HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN

[gcldengrime]

ABOUT LENNON | I can’t be everything to everyone, but I’ll kill myself trying and I’m not scared of dying.

CHARACTER BASICS

NAME: Lennon Burke

AGE: Thirty-Two

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis man, He/Him

FACE CLAIM: Barry Keoghan

EYE COLOR: Blue

HAIR COLOR: Black

HEIGHT: 5′8″

DATE OF BIRTH: September 9th

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: High School Diploma

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: N/A

OCCUPATION: Owner of Crescent Moon Ink

HOMETOWN: Kilkenny, Ireland

CHARACTER HISTORY [TRIGGER WARNING FOR DRUG ABUSE, ADDICTION, OVERDOSE]

The only way to convince twelve year old Lennon to get on the plane and leave Ireland until he turned eighteen was the promise that he’d never see his brothers again if he dared to run off. He did, though, only to have his older brother pull him by the collar of his shirt kicking and screaming on to the platform. He should have known then that this was far from the climax of trouble they would face in their mother’s desperate attempt to rewrite the limited chapters she had left in her life.

When Lennon turned fourteen, his mother was deported and the boys were forced to stay due to their dual citizenship and the lack of funds their mother had to even bring them over. Lennon didn’t think much of going into foster care as they seemed to have better chances in the system rather than with her. However, Lennon has always been more comfortable in chaos and the lull of someone finally doing right by them was quickly destroyed by his own hands. Him and his brothers were separated in the system, each going down their own poor path and eventually only reuniting over a morgue table to identify their eldest brother.

Lennon and his two younger brothers ended up on the streets and in retaliation for the person who sold his older brother the drug that took his life, he did more than just slink around dark corners. Lennon learned the game to find those spiking drugs. The Burke boys took the supply and reported it to the authorities, but they were far from upstanding citizens.

Making a deal with the cop that handled the case, Lennon and his brothers were able to avoid CPS as long as he helped the man snag other dealers. He worked as a rat while also using the open slots of those he burned to create his own business. He ended up getting a lot of connections in the city and the opportunity to adopt his brothers out of the system with the proper resources to get them in his custody.

PRESENT DAY [TRIGGER WARNING FOR DRUG ABUSE, ADDICTION]

The only issue was that that Lennon had the resources he never had before,  and was s caught between wanting to be a savior and also fending for himself as he always had. His brothers found their struggle with addiction and he paid for their rehabilitation just as much as he paid for the clean supply when they got out and fell off the wagon. To this day, he has a paid set of eyes on his younger brother who still remains in a rehab facility, while the other is somewhere in the city only ever appearing when he needs help. 

About five years ago, he took himself out of the game to try and settle with all of the money he was able to make and set aside. It hasn’t taken much for Lennon to try and fix his mistakes by also taking care of those he knows have dabbled in drug use, despite knowing he was the root of the problem by making their dangerous fix accessible. He wants to help but how do you help when all you’ve ever known is how to destroy? Working now to keep himself busy, he’s trying to make something of himself using the tricks he learned along the way for something more sustainable to make a future he can share with his brothers.

HEADCANONS

Lennon uses box dye on his hair but never toner, someone please help him.

He has a multitude of shitty tattoos including a small x under his eye near his cheekbone.

He is currently having an affair with the wife of the cop that he worked with, as she is involved with drugs secretly. He is a mess.

10/10 will gslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

The good ol’ classic hook up, whether it be something consistent or a one night stand

Childhood friends that grew apart

Childhood enemies

Exes

People he’s met in the system

The woman he’s having an affair with ahahahaha

Someone he pays to keep an eye on his younger brothers

[phoebekeller]

Phoebe watched in pure horror as the man smile, knowing whatever sense she had managed to talk into Lennon disappeared as quickly as it has appeared. She was tempted to just turn around and walk right back inside, but what kind of friend or sister, would that make her?

"He's not worth it, Lennon. He's a miserable asshole who gets off on making people feel little," she told him, loud enough for him to hear her over the gross sounds of his knuckles against the man's face, but not loudly enough to attract unwanted attention. "I'm not leaving, so you better stop it right now or you'll make me guilty by association or some shit." She wasn't convinced that was how the law worked, but there was very little she wouldn't say at this point.

[gcldengrime]

The last hit, however, hadn't ended as Lennon intended. He could feel the blood swell around his knuckles but it was far from resolution. The man stood up and ran, but only time would tell if he'd learn any lesson from their affair— and the same could be said for Lennon.

"Fuck!" He called out into the night, and regret swelled in the pit of his stomach.

He knew what was next, a step he thought he abandoned long before.

"He comes back, and you tell me, alright?" He advised, hissing through clenched teeth as the adrenaline was cut short. "But for the time being, Pheebs, I-I'll be back soon alright. You know where to find me. I'll be back in a few days, but he comes back and tries again— you tell me."

He took her hand where the skin burned against the gentle touch. Pulling her close, Lennon kissed the top of her head with a mumur, "I'll be back for you, always have. Just stay out of trouble until I do."

END.

[phoebekeller]

Phoebe knew all these things went. Instant gratification before real-life consequences sank in. The man who had insulted her was vile, but a cop or a judge wouldn't excuse Lennon's actions because the client had made her cry. Panic rose quickly in her chest, seeing all the possible outcomes and knowing all of them ended with him being ripped away from her and she couldn't have that. She had, since first meeting him, grown to see him as a brother, as the only family she had.

It was dramatic, she kept telling herself that she was blowing this out of proportion, but the possibility of him just... going away wasn't one she was willing to entertain. "No, I won't head back inside, Lennon," she said, gripping his arm firmly to hold him in place. The man looked fine so far, but he also looked like the type to press charges. "You made your point, let him go. This is still salvageable, okay? Just come back inside with me, please."

