#what can probably be Fine for a local church play…is…Guys. Seriously?! for films | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

Text

Survey #403

“ashes to ashes, watch me disappear”

If given the opportunity, would you like to star in a musical? Definitely not. I don't like musicals. Name one person you’d take a bullet for: There's honestly a lot, but Mom immediately came to mind. Any posters of a band on your bedroom wall? Yeah: Metallica and Marilyn Manson currently. I want lots more, especially an Ozzy one. Do you think you’ve already met your soulmate? I don't believe in soulmates. Do you share your bedroom with anyone? No, unless you include my cat and snake. Is your favorite color yellow? No, it's actually one of my least favorites. Were you born in a hospital? I was. Do you know the name of the person that delivered you? No, but Mom does. I think he delivered me and my two sisters, and I know Mom has seen him since for other reasons. Was your birth recorded? God no. Good call, Mom. Did you eat a peach this week? Would you believe me if I told you I had a small bit of peach pie for my sister's birthday? For some reason, I just really wanted to try some. It was okay, but the aftertaste sucked. Are you leaving the house tomorrow? Yes, for TMS therapy. Every weekday. Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche? I honestly do. If you could get free vocal lessons would you take them? Probably not. I don't like singing in front of anyone, and it's not like I wanna get anywhere with my singing, so. Is your mother diabetic? She is. Are you? No. Ever sang someone to sleep? No. Who do you stalk the most through Facebook? Nobody. Have you ever deleted your Facebook, then brought it back? No. What is your main responsibility each day? Be sure to take my medications. Do you feel like you fulfill those responsibilities? Yeah. There are rare mornings where I forget, but I almost always remember. I don't fw skipping out on meds that keep my mental health stable. When was the last time you used spray paint? Good question. Do you know the middle name of the last person you kissed? Yep. Who is the friendliest person you know? My mom, probably. Something that annoys you about summer: THE HEAT. THE HUMIDITY. UGH. Something that annoys you about winter: Hm. That's hard to say, given I love winter. I guess the fact it doesn't snow enough here. Are the doors of your fridge side by side or on top of one another? Side-by-side. If you’ve moved out of the house you were born in, do you know the people who live in that house now? Nope. Have you ever cried in a movie theater? Not sobbed or anything, but I've definitely teared up and gotten the sniffles because of multiple movies. Do you read comic books? No. Do you force your way into conversations in which you are not involved? No. Have you ever seriously pretended to be clinically insane? I didn't need to pretend; I'm pretty damn sure I was for a while. Might I add that it's EXTREMELY inconsiderate to pretend you're insane, btw. Insanity is not "cool." It's not "funny." It's not "edgy." It's a serious, confusing, heart-wrenching issue that can ruin lives. Do you know anyone with a stutter? Yes, myself included when I'm even mildly nervous. And sometimes just randomly. With a lisp? I don't believe so. What was the last board game you played? The Disney version of "Pretty Pretty Princess" w/ my niece and even my nephew, even though his sexist-ass dad didn't want him to. Like let your kid have some fun with his sister and aunt, goddamn. They had a blast. It was Aubree's birthday present from me, so I am SO glad she loved it. Did you win? Ha ha, no, I always let Aubree or Ryder win. I came super close once, but I let the kids bend the rules a bit. They don't like losing, and even though they definitely need to understand that just happens and is totally fine for it to, I wasn't about to be the one to make them sad about it. When was the last time you tried to speak with an accent? OH MY LAAAAAWWWWWWD. Also at Aubree's b-day party, at one point, I spoke in a snobbish British accent while I was winning at the aforementioned game. Ryder asked, "Why are you speaking Spanish?", and I fuckin DIED. Have you ever made up a word before? Yeah, I know at least a few instances for fantasy animals in writing. When was the last time you went to a museum? A couple summers ago when my brother and his son visited, we went to a science museum. My nephew was sooooo into it. Do you have a nice yard? If so, do you spend a lot of time outside in it? If not, where do you go when you want to relax outdoors on nice days? Our front and back yards are both small and honestly very boring. The grass is a pretty green, but that's the only nice thing about it. I don't go to sit outside here on any day. Do your parents enjoy any of the things that you enjoy? Do you bond over these things? My parents and I have very similar music tastes, so there's that. I also didn't know for the longest time that Mom likes to write, which I sure as hell do, too! She doesn't really write anymore though, and she's self-conscious of it anyway, like I am. She and I also love a lot of the same shows. What is the movie that you have waited the longest for/which film do you remember anticipating the most/are still anticipating? I think The Incredibles 2. I aaaalways wanted to know what happened after the end of the first film. Do you have any ideas for a story or movie you’re planning to write or you’d write if you had the time/had the talent? Please share a synopsis! I genuinely think some RP I've written is series-worthy, but I don't feel like re-writing the YEARS of RP into a book format, and I sincerely worry that the ridiculously dark parts could inspire people like serial killers and cause A LOT of controversy, crime-blaming, and just general hate. I don't want to be involved in that. What is something that an interested guy/girl could comment about you, that would make you instantly open to them (e.g., “That book you’re reading is from my favorite author”)? Compliment my Markiplier tattoo, obviously knowing it's a tribute to him, and we're essentially besties. Is there a person in your life (maybe barely) that you feel in constant competition with (even just in your imagination)? Maybe you feel they are consistently outshining you? Ugh... there's a local photographer that's much more successful than I am that I admittedly am very envious of. I swear to whatever god you may believe in that I mean it from a modest perspective, I really, really do, but I genuinely think my skills surpasses hers, and she's only more prevalent because photography REALLY is about who you know. She's talented, yes, but like... come on. If you are single, even if you are normally happily single, are there certain specific things you witness that make you wish you were in a relationship (e.g., people getting engaged)? I mean yeah. I miss cuddling, holding hands, kissing, just being cute together, and especially people getting engaged or having kids. It's such a trigger to me. Once upon a time, that's all I wanted with Jason. I wanted to be that beautiful couple that got married and had two or three loved-beyond-words children, but then he left so abruptly, and I feel like it was so brutally robbed from me. I don't want kids anymore like at all, but the point still stands that I felt like my dreams were just ripped away. Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? I use "Ozzkat" just about everywhere. Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? OHHHHHHHHHH YEAH. There have been a couple days or so where I was totally glued to looking up various tattoo designs, bingeing let's plays or conspiracy theory videos, etc. etc. If you ever think about getting married, what are some aspects of the wedding that you would like to see in a non-traditional manner (e.g., a different color dress or “partners” over “husband” and “wife”)? I WILL NOT get married in a church, first of all. I'm also not having the traditional vows, and I probably won't wear a white dress, but instead black. Salt & vinegar, barbecue, sour cream & onion, or cheddar? Ohhhh, I like all those options but barbecue. I think I've gotta go with sour cream & onion, though. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? A D O R A B L E ! ! ! I think they're ordinarily geeky, but I mean, geeky is cute in my world. :^) Do you believe in demonic possession? How about ghosts? Angels? Angels, no. Spirits/ghosts, 100%. I don't exactly believe in demons, per se, but I do question if evil spirits can possess someone. What is one romantic movie that you enjoy enough to watch more than once? I've seen The Notebook numerous times. Name three countries you want to visit; why those three? South Africa to interact with meerkats at the KMP, somewhere up in Canada to see the Northern Lights, and Germany just because, really. I took German for four semesters, and the culture and all just interests me. Do you have a good luck charm? No, considering I don't believe they do jack. Do you use Skype to talk to your friends? Only Sara. Now that I have Discord semi-figured out now though, we'll probably use that for voice chatting. Are you allergic to any animals? I might be allergic to dogs. Do you usually spend your weekends out, or at home? I'm like... always at home. Do you think it’s wrong for people to say "retard/retarded" as an insult? Absofuckinglutely. Don't pull that shit when I'm around. Have you ever had to go to the police department? No. Have you ever lived through a hurricane? Plenty. Have you ever had a home-grown tomato? Yes, from my old friend's garden. We'd have delicious tomato, mayo, and bacon sandwiches. The only instance where I've enjoyed tomatoes. Have you ever held a real gun? The former friend I mentioned just before, her husband always carried a gun, and he just needed me to hold it for a sec for some reason I don't recall. I hated the feeling. Would you rather wear Converse or Vans? I like both, but I think I prefer Converse. Have you ever been called bipolar? Yes, because I clinically am. Have you ever made fun of a handicapped person? FUCK no. And like the "retarded" thing, don't you fucking DARE to do this in front of me. I WILL deck the shit out of you. Do you think it’s okay to have sex before marriage? Sure, as long as you're being safe and are very thorough in communication. Do you like to watch old sitcoms? I don't really watch TV as I say in like every survey it seems, but I do enjoy some old sitcoms I grew up watching with my mom, like The Nanny, The Golden Girls, The Munsters, etc. If asked, could you run a mile nonstop right now? Being completely serious, I don't even know if I CAN physically run right now. My legs are so incredibly weak, and I'm humiliatingly close to what my heaviest weight was back in 2016, so I can almost guarantee my knees would crumple if I tried. Do you wear those rubber wristbands? I used to. I don't really like bracelets nowadays. If a necklace/ring gives you green marks, do you still wear it? Nope. Have you ever driven an electric car? No. When was the last time you saw someone you went to high school with? Uhhhh idk. What breed was the last dog you saw? A fucking GOLIATH of a lab. I shit you not when I say my sister's roommate's dog Hudson is the size of a goddamn bear. How long have your parents been together (or how long were they together, if they no longer are): I wanna say they were together at the very least 20 years. What has been your most epic cooking failure? I once accidentally put something (I don't remember what) in the microwave for around 45 minutes I believe, and I walked away and completely forgot about it. I remembered a long while later, and safe to say, it wasn't edible, whatever it was, lmao. Have you ever been to Mexico? No. Have you ever had a parrot sit on your shoulder? No, but that'd be cool. Has anyone in your life ever treated you abusively? No. How long has it been since your last breakup? Somewhere around two years ago? My memory is so garbage nowadays. Can you concentrate well while listening to music, or do you find it distracting? It's distracting, usually. What’s something you’ve been struggling with lately? I've been pretty bad about drinking too much soda lately. :/

