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elliesflower · 1 year

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i saw you in a dream [3]

chapter 2 here

summary; you can't get ellie off your mind

chapter; 3/? 2.9k words

cw (per chapter); recreational marijuana usage, language, anxious thoughts

a/n; wooo another chapter, also sorry this is turning into a slower burn than i thought, i'll have to write a separate one shot with some smut just to fulfill the desire until i get to the smut in this story lmao, anyways, as always let me know what you think, and find it on AO3 here :)

To say you were fascinated by Ellie may be an understatement.

In such a short amount of time, she seemed to completely captivate your mind. Fueled by the weed the two of you had smoked, you watched her become more comfortable, opening up, even if just barely. She showed you recent artwork she’d done, to which your reaction may or may not have been holy fuck, these are incredible, Ellie.

She was funny, too, like really funny. It wasn’t often that someone could make you laugh as hard as she did, whether from a terrible character impression, or an even worse pun—seriously, it was like she studied a book on the World’s Worst Dad Jokes, or something.

Oh, and of course, she was a million times better at teaching guitar than your actual guitar teacher. She made it easy to understand, simplifying the techniques without making you feel stupid, while teaching you new tricks along the way. To your own astonishment, she helped you to play the entire first verse all the way through the chorus, a feat you’d begun to think may not even be possible. Part of you wished she wasn’t as good, for the selfish desire to stay longer in her presence.

Toward the end of your lesson, she even let you hear her sing, and you could have sworn it was like a choir of angels had descended on the room. Despite reluctance to accept your praises, she gave you that same crooked smile, mumbling a bashful thank you under her breath before quickly changing the subject. She was cocky and confident one moment, and then reserved and soft in another.

Even though she was hard to read at times, Ellie was quickly becoming your favorite book.

“I’d say you’re pretty well prepared for your final,” Ellie announced, breaking you out of your trance. It was getting late, but you didn’t want to leave—not yet, not when you still ached to know her better. Your high may have been wearing off, but you could have sworn your head was still above the clouds as you looked across the room at her. She met your gaze with an easy smile, her evergreen eyes low and inviting.

“I think so too,” you tried to sound casual, but it came out a bit too eager. “Seriously, I think I learned more in the past hour than I did in the past three months of class.”

Ellie laughed, and you loved the way the sound was no longer foreign.

“Well, I’m glad I was able to help. You were easy to teach,” she said, turning away to haphazardly organize some of the drawings she’d splayed out on her desk; however, not before you caught her battling a coy smirk.

The blush you’d been fighting the past few hours threatened to surface again as you quickly stood up, opting to pack your things away into your guitar case to avoid further discomfiture. It was like Ellie flipped a switch in your brain, and you forgot how to act like a normal person. She had you caught between shy and uninhibited, you wanted to impress her, but at the same time, she was intimidating. How could one person hold this much power over your brain without even trying?

“Here,” Ellie said suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts once more. You looked up to see her outstretched hand, with a small, black tube between her fingers—a pre-roll.

“Sour Pineapple. It’s what we’ve been smoking today,” she explained. “Maybe try some before your final.”

“You’re telling me I need to smoke weed before my final?” You asked, grabbing the container from her before throwing your guitar case back over your shoulder. Your fingertips grazed over hers, and you only wished you could reach just that much further and touch her. You wanted to trace the veins on the back of her hand, grip her wrists and feel her heartbeat pulse beneath your fingers—but, you’d take what you could get. She wanted you to have this pre-roll. A reminder of your time together. Perhaps, that was enough.

“If it makes you play like you did today, then yes,” Ellie laughed again, and dropped her arms to her side. She stood there for a moment, staring at you, and all you could do was stare back and wow, there was that fervid heat rising to your face again.

“So…you got everything?” She asked, taking a glance around the room. Was she stalling? Maybe she did want you to stay…or maybe she just wanted to make sure you had everything? Oh god, why is discerning human emotions so hard?

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” your eyes followed hers around the room for a moment, but you were pretty sure you grabbed all your sheet music.

“Okay, cool…we can head downstairs then,” she said, and there she was, slipping softly back into introversion. You nodded with a slight smile, and begrudgingly, you followed her as she made her way past you out the door.

“You gonna make it back to your dorm alright?” She asked as she descended the stairs.

“Oh, yeah,” you replied, though you had a fleeting thought that maybe she’d offer to walk you if you’d said no. “I’m meeting my roommate at the coffee shop down the street, and we’ll walk home together.”

“Good,” she said, so quietly that you almost missed it. At the bottom of the stairs, she hovered while you grabbed your coat off the rack, and before you could slip your guitar all the way off your shoulder, she was by your side in a heartbeat.

“Let me grab that for you,” she said, and it was almost laughable how much more assured and comfortable she sounded saying those same words from just a few hours ago. You let yourself blush this time, passing the guitar to her as you slid your arms through the sleeves of your jacket.

“Thanks for everything,” you couldn’t help but to say, and you wondered if you should reach out and touch her. Just a light graze of the arm—anything to show you were interested, that you wanted to know her favorite movie, and what she liked to do when it was raining outside, and if she likes to stay up late or wake up early, and what she likes in her coffee, if she even likes coffee, or maybe she’s a tea person, or maybe she doesn’t care for either—but the fear of rejection proved stronger. You reached for your guitar and that was it.

“Like I said, you were easy to teach,” she replied easily, handing off the guitar before opening the front door. “Seriously, you’re gonna do great. Why don’t you let me know how it goes?”

Internally, you were jumping up and down—also maybe crying, screaming, throwing up—and of course, externally, you walked past her onto the porch without missing a beat. She wants to keep in touch with you? Well, maybe you were getting ahead of yourself. She probably just needs proof of the lesson to actually receive her extra credit. Yep, that was it.

“Oh, of– of course! I’ll…email you?”

It dawned on you that you don’t even have her number—that initial flier only listed her email. Would it be weird to ask for her number? Was she trying to ask for your number?

“Uh, yeah, sounds great,” she replied after a moment, and her face held a look you couldn’t quite decipher. Nervousness? Indifference? At this point, you were considering changing your major to Psychology.

In spite of your dismay, you felt like you were swooning at the sight of her. Her face was positively glowing, bathed in the golden porch light as she leaned against the doorframe. You took a deep breath and committed the warm, vanilla musk that billowed from her house to memory. She smiled at you, softly, and it just barely made a crease next to her eyes.

“Alright, well, thanks again,” you said, giving your own awkward smile in return. If you were trying to find a way to stay, this was definitely not sealing the deal.

“Have a good night, okay?” Ellie’s voice was soft. Whether she didn’t notice your awkwardness, or chose to spare you further embarrassment, you were grateful.

There was nothing left to say, nothing that could realistically allow you to stay without sounding crazy. So, you offered another weak smile, and turned to leave. As you walked down the steps, you faintly heard the door close, and resisted the urge to look back, or maybe run back, knock on the door again and start over. You felt a little silly, admittedly—less than five hours ago you’d nearly ran the other direction, expecting a serial killer, yet you were now quite literally hanging your head as you left, dejected.

The streetlights were just turning on in the city as you sent a quick text to Dina, confirming her location, and picked up your pace a bit. The cold air nipped at your cheeks, and you zipped up your coat to further cover your face as you walked. She was, luckily, waiting outside for you, at a small table beneath an outdoor heater. Her ponytail bounced as she nearly jumped out of her chair when she caught sight of you.

“My god, I was starting to think maybe she did end up killing you or something,” she teased, handing you a paper coffee cup. You rolled your eyes, affectionately, and gratefully accepted the beverage, using it to warm your cold hands.

“Well, how did it go?” Dina asked, falling into step beside you.

“I already told you, it was…good,” you smiled, bringing the cup to your lips to take a sip. Ugh, let this be a reminder to never let her order you coffee. It tasted like bitters and sadness.

“Duh, but I need more context! Come on, you left me hanging in the middle of our conversation, you gotta give me something,” she complained, smacking you in the arm with the back of her hand.

“I’m not giving you shit if you hit me one more time,” you threatened playfully, pointing a finger at her. She raised her hands in feign innocence.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she laughed.

As close as you’d gotten with Dina in just a few short months, you’d always had a hard time opening up, to anyone. Though, it’s not like she would judge you. Dina was so open about her life, sharing everything from the smallest crush she had at the moment, to even the biggest things like her mother passing away when she was young—you sometimes wished it was that easy for you to be as transparent as her. But you were never sure when you’d share too much with anyone, and scare them away.

“She wasn’t a serial killer, for one,” you started, feeling yourself open up. “She was actually really nice, and, like, amazing at guitar…and she was also kind of cute,” you added the last part quickly and quietly, taking another sip of the terrible coffee and staring straight ahead to avoid seeing her reaction. You couldn’t resist a side-eye at her though, and her mouth was agape, an amused look on her face.

“Cute?!” She exclaimed. “You couldn’t have led with that?”

You laughed, the anxiety in your brain slowly dwindling. It was okay. Dina wasn’t going to judge you. She cares about you.

“Go on, go on, please,” Dina gestured to you, encouraging you to continue. Taking a deep breath, you let yourself retell the events of the past few hours, even down to the smallest details—how the two of you smoked together, how she really was like a guitar legend in a way, how it sometimes felt as though the tension was tangible in the smoky room, how you often found yourself getting lost in her eyes, how you longed to know the story of how she got the scar in her eyebrow, and wow it all came rushing out of you, you couldn’t stop, it was like word vomit and oh god you really had it bad.

Timidly, you spared a glance over at Dina, who was nearly tripping over her own feet as she watched you, completely invested in your story. She let out a laugh, and you couldn’t tell if it was with you or at you.

“I know, I sound insane,” you literally cringed, pressing your palm against your cheek as if to snap yourself out of it. You’d said too much, you were in too deep.

“No, no, no, not at all!” Dina laughed again, but this time it was more assuring. “I’m mostly just wondering how you had time to get in any actual guitar playing between all that chemistry you just described,” she smirked now, elbowing you playfully. This time, you laughed with her, feeling more at ease.

“Oh shut up,” you elbowed her back, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the ground as you walked along. Perhaps a bit archaic, but you felt absolutely smitten. The thought of Ellie alone had you literally smiling at the ground.

“Tell me you got her number, at least?” She questioned as the two of you approached your dorm building. Thanks for the reminder, Dina.

“Erm, not quite,” you admitted, stopping outside the entrance.

“Okay, then puh-lease tell me you at least pretended to still suck at guitar so that you could see her again?” She turned to face you again as she fished her student ID out of her backpack and scanned into the building.

“Oh my god, where were you with that idea like, an hour ago?” You groaned as she swept past you through the door and into the lobby. That was a much better plan than stuttering awkwardly as you left, thus possibly ruining any future chance you may have at seeing her again.

“Oh, you know, just studying for my finals, being ignored by my roomie, the usual,” Dina sighed dramatically, one hand over her heart as you trailed behind her. You rolled your eyes at her, this time not so affectionately.

“Don’t worry, I’ll forgive you,” she said after a moment, bumping into you softly. “As long as you promise to tell me more about this dreamy Ellie girl.”

You caught yourself smiling bashfully at the ground once more, the thought of the red-headed girl alone sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Deal.”

******************

The next few days came and went, though more slowly than usual. Work seemed to drone on—even with students becoming more and more panicked as finals week quickly approached, the campus bookstore was surprisingly slow. You spent most of your work days standing behind the counter, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, occasionally reviewing your Woman’s Literature textbook for your test on Tuesday. At this point, it was quite possible you could pass that exam in your sleep.

Your guitar final, though? That was a different story.

You see, you had tried to practice by yourself, trying to remember every little technique that Ellie had taught you. The only problem with that? Then you couldn’t stop thinking about her. Albeit, you had barely stopped thinking, let alone talking about her since Saturday. Luckily, Dina was more than happy to listen, only further fueling your fantasy.

And yet, Wednesday came entirely too quickly. From the moment you woke up, the mere thought of your final cast an anxious mood on your day, stomach twisting and turning in anticipation. God, you’d done just fine when you were with Ellie, you rationally knew you could play all the way through the first verse, but it was like your fingers stopped working whenever you started picturing her in your head; eyes closed, leaning into her guitar, playing with earnest and conviction, smiling softly as she looked up at you and sang quietly.

As you sat at your desk, painting that beautiful picture in your mind, Dina laid in her bed on the other side of the room, rambling on FaceTime with one of her friends from back home about one of her upcoming finals. You tuned her out, listening to your own music quietly from your laptop as you got ready to head to your final.

You say, ‘I want to be your girlfriend’

It wasn't really in my plans

When you're around, I've got arrhythmia

So in the end, I play pretend,

Your guitar sat propped against your bed, tormenting you silently. You were toying with the thought of actually smoking the Sour Pineapple that Ellie had gifted you. Although, part of you considered the sentimental thought that you should just keep it forever. Ugh. Having a crush was mentally exhausting.

You clicked around on your computer, making a half-assed attempt at checking that all your other final assignments were turned in. A quiet email notification sounded through the music, and you clicked on the open tab. Your eyes almost fell out of your head when you saw the name that sat at the top of your inbox.

Ellie Williams (no subject)

You quickly opened the message, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.

