#THANK YOU GOD THANK YOU OPEN THE FLOODGATES OF HEAVEN
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A thought just came to me, and it’s fluff (kinda angsty if you squint but overall just protective leon) when f!reader (his S/O) comes home from work and subtly complains about some guy (co-worker) being “strange” and flirting with her and stuff and eventually she just comes home one day and rants about how it’s making her really uncomfy (and then ofc my bbg Leon comforts her and now has a murder plan)
I love this idea because I saw in one of your drabbles the mention of Leon not even thinking about sharing reader, and now I’m wondering what he would think of when even reader doesn’t like the persons advances and is uncomfy
If this is too triggering or uncomfortable for you, pls ignore!! I love ur writing ❤️❤️
-Leon Kennedy x reader
Ahhh thank you for requesting, I love protective Leon sm!! I hope you enjoy my lovelies!
CW- harassment
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Office jobs are already god awful, the last thing you need is some creepy, sleaze-ball who can’t take a hint for the life of him and by just your luck that’s exactly who you have to work with. The new intern, Harry, had been nothing but inappropriate with his constant jokes about the women he’s slept with, or his flirtatious manner that was horribly accompanied by his wandering hands.
It was starting to make you feel way too uncomfortable so much in fact you left ten minutes early just to avoid him in the parking lot. You had, along with several other women, already spoken with your bosses who in turn told you they’d ‘Keep an eye on him’ which was not helpful, at all, in fact, his actions only worsened through the week.
So when you finally get home you let out a heavy sigh, feeling the stress melt away as Leon calls your name lovingly from the kitchen. “Hey angel, you’re back early” he says walking over to you with a soft smile.
Leon always looks so warm and inviting but right now when he’s wearing his old collage jumper with a pair of joggers, well it sparks something in you and you just can’t help it as you practically fling yourself at him. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you tug him into a hug.
He smiles when you breathe in deeply because, god, did he smell like heaven, “Yeah, I missed you- so much” you mumble against his shoulder, a sigh falling from your lips as his hands soothe against the small of your back, pulling your blouse out from where’s its tucked into your pencil skirt, so he can slip his hands underneath the fabric, his warm hands splaying across your back.
Leon catches on fairly quickly that there’s something wrong, he can tell by your tone, and when he pulls away slightly to look at you he doesn’t miss the strained smile you flash him. “Missed you too baby” he presses a kiss to your hairline, “Tell me what happened?” there’s a certain softness to his tone that melts you, completely opening the floodgates.
“Well y’know that new intern?” You ask as you both walk into the kitchen, the setting sun dusting the room with an orangey light as it reflects against the dark wooden cupboards, it was a homely feeling.
The softness of the light against Leon’s face made him look so handsome, despite the frown that confronts his face as he runs a hand down his stubbled cheek.
He nods with a stiff “Yeah” as he bites the inside of his cheek. Of course, Leon knew him, the creep wouldn’t leave you alone, the thought of him making you even the slightest bit uncomfortable made Leon seethe with anger.
“Well telling my boss hasn’t done shit- I swear he’s only gotten worse” you sigh picking at your cuticles, an action Leon is quick to stop as he holds your hands in his.
“Gotten worse how sweetheart?” He asks, tilting his head as he tries to meet your gaze. There’s a dreadful pit that grows in his stomach as he waits for your response with a certain fear.
“He just makes everyone feel so uncomfortable, I mean it’s bad Leon- even some of the other guys have called him out, he just doesn’t listen,” you tell him, noticing how the grasp he has on your hands tightens slightly.
You take a deep breath although it comes out a lot more shaky than you would like, “I have to share the desk next to his, and he keeps flirting with me and trying to touch my shoulders- I swear I’m gonna staple his hands together” you giggle trying to make light of the situation because if you don’t laugh about it you might end up crying.
The sentence tips Leon off the edge and what he really wants to do is much more than staple his hands together, but he pushes that to the side when he catches onto the tears that glaze over your eyes.
“You’re not going in tomorrow- I’ll call your boss” he says leaving no room for argument, a sudden protectiveness caging around his heart. His arms encircle your shoulders as he holds you against him with a gentle sway.
However, you know you can’t avoid it altogether, “Leon I can’t not go to work,” you tell him, pulling back slightly to look at him, anger still flickering through his eyes.
“Then I’ll drop off and pick you up” he huffs pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll put on my mean boyfriend face” he whispers, frowning very over dramatically as he brushes his nose against yours.
He stops after he gets a giggle from you, satisfied at the joy that overtakes your face although it doesn’t last for long as he pulls back, watching the happiness dissipate from your face. It hurts him to see you like this, his chest tightens and it only fuels his anger towards this sleaze.
“Hey, I’m serious” his tone is so soft despite the growing anger, “I’ll call your boss, tell him you’re not going in until that creep gets fired” he presses a kiss to your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear.
You look up at him with a soft smile, “I love you” you whisper, leaning into his hand as he cups your jaw, his thumb smoothing over your cheek.
“I love you too sweetheart” he says, bringing you into a warm almost protective hug, kissing the top of your head as his hands soothe against your back in a comforting manner, “Let’s go get some food, yeah?” He says as you nod against his chest, feeling a whole lot safer.
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#leon kennedy x reader#resident evil#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy#leon scott kennedy#leon scott kennedy x reader#resident evil x you#resident evil x reader#resident evil fanfiction#leon kennedy#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy re4#leon kennedy re2#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy resident evil#leon kennedy drabble#leon kennedy oneshot#leon kennedy blurb#leon kennedy fluff#leon kennedy fic#leon kennedy imagine#re4#resident evil leon#resident evil fluff#resident evil fic#resident evil one shot#resident evil drabble#resident evil imagines#resident evil 4
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“Eddie?” he rasps, unable to even meet his eyes. His heart hurts where it’s beating in his throat, leaving behind a pit in his chest that’s getting deeper and deeper and Steve knows he’s going to fall. He might not get out of it this time.
“Yeah, Stevie? What’s up?” Gods he looks so pretty, his brown eyes so big and concerned instantly — because he’s always concerned about Steve. And that’s the problem. “You okay?”
“No,” His voice is thin, about to break; just like his heart.
Immediately, Eddie is on high alert, approaching him with raised arms, ready to pull him to his chest, and Steve wants to cry. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me, okay?”
Steve shakes his head, taking a step back from Eddie who stops immediately. The worried expression never falls, and Steve hates himself for putting it there. For always, always putting it there.
He hugs himself, looking down at the floor because if he looks at Eddie any longer, he won’t get a single word out. But he has to do this.
“Eddie, I…” He swallows, already feeling himself falling into that pit where once there was his heart. “I can’t do this anymore.” It comes out as a pathetic little whisper, but Steve is glad it came out at all.
