you?

SAM

(horrified)

Excuse me?

ANNA

Brad doesn’t think you have what it takes to work this job.

SAM

He’s literally an assistant and hasn’t said anything this whole time.

BRAD

(grunt offendedly, crosses arms)

SAM

I’m sorry, but do you say anything other than (grunt)?

BRAD

(grunts mockingly)

SAM

Point taken.

ANNA

Is there a problem here?

SAM

(laughs)

Actually, you know what, yeah, there is. I came here today in the hopes of receiving a professional interview for a position I applied for, which by the way was never brought up, and all I got was [gestures around] this: what, 15 minutes of wasted time, sitting in a chair, and being mocked by a woman who insists she knows everything and some frat boy that doesn’t know the difference between an office and a frat house. So, instead of wasting more of everyone’s valuable time, I’m going to take the initiative here and leave.

(stands up, looks at Anna)

Miss. Snider.

(looks at Brad)

(grunts)

(turns to leave)

Have a good day.

(exit scene)

NARRATOR

Well, that didn’t go as planned. With Brad and Anna left in shock, Sam has left the building.

ANNA

. . .

BRAD

Well. That was a shit show. . . You do act like you know everything though-

ANNA

Shut up, Brad.

NARRATOR

Expecting a professional interview to give her a gateway into the business industry Sam was instead met with a closed minded preconception of a masculine identity. When she didn’t appear to have those standards the interview fell apart rapidly. Sam went on to fight for equal status in the workplace. Sam truly believed that no matter the identity we are all human and we should all have equal opportunities.

[End Scene]

#play

0 notes

outletggdbshoes-blog · 6 years

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Golden Goose Sneakers Outlet Affiliate marketing / Promoting With Blogs The senior Goose?

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fayecallasdatingblog · 7 years

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How to Be Wife Material: 7 Ways To Make Him See That You Are The One!

You’ve been seeing this guy for a few months now. Things are progressing nicely. You’ve both admitted you love each other, and you’re both committed to the relationship. Now, your mission is to make sure he sees you as wife material.

The question is…how do you do that? Short of oohing and aahing over rings when you pass the jewelry store in the mall, you’re not sure what to do to get him in a marriage state of mind.

Not to worry sweet lady, because I’m going to help you figure out how to brand yourself as wife material to the man that you love. It doesn’t require a push-up bra or pretending to be something you’re not. My secret “wife material” formula is based on 100% being yourself. Let’s dive in.

What Does Wife Material Mean?

Being wife material means a happily ever after ending!

While what constitutes a woman being wife material will vary slightly from man to man, we can right away discount what it is not:

It is not a woman who hooks up with lots of men.

It is not a woman who is selfish.

It is not a woman who can’t be herself.

It’s not even a woman who will eagerly await her man by the front door with his pipe and slippers (at least, not anymore).

When a guy says you’re wife material, he typically sees the potential for a (very) long-term relationship with you. But it’s more than just being your boyfriend for years. There’s a certain something that makes him feel like you would make an excellent wife…and maybe mother to his children.

It could be that you’re kind to everyone you meet. Or that you cater to his needs. That you’re his intellectual equal. That you’re mature. That you make his heart go pitter-patter.

Likely, your man couldn’t even quantify what makes you wife material. He just knows it one day. But that day may not be today. That doesn’t mean marriage is permanently off the table…it just means you may need to position yourself as wife material to get the ball rolling.

How to Make Him See You As Wife Material

The fact is: your relationship has evolved over time. You may have started out casually dating and then decided to be exclusive and call one another boyfriend/girlfriend. From there, maybe you moved in together or started saying I love you. Now it’s time for the next phase of your relationship: potentially becoming engaged and getting married.

Women easily and eagerly make the transition from one phase of their relationship to another. Men…not so much. They may need more time to mentally shift from one stage of the relationship to another. That may be why he hasn’t popped the question, even though you’re ready to answer it.

Now, in no way am I encouraging you to manipulate your man to get him to propose. On the contrary; I simply want you to be yourself, but implement a few strategies that will make him start seeing you as wife material.

Wife Material Tip #1: Focus on Exclusivity

Let him know you want to date exclusively.