Good luck today!! You’re gonna do great. Let me know how it goes. You can text me if that’s easier :)

Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god. She remembered your final. She wants you to text her. She gave you her number. She’s been thinking about you? Your smile was automatic, reaching ear to ear as the butterflies returned to your stomach.

Dina needed to get off the phone immediately.

chapter 4 here

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x you #the last of us #tlou #ellie tlou #dina tlou #tlou pt 2 #ellie x you

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spandexbutterfly4lyfe · 11 days

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Hiiiii ♡♡♡

1-what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

12- what’s some good advice you want to share?

25-fave season and why?

Omg nim thank you for putting the whole questions in the ask, I should’ve done that for yours but didn’t think abt it 😭

1 - since anyone who touches my blog with a ten foot pole hears about all the bad things that shaped me, here are some good ones!:

1) in high school I quit band because the director was a huge dick, which opened up free time for me to try choir. After one class I was withdrawn from beginner choir and put into advanced. The (openly gay) director was kind and encouraging and refused to let me badmouth my voice. Forced me to engage. Up until this point I’d been incredibly insecure, even my stepdad would change the radio station if I started to sing along. Opening up my singing confidence also opened up my making friends confidence for the first time. It is because of that director that I went on to meet my partner doing karaoke and then had the chance to sing at Carnegie Hall (probably the #1 experience of my life). I hope I never forget how much I owe him.

2) one of my favorite people in the world is my middle & high school Russian teacher! He was an ex Soviet soldier from Belarus and an incredibly kind and happy older man. Not only did I get a decent education in Russian history and propaganda at a young age, but it permanently blasted through any US propaganda that demonizes all Russians. I learned about the world, the kinds of things that interest me, and to have compassion first and foremost.

3) when I was a kid I LOVED making desserts, to the point that my dad kept packs of instant muffin mix and boxed brownie mix in the house for when I came over every weekend. I’d jazz it up long before I really understood what I was doing. I gave up on my love for baking and cooking for a long time because it just wasn’t possible in my living situations, but now I’m a baker. And a really good one. I wish I’d put two and two together sooner, honestly.

12 - the world is full of experiences you wouldn’t even realize are normal to some people, and all people are truly human at heart. Everyone has a reason for doing everything that you don’t approve of, and the vast amount of the time it isn’t their fault that they reason that way. Don’t forget that you’ve also made plenty of panicked, quick decisions that had consequences for yourself and others, and the feelings that cause these poor decisions feel very very compelling in the moment. Before you decide someone is irredeemable, look for a way to view their actions with pity first. We all deserve it to some degree.

25 - I’m actually sort of famous among people who know me as being incredibly excited for every single season. It’s part of my charm. I think my favorite is spring, though. Mostly because the comfortable temperature is a huge relief — bitter cold messes with my nerve pain — and daylight savings makes me feel like I’m on straight up speed. It’s really a logistical preference, because I’m an incredibly festive person about every season equally.

#thank you for asking :) sorry that the answer was so long lmao #long post

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dank-meme-legend · 3 months

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I Ran Home That Day ♾️

I ran home that day

Sprinted so quickly down the road to finally have an answer

To know why I cause so many problems and why I’m the epitome of, “weird”

A warm day in the middle of May, it was

And my mom stood on the porch, waiting for me

I was grinning, I still don’t know why

I was excited as if I were about to be given a gift or a new toy to play with

My mom’s words came out calmly, a little apprehensively, though

Like she didn’t want to say them out loud

But she did

“Morgan, you have Asperger’s, with the ADHD.”

She couldn’t say, “autism”

Because that word

Was big

And heavy

It had so many connotations

But I was eleven years old

I didn’t know any better

We went inside and I put my backpack away

And cried

Somewhere between relief and fear

What did that mean for me now? For the future? What now, what now?

Relief shined through, though

I had been carrying fear within me that there wasn’t anything diagnosable

My worst fear, that I was just a bad kid

But I wasn’t

I was put into a world that wasn’t made for me

And I dealt with it the best way I could; through tics and fidgets and never shutting up and loving things intently

And I cried

My mom hadn’t hugged me that tight in my entire life

I had to get my sister off the bus

She was the first person I told

She didn’t know what it meant, but ass-burgers was funny to her

She didn’t know any better, either

That night, I had a choir concert for my school

I wore my chorus shirt with black sweatpants

Because I couldn’t stand denim

I stood in the warm-up room off to the side by myself

Knowing something that no one else did

Could they see it now? Did they know before I did?

A few girls from my class came up to me

“Why are you wearing sweatpants?”

But my face had to have shown something— worry, embarrassment, confusion, something— because the girls changed course

“It’s okay, you’re lucky. I wish my mom let me wear sweatpants all the time.”

They didn’t know the battle that went on about that at home; and with brushing my teeth; with showering; with learning how to shave; with talking too much; with not talking at all when stressed; with, with, with

But I wasn’t going to tell them

Less I need another thing to stick a target to my back: Morgan has family issues and is autistic, too

I don’t remember the singing part of the chorus concert

Though, I do remember the song, “Three Quotes” inspired by the works of Mark Twain

One part of the song had all of us kids yell on stage: “Rude, rambunctious crescendo” is what I remember the choir teacher telling us in the rehearsal days we had prior

The days where I sang loud to not think, “What if I’m a bad kid, what if I’m a bad kid? What then, what then?”

And blared music until my ears rang to not think, “What happens then? What will I do if I’m just a bad kid?”

During the crescendo, I went mute

The ringing in my ears and the thoughts in my head were so loud that I believed I was saying them out loud

So loud in my head

I’m autistic, I am on the spectrum, I don’t know what that means

I wanted to go home

Sit in the dark

But I had more songs to smile and dance and off-key sing to

When it was over, I ran to my mom

And hugged her tight

A friend of mine came up to me

Smiling, happy to see me, wanting to tell me I did a good job, even when I really didn’t

She was the second person I told

I don’t know why I brought it up

She had been my friend since the first grade

So I trusted her

“I’m autistic.”

“Oh.”

That’s all she said

Social deficit, I’d made a social misstep

But we pushed on

She hugged me and took a picture with me thanks to both our mom’s insistence

I still have that picture now

Tired eyes, my crooked smile

A forced, crooked smile

But a smile nonetheless

I went home and my mom told me to be comfortable

To relax

I went right to my room, mind racing, to my computer to research

And research

And research some more

My eyes were going wonky

So tired

But I had to know and had to educate myself and had to learn what such a heavy word meant

I went to sleep late that night

Definitely not relaxed

And faced the morning

And faced the day

I pulled my favorite teacher aside and told her

“I have Asperger’s.”

“I have nephews with it. Don’t worry, you’re still a smart girl.”

She hugged me, too

I never said I wasn’t smart

One student overheard

And told another

Then another

And it spread like a wildfire

People knew when I didn’t want them to

I was questioned

If I was bullied for just showing autistic traits, then what do you think happened when people learned that they were right?

Called the r-word in the hallway

Picked last in gym class

Avoided like the plague

How was I supposed to be proud

Of something that made things worse for a long, long time?

I denied all accusations

“I’m not autistic. What are you talking about?”

And went on with my life

I told my best friend

“I’m autistic.”

“That’s okay, your mind is just a little funky. But everyone’s mind is their own kind of funky.”

She was kind to me

I entered high school and met more kids with it

Kids who could say that they were autistic

Proudly

Incredible

I watched them

And wanted to be proud

It got written on my student record

My new choir teacher embraced it fully

She was kind to me

I ran to her class every day

And got picked on for being a kiss-ass

But I slowly didn’t care

There are people who can be kind

The teasing and bullying and cruelty won’t matter in the long run

Though its wounds still stay with me

I stuck with kind people

I ran to them

Ran down to hall to see my friends

Who were all weird and queer and different

But I loved them all

They kept me safe

Kind people kept me safe

I ran to them

Held them close to me

Grew up beside the other weirdos

And didn’t feel alone

Didn’t feel heavy

Wasn’t avoided

Found peace in people like me

Told more people

Found pride

Found pride for the first time

And ran toward better days where I grew up and allowed myself to rest

To take it easy

To find people like me and to love them

To love them

To love me

And to love big, heavy words

And to fly free

And run towards light

#a poem/writing thing about the day I got my diagnosis #and the times that followed it #autism #actually autistic #actually audhd #neurodivergent

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itsokbbygrl · 3 months

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Get to Know Me — Tag You’re It Edition

Thanks, Liv @5oh5 , for tagging me :)))

1. were you named after anyone?

I wish my name was cooler. My parents picked Elizabeth from the Bible (even though they aren’t religious???) and Jane is my paternal grandmother’s middle name. I’ve reclaimed that I was named for Lizzie Bennet and Jane Austen because I really do be that fictional woman lol. Oh and fun fact! I was adopted as a baby and my birth mom named me Cristina Marie but that is not what ended up on my birth certificate, so here we are, now I have the most insanely British name ever conceived.

2. when was the last time you cried?

Like 10 minutes ago lmao I cry all the time

3. do you have kids?

nope

4. what sports do you play/have played?

I was v serious about dance growing up, then added in acrobatics, soccer, softball, figure skating, volleyball, basketball, and ran track and cross country. If it was offered in my tiny town, I did it.

5. do you use sarcasm?

I used to all the time, but since learning more about neurodiversity, I try to use it a lot less to make my language more accessible.

6. what's the first thing you notice about people?

Face and hair, then if they’re being nice to the people around them

7. what's your eye color?

Blue

8. scary movies or happy endings?

¿Porque no los dos?

9. any talents?

Singing, acting, dancing, I’m v athletic, I’m also hella smart

10. where were you born?

Chicago, IL

11. what are your hobbies?

Reading, driving 3+ hours to see friends lol, singing

12. do you have any pets?

Our family has a Shiba Inu named Charlie and he is so ornery and adorable.

13. how tall are you?

5'4”

14. favorite subject in school?

Biology and English (but only in middle school), and music (band and choir) if we’re going non-traditional academic subjects

15. dream job?

Lowkey? Being a mom, I’m really good at it and I’ve had years of practice as a nanny with kids ages birth through 15. Highkey? I do not dream of labor. But if I have to do something to contribute to the wellness of the greater society and pay wasn’t an issue, I’d love to be a teacher or a barista.

NP tagging: @swiftispunk @genovmalkinn @eeveedel @javierpena-inatacvest Mads I think you already did this so feel free to ignore

#tag meme #tag game #LJ lore

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elizabeth-karenina · 10 months

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15 Questions 15 Mutuals

I wasn’t tagged for this, but I saw it on a mutual’s blog and thought it would be fun to do. I haven’t done one of these in a while, so why not?

1. Are you named after anyone?

I was named after a great-grandmother as well as my paternal grandmother—Dorothy Elizabeth (my great-grandmother) and Jeannette (my grandmother). I adore my grandmother, so I’ve always been honored to share a name with her. I never knew my great-grandmother, who died tragically young, and I’ve always been a little sad that I never knew her.

2. When was the last time you cried?

About a week ago or so. Look, I cry all the time nowadays, so I can’t even accurately tell you. It’s not even a bad thing, mind you. I cry at cute things as well as sad things; at this point, if I’m feeling the emotion, I just let it take over!

3. Do you have kids?

I don’t. I wouldn’t mind having one or two, maybe three, someday with a committed partner. But I am definitely not having children for the sake of having them. If I’m going to be a mother, then I’m doing it because I’m ready.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

It depends on the situation. I tend to only do so with my nearest and dearest, and in a humorous sense. I’m of the opinion that sarcasm has a time and place, because depending on the situation, sarcasm can be very rude.

5. What sports do you play/have played?

I used to play sports a lot when I was a kid. I used to play kickball and baseball with my cousins and my friends in my neighborhood all the time. And I played on a local soccer team with a bunch of school friends when I was 9. I even went to a basketball camp at my dad’s recreation center when I was 10.

I didn’t keep up with any of this as I got older, mind you LMAO! I’m just not as athletic as other people. But I do love watching sporting events, especially the World Cup.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their faces, especially their eyes and their smiles.

7. What's your eye color?

Dark brown, like polished mahogany or melted chocolate.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, for sure! As much as I love a good spooky story, I appreciate and care about happy endings more.

9. Any special talents?

I can sing well enough, at least among my friends and my family. I tell stories really well; I do everyone’s voices and everything. I’m pretty good at cheering people up and knowing what to say in any given moment. I’m also pretty good at baking, especially cookies and cakes.

10. Where were you born?

In America, in Maryland to be exact.

11. What are your hobbies?

I’ve gotten back into reading lately, which is wonderful, because I think reading is probably my favorite thing to do. Usually I like reading about history, but I’ve also decided to step out of that and try to read some book series this summer. I’ve been learning French on Duolingo for about 3 years now, and one day I’d like to learn Spanish, Russian, Greek, and Mandarin one day too. I like listening to music and podcasts on the weekends, and when I can plan it, I also like going to the movies and go shopping afterwards.

12. Do you have pets?

For about 13 years, I had a Latsah-Otsah/Maltese dog named Ringo. Unfortunately, he died last year and it was a hard thing to go through. I would love to have another pet, but I live with my family, so if we do decide to get one we’d ALL have to agree upon it. And right now, my family doesn’t feel like it’s ready for anything else, so SADLY I am petless. :(

13. How tall are you?

I am five feet tall! I’m literally a hobbit.