He still doesn’t look up. Eddie doesn’t say anything. And since the floodgates have been opened, Steve keeps rambling in tune with his rapidly beating heart that’s making him shake.
“I’m not okay, Eddie. I’m not… I know it kills you to see me like this. Every day, every goddamn day because I’m not getting better. I know it kills you to see me like this because heaven knows it kills me to feel like this. And you love me more than I love myself so I can’t imagine the pain you’re… Eddie, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this.”
“Stevie…” God, Eddie sounds broken, and Steve finally lets out the sob he’s been holding in. “Don’t do this.” It’s a plea, but there’s no heat behind it. Resigned. That’s the word that Steve would use to describe Eddie’s voice.
He wipes at his eyes. “I love you, Eddie. I love you so, so much. But you touch me, and you love me, and you kiss me, and all I want to do is run away from it, because you shouldn’t. I can’t let you love me when I’m… I’m not okay.”
His voice does break on these three words, and then they’re both crying.
“I know, Stevie,” Eddie says, whispering as he slowly, carefully approaches. “I know. Thanks for letting me try, though. Loving you is, like, really great.”
He pulls Steve to his chest now, and Steve falls against him, crying into Eddie’s shoulder. One last time.
“It’s going to be okay, yeah? You’ll be okay. I know it.”
I love you so much, he wants to say, but all that’s left for him are heaving sobs and tears that drench Eddie’s shirt — no, his shirt. Eddie is wearing his shirt. It only makes him cry harder.
“I’m sorry,” he says, pleads, promises. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Eddie only shushes him, swaying back and forth. Comforting him even now, when he’s breaking both of their hearts.
“I don’t think I can stop loving you, Stevie. Not for a long, long time.” It’s whispered between them, like a confession. “You’re gonna have to forgive me for that, yeah? I’ll try to stop, though, I promise.”
The truth is, as heavy as it is to be loved by someone like Eddie Munson, Steve can’t really imagine a world where he can go without that love anymore. And the fact that it’ll be better for the both of them if Eddie stops is the universe’s cruellest trick so far.
A while later, when their tears have dried and they’re stepping away from each other, Eddie cracks a wavering smile at him and proposes, “Hey, if we’re both single by the time we’re old and 35—“
And Steve is laughing and crying and feeling his heart shatter into a million pieces in the face of that one last smile. Eddie lets him. Eddie always lets him.
“Yeah, deal,” he rasps, and he hopes that 15 years will be enough time to finally be okay.
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Confessions, which Release your Sudden Breakthrough
Let’s Confess
Everything in my life is about to immediately, straightway, abruptly, without notice, and SUDDENLY change!
• Suddenly I will experience FAVOR!
• Suddenly I will experience INCREASE!
• Suddenly I will BREAK THROUGH every barrier and obstacle!
• Suddenly I will experience HEALING! Let every broken, bruised, and hurt place in my life be healed Suddenly, Immediately, Abruptly, Without Notice in Jesus Name!
• Suddenly I will receive new VISION! I will look past my current situation and see what God said about me before I was formed in mymother’s womb! What I see with my natural eyes is subject to change SUDDENLY!
• Suddenly I am anointed with CREATIVITY! God, I believe you will give me one witty invention, one creative idea, which will SUDDENLY change my situation! Lord I thank you for the Anointing of Creativity because I am ready for my SUDDENLY!
• Suddenly I will experience EXPANSION! This is the season where God will suddenly expand my territory! I’ve been faithful over a few things now I am prepared to be ruler over much. Mega is my portion! Let it come Suddenly!
• Suddenly I will encounter supernatural CONNECTIONS! Let every connection I need for my next level come suddenly! Let Cornelius Connections, Divine Interactions, Divine Encounters, and Divine Intersections be my portion SUDDENLY in Jesus Name!
• Suddenly everything which has been held up will be RELEASED unto me! Let everything that has been held up, kept back, stagnant, andbehind time in my life be released Suddenly! Let this be a time where the floodgates and heaven Suddenly open for me!
• Suddenly I will experience ACCELERATION! Let there be acceleration in my life SUDDENLY! I will go from a standstill to full speed Suddenly!
• Suddenly I will experience the STRENGTH OF GOD! Let the Strength of the ox be upon me as I complete my assignment in the earth! I won’t get weary, wear out or wear down before my time! I will have the strength to complete every assignment SUDDENLY!
• Suddenly RESOURCES are manifesting for me! Let this be a season where every resource I need to fulfill my assignment in the earth be released SUDDENLY! May every resource, provision, and need be met in my life SUDDENLY in Jesus name!
• Suddenly I will be brought into greater levels of EXPOSURE! I’ve been hidden until now, but let my gift make room for me! Let it bring me before great men! Let this be my season of exposure! I shall go forth, let greater visibility be my portion SUDDENLY!👋🥳
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Vibrant Hope: God’s Abundance & Generosity
Wednesday 2024/11/06
2 Corinthians 9:8 (NIV): “And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.”
In this verse, the Apostle Paul highlights God's ability and willingness to provide for His people. The phrase "bless you abundantly" indicates more than just basic provisions; it implies an overflowing supply that enables believers to meet their needs and excel in good works. The context of this verse revolves around generosity and the importance of giving. Paul encourages the Corinthians to be generous in their contributions to those in need, assuring them that God will supply everything they require to continue doing good. This scripture reassures believers that God’s provision is sufficient for every situation and that His blessings are intended to empower us for service.
Related Scriptures
- Philippians 4:19: “And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.”
- Malachi 3:10: “Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the Lord Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.”
- Luke 6:38: “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”
- Ephesians 3:20: “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us.”
- James 1:17: “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”
Prayer Points
- Prayer for Provision: “Lord, I thank You for Your promise in 2 Corinthians 9:8. I ask that You provide for all my needs according to Your riches in glory. Help me trust in Your abundant supply.”
- Prayer for Generosity: “Heavenly Father, help me to be generous with what You have given me. May I always be willing to share with those in need, knowing that You will provide for me in return.”
- Prayer for Good Works: “Lord, empower me to excel in every good work. May my actions reflect Your love and generosity towards others.”
- Prayer for Faith: “God, increase my faith to believe in Your ability to bless me abundantly. Help me not to doubt Your provision, even in challenging times.”
- Prayer for Gratitude: “Father, I thank You for every good and perfect gift that comes from You. Help me cultivate a heart of gratitude and recognize Your hand in my life.”
- Prayer for Trust: “Lord, teach me to trust You fully with my resources. Help me remember that as I give, You are faithful to replenish and bless me abundantly.”
- Prayer for Spiritual Growth:“God, as I experience Your abundance, may it lead me to grow spiritually and deepen my relationship with You. Use my life as a testimony of Your goodness.”
