#WHAT A GREAT WAY TO BOND!!!! TO PLAY SHITTY MUSIC IN A GARAGE!!!! LIKE ALL THE MOVIES!!!

[teruthecreator]

we all know kris can play the piano. but consider the following: 

noelle plays the guitar. she’s been playing since she was little because her mother wanted her to learn an instrument and noelle wanted to learn the same instrument her sister was playing (dess learned guitar from rudy). she inherited her father’s old acoustic guitar after everything with dess goes down, but she doesn’t really feel comfortable playing it because of all of the Emotional Baggage. so, as a christmas present, her parents get her an electric guitar and an amp. she usually only plays when her mom isn’t home because she knows how noise travels through the house, and she teaches herself a lot of metal songs (to impress susie, mostly, but also bc she’s genuinely a metalhead and has been for years) 

susie starts to learn the bass when she becomes friends w kris. not like they know how to play, but the dark world provides a plethora of musically-inclined people that susie never would’ve known before. specifically, i think it’d be funny if ralsei knew how to play string instruments? he probably plays some form of a lyre, but once you know one vaguely-guitar-shaped instrument you know them all. the reason susie picks a bass, rather than a guitar, is because she likes how it sounds. low and funky; the bass lurks in the background of every song, providing ample support to the much louder guitar riffs and vocal performances. and, in finding herself in this friend group she is starting to slowly accept as family, she realizes she rather likes not having to always be the loudest person in the group and that supporting can actually be...pretty badass. (plus she finds a bass for cheap on Monster Ebay, so she’s working with what she got) 

berdly is a percussionist. this is HIGHLY indulgent because i used to play the drums, but i also feel like drums work surprisingly well for berdly? they’re more tactile and reliant on rhythm, which berdly would have more of an affinity for (being an avid gamer; a hobby that requires tactile use of your fingers). if hometown highschool had a marching band, berdly would be the drumline captain. he just has that vibe. he just screams percussionist in the high school band to me, i really can’t explain it. i also think it gives berdly the opportunity to really let loose in a way that he doesn’t allow himself to do. being the “smart kid” doesn’t allot for a lot of opportunities to go crazy or goof off, but sitting in front of his drumset for an hour or two a night gives him the privacy to really spread his wings (both literally and figuratively). he picks up a pair of drumsticks from the school when they Attempted to have a band class, and just...kept them when the course ended up falling through. his one and only School Crime. eventually, his father notices berdly drumming beats on everything and decides to buy him a snare, which then spirals into berdly being gifted a full drumset for his 15th birthday. it sits in the half-finished basement, along with a lot of the family’s storage, and berdly takes care in making sure his drums are the nicest thing in that room. 

ALL OF THIS TO SAY: lightner gang garage band au when

#deltarune #kris dreemurr #susie deltarune #noelle holiday #berdly deltarune #kris deltarune #noelle deltarune #berdly #ignorance cloud on #PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. HEAR ME OUT. COME ON. #WHAT A GREAT WAY TO BOND!!!! TO PLAY SHITTY MUSIC IN A GARAGE!!!! LIKE ALL THE MOVIES!!! #but also i just like the idea of them all knowing how to play an instrument. not just kris. #noelle being the guitarist (and lead vocalist) is such a heelturn but it feels SO RIGHT FOR HER #like literally chap 2 was all abt her conquering her fears and standing up for what She wants. and to be CONFIDENT!!!!! #WHAT SCREAMS CONFIDENCE MORE THAN BEING THE GUITARIST!!!!!! #also i just think a bass works for susie. sorry but im right. im never wrong abt anything #and berdly being a percussionist is just :-) i want it :-) let him have hobbies #he learns game osts and plays them on the drums like that one streamer #also sing he has wing-hands or some shit i didnt wanna have to figure out how he'd pluck a guitar string or somethin. so drumsticks. #ANYWAYS if u have ANY thoughts or questions please bug me abt this #yes i do have other asks in my inbox to answer that are deltarune-related. yes i Will ignore them :-) #ill answer them eventually i swear i am just so stressed and sad and stress-sad

[rebekahsremarkable]

Molly

When I was in elementary school, there was a girl named Molly in which for several years, I had her in several of my classes. Molly was very different than the rest of the girls at school. She didn’t care much about anything except her happiness. I think, deep down, I admired that about her.

Even as a young adolescent, I had yearned to be accepted by my peers. When the popular girl in school, Kelly, started tying her shirts in the back- I quickly followed suit. When she started wearing army pants and flip-flops, I started wearing army pants and flip-flops. When the popular clique in school started playing volleyball- I begged by Dad to pay for lessons.

