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dzpenumbra · 2 years ago

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4/18/23

What a weird day. Rainy, still a bit sleep deprived. The day just floated by.

I did some pretty intense yoga today. I just went with a random video that popped up in my feed. It was centered around the concept of major life change, a concept to just kinda muse on today. I'd be lying if I said it didn't impact the course of my day.

The moss concept has just kept creeping into my brain more and more, and I gave in and started searching for more info on it. Growing tips, recommended setups, I even started browsing Instacart for Michael's and Lowe's to see if I could find materials there to get started. And, in the end, I think basic planters will be super easy.

Here's pretty much what I learned today. Moss doesn't technically need soil... which is fucking batshit crazy in itself, when you really just think about that... But I kept finding tutorials that were including... potting soil... Which I keep asking myself... "do I really need that?" I mean, I could literally just get gravel and throw some water and moss on it and that shit would be at home. I could bring a log inside and carve out a little trench in it like a fucking canoe or something, and then just straight up fill it with moss. Or I could put a gardening liner in it and put some dirt in there with the gravel, maybe it would make it grow faster? I honestly don't know. I know they love water...

I was trying to figure that part out, like... if moss doesn't need soil to live or reproduce, why do all these tutorials have not just "soil" but like... turbo potting soil as the medium? It just confused me. I'm not really understanding the science behind it. Probably because... there likely isn't science behind it, they're all just adaptations of other tutorials they found on the internet, copies of copies. This started to register when I read this same statistic that kept coming up. I searched "how long does it take for moss to spread", because I wanted to know whether it even grew/spread rapidly or not... And, it's breed specific... and the same exact fucking phrase came up on like 20 sites. "Between 6 weeks and 2 years, depending on the breed." Like... verbatim, same numbers, same phrasing, like 20 fucking sites. So... I mean... at least I'm getting a consistent answer, but the problem is... if everyone is just copy-pasting what the other people are saying and not checking... like the soil thing... You know? You end up with stuff like "Why are you doing that?" "Oh, it's just what you do... it's how you're supposed to do it." Non-answers, substitutes for "oh... I don't know, actually..."

So... I opened the doors for a ton of cool projects with that idea. I could grow moss in literally anything, really. A dish, a pot, a tray, I kinda like the idea of grabbing an old dried out log from the woods and making it into a decorative planter, kinda. One, because of the aesthetic, the natural look does a lot of the work for me. Two, because I can carve it... Three, it retains moisture, which the moss will need a ton of. The only thing I was a little on the fence about was like... mold and shit. Unwanted growth. Not really sure what to do about that.

The other idea that looked cool was actually doing a... water garden. Which is close to my idea, which I spelled out last night but I can tell again here briefly. Basically a converted table housing a mini indoor Zen garden with stones and a stream running through it circulated with the water pump I have from Max's old fountain. But, this water garden idea would be... a bit more water heavy. Like... almost an aquarium? But with a lot of stone features building up to form a land mass that has moss growing on it. So there's water in the whole thing. The only trick with that is... it's going to be standing water... which i don't really want. Unless.... I can rig up the pump right... hmm...

The trouble with the table idea is... I don't really know how to properly waterproof it... and that's kinda important... I could use a big metal tray, but that could possibly have corrosion problems. Plastic would be the best bet, but it tends to be a little... ugly... I could use a landscaping liner with the wood table, but that might just keep soil in and let moisture through, not really sure how that works. The key there would be sealing it properly so that the whole thing is contained and waterproofed, so the wood doesn't soak in water and rot. Or getting a perfectly sized plastic liner. But... I don't even have the table, so... this is all conceptual.

With the water garden idea, I can really use any glass container I feel like. The only caveat there being... if I want a water pump in there... I need to find a way of discreetly running the power cable out of the glass container. If I don't do the water pump... I will have to figure out how to clean the water, and likely have to do that regularly. Again, this idea is like... half fishbowl, half terrarium, but completely open, because there aren't going to be any animals contained in it.

So yeah, a LOT of ideas swirling around with that, and I might just play around and experiment with different versions and see how they come out.

I played more Per Aspera. The plot kinda... just disappeared? I'm well into end-game now. I'm still enjoying it, it's just... late-to-end game has been really grindy. It should be expected with a terraforming game, but like... really grindy. And they just... stopped doing voice line announcements for research, which is super weird... Like... I swear there was more fanfare for my first silicon mine than there was for finishing research on my first open-air city on Mars. Which is like... the primary goal of terraforming... And I finished the research, built it and started populating it and the game... didn't acknowledge it at all. Really odd. Maybe it's more hard-coded into the campaign? Maybe I skipped a few steps? I don't know. But because of the grindy-ness and just constantly pushing towards gigantic goals, it can be a huge time sink. And... it was again today.

That said, I did get some other life stuff done. I did dishes, and I actually cleaned by my art station. Crazy, right?

I somewhat sorted, but mostly just moved things into places. I'm just so used to living out of cardboard boxes, I swear. It's really weird. Plus, I don't have anywhere else to put shit so... yeah. I'm planning on sorting my pencils and pens and shit into my old plastic former tattoo equipment drawers, I might even have room for paint there. Maybe that will get my shit out of the big carboard box on the floor...

I guess I should probably talk about this. I found an old journal from 2017. Late winter-early spring. It was a journal completely full of psychiatrist-mandated symptom check-ins. I was seeing a prescriber at the counseling center I was going to, she had diagnosed me with epilepsy (falsely, and without an EEG to confirm her diagnosis, I might add...) and had me record any time I felt any "abnormal" symptoms of any kind. She doctor's-ordered this to someone with a laundry list of mental health-induced physical ailments dating back over 15 years at that time, closer to 20 now. She ordered me to constantly scrutinize my mental and physical state, with zero baseline on what "normal" is, at all times... for months. And I found the journal. Kinda weird how I'm the only person, short of maybe my ex, who has laid eyes on that journal... isn't it... And I flipped (I just mistyped "scrolled", good lord... XD) through the pages and just saw the same shit every fucking day, multiple entries a day. Numbness in the face, tingling in the extremities, fatigue, irritability, twitchy, shit like that. Every day. Multiple times a day. Over and over and over. Shit she was calling "micro-seizures".

To be honest, I feel the "numbness" feeling right now. Right side of my face, by the edge of my right eye socket, going up along my temple. Numbness in my fingertips, sure. Tingling in the extremities? Pay attention close enough, I'm sure you'll find it. Like... I could find every single one of those symptoms right now.

Oh and here's the kicker. About halfway through, I started to put stars next to entries when there was something not specifically a physical symptom involved. Like at least 14 days in a row were "slept like shit" or "barely slept". Many were "I'm having trouble logging because fights with my gf are interfering". I'm actually gonna get it real quick, there was a specific one that really hit me in the heartstrings that I wanted to share.

For context, this was after going on and off of at least 4 different epilepsy medications back-to-back - some with very severe side effects. April 26 *Depression/fighting have made me question the worth of recording these. Fights/seizures have escalated to dissociation, hallucination (surreality, seeing black in [my ex]'s eyes, thinking I'm in Hell and I am doing this to myself or I deserve it). April 27 PM->10 - numbness (temples, nose, chin, forehead) skin crawling visual (static, contrast, afterimages, ripples) surreal feelings tension (toes, jaws, temples) spacey *I feel like I'm losing chunks of time again. Depression is ramping up, being dropped by [my doctor] and rejected by specialists w/o a referral has nearly sent it over the edge.

There were 2 other entries after that. April 28th and May 2nd. Then it just unceremoniously ended. My prescriber left and dropped my case. She went to work as a psychiatrist for a local ER.

The dissociation/hallucination thing? That was a panic attack. 100%. I have the language for that now. That's the kind of shit that happens sometimes when I smoke weed. My definition of "hallucination" was a bit... off... back then. Probably because I have really severe anxiety and just thought I was fragmenting from reality in some Lovecraftian way... I'm a romantic, for better or worse... The really interesting part was... how much I had subconsciously already figured out at that point. Look at my formatting just in the first two sentences. Depression/fighting. Kinda seems more important than taking down these symptoms. Almost like... it's causing them? Fights/seizures... that's a fun one. See... my ex would kinda feed into my willingness to blame any mood fluctuation on these "seizures". In fact, after the "diagnosis"... the fights started to just naturally evolve into just being... me having a "seizure" and she was just... enduring it? Not that she was ridiculously bad at navigating any form of conflict because of her own completely unchecked mental health issues, and would just... somehow be completely innocent in every single one?

I'm gonna level, I was not the best human back then. I wasn't great at communicating, I was a little detached from my feelings, I was pretty bitter and sarcastic... Think Dr. House, my ex would compare me to him a lot. But I was never sadistic. I was never cruel. I was never mean-spirited. When it came to conflict... I was too invested. I wouldn't walk away. I wouldn't leave. The same as the issues with my mom that resulted in many-hour long fights. I endure. I stick it through to the end. I do my time. I do not walk away or give up. And I've always seen it as noble, as valiant, as something to aspire to. "Do not go to bed angry." That kinda thing. Like... the fight will not resolve itself, and if we just go to separate beds or I sleep on the couch and we reconvene the next morning and pretend nothing happened, we will 100% have the same fight again. 100%. There is absolutely no lesson learned there, no growth, that's flat-out evasion.

I have always been a firm believer that the only way of working out an issue is putting in the work, and doing that as a team means doing it together. And pretty much every fight me and my ex would have would be over some little fucking bullshit. Usually it was me bringing up something that I was noticing in her behavior that I felt was indicative of something wrong, and asking "what's up". Others were because of shit she just... wouldn't communicate? I mean... the more I look back, like pretty much every fight I remember was because of something she was just flat-out not communicating, not talking about, not sharing. And when I would bring it up, she would treat me as an aggressor. Like I'm attacking her by bringing that up. Like I'm volatile.

That naturally blended into the seizure narrative; because of the unpredictable nature of it, I'm sure. So fucked up, in hindsight. All of it. But like... it's my story, and I lived it and I've told it so many times that like... it doesn't sound weird to me at all, you know? But now that I have space from it a bit... yeah... that's real fucked up. So, I found it really convenient how, at that time... subconsciously... I wrote Seizures/fights as though the two were interchangeable. As though being in conflict with your ex is a medical condition you can suffer from, as though it was my fault. As though she had no part in it at all, as though it were a bunch of rogue sparks shooting off in my fucked up brain that she was suffering from - that I needed to chemically treat with medications. Fucked. Up. Shit.

As depressing and painful as my life has been this year. And the past few years too, to be honest. I can always breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I'm free of that fucked up shit. Knowing it's over.

So... that was a hard journal to find, hard to relive. But good news, I'm not crazy. I'm just a very sensual person, I experience life very fully, and I'm really depressed and really anxious, I get panic attacks sometimes and have some trauma issues I'm still working through.

But... you know... You know how sometimes... sometimes... even when you're not like consciously thinking or doing it... sometimes it can just be easier to stomach something painful if you convince yourself it's your fault. Like it's something you're doing to yourself, or something you've done. I think it's like a survivor guilt mechanism or something, or at least it works on the same premises, I guess? Idk. I'm speculating. I think sometimes it can be easier to accept that you're clumsy, or you're a piece of shit, or you're sick... than to accept that someone you love is mistreating you. Because like... if I'm crazy... then I just need to do therapy and take meds, and I'll do a really good job! I'll make it the center of my life! I'll be the best patient in the world! I'll journal every day, I'll do everything the doctor says! Then I can do something about it. Then I have some kind of agency in the situation, rather than just... being... a victim. Because... if the real problem... is that someone is mistreating me... well... I can't control their behavior, right? ...

I think a lot of this might just be a reflex responding to powerlessness. And a fear of losing a loved one. Or finding out they're not what I thought, so... denial. Staying in the dream world, because it's better than the alternative. And maybe that's a learned habit from really unhealthy relationships? Not knowing that it's not just okay for me to set healthy boundaries and say "no", but like... I have a right to it? And it's kinda essential to a functional relationship? But bro, you don't learn shit like that in my family. In fact, you'd be lucky to learn anything in my family unless you were on payroll and working in the office. Even then, they prefer to hire people who already have experience... <eyeroll>

Hi 4:20 AM. It's been a while. XD

You know... that whole freaking out because I'm afraid I'm in Hell, or freaking out because I'm afraid I'm Bruce Willis's character in The Sixth Sense or something. That surreal freakout shit? That's like... the only reason why I don't smoke weed. And my life would be so much more chill if I could just get over that hurdle. And... okay, I'm just going to say it. Because I need to just get this line of thought out of my head.

I'm considering as-needed meds. For anxiety. Specifically for panic attacks, but like... for anxiety. Here are my concerns. 1) I do not like driving under the influence at all, even a little, and I'm afraid most of my as-needed moments would be to get me to comfortably leave the house. 2) I do not want to be on a regular dose of benzos. I have been through the withdrawal 3-4 times now and every time it was life-shatteringly bad coming off of them. I do not want it to accumulate in my system. 3) I don't know if anyone will actually prescribe them to me. 4) I'm sketched out having to walk back a mile from the pharmacy in an iffy neighborhood with a controlled substance on me.

Just thoughts. I just... I'm getting really tired of just soldiering through shit. Like getting teeth drilled without anesthesia, just because people will judge me if I get numbed up. And like... if I had a safety net? I feel like I'd be able to confront fear a bit more comfortably. This whole fear-of-fear thing compounds so quickly. So I'm like... afraid of going outside because I'm afraid that when I'm out there I might get afraid of someone who looks like they don't have good intentions. It gets so abstracted, its ridiculous. But the big thing that like... stops me from engaging with the bigger fears... is the whole being alone thing. The vulnerability of it. When I talk about this shit with other people, it makes it much easier. That's why this helps a lot, the journaling. I know it's a placebo effect for the most part, I'm sure no one really reads this far besides me... but the thought that someone is sharing this space with me... it comforts me. It makes it easier to face. So... I keep doing it. And it's been super helpful. If I had more things like that, more things to reduce Fear's power over my decision-making, more tools to make questioning and exploring my fears... gentler. To make that process feel safer. That would make a world of difference.

Even typing this, I have no idea what I think is going to happen. It's frustrating. It really feels like engaging with fear is like opening Pandora's box. Oh my god, okay, it's like my big change with horror movies since I reconnected fully with my gigantor emotional experience of life. Horror just... went away. It was too real, I couldn't do it anymore. And I loved horror movies, psychological horror was by far my favorite genre! Now, it feels like if I watch a horror movie... I might ruin my week or something, I might have nightmares or haunting invasive thoughts. Like flashbacks that visit me periodically, like those mental images of my cat laying on the bathmat in my bathroom that haunted me every night for like a month after she passed. I get stuff like that constantly. I think that is what I'm avoiding.