By Pastor AK Mannah
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" Lord this song is going back to the old times when #babyleroy was born and to up for All of the angels and your mother Mary and your father God and Joseph and Paul and Melvin Lord Jesus open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain Lord down here open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain come on y'all brother Terry we need the drums a little higher open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain I can't hear angels let me hear angels y'all open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain we gotta pray for baby Leroy he wants to hear this song Lord open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain All of the angels up there come on open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain I said open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain we need the rain we need the rain we need it open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain I wanna rain I wanna rain I wanna rain I wanna rain thank you Lord open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain Dr Martin Luther king Jr can I hear you young Dolph can I hear you I can hear queen Elizabeth robin Williams Alan Rickman Conway twitty Elvis Presley James brown Michael Jackson George Michael George Washington Fred Rogers Dr Seuss I hear Betty white and #bobsaget Shirley temple Darla Jean Hood open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain it's gonna rain it's gonna be rain it's gonna be rain "
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" Lord this song is going back to the old times when #babyleroy was born and to up for All of the angels and your mother Mary and your father God and Joseph and Paul and Melvin Lord Jesus open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain Lord down here open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain come on y'all brother Terry we need the drums a little higher open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain I can't hear angels let me hear angels y'all open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain we gotta pray for baby Leroy he wants to hear this song Lord open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain All of the angels up there come on open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain I said open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain we need the rain we need the rain we need it open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain I wanna rain I wanna rain I wanna rain I wanna rain thank you Lord open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain Dr Martin Luther king Jr can I hear you young Dolph can I hear you I can hear queen Elizabeth robin Williams Alan Rickman Conway twitty Elvis Presley James brown Michael Jackson George Michael George Washington Fred Rogers Dr Seuss I hear Betty white and #bobsaget Shirley temple Darla Jean Hood open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain it's gonna rain it's gonna be rain it's gonna be rain "
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God working 💦 THROUGH us is an Act of Providence.
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MUST 🤔 CONTEMPLATE, MUST 🙈🙊🙉 CONCLUDE, x2 ⬆️⬆️.
Day 4, of the DC 📽️ security cam footage, which has 🚨 opened a FLOODGATE of ⚖️ LEGAL ⛓️ MISCARRIAGES.
What are you "permitted" to observe, and what are you FORBIDDEN to 👁️👁️ see?
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Jedi: SPIRITUAL resistance begins with careful planning.
🕎✝️🛐 Father God, 🇺🇸👑👰🏻 set TRUE NARRATIVES upon YOUR burning altar. Engulf liars by their OWN acts 🔥, for the Bride's sake. Amen.
MUST 🙈 READ: Day 3, of 📽️ previously unseen security cam White House tapes tell a DIFFERENT story❣️
Referenced up 🔝: Link #2 above is ESSENTIAL reading.
Turnabout is FAIR play: 🥤 What "beverage" quenches one's THIRST for truths ??
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SUBSCRIBE ❣️ I'm originally 🪨 "🎶 From the town of BEDROCK."
That's ANOTHER way of saying, "I pledge allegiance" to the Cornerstone ✝️🛐.
Drink 🕊️ LIVING 💦 WATER, to detox 👺 satanic Kool-Aid out of your system.
Heal 🇺🇸 our land, beginning with an INNER cleansing 🥤.
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Be of good cheer: 🚌 God is the "bus driver".
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That 😈 devil constructs plausible arguments. Seek counsel 🙏 on High, in PARTICULAR when there's a lot on the line.
MANY enemies 👺 of Heaven are ⚖️ experts at twisting 🥨 laws, to better serve hell.
Open 📖 Scripture OFTEN‼️
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Are your 🛅 bags packed? Carry ONLY the essentials.
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" Lord this song is going back to the old times when #babyleroy was born and to up for All of the angels and your mother Mary and your father God and Joseph and Paul and Melvin Lord Jesus open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain Lord down here open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain come on y'all brother Terry we need the drums a little higher open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain I can't hear angels let me hear angels y'all open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain we gotta pray for baby Leroy he wants to hear this song Lord open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain All of the angels up there come on open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain I said open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain we need the rain we need the rain we need it open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain I wanna rain I wanna rain I wanna rain I wanna rain thank you Lord open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain Dr Martin Luther king Jr can I hear you young Dolph can I hear you I can hear queen Elizabeth robin Williams Alan Rickman Conway twitty Elvis Presley James brown Michael Jackson George Michael George Washington Fred Rogers Dr Seuss I hear Betty white and #bobsaget Shirley temple Darla Jean Hood open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain it's gonna rain it's gonna be rain it's gonna be rain "
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MY AO3 Wrapped [Writers Qs] Part 1 of 3
How many words have you written this year?
As of right now...94,685. How. (Well, I know how, I spent a lot of time this year very bored and needing something to occupy my brain. ^^;)
2. How many works did you publish this year?
19, for the same reasons as above. Sometimes I think I posted too much, frankly. Then again, when the writing bug hits, it hits, right?
3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?
I'm so glad that this is difficult to answer. ;v; This year, I finally got to write a Berserk fic (Sweet Rain, Saltwater Rain), and Griffith/Charlotte no less! After so many years, I finally have friends who understand why I like them, and that lit a fire under me to make it as good a first fic for the fandom as I could. (After writing it, I think my abilities got better, which was a pleasant surprise!)
The current runner up right now is Poisoned Honey. Even as a WIP, I'm both combining things I like (GBF, The Sleeping Beauty Quartet, Canon Divergent AUs) with things I've never done before (worldbuilding, Porn With Plot, and things I can't talk about yet). It feels like a real learning experience!
4. What work of yours has the most hits?
In the Bedchamber Dripping With Honey, at 2,634. (Fate/, Gilgamesh/Saber/Diarmuid/Nero.) I'm not quite sure how to feel--I'm still glad I wrote it, though. I'll dig into more later!
5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?
I had no idea what to expect when I posted Sweet Rain, Saltwater Rain, and oh my god I'm still blown away by it. So much encouragement! One of my friends privately doodled scenes from it...my work created another work, it's so surreal and amazing to think about. Thank you! ;v; I hope to have more interactions like that next year.
6. Favorite title you used
Another hard one, because I need to like all my titles. ^^; But to narrow it down: Two Small Wings (Touken Ranbu, Akita-centric), because symbolism! And the meaning changes after you read. :D
(7 wasn't relevant ^^;)
8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?
It was Belial/Djeeta (and Belial/Djeeta/Lyria)'s world this year and I was just living in it. Zero regrets, felt like I opened the floodgates in the best way! I really do love these two/three so much, there's so much to explore with them.
9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?
See above, but also Griffith/Charlotte and all of my Saniwa OC/Touken Danshi pairings. It was very much their year too, and it really felt like I grew a lot with each consecutive fic.
