rēliງht thคt spคrk

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒 .   julie molina of netflix’s julie and the phantoms .   independent, selective .  canon - based .   low activity .    performed by stella .   

                                           bio  //  rules  //  verses

the first poke startles him. the second to his lips has him chuckling. the third poke nearly takes out his eye & he makes a soft noise of complaint, wrinkling his nose. julie has to be beyond tired, mumbled words tumbling out of her mouth with all the clarity of come as you are. 

is it bad that he wants to tease her about it? the half-wake mumbles about how soft his face is–it’s definitely blackmail material. grinning down at the girl in his lap, reggie’s struck with the urge to do more than smooth the hair from her forehead. he sucks in a breath he no longer needs, feeling warm all over. the seconds grow between her blinks && he swears he can count every individual inky lash before warm brown eyes gaze up at him again.

the bassist swallows as she looks through him, the lights around her room reflecting in her eyes. his own little universe. before he could babble about the absolute killer lyrical inspiration, julie reaches up to squish his face one last time, calling him pretty with a sigh.

pretty.

green eyes wide, plush mouth agape, reggie disappears with a POOF.

it would be fine, if she’s seen it coming.   he could have given her a warning  ---  some kind of goodbye, a “whoops, gotta go!” maybe.  as it is, julie’s half asleep, so her guard is down, and her reflexes nonexistent.   which is maybe her fault, but mostly his.

all this to say :   he poofs out, and suddenly, julie’s leaning on nothing but air.

she falls hard.

the next morning, the bump on her head is still sore   ;   and it stays aching well into the afternoon, when they have to conduct their regularly scheduled band practice.   honestly, seeing the boys is the last thing julie feels like doing.  she’s got a headache already, she’s exhausted from staying up so late, and she can remember, like, forty percent of what she said to reggie last night, but clearly, it must have been something super embarrassing  ---  something bad enough that he had to run away to escape her.

         SHE HADN’T EXACTLY APPROACHED JULIE WITH THE INTENT TO PATCH UP THEIR FRIENDSHIP, and carrie knows that the other wouldn’t have expected such a thing either. she’s simply giving credit where it’s due, learning to accept that a bitter approach is far from beneficial. of course, she still has her reservations where julie is concerned, but there’s a time and place for everything. ( carrie isn’t a complete monster, despite what her peers seem to think. ) she nods curtly, looking around the room before her gaze settles back on julie, “ i’ll admit, i was holding out hope that you might so that i could save the day… ” 

           “ but… ” she lets out a heavy sigh, shrugging her shoulders, “ it was… nice to hear you sing again. ” the compliments feel so foreign on her tongue, so out of character for her after a year’s worth of insults and pointed jabs. she almost recoils in disgust like it’s some kind of alter ego ( perhaps the carrie she used to be ) that’s speaking right now. “ i guess my dad kinda liked it too, ” carrie throws a glance over her shoulder- trevor’s still sitting near the back with his jaw halfway to the ground, “ either that or his botox is all messed up again… ”

here’s the truth :   julie’s not a forgiving person.  she’s not gentle when she’s been insulted, not a pushover when someone’s hurt her.  forgiveness, her mom used to say, is one of the hardest things in the world...  and not everyone deserves it.   ( her mom wasn’t forgiving, either, even though she was the best person julie’s ever known. )    she doesn’t buckle at the first sign of kindness from carrie in years  ;  she’s definitely not going to get down on her knees and beg to repair a broken friendship.  hurt still throbs in julie’s chest like an open wound, and it festers when she thinks of the way carrie has behaved in the last few weeks.

this... a civil conversation?  she doesn’t know what to do with this.

   the response to his questions only made alex’s anxiety spike even more than it already had (evil julie, absolutely evil). a terrified high-pitched squawk bubbled up and out of his throat. hands immediately went up into a defensive position in front of him. the blond at seen more than enough horror movies to know that, ghost or not, he should be afraid of these so-called voices. perhaps he shouldn’t have been so gullible (or paranoid), and deep down he likely knew that she was messing with him. but it was better to be safe than sorry, right?

