[sm0kesh0ws]

𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄

𝖓𝖔𝖊𝖒𝖎 𝖎𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖆: 𝖆𝖓 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓.

(﹙˓  ‍🎧  ˒﹚)          whoa,  did  you  just  hear  that  voice?  it's  so  recognizable  that  i  have  no  doubt  it's  noemi ibarra.  i  don't  really  know  much  about  them,  but  i  heard  they're  a  twenty-three  year  old  forensic science  major  in  their  fourth year  of  study.  people  say  that  they're  grounded and apt,  but  rumor  has  it  that  they're  actually  self-conscious  and morbid,  so  i  guess  we'll  never  know  the  truth  you  live  with  them  in  abrams house.  if  you  ask  me,  i  think  i'd  describe  them  as  the songstress,  but  their  spotify  wrapped  should  say  more  about  them,  in  which  miss world by hole, bells ring by mazzy star, and ankles by lucy dacus are  amongst  their  most  played.  but  whatever,  i  wish  them  luck  on  their  endeavors  in  new directions, campus radio, and AV club.  i  don't  know  how  they  have  time  for  all  of  that,  but  i  can't  wait  to  see  how  this  new  school  year  treats  them!    (  inde navarrette, gender nonconforming, she/they, queer  )      𝄞ˎˊ˗

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[burn0uts]

　　☠︎︎　　“ it’s a totally stupid cliche anyways. ”  noemi didn’t seem the type to analyse any choices indy put forward if they hadn’t given the disclaimer, but now wasn’t the time to find out. “ i haven’t really given this assignment much thought, but i was listening to recipe for disaster by honey revenge recently. they do these oh oh oh bits towards the end of the chorus that made me think of jet pack blues. fall out boy. except the verses would require a lot of tweaking. they’re much slower. ” which definitely sounded like someone that hadn’t thought about it much. “ or where did the party go might be a better fall out boy song. ”

then followed by the shake of her head. “ chiller options, ” they said out loud, as if it would magically pop something into their head. between the piano and general vibe, she figured her partner might want something a little . . . less. “ i like halsey. mainstream enough for the others to still enjoy. did that new version of britney’s lucky — do you think it’s cheating to mash those up ? ” they took a step back, figuratively and literally.

“ but just my solo standing picks . . . ” they reached for their phone, scrolling spotify. “ basket case by green day is a classic. burnout, too. veruca salt’s seether. i like serve the servants. can’t think of much it would mash with off the top of my head. reject all american by bikini kill could go with olivia rodrigo’s all american bitch. ” the mention of olivia finally tore her attention away from the screen. “ by the way, if you want to do . . . pop — ” looks can be deceiving, she might want to ! “ olivia’s cool. chappel roan. i guess halsey as pretty pop too, huh ? ”

[sm0kesh0ws]

Noemi listened as Indy listed off, honestly, more than she would have. It was when the other said mainstream enough that Noemi had realized their own personal problem with trying to nail down a song that would be both palatable — because she didn’t want to play weird girl — and enough like themself that it would feel personal.

"I don't... really like pop music," she said awkwardly, and in a way that she didn't hope to offend Indy. It didn't seem like they were into it either, but Noemi wasn't trying to ruffle the feathers of their partner today. And well, not liking pop music was a bit of a lie. She liked older stuff: Kate Bush, Sinéad, and her mothers would probably smite her if she said a word against Selena.

"Do you know Amyl & The Sniffers?" Noemi inquired, more out of curiosity than out of a desire to perform one of their songs for their mash-up. When Indy mentioned Bikini Kill, her ears perked up a bit, and she even sat up a little straighter. "I like that. Reject All American. But, no Olivia, everyone does Olivia," and well, Noemi didn't want their manic pixie dream girl card revoked, "What about American Idiot?"

[sm0kesh0ws]

who are the most annoying members of the new directions?

"I don't think anybody's that annoying. Sure, there are big personalities, but I'm not put off by it. Anyone that wears a varsity jacket, though? Big nope."

[sm0kesh0ws]

what's your type?

"Um... people, I guess?"

[gleewiki]

HAPPY  SLEEPOVER  WEEKEND!  this  is  our  bi-weekly  meme  days  lasting  from  12pm  fridays  to  11:59pm  sundays  where  curated  ask  memes  can  be  circulated,  sent  out  to  each  other,  and  answered  for  character  development  and  curiosities!  but  remember  our  golden  rule:  give  and  you  shall  receive!  don't  forget  to  send  out  ask  memes  to  others  if  you'd  like  to  receive  as  well,  to  make  sure  no  one  is  left  out!

