#IF YOU WERE CHURCH ID GET ON MY KNEES CONFESS MY LOVE ID KNOW WHERE TO BE

[slurpeesoverromance]

I LOVE THE WORLD BUT I JUST DONT LOVE THE WAY IT MAKES ME FEEL GOT A FEW MORE FAKE FRIENDS & ITS GETTING HARD TO KNOW WHATS REAL & IF DEATH IS THE LAST APPOINTMENT THEN WE’RE ALL JUST SITTING IN THE WAITING ROOM (Mr stump?) I AM JUST A HUMAN TRYING TO AVOID MY CERTAIN DOOM

[princess-of-purple-prose]

[ID: A Supernatural web weaving focused on destiel.

A Tumblr post by @/stellakowalskis: "the redditor who was like "cas isn't confessing romantic love it's more like the way people love the god they worship" in an attempt to no homo actually COMPLETELY on to something"

A Goodreads quote by Richard Siken from Crush: "Actually, you said Love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. It's like a religion. It's terrifying. No one will ever want to sleep with you."

Lyrics that read: "I'm down on my knees / I'm begging you, please / There's no place in heaven for someone like me / Won't you open the door and try me once more?"

A gif of Dean clenching a fist. He looks up with tears in his eyes before squeezing his eyes shut, and he says, "I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me."

Lyrics that read: "If you were church, I'd get on my knees / Confess my love, I'd know where to be / My sanctuary, you're holy to me / If you were church, I'd get on my knees."

Dean's face is bloody, and one eye is swollen shut. Cas, frowning, touches two fingers to his forehead, and Dean looks shocked when the camera cuts back to him to show his injuries have disappeared.

A Goodreads quote by Victor Hugo from Les Miserables: "To love another person is to see the face of God."

A gif of Cas standing over Dean with a blade raised. Dean, who is kneeling and whose face is covered in blood, looks up at him almost entreatingly, and Cas drops his dagger. End ID]

stellakowalskis //Crush -Richard Siken //No Place in Heaven -Mika //Supernatural 15.09 "The Trap" (credit: thatblackdress) //Church -Fall Out Boy //Supernatural 5.22 "Swan Song" (credit: castiel) // Les Misérables -Victor Hugo //Supernatural 8.17 "Goodbye Stranger" (credit: castyel)

[son-of-a-nuut-cracker]

church - fall out boy

[monstermoviedean]

puthimonhiskneesnatural (inspired by @redwing) ft. "wap," cardi b. & megan thee stallion / "desperate measures," marianas trench / 06x22 "the man who knew too much," supernatural / "i'm gonna crawl," led zeppelin / "church," fall out boy

(id under the cut)

image 2: a screencap of dean winchester from 05x22 swan song, looking up from his knees at cas. the image has these lyrics pasted onto it: "have a piece of american dream, open up and swallow on your knees, and say 'thank you, i'd like some desperate measures please'"

image 2: a screencap of dean winchester from 05x22 swan song, looking up from his knees at cas. the image has these lyrics pasted onto it: "have a piece of american dream, open up and swallow on your knees, and say 'thank you, i'd like some desperate measures please'"

image 3: a screencap of dean winchester from 06x22 the man who knew too much, staring at cas as cas says "you will bow down"

image 4: a screencap of cas from the same scene as image 3, completing the line with "and profess your love unto me, your lord"

image 5: a screencap of dean winchester from 08x17 goodbye stranger, looking up from his knees at cas. the image has these lyrics pasted onto it: "cause i get down on my knees, oh, i pray that love won't die, and if i always try to please, i don't know the reason why, yeah"

image 6: a screencap of dean winchester from 12x23 all along the watchtower kneeling over cas' dead body. the image has these lyrics pasted onto it: "if you were church, yeah, i'd get on my knees, confess my love, i'd know where to be, my sanctuary, you're holy to me, if you were church, yeah, i'd get on my knees"

[ateezmakemeweep]

churchboy!san

word count: 4k

smut

there were a lot of different places one would go after a night of heavy drinking. an exes house, another bar, the smart ones usually heading home to pass out or sober up.

but you. you went to church.

stumbling in through the grand wooden doors, you trip over the entrance mat and nearly knock into the statue that greets you and your family every single blessed Sunday.

"ooops, sorry, girl," you mutter out, steadying the wobbling stone before walking all the way down the aisle. your heels clack against the floor, echoing throughout the empty building before you finally plop down into the first pew.

you lean back against it, stretching your back out and looking at the church with a sneer. because it's this very place that's been giving you so much grief over these past few days.

you've been trying to convince your parents that this kind of life just might not be for you, that devoting your sundays to services and prayers, preaching the lord's word to any single person you come across and hoping that 'with gods love,' you can overcome any tragedy, just isn't how you see the world.

but of course questioning the lord is 'highly unacceptable and sinful' and apparently you missed the scripture that deemed it okay to slap and kick your teenage daughter to the curb because she simply questioned the teachings that were forced down her throat since the day she was born.

so you went out, fake id in hand and bought the cheapest vodka you could find, climbed over the park fence just a block away and swung lightly on the swing comforted by the cold air and harsh sting of alcohol burning your throat.

that was until you noticed the same car pass you by three times, slowing to take in your lonely figure and even in your drunken state, you realized the potential danger. so you quickly made your way out and before you even realized it, you were standing in front of god's welcoming home.

your eyes now roam over the alter, a slight light from the stained glass windows brightening the dim area where the crucifix is displayed.

"i know you're supposed to be like pretty marvelous or whatever," your slurred voice echoes as you look at jesus nailed to the cross, "but all your followers sure are fucking assholes."

you think you hear a door open and you whip your head around, looking to the right and left several times before huffing because who really cares.

"if you're the creep with the car, just fuck off now."

but you don't hear any footsteps nor do you hear a voice or the sound of breathing so you spring up and walk up the three steps to stand at the alter, facing the multiple rows of pews as you let out a bitter laugh.

you watch every single week these seats fill with people from town, the wife beaters and gay bashers and school bullies who partake in the deadly sins of lustful adultery and distasteful envy of anyone prettier or smarter or richer than them. 

"and so i ask of you, today," you start to drunkenly yell like the pastor up here every week, "love thy neighbor as thyself, unless of course," you dramatically gasp, "they're gay!? and everyone! don't forget to love thy children unless they don't become brainwashed by our oh so righteousness and holier than thou ways, father!"

you're drunkenly stumbling around in your heels and black skirt, lace tights reaching mid-thigh as your shirt starts to ride up from your waving arms.

and little to your knowledge, a figure has been looming in the dark watching the whole ordeal take place before his very eyes.

he doesn't know how to feel about it, watching you make a mockery out of what his father does for a living, what his father put in such hard work towards and built from the ground up for the community.

but he can't deny that some of your points make sense, seeing every week the people everyone knows are bad come in here and pray like that's gonna heal the bruises they've inflicted or fix the broken hearts of significant others cheated on.

"and please, make sure you give your generous donations to the church, everyone!" you mule on and the boy's eyebrows now furrow, hoping you're gonna tread lightly, "because, yes, your hard-earned money goes to our god himself! not in the pocket of some corrupt priest whose eyes linger on little-"

your words halt when your gaze moves to the back of the church and none another than choi san comes walking down the aisle, perfect posture and demeanor no different, now, at 1 a.m. than it is at 9:30 mass.

"oh, look who it is," you say cheerily as you nearly bust your ass walking down the stairs, "the pastor's son."

"that was a...unique sermon, y/n."

you've known san ever since you started high school, probably one of the most attractive boys in the area but unfortunately, a sad victim of this institute. you watch him every week, bowing politely and throwing that dimply smile around looking like picture of innocence and purity parents strive for in their kids.

"it was good, wasn't it?" you say, stumbling toward him until you're both standing a few feet away from each other, "think your daddy would let me speak up there?" and if he didn't already think you were hammered, he definitely does now with your bold, slurred words.

"are you drunk?" he asks and the light casted from outside allows you to see his twisted face looking at you intensely.

you inch forward, nail trailing down his chest as you turn your head to look at him coyly. "it appears...i may have gotten a little carried away with the blood of christ."

