#MAGGOTSFORBRAINS

i'm a zombie in my body, i'm a train off of the track.

[rawtalents]

rawtalents   ⁝   a multimuse writing hub for @campusloser. explicit mature content will be present, containing themes of drug use, sexual nature, and synchronized singing and dancing, eugh!

featuring,

sydney fennewick, played by damian hardung. naim shepherd, played by spike fearn. synne holloway, played by lizeth selene. cillian sinclair, played by drew starkey. ransom cassadine, played by emilio sakraya.

[shcwtunes]

who: josie & synne @rawtalents where: cohen-chang house common room

"hey, sorry, can you remind me how you spell your name?" after spending the past five minutes trying to remember, josie had finally managed to suck up the courage and come over to synne, figuring it would be better to just ask, instead of wasting all that time on something that she'd potentially have to start over if she was wrong -- and maybe unintentionally hurt their feelings in the process. "i'm making friendship bracelets for everyone in the dorm. oh! and what's your favorite animal? for the charm?" the options were currently limited, but she could always make a run to the craft store -- as if she needed an excuse.

[rawtalents]

were people always this nice in college? maybe the books she'd been reading lately had been all wrong  ──────  giving her such high expectations about how being here would lead her into dangerous intellectual territories, where the pursuit for knowledge and experience somehow end up in strange bacchanalias and someone turning up dead. maybe in another life, because god knew that'd be more exciting than anything she had going on right now. and while josie's goodwill was appreciated, it certainly didn't make her heart jump like something more precarious would.  “  s-y-n-n-e.  ”  she spelled out, smiling bright and easy, a simple muscle memory after rehearsing it in front of a mirror a thousand times before.  “  and i don't know how you're going to pull this off, but my favorite animal's a kraken.  ”  and it was sincere answer although it might sound like a wild choice, knew a few people on the seattle team just from practicing at the same rink before this year.  “  but i don't know, what animal d'you think i give the vibe off?  ”  

[sing2you]

stella didn't trust cillian sinclair. the twin of the girl who'd clearly been trying to get under her skin on halloween? asking her out in their first conversation ever?? please. she wasn't stupid. no one wanted immediate status in the new directions that badly. but if cece was going to use her brother for some weird manipulation tactics, two could play at that game.

she may have dressed for the date like she would any other (if she was going to fake date someone in order to annoy their sister, she was going to make sure it was convincing!), but her frame of mind going into the night was not at all first date like. there were no nerves. there was no desire to impress. instead, her thoughts leaned heavily towards skepticism.

and for good reason!

a smoker, she noted as she approached cillian outside of the restaurant he'd chosen. wow, what a clear indication that they're a total mismatch right off the bat. the tentative cece-based revenge plans that had formed in her mind were already beginning to fall apart, but stella nasr wasn't a quitter (wicked didn't count!). she was determined to see the date through.

"thanks," she acknowledged his compliment without returning it, the quick appraisal she'd given him only resulting in a nod of acknowledgment. she should have addressed the flower thing next, but instead, she had a little lecture cued up for her fake date as she slipped through the door of the diner. "i'm sure i don't need to tell you that smoking is terrible for your voice," she turned towards him to point out. "it lowers your lung capacity, reduces your range..." which is already limited to start with. no need to state it - he knew what his new directions audition had been like. "if this is going to work, as in be believable, all i ask is that you don't do it around me. this is supposed to be mutually beneficial, and i have a show choir to lead to sectionals victory."

[rawtalents]

cillian bit back a laugh from unspooling itself in the back of his throat, bemused by the concurrent disapproval and earnestness of her lecture. and of course, she was right, even if annoyingly so. he didn't need to be a psychotherapist to determine a bad habit, not blind to the very graphic warnings on every pack of cigarettes he'd ever grabbed from the convenience store. sure, it wasn't doing his already barely-functioning vocal chords any favors, but neither did that pang of emptiness that came whenever he had too much time to think. a cigarette was simple  ──────  inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. chock-full of toxic chemical fumes but at least he felt less empty. at least it gave his hands something to do. but still, his hands lifted in mock surrender once they'd seated, lopsided grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.  “  yeah, yeah, i know.  ”  a beat. cillian shook his head lightly, then cocked it just enough to let stella know that there was probably a tangent coming.  “  but c'mon, you can't say it doesn't add texture to the voice. makes me sound like i've lived a little.   ”  but he was mostly just joking, didn't have any problem about the proposal not to do it around her  ──────  because god knows it'd take more than just a pretty girl for him to get himself out of a vice. not when this little ritual had been the most reliable thing he could reach for whenever his brain would turn against him. though there was a part of him that was actually hopeful about this. that this glee club thing could give him a new focus, a new discipline. or if nothing else, company. but he also wasn't stupid enough to argue on a date, even if it was fake.  “  but fine, i won't smoke around you.  ”  cillian smiled at her, shoulders slightly shrugged, like he'd agreed to a binding contract.  “  wouldn't want to ruin your lung capacity either with secondhand smoke. but i also need you to know that i'm serious about being better, too. better singer, dancer, whatever you need me to be. so tell me who exactly you need me to be.  ”  

[scgclden]

"really? i thought you like, were tryin' to spend all your free time with her. askin' her for help after hours is the perfect way to be alone with someone." she ignored the fact that it was the reason they were alone right now. so maybe a small part of her was jealous. cillian's issues at her relationship with shep and her lack of availability was frustrating. did he just think she'd never date anyone? that she'd just sleep with him forever and then be fine with nothing serious? clearly. but what was upsetting her the most was that no matter how many times they slept together, he never saw her as girlfriend material. but suddenly stella shows up and he's asking her out on dates in front of everyone. after like.. a week!

she had dealt with that enough in her life. boys only wanting her for one thing. and it sucked. she was a person with feelings. a girl who wanted to be chosen and loved. and now he had the audacity to be upset because shep picked her? no way.

but she wasn't trying to focus on that right now. she really needed to work on her routine. she had to run it by sully still and then get his feedback before they showed it to the rest of the group. and they had a deadline. so there wasn't any time to fuck around. she should've asked sully to meet her here, though. given the nature of the team, most of the dances would be in pairs... she looked towards cillian right when he offered to give feedback on her ideas.

well, she had a different idea. "no. you're gonna help me." she said, walking over to him and grabbing him by the forearm, then dragging him into the center of the room. "you wanna work on your dance skills? awesome. i need someone to do this with. and it might look good watchin' me do it, but it'll be easier to decide if it feels natural and easy to do if you try it with me." once they were in the center of the room, she stood by his side and began to show him the steps in the mirror. "okay and after we step out, i'll twirl into you and you'll catch me with your right hand, got it?" she mimed the moves once before actually committing to them, hoping he'd catch on through muscle memory even if his brain was still trying to keep up.