Imagine if I could take those thoughts and just imagine they were a leaf, and I'm sitting on the banks of a fast flowing river. Like the river I used to visit that I spread my dog's ashes in. And I could just take that invasive thought - a thought that was essentially just a residual nagging way-way-way-too-sensitive fire alarm going off, letting me know about a hypothetical threat that isn't actually present - and I could put that thought/leaf on the river... and let the river carry it downstream. "But what if it's important..." XD

Okay, I really need to lighten the mood here and wrap shit up. Um... I did a little more work on the animation? Figured out the flickering problem, it's the camera. So I'm just overhauling the camera movements entirely. We'll see where it goes tomorrow. I played guitar today, which was nice. I started learning Echo Chamber by Veil of Maya. I like the way they play, it's really similar to a lot of the stuff I used to write so I can pick up the phrases pretty well. But it's new enough and complex enough that it's really stimulating and a fun challenge. Just to inject some positivity here... I'm really impressed in my ability to retain my guitar skill. I know I've been playing since I was 13, so... 23 years? Fuck... Yeah, I know that, but like... I switched over to drums as my primary instrument like...3-4 years ago? At least? And to know that my guitar skills are still there that naturally, after this much time since playing regularly? It's really pretty crazy. Like riding a bike, I guess.

Alright, off to bed. Here's hoping for peace and love, sending out my wishes to the world regardless of how much the cranky insecure unhappy people want to mock the gesture. The world needs more peace and love.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

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byorder-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Red Eyed Anger

Summary: There are two things your brothers hate the most: the cavalry, and the idea of you, their youngest sister, dating. When they decide to piss you off at Tommy’s wedding, you think it’s a good idea to hit two birds with one stone. Or, more likely, give John an aneurysm.

Word count: 2234

Warnings: Swearing, overprotective brothers and mentions of drugs

Authors Note: This is my first Peaky Blinders x reader imagine, so I hope you enjoy. Thanks for all the support and kind comments from my first post, it really gave me the confidence to carry on! xx

When Finn had grabbed your wrist and told you Tommy wanted to see you, this wasn't exactly what you expected. Walking into his needlessly large kitchen, you dodged a few busy waiters hurrying around (and maybe grabbing a snack off one of the plates), as you perched on the side. Looking around, the family was all there. Well, nearly. It was all the men and boys, in their dark suits that made your dark green dress stand out more. It was long sleeved and baggy, just as all your clothes were, lest you wanted to give Arthur a heart attack. Tommy was looking as disgruntled as always as he lit a cigarette, eyebrows furrowed as he watched Arthur and Michael clamber down the stairs, saying something about needing a map. It was true, you thought, as you compared the mansion you were sat in to the little house in Watery Lane.

"Tom, why the hell have you invited me to your boys club?" You snapped, only to be ignored, as usual.

"Alright boys, you're all here," he muttered as he raised his arms to look at you all. You tried to ignore the 'boys' comment, but you still felt yourself glaring at him as he started his speech. "Today it's my fucking wedding day."

"And you said there'd be no uniforms," John pointed out with a snarl. Upstairs, the red uniforms overwhelmed every corridor and floor.

"Nevertheless John, despite the bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." Everyone shared disappointed glances. "Now, for Grace's sake, those bastard's out there are her family, and if any of you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, do anything to-"

He was almost shouting, you didn't hear Isaiah suddenly piping in, until Tommy suddenly turned to him to yell "What?"

"What about snow?" You raised your eyebrows over your brother's shoulder, causing Isaiah to return a little smirk, as John grabbed him in headlock.

"No cocaine," he pointed his finger in front of Isaiah. "No sports," directed at John. "No races, no fucking sucking the petrol out of their cars." He grabbed onto Finn's face, and this time you couldn't hide a laugh. Then Tommy turned to you, his blue eyes unusually angry. "As always Y/N, no drinking, smoking, and no dancing with any man not in this room."

Your mouth dropped in offence, as you looked round to your other brothers, all looking at you with teasing grins.

"Tom, this is a party! I thought I could have fun!" You tried your best to look angry at him too, only to get John snorting out a laugh.

"C'mon, Y/N, you're just a kid, have fun with Katie and my lot," he suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm sure Charlie's got some orange juice you can have," Arthur joined in with a gruff laugh. In a second, your fists were clenched as you moved up to hit them, only to have Tommy's grip on your shoulder, pushing you down.

"I'm the same age as Finn, you promised you'd let me have a bit of freedom!"

"Well, we lied," Tommy said simply as he turned over to your Uncle Charlie, who was watching this with an interested cock of his eyebrows. "And, you, Charlie, stop spinning fucking yards about me, hey?" He turned around, letting out another huff of smoke.

"I'm just trying to sell you to them, Tom," Charlie protested as he too raised a cigarette in his hand.

"And for the love of God, no fighting," Tommy was yelling again. You wondered if Grace could hear this. "NO FUCKING FIGHTING!"

You rolled your eyes as you quickly walked out, trying to ignore your Uncle's sympathetic pat on the shoulder as you marched past, a fury in your eyes and fists curled.

"I'm not a child, Esme," you groaned as you slumped next to your sister-in-law. She was giving a grin, evidently being told what Tommy's meeting was all about. "When will they start to treat me like Finn?"

"When you don't have tits," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Fucking sexists," you said under your breath, yet Isaiah still heard. He was by your side, eyes glazing over the woman on the dancefloor, yet commanded by Finn to play bodyguard. His laugh shook the cavalry shoulders standing behind you to jump suddenly, as they surveyed the three of you with curious eyes. You recognised one of them from the ceremony. He was younger than the two men, about your age, but still donned the same robin-red uniform. He was handsome, you thought, and had been giving you less than discreet looks as you stood opposite in the pews. Now, it was your turn to give him a grin. Luckily, neither Isaiah or Esme noticed your sudden change of attention.

"I'm going to get some air," you said, and they both nodded as they watched you go, green dress standing out in the sea of red. As you'd hoped, there were a pair of footsteps behind you as you made it into one of the many corridors of Arrow House.

"Miss Shelby," his accent was distinctly Irish and brought another smile on your face as you spun on your heels to turn to the cavalry soldier.

"It's Y/N," you held out your hand, which he quickly took in his own, bringing himself closer to you. "And you are?"

"Conor Burgess." He let go of your hand, but he was still very close to you, his breath fanning on your skin.

"You're related to Grace?" Despite yourself, you took a step closer, your chest brushing against his.

"She's my dad's cousin."

You brought your hands up to smooth down the edges of the bright uniform he donned. Red, like the bad blood between them and your brothers. Red, like the anger you felt at them. Red, like the lipstick on your smile as an idea came to mind.

"You're a little young to be a soldier," you whispered, fingers brushing the golden button at his throat.

"It's a family thing," Conor had an exhausted sigh. "I kinda have to be."

"I know what that's like," you nodded as you thought of the ways your brothers had bent over backwards to keep you the child you no longer were. Shaking off the sadness, you gave him another mischievous grin. "How about we go disappoint both our families, Conor?"

"Sounds good to me, Y/N." He let you take your hand and drag him up the stairs.

There were a lot of guest bedrooms in Arrow House, so surely it was a good idea to hide in one. If anyone noticed you’d gone, they’d need a map to find you. When you took off Conor's scarlet uniform coat, removing all responsibilities of a soldier, you'd made it explicitly clear that that was the only piece of clothing being removed tonight. He'd agreed to it, eagerly, as he discarded the jacket with very little thought. In his undershirt, he sat next to you on the end of the bed, looking at each other awkwardly.

"Y'know, I've been watching you all day," he whispered as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. The action made your face burn up, as you became all too conscious of the feeling of his knee against yours.

"I've noticed," you tried to keep your confidence, despite a bashfulness at the thought of what was coming next.

"You are the prettiest girl in the room, Y/N," he kept a hand against your neck, the other one on your hand. Conor held an intense look as he forced you to keep eye contact. "Can I kiss you?"

You didn't answer, just dove in to press your lips against his. It wasn't a smart idea, you realised a little too late, as you had no clue what to do next. Luckily, Conor did. He held onto your neck, keeping you close as he kissed you softly. It wasn't like the ways you'd seen Esme and John make out, or as disgusting as it looked when you saw Isaiah or Finn snogging girls in the Garrison. It was a nice, warm feeling that exhilarated you, although the sensation of his tongue in your mouth wasn't one you were used to. Suddenly, you grabbed onto his shoulders as you shifted yourself to sit on his lap, knees by his hips. In a second, he readjusted his grip to hold onto your own hips. You pulled away when you ran out of air, uncomfortably aware of the saliva at the corner of your lip. With a chuckle, Conor reached up to brush it away with his thumb, beaming up at you without a hint of disgust. His hands stayed on your hips, your dress was still on and he seemed contented by that. A softness in your heart suddenly formed for this boy you knew next to nothing about.

"That was nice," you whispered.

"Your first time?" He asked with a smile that assured you he knew the answer.

"My brothers always told me boys only wanted one thing from me." You bit your lip as you looked into the empathetic look in his eyes. "But you're...different."

"Good different?"

"Very good different." You leaned down to place a chaste kiss on his lips. "Maybe we should do this again some time?"

His eyes lit up.

"I'd like that," he ascertained, but the sudden reminder of his accent made you frown.

"When are you going back to Galway?"

"I've got some soldier training in London, which I can probably extend to a year."

This time, it was your eyes that widened. A year? To go from a first kiss to get at your brothers, to a year with the kind, reluctant cavalry boy you were currently straddling.

"Well then, I guess I'm going to be going up to see my sister a lot more." You smiled into another kiss. This time, he turned you to lie down on the bed as he rested on top, kissing you softly. As you heard the music blaring downstairs, you tried not to think how pissed your brothers will be.

Right now though, all you could think of was Conor, and the kiss on your lips and his warmth over your body. It made the music and the sound of approaching footsteps all blur into nothing. That was, until you heard Arthur's hoarse scream.

"GET OFF MY SISTER!"

With wide eyes and blushing faces, the two of you jumped up to look at your three eldest brothers, all donning similar wrathful faces, none more angry than John. His face was redder than the scarlet jacket in his hand, which he immediately threw into Conor's chest. Fumbling with the buttons, he immediately shrugged the damned thing back on, looking at each of your brothers with fear evident. The two of you shuffled to sitting down, looking at each other like naughty schoolchildren.

"What the hell, Y/N?" John was disappointed, it was obvious, but you couldn't care less.

"Nice to meet you Mr Shelby, I'm Con-" He didn't get a chance to finish his unusually cheerful introduction as Arthur thrusted a finger forward.

"Shut it, you," he said with his usually gruff tone.

"What happened to no fighting?" You said, far too snarky for the situation.

"What happened to no boys?" Tommy snapped back, looking at you with pursed lips and an anger contained by icy blue eyes.

"Wasn't a rule," you said sweetly, as you began to mock his voice: "No drinking, smoking, and no dancing with any man not in this room, and NO FUCKING FIGHTING!"

Your giggle was met with three deadpan expressions. They weren't so easily amused, apparently.

"No boys is always a rule," Arthur seethed.

"And he's fucking cavalry," John immediately added on with as much venom as he could muster. You rolled your eyes, certain that even if he wasn't cavalry, your brother wouldn't be too happy about you sneaking off with a boy.

"Really?" You feigned innocence. "Couldn't tell- didn't have his coat on."

With a huff, John made a move forward, only for you to jump up to stand in front of him.

"No. Fucking. Fighting." You stressed each syllable, looking him down, confidence fuelled by rage. You weren't a baby, you weren't going to let your brothers rule your life.

"She didn't break any rules," Tommy conceded with a sigh, forcing the other two Shelby brothers to look at him with flabbergasted anger. But Tommy wasn't looking at them, just the red-faced boy you stood in front of, protectively. "Now, who the hell are you?"

"Conor Burgess," he said weakly. That seemed to please Tommy, as he perked up significantly, popping a new cigarette into his lips.

"Good, so I assume you're going back to Ireland with the rest of Grace's family next week, huh?" His eagerness relaxed the other two. Momentarily, of course.

With a smirk, you fell back onto the bed, giving a wink behind you. Conor was watching this all with wide eyes and the barest shadow of a smile.

"Actually, Conor's sticking around for a year." You shone your sunniest smile. "Cavalry training."

Like that, all hope and peace from your brother's eyes drained out of them like a light flickering off. You bit back a laugh, not fully trusting the still-raging look in Tommy's eye, nor Arthur's clenched fist.

"Fuckin' cavalry," John spat out under his breath.

Part 2 here

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gayenerd · 4 years ago

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The Band You Love To Hate By Tom Lanham of RIP (There’s no date on this but I would say 1995 or 1996?)

Eyes wide as a barn owl's. Spines stiff with anticipation, like a hungry scorpion. The two teenage girls sit stock-still in their booth at a posh Berkeley diner, practically bursting with excitement, but without the faintest clue how to handles it. Clueless, you might call them. A few feet across the linoleum aisle--with his back to them, oblivious to all the oh-my-gawd facial expressions--sits the object of their adulation, dressed in unassuming black jeans, black T-shirt, shredded black Converse, and a beat-up black baseball jacket. But even with his once-green dreadlocks tamed to a short black business cut, Billie Joe Armstrong--yes, the snaggle-toothed MTV ragamuffin from megaplatinum neo-punkers, Green Day--is as easy to spot as Michael Bolton at a Rogaine convention. Although the kids want to leap up from their seats and race over for an autograph or a jittery hello, they don't dare. Instead, they're forced to deal with their seething emotions as if they were eating post-tonsillectomy ice cream: a lot of numb gulping and a quick pain chaser. This is the blessing of being Billie Joe Armstrong. Alas, it's also his curse. By the time you read this, the irascible little rocker will have turned 24. And exactly two years ago, he and his wacky bandmates--drummer Tré Cool and bassist Mike Dirnt--lolled around the trashy basement flat they shared, getting stoned and sneering at the idea that Dookie--their just-released "sellout" on big-time Reprise--would ever amount to more than a nice drink coaster. Fame? They were more preoccupied with their bong collection, stacks of rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards, and a thriving sea monkey tank displayed prominently on a window-sill. Most of their furniture had springs poking through--they didn't care. Armstrong regularly picked boogers from his gold-ringed nostril and then flick them onto the scary shag carpet--what did he have to worry about? Too bad he couldn't have foreseen the all-too-near future. Green Day happened to be in the right place at the right time. The three-chord slam-a-rama Dookie--a pop-edged return to decade-old punk ethics--became the surprise hit of '94, going on to sell over 11 million copies. Armstrong, accustomed to frenetic club performances, began translating the group's infectious energy to larger and larger venues. Demand continued to grow at a staggering pace; Green Day fought back. They turned a satellite MTV Video Awards performance into a "spit-cam" fest by urging the crowd to gob any camera lens it could ("[The cameramen] tried to make it look like it was cool, but it wasn't"). Last October, Armstrong and company issued their 32-minute follow up, Insomniac, almost as an afterthought, with little promotion, a visually offensive video (for "Geek Stink Breath") and--at least initially--a strict no-interview policy. Simultaneously, they ditched their high-powered Cahn-Man management team and are now virtually managing themselves. Along the way, Armstrong married his long-time sweetheart Adrienne and last March fathered a son, Joey. In typical down-to-earth fashion, the couple spent their honeymoon a few blocks from home at Berkeley's prestigious Claremont Hotel, not on some exotic island. Beginning to see the problem here? How does a street-smart kid from humble beginnings skyrocket to world-class notoriety and yet--with his music in millions of homes and his privacy suddenly a right that needs defending--still adhere to the simple ideals, the simple lifestyle that spawned him? Is "successful punk" an oxymoron? Insomniac provided few clues--it was more of the same slacker-ennui sentiment, more defeated, disenfranchised grousing set to speedy, memorable hooks. Or, as Armstrong barks in the aptly-dubbed "Walking Contradiction," "My wallet's fat and so is my head...I'm a victim of a Catch-22." And that, in essence, was the topic this tortured artist wanted to discuss at the diner. The old "be careful what you wish for" adage. The classic "problem with success is finding someone to enjoy it with you" truism. Armstrong, who takes occasional sips from a vanilla milkshake, but mostly stares morosely at the floor, seems to be dealing with superstardom in a relatively normal way. Don't be fooled by the steady stream of negative vitriol that follows; he's analyzing it, breaking it down, figuring out ways to disconnect his kinetic career. Or at least turn down the volume for awhile.