[gcldengrime]

Focus was brought back to the man before him, and his grin painted red proved that any sense of consequence on his end hadn't sunk in. Any sense that Phoebe reeled him in with was thrashed away, hook ripped right out of his mouth for him to slam it right into the man's jaw with his left fist. Once more, there was an echoing clatter that ran through the alley as Lennon shoved him up against the wall again with little consideration for the trash cans beside them.

"Phoebe, go," He grunted, throwing the weight of his body forward to ensure the man wouldn't get away so easily. "He thinks it's a joke. No one talks to you like that, you got it? No one."

Lennon's knuckles stung, and he could see where he's broken the thin veil of skin over bone on his face. Regret had washed over the man, but Lennon couldn't feel it yet. The adrenaline was still running over him and his breath was too loud to hear Phoebe's protests.

"Go, Phoebe."

[phoebekeller]

WHO: @phoebekeller & @gcldengrime WHERE: Sea Shanty Shack WHEN: Phoebe's late-night shift

After a shitty encounter with a client left Phoebe holding back tears, she hid in the kitchen while she got ahold of herself and was ready to face people again. No matter how long she worked at the dinner and how many rude customers she encountered, she would never get used to getting yelled at like that. Not only had it left her feeling subhuman, but the fucking idiot had chosen to make his damn scene minutes before Lennon showed up. Lennon whom she always wanted to impress and had now witnessed her sniffling like a fool while she recounted the situation to him in a hushed whisper to avoid being overheard by the culprit.

Thirty minutes or so later, she was a little bit calmer and had gone back to her tasks which included taking out the trash in the back alley where she found Lennon standing over the man who had made her cry not so long ago. The asshole was on the ground with a bloody nose, which was very satisfying but also a little alarming. "Lennon, what the hell?" She whispered as if anyone would hear them back here at this time of the night. She watched the two of them in confusion, wondering how he had even figured out this stranger was involved when she had left every detail about his identity out. "Are you trying to get in trouble?"

[gcldengrime]

Of all the people Lennon had in his life, it seemed that Phoebe had been the only one that stuck around. He convinced himself on certain days that it was just a matter of time. Phoebe had come to him later in his life and had yet to know better, even if she had never wavered from his side despite how many times their circumstances tried to pull them apart. He only ever told her when he was as wasted as his potential, but in every attempt to try and save those around him, it seemed that Phoebe had been the one to save him.

She was the only one he could protect, the only one he could count on to learn from his mistakes, and the only one he could ever find. It had created a loyalty between them that drove him to always ensure that the world had yet to spite her, and it had dragged him to the diner that evening making his rounds to see the one who had yet to leave him.

"You fucking twat," Lennon hissed, knotting his fingers in the collar of the man's shirt as he pulled him off the ground. The tear of fabric dropped him against the wall, and Lennon pinned him to it. "You haven't got any balls so you decide to bother some young lass to pretend like you do? Mark my fucking words, not here and not her."

Beating the shit out of a rude customer, however, wasn't part of the plan.

Looking away, but hardly moving, Lennon looked to Phoebe under the lights of the back alley.

"It's nothing, Pheebs, head back inside, yeah?" He advised, though he knew she wouldn't listen. "Give me just a minute."

[ulyflynn]

Working in a bar had done nothing to dampen his love of being in them, or their pub shaped cousins. Truthfully, he didn't see much of a difference in the two, but he was certain he would be on the business end of a lecture from the owner of Four Leaf if he expressed that thought anywhere but in his own head.

Like most nights he was trying to let loose, it was a Hennessy-and-Don't-Check-Pearl's-Location type vibe, his phone on airplane mode to make himself particularly unreachable as he worked through his third drink of the evening.

A familiar voice cuts through what he called the hiddly-diddly music being played in the space, leaning down instinctively as Lennon identified him in the pub but not directly next to him.

"Sure fucking looks like him." He says, looking at no one in particular in the cluster of people in their eye line. As always, there was no one in it who shared his distinctive height.

"Do we fuck with this cousin or is he a nah?"

[gcldengrime]

His focus shifts away from Uly, confusion wound tight between his brows for a moment at the sudden interaction— but then hazed blue hues look back out to the bar, elbows find their place at the counter to steady him, and a drunken grin pulls him in the right direction.

"We fucks with him. He's too tall for his own good, we've got to take care of 'im," Lennon reasoned, one hand on the man's arm with a soft pat while the other mimicked the same comfort into the air. "Poor bastard's gonna end up with a basketball team of his own if he isn't careful. Everyone looks up at him, head lost in the feckin' clouds, and they can't hear a single word he says that would make 'em reconsider. They just look at him like he's an angel and they haven't got a clue he's just alright. But I swear it, I swear it, he could put the stars in the sky— because he's so feckin' tall."

The crinkle that rippled from his smile, clearly pleased with the evaluation of his cousin, reached up to his eyes. It blinded him again in brief and simple ecstasy as he laughed. What started as a chuckle would soon enough take his breath away for a moment.

"You think he'd carry me home, take pity?" He asked.

[aiden-stevens]

It isn't something he hasn't heard time and time before. All from those he can consider friends with more years under their belts, warnings given that eventually, if Aiden isn't careful, he'll be dealing with the result of aging. Include in that the consequences of poor decision making in regards to his own health - chain-smoking, drinking more often than not, the occasional recreational drug use along with living off of Monsters and eating sporadically - his thirties are going to hit him full force. Like a sixteen-wheeler speeding down the highway with its brake lines cut.

Leaning back on the heel of his palm, Aiden's neck cranes back to look at the remnants of the night sky. "Figure it might be catching up to me now… sometimes. I still get carded at the bar but-" considering most days he is tired or his knees and hips hurt, it really might be less about aging and more about his poor self care routine. Virtually nonexistent, Aiden can at least insist that he flosses regularly. How many adults can say that?

"Three?!" He is quick to lean forward, giving Lennon an incredulous look. "All back to back? And you didn't hurl?" It seems Aiden remembers less than he originally thought. Not that he minds having bought Lennon three more 100 proof shots, whatever his bank statement has to say about last night is not his concern. He'd buy him three more without question just out of appreciation for the time spent out. "Are you still drunk right now?"