10. What work was the quickest to write?
The Depths of Hell and the Heights of Heaven (FGO, Sanson/Ritsuka), which I slammed out in two days. The reasons are...a little sad, frankly, but I think worth noting down. At the time I was writing it, I think I was subconsciously trying to figure out a way out of FGO. Heck, even Fate/ itself. I didn't want to hate it, but I was beginning to. So that was my swan song, all my frustration and weird sense of loss all in a oneshot.
...I'll try to make the future answers not so grim! ^^;
#ao3 wrapped#writing#berserk#granblue fantasy#touken ranbu#I'll try to get these under a Read More next time ^^;
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dark blue tennessee
Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 4.8k
Summary: It was one thing being without him while he was alive. It was another to lose him all together
Warnings: Major character death, grief-induced alcoholism, descriptions of blood and injuries, vague allusions to suicide. None of this is beta read so please don’t shoot me for any grammatical errors!
None of this seemed real to you. None of it felt real. It would have brought you some comfort if it wasn’t - that way you could reason with yourself that this was all the result of some horrific nightmare, that’d you’d wake up with a small gasp in his arms, safe and away from whatever dark terror had enveloped your mind. You weren’t one to usually have nightmares but when you did he would always be there, his embrace warm and tight, a single hand running through your hair in a soft pattern, and his unmistakable southern drawl whispering into your ear.
This wasn’t a dream however. No matter how wrong it felt, how surreal and horrific the whole situation was, it was all real. Perched on the edge of a barstool, you glanced over at the almost empty bottle of whiskey beside you. You thought it would take the pain away, dull your senses and let you pretend for two seconds that he wasn’t really gone, but if anything, the whiskey made it worse. Everything reminded you of him, day in and day out, every morning you woke up and all you could notice was that he wasn’t there. His clothes were, his Stetson perched on a hook on the back of your bedroom door, his stupid belt buckle that you’d always mocked him for...but not him. You couldn’t bear to box away any of it. It may bring you pain to see all these items laid out, as if they were expecting their owner to return someday, but shoving it all in the back of a closet seemed so...disrespectful to you. It would be almost the same as forgetting him in your mind, and you refused to.
It had been only two weeks since you first received that fateful call, the one that you prayed to high heavens you would never hear. Thank god you were home when you got the call - if you’d been out with your friends, or heaven forbid at work you don’t know what you would have done. It was a moment that you often replayed over in your mind, if for nothing more than the torture of reminding yourself of the day you had broke like glass shattered on a white cloth.
Trailing the pad of your finger over the edge of your glass, you tossed your head back as you downed yet another glass of liquor. Every detail of that memory stuck out to you, even the most insignificant things that no one else would ever mention. You’d taken the day off work, already feeling shitty straight up from the moment the day had begun. You’d been making something to eat, just some toast because you couldn’t be bothered with anything else, and right when you were searching the fridge for a jar of jam you had heard the phone ring.
Without a second thought you’d scooped it up in your hands and answered it, thinking it would be one of your friends calling to try to get you to come out with them to some bar or something that night. You hadn’t guessed it would be anything important. “Hello?”.
“Hi, am I speaking to Y/N?”. You furrowed your brow at the response, not immediately recognising the voice. You considered hanging up for a brief moment but something in you told you to stay on the line.
“You are. I’m sorry, who is this?”.
“My name is Ginger Ale. I’m a colleague of your partner, Jack Daniels. I’m very sorry to have to inform you this way, but he’s perished in a horrible incident”.
Everything around you seemed to collapse in that moment. The whole world might as well have fallen away around you the minute you heard those words. It was a curious thing, the death of a loved one. It often comes so suddenly, and so unexpected that you feel like you’re climbing the stairs to your room in the dark, thinking there’s just one more step than there actually is, and feeling yourself plummet down into the abyss below. It was nothing like you’d ever experienced before - you might as well have been falling deep into the shadowy chasm right at the moment. Your grip on the phone tightened as you struggled to find the words, or any words really, to say in response as tears started to gather around the corners of your eyes. “W-what? What do you mean...he’s…” you trembled, stumbling on your feet as you fell against the wall in a daze, the world somehow seeming both screaming loud and quiet all at once.
“He was injured badly during his last mission - multiple gunshot wounds from a certain run in with a couple of gangsters. He was...he was barely alive when we brought him in” Ginger explained, trying her best to comfort you but you barely took any notice of her words as the same thought played over in your head. He’s gone. He’s dead. He’s fucking dead, and you could have stopped it. It’s all your fault.
“Aren’t you guys supposed to have that weird gel stuff that heals gunshot wounds? Surely...surely he could have been saved, right?” you asked frantically, your cheeks streaked with tears and flushed with grief. It took everything in you not to fall apart right then and there, dropping the phone to the floor and screaming out in sheer agony of the pain that was ripping through you.
“Not this time, sadly. I’m really sorry, Y/N”. There was a small pause on the other end of the line before Ginger spoke again, her tone indicating her hesitance at divulging such information to you. “He also insisted that we don’t bother, that he knew his time was up with this one. I was watching him on this mission - he went into it all quite recklessly, which isn’t completely new for him but…”.
“But?” you asked, prompting her to finish her sentence but she never did. A heavy silence hung between the both of you, punctured lightly by the sound of your heavy breath which you tried desperately to keep in check. Some small part of you was still in some sort of disbelief, wanting to fervently deny that any of this was happening. This is just a dream right? I’ll wake up back in bed, I’ll get up and call Jack, and he’ll be alive and well. None of this is real. It can’t be real...
“I want to see him. Please, just let me see him. Let me at least say goodbye”.
_
You hadn’t taken much notice of your surroundings on your way to Statesman Headquarters - everything might as well have been a blur to you from the moment you stepped through the doors to the second you walked off the platform of the elevator towards the medical wing. As soon as you spotted him all sense of decorum and logic was thrown out the window, any sense of composure melting away to nothing the very second his body came into view. Ginger had been beside you, probably as a general gesture to ensure you wouldn’t entirely lose it once you gained a single glimpse of him but alas, as soon as the elevator pulled to a stop and the doors pulled open to reveal a lifeless Agent Whiskey lain across the stretcher, everything you had ever known seemed to fall to pieces from under you. It was as if your entire world had collapsed, had stopped revolving the minute you laid eyes on his lifeless form. Without another seconds hesitation you rushed towards him, tears beginning to cascade down your cheeks as you bore witness to the unfortunate result of the tragedy that had struck.
It was as if the floodgates had opened right then and there - once you started crying, the tears just wouldn’t stop. With every ounce of your being you wished that somehow, by some godforsaken miracle, your touch would bring him back, that his eyes would magically flutter open and would greet you with those enchanting brown eyes that you had come to know every day of your life since the moment you had first met. That he would maybe, if only by the simple wish of your heart, say the one thing you were always angling to hear truthfully, in a way that you could put more than a simple faith in. As if you were a broken record, you couldn’t stop repeating his name over and over, like if by some divine intervention that alone would turn the clock back and have him lying next to you, his hand caressing your cheek and firing one of his signature flirty quips at you as you woke up in bed, catching a whiff of that ever-present scent of whiskey that mixed beautifully with his cologne. If only it were that simple. If only that were possible.