[rawtalents]

there would always be a part of him that always felt too exposed by the way goldie looked at him : almost as if she had already figured him out. and it wasn't just about the most obvious things either  ──────  the smoking, the sarcasm, the meticulously casual attitude that made everything sound like a joke before anyone could take a second and decide it was serious. and many people might not take her too seriously, but cillian could already tell how she was seeing through him, might not have put all the pieces together just yet, but she'd be right to think that whatever this thing with stella couldn't be real. at least not yet, or maybe not ever, cillian hadn't really thought it through too much aside from that he liked stella's company. liked how stella pushed him to be better, to have discipline, despite not knowing what it was all really for. “  feeling bossy today, are we?  ”  a scoffed escaped him, feigning annoyance, but there wasn't any real resistance as he let goldie pull him along. if anything, there was almost something soothing about being given something to do, about the belief that he could be useful. and he meant it when he told stella that could memorize choreography well  ──────  another step to remember, another count to follow, things that didn't really leave much room for his mind to wander somewhere less productive. and so he watched goldie through the mirror, eyes following every movement of her feet, of her hands, of her hips.  “  step out, twirl, catch. got it. probably.  ”  he said, mostly to himself, probably wasn't the most reassuring thing to hear, but still he tried anyway. cillian followed her movements, counting quietly under his breath to give him direction as they stepped together. one, two, step out. four, five, and goldie was twirling into him. six, seven, catch. and for a split second, his brain was just the buzz of white noise, his hand moving with simple instinct, right arm coming up to catch her just as she instructed. by the grace of god, or maybe she was just a great teacher, cillian miraculously didn't drop her. and he just kept her there for a moment, just blinking at her as he tried to say something, but his throat felt suddenly dry.  “  i miss you. am i allowed to say that?  ”  

[oflos3rs]

𝚂𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴:   brooks' house,   @10:15PM.

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷:   @rawtalents.

   this was the exact kind of environment joey thrived in: loud music, questionable decisions, and enough alcohol floating around that everyone had temporarily forgotten how annoying joey was. he had slipped through the kitchen and out toward the back porch with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. joey had barely made it around the side of the house when he stopped, glancing over his shoulder toward the windows. his hand gripped around the baggie in his pocket, head dipped down to grab a pill quickly. perfect. except apparently not perfect enough. the sound of footsteps had him turning around, eyebrows lifting when he spotted the other person approaching.

   joey immediately straightened, one hand coming out of his pocket like he'd been caught doing something significantly more incriminating than simply standing in the dark behind somebody else's house. "oh." he said, blinking once. "hey." there was a beat. then, because silence had never once been joey's friend, he added: "i wasn't doing anything." another beat. "which is probably exactly what someone doing something would say, so that's unfortunate for me." he leaned back against the siding, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone who'd just been caught lurking behind the house. "you weren't looking for me, were you?" his mouth twisted into a grin. "because if you were, that's actually kind of flattering. creepy, but flattering."

[rawtalents]

this was the exact kind of environment ransom loathed : couldn't care less about these unfamiliar faces, couldn't really stand their inane choices in the name of simple pleasures either. only the privileged really had the time for something like this  ──────  but maybe most of his malaise for this occasion really stemmed from the lack of open space, no dark isolated corner he could burrow into when there were people everywhere. the crowd made it harder for him to cut himself off from people, made it harder to justify his loneliness if he couldn't actively prevent rejection by avoiding any connection at all. though maybe he wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't for fontaine and joey, would love to excuse his arrival here as some kind of a contractual obligation or whatever. and despite people existing everywhere his gaze could reach, ransom still tried to find a quiet place anyway : somewhere he could say he was at the party even if he wasn't really in it. he wandered outside to the back porch, but he wasn't alone here either. finding a familiar face instead, albeit a little unsure if he was supposed to feel relieved or annoyed that he couldn't ever be truly alone.  “  i wasn't looking for you,  ”  ransom said flatly, had been wondering where fontaine and joey were, but he wouldn't give him the satisfaction to know that now.  “  party's inside. what're you doing out here?  ”  a question asked with indifference in his voice, but his gaze said otherwise, ever-suspicious of people, even with the ones he needed to play nice. and ransom was still trying to figure out if this was about distrust or concern.  “  just makes me think you're actually up to no good.  ”  

[oflos3rs]

   sleep had always been a particularly ruthless thing when it came to mason. there was no gradual surrender to it, no graceful drifting beneath the surface. one second he was awake, and the next he was simply gone, dragged beneath the dark with all the subtlety of a stone dropped into deep water. waking was much the same. it took time for the world to find him again. first came the warmth. not the room, though there was that too ⸻ the muted chill of morning lingering beyond the blankets, the faint gray light bleeding through the curtains, the stale quiet of a house that hadn't quite remembered how to be awake yet. this warmth was closer. softer. something solid tucked against him. mason breathed in slowly, deeply, the breath dragging through his chest with the heavy rhythm of someone who had absolutely no intention of getting up anytime soon. and then, still somewhere far beneath consciousness, he moved. his arm tightened around naim's middle. not deliberately.