But Molly wasn’t like that. Molly was weird. She did weird things, like eat lunch by herself and talk about grown-up things like boys and what penises were. “What is a penis?” I remember thinking. “It sounds like a toy. And why do only boys have them? That doesn’t seem fair.”

One day, on the playground, I remember the girls and I watching Molly practicing for the school’s talent show. She twirled around for everyone to see. There was no music, and every mis-step she took, onlookers could witness.

The HBIC of Turner Elementary, Kelly, stood up and walked over to Molly’s designated dancing area. As the girls and I approached behind Kelly, Molly stopped dancing.

“Hi, guys!” She smiled, and opened her big blue eyes wide, as if we were there to accompany her in her dance routine.

“Hi, Molly.” Kelly said, with a blank tone. “Did you know that me and some of the girls were dancing in the talent show, too?” She asked, almost sarcastically.

“Yeah! I saw in rehearsal the other day! You guys are so good.” She smiled, waiting for a returned compliment of approval.

“Listen,” Kelly said, sternly. “I’m saying this, because I’m your friend. And no one else has the guts to tell you...” The girls nodded in sync. I looked at each of them- wondering what was happening. I was confused. Kelly said she was saying something as a friend, but somehow it still felt threatening. Is that a thing all girls can do- or is that some super power only Kelly could acquire?

“You look like an idiot. And I know that sounds mean. But how do you think you will look? Especially after the girls and I dance? People seeing... Whatever you call that. I just don’t want you to be embarrassed.”

“Yeah, she’s right.” The girls said, almost collectively. They all giggled.

I watched as I could almost visually see Molly’s pride disappear from her face. Her big, blue eyes lost their happily independent twinkle. Her grin dissipated. I could see her free-spirited heart break.

“I’m glad we had this talk.” Kelly said.

The girls and Kelly walked away in their herd, and I stayed back for a second. I saw Molly quietly cry for a moment, and then huff in the rest of her feelings. I went to walk away- but stopped myself for just a moment as we shared a glance.

“I...” I stumbled to say. I looked down at the ground, ashamed.

“Go ahead.” she quietly whispered.

And go I did... I followed the herd inside the school as the end-of-recess bell rung.

I sat back at my desk, and wondered what had just transpired. I didn’t participate in mocking Molly, but I still felt shitty. I didn’t laugh at Kelly’s remark like the other girls, but I still felt just as guilty.

But I did watch. Yes, that’s exactly what I did. I watched as the girls made a innocent, confident girl- into a jaded, self conscious child. But I didn’t participate. I didn’t say anything...and as Mrs. T handed out the spelling list for the week, I came to a fourth-grade revelation:

Maybe watching is just as bad.

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

Making new friends to me is extremely important. For some reason, when other girls like me or say I’m funny, I get a high much similar to shooting meth in my arm (is meth shot up, or is it ingested? Will google later).

Sure, boys think I’m funny. But boys also want to sleep with me; and while some women may feel the same way, I feel a sense of validity when another girl likes me. It’s like- Woah! You’re not in competition with me? You’re not trying to tare me down? You LIKE me? I must be one hot potato.

So imagine my surprise when meeting Leanne’s brand-new, super hip and pretty Denver friends. There was three: Yasmine, a gorgeous, round-eyed makeup connoisseur; Margie, a coworker of Leanne’s, stone-faced and extremely fashionable; and Tabitha, a shy, alcohol-friendly introvert.

We sat in the extremely expensive, young-people friendly lobby of Leanne’s apartment complex waiting for the handsome men they acquired at the mall earlier that day to finish their game of pool.

As a bottle of expensive vodka got passed around the room, I noticed the girls were on the other side, and I was sitting against the wall. I had made an observation as the girls whispered and giggled to each other:

This is the first time I had been in the same room as Leanne and we  weren’t sitting next to each other. Or touching. Or laughing. Or hugging. In her niche, I watched her and her new found lady wolf pack bond from across the way. I wouldn’t say I felt jealous- but I definitely just wanted to become a part of it.

Feeling frisky, I took the pool stick and shot a ball into the corner pocket.

“Nice,” one of the handsome suitors said.

I slyly dabbed and the boys laughed.

For the rest of the night, I decided to be myself. I drank wine instead of vodka, made funny “That’s What She Said” quips and danced when a song I liked came on. I was un-apologetically myself, as Leanne always inspired me to be. In this instance, looking back, I was un-apologetically myself, by myself.

I had work in the morning, so I retired to Leanne’s bedroom alone, laying in her bed with the comfort of knowing I made three new friends. I hope they liked me. I wanted us to be Sex and the City, essentially. I imagined us all sitting around a table, at a fancy Sunday 10 am brunch, drinking mimosas and talking about penises. Who would be the Samantha? Who is Charlotte? No one is Miranda. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

My imaginative brain almost drifted to sleep when I heard Yasmine say my name.