RIP: We know what's going right. But what's going wrong?

BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG: Lots of things, really. Actually, when I came here today, I said I didn't wanna talk about anything good, because I don't really have anything good to talk about. Goin' on tour pretty soon--don't really wanna go. Just because I've been kinda torn. I wanna stick around at home. I don't like playing arenas, and I realized I didn't know what I was getting myself into on the last tour, but I went into it being positive and getting excited about it. But I didn't realize that I was the kind of person to whom it's too much of an event and not really a personal thing anymore. And I started to realize how much I liked being the background music to this scene at the club. And now it's.... I dunno. People expect so much. It's cool and stuff, and it can be a lot of fun, a really good experience. But when you play that many arenas.... The first time we ever played those big kinds of shows at the Shoreline (Amphitheater in Mountain View, California), there was weirdness--we were playing for a lot of f?!kin' people. And I hate to say it, but sometimes it just feels like another gig. We played every day, 50 gigs this last leg, and it just wears on ya. There's all these people, and they think "Alright. I paid my $15--you better impress the f?!kin' shit outta me right now!" And I realized that for Joey, the rock and roll touring life is not a good atmosphere for a kid. I tried to make it to where it would be, bringing lots of his toys out. But there are no familiar surroundings for him. And he likes all the attention--people come up and say hello to him every day, people who are on tour with us. But he doesn't have his own room or a home to go to every day. So, no more touring for Joey.

RIP: Turned on Regis and Kathie Lee this morning to find their gossip columnist dishing dirt on Green Day. How Insomniac didn't do nearly as well as predicted, how it was a disappointment to the label. A failure, supposedly.

BJA: Well, it's like, we didn't set up this record. We didn't. We didn't do any promotion beforehand, we completely quit doing interviews, and basically we just wanted to go on into it. We weren't even sure if we wanted to do a video. And then when we did a video, it got yanked from daytime rotation because people were getting grossed-out by it. So I think we did alienate a lot of people. So that was expected, that it wasn't going to sell a lot of records.

RIP: NOFX have taken it one step further. They refuse to talk to press, make videos, pander potential singles to radio. They don't want to get any bigger.

BJA: I dunno, maybe I'm just getting jaded or something. But I just got cable again and I can't stand anything. Six years ago you could hear something that was different and know that it was different. So it'd be "alternative" or whatever. But now it's like you get this Joan...Osborne? With the ring in her nose, waving the alternative rock flag, when she's just...not, ya know? And I'm thinking, I hate all this music that's coming out now--the past year was just hell for music. But people are buying it, so then I'm thinking, Maybe they're the ones that are good and I'm the one who sucks? I just don't know if I really wanna be involved in the rock world anymore at all. Period. I don't necessarily have anything against a big record company or people who what to join up with a big record company. It really is right for some people, but more and more, I don't think that I'm really meant to. And I hate to sound like that, because I don't like taking things for granted. I don't like to talk about my problems when there's some kid struggling in his garage somewhere saying "F?!k him! He's just taking it for granted. Shit, I wish I could do something like that, but I'm just stuck here in Biloxi, Mississippi, and I can't even get a gig." I'm so confused right now.

RIP: It must be odd to know that, with all those millions of albums sold, drunken frat boys are probably staggering around to your music right now. Your audience grew far beyond your control.

BJA: Oh, totally! We became what we hated. Which is, the people I despised in high school--and now--are buying our records. We initially became a trend, so there was no way I expected to sell as many records with Insomniac as with Dookie. That's one of the biggest-selling records of the decade. We get slagged by the punk rockers, and it's like, I don't blame them. If you draw that much attention to yourself, that's what you're gonna get--attention--and it's not personal anymore.

RIP: Ever think about giving it all up?

BJA: There isn't a day goes by in the past year and a half that I haven't thought about quitting. I went to this party on New Year's Eve, and this band Juke, and another band, the Tantrums, played in a friend of mine's backyard. And a lot of my old friends showed up, and everybody was just dancing. And I was dancing, and getting really muddy, and I was having a great time. I can't remember the last time I sat down and listened to a record from beginning to end and felt this incredible spine-chilling music. And it's because I haven't been able to go out and watch bands play at my free will. I'm not gonna live in a closet, I'm not gonna vegetate myself.

RIP: But it has to be difficult, when tons of kids know your face. You're on your way to Michael Jackson-dom, where you have to wear a disguise in public.

BJA: If you think about the Beatles, at that time all people had to go by were the photographs on the records and every now and then a television appearance. So when they'd come to town, people would just flip out--it became this huge public event every single time. Whereas now, everything is so saturated kids don't even have to leave their home to go to a show anymore. They can sit in the comfort of their living room, and your favorite rock star is gonna be entertaining you while you sit down and have your microwave burrito.

RIP: The Milwaukee cops weren't pleased with aspects of Green Day's Milwaukee show last November. Why were you arrested?

BJA: I dropped the pick and--actually, I even forgot about it--I just mooned the crowd, which is pretty harmless compared to what I've done before. And I wasn't even thinking about it--I just went out and started playing again. Then I went backstage and was hanging out with Adrienne, and this guy Jimmy who does security for us goes "Come on--there's a car waiting for you outside right now. You've gotta get out of here!" I said "What's wrong?" and he said he didn't even know. So we get in the car and all of a sudden about ten cops come walking over, fully surrounding the car. So the guy puts the cuffs on me, throws me in the car, and I get tossed in the holding tank for two, three hours. I wasn't in the bullpen--I was in with the other ones, the not-so-bad ones. They made me take all my jewelry out. And my shoestrings, so I wouldn't hang myself or something. I dunno. I just don't know how to fit into rock music anymore. I don't know what I like about it anymore. I don't like anything about it anymore, to tell you the truth. To tell you the real truth, I'm a pretty miserable person right now. I'm totally depressed, and my wife can vouch for that because she's around me. In fact, she's the only person who's really around me. I dunno, the whole thing with the mainstreaming of punk rock. I just feel lost in the whole thing...I don't really know...I don't wanna...I dunno...It's miserable, it really is. It's f?!ked up.

RIP: For every original voice that comes along, there will be countless mad signing dashes for any and all sound-alike artists, with no thought given to the artist's longevity. Just throw the record out quickly and hope it sticks.

BJA: The thing is, a lot of musicians have gotten so comfortable with this big so-called "Revolution in Rock Music" over the past decade. First it was like, "F?!k the corporations! F?!k the corporations!" And then people just sorta got cozy with that, and forgot that these bands are getting lost in the shuffle. And I'm talking about the ones that never get noticed at all and just get kinda bitter. The 15 minutes of fame is getting shorter and shorter. And now music is totally going backwards--the first half of this decade, there were a few things going on that were interesting. It wasn't my favorite kind of music, but it had a sensibility about it. If you think about Nirvana and Pearl Jam and that whole Seattle scene, and even the Offspring--there was this thing going on that was more honest, in a lot of ways. It wasn't like, beer, drugs and pussy, like what went on through the '80s with all the hair bands. But now what we've got is Hootie & the Blowfish....

RIP: Who are probably a lot like you. They seem like nice, regular guys who--through no real fault of their own--are suddenly assimilated into pop culture.

BJA: Yeah, but that's the problem, is that they are nice regular guys. And they're totally comfortable with that, and they sort of put that out, to where they don't really have...I dunno, there's a certain amount of attitude that, say, someone like Cobain or Vedder has that they don't have. But it's becoming way not...real anymore or something. Maybe not real to me. It's just turning back into what it was in the '80s. It's like, "Hey, everyone! We're Huey Lewis and the News!" I dunno. Maybe nobody knows what the f?!k I'm talking about anymore.

BJA: I get so irritated by people. I think I'm more bitter than I've ever been in my whole life, to tell you the honest truth. I think Insomniac is much more of a bitter record than Dookie. And I think the older people get, the more they kinda get angry. I think a lot of people feel like they get cheated by lief somehow--no-one is ever completely satisfied. There's maybe a few. But I mean, I'm in a place where I don't really wanna be. It's like, sometimes I feel like we're losing our passion for playing music. And that's the f?!ked-up thing, when you lose passion for what you love, then it's like, Is this marriage headed for divorce or what?

RIP: Theoretically, you can fight back a couple of ways. Like Cobain, you could make a record almost calculated to offend all the bandwagon-jumpers. Or take as much time off as you'd like. Who says you can't go live on a desert island for two years?

BJA: That'd be nice. I'm just not enjoying life right now. I'm really not. I'm so cluttered, I can't even speak. Yeah, I do feel like I'm getting old, and I'm kinda bitter about that. I'm not excited about being onstage anymore, and I was really trying to convince myself that I was. Really. Before we did this last U.S. tour, every time I did an interview--I don't know if you read the last Rolling Stone piece--I was like "Yeah! I'm excited! I wanna play these arenas!" and stuff. And then just every night, it started sucking, it felt like a routine or something. It felt almost choreographed in a lot of ways. And I was yelling "f?!k you!" to people, but I didn't know who I was yelling "f?!k you" to anymore.

RIP: Last time we spoke, you said you went out of your way to change every single show, make each one different.

BJA: Well, I think it's just the stress of getting up in front of all those people all the time, every day. It's like, "Do I really feel like downing another f?!cking pot of coffee and a bottle of wine before I walk onstage to do this again? Just to get myself ready to go?" You know, for all those people. And every night I always do something different and stupid. But at the same time, it'd be really cool to just say "F?!k you!" to people and like, walk off. And then they'd get it. It's like, "I'm really telling you to f?!k off this time! Time to pack up and go home." It'd just be so nice to start from scratch again.

RIP: In many ways you can. That's the music-making system trying to program your behavior. And obviously you've broken quite a few rules already--you don't even have to be talking to me right now, actually....

BJA: Oh no. I really wanted to do this interview, just because the last interviews that I've done, I've been miserable, and I was pretending not to be. I really was, I was lying. Not to the reader, not to the person I was doing the interview. But I was lying to myself, convincing myself that I was really happy with how everything is going.

RIP: So you always knew what you wanted, and now you've got it, in spades. You're having trouble figuring out what's next?

BJA: I didn't even know what I wanted back then. I really didn't. I didn't know if I wanted to be huge, totally successful. I never knew that. I was struggling so hard even to sign that f?!king contract--when I was sitting there, I was contemplating, "Should I just run outta here right now? Am I making the biggest mistake of my life?" A lot of people say, "You're totally disillusioned with what money can do for people," but money never meant shit to me. There's something very passionate to me, very romantic, about living on the street in a lot of ways. Just because I really like my lifestyle back then. I was totally content, in retrospect. A lot of it has to do with the fame. I dunno, I'm trying to talk right now and just totally stuttering.

RIP: It's not like you chose music--it chose you, and you can't help it.

BJA: Yeah, it's cool when people really get it. But what a lot of people don't understand is that we're a band that's been around a lot longer than people know. And that's the thing. The difference between this and what happened between Kerplunk and Dookie--in a year, I got married, I had a kid, and I sold 11 million records worldwide. That can do something to ya, ya know?

BJA: Sometimes I think it'd be cool to just hang out with my friends, drink beer, smoke cigarettes. The more I think about it, the more I'd be really happy with that. I don't think that we're feeling quite like a band anymore--that's one problem we have. There was this certain rock 'n' roll underdog think that we always had--we always drove for something, always drove from town to town in a small van. And you know, I f?!kin' like touring like that--it's like culture shock, really, driving around in a van, setting up my amp when I get there, and playing. That's rock 'n' roll, that's what it started out as. A bunch of sweaty pigs in some tiny f?!kin' bar having a hootenanny, that's what punk rock was to me, that's what drove me to it. I love rock music in its simples, rawest form. And I think we're the only band, really, that plays rock 'n' roll.

RIP: Has all this put a strain on your old friendships? Do your pals treat you a little differently now?

BJA: When I come up to friends I haven't talked to in a while, there's a weirdness. And the ones who are really close to me don't really bring up anything, but that thing is still there; it's still in the air. And sometimes I'll just not say anything the whole time we're hanging out. I'll be totally quiet, because the only thing I'll have to talk about is my band, and I get so sick of talking about my band and myself. So I'll just be quiet, since that's the only thing there is to me, except for my son and my wife.

RIP: Pretty soon, you'll be boring everyone with slide shows--"There we are at Yosemite!"

BJA: Ha! Adrienne was telling me the other day, "When you were in there dancing with all your friends, while the band was playing, you were so happy because you were so in your element." And I've even gone as far as saying we're not a punk band anymore. But no matter what, that's still gonna stick with me forever, because I love the music, I love the energy of a new band coming out that creates this sense of urgency about 'em. I'll never be able to kick that habit. I love hangin' out with my friends who have small fanzines--kids just writing their guts out about whatever the hell's bothering 'em, and putting it on a Xerox machine and then handing it out for a quarter apiece at shows or at a party. All I wanna do is just try and work it out. I was sitting there the other day, counting all the records that the Replacements put out, stuff like that, Dan thinking how [Paul] Westerberg totally came across to his audience and did everything, everything that the wanted to do in music. He wasn't extremely successful for it, but the guy has influenced people, and a lot of 'em don't even know that they are influenced by him. All I wanna do is just write good songs and stick to it. I wanna develop--not being experimental--but go into different styles, go across my boundaries of the two-and-a-half minute punk song with a three-and-a-half minute jazz song, or maybe get into a little bit of swing or rockabilly.

RIP: With such staggering success, you could walk into Reprise and tell 'em you're doing an album of saxophone solos and they'd allow you that creative luxury.

BJA: Well, I never wanna be that experimental. I don't wanna get into synthesizers and shit like that. The thing that was cool for me with Insomniac was that I think we definitely set a foundation for ourselves, because we put out our hardest record to date, totally in-your-face all the way through, and now we're able to go anywhere we want. We can do that now--we do have that going for us. That is, if people are still interested. Which is kinda weird for me to say....

RIP: Your craft will always remain the most important thing of all, even if you're just writing for your own amusement.

BJA: Yeah. No matter what, I'm gonna be writing songs for the rest of my life. I mean, I already have a shitload of new songs right now. But I just wanna do some other things with it. We've sold a million of Insomniac so far. But I definitely want to be respected as a musician. Well, more as a songwriter than as a musician. I wanna be f?!kin' normal, is what I wanna be. The thing is, I've seen so many freaks and so many weirdos and crazy punk rockers and drunks and junkies. But for a lot of those people being weird is easy. It's so easy to be strange--the hard thing is to try to be normal. There's no such thing as normal, ya know.

RIP: How's your mom feel about all this?

BJA: She's kinda worried about me. She doesn't know what to think of everything. We have a hard time communicating with each other, just because I don't like to talk about it that much. So she feels like she has to walk on eggshells around me all the time.