"hm," is all he hums, trying to stop his eyes from trailing over your outfit. because you definitely do not look like you belong here right now. he's used to seeing you in cardigans and dresses that come to your knees, not something out of a bad porno.

"where were you?"

"around," you mutter, tracing a circle around his shirt causing goosebumps to pepper over his skin, "and where were you? why are you here at this hour?"

"couldn't sleep," he mumbles as his eyes remain on your face.

a short, breathy laugh leaves your mouth as your eyebrow raises. "oh? and what keeps choi san up at night? trying to think of more ways to bring god into this wholesome community?"

he looks at you with an unfazed expression, hard eyes on you and a playful smirk crosses your face a few seconds later.

"ohhh,” you drag out, “or did you have...bigger issues at hand?"

there's something about the way you say it, voice breathy and alluring mixed with your dark, teasing gaze that has him swallowing the dry lump in his throat.

"no," he grunts out with a blush creeping on his face and you laugh when his voice nearly cracks.

"oh no?" your hand travels up to his chin, grabbing it between your fingers and pulling his face down to get a better look at him, "because your eyes have been glued to my face for the past 30 seconds. tell me san, does it make you uncomfortable that i'm dressed like a whore in your church?"

you watch as his eyes widen and brows shoot up and you could laugh again at how innocent and surprised he truly looks. "don't call yourself that."

a pout covers your mouth because sweet, before you take a step closer to him. but this only makes him step further away until the back of his knees hit the hard, wooden pew. he stumbles down onto it and now you're looming over him, his legs just grazing between yours.

"oh, but aren't i? i certainly look like one."

he takes a deep breath as he finally allows his eyes to roam over you, a sliver of skin visible from your small, bunched up shirt. black skirt fitting tight over your lower body, lace covering your skin and heels making your legs look extra long.

he licks his dry mouth, unable to get any words out and doesn't even realize his hands are reaching for your waist until you smack them away, a mock gasp leaving your mouth.

"now wait a minute! does the pastor's son actually like a whore?"

you watch him shake his head as you use that word again but you can only lean in more, his legs pressing into yours now as you bend down so your lips graze his ear.

"that sounds like something you should take to confession, san," you whisper, taking the tip of his ear in your mouth and letting your teeth graze it lightly. you smile against his skin when you hear a harsh breath leave his mouth and a part of you starts to wonder if he's a virgin.

further excitement rushes through you, wetness seeping between your legs because corrupting a pastor's son right in church. what bigger fuck you is that?

"you're not a whore," is what he grunts out again and you pull back to look at him with a questioning gaze.

"i'm not?" you ask, voice airy and light before you slightly lift your skirt up and straddle his waist. another sharp breath leaves his mouth and you smirk when you feel his bulge pressing against your underwear.

"then let me know why i wanna fuck you right now," you say lowly in his ear, "why i've wanted to fuck you for quite some time now." you lower your mouth to his neck, hot wet tongue licking over the freckles you've noticed one too many times during sunday mass.

"what do you think gets me through service every sunday?" you mumble against his skin, "thinking about me bent over one of these pews with your cock buried inside me." 

his head falls back as his dick hardens in his pants, your words and hot breath and wet thong gliding over him causing him to nearly pass out.

"it's funny too because i don't think you know how hot you are," you say when you pull back and see his head tipped back in what looks like pleasure and agony.

it takes him a few seconds to gather his composure, your heat under him causing his body all sorts of trouble.

"well i...i don't think you know how good you actually are," he eventually grunts out before bringing his head up just in time to see your eyes flash. he thinks, knows, that was the wrong thing to say to you but even with arousal filing his veins, it's what he wanted to say.

because you are good, he's watched you in school and at church and in town treat everyone with fairness and respect and dignity. it's preaching he listens to over and over every sunday but knows even the most avid clergy members here fail to truly abide by it.

but you can only scoff before rolling your hips over his crotch, feeling his bulge has grown even harder and bigger under you and now the friction is enough to stimulate you through the cotton.

"if i'm so good, can i kneel for you then?"

his adams apple bobs as you look at him with heated a gaze and he resists the urge to grind himself into you. he never ever thought he'd be in this kind of predicament.

"what?"

a smile crosses your face before you peck his lips so quickly he doesn't even realize you kissed him. he watches in a daze as you get off his lap and turn yourself around, bending as you drop your skirt, underwear and tights down in one quick tug to your calves.

he's met with the sight of your ass and wet pussy bent over in his face, the windows casting a light over you and he feels his cock jump and strain in his pants, begging and screaming to be let free. he resists the urge to groan out at the feeling, wanting more than anything to rip them off and relieve himself the way he always, sinfully, does when he gets the urge.

he wants to reach out and do something, he doesn't even know what, before you're turned back around, dropping to your knees and putting your hands on either side of his legs on the pew.

"can i suck your cock?" you ask, looking up at him with wide pleading eyes that watch in delight as his adams's apple bobs again.

"wh-why?" he grunts out and then hisses when you reach your hand out to stroke him over his pants.

"just because," you whine, rubbing over him more and more and you feel yourself getting wetter, "i want it in my mouth."

he throws his head back with a pained groan and excitement fills you when his hands finally fall to his pants. he shimmies them down, shutting his eyes to try and ignore the fact that he's in his dad's church about to get a blowjob.

his cock springs free immediately and you hum in contentment, spitting and licking over his hard length before moving to the tip eagerly.

"look at me," you demand, his eyes popping open obediently and already looking hazy. and as if you're rewarding him for his lustful gaze, you lick over the tip with a few skillful swirls of your tongue.

a sharp exhale leaves his mouth and then a quiet, short grunt echoes through the room when start bobbing your head up and down on him. cheeks hallowed and tongue lapping as drool eventually sweeps out of your mouth.

you hear his sounds of pleasure above you and just know he's never experienced anything like this yet, his hips bucking into your mouth when he feels an orgasm coming on.

"ah, ah," you scold when you pull back, holding his cock in your hand as you lick a slow stripe up the underside, "good church boys don't do that."

his face is pulled into a grimace, overwhelmed by the sight of you below him and your eyes staring up at him, his cock throbbing and aching to get its release.

"but they don't do this either, do they?" you muse, slapping his tip against your tongue and humming in delight when you taste the salty precum.

"n-no," he groans because he thinks maybe if he talks, you'll put your mouth on him again. suck him off again with your skillful tongue and let him come in your mouth. 

but because you're vengeful and drunk off lust and power over him, you stand up to straddle him again. the second your core is on him, his eyes nearly roll back in pleasure.

“you're...so wet," his whiney voice rings through the church and you smirk at hearing it. 

because it's usually preaching and singing echoing through these walls, not moans and dirty talk.

"you did that," you whisper in his ear, lifting your hips up and teasing your dripping entrance with his cock. you moan out when it rubs over your throbbing clit and you're tempted to sink down on him right there.

"tell me, san," you continue as his hands go to grip your waist, nails digging into you, "are you gonna think about this on sunday? remember me sucking you off and dragging my pussy all over you right here in this seat?"

a moan leaves his mouth again, his eyes and head rolling back when you tease your entrance again, your words breathy and far too accurate.

he'll never be able to look at this pew every again without blushing.

"hm?" you muse over the skin of his neck, licking over his freckles again and smirking against them as you do so because cute. 

"yes," he breaths out, eyes still closed and bucking his hips because he wants to enter you so badly, "i...it's all i'll be able to think about."

his head shoots up when you fly off of him, sliding off your underwear before pulling your skirt up like some dignified lady.

he can only look at you with a pained, confused gaze. his cock is leaking now, pulsing and throbbing and your flushed appearance isn't making it any easier.

"some would say that's sinful, you know that, right?"

he doesn't know what you want him to say but he desperately needs it to be the right thing.

"i'm sorry." his words are tight and choked and you smirk how cute he is.

you tug him up by the shirt, his lax body nearly falling into you. and before he knows what's happening, you're pushing him up the alter and through the archways into the confessional stall.

the room is tiny, dark and dingy with only a little stool facing the closed window where usually the priest would listen and forgive a weeping, guilty soul.

but instead, you're pushing the boy down and climbing on top of him. you line his cock up with your entrance, circling it with the tip again and his loud whine echoes in the stall.

