even grace fades

God I’m gonna regret this. We have 5.5 people in my department to handle doing these reports. We are 5 bodies down as far as extant people who are hired for this job. We have 1.5 bodies in training but they won’t be doing this for probably 5 months at the earliest. I just fucked myself so hard. But the people need to know.

Jesus screamed “JESUS CHRIST YOU STABBED ME”.

Since that Jesus had to be taken down due to a bad case of stab-itis, the backup Jesus came in, but he weighed significantly less than the original Jesus- which would have been fine, except that at the end the cross was supposed to ascend upwards with Jesus on it, and the weights hadn’t been adjusted.

my first year doing this, our industry contacts were 1 actor, 1 casting director, and 1 producer to get different aspects of the business, and they all gave us amazing advice and told fantastic stories. the actor in question was Zazu on Broadway’s The Lion King for several years, and told the best story by far.

in The Lion King, there are only two pieces of pre-recorded noise in the whole show. one, when Pumbaa does a MASSIVE fart while fighting the hyenas, and the other being Mufasa saying REMEMBERRRRRR as Simba climbs Pride Rock. the actor told us while struggling not to laugh that, during one night’s performance, someone forgot to flip the tape of these pre-recorded noises.

so, at the end of the show, the great climax where Simba finally accepts his place in the Circle of Life, the heavens parted and-

PFFFFFFFFFRRRRRBTFTBTBFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

everyone froze. and then all ran off stage positively HOWLING with laughter.

Originally, the actors were going to stroll on stage with our Lefou hauling in the really neat (and real!) taxidermied deer head that we had found in a local thrift store. Now, two days before opening night, our director wants Lefou to run in from off stage and catch a stuffed duck that Gaston has just shot. This, of course, requires two things to work properly as a scene: a gunshot noise, and a stuffed duck.

The gunshot noise, we had covered. Blue-collar, redneck school? Guns a plenty to record. The stuffed duck? Harder than you might have thought to obtain.

Three hunting stores, two taxidermists, and one Pet Supply Store ™, I’d finally found a semi-realistic pheasant squeaky toy. What follows is an account of the ways this dog toy managed to be the nightmare prop of the six show run.

Opening Night: The stagehand, who was supposed to drop the bird from the ceiling catwalk, missed his cue and didn’t drop the it. Lefou’s actor rolls with it and does an excellent job of looking around foolishly before getting cuffed upside the head by Gaston. The stagehand then drops the bird squarely on Gaston’s head. Cue laughter.

Saturday Matinee: Different stagehand throws the bird instead of dropping it and beans Lefou directly in the face with the prop. Lefou falls over. Cue laughter.

Saturday Night: Bird is missing during curtain call. Director hauls the deer head down from it’s place on the tavern wall and tells Gaston and Lefou to revert to the old blocking i.e. no gunshot, no bird, just walk in with trophy. During Gaston and Lefou’s conversation, gun shot sound goes off and a stagehand throws the bird onto the stage…from the wrong side of the stage. Lefou and Gaston stare at it in awkward silence for a solid thirty seconds before Lefou makes off-script, subtle joke about Gaston’s gun going off late instead of early. Cue adults in the audience laughing.

Sunday Matinee: Director begs the stagehands to get the cue right at least once. Gunshot and bird prop go off without a hitch. Lefou accidentally catches the prop when it falls from the catwalk. He’s so startled that he caught it that Gaston runs right in to him. They drop both the gun and the bird props, and grab the wrong prop in their scramble. Gaston spends the rest of the scene gesturing dramatically with a stuffed pheasant, instead of a gun.

Sunday Night:  Director is fed up with bird prop, decides that Lefou should just carry bird prop in after gunshot happens off stage. Lefou accidentally squeezes the prop during the intro conversation, startling both actors into silence with the squeaky toy noise - apparently, neither of them realized it was a dog toy.

It was awesome because when people saw the play and didn’t know the girls were identical twins, it literally looked like it was one actor doing multiple, uber fast costume changes.

One of our first performances was for our peers and it was a big school so lots of people didn’t know the twins. This - for some reason - was also the performance they chose to record.

Listening to the confusion of the audience during the playback was fantastic and completely topped by the moment Viola walked off stage left just as Sebastian walked on stage right and someone right beside the camera goes “OH WHAT THE FUCK” so loudly it drowned out everything else.

It’s like our third show and everything has been going surprisingly well. Hook and Smee climb to the top of the “tree trunk”, supposedly looking for Peter and not knowing they’re standing above his hiding spot the whole time.

Turns out someone didn’t close the trapdoor properly, because the second Hook steps on it, he plunges through the thing. He’s able to catch himself, but he’s got his ass and one leg dangling through this hole where it’s like a ten foot drop to the ground. All of us stage crew are literally two feet away from him offstage, just gaping at him because???? Y'all this fall looked BAD. Looked like my dude did the splits in mid air. The whiplash caused his fucking wig to come off. The audience is dead silent, all of us backstage are dead silent, the director is like already looking up how to treat a broken groin.

Lights come up on the stage and there’s a statue dead center of the stage that two characters are circling around while flirting. The whole scene goes down without a hitch.

Well, because we couldn’t get a statue prop, the staue was actually one of my friends in just some really good makeup, a perfectly still pose, and plaster in her hair that really sold it.

— A Prayer, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry 

Summary: Dean lives in a fantasy that isn’t that far from the truth. 

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst. 

W/C: 790

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Unnamed female (she/her - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Notes: follow on to Part-Time Soulmate & Love-Blind Haze

A/N: Thank you, Yvette, for the inspiration. Seems fitting your challenge inspired the first two, and your ask inspired this.

Beta: @deanwinchesterswitch // as always thank you so much. Mistakes belong to me.

Graphics: Dividers: @talesmaniac89 // title card made by me.

Master Lists: Made Up Fic Titles // Supernatural // Main

The invitation was stuck to her fridge by a cupcake-shaped magnet. Dean had been seeking cream, but upon reading the charmingly designed invitation, he’d exchanged the coffee mug for a tumbler and filled it with rich amber liquid instead of bitter black.

‘Plus one’ seemed to glare like a torch light shining directly in his eyes. The date and names held no significance to him. He didn’t know if they were friends or family or if she was invited on behalf of the bride or groom. He didn’t care. 

Except that he did. 

He should have recognized the names. They obviously held some significance to her if they were close enough to invite her to their wedding. His stomach twisted with guilt, but he burned it away with a sip of whiskey.  

Plus one.

Did she have someone to go with, or would she go solo? He knew enough that she wouldn’t be self-conscious or embarrassed to attend alone. She celebrated happiness every chance she got - being dateless wouldn’t hold her back.

But what if Dean was holding her back? What if showing up unannounced and sporadically kept her from seeking a person to whom her friends could attach a name to that ‘plus one’ instead of an open invite? Or maybe she had someone, but it was too new, and they didn’t want to put the name on the formal invite in case it didn’t work out.

A large gulp finished the glass, but it barely doused the envious fire churning in his gut. Questions rattled around in his mind, and as the clock ticked over, he began to resent her. He came here to quiet his mind, rid himself of doubts, and turn down the noise. But that invitation was like an irritatingly catchy pop song he couldn’t get out of his head.