#nice(tm)

*whispers*

holy shit, i actually did them this time! are you proud of me? (i still have an ask from you from like 1983 with some prompts that i put into my google docs and then never filled lmao they haunt me)

anyway, here you go - dear evan hansen-style because 1) i felt like it and 2) i need to write them more

also featuring a made-up band teacher named Ms. Anna and a made-up band student named Delilah (delilah is pretty. shes zoe’s first girl crush ok)

#93: “I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”

Zoe’s ringtone goes off between songs, and Ms. Anna, the band teacher, gives her a tired look.

“I’m — I’m so sorry, Ms. Anna,” she says, reddening. “Can I just — I’ll —” She glances at the caller ID. Asshole. So it’s Connor.

“Yes, alright, answer it,” Ms. Anna says, gesturing towards the door to indicate that Zoe should leave, which frankly Zoe is fine with. No one needs to hear any conversation she holds with her brother, if only for the x-rated language.

She hits accept call as she closes the door behind her.

“Connor, you just interrupted my band practice, this better be really fucking important,” she says by way of greeting.

“Zoe, thank god, you need to come get me.”

“You’re at home, genius,” Zoe says, rolling her eyes.

“Exactly. So come fucking get me.”

“Why the fuck would I come get you from our house?”

“Because there’s a ghost here.”

Zoe pauses. “There’s not a ghost at our house, Connor. Are you high?”

“I’m not!” Connor insists. There’s a silence on the line. “Well, I am. But there’s still a ghost here.”

Zoe rolls her eyes again. “I’m hanging up now, Connor. I’m in the middle of band and Ms. Anna just let me leave to take this because she thought it was important.”

“No, don’t leave me! Fucking — the ghost can tell I’m on the phone. If it kills me now, there’ll be a witness. Just. Don’t hang up.”

“Jesus Christ, Connor, what have you been smoking?”

“Listen, I’m not making this up, okay? It’s been following me around the house since you left for your band practice. I’m — it — it fucking knocked over that ugly ass vase that Aunt Ursula gave us like four years ago that mom won’t fucking get rid of.”

Zoe sighs. “Connor, if you knocked over the vase and you blame it on a ghost, I am seriously disowning you.”

“I’m serious!” Connor snaps through the receiver. Someone taps Zoe’s shoulder and she whirls around defensively. It’s just Delilah — she plays the drums. She’s really good at it, actually.

“Hey — Ms. Anna is wondering when you’ll be done on the phone,” Delilah says.

“Oh — sorry,” Zoe says, smiling apologetically. “My brother’s on the phone — talking about —” she pauses. “Um, family stuff.”

“Oh,” Delilah says, looking uncertain. “Well, um…”

“Five minutes at most,” Zoe promises.

“No! Don’t go! Come get me!” Connor shouts through the phone. Delilah frowns.

“I’ll — okay,” she says, tilting her head a bit, and then she disappears into the band room again.

“Jesus, Connor,” Zoe hisses. “Would you calm the fuck down? There’s no ghost.”

“It’s trying to curse me for being a bad Christian or something, I swear!” Connor says. “I’m telling you. I’m haunted. Yesterday it made me spill the milk I was putting in my cereal. And then this morning it untied my shoelaces and I tripped over them.”

“No, you don’t tie your shoes properly, so they always come untied,” Zoe corrects flatly. “Connor, I swear to god I’m leaving now. Call Evan or something.”

“Evan doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

“Well neither do I!”

“Well there still is one!”

Zoe grits her teeth and then groans. Evidently the only way to beat ‘em is to join ‘em. “Fine, for fuck’s sake. I’m — oh my god.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Just — go into my room and lock the door. Ghosts don’t like girls’ rooms.”

“Yeah, ‘cause they smell,” Connor says distastefully.

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Do you want to escape your ghost?”

“Yes, fine, whatever. I’m in your room. I’m not leaving until you get home.”

“Good, do that. Okay, I’m hanging up now. Goodbye.”

She hits the red end call button with finality and then sighs deeply.

Connor really needs to stop getting high.

#100: “You can only suffer through my whining for so long until you get up and make me a sandwich.”

“Hey,” Jared says, for the eighth time. Evan elects not to respond.

“Hey,” he says again, when there’s no reaction. “Evannnnn.”

“Jared, I’m reading.”

“I’m hungry, though.”

“You already said that. Eight times. In as many minutes.”“There’s no need to be an asshole about it,” Jared says brightly. “Make me a sandwich or something. I could really go for a sandwich.”

“I’m not making you food, Jared.”