   it was the kind of movement that belonged to whatever primitive part of his brain had decided that this was comfortable and, therefore, should remain exactly as it was. his fingers curled slightly into the fabric of naim's shirt, his nose brushing somewhere as mason shifted closer. his leg followed, tightening over naim's like an anchor. for several seconds, there was nothing else. just the slow rise and fall of mason's chest against him, the occasional warm exhale disappearing against skin, and the vague, half-formed thought that whatever this was, it was warm, and he was tired, and moving would be an objectively terrible decision. then a voice cut through the fog. morning, sleepyhead. mason's brow twitched. the words didn't make sense at first. they floated somewhere above him, irritatingly cheerful in a place where they had no business existing. his brain reached for them, turned them over once, and promptly decided they weren't important enough to deal with. his eyes opened anyway. gray morning light. ceiling. a shoulder. a face. naim.

   there was a brief, almost beautiful moment where mason's brain simply refused to connect the dots. then it did. his eyes widened slightly. the fog vanished with such abruptness it was almost painful. oh. his arm. his leg. his entire body. the fact that he was practically wrapped around naim like he'd spent the night trying to make absolutely certain the other man couldn't escape. mason stared. naim stared back. and for perhaps one second too long, neither of them moved. then mason did. his arm came away first, followed by his leg, and he nearly tangled himself in the sheets in his hurry to put an unreasonable amount of distance between them. he landed against the mattress with a muffled thump, eyes narrowed into something that might have passed for irritation if the faint flush creeping up his neck hadn't betrayed him. "what the fuck." the statement came out rough with sleep. mason blinked once, then twice, looking between naim and the space he'd occupied as though there might be a reasonable explanation sitting somewhere in the blankets.

   there wasn't. which meant, naturally, the only reasonable conclusion was that this was somehow naim's fault. "why are you here?" a beat. his eyes narrowed. then his expression shifted as the memory came crawling back in pieces ⸻ the movie, the late hour, naim talking through half of top gun like he was personally responsible for its historical accuracy, and, apparently, falling asleep somewhere along the way. mason dragged a hand down his face. "right. movie." he let his hand fall, staring at the ceiling for a second as though it had personally offended him. then he looked back at naim. "and apparently i decided you needed to be fucking restrained." the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. "don't make that face." he pushed himself upright, running both hands over his head in an attempt to wake himself up and look marginally less like he'd been dragged through a storm in his slumber. "i was asleep." as if that explained everything. "i didn’t mean to ⸻" his hand waved lazily between them.

[rawtalents]

naim tried not to take it personally, how mason tried to push himself away the second the realization sank in, how he asked why he was here. and maybe he would've felt more like a leper if his mind wasn't so stuck on that pull just a moment ago  ──────  the arm tightening around him, his flesh giving in easy to the kind of touch that didn't make him flinch, mason lying closer to him than ever. and naim felt like he was on fire in those brief seconds, and he wished he could just stay in that moment forever. just burning and golden and alive as warmth filled every space. it didn't even have to be mason, not really. because maybe at the heart of this scene was just a desire to be anchored down, to be overwhelmed not by possessiveness but a a need to maintain contact, to speak without words and for someone to tell him don't go. and it didn't have to mason, but he was glad it was him. naim just wished he was awake. naim just wished it had been intentional to make him feel this way. but it was all right, or at least that was what he told himself whenever he felt disappointment over anything. it wasn't mason's fault anyway, it was his restless brain that dissected every motion and every word and every expression, as if he was supposed to give a film review at the end. but maybe this could also just be enough  ──────  to see that sleepy confused look in mason's face, like it was a secret to everyone else. so naim just looked over at him with an expression far more amused than offended, still smiling like he'd made peace with being unwanted, that nothing mason could say would affect him. even if he was lying to himself.  “  calm the fuck down,  ”  naim murmured as he languidly sat up, voice still rough around the edges from sleep.  “  you don't have to act like falling asleep next to me is some deeply disgusting character flaw.  ”

he knew mason didn't mean it that way, one corner of his mouth lifting higher to give it away that he was mostly fucking with him.  “  but seriously it's fine.  ”  then he mirrored mason waving his hand between them, almost as if the entire situation could be summed up with the simplest of gestures.  “  it's not like we had sex.  ”  a pause. naim didn't really know why he said that part out loud, an intrusive thought that slipped out because he could kill the idea. but maybe it would've been worse if they did, maybe it would've made mason's reaction more reasonable, but naim stopped himself from thinking too much.  “  but i digress.  ” which was surprising, since he always had another tangent waiting somewhere on his tongue, always had another little observation that needed to be said before his brain could even possibly thinking about moving forward. but he decided to bury this one deep  ──────  attention now coming back to the aching side of his face, lifting his hand briefly to rub his bruised eye under the guise of making himself more awake, but maybe he just needed to feel something else.  “  anyway,  ”  he continued, a little quieter now, hand dropping back into the blanket.  “  thanks for letting me stay.  ”   it was simple, but naim meant the words more than he let on with how lazy they rolled off his tongue. he wished that strange comfort and weightlessness could've lasted longer, but he'd remember it for a long time anyway. then he smiled again, shrugging as if he wanted what he was about to say to sound more casual than it probably was.  “  but you can kick me out now.  ”  

[shcwtunes]

"oh, i'm not discrediting them. i just wasn't sure of the protocol." bear's fingers dance over the piano keys, not quite playing anything in particular, just testing it out. "maybe you could talk to them?" that'd be much easier on his end - and probably have a higher chance of those guys actually agreeing to collaborate. bear knew he could, on occasion, come off a little... abrasive. the fog machine idea, however, has his head instantly snapping back up to meet naim's gaze, eyes wide with interest. "that's brilliant. absolutely, yes, we should do that." he could picture it now - and the image was beautiful. "do you think we should wear costumes, too?"