RIP: You buy her anything cool once the money started rolling in?

BJA: Nah--she doesn't want anything. I've asked her. She's been living in the same house for over 20 years, and she's content living there. But I did give her a trip--she went to Hawaii, her and her boyfriend. And I think travelling is really good--if you paid for someone to travel, so they can go and explore and see some things they've never seen before. But I think that's probably where I get it from. I get so content with not having much. And then you get all this stuff, all this attention, and you don't really know what to do with it. You don't know how to channel it.

RIP: Most outrageous thing you've bought for yourself?

BJA: I got my car primered! And one thing I did do was build a home studio. So I've been recording all my friends' bands for free. I produced this band called Dead and Gone, and Social Unrest, Fetish and the Criminals. And I have this side-project called Pinhead Gunpowder--nothing's up with it right now, but we played at the beginning of '94 a few times. RIP: Sounds like you've got more than enough pressure valves to let off the steam. Still, do you worry about death?

BJA: Yeah, I do. But I have too many reasons to stick around. One is my son and my wife. And I don't feel like I'm finished yet. I'm not done, ya know? And the beauty of it is that death is forever and your problems aren't. And that's why I'm talking about my bad shit, because you vent that, you get it off your chest and you can move on to something else. There's gotta be a positive side to all this--so you just sort of try and dig it out. Get rid of all the bad--out with the bad air, in with the good air.

RIP: You said about Green Day that you think your "bandwagon is coming to a close and all that's gonna be left is just a band. Hopefully." So then will you start writing happy songs?

BJA: I thought about writing a totally sarcastic song called "I'm So Goddamn Happy," just talking about how happy I am. Actually, I'd like to put out a double record--I'd like to put out tons of music. But I never wanna become an egomaniac. I just wanna keep things down to earth, so I think it's really important for us to take a long break after all this stuff. We just put out two records back to back, one year after another, and now we can sit back and work on ourselves as people again. So we don't parody ourselves. And it's so hard to be a father and a musician at the same time. If I get into one thing and I pay close attention to it, like if I'm with Joey and I start neglecting my music, then I feel like I should play more often. So I start playing my music, and then I'm going, "Am I neglecting Joey?" So it becomes hard to do everything at the same time.

BJA: I wanna create a very mellow and sound atmosphere for him, because I don't wanna make any mistakes for him--I want him to be able to make his own mistakes. And even when it comes to swearing--I don't cuss in front of my kid. I'd rather him get it from some dirty-mouthed kid at school. Then at least I'd know, I could go "Thank God--my kid is in a real world and he's learning these things from his surroundings." That'd be a good thing. Because the best things you ever learn are the things you learn in kindergarten.

Finally, after more than an hour worth of gut-spilling, Armstrong suddenly observes four brace-faced girls, each no more than 12 years old, idling over by the cash register. They're there on the pretext of getting change. In reality, they just want to ogle punk icon and pin-up darling Billie Joe, stare at those caterpillar eyebrows and chiselled cheekbones up close. Another oh-my-gawd event. "I gotta go--it's gettin' weird," the reluctant rocker whispers, literally leaping up from the booth. "I can feel eyeballs all over me already...." And as fast as that, he's gone. "Was that...was that...B-B-B-B-Billie Joe?" stammers one swooner. "No," says the waitress, with a subtle smile. "That was just some guy who usually eats here alone, nobody famous at all. You know, just an average guy." A little white lie to herd the young 'uns out. But nevertheless the truth.

#i know it wasn't healthy for him #but i miss when he would use interviews as free therapy #the discussion about how he hates playing bigger shows is interesting #obviously he figured it out because i think he genuinely likes playing arenas/stadiums now #i wonder how he did that #like did he get tips from other rock stars #or did he just work thru his emotional baggage about selling out #article #interview #articles

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smiledog15578 · 4 years ago

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for the ask meme you recently reblogged, how about 📌🎥💕 and 🍀? IM SORRY IF IM OVERDOING THIS BTW you can only answer one of them if you don't feel like doing the others!!! idk i just like hearing people gush about their hyperfixations it makes me really happy :')

📌 how did you find your hyperfixation?

For the fnaf fandom: i found it through my mom! When it came out my mom was like "have you heard of this game" and i said no and she told me about it and at first i was a bit confused. I remember thinking that it was about a sleepover at a guy named freddys HDAJJDJS SO YEA I WAS HELLA CONFUSED but sooner or later i became hooked on it. It really got me into horror stuff (i was a huge scardy cat and still am kinda but not as much as i was back then).

For the markiplier universe: ok so lets get to a cringe moment here. I was a fan of him but i was even a more fan of him in like 2016? And lets just say i got more into it cause of well the septiplier thing which i hate bringing it up but i might as well be honest about it lol ( i hate septiplier now dont worry). But yea that got me more engaged with markiplier and jacksepticeye's content! I eventually grew out of jacks stuff and just stuck with marks content instead. Over time tho ive had an off and on relationship with the markiplier stuff cause i just,,, im slowly growing put of him but then i come back to his stuff its just a love hate relationship lol

💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

For the fnaf fandom: omg hiw can i decide LMAO. I love almost every character on this story but my all time faves have to be michael or william afton. Michael just seems like a cool dude whos trying to make things right and i love that about a character! Plus he can draw and i wont shut up about that part HFJSJD just little things about character make me go "DKDJKDKD🥺��💕💕" for no reason lol. And i love william as a character cause hes just so fascinating to me. Plus he feels like a real person whichbis even more terrifying in my opinion (other than the whole him come back to life thing but i hope you get what i mean). Hes not some "haha im edgy and i love knifes haha blood yes blood!!" Type killer (wow i just described my oc lol) but hes got real motives and reasons to killing. I also HDHDJD SORRY BUT i love his voice that PJ gave him. Its so trusting yet like- ew no thanks stranger danger

For the markiplier universe: ANOTHER TRICKY QUESTION LMAO. But my faved have to be wilford and dark as always. Wilford is my favorite cause hes so funny and sweet and just ugh i love that in a character. To me a good trope is cute yet a killer i guess lmao. And i love dark cause hes not a true villian but a villian? He has a villian lool but really he just wants to make things right and is overall a sweet heart as the santa ego said lol

🍀 do you have any kins or comfort characters from your hyperfixation?

From the fnaf fandom: OH YES I DO. I dont kin (i dont think😳) but Michael is a huge comfort character for me! Oh and also vanny too. Them bitches help me alot when im sad or just need something to daydream about

For the markiplier fandom: hmm probably dark,wilford, and yan HDJEJ THE FAM THING IVE BEEN DOING FOR LIKE YEARS. something about that dynamic fills a hole in my heart that really makes me happy. Now i wouldnt say i have such a terrible family or anything! I love my family to bits but when things get difficult with my own family i kinda escape to that :)

#i wrote so much JFJEJFJY MY APOLOGIES

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alysmarylin · 5 years ago

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The fic you've been waiting for

Crowley avenging his beloved angel - Sandalphon got what he deserved (don't thank me, reblog instead)!!!!!!!!

Crowley and Aziraphale were unpacking the stuff they bought on a big shopping Sunday, and to this very day Crowley can't remember why and how they ended up talking about Aziraphale's, well... Ex-kin.

"I kinda enjoyed Michael", Crowley laughed. "Rather good-looking. Uriel, on the other hand..."

"Don't get me started on Uriel and Sandalphon", Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "I hate their guts"

"Sandalphon was a tough prick, I remember. And uglier than Belzebub", Crowley sneered.

"You don't say. He works in my place now, homophobic son of a... They couldn't have picked a worse candidate", Aziraphale said in a somewhat hurt voice.

"Don't worry, angel. Soon enough, he will receive some beating from locals, I tell you"

"Yeah, I should've definitely punched that bastard back", Aziraphale muttered under his nose quietly, angrily.

" Yeah, you bet...", Crowley laughed and then stopped abruptly. "W-w-wait, wait-wait-wait. Back? What do you mean, back?". Crowley stood up from the floor and stepped up to Aziraphale.

" Nothing, really"

"No, not nothing". Crowley's eyes were widened in shock. " Do you mean, that, that piece of shit HIT you?!"

Aziraphale lowered his eyes. It looked like the memory wasn't pleasant. Crowley was gasping.

"When? When did it happen? How come I didn't know?", Crowley was not yet angry but more frightened. " Angel, look at me. Talk to me. Someone battered you and I know nothing of it?!"

"No one battered me. I was walking back to my bookshop and Michael, Uriel and... And he approached me, I was questioned..."

"Where the Hell was I?" - Crowley asked, astonished.

"You drove home", Aziraphale said quietly and sadly.

Crowley tilted his head backward and sighed with despair. "I should've known... ". He lowered his head and looked at Aziraphale with sadness and pain. Aziraphale looked confused and lost.

" What did he do? Tell me, angel", Crowley stepped closer, putting his hand on Aziraphale's arm, leaning closer. "Tell me. He's dead"

"Don't you dare, Crowley, we got away and I won't..."

"What did he do to you? What? Why didn't you tell me? I was up there, I saw him, I could've..."

"Because I didn't want you to", Aziraphale answered bitterly. " I needed you to be concentrated and cool-headed. You freed me from them, same as I did for you. That's all that matters"

"No, it's not. You look sad, you look hurt", Crowley said, cupping Aziraphale's cheek. " Otherwise you would've forgotten".

"He punched me in the stomach, alright?", Aziraphale said with a lump in his throat. His lower lip trmbled a bit. "It wasn't as painful physically as it was humiliating".

Crowley looked down on his angel's belly - soft, beautiful, beloved and precious - and everything before his eyes suddenly became red as blood.

"I told you because I trust you, but if you dare approach him or pull out something stupid like that, I will leave you, Crowley", he heard Aziraphale's voice from some distance.

"Do you hear me? Answer me, Crowley"

Crowley felt his head filling with lead from within.

"I will not approach him. I swear it"

"Good", he hears Aziraphale say. " I'll finish unpacking"

Crowley stopped Aziraphale, holding him by the arm. He embraced him from behind, wrapping one of his arms around his chest and putting his hand gently on the angel's belly. He buried his nose in his soft blonde curls and muttered: "I love you".

"I love you too", Aziraphale answered softly, "Now let me finish".

Crowley looked at him, picking up paper bags and arranging the stuff around the room, looking small and soft and lovely. Somehow it made his silent rage all the more burning and red became crimson in his eyes. He swore he wouldn't approach that sick fuck who laid his dirty hands - no, he couldn't bear to think of it - on Aziraphale

... But he said nothing of his friends.

***

Crowley pulled his hood further on his forehead

"Pleasure to see you, Jay. You look like a heroin addict in that hoody", said Phil.

"I have to hide my hair somehow. Rare color"

Crowley was nervous and feeling restless.

"Yep. You're drop-dead gorgeous lad, we get it. To what I owe the pleasure?"

"I need to track someone down. Name's Saldanphon but he changes his IDs every now and then. You'll have to check for anything similar. Don't have a picture, but I draw him", Crowley laid a piece of paper on a table. The drawing looked fairly accurate. " Looks middle-aged, a bit fat, bald, ugly, has a golden tooth. A homophobe might be hanging around gay bars and the likes to preach or intimidate or whatever he does. That's all I have as of now".

"Well", Phil sighed " It's doable. But it will take a while. Any family?"

"No, none at all"

"I see. The golden tooth is indeed something". Phil looked at Crowley's hand. "You got married?"

"Ugh, yeah", Crowley answered looking around. " You know how to, ehm, tell me of the progress?"

"I've been around longer than you", Phil said wearily, and Crowley had to keep his mouth shut on that remark, " You'll know when I find something. Just one more thing. This, ehm, funny-named morality apostle. What exactly are you planning? He's gonna go?"

"No, not go", Crowley said with sheer disappointment "Plainly be taught a lesson. He put his shitty hands where he shouldn't have".

"Are you gonna call our mutual friend?", Phil raised his eyebrows. " If you want to make it clean, it's the best way. They'll never track his men down. Just food for thought, Jay. A piece of advice from the old man"

"That sounds reasonable", Crowley nodded, as if he had had any idea what to do next when he came to Phil, " I'll think about it. Thank you. Wanna count?". He put a book - a fake book, of course - on a table.

"Here? Oh, please. Trust me, if I don't find what I intend to find here, you'll know", Phil put a book in his bag and stood up. " Have a nice day, kid. Next time, wear something else"

Crowley waited for ten more minutes before leaving the diner. It was only when he was in a crowdy underground station when he put the hood off. He had to be cautious. For everyone's sake.

***

"Do you really think it's a good place, Jay?", said a tall and broad bald man in a leather jacket, trying to sit comfortably on a bench by a pond.

"The best one, in terms of privacy", said Crowley, looking grimly from his hood. " So. You said you owe me a favor all the way back from 1999. I didn't need anything for a long time, but now..."

"How do you manage to look so young, you sick bastard?", the man asked, chuckling, trying to look at Crowley's face. " You look just like my son, and that sad excuse of an heir is 27 now, not something you could tell by the way he speaks, though, I'd give him 10 in that department, still... How old are you, anyway?"

"I use a strong sunscreen. And I have good genes. Good, hardworking Irish people, my entire family. Will you listen or not, Patsy?"

A bald man stopped laughing and sighed.

"Of course. What seems to be the problem?"

"Our mutual buddy, Phil, tracked down a guy I need you to deal with. Here's what I've got on him", Crowley took a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to a man without so much as looking at his side. " I want your people to teach him a lesson. He's gotta stay alive. I can't be seen. But I need to watch it from a distance. I know you're ready to do this, but still" - Crowley took out something that looked like a book and put it on Patsy's lap still without looking at him - "this is some additional motivation for you, or a token of a good will, if you wish to call it that way".

Patsy put down an apparently-book-thing in his suitcase and opened a piece of paper. He looked at Crowley, frowning.

" What kind of a lesson do you want him to be taught, exactly?"

"If your boys will do it properly, he'll need new teeth", Crowley said, finally turning his head to his counterpart, looking him in the eyes from beneath his shaded. "The whole damn package. And the old ones, I want to have them. Every single one. Especially the golden one. No internal bleeding, no injuries to any organs. You can break a couple of ribs, but carefully. As you wish. But I need his teeth"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jay", the Patsy man said, looking flabbergasted. " What did this son of a bitch did to you so you became such a butcher"

"He laid his shitty hands where he shouldn't have", Crowley hissed, grinding his teeth. His hands clenched in fists.

" You didn't tell me you were married. Was this your wife?", Patsy asked warily.

"I have no wife, but I am indeed married", Crowley answered. " I know you're one of the few people of your occupation who don't look down on things like that. I love him. But I swore I won't touch this bastard myself. I don't have much choice, Pat"

"I'm sorry it happened to your, well, spouse", Patsy said carefully. " But the guys that I have in my crew are not as open-minded as I wish they were. You know it yourself. Ours is not the most prestigious job. I'll do this favor, but when you're sitting in a car with them, better keep the personal personal".

They shook hands.

"I'll be waiting for your call. You know which number to call, and which not to", Crowley said, standing up. "I'm looking forward to seeing your team at work".

***

Crowley was staring into the field glasses, trying looking at two tall men in leather jackets dragging a bald man resembling Sandalphon, gagged and tied up, to a torch on the abandoned parking lot. The jeep where Crowley and his associates were sitting was right in its darkest corner.

