g. keay ࣪ ִ☾. @hewants-revenge - Tumblr Blog

[Unfortunately, for Gerard, Nikola calling it a night on them was not the only other bad thing he'd have to face tonight. No no. Her mother was awake now, back at Pinhole, and it would be an insult to Es Mentiras and The Warmother to claim she was not filled with fury. Anger so deep it would put his own to shame.]

[She was waiting, now, by the door. Waiting for her good for nothing daughter that dared to try and leave, try and escape the nest that felt more like a prison. Again.]

Gerard. Where the hell have you been.

@trappedinthecatalogue

Gerard had insisted on leaving Nikola a couple blocks away, telling doll the gate squeaking would no doubt wake his mother and be more trouble than it was worth. Really, it had used the time to smoke another cigarette and drive her fist into a wall. The split stinging skin of her knuckles stitching themselves together not even moments after grounded him, bringing her splitting skull together into someone who could consciously be called Gerard Keay.

They had clearly thought their mother would still be asleep, considering when they open the door, its with their boots in hand. The third step up always squeaks and they had learned two decades ago to remove their shoes if they were gonna sneak about.

It freezes at Mary's voice, knuckles bloodied and reeking of smoke.

"...I just stepped out to have a smoke. And a drink. I didn't think I was...grounded." he chooses the words carefully.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @trappedinthecatalogue

[Mary let out a high pitched, witch-like cackle, before returning to that serious, angry expression of hers. She couldn't believe that Gerard thought she was that stupid. Even after all these years, believing it could fool its own mother? How disappointing. Dissapointing and a pity indeed. Oh well.]

[Quickly, she made her way forward, wasting no time, and immediately when she was within arms reach of her Gerard, she yanked him by his long, messily dyed black hair, dragging them back into the shop. The sound of shoes thudding on the floor echoed throughout the cursed bookstore, and for a while even outside, before she managed to shut the front door with a loud slam.]

[Gerard made no noise as she snatched him backwards, dropping her to the floor for the second time that night, with an even louder sound. Afterwards, she crouched down, and with her teeth gritted she spoke, though it sounded more like a growl, than anything.]

Do you think I'm stupid, Gerard?

[She whispered dangerously close to her daughter's face, her hot breath hitting the goth almosy instantly. However, before it could respond, Mary continued. Same fury in her voice, maybe even more.]

Tell the truth you little bitch or I swear to those Unholy Entities Above Us that I will fucking kill you like I did your idiot father.

Gerard wants to shriek and scream and shout, maybe this time someone will call 999 or perhaps a poor soul would even be curious enough to wander in and see what was happening. But he doesn't, having to clamp his jaw shut, in order to keep the rivers of vitriol and blood and violence, stirred within him.

He isn't sure if it's the teasing taste from the club or those mocking, terrorising words from that anonymous bastard, but he feels like a wire. Live and sharp and wicked. Their elbow knocks against the floor when Mary drops them and they stare, defiantly silent. After all, he wasn't in any temperament to comment on her mother's intelligence.

Those next words however. The sharp pointed words, invoking his mother's beloved fears and Gerard's even more beloved idea of her father. Those set his already rapid pulse throbbing in his veins, his heart pounding like a drum. He leans away, the best he can, head dropping back a bit.

"Fuck you." Is all it can offer back and it spits it out of glass and rusty wire.

And that is all the warning Mary gets before he's intentionally bringing his head back up, hard and true, intent on colliding with his mother's nose. He is rewarded with the warm flush of blood and if it was anyone but her it would make him drool, but the stink of the blood that makes up half his body. That only moves to agitate the loud music rushing to her ears, a choir urging her to draw more, draw quicker. After all, who was she to deny the eternal call of duty?

[The blood ran down Mary's nose, and she almost fell backwards due to the shock, pain hitting her almost immediately. It healed only mere moments after, -a courtesy of the book she had trapped herself in, of course her injuries would not last long-, but still. The damage was done. Gerard had acted out.]

[She took a step forward again, regaining her balance, and looks down at him. She looks satisfied, proud even of what they had done. Of the fact that it had hurt its mother for very rightfully yelling at her, scolding her for daring to leave Pinhole. That was, probably, due to that incessant song of the Slaughter that Mary now knew flowed through him. Which, in retrospect, made things worse. How dare he use one of those Awful Dreaded Things to harm their mother? After everything she had done for him.]

[No. That wouldn't do. Mary wouldn't let that slide, like she had so many things before that. She took a couple more steps forward, and as Gerard attempted to get up, she very quickly, and violently pressed her foot against her chest, causing all the air in his lungs to evaporate, and for them to fall back down, in even more pain than when she had initially thrown it to the ground. Vitriol was in her eyes, as she continued staring down at her kid, eyes burning holes through her, her foot still pressing against his ribs, suffocating them almost, their lugs weezing in pain.]

[And then, she let go, all of a sudden, moving back, towards the staircase.]

Stay right there, Gerard. I'm going to grab something from upstairs.

[She said sharply, leaving no room for disagreement, no room for argument.]

If you even move a muscle.. I don't even know what I'm going to do with you.

Gerard hadn't been stupid enough to think that one blow would be enough to end whatever torment her mother had brewing. After all, he had lived that bloody night, he had lived having to flay her skin again and again, till finally she said fuck it and burned everything. He isn't sure how many times that book had brought his mother back, but the Slaughter’s Song had found vicious pleasure in such competition.

That same snare drum kick beat that had their heart pounding again, in realisation. Now, it was time now, this is what Nikola had hinted at and–and what the choir was singing. It was time to end the awful torment. He's not even two inches off the ground when her foot digs into his ribs and pushes, the air escaping them in a gasp in a sharp off key. Only contributing to the terrible symphony.

Then Gerard is free to breathe and does so, in large greedy gulps. Vaguely, he can see his mother moving away. And those threats ring clear in his ears.

Of course he knows what she would do. He watched her spray off those garden shears in the backyard with a hose, knowing he was staring from his little window.

Christ. They let their head hit the floor. They have two choices. Stay and suffer more or leave. He has seconds, he can leave, he should be leaving.