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''under the graveyard'' by ozzy osbourne

2 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 5 years ago

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 15 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Thanks to everyone who told me / reported / helped with the plagiarism fiasco on AO3. It was very much appreciated since I don’t have an active AO3 account. Please, if you see my work copied anywhere, let me know! For now, I am only posting this story to Tumblr. I might decide to post to AO3 in the future, just so this never happens again. I’ll let you know if/when I do.

Still loving all the Mo/Bee canon questions. Keep them coming! And if you haven’t seen, I’ve posted the playlist link for Spotify. I’m working on the YouTube version.

Anyways, it’s Christmas in June! Merry Christmas!

Since knowing Angie, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day had grown to be Bee’s favourite days. It wasn’t because of the small gifts her family gave to her, or because she got to stuff her face with amazing food. It was because Angie’s younger brother, Joshua, would set up board games for the family to play on Christmas Eve before they went to midnight mass at their local Catholic Church, and then he’d put funny IOUs in everybody hand knit stockings (that he knit himself) on the fireplace mantle. It was because Angie’s family had a cozy wood-burning fireplace at their house that her dad would roast chestnuts in while her mom opened the tub of ice cream and scooped some out for everyone even after their enormous meal. It was because their family dog, an old Cavalier King Charles spaniel named Sarah Jessica Barker (yes, really) would curl up on Bee’s lap as the family watched whatever movie was on TV.

Angie’s house, for however much it was not Bee’s home, felt like her natural home. Besides her old apartment, it was where she felt most at ease, where she could kick her feet up, fall asleep on the couch, go into the fridge whenever she was hungry, and drop in whenever she wanted. There was always room for her. There was always space.

When she arrived with Angie and Mason on the morning of Christmas Eve, Rocco and Clarette welcomed her with open arms and warm hugs. Their house was decorated with all of Joshua and Angie’s old Christmas artwork from grade school, poinsettia tablecloths, and figurines on Santas, snowmen, penguins, polar bears, and more. It sort of looked like Christmas threw up, but Bee loved it. She loved how festive Clarette got and she loved how Rocco just let her decorate the house however she wanted.