It was Christmas Eve, the 24th of December. The snow was falling gloriously, but the place was too grim and damp for the fairy-tale-like spirit.

“You see them, Cap?”, a young driver, sitting by Crowley’s side asked.

“It looks like him, but I need insurance. I remember his voice. Call them”

One of the guys on the backseat dialed a number and one of the bouncers took the phone.

“Our cap wants so be sure it’s the guy. Let him speak”

He turned on the speakerphone. Soon enough Crowley heard Sandalphon screaming something like:

“I’ll give you anything you want, please, untie me, I need my hands, I…”, before Crowley nodded and Sandalphon became silent again. The phone was turned off and Sandalphon was dragged to a small staircase, and Crowley had to pay very close attention, looking into field glasses again, to recognize what was going on.

“Are you sure your people can do ALL the teeth in one go?”, he asked a bit unsurely.

“You insult us, Mr. Jay. It is our signature. One strike, all teeth. Leaves a strong message”, murmured a young man behind him.

“Well, then…”, Crowley started, but then he saw something rather outstanding, that made him make a certain sound: “Oi, woah… That was surprising… Alright, gentlemen, pardon me for my previous skepticism. I take that back. On second thought, I even refuse to take, the, ehm, the evidence”

He then heard his phone ring. It had to be Aziraphale. He had to answer. He quickly took the phone and blurted:

“Angel, honey, I can’t talk, I’m very busy, buying you a surprise, I’ll call you back in ten, love you”, without letting him even say a word. He figured out it would be more secure.

“Wife?”, asked a second young man, with a smile.

“Yeah. Sort of. Listen, I think I’d rather be going, are they done with the teeth? At the end of the day, I’ll think I’m more than happy without them. I don’t wanna take ‘em. I saw what you did, it was amazing. Drop me at the underground station, please… Else my, ehm, spouse, will be suspecting something, which I don’t fancy, like, at all”.

Crowley was very relieved when they drove away.

***

Crowley thought he had never had such a lovely Christmas morning. Angel was by his side, in his lovely tartan pajamas, they were tucked under the blanket, sipping tea and lazily switching the channels on telly.

“I thought I hated Christmas”, Crowley said quietly, as he lowered his head to Aziraphale’s, planting a soft kiss on his temple. “Now you made me love it. What next, angel?”

“You’ll stop wearing all black?”, Aziraphale answered, with a sarcastic smile.

“Naah, not in this life and not in the next”, Crowley said leisurely, switching the channels. Then he saw the news.

“… The victim of this horrific Christmas assault is alive, but severely traumatized – his teeth were…”

That was something Crowley didn’t account for – the bloody news.

“Ugh, what is it with these people”, he said with a trembling voice, trying desperately to sound casual, turning the telly off. “It’s only violence on this television, I’ll better put on some music. And make you some tea”, Crowley said, standing up.

“Dear boy”, Aziraphale said softly. “I’d like some tangerines. Would you be so kind as to bring your husband a plateful of those?”, he smiled. Crowley looked like he was melting from the inside.

“Every time you say the h-word I can’t say no to anything, angel. I’ll be in 15, a’right”

Crowley sighed with relief as he stepped into the kitchen. He was off the hook now, but some time from now, the angel might still learn about what happened. Will he be able to understand?

“All I did, I did for you”, Crowley thought in pain. “I love you so much I couldn’t stop it. He had to pay, my love, he had to”. Crowley felt tears fill his eyes, as he was putting tangerines in a bowl, but he was able to will them away. “I’d kill for you, I’d die for you, Aziraphale”, he thought with anguish. “I hope you know that whatever comes. I hope you will forgive me for what I had to do”.

***

With Crowley gone, Aziraphale was finally able to read the newspaper.

“Broken teeth, that’s a good take”, he thought smugly, as he read the weekly crime report. “See, Sandalphon. What goes around, comes around, next time you want to apply brutal force to your… arguments, better remember this, no? Though I doubt there will be the next time”

Aziraphale smirked. What his husband lacked in logic and cautiousness, he made up in loyalty and protectiveness. Blind loyalty and fierce protectiveness.

“You’re such an idiot, Crowley”, Aziraphale thought tenderly. “Really, A-J? To think I wouldn’t know? Me, famous Mr. Fell of Soho?”

That very evening, when he received a phone call from Phil and heard of some “heroin junkie looking” guy calling himself “Tony Jay” or “A J”, or, God have mercy, ��Jay”, of all things, he knew it has to be Crowley.

“Wearing a black hoodie on top of his shades, really. It’s a miracle he didn’t get busted for drug possession”. Maybe it was indeed a miracle.

Truth be told, he wasn’t angry. He couldn’t approve openly, but there was a certain warmness in knowing that a homophobic golden-toothed prick who assaulted him now got what was coming for him.

“But I can’t encourage this sort of behavior in Crowley”, he thought, hiding his smile. “Now, dear boy, you need to control your impulses. At least, most of the time”.

Still, Aziraphale knew that he was one of the luckiest men – well, not really men, but… - alive, for his partner would stop at nothing to protect him.

“If only he would’ve acted a bit cleverer… Well, I suppose you can’t have it all. He’s beautiful, caring, kind, sweet, fiercely loyal and sexy as Hell, in the most literal sense of this word. It’s only natural he has to be a complete idiot to not let me forget myself. Oh, he brought me the cannoli the other day… This boy watched The Godfather too many times”.

“Angel!”, Crowley said, entering the room with a bowl full of tangerines. “What are you smiling at?”

“I’m thinking about how lucky I am to have you, dear boy”, Aziraphale answered with a loving smile.

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the-delta-42 · 5 years ago

Text

War Circle 2

Michael followed Caline into her apartment.

“Thanks for letting me stay until I’ve found a place of my own.” Said Michael, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, “I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“It’s fine.” Said Caline, going to her computer, her eyes elsewhere.

Michael looked at her and frowned.

“Is everything alright?” Michael asked, walking over to Caline.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Said Caline, unconvincingly.

Michael gave her a look that made her groan and turn to face him, “You know that Principle Damocles gave you a list of students that can’t be punished?”

“Yeah, some kid whose parents are bankers, the mayor’s daughter and the child of a diplomat, why?” Michael cocked his head.

“Two of them are in my class,” Said Caline, “and in order to punish them, I have to punish the whole class, it doesn’t help that Boaa and I have a mental link and he’s telling me to kill them every time I start to get angry at them.”

“So, you remain passive to prevent yourself from killing them.” Said Michael, Wynnter resting on his shoulder.

Wynnter looked at the Snake Kwami, “Boaa, you know that our main objective is to remain hidden, no matter what.”

The snake only said, “Meh.” Before he shoves three whole grapes into his tiny mouth.

“That will always scare me, no matter what.” Said Michael, watching Boaa’s jaw unhinge.

“It’s not the worst thing he eaten.” Said Caline, turning to face Michael, “I have some spare blankets in the closet, you can have the couch.”

Michael nodded, quietly walking over to the closet. Caline had the sinking feeling that Michael wasn’t telling her something.

Marinette quietly growled in frustration. Her dad and Michael did not last part on the best terms five years ago, Marinette didn’t remember what the argument was but she knew that it had caused the relationship between her father and brother to become very strained, to the point where Michael had ceased all contact with them until he reappeared a couple of days ago and even then, he avoided actually stepping foot into the bakery.

Marinette considered contact Toby and Skye, but Toby was on tour and Skye was in the middle of a case. Marinette huffed, thinking back to when she found out that Michael was now working at her school.

Marinette went stiff, Michael was close to Ms. Bustier, he was fond of her, Marinette had seen the type fondness once before and that was between her parents.

Marinette swallowed as she started to pull up a plan on getting her dad and brother on good terms again.

A floor below, Tom was quietly cleaning the kitchen of the bakery. Ever since that nasty girl from Marinette’s class returned, Marinette had started to become more stressed, from school, from being the class president, from her designs, from her duties as Ladybug. Tom frowned, he and Sabine had known Marinette was Ladybug for a while now, having caught Tikki as she was raiding the cookie jar in the kitchen. The little God had tried to pass herself off as a cat, that could float and was bright red covered in spots.

Tom was vaguely aware of the television reporting the day’s Akuma attack.

“An attempt to gain Ladybug’s Miraculous was foiled by two unseen before heroes who departed the scene shortly after the Akuma was dealt with.”

“Remove your hands from my kin.” Came a recording of the incident, Tom poked his head out from the Bakery and looked at the TV screen. The owner of the voice looked around Michael’s age and wore what looked like a casual suit under his trench coat, Tom squinted, noting that the amount of weaponry gave him a rather heavy-set appearance.

Chat Noir then appeared on the screen.

“At first, we all thought they were more Akumas,” Said Chat, “Given how they appeared out of nowhere.”

“What did he mean when he said kin?” Nadja asked.

“He said he was Ladybug’s older brother,” Said Chat, “from what he said, he and his friend have been in this for a while and came out of retirement.”

“Did they give a name?”

“He said his name was Timber Wolf and his friend was called Constrictor.”

Sabine turned the television off, before looking at Tom, “Michael’s come home.”

Tom nodded quietly.

Michael glared down at the computer on his desk, quietly grumbling as he looked at the data cache and the number of viruses he’d found.

“You’d think the guy before me would’ve taken precautions, but nooo, they just opened everything and didn’t bother to do updates, virus checks or even turn the bloody thing off.” Michael muttered, before his door opened, “If you have a problem with a computer, please mark the room and computer number on the board and I’ll get back to you.”

When Michael received no response, he raised his head, coming face to face with an Italian Brunette.

“Can I help you?” Michael asked, shortly.

“Hi, I’m having trouble logging onto the computer in the library.” Said the girl, making Michael frown.

“The only computer is the one the librarian uses.” Said Michael, leaning back in his chair.

“She said I could use it.” The girl quickly said, “I need it so I can print off my homework.” The girl had her hand over her heart.

Michael folded his arms and looked at the girl.

“What’s your name?” Michael asked, getting the girls eyes to light up, ‘Great, one of those.’

“I’m Lila Rossi.” Said the girl, making Michael close his eyes.

“Lila, do you know what a tell is?” Michael asked, opening his eyes and glaring at the girl.

Lila looked worried, making Michael think that she did know and was thinking she was screwed or that she didn’t know and thinking she was screwed.

“It’s a poker term, it’s often used to tell when someone is bluffing.” Said Michael, slowly getting to his feet, “It’s also used to tell when someone is lying. Now, I’m only going to ask once, what is the real reason you want to get onto a Staff member’s computer?”

Lila looked to the side, making Michael glance over at the list of students.

“You want to lock someone out of their account.” Said Michael, matter-of-factly.

“N-no, why would you say that?” Lila demanded, trying to act offended.

“You lied by saying that Librarian gave you permission to use her computer, you have a terrible poker face, coupled with an obvious tell, you then looked at the student roster, which has the students names as well as their learner IDs, so you could easily locate the account, you need a Staff members PC to access the files and, this is the best part, you tried to get sympathy because you couldn’t print off you ‘homework’ from someone used to yell at cadets for lying to them.”

Lila gave him a blank look.

“I was a soldier and besides, you wouldn’t’ve been able to change any passwords anyway, only members of staff can do that, which is why you came here, probably hoping that I’d just hand you control of my computer.” Michael stopped and looked down at the screen, “Why, in the name of fuck, have you not even started up yet?!”

Michael punched the computer, sending it off the desk and onto the floor.

“Well fuck.” Said Michael, as he looked down at the shattered screen, “Another thing, Ms. Rossi-”

Michael looked up at Lila, only to find that she’d vanished.

“Well, I should expect a visit from the Principle later.” Michael muttered, going back to his, now destroyed, computer.

True to form, Damocles came storming into the IT office.

“YOU’RE FIRED!” Yelled Damocles, making several students stop by the door.

“May I ask why?” Michael asked, casually leaning back in his chair, using his broken computer as a foot stool.

“Attacking a student.” Said Damocles, making Michael raise his eyebrows.

“Do you have proof of such an occurrence?” Michael asked, a small smirk falling onto his face.

“The student’s word is all I require.” Said Damocles, stiffly.

“Well, I have visual and audio recordings that will say the student is lying and that you fired me under false pretences and that you are inept at your job.” Michael responded, making Damocles fume.

“What recordings?” Damocles asked, a small crowed of student now hanging around the IT office, including Caline and her class.

“The security camera up in the corner and the tape recorders over by the cabinet.” Said Michael, “And before you say the camera’s broken, it was, I fixed it and the recorders needed testing and I know that at least seven of them work.” Michael’s expression then went cold, “And before you decide to ��fire me’, I should probably remind you that no one wants to work at this school due to the Akumas running around and, that I can literally knock the school off the network for a good month, give or take.”

Damocles silently fumed, before turning on his heel and stomping out.

“Dickhead.” Michael muttered, turning back to the computer he was setting up.

The crowed slowly dispersed, leaving Caline and her class.

“Who’s that?” Alix asked, looking at Michael.

“That is the new IT specialist.” Said Caline, looking at the class, “Any questions?”

“Yeah, but who is he?” Kim asked.

“That’s my older brother.” Said Marinette, getting a double take from the class.

“You have a brother?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!”

“How fast is he?”

“He’s kinda cute.”

Everyone looked at Juleka, who turned red.

“He can hear you.” Said Michael, not looking away from his computer, “Unless you have a question, I’d like to be left in peace before I lose it and destroy the computer.”

Caline quickly ushered her students back to their classroom, completely forgetting about the calming exercises that she had her class do. Michael quietly grumbled, as he continued to set up the new computer.

A couple of hours later, Michael heard a quiet knock on his office door. Looking up, Michael spotted his sister and a couple of her friends.

“Little one,” Said Michael, getting to his feet, “I’m going to assume that this isn’t a social call.”

“We need you to pull up Lila’s records.” Said Marinette’s friend, Alya, if Michael wasn’t mistaken.

“I’m not allowed to do that.” Said Michael, “Besides, what do you need them for?”

“Lila said that, um,” Alya stammered, struggling coming up with an excuse.

“Lila claimed to be Rena Rouge and Alya had the wake-up call that made her realise that Lila is lying.” Said Marinette, making Alya gape at her.

“Ah, so you want to debunk all her lies.” Said Michael, looking at them, “Unfortunately, her school records won’t be of much use, but I hear Google is a good alternative.”

A look of realisation dawned on Alya’s face, before she said “Oh.”

“Due to a line in my employment contract, I can’t punish her, even if I was a teacher.” Said Michael, leaning back, “So, I can’t help you directly.”

Marinette grinned, before dragging Alya and her other friend away from the office.

Michael could’ve sworn he heard Alya ask Marinette why she didn’t use a cover story. Michael smiled and shook his head, before turning a look at the computer, which had finally booted up. Michael’s face fell and immediately got on the phone.

“Barbra,” Said Michael, his tone grave, “could you send Damocles down here, please?”