If it’s still early days in your relationship, you need to make sure he values you as a prize to be won and cherished rather than a Good Enough relationship until something better comes along.

If you’re still seeing other people, stop. You want to show that you’re serious about this guy.

If he’s seeing other people, ask him to stop. Tell him you’ve decided to be exclusive, and you hope he will too because you really see this going somewhere.

If you’re a brand new couple and haven’t started having sex yet, consider waiting until he agrees on being exclusive. Whether you want to admit it or not, men may not see a woman who’s eager to hop in the sack too soon as wife material. Moving too quickly sexually may indicate to him that you’re not looking for anything serious. It’ll be hard to undo that perception later.

Wife Material Tip #2: Spend Time With Him During The Day

It’s easy for couples to get into a groove when dating. Every Friday night, you go to a new restaurant. Maybe a movie. Then you end up at his house, where you have sex and maybe stay the night.

Routines quickly become ruts, and any man who’s in a rut in his love life is not thinking about the future.

Hanging out only at night means that sex may likely be a part of every date. But it doesn’t have to be. The longer you’re together, the less you need to rely on sex as a tool to bond with your man. Conversations and shared experiences will also go a long way to cementing the bond you share.

If you can find activities that you can share together, like training for a marathon or cooking classes, you’ll quickly learn more about one another, and you’ll have the potential for long-term happiness. In a study conducted by Kimberley Coulter and John M. Malouff, couples who engaged in shared exciting activities together for 90 minutes a week showed higher levels of romantic-relationship excitement and relationship satisfaction after four weeks. This continued even four months after the study.

Trying something new in your dating routine could elevate your relationship and make you wife material.

Wife Material Tip #3: Open Up To Him

Open up to him and let him do the same.

Married couples eventually know basically everything about one another. They’ve shared their secrets, their insecurities, and their lifetime of stories.

You may not be there yet in terms of knowing one another so well, but you have to work up to it. Start by opening up to your boyfriend. Be vulnerable to him. After all, you know you can trust him, so why wouldn’t you share whatever’s on your mind?

Realize that when you open up to him, you also create space for him to open up to you. This isn’t easy for most guys. Trust me.

When he’s ready to open up to you about past pain or things he’s struggled through, listen. Don’t try to fix him. He doesn’t want a therapist; he wants an open heart and maybe a shoulder to lean on.

A woman who is wife material willingly creates this space for the two of you to share your emotions. She listens without judgment, and shares without fear.

Wife Material Tip #4: Show Interest

This is such a small thing to do, so I don’t know why more women don’t do it. If you’re asking yourself: what are the qualities of a good wife, here’s your answer:

She pays attention.

She doesn’t fake interest in what he says. She genuinely shows it.

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So just show interest in what he’s into. Really listen when he talks. Be engaged with him so that you can get engaged!

Consider the two following scenarios:

Scenario #1

Him: So something interesting happened at work today…

You: Uh huh.

Him: We dissected the protein and discovered an entirely new subgenre. Horace and I were working together and…

You: Zzzzzz…

Scenario #2

Him: So something interesting happened at work today…

You: Oh yea? That’s cool. What was it?

Him: We dissected the protein and discovered an entirely new subgenre. Horace and I were working together and…

You: Oh, so this is that project you and Horace started a few months ago? Tell me more!

Which version of you do you think is better wife material? Which is the woman he can see himself coming home to for eternity, eager to share his day with?

If you can’t show interest in what he’s excited about, how can you expect this relationship to last? Even if you’re not into science or sports or wood making, you should be into him enough to be happy to see him get enthusiastic about something.

Likewise, you’d want your husband-to-be to be engaged and listening when you talk about your argument with Bethany or the book you just read, right? So reciprocate already.

Wife Material Tip #5: Remove Sex From Being the Focus of the Relationship

Try activities that get you out of the bedroom.

Now hold on a minute. I am in no way saying you should stop having sex with your boyfriend simply because you want him to see you as good wife material. Not at all.

But realize that you want him to see beyond your amazing flexibility and lingerie. You want him to be able to picture waking up to you each morning. You want him to be excited about all those silly little things that make up a marriage, like picking up dry cleaning, planning vacations, and remodeling a home together.