14. Favorite subject in school?

English lit, world history, my Spanish classes, and my chorus class.

15. Dream job?

So many! I wished I had kept up with my music lessons, because I wish I could be in an orchestra or a choir. I used to want to be a radio DJ, too, but that dream fizzled out real quick lmao!

Here’s who I would like to tag: @1980s-jean-ralphio, @miumiumacaron, @stcndupeight, @nellygwyn, @magalis, @roamwithahungryheart, @pocketwish, @octoberinflorence, @grand-duchessa, @midnightinjapan, @wifeofbath, @spicytchai90, @stray-kaz

#i didn't quite get to 15 #there are only so many people i've spoken to on here #there's no pressure tho #Elizabeth responds to things

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aroundthecornerblaine · 1 year

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I grew up going to your story time and now am in high school. It would be so cool to see you perform in another place like the Ivy! We are thinking about doing a oldies theme for our glee club. What were your favorite glee club songs that you performed?

Oh wow. Thanks for that; but how can you be old enough to be in high school?!? I feel like I sometimes forgot how many years I’ve put into the store and that high school wasn’t just a couple of years ago for me. I hear great things about the Ivy and the person behind the NYC West Side Ivy is someone I knew when we were in high school. We didn’t go to school together but we went to the same school at different times (freshman and sophomore year for me, junior and senior year for him) so we had mutual friends. And we became show choir rivals. Although we tried to maintain a friendship despite the competition and other obstacles. That being said- I’m not sure performing at the Ivy will ever be a thing for me; but never say never, I guess. However a lot of my friends have and probably will continue to do so; and I’d recommend seeing any of them so maybe I’ll share that more for people to go see.

Yikes! I completely got wrapped up in why I probably wouldn't perform at the Ivy and some--- nostalgia--- and forgot to answer the rest, and most important part of your question.

When I was at Dalton, and a Warbler, I feel like we did more contemporary music when we could. Of course the Warblers did community outreach like performing at senior centers, so there were some golden oldies that we learned. When I moved to McKinley, the glee club faculty advisor was pretty stuck in the 80s sometimes and perhaps the songs he did as a student in glee club. We did a whole showcase of Michael Jackson's hits for a competition once. We celebrated the works of Whitney Houston. For various reasons, both my junior and senior year, our trips to Nationals included some "oldies" to us. "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights", which helped us win Nationals, and then the next year we sang "More than a Feeling", "America", and "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" all which were kind of a tribute to a former member of our Glee club.

I have a fondness myself for classic movies and musicals just as much as contemporary ones. There is nothing wrong with the classics-- I wish you and your glee club good luck with coming up with an "oldie" set list.

As for my favorite performances-- wow. I guess they can probably now almost be "oldies" themselves. As a Warbler- I just loved having fun with the rest of the guys. "Teenage Dream", "Raise Your Glass", "Misery", all come to mind. I did get to watch my friend Nick sing "Uptown Girl" with their new Captain after I left. They pulled me into dance with them, and as a senior I did return and sing a very impromptu version of "Dark Side" with my former Dalton brothers. I loved all of those. I realize now those were mostly all solos for me... but I do love taking a good powerhouse song sung by a songstress.

As a member of the New Directions, I loved performances like "Last Friday Night", "Man in the Mirror", "Love Shack", "Hungry like the Wolf/Rio" because I got to sing with my brother, "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights", "Call Me Maybe", "Heroes", "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go", "More than a Feeling", "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For", "Some Nights", "Hey Jude", and "All or Nothing" which is an original written by one of my fellow New Direction members.

Sorry for the rambling-- cold medicine and really, asking me to talk about music and songs is asking for long winded- rambling, Ask anyone who knows me! Again- good luck!

#anon:blaine #all:blaine #ref:sebastian #tw: long post

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askthefuturegleeks · 9 months

Text

Thank you for joining the campaign to bring the arts to future generations, TINA COHEN-CHANG, we’re happy to have you! If you want a refresher on what to do next, feel free to look at the WELCOME CHECKLIST. Please send your account in within the next 48 hours so that you can get started.

ooc information

NAME: B

AGE: 40+

PRONOUNS: she/her

SHIPS: Tina +chem

ANTI-SHIPS: Tina +no chem

basic ic information

NAME: Tina Paige Cohen-Chang

BIRTHDAY/ZODIAC: February 11, 1993, Aquarius.

CURRENT OCCUPATION: Librarian at William McKinley High School for the Performing Arts, and writer.

CURRENT LOCATION: Lima, but spends summers and school breaks in NYC.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Perpetually single.

FC: Jenna Ushkowitz

twitter post

@ccpaige: The book in my family series will be out just in time for the holiday 2024 season. Pre-order your copy now. #FAMILYISFAMILY #GIFTABOOK #OPENADOORTOTHEUNKNOWN

in character questions

Answer these in character, and feel free to add gifs into your answers.

1.) What did you want to do with your life when you were younger? What would the child version of yourself think about the path you paved for yourself?

To be honest, I always wanted to be a performer. Maybe I just wanted the attention. But I leaned that maybe that wasn’t my path; even after a part in one of Artie's films. Attending Brown was a great experience and I spent a lot of time studying women’s history, women studies, and creative writing. I learned to be a bit of an activist. I wish I’d learned some of these ways to stand up for myself before college and maybe then I would have stood out more in the choir room.

I think child me would side eye the fact that I’m a librarian. But would find it cool that I’m a published author and would really love the books I’ve written.

2.) What is your proudest accomplishment? Don’t be afraid to talk about what it took to achieve it and how you feel about it as well.

My books. I hope I’m providing representation for children that have been through the systems the way my siblings and I have. I hope I’m providing representation for all the children who come from home that is no longer the 50s or 60s nuclear family unit. And for someone that wanted to be a performer and wanted the attention, I’m proud of myself for writing my books under a pen name. It’s not that hard to figure out, but it allows me normalcy day to day in the library.

3.) If you could do anything you wanted for one whole day, what would it be and why?

I’d love to perform on stage. Maybe join one of my more famous and talented friends, or former show choir competitors on stage and just sing and perform for the hell of it. Some of my favorite memories as a teenager, are actually on stage.

where are they now?

Attending Brown was an amazing experience for Tina. She started her journey by studying acting, and joining a choir and dance troupe to keep up her skills from show choir. But it wasn’t any easier for Tina to be noticed at Brown than it was in the choir room at McKinley, even after a successful role in film of Artie's. A class in women’s history, turned into several and an change in her program. Tina went on to study women’s history, women’s studies, and creative writing. She graduated with a Honors Bachelor of Arts in creative writing with a minor in women’s studies. She continued to perform, for fun. But with her courses, Tina also learned to be a bit of an activist and began to write for the on campus student blog and started a personal one of her own.

It was on her personal blog, sharing her story about being adopted, the untraditional nature of her family that she got the idea to write a series of children’s books about non traditional families. After graduating from Brown, Tina moved home to Lima to write her book. It just so happened that WMHS needed a new librarian, and although she had zero experience, she knew the school, she knew some of the staff, and Tina found herself with a job that still encourages her to write.

Tina has the worst luck when it comes to relationships. While at Brown Tina was more open to many things and had a couple of short but meaningful relationships with men and women. Although he was her ex, working with Artie on his movie was easy due to the friendship they had always maintained. They even rekindled their former relationship for a brief time. But while they had both grown and matured a lot, their relationship ended very amicably. She maintains several close male friendships, including her exes Artie Abrams and Mike Chang.

Potential connections: Any of the other former ND including but not limited to Sam Evans, Kitty Wilde, and Artie Abrams. Other former students at Brown (with a romantic/sexual or platonic connection to Tina), and of course, her siblings.

#glee rp #atfg admin #accepted

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automatismoateo · 1 year

Text

Washington Post: Why are we so tolerant of churchy bigotry? via /r/atheism

Washington Post: Why are we so tolerant of churchy bigotry?

Excerpt below.

Full article available here: https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2023/03/06/religious-bigotry-lgbtq-homophobia/

By Kate Cohen Contributing columnist

When one of my kids was 12, he was invited to join an esteemed local choir, one of the crown jewels of Albany’s Episcopal Cathedral of All Saints. Although he was an atheist, he didn’t object to singing Christian music — years in children’s choruses and “holiday” concerts had accustomed him to that.

But as I, high on maternal pride, was calculating how I’d get him to two rehearsals a week, he asked me whether the church condoned same-sex marriage. I said I didn’t know. He said, well, if they didn’t, he wouldn’t join.

I checked: They most emphatically did not. When I told the choirmaster why my son was declining the invitation, he responded that progressive forces inside the church were working toward change. I wished him well. Even if their efforts succeeded, the change would no doubt arrive after my son’s tenure as an angel-voiced advertisement for a discriminatory institution.

Are you impressed by the moral clarity I expressed … after having been schooled by a seventh-grader?

I thought of this moment when I read that last month, Pensacola Christian College in Florida had disinvited the King’s Singers — an a cappella group visiting campus — two hours before their scheduled performance. The college canceled, it later said, “upon learning that one of the artists openly maintained a lifestyle that contradicts Scripture.” In other words, because one of its members was gay.

In fact, two are. The King’s Singers knew about the college’s position on homosexuality when they agreed to play there, but as they explained in an Instagram post: “Our belief is that music can build a common language that allows people with different views and perspectives to come together.”

It’s an extremely gracious statement. Yet I have to ask them, as I belatedly asked myself years ago: Why so tolerant of bigotry?

Are we just so accustomed to the anti-LGBTQ stances of conservative religious institutions that they don’t even register? Are we so used to church-sponsored homophobia that we ignore the vast, forbidding landscape of prejudice while celebrating the tiniest signs of change?

It made the news, for example, when Pope Francis told the Associated Press recently that homosexuality should not be criminalized, as it is in 67 countries, and urged bishops around the world to recognize everyone’s dignity. Amen.

He noted, however, that homosexuality is still a sin. The Catholic Church will keep calling it a sin, and urging sinners to repent, and it will keep refusing to recognize same-sex marriage or to condone adoption by same-sex parents, but in a way that also totally recognizes their dignity!

(Not for nothing: Where does the pope think those countries first got the idea that homosexuality should be a crime?)

In January, the Church of England apologized for its treatment of LGBTQ people while clarifying that such people would not be allowed to marry in the church. “For the times we have rejected or excluded you, and those you love, we are deeply sorry,” the pastoral letter reads. And for the times we will continue to reject or exclude you, we are so deeply sorry for those, too!

These official church statements represent genteel, soft-spoken prejudice in God’s name. For a more brutal version, take a look (if you can stomach it) at Hemant Mehta’s recent roundup of “Christian hate preachers,” each opining on video that gay people should be executed. It’s horrifying.

Of course, many progressive churches — and synagogues and mosques — welcome their LGBTQ siblings as full and equal members. And many that don’t yet will get there eventually.

The Episcopal Church, for example, now officially sanctions same-sex marriage. And the Albany diocese — well, it’s working on it. A statement on the Episcopal Church website notes: “As with all spiritual journeys, everyone walks at their own pace. Some Episcopal congregations are actively involved in LGBTQ ministry and their arms are open wide; others are more reserved, but their doors are still open to all; some are still wrestling with their beliefs and feelings.”

Fair enough, right?

Now, let’s pretend that instead of talking about LGBTQ people, the church was talking about congregations “wrestling with their beliefs and feelings” about Black people. Would our spirit of patient forbearance extend to that?

Not too long ago,

Submitted March 07, 2023 at 04:07AM by bitemy (From Reddit https://ift.tt/4bemGDP)

#reddit

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eremosjournal · 2 years

Text

“A Mission (Trip) Accomplished: A Godly Girl’s Review of Charity Abroad” , a *satirical* post by Pressleigh Rae Vanderhayden⁣

Helloooo brothers and sisters! Pressleigh here, on absolute FIRE with excitement about today’s topic. But first things first, let’s check in! How are y’all? Hopefully thriving, praying, and soaking up ALL the FALL blessings! I know I’ve been feeling a little extra grateful lately, and I’ve been taking small moments out of my day to thank GOD for the crisp chill in the air, the cozy sweaters at Marshall’s, and the PSL in my cup!

Today we’re talking missions trips: what they are, some misconceptions about them, and things I wish I knew before embarking on mine. In essence, a missions trip is a journey taken with The Lord in order to do three things: HUMBLE the soul, HELP the less fortunate, AND HEAL the world! Let’s get into it!

HUMBLE: As Christians, there is no greater cause in our lives than to evangelize the world. But sometimes, the thrill of this cause fills us with such a sense of purpose that we forget who’s really in charge. GOD. On my flight to fulfill my mission with the indigenous Matambu Tribe in the Samara region of Costa Rica, I was absolutely elevated with a sense of the Holy Spirit. I prayed the entire flight, thanking GOD for the opportunity to save his people. However, once we arrived at the community I was physically overcome with the intense humidity, the amount of large insects and - possibly worst of all - the complete absence of a Trader Joe’s anywhere in sight! I was at a loss for words. Why wasn’t everything exactly as I’d expected?! But then I realized, this is how people in other parts of the world live EVERY DAY. And you know what? They’re happy! They love the heat, they love the bugs, they love working in the subpar conditions of the banana plantations for their meager wages. And it got me thinking: if these incredible, illiterate people can be happy with so little, maybe I can learn to be too for the next ten days.