“How are yooooooouuuuuu,” Clarette cooed as she let go of her tight hug, her French Canadian accent music to Bee’s ears. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time! Angie told me you finally finished school.”

“I did!”

“And your graduation? When is your graduation so we can book the day off?”

“Mom, you’re both retired. You don’t need to book off anything,” Angie deadpanned.

Bee giggled. “It’s not until June, Clarette,” she informed her. “You still have a lot of time.”

“What about jobs now? Are you going to join Angie at Indigo?” Rocco joined in. His voice was stern and serious, but Bee knew he was a complete softie who talked to the dog in a baby voice.

“I don’t think they’d allow that. They’d destroy the place,” Mason piped up.

“She’s in finance Rocco,” Clarette chastised her husband. “She’s gonna handle our retirement savings. Right mignonette?”

“Sort of.”

“Well come in, come in. Go drop your stuff off in your room,” Clarette encouraged. “I’m going to make some tea. You want your Earl Grey? Rocco knows how to make a London Fog now. We got a new machine. Angie, tell Joshua dad is making London Fogs for everyone.”

Rocco and Clarette’s house was everything that Bee envisioned a family house to be. It was a side split in the suburbs with three bedrooms on the second floor and a room converted to a fourth bedroom on a split level between the main and the basement. It was very homey, not ostentatious in any way, although Rocco and Clarette did invest in some upgrades before they retired, like a new kitchen, a fresh paint job, and some new floors and furniture in the main living areas. It was perfect and modest – what Bee dreamed of when she saw her life ten, fifteen, twenty years from now. It was everything she could want.

Her room was always the fourth bedroom. When Rocco’s father lived with them for two years before he passed away, Bee would just shack up with Angie, but now the room was dedicated to her again. She threw her weekender bag on the bed and plopped down dramatically, taking in the scent of the freshly washed sheets. Clarette had even put a little chocolate on the pillow. She was in heaven.

A slight knock on her door revealed Josh standing in the doorway with a smile on his face. At twenty, he was a tall, lanky university undergrad studying theatre at York University. He wanted to become the next Shakespeare, or at least the next Laurence Olivier. He even had a prop skull on his bedroom desk.

“How’s my favourite Angie friend?” he asked, leaning on the doorframe.

“Your mom’s the best. You know that, right?”

Joshua chuckled. “I do.”

“I hope you kiss her every night.”

“When I make it home,” he winked, waltzing into the room. “Angie told me you’re done with school.”

“I am.”

“So are you going to be able to tell me what a poor starving artist I’ll be once I finish this theatre degree?”

Bee snorted. “You’re going to marry rich, Josh. Remember? You’ll be richer than all of us combined.”

“I don’t think I’ll be richer than everyone,” he said, sitting down on the bed beside her. “A little birdie told me you’re dating a Toronto Maple Leaf.”

She rose from her position dramatically. “Your sister’s got a big mouth.”

“I’m sure Mason appreciates it.”

Bee pushed him over. “You’re fucking gross, Josh.”

“Stop trying to deflect. She told me it’s Morgan Rielly.”

“It is Morgan Rielly.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fine,” she side-eyed him. “How’s Patrick?”

“Fine,” he gave her the same side-eye. “He’s back home in St. Thomas, but we’re seeing each other Boxing Day.”

“That’s sweet,” she said, and she meant it sincerely. She was glad Joshua found someone that made him happy. “Are you guys gonna join your sister and I at the Eaton’s Centre?”

“We’re going to have brunch first, then we might, depending if we’re in the mood,” he said. “Are you…I mean, how are you feeling about everything that happened?”

Bee knew that Angie would have told her family. She was an extension of the family, so it was only natural. And it was only natural that Josh was worried, that he cared about her and that he wanted to make sure she was okay, since it only happened a month ago. “Better now,” she said, giving him a smile. “I’m living at a new place with a doorman and stuff. It feels much safer. I got some new clothes and a new laptop, and everything’s been good.”

“My parents were really torn up about it,” he revealed. “My dad was ready to hop in the truck and drive down to the Annex. Angie had to stop him. Told him it was already being taken care of.”

“Yeah. Morgan helped a lot,” Bee revealed. “And, um, you know, some of the other Leafs.”

A grin appeared on Joshua’s face. “Look at you. Getting help from the Leafs.”

“Hey kids! London fogs are ready for you!” Rocco called loudly from the kitchen area. “Get ‘em while they’re still hot!”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Josh stood up, extending his arm for Bee and pulling her up from the bed. “Angie told Dad too and he’s gonna interrogate you for the remainder of the day.”

***

Christmas morning was typical of the Favaro household. At around 8:15am, Bee heard Clarette clanking around in the kitchen, preparing a quick breakfast that everyone would eat before they moved on to opening presents. Soon, she heard Josh’s voice helping her out, probably preparing the pot of coffee. Every Christmas morning, he was the designated bacon fryer – a job he took very seriously, since bacon was always the first thing to go.

When Bee emerged from her room, still in her pajamas like everyone else, she got a big hug and a kiss from Clarette. Josh, already too busy with the bacon, pointed at his cheek for her to come over to where he was standing at the stove and kiss him, which she did. Soon enough, Rocco, Angie, and Mason arrived, and everybody did their part to set the table and plate the scrambled eggs and bacon. Rocco slapped Josh’s arm for eating a piece of bacon before everyone else could. Angie almost spilled the entire sugar jar all over the counter.

When breakfast was done, they made their way into the family room to open presents. Sarah Jessica Barker trotted over to the commotion and jumped up onto the armchair Bee was sitting on, snuggling herself into Bee’s side as Mason passed everybody their presents. Bee bought Clarette and Rocco gifts every year despite their insistence that she not, and she also usually bought a gift for Josh.

Clarette and Rocco began unwrapping their gift from Bee at the same time. She got them both books – for Clarette, Elena Ferrante’s Neopolitan novels in her native French, and for Rocco, Warlight by Michael Ondaatje since he wanted to take up reading now that he was retired.

“You’re always so thoughtful, Bee,” Rocco said, smiling at her as he read the book sleeve. “I remember taking Clarette to go see the English Patient when it came out as a movie.”

