Ghost bassist

independent and private reggie peters of JATP, as performed by elle

[phantomriffs]

Welcome! This is a largely private and exclusive blog for Reggie Peters of the JATP fandom, as played by Elle. I’m 30, in the CST timezone, use she/her pronouns, and I am very slow. This account will mostly be used for my friends, but I’m tentatively open to new partners, so feel free to send me a meme.

[phantomriffs]

I’ve lost track of how many times Hannah’s made me yell about Bobby by now.

[owenmercers]

the only thing worse than one ghost crying is two ghosts crying.

bonus:

[phantomriffs]

‘I’d like to be my old self again, but I’m still trying to find it.’

"So..." Reggie wasn't the best at social cues, Alex had pointed that out more than once, but it wasn't from lack of trying. Sometimes he got distracted or just didn't understand the point that someone was trying to make, which was human, it happened. But this was Julie and the last thing that Reggie wanted to do was upset her, especially when he was pretty sure she was referencing what happened to her mom. He didn't know the properly grieving Julie, the one that didn't have music, and he didn't know the Julie that had her mom, either, he just knew this one and he liked her, was that a bad thing? "Does that mean that you... don't like yourself now?"

Fingers toying with themselves as Reggie remained perched on the very edge of the couch, he realized that likely sounded weird. "I mean, you're great now and I bet you were great back then, but I don't know, isn't going in reverse bad? You've got all these new experiences - and hey, you've got us! - so you might just turn into someone new?" Despite the cheer he'd injected into the reminder that Julie had the band, there was a note at the end of his words that gave way to something else, a worry that maybe they weren't good enough, and Julie would still rather go back to who she was before them.

[phantomriffs]

"You good to go?"

The internet was a strange and wonderful thing and Reggie wasn't sure there was anything it didn't have an answer for. Maybe it wouldn't be the right answer or maybe they'd have more than one answer and things would get really confusing, but it always had an answer and in this case, it had the right answer.

Reggie thought that maybe he'd asked the wrong question.

His parents weren't like Luke's parents, they didn't miss him and they didn't remember his birthday when he was alive, so why would they remember it when he was dead? Maybe it was some kind of perverse self torture that wanted to know if they liked him in death now that he was gone and couldn't screw up. He didn't expect a shrine, or his bedroom to be kept all nice and neat, but maybe a picture or two?

They were divorced and it was weird, so weird, the way that finding that out on a computer screen made his eyes tear up even though he knew it was for the best. Why was he sad about it? He was dead, they were horrible together, it didn't change anything for him, so why did it feel like he'd done something wrong? It was stupid, it was so stupid, just like he was, just like the way his face turned red and blotchy like that shirt he spilled juice on and his mom couldn't get the stain out of. She'd made him wear it to school anyway, that was what he got for ruining his shirt.

His mom had moved on, out of state, and maybe she was happy there because she'd never liked the beach, always complaining about how sand got everywhere even if she always bragged about her access to the water to her friends. It had confused Reggie so much as a kid who heard both comments, because how could she like the water without liking the sand? He'd tried asking once, but she told him shut up.

And he permanently had and then she'd ran away from every reminder of him, so there wouldn't be any visiting her now that he was dead, no misplaced care for how she turned out.

His dad was different, the man had an address nearby and it wasn't a good place to live, the streets dark and dingy and just because Reggie couldn't touch things well didn't mean anything was wrong with his sense of smell. There was an ever present tang of urine and Reggie kept reaching up to scratch his nose, wanting to hide the way he was trying to breath through the sleeve of his flannel.

Whatever happened to his dad, it wasn't good, and Reggie wasn't even sure what he was doing there anymore. Was he going to haunt the man, make him feel bad for everything he'd done as a parent, make sure the man knew that Reggie was in a place that he couldn't touch him? Somehow that seemed laughable and unsavory, and why could Reggie's stomach still roll even when he was dead?

There wasn't anything for him, seeing his dad again wouldn't bring closure or make him happy, listening to yelling coming from somewhere close by only made Reggie hurt and hadn't his parents broken his heart enough?

What a coward he was to come all this way to see his dad only to be warded off by the unknown of that room, even if it was so easy to picture. A torn up recliner. Empty bottles. The smell of cigarette smoke. Something broken with pieces on the floor, but it wouldn't be anything of Reggie's anymore. As long as Reggie didn't go in, there was the chance that maybe there was a picture, one the man didn't yell at in rage, but looked at when he felt sentimental. It was a nice fantasy and it was so close to ending.

"You good to go?"

Jerking around, Reggie quickly found where Luke was standing near the doorway, his white band shirt standing out against the bland walls stained with a yellowish tinge, and Reggie's insides twisted again as he straightened from the slump he hadn't realized he was in. Luke didn't look angry at his hesitation and being still or hesitant weren't things that Reggie associated with Luke, but here Luke was, offering him an out, not even mad about the waste of his time.

"Yeah, I - " Someone walked through Reggie, muttering about going to break up the noise, and Reggie shook himself before bouncing back over to Luke, forcing pep into his step. "Yeah, let's go home. I want to go home now."