[burn0uts]

　　☠︎︎　　indiana would never admit it ,  but there were upsides to the presence of more overbearing new directioners. a shield, a scapegoat. an explanation for any thing above bare minimum. realistically, they did not fear pissing off any show choir god — or whatever else stella and julian would swear were natural consequences. perhaps true considering those two were the closest they had.

so she let them drag her by the hand. more work for them. ( unfair if she didn’t think they actually kinda liked bossing people around ! ) an apathetic shield. “ hey. ” it was how they could justify active participation in mash up week without looking too eager. noemi booked the space for them, so there was no need to show initiative. thank god.

the ice breaker of . . . tuna sandwiches . . . received nothing more than a glance from indiana. not necessarily judgemental. noemi being a little strange made them all the more interesting to someone like indy. “ i bet nasr’s got the room bugged so we should,” a cock of her head. “ mash. ” it wasn’t a real concern at all. a cover of enthusiasm. “ i think i’ve heard — ” translation : their idea. “ that people are, like, picking songs that like represent them. like we’re - they’re mashing . . . meshing ? i don’t know. someone said it. ”

[sm0kesh0ws]

Noemi nodded in agreement as Indy spoke. "Yeah, I mean, probably," she said in response to Stella having the room bugged. She dropped her bag onto the floor by the piano, letting gravity do its thing and sitting on the piano bench. The idea of mash-up week made something tight coil in her chest, something close to dread.

"I don't really have a song that represents me," Noemi admitted. At least, nothing that would be fun. They knew everyone would do Broadway hits or Top 40s from the last forty years, and she was sure a rendition of one of her own original pieces or Weird Al's My Bologna would not bode over well with their peers.

"But I can harmonize with almost anything," she added, tapping her fingers absentmindedly on the keys to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. "Do you have a pick?" Always a follower. Maybe if they knew Indy's, they could bounce off of that.

[eleanorsings]

eleanor @ open

miss eleanor took it upon herself to host an extra practice for new directioners... and nobody showed up! she's totally crashing out now, so. good luck!

"Private practice is over." Eleanor knew it was a FRUITLESS idea the moment she had announced it to the choir room, and damn the smooth brains of her classmates that left her efforts lacking. An extra couple of hours a week to work on harmonies, choreography- socialization? Didn't any of these people care about sectionals? New Directions? Being a competent enough team to smash Vocal Adrenaline into a thousand tiny pieces? If the empty room had anything to say about it, then she had to assume that the answer was a big, fat NO! And she would quiet the part of her head that told her that maybe they would rather be doing anything else than spending an hour with Eleanor Sun-Duffy. Those people were probably just jealous anyway. "If you wanted to participate, then you should have gotten here at four, when it was scheduled-" It was only 4:38 now, but the last half hour (those first eight minutes were still brimming with some modicum of hope) had eaten away at any patience she had ever pretended to have. Up until then, she had been gathering sheet music, reveling in the sound of her ballet flats stomping against the linoleum- tossing the juice, and cookies she had bought in the trash. Finally, and suddenly, she stopped, letting out a frustrated little groan along the way. "Not everyone can just... sit around, waiting for someone to actually care about this club. I have my own performances to worry about without trying to keep you all from embarrassing yourselves."

[sm0kesh0ws]

Noemi hadn't intended to be late, and honestly? In fact, she had shown up around 4:20 (blaze it!), snaking her way against a wall towards the back, and Eleanor already seemed on her tirade of cleaning up everything, so Noemi sat there without making a peep. It was a scary talent of hers, being able to blend into the back without anyone noticing. They didn't fault Eleanor for it. Not when she was so talented and probably had a multitude of things on her plate.

"I was here," they said meekly. She was slightly embarrassed for not saying anything sooner; Noemi should have known when she showed up late that nobody else had come for a reason. They weren't going to all miraculously appear.

"I think they're kind of scared of you." Astute observation!

[sm0kesh0ws]

closed starter for @burn0uts

Noemi Ibarra was not scared of most things. She could handle death, horror movie jumpscares, killer clowns circa 2016, and the list went on. Her number one fear? Pissing Stella Nasr off. As much as they could be a background swayer, Noemi took that job seriously enough to refrain from the wrath of her more divalicious counterparts. Her second fear? Actually performing front and center.

So, it was safe to say that she took no time to book a time for herself and Indy to rehearse, and she wanted to get ahead of the game so she could prepare both physically and mentally for the day. Noemi felt lucky enough to even be paired with Indy who she felt wouldn't give her shit or tell her what to do the entire time.

"Hey," she greeted when she caught Indy in her peripheral vision with about as much enthusiasm as Eeyore. Conversation didn't come easily to Noemi, so all they added was, "How 'bout Lunch Lady Bert's tuna sandwich?" She had not eaten it.