Which is a fair question considering how early it is still, and Aiden has absolutely no recollection of what time they turned in. The joint finds its way back between the grin on Aiden's lips then. He smacks the side of his knee with the back of his hand. "Think it's just something that comes natural to you being an older brother." Most times it works out that way for anyone who just naturally keeps an eye out others, so it's Aiden's assumption. One that he thinks is fair.

"One of these days I'll have to be that for you, considering all the times you got me... to some shelter with a place to sleep." Be it his own home or here, on the couch. "Can't make any promises. Think if it was up to me, we'd find a nice ditch to go nap in. Survival instinct is nearly nonexistent when Jack's involved." @gcldengrime

[gcldengrime]

"I did, that's why I needed the third," Lennon advised him, letting him on the madness he was piecing together. "It was better than the taste of whatever came up, I'll tell you that much. Also made you a wee bit tolerable once you got to a certain point."

When his sobriety comes into question, Lennon couldn't help the silence. It lingers even longer at the notion of being an older brother. Lennon wasn't suppose to be either one— sober or older. Every time he'd gone out, and the crawl back home began, he'd forget which was was right. Sometimes, losing control felt like the world was finally in balance. When he was stuck in the middle, pinned right in the comedown of it all, Lennon often struggled to remember which was the state he was suppose to be in. Then, he'd remember why he had to be in control because the loss had been the very reason he was responsible for what was left of his family instead of the brother who was long gone.

"I've had my fair share of sleeping where I shouldn't. Usually I prefer just someone else's bed, but as long as no one finds us and kicks us around, I wouldn't mind a nice plot of dirt," He smirked, shrug rolling from one shoulder to another as he looked out to the yard. "We'll end up there soon enough, yeah? Might as well get acquainted with it."

[rippinsinners]

The words the fell out of Lennon's mouth made Reed do a double take, his head whipping to the side, "what?" The other must have been drunk, he thought to himself, his own mind in a haze as well. Reed wasn't indulging in liquor, not with the way he was working through his mother's stash. Pretending that nothing was going on with him was becoming hard to manage and he was trying to forget falling apart in front of Rhodes.

As Lennon leaned forward towards him, Reed leaned back away from him, "what did you take, Lennon? Because you're awfully close and in my personal space." Apparently there was a limit for Lennon when it came to the liquor he ingested, Reed just hadn't realized he had hit it. "I think that's supposed to be a compliment, but I really don't know anymore with you."

Reed stopped, choking on his drink as the word lover left his lips, "do you think I am someone else, Len?" The odd behavior coming from the other man was truly jarring and even sobering for Reed, "this shit is way too deep."

[gcldengrime]

"I'm always in your personal space. You're always feckin' stepping on my toes, we're drawn to each other. It might be because all that bleach has killed your concept of personal space, but that might as well be fate, too," Lennon rambled on, argument gently as he waved away Reed's defensiveness. It sat on the forefront of Lennon's mind now like a matter of fact and pinned right on top of rationality by the alcohol he consumed that evening. It was easily mistaken for logic. "I'm saying we are meant to be on the same path, lad. It's been that way a very long time which is why I can't get rid of ya'."

Call it a gamble at trying to will some control, or call it the philosophy class Lennon had taken to heart— either way, he had convinced himself that this was the axis his world spun on over and over again.

[gcldengrime]

oh i feel overjoyed when you listen to my words i see them sinking in oh i see them crawling underneath your skin

@joyfms

[joyfms]

You're too real for me, you should go to something better : I'll give you to someone better / I have friends that'll be on earth for longer / I have friends that won't feel like monsters

@gcldengrime

[dropsinvelvet]

[joyfms]

𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇. No matter how much the world wanted to kick her down, those four words were a reminder that kept her tethered to reality, to every passing moment in time. Even if she knew her hope was as improbable as the day was long, it was something she clung onto. She never allowed herself to grieve with Chase, immediately convincing herself that not only could she not love him anymore, but that she was too broken to carry on.

Life had become easier for a little while. Moving back to Aurora Bay, starting her job at the day care center. She had fallen into a rhythm that made her feel sane, well, sane enough to keep going. Keep trudging along year after year, until she became old and grey.

As he mentioned the insomniacs, this induces a small laugh. At times one herself, Joy could attest to the fact that he couldn't have been more right. Staying in bed with him? She certainly wouldn't mind that. The less temporary they had become, the more she had wondered how peaceful such an instance could be.

"Well -- but then there are those who see the day, but choose not to join the productive." The blonde sighs, leaning against his chest as she feels the pressure from behind her. He feels warm, bringing the peace of the bed they had shared to where she was standing. Just for a moment, she wonders what might happen if they never left again. "It's always the same, isn't it? Getting up, going through the same old routine that capitalism has set out for us before collapsing into bed and doing it all over again."

The woman rolled her eyes at the mention of the alcohol, giving him a light nudge in the gut. "Hey, it's not like you're innocent in this. You were putting back glasses almost as fast as I was." That wasn't something to be proud of, in the grand scheme of things. Even still, Joy makes the comment in jest. Even if it stings.

What made you need daylight like this?

The question rings in the air for a moment, Joy taking in a deep inhale before turning to face him at long last. Something in her hopes the next moment won't change the way he looks at her. That in his eyes, she won't be some kind of fragile butterfly that he has to hold so gently out of fear of crushing it beneath his grip.

Before she can even think about it, she crashes into him for a moment. As if something in her is saying goodbye. Not that she wants to, but because she fears that the woes she is about to unleash will destroy every moment that the pair had shared. Something in her keeps her grounded in front of him as she pulls away, knowing she's going to have to give him some kind of answer. And she isn't going to lie.

Falsehoods seem a bit too nauseating to say around him. Yet another reminder of how permanent he was becoming.