"y/n, please," he begs, "please."

"please what?" you muse, just as needy and desperate for him to be inside of you but also getting off on his begging.

"please fuck me," he whines, "i want to feel your pussy.

you clench when the words fall from his lips and you let out a breathy laugh, placing an open-mouthed kiss on his lips. he kisses back immediately, tongue diving into your mouth with a sloppy, intense fervor.

you pull back to look him in his eyes, "you're gonna have to have a serious talk in this room tomorrow, huh? confess your sin and be forgiven for fucking a whore like me."

and whether it be because he's sick of hearing you call yourself that or because he's just so turned on and ready to bust, he rams his cock into you.

you moan out at the sudden intrusion, his groan bouncing off yours because you're so tight and wet around him.

"i told you...to stop calling yourself that," he grunts out, ramming his cock up into you furiously. with you on top, he's hitting that spot up deep inside you and your mouth is hanging open but you've finally shut up, not being able to form any words.

"but if you wanna be treated like a whore, we could arrange that. is that what you want?"

your eyes nearly bulge out of your head because that was the last thing you expected to hear him say and you can't help the way your pussy clenches around him.

he suddenly stands up, his cock still inside you as he slams you against the wall and fucks up into you like he's done this a hundred times before. his thrusts are hard and deep and steady, hand coming up to rest on your throat and squeezing ever so slightly.

"i bet you're pretty surprised, baby," he hisses in your ear, his cock hitting deep inside you again and making you cry out, "that the pastor's son is doing this to you, aren't you?"

because he heard how you spit the words out before, judgment and teasing dripping in your tone. because he knows you think he’s just an innocent, pure-hearted virgin.

"yes," you breathe out and he scoffs at your honesty.

"you didn't think i had it in me, did you?" his thumb comes up to flick your bottom lip and you open your mouth to suck it. 

"did you?" he asks, seemingly unfazed by your actions and instead, halting his movements. 

you bite down on his finger in frustration. "of course i didn't," you spit out. you were feeling so good, your orgasm building sweetly and the euphoria had just started creeping into your veins. “now can you fucking move!"

"shut your mouth," he growls, tightening his grip on your neck, "and beg for my forgiveness."

"what? no, fuck you," you choke out angrily.

"then you're not coming," he grits out, just as angry. the mood has taken quite a turn, both of you dominant and anger and desperate for release. and you can see in his eyes he’s not kidding.

"but what if i ride you like a good girl," you muse suddenly, head lolling to the side and dark eyes boring into his because desperate times, "then will forgive me?"

and just like that, he's back on the stool and you're bouncing on his cock. the room is creaking and shaking all around you, moans and whines filling the small space until you both come a few moments later with a very ironic cry of, "oh, my god!"

your head is leaned against his shoulder, both of you trying to catch your breath as the stuffy air sticks to your sweaty skin.

"holy shit," you hear him mumble and a short chuckle leaves your mouth. you pull back to see his head leaned back against the wall, his sweaty hair sticking to his head.

"you sure had me fooled, church boy,” you say, teasing in your tone before you mumble, “so am i forgiven?” 

a devilish smirk crosses his face, tongue peaking out to lick at his lips but not uttering any verbal response. he lifts you off him with ease, plopping you on your feet gently before pulling up his pants and kicking open the door.

you follow and quickly scramble for your shirt by the first pew, watching san plop down where you blew him earlier that night.

"i really won't look at this bench the same," he says quietly and a chuckle leaves your mouth as you throw your shirt over your head and sit next to him silently.

you two don't speak for a few minutes, just sit in the quiet reflection that's usually meant for praying and asking for guidance. which you suppose you might need some guidance right now, being homeless and just coming off the high of having sex in a church confessional.

you run your hands through your hair, closing your eyes as you rest your head on the pew. because between the alcohol and your orgasm and your racing brain, you're feeling tired. and sleep can sometimes just help everything.

"why'd you get drunk?" he asks suddenly and your one eye pops open to look at him.

"what?" you ask because that was random.

"i'm sorry, i...don't mean to pry," he says softly and there's the inevitable church boy persona slipping back, "you just seemed..troubled."

"try homeless. my parents kicked me out."

his eyes widen at your bluntness, moving closer to you and looking at you with a questioning gaze.

he doesn't know what to say.

does he ask why? does he apologize?

"i don't know, maybe that's why i came here,” you mull over as your brain races, “because i have no where else to go. even though this place is at fault in the first place," you mumble before shaking your head. 

"sorry i don't know what i'm saying. shouldn't you be getting home?"

san just shrugs, eyes roaming over you and his heart hurts because you look...sad. and confused. and he hates thinking that you have nowhere safe and warm to sleep tonight in such a vulnerable state.

"yeah. do you wanna come with me?"

you look at him with a raised eyebrow, "to your house?"

"yeah," he says softly, "i just- you have nowhere to go and i wanna... make sure you're safe."

you don’t even know why tears start to sting behind your eyes, swallowing the knot forming in your throat. "if this is because of what we just did, you don't have to-"

"that's not it," he interrupts quickly, "not at all, i swear."

"then why?" you ask defensively, "you're really gonna sneak a girl into your house?"

"i just got a blowjob in front of jesus, i'd say anything is on the table right now."

a real, true, laugh bubbles out of your mouth before you can stop it and he smiles hearing it echo through the church. you smile softly at him and it causes him stomach to do little jumps.

"so is that a yes?" he asks hopefully, standing up and holding out his outstretched hand. you look at it hesitantly, debating with yourself back and forth because his softness is already breaking your hard exterior down.

your eyes meet his and a warm smile crosses his face, dimples poking out and you let out a defeated sigh, "fine."

he interlaces your fingers with yours, both your shoes clacking against the floor before the sound of the door shutting echoes throughout the church.

[ribghoul]

me half a year ago: "who tf is patrick stump that is a dumb name lol"

me now: "if you were church i'd get on my knees confess my love i'd know where to be my sanctuary youi're holy to me if you were church id' get on my knees I'D GET ON MY KNEES

my toxic trait is i will see a band in concert before i've really given them a listen and i won't pay that much attention and then like 2 weeks later i'll realize i'm fucking obsessed with them

[sunlit-mlm]

We are all just trying to be holy🌠✨

Richard Siken - Snow and Dirty Rain | Hozier - Take me to Church | Richard Siken - Crush | Fallout Boy - Church | Richard Siken - Crush

[Begin image id: A series of quotes from the sources listed above. Black text on white background. The first says, “I am singing now while Rome burns. We are all just trying to be holy.”

The second says, “She tells me ‘Worship in the bedroom.’ The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you. I was born sick, but I love it, command me to be well.”

The third says, “I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars.”

The fourth says, “If you were church, I’d get on my knees, confess my love, I’d know where to be. My sanctuary, you’re holy to me. If you were church, I’d get on my knees.”

The fifth says, “Actually, you said, Love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion.” End image id.]

[everythingelseisspokenfor]

imagine simon and baz adopting a little girl g o o d b y e I am deceased -🎹 (piano anon)

Oh my god! I literally abandoned all else to write this fic! I wanted it to be cute but turned out a little heavier than I hoped it to be. But I love it, so here it is. I’m posting it on ao3 as well, but thanks for the prompt piano anon!!

Simon

I can’t believe that people would still be this thick in 2017. I mean for god’s sake is being a little more open-minded that hard? The fact that we have to deal with homophobes even now. It’s not like it has anything with their lives, or that I have anything to do with their lives. And somehow, they still think they have the right to force their damned close-minded, narrow sighted opinions onto the world.

“Why would someone say that? Those bloody imbeciles! Why do they think they can?” I complain to Baz as we walk up to our apartment. It’s different living together now that we don’t hate each other anymore. But Baz claims he never hated me. And I don’t think I ever did either.