[rawtalents]

“  roger that,  ”  naim offered a lazy mock-salute with two fingers, not really the best at making conversation with people outside his circle either, but if there was anything that could call him into action then it was the desire to be useful. and maybe he wanted to make a good impression and build a rapport with bear. it sounded corny even in his head, but naim also just wanted more friends. wanted more people to experience this ride with.  “  we could definitely do costumes.  ”  couldn't help the smile on his lips as he noticed the interest in bear's eyes, almost nothing better than the feeling of his creative decisions being reassured.  “  we could go with real fucked-up characters to emphasize the song ────── will graham and hannibal lecter, louis and lestat, holmes and moriarty, perry the platypus and doofenshmirtz. got plenty of choices.  ”  

[onwiththeshcw]

sage  wasn't  totally  sure  what  to  do  with  naim's  words,  honestly.  the  concept  of  being  an  mvp  in  any  way  seemed  unfair,  as  sage  wasn't  really  even  trying  to  take  over  the  glee  club.  it  was  as  simple  as  their  regularly  scheduled  stage  managerial  duties…  just  in  a  different  form.  and  sage  had  no  business  teaching  people  to  sing,  but  she  did  have  plenty  of  business  in  getting  people  organized.  and  if  stella  needed  her  to  step  up  to  the  plate,  sage  was  only  too  happy  to  help. “hey,  that's  really  nice  of  you,”  sage  can  take  a  compliment,  but  this  feels  so  far  outside  of  and  simultaneously  right  within  their  comfort  zone,  it's  tricker  than  just  that.  “i  appreciate  you.  thanks  for  seeing  what  i've  been  trying  to  do.  i  just  want  us  to  have  a  decent  shot  at  sectionals,  and  honestly,  i  think  we  do.”  sage  clicked  out  of  their  group  messaging  app,  stood,  and  smiled.  “your  moves  are  looking  pretty  good,  too!”

[rawtalents]

“  you think so?  ”  naim would love to say that he was the kind of person that didn't need encouragement, that he had the bravado of someone who never had to worry about how people looked at him  ──────  but that would be a big fat fuckin' lie. but he didn't give sage time to answer either, thought it'd be best to just take the compliment than dwell too much about it, didn't want to seem so needy either, especially with someone who just joined glee club.  “  but thanks, i'm glad you see me too.  ”   a small awkward chuckle slipped past his lips, thought that need to be seen was just inherent in everyone else, but there was also always something embarrassing once someone actually did. naim wasn't really sure yet how to navigate that. so instead he focused on what brought them together in the first place.  “  i've never really competed in something like this, y'know?  ”  naim shrugged, remembering little league baseball as the the last thing he was ever really a part of, and all the ignored submissions for film festivals throughout the years barely counted as competition at all.  “  but i pretty much think the same. the tongue twisters look phenomenal, i can't even lie. but i don't know, i guess i just have plenty of hope. maybe because that's all i have to offer, really. but i have it.  ”  

[rawtalents]

i   think   i   was   born   bored,   i   think   i   was   born   blue

feat.   ransom   amine   cassadine,   a   second   year   nursing  student,   also   known   as   the   self-man   man.   also   found   in:   honor   society   and   shame   rocks.   part-time   jobs   @   scandals,   pillsbury,   and   les   affamés. content   warning:   abuse,   house   fire,   incarceration.

i   think   was   born   wanting   more.

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BASIC   INFORMATION

name:      ransom   amine   cassadine.      age   &   date   of   birth:        twenty5   +   january   1st.      gender   &   pronouns:      cis   man   +   he   /   him.      sexual   &   romantic   orientation:      bisexual   biromantic.      height:      6'3   /   1.9m.      hair   color:      black.      eye   color:     brown.          education:      saint   rivera   university,   nursing   major.      extracurriculars:       honor   society.            other occupations:       bassist for shame   rocks.   part-time   jobs   @   scandals ( bartender ),   pillsbury ( stocker ),   and   les   affamés ( waiter ).      accommodations:      off-campus   apartment.           hometown:    dahlonega,   georgia.      family:      richard cassadine,   father ( deceased ).      meryem cassadine,   mother.        face:      emilio sakraya.

PSYCHE.

mbti:      intj,   the   architect.         enneagram:      3w4,   the   expert.         temperament:      melancholic-choleric.         astrological   placements:       capricorn  sun,  aries  moon,  aquarius  rising. traits:      persevering   ⋆    resourceful   ⋆    self-reliant   ⋆    ambitious   ⋆    practical   ⋆    cynical   ⋆    machiavellian   ⋆    observant   ⋆    disciplined   ⋆    restrained   ⋆    level-headed in crisis   ⋆    protective   ⋆    reluctant to accept help   ⋆    strong survival instinct   ⋆    resentful   ⋆    vindictive. hobbies:      writing   basslines   and   playing   bass   for   shame   rocks   ⋆    picking   up   extra   shifts   whenever   possible   ⋆    studying   far   beyond   what   his   classes   require   ⋆    hunting   for   scholarships   and   grants   ⋆    budgeting   his   money   obsessively   ⋆    buying   damaged   furniture   and   restoring   it   himself   ⋆    cooking   inexpensive   meals   with   whatever   is   available   ⋆    taking   nightly   walks   when   he   can't   sleep   ⋆    learning   practical   skills   from   youtube. likes:       having   extra   money   saved   away   ⋆    black   coffee   and   cheap   dinners   ⋆    fixing   things   instead   of   replacing   them   ⋆    bass-heavy   music   ⋆    secondhand   paperbacks   with   notes   on   the   margins   ⋆    quiet   mornings   before   everyone   else   wakes   up   ⋆    academic   achievements   ⋆    people who pry.       dislikes:      feeling indebted to someone and owing favors   ⋆    rich people complaining about money   ⋆    condescension and pity   ⋆    unreliable group members and co-workers   ⋆    people digging through his past   ⋆    people romanticizing poverty   ⋆    losing control of a situation   ⋆    performative charity   ⋆    sentimental conversations. fears:       being   ordinary   or   unremarkable   ⋆    ransom   fear   achieving   success   that   doesn't   distinguish   them   as   exceptional   or   that   doesn't   reflect   their   true   self.