Fingers twisted together with his and in the space between one unnecessary breath and the next, they were inside the studio again and Reggie could breathe.

[starrysources]

JATP Incorrect Quotes 1/?

[internetcultleader]

tbh im not even just a double texter im a decatexter like ill impulsively send 10 seperate texts instead of fitting it all into one whos gonna try and stop me

[parksanrec-deactivated20171215]

I’m the guy from the lady and the tramp who gives stray dogs pasta and stands in an alleyway playing an accordion for them

[dragonofenergie]

“Why do you flinch so hard?”

Maybe there was a time when someone wasn’t kidding when they swung at me.

[featherdark]

yup. right up there with “why do you get so panicky when people raise their voice?” 

[forestfairey]

This.

[wordsnquotes]

Hurt people hurt people. That’s how pain patterns gets passed on, generation after generation after generation. Break the chain today. Meet anger with sympathy, contempt with compassion, cruelty with kindness. Greet grimaces with smiles. Forgive and forget about finding fault. Love is the weapon of the future.

 Yehuda Berg (via wordsnquotes)

[emziess]

countless gifs from julie and the phantoms - 67/∞

[phantomriffs]

You know how in video games, sometimes side quests link together to form this long chain of events you need to do to in order to accomplish something? You do Sidequest A to get to Sidequest B, which opens Sidequest C, which pushes you into Sidequest D, and then you get the reward that no one ever mentioned? 

Reggie lives like life is just a series of side quests, doing random tasks for people just because he can. He’ll cross back over the road to help the little old lady, he’ll walk your dog, he’ll help you unload wood to make a new deck for your house (please don’t give him a power tool), he’s very eager and happy to help even if he isn’t getting paid to do it. 

And if you give him random things that oh, maybe someone else could use, which leads to him getting more random things, well hey, things are neat, so no problem here. But mostly, it’s just about doing something nice for people, and it’s this trend in behavior that leads to Reggie having at least a dozen people owe him little favors at any given time.

[phantomriffs]

Reggie associates Luke with storms, with songs about thunder and the strike of lighting, that feeling of being electrified and feeling all your hair stand up on end. He is a natural force that sweeps across the earth and catching his attention is like being sand in a storm, being touched by him changes you.

Reggie associates Alex with fabric softener, with hoodies and warmth and hugs. While Luke is the touchiest one of them all, the one most likely to throw an arm around you and let you sink into him, it’s still Alex that makes him think of something to burrow into, of that big blanket fresh from the dryer when you’re a kid that you want to wrap up in to feel completely surrounded and comforted. It’s a rare kind of comfort, the sort for sick days, and it’s to be treasured for it’s rarity.

Reggie associates Julie with glitter and butterflies (’girl things’), but also flowers, resilience, growing back after being cut down because no matter what happens to her, no matter what blade cuts away at her, she always continues to grow and bloom even brighter than before. She is sparkling, lighting up the dark, luring them away from the room that sucked out all light and echoed with Alex’s crying, she’s a delicate symbol of rebirth that gives them all wings.

[babysdrivers]

#1 spotify song is so boring what's ur #100

[phantomriffs]

#so what im hearing is we're dropping reggie on top of luke - @phantomlyrics

Hannah, you’re not allowed to be cute when you reblog something like that, but also, you damn well *know* that there’s probably been a night when Reggie is shaking (but not crying. He’s fine.) and Luke can’t sleep and can’t get the lyrics right while he’s thinking about his parents and they’re both at the studio because *where else* could they ever be and there are promises made in the dark. Promises of ‘You’re not alone’ and ‘I’m here for you’ and never a word exchanged about what’s wrong because they don’t need to know, they just need to vow they’re not alone. It’s dark, but fingers are laced together, the grip right, and the shaking stops, the humming starts, and in the morning, the words flow to the rhythm of heart thumping in a chest.

[inksandpensblog]

Hurt/comfort writers see a character and be like “I want to see them fall so far but I also want them to land on something soft”

[phantomriffs]

Listen, Reggie’s parents didn’t want to extend the energy to take care of him, so you know damn well that they didn’t want to extend the energy to take care of a pet no matter how happy the idea made their son, so Reggie? Has never really owned a pet that takes effort.

He once owned a fish that he very proudly won at the fair when he was around the age of ten, and he loved this dumb fish very much not only because it was his responsibility, but because it was a rare nice evening with his parents that didn’t involve any yelling or insults or throwing things. (Also, if you ask Reggie, that fish loved him back, he swears that fish would let him pet it while he talked, that fish was probably magical okay.)

Depending on how you look at it, you could also say that Reggie once had a dog, but it was only for the space of a weekend. It was a mutt that Reggie found and he brought it home with him and gave it a bath, and let it sleep in his bed. He spent the next day asking his parents opinions about what he should name the dog, and never once did they say that Reggie couldn’t keep it. 

On Monday he came home from school to find out his parents had gotten rid of the dog. Reggie didn’t try to have another pet over the course of his living life.