“Seriously Snow, chill out will you. It’s not like they can change you or me,” he says digging his pocket for the keys. “And there is nothing we can do to change them apparently.” He grabs the grocery bags from my hand and I walk in sideways through the door. The glamour keeps my red wings and devil’s tail out of the eyes of the normal but is still a huge pain in the ass. I’ve gotten more used to it though. I think one is bound to after nearly a decade with it. I can’t believe it’s been 10 years since Watford.

“But it’s just so frustrating!” I groan, “Couldn’t you have used your magic to smite them or something?”

“I can’t use magic outside just like that.” He shrugs like he just stated the most obvious thing in the world. Well, he kinda did. I mean yes, we aren’t just allowed to let people know about the existence of the World of Mages. Unfortunately. I mean how cool would it be if people knew dragons existed! Those poor souls obsessing over fantasy when we deal with it on a daily basis. Well, not anymore. Thankfully. “Besides, I didn’t carry my wand.”

“Liar. You always carry your wand with you.” I counter. He shrugs again. I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I just hate that we live in such a world.”

“I know Simon. Me too.”

Baz

Simon leaves me to do all the preparation for dinner. Just like him. Too lazy to ever do anything. His go-to excuse is always My wings will just make a mess even if I don’t want to. Come on Baz! I can’t believe that I let it work every single time. What can I say? I’m weak, and head over heel for this git. I don’t even know why. I just pick out the onions from the bag when my phone rings. I jump at the sudden loud noise. I take second to check the caller ID before answering.

“Hello, Bunce.”

“Hey, Baz. I need a favour. Simon isn’t picking up.”

“Yeah, he’s in the shower. What’s it?”

“Yeah. I need you to go to Abbey Wood. There is some sort of incident there. I think it’s something Magical, and I’m in America. So, could you deal with that for me?” Penelope was the external coordinator for Watford now, which meant she dealt with all the magic-related things that took place outside the control of the world of mages. Simon and I help her out time and again.

“How urgent is it?” I ask.

“I’m not really sure. But it seems like things are going to blow up pretty soon. Some people are already there but they are barely holding it together. I need you to go now!”

“Okay. But you owe me one Bunce.”

“Thank you so much! I’ll text you the address.”

I drop the onions on the counter as Simon walks out dressed in his PJs. Head dripping wet. I grab the car keys as Simon gives me a questioning look.

“Somethings going on in Abbey Wood that they need my help with. Want to have dinner outside?”

“I don’t want to change!” He whines. I laugh and mutter a quick spell and change his current attire to a grey shirt and jeans. “So much for I can’t just use magic like that.” I give him a cocky grin and he walks in to give me a quick peck on my lips. And we walk out together.

There are more such incidents than you’d think there’d be in a busy city like London. So, the urgency of the situation doesn’t hit me till we reach Abbey wood and see the massive fire engulfing the church. I hit the brakes more suddenly than I intended to, Snow and I fall forward, and I rush to clutch out the seat belt and run outside.

“What the hell is happening here?” I pant out to one of the boys standing there.

“I’m not sure. There were a group of vampires that attacked the church I think. There were a few people here, but I don’t know where they are.”

I’m not listening to him anymore. I quickly reach my jeans pocket to grab my wand and shout, “Make a wish.” The fire only barely dies down. “Make a wish!” I shout again forcing more magic into the words, Simon quickly takes my side enquiring the boy. I try one more time. “Make a wish.” And the fire puffs out. Black smoke covers the entire building and I sprint inside without any warning. The smoke enters my lung and I start coughing. I can barely see anything, but I find myself walking anyway. “Anybody there?” I ask walking over a few people. I scoot down to check their pulse. Nothing. I take a deep breath which only causes me to cough more.

“Baz?”

“I’m here,” I reply, forcing my face to remain neutral. This is not something I was expecting to handle today. Simon scoots down next to me and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. I just nod and get up. “Anybody there?” I try again.

Simon

I hear a low whimper around the corner. I tap Baz’s shoulder and start walking towards the sound. I walk into the confession room in the corner. The smoke has died down considerably, so it’s easier to see. I open the door and find a little girl, probably six or seven, sat in one corner head against her knees, rocking back and forth.

“Hey,” I say mustering the most soothing voice I could put up. She jumps at the sound of my voice and coils further into herself. I take another careful step forward. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “We’re here to help. It’s all over now.” She is crying. Her eyes are puffy and red, and I can’t do anything to help. But I desperately want to. I kneel next to her. “What’s your name sweetie?” I notice Baz behind me.

“Lu –” She sobs. “Lucy” I flinch but recover quickly.

“Okay,” I attempt placing a hand on her little shoulder. “Let’s get you out of here? Okay? Can we do that?” She nods slowly grabbing her little seal toy.

“Mom?” She mutters slowly as she gets up.

“Your mom was here?” Baz asks, his voice deep and sorrowful.

“She –” Lucy sobs again, “She asked me to stay here then left.” I turn to look at Baz whose eyes widen, and I follow his gaze and realise why. There are 2 puncture wounds on her neck. She was bitten. Oh my god. Baz. I turn to face him again and notice him beginning to fall apart. Lucy walks out before I can stop her and walk over to one of the limp bodies scattered around.

“Mommy?” she scoots down shaking the woman’s shoulder. My heart breaks. “Mommy. The bad guys aren’t here anymore. Mommy?” She shakes her harder, one hand still clutching her soft toy. Baz becomes stiff. He doesn’t move. He just stares at the little girl and I notice his eyes filled to the rim glistening with tears. He doesn’t make an effort to wipe away the tear as it falls, and I don’t know if I should stay and comfort him or go to Lucy. I look back to her still trying to wake her mother up, and I instinctively walk there.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” She looks up at me and probes weakly. I look down at her little hand trying settled on her mothers and grab it slowly.

“Let’s get you out of here. Okay?” I try.

“NO!” She pulls her hands away! “NO! I don’t want to go without mommy. No!” I don’t know what to do. My face strains figuring out a way to break it to her that her mom can’t come. So I do the next best thing my good for nothing brain could think of. I pull her into a hug. She fights me for seconds before collapsing into me in tears. I move a hand to her hair placing a soft kiss on her head.

“It’s going to be alright.” I murmur. “It’s going to be alright.”

Baz

I couldn’t take it. It was too much. It brought back memories I wasn’t even sure I remembered. I froze. I was supposed to help, and I froze. I f***ing froze. Simon seemed to have a handle on the situation though. Thankfully. I watched as he carried the kid and walked over to me. He took my hand and squeezed it once before guiding me out as well. Coming to my senses I quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen. As we walk out we notice a few more people standing there with the boy we saw earlier. He leans forward and hands Lucy over to me. It takes me a while to understand, but I put my hand forward and carry her.

“Aleister Crowley, where the hell were you all?”

“We. Uh. We went to follow the vampires who had escaped.” One of them. A girl with blonde hair replied hesitantly.

“And none of you bothered to check for anyone else inside? What is wrong with you.” Their heads all ducked down in shame.

“We just… we didn’t think there was anyone in there!”

“Well. Think again,” He screams.

“Simon,” I warn. I didn’t realise I was rocking her till I heard a soft snore. He takes a deep breath composing himself.

“Fix up this mess and then go home.” He instructs and walks to me. “Are you okay?” He utters, and I nod.

“Can you drive? I don’t want to disturb her. And she probably needs some quiet.” He holds his hand out. “I don’t think I removed the keys from the car.” He nods and opens the door for me. I get in, trying my best not to wake the sleeping child in my arms. He closes the door walking to the driver side. We are both silent the entire drive.

Simon

When we reach home, Baz walked directly into the room and delicately placed Lucy on our bed and tucked her in. I stood by the door frame watching her cuddle into the blanket. Baz turned around, a weird sort of tiredness fixed in his eyes. I walked over to him and embraced him. I didn’t know how else to help him, and words have always failed me, so I wasn’t going to rely on them now. He buried his head in my chest and I could feel the wetness of his silent tears.

“Is she –” I ask pulling back a little, but I can’t complete the question. He nods then collapses over me again. Neither of us had our appetites anymore. But we found a comfortable position on the couch as I handed Baz a glass of water.

“What are we going to do with her? She just lost everything. And she doesn’t even know it yet,” Baz points out. He looks disoriented. Not something I see very often. I scoot in closer to him.