[onwiththeshcw]

tl;dr: your muse pops by fabray's. emery is #werking the counter.

money had been tight this semester. it always was, but emery was really feeling it. she didn't want to pick up another thing on her plate, but she knew she couldn't ask her mom for help. she was already on a work-study and as many scholarships as she could have picked up, but there was not a ton out there for girls who almost made the top 20% of their class. so, a regular old boring job it was.

fabray's was busy that morning, and emery had done her best to memorize the new drink specials that the owners had added to the menu, but she was midway through scribbling down a series of lyrics that were equal parts devastating and relatable when her manager gestured over to the line that had formed at the register. swallowing, emery tucked two strands of dark hair that had fallen out of her messy bun behind her ears, painted on her best smile, and stepped up to the ipad. "hi! welcome to fabrays. thank you so much for your patience. what can i get started for you today?" her fingers hovered as she began to type in the order. the words were still stuck in her head, and emery was struggling to concentrate on anything else. she wasn't cut out for this, clearly. "wait, i'm sorry-- did you say oat milk or whole?"

[sm0kesh0ws]

Noemi had only meant to duck in. Grab a coffee, write a little bit, study for her Criminal Evidence class, and get the hell out of there before the bodies started to fill up. They waited patiently in line, headphones around her neck instead of on, the soft sound of Gregory Alan Isakov's Big Black Car playing on shuffle, and her fingers worried at the strap of her bag.

When it was her turn, she looked up just as Emery's words tangled over themselves. "Chill, it's just me," she said. "Oat," she added, a little more gently. The Ibarra-Reiz's lived in a strictly vegetarian home, and while she had been on her own for the last few years in college, Noemi would sneak a chicken sandwich from time to time; there was one thing that remained a constant. Oat milk lattes. "No rush."

Noemi's gaze drifted towards the notebook on the counter. One little thing between them. Besides a shared love of music, the pair had a shared love of songwriting. She peeked her head over the counter, big brown eyes fixated on it. "Anything new?"

[qbshepherd]

Something bloomed in his chest at the compliment- was it a compliment coming from them? It felt more like they were stating a fact— something mundane.  Nevertheless, it felt like he had accomplished something, broken down a barrier. He grinned at her, his expression curling into something almost sweet. He wasn’t sure he could afford it with her, sweetness,  or if she’d cringe at him, and call it off. So, he straightened his shoulders out, kept her gaze for a long moment— long enough to build something heated. He glanced down at her lips, but down on his own. “I’m in good company.” Cool, casual. Better than telling her she was hot, and getting on with it. It might work on a Cheerio, but somehow he didn’t see Noemi responding well. 

An invitation: the bloom in his chest grew into a garden, sprouting up in his nerves, stoking excitement. He took the bait, in step with her down the drive like they were tied to one another. 

“Who, me?” Shepherd shook his head, laughed along with the motion. “I’m a dream.” He’d never been called very lousy when it came to company— especially not with a joint in his hand. “What about you, Noemi Ibarra? You a very good smoking partner, or am I signing up for something I’m gonna regret later?” 

[sm0kesh0ws]

Noemi watched the way his grin settled on his face, his confidence blooming in real time. Like, he was realizing he was winning something. She wasn't a romantic in any way, and it wasn't often that they felt chosen, so to speak. She wasn't a prude, but she certainly wasn't spending her weekends doing whatever it was he did; smoking, hooking up, the same exact measured steps he was taking now to try and bag his win for the week.

A part of it made them want to recoil and retreat. What would come of this Monday morning? Was she going to have to melt into her chair in the choir room every time she saw him after tonight? Was he going to brag to his buds about how he got that quiet girl in Glee to hook up with him?

She didn't break eye contact when his gaze dipped, and didn't respond to it either, something Noemi was exceptional at. She had a professional poker face. She did continue stepping backward at the same pace, her boots scuffing lightly against the concrete. "You're doing a lot of marketing for yourself, dreamboy," she said, the nickname dripping from her mouth like honey. Maybe they did know what they were doing. Even lonely girls... got lonely?

"I'm efficient," they answered, which was Noemi's way of saying that she wasn't going to freak out on him. She finally let the lighter slide out of her pocket, tossing it in his direction, forgoing her previous statement of not having one. "That good enough for you?"

They definitely were not talking about smoking.

[qbshepherd]

Edmund Kemper- some kind of serial killer, if he remembered correctly. Lucas didn't know what to make of it, but he thought, maybe, that's why they had tossed it his way. To throw him off, to catch him off guard- to knock him down a peg. It was one of the reasons that he liked people like Noemi; they knew how challenge him, kept him on his toes. He didn't miss a beat, didn't want to.

"6'5," Shepherd scrunched his nose at her- it was almost taunting. "Looks like you're safe with me: it's the guys pushing 6'7 that you really have to worry about." 'Don't you have friends?' Technically he was surrounded by them- brothers, at least. Beta Rho Bros' were crawling all over the place, and the more... popular kids from St. Rivera were wandering. It didn't really matter, though. There was a task at hand; and an expression on Noemi's face that made him want to-

"You're not really a stranger." And she wasn't, in his eyes. Maybe they hadn't exactly spoken to each other before, but they were part of the same team. Two people who would be expected to rely on each other at some point, even if indirectly.