   “j-julie,” he stammered out, eyes wide with fear. her step closer was met with a step back from him. and then another, just for safe measure. “you don’t have to listen to them,” he pleaded out quickly. “i-i’m the chill phantom!” well, that was really luke. “i mean– i’m the least annoying one! you don’t wanna hurt me.” he desperately tried to find words that would make his case for continued existence. “i-i-i’m gay!” not exactly a deal breaker, alex.

she almost trips over a chair.   what?  how  ---  how does he  ---  at least the guttural, demented monster sound that bursts out of her is authentic  ;   julie almost strangles herself trying not to laugh.

she has to pause for a few seconds, groaning and shuddering terribly, before she’s able to regain her composure.  when she looks up again, there are genuine tears in her eyes.     ❝  you have a point, ❞      she intones, and still advances, unceasing, on alex.      ❝  but not good enough.  i’m going to eat your soul for breakfast...  and you’ll taste like... ❞    here’s a question she never though she’d have to consider.      ❝  strawberry yogurt.   but not the tasty kind.  greek yogurt.  ❞

      𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘓𝘌𝘋  𝘈𝘕𝘋   embarrassed  that  someone  may  have  heard  her  playing  ,  she  pulls  her  hands  away  from  the  keys  .  the  one  day  that  she  decides  to  come  in  here  and  practice  happens  to  be  a  day  when  someone  else  had  the  same  idea  .  though  ,  nessarose  can’t  be  sure  if  it  really  is  the  other  disturbing  her  ,  and  not  the  other  way  around  .      ❛  oh  –  ❜  nessa  says  quickly  ,  gathering  up  her  music  (  a  rather  easy  rendition  of  fur  elise  )  and  backing  away  from  the  keys  .  ❛  i’m  sorry  .  i  assumed  that  it  would  be  empty  during  lunch  .  i  didn’t  realize  people  actually  ,  you  know  ,  used  this  room  .  ❜

❝  yeah!  it’s not a hang - out spot  — ❞    luckily, for the few musicians who actually feel like practicing during their free period, rather than messing around with friends.   julie shuffles her feet and wonders if it’s weird that she’s come here all alone  —  before realizing, no, probably not, considering the other girl’s done the exact same thing.    ❝  but for the people who know it exists, this room is great for practice. ❞     or even just thinking, sometimes.  she likes to come here for the quiet.

reggie lights up at the praise of his idea. see? julie gets it! he has great ideas. now if luke could just give them a chance instead of shooting him down, they could be absolute legends. now that flynn’s taking care of most of the marketing & design, reggie’s been feeling a little more useless than usual. so he’s been pushing more of himself into the other aspects of band, coming up with beats & riffs & countermelodies for the latest songs with julie, but despite all his hard work, he still can’t get luke to agree to a country song…or two.

maybe julie will be the one to convince him! that would be suh-wheat. 

when she asks him if he writes, reggie ducks his head, rubbing the back of his head. he does write, mostly snippets of things that pop into his head. maybe a bassline scrawled hastily between blue lines when inspiration strikes. but is he a writer like luke & julie? nah. nah. he wouldn’t consider himself a writer like that. he just has ideas. a lot of them. some of them stink out loud (he’s man enough to admit it), but the ones he’s passionate about, he tends to cling to, way past the the realm of endearing & into annoying.  ❛ how long? i mean…i’ve been writing on & off for years. but i wouldn’t consider myself a songwriter. i’m, i’m more like a sounding board. i can take something already there & make it a ton better! ❜ he’s always up for a good sesh of bouncing ideas back & forth. it makes him feel needed…& that’s an addicting feeling, okay? considering everything, there’s worse to be addicted to than being needed. he’s doing FINE. ❛ you got any ideas cooking up in that noggin of yours, jules? lay ‘em on me! ❜

she laughs out loud,   curls bouncing as she shakes her head.  it’s a very...  reggie response.   granted, she’s still getting to know the boys  ;  they’re not best friends yet, not in the way they so clearly are with each other.  she hasn’t figured out what makes them tick, the ways they like to work, how they share the spotlight.  this is all part of being a band, getting to figure these things out.   from what julie’s seen of the boys so far...

well.  luke’s clearly the frontman.  he’s the one who likes to put on a show, who basks in the spotlight like he was born in it.  he’s also the songwriter, and the one with music in his head twenty - four seven.   luke...  likes to be in charge.