“I know,” I mumble. “We can’t just drop her off at an orphanage because she is… you know.”

“You can say it, Simon,” Baz huffs a laugh, “It’s not something offensive.”

“I know,” Is all I can say.

“What are we going to do?” He repeats and puts his head on his palms.

“Baz…” I start, “Do you want to, um… maybe we should… why don’t we… adopt her?” Baz’s head turns towards me in one sharp motion.

“This is not a joke Snow!”

“I know. I’m serious. Why not? She needs a home. And we have one.” He sits up straighter.

“That’s not all it takes, Simon. If it was just about providing a home, things would be much less complicated. Do you think either of us is ready to be a parent? You barely remember to put on your pants before you leave home.” I laugh slowly.

“I don’t think anyone is ever ready to be a parent. But I think we can make good ones if we try. She needs someone to help her Baz. And I really want to. It’s like you said. Her entire life collapsed in front of her. She needs someone to lean back on. And there is no one else right now who can understand what she is going through better than you. And I can try to not ruin everything.”

“Are you sure about this?” I nod. “Then I hope to god you’re right. Coz if Lucy becomes a rebellious annoying teenager, you’re going to have to deal with her.” I grin.

“Are you serious!”

“Weren’t you just advocating for us to adopt her? If you’ve changed your mind, I’m sorry. I’ll adopt her anyway.” He smiles one of his rare genuinely happy smiles. I grin wider and move in to kiss him.

“We’re going to be dads!” I squeal with my forehead against his.

“I guess we are.”

[thisbrutalbelle]

GUCCI LOVED || Bella&Alex

       After what had happened at the church Bella hadn’t contacted anyone. For starters she didn’t have her phone and texting from her mac was only able to be done with people who had iPhones but mostly she just didn’t know what to say. How was she meant to bring up what had gone down? She knew she needed to. There was a man who was basically letting people confess their worst deeds and then deciding to kill them like he was God. That couldn’t go silenced in the town. Yet the story came with not only admitting she had hit a point where she’d actively considered turning to ‘God’ and the fact she had not only compelled him but half become aroused into that purely because he had touched her. It showed a drastic weakness in her that she didn’t need anyone knowing she had right now when her good behaviour was still so fragile. Each time she thought of telling Teddy or Iann she thought about how she’d end up saying something like ‘and then he grabbed my wrists and I didn’t run because I sort of thought it was foreplay’ and instead stress ate chocolate covered strawberries.

        In fact the whole house smelled like strawberries and chocolate. Avoiding going outside since the incident she had been cooking non-stop and when she was sad she did not just cook, she baked. Strawberries covered in chocolate was easy. It just happened to come with a strawberry cheesecake and strawberry tarts and a strawberry spongecake roll and a mudcake and chocolate mousse and so on and so forth. Not able to eat them all on her kitchen counter in the open space home was a pile of boxes that had the desserts inside, ready to be delivered to people by one of her employees that was coming by later that day.

        Stress eating was not the only way Bella helped herself deal with ignoring issues these days though, Disney was a close second. “A million thoughts in my head, should I let my heart keep listening?” Bella sang along to the movie on her television with chocolate on her lip and strawberry juice on her teeth. Curled up beside her on the lounge was Boss asleep and seemingly able to ignore Bella’s loud voice and that of the television that radiated through the room. The television was in the back right corner from the front door on the right wall while the furthest wall was completely lined with oversized windows flooding the space with light from the morning sun. From right to left against that wall was the lounge room and then the dining space. On either side of the door was the kitchen to the left and a study to the right. Between the kitchen and the dining space was a hall that lead down to more private areas of the home. Despite all the different areas it all came together though. Everything in shades of black with spots of white and grey to create depth and then Bella’s own art pieces. Versions of the vampire girl in black and white with blonde hair, everything strategically placed to hide most of her naked form, only the blood in the portraits was colour, a vivid red. 

          It was actually sort of strange because the apartment looked nothing like it should have. The building on the outside looked decrepit. Brown bricks were stained with moss being so close to the water and most of her neighbours were elderly or unseemly. Their own apartments nothing like Bella’s and far smaller. Each floor had about eight apartments while her own took up a whole level, and another but that was just storage. Bella liked it that way though. Her personal tastes might have been modern and expensive but she hated others with it. Bella liked the idea when she walked into the first floor where the elevator was from the exposed garage outside that she could see into her old mermaid neighbours home and smell Chinese seafood. It made her feel like she was in a real place with genuine people.

         Pushing up from her chair as the music in her movie intensified Bella’s oversized pastel pink distressed hoodie brushed against her thighs while her feet slipped on the black tiled floor due to her thick black socks that were bunched around the area above her knees. “If only I knew what my heart was telling me, don’t know what I’m feeling, is this just a dream?” she sang loudly, feeling safe in the confines of her own home to belt the children’s musical lyrics loudly and unabashed. It certainly helped that she’d taken singing lessons and knew she didn’t sound like a cat screaming anymore. For a moment in that unhindered streak of herself she could almost forget that she’d had to cancel all of her credit cards, lost all of the pictures of herself and Boss, one that graced the locked screen of her phone while the rest were hidden within, had no fake ID besides a passport and birth certificate, was going to have to have the locks redone at Erzebet’s, Antoinette’s, the warehouses on the docks and her home, shit and the apartment that connected to her home, then there were a piled of her edelweiss hand rolled cigarettes for her illness, plus one of her favourite liquid lips which sure she could rebuy but not in Soapberry so she’d have to get it shipped. No, these were things she could mull over later and had been letting fill her head in the days that had past. For now she was happy belting out the lyrics from Descendants. “Will you still be with me when the magics all run out?”

@father-roman

[trishlovelace]

#IF YOU WERE CHURCH ID GET ON MY KNEES CONFESS MY LOVE ID KNOW WHERE TO BE MY SANCTUARY YOURE HOLY TO ME IF YOU WERE CHURCH ID GET ON MY-

Cas, are you there?

[alexdmorgan30]