Instead you laid a hand against his cold forehead, now devoid of any warmth of life it once felt. Some would say that the dead looked almost peaceful in a way but you saw none of that: even in death Jack somehow looked anguished, like there was something left behind that he wanted to say but simply couldn’t go back to.
“I can’t feel you anymore…” you murmured, your voice wobbling violently. Leaning down towards him, you cradled his head between your palms, whispering his name softly and feeling your own tears decorate his cheeks. Ginger, or maybe somebody else, said something in the background that you couldn’t take any notice of, your mind fixated only on the man you loved and the unfortunate reality that presented itself to you now.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
_
The funeral had only been held a week afterwards. From a planning perspective, it was easy to organise his final affairs - for whatever reason you’d been named as the executor of his will, a fact that came as a shock to you once you had been served the information by the attorney. The two of you weren’t ever married, although you had attempted to float the idea once or twice, and his mother was still alive so it seemed odd to you that of all people to be left in charge of his estate Jack chose you. Emotionally, it had been a taxing revelation for you: on top of having to carry the stinging pain of finding out the man you loved had died, you had to be the one organising his affairs. You knew after leaving the medical wing of Statesmans Headquarters that day that you wanted nothing more than to let your own sorrow overcome you and let yourself fade out of existence, his voice haunting your every waking moment until you finally decided to let go entirely and throw yourself off the brink of insanity. That’s what you felt you deserved anyway.
His funeral had been the worst of it. You had silently prayed that maybe you would have numbed yourself out a bit. The most agonising part of it all were the hoards of people coming up to you asking how you were. It took everything in you to stop yourself from confessing everything. If they knew, they’d hate you. They’d blame you. The gossip would start, the theories and rumours flying high, the whispers you could hear in your head as if they were real. Somehow you’d pulled through, despite the inclination to break down at any given moment. But of course, that wasn’t the end. You’d buried him, now you had to face the mortifying reality of living without him.
With every passing day the memories became stronger. You never told any of them what had happened the last time you saw Jack - you couldn’t tell them. It had been eating at you from the inside ever since you picked up the phone that cursed day, tearing apart your mind and leaving nothing in its wake but heartbreaking grief and despair. It’s your fault. You’re the reason this happened. If you two hadn’t fought, if you hadn’t told him to fuck off on the phone that night, he wouldn’t have gone on that mission. You killed him. You’re a murderer.
All of these thoughts and more wormed their way between different glasses of whiskey, letting you lose track of both time and how many glasses you had. No matter how much you drank though it never dulled the grief nor the guilt that you’d been torturing yourself with from the moment you woke up every day to the moment you went to sleep. Actually, even in your sleep you couldn’t escape it, being plagued by nightmares and the like increasing in degrees of terror the longer they went on. It was why you now avoided any sort of conscious effort to sleep, only succumbing when you’d become so drunk that you had bent yourself over the back of the couch and cried as much as your body would let.
You swore to never let anyone know what had happened, that Jack and you had technically broken up a few days before his death. It already ate at you enough that you had to run over the memories in your mind, every last word you spat at him on repeat for your own infinite suffering. “It feels like wherever we go, she’s there. And she’s so beautiful, and perfect, and dead. I can’t compete with a ghost, Jack”. Scowling to yourself, you scooped up your glass and took yet another sip, feeling nothing but regret towards how everything played out. You didn’t regret what you said - on some level, you still felt it was true. You knew Jack would forever hold a candle for his ex-wife, but you’d grown tired of feeling like you were second place to a dead woman, as if the only reason he kept you around at all was to fill a void that could only truly be filled by the one person he could never have back. It had been selfish of you, in some way, but you’d deserved more. You loved Jack with everything you had, and you wanted him to feel the same way back, and although he swore he did you could plainly see that wasn’t the case.
“Darlin’, please, don’t be like this. You’re my only love and you know that. You’re being ridiculous about all this”
“Then why do you still wear your ring? Why do you get dismissive whenever I try to bring up moving in together, or marriage, or anything. It’s been two fucking years of this. You can do whatever you want, Jack but I’ll tell you one thing: you’ll be doing it alone. I’m out”.
“For fucks sake…” you cursed, slamming your glass back down on the table with a loud thud, your words slurred beyond all comprehension. A few drops of whiskey sloshed out of the glass onto the countertop, creating a small puddle on the marbled surface but you didn’t much care. What was the point in caring anyway?
You still had to pack up his home, a reminder that only contributed to your pain. You were supposed to have taken care of that before now, at least a week ago but you couldn’t bring yourself to enter his home. I’ll do it tomorrow...maybe. Yeah, tomorrow. Deciding firmly on that, you sipped the last of the liquor and stumbled off the seat of the barstool, the world spinning around you as you fumbled your way through the dim light of your apartment to where your bedroom was, throwing your intoxicated body amongst the heap of unmade bed sheets and burying yourself within them, crying until you passed out in a deep slumber.
_
Standing outside the door to Jack’s penthouse apartment, you stared forward with a muted expression upon your face, the key to his place gripped firmly between your fingers as if it would disappear from your hands at any moment. You’d been there for a good five minutes by then, meaning to break out of your state of catatonia to only be stopped again by yourself, kicking off a seemingly endless cycle in which you remained stuck in front of his door. You knew you had to go in there eventually: it wasn’t like everything of his would magically disappear if you just ignored it. It was still hard though, since you knew the moment you stepped through the door you’d be hit by the unmistakable scent of him. Almost like you were crossing a threshold of sorts, only with a feeling of emptiness on the other side instead of anything resembling happiness. Seeing his things would only remind you of how he wasn’t there among them, where he should be, which spiralled onto other thoughts, such as reminiscing on his gorgeous brown eyes and that honeyed southern accent you adored on him, and everything else that once made your heart spark with love. You felt your breath tremble as your knuckles turned white from holding the key with such might. This was a bad idea. You weren’t ready for this. Maybe you should just go home and call it a day.
No. You have to do this now. You might as well rip the bandaid off, lord knows you’ll have to do it eventually anyway.
Keeping your breath paced, you raised your shaking hand to the lock of the day, slowly inserting the key and twisting it until you heard the unmistakable click inside. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you pushed open the double doors and pulled yourself inside, your high heels clicking on the linoleum floors.