BACKSTORY.

unravel   him   yourself   🫵   but here's some minor things. content   warning:   abuse,   house   fire,   incarceration.       ┊⌦      ransom grew up dirt poor with an abusive alcoholic father and a mother stuck in a cycle. but ransom was always   a fighter   when   he   needed   to   be,   and   he   fought   back   every   time   his   father   raised   his   hand   against   him      —      and   he'd   take   a   beating   for   the   people   he   loved,   even   when   they   wouldn't   do   the   same   for   him.   and   when   was   fourteen,   their   home   was   engulfed   in   flames   and   burned   his   father   alive,   it   was   him   who   his   mother   blamed.          ┊⌦      he   spent   a   couple   of   years   in   juvie   for   something   he   didn't   do,   and   was   pretty   much   the   town   pariah   by   the   time   he   got   out.   he   worked   multiple   jobs   to   support   himself,   petitioned   to   get   his   juvenile   record   expunged,   and   he'd   always   been   a   great   student   so   it   was   easy   for   him   to   maintain   a   good   academic   record.   and   as   soon   as   he   graduated   high   school,   ransom   bought   a   shitty   secondhand   car   and   just   drove   away   to   leave   everything   behind.       ┊⌦      he   found   himself   in   philadelphia   a   few   months   later,   working   multiple   jobs   again,   and   for   the   next   few   years   he   saved   up   every   extra   penny   until   he   had   just   enough   to   go   college.   he   hunted   down   scholarships   and   grants,   submitted   essays   for   every   potential   award   to   ease   the   financial   burden   more.   and   at   twenty-three,   he   started   college,   would   really   rather   be   a   writer   in   his   dreams,   but   the   medical   field   is   more   practical,   pays   more.   and   the   world   revolves   around   money   and   not   dreams.       ┊⌦      and   now,   here   he   is.   a   self-made   man,   someone   who's   left   an   entire   life   behind,   but   he's   not   really   sure   what   he's   been   made   into.   he's   still   angry   sometimes,   most   nights   he's   just   lonely,   but   he   just   can't   stop   moving.   can't   stop   working.   can't   stop   reading.   can't   stop   playing.   mostly   because   he   doesn't   know   what   he'll   find   in   himself   if   he   starts   resting   now.

CONNECTIONS.

      ┊⌦      fontaine o'donnell,      band member.          ┊⌦      joey blacksky,     band member.          ┊⌦      juniper ridley liao,     roommates.   

looking for more connections! haven't plotted with him at all and he's pretty much a very withdrawn muse, but would love some no-strings-attached hookups when he does find the time ( rarely ), an acquaintance from all his midnight walks and they only really know each other from what they talk about while they're walking together, a regular at scandals or les   affamés that he always end up serving. perhaps even a good friend, but would love if they're similar age ( twenty4+ ). a fan of shame rocks who's found him interesting? anything, let me know if you have other ideas!

[sweetfridays]

♡ EMILIO SAKRAYA via instagram ( emilio_sakraya_ )

[rawtalents]

ransom cassadine tag dump.

🩹 : ransom cassadine / character study.

🩹 : ransom cassadine / countenance.

🩹 : ransom cassadine / aesthetics.

🩹 : ransom cassadine / answered.

🩹 : ransom cassadine / dialogue.

[rawtalents]

and   when   we   break,   we'll   wait   for   our   miracle

feat.   cillian   ansel   sinclair,   a   third   year   finance  major,   also   known   as   the   prodigal   son.   also   found   in:   beta   rho   omega,   student   philanthropy   society,   saint   rivera   rowing   team,   and   new   directions.   former   wide   receiver   for   saint   rivera   football   titans. content   warning:   death,   infidelity,   alcoholism,   substance   abuse.

god   is   a   place   where   some   holy   spectacle   lies.

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BASIC   INFORMATION

name:      cillian   ansel   sinclair.      age   &   date   of   birth:        twenty1   +   july   30th.      gender   &   pronouns:      cis   man   +   he   /   him.      sexual   &   romantic   orientation:      bisexual   biromantic.      height:      6'2   /   1.88m.      hair   color:      blond.      eye   color:     blue.          education:      saint   rivera   university,   finance   major.      extracurriculars:       beta   rho   omega,   student   philanthropy   society,   rowing   team,   and   new   directions.   former   wide   receiver   for   saint   rivera   football   titans.      accommodations:      beta rho omega house.           hometown:     greenwich,   connecticut.      family:      eleanor sinclair,   mother.      charles sinclair,   father.      cecelia sinclair,   twin sister.          vocal   type:      baritone         face:      drew starkey. vocals.      ★☆☆☆☆ performance.      ★★★★☆ charisma.      ★★★★★ discipline.      ★★☆☆☆ authenticity.   ★★★☆☆

PSYCHE.

mbti:      entp,   the   debater.         enneagram:      7w8,   the   opportunist.         temperament:      choleric-melancholic.         astrological   placements:       leo  sun,  libra  moon,  taurus  rising. traits:      protective   ⋆    candid   ⋆    jaded   ⋆    temperamental    ⋆    charismatic   ⋆    avoidant   ⋆    competitive   ⋆    impulsive   ⋆    emotionally   repressed   ⋆    self-sabotaging   ⋆    perceptive   ⋆    resourceful   ⋆    persuasive   ⋆    obsessive. hobbies:      pickup football   with the bros   ⋆    smoking   on balconies, rooftops, and fire escapes   ⋆    driving around aimlessly at night   ⋆    weight lifting to burn off frustrations   ⋆    cooking elaborate meals when he can't sleep   ⋆    midnight swims   ⋆    volunteering through student philanthropy society to give him somewhere to be   ⋆    anything to keep himself busy. likes:       expensive   menthol   cigarettes   ⋆    crowded   parties where he can disappear   ⋆    gambling on stupid little things   ⋆    black coffee and greasy diner food at 2am   ⋆    vintage watches and expensive cologne   ⋆    people who don't ask too many questions   ⋆    having something to look forward to.      dislikes:      pity   and   being   asked   if   he's   " okay "   ⋆    the   smell of stale beer   ⋆   people   knowing too much about him   ⋆    conversations about family and divorce   ⋆    feeling trapped   ⋆    people who try to buy forgiveness   ⋆    having his failures and mistakes brought up   ⋆    the   silence after an argument   ⋆    empty houses   ⋆    being   bored. fears:       being   limited,   controlled,   or   deprived   of   experiences   ⋆    cillian   deeply   fears   having   his   freedom   curtailed   or   being   in   positions   of   weakness   and   vulnerability.