HELP: Something I wish I had known about before going abroad for my mission trip is poverty. I’d certainly seen homeless people ask for a dollar before, but those people are just lazy or faking it. The people in Costa Rica were truly poor: no air conditioning, no paved roads, and they even used Androids. Heartbreaking. But worst of all, they were spiritually poor. Their community had no Christian churches, and there wasn’t a single cross to be seen! I knew what I had to do. With the language barrier, I knew it would be hard to reach the Matambu people, so I used a channel that has never failed to bridge the spiritual gaps in my life: music. Every morning, I would gather the children of the community into a hut, sit them down and teach them Hillsong Worship’s classic “Oceans”. Since they didn’t know any English I had to teach them phonetically, and it took a lot of love and patience. But eventually, I had the world’s most angelic choir of indigenous children singing their praises to GOD, and I was so proud. Sometimes it still brings a tear to my eye to think of the reverberation of their little voices singing, “Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander” through the mountains. Because there were no houses in the community, their voices traveled so far, and I’m beaming now writing this as I think of those praises leaving their hungry little mouths and rising straight to the heart of Jesus.

HEAL: Yes, my goal was to help the less fortunate people of Costa Rica. But I couldn’t help but wonder what benefit the trip brought ME. And I realized. Here at home in the US it’s so easy to take all my blessings for granite. I indulge in the comfort of my environment and lose my fire for Christ. And to be honest with you guys, the thought of being in a third world country used to scare me. But retrospectively, nothing healed my relationship with GOD more than leaving my comfort zone. I felt so powerful when we landed in Costa Rica. It felt like I could just conquer the entire country, almost like I was entitled to it. I wonder if there’s a word for that. Regardless, I thank GOD and the beautiful people of Costa Rica every day for the opportunity they gave me to see myself in a new light. GOD and I would not have the relationship we have today if it weren’t for my missions trip.

So if you want to evangelize, learn about yourself, and take silly pictures with adorable little brown children, I cannot recommend the experience of a missions trip highly enough. And if you feel called by the Lord to share your blessings today, click the link in my bio to donate to the missions program at my church, REDEEM. I know a young girl just like me at the time of my trip would greatly appreciate your generosity. That’s all I have for today, y’all! But before you go back to your scrolling, I want us to stop and say a quick prayer:

Dear LORD,

Humble me. Help me. Heal me. Rid me of my fear, and as the children of my Matambu choir sang so beautifully, “Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander.” May our feet never wander from your path, LORD. Bless all our feet, LORD GOD.

Amen.

I’ll catch y’all in the next one, friends! Blessings,

Pressleigh

#ex catholic #deconstruction #ex christian #exvangelical #mission trip

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

Photo

faceclaims left to right -- Kento Nakajima as Shika; Hunter Schaefer as Sparrow; Sebastian Stan as Ed “Zorro” Rosier; Jeremy Jordan as Colt; and Shawn Mendes as Orson

Referencing Chess Thornton @cursebreakerfarrier at one point because come on, we all know the tabloids would take some interest in her and Ed’s relationship at some point ❤

x~x~x~x

[excerpt from Witch Weekly, issue 10, Oct. 1995]

They Put a Spell on Us!: A special Q/A session with the members of the new hit band Spellb🔮und

Q: Well, first of all, welcome, gentlemen, it is an absolute pleasure to have you with us. Who do we have to thank for us scoring this interview?

Sparrow: “(grinning) Zorro.”

Colt: “Zorro, yeah.”

Shika: “Zorro put in a word with Mr. Green.”

[Orson nods.]

Zorro: “(grinning smugly) Guilty as charged.”

Q: Mr. Green being Iago Green, your manager, of course. He’s the one who brought you all together, as the story goes. But let’s get to know the men behind the band -- behind the stage names and makeup...

Zorro: “(amusedly) Are you sure you know what you’re asking? I wouldn’t subject any of these poor men to what I look like, before sitting in the makeup chair.”

[Sparrow can’t stifle the giggling erupting out of him.]

Q: Your fans want to get to know the real you! So first off, what are your real names, how old are you, and where are you from? Shika, why don’t we start with you, and then we can make our way down?

[Shika pauses before answering very methodically, almost primly.]

Shika: “My name is Shiraki Katsuro and I am 28 years old. I was born in Shibuya, in Japan, but now I live in Ely, in the district of Cambridgeshire.”

[Sparrow, once he’s sure Shika’s done, answers eagerly.]

Sparrow: “Uh, hi! My name’s Tony Bianco, I’m 21, and I was born in Queens! New York, I mean. The United States. Though my parents and I live in London, now!”

[Zorro waits very patiently for Sparrow to finish, looking almost indulgent when the younger boy glances at him.]

Zorro: “My name is Ed Rosier, I’m 36, born and raised in Cardiff. Now I call London home sweet home.”

[Zorro nods to Colt, who jumps right in to respond.]

Colt: “Name’s Jared Katz -- 25 -- and I’m from Moortown, Leeds!”

[Colt looks at Orson, who is comparatively very soft-spoken in his response.]

Orson: “Mischa Poliakoff. 37. I was born in Leningrad, raised in Leipzig, Germany...and now my family and I live in Manchester.”

Q: Wow! I don’t think I realized how very diverse your backgrounds are...Mr. Green truly has assembled a world showcase of talent! (laughs) So what got you all into music in the first place? Did your families encourage you?

Zorro: “(gives a bark-like laugh) Hardly! I daresay they would’ve been much more pleased if I’d gone to work for the Ministry of Magic. I am glad they tolerated me singing and writing songs on the piano constantly, though -- my dear old mum used to say that many a woman has an appreciation for a man who can perform for her on command, and what do you know? Turns out she was right. (smirks)”

Colt: “(laughs) I first got into music for that too! Sort of. I had a crush who was into musical theater, so I joined that, and after scoring the lead in the spring musical, I was invited to join the choir, and then a garage band or two after that. It’s around then I learned how to play the drums. Wish I could say my folks were supportive, but I guess I did disrupt their sleep a few times with my practicing! (sniggers)”

Shika: “Music is very important in my family. I learned how to play the shamisen from my baa-baa -- my grandmother -- and then, after that, I learned the other strings, from my mother and brothers. I didn’t start singing until I was older -- after my voice changed. From then, I did talent competitions and auditioned for acts outside of Japan, so as to gain more experience.”

Sparrow: “(shyly) My parents encouraged me -- they’ve always loved music. They actually work for our record company! They used to travel a lot with me when I was little, and they’d always want me to sing for their friends, whenever we went to any parties. That was how I met Mr. Green, through Mamma and Papa.”

Orson: “...My family...also very much enjoys music. My father was a guitarist for Lorcan D’Eath for many years, when he was alive. I always wished to be just like him.”

Q: That’s fascinating...now Sparrow -- you’ve gone on the record saying that your favorite musical artist is Celestina Warbeck. Would the rest of you tell us about some of your favorites?

Colt: “The Beatles, of course!”

Zorro: “Their stuff is classic.”

[Shika nods in agreement.]

Shika: “I do not think any of you are familiar with the songs of Amuro Namie...but Amuro-san is an idol, back home. She performs pop music, but with some electronic dance and rhythm and blues, as well.”

Zorro: “(interested) Sounds like something you might like, Orson, if it’s got some R&B flair. (indicates his bandmate) Orson’s favorite Muggle artist is Stevie Wonder.”

Shika: “(to Orson) Lorcan D’Earth would be the other favorite of yours, I believe, yes?”

[Orson nods.]

Orson: “...I like the Beatles too, though.”

Sparrow: “(grinning) Oh, don’t forget Michael Jackson! He’s Zorro’s favorite, hands-down...”

Zorro: “(coolly) Perhaps if more of you listened to his discography, he would be yours too.”

Colt: “(dryly) We almost don’t have to, considering how much you play his stuff on the keys, before rehearsal.”

Q: An awful lot of Muggle artists...I seem to recall you once saying off-the-record, Colt, that most Muggle musicians are just better than magical ones -- care to comment?

Colt: “(faintly annoyed) That was taken out of context -- !”

[Before Colt can finish, Zorro’s swept in to answer for him.]

Zorro: “(coolly) I have to wonder how you heard Colt say that, my dear, if it was ‘off-the-record’...but I suppose reporters have a certain magic about them that way. Rita Skeeter, for instance. A shame she took a break from writing, after the Triwizard Tournament -- her headlines always did make for good gossip kindling.”

[Zorro gives an amiable laugh.]

Zorro: “Now then, what was the question? Is Muggle music better than magical music? I don’t think any of us would say that, exactly -- we’re simply musicians with a deep love of our craft. We appreciate musical talent, wherever it comes from.”

[Sparrow, Shika, and Orson nod. After Shika passes him a significant look, Colt does too, though a bit more reluctantly.]

Q: (laughs) Well, you certainly have it to spare! You in particular, Zorro, both writing and singing your band’s songs. Care to delve into your process? Your inspiration?

[Zorro looks rather pleased by the praise despite himself.]

Zorro: “Thank you. I’m glad to know my work is appreciated. In regards to process, though, I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell. I simply write what I feel, or have felt, or have known. ‘Write what you know,’ as the saying goes. I’m just glad that the opportunity popped up where we could include something I wrote on one of our albums, in the first place -- if it weren’t for the public responding to 'Starlight’ as much as it has, I doubt I would’ve become a permanent addition to the songwriting team. So yeah, to all our fans, thanks for that! It means a lot.”

Q: There have been a lot of rumors about the special someone you’ve written about, in your songs. Some say it’s your old intended, Alecto Carrow -- still others says it’s an old childhood friend of yours, Francesca Thornton...can’t you give us a hint -- just the tiniest hint about who this woman is, who’s stolen your heart?

[Zorro’s eyes grow that little bit smaller as he smirks.]

Zorro: “Now, now, my dear! Half of the success of a good love song is the ability for the audience to hear the words and imagine themselves as an active party -- you can hardly expect me to sabotage my work, by divulging that.”

Colt: “Besides, how do you know it’s a woman, anyhow?”

[The rest of the band immediately looks at Colt. Colt tries to play it off, but sounds a bit defensive.]

Colt: “Ahh, nu, it might not be! Not every love song written by a bloke is about a girl, you know -- ”

[Shika places a hand on Colt’s shoulder and adds in a far more composed sort of voice,]

Shika: “From what I’ve seen, Zorro’s songs are written as gender-neutral. Our fans who are not female will be just as able to see themselves in the words, if they so desire.”

Zorro: “(grins) Indeed.”

Q: May I take that to mean Spellb🔮und supports gay relationships?

Colt: “Damn straight we do! Whatever your sexuality or identity, what you believe, where you’re from, what your background is, we support you.”

[For once, no members of the band make any move to censor him. On the contrary, Sparrow is actually beaming. Orson shifts a bit in the background, but doesn’t speak.]

Q: Aha...well, then -- back to my original question, though. Since you won’t divulge the nature of your love life, Zorro, perhaps the rest of you might? I believe all of you are still single, but --

Zorro: “Not Orson. Sorry, ladies -- he’s taken.”

[The others grin at Orson -- he actually gives a small smile and holds up his hand to show his wedding band.]

Q: Oh yes, that’s right -- most of you, then. Any of you currently on the look-out, on the dating scene? How about you, Sparrow? Is there someone special in your life?

[Sparrow laughs a bit self-consciously.]

Sparrow: “Ah well, uh, n-not really...it’s a lot of work, just playing with the band! N-not that it isn’t fun, of course -- I love working with Zorro and the others! It’s just that I never really went to parties much when I was younger, unless they were music functions, you know, so...”

[He’s looking more uncomfortable by the moment, so Zorro swoops in to his rescue.]

Zorro: “Colt is much more the sort to go to clubs and parties than Sparrow is.”

Colt: “(laughs) You know it! The club scene is where it’s at.”

Shika: “The Thestral Club just outside of Diagon Alley is a respectable establishment. Colt and I have been there, on a few occasions.”

Colt: “Their DJ’s are all excellent. Pretty cute, too!”

Q: Ooh, well, that’s an endorsement I’m sure they’ll appreciate! But I’m sorry, I just have to circle back to you, Sparrow. You’re arguably the most popular member of the band, so one could say you’re also the Wizarding World’s most eligible bachelor! What would you say you’re looking for, in a lover?

[Sparrow flushes darkly.]

Sparrow: “W-well, that’s -- heh -- not exactly...um...”

[He’s laughing even more as he becomes more self-conscious. Once again, Zorro swoops in to his rescue.]

Zorro: “Well, certainly I’d say Sparrow, like all of us, would want someone who loves us for who we are, rather than our fame. Right, birdie?”

[Sparrow is encouraged by Zorro’s support.]

Sparrow: “Y-yeah! I reckon we all do...I’d say all of us would deserve to find that, in somebody.”

[He glances at the other members of the band self-consciously. Shika nods.]

Shika: “Whether romantically or not. I would say finding kindred spirits can make the human experience significantly more fulfilling.”

Zorro: “(grinning) Well said!”

Q: Well, unfortunately, that’s all the time we have! Before we go, though, is there anything you’d like to say to your fans?

Sparrow: “(brightly) Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Colt: “(grinning) What Sparrow said. Thanks a lot, you all! We couldn’t do this without you!”