There was always The Third Option. The one that made their hands tremble and breath stop. Their Heart, kept in a chest, just under their mother's pillow. They could get it, they could kill Mary again and they would truly be free.

They would be free from any version of her. All of him would and perhaps, maybe that would be best for every version of him. Perhaps they would…

What, be your friend? The sharp voice of Mary that he can never kill, that sits behind the background singers, and criticises speaks up. And Gerard can hear the fourth step on the stairs creak.

[Brat, is all Mary thought at the moment, the rage still new and boiling within her. Hopefully, he wouldn't try anything else, after she had just ripped it a new one. Hopefully. Yes, Gerard could be stubborn, as proven by the fact that they had just headbumped her nose, however, -and that was pretty obvious by how they had acted much earlier, when they first showed up to Pinhole again-, she was still a coward. Scared to the core of her mother, still hearing every tiny criticism ever in their head. Which, in the end, proved useful in the long run, because Mary knew that, after showing him she would not let his little tantrums go unpunished, it would shut the hell up and wait for whatever their mum had in store.]

[So, she moved upward, following the steps of the stairs, to the upstairs floorboard and inside her room. Once she managed to open the door, -after what felt like forever of fumbling with the doorknob, the book still made it difficult for her to interact with objects, even after all this time-, she quickly made her way to her bedstand, crouching down to open the locked drawer in it. The key clicked with much more ease, and she dragged the drawer back, revealing a book covered in cobwebs inside. Perfect, it was still there. Mary picked it up, slamming the nightstand drawer shut again and ran out the bedroom, making her way downstairs.]

[Gerard was still there, thankfully. Still in too much of a shock to do anything, probably, and she made her way around him, standing in front of his face. Her eyes immediately widened when she saw the book Mary was carrying, and panic spread across the face, and it tried to scramble up, and move back towards the long closed frontdoor.]

[But, once again, her mother's leg stopped her alltogehter.]

I don't remember saying you could move, Gerard. Sit still, for The Fears Sake.

[Her mum complained, and while sounding calmer, due to acquiring the book most likely, there was still hot fury mixed with that soft, demanding tone.]

The seconds it had wasted had been foolish and the song in his head crooned a sickly, honey sweet note, pleased at its decision to stay. After all, blood was blood, it did not matter where it came from, so long as it was given to the Warmother. And all blood was for her.

When Mary comes swimming back into view she is holding something Gerard never wanted to see again. Something she could have sworn was made up and only something that could have happened to her pathetic self. That's not simply true as he sees that black leather book, a scholars copy of Macbeth she sent him to a primary school to retrieve when he was eight. Sticky and laden with white webs, heavy cotton threads they can feel stuck in the back of their mind.

It tries to scuttle back and Mary stops that quickly, her foot grinding over the top of his bones where runes and metal sit, unable to protect her from the force of her mother. They wheeze again, smoke and age weighing on their chest along with Mary, pinning them right.

“no, no, mum, I'm sorry, we don't need to do all this. I'm not– fuck, I'm almost thirty, I don't need to do all this, I'm not a kid anymore. Really, I don't need the book, I'm sorry-”

Her words aren't going to do anything. And every syllable pounds into her head like the electronic keys and a fist. The song was so loud, he wonders if his mother could hear the music and Grifter’s sneer. His pleas mean nothing, but all they can do is plea.

[Of course, the pleads did nothing. They never did, who would have thought? They were always so utterly pointless, so useless against his mother's cruelty, her lack of mercy. Gerard tried anyways, of course, it always did. But Mary never took those into consideration, she never cared enough to. And why would she? To her, Gerard had acted out, spoken out of turn, been too harsh with the way she reacted, you name it. Anything and everything warranted a scold, yelling or.. this. Whatever this was, in her eyes. It was for the best, she always said, and even though now they knew better.. a small part ot Gerard still believed it.]

[Mary stared down at her son, eyes devoid of any care, of any emotion, it was so utterly clear she did not find his pleads interesting or even a good excuse. Gerard's age did not matter, it never did. Whether she was thirteen or thirty, was irrelevant to Mary. What was relevant, however, was the fact that she had left without permission, did not even try and check on her mother after that horrible Stranger clown attacked her, and then dared to let the rage, -because that anger could never be their own, she simply did not believe it capable enough to conjure up such strength-, the anger of The Warmother, consume him and in turn hurt her. No. She could never forgive that. And she wouldn't.]

[She would make sure Gerard learned not to act so foolishly, so disrespectfully towards her. He clearly had not learned all this time, or perhaps it had and had swiftly forgotten when leaving, but that didn't matter because Mary would teach him. Make him understand that such actions had consequences, severe ones at that. And that even if he tried to deny it, she still very much had the upper hand in every single situation. No matter what forsaken Fear was helping them in their squabbles. She would not win them. Ever.]

Quiet, Gerard. Read the damn book. I don't want to have to "help" you read that as well. Don't drag this out, for The Love Of Fear.

[She quickly tossed the book to her son, who didn't even try to pick it up at first. It just stared at the leather-bound, web covered thing, eyes full of fear. That wouldn't do. She wouldn't let him just waste time, valuable time. No, no. She walked over to where her Gerard was laying against the wall, and crouched next to her, opening the book and forcing it into their hands, like they already had strings.]

Read it, Gerard. Stop throwing a fit. It's exhausting dealing with this. Why do you always have to make it difficult for your mum in some way or another?

“I'm sorry, mum.” Are the words that automatically leave Gerard lungs, after all, she had been trained to say them for 23 years. He still fees like a marionette with its strings cut, until she forces the tome into its hands.

That black leather cover taunts him and his pathetic, stupid stained hands shake when he opens the book. Like a child, that voice chides.

He feels like he knows these pages by heart. One time, by accident the goth had tuned his radio to a live BBC audio broadcasting of Macbeth and almost threw up, hearing the lines. They know the pages don't matter, so they pick a spot in the middle, glance down. And in the voice one would expect from a doll given life, speak.

“The Lady speaks:

The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is she now? / What, will these hands ne’er be clean? No more o’that, my lord, no more o’that. You mar all with this starting.”