“I’ve been wanting to read these forever!” Clarette exclaimed as she took the plastic film off. She elbowed her husband next to her on the couch. “You know, because they’re in French they’ll be closer to the original Italian.”

Josh opened his gift too – a mug with a packet of David’s Tea. He drank more tea than the entirety of Britain, so it was only fitting. Bee’s gift to Angie and Mason, S’well bottles, also went over well. Josh got her a floral scarf, which she loved, and she threw it over her shoulders dramatically. Angie and Mason got her a candle and a nice white frame, undoubtedly to put a picture of her and Morgan in for the new apartment. Clarette and Rocco gifted Bee a nice cutting board, knowing how much she liked to cook, and also a gnocchi board that she was super excited about. “From the good Italian supermarket,” Rocco said, nodding his head. “That was probably made by an old nonna somewhere in Italy.”

“I’m gonna use it next week,” she said, her fingertips feeling the grooves, thinking about Morgan’s return to Toronto and how she cold make him homemade gnocchi now. When Bee thought all was said and done, she noticed one more box under the tree that nobody had touched. “What’s this one?” Bee asked, nodding towards the large box.

“Oh honey, that one’s for you,” Rocco said. “Your man friend dropped it off.”

She froze at the mention. She looked to Angie, who was actively avoiding her gaze. “You…you mean Morgan?”

“Mhm,” Rocco nodded his head. Josh handed her the box. “Came yesterday afternoon.”

She gulped. How did he even find the time to drive all the way up to North York to deliver it? What could he have gotten her? She…she didn’t get him anything. She wrote him a nice card and stuffed it into his carry-on as a surprise for him, but she didn’t explicitly buy him a gift for Christmas. She didn’t think he would for her either. She should have known better though. This was Morgan.

Bee ripped open the sides carefully, and in one long stretch, the wrapping paper was pulled back to reveal ‘Mulberry’ on the box. She froze again, her hand resting over the letters. She knew exactly what this was.

She looked up. The entire Favaro family was looking at her. She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to do this in front of them. “Can I…um…can I…”

“You can go to your room if you need to dear. I’ll start the hot chocolate,” Clarette nodded her head. She got up and pointed at all the wrapping paper, then pointed at her husband. “You. Clean that up.”

Bee picked up the box, half-wrapped, and scurried into her designated bedroom, plopping the box down on the bed before closing the door. She took a deep breath before ripping the rest of the paper off. When she opened the box, she lifted up the dust bag and pulled out the Amberley satchel bag in the most gorgeous and perfect oxblood colour. She had seen it with Lucy when they had gone shopping, and Bee had commented on how beautiful it was – the most perfect bag in the world besides the Birkin. Lucy urged her to get it, but there was no way Bee could have justified the purchase after the Chanel bag, the Louis Vuitton bag, and the Yves Saint Laurent bag. Lucy must have told Morgan, because of course she did.

As Bee ran her fingertips over the pristine leather, she noticed two square outlines still in the dust bag. She couldn’t even fully take in the absolute beauty of the bag after noticing them. She set the satchel down gently and dug into the dust bag, pulling out two identical blue boxes with Birks ribbon wrapped around them.

Bee gulped. She had walked by the Birks storefront on Bloor Street West countless times, trying not to ogle the pretty and blindingly shiny diamonds in the window. Now she was holding two boxes from them in her hands. She was going to kill Morgan. Absolutely murder him.

She began to open one, delicately pulling on the ribbon and opening the box to reveal a stunning gold bracelet. Bee’s cheeks flushed as her fingertips felt the pearl and onyx. She tried to imagine it on her wrist – and realistically, she could have just taken it out of the box right then and there and put it on – but for some reason, she didn’t. It didn’t feel real to her; it didn’t feel like it was hers yet. She didn’t get gifts like this. She didn’t get expensive jewellery from boys – from anyone – and it didn’t feel like it was meant for her, although she knew Morgan probably scoured the store or the website for hours looking for the perfect gift.

The second box. She pulled the ribbon again, opening the box. What she saw inside made her chest tighten fiercely. Tears formed in her eyes automatically. A beautiful, delicate necklace, in matching gold, with a bumblebee medallion. For her. Bee.

Morgan’s Bumblebee.

She grabbed her phone and ripped it out of the charging socket before dialling Morgan’s number. As it rang, she barely registered that it was still only about 6am in Vancouver and he probably wasn’t even awake yet.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled into the phone, not bothering to say hello. “Merry Christmas.”

“Morgan…” she began, her voice cracking.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone immediately switching. The last time he got an unexpected phone call from her and she sounded like this, it wasn’t exactly the best.

“I’m fine,” she clarified, wiping a tear from her cheek. “But what’s wrong with you?”

“What?”

“You’re nuts, Morgan. Absolutely nuts,” she continued. “This is a $1500 dollar bag. More, I think.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I can’t accept this!”

“Wait, what? Is it the wrong one? Lucy said you loved it in the store!” he got worried.

“Morgan…I love it, it’s gorgeous, it’s the most perfect bag ever created aside from the Hermes Birkin, but I cannot accept this as a gift.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a $1500 bag!”

“I feel like we’re going around in circles here,” he admitted. “That’s the bag you liked, right? Lucy was adamant that that’s the one you liked. The colour and everything.”

“Morgan, it is, but --”

“The bag isn’t even the important part,” he interrupted her. “Did you find the jewellery?”

“Yes,” Bee said, and at the mention of the jewellery, new tears fell down her cheeks. “Morgan, why are you like this?” she asked, not knowing how to word it in any other way.

“Briony…”

“Why are you so nice to me? Why do you buy me nice gifts all the time?” she asked, trying not to let her voice crack.

“Bumblebee,” he began, his voice sombre. “How many times do I have to tell you that you deserve it?” he asked rhetorically.

“You know that you don’t need to like…buy my relationship, right?” she asked. “I’m not some girl that needs to be bought. I’d still be with you if you weren’t a rich hockey player. I’d still like you and still cook for you. I came from absolutely nothing and I can go back to nothing. I’d give all that stuff back if I had to.”