A/N: Slow chapter, but the story will expand, but it will mainly follow Michael, Bustier and Marinette, other Characters will be part of the narrative but I’m just putting it out there, I have no idea what I’m planning with this.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #caline bustier #ladybug #chat noir #tom dupain #sabine cheng #principle damocles #lila rossi #Delta writes #the war circle #war circle au

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blissfulparker · 5 years ago

Note

Yeah, I agree their relationship is kinda toxic, but the way he always talks about her idk I think it's quite cute but yeah not safe at all. Also, I haven't seen it, but I think it was the show "Wayne" in which Ciara played which already dealt with drugs. And yes, Bill skarsgård is part of the cast I'm also surprised we didn't hear about him (because to me he is quite famous). (1/2)

I'm wondering if his character is part of the army part and they haven't started yet I saw somewhere that some extras said war scenes will be filmed in January. The other part of the cast announced is Jack Reynor (Kin), Forrest Goodluck, Jeffrey Wahlberg, Michael Gandolfini and Kyle Harvey. Personally, I only knew Jack because of Kin but I have no clue about the others. (2/2)

Yes! It was Wayne that I was thinking of! I never watched that show but I knew she was in it and I thought it had some drugs involved. I do think they’re relationship is toxic and I could go on a rant on why I think it’s toxic. But I feel like bill is a perfect fit for this cast, he’s got the look I feel cherry is talking about. And I thought they stopped filming on the 18th of December, maybe that was just for Christmas. I can’t wait to see what it looks like in the end!

#cherry #cherry talk🍒

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mittensmorgul · 6 years ago

Note

Hello. This might be a stupid one but; why didn't Michael showed himself to humanity? (Meaning mass revelation biblical style). He doesn't want an apocalyptic earth he already had that. So why take it by force? If he is not afraid of a god intervention, most of the people want peace not freedom and he is a bridge between 3 major monotheist beliefs.(did I missed something?) Thank you

Hi there! First of all, sorry this took so long to answer. And I’m gonna take a line here to apologize to everyone who’s asked me stuff that I haven’t replied to. Sometimes I just don’t know how to reply, sometimes I hold on to stuff to see it in my inbox (like nice things people say), and sometimes I save stuff for when I have the brain power to reply and then maybe never do actually come by that brain power… whoopsie… I am doing my best. :P

That said, let’s tackle Michael.

*waits for someone to take him out with a strong hit*

*still waiting*

Well fine. I’ll do this.

I think you may be misunderstanding exactly what Michael wants here. Michael doesn’t give a flying heck about people. If he wanted to be worshiped like a god, he probably could’ve had the whole planet on their knees in a matter of days, you know? Pull a Godstiel, but with a lot less murder and mayhem, perform a few miracles on international television, and bam. He could’ve had the whole population bowing to him.

But I reiterate, he does not care about PEOPLE.

I mean, we got the best look into Michael’s point of view in his conversation with Jack in 14.09:

Alternate Michael: Oh, but, Jack, we’re family. You know, in fact, we’re the only kin each other has left in this world.Jack: My uncle’s in the Cage. And you – you’re not family.Alternate Michael: Well, not literally, no. Our connection, our relation is more a matter of scale of power. Haven’t you learned yet? In this reality, monsters, humans, even angels – they are insects, atoms compared to us. But you [chuckles] – you’re just a child, a mere infant. For you, the past two years – the entirety of your existence – feel like eons. You don’t even know what time is. But you will. Real time, the time that makes mountains, that wipes out species. You’ll see it all with me.Jack: No.Alternate Michael: Year by year, century by century, and as your power returns and grows, we’ll only become more alike. Oh, I know. Your loyalty to Castiel, the Winchesters, the rest of humanity? It will fade. And so will the minor differences – angel armies versus monster armies, this Kansas City or that Kansas City, one world from another – they’ll fade, too.

He doesn’t even consider other ANGELS as anything significant or noteworthy, you know? He’s essentially been driven demented by just having existed for so long, and watched so many other things rise and fall, evolve and go extinct. Everything else holds no real meaning to him. Things are born, things exist for a while, and then they disappear forever. Why bother forming any sort of attachment to anything?

It’s a horrific prospect, honestly. Jack is horrified by it. *WE* are supposed to be horrified by it.

Immortality… is not a gift… it’s a curse. And Michael proves that. He loves nothing but himself, because everything else will die.

His goal is not to amass a hoard of loving, devoted followers. His goal is to wreak as much havoc as possible in the process of reforming the world to whatever he thinks would be most interesting to him right now. We have no idea what that would look like, because I don’t even think Michael knows. He’s like a scientist just throwing random stuff into a vat to see what happens. Oh, that combination of things exploded! This other combination made poison gas! Moving on to the next thing… just leave those other experiments there smoldering in ruin. It just breaks up the boredom for him, and then he’s on to the next thing. Because nothing at all really matters to him.

So the question for Michael is… why not take it by force? He’d done it once with angels, and this go-around he’s decided to try the same thing with monsters. But they’re all monsters who are explicitly under his control via his grace making them essentially his puppets. They’re not even operating of their own free will, technically. They’re just extensions of Michael’s will at this point. He’s not looking to make them all into his devotees, or remaking the world for them to enjoy. Because again, they’re only temporary fixtures in the universe, from Michael’s perspective. He doesn’t care about them or what they want, despite that having been his question to everyone at the beginning of the season.

I suppose I should address that here, for the purposes of understanding how I’ve been looking at him. Yes, his question was “what do you want?” But he didn’t really care what anyone wanted, beyond attempting to discover which group (humans, demons, angels, monsters) was both honest about what they wanted, and simplistic in their desires. Because strangely enough, that’s what Michael needed in the group he chose for his army. He needed a group with simple goals that he could use for his own purposes.

Humans are too messy and complicated. Even ensnaring the entire population in a Divine Revelation sort of way wouldn’t guarantee complete submission, you know? Not to mention the fact that Michael and Lucifer both (and even Raphael) have never, ever, thought that humans deserved that place of love God had ordered the angels revere humanity with. I think Michael resents humanity just as much as Lucifer and Raphael ever did.

There just weren’t enough angels to make a functional army for him, and Heaven is in shambles. He’d already failed to eradicate humanity and wrest control of the world with a full angel army in his own universe, so he wasn’t even really interested in trying to recruit the few angels who are left here.

We know he approached demons, and talked to at least Kip from 14.01. But as we know of demons, they have their own wants. They’re conniving, cunning, and tricksy. I mean, look at Kip’s answer to Michael from 14.01:

Kip: You see, recently, I had a revelation. You know, somebody asked me what it was that I wanted. And I realized that after 600 years as a demon walking the planet, destroying, drinking, defiling – you know, the Three D’s – I didn’t know. So, I sat back, and I gave it a good think, and I realized exactly what I wanted.Castiel: And what is it?Kip: Everything.

So he wanted EVERYTHING? Well, funny enough, that’s kinda the opposite of what Michael wanted in an army, you know? Michael wanted mindless, ravenous soldiers he could control completely. Whose desires were uncomplicated enough that he wouldn’t have to care about keeping them content beyond the very basic.

That left him with monsters. And yes, not all monsters are mindless killing machines.

I mean, think of the vampires from Michael’s AU. They WERE reduced to animalistic eating machines, nearly starving to death because there just weren’t any more people to feed on, and they were beneath Michael’s notice, just like mosquitoes or mud. I mean, why would he care what they wanted?

Because what they wanted was to be able to feed without persecution. Also from 14.01:

Michael: Now, you – you know exactly what you want. You don’t pretend to want to help people… or save the world. Your want is pure and simple… and clean. And that’s why you are worth saving. That’s why we are going to work so well together. Because you – you just want to eat.

Not because Michael admired this quality, or thought it was “worth saving” in its own right, but because it made them useful to him for his purposes. He’s essentially using them to hoover up all the other intelligent life on the planet. What would happen, theoretically, when all the people were gone? When all their food dried up? Michael said he intended to have all the monsters turn all the humans in Kansas City. Well, what THEN? What would all those monsters eat once the entire population of the world were monsters?

It would be chaos, is what. It would likely provide a few years or even decades of entertainment for Michael to watch unfold before he’d have to find something else to amuse himself with. But again, he just does not care. Which makes him possibly the most dangerous villain the show has ever seen.

Even Amara cared about something, you know? Even the Leviathan intended to just take over the planet and create a never-ending perfect human food supply for themselves.

But this is even worse than Raphael restarting the Apocalypse out of ennui. Michael’s a nihilist. He doesn’t want to be loved or worshiped. He doesn’t want to convert the world to bow to him. He does not care.

#michael #spn 14.01 #spn 14.09 #he really doesn't have an agenda and that's the most terrifying thing about him tbh #Anonymous

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outweek30 · 5 years ago

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Is adoption an alternative for lesbians and gays seeking legally-sanctioned relationships?

When John and Craig met in an Upper East Side bar in September, 1980, it could have been another classical Manhattan tale of two tricks passing in the night. The pair had little in common. Craig Burns was blond, boyish, 23. He was between jobs, visiting friends in New York. John Eberhardt, 58, was a Fire Island pioneer, having hammered together scores of beach houses in Cherry Grove during the 1940s before constructing his own wedding cake of a mansion, The Belvedere.

Nonetheless, John and Craig did what mismatched people often do. They fell in love. The next week John invited Craig out to the island and, as Craig recalls, "I kinda never left." This past spring, months shy of their ninth anniversary, the couple went one step further to acknowledge their relationship; Craig Burns became Craig Eberhardt. In a judge's chambers in West Palm Beach, John legally adopted his lover. Craig became his son.

* * * *

Adoption is yet another alternative for gays and lesbians who seek legal recognition of their relationships. Many do it to ensure financial protection for lovers in the event of their death; others see it as the only same-sex union likely to be sanctioned by the law in this era.

But adoption is not a foolproof shelter against the bigotry of our legal system. In the early 1980s in New York State, gay adoptions caused a stir in the legal system, challenging the definition of adoption and provoking progressive decisions in two important cases: Adult Anonymous I and II.

In the latter, handled by Lambda Legal Defense Fund's William J. Thom and heard in 1982, a 32-year-old male petitioned to adopt a 43-year-old. Partial motivation was financial; the building where the pair lived was going co-op and the landlord was evicting those not on the lease. Initially dismissed by Family Court, City of New York, the petitioners appealed the case to the State Supreme Court Appellate Division. The decision was reversed and petition granted, since the Family Court decision was based on its narrow interpretation of the nature of family, not the adoption statute itself, which expresses no limitations. "The 'nuclear family' arrangement is no longer the only model of family life in America," the decision challenged.

In addition, constitutional law was cited, where homosexual relations in private are protected in New York under the right to privacy. Through some circuitous logic, it was proposed that a petition for a father-son adoption by two homosexual men raised the spectre of technical incest. However, it was ruled that "incest in general involves blood relatives." More facetious was the subsequent observation: "And, of course, the taboo against incest, grounded in eugenics, has little application in a relationship which can hardly result in offspring."

However, these legal strides were to be reversed two years later. The New York State Court of Appeals, filtering decisions through a screen of homophobia, effectively put a halt to overtly homosexual same-sex adoptions by lovers. In the Matter of the Adoption of Robert Paul P. in 1984, a 57-year-old man was denied his petition to adopt his 50-year-old lover, although they had lived together continuously for 25 years.

Michael Lavery, a New York City lawyer and co-founder of the Lambda Legal Defense Fund, handled the case. Lavery, a consistent fighter for gay and lesbian rights, has argued cases for Dignity, the gay Catholic group, and Integrity, the Episcopal sect. He acknowledges the misstep made by the two lovers: they did not attempt to hide the sexual nature of their relationship. The legal gay-bashing continued; the court questioned the validity of adoption as a way to halt an eviction. "It is nothing more than a cynical distortion of the function of adoption."

Most damning of all is this paragraph: "Adoption was never intended as a haven where parties might shelter emotional relationships for which no statutory provision has been made. If the homosexual relationship is to receive legal sanction as a family unit, such recognition must come from the legislature, and not the courts through the guise of adoption."

* * * *

John and Craig were inseparable during the first three months together. In December, the pair were visiting John's cousin, who is also gay, in California. Walking through the celebrated Forest Lawn Cemetery one sunny afternoon, observing the gaudy sculpture and meticulous landscaping, John and Craig came upon a small stone bench. Carved into the decoration was an Irish quotation about true love lasting forever. The lovers impulsively joined hands and recited the quote. "From then on, we decided we were a married couple," Craig said.

But both knew that a two-minute wedding in a cemetery held no legal weight. And as the years passed, and John and Craig grew closer, they began thinking about events that could separate them. The question of a legal relationship became more insistent this past year. A friend of the couple, a septuagenarian psychologist from Manhattan had successfully adopted his 54-year-old lover in order to pass on his magnificent Riverside Drive apartment after he passed on. At the age of 65, John was still hardy and working on constant improvements to The Belvedere. But the issue of a successor loomed, he recalled. Who would look after his 26-room palace?

"For one thing, passing on this empire" — Eberhardt assumes a mock hauteur to his voice — "it takes the right kind of person. I don't know who could do it, except for someone who is talented and capable. My older brother or sister just couldn't manage this, what with the milieu of the town, this gay world." Craig was the only choice.

Craig's concerns about a legal relationship with John were just as keen. "In the case of catastrophic illness, I would be John's next of kin and would have the say about his care and well-being, as opposed to a family throwing me out on the street and putting him in a nursing home." In addition, the pair learned that real estate passed on from father to son is taxed differently than it would be for a commercial transaction. John and Craig were amassing a list of basic rights afforded heterosexuals and denied homosexuals. After several talks with their attorney, who is gay, the two agreed to file papers for adoption.

John recalls the day he and Craig went to the courthouse for their petition, accompanied by their attorney. Amongst rows of mothers and fathers with their small children, John and Craig sat: a smiling gray-haired man of 67, with twinkling mischievous eyes, and a solid, big-limbed blond hunk of 32. Once inside the judge's chambers, Craig recalls, "I told the judge our relationship is like father and son." The matter of ownership of The Belvedere was sidestepped. "They seem to frown on people [petitioning adoption] for financial reasons. They prefer to have people doing it for emotional reasons." The issue of homosexuality was not broached.

Craig required written consent from his parents to agree to the adoption. "They knew that it was, in no way, a slighting of them. I still consider them my parents and our relationship is just as good as it's ever been. This was just a way for John and I becoming legally married like my sister and her husband." In deference to his folks, Craig Richard Burns legally changed his name to Craig Burns Eberhardt. The Burns knew of their son's homosexuality; he had come out to them at age 18 as a prelude to the announcement that he had fallen in love with a man and was moving in with him. The relationship lasted three months.

The final legal step in adoption is the destruction of Craig's original birth certificate, which resides in Chicago. Another one will be issued naming John as his legal parent. Ultimately, there will be no legal record of Craig ever being related to the Burns family.

* * * *

In the case of Robert Paul P., the court avails itself of the same self-reflexive homophobia that was employed in the Hardwick sodomy decision back in 1986. Observing that legislation did not include homosexuals in adoption laws any time since the laws were enacted in 1873, the court questions why the status quo should be upset. Another absurd leap of logic observes that since New York sodomy laws were overturned just in 1980, it seems unlikely that the same legislature would want homosexual relationships themselves acknowledged through adoption. Another decision went so far as to term the notion of sexual intimacy between adopter and adoptee as "utterly repugnant."

In most cases, the court expresses itself carefully in gay or lesbian issues. "Court people are sophisticated enough not to be overt," Lavery said. "The less overt are the ones most difficult to pin down and accuse of anti-gay decisions. No one will say, ‘We're not going to allow this adoption because they're a couple of fags.’”