Everything was exactly how you’d last seen it, how Jack had last left it. Not that you expected any different of course. The only people who had probably been there in the past two weeks since his death were people from Statesman to collect various bits of the agency's technology and other gadgets Jack had left lying about. You never knew much about his life as part of the secret service: during your relationship Jack had preferred to stay off the subject of his job as much as possible. He even said himself that you shouldn’t have known about his double life in the first place but when it became too obvious that keeping it from you was going to hurt your relationship with him in the long term he’d sought permission from his boss to have you cleared on the most basic of intel. That never bothered you in the slightest - the least you knew about the agency, the better, a view Jack wholeheartedly agreed with you on. You didn’t know him as Agent Whiskey, top agent to Statesman Secret Service trained in espionage. You knew him as Jack Daniels, the cocky womanizer who chased anything in a skirt, the gentleman who had always managed to sweep you off your feet whenever he was around, and the man you had once dreamt of marrying before things went south.
All around you were familiar places and objects, things that brought back so many memories yet felt hollow and empty as you looked upon them now. If things were right, he’d be there too, perhaps in the kitchen preparing dinner for you, knowing that you couldn’t resist coming over again even if it was the third time that week. Or maybe he’d be on the couch, reclining back with a glass of whiskey and a book, turning his head back to take a gander at you, shooting one of his signature smirks and making a remark about how incredibly gorgeous you looked. Without him, the space felt sullen and void of life, the dust settling on every surface from remaining untouched for two whole weeks by then.
Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward and tried as best you could to sort out your thoughts, detaching it as much as you were able to from the memories being back in that apartment brought. His mother already came to you and asked to have a box of certain things belonging to Jack given to her. You knew she was already going through a hell of a rough time herself, her only son winding up dead. She never knew about his life as an agent, being fed a cover story by Statesmans team in order to maintain their secrecy. A bit of you felt jealous of her for that. She would never know the truth, whereas you had to live every day for the rest of your life knowing what happened, being made aware of your own part to play in his fate every hour, every minute, every second.
The rest of it, well, you had no idea what to do with it. You thought it would be best to box up as much of his personal items as you could, either to keep for yourself or to hand back to his family, and arrange to have the rest of the furniture sold or given away to a charity shop or something. Moving towards the living room, you began to scoop up the different framed photos you found around the apartment. Some were of him as a kid, either on a horse or in different shots with his family, already sporting that heart melting smile of his. A lot of them were of you and him on various dates - one you stopped to pour over was of the two of you at a diner in Brooklyn, you taking the photo and Jack taking a sneaky swipe of your sundae in the background while you were distracted. You remembered that day so well: he’d just come back from a particularly rough mission in Russia, one that he’d had to stake out for weeks, so it was the first time you’d seen each other in about a month. You looked at how happy you were in that picture, the sight of such joy bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. What you wouldn’t give to have those days back, the easier times, before the distance, the fights, the feelings of being second place to a ghost and of course, his own tragic death at the end of it all.
At last you made your way to his bedroom, clutching onto the stack of photo frames as if they were a lifeline. You fought with everything in you the urge to just drop everything and crash down onto his bed, cradling one of his shirts in your hands to try to get a whiff of him, pretending that he was still there for only a few seconds. Rather, you walked over towards his bedside table and set the stack of frames down, crouching to your knees and biting back the teardrops threatening to fall from your eyes. It’s ok. You don’t have to do it all in one go. Just gather together some of his personal stuff, and then you can leave.
Opening the drawer, your eyes flitted between the various trinkets and things he’d accumulated, searching to see if there were anything personal that his family might want back when your gaze was instantly drawn to a stark white letter shoved towards the back of the drawer. Scooping it up in your hands, you furrowed your brow as you inspected it further, only to have your breath catch in your throat once you saw your name written in his unmistakable cursive on the front.
Immediately you stood yourself up from the floor, your mind rushing into overdrive while you stared at the letter in your palms, hesitantly trailing your fingers up to the top of the envelope to tear it open. Out of all the things to find in Jack’s drawer, you definitely weren’t expecting this. You had no clue what it could be, when it was written or even if you should read it at all. Should you just put it back in the drawer and pretend you never found it? Though you supposed it was a bit too late for that, on account of you practically ripping the top of it open. With a hint of uncertainty, you reached into the envelope and lifted the letter out onto your lap, opening it to reveal its contents.
The first thing you noticed was the date in the top right corner - April 22, two weeks ago, a day before he went on that mission and met an unkind fate. That alone was enough to make your heart stop, so when your eyes travelled down the page to read the rest of the letter, you might as well have dropped dead right then and there from the sheer pain that was struck through your heart.
I was a damn fool for letting you get away. You and I both know that my dearly departed wife will always hold a special place in my heart, and I know you understand that. I didn’t want to admit it until now but I had been becoming distant - every time you brought up marriage, or anything more I’d get scared. Scared of...well, a lot of different things. Of repeating the same tragedy with you, in some way. Some part of me was worried marrying you would be dishonoring my late wife’s memory as well. It’s no wonder you walked out when you did. I don’t blame you for your choice, but please allow me to say my piece at least. You never were second to anyone, sweetheart. As much as I will always love Lily, my heart belongs to you here and now. Missing you like this is such sweet sorrow, won’t you come back to me? No matter whether or not you chose to forgive me, or even entertain the idea of givin’ me another chance, I just want you to know that I love you, honeybee. I’ll be waiting for you today, tomorrow, and forever, down in dark blue Tennessee.
- Jack
Every word you read was like another stab to the heart for you, the tears that you had fought so hard to keep in now pouring down your cheeks, small sobs escaping your throat as you collapsed back to the floor with a thud, your heart racing a million miles a minute. There it was, all written down in hasty cursive script - the apology that he never got to give, hidden away in the back of his bedside drawer like an afterthought. Knowing him he’d probably written it out and intended to give it to you before he left for his mission but decided against it for whatever reason. And that final sentence...Tennessee. He mentioned Tennessee. The place where you’d grown up, where you’d lived almost your entire life before moving to New York. The place where you’d met Jack all those years ago, down in a local bar. You’d been visiting your parents for the week, he’d been there meeting with an investor for Statesman. By some stroke of luck you two had crossed paths, hitting it off and becoming infatuated within mere moments, one thing leading to another until eventually you’d woken up in his bed the next morning. The way you’d initially thought it’d only wanted a one night stand but then became something more. It was all flooding back to you now, triggered by only a few sentences written down on a letter that was never sent. You didn’t know what to do, or what to think. The only thing you could do in that moment was lean your head back against the bed and choke on your own sobs, muttering his name over and over for what felt like forever, holding the now crumpled and tear stained letter in your hands.
The hours ticked by, though you took no notice, and when you do eventually move, it’s not to leave the apartment. Your eyes barely leave the ground when you walk, stumbling from room to room in search of a bottle of wine or something stronger to drown your own sorrows in, kicking off your shoes haphazardly and without much care. When you bump against the liquor cabinet, you can hear something fall and shatter off the top, and when you walk back through the shards of glass with the bottles in your hands, you don’t even wince when one pierces your foot. With thin streams of blood trickling from the cut on your sole, you’ll flick the top off the first bottle you reach for, letting the lukewarm liquid slip down your throat, spiralling you down deeper and deeper into a drunken stupor until finally, the moment comes where you can close your eyes and slip into that familiar void of darkness that you greeted with open arms, those last conscious thoughts being an apology of your own that no one ever got to hear. I’m sorry, Jack...