Dear AA, We Need to Talk

Dear Alcoholics Anonymous,I’m leaving you. I’ve had enough after 31 years and that’s not even counting the 2 before that. Oy, those were rocky. You sounded way too Christian with just a spritz of Buddhism thrown in for a twist. We’d be nothing but a sour mix because I’m a devout Jewish atheist.“Trust me,” you cooed. “Alcohol is cunning and baffling. I can help.” But when you strongly suggested I pray on my knees, I lost it.I screamed, “Jews don’t pray on their knees!”You weren’t alarmed but you asked that same old tired question. “How can you be an atheist and a Jew?”Before I could explain culture versus religion to you with my secular “bagel Jew” crack, you cooed at me:“That doesn’t matter. Anything can be a higher power—a chair or a doorknob. Just as long as you know you’re not it.”With an eyeroll, “A doorknob? What’re you, high? That makes no sense.”Unfazed, you kept trying to lure me in. “You’ll see the hoop you have to jump through is wider than you think.”But, oy vey, the goddamn god stuff left me feeling shaken so I split. Then when alcohol stopped working all together, I ran back. I dreamed about you warming me up like a stiff scotch used to. But instead of giving me euphoria, you said I needed to admit I was powerless over alcohol. If I surrendered this time, you said I could pour my sadness into you. I was lost and you were gentle, so when you told me to close my eyes, I did.You asked, “Can you think of anything that’s more powerful than you?”“Yes,” I said. “Rain. No matter how much I screamed at the sky, it wouldn’t stop raining.”Your face lit up. “You got it!”I beamed. “Oh! And the ocean, too,” I said. “Waves will keep crashing no matter what I do.”“Right. You’re powerless over alcohol and I can restore you to sanity.”Hands on hips, I yelled “I’m not insane!” But I was still shaken, not stirred.“You can use G.O.D. as in Group of Drunks,” you reminded me, then led me to a dark church basement where you said I’d feel welcome. But the pathetic coffee left me craving something stronger; I wanted to be under the influence till I was over the limit. Yet, still attracted to the liquor-free confidence there, I decided on the GOD acronym. Until the speaker cracked the Big Book open and read Step 11.You smarmy liar! And I was vulnerable, trying to quit getting lit. You gaslit me:“To certain newcomers and to those one-time agnostics who still cling to the A.A. group as their higher power….”Still desperate and confused, I kept going because people were nice to me. At a lunchtime meeting, the speaker talked about her fifth step. It sounded so much like confession I got excited and whirled my head around scanning the room for communion wine. Those early meetings taught me to pray—for a liquid lunch.You said it was a spiritual program so I had to accept the idea of a higher power. That nearly crushed me. You really didn’t understand that some people know there isn’t any god. I’d held out hope that you were going to unveil yourself as top shelf stuff but most of the time, you seemed like Mad Dog. Especially when you said stupid shit like, “Your best thinking got you here.”I wanted to be with you in the rooms, but most of the time I was dragging my ass around. But now I’m sick of feeling trapped. I hate your smoke and mirrors trickery. Your demand for rigorous honesty can cramp my style. When we almost broke up and I wanted to bolt, I cheated on you with meetings for atheists. The problem was there were so few of them and they were just as dogmatic.I can hear your disdain when you call me one of those “unfortunates” who can’t get the program because I’m constitutionally incapable of being honest. Now that’s grandiose. I’m sick of your self-righteous finger wagging at me, saying you’re not judgmental but then labeling me the belligerent one if I challenge anything you say. But come on, the idea of a looming spirit in place of intoxicating spirits is ridiculous.Okay, I admit I’m grateful that you always took me back. You’ve been patient and kind and most of all, you stuck by me. But damn it, I’m sick of being barked at for doing things that aren’t suggested. So I’m at a crossroads. The fear of leaving is a biggie. You and all of our friends will pull away from me if I leave you. The pressure to stay feels a lot like the bar pressure to do one more shot.If I went that route, at least I could take breaks from feeling everything so acutely while also stuffing down any critical words about you. Whenever I express frustration about how hypocritical you can be, I get looked at with pity: “Poor Dee. She’s taking her will back. Let’s pray for her. It only works if you work it.” I wince at that crap. I refuse to wear a cone of shame if I save a seat, or gossip, or don’t feel like stacking the chairs some days. A lot of people think it’s healthy to fear slipping but I no longer want to fear anything. Peer pressure reminds me of junior high.Please quit telling me if I’m upset it’s because I’m obstinate, immature, and willful.Uh oh. But what if you’re right? If I leave, would I regress? I never want to be the sorry sot I was before we met. Those stakes are too high. I was afraid to give up alcohol and drugs because I “knew” I needed them. Then you proved me wrong. If I storm out, does that make me a brat who won’t take my medicine?You’ve always been a good listener and who else would love me in spite of my god rants? Maybe I am at the right party now. Though I long for the schnockered nights, I ain't in my twenties anymore. I don't even know if I could still stay up till four in the morning, much less hit the after-hours until the Tequila Sunrises. Yearning for wild nights of yore could be euphoric recall — rosy as a maraschino on top.Maybe staying together is fine after all. We’ve talked so many times about my expectations and you’re right—it’s stupid to blame you for being imperfect. I mean, look at me.G.O.D. can stand for good orderly direction, with Buddhism’s tangy flavor: a god within. Now that I’m thinking things through, I suppose a frothy soy milkshake could satiate me more than White Russians ever could. And, seriously, who wants a shit-faced higher power within anyway? No marriage is 100 percent bliss; perhaps I just caught a 31-year itch. My mind easily wanders back to booty calls with sexy bar pickups. Libidos on fire. At weak moments I ache to go back there. Then I snap out of it.Truth is, I love Netflix nights chillin’ with decaf chai latte from Starbucks. You’ve been there for me time after time. So, let’s hold up the paper cup. Cheers, AA. I’m not going anywhere.What’ll it be tonight? Barfly or Leaving Las Vegas?”  How have you handled boredom and frustration in recovery? Or did you decide to leave your 12-step program? Tell us in the comments.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241841 http://bit.ly/2ZdTGc7

[emlydunstan]

Dear AA, We Need to Talk

Dear Alcoholics Anonymous,I’m leaving you. I’ve had enough after 31 years and that’s not even counting the 2 before that. Oy, those were rocky. You sounded way too Christian with just a spritz of Buddhism thrown in for a twist. We’d be nothing but a sour mix because I’m a devout Jewish atheist.“Trust me,” you cooed. “Alcohol is cunning and baffling. I can help.” But when you strongly suggested I pray on my knees, I lost it.I screamed, “Jews don’t pray on their knees!”You weren’t alarmed but you asked that same old tired question. “How can you be an atheist and a Jew?”Before I could explain culture versus religion to you with my secular “bagel Jew” crack, you cooed at me:“That doesn’t matter. Anything can be a higher power—a chair or a doorknob. Just as long as you know you’re not it.”With an eyeroll, “A doorknob? What’re you, high? That makes no sense.”Unfazed, you kept trying to lure me in. “You’ll see the hoop you have to jump through is wider than you think.”But, oy vey, the goddamn god stuff left me feeling shaken so I split. Then when alcohol stopped working all together, I ran back. I dreamed about you warming me up like a stiff scotch used to. But instead of giving me euphoria, you said I needed to admit I was powerless over alcohol. If I surrendered this time, you said I could pour my sadness into you. I was lost and you were gentle, so when you told me to close my eyes, I did.You asked, “Can you think of anything that’s more powerful than you?”“Yes,” I said. “Rain. No matter how much I screamed at the sky, it wouldn’t stop raining.”Your face lit up. “You got it!”I beamed. “Oh! And the ocean, too,” I said. “Waves will keep crashing no matter what I do.”“Right. You’re powerless over alcohol and I can restore you to sanity.”Hands on hips, I yelled “I’m not insane!” But I was still shaken, not stirred.“You can use G.O.D. as in Group of Drunks,” you reminded me, then led me to a dark church basement where you said I’d feel welcome. But the pathetic coffee left me craving something stronger; I wanted to be under the influence till I was over the limit. Yet, still attracted to the liquor-free confidence there, I decided on the GOD acronym. Until the speaker cracked the Big Book open and read Step 11.You smarmy liar! And I was vulnerable, trying to quit getting lit. You gaslit me:“To certain newcomers and to those one-time agnostics who still cling to the A.A. group as their higher power….”Still desperate and confused, I kept going because people were nice to me. At a lunchtime meeting, the speaker talked about her fifth step. It sounded so much like confession I got excited and whirled my head around scanning the room for communion wine. Those early meetings taught me to pray—for a liquid lunch.You said it was a spiritual program so I had to accept the idea of a higher power. That nearly crushed me. You really didn’t understand that some people know there isn’t any god. I’d held out hope that you were going to unveil yourself as top shelf stuff but most of the time, you seemed like Mad Dog. Especially when you said stupid shit like, “Your best thinking got you here.”I wanted to be with you in the rooms, but most of the time I was dragging my ass around. But now I’m sick of feeling trapped. I hate your smoke and mirrors trickery. Your demand for rigorous honesty can cramp my style. When we almost broke up and I wanted to bolt, I cheated on you with meetings for atheists. The problem was there were so few of them and they were just as dogmatic.I can hear your disdain when you call me one of those “unfortunates” who can’t get the program because I’m constitutionally incapable of being honest. Now that’s grandiose. I’m sick of your self-righteous finger wagging at me, saying you’re not judgmental but then labeling me the belligerent one if I challenge anything you say. But come on, the idea of a looming spirit in place of intoxicating spirits is ridiculous.Okay, I admit I’m grateful that you always took me back. You’ve been patient and kind and most of all, you stuck by me. But damn it, I’m sick of being barked at for doing things that aren’t suggested. So I’m at a crossroads. The fear of leaving is a biggie. You and all of our friends will pull away from me if I leave you. The pressure to stay feels a lot like the bar pressure to do one more shot.If I went that route, at least I could take breaks from feeling everything so acutely while also stuffing down any critical words about you. Whenever I express frustration about how hypocritical you can be, I get looked at with pity: “Poor Dee. She’s taking her will back. Let’s pray for her. It only works if you work it.” I wince at that crap. I refuse to wear a cone of shame if I save a seat, or gossip, or don’t feel like stacking the chairs some days. A lot of people think it’s healthy to fear slipping but I no longer want to fear anything. Peer pressure reminds me of junior high.Please quit telling me if I’m upset it’s because I’m obstinate, immature, and willful.Uh oh. But what if you’re right? If I leave, would I regress? I never want to be the sorry sot I was before we met. Those stakes are too high. I was afraid to give up alcohol and drugs because I “knew” I needed them. Then you proved me wrong. If I storm out, does that make me a brat who won’t take my medicine?You’ve always been a good listener and who else would love me in spite of my god rants? Maybe I am at the right party now. Though I long for the schnockered nights, I ain't in my twenties anymore. I don't even know if I could still stay up till four in the morning, much less hit the after-hours until the Tequila Sunrises. Yearning for wild nights of yore could be euphoric recall — rosy as a maraschino on top.Maybe staying together is fine after all. We’ve talked so many times about my expectations and you’re right—it’s stupid to blame you for being imperfect. I mean, look at me.G.O.D. can stand for good orderly direction, with Buddhism’s tangy flavor: a god within. Now that I’m thinking things through, I suppose a frothy soy milkshake could satiate me more than White Russians ever could. And, seriously, who wants a shit-faced higher power within anyway? No marriage is 100 percent bliss; perhaps I just caught a 31-year itch. My mind easily wanders back to booty calls with sexy bar pickups. Libidos on fire. At weak moments I ache to go back there. Then I snap out of it.Truth is, I love Netflix nights chillin’ with decaf chai latte from Starbucks. You’ve been there for me time after time. So, let’s hold up the paper cup. Cheers, AA. I’m not going anywhere.What’ll it be tonight? Barfly or Leaving Las Vegas?”  How have you handled boredom and frustration in recovery? Or did you decide to leave your 12-step program? Tell us in the comments.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241841 https://www.thefix.com/dear-aa-we-need-talk