Slowly, she makes her way to the closet -- the sheet that shrouds her being the only reminder she has of what came before. God, she hoped there was an after. Turning on the light inside the wardrobe, a hand fumbles beneath her shoes until she brandishes a box.

Noelle's box.

She opens it slowly, before grimacing at the sight of the familiar items. A newspaper clipping. A sonogram. A locket. A well-loved copy of a birth certificate, identifying Noelle Williams. There was many more things within its contents, but her eyes could only acknowledge so many before she would lose herself completely.

Local football star and girlfriend in car crash: two survivors.

"See for yourself." She says this more nonchalantly than she intends, but the grief is visible on her face. Joy is only so strong, and he knows it. She is a master at playing pretend.

All she can do is stand, watching his eyes as he puts the pieces together. That is, until a hand flies to her face in protection as her face turns to the closet again. She kept all this in there for a reason. So no one would see her as breakable.

Even though right now, she felt like she could shatter. Pain that had spent a long time festering would never be burned by the sweet sting of liqour, no matter how much she drank. But it was better than feeling like herself.

"I need daylight. I need it every day that she's not here."

[gcldengrime]

"I'm paying for what I had last night, I swear," Lennon said, squinting against the light that peeked out from the curve of her shoulder and the veil of hair that fell around it. "And I'm even getting up when the sun's not even out all the way. Though, does it count if we're still in bed?"

The hangover was pinned right between his eyes, but he found remedy in their entanglement. They held a stillness that shifted only ever so slightly, and Lennon found his footing through the sting of morning after.

At least, he thought he'd found his footing. He damned his head now and whatever slosh he allowed to fall from his mouth. He overstepped, he had to. Joy pulling away was surely a severance of that new-day hope. He could taste the staleness of poor decisions from the night before now, feel the strain from every movement outside of his own self made pedestal, turn at the beckon of the shadows where he could wallow in disappointment.

He was far from saint-like, no matter how hard he tried. There was nothing Lennon could do to prove he'd changed. He rejected the idea that he was cut from tattered cloth, that he'd been dealt feeble threads while others could tear themselves over and over again from the yards of fabric they were unraveled from. He only had so many tried before he was left bare. Consequences were instant with no cushion of that try, try again.

Artificial light challenged what Joy invited into the room. It hummed as she shuffled, and he wondered if this was his time to take his leave without ensuing a curse on this shared house. The weight of his own head, piling with every new excuse he wished he could swallow, left him there . When it dimmed, Lennon thought he'd lost until she came right back to him. Her footsteps were retraced with clear intention of returning, and more importantly, leaving space only to fill it with her own words instead of insinuating it's growth into isolation.

I need daylight. I need it every day that she's not here.

Lennon wanted to be surprised that she could belong to a box. He tried to will it in his hands, make it sting with sorrow not to recoil but to understand her pain. He just didn't expect that wisdom he didn't choose would be what moved his hand into hers, callouses scrapped against her skin to bury his resonance. No matter how many times he tripped over letters and curved meanings on a page, he knew he'd read every date right. He counted silently and how quickly it added made him certain.

"I'm sorry."

It feels rehearsed, cued by whatever ill manners had been vacated for moments like these. Lennon bites down on it and grinds his teeth into it until he can taste blood of embarrassment. The copper is just reactive, and not real. This isn't his sorrow to carry, and therefore not his ache to bleed— and not his wrong doing to fix.

For a single moment, he wondered if there was a box like this for what Catalina gave up for Liam. He reminded himself that the difference was that that was choice, and this was some string of fate turned to a noose around the wrong person.

"I'm not sure if that means anything now, but I am," Lennon said softly, carefully peering into the contents.

It's only with her hand that he dares to touch it. He doesn't want to recoil and damn her keepsakes that are the only mark of what she seemed to carry close to her longer than these belonged to someone. He also doesn't want to intrude and leave his mark on all she has left.

"Noelle," He read aloud. "She was beautiful, wasn't she? That's what everyone says about babes and it's true for every single one, I swear. I bet she was. Probably put shame to what's out your window right now."

It was a gamble to say his name aloud. When it came to Reagan, his youngest brother damned his name. He died with every trace in his eyes, faded to memory and nothing more than he could no longer do and what he would have, could have, should have. Lennon still reminded himself of him every day. He said his name every day, kept him alive by what he did do. What could be said for a life taken so early, though? He wasn't sure what Joy had to remind her of what she held for so long, and yet no time at all. All there had been was a name, a dream, and a promise he was sure had been similar to the one his own mother whispered to every brother when they'd come into this world kicking and screaming.

Lennon repeated himself, gave more than just a nod to the encapsulated memory grazing his fingertips in the few tokens Joy had. He pushed recognition of the force left behind. She'd been here just as Reagan had.

"Noelle."

Affirmation pushed her into the room, even if he'd never met her. He'd have admiration for what was not left behind, but rather what had simply been.

"I'm taking Latin for some creative credit, and this might be the one time it matters. It means birthday, I'm almost certain," Lennon muttered, thumb running over ever rise and fall of Joy's knuckles. Up and down, happiness held in its everlasting pattern just in her fist. "She was... wrapped in celebration, wasn't she? Had a birthday that lasted more than just a day like the rest of us. Everyone was still talking about her the next day, and the next, and the next. She's defined by celebration as a whole. And to be that daylight, the whole feckin' beginning of it all? Noelle's the perfect name. Every day she had was celebrated."

Nothing of Reagan lasted, and Lennon still regretted not keeping enough. Propped over his legs was the complete works of a single life even if it could be counted on a single hand whether it was Joy's or his own. He couldn't define what to feel about a life being so short to fit in a box, or one forgotten to have nothing to put in one. Was the ache the same, or did it hurt more to have more relics than memory? There was no way to define it, no way to try and do the right thing— and yet, Lennon understood simply by knowing there was pain. He didn't have to feel the very same loss to know. All needed to know was that Joy hurt, and she still did. And she always would.

"What was she like?" He asked softly, clipped only by an even softer insistence. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. If this enough, it's alright. This is more than enough, that she was here and yours. I'd take as much daylight in her name, too."