BACKSTORY.

unravel   him   yourself   🫵   but   here   are   some   brief   points   in   history.

      ┊⌦      death   tw.   cillian   grew   up   as   a   golden   boy,   the   popular   kid   everyone   aspired   to   be   friends   with.   an   honor   roll   student   and   football   player,   known   by   everyone   in   town   as   that   promising   sinclair   boy,   but   he   always   had   his   tight-knit   circle   of   childhood   friends.   they   did   everything   together   :   football   camp   every   summer,   group   projects,   trying   out   for   other   sports.   cillian   liked   the   attention,   of   course,   molding   himself   as   that   perfect   portrayal   of   smalltown   glory,   beloved   as   he   checked   every   box   people   put   him   in.   but   the   summer   before   junior   year   of   high   school,   cillian   had   falling   out   with   his   best   friend   —   and   like   a   cruel   twist   of   fate,   he   died   just   the   start   of   september.       ┊⌦      infidelity   tw.   cillian  pretty   much   just   repressed   the   death   and   acted   like   it   had   barely   affected   him,   focusing   on   football   and   his   social   status.   he   spent   the   year   focused   on   being   a   star   player,   on   dating   the   most   popular   girls,   on   being   someone   with   too   much   on   his   plate   to   think   about   anything   else.   but   then   during   his   senior   year   of   high   school,   their   family   became   subject   to   scrutiny   after   his   father   confessed   to   a   years - long   affair   with   another   man   and   the   subsequent   fallout   of   the   divorce.       ┊⌦      alcoholism and substance abuse start here. and   just   like   that,   everything   he'd   been   working   for   felt   like   they'd   been   undermined   his   father's   mistake.   he   was   no   longer   that   promising   sinclair   boy   but   that   poor   boy   with   the   divorced   parents.   cillian   grew   disillusioned   as   that   picture - perfect   image   of   a   white   picket   fence   nuclear   family   was   destroyed   in   his   head,   and   emotions   he   had   long   repressed   from   his   friend's   death   began   resurfacing   with   everything   else   as   cracks   began   to   form   on   his   mind.   he   began   lashing   out,   growing   indifferent   and   jaded   to   point   of   hedonism   just   to   feel   something   else   aside   that   constant   pang   of   guilt,   shame   and   resentment.

      ┊⌦      saint   rivera   wasn't   the   beginning   of   something   new,   but   just   another   playground   —   allowing   all   his   terrible   habits   to   only   get   worse.   he   was   always   out   partying   with   his   frat   brothers,   sinking   himself   deeper   and   deeper   into   debauchery,   his   gpa   suffering   despite   being   a   fairly   intelligent   young   man.   and   he'd   deteriorated   so   much   by   the   end   of   last   semester,   kicked   out   of   the   football   team   for   showing   up   drunk   to   practice   and   ultimately   lost   his   athletic   scholarship.   but   at   least   his   father   was   willing   to   cover   the   cost,   though   cillian   only   saw   it   as   him   trying   to   buy   his   forgiveness.

      ┊⌦      but   perhaps   the   final   straw   after   these   last   three   years   of   endless   mistakes   was   an   accident   that   could've   taken   his   life.   his   sister   and   best   friend   intervened   then,   telling   their   parents   that   needed   help.   and   everyone   else   might've   thought   he   was   just   island-hopping   in   greece   through   the   summer,   but   cillian   spent   those   three   months   in   rehab   to   finally   detox   and   begin   his   recovery.

      ┊⌦      cillian   doesn't   talk   much   about   the   summer,   but   he   still   tries   to   keep   up   the   facade   that   there   was   never   anything   wrong   him.   of   course,   he's   exponentially   more   laidback   now,   but   most   people   just   think   he   had   a   come-to-jesus   moment,   or   that   he   just   a   change   of   heart   —   replacing   a   bottle   of   whisky   with   a   pack   of   cigarettes.   but   most   days,   he's   really   just   desperately   trying   to   keep   himself   together,   dealing   with   the   weight   of   everything   he'd   pushed   down   without   any   substance   to   dilute   the   feelings.

CONNECTIONS.

      ┊⌦      cecelia   sinclair,      twin   sister.          ┊⌦      lucas shepherd,     best friend.          ┊⌦      goldie lewis,     bad idea.          ┊⌦      jasper st. james,     ex-hookups.          ┊⌦      lorelei liang,     tutor.          ┊⌦      stella nasr,     fake girlfriend.

looking for more connections! a sibling of his dead friend. secret friends-with-benefits. exes that he might've cheated on or ghosted. a close confidante.   people   he   used   to   party   with   but   has   been   ghosting   since   being   sober.   lmk   if   you   have   other   ideas!     note:      cillian   is   just   as   status-conscious   as   his   twin   sister,   so   no   #losers   allowed   for   most   of   these   connections   unless   they   met   through   interesting   enough   scenarios   or   stated   otherwise.