But read between the lines. The court criticized the men for looking to adoption as a way to legally share a lease and prevent an impending eviction. The legal jargon was merely a smokescreen; once again the court was enacting laws that refused to acknowledge a same-sex relationship. In fact, Lavery points out, "the concept of adopting children is a product of the post-Victorian times." Beginning during the ancient Roman era, adoption was a legal tool for economic, political and social objectives, especially when a wealthy man did not have a natural heir.

But the issue of gay adoption prompts mixed reactions. Paula Ettelbrick, Lambda's legal director since 1985, considers it a flawed strategy, and a compromise to receiving basic gay and lesbian rights. "The effort of our community should be to obtain recognition for our relationships as they are, not subverting nor distorting them into parent-child relationships."

Lavery also has a diplomatic party line. Quietly, he suggests that same-sex couples who maintained the parent-child charade have had their petitions for adoption granted. "One should not assume that after the 1986 Court of Appeals decision, there have been no gay adoptions." After all, he points out, when there is no hitch to the proceedings, the request for adoption is kept confidential. There is no record of successful homosexual adoptions. It is only when the initial petition is denied and the decision appealed that the case finds its way into public record.

Lavery recalls one case where a successful professor in his mid-40s asked to adopt a man in his mid-20s after they had lived together five years. The older man presented himself as advisor and mentor; a role model that the younger man lacked as a child. When challenged as to whether their relationship was actually of a sexual nature, the younger man grimaced and told the court, "No way!" The petition was approved.

He offers an unsettling clarification: "If you were rich and powerful, [lover adoptions] probably could be done," but not for the average guy on he street. Lavery alludes to an internationally- known operatic composer who adopted his young lover, as well as a successful entrepreneur from Chicago who followed suit.

The recent State Court of Appeals case involving Miguel Braschi was a landmark case insofar as acknowledging gay and lesbian relationships. Braschi was awarded his deceased lover's lease after their 10-year union, but this decision will have no impact on the adoption issue, Lavery offered. The courts pulled their punch, he added, in extending the ruling to rent-controlled apartments, not rent-stabilized buildings. Gays and lesbians will still find the need to petition for adoption to maintain cohabitation or property ownership.

The gay psychologist who adopted his younger lover agrees on that count. The man, who requested anonymity, suggested that a real estate pressure group influenced the legislature in the Braschi case. "They've stopped people from using adoption as a way around the problem of losing your apartment if your name is not in the lease. Adoption should be a freedom."

When his lover of 25 years died, the man was left alone in the six-room penthouse apartment on Riverside Drive. Eventually he met his second lover, who moved in six months later. A rash of abusive letters from the man's landlord began to come, insisting that the lover move out since he was not on the lease. "They persecuted us for three years. That was the trick in those days," he said. "They thought the only way to get me out of the apartment was to separate me from my lover. We said 'fuck you' and went through the channels of adoption."

Officially, Lavery will not handle an adoption case where the same-sex petitioners are involved in a sexual relationship. The case is doomed, he insists. NMostcases I handle are done pro bono. It's not worth the time and effort if the case is denied without any advancement." The strategy of gay adoption "is not a winnable battle at this time," he added "A gay sexual relationship will not meet the legal definition of adoption."

"It's necessary to convince heterosexual judges, as well as other gays, that two gay men can have a relationship that is not necessarily sexual." The unspoken message here is: keep a lid on intimacy in court and the petition will sail through. Acknowledge your lover relationship and prepare for rejection. What advice does Lavery give his clients in this situation?

"There's a thin line between deception and downplaying," Lavery says. "If [the partners] can't be frank when the question comes up, it could be disastrous."

Ettelbrick points out alternatives to adoption, adding, "There are ways that we can take care of our vulnerabilities under the law." These include wills, power of attorney designation and conservatorships.

Lavery is guarded in his appraisal of the future of gay legal rights and the recognition of homosexual unions. “We have some ways to go; we are still too conveniently overlooked, unless somebody is waving a sign in your face, saying, ‘What about us?’”

* * * *

John and Craig are sitting in the breakfast nook off the kitchen of The Belvedere, taking a breather from last-minute renovations. By November 1, they will close up the castle and head to Florida to run another guest house called Villa Fontana. Craig ponders the longevity of their relationship, and feels it stems, in part, from a respect for fidelity during sexually liberated days. "We've always been just a monogamous couple," he explained, "and I think that's why it's worked for us this long. We made a commitment to each other, and this year we reinforced the commitment to each other."

— Jay Blotcher, OutWeek Magazine No. 18, October 22, 1989, p. 36.

#outweek #issue 18 #lgbt history #lover adoption #feature #jay blotcher #john eberhardt #craig eberhardt #cherry grove #the belvedere #homophobia #relationship recognition #marriage #photo #scott morgan #michael lavery

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fictionkinfessions · 3 years ago

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lighthearted update in the midst of these trying times- i ordered and ate a frozen banana. chocolate covered. the stand i found did not have any toppings or anything and it still froze the hell out of my teeth. but it was good! kinda felt like i was young and finally getting a break from the big yellow banana to go eat one. when i had gotten the banana though my mom (this life) said i should have told the guy that there's always money in the banana stand. she doesn't even know what kin is. - michael bluth

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #michaelbluthkin #arresteddevelopmentkin #food cw #mod party cat!

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 6 years ago

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Prompt! You said detailed would make things easier, so I tried to make things specific, if its more than you meant, idc if you change stuff lol Sam&Gabriel under the stars. Gabriel misses his family in heaven, not that he'd necessarily give his brothers hugs if they showed up, but he misses how things used to be. He feels guilty about telling Sam beause Sams obviously not the biggest fan of his family (especially Lucifer+the cage) & he's happy with Sam so he feels ashamed of missing his brothers

Thank you for the prompt! I got to it finally, and it got very long, and kind of disappointing because I realized it had gotten too long and ended it - but I hope it’s as per your liking, dear anon! Thank you very much for suggesting me a prompt in the first place ^-^

***

“Sam,” Gabriel tried saying, and the hunter turned his head to face him, with a ‘listening’ expression on his features. It wasn’t often, at least these days, that Gabriel got to see Sam without the worrying frown, or the anxious crease in his forehead. But, for once, he was actually relaxed - a mild smile playing on his lips, and a mellow twinkle in his eyes.

It could have something to do with Gabriel laying next to him, with Sam’s arm tucked under him - pinned by his head resting against the plush grass.

Or, it could have something to do with the stars. The night sky that they were sprawled out under, twinkling with an infinite array of starry bodies - the moon giving her responsibilities away to the constellations as she rests behind a billowing grey cloud, and the starlight becoming instead what lights up the Earth that night.

Sam loved this, he knew. Of course he did - perhaps the stars and the sky made it impossible to worry, by telling you that there were greater forces of nature battling the Universe for order and peace - and that until the Sun rises and everyone has to go along their workaday world, you should get stop worrying yourself about the consequences and let go.

“Hey,” Sam reminded, his voice gentle as it cut through his reverie. Gabriel remembered that he’d just taken Sam’s name - was about to say something to him, rather than just muse in a poetic lingo in his head about the absence of Sam’s brooding lines.

Sam loved this, Gabriel knew. Which is what made it even harder to start speaking of what was in his mind.

It was not that Sam was getting impatient, but he repeated himself nonetheless. “Hey,” Once again, soft and comfortable. “You were saying?”

Gabriel looked at Sam once again, his loose-lipped smile and wide, concerned eyes. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t tell Sam.

“No,” He substituted, turning on his side to get closer to Sam - it did take away his view of the stars, but a view of his tall, strong hunter in plaid, smiling like he finally could, was more welcome to him, at the end of the day. “Said your name for no reason. Nevermind.” He forced a reassuring smile so practised, that Sam couldn’t read through it at the moment and believed him.

“Don’t wear it out,” Sam said, his dialogue carrying an intonation of humor, using his arm’s restricted movement to stroke Gabriel’s back. His eyes stayed on the archangel for but a second, before they flickered back up to the aweing sky, and Gabriel didn’t mind, because Sam was still smiling at the sky, and this was all Gabriel needed to be happy.

Except when it wasn’t.

Except when the voices in his own head rebelled against the rest of his conscience, and yearned for a familiar face, the sound of a brother’s voice, the touch of one of his kin.

Yet Sam’s arm around him elated him, and he was never not exhilarated to have this man next to him - close to him, as they were now. Stretched out on a meadow in Nova Scotia, under the vast and dark sky, without a care in the moment and Sam’s happy.

It’s all he needs to be happy, Gabriel promises himself, it truly is.

Except when it isn’t.

“Sam,” Gabriel says, even softer this time, as if to see if the hunter could even hear him.

He did, and lifted his head to look Gabriel in the eye. “Yeah?”

Gabriel swallowed.

What are you even going to say? 'I’m sorry you’re having fun here and are happy with me and the sky and the stargazing but I’m not and I need to talk to you about it because you’re the only person I can talk to, but I don’t want you to be upset - so can you please hear me out whining about my brothers in a perfectly objective sense and not as if I am not happy with you?’ Is that what you’re leading with? Awesome. Do it. Ruin the one thing you have going for you. Upset the one man you trust and love. Wipe that smile off his face.

“Huh,” He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the nagging in his head. “I was just saying…” His voice trailed off, unthinking. Where were words when you needed them?

There was a pause. Sam waited, and blinked at him.

And then he didn’t wait anymore, and used his free hand to lift his head and shoulders off the ground, and twisted in the air, and dipped - to get to Gabriel’s lips, and capture them in a chaste, caressing kiss.

Gabriel instantly closed his eyes, losing himself to the momentary buzz of everything, and the familiar tingling under his skin of every time Sam kisses him, especially that inconspicuous and melting, before Sam pulled off gently and got back in place, on his back next to Gabriel.

“It’s like you read my mind, Sammy.” Gabriel joked, pursing his lips to preserve the traces of Sam on them. “I love how we just understand if the other needs some sugar these days.”

Sam grinned, his dimples lighting up Gabriel’s world. “You need the other kinda sugar too, Gabe? We brought food, but have just been lying on the ground silently, for hours now.” He breathed out a small laugh, at the sound of that.

“Guess when you’re with me, nutrition is a forgotten trivial issue.” Gabriel supplemented, because if he didn’t add to Sam’s dialogue with a joke of his own, it would be suspicious to Sam as proof of his not-okay-ness. And then he’d ask him, with his caring voice and pleading eyes, to tell him about it. And Gabriel didn’t know how to.

“I still don’t feel like getting up.” Sam confessed, his leisurely voice in contrast to where Gabriel was at.

“Is that cue for me to insist that you ought to?” He bit his lip. “Or, is it cue for me to conjure up some food and shove it down your throat in a way that you don’t choke?”

“Neither.” Sam muttered. “Just stay put.” He shifted his arm around Gabriel to pull him closer still, until he was pressed against Sam’s side, warm and there. “I don’t care about food if you don’t. The World’s not ending, you’re right here, and its enough.”

He sounded like he meant it.

“For me too.”

Except when it wasn’t.

Except when his traitorous thoughts fled to his family again. To Raphael, who grew up next to him - now dead. To Michael, who raised him - now gone. To Lucifer, who knew him like no other, and made him all he was today - now, no more.

Yet the close memory of Sam’s lips on his, his palm still held to Gabriel’s spine, comforting - his voice so smooth and words so lovely - he, who said that Gabriel was enough, now back to looking at the skies and not his eyes, giving the coward in Gabriel the opportunity to flee to his pathetic family again.

Each time someone mentioned being happy, Gabriel couldn’t but think of them. The first fleeting images in his mind’s eye were of Sam, and the moments they’ve spent together - there were Cas, Dean, Jack, the others - but these were followed by an unending montage of his brothers, and the past.

For the time he spent with Sam may be the best part of his life ever - but it was hardly a millionth fraction of the time he’d spent without him. Aeons had passed when he’d only known the company of his brothers, and those had not been perfect, but they were something. And it pained him to realize, that it was a part of his happiness, to be with them; as much as he wished to be content.

It was a curse, and he didn’t know how he could live knowing that ugly truth about himself, unless he told it aloud to someone, and didn’t it always, alwayshave to be Sam?

“Sam,” Gabriel mouths, wishing that his voice goes unheard, but Sam dutifully turns his head to meet Gabriel’s eyes, and blinks in a manner of saying, yes?

Third time’s the charm, right?

“I need to tell you something.” Gabriel goes on, riding out the adrenaline when he can, and Sam instantly begins to sit up, the crease back in his forehead and Gabriel balks.

This is exactly what he didn’t want.

“No!” He yelps, and almost pushes Sam back down. He goes easily, and downright socials at Gabriel now.

“What?” He demanded. “This sounds like a sitting-up conversation.”

“I don’t want it to be,” Gabriel protested, and he sounded so pathetic that Sam calmed down instantly.

“Fine,” He said, in a soothing voice, his eyes looking although he regretted momentarily raising his voice. “Talk to me, Gabriel.”

I need you to stop frowning. Keep smiling, and keep telling me to tell you this, and maybe I’ll get it out.

Gabriel groaned, frustrated with his own head. “I’m going to.” He swore, inhaling deeply.

“You wanting to 'talk’ talk to me,” Sam continued. “Is the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Yeah, I know healthy communication is your kink,” Gabriel let out, as a means to lighten the mood.

Sam didn’t even object. “What is this about?”

Its about me being a greedy sonuvabitch who isn’t happy enough with the greatest man ever lying next to me and kissing me and smiling at me - and missing my family and needing my brothers to complete the picture before I can be content!

“I don’t know.”

Sam’s mouth poised in displeasure. “Something is bothering you. Is it about us?” He looked almost afraid.

“No!” Gabriel almost leapt to his feet in protest at Sam keeping up the sad eyes. “Don’t say that! It’s not! It’s just -”

I miss my brothers. Yes, the ones who destroyed your family, and even killed you! The Michael who almost drove your brother crazy, and possessed him! The Raphael who killed your best friend, Cas! The Lucifer who -

He couldn’t do this.

He can’t tell Sam, that he missed his family. Because that would mean that he missed Lucifer. And Lucifer, to Sam, was…

He couldn’t do this.

“You know what, Samshine?” Gabriel blinked a couple of times to regain his composure. “False alarm. Nothing to talk about.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. “That’s not how it works.”

“But it did,” Gabriel convinced. “I’m all good. Seriously. Stop thinking about it.”

“Gabriel,” Sam tried to coax. “Talk to -”

“I promise, Sammy,” Gabriel swore, his eyes wide and frantic unknown to him. “I’m happy!”

Are you?

“I don’t wanna poke, or make you uncomfortable,” Sam said, cautiously. “But I want you to know that you can always talk to me. About anything, Gabriel. Know that I’ll listen, know that I’ll not mind anything you have to say, and know that I care about you and everything that matters to you.”

Gabriel didn’t deserve Sam.

Sam deserved someone with less baggage. Sam deserved someone who was as wonderful as he was - or at least, close, since equal was probably not possible.

Gabriel knew he was happy with Sam.

He knew he was.

But he also knew that he missed his brothers. He did and that made him unhappy and that was the truth.

He needed to try a different approach maybe.

“Wouldn’t you miss Dean?”

Sam blinks, and there’s suddenly a sharpness in the look he spares in his direction. “Why would I miss him?”