[joyfms]

𝐈𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐘 they keep finding themselves tangled beneath the sheets, there is a rather clear answer in the moment that his lips grace hers. It's patient, yet hungry. It seems that Joy has been seeking answers in everything -- in people. In places. In the universe. Maybe she doesn't need to do that here, instead just sink deeper and deeper into his touch, the way the pads of his fingers fall into a familiar pattern across her flesh in a way they have done a million times before.

That time will come, she wants to say. But something tells her he's as scared as she is by how easy it's become to seek each other out. When her glass hits the table at last call, even when the night becomes too quiet to handle alone.

"Maybe I will." Joy laughs, breaking the space between them for another moment before she finds it in herself to pull away, lips positioned only inches away from his own. "But I can handle it."

As for the snoring, it reminded her that she wasn't alone. For once in her life.

When Joy asked herself where the hell she saw this going, if there was a reason that out of all the people in the world he reached out to her when the night came to pass, when the rest of the world was sleeping. It had been as if he somehow new where she was -- the bar. Heading there had always been easier than heading home to an empty house that was far too big for one. Even if she had come with the intention of a fresh start, Noelle had somehow found her way into these halls. Into her dreams, into her nightmares. While there were times when she knew that the pair couldn't have been more different, she could taste the Guinness in his breath. See the glint in his eyes that he was running from god knows how many things. Fingers had been becoming more and more at home in blonde tresses. In these regards, their likeness was quite apparent.

More so than either of them had imagined.

"No, you weren't." She hummed, eyes casting downwards in an attempt to meet his own. Joy only ever felt at peace on the beach. Perhaps that was what had ignited the, well, Joy in her voice as she spoke about it. In the minutes between the come down and peaceful slumber, it had taken a moment for either to forum their fragments into sentences. Fingers toy with his hair for a moment rather subconsciously as her gaze travels to the ceiling, eventually back to him once more.

"But occasionally.. it does bring some comfort." The woman sighs, turning over once more. This time to face him. "In the grand scheme of things. That view out there -- it reminds me I'm not the only person in this world. Existing, with issues, whatever. So while you see small... I see big. Even when the sun sets.. it's not just setting out that window, just for me. It's setting for the entire world." Sometimes, she wished she could run to the very end of it, see where the sun went. So in that case, maybe Lennon's words had some truth to them.

Mornings come back to you, and eventually, everything else will. Of course he isn't aware he's speaking to a woman who's life had been filled by nothing but temporary people.

But as he speaks about his brother, Reagan, her face softens. It's comforting to know that beneath the hardened exterior he wears like armor, there is a heart that beats in rhythm, in time.

He doesn't talk much about his brothers, she notices. Not until now. Joy asks, hand coming to support her head as her eyes travel over his face. They've been this close a number of times, at the precipice, but now it feels so normal. No expectations of moving further, just.. taking each other in.

As he moves to his back, the blonde rests a hand to his chest and continues to listen to him speak. The way he spins his words made her wonder if he's thought about this before.

For a moment she sits up, adored in a sheet as she places her feet on the floor before moving in the direction of the window. Her internal clock always seems to wake her up at sunrise wether she likes it or not. Instead of commiserating, she finds herself trying to take advantage of it — especially when eyes fall on a sunrise like that once a curtain is pulled aside.

A new morning. Another glorious sunrise.

“Living in this house alone has certainly taught me that much.” Joy nods, back touching the cool glass of the door. It’s perhaps the first time she’s said something like that out loud. Admitted how isolated she feels. “Too much space for your thoughts to fill. At least that’s how I felt when I first moved in here.” What she doesn’t want to do is make herself look like a trust fund baby, the only heir apparent to the Leighton family wealth. Even if she is. “But it’s a beautiful thing, seeing a view like this. Something to get out of bed for, even the last thing you want to do is see a another day.”

[gcldengrime]

Occasionally. Lennon had been holding on to that word just as long as he held on to eventually like some divinity buried it in his ear, and when it hit the air from someone else's breath, there was a chime like something was suppose to be alright. Patience seemed to be his only true virtue, even if some had attested it to being lazy. Lennon tugged at the threads of that concept in a different way. The hope he had, held so delicately in the palm of his hand, would give him more time for the things not meant to last. The foolish thought of it all was that maybe, just maybe, when it was over it would feel like enough.

For every fight he had with his brothers and every day that passed when they'd run from any remedy, Lennon believed his feelings of comfort had redefined themselves. It had nothing to do with him, not his body or his mind. He had defined it by the outside force that were the two boys he swore to protect, even if they were men now. It was with Joy that, for once, he could relinquish the efforts to ensure someone else wouldn't trip and get more than a scrapped knee. He could have stillness and it didn't mean he failed.

Lennon, however, knew that resolve wasn't his to bare with her. He still found her every other night where the crinkle on her nose was just routine rather than any burn of liquor she kissed a glass for. He hadn't made things better, because he hadn't fixed anything at all. All he'd done was make sure she wasn't alone, but Lennon knew that that was all he really could do now. Every so often, he could make sure she was as she was.

"Occasionally," He repeated. It was better than nothing, and never.

He could maintain a stagnant wallow, no up and no down. He could make sure it didn't get worse if he couldn't make it better. He could keep her as the Joy he knew, but his faults would always lie in how well he knew joy to see where the cracks were too wide.

"At the very least, those who don't want to get up because they can't ever sleep always seem to get to see another day. They always get this," Lennon murmured. Insomnia always kept his eyes open for a new morning. "They're the first who get to see there's always another chance. I just wonder if all of this just makes them tired, like they've counted just how many tries they've gotten and if they've wasted too many."

The pillow was still pressed into his cheek, sheets still tangled around his waist. Tension that had pulled him upright was gone now along with the chill that woke him. Morning and it's glory pressed into his skin in small fingertips as it crossed the room to paint the walls in the hues hidden by curtains. In that flush, Lennon believed he could try again— to rest, to have faith in her, to belong.