Shika: “It’s true. We will be eternally grateful for all of the support you have given us, and we hope that you will continue to send us your love.”

Orson: “Yeah -- thanks.”

Zorro: “(smiling fully) Please remember the impact a single life can have, in shaping another -- and take heart knowing that each of you have undoubtedly helped shape ours for the better.”

#my writing #ed rosier #golden era #chess thornton #spellb🔮und #yes at one point ed's parents intended to have him marry alecto carrow #good thing ed dodged THAT bullet *cringes*#yes colt is the loose cannon #and yes zorro often ends up being the unofficial manager of the others bc for as much as he loves attention he's the planner #so he thinks about the future way more than the others and is overly conscientious about the potential ripple effects of what they say #orson puts off this 'strong and silent' affect like mori from ouran but he's honestly kind of a shy guy #he loves music and performing but he is way not into his family getting a lot of scrutiny thanks to his fame #so yeah the others kind of try to keep the focus off him so as to help him out #shika and colt being the closest in age are probably the most like 'friends' of the batch despite their opposite temperaments #ed of course is tony's 'big brother' of sorts

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ask-the-crimson-king · 3 years

Text

More Stuff from Betrayer

[While on the topic, I want to show the various humans out there a very interesting scene out of Betrayer.

Two, technically, but one that's a bit longer than the other. Image IDs will be provided at the end of the post, cause there's going to be a LOT.

Some interesting insights into how Lorgar views Chaos and a bit about the Emperor as well. I always find this scene to be fascinating, especially since he's borrowed the astropathic choir of the Conquerer to listen to worlds dying across Ultramar while he muses on this.

And then there's when Angron walks up.

Some interesting, albeit a bit morbid, banter between brothers. I do like how Angron even greets Lorgar on the way in, and Lorgar is just standing there stunned. The insights into how Angron views the Devourers is also neat, and it is to be expected at this point. Lorgar trying to argue for them and trying to get Angron to stop ignoring them outright is another neat touch.

The two begin talking of Ultramar, and Lorgar reveals that Nuceria is going to be the capstone for his ritual. Angron asks why, and the following is said:

I like this passage for a few reasons. Firstly, how Angron "dreams" has always been something of interest to me. Because I doubt he ever really gets much rest and respite. Here we get some insight into this, although this also was already expressed a bit earlier. This passage also leads into Angron's recollection of the Night of the Wolf, but I wanted to focus on this.

Lorgar and Angron's "bond" is something that's always intrigued me. It definitely feels more one-sided, with Lorgar seeking for brotherhood that isn't really there, but there are a few moments to make it feel a bit more genuine. However, there is still something missing from these interactions. I can't really describe it other than a barrier between two primarchs who will never see eye-to-eye. Lorgar does, to his credit, try to be understanding and patient throughout, but I can also definitely feel his annoyance coming through at certain places.

In a way, I can almost feel a similar sort of vibe to how Magnus interacts with some of his brothers. Namely with Perturabo in one of the opening chapters of his primarch novel. However, the bond between those two is still very different from the one Angron has with Lorgar; those two actually do have a deep connection, while these two don't. There's a misunderstanding and underestimation coming from both sides in certain aspects; Lorgar in almost sounding condescending to Angron, and Angron still thinking Lorgar a weakling.

TL;DR, Betrayer good.

Image IDs below the cut:

Image ID 1 & 2: A scene from Betrayer where Lorgar is standing and listening to worlds burn. It reads:

Serving as conductor for an astrological orchestra was more taxing than he’d dreamed, though his blunter, more militant brothers would struggle to grasp the finer points of his efforts. Exhaustion left him wondering, even if only briefly, whether absolute peace would create a stellar song as divinely inspired as absolute war. Fate had played its hand and Chaos was destined to swallow all creation whether or not Horus and Lorgar raged against the Imperial war machine, but if what if they’d stayed loyal to the Emperor? What then? Would the Great Crusade have shaped a serene funeral dirge, to play behind the veil as humanity died in a defenceless harrowing?

Therein lay the fatal flaw. The Emperor’s way was compliance, not peace. The two were as repellent to one another as opposing lodestones. It didn’t matter what enlightenment the Imperium stamped out in its conquering crusade when obedience was all its lords desired. It didn’t matter what wars were fought from now into eternity. The Legiones Astartes would always march, for they were born to do so. There would always be war; even if the Great Crusade had been allowed to reach the galaxy’s every edge, there would never be peace. Discontent would seethe. Populations would rebel. Worlds would rise up. Human nature eventually sent men and women questing for the truth, and tyrants always fell to the truth.

No peace. Only war.

Lorgar felt his blood run cold. Only war. Those were words to echo into eternity.

He didn’t trust the Ten Thousand Futures the way Erebus claimed to. Too many possibilities forked from every decision made by every living thing. What use was prophecy when all it offered was what might happen? Lorgar was not so devoid of imagination that he needed the warp’s twisting guesswork to show him that. Anyone with an iota of vision could imagine what might happen. Genius lay in engineering events according to one’s own goals, not in blindly heeding the laughter of mad gods.

More than that, Lorgar sought to keep one thing in mind above all else. The gods were powerful, without doubt, but they were fickle beings. Each worked against its own kin more often than not, spilling conflicting prophecies into their prophets’ minds. Perhaps they weren’t even sentient in the way a mortal mind could encompass. They seemed as much the manifestations of primal emotion as they did individual essences.

But no, there was a wide gulf between hearing them and heeding them. Gods lied, just like men. Gods deceived and clashed and sought to advance their own dominions over their rivals’. Lorgar trusted none of their prophecies.

Image ID 3-5: A series of screenshots from Betrayer. Angron comes into the scene. It reads:

Angron entered the basilica, armoured in his usual stylised bronze and ceramite and with two oversized chainswords strapped to his back. He even wasted time with a greeting, raising his hand in the first time Lorgar could ever remember such a gesture from his broken brother. The Word Bearer tried not to let his amazement show at his brother’s new consideration.

‘Lotara says you stole her astropathic choir.’ Angron’s lipless smile was a ghastly thing indeed. ‘I see that she may have been correct.’

‘Stole is a strong word. “Appropriated” seems much less ignoble.’ Lorgar spared a glance for the skies above the cathedral, as the Lex ripped onwards towards Nuceria.

‘What do you need them for?’ Angron asked. His wounds from being buried alive had already faded to scrunched scar tissue pebbling his flesh, just another host of scarring to overlay the last.

The Devourers lurked behind him, stomping into the cathedral without the primarch sparing them a glance. To be one of Angron’s bodyguards was no honour, despite how fiercely the World Eaters’ champions had fought for it in the first, optimistic years. Angron ignored them no matter where they went, never once fighting alongside them in battle. In their Terminator plate, they’d never managed to keep up with their liege lord, and they were as prone to losing control as any other World Eater, meaning any hope of them fighting as an organised pack was a forlorn one at best.

Lorgar watched the Devourers – those warriors who’d spent a century learning to swallow their pride and pretend they weren’t ignored – speaking amongst themselves at the basilica’s entrance.

‘Hail,’ he greeted them. They seemed uneasy at being addressed, offering hesitant and wordless bows.

Angron snorted at his brother acknowledging them. ‘Bodyguards,’ he said. ‘Even their name annoys me. “Devourers”, as if I’d named them myself – as if they were the Legion’s finest.’

‘Their intentions are pure,’ Lorgar pointed out. ‘They seek to honour you. It’s not their fault you leave them behind in every battle.’

‘They’re not even the Legion’s fiercest fighters, any more. That rogue Delvarus refuses to challenge for a place in their ranks. Khârn laughed when I asked him if he’d ever considered it. And do you know Bloodspitter?’

‘I know Bloodspitter,’ Lorgar replied. Everyone knew Bloodspitter.

‘He beat one of them in the pits, and carved his name into the poor bastard’s armour with a combat knife.’

Lorgar forced a smile. ‘Yes. Delightful.’

Angron’s face wrenched again, at the mercy of misfiring muscles. ‘What primarch ever needed guarding by lesser men?’

‘Ferrus,’ Lorgar said softly. ‘Vulkan.’

Angron laughed, the sound rich and true, yet harsh as a bitter wind. ‘It’s good to hear you joke about those weaklings. I was getting bored of you mourning them.’

It was no joke, but Lorgar had no desire to shatter his brother’s fragile good humour. ‘I only mourn the dead,’ Lorgar conceded. ‘I don’t mourn Vulkan.’

‘He’s as good as dead.’ The World Eater smiled again. ‘I’m sure he wishes he were. Now, what are you doing with Lotara’s choir?’

‘Listening to them sing of other worlds and other wars.’

Angron stared, unimpressed. ‘Specifics,’ he said, ‘while I have the patience to hear such details.’

‘Just listen,’ Lorgar replied.

Angron did as he was bid. After a minute or more had passed, he nodded once. ‘You’re listening to the Five Hundred Worlds burning.’

‘Something like that. These are the voices of the freshly dead, and those soon to join them. The mortis-moments of random souls, elsewhere in Ultramar, as our fleets ravage their worlds.’

‘Morbid, priest. Even for you.’

‘We’re inflicting this destruction on them. We mustn’t consider ourselves distant from it. It may not be our hands holding the bolters and blades, but we are still the architects of this annihilation. It’s our place to listen to it, to remember the martyred dead, and to meditate on all we’ve wrought.’

‘I wish you well with it,’ said Angron. ‘But why steal Lotara’s choir? What happened to yours?’

‘They died.’

It was Angron’s turn to be surprised. ‘How did they die?’

‘Screaming.’ Lorgar showed no emotion at all. ‘What brings you here, brother?’

Image ID 6 & 7: Two screenshots from later in the previous scene, when Angron asks 'Why Nuceria?'. It reads:

‘The metaphysics are complicated,’ said Lorgar.

That had Angron growling. ‘I may not have wasted days in debate with you and Magnus inside our father’s Palace, but the Nails haven’t left me an absolute fool. I asked the question, Lorgar. You answer it. And do so without lying, if you can manage such a feat.’

The Word Bearer met his brother’s eyes, and the rarely-seen palette of emotions within their depths. Pain was there in abundance, but so was the frustration of living with a misfiring mind, and the savagery that transcended anger itself. Angron was a creature that had come to make his hatred a blade to be used in battle. He’d weaponised his own emotions, where most living beings were slaves to theirs. Lorgar couldn’t help but admire the strength in that.

‘We’re going to Nuceria,’ he said, ‘because of you. Because of the Nails.’

Angron stared, and his silence beckoned for his brother to continue.

‘They’re killing you,’ Lorgar admitted. ‘Faster than I thought. Faster than anyone realised. The rate of degeneration has accelerated even in the last few months. Your implants were never designed for a primarch’s brain matter. Your physiology is trying to heal the damage as the Nails bite deeper, but it’s a game of pushing and pulling, with both sides evenly matched.’

Angron took this with an impassive shrug. ‘Guesswork.’

‘I can see souls and hear the music of creation,’ Lorgar smiled. ‘In comparison, this is nothing. The Twelfth Legion’s archives are comprehensive enough, you know. Your behaviour tells the rest of the tale, along with the pain I sense radiating from you each and every time we meet. Your entire brain is remapped and rewired, slaved to the implants’ impulses. Tell me, when was the last time you dreamed?’

‘I don’t dream.’ The answer was immediate, almost fiercely fast. ‘I’ve never dreamed.’

Lorgar’s gentle eyes caught the warp’s kaleidoscopic light as he tilted his head. ‘Now you’re lying, brother.’

‘It’s no lie.’ Angron’s thick fingers twitched and curled, closing around the ghosts of weapons. ‘The Nails scarcely let me sleep. How would I dream?’

Lorgar didn’t miss the rising tension in his brother’s body language – the veins in his temples rising from scarred skin, the feral hunch of the shoulders, no different from a hunting cat drawing into a crouch before it struck.

‘You once told me the Nails stole your slumber,’ Lorgar conceded, ‘but you also said they let you dream.’

Angron took a step closer. He started to say ‘I meant…’ but Lorgar’s earthy glare stopped him cold.

‘They give you a serenity and peace you can find nowhere else. Humans, legionaries, primarchs… everything alive must sleep, must rest, must allow its brain a period of respite. The remapping of your mind denies you this. You don’t dream with your eyes closed. You dream with your eyes open, chasing the rush of whatever peace the Nails can give you.’ Lorgar met Angron’s eyes again. ‘Don’t insult us both by denying it. You slaver and murmur when you kill, mumbling about chasing serenity and how close it feels. I’ve heard you. I’ve looked into your heart and soul when you’re lost to the Nails. Your sons, with their crude copies of your implants, have their minds rewritten to feel joy only in adrenaline’s kiss. Those lesser implants cause pain because they scrape the nerves raw, thus your World Eaters kill because it gladdens their reforged hearts, and ceases the pain knifing into their muscles. Your Butcher’s Nails are a more sinister and predatory design, ruining all cognition, stealing any peace. They are killing you, gladiator. And you ask why I’m taking you back to Nuceria? Is it not obvious?’

End Image ID.]

