Shout out to Valnixyrie again for the idea for this fic and beta work. Sometimes I don’t write in coherent English and she has todeal with that. She probably deserves a medal.

Beca huffed and crossed her arms. She didn’t want to be here, but she had to kiss enough executive ass to get a promotion sometime this fucking century. She didn’t want to stay an associate producer forever. But still, she didn’t understand why there had to be this big banquet, party, whatever the fuck this was, just because they were working with an up and coming movie studio. Then again it seemed like everyone in LA was just looking for an excuse to have a party, so really she shouldn’t be surprised.

She snagged a glass of champagne off one of the trays circulating and took a long drink. In order to actually come out of the corner she was hiding in she was going to need some alcohol to make herself less socially awkward. But while that was kicking in she looked around the room again. Several of her coworkers were already on the way to being very drunk. Beca sort of hoped that they would make complete fools of themselves. Not only would that be hilarious to watch, but it would probably be in her favor for that whole promotion thing too. If that made her a horrible human being for hoping something like that happened, well so be it.

Beca looked towards the door to see one of the guys from the film company coming in. Beca thought he was the composer of the score they were going to produce. He wasn’t particularly interesting, he just looked like a regular dude and so she almost looked away, but then a tall blonde was walking over to his side. She almost lost her grip on her champagne glass. Holy. Fucking. Shit. No one had the right to look that fucking good. Beca had the urge to stomp over there and yell at the woman about just how attractive she was, but she managed to reign it in.

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Issue One: Halfway Mark

Hey, everyone!

So it is September 1st, which means there are 30 days left to submit your work to Nightlight’s first-ever issue. As a reminder, all of the information about our submission guidelines and submission themes can be found on our Guidelines and Issues pages, also accessible via buttons in our header. For our first-ever issue, Nightlight Magazine wants stories of hope, collected under the prompt and title Lies My Illness Told Me.

In detail, we want stories either written by a person with mental illness or about people with mental illnesses, and for this issue, we want those stories to go deep into the jungle of the psyche and back out again.

Thank you so much to people who have boosted the previous post with this information! We already have one submission, which is exciting, but one submission does not a lit mag make, so please, if you’re even vaguely thinking about submitting something, please do!

Please continue to boost the submission call post and this post, if you can, and let’s work to make Nightlight’s first issue a success!

your mom called, you left your game at home (5/?)

Laura was in a very similar situation as she was at this time last week. On third. Sarah at bat. Down by one. Two outs.

Except it was the bottom of the eighth inning this time. So if Sarah fucked it up again they’d have another chance. But, she has her fingers crossed it won’t come to that again. Literally crossed as she waits to make a run for it.

She’s getting antsy, the pitcher is taking forever to throw the ball, no doubt trying to just psych Sarah out.

But she finally threw it, “Come on, Sarah.” Laura mumbled to herself as the pitch was thrown. Sarah swung and Laura heard the impact of the ball on the bat echo through the park and watched as the ball went sailing outfield.

She stood still, anxious as she watched the left fielder run after it, “Come on come on.” She repeated quietly to herself as she wasn’t sure it had enough behind it to make it over the fence.

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I know they sell these shorts as boxers, but they’re super comfy and have lil pups on them how could I not want them? So I just wear them as regular shorts at home.

Also super psyched I found out I still fit in boys XL, because their shirts are so much cheaper.

Shoutout to that same psych professor for calling out “feminine traits” that make men “undesirable” as being heteronormative and forced by society. Love this man.

Holy hell am I freaking out. There are only three working days until opening night and I can’t decide if I’m ready and psyching myself out or if I’m actually nowhere near as ready like I feel. Either way I’m excited and I might puke from nerves. Gotta love Broadway, right?


sometimesthedragonwins asked: shawn spencer or burton guster

“i don’t blame you, shawn. i want you to know that if i had a chance to do it all over again, i wouldn’t change a thing. you’re my best friend and we had a chance to live out a childhood dream. i don’t blame you, okay?”