When you first start a relationship, the sex is usually the hottest it will ever be. You may be unable to keep your hands off of each other. But once you get out of that honeymoon phase, you’ll want something more meaningful. Sex, in the beginning especially, helps you bond.

A study of newlywed couples was published in Psychological Science. It found that partners experienced a sexual ‘afterglow’ that lasted for up to two days, and this afterglow was found to keep relationship quality high over the long term. So that frequent banging at the start of your relationship can help cement it down the road.

But after a few months, you need something else. If you take my advice in tip #2, you can break the routine of dinner-then-sex simply by changing up what you do. While certainly, a midday round of mini golf could end back in the bedroom, it’s not a natural progression.

Focus on spending quality time together with your clothes on. After all, if things go according to plan, you’ll have the rest of your lives together to make love. Focus now on engaging in intellectual conversations, playing silly games and telling jokes, and trying new activities.

Wife Material Tip #6: Challenge Him

That idea of a timid housewife who has dinner on the table at six and rushes to get her man a cold brewski is one we can leave behind in the 1950s. Today, men consider a woman wife material if she isn’t afraid to speak her mind and occasionally challenges him.

If you’re the type of person who will call others out when they say something out of line, don’t try to tamp that down in an effort to make this man love you more. Eventually, your true nature will come out, and it may be a shock to his system that you suppressed who you really were in favor of who you thought he wanted you to be.

Be yourself. If this guy can’t handle you, he’s not the one for you.

So what do I mean when I tell you to challenge him?

If he makes an offensive joke, tell him it’s not okay.

If he makes a grandiose claim, ask him to back it up.

If you disagree with him, tell him. It doesn’t mean you will end up in an argument, but he should know that your thoughts differ from his own. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that!

Wife Material Tip #7: Let Him Be Himself

Make sure you’re okay with him being himself and not trying to change him.

Just as I encourage you to be yourself as you try to figure o from Meet Positives SM Feed http://ift.tt/2H1G36u via IFTTT

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type2diabetestreatments-blog · 8 years

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Ask D'Mine: Faking Out Peer Pressure + the Truth About Pen Needles & Burning Calories

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/ask-dmine-faking-out-peer-pressure-the-truth-about-pen-needles-burning-calories/

Ask D'Mine: Faking Out Peer Pressure + the Truth About Pen Needles & Burning Calories

Got questions about navigating life with diabetes? Ask D'Mine! Our weekly advice column, that is — hosted by veteran type 1, diabetes author and educator Wil Dubois. This week, we're talking more with "Uncle Wil" about drinking alcohol with diabetes (!), and some issues on pen needle re-use and burning calories, even while watching TV.

Got your own questions? Email us at [email protected]

Amanda, type 1 from Washington, writes: I read with great interest your advice on teen drinking, and I have a related question for my "Uncle Wil." As a young person, I often find myself in social situations where drinking is almost required to fit in. I don't really care to get drunk myself, but it's hard enough fitting in with diabetes as it is -- I don't want to look like a prude. What can I do? And I know I can count on you not to tell me to just be myself and not worry about what other people think. That's not realistic. Got any tips for your niece who doesn't want to get too tipsy?

UncleWil@Ask D'Mine answers: Like an orgasm during bad sex, fake it. (I hope to hell you're 18, or I could go to jail for writing that.) Look, it's easier than you'd think to pretend you're drinking when you're really not, because people pay a lot less attention to other people than you think they do. So long as you have something in your hand that looks like a drink, you're good to go. Your options for fitting in include "nursing" a drink for hours, or going to the can to dump most of a drink down the toilet and get a "refill," or drinking a diet soda and pretending it's full of vodka when it isn't. A paper umbrella or a lime is good mixed-drink camouflage for diet soda. I bet you could even smuggle an alcohol "free" beer into the kegger in your bra along with your insulin pump.

If you're at a bar or a night club scene, you have the option to choose drinks that have less alcohol over drinks that have more. Betcha didn't know that even beer can run the gauntlet from almost no alcohol by volume, to as much as whiskey. For instance, Bud 55 has 2.4% alcohol, while Sam Adams Triple Bock has 17.5% alcohol. That means you'd have to drink seven Bud 55s to get as much alcohol as you'd get out of one Sam Adams Triple.