#warhammer 30k #word bearers #world eaters #lorgar #angron #enjoy some betrayer folks #long post

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diaryofadaringwitch · 3 years

Text

Culturally Catholic (tw suicide, religious issues, homophobia)

This is a long one and really personal. I really don't need Catholics coming onto this post trying to invalidate my experiences or trying to bring me back to the church. I'm still processing and working through a lot of this so if you're planning to yell at me for supporting the church when I was a child, that's also really unproductive.

As I've mentioned multiple times before, I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church. I left the church for a lot of reasons. A large part of it was realizing that I was gay and that I would always feel unworthy and unaccepted. I couldn't reconcile my stance on supporting reproductive/abortion rights and I couldn't justify staying in an organization that deliberately covered up the abuse of children.

And now, again, the complete lack of remorse or justice from the church with the mass graves discovered at residential schools has me angry thinking about how much time and money and praise I gave to that church.

In some ways, it's really easy for me to say "Fuck the Catholic Church" because theological differences aside, the organization itself has continuously harmed people and continues to harm even their own members.

But I'm starting to understand that I cannot separate myself from my church so easily. I say "my church" because that's still how it feels. Not the religion, but the physical location, the community I was raised in.

Because I wasn't just Catholic, the church was my entire life. I was an altar server, a choir member, I volunteered at funerals, I taught religious education. For the first 18 years of my life, the majority of my friends, family, and mentors were part of that church community. Hell, if I'd stayed in the church, there's a strong possibility I would have become a nun. I can draw connections from my life in the church to my pagan faith. I loved being an altar server because I felt so much more connected when I could be up there aiding the rituals during Mass, instead of just observing. Paganism is that connection, that direct involvement between you and the Divine.

So I can't just let go of those habits, those memories, those emotions as easily as I can reject the organization that sponsored them.

I still love singing my favorite hymns. I still find comfort in familiar prayers, rituals, traditions. There's that disconnect, the understanding that I don't believe the theology in those prayers, but I cannot shake that sense of home. I moved around a lot growing up, but the church was always the same.

I think loss has a lot to do with it as well. My grandmother was so grounded in her faith and she loved to share it with me. A lot of my mentors who helped make me the person I am. One of my good friends who took his own life- I sang in the church choir at his funeral because that's what we'd always done together.

I was furious at his funeral, because they called it a "Celebration of New Life" and I refused to see any bright side to his suicide. He was 19. It felt like they were invalidating our grief in this life because they believed he was perfectly at peace in the next life. But I still sang. It was the only thing that brought me any comfort in that horrible moment.

I'm starting to understand that although I have fully let go of the theology, fully let go of the organization, I am still "culturally Catholic". I still have those emotional connections and it's possible that I always will. My entire childhood was spent in the shadow of that faith. Moving forward, I'm learning to recognize and separate how those memories felt from what they did and the lasting effects that they had. Positive and negative.

I had so much fun in my religious education classes, but within those same classes I learned the doctrine that would impact my self-image to the point that I believed myself to be perpetually unworthy of grace or forgiveness.

I enjoyed being an altar server and that connection gave me a greater understanding of what I was missing within my faith.

Teaching religious education was one of the most rewarding experiences ever. But by doing so I had to research and understand theology that I would eventually come to realize did not make sense to me and did not align with my values.

If I could close this kind of disconnected post, I would say that if you're in the same boat as I am, please be patient with yourself. I've been pagan for nearly six years, not even a third of the time I was Catholic. This kind of understanding and reflecting takes a lot of time and emotional energy. So be kind to yourself, especially your old self and definitely if you were a child. Of course you were in that faith, because it was all you ever knew.

For all those struggling with the remnants of their old faiths, and for all that have been impacted negatively by the Catholic church- I wish you peace and the brightest of blessings. -Kate

#catholicism #former catholic #pagan #religious deconstruction #religious processing #religious witch #kate speaks #tw suicide #tw catholicism #tw religious trauma #religion

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rhys-writes-sometimes · 3 years

Text

Music Worth Making Part 4: The Hollywood Ghost Club

Requested: sort of

Warnings: mentions of death, bad writing

Series Summery: When the reader’s life is ripped away from them, they’re distraught. But with her two best friends and three certain ghosts, maybe the afterlife isn’t so bad after all.

Chapter Summery: The boys learn about Bobby, and drag you along to haunt him. They also drag you along to the Hollywood Ghost Club

Words: 4310

A/N: sorry this took so long, I didn’t write for a few days, and I didn’t expect this chapter to be so long. I think this is the longest fic I’ve ever wrote! please tell me if you catch any mistakes, because once again, i did not edit this. also please tell me (on anon or not!) if there is a trigger warning you want tagged. hope you enjoy! (side note: i did a little research and gentlefolk is in fact the gender neutral term for gentleman)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Masterlist

______________________________________________________

“You’re…… a ghost,” Flynn said, her face morphing from confusion, to surprise, to something that looked like regret.

You nodded glumly.

“So that’s why you weren’t in school today? Because you died?” she shook her head. “I can’t believe this. I- I need a minute.” She ran out of the garage.

Your face fell out of the expression you didn’t realize you had been putting on for Flynn. Taking a deep breath, you sat down on the couch, not knowing what to do.

“Hey, Y/N, I-” Julie stopped when she saw you. “You okay?”

“Huh? Oh, oh yeah, I’m fine,” you lied. You could tell that Julie didn’t believe you, but she didn’t push. You were thankful. You didn’t even know what was off.

“Okay, well, I just wanted you to know that Danny’s staying in Carlos’s room now.”

“Really?” you asked, standing up. “Thank you Jules!” you went to hug the girl, but then remembered you were made of air.

“Yeah, no problem,” Julie said, trying to make what you had accidentally created a bit less awkward. “Well, I gotta go do homework. I guess that’s one perk to being dead, you don’t have to do school anymore.” She laughed a little as she waved goodbye.

That was true. You had a lot more freetime now. Maybe even time to sing?

Looking around to make sure no one was there, you closed your eyes and could practically hear the start of your favorite song. You started singing along, quietly at first, but soon you were belting it out at the top of your lungs and dancing all around the room, passing through the furniture that was in your way.

The song ended, and you smiled, happy for the first time in a while. Before you could continue on to the next song, your moment of bliss was interrupted.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” Luke said from his spot in the doorway. You jumped slightly. You had been so caught up in the music that you didn’t notice him watching you.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, stepping into the studio. “That was really good.”

You felt your face heating up. “Thanks,” you said quietly. It was the first time you had been complimented on your voice, never having the guts to sing anywhere outside of the school choir.

“Do you sing much?” he asked, moving to sit on the couch.

“Um, not really, no.” You sat next to him. “My parent’s wouldn’t let me. I only sang in the ensemble for the school choir.”

“Wow. That was amazing for someone who doesn’t sing much.” You felt yourself blush slightly. He smiled at you.

“Hey, um, would you wanna join the band?” he asked, fidgeting with his rings.

Your eyes widened. “Join- join Julie and the Phantoms? I, I’d be honored to, but what about Alex and Reggie?”

“What about them?”

“Well, shouldn’t they get a say in it? Julie too? I mean, it’s their band, too.”

Luke waved his hand dismissively. “I’m sure once they hear you sing, they’ll agree with me.”

You bit your lip. “Even if I did join, there’s a risk of someone recognizing me. How are you going to explain that the dead kid is singing on stage with Julie?”

“I’m not. Julie would explain that,” Luke smirked, earning a playful glare from you. “Seriously though, you could wear a disguise or something. I mean, you said you just moved here a few years ago and you’re pretty shy, so most people don’t know you, right?”

“Maybe….” You knew that someone was bound to recognize you, but decided that it was a problem for Future You to figure out. “Alright, I’ll join.”

Luke bounced up. “Yessss!” he exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air. You squeaked slightly when he pulled you into a tight hug. “Sorry,” he said, loosening his grip. You smiled at him, letting him know it was fine. “Welcome to the band.”

-----

“We’re playing a school dance? Sweet!” Reggie said, looking at the poster Julie had shown you.

“It’s not exactly the Strip,” Luke muttered, making you roll your eyes slightly.

“And you’re not exactly alive, so you should be happy we have our first gig,” Reggie retorted.

“I wasn’t in love with the idea at first either,” Julie admitted, “but it could be a great way for us to build a following, right?”

“Yeah, we need to play wherever we can, whenever we can,” you said, nodding at Julie.

She raised an eyebrow at you. “We?”

You felt your heart start to speed up as you realized you had accidentally told her you joined the band. Luckily, Luke saved you from having to explain yourself.

“Ye- yeah, we. I invited Y/N to join the band earlier. I hope that was okay,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulders and hugging you to his side.

Julie nodded hesitantly. “It’s fine, I just wish you had asked us first.” Reggie nodded his agreement.

“I know, and I’m really sorry-” you started, but Julie cut you off.

“It’s fine, Y/N, really.” She smilied at you.

Luke smiled. “Let’s rock those kid’s faces off! And then play the clubs.”

“And then record a single that gets a billion streams?” you said hopefully.

“I don’t know what that is, but hopefully it gets us a manager and a tour,” Luke said with a smirk.

“And then we release a bunch of hit albums!” Julie said excitedly.

“Put out a country album that does surprisingly well.” You all stared at Reggie. “I shred on the banjo,” he shrugged.

“Then I’ll learn how to fiddle,” Julie said, fist bumping him.

“And before you know it, we’re being inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall Of Fame!”

“But one of us isn’t there,” you said somewhat ominously. “Because we had a blow-out in 2032.”

“My money’s on Alex. He’s just so sensitive,” Reggie said, making you laugh slightly.

“What are we waiting for, let’s get rehearsing!” Luke said eagerly.

“Uh… where is Alex?” Julie asked just as he poofed back into the room.

“Oh, hey Alex. Where’ve you been?” you asked the drummer. He looked slightly out of breath, and had a faint glow of happiness to him.

“We need to start practicing,” Luke said, slightly annoyed.

“Yeah? For what?”

“Dance news!” Flynn called out as she walked in. “I don’t have a date. But I don’t care because I’m so psyched to see you guys perform.”

“Oh man, we’re playing a dance?” Alex asked, his disappointment evident in his voice.

“Of course dude. That’s how we get a following nowadays.” Luke sat in the chair behind him. You laughed quietly.

“Yeah, get with the program, Alex,” Julie laughed along with you.

“What? The guys are here? Hey guys!” Flynn waved in the wrong direction.

“Other way, sweetie,” you chuckled. “They’re sitting over here, with me.”

“Oh, yeah.” Flynn said quietly and waved in your direction. Reggie waved back.

“Okay, well, now that Alex has graced us with his presence, can we start working?” Luke asked, impatient.

“Yes! We’re gonna rehearse, you wanna stick around?” Julie asked Flynn, who frowned slightly.

“I’m supposed to blow up 500 balloons for the school dance, but this sounds way better.”

Just then, Carlos burst into the studio and accidentally walked through Alex. “Hey Julie! Remember those orbs in dad’s pictures? I…. I think they’re ghosts.”

You, Julie, and the guys all shared a look.

“But don’t worry,” Carlos continued, scanning the room. “This room is…. Is….” You sat forward slightly, waiting to hear his verdict. “This room is clear. I’m not getting the ghost tinglies.”

“Wrong again, little dude,” Reggie laughed.

“Have no fear. If they come back, I will protect you because I am the man of the house.”

You laughed. “Isn’t Ray supposed to be the man of the house?”

“Isn’t dad supposed to be the man of the house?” Julie asked, echoing you. You smirked.

Carlos crossed his arms. “There can be two,” he muttered, causing you to laugh again. “Dad needs all the help he can get, right?”

He held up a salt shaker. “According to the internet, this burns their souls out. A little sprinkle will keep them from ever coming in here.”

Your eyes widened with fear. It couldn’t possibly be true, could it? Taking no chances, you pulled your legs up into the chair you were sitting in as Carlos threw some salt your way.

“No!”Alex screamed as some salt hit him. “Nooo! Oh god, I’m…. I’m fine. I’m totally fine,” he said when nothing happened to him. You sighed in relief.

“Flynn, could you…?” you asked, nodding your head to indicate taking Carlos out of the studio. In times like these it was useful to be a ghost that only some people could see.

“Hey, Carlos, you know who’s hungry? Me,” she said, taking your hint. “Um, salt me a path to the kitchen.”

“Shall we try this again?” Julie asked once they were gone.

“Yes please, but remind us later. There’s some Sunset Curve songs that we wanna show you,” Luke said, standing up again.

“Oooo, show me now,” Julie said, pushing away her microphone.

“Yeah, okay!” Luke said, putting down his guitar and walking over to his journal. He took a paper out of it and read the title of the song: “‘Home Is Where My Horse Is’. Reggie, stop putting your country songs in my journal.”

“That was a gift,” Reggie said, winking at you.

“Thanks, buddy.” Ignoring Reggie as he tried to get Luke to look at the song, he walked over to Julie and handed her his journal. You walked over to look over her shoulder. “I dog-eared the ones I think you would slay.”

“Who’s Emily?” You asked, the name catching your eye as Julie flipped through the pages.

“That one’s not dog-eared,” Luke said, frantically trying to get the journal back. Julie held it to her chest. You mouthed “sorry” at him as he looked at you.

