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Monster University / At Work - if they were in ‘Last Christmas’. 🎶🎄🎶
To honour one of my fav 80s and seasonal songs, ‘Last Christmas’ I saw in another rendition of Brock, Claire and Johnny. I still can’t quite see how Claire went with Worthington but I digress.
They saw something in each other, something Brock wishes he may have had. This was another idea from last year’s brainstorming!
Happy Holidays everyone! ✨🎄✨This being 1/2 treats before Christmas !
1.3k~ There's something about that boy in the pit orchestra. Something about high school theater during tech week. Something about knowing each other since you were eight.
There's a brief moment of silence between scenes. It's short, like really short. But in that moment, when everything is quiet, you're able to abandon your brain fog. You're able to think. And that is always an issue.
"Okay, hold!"
Your directors voice echos over the speakers and fills the auditorium. The conductor signals the pit to stop, and a few notes hang on as a few of the cast members on stage falter in place. Soft groans and little 'come ons' can be heard erupting out of those around you. You swear he's called to redo this scene a million times by now.
"No, guys- this is all wrong. It's not- the lights are supposed to be blue, not... no, not that shade."
A tech issue. Okay.
You take in a deep breath, allowing the much needed air to fill your lungs before exhaling heavily. It's harder to breathe in costume than most might think. Light chatter picks up over the microphones, and someone curses as their complaint is caught by the director. Everyone's mics will be turned off from now until the run-through is started up again.
Bringing your hand up as a 'just in case' precaution, you shield your mic from your mouth, leaning over to your friend standing opposite of you. "I'm gonna kill myself if we do this one more time." They want to laugh, but with how it's been going, you very well may be stuck on this scene for another thirty minutes or so. "Hah. Careful. He might hear you." The two of you glance over to your director who has made his way down to the stage to discuss God knows what with the assistant director and choreographer. You shrug, not seeing an issue with that. "Seriously, how hard is it to know your damn cue?" You glance at a passing techy who's on stage checking the battery packs of the leads and offer a small smile before turning back to your friend. "Whatever. I need a drink." Your hand has since fallen with the confirmation of the mics being silent and start making your way off the brightly illuminated stage. Your friend calls out, asking you to grab them a snack before being shushed dramatically as you stepped downstage and brushed past the dulling red curtains.
With every step, your feet ache. Your character shoes pinch around your ankles as you step down the stairs, and for the first time since the season started, you regretted not buying new ones.
Even though everyone's supposed to be still and quiet while technicalities and super important, super noticeable minute details were being adjusted and rewired no one ever was. Not entirely, anyway.
"You having fun?"
The question is almost lost underneath the chaos of the pit playing nonsense. Well, it's not nonsense, just not all together. Some were practicing their different parts, or scales, or whatever they wanted, while others stayed quiet. Went on their phones or chatted with one another, taking the opportunity to relax and stretch as best as they could. Your question is almost lost. The sarcasm is not.
Clark glimpses away from his phone. The device's dancing images pause, propped up on his music stand, his middle finger taps the screen, and the light reflecting on his glasses shifts. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure. Definitely."
Clark Kent is a six year clarinet player. He's been playing since he was in middle school and can pick up most pieces (and instruments) pretty seamlessly. He's got perfect pitch and long, clumsy fingers.
"I just love being blamed for the casts inability to keep tempo and watch the crazy lady waving her arms around." He muses, a smile pulling at his lips as he feigns true irritation. You gasp, raising your hand to your heart and furrow your brows as if hurt. "It's not my fault you don't actually know how to play that thing."
A steady 6'something- at least 6'2- you remember when just for a moment you were taller than him. When his dark curls were carefully styled in the morning by his ma and still somehow always ended up a mess before recess. You remember when he first got his glasses and how he hated them.
You remember starting the debate of what was better: band or choir. Starting way back in maybe fourth grade and here you were, seniors in high school still debating the same exact thing.
The two of you were never all that close. Only talking when you saw each other at school. Only spending time together for moments like this. Though, you were there when he got his first girlfriend. A friend of yours. And even though they didn't speak about their relationship much, you couldn't seem to shake that nauseous sort of feeling you got whenever you saw them interacting. Though, they didn't last long. And in turn, he was there when you revealed your hush-hush relationship. All giddy and bright. And he was there when you revisited that same person with malice. He was a good listener, but neither of you really said anything that really mattered.
You couldn't lie, though. You missed having classes together. You missed being around him.
Your makeup shimmered in the shifting light as the color changed from blue to red, to blue, to purple, and then back to blue again. Clark leaned back in his chair, careful of the instrument resting on his lap, and watched you as you leaned forward. You looked over his shoulder at the sheet music he had displayed. "Remind me which one of us is in cast and which one of us is in pit and why." You bite back your grin as you flip through his music book. "You're in pit because you can't sing," you look back at him, a mischievous glint taking form in your eyes as if you’re stating a well known fact. "You can't dance either." You rest your hand on his shoulder and nod softly, consoling him. "It's alright. I can sing and dance enough for the both of us."
Kent narrows his gaze. Scrunching his nose up and shaking his head in response. "I mean, gosh, you're just super sweet." His emphasis on the word "super" makes you giggle. His sarcasm is so blatantly obvious that you debate the fact if it even counts for anything. Though, he can't hide his dimples as he smiles. You both pause for a second. The laughter fading as Clark runs his fingers through his hair. "Are you having fun, though? You okay?" There's a sudden shift in Clark's tone. It falls much softer than it did before. Quieter, as if he were suddenly worried about getting caught. You nod your head a couple of times, knowing the exhaustion can't really be read underneath your show makeup. Your hand slips off of his shoulder and rests at your side for a moment. "Duh. Yeah. It's just a lot." You look around the auditorium as your director seems to have the choreographer review a few key steps to the scene right before yours. "But it's a lot for everyone. So… y'know." Shrugging your shoulders, your teeth find the inside of your cheek. You try blinking back thoughts and the growing urge to rub your eyes.
Huffing softly, you find your friend back on stage, receiving their "what the hell” all too clearly look before returning your attention back to Clark. It’s fine. You got a little distracted. "Fuck dude. I can't wait to take this makeup off." Only a few more hours left in the all too intricate makeup and all too itchy costumes.
The boy grabs his phone, stuffing the thing in his back pocket as both of you get the feeling your little impromptu break is nearing its end. "Really?" His voice sort of lilts. Becoming slightly higher pitched with curiosity or something of the sort. "Did you do it yourself? It looks great." You open your mouth to say something before waving a hand dismissively. You chuckle softly. "Oh, stop it!" Gushing with all the theatrical flair you could muster while still remaining out of character. "You're too kind, Mr. Kent! Thank you!"
Faint static can be heard over the speakers before your directors voice fills your ears once more to put an official end on this scene.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Debating on posting all of/more Shark Mermaid Stacy + Amy (Mermaid Monday) AU art. There's a bit more lore with the concept of them, their designs, why they look different compared to each other in their human forms, etc.
This is a colorless concept sketch of them, however I also have colored in art of their characters. I just haven't had the confidence in posting it. That's how I've been on social media in general, really.
This is them! Stacy on the left, and Amy on the right. I'll post their colored character sheets and their lore later when I feel more comfortable.