that doesn’t mean he’s not eager to collaborate   ;   julie has a hunch he writes better with a soundingboard than he does without.   but it’s more than that.  whoever puts their head together with luke for a song is constantly suggesting, improvising, improving . . .  and he loves it.   craves it, almost.   julie knows this from experience  ;  but aside from her, reggie’s clearly the one who writes with luke most often.   

he might call himself  ‘just a soundingboard’,  but he’s got an ear for music . . .   and, even with his country fever, he gets their sound.   reggie’s a writer, whether he thinks of himself as one or not.

well, no duh, it’s weird! this whole thing was weird! on the night of his greatest gig, reggie remembers intense pain that lasted an eternity & then darkness. twenty-five years later (twenty-five years!), he’s now a ghost who can be heard by lifers when he plays && no one knows why.

it’s over the moon weird. but reggie goes along with it the best he can. he’s living his best un-life, jamming out with his friends & a girl with the voice of an angel. in all the ways he imagined the afterlife, this is the best option by far.

❛ we’re not going to possess you! ❜ reggie squawks, slightly affronted. first off, he doesn’t even know how to possess a lifer and b) it feels like he should be offended by her assumptions. or something. besides, he could never possess her…not without asking first. his family might not have been the best, but they still taught him manners, julie!

so no. no possess unless he has her permission, thank you very much. before he could tell her that, he suddenly has a lapful of riotous curls attached to a gap-toothed girl who gave him (all of them) a second chance. reggie, you’re such a sap, he thinks as he smooths away the hair from her forehead.  ❛ i guess you give me no choice, ❜ he says with a playful sigh, voice bordering on flirty before he realizes it & wrangles it back firmly into friendland.

❝  nope.  no choice. ❞      immensely proud of herself, she smiles up at him, raising a hand to boop his nose — revenge for his act earlier.   except the room’s fairy lights make everything blurry, and this is a weird angle to be looking up at him...  and, okay, maybe her co-ordination’s a little off at three in the morning.  she pokes his cheek instead.  frowning, julie tries again  —  nope, those are his lips —  and again.  when she narrowly misses his eye, it seems like enough booping for the night.

❝  your face is soft, ❞   she observes instead, letting her hand stay there.  his cheek is very squishy, too... and even though reggie has freckles, they don’t feel like anything at all.  should freckles feel like something?  she...  wasn’t sure before, actually.  julie has a tiny mole on her shoulder, and it kind of feels like something, but reggie’s face just feels like...  him.   solid... warm...

the boys, julie realizes, feel very alive.

okay, so if it wasn’t obvious that forrest was shaking before, it is certainly obvious now. funny how all it takes is just a few little words to get him all worked up. (not that’s having a panic attack or anything right now, but extreme anxiety just happens to be how he usually operates. especially when talking about this stuff with living people. he hates this.) his eyes are entirely focused on julie now, because, well, she asked him to do that. he doesn’t want to be rude.

“wh-why uh. wh-why would i….. why would i tell anyone?” he almost says who would i even tell but it seems like it would be extremely embarrassing to admit that he has absolutely no friends as some kind of a defense. no matter how valid it was. so instead, he reminds himself to take another breath. he’s really good at forgetting to breathe, apparently.

he shakes his head just a little. “i-i’m not…. i didn’t… i’m not going to t-tell. that’s…. i wasn’t uhm. i’ve just never m-m-m-met anyone. who can s-see ghosts. so i thought uhm. we could talk. a-a-about it. maybe.” is he trying to make a friend here? definitely. but it seems like he’s doing a bad job. “i uhm. i don’t think anyone would uhm. even b-b-believe it. if someone s-said you had a ghost band. so. uh.” and now he’s trying to make her feel better. but maybe it just sounds a little like he’s calling her crazy? he’s not sure.

so he shuts up.

oh, this is just too crazy.  crazy, but julie can’t in good conscience pin the guy to the wall just because he’s seen what no one’s supposed to be able to see.   slowly, the manic blaze in her eyes smoulders  ;   he’s got a point.   a ghost band is too crazy to be believed, and everyone buys the hologram story anyways.   even if he shouted it from the rooftops  —  and this guy doesn’t seem like a shouter, anyways  — who’d buy it?