“‘If you could only know that I’d never let you go’,” Julie read out loud. “Wow Luke, I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

“He’s not,” Alex said, walking over. “That one’s actually about-”

“No one.” Luke cut him off. “Uh, that’s just something that I tried…” Was it your imagination, or did his eyes flicker over to you? “B- but if you go to the next dog-eared page, I got a tune that’s just…. It’s got a killer beat.”

He started playing the song on his guitar. You tilted your head to the side, sure that you had heard the song before.

“So you wanna sample,” Julie spoke up, cutting Luke off. You realized where you had heard it before. It had been one of Rose’s favorite songs.

Luke scoffed. “What do you mean, ‘sample’?”

“Sample someone else’s music,” you chimed in.

“My mom and I used to sing that song at the top of our lungs in the car all the time.”

“It’s a classic Trevor Wilson song.”

Julie nodded, thankful that you knew what she was talking about.

“Nope.” Luke picked up his notebook. “It’s a classic our song.”

“Pure Sunset Curve,” Reggie said with a smile. “I’ve never even heard of Trevor Wilson.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re mixing it up, you know, with another song,” Alex said.

“Julie doesn’t mix up songs,” you said. “Trust me.”

“Yeah, me and his daughter used to be best friends. We used to hang out at their place all the time! I know that song.” You looked at Julie. Having moved to Los Angeles after Julie and Carrie stopped being friends, you forgot sometimes that they used to like each other.

“Here,” she said, pulling out her computer. “I’ll prove it.”

“His first album had a bunch of hits, but none of his later stuff is as good,” you said while Julie searched his name.

The boys gasped as she turned the computer around. You looked at her in confusion.

“That’s Bobby,” Luke said.

“Seriously? I just told you his name is Trevor,” you said, slightly concerned for his memory.

“Okay, so he changed it, alright? That’s definitely Bobby. He was our rhythm guitarist.” Alex spoke up. Reggie stood still, clearly in shock.

Julie scoffed. “Trevor Wilson was in your band?”

“I can’t get over how old he looks…” Reggie finally said.

“Oh, he looks like a substitute teacher,” Alex said in disgust.

You looked at Julie in confusion again. Sure, you had had a few bad substitutes, but you didn’t think it was enough to be an insult.

“Julie… what were his other hits?” Luke asked hesitantly.

“”Get Lost’.”

“Yeah. I wrote that.”

“‘Long Weekend’?”

“Yeah, Luke wrote that one too,” Reggie spoke up. You and Julie looked at him, the surprise evident on her face.

“‘Crooked Teeth’?”

“And that,” Alex said. “It was about Reggie.”

“What?” Reggie exclaimed, shocked and slightly hurt. “I thought that was about you! I don’t like that song anymore.” You held in a laugh.

“Wait… this is freaking me out. Trevor’s songs are kind of big to me,” Julie explained as Luke picked up some darts. “He’s the one who introduced me to rock.”

“Yeah, and Julie introduced me to rock using his music,” you said. You were freaking out a little too. You loved Trevor’s songs, so it was pretty weird to think that the ghosts standing in front of you had actually written them.

“Yeah, Luke introduced you to rock,” Alex scoffed.

“So this whole time, I thought you were connected to my mom. But instead, you’re connected to Carrie’s dad? Out of all the people, it had to be the one girl who had it out for me.”

“All right, well, add it to our list of questions,” you muttered.

“Back when Carrie and I were friends, the three of us used to talk about music all the time.” Julie looked at the guys. “He never mentioned you guys.”

“And that’s unbelievable!” Luke said, throwing another dart at the board. “He can take all the credit and he doesn’t even mention us?” Reggie shook his head slightly.

“And he’s rich,” you said. The boys all looked at you. “He has his own helicopter.”

“With his face on it,” Julie added.

“And he parks it in front of that hotel?” Reggie asked in shock.

“No. He gets to park it in front of his mansion.” You rolled your eyes.

“Mansion?” Reggie’s voice cracked.

“Dude, we live in a garage,” Alex spoke up.

“It’s not about the money, it’s about the music!” Luke said, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

“It’s a little bit about the money though!”

“A little bit about the money!”

“He could have shared it with our families! Maybe then my parents wouldn’t have had their house turned into a bike shack!”

“What he did is steal our legacy.”

You felt really bad for them. You couldn’t even imagine how it would feel if you had worked that hard on something, and then someone stole it.

Luke turned to Julie. “Where does he live.”

She sighed. “Above the beach in Malibu.

“Let’s go teach him a lesson,” Reggie said. The boy’s face was usually so kind and bouncy, but now it was stone cold.

“Wait, what? Guys! We have to rehearse for our dance! This is our first gig, and Y/N’s first time singing with us!” Julie said frantically, standing up.

Alex glanced at you in confusion, and you remembered you hadn’t told him yet about you joining the band.

Before you could say anything, however, Luke grabbed your hand and poofed out.

-----

“Bobby’s house is ridiculous!” Alex exclaimed as you looked around.

“Have you seen these platinum records?” you asked.

Reggie turned and looked at them. “Platinum?”

Luke was staring at a different set of records. “He recorded ‘My Name Is Luke’...” he muttered. “My name is Luke!”

Just then a man walked in wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket.

“It’s him!” Reggie said.

“Hey, Carrie! I’m gonna meditate!” Bobby called out.

“He wears sunglasses indoors,” Reggie said, disgusted.

“I’m in the den!” Carrie called out.

“Cool!” Bobby called out before going upstairs.

Reggie shook his head. “I can’t stand him!”

“Time for his past to haunt him,” Luke said, a scowl on his features.

He started up the stairs, with Reggie following him and you following a bit more hesitantly.

“Wait!” Alex called out, making you all turn around. “You know, it’s my…. It’s my first time haunting someone. I wanna make it special.”

You looked at him, confusion written on your face. “Okay, Alex,” you said before turning around and continuing up the stairs, Luke and Reggie joining you.

“Yeah, that was weird, okay,” you heard him mutter as he followed you.

You made your way into Bobby’s room, where he sat with candles lit.

“Agh!” you said as you felt another jolt of pain flair through your ankle. The boys looked at you, concerned. You shook your head to let them know you were fine. It was the weirdest thing, it’s like it flared up when it was the most inconvenient….

You watched the boys giggle as Luke gave Bobby a wet willy.

You and Alex snuck over to the candles, forgetting for a moment that no one could see you, and blew them out.

Reggie turned on the music player, which started playing a rock song. Bobby walked over and turned it off, but Reggie just turned it back on, causing Bobby to unplug it.

You hadn’t noticed Luke sneaking away, but he was gone when the shower turned on a moment later.

“Carrie?” Bobby asked. You giggled with the boys.

Bobby walked into the bathroom to see the shower running just as Luke turned it off. The mirror across from the shower was now foggy, and perfect for a ghost to write on.

“Ooo, Luke, you should write ‘Hello, Bobby’ on it!” you suggested through a fit of giggles. Reggie pointed at you to show his agreement.

Grinning, Luke wrote on the mirror in his best creepy handwriting, which also happened to be his best handwriting.

Bobby tried to run out of the bathroom, but Alex held the door shut.

“Let… Me…. Out!!” he shouted. Alex finally let go of the door and Bobby practically fell out of the room, causing all of you to laugh.

Luke grabbed your hand again and you poofed down to the patio just as Bobby was leaving. You watched as his helicopter flew over your heads.

“Oh! Quick, let’s moon him before he gets too far away,” Reggie said, causing you to roll your eyes.

“He can’t see us,” you reminded them.

“Oh it’s not for him, it’s for us,” Luke said as he pulled down his pants. You averted your eyes.

“So, did you guys have fun in there?” Julie asked, storming outside.

“Okay, you’d do the exact same if he stole all of your songs,” Luke defended them.

“But you guys have new songs. With me. The best way to get back at Trevor is for this band to do great. And to do great, we have to play at dances, then clubs-”

“And tours, I know.” Luke walked up to her. Julie still looked mad.

“I’ll see you guys at the school. We go on at nine. Please don’t be late. There’s gonna be a lot of people there.”

“We got it, alright? Don’t worry,” Alex said.

Julie sighed as she headed back inside.

“I don’t care what Julie says! I’m glad we scared Bobby,” Reggie said with a small grin. “We should’ve done more! Like… like written ‘thief’ on his forehead.”

“And Alex, how did you shut the door earlier? You could barely open a garage door,” you asked, confused.

Reggie looked at his friend, proud of him. “Learned that from your new friend Willie, didn’t ya?”

Alex blushed slightly. “Yeah, well, he taught me some things, we screamed in a museum…” he caught the look of confusion on your face. “It’s a long story.”

Luke smirked. “You think he has a few other tricks up his sleeve?”

“Let’s find out,” Alex said with a shrug.

-----

You landed near a beach, a boy on a skateboard coming to a stop in front of you.

“Hey, what’s up man?” he said to Alex, doing a short handshake. “You brought friends.”

“Yeah, these are my bandmates, Luke, Reggie, and Y/N.”

“Cool, I’m Willie. So, you guys here to learn some tricks?” He waved his hand in the direction of two police fourwheelers, making their sirens go off.

Reggie’s mouth hung open. “Do it again!”

“Actually, we were thinking a little bigger,” Luke said. “An old bandmate stole from us and we wanna confront him, face to face.”

“Alright, is this, uh, friend of yours a lifer?” Willie asked.

“Oh, that’s fancy ghost lingo for the living,” Alex said before you could ask. “Little something I picked up.”

You caught Willie smiling at Alex.

“Ah! Then yeah, he’s a lifer,” Reggie said, using the fancy ghost lingo he had just been taught. “Too much of a fancy-pants for street dogs.”

You snorted. “Wait, that’s how you guys died?” Julie had never told you, and you had just never discussed it with them.

“Uh, that’s not important-” Luke started to say, but Willie cut him off.

“Wait, you didn’t die with them?”

“Uh, no,” you said, trying to stop laughing. “Some guy killed me.”

Willie winced. “Ouch.” You nodded.

“Anyways,” Luke said, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Can you help us?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Willie said, shaking his head. “Speaking to lifers is even out of my lead.” The guy’s faces fell. “You know, but there is one ghost who might be able to help you guys. He’s kind of a big deal…”

“Literally, anything would help,” Luke said.

“Oh, alright. Well, um, I gotta take care of some things, but I’ll meet you where Alex and I met, eight o’clock. See ya.” He skated away.

-----

“Right this way,” Willie said, leading you into a huge ballroom-type room.

“Whoa,” Luke muttered. “So this is where your hot-shot ghost lives, huh?”

“Yeah, we’ve walked past this hotel like, a million times. How come we’ve never heard of it?”Alex asked.

“That’s because this area has been sealed off for decades,” Willie said with a grin. “I mean, you wouldn’t even know this place exists unless you’re invited. Alright, I gotta go make sure everything’s cool, but I’ll be right back.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

You inhaled sharply as the pain in your ankle flared up again. Luke looked over at you, confused, and you pointed to your ankle. He nodded, understanding.

“‘The Hollywood Ghost Club’?” Reggie asked, oblivious to what had just happened between you and Luke. “Man, this place is creepy.”

“Yeah, well, so are we.” Alex smiled.

“I don’t know about this,” you muttered.

“Well, if you get scared, you can always hide behind me,” Alex said. “I’ll be hiding behind Luke.”

“You guys need to grow up, okay?” Luke said as Alex moved behind him. “We’re gonna get back at Bobby. He needs to pay for what he did to us.”

“Yeah.” Alex said. Then he whispered to you: “I’m still gonna hide behind him.”

Just then, Willie came back. “We’re all good!” he said with a smile.

“Oh, uh, cool,” Alex said, flustered. “Hey, just so you know, we have like, an hour. We’ve got a gig with Julie.”

“Oh yeah, no worries.”

“Cool.”

“Let’s go.”

You all walked down the stairs, taking in all the fancy clothing people were wearing. Well, the four of you walked. Willie slid down the railing.

“I think we’re a little overdressed,” Luke said. You smirked.

Suddenly a woman walked through Alex.

“Whoa! I thought these people were all going to be ghosts,” Reggie said.

“Nope. These are all lifers.” Willie gestured to the entirety of the club.

“Oh, uh, lifers are actually-”

“Alive people, I was listening,” Reggie said, cutting off Alex with a smirk.

“But this is a very exclusive crowd. Everybody here has uh, paid a lot to get a sneak peak at the afterlife.”

“I always knew rich people did weird stuff like this,” Reggie muttered, making you laugh.

A ghost appeared behind you.

“Gentleman, my lady,” he stopped and looked at you a moment. “I have a table for you.” Your heart sank as he misgendered you, but you didn’t correct him.

“Oh, uh, Y/N here is actually non-binary,” Luke said. You beamed at him.

“My apologies, gentlefolk. Right this way.”

You followed him to a reserved table in the front, right in front of the stage.

Luke pulled out a chair for you to sit. You blushed. You also squealed internally when you noticed Willie do the same for Alex.

“Okay, so who’s gonna make us visible so we can confront our old bandmate?” Luke asked Willie once everyone was seated. You looked around in wonder at the club.

“Oh, no, no. None of these lifers have the power to do that.” Dramatic music started to play out of nowhere. You thought you recognized the melody, although you couldn’t quite place it. “Oh, but here comes the ghost who does!”

“Ladies and gentleman,” boomed a voice from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, “back from the dead by popular demand, Caleb Covington!”

