theme
sur•vi•vor
i ii iii iv v
n o u n : a person who survives, especially a person remaining alive after an event in which others have died.
I did not shit myself, I lightly tooted. - beidhormrith

mumbles about a tumblr grave yard 

alcohol and arguments;

 

Gabriel was positively surprised as Cecelia showed genuine interest in the topic. He was used to getting confused looks when his conversational partner did not know that he was the Gabriel, and usually annoyed eye-rolls when the other one did know. Anyway, it always ended in the same way, they tried to brush the topic away and focus on something else, because who did want to talk about his Father and his decisions nowadays? Like Cecelia told him with her story about church and habits, most of the people on Earth had the same mindset, and even less of them actually still went to a church, no matter for which reason. Of course it bugged him - he was literally made to get bugged by non-believers and to always have the urge to convert them -, but by now he had learned to keep these kind of urges more down. That did not mean that he did not like to talk with others about it, he just could control himself better (not that he was good in converting anyway; each time he had popped up it had consisted of mighty voices, shining wings and burning bushes - the ‘you stupid little human will now believe in my Father and listen to his voice or I sacrifice someone of your family’ way Raguel always had called it). Much better.

"Ah, most people nowadays do that. It’s okay, I guess. God is not only in the church, you know? He’s anywhere. Albeit I think he likes to see his children in his House from time to time", he commented with a slight smile, a chuckle coming over his lips. Nah, no converting here, seriously not. But even an angel had humour, okay?

He could not help himself but to shift a little bit closer, as the topic then turned towards demons and fallen angels again. The glass of wine he had already taken a sip off swayed dangerously in his hand as his eyes seemed to lit up about was actually, and by all means, was a part of his family history. There was so much he had experienced, and so less he told even the ones he was closer with. Because he knew that mortals could not even start to imagine what he had experienced, and would probably never understand how his family worked. And by all means, even if it was hard to admit from time to time, most of it was just his family history.

"No, no - I mean, yes. Complicated. Okay, first - no, fallen angels are not demons, even when some lore states otherwise; wrong translation, this is all. But yes, they do work for the devil - more or less." Worked. But he usually let drop the fact that he offed the devil with his ex-nearly-boyfriend. “Strictly speaking, you really have to differentiate between fallen angels and demons. Fallen angels were created by God, of course, and did follow Lucifer out of Heaven. Lucifer is not the Devil, but just the first Archangel who followed them. Fallen angels are still under the command and still listen to their General Lucifer, who, in turn, listens to the Devil. Demons are mortal souls twisted and turned to monsters in Hell - there are exceptions of course, but most of the time it is the correct definition -, and are getting their orders directly from the Devil. So, yes, both parties work for the Devil, and what is called ‘Archdemons’ in the lore are just fallen angels, but they are not the same. Although similar, of course.”

Cecelia liked the sound of Gabriel’s voice. Not in a weird way, but it was comforting. Like a good friend, or even a nice teacher. She felt that when she was very tired, he could talk to her and send her to sleep. Not because he was boring either, but because he was calming. Sitting back and talking about something with a glass of wine was pretty calming anyway, but he had a way about him she couldn’t quite descriptive. And as a writer, she found it rather annoying. 

And she liked the way hes described things too. Not over complicated, seemed to really believe it. And more power to him, as she’s said a million times she would love to believe in God. In fact she would love to believe in anything without needing proof. Santa and the Tooth fairy are included. She can’t remember when she stopped believing in them, but maybe it was around the same time as she stopped believing in God. 

Suddenly all these things that made you happy can’t be trusted anymore. Where is the proof? Show me the man in the sky, the sleigh tracks on the snow, show me the fairy dust made out of the little teeth (that’s what she was always told the fairies did with her teeth anyway). 

She was terrified for the day that her daughter stopped believing in things, although since she’s only just hit six months old, and is not yet believing in them anyway, she guessed she was a safe for a little while longer, Her eyes only pulled away from his face to pick up her glass, and she took a small sip, nodding along to what he was saying to say she understood and followed along with him. She hadn’t know that, it was interesting, it was new and something to learn and she ate it all up with greedy curiosity. 

"So Lucifer was the first fallen anger, yes?" Maybe she wasn’t keeping up, and she knew a lot less than she thought she did. "And… I mean angels must believe that God is wrong sometimes then? If they’re willing to agree with the Devil instead? Angels have freewill?" 

 

He hadn’t seen Cecelia since Christmas - before that, years - but when he heard about the murder in the office next to hers, Sherlock insisted he come to New York. He may not be close with his family, but she was his sister. He put on a soft smile. “I promise to try. Tell me about the man who has a shot in his chest.”

"Don’t know him all that well. Mark, I think, works in accounting. He once got me in trouble for pulling a three million dollar shoot. The lighting was wrong, okay? Um… married, but he used to flirt with everyone. Either unhappy marriage or he was a dickhead." 

For the first she looked up to Sherlock with a small grin, then held into his arm and kissed his cheek. “You’re looking thin again.”

 

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"You bitch." She’s heartbroken. Cee should be happy to see her, shouldn’t she? No she can’t hold a cup of tea nor give her a hug but she can talk and laugh and smile. Doesn’t she want her here? Well she’s walking outside now anyway.

No. The dead are dead. End of story, game over, good bye. Bringing up the past is just no good. Wishing yourself to be dead to be with them it just damn right unhealthy. Never pity the dead, pity the living. Good old Dumbledore, he always knew what was what. 

 

Excuse me?

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Daenerys was not expecting company, and certainly not company to be introduced in such an informal manner. She turned, looking incredulously at the woman, and crossing her arms. 

Of course it is. What else could it be?

❝Well, eh, dyed.❞

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She’s not being mean, she’s genuinely curious. She has a thing for blondes but this girl’s hair is amazing!! Like, it’s nearly white, so cool. She has limp as a noodle brown hair. Sucks to be her. 

 

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"Embrace your old age, Granny! You’ll thank me later
when you have no shame in being a rock star.”

Naturally, he’ll hop up onto the bar table now and
start windmilling on his air guitar.

❝If you ever call me granny again, I will chop off
your balls and make you eat them. Understood?

You know she’s not joking, but she is laughing, and
taking out her phone to take a video. Twitter needs to
see this, she’s making him famous. 

OKAY LADS IVE FINALLY DONE CEE’S BACKSTORY AND ID LOVE IF YOU COULD HAVE A LOOK AT IT ESPECIALLY IF YOU’RE A NEW FOLLOWERS BECAUSE IVE NOT HAD HER BIO ON THIS BLOG IN ABOUT TWO MONTHS SO YOU WONT KNOW IT REALLY THANKS

inspired by this

gonna redo my theme and my about pages