He let a moment pass by. "So, what's up? You don't smoke, or you don't wanna smoke with me? Makes you feel any better, I could toss you my ID, tell you one of my deep dark secrets," He probably wouldn't. But he'd never been too bad at making things up. "Get acquainted. Call it team building."

[sm0kesh0ws]

It takes Noemi a moment to process this. He's talking to her. Like, actually trying to have a conversation. She already had preconceived notions about tall serial killers, but up there were the jocks of Saint Rivera. Maybe they were just secretly prejudiced against people who were over six feet. "Congratulations on missing the cutoff," she said. Noemi figured she could entertain this for a few minutes. Honestly, they didn't feel like they were having to keep up with the conversation.

At his mention that they weren't really strangers, she shrugged her shoulders, bashful. "We share sheet music, that's not the same thing." But he had said he wanted to get acquainted. "Good thing you're attractive." Not a pickup line, and it was not a fruitful attempt at flirting. If anything, Noemi felt like they were stating the obvious and was egregiously aware that he'd know that fact about himself.

"And I'm already on my way out, so if you're wanting to team build," she started stepping backward slowly, waiting to see if he'd take her bait. They didn't need the ID or a dark secret, for now. "Depends," she deadpanned. "Are you a lousy smoking partner? Because I don't like mollycoddling."

[qbshepherd]

He didn’t believe her, that much was probably written all over the expression he was tossing her way. Half smile, half… something else. Something that wanted to, like, figure her out. They were always sitting in the back, always moving in silence. One of the weird girls that Shepherd couldn’t help himself around– he wanted to poke at the bear, see what made them tick. Shepherd dipped his tongue out across his lower lip, swiped a smile across his face. Noemi was testing him. He could handle that– sounded like fun. 

“Oh, only when I wanna get them alone,” He raised his eyebrows at her, amused. “Or when I don’t feel like hanging by myself.” That was the ticket– party full of people, and somehow, Shepherd had ended up in a corner with another Glee kid. Something about it screamed, ‘lonelyboy15.’ “Must not get a lot of invitations, huh? Giving off a real… Stranger Danger vibe there, Noemi Ibarra,” Shepherd said it like it was nefarious– he’d read it on the New Directions call sheet enough times to know.

[sm0kesh0ws]

Noemi kind of just... stared at him for longer than what was socially acceptable. She had no real opinion on Lucas Shepherd other than jock and obscenely tall. This had led to her next question, forgoing anything that he had said to her. "How tall are you?" A quick inquiry before following up with, "Edmund Kemper was 6'9."

As much as they could have just turned on their heel, Noemi couldn't find herself moving away. Partly because it would be an uninteresting thread if I did so. "Don't you have friends?" Another curious inquiry that she dropped almost as soon as she said it. She looked tired in a way that didn't match a house party setting. Just a vague, detached look. Bored, almost. "Nothing screams stranger danger more than inviting a stranger to your car." They may have been in Glee club together, but Noemi couldn't recount a time when they had actually spoken to each other.

[mournfulroses]

Sara Torres, from her novel titled "X Is Where I Am," orginally published in March 2026

[djotime]

Obsession 2026, dir. Curry Barker

[qbshepherd]

lucas @ open

"D'you have a lighter on you?" He wasn't expecting them to say yes, even as he looked at them expectantly, patting at his empty pockets. Most people around campus were blowing strawberries and cream clouds, or puffing on cartridges lately- the glee kids he had been running around with were all too lame serious to convince him they might have a flame in their pocket. Shit. The joint behind his ear begged to be analogue- he was convinced it was better for his lungs, but it was all garbage at the end of the day. Shit his Dad would kill him for. He looked around the party, (courtesy of Beta Rho Omega!), eyes closing in on the fire pit... Maybe he could-? Nah. "You feel like smoking this thing? Might have to go back to my car to do it."

[sm0kesh0ws]

Noemi had already decided to leave. She had done the math in her head; ten minutes inside, a polite appearance logged, get a shot in her system, and bounce. Her keys were already warming in her hand when she heard Lucas' voice as she crossed the driveway. "Hm?" Her brain hadn't quite caught up with her mouth until she registered what he had asked.

"No," she said, echoing a bald-faced lie. She did keep a lighter on her person at all times, and if Lucas was smart enough, he'd see its outline in her jeans pocket. The invitation, too, of going back to his car was enough to decide that she did not want to give it to him, smoke with him, or be alone with him. Surely he was an okay guy; he had invited the sad band of losers here after all, but they weren't exactly looking forward to being a Dateline episode.

"Do you invite people to your car often?" Good looking out, Noems! That's the perfect way to catch a serial killer!