Gabriel chewed on his lip. “If he wasn’t here, wouldn’t you feel bad about it?”

“Dean’s back home at the bunker with Cas, and I’ll meet him when we get back after tonight, right?” Sam explained, a little confused. “So, it’s more like ‘good riddance’ rather than ‘I miss him’ - because it’s Dean.”

Gabriel swallowed. He was gonna do this. Sam may get mad at him, and he had no idea what he’d do if Sam began to hate him - but he also sorta knew that he wouldn’t get angry at him for sharing something like this because it was Sam, and that was one of the millions of good things about him.

I miss my family.

He was ashamed of himself, nonetheless. He misses how things used to be, and he misses his brothers. But he’s happy right now. How does he tell Sam that, in the same breath.

I miss my brothers, but you’re family now.

It was true. The Winchesters and Cas were more or less family now. Sam was everything. Except he was everything good, and Gabriel longed for ‘everything’ everything.

“I miss them.” He finally got out, and paused for an overly long moment. Sam was looking at him cautiously, and patient. “Michael, Raphael, Lucifer.” He choked on saying the names aloud, after so long hearing them roll off his tongue. “I’ve been thinking about them, I dunno why. Maybe it’s the sky that reminds me of my brother’s wings, or the -” He paused, again. And looked up at Sam, who was staring back at him intently.

“Go on,” Sam prompted.

“I miss my family in heaven, Sam. I wouldn’t exactly hug them if they showed up, but I miss how things used to be - before everything.” He stopped abruptly. “I don’t wanna make you feel bad.” Gabriel admitted, looking down. “Can you please not think that you’re not perfect for me, because I’m telling you I miss them?”

Sam rolled his eyes incredulously. “Where’s the connection between those things?” He went on, in a more understanding voice, as Gabriel’s words began to ring in his head as making sense. “You don’t need to feel like I’m everything to make you happy, Gabriel, why even would you think that?”

Gabriel was honestly perplexed. “But -”

“It’s a thing we say.” Sam sighed, speaking of humans, to an archangel. “And yeah, Gabriel, you make me happy and I’m seriously happy right now with you - but that doesn’t mean that if Dean needed me, or Cas or Jack needed help, I’d not freak and leave at once! It goes without saying! They’re family, Gabriel, and you don’t prioritize within families.”

“No! I get that!” Gabriel protested. “It’s just that - I’m not supposed to miss them! You’re not a fan of my family - especially, uh, Lucifer, and - everything. They’re not - they’re not exactly the… best.”

“But you’re allowed to,” Sam muttered.

“They hurt you.”

“They hurt you too. And it’s not about me right now. This is a part of you, that’s separate from me in this aspect - and families work like that, Gabe.” Sam answered, as if it was that simple. “I’ve gotten hurt plenty, but that doesn’t mean I can turn off the switch of missing my family altogether.”

“Are you really telling me that it’s fine for me to miss my brothers, who’ve hurt, tortured and killed you and your family, just because I do?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“How can you be so - how do you not hate me right now?” Gabriel frowned, genuine and sincere. “I’m talking about some archangels who wanted to end this World! Can you stop being so good to me about it?”

“Can you stop beating yourself up over this?”

Gabriel shook his head, with a hint of a sour grin.

“Can you stop wanting me to be upset over this?” Sam proposed alternately, and Gabriel drew in a long breath, and nodded. He moved closer, putting his head on the latter’s chest, kinda so he didn’t have to look him in the eye. “I know what it feels like, Gabriel. There was a time when I missed Ruby, you know. And she wasn’t a good thing - but I did, and I got over it - but what I mean is that you’re allowed to have these feelings because they’re feelings - I trust you enough that you’re not gonna try to free Michael from the cage or wake..Lucifer in the Empty - but as long as it’s about you missing your brothers, Gabriel, that is fine.”

He was close to tears. Sam was the most perfect thing to ever happen to him. Sure as hell, he didn’t deserve Sam Winchester - but he happened to get him, and he couldn’t ask for anything else.

Even if he did, it was apparently okay to Sam. Because he was goddamn nuts, and also the best person on the planet, and Gabriel loved him for it all.

“I don’t like missing them.” Gabriel confided, after a moment of silence when the tension eased from the air and a comfortable vibe settled into their veins. Sam had his lips pressed to Gabriel’s forehead, and he was running a hand through the curls at the back of his neck. He didn’t stop when Gabriel began to speak. “I don’t know how to deal with it. There was Loki before, and then Asmodeus, and then the alternate universe crap - but now, there’s you and me, and there’s peace, and there’s an opportunity for me to think about them, and I wish I didn’t have to. There’s this pang of longing, and I can’t voice it to myself even, because yeah, I miss them, and I’ve never had to do it before.”

“I get it.” Sam murmured. “But, I know something that might help.” There was a smile in his voice when he continued. “Talking about it helps.”

“I don’t wanna talk about missing them, it’ll be worse -”

“No. Tell me what you miss.” Sam urged. “Tell me stories about heaven, tell me of the things which stand out. Tell me about your favorite brother, and your best day with him. Tell me your tale, I’m listening, and I know it’ll make you feel better.”

“You really wanna hear about the most dysfunctional family in the Universe?” Gabriel teased. “We even drove God off, so.”

“I do.”

“What if I tell you about me and Raphael helping Father in his workshop,” Gabriel’s voice rose with excitement, the vibrations running through Sam’s being too. “Oh, wait, the moon! The craters in the moon! I could tell you how, uh, Lucifer was partially responsible for it!”

“You could,” Sam repeated.

“Will you tell me weird stories of you and Dean in return?” He conditioned.

“No,” Sam laughed. “Tonight’s your night. Don’t start feeling obligated to listen to me, as a compensation for me listening to you - and we aren’t doing a couples’ sharing activity. I wanna hear about you, and you’re gonna tell me - and on a completely unrelated date from today, I’m gonna tell you about Dean and Baby and his obsession with pies and fear of flying. But today, you talk to me.” Sam ended, with a slight brush of his lips on the top of Gabriel’s head, and Gabriel began to speak as Sam turned his eyes back to the sky, and smiled while he listened.

“Well, are you more interested in the origin of platypuses or walruses, because they’re both awesome stories!”

#oh writing my writing

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kathillards · 6 years ago

Text

rangerstop day two

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THE MEGAFORCE RANGERS SHOUTED US OUT AT THEIR PANEL AZIM TOLD EVERYONE ABOUT A GROUP OF FRIENDS FROM ALL OVER THE COUNTRY WHO MET BECAUSE OF POWER RANGERS AND POINTED AT US AND THE MEGAFORCE RANGERS ALL CHEERED AND TOLD US TO STAND UP OH MY GOD

uhhh sorry how do i move on from that how do i even think about anything else. the panel room was CROWDED people were FILMING kat and tabby had gone up to ask questions (which were HUGE hits) and come back and sat down AND THEN AZIM SAID THAT in the middle of a question about. i dont even fucking remember. something about what great community values power rangers has or something? and i guess we were related to power rangers being a community or whatever but bitch. BITCH. he said it and like pointed at us and they all started clapping (this sounds fake as hell i know BUT THERES VIDEO PROOF SOMEWHERE???) and everyone turned to look at us and we were like hi and then like two minutes later azim went “oh wait i have to make a correction, its not a group of girls its three girls and one guy because i think abigail isnt here? right?” and we were like ya so uh moral of the story... azim rizk i would murder ten hundred men for you

ok other things happened too, this will probably not be in chronological order bc i cant think right now

- mike ginn stopped when he saw me and looked for tabby who was hiding behind me when she saw him and he looked around for tabby and did his pointing thing again and it was so cuuute

- kat was talking to christina about how we avoided the cast all day yesterday and she was like “yes but i saw you anyway ;) and i was wondering when you’d come over to say hi!” shes so CUTE and then they talked about her rescue puppy and she was so happy to talk about her puppy

- ciara and christina made ben sign the art presents he gave them, ciara did it first and christina was like OMG WHY DIDNT YOU AUTOGRAPH MINE and made him sign hers too

- christina and i did a WHOLE photoshoot we did a normal pic then a silly pic but then she didnt like so we did a kissy face pic and she was like “oh i think i did a duck face” and im like thats ok so did i AND OUR PICS ARE SO CUTE AND SHE HUGGED ME SO TIGHT I. WOULD. DIE. FOR. YOU. CHRISTINA. MASTERSON.

- selwyn called tabby his girlfriend when i showed up without her he was like “wheres my girlfriend” bc he remembered us from last night and then she came over and he was like THERE YOU ARE and gave her a free selfie (and signed her space dvd with “tj is the real leader of in space” but refused to X out andros’ face bc that was mean) and he covered up najee’s face on her kevin t-shirt and then was upset bc it looked like he was touching her chest and tracy lynn laughed at him over it AND THEN HE TOLD US TO COME TO THE TGIF IN THE HOTEL AFTERWARDS BC THE RANGERS WERE GONNA GO THERE AND GET DRUNK AND HE INVITED US TO HAVE DRINKS W/ HIM but we stood him up because... we are tired... he was like “yeah we have this stupid vip dinner but like we’re gonna try to leave early and just go get fucking smashed” and we were like ur so valid selwyn. i love you.

- kat showed azim my tweets defending megaforce and he had to put the phone down to run his hands through his hair and be like “wow that was such a specific takedown” and kat was like “yeah she just says this shit all the time bc shes seen megaforce five hundred times” and he was like “she was so detailed though she didnt just say ‘you suck’ she put THOUGHT into her takedowns”

- (later when he signed my super megaforce green print he called me “my sista in social media smackdown!!!” complete with that many exclamation points)

- brennan said “i like your hat” to ben five times and he also signed tabby’s as well with his three catchphrases (she asked for him to write “awesome!” and he was like “i had more lines than that....”) he also told us he and the dino charge team were invited back for a dc/nsteel teamup but they kept cancelling them bc of budget reasons till it was just him and yoshi and he was finally like “i told them to just bring yoshi back because like thats his brother” and i was like “but then they didnt even INTERACT” and he was like “i KNOW”

- tabby’s tracy story: she asked tracy if it was uncomfortable fighting in crop tops and short skirts and tracy said “it wasnt uncomfortable but it was hard to not show everything” and she was like “idk why a power ranger would dress like that” and tabby told her ashley should have her own fashion line of athletic wear for fighter girls and tracy was like YES and tabby said she should have been leader of turbo bc she was into cars and tracy said that when they told her that ashley was gonna have a car plot she was like “ew no i dont want to touch greasy car oils” but that she was happy that ashley got to challenge herself

- kat was standing around azim the entire morning and he was introducing her to everyone who came up to him like she was his handler and at one point accidentally implied that she was his girlfriend and kat was like no im not and he was like “oh whoops it did kinda sound like that...” and his actual handler was like “why did u correct him” and kat was like “NO I LOVE HIS GIRLFRIEND”

- when i was taking my pics w/ the megaforce cast and andrew was the sweetest angel and he kept making poses over my shoulder while i giggled and then he asked me for a hug and KISSED MY CHEEK and hugged me so tight and was like “love you guys” I WOULD DIE FOR YOU ANDREW GRAY

- john mark is literally the funniest person alive and he was constantly going around the megaforce booth when we were there like (to ben when he was giving art to ciara and christina) “WHERES MINE” and to me when i was having them sign my megaforce prints “WHERES MINE” hes so funny and i love himmm

- ciara was signing my prints but she got distracted when we asked about her dogs and she stopped and opened her phone and started showing us pics and videos and she was soo happy to talk about her dogs too and then we took our pic and checked it to make sure it looked good and tabby was like “you look gorgeous” and she was like “we BOTH look gorgeous” i cannot believe. AND THEN she threw in a group photo for FREE and we all got in there

- kat was telling us and azim about some douchebag vendor who was like hitting on her and inviting her to an afterparty and was like “are you over 21″ when she was just trying to look at his spd toys and azim was literally “which guy. where. where is he.” HE WAS GONNA KILL THAT GUY FOR KAT HE LOVES HER

- we somehow got on the subject of azim SHAVING HIS BEAUTIFUL BEARD and he was like “oh well we went to the make a wish foundation to meet kids and the beard scares them so i had to shave” and i was like “thats racist” and he was like nooo but u could tell his mind was blown and i was like “cameron didnt shave” and he was like “well cameron is white” and i was like SO YOU ADMIT ITS RACIST and he laughed also im correct

- related but michael copon came over to jessica rey’s table while we were there and she was like “hi michael these are my FRIENDS” and they were talking about how they’re cousins and they’re both half filipino and tabby was like “why didnt they give you any scenes together in the teamup!” and jessica was like “because i was with erin!” and michael was like “because they couldnt have two filipinos together in one scene” power rangers got WOKE man

- kat to andrew: i have a huge troy plushie!

andrew: oh my dogs would rip that up immediately

kat:

andrew: do your dogs not rip things up

kat: i dont... i wouldnt let them...touch my troy plushies...

(we love you andrew. he doesnt even know hes at a con. hes just here to chill.)

- someone at the panel asked a stupid question about “if you could cameo in any other season which season would you pick” like they dont get asked this all the fucking time and the rangers were like hmm like beast morphers or dino charge and then andrew, my husband my light my life, was like “fuck power rangers, i wanna go to the dc universe” (he didnt cuss obviously) but like... king. legend supporting legends. AND THEN CHRISTINA WAS LIKE “oh mood i wanna be in the pokemon universe” and john mark was like “as what” and she was like “i dont know i didnt watch it” QUEEN OF POKEMON she kins jigglypuff

- tabby was at ann marie crouch’s booth and telling her how she loved that princess shayla was the wild force team’s mom and she was like aww yeah i felt such a maternal instinct even though that was before i had my actual child!! shes so cute!! shes so pretty!!

- jessica rey is literally SO WONDERFUL AND FUN TO TALK TO we went to hang out bc tabby wanted her wild force dvd signed and she was just telling us her stories of hanging out w/ the other boys and how she went to drink w/ azim just to keep him company (bc peter and yoshi were there and they were like “we dont drink” nerds) so cuuute and then she had that pic of her and peter and yoshi and they’re making stupid faces and she’s smiling like an angel and she’s like THEY DIDNT TELL ME IT WASNT A SERIOUS PHOTO and i asked her jokingly how much for it and she was like take it its $30 and i was like pls charge me more have my money take my soul

- tabby and kat were at the megaforce booths and jessica rey came over and was like “excuse me what are you guys doing with MY GIRLS” and john mark was like “uh they’re OUR GIRLS” and then cameron pulled jessica over and was like “actually this is MY babe” and then she tried to leave bc she was in the way of ppl in line and azim stopped her and was like “no no stay you’re part of our FAMILY”and uh basically the power rangers family is the cutest family in the whole world thank you good night

- taylor swift wrote gorgeous about andrew gray

#i also talked to peter about the ninja steel finale HES FRIENDS W/ THE CUTE GIRL WHO PLAYED EMMA #he said he told the girl who played emma that there was another ranger she could totally be and i was like IS SHE NINJA STEEL GREEN #because SHE SHOULD BE and he was like no i wouldve told you if there was a ninja steel green lol #hes a liar tho he would not have #and he was playing pokemon go the whole damn time #earth's defenders never shut up #hell clique takes rangerstop #im so tired i love powered rangers

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