"But what about staying in bed for it?" Lennon asked, turning his body only to tug on the other side of the blanket she's wrapped herself in. It's a small shift in their usual push and pull, but Lennon remained tethered to her.

He pulls himself to sit upright, take Joy's shadow and hide from the sun's glare pouring into the room. The squint of his eye isn't from the light that burns, but up at her when the grin ripples over his cheek and up to his gaze. Once more, Lennon anchors himself to her like an altar even if it's her kneeled on top of him.

Palms search for where the sun's kissed and burned under tangled sheets, looking for her under every crumbled set of threads. Every touch moves to bring her close with her legs around his waist and his lips on her neck.

"For someone who's drank that much the night before, I'd expect you to hate mornings and what they bring," He smirked, every edge he found along the side of her face traced. He wondered if one day, he'd cut himself on them— if he'd come to regret any of it and bleed for it. "But I want to ask—"

Lennon trailed off for a moment, a breath. He had tasted it his answer before, but he couldn't decipher it. Salt far more solemn than any crystal shaken over sweating skin for another round had fallen to his mouth, wet his own cheek.

"What's made you not want another day?" He asked, question so quiet against her shoulder. "What was so small that hurt you so big, you had to remind yourself the world was bigger?"

Details of demise had been shared between them, ashes and debris passed from one hand to another to compare. It hadn't taken long for them to wonder if it tasted the same, and if the cracks ran as deep as they did on the other. They had just never voiced those curiosities aloud.

"What made you need daylight like this?" Lennon inquired again ever so gently. "And how, Joy, does it work for you?"

[patrocles]

BARRY KEOGHAN as Dymphna CALM WITH HORSES (2019) dir. Nick Rowland

[joyfms]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 end up here. Then again, they never usually do. But it seems that she always finds herself feeling whole in his arms. Even if it's just for a temporary moment, it's more alive than she's felt in a long time.

At times she wonders why she's denied herself that for so long -- the solace of a temporary embrace, a temporary fuck, something to sustain her for a little while, Lennon is becoming a little less temporary every single time Joy's finger hovers over his contact. She knows it, he knows it, they both know it.

It seems that the look in her eye has given him enough reassurance, at least for now as he changes the subject, leaving her wondering how many people have made him feel like a burden in their lives. Dead weight. The thought definitely causes some dissatisfaction to enter her thoughts, but her face stays calm.

"Again, you're not shit company." She hopes the words don't fall on deaf ears. Even still, she'd let it go if they did. "And for your information -- you do snore. I thought I was sleeping next to a Mac truck." The growing smile on her face could only tell him one thing, she was messing with him. Contrary to popular belief, she did indeed have a sense of humor.

When she feels him finally ease, she lays back down next to him before orienting her frame to meet his gaze. Icy blues meet amber in a gaze that seems more content than awkward.

Again. Less temporary. She knew it. He knew it. Yet the moment the other shoe dropped, it was back into familiar arms.

Fuck.

"We were talking about the beach." She points behind him to the expanse of land outside her window. Joy had gotten used to waking up to the view of the sun emerging over the California skyline. "How the world seems a lot larger when you get to wake up to something as beautiful as the ocean."

But again, it wasn't just the wine. They always blamed it on the wine.

There were times when she certainly needed the reminder, that there was an entire universe outside of her home. Especially back then. When she had gone from an overjoyed to mourning new mother all in a matter of hours.

"Lennon." She says rather matter-of-factly, eyes fluttering shut as she feels his fingers traveling through her hair. She enjoys it a little more than she should. "You... you don't have to explain yourself to me.. you know that right?" Of course she notices the pause. Liam what? She cares. She knows enough to know that he's talking about his brother, even if at times they don't do very much talking as it is.

"Well.. are we talking about before, or after the wine?" She smirks, thoughts traveling back to his earlier remark. She could blame it on the wine for now, another thing to worry about later. "Because those were two very different conversations. One didn't really have much talking."

[gcldengrime]

His kiss is cold, but her lips on his awaken it. It burns away the thoughts that are stale from sitting buried between his teeth in sleep unable to be chewed into cavity. He couldn't even bite his cheek in its place in the lull that trapped him still for a few hours. Joy's lips on his are better than the warmth of a split lip or a cut in his mouth from grinding his teeth in thoughts he can't put to rest.

"You're gonna regret that at some point," Lennon smirked, but it was weak willed against the comfort of the room. It faded into the corner of his mouth, pinched ever so slightly into reserve. "Telling me not to explain myself."

Lips brushed against hers again, chuckle buried under her jaw. Lennon added with a laugh that shook in his chest, "Especially if I snore."

The faint taste of wine was still there. He was certain he could make out the curve of lips because the stain was painted along them. It had even spilled over his shirt, which was had brought them to this room in the first place.

His intention hadn't been this at first, but this had been how it all started and Lennon didn't know how to break the pattern so easily. He was a glutton for the expected, even chaos. It was comfortable than quiet and things falling into place, because at then he knew just where the bottom lied and how hard it hurt to fall. When it came to Joy, why break it? Why risk it? A simple messaging inquiring where she was when he was certain only the worst were still kicking asphalt would get him the same answer— had she made it home, and did she need company.

It had been wine tonight, but other nights there was the remnants of a sugar room still clinging to the bow of her mouth. Other nights it was salt that burned when she kissed him, and almost always he followed Joy's lead to catch up to her. Most nights, at least now, he made sure the glasses never hit the floor and that she talked to him until the worst of slurs diluted themselves in every first thought tasting the best. They'd lie there for hours until he was certain he could leave her better than he'd found her. It didn't matter if it took endless pleas to twirl her around some sticky bar floor, to go through every drive thru until the perfect remedy seeped in from the window, or unknotting her hair until she fell asleep. Lennon did what he could to find remedy.

Then there were nights where the remedy was different, where it resorted back to the very first time he'd found out she lived just a few blocks from him. Some nights, that was the remedy they both sought out amidst the vile.

"I don't think I was as happy as you were talking about the ocean, though," Lennon retorted, lying back beside her with an arm hooked around her. He'd take what he could of this while it lasted. In this moment, it wasn't an embrace to keep the pieces together. It was impulse and the serenity of giving into it ever so gently. "Back when we were talking. I was saying that the world seemed so big, looking out and trying to see just where the sun sets and letting it hurt but finding nothing to ground it. And then you remember it's not really there, not really... and then how small it all is, and how a big step is just a step. Everything doesn't have to be as hard as we make it out to be."

His eyes were closed again, but in the sigh that was caught by her shoulder he looked for her again.

"Because maybe, it doesn't matter that much," He mused aloud. "Mornings come back to you, and eventually, everything else will. If the sun can come back up out of the ocean, why can't anyone else? It's no better than the rest of us."

Lennon, however, knows better that she's not as enthralled by this conversation as she was before. The fixation on easy was satiated hours ago, from conversation to need. Another breath bounces off her skin, but it's not defeat. Rather, it's an anticipation that maybe he breath a little better after. With Joy, confessions were slurred against threads that would wash away the weight of their burden the next morning. Even sober, it still felt true.

"And one day," Lennon began, that breath pushing out his small wish. "Liam can get back up, too. And our little brother, as well. That way, what happened to Reagan wasn't in vain. He didn't suffer for us to the very same. One day, they'll pick themselves up out of where they're drowning even if I have to pull them up. They'll realize the heavy is right at the bottom, and they just have to leave it there to get back to everyone else."

He turned on to his back, skin between his eye pinched with another rustle of his body as he spoke.

"It sounds beautiful, doesn't it?" Lennon asked. "Until the sunrise is gone, until it sets and all you've got is dark all over you. It's hard to see how little you are after a long day and you've got nothing to see but what you don't have anymore, and you're only stuck with the feeling of what you want. Always easier said than done."

[aiden-stevens]

"Aw, what a little bitch-" Aiden pushes a bony elbow into Lennon's ribcage and relieves him of the joint. "Like I said, I can walk if you need to tuck yourself back to bed." No risks of a WUI when he technically isn't intoxicated anymore, but the spins definitely might make it difficult either way. He could always bother Connor - Aiden likes to make himself Connor's problem.

The skunk smell is somewhat nauseating, but it will do well to stave off the migraine that threatens to wrap tight around his skull. His mouth already feels like he's been sucking on a plethora of cotton balls all night, so the harsh burn from the smoke does well to further agitate the back of his throat.

Aiden's dark eyes, semi-bloodshot no doubt, shift over to Lennon, brows raised. "You said it, not me. I'm half your size, and I think I outdrank you. What's that shit?" It does bring a bout of laughter that falls from his mouth. "Guess I can't be mad about you being a cheap date. Might also be because you're in your thirties. It's like having one toe in the grave or something." Shirking any responsibility for the fact Aiden had been a poor influence the evening before, but how could he not be?

"You shoulda passed on that shot of Rumple Minze before last call." Aiden's grin fades in the slightest, his gaze shifts to the ground at their feet, and he tries to remember more clearly. "Or… was it two shots? Did I get you two?"

[gcldengrime]

The joint that singes the air is a habit he has yet to get rid of, but it's not a kind of high Lennon's ever craved. The strongest drug had always been control, and he found it enthralling because it was the one thing that could never be his.

Lennon had never wanted to come to America, never wanted to look for his father or family, never wanted to be stuck without his mother, to change foster homes, to be separated from his siblings— to lose Reagan, to nearly lose Liam, to nearly lose them all. When he went under, at least he could finally accept that there was a damn thing he could do.

Now, he took control differently. To be alert, and to be invested, was a better high than he could ever imagine. Lennon knew he twisted the virtue into a vice, but it couldn't have been worse than what he used to do. He had a point to prove that he could save them all. Sometimes, a few puffs here and there let him accept when he'd run into a wall. It forced him to lick his wounds, and a little nightly outing at the bar allowed him to clean them out and start again.

"It's part of growing up, Aiden, you'll be there soon enough. The feckin' heartburn catches up to you. One minute you can down as much as you want in a single go, and then one night you wake up with a hangover just from sleepin' the wrong way," Lennon warned him. "Though, with time, you know how to avoid it, too— which is why it was three."

His smirk ripples along his cheek, and he leans back against the steps pleased with himself. For a moment, he'd been worried he'd forgotten about last night but all he needed was a small reminder to let the pieces fall into place.

"Someone had to make sure we had a place to go when they kicked us out, alright?" He pointed out. "And as your elder, I took it upon myself."

[zepplinfms-deactivated20230614]

@gcldengrime

LOCATION: Oasis, outside

𝐙𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 thought would certainly excite his father, something that mattered less and less with every birthday. Even still, it was comforting. This was perhaps the most stable he had felt in a very long time. And he certainly had a lot of life experience to compare it to.

War. Rehab. Sobriety. All things he had fought and won. So far.

He still had some demons of his own. One more beautiful than the others, more angelic than hellish. And then there was the one face that lived in the back of his mind, hand outstretched with the latest drug on the market, something he knew he would like, yet another high to make him forget all the suffering he had endured.

The sound of Penny gasping her last breaths, fighting for her life in a battle that would never be won had been the only noise he could hear back then. That was, until his system was taken somewhere else.

At the time, somewhere better.

It had been a normal enough night at Oasis, it seemed. It wasn't exactly a normal job lurking in the shadows of the night, eyes peeled for any kind of deception amongst patrons. Anyone with a mind knew that Rhett and Zeppelin were more than capable of handling themselves. However, there's a face that seems to stop Zep in his tracks as he scans the outskirts of the club. Frozen. Still.

Hand outstreched with the latest drug on the market, something he knew he would like. He may have been strung out to shit back then, but it was a face he knew he would never be able to forget.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He asks, having the right mind to shove the other against a wall. But he doesn't. Even if his job is to be the muscle, he still has a reputation to uphold. "Here to ruin someone else's life?"

[gcldengrime]

The flip of the coin trick Lennon had pulled on his life was less than professional, and it was why there was still a lingering ghastly touch to everything around him. He knew there was a chance things would go back to the way they were. His recovery had been done the same way his decent was orchestrated— his partner in crime, Officer Carter, had gotten him detoxed and clean so there wasn't a trail to be followed when it came to getting his brothers back. It lacked the formalities that his siblings underwent every few months, but it had worked long enough to keep Lennon somewhat clean for the last five years. He hadn't touched the worst of his vices ever since.

Part of his act, however, was to ensure he was never alone when he did give up control. He never drank alone, never smoked alone. A trip to the bar was always done to meet someone, or if he was sober, to keep an eye on Liam or their brother if he ever showed up. Lennon swore most of the time he occupied the strip was only to ever pin them down and shuffle them away from trouble from the shadows by paying off bouncers, bartenders, and even people in the bars to accidentally spill their drinks. He'd gone as far as paying off their friends to cut the night short.

Tonight wasn't any different. Despite how much Lennon wanted to simply start over with his responsibilities, he knew better than to throw it all together and wash away. Throwing everything into the sink would only cause it to break and chip away, and nothing would ever get clean. Instead, he focused on one thing.

He'd been told his younger brother was here, and it had been weeks since he'd last seen him. This was where the lead left him, and he intended on catching him and bringing him home for at least a night. Maybe, at the very least, Liam could convince him to stay.

The abrupt question catches him by surprise, and for a moment Lennon thinks he's found his brother in the middle of a scheme. Except, the accusation is directed at him. There's barely a furrow, but he feels it in his chest.

Zeppelin.

There was a time the two were a duo of madness on the end of someone's couch. Lennon's pockets would be emptied for the night for him with the euphoric passes he had left to sell. It had been years since he'd seen him, and for better and worse, even longer since he'd crossed Lennon's mind.

"Just meeting some friends," Lennon said, shoulders pulled away from him as he moved towards the door with care. "You'll have to ask them if I've ruined their life, though I think considering they invited me, they'll have to disagree."

The furrow stings between his brows now as he looks at him. It's the same reassemble ot features in his memory that he'd done with Liam and the youngest Burke over and over again as they came in and out rehab, therapy, someone else's house, the streets. The same face, but different. This time, dare he say, better.

"Been a long time, Zep. That's why you must not know I haven't got a thing on me," Lennon pointed out. "If you really wanna double check, a pat down'll cost you. Most people buy me a drink first."

[joyfms]

𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 handle so much. It’s something Joy knows, but cares not to acknowledge. She has swallowed the pain she’s felt all her life, so much so that she could simply drown in it. Perhaps it would be easier that way. Drowning in it. It’s less energy than it takes to paint on a smile that is bound to fall. Without even taking a moment to fight back. Something in her seems to forget it all when she’s with Lennon — partially because it gives her mind something else to focus on, to focus on him, but she sees something in his eyes that reflects back at her. While they had never woken up together in such a manner, more often than not scrambling to toss pieces of clothing at each other in an effort to get him out the door — something anchors her about the current of his breathing washing in as it slowed, as if the tide was slowly being washed out to sea.

Something in the way he tangled in the sheets of her home told Joy that he needed the rest. Besides, she didn’t mind the company. She had only been talking to Kit the other day about how long it had been since the left side of her bed, long since dormant had been occupied. But she knew herself. She was bound to run for the hills the moment that her heart began to get too heavy for her to shoulder again.

“Why are you apologizing?” Joy asks rather calmly, still a bit bleary since emerging from sleep only moments before. However, she’s awakened completely rather quickly not by anything of her mind’s own doing ( which is a welcome change ). She notices how he starts, as his presence is a burden to her when it is far from it. "It's okay. I mean it." Again, he was welcome company. The look on his face told her that perhaps it wasn't the answer he was expecting. Even still, Joy Leighton isn't anything if not honest.

"You... you can stay. If you don't have anywhere to be. It's fine."

[gcldengrime]

There was never a blueprint for this, but Lennon had learned that spending the night wasn't usually the plan. He lived close by, and he could surely get back to this place. There was no excuse to linger without leaving the wrong message, at least not sleeping. They usually bribed morning light to them with endless conversation murmured against pillowcases and under comforters, but not like this. Lennon could only wonder if he crossed a line, spoiled it by suddenly getting too comfortable.

"I didn't want to get in your way," He said, attempt to clarify dull on his tongue. "Sorry, never mind it. I didn't mean to be shit company. I hope I didn't snore."

The hook on the corner of his mouth was brief, but its twitch was genuine despite the exhaustion that pulled him back to the side of the bed he claimed.

"Nowhere that I know of," He nodded, the boundaries set by wrinkled sheets pushed aside in the curl of his body in her space in agreement. He fell onto the edge of her pillow. "What was it that we were talking about? I promise I didn't doze off because I was bored. It was the feckin' wine, I swear it. Should have never opened that bottle when we got here, yeah?"

Carefully, he reached out to tuck away her hair from her face. It wasn't bright out yet, but he swore the sun would find her by the halo she grew alone. Morning would be there sooner than later, and the invitation would be burned and ashen for certain.

"I won't make a habit of falling asleep," Lennon assured her. "I just haven't slept with finals, and the shop and every eejit trying to get some tattoo to commemorate their last four years writing checks to some institution, and then Liam—"

He stopped himself. It was too early in the morning to dip into the troubles with his brother. Some rest was to be had, and if it was to be interrupted, he didn't need Liam's name murmured into satin and cotton now. That was the very last thing he wanted circling the room at this hour, or any hour at all. Sobriety was heavy in his chest, and he knew better than to dip into those woes again.

"I'm awake now, that's all that matters," He concluded with another nod. "What did we leave off on?"