Willie cheered along with the rest of the club’s members as a man appeared floating above the stage.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

You gasped, your eyes widening.

“What?” Luke asked you. “What’s wrong?”

You turned to him with fear in your eyes. “That’s him.”

“Who?”

“The man who killed me.”

tag list: @sunsetcurvej @ifilwtmfc @xplrreylo @phantompogues @caitsymichelle13 @yagorlemmalyn

#jatp #jatpfic #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fic #fanfiction #luke x reader #luke patterson x reader #x reader #jatp x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #rhys writes sometimes #music worth making series

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theswordofpens · 4 years

Text

Empress of Divinity

Gentle one,

To whom can I compare thee?

You’re divinity in motion,

Gazing upon this humble man

With the glowing eyes of desire.

Sadness has no place within that beautiful sunset

In those hazel eyes.

When you snap your fingers,

I’m at your command.

You're filling me with all your charms.

When you hold my hand,

I understand the magic that you do

And know the ways of your sorcery.

You've got your spell on me.

Your love smolders within me

Like fire in my blood.

You’re as lovely as a summer day,

Sweet like the morning dew,

And softer than a summer night.

Now I find myself wanting

For you to kiss me once more.

Oh to make this queen of angels sigh,

For surely she lights up darkened worlds.

I wish you’d never stop saying my name,

Your voice is the sweet sound of heaven’s choir.

You make me feel so brand new

When you gaze up at me.

You’re a part of my new dream.

If you only knew

How I love the way you move.

You’re on my mind,

And what a tale my thoughts could tell.

In love I am falling.

I’d like to stay in this feeling forever,

With your hand in mine.

Each night I ask the stars,

“Who would’ve thought a man like me

Could taste her lips of wine?”

From tonight until the end of time,

I wish to touch the sky with you.

You put the spark to the flame

With your soul of fire.

Like a river flows surely to the sea,

I will adore you until eternity.

For I wish to sail the seas of your beauty,

Night breezes seem to whisper your love to me.

You’ve got the way to make me happy,

With your sweet seducing sighs

Casting rainbows in my mind.

I thought love was only true in fairy tales,

But I do know that I love you.

I can’t hide the way you make me feel,

I can't control the quivering inside.

Seeing you sends chills up and down my spine,

Making my heart stand still

And come all undone.

You look lovely as can be,

So sweet the bees envy your honey.

You always have my unspoken passion,

For you make me feel just like a king.

What kind of love is this that you're giving me?

To do the things you want to do

Brings me a smile.

In your touch there is Heaven,

And in your arms I find Paradise.

You’re the breeze after the storm is gone,

And love grows wherever you go.

I treasure you like a hoard of gold,

Every jewel sparkling like your eyes.

I adore you - come what may.

My love must be a kind of sightless love.

Blind am I to the world and her daughters,

For I can’t see anyone but you.

Some wish for fortune and fame,

Seeking every diamond and pearl in the world.

But to be truly loved by you

Is more than all of these things.

I want to be the only one that makes you come running,

And I want to run my fingers through your long black hair.

I want you to know the meaning of being sanctified.

So many times I want to hold you oh so near,

And give you all the love I have inside.

Even if we grow old,

What lies between us grows new.

I feel you touch me in the pouring rain.

It’s more than what mere words can say,

For you’re as gentle as the evening breeze.

I listen to the wind of your soul,

A lover unlike no other.

More than just a dream come true

Heart hungering and soul thirsting only for you.

How many heartaches must I have withstood?

For my heart would beat in secrecy.

It's in you that I've learned to love.

You make the birds sing harmony,

Always sunshine whenever I look at you.

We'll be holding on forever,

Writing love letters in the sand.

I know your image of me is what I hope to be,

But you’re better to me than I am to myself.

There is no one compares to you,

For you rock my world.

I look at you and I fantasize

Of loving you with the freshnessn of a spring day

And satisfying your heart’s desires.

I never knew how complete love could be,

You write love with every wanting touch

And feed me love and happiness.

You give me your love so sweetly,

Your special smile warming the coldest of days.

Meeting you was my destiny,

As you’re all the future I yearn for.

Our hearts they beat as one,

A thousand nights of kisses sealing our bond.

You are my tantilizingly sweet surrender.

My heart has a mind of its own,

Aching for you to dance with me.

This is love that I’m feeling,

For the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush.

Your burdens I will bear,

I will hold on to what I need.

I can stand up and face the world,

Take ev'ry drop of rain,

And wash all your troubles away.

I’ll cover us in a blanket of love,

And every kiss we share will be never ending.

I’m not ashamed in sharing love I keep within,

So here is the soul of which you've taken control.

I could never match your worth.

You’re as constant as the Northern Star,

My guiding light through the storm of life,

Finding my way back home,

To be into your arms once more.

#autumn love poetry #autumn poetry #autumn #love poem #poetblr #beautiful poetry #poets of the fall #poets #poet blog #dead poets society #writeblr #artblr

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cloudbattrolls · 3 years

Text

Sleep With One Eye Open

Notes: Vernrot belongs to @raitrolling!

Thrixe Varzim || 11.5 sweeps || Vernrot || Present Night

It’s the night after you made it to Vernrot, threw that obnoxious cusp into the harbor, and slept over at Lusien’s hive. But you need to stay at a hotel the rest of the time; you won’t trespass on his hospitality like that. Plus, the more time you spend around him, the more risk he’ll see you as...never mind. You need to be practical, figure out which QPIN contacts need to be checked on, which trade channels might need extra muscle -

“Stop.”

Your fins twitch in recognition, despite your attempts to stop them. You know that hard feminine voice, and you wish you didn’t.

Slowly, to emphasize your complete lack of eagerness to talk to them, you turn to face the two women who’ve apparently followed you here. Unless you’re just that unlucky.

Neither are tall, one olive and the other yellow. The yellowblood’s short horns are covered by her curly hair, her skin slightly darker than yours and her eyes serious above her grimly set mouth. The olive wears a grin that could seem innocently eager to a troll who’d never met her before, her short straight hair barely reaching past her large, round ears. Both are dressed simply in gray and black clothing, breath from their warmer bodies turning to fog in the cool air.

It was Zelist who spoke to you, and she does so again.

“It’s been long enough. You haven’t contacted us once since you left Derevnya. Our scout observed you coming here of all places. Why?”

You stare at her, annoyed even though you know you shouldn’t be.

“What are you doing in this town if not pest control, Varzim?” Purrs the oliveblood, now holding a long, sharp knife coated in some sort of glistening substance.

You never much liked Marisa; you don’t think most trolls do, even in her cult. Maybe it’s something about how she always smells of the undead.

Sure enough, Zelist glares at her sharply. “Give him a chance to explain.” She says, voice hard, but her eyes are on you and her suspicion is plain.

“I’ve tried to fight the horrors here. I never made any progress. So I gave up; they’re not actively hurting people, at least. Vernrot is…” you wave a hand vaguely. “Stable. Even if it’s not the kind we’d like.”

“That’s complacent talk, Varzim.” Says Zelist, arms crossed. “You could’ve asked us for help.”

You give her a look, fins twitching as your mouth curls in disdain.

“You people don’t do subtlety. I didn’t want to attract attention.”

She shakes her head, gaze detached but disapproving like one of your proctors would’ve been and for a moment you feel a flicker of guilt. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you should have talked to them, asked them for help...

“We let ourselves be corrupted before, but things have changed. We keep an eye on the other cults now, regulate summonings and artifact use. Everything is getting better. We should be allies, Varzim. We have the same enemies.”

Are the horrorterrors here your enemies?

Of course they are. All horrorterrors are anathema to trollkind. Different faces of the same incomprehensible forces, unable to understand trolls or respect their wellbeing. Too strange and terrible to bargain with.

But the ones here didn’t attack you unless you did first, and when you apologized how Lusien suggested, they went away...

No, you still can’t trust them, you decide. Horrorterrors are always bad.

Still, you trust the blueblood even if he’s wrong. You trust him because he’s the best thing that ever happened to you.

Even if it treats him badly, Lusien doesn’t want you to hurt Vernrot.

“Maybe we should work together.” You admit. “But I can’t attack this town. I mean, I’ve tried - I think if we threw more at it it would retaliate harder than we can hit. If we find a way to remove the horrorterrors here it can’t be with any collateral damage.”

You remember Sayamh, but push the memory away. He was too far gone to save, the undead wretch. He was better off as bullets.

Zelist purses her lips and Marisa laughs before speaking in her mocking tone.

“So soft you’ve become! I wonder why. Is it ‘the town’ or someone in particular? Something in particular?”

“How dare you.” You say softly, baring your fangs at her implication. “I would never be friendly with a horrorterror. I’m thinking of all the trolls here. None of them have any idea what’s happening! They wouldn’t understand what we were doing. They can’t see it even when it’s in front of their faces.”

Except one, forced to witness it alone as everyone thought he was insane.

“Then they’re better off purged anyway.” retorts the yellowblood dismissively. “If they’re so oblivious, they could enable the forces here by accident and let something out. The risk isn’t worth it. So help us, Varzim, prove all our suspicions are baseless. This can be easy and straightforward. We can all go hive happy.”

She holds out a hand to you, eyebrows raised.

You believe her. The lowblood is a lot of things, but unlike the olive she’s a woman of her word. She’s practical. Her goals make sense.

You shake your head anyway.

“No. You’re going to fail and this isn’t my fight. I’ll find other terrors to destroy.”

Zelist and Marisa exchange a look, and with a sigh, the yellow hands the green some caegers. The latter pockets them, smug as a satisfied meowbeast.

“Don’t bet against me.” Purrs the higher caste. “I told you when he didn’t cull that possessed cusp it was clear where his loyalties lay.”

Your fins flick in surprise. They know about the scientist?

“I’d hoped he’d have a good explanation.” Zelist retorts acerbically. “Clearly I was wrong.”

Marisa raises her knife and you knock it out of her hand, so quick that -

You’ve been stabbed.

“Such a simple trick to fall for.” She whispers, and her other hand withdraws a long, serrated blade covered in violet blood that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You try to kick her. Your body doesn’t move. The blood seems to drip off the metal in slow motion as you find you can barely even breathe, frozen in place with outstretched arms. The damp air is cold on your wound, which...isn’t closing.

Your wound isn’t closing.

Zelist shakes her head, and raises her hand to make a short signal. Dozens of other trolls come out, completely covered up in body armor, nets in their hands.

Your wound bleeds freely, staining your body armor, staining your new shirt.

The trolls close in, nets crackling with energy.

No. No. No. No.

The nets surround you, wrapping you up in a hopeless tangle as they shock you, and your wound isn’t closing -

You can’t speak. Can’t regrow. Can’t do anything.

Then you remember what you practiced with Teagan, what seems like a million sweeps ago now.

You take their minds. Despite the temptation, you don’t attack like you did with the indigo who threatened Lonnen. You only make them set you free, back off, leave this place and forget what happened, forget the cult itself; you grow new pathways in their minds, wiping away the old.

Breathing heavily once free of the nets, you turn to the pair of women who stare at you, whatever Marisa did having worn off or been purged by your body. Zelist is slack-jawed in amazement while Marisa exhibits a surprised sort of hunger, leaning forward slightly while still holding her blood-covered knife.

“Listen to me.” You say - snarl, really, despite straining yourself to sound civil. “I don’t want to fight you. But I will if I have to. This town is mine.”

Silence reigns for a few moments as the wind blows, bringing the scent of salt and fish.

“Since when could you do that, Varzim?” asks the yellowblood quietly. “You didn’t have that power when you fought the Siren.”

“I didn’t.” You agree. “I’ve learned more about my abilities since then. None of which I feel like sharing with you.” You remark, dry.

You give them a wry smile with a great deal of sharp seadweller teeth.

“Something about being stabbed and manhandled has put me in an antisocial mood. We’re done here. Go, before I make you leave.”

The two exchange another look.

Then Zelist pulls out a gun that reminds you uncomfortably of Sochet’s. The runes, the metal, the make...they’re almost twins, but this one is far newer.

You duck as a bullet whistles over your head, and you can feel it’s like the ones Sayamh died for - horrorterror essence turned against its source, anathema to your very existence. You pull out your own gun, shooting to keep her and Marisa - damn olive stabbing at you - back.

You fend off both of them, letting your training take over, and get up close to Zelist, knocking the gun out of her hands - even that hurts, making you shudder down to your core.

Then Marisa shoots you in the back and you feel yourself...melt.

Your existence starts to break down, your very presence in reality degrading.

But you can regenerate again.

As the bullet is flung back at its owner, as your monstrous nature takes over and you grow jaws and eyes, tentacles and tendrils growing as your choir of voices sings of victory, of growing unrestrained by troll shape, you struggle against it, but perhaps not as hard as you should.

Trolls warp into nonsense masses of flesh in your sight.

You sing in confusion. In fear. In joy. What odd creatures!

You sing unbothered by what your own flesh just went through, but the whispers of the others grate on you. An irritant, itching at your growth.

So you raise your voice to drown them out.

#cloud writes #thrixe varzim #finally get to write horror!thrixe #jovial fellow isn't he?#it's not that he's a different person as a horrorterror it's just an aspect of him he suppresses 99% of the time #that comes to the fore

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