“She’s nice, I guess. Some of her remarks seemed a little passive aggressive.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Margie said. “She just seems like, insecure.”

“She likes attention.” Tabitha replied. “Which is fine, I mean... every girl likes attention. She just tries too hard to be funny. And she gets really um...”

“-Passionate.” Leanne finally chimed in.

“Right. Passionate.” the other girls chuckled.

I tried my hardest not to keep listening. I begged for sleep to take me away. But I kept hearing each girl back-handedly give me ‘compliments’.

I kept waiting to hear Leanne’s voice... But it never came.

When they finally found a new topic, I found myself feeling a gaping hole in my chest. What did I do? What was passive-aggressive? It was like being present for your own Comedy Central Roast, but no one else knows your there and the jokes are really just your biggest insecurities.

But though it felt like I had just looked into a Magic Mirror similar to the one in Snow White (except instead of telling you you’re the fairest off them all, it tells you your shittiest qualities), I found myself noticing the main reason why I was hurting wasn’t because of the things the girls said. It was what Leanne didn’t say.

She didn’t say anything, so how could I be mad? She just watched. Then I thought about fourth grade, and I thought about Molly... No, Leanne didn’t say anything...

But maybe watching is just as bad.

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

I packed up my belongings the next morning and left as everyone slept. I made myself a quick pre-workout cocktail, and scurried out the door before anyone could see I was upset.

Before leaving the parking garage, I typed up a Facebook message to the girls apologizing for being ‘passive-aggressive’, and how I looked forward to getting to know them better. My exit must have awakened them, as the message went to ‘read’ quickly after I hit send. I never received a response.

On the forty minute drive home, I recalled my fourth grade talent show:

Kelly, (who told me, after careful deliberation, I could not be a part of their talent show dance), was instructing me when exactly to pull the curtain closed as the girls made their final pose in their choreography. It was too late for me to be the ‘talent’ in the talent show, so I volunteered to be a part of the stage crew.  

When it was finally the girls’ turn to perform in the show, they danced to a Will Smith party anthem that seemed, in hindsight, a little too edgy for a couple of eight year olds. I pulled the curtain precisely as instructed. The girls all peeked out the curtain and bowed to their raving applause, and were clearly fan favorites.

Ms. Marshall called out for the final act. “Has anyone seen Molly?”

I wondered if she’d show.

“Here! I’m here!” Molly said. She was dressed in all white, with a bright pink scarf tied to hip of her capris.

She smiled big as she walked passed the girls and said, “Wow. You ladies did a great job!” And ran to the center of the stage.

Ms. Marshall walked in front of the curtain and started speaking into the microphone. “And now, for our final act, we have Molly performing a dance she choreographed herself.” She awkwardly clapped herself off stage, and I pulled the curtain open accordingly.

There stood a posed Molly, her feet confidently planted on the ground, her hand on her hip. There was a moment of silence, and, almost suddenly, a tune called “Accidentally in Love” played.

I watched Molly dance, completely in awe. It was as if what had happened days earlier didn’t even phase her. She moved to a song that everyone in the room could visibly see she loved, you would thing she wrote the damn song.  She jived, she used jazz-hands, she did the monkey, and most of all- she smiled. She shined.

I felt myself notice the difference between Molly and I in that moment. This whole time, I had vied for acceptance from my peers- and I never got it.

Molly had never asked for acceptance, she never conformed, and there she was, the star of her own show.

Where was I? I was pulling the curtain. Where was Molly?

She was dancing to the rhythm of her own song.

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

Thanks for reading! I’ve been getting some responses in which people get mad at me for posting certain things on here... I kept my writing secret for a long time. I even stopped entirely after I was told I wasn’t good at it, or that it was me vying for attention. For awhile I got really depressed and honestly, the only thing that pulled me out of it was writing. It gives me a sense of purpose. It lets me bend reality in a way that makes sense to me. With that in mind, readers need to understand that though there are certain things in life my writing may be inspired by, the occurrences in the blog are entirely fictional. Are there certain things that may remind you of someone in my life, or of an occurrence you may of been a part of? Sure, but my writing is far from the truth. My writing tells a story. A story that I want to be relatable the many(okay, like 5) women who read it, and that requires me to make something that has a message and a plot.

So if you’re my friend reading this, thank you for supporting me and understanding this. If you’re someone who feels they have been mis-represented on here, well, you’re wrong. Because my writing has nothing to do with you. This is the one space where all it has to do with, is ME. It’s my world to manipulate. If you don’t like it, don’t read it.