Gerard can barely read the next part of the doctor, all he can focus on his how wet his hands felt. God's below, was that ink or blood? She suppose it doesn't matter because everything felt slower, the chorus quiet and dull behind the thick web of cotton spinning his reality.

They read more and more and their hands feel less real holding that book until they are quite uncertain. Are these their hands? They feel uncertain as they let the book fall, leaning into the warm figure that they think.

Oh, he thinks it must be his mother. Usually such thoughts would make his tense with fear, but right now his head is full of candy floss he ate when he was nine, sticky and sweet. Well, he can't do much. He thinks maybe he should be reading. He thinks maybe he is asleep, dreaming.

[The book fell out of her Gerard's hands, and she quickly closed it, pushing back it behind her back, -just in case, she thought-. Not even a second afterward, her daughter, her sweet little girl, fell into her arms, melting like butter on toast, and she almost failed to keep her balance by holding her. Mary smiled at the sight, at how incapable, how unable to do anything Gerard was now, and instantly got hit by a vision, an image, a memory. The one where she first used to the book on her son, when he was thirteen year old and had just started becoming rebellious, refusing to bring back the books she asked him to collect. It had been so confused, so terrified, that in the end all of that blocked out that disobedient streak of its, and had him throwing themselves into her arms for comfort. How adorable she had been.]

[And now, almost two decades later, it was the same. Gerard, her Gerard, her heir, had yet again fallen in her arms, in her own web of lies and fake comfort, comfort that only came after she had absolutely berated and hurt him physically. He was out of it, that much was obvious, -that's what always happened with the book once the person read it-, more susceptible to what Mary would ask of him. More docile. Obedient. Just like she wanted. That's the only thing she liked about The Great Spider. Perhaps, in another life, she might have sought out to join it. Perhaps not. She was not a very patient woman.]

[She held him there, like a puppet without strings, an old doll that hadn't been brought out to play with in years, for a solid two minutes, before deciding it was enough and letting go. It was time to get things in order with her child, once and for all. They fell limp on her lap as soon as soon as they lost contact with her arms, and just lay there, like an infant in a cradle. Mary's heart almost skipped a beat, she almost cooed at her, but she held herself back. No, she had work to do now. Couldn't waste the time that could be spent "training" her Gerard again, by treating him like a baby. How else would it learn?]

Gerard. Get up. Now.

[She demanded harshly, yet again leaving no room for argument, as always. She needed to sound stern, serious, just in case. For the command to go through. That was how she always did it, she could not mess it up now, even despite the time that had passed. Mary must re-trigger out the part of Gerard she had so carefully crafted through that damned copy of Macbeth, that was the only goal here. The only thing that mattered. That is the only thing that ever mattered.]

[Her voice, firm and cold, broke through the web all tangled up in Gerard's head, as it always did. Its tone, the sound— reigniting something old in them. Something long forgotten and buried, but yet so familiar. A part of him she thought she'd gotten rid off after killing Mary and abandoning Pinhole. But a piece of it that never truly died. Even if she refused to acknowledge its existence.]

The lap is warm and vaguely, if Gerard distracts herself, that drumbeat sounds almost like a heartbeat, the steady thumping of her Mother's heart. Maybe it was thumping, the steady arterial song that carried Gerard for nine months, perhaps the last time his mother had considered sheltering him. Something had happened to his mama's heart, something he can't remember.

And it doesn't matter, his head is so heavy, he doesn't know how he could even lift it. And faintly he thinks he can hear his father humming to a record, the world felt weighted and sweet like pillows and pillows of marshmallow or some other sticky treat piled upon her. It wonders if maybe they were having tea and Gerard had fallen asleep again between his parents. The few times he can remember them holding some type of peace, light chatter and tea. Something one would expect from coworkers, not parents. But to Gerard, the quiet and calm, it meant everything. So, every time, he would keep eyes stubbornly screwed shut so as not to ruin the illusion of a perfect little family with his awakened image.

Sponge cakes and tea with too much milk do not matter when Mary speaks, however. Those cold, sharp words drag him back to the present, at least they think it just be the present. But they cannot tell because their head feels so heavy and their hands are theirs–but they feel strange, like she is commanding them from a dream. They move slow and in fractured motions, but they follow when Gerard flexes his fingers, so they certainly must be his, but-

When his mother's words register, through the slow molasses of her mind, he is immediately standing. It looks a tad painful the way he threw himself up, standing in front of Mary at a perfect attention. He looks ridiculous, without his boots, inches shorter and balanced on his toes. A childish habit they never dropped. It sways lightly, as if caught on a fishing line, and his eyes are wide, volcanic jet, nothing to them but black and white and terror.

[Great, he had gotten up. His eyes seemed hazy, her expression unreadable, and she stood completely still, despite that daze in the air that Mary knew they felt. They had described it to her a couple times after she completely discarded the book, thinking it would not need it anymore. Clearly, she had been wrong, but it was never too late to instill old habits back in them, and this was proof it would work no matter what. Her Gerard barely complained when she had asked it to read the Macbeth copy, and was now completely under her control again, without any side effects or any complications. Everything was how it was meant to be, and even if it felt like it wasn't Mary would make it be.]

[She stood up as well, slightly taller than her child now, especially since she was not wearing her boots anymore, thank The Fears she had discarded them at the front door. It was always a plus to be able to tower of Gerard, it always did seem to make it feel smaller than it actually was, enforcing the very obvious fact that Mary would always be above him, in control, and that she could do nothing but obey.]

[Her daughter did not react as she stood, obviously, but she did catch a slight flinch, as she moved forward towards her. Of course, any other sudden movement was supressed, courtesy of the book restricting anything that hand't strictly been allowed, so that gave her the opportunity to reach her hand on its head, and run her fingers through his hair, as she did many years prior, but had been forced to stop because of "boundaries" she had set, which Mary quite frankly found stupid, but had begrudgingly agreed to, not having had the mood to argue with her at the time, thinking they would get over it and let her again.

[Which, they didn't, but now that didn't matter. Now that Mary was yet again holding the strings. She could do as she pleased, and her Gerard could not stop her. Never again.]