Worried that people will ask why you're drinking a light-weight beer? I doubt very much that will happen, but your cover story is you're watching your weight. Bud 55 is low in calories, too. (Check out this site, which is slightly anti-drinking, but has the best beer database I've seen.) Brewskies actually range from a low of 0.4% alcohol for O'Dule's up to 32.0% for Tactical Nuclear Penguin, with a common range being between 3-10%.

Choice matters.

I'm more of a wine and whiskey guy myself—not generally at the same time of course—but suddenly I'm having an odd urge to try a Tactical Nuclear Penguin! While I'm at the bar, can I get you another faux rum and Coke?

Riva, type 1 from New York, writes: OK, got the HumaPen Luxura, got the cartridge in, it's a beautiful color and feels nice in my hand, but taking the pen needles off and on for each shot is driving me mad. It makes the whole insulin pen thing seem as laborious as vial and syringe. Really, do I have to do this? I know the theory is air bubbles will form in the cartridge if you don't. Really? I only dose on average between a half and 3 units anyway. What does the master say?

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: I use a single BD Nano needle all day long on my Luxura. Who the hell has time to change the stupid

things? They hold up just fine, and I take at least five shots a day with it, sometimes more.

Yes, you'll get some bubbles leaving the needle on, especially if you make a lot of changes in altitude or temperature during the day. So what? If you angle the pen so the bubbles float upwards towards the plunger, and aren't near the needle hub, it won't affect the dose. I tap the bubbles to the top about once a week and shoot 'em out. Just so they won't mess with me.

In theory, the air in the cartridge can degrade the insulin a bit, but I've not experienced this. It doesn't affect us when we "inject" air into vials, right? So I'm thinking that's an urban myth created by the people who want to sell us more needles.

Oh, but do please take the time to re-cap the needle with the little inside cover. Without that, sometimes the pens can syphon dry. Removing the needle sheath for a shot and putting it back on only takes a sec. (I pull mine off with my teeth and hold it there while I shoot.)

Now if we can just get BD to flavor that needle sheath...

Kevin, type 2 from Montana, asks:How many calories a day do I have to cut to lose weight? I know food labels are based on a 2,000 calorie a day diet. Do I need to cut to 1,500 or to 1,000 to lose weight?

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: Little known fact: Even sitting on your bum [W1] in front of the TV takes a boatload of energy. Medically, this is called your basal metabolic rate, or BMR, the amount of fuel needed to keep your heart beating, lungs breathing, your kidneys filtering, and pancreas pumping.

It's a stunning percentage of your daily calorie intake. For instance, mine is 1756. That means it takes a hair over 1700 calories for me to sit in front of my computer raising my whiskey glass to my lips. That only gives me a spare 249 calories to play with when looking at the standard 2K a day diet, even if I hardly move.

You can check your own BMR here.

The lesson here is that our margins are very thin indeed, and that we need quite a few more calories than you'd think just to breathe. So assuming that you're not gaining weight right now, the answer is that you only need to cut a few calories to lose weight. That forces your body to burn some fat. In fact, if you eat only ten fewer calories a day than your body burns, you'll lose a pound in a year. What's ten calories?

Half a single Nacho Cheese Dorito.

Two baby carrots.

Three-quarters of a Zesta cracker.

Two Ghirardelli chocolate chips.

It doesn't take much. What? You want to lose more than a pound next year? OK, cut 100 calories a day instead and you'll drop ten pounds. All ya gotta do is cut 10 chocolate chips and five Doritos a day, and ya got it made.

This is not a medical advice column. We are PWDs freely and openly sharing the wisdom of our collected experiences — our been-there-done-that knowledge from the trenches. But we are not MDs, RNs, NPs, PAs, CDEs, or partridges in pear trees. Bottom line: we are only a small part of your total prescription. You still need the professional advice, treatment, and care of a licensed medical professional.

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

Type 2 Diabetes Treatment Type 2 Diabetes Diet Diabetes Destroyer Reviews Original Article

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