[minusthecynic]

I aint got time for playing games just that chick who sets my heart aflame it aint no mystery what happened with her and me/ how it wasn't meant to be/ how we fell apart like the little statuette I made of my art group leader in his honour cos it wasn't properly prepared for the kiln/ am I ready to endure that blazing tongue licking trial and torture/ don't kick me when I'm down cos you will teach me nothing you will just breed little beasties of resentment in me/ which wrap themselves around my neck and strangle the living daylights out of me/ in Jah I delight if you didn't know already/ rocking steady to this beat/ the music that's playing in my head when I write this/ I wont be defeated by my pitiful circumstances/ they say time heals all wounds but I've still got scabs cos I keep picking them open every time they start to recover/ breaking the bars of my skin cells cracking them open like fortune cookies/ fresh blood flows out my flesh/ I look like a wookie when folks give me stress/ I'm so blessed/ not oppressed by demons any longer/ though you might think otherwise if you saw the way I treat those pretty witty butterflies that come into my net/ live my love life with no regret/ you can make me soaking wet like the sea/ but I crave a deeper intimacy than the kind that your mind could ever possibly provide/ and its deeper than just bumping and grinding for me/ I want that church and steeple kind of love/ I want that sunday morning you in that white wedding dress kind of love/ I want the whole world knowing about us kind of love/ I don't like doing things in the secret chambers of a garden dark/ hey why should we hide our affection from the world we have been doing that for far too long and you wonder why I snapped my link with you/ don't expect to be respected if you aint prepared to show it shorty/ I aint hating on you I still love you but we can never be together again you already know that/ I know you harbour no illusions about the potential of the two of us to be together/ I'm desperately scribbling like an idiot jailbird chewing his last meal to avoid the temptation of another live video broadcast I shouldn't be watching streaming from the lounge room of some cutie I probably shouldn't be friends with but my love for God is endless/ so can I extend a benevolent hand without my motives being twisted all out of shape like pipe cleaners/ some say I'm a dreamer cos I spit that utopian paradise concept I utilize these skills not to pay the bills just to entertain the masses/ some may say I'm classist nah I'm just a classic/ like retro reebok or Adidas sneaks/ I do speak my mind in volumes copious compendiums of the freedom I've been extended by Jesus/ I won't end up like my grandfolks did/ going to hell in a handbasket/ unless they truly turned around on their deathbeds/ I've got to hope what they confessed to my moms n pops was genuine/ cos id sure hate not to see their lovely faces in heaven/ its pretty tricky yo when youre the second generation/ passing on the truth you learned from your ancestors/ I can relate to that indigenous struggle to maintain cultural heritage/ keep the language alive/ keep our songs and dances going/ put our art on blast/ cos we don't want our past to always remain our past sometimes we want it present in our future also/ only the bits that can potentially be redeemed for Jesus/ some say I'm an also ran/ but I aint gonna freeze up just because hate and criticism be on the increase/ shorty knows ive got it locked with Jesus He causes the evil to decrease in me/ less of me and more of you Lord this is my plea/ I know I cheat cos I don't flow to the beat/ just the music drumming in between my own ears/ perfect love casts out all fear/ you can tell I'm sloppy with my rhyme schemes panting for Christs living water like a thirsty deer/ unlike my homegirl channy I don't flow properly/ I do it sloppily but I'm still Gods property/ I dig this rap game ever since I was knee high to a grasshopper/ ive been that wannabe rhyme dropper/ homies hate on the skills got me wondering why don't they go ahead and do it themselves if they want to hear something slightly more endearing/ I would be cheering/ I aint hating for the sake of hating/ big up my homies I be celebrating/ not denigrating/ this is more than a recreational pursuit for me/ I would do it for a full time job but noones dangling golden cash carrots under me/ little wonder cos my thunder got stolen by way too many broken hearts and the molten lava I fell in/ cos my ego got in the way of my progress/ little girls calling me their idol/ people comparing me to my heroes/ as if I could ever be considered their peers and equals/ my head got big and swelled/ I could barely hold it up it was so bursting with pride/ yet when I chose to walk by the side of the lion of zion I realized how little I was without His help/ and what wee amounts of change I could accomplish stranded on my own on a lonely island/ selfishness just gets you nowhere fast/ ive got regrets for the way I used to live/ that die is cast but I broke the mould/ still haven't got a woman to have and hold/ for the rest of my life though when I do I'm gonna treat her like purest gold/ a diamond that's been cut innumerable times made more beautiful by her scars/ she will forever own my heart/ I hate the fact that I cant be with her right now/ I hate the fact that God said no to one girl but He might say yes to another/ plenty fish in the sea for this brother/ I know its a tired stale old cliché but I believe that I don't have to settle for a life of permanent bachelorhood/ and if youre a chick youre a spinster/ don't let them stick that bachelorette trash labelling on you/ whats in a name/ identity distinction/ you aint one of the bros you're your own person/ I give up on myself too soon just like I did with you/ strap me to a billion black balloons let them weigh down this sad faced clown/ fill them up with concrete when its still dripping liquid/ if that's even possible/ descriptive of the way I feel/ like I'm sweating bullets and lead/ scared of the future without a bae to call my own/ unlike that game show I don't aim to claim the throne/ I'm just happy playing follow the leader/ not straying from Jahs calling rounding up those stubborn ones I'm that sheep dog/ prodding cattle to get moving on a journey of self improvement/ no one knows the troubles ive seen or where ive been/ or the times when ive come in between a rock and a hard place/ or husbands and wives/ gossip separates friends/ and causes you to use kitchen knives/ for something other than slicing up animal meat/ I don't want any more blood flowing down our streets/ we already got robbed once I would be a dunce if I ever put myself in a position to allow that to happen again/ now God provided the money so we can claim back on insurance all that got jacked from us/ and so we could tighten our security/ Lord I wanna live a life of purity but you know what these two eyes see/ pretty young things find their way to me when I aint even looking for them/ so ive gotta be extra careful do that dip and bounce with my eyeballs/ when other dudes in seventh grade were making collages of busty babes I was pasting tiny babies snaps to my page/ we didn't even get to use a pen til then/ maybe it was freshman year/ can we live our lives without causing each others eyes to drip rivers of tears/ all of these days weeks months I wasted/ all of the blood on my lips I tasted/ only from my own d n a far as I could tell/ though some share the same  as me/ in some small way linked by code of genetics to all of humanity/ its pathetic how we start race wars and act sexist/ all because were stubborn and pigheaded/ tell ourselves we can't forgive the wrongs of the past but that's a lie of the enemy/ crazy talk like suddenly sprouting legs and trotting round if you're a sea anemone/ I aint a portugese man of war I wonder what I'm fighting for/ instead of delighting in you Lord igniting that holy fire in me/ I'm frightened for what the future has in store/ I don't wanna be the same old me anymore/ but I find myself in wrestling matches with angels / like Jacob pretty soon I'm gonna wind up missing hip bones/ could you change my name to Israel/ so I know God will prevail evey time someone calls my name/ seeing myself as His success upon each occasion when they point out my failures/ and they will know us by the trail of the dead skin cells attached to bloody bandages we leave behind us when we go strolling down the gardens of the ghettos we all know and love/ I've still gotta live with the consequences of my actions this side of heaven/ I'm