“I know Bumblebee, I know. But I’m gonna keep repeating it until it gets to you. You deserve nice things. I want to spoil you because you deserve it, not because I’m trying to buy you or anything. You. Deserve. Nice. Things. For. Once. In. Your. Life.”

Bee tried to take his words to heart, but it was hard. It was hard to take to heart when she wasn’t used to it. It was hard to take to heart when growing up, Christmases and birthdays weren’t celebrated because it wasn’t affordable. It was hard to take to heart when since sixteen years old she had been literally counting pennies to stay afloat. Most importantly, it was hard to take to heart when her mother told her she didn’t deserve anything. “Thank you Morgan. I really…I really love the bumblebee necklace.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” she said, wiping away the last of her tears. “It’s beautiful. I’m gonna think of you whenever I see it or touch it.”

“Good,” he said. “My Bumblebee.”

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

“Um, what you got me Friday night was enough,” he said, chuckling slightly.

Thoughts of that night came rushing back to her and she felt a shiver go up her spine. It was probably the best sex she’d ever had. Memories of it still flashed through her mind from time to time. If she got lost in her thoughts, she could still feel Morgan pounding into her or pulling her hair. She still had the marks on her ass to remind her too. “Yeah. That…that was good,” she said quietly, trying not to get too riled up thinking about it.

“When I come back, I wanna fuck you wearing only that necklace,” he said in an equally quiet voice. His tone sent more shivers down her spine. “Unless you have some other pieces you’re waiting to surprise me with…”

She smiled. She thought about some of the other sets of lingerie she bought and wondered how he would react to them. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He groaned in response. She giggled and he groaned some more. “You’re such a fucking tease. Fuck. I woke up hard dreaming about what I’m going to do to you when I get back.”

“This is the Lord’s Day,” she joked. “I don’t think he appreciates your dirty mind or you getting hard the morning of his birthday.”

He groaned even louder and she let out a heart laugh. “Don’t remind me. We still have to go to Church.”

“Will I be able to talk to you later today?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he said. “After my wine drunk nap I take after lunch, I’ll call you. So maybe three or four my time.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Merry Christmas, Morgan.”

“Merry Christmas, Briony.”

She paused before hanging up the phone, wondering if there was anything else to say.

***

The Eaton’s Centre was packed. Bee tried to get Angie to wake up on time so they could at least get there at mall opening, but Angie was a bitch in the morning and liked to sleep in, so they were late. It was 10am by the time they arrived, and shoppers were in full swing. Angie was doing a majority of the shopping anyway; Bee didn’t exactly need anything more. Maybe she’d pick up a book or two.

But first, coffee.

As they stood in line in the Starbucks at Indigo, Bee looked down at her phone to field some more messages from another round of bots that seemed to have infiltrated her Instagram. She began automatically deleting the messages until one message in particular caught her eye.

R u dating morgan rielly? Do I have ur attention now? U didn’t answer me last time.

She furrowed her eyebrows. Who was this person? She clicked on the profile, but whoever it was had it on private; the only thing Bee could see was a half-face selfie of a girl who looked five years younger than she did with false lashes and lipstick. She went back to her inbox, deciding not to delete the message. Instead, she took the opportunity to actually read what was being sent to her. It became adamantly clear to her these accounts weren’t bots.

If you’re dating Morgan shouldn’t you be prettier and skinnier? Sent from a girl with a bikini shot as her profile picture.

are the leafs wags as nice as everyone says? i wanna become one who is single? Sent from a girl who didn’t look older than 12.

Cut your hair. It doesn’t look good.

Do you really think Morgan doesn’t cheat on you when they’re on the road? Hockey guys have bunnies in every city.

Ur just a puckbunny wanting morgan’s money. stay away from him!!!!!!!!!!

You’re such a slut. Stay away from Morgan.

Just another puckbunny making her way around the leafs. You are pathetic.

“Grande caramel macchiato with coconut milk for Briony!”

So u go to u of t and u think ur smart? Whatever bitch

What does Rielly see in you? You’re so ugly

“Bee, you should grab your drink before someone else steals it.”

Why don’t u post pics w morgan

Can you please post pics with morgan so we can see

Why are you so close with some of the wags but not with others?

I hope u know morgan prob just keeps you around as a fuckbuddy. He’s got them all over the city. There were hundreds of girls before you, and there will be hundreds of girls after you. Actually, there are prob hundreds of girls DURING you too.

“BRIONY!” Angie’s voice screaming her name pulled her out of her trance. When she looked up, Angie was holding both their drinks, shoving her caramel macchiato towards her. “What’s so important on your phone?”

“N-Nothing,” she said, locking her screen and shoving her phone into her jacket pocket.

“Did Morgan send you a dick pic?”

“Can you not?” Bee slapped the arm of her best friend. “You’re so crude. You’re just like your brother.”

“Well, same genes and all.”

“Where are we going first?” Bee changed the subject.

“We need to go to Sephora. If the Nars Sheer Glow is as good as you say it is then I need to get some.”

As Briony followed Angie around in Sephora, she tried to get rid of the thoughts swirling around her head about the messages from the random girls. She assumed this is what Morgan meant when he said some Leafs fans could be crazy and obsessive. But were these fans? Or did these girls just want to hook up with Morgan?

As Angie chatted with a Sephora consultant about her foundation shade, Bee took out her phone again to see the rest of the messages that were sent to her. A lot of them were variations of the messages she had read earlier. Some accounts had even messaged her multiple times.

Can u pls post pics with mo where u show his face pls ppl are wondering if ur dating him and we need to know

Aren’t you a little too fat to be a wag?

What’s stephh lachancee like in person shes so pretty

Ur a puckslut. Ur only after Mo’s money. U should be ashamed of urself

Everybody knows you’re dating Morgan so there’s no point in hiding it anymore. The more you deny it the more we’re gonna message you. Just post a pic with him already. Get over yourself. You’re such an attention seeker by NOT posting a pic with him and it’s honestly ridiculous. Stop lying and stop trying to play coy.

Bee mostly wondered where these people got the audacity to send her such messages. She didn’t understand why they were being so hostile, and why they wanted information about something that was so clearly private. Did they just think she would message them back? That she’d reveal juicy, salacious details about their relationship? That she’d send them pictures of Morgan that were on her camera roll? What exactly did they want?