[rawtalents]

naim had never really been the best sleeper, always been something in him so intrinsically insatiable for another episode, another movie, another memory. and one could call him nocturnal, or maybe an insomniac, but it was really just as simple as not wanting to miss a thing. then for the first time in a long time, he slept well. he didn't know what time he'd drifted off, he didn't know how long he'd slumbered, but the first he noticed as he was pulled back into consciousness was that rare rested feeling. just a light and warm feeling radiating within him, years of pressure had been lifted off his bones, which was ironic considering the second thing he noticed  ──────  the fact that he couldn't move, with an arm across his middle, and one leg thrown over his, as if mason had decided to turn him into a human pillow overnight. and he was close, so close that naim could feel the occasional warm exhale against his cheek. but maybe it was also an exaggeration when he thought he couldn't move, because he probably could, and yet he didn't. how could he plan an escape when mason looked so peaceful as he slept? but naim also didn't want to be the creep who watched him sleep, so he turned his head and stared at the ceiling  ──────  waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting. but there was also part of him that liked this kind of weight on him, how it distracted him from the discomfort around his eye, how it grounded him to the present instead of thinking where the bruising came from. he thought of last night instead, how he must've fallen asleep as soon as the credits of top gun rolled, but he also remembered the feeling of just lying there, talking mason's ear off to explain every detail, and how it might be military propaganda but it'd always get the pass for being his comfort movie. then the slightest shift brought his attention back on mason, fingers unconsciously curling against his shirt, face still somewhere between dreaming and waking. but naim didn't say anything just yet, a small smile on his lips as he waited until mason opened his eyes and realized he'd been keeping him hostage.  “  morning, sleepyhead.  ”   @oflos3rs

[sm0kesh0ws]

Indira paused halfway through applying lip gloss, the wand hovering just in front of her already too-glossy lips as Synne's words cut through the room. Her reflection looked back at her with one eyebrow slightly higher than the other, a sure sign she was thinking very, very hard. "Kidz Bop kind of slaps sometimes. I mean, not like, all the time, but do you remember those little videos you could upload and be like, the next Kidz Bop star? I always wanted to do that." Pause. "And be like Hannah Montana!"

The thought of being a Kidz Bop pop star and Hannah Montana drifted away just as quickly as she had said it. She popped the lip gloss wand back into the tube with a tiny click before turning around on the little vanity stool to face Synne properly, tucking one leg beneath herself. Indira's room, as always, looked like someone had bottled up a Sephora and Victoria's Secret, shaken it up, and dumped it all over the place. "I felt really sad for Stella," Indira admitted, softly. "Like, I don't really know her all that well because I kind of always thought the glee kids carried some kind of plague with them that would make me want to sing and dance all the time, and like, I love singing into my hairbrush and grinding on people, but I don't like organized singing. It's like the mafia." Her mouth fell open, and she glanced to the other side of her room before returning to Synne. "I forgot what my point was."

"Oh!" She exclaimed, regaining her train of thought. "Right. Duh. Stella's like, super talented, I'm assuming, and what does that, MaKayla, no, McKenzie girl have on her? Which, you know, I don't think most people like losing." Not a groundbreaking thought, though, to have. "I don't either. I mean, I'm usually losing stuff all the time, and I have to be okay with it. Like that time I lost my Rhode lippie, and I had only used it once. I was devastated!"

Back to the conversation at hand, Indira! "But we can't beat up a girl for beating Stella, right? It's not like her fault. We've totally got to point our fingers at that twink," beat. "I can say twink, right?"

[rawtalents]

amusement crossed synne's features as indira focused on the wrong thing for a moment, just watched as she talked about something so trivial   ──────   would've found the whole ditzy schtick annoying on anyone else, but indira had fortunately somehow found her way into synne's good graces, more inclined to understand how her brain worked than completely dismiss it. but synne also knew that patience was just needed, that the pieces would eventually click in indira's brain once she had time to mull over the details, once, twice, and voila.  “  it's worse than the mafia, it's more like scientology.  ”  she commented, mostly just to see how indira would react to such information.  “  but instead of following aliens, they follow celine dion and stephen sondheim.  ”   but then synne refocused the conversation back on the object of her current interests   ──────   not in any romantic way, not at all, but more so about how someone as ambitious as stella nasr had been so easy to project herself onto. so easy to live vicariously through, as pathetic as that might be. and since then, an offense against stella felt like an offense against her, too.  “  she's very special. and that's the thing, if you're special, then i don't think you should just be okay with with losing. especially when that loss is just a decision made by a man with poor taste.  ”  the corners of her lips began to slowly curl into a smile, gears turning as her brain began devising a plan. “  no, he's too old to be a twink,  ”  synne responded before she hummed in thought. indira was right, they couldn't jump that girl who looked like she walked straight out of a lifetime movie either. and as satisfying as it would be for stella, letting their anger out on a professor was also far too risky. but something manmade wouldn't complain.  “  i think the babes would just need to focus on something not quite as alive. if we're looking for a rage room, then why not unleash stella and ourselves on the set of wicked?  ”  

[socvereign]

juliette   let   out   a   quiet   laugh   at   that,   nodding   as   she   took   another   sip   of   her   coffee.   "   okay,   so   a   three.   that's   definitely   more   reasonable   than   where   i   was   putting   it.   "   she   glanced   back   toward   the   direction   of   the   house,   or   at   least   what   was   now   left   of   it.   "   i   mean,   you're   probably   right.   faulty   ovens   happen.   it's   not   exactly   the   universe   personally   deciding   that   new   directions   has   had   too   much   fun   lately.   " she   shifted   her   weight,   still   turning   the   coffee   cup   between   her   hands.   "   although,   if   something   else   goes   wrong   before   sectionals,   i'm   officially   changing   my   answer   to   a   ten.   because   at   that   point   i'm   not   accepting   coincidence   as   an   explanation   anymore.   "   at   that   point   she   would   just   have   to   accept   that   they   were   now   all   cursed. she   looked   over   at   him   again   when   he   mentioned   making   your   own   life,   giving   a   little   shrug.   "   i   do   agree   with   you,   though.   i   just   wish   life   would   stop   making   things   so   unnecessarily   complicated   for   everyone   around   here.   i'd   really   like   one   week   where   nobody   needs   a   fundraiser,   a   vigil,   an   emergency   meeting,   or   a   group   therapy   session.   " a   beat   passed   before   she   glanced   sideways   at   him,   her   expression   turning   amused.   "   actually,   i'll   settle   for   three   consecutive   days.   i'm   trying   to   be   realistic.   "