#agent whiskey#agent whiskey x reader#jack daniels#jack daniels x reader#Kingsman#kingsman fanfiction#Kingsman: the golden circle#Pedro Pascal
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His Only Stipulation
“Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, do that there may be food in my house…” Malachi 3:10NASB
Seated in a small diner, I overheard four people, at another table, discussing the tithe. Person number one declared, ‘I give a tithe of my time and expertise to the church. God wasn’t speaking of finances alone. He spoke of tithing what’s important to us.’
Person number two declared— ‘tithing is to be to the penny. God’s punishment is on anyone who doesn’t tithe correctly.’
Number three person declared, ‘God ‘understands,’ I just don’t have enough income to tithe at all. Life takes a lot more money today.’
The number four person declared, ‘God is merciful,’ true. Still He requires us to pay as much of the tithe as we can.’
Someone at another table piped up, ‘The whole tithe thing is because all any church wants is your money. Jesus did away with the tithe in the New Testament.’
What does tithing mean to you? Most people fall into one of the categories represented by the above people.
For those who believe Jesus did away with the tithe: Abraham lived before the Law given in Exodus. Genesis 14:18, 20, 23NASB “…Melchizedek king of Salem… he was a priest of God Most High… And he, (Abraham), gave him a tenth of all.” Totally independent of commands of the Law, Abraham gave a tithe to the priest of God. Abraham went so far as to add, “…I will not take a thread or a sandal thong or anything that is yours, lest you should say, ‘I have made Abram rich.’” This should satisfy the debate that tithe is time, expertise or only by the Law. Everything given to God is to cost the tithers something— enough that it will take God to make us rich.
To those believing every penny is to be tithed: God is so sensible. Jesus speaking— Matthew 23:23ESV “Woe to you… you tithe mint …dill …cumin, and have neglected the weightier provisions of the Law; justice …mercy …faithfulness; …these are the things you should have done without neglecting the others.” Don’t count tithe to the penny, especially when you neglect justice, mercy, and faithfulness.
Deceived people think tithe is the church demanding your money. Once I was upset because Lou didn’t want to tithe on a certain income. As I prayed about this I was led to 2Corinthians 9:7NASB “You must each decide… how much to give. …don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure. “For God loves a person who gives cheerfully.” The thought came— If Trump gave you money to take care of your family’s existence, you’d be appreciative. Say, his only stipulation coming with the income now at your disposal— you have to take ten percent out for the care of Trump’s wife, during his absence.
With God there’s no difference. Deuteronomy 8:18NASB “…remember the Lord your God, for it is He who is giving you power to make wealth…” You income comes from God, and the church is God’s wife.
Tithing is school. We learn how to be blessed in life by giving. Offerings follows quickly, as we see blessings are added from tithing. Added giving brings us out from under the curse of poverty. Malachi 3:10bNIV is true… “…see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.”
Giving isn’t done by rules. Love is the heart behind all tithing and giving, making the act cheerful. “…give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” 2Corinthians 9:7ESV. It’s your choice. You choose.
LET’S PRAY: Lord Your financial plan is perfect. It’s amazing how You can take our ninety percent or less and make it stretch past even where one hundred percent would go. Help us love participating in your financial system, in Jesus’ name.
by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2021 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.
#Jesus Christ#lord of lords#Word of God#Holy Spirit#God#it's your choice#devotional#stipulation#income#power#blessed life#tithe#love#school#rules#hope#faith
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Hi everyone. The Spiritual album is here. Damaged Goods / Sinned in Reverse. Out now! Finally. Our album that has been talked about in interviews & the works for the last 30 years. Today digitally available everywhere. Always had it in mind for this to come out as an album in album form (who knows, maybe someday?) but now that it has been finished this seemed the perfect time for its release. Over the last 9 years all the song versions were listened to meticulously, chosen, vocals & instruments added & recorded, the theme of the story & running order placed in a schematic theme, mixed, mastered & the artwork went through several renovations until today as it stands in its completed form. Whenever it seemed like it was finished & patience had given out, there was that voice saying that when the time was right it would be ready. Why are any of us here? Our spirits, our souls, the learning, the forgetting, the remembering. What is my purpose? Is it something other than what I think it is? Am I supposed to be helping in some other way? I often ask myself these questions. Music always has given me hope to figure out these things & be good with myself & my choices, helping me to make sense. I often think of my sins & sins of omission words I feel I should have said or shouldn’t have said. The life I’ve led, previous lives. Being honest with myself & others & communicating my feelings freely & openly. Reflecting how my life would have changed dramatically. Often pointing the finger & not owning up to my own part in things. We all play a part in the communion. I’ve judged so much in my life. Through my own faults perceived through my own judgement, I become more & more conscientious & conscious & not so much on autopilot. For those I’ve hurt through my own neglect, I offer my sincere apologies. To be good with yourself & your pure refection brings peace. Myself & my brother were The Frogs. We grew up together, played & wrote songs entwining a world revered & a world despised & quickly scribed them with quill, in the end giving you the listeners your own choice in choosing where your heart aligns. From seeing both sides of characters as well as taking an honest look at ourselves, there began an introspection as to who we are as humans & it made its’ way into the work. We uncovered a society of depravity we had no intention of joining. Although given somewhat of a view of the music biz here & there from a ringside seat, in fact we were never invited to the party for we posed a threat in seeing through your false idol’s bullshit. We were different, we didn’t fit in & in retrospect a very good thing to be, working in our favor. But alas however cool or punk or whatever someone might think that might feel it took on an aura of loneliness. We were outsiders, who still in a way wanted for our ego’s sake (remember this is show biz, it takes some sort of ego to continue on, year after year) to be appreciated or make some sort of a living at this game. However, looking at things now, there really was never anything we missed out on, knowing how proud he was of me & I of him & what we set out to do through our creativity. I am reminded by a beautiful princess who once upon a time told me, we are all frogs. We are God’s children that keep getting turned into frogs & under the spell of the witches. The Frogs, the band represents all the frogs of the world. The Frogs, the band are the narrator, the storyteller as in the fairytale. The Frogs have their sweet revenge by flipping, showing the people thru song their own judgements of what beauty, evil, cruelty & perception of what is truth or not. You are the judge. It’s always been up to the listener of the message what they were to receive from it to learn or unlearn. Like a lot of music itself, it’s multilayered, multidimensional, the listener gets to decide what it means. We are all frogs, right & wrong, good & bad, ugly & beautiful, loving & hateful, mean & kind. We have a choice. Thru our own experience, we can heal & help to shine our light or to stay in the darkness & continue to judge all of it or accept & return to all that is within us which is love. & somewhere within all that we must not forget what they do to frogs in school’s biology