As she started to delete all the messages, she heard giggles and saw two girls out of the corner of her eye. They were whispering to each other something Briony couldn’t hear because of all the commotion in Sephora, but then she swore, she swore she heard the iPhone camera shutter sound. She looked up immediately to see the girls giggling at something on the phone they were looking at. The phone wasn’t in her direction, but Bee got self-conscious. When they both looked up from the screen at the same time and noticed Bee staring at them, they stopped giggling.

“Are you taking a picture of me?” she asked.

The one girl, with the phone in her hand, looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It was her friend that came to her rescue when she piped up, “No no! We’re not! We just love your Chanel bag.”

Bee looked down at the bag, the one Morgan had technically paid for, with pearls adorned all over it, the logo still shining against the leather and satin material. She looked back up at the girls, who were still looking at her. “Um, thanks?” Bee didn’t know what else to say.

“Where’d you get it?” the one with the phone asked. These girls weren’t older than sixteen.

Bee gave her a look. “At Chanel…?” her response came out more as a question than a statement. Where else would she buy a Chanel bag?

“Right. Of course. Sorry if we…we just really liked your bag,” they scurried away, looking mortified but still smiling at each other as they ran out of Sephora, looking down at the girl’s phone.

“Bee?! Where’d you go? I found the shade!” Angie’s voice called from the next aisle, her head slightly above the top shelf. “Come here!”

Bee returned to the Nars aisle, and saw that the beauty expert had matched her skin tone perfectly. “That looks amazing, Angie.”

“Where’d you go?” Angie asked, grabbing the foundation from the beauty expert and putting it in her basket.

“I just had teenage girls take a picture of my bag,” Bee said, shaking her head in disbelief still that it had happened. “That was…I’ve never had that happen to me before.”

Angie shrugged her shoulders. “It is a nice Chanel bag.”

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl imagines #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #alone together series

147 notes · View notes

mossyrossaliceinterviews · 5 years ago

Text

Dead End Career Club

Apr 27, 2020

By Melissa Rodwell

Interview by Mossy Ross

Photos by Ryan Kennedy

It was a quiet, spring Saturday morning in 2018, and I had just unlocked the front door of the local Williamsburg dive bar where I worked at the time. It was looking like it might be a slow, boring day when suddenly, “Black in Black” started blasting from the speakers. A smoke machine appeared from nowhere and began spraying its vapors towards the door. A fire-breathing aerialist, wearing a jeweled thong and pasties swung down from the ceiling, performing air splits. The door opened and invisible fans started blowing Ryan Kennedy’s wild, bleached blonde hair. His shirt flew open in the wind as he walked through the door (in slow motion), and tore off his sunglasses.

Okay, so maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. But when I look back on that day, that’s how I see it in my mind. It’s not often that I meet someone with so much rock n’ roll panache in Brooklyn these days. It was even more surprising to find that Ryan is so refreshingly humble and genuine.

Kennedy was one half of the now-defunct clothing line No Name Saint and is currently the brains behind Dead End Career Club, a hybrid of music and clothing. I was awed by Kennedy’s ability to expertly dye and distress the hell out of clothing for No Name Saint, and continue to be inspired, amused, and even comforted by the cheeky, quiet rants he creates for the music and clothing for Dead End Career Club.

Quarantined in the small town he lives in an hour and a half from Toronto, Ryan talked to me on Zoom about social media, ministers, music, and middle-age.

Mossy: How far back in your history do we need to go, in order to explain how you came to be who you are now. What was growing up like for you?

RK: My father was a Pentecostal minister, so I grew up in a strict Christian home. I wasn’t allowed to listen to secular music and I didn’t have cable, we didn’t have a computer, we didn’t have a VCR…I read books. My dad had a guitar and I picked that up when I was thirteen or fourteen, and that was sort of game over for me. I wanted to learn how to write songs and, like so many kids, I was in a series of teenage bands that were fun, but weren’t that good. (laughs)

Mossy: How did your dad feel about that?

RK: He was fine and supportive of me making the music. He was still “iffy” about the kind of music I made and where I played. I started out playing in church, and then there were some bridges to cross when I wanted to start playing in bars…that didn’t go over that great. But at this point in my life, my parents are very supportive. And they’re very different people than they were twenty years ago. My dad’s not a minister anymore. Not to say that faith isn’t there, it still is, but his attitudes towards certain things have changed, and so have mine.

Mossy: Do you think you had anything to do with them coming around, in terms of having to accept your differences?

RK: Well I can’t take credit for it solely. But, I have a brother and two sisters as well. And I think it’s safe to say that none of his kids turned out the way he thought they would. And I understand. I mean, my dad was a minister and his parents were Christians, my grandfather was a minister. And you have kids and expect them to grow up in the church, and you have a picture of how their life may turn out, and none of our lives have turned out like they thought. So then you have a choice. You can either consistently compare your kids to the expectations you had for them, or you can accept who they’ve become, and love them for who they’ve become. And my parents have done a great job of doing that.

Mossy: Did you stop going to church eventually?

RK: Yeah, I haven’t attended church regularly in probably twenty years. It’s a very complex subject to talk about. I mean, just because I haven’t gone and sat down in a church doesn’t mean that I don’t have faith, or that I don’t have a relationship with God, or that I don’t believe in certain things. I do. But when you grow up in church, and I went like four or five times a week…you sometimes see the worst of it, and it can sort of scar you in ways that you wouldn’t think it would. And there was just something about going to church that I didn’t enjoy anymore.

Mossy: So when you stopped going to church, then what? Were you playing in bands?

RK: Yeah, so when I was about twenty, I started to take it (music) more seriously, and I didn’t go to church or play in churches anymore, I played in bars. And my first serious band, when I was in my early twenties, got a record deal in Canada, and that was it for me. For the next fifteen years, over the series of three different bands, music was my full-time thing. In that fifteen-year period, I also opened a vintage clothing store since, you know, rock n’ roll doesn’t pay that well. So yeah, starting in my early twenties, I was in a series of bands that were supposed to be big, and (laughs)…weren’t.