so dense and intense most cant handle me so they sit on the fence and observe the way my candles lit/ while I collect my dollars and cents and just smile cos Gods a genius/ cracking me up cos suckers and liars said I could never make any money outta this biz/ guess what I proved them wrong even though that wasn't the motivating factor/ saving souls and taking care of my future family was the only reason why I ever wanted to get cashed up/ I talked way too much trash for my own good/ folks misunderstood the way I acted in my neighbourhood/ losers calling themselves outlaws/ if they got locked up in jail how would they feel for real/ bush rangers strangers highway men by way men/ you aint going my way men so I can relax/ and even if you did pull me over to one side and told this kid to give his money cough that cash give it up quick smart like pash rash or risk losing his life you think i'd care to open my wallet for such deviants/ losing my life means nothing to me cos its in the hands of Jesus stupid/ so I aint fretting if you pull a gun on me and stick it to my head tell me that youre gonna pull the trigger on my skull and blast it to smithereens/ cos I know who my king is/ and I know where my future is/ lying beyond the stars/ they treat me like a spider from mars sipping cider from a glass/ eyeball with a hole where the pupil should be/ I'm like john lennon legend and tupac I wrestle with my own vanity/ that's insanity/ but one out of three found Jesus in the end/ at least that's the truth of which I'm convinced my friend/ some say I'm gonna deal with my sorrow tomorrow then they don't live another day there  has to be a better way/ homies who consider themselves sold out for Jesus still watch movies with cussing does that even bear discussing/ why the shortie of my dreams watching scream queens better yet what I'm doing in that haunted house I should ask myself/ why the ski mask or hockey like Jason why I'm chasing that dragon why I'm facing these giants why I see myself  as a dwarf but my God towers over my oppressors/ why I love the fact that He forgives me despite my constant messing round with transgressions and gressors/ how am I supposed to address this/ so much we don't talk about for the sake of love/ like I quit paying out on atheists/ cos I knew that wasn't winning souls for His kingdom/ it wasn't Christs mindset/ even though I don't believe that atheists truly exist theyre such an easy target/ I close my eyes and try to forget/ about all the blood sweat and tears it took to get my homegirl to where she is today/ thank you Lord for all the change you have brought to her life that death for life exchange/ I had to force myself to slow down cos I wasn't getting anywhere speeding too fast through life/ is it cos I drink too much coffee that I'm mentally rushing through this cconversation already thinking of what I'm gonna do with my day once you're up and gone/ why can't I just chill with it and enjoy the moment/ I don't have a remote control button to freeze the sun and keep you here with me shortie so I've gotta lap up the milk of time you're giving me like a happy cat and don't complain/ cos I cant prolong your stay for any longer than you wanna be here/ I'm sincere in my apology for trying to express my love for you in a physical way before you were ready/ I should have stuck with emotional expressions of the deep impression you carved into my heart right from the very start/ I guess I should have been more careful the kind of pics I was allowing my eyes to look at less than an hour before meeting you/ now I'm entreating you have mercy on me/ give me date number two/ or call it business meet/ cos I mix business with pleasure when the two of us are standing on the same street/ I'm demanding your attention never commanding it/ you could conquer the world if you quit hanging with twits/ do I include myself in that category/ guaranteed you could win a game of scattergories/ look at me I'm an allegory/ for what could happen if you trust in Jesus with your whole heart/ quit playing church and pushing HIm to the furthest branch of your birch/ I know sometimes life situations have got you out on a limb/ and I can't even imagine what you went through having to endure refugee camp/ dealing with that cramped space/ though I can relate to starting over in a brand new country where no one knows your name or face/ or the beauty of your personality/ I know it was hard for your folks cos they probably started at the top in your country then slid back to the bottom in ours/ having to begin all over again/ I remember how excited you were on the advent of becoming a citizen/ we've been through some happy times together/ getting higher than Everest/ stoked off that moment enthralled by your cleverness/ when you got into uni and excelled at those good grades/ when I saw you shining like constellations up on stage/ such a sensation I'm amazed/ you were on the line up for a folk festival I only visited as a paying guest/ is it only in my fantasies you lay your head down on my chest in wedded bliss/ baby let me comb your hair/ I love you in everything you wear/ can you do a fashion show for me when you select what you determine to be the best dress for that particular occasion/ you don't need any make up to look gorgeous/ I could wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep with my head besides yours on the pillow every evening/ you got me weeping like a willow cos I only share this double bed with ghosts and memories/ they say the rap  game is a widow maker/ cos cats be onto you pouncing when you shake your money maker and bouncing round the house like that/ every dog on the block wants to chat with you/ wants to lock you in chains make a hood rat out of you/ but you aint going for their smooth talk/ cos your eyes are on your heavenly prize/ not just like some souls whose only goal is to see themselves blaze bright and all the rest of the world can just burn up like a pile of garbage you discarded in your yard cos you couldn't stand the sight of carnage/ they feed people to pigs in my country no really/ they got mafia operating in my local area maybe/ living next door to a bikie gang affiliated lady/ still she can't use her shotgun to make a hole in the foot of an intruder/ its crazy how our laws sometimes protects criminal elements more than it does those who are innocent victims/ I'm sick of chewing humble crow pie eating it just cos evil minded fools won't let sleeping dogs lie and give me peace/ as much as I care about the cause you're fighting for I can do it my own way without your help/ although you asked for mine you didn't want it in the way I was offering/ so I withdraw my assistance/ and I say forget about our friendship if you can't treat me right/ i'm not the scum between your toes/ i'm not a handkerchief you can wipe your bloody nose with/ i'm not that goober dripping from your snoz gonzo/ you think you're the fonz but you're barely fuzzy bear yet alone tonto/ Jah come to my aid pronto get this hate off my mind/ help me stop thinking about the friendships which I'm forced to leave behind/ should have drowned his companionship when my homegirl left me/ romantically though I was the one who hopped on that plane/ I didn't get why wendy Matthews song was sad cos I associated blue skies with gladness even though billy was right they do bring tears/ yet they can also fill you up with cheer/ when you know theres sunshine for days so yall can come out and play/ and I struggle to relate to songs about the sun which stays bright until late in the evening like those catastrophic gothic trolls panicking at the disco  / cos I operate under a different hemisphere but I'm more concerned about concentrating on what unites us instead of what divides/ believe it or not/ I'm ripley praying for those victims of homicide regicide and suicide/ suckers talked about killing God yet He still lives/ despite all of our obnoxiousness such snotty nosed punks He still forgives/ some get drunk off their own pretentions of genius/ yet they forget God is the one who gives their clogs their cleverness and their pants their smartness/ I wont be a bossy boots if you don't shoot the messenger/ did I forget Jesus is in the drivers seat/ I permanently play the role of passenger/ who paid for my passage Yah/ I aint saying things just to massage your ego/ I don't care if the truth is offensive to people/ though I try to speak it in love I don't shove folks in boxes/ without my spirit finding its home in Christ I'm a vagrant with no fixed address having no place to rest like He spoke of Himself in unfavourable comparison to vixens and foxes ❤ 🙂