This is for your own good, do you understand that, Gerard?

[She asked, looking a bit somber, hoping this would ignite.. whatever pitiful emotion he had within it for her. When a full minute passed and they did not reply, she added;]

Answer me, Gerard.

In the back of his mind, Gerard thinks he hears an alarm bell, some sharp noise trying to pierce through the snow clouds. Oh, when did he last see snow? Perhaps a few years ago, a nasty slushy storm that made his bus ride home hell and a half. Or was it the soft fluffy three inches that fell when she was a child and his hands had dug into the piles with eager greed, compacting it into snow balls and then little snow men. Childish peals of joyous laughter till their hands were red and swollen and hot and painful and Christ -

Their hands burn and their head hurts, faintly. And they think maybe, maybe they hear the noise of a gong. A noise, distant, and bone rattling. And there is a hand, in his hair, and he doesn't let anyone touch his head after all the times hands had wrapped themselves into his locks and caused pain–

Something about the memory of pain, the crunch of their bones, it. It is gone. They can't hear the singing tune and they should panic. But they think their blood and bones are made of amber or honey–thick and cloying and sweet. That same sweet hand and the same sweetness that they find themselves trapped in–a writhing fly. Or a deer in the cross hairs.

Gerard is almost caught in the melting snow again and the fawn's knees shake. It has to chase away snowflakes and powder sugar again when her mother speaks. And his mother looks so sad, so wide eyed and somber. Did he make his mother sad again? There must have been something that he had done, something he must have said, his thoughts are so twisted and dusty –its not worth searching for what he did.

Now, it is up to Gerard to make his mum happy again. His poor, sweet old mum. She looked older, then he remembered. And her skin–

They would have to ask later when he was Good again and the memory didn't sting like a razor blade.

“I'm sorry, mum. I got distracted. This is for my own good.”

The voice that comes from him is so distant and far, it's hard to recognise as his own. But Gerard's lips move in time with the speech, so it must be him speaking.

[That shallow, distant voice was enough confirmation for Mary, even filling her with a bit of excitement. Perfect, this was perfect, it had worked exactly how she'd hoped. No going back for Gerard now, no going back for either of them. Until she learned not to disrespect her mother in such ways. The now slightly taller woman did not understand where they had gotten such an attitute from, how it had become so violent, apart from the drumbeat of The Slaughter's Piper in his blood. Seriously, Mary did not raise them to be like this, to act like this. It was a spit in the face of all her hard work. Of all the lessons she had taught her precious son, her beloved heir. Truly a mockery of it all.]

[So no, Gerard would probably not be off the book for a long, long time. And that was fine, you know? It wasn't like it could actually complain, and all in all, Mary was actually pretty giddy to have this version of her child back. Do not get her wrong, she did enjoy teaching him better, instilling lessons of fear and punishment for any misdemeanors she found, however having control was also fun, in her sad, sadistic mind. Who said Web books shouldn't be used on kids, especially almost-adult ones? Mary would disagree with that.]

[She immediately noticed his discomort at the pathetic act Mary had put on to tug on his heart strings, to make her pity her, and as soon as she had answered her beloved mother's question, she reached her hand forward again, this time cupping his cheek and stroking her finger across it, looking at them almost fondly. Something she knew very well would send him reeling, even in this docile little state of his.]

[Before it had any time to react physically, however, Mary pulled her hand away and took her position back in front of her, another stern look across her face, yet this one had a smile plastered across her lips. Nothing good was about to happen, but once again. It wasn't like her daughter could do anything but stand still and listen and watch—]

So we need some rules then, don't we, Gerard? You can't just do whatever you want, that's not allowed, is it?

[The woman suggested, but it would be clear to anyone but her currently oblivious and dazed by the mollases, cobwebs, whatever— in his head kid, that none of this was a suggestion, but merely phrased as one, again just in case. She would start of small, simple, sweet. And slowly, she would be come crueler, less merciful with what she demanded, yes demanded, of her. As she always did.]

[Poor hopeless Gerard. Unable to do anything about it. Such a shame.]

It blinks, or at least Gerard thinks she blinks, because she wills her eyes shut and the world goes black at the same time. Then they open again, slowly, and there is his mother's hand. Her fingers gently stroking its cheek and it would almost have called it a caress, some loving gesture from his mother, if it wasn't so certain that hand would turn to a fist.

(Faintly, from underneath that sheep's wool, it remembers squabbling with Mike over a flesh leitner, some nasty little pamphlet on plastic surgery during the Victorian era. And his hands had came to lay on Gerard's cheek, a mocked gesture, and he had smiled. Smiled and said something that would have usually made Gerry flush and scream back at him. But that touch –

They didn't even remember breaking his nose, but the genuine concern on his scarred face…It had made Gerard ill.

But none of that mattered, nor was it real,not anymore at least. The only use for a puppet was where the puppeteer guided. )

Its movements were so slow, by the time light returned to its eyes and it was done blinking, his mother's hand was gone. And his mother was smiling. Gerard tries to push his lips into his own smile, but they are distracted by Mary speaking. They must focus on what she is saying.

Rules. Yes. That always made sense. It was easier to know what was Right to do and what was Wrong to do when there were rules.

Their head bobs like it's on a string and their voice is softer, almost a whisper.

“Yes, yes. It is best for me to have rules. I cannot just do as I please.”

[After that wonderful confirmation, Mary turned away, satisfied, smiling. To herself, obviously, and it was not like that fond, proud smile she showed Gerard under this state, to motivate her to continue like this, continue obeying, to keep up the illusion that this was okay, that this was completely normal, no. It was a cruel, twisted smile, one that actually reached her ears, as she headed towards behind the counter just in the front of the shop, leaving her Gerard all alone, his thoughts rotting away, slowing down even more by the moment. It was kind of sad if you thought about it, really.]

[Once behind the counter, she crouched down, opening every little cabinet, every little drawer, scavaging through them like she was hunting something down. And to be completely honest, she was. She was searching for something important to this whole entire situation, something that she could not just forget if this all were to work out in her exact favour. What was that, you may ask? Simple. That damned paper, that a small uncontrolled part of Gerard despised. The paper with the rules, Her rules inscribed upon it, like it was a Holy text. Something akin to the Leitners they hunted, to both them and her mum. It was so important, so valuable to Mary to keep track of the dreaded orders she had for him, that Gerard once even tried to burn it, whilst not under control. Which, of course, did not end well. Things like that never did.]

[All it brought upon it was another week of having The Web choke the life out of it, forcing him to abide by her mother's crude rules and watch as she smiled like a fucking witch at him, meanwhile all her throughts were drained from her head. Safe to say, they hated it.]

[Ah. Found it. Finally, Mary thought after her eyes glanced down on one of the main cupboards and spotted that familiar, stained by coffee mugs, -after that little stunt Gerard pulled she did not dare leave it out of her sight-, old piece of paper that read "Mum's Rules" in messy childish writing. Ten year old Gerare had been forced to write that down after a particularly terrible fight with Mary that resulted in him being yet again Webbed, and made to sit down and recite the orders her mum barked as she watched over them, making sure it did not mess up anything in the process. At last, she'd recovered it.]

[Mary did not bother closing the cabinets again, she had no time for such trivial things. Maybe she would send Gerard back to close them later, Fears knew they would obey that order, but for now, that did not matter. She stepped away from the counter, paper gripped tightly in hand, as she made her way back to where her precious heir was. Right back in front of him, standing firm and terrifying as always.]

[It briefly shuddered when she reappeared, she noticed, but that was unimportant. The rules now.. she gazed down upon them, eyes catching sight of the first one.]

[Right, so..]

Rule number one, no disobeying me. You aren't allowed to. I'm your mother, whatever I say goes.

[She spat out, voice reminding Gerard more of a drill seargant then their mum, before she added, in a much softer, kinder tone, followed by a small smile, eyes full of fake love.]

Okay, my Gerard?

This was worse. This state of paralysis with time so slow, his mother walks away again, every foot falling like thunder in Gerard's ears. The heavy threads and her own mind, usually rapid with thoughts and instincts and even that little bit of annoyingly unhelpful knowledge and-and music-now left now quiet and warm and undistinguishable from one moment to the next.

Only the distant sound of drawers and cabinets opening and slamming about, silverware and dishes rattling, keep Gerard from believing that their mother was just going to leave them there. Leave them standing, static and frozen, and so distant that not even the Lonely could reach them like this. It wonders if it would age, frozen in place, or if it would remain trapped forever in this one moment like a twisted wax statue.

The dark haired man is so lost in his self induced hysteria that it almost doesn't hear his mum's return. Her presence looms back into his view and Gerard shudders, half bubbled cries of ‘how long has it been, how long did you leave me?’ trapped beneath his lips that cannot move. For his mother had not permitted to hear his voice.

It knows that paper. Old print paper, wrinkled and the corner of it burnt. Stained with his mother's desk, for it never left that spot. Not since Gerard wrote it, shaky hands and eyes stinging from tears that his mum wouldn't let fall. He remembers he had been so disoriented, so cotton headed, they had stumbled around Pinhole Books in a daze for two days. He had almost gotten his arm ripped off the next time he had gone out for his mother. Mary had loosened the threads then, tutting and shaking her head. Complaining how he couldn't even do his job right when his mummy was helping him.

“Rule number one, no disobeying my mother. I'm not allowed to. What she says goes.” It shudders, limbs dancing, like a marionette with strings shook. That smile. That simpering vile terrible–his mum was smiling at him. He must be doing well. “Of course, mum.”

[Mary's chest swelled with pride, pride and.. something else. Something that, once again, was a lot more sinister than Gerard could ever know. A satisfaction only achieved whenever her sweet girl gave up her spitis, gave up trying to fight their mothers' insensity, her anger and her rules, and just accepted it. Went along with it, let it ruin its own life, despite having another choice to make, even if that choice was always bloodier. Harsher, much like Mary herself. The woman knew that her Gerard, her boy, even if well acquainted with the violence, even if a follower of it, a direct continuation of her own messed up tendencies, that it wouldn't attempt to disobey Mary. Yes, he had done it before, just mere moments ago, actually, but look at how that ended up like. Her trapped under the spell of that horrid book they so hated.]

[Her mother made another move, reaching her hand out to his head yet again, petting it. As if he were a dog, a small part of Gerard whispered, but it did not move, apart from that ever so small flinch that followed their mum's every embrace, as if it would turn into a tug of hair, or slap across the face, or or—]

[This time, the ruffling of hair, that warm smile lasted a tad bit longer, and the aforementioned pride was clearly evident in Mary's eyes, which ignited something in Gerard, judging by how her eyes seemed to follow her dear old mum, after that. After that scary terrible horrifying loving, affectionate gesture, that seemed to be becoming more and more of a natural occurence as the moments went by. It must be doing extremely good as of now, like really well, if his mum, someone who very rarely showed her this much positive attention was going out of her way to continuously shower him with it. Mary wasn't exactly the kindest woman, but maybe, just maybe, when Gerard did as told, she could be.]

Oh good job, Gerard. You're doing so good, making your mother so happy.

[Mary muttered, once again cupping their cheek, this time snatching her hand further away before she even had time to process what was happening. However, the words just could not leave Gerard's head, no, words of praise, of— words that confirmed they were doing well, that their mum truly saw how hard he tried, the fact that she acknowledged it— it was something poor Gerard could not get enough of. How sweet, Mary thought. How pathetic, she also thought, but didn't show.]

Next rule.. you have to listen to me, every little word I say. You're all I have, my heir, everything our bloodline has, anything I say or tell you to do is so nothing goes wrong.

[She added immediately after that quick moment of praise, of maternal love that seemed to wash over Gerard at the moment. It seemed like this kind of phenomenon would never go away. Not like every other time. Not like with the Leitner retrieval.]

It's so that you don't go wild and get hurt, my Gerry. It's because I care for you, do you understand?

[Mary.. what? She cared for— she cared? Nevermind anything else. That was what would drive her over the brink. That, that sentence, what seemed to be genuine admission of care. Of love, for the goth. And, the pride in her eyes, oh the pride, it tore it apart at the very seams— she couldn't believe what was happening.]

[Oh sweet girl. Such a shame it is all fake.]

It was no wonder Gerard had fallen into the Slaughter. Like every wounded animal, they had learned there was a choice to avoid pain. One could bow their head and accept the beating or bare their teeth and attack back. For ages, Gerard had taken the softer option, allowing himself to be in pain, simply because he thought it was the only way to avoid the bullet. And then she struck back, bared her teeth, and she survived. But a well-trained dog always remembers, and his hands, now capable of great violence, were no different than his mother's. Every bloodied fist, every sucker punch touch was simply an echo of Mary through him. His mother's daughter, a well-trained, violent mutt.

And how could Gerard not feel as one? Fearing the wrath of another and craving the lying promise of safety. Even now, the soft touches remind him delusionally of lying, puppet-like, in his mother's lap at the age of fourteen, her hands carding through his hair, tugging out any knots with a gentle fondness. Such fondness and love that once Gerard would have scoffed at, question the reality, but are slowly becoming cemented in Gerard's centre.

And those words, those soft praises and confirmation that he was loved. How long had it been since he heard them? It didn't matter; they dangled like thick marbled steaks above that starving hound. The promise of ‘love, food, shelter, praise’ is growing achingly closer. And why would it not? He was his mother's son, and Mary loved him. It was in a mother's nature to care for her young, to provide, to comfort.

Of course, he was loyal, loyal to a fault. Loyalty had kept him crawling back since he was a child, and perhaps was even part of the reason she had returned to this place again. The goth had been listening to his mother's tune far longer than he had the Piper’s; it was only fitting that her every word should serve as his marching orders.

And the next few plucked strings of the Web, cause Gerard to collapse fully into the centre of it all. Mary cared for her. And of course, the final puzzle piece settled into place. Their mother cared for them. Of course she did. How could she not? She was proud of it, and it was home. It shook, as silent tears that would not fall, because its mum had not permitted gather in its eyes.

“I know, it’s for my good, it’s because you love me. I promise, it’s okay, now.” Gerard wants to cry that his head hurts, and he was sick pf standing here and he doesn’t know why exactly his mum is mad, but he promises he’ll be better.

Anything to get him off his toes. He was so sick of standing here. But clearly he was earning his way, otherwise why would she be looking at him with such pride.

[Mary did notice those tears of his, threatening to fall but not quite doing so, both because it was unable to and because it somehow felt like it would upset her. That, combined with his sweet little promises, the way it confirmed that he knew she loved her, that this was all for the best, -and not just to control them, like how the reality of this whole situation proved-, that hopeless face, the pitifulness of her son's gaze in this moment. It did move her a little, it did.]

[It was especially weird, seeing him like this, the boy who mere hours before was fighting tooth and nail to try and rid her from the world, try and murder her just for peace of mind, now obediently standing on her tippy toes, awaiting his mother's next command, her next order, like a little wooden toy soldier. She looked so afraid, so on edge about her dear old mum's mood, so terribly anxious about doing or saying anything that would set her off, despite not actually being allowed to. The dread was there, settled deep within it, drowning out the song of The Piper that seemed to overtake him just a little over half an hour ago.]

[This was all in its all messed up sense, in Mary's twisted, horrific, dark way, sweet. Overly sweet, like hearing her Gerard's cries as she locked him in a closet with a Dark Leitner that one time when he was five, to prepare him for what the real world had to offer, to teach him how scary it all really was. When she was telling them this was for their own good, it had some truth to it. The goth would not survive with her own methods on this Earth, riddled with monsters, horrors and fucked up books that ruined innocent lives. Her mum's ways, they were confirmed, tested. Much safer. Even if eccentric. So yes, she did care. But only as long as Gerard followed what it was taught. It was the only way.]

[Mary did not think she was cruel. This was all just neccessary, her controlling nature, her harshness. Just tough love. And they needed it. Loads of it. If she had gone down Delano's road, his pathetic path of gentleness, of constant affection and attention, there was no doubt that her child would be too soft now. A brat even. No. She wouldn't let herself stray from what she believed, and what needed to be done. There was a reason why this all was happening, there was a plan behind it all. She would not fail it.]

[She continued looking at her heir, her Gerard, a careless expression on her face, the pride slowly dying from her eyes, as if enough was enough. She needed to prepare him to go fetch her a new book soon, they had already stood around for so long, maybe her fault of course, but the rules were rules. A holy grail he had to know. Even if they took up too much valuable time. It was clear she had needed a refresher.]

[Speaking of which..]

Gerard, pay attention.

[She spat, snapping her fingers in front of his tear riddled eyes, voice harsher now. Before that small part of it spoke up to apologise, or at least tried to, Mary continued.]

Final rule. You are not permitted to leave the shop unless I explicitly give you permission, or you need to fetch books for me.

No more "sneaking out", you are not a teenager anymore, for Fear's Sake, are you?

[This was obviously a reprecussion after today's stunt, her choice to leave with the mannequin. To follow Nikola outside, head to that club— Mary was staring at him intensly for whatever reason. She expected an answer, perhaps. An answer. She could do that, couldn't she?]

#also not my best #but rip that Gerry

Gerard has always moved to a beat. Before the drumming, marching, heavy war cry of the Piper, she had longed danced to the frantic 1/8s of her heart beat, which would skip and pulse with the rhythm of her mother's temper. A tentative timber of drums, like the promise of thunder, and then large explosive cymbal crashes of Mary's rage.

And now it was back, nervous skittish notes that made up the anxious music of Gerard Keys. Not just Gerard, not Gerry, not even Gee, but the role of Gerard Keys: The Son of Mary Keay. And then underneath it…the oddest sweet lull. A tune of sugar and sedation and sticky spun string.

The sweet lulling bells sound like chimes, a soft melody that reminds him of watching films of Christmas. Of children and sleigh bells and snow, white and fluffy, blocking out noise. And they are sickly, like presents, like hot cross buns, sticking to the inside of his mind. And underneath it all is the warm embrace of his mother. Caring. Not always warm and loving. But caring. And protective. A window against the cold, keeping him safe and warm from the outside. The dangerous, cold, dark night. The neverending snow doesn't matter–because his mother was there.

The goth was lost, in thoughts of cider and snow banks. And his mother's hand, not open to send him flinching, but snapping, the noise would have sent it startling. If it wasn't for the sweet sugar crystallising her in place.

They must pay attention, their mother is speaking. And her tone is mean and cold, threatening to send him to the snows.

That final rule. The final nail of her coffin.

How could they expect anything less?

“Of course, mama. I'm sorry. I won't leave unless you need me to. I won't leave unless you tell me. I love you, I'm sorry.” Sweet apologies, bitter punctuation.

They weren't a kid anymore.

But Gerard Keay was home now.

And he was safe.

possible-streetwear

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

look. bit of unsolicited advice? watch out. the warmother won't care how much cotton is shoved between your ears. you stop feeding her, she's gonna starve you out. i have a feeling that won't be pretty.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

i dunno. is it?

i'd try to reason with you, but that's probably a waste of time right now.

Yeah, I'm good at wasting people's time. It's a special talent right up there with arson and earning a good punch to the face.

hey, those are good talents. i respect those talents.

Your singer liked how I danced. Said that was the best use for my limbs in the moment.

i bet you were incredible.

I felt alive.

For the first time ever I was alive.

not gonna lie. i'd love to see you dance like that.

I'd have to ask my mum.

It's dangerous.

maybe not right now. maybe wait until you're feeling a little better. i don't wanna deal with the gatekeepers.

might have something fun coming your way, though.

something fun?

No, you guys are going to get me into trouble.

no, no trouble. honest. just something to help you feel better.

Feel better...

My mum always says she wants me to be happy.

happy is overrated. what do you want?

I don't want to be a victim anymore. I want to survive.

yeah. i bet.

i can help you with that.

I did. You did. I was. I was alive. And I. I.

I hurt my mother. I hurt her very, very badly. I was dangerous and stupid and reckless.

and then she hurt you back, seems like. in a sneaky way.

don't worry about that right now. your friend came by. i gave it something to help.

I don't know if she's even my blood. It's her. But it's not. And it's all. All.

Fuck my head hurts. That thing will only give me a headache and I have to ask my mum if I can have guests.

idk the distortion doesn't really seem like it needs permission to go anywhere. that's kind of its thing.

Yeah. Maybe I should tell her...? I. I don't want to get into trouble.

oh, i don't know. it would probably just worry her. nothing to be worried about, i promise.

You're right. She's already so stressed. I shouldn't worry her more.

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

i dunno. is it?

i'd try to reason with you, but that's probably a waste of time right now.

Yeah, I'm good at wasting people's time. It's a special talent right up there with arson and earning a good punch to the face.

hey, those are good talents. i respect those talents.

Your singer liked how I danced. Said that was the best use for my limbs in the moment.

i bet you were incredible.

I felt alive.

For the first time ever I was alive.

not gonna lie. i'd love to see you dance like that.

I'd have to ask my mum.

It's dangerous.

maybe not right now. maybe wait until you're feeling a little better. i don't wanna deal with the gatekeepers.

might have something fun coming your way, though.

something fun?

No, you guys are going to get me into trouble.

no, no trouble. honest. just something to help you feel better.

Feel better...

My mum always says she wants me to be happy.

happy is overrated. what do you want?

I don't want to be a victim anymore. I want to survive.

yeah. i bet.

i can help you with that.

I did. You did. I was. I was alive. And I. I.

I hurt my mother. I hurt her very, very badly. I was dangerous and stupid and reckless.

and then she hurt you back, seems like. in a sneaky way.

don't worry about that right now. your friend came by. i gave it something to help.

I don't know if she's even my blood. It's her. But it's not. And it's all. All.

Fuck my head hurts. That thing will only give me a headache and I have to ask my mum if I can have guests.

idk the distortion doesn't really seem like it needs permission to go anywhere. that's kind of its thing.

Yeah. Maybe I should tell her...? I. I don't want to get into trouble.

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

i dunno. is it?

i'd try to reason with you, but that's probably a waste of time right now.

Yeah, I'm good at wasting people's time. It's a special talent right up there with arson and earning a good punch to the face.

hey, those are good talents. i respect those talents.

Your singer liked how I danced. Said that was the best use for my limbs in the moment.

i bet you were incredible.

I felt alive.

For the first time ever I was alive.

not gonna lie. i'd love to see you dance like that.

I'd have to ask my mum.

It's dangerous.

maybe not right now. maybe wait until you're feeling a little better. i don't wanna deal with the gatekeepers.

might have something fun coming your way, though.

something fun?

No, you guys are going to get me into trouble.

no, no trouble. honest. just something to help you feel better.

Feel better...

My mum always says she wants me to be happy.

happy is overrated. what do you want?

I don't want to be a victim anymore. I want to survive.

yeah. i bet.

i can help you with that.

I did. You did. I was. I was alive. And I. I.

I hurt my mother. I hurt her very, very badly. I was dangerous and stupid and reckless.

and then she hurt you back, seems like. in a sneaky way.

don't worry about that right now. your friend came by. i gave it something to help.

I don't know if she's even my blood. It's her. But it's not. And it's all. All.

Fuck my head hurts. That thing will only give me a headache and I have to ask my mum if I can have guests.

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

i dunno. is it?

i'd try to reason with you, but that's probably a waste of time right now.

Yeah, I'm good at wasting people's time. It's a special talent right up there with arson and earning a good punch to the face.

hey, those are good talents. i respect those talents.

Your singer liked how I danced. Said that was the best use for my limbs in the moment.

i bet you were incredible.

I felt alive.

For the first time ever I was alive.

not gonna lie. i'd love to see you dance like that.

I'd have to ask my mum.

It's dangerous.

maybe not right now. maybe wait until you're feeling a little better. i don't wanna deal with the gatekeepers.

might have something fun coming your way, though.

something fun?

No, you guys are going to get me into trouble.

no, no trouble. honest. just something to help you feel better.

Feel better...

My mum always says she wants me to be happy.

happy is overrated. what do you want?

I don't want to be a victim anymore. I want to survive.

yeah. i bet.

i can help you with that.

I did. You did. I was. I was alive. And I. I.

I hurt my mother. I hurt her very, very badly. I was dangerous and stupid and reckless.

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

i dunno. is it?

i'd try to reason with you, but that's probably a waste of time right now.

Yeah, I'm good at wasting people's time. It's a special talent right up there with arson and earning a good punch to the face.

hey, those are good talents. i respect those talents.

Your singer liked how I danced. Said that was the best use for my limbs in the moment.

i bet you were incredible.

I felt alive.

For the first time ever I was alive.

not gonna lie. i'd love to see you dance like that.

I'd have to ask my mum.

It's dangerous.

maybe not right now. maybe wait until you're feeling a little better. i don't wanna deal with the gatekeepers.

might have something fun coming your way, though.

something fun?

No, you guys are going to get me into trouble.

no, no trouble. honest. just something to help you feel better.

Feel better...

My mum always says she wants me to be happy.

happy is overrated. what do you want?

I don't want to be a victim anymore. I want to survive.

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

i dunno. is it?

i'd try to reason with you, but that's probably a waste of time right now.

Yeah, I'm good at wasting people's time. It's a special talent right up there with arson and earning a good punch to the face.

hey, those are good talents. i respect those talents.

Your singer liked how I danced. Said that was the best use for my limbs in the moment.

i bet you were incredible.

I felt alive.

For the first time ever I was alive.

not gonna lie. i'd love to see you dance like that.

I'd have to ask my mum.

It's dangerous.

maybe not right now. maybe wait until you're feeling a little better. i don't wanna deal with the gatekeepers.

might have something fun coming your way, though.

something fun?

No, you guys are going to get me into trouble.

no, no trouble. honest. just something to help you feel better.

Feel better...

My mum always says she wants me to be happy.

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

i dunno. is it?

i'd try to reason with you, but that's probably a waste of time right now.

Yeah, I'm good at wasting people's time. It's a special talent right up there with arson and earning a good punch to the face.

hey, those are good talents. i respect those talents.

Your singer liked how I danced. Said that was the best use for my limbs in the moment.

i bet you were incredible.

I felt alive.

For the first time ever I was alive.

not gonna lie. i'd love to see you dance like that.

I'd have to ask my mum.

It's dangerous.

maybe not right now. maybe wait until you're feeling a little better. i don't wanna deal with the gatekeepers.

might have something fun coming your way, though.

something fun?

No, you guys are going to get me into trouble.

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

i dunno. is it?

i'd try to reason with you, but that's probably a waste of time right now.

Yeah, I'm good at wasting people's time. It's a special talent right up there with arson and earning a good punch to the face.

hey, those are good talents. i respect those talents.

Your singer liked how I danced. Said that was the best use for my limbs in the moment.

i bet you were incredible.

I felt alive.

For the first time ever I was alive.

not gonna lie. i'd love to see you dance like that.

I'd have to ask my mum.

It's dangerous.

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

i dunno. is it?

i'd try to reason with you, but that's probably a waste of time right now.

Yeah, I'm good at wasting people's time. It's a special talent right up there with arson and earning a good punch to the face.

hey, those are good talents. i respect those talents.

Your singer liked how I danced. Said that was the best use for my limbs in the moment.

i bet you were incredible.

I felt alive.

For the first time ever I was alive.

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

i dunno. is it?

i'd try to reason with you, but that's probably a waste of time right now.

Yeah, I'm good at wasting people's time. It's a special talent right up there with arson and earning a good punch to the face.

hey, those are good talents. i respect those talents.

Your singer liked how I danced. Said that was the best use for my limbs in the moment.

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

i dunno. is it?

i'd try to reason with you, but that's probably a waste of time right now.

Yeah, I'm good at wasting people's time. It's a special talent right up there with arson and earning a good punch to the face.

you michael's friend? you look worse than i thought. - @gbonebass

Friend is a stretch.

And that's rude to say to a lady down on her luck.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @gbonebass

that's one way to put it. the hell happened to you?

Got off holiday.

What's your deal? You know the distortion, so I know you can't be just a regular bird.

i'm not. i'm a musician. bassist. pretty good one.

you play anything?

No. I'm more of a listener than a player. More of a follower, you know?

huh. that. like an off note. really, really hate that.

I'm not the best singer, but you don't have to break a man's heart.

there's something wrong with you. it's like you're coming from behind an acoustic panel. or something less elegant.

Yeah, that feels about right for my head.

I remember you.

have we met? you a fan or something?

Hm. Maybe.

Maybe not. Music like that, it's all a bit violent, isn't it?

yeah, babes, that's sort of the point.

you've heard it, haven't you? not just the warmother's music. our music. that's why you feel so off to me.

I had a stint of running wild. Putting myself and my family into danger, hurting myself and others.

But I'm better now. All fixed up.

that's a shame. hurting yourself and others is the best part.

who fixed you up?

That's fucked.

I'm visiting with my mum right now. Working on getting better for her. Trying to be a better son.

and that's why you're all muffled? and you say i'm fucked. grown-ass man being micromanaged by her mother. boundaries? never heard of em.

I'm not muffled. And she's taking care of me. She doesn't micromanage me, she's just. Helping.

I'm a danger on my own.

well, yeah? of course you are. any person is dangerous, believe me. that's the fun of it.

You had a solo. During that song, Vivisection or whatever it was called.

you are a fan! that's great, we don't meet many repeat listeners.

A fan would be a stretch.

Yeah. I listened to you guys.

always good to hear we've touched someone's life. sorry to hear you're in the shit though.

It's not because of you guys.

Well. It was.

I'm just stupid, reckless.

somehow i feel like that isn't the whole story.

i don't have a choice.

My mum will take care of me.

will she? she know what you are, or is she in denial?

I'm her son and she loves me. Isn't that enough?

speyeralling-down-thy-majesty

It's interesting to see a Slaughter avatar so... Docile.

It seems someone has cobwebs in-between her ears!

What is this? Kick A Goth While She's Down Day?

It's a goth kicks goth day! ^v^