❝ you’re right. ❞     she steps back, a little sheepish.  her wide, uncertain gaze still lingers on him...  but a voice in her head that sounds like her dad encourages her to think this through, mija.  hear him out.

❝ you don’t have to be so freaked, ❞    she tries, pushing some kind of reassurance into her voice.      ❝  i mean, this is such a freaky situation, i’m freaked, those are dead guys and that’s freaky  — ❞    she gestures wildly over her shoulder, ignoring a chorus of offended ‘hey!’s.      ❝  but that doesn’t mean  —   i mean  — you mean  — ❞     yeah, no, she’s lost it.  what do either of them mean here?

so, i’ve been  b u s y  the past few days.

it is finals week, and there’s a lot to study, a lot of stress and high - pressure...  and, in the middle of it all, my english professor posts my unit grade.  she gave the rest of the class their unit grades two weeks ago, but claims she couldn’t post mine because “she was so baffled” by the three essays i’d written.

he blinks once, and then twice. was it the wrong move to just go with it? there’s a moment where forrest glances over his own shoulder and wonders if maybe now would just a good time to get out of here. it had been pretty easy to avoid julie up until this point, he’s pretty sure he could manage it for a little while longer. but of course, his feet aren’t moving. anxiety has taken over by now, and that means he’s stuck.

“uh. not….. the-the uh. the band? the uhm. the m-m-music uh, guys.” he’s sure he probably does know the name of at least one or two of them, because they really are only hidden because everyone else can’t see them. he just doesn’t want to sound like he’s been following them, or something. (oh god. does he sound like a stalker?)

“they uhm. it’s. they’re looking at me.” a little nod. if only that didn’t add to the anxiety. “it-it’s not. it’s fine. i’m…. they’re uh. they aren’t. the f-first ghosts. that uh. that i’ve uh. seen.” is he shaking a little? he might be.

there’s no denying it.  he’s staring dead at reggie, who’s staring back, the goofiest grin on his face.  her ghost bassist offers the stranger a wave, and julie wants to kill him all over again.  don’t they see this is a serious situation?  like, a borderline catastrophe - level situation?

❝ you  —  huh. ❞     her voice cuts off in a desperate little squeak.   the panic must show on her face  ;  internally, julie’s clinging to the back of a speeding train, and it’s going off the rails.   someone else who sees ghosts?  someone who might understand why this weirdness has happened to her, and what it might mean, for her and the boys?  scariest of all  —  someone who could give away the band’s big secret?

' julie, ’    alex leans sideways to whisper,   ‘ don’t freak out, but i think this guy can see us. ’

oh geez! breaking down into his own chuckles, reggie pulls himself up, only to plop down at the edge of her bed just in time to witness the greatness of julie’s flailing imitation. he can’t even get mad at it.

she stops suddenly & reggie’s back straightens out of pure reflex. it takes him a touch too long to remember that not all silence is a bad thing, but her freaked-out 3 am questions has his lips quirking.

❛ booo~! ❜ reggie tries his best at a ghostly moan, wiggling his fingers near her face. was that offensive to spirits? probably. but he is one, so he gets a free pass. something she says sparks something in him & he taps his chin.  ❛ well, i don’t really know how this whole— ❜ he gestures to himself & then to the general air, red flannel slipping down one shoulder,  ❛ haunting thing, but you’re the only one who can see us, yanno, if–if we’re not performing. i think that means that you’re haunted. if we’re going by your logic, jules. ❜

her nose scrunches up again.  this time, it’s not out of amusement.  flynn’s said something along those lines, more than once  ---  i don’t think it’s the house that’s haunted, jules, but you.  she’s always tried to laugh it off...  but something about the idea rings a little too true when julie can feel triplet flames in her chest, constantly blazing  ---  stronger when the boys are near, flickering whenever they’re in trouble.  it’s been way more noticeable after the orpheum performance.  maybe...  maybe there’s some truth to that after all.

❝ that’s...  weird, ❞    she whispers, blinking owlishly up at reggie.    ❝ so weird.  you guys better not...  try to possess me or make my head turn around backwards, stuff like that.  so wouldn’t be funny. ❞    unless it scared carlos.   then it might be a little funny.