[rawtalents]

while sydney didn't exactly believe that the universe was conspiring against new directions, it also wouldn't be too farfetched to think that a couple of mistakes and a few schemes had crossed and embroiled themselves with each other along the way. and now, it had created all the mess they'd been going through the past few weeks  ──────  starting with the resurgence of glee club in the collective saint rivera consciousness. wouldn't exactly say it was cece or carter's fault, but it had definitely been their choices that allowed this pandemonium to blossom. though, sydney didn't really regret following after them. he felt a certain excitement in not knowing what could happen next, despite his own penchant for preparation.   “  even if there were more unfortunate things yet to happen, i think everything will eventually course-correct itself.  ”  sydney shrugged with a smile, voice laced with a matter-of-fact kind of optimism.  “  think of all this shit as fertilizer, it might fuckin ' stink right now, but our efforts will eventually bear fruit because of it.  ”  he glanced at the burnt remnants of abrams house, a tragedy that had affected the new directions, but perhaps they just needed to take a step back and realize it wasn't just members of new directions who lived there, that the misfortune might feel close to home but it was much bigger than the glee club.  “  but three days? now that's too generous. next thing you know the tongue twisters has dropped another psychological warfare video or maybe someone's pregnant. you never really know what people's next moves are these days.  ”  

[sm0kesh0ws]

𝐖𝐇𝐎: noemi ibarra & sydney fennewick @rawtalents

Noemi had spent most of the afternoon pretending like she wasn't thinking about sectionals. This was a lie, obviously. With her actual classes and the revelation that she was quite literally having a child, her mind had been preoccupied. Now that they were days away from sectionals, the more they found themselves mentally rearranging every way things could go catastrophically wrong. At least she could take falling on her face during Footloose/Danger Zone off her list. She didn't know what made her gravitate towards Sydney after one of Sage's meet-ups, maybe because her writer and Sydney's writer wanted to throw them in a situation together?

Hockey players always tended to occupy a particular category in her mind: loud, competitive, and occasionally one wrong dispute away from putting someone through a wall. Sydney, however, seemed a bit like an exception. Other than punching August, he seemed decently emotionally regulated. "Could I pick your brain about something?" Noemi glanced briefly away in case he decided they weren't worth the time. "You're a hockey player." It wasn't meant to sound accusatory, though she realized how it must have sounded coming out of her mouth. "I just mean, you guys are competitive. And you have actual strategy."

She walked alongside now that she felt like she wasn't about to get pushed aside. "Actually, before I continue this. You don't have a slushie, do you?" Cherry facial was not on her itinerary for today.

[rawtalents]

it seemed so banal to even think about, but university life had always been so endlessly intriguing to sydney  ──────  hundreds of people thrown together into one lecture hall, and although he couldn't get to know every and each one, there were some eventually bound to stick out and make a mark. and perhaps new directions was somewhat a microcosm of that system, how most of them in that choir room had no business ever talking to each other if they weren't part of the club. and so noemi's approach might have been a little unexpected, but sydney smiled anyway, attention immediately piqued by whatever it was they needed. though quite obvious, he raised his hands anyway, made sure noemi could see he was empty-handed, although he'd never really been one of those jocks to throw ice-cold slushies at people's faces. barely even a jock really. could be considered a star player, sure, but sydney always had other shit going on to be defined by one thing.  “  consider me switzerland. i'm not part of any armed conflicts between the titans, cheerios, and gleeks.  ”  sydney assured them, then dropping his hands, letting curiosty take over his features.  “  so go for it. pick my brain and hopefully i can give an interesting enough answer.  ”  

[sm0kesh0ws]

When Sydney greeted him, August was sure he was about to get yelled at or punched in the face again. He glanced toward the stairwell, then back to Sydney, eyebrows lifting just enough to ask For real? "Depends," August answered. "Is my face safe?" A crooked smile tugged at his mouth, trying to soften whatever conversation he suspected was coming. Truth was, he knew he was shitty. August didn't know how to express it quite that way, but he knew he was in the wrong.

He moved closer to the stairwell, letting himself rest against the railing. "Look, if this is about Milo," he said, already sounding resigned to it. Because of course it was about Milo and the punch and how August was definitely not being a team player. "I'm gonna save us both some time." His head tipped back lightly against the concrete wall. "I know. I was an asshole." His previous apology hadn't gone over quite as well, discounted pie in hand and not much more than a uhhhhhh when Milo and Sydney opened the door.

Then, because he could never help himself, he cocked his head toward Sydney. "I was right about the boyfriend thing, though, right?"

[rawtalents]

“  depends. are you going to be an asshole?  ”  sydney echoed as a response to the question, his voice impassive, but the slight curl of his lips quickly gave him away as simply joking. and sydney wasn't really here to pick another fight, so he let august talk first with that tone of resignation and expediency, before he clicked his tongue and shook his head lightly.  “  yeah, you were.  ”  an asshole. but an apology from august wasn't all that he came here for, not really. sydney knew that he had his own moral failing that day, and he didn't want to be seen only as his stupid mistake, not even by august.  “  but i was also a jackass. i shouldn't have said anything about your injury. you went low, but i went lower. and i apologize for that.  ”   sydney shrugged his shoulders, not too stubborn to apologize, but it also put him in a very weird position with himself  ──────  how apologies felt like an acknowledgment of some defective cog in his brain, tarnishing the image he wanted to portray for himself. but it'd been worth it, even if just for the weight lifted from his shoulders, didn't need to worry anymore about show choir rehearsals feeling just a little tense whenever he was a few feet away from august.  “  but i suppose apollo did provide you with the gift of prophecy that day. milo and i, we're … yeah. we're boyfriends. but only because there isn't a more all-encompassing term.  ”