Mossy: If you weren’t listening to secular music growing up, how did you come to rock?

RK: I mean, that’s the interesting thing. When I started this first serious band, my brother was in it, so he’s a pastor’s son. The other two guys in the band were also pastors’ sons, and then the guitar player was an ordained minister. So we were all a bunch of Christian kids, playing trashy, garage-y, rock n’ roll in bars. We got signed and hooked up with a producer in Montreal, and we went to Montreal for two months to make a record. We went into the studio with this producer, and we’d play the song and he’d say, “Oh man, that sounds like ‘Wire,’” or “That sounds like ‘Television,’” or that sounds like ‘The Hellacopters.’” And we were like, “I don’t even know those bands.” (Laughs) So I’ve gone back over the last twenty years and learned a whole bunch of stuff that I should’ve learned when I was fourteen. And this was 2004, so this was the tail end of record labels handing out big record deals, so there were advances and that sort of stuff…and we just blew our advances on records.

Mossy: I was listening to your new EP, and I really like how you modernize rock music by talking about things like Soundcloud and social media, but you keep that raw rock sound as well. I feel like your music is something that I can relate to as a 40-year old, but also something that a 20-year old could relate to as well.

RK: At this point in my life, the only thing I have to offer is myself. And that means that I can’t hide that I’m forty. I’ve had label people tell me when I was in my early 30s, not to put my face on the (album) cover, because they didn’t want people to prejudge the music by seeing that I wasn’t nineteen. And that’s from well-meaning people that care about me and my success. But that’s the advice I’m getting, “You need to hide who you are.” And I don’t see any point in that now, and I also don’t see any point in being some sort of, like, stuck-in-twenty-years- ago guy, that’s not willing to acknowledge that Soundcloud exists. I mean, I am trying to navigate my way through 2020’s music industry, and 2020’s digital world. And I struggle with that, and it filters into my writing. So I am sort of an “old” guy talking about new stuff. But that’s all I can be, and I have no interest in being anything else. I don’t know where that leaves me in terms of a target audience, but I don’t really care.

Mossy: I wonder all the time, why the decision makers who determine what music gets heard by the masses, seem to feel that musicians can’t become more marketable as they get older. I mean, the thirty and above market is huge, and they have money. Older artists still have issues that so many people can relate to, probably in our current times more than ever. Do you ever think there could be a movement of thirty and up “rockstars” making more of a mark than they have in past decades?

RK: Well in my optimistic moments, I do believe that. Because I see it in television and film. I see it in books. Why is it the music industry is like “No, no…we only make stuff for kids?” Or “We only make stuff for a 35-plus audience with already established artists?” There’s a lot of wonderful music being made for my age demographic, it’s just the stuff that rises to the surface is made by artists that have been famous for ten or fifteen years. It’s not very often that you come across a brand new artist that’s forty. But there are television shows and movies that are absolutely targeted to my demographic, and not targeted to nineteen-year-olds. It’s kind of fucked that the music industry is so behind on that.

Mossy: That’s a really great observation. I watch new TV shows all the time that make references to things that only someone in our generation would know about. How is that not happening with music?

RK: Yeah, they’re based on relatable experiences to people of my age group. Not to say that nineteen-year-olds can’t enjoy it or take something from it. But the people that made it are my age, the actors, the storyline is based on people my age, going through experiences that I go through. I know it’s made for me. But music is far behind on that.

Mossy: We seem to be in an abusive relationship with social media…we come back to it even though it hurts us in a variety of ways. Has your art and music changed since social media came into existence?

RK: Yeah, I think social media is so overwhelming and so pervasive in our lives that it filters into my work, in a way that the same sort of metrics didn’t twenty years ago. So the same sort of feelings I have about posting something on Instagram and not many people liking it, or not having a lot of followers…are the same feelings that I had fifteen years ago when I made a record. I was checking sales charts and I was checking radio charts. And I was wondering why my music video got added to MTV in light rotation, and not heavy rotation. Why did this band get this tour, and I didn’t get this tour? Same feelings…why does this person have so many social media followers and I don’t? But there was, like, four or five metrics to use before, and you could hide them pretty well. It’s like, if you don’t send me the radio charts, I can’t check ‘em. Now I cannot hide from those metrics. So I have to choose to see the metrics and to absorb them in a different way. And I think that because I’m human, and I’m willing to be honest about it, I openly talk about how those metrics make me feel. Some days I hide them better than others, and some days they hit me and I think, “What the fuck?”

Mossy: So you toured for fifteen years and had a clothing shop…was that No Name Saint?

RK: No I had a vintage clothing shop called Sympathy for the Rebel. It was just a traditional vintage clothing shop. I had to close that because I was touring a lot, and I started No Name Saint after that. When I started with NNS, it was basically an extension of my vintage shop…picking vintage band shirts, bleaching them, and distressing them or painting on them. And then I realized that was not terribly original, and there were other people doing that, and doing it better. And a friend of mine gave me a heat press, and I started to figure out how to use that and how to do something different with that. I figured out how to make my own prints, and I started putting words on t-shirts. And the whole idea is that they were one offs. What I don’t like about fashion is you pick this crazy cool shirt that’s supposed to make you stand out, and you go to a bar and someone else is wearing it. (laughs) So, that’s never been me. If I’m gonna wear something, I’m gonna alter it, or paint it, or rip it up so that I’m the only one that has it. That’s just a personal thing, but I wanted the brand to be an extension of that. So I made hundreds and hundreds of shirts and jackets because they were all one offs.

Mossy: So after No Name Saint, just based on what I saw on your social media, it seemed like you were a bit broken up about that ending. Was it hard starting over on something new?

RK: Yeah, No Name Saint was just me and my partner Kurt. Kurt was also the drummer in two of my bands, so we’re great friends and tight, and he just wanted to move on with his life in a more financially solid way. I’m one of the last guys standing saying, “Hey I still wanna do this.” So I’m pretty used to people saying, “I’ve aged out of this” or “I love this, but I can’t do it for a career.” So I would never begrudge somebody their choice to move on. But I also felt like No Name Saint had run its course and that was something I had started with him, and if I was gonna do something else I needed it to be a fresh start. And that also coincided with the end of my last band, so it was kind of this period of endings, and I wasn’t sure what I was gonna do. So yeah, it was a little bit of a down period. But not with anger, just with you know…okay, endings.

Mossy: What do you think it is that makes you not age out of things?

RK: I’ve asked myself that question a lot, and I’ve wished that I could age out of it, or phase out of it many times. But pretty much since the moment that I picked up the guitar and wrote my first song, I’ve lived every day just wanting to do that. Every time I’ve tried to convince myself I should want something else, it feels like a betrayal. So I don’t know why I’m wired this way. And I think what I’ve come to accept is that I am wired this way, and I need to find a way to keep doing this, whatever that looks like. I mean, it’s called Dead End Career Club for a reason. I know the prospects aren’t great. (laughs)

Mossy: Yeah, I assumed the name had something to do with that. How did you arrive at that name?

RK: Well, there are a lot of well-meaning people who love me, that have, over the years gently told me, “You might want to find something else to do.” (laughs) You try something and it doesn’t work, and by the end of the third time you’re like, “Okay, if I willingly choose to go down this road again, I have to know exactly what road I’m going down, and that is a dead-end path commercially.” But artistically and emotionally I don’t believe in dead ends, so…

Mossy: I saw a shirt or a jacket on your IG that says 1-800-NOT- PUNK. How do you describe what is “not punk?”

RK: (Laughs) I put that on a lot of stuff, actually, but sometimes it’s hidden. I was on this 1-800 number kick. (laughs) I was making up these fake 1-800 numbers and 1-800-NOT-PUNK was one of them. I don’t know what punk is (laughs). I think punk is something that gets co-opted a lot, and I think that there would be people out there that say I’m co-opting it…that this style of jackets that I make and the ripped t-shirts and stuff speaks to a punk world that I don’t actually like. I mean, “The Clash” is one of my favorite bands ever. Are they punk? I don’t know. According to Johnny Lydon they’re not punk! But I don’t like the Sex Pistols either! (laughs) It’s just one of those things that you could ask ten different people and get ten different answers as to what is punk or what is not punk.

When I put 1-800-NOT-PUNK on a jacket if you tell me “That’s not punk,” or “That’s fake punk,” I can say, “Yeah, I fuckin’ told you! It says right there it’s not punk!” (Laughing) I didn’t call it punk, I’m not telling you that it’s punk, I’m not telling you that I’m punk…I’m just telling you that this is what I like.

Mossy: I think it comes down to authenticity. You don’t have to be squatting on the Lower East Side or something to be punk. It’s more about intention.

RK: I agree. I think people that make really hard decisions in life, both creatively and just like, lifestyle decisions, relationship decisions that are counter to the decisions that most people would make, that have the guts to do that…I think that’s punk. I think standing up for things is punk. Having opinions and sticking by them, no matter what they are, I think that’s punk. So yeah, I don’t think you have to have a mohawk and spikes on your jacket and like Rancid, but I’m not saying you can’t! So yeah, it’s just a play on the lack of an overall definition of punk.

Mossy: So your clothing line is Dead End Career Club and your band is Dead End Career Club…

RK: Well, it’s not really a clothing line. I mean, you can’t go online and buy it. There’s only one store in Nashville that sells my stuff. So that’s the only place you can go in and buy Dead End Career Club clothing. I’ve spent too much of my life thinking, “How am I gonna make money from this?” and then that impacts what I do. I think it’s just natural. You ask yourself, “How am I gonna make money from this?” Well, find the audience and cater to them. But what if what you actually wanna do isn’t built to cater to anybody? It’s built to be an expression of who you are, and your good days and your bad days and all that stuff. That’s not gonna cater very well to a target audience. So, it’s not much of a business, it’s an art project. It’s an extension of me and all the things that I do, all the things that I find interesting. And the canvases happen to be songs and clothing.

Mossy: Your EP is five songs. How do they all relate to each other so that you decided to release them as an album, rather than singles?

And where did the title “Skim Milk” come from?

RK: The title refers to the trimming of the fat. I’ve gone from being in a five-piece rock band…then a three-piece band, then a two-piece band, and then playing to a track, and now it’s just me playing with one string and singing. It’s as bare as I can get. If you take the one string away then I’m just acapella, which you’re not gonna hear that (laughs).

As to how the songs relate to each other…it’s not a concept album. They relate to each other the same way all my work does in that they’re these little snapshots of how I feel about myself on any given day. And I think that I do look for this overall arc between the clothing work and the music to be speaking the same language. And I feel there’s enough consistency there that I wanted to batch them together. I also feel like my music is not one that easily fits onto a playlist. Like, it’s a good mood ruin-er if you put it on the wrong playlist (laughs). And so the idea of just piecing out these singles one at a time…that’s not enough to get you actually into what I’m doing. I think for me, I wanted to put a bunch of songs together so you could sit down and at least spend twenty minutes listening to my vibe, instead of just one song at a time. I think it’s a bit more vibe music than playlist or single stuff.

Mossy: You said on your Spotify bio that you were “featured in Elle and Vogue, and other publications that mattered to you when.”

RK: (Laughs…hard) Who reads bios, right?

Mossy: When did they matter to you and when did they stop?

RK: I mean, I’ll be honest with you, if Vogue wanted to write about me now, that would matter to me. But, it mattered to me a lot when we started No Name Saint. We hired a publicist, and they actually posted some of our pieces, and I have those framed in my house. That did matter to me…in the same way that having a record label mattered to me. As these sort of barometers of success. They matter to me less now. Whether “Vogue” writes about me or not, it’s not gonna impact how I work. But you know, when you do get in “Elle” and they like something, it’s like, “Oh, well I’ll just do more of that.” In the same way that if you have a song that gets on the radio, you say, “Well, why don’t I just write another version of that?” And so it gets in your head. It’s not in my head now. But I would be lying to you if I said, “Yeah if Vogue called and said they wanted to talk to me, I would say no.” I wouldn’t fuckin’ say no! But it doesn’t matter to me like it used to.

Find Dead End Career Club:

Website | Instagram | Spotify

0 notes