“I’ll even say please. Please?” Jared puts on his best fake-sincerity face. “I don’t want to disturb the peace by getting up. Think of all the ghosts that are probably sitting on me right now.”

Evan rolls his eyes and turns the page. He hesitates, and then turns back, because with Jared talking at him, he hadn’t picked up on any of the last paragraph.

“Come on, Evan,” Jared says. “I’d poke you if you weren’t across the room.”

Evan thanks god that he’s across the room. “Why can’t you just make your own food? Being roommates doesn’t mean I’m your servant.”

“No, but your will is easier to snap, you’re better at making food, and I don’t know where we keep our bread,” Jared says agreeably.

Evan doesn’t answer this.

“Evan. Evan. Evan. Evan. Evan. Evan, come on, please? I’m starving! I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“You had three cookies like an hour ago,” Evan says flatly, finally turning the page. He’s pretty sure someone just kissed in the book, but Jared’s complaining is muddling the story. “Would you be quiet? I’m reading.”

“Evan Evan Evan I’m gonna keep saying your name ‘til you break Evan Evan Evan Evan Evan Evan —”

Evan closes his eyes and leans his head back. “Shut up, Jared.”

“You can only suffer through my whining for so long until you get up and make me a sandwich,” Jared says. “Please? Please please please please please please?”

Evan finally lets out a huge sigh and stands up, tucking his book under his arm.

“Yes!” Jared cheers. “Told you.”

“I’m not making you food,” Evan tells him, narrowing his eyes. “I’m going to my room. The bread is in the cabinet next to the fridge.”

As Evan walks away, feeling more than a little bit proud of himself for his bout of savagery, Jared calls out, “That’s a dick move, Evan! You’re already up! You may as well!”

Dionysus

Dionysus is the god of the grape harvest, winemaking and wine, of ritual madness, fertility, theatre and religious ecstasy in ancient Greek religion and myth. He is responsible for the development of the first Greek theatre. He is forgiving, accepting, and “go with the flow.” He is commonly referred to as a protector or a patron of LGBT+ youth both then and in modern context. 

@jen-ova

   Arriving early than previously anticipated usually includes chores Cloud has to do, general tasks, such as washing dishes and things of that like. His deliveries in the past couple of days have gone on without a hitch and of that he’s ever grateful because that means that he gets to return home a lot earlier than anticipated. Equates to a small and pleasant surprise, time and time again simply proving to him that it’s the small things that tend to stand out the most for him. A simple man through and through. The prime hours of the 7th Heaven are quite the eventful ones, busy and rowdy, loud and disorganized—what drives him to a brink isn’t the disorganization, but how loud the customers could get and what antics they come up with all under the regime of the alcohol. So Cloud is grateful prime time in Tifa’s bar is only a couple of hours, tends to be till late at night, and then the closing. When around, such as now, he helps up with the cleaning, the picking up, and makes sure customers don’t remain far too long in the bar than they should. “I got it.” He says to Tifa as he swings the black bag of trash over his shoulder to dispose of it on the bin outside. “I got the small stuff, you should try to rest.” He adds that on as he heads over to the door, before making it outside he’s keen enough to catch her saying thank you to him for his assistance and to that he responds with a nod before the door closes behind him.

   Nights in Edge are as gloom as one can imagine them to be. The remains of a once thriving city only a couple of miles away from them, from that destruction all of this got built, what shouldn’t be gloom about that? It’s a glass is half-empty way to look at things, but just like it’s half-empty it’s also half-full. From destruction and a consequence well earned they still chose to grow and build off from what had been destroyed; if for the sake of an individual on their own or the masses it didn’t matter, because that the work got done it got done. What stands out the most about this place at all is at night, the sky itself and the stars that shatter the dusk with their light. Sometimes Cloud catches himself gazing at them, but he finds himself too exhausted to stand around and do that when there’s a bed awaiting for him inside. He tosses the trash bag into the bin and closes the top shut after doing so. With the completion of such simple task he turns around to head back inside, but from the corner of his eye catches a few lights near his approximate location begin to flicker at the same time, triggered by some unknown event to him. “…?” And suddenly he’s overwhelmed with an uneasy feeling, emotions he can’t quite define shaking this peace that is now flowing away from him. Cloud takes a couple of steps forward, looks over the empty and dark street in which the lights seem to refuse their flickering. For some reason he can’t shake off the feeling of something looming near, something that he’ll probably not very well received if he goes about what his gut is feeling and just how bad it sinks just a moment after when he gets an eye-full of a towering shadow behind him.