class, cutting them open, dissecting removing parts showing children that it is ok in the name of science & men who eat & destroy the lives of children. Becoming comfortable with these ideas as if it’s cool or gross, not really understanding what they are doing. That which was once life, God’s creation lie there on the table, it represents us thru the fairytales. Being manipulated, being blinded from the day of our birth that we should be okay with all this and yet that is the great big lie too. The world you, we know/knew & the people of it that revel & cling to darkness remain at that vibration until they subscribe to the light. The light is for all yet some have an allergic reaction to it due to their disposition & judgement of the collective creation. The Frogs, myself and my brother spoke the truth about everything the 3rd dimensional world holds & ascending dimensions above. Together we were not puppets, poseurs, plagiarists or frauds, follow the long lost line of money, our trail is short. Those who hijack the heart will find & attract those of like. There remains nothing to be taught or learned for the kingdom of heaven is within, pretty simple. It’s easy to innerstand, if one makes a concerted conscious effort to spread love as opposed to their fascination with fear & pornographic obsession with death, which spoiler alert walks hand in hand with life. The music we created has nothing to do with “satire”, in fact at times there is no rhyme & reason & in times needed there is rhyme & reason. A fool auditions for a song, a wise man dresses up in costume, the world’s zoo comes to life & appears & disappears in illusion or what some call magic or a critic appears on notice to define art. There is a floodgate of material & songs to peruse & at times it makes the most sense to corral them conceptually. I used to be so concerned on being comprehended correctly to my liking but matters not. If I must spell it out, see how the Phoenicians, use their created language & words in plain sight, with the word spell to cast spells. In conclusion, the words with respect to the music are laced with wisdom. There is no other way. The goal, the direction, the soul purpose being co-creating beautiful sounds, energy & vibrations with the maker. In appreciation of creation. The heart beats, the world turns, the divine nature of the soul is changeless, without wavering, it answers the call of protecting & nurturing the mutual life force. Love avoids competition as it stands in its own sovereignty. ‘Tis the very common ground we all share & vibrate to. No one else can control our destiny, that which we were put on this plane, planet earth to fulfill. There was a shared mission only Dennis & I shared. The understanding & meaning that music in the right hands transforms the soul. Caging people, labeling, putting them in boxes, thinking these monsters own you is the absolute antithesis of love. The angels provide the roadmap, speak to them, I’ve spoken in song about freedom, having loved the show “Born Free” growing up under the Leo sign. I pray someday people that are real will find like minded humans & the fake actors satisfied with their empty empathy will have a true awakening. Judge much, yes but ‘tis a lonely world full of ghosts. So on a lighter note, as we float higher, what have I learned in all these years later 9 since Dennis has passed. What I’ve always known that I am so beyond blessed & grateful to have had him as my brother, how much love, care & detail he put into every moment of his life, how much he gave & how everything was a gift, how much he cherished life & being in everyone’s presence. His heart was always in the right place. An angel. Finally this album is the final Frogs album (the spiritual album that has been promised for years) 32 tracks, (number 5) Dennis & I were both number 5’s in our life paths. “damaged GOoDS / sinneD in Reverse” Damaged Goods / Dennis in Reverse In reality this album could not have been completed without the help of our dear friend Bjorn Thorsrud (additional production, mastering & editing) Dennis always wanted to have Bjorn work on this album & when he offered to help it was a GODsend. I devoted my heart & soul into this record & when I finally completed it on the final playback, I broke into tears, my only wish was for Dennis to be proud & happy with this record as a testament to The Frogs legacy. This album is in 432 hertz, the highest energy that governs the universe, vibrates with the earth’s heartbeat, the golden ratio, divine proportion. We made music because it brought us joy & made life such a wonderful experience. The telepathic musical communication Dennis & I shared is innerstood, felt inside. With regards to words they would have you say understood, but none of us is beneath or under where any other human soul stands, we are all equal & equally divine. I love Dennis with all my heart, always have & always will. I am so happy & thank creation so much that I was able to be here on this day to fulfill Dennis & my dream for you to hear this our final Frogs album. This album is for you all the fans who drove all over the country to come to our shows, stood in line, supported us at our merch booths. We started out having fun playing music together in the garage, writing songs in our bedrooms, had absolutely no idea any & all of this would have happened, well it couldn’t have happened without you our fans, we love each & every one of you for showering us with your love all of these years. This album is dedicated to the fans. Love, Jimmy
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A Rewrite of History
Chapter 3—Dead in the Water (Part 1)
You had read once or twice that drowning was one of the worst ways to die. You couldn’t disagree—it probably was. Which is why you were seriously considering skirting the next hunt.
Not that doomed airplanes were any better.
You were crossing your fingers that it would take the Winchesters at least a day to recoup. It was a feeble wish and you knew it; the most you’d probably given them was a headache, irritated eyes, and a greater desire to kill you.
You were going to have to try and wrap this case up quick, or you would be evading the Winchesters constantly.
Dead in the Water was an episode that didn’t wrap up in a neat little bow like the others did. There was nothing easy about a vengeful ghost without a body to burn, searching for vengeance by drowning the family of its killers. Nothing was really resolved; the Winchesters just shielded Lucas and his mom from suffering due to the sheriff and his friends’ mistakes.
This was going to be an impossible mission.
You thought back to the note that now crinkled in the bottom of your bag. To them, this wasn’t about getting it done right. This was about getting it done differently. And, God, if that didn’t just make you feel sick.
You needed to take a breather.
Fortunately, there was an exit just ahead, where you could take a small break at a gas station, maybe get a new water bottle at a nearby store.
Was your being here the work of angels, or the plot of something darker? More sinister?
Hell if you knew.
Every time you filled up your tank, that already small wad of money became smaller. There was only so long before you ran out—and what then? Would you become more than a car thief? Turn to pickpocketing? Credit card fraud?
Pshh. First of all, you had the grace of a rock, so pickpocketing was definitely off the menu, and second, who were you even kidding? You didn’t have the resources or the assets one needed to pull off credit card fraud. The Winchesters had Bobby Singer, for the love of all that is pure and holy. You had nobody.
You were dependent on the bastards that put you here, and you hated it.
Not five minutes later, you decided you had had enough of a rest. You needed to get to Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Preferably before the Winchesters. So you started up the car and took to the road again.
Just seven more hours to go.
///
When you finally arrived, you parked yourself at a local playground. It was vacant. The sun was setting, and it was probably curfew for most children.
You got out, stretching your legs and cracking your tightly wound back. You walked over to the public drinking fountain. Skeptically, you watched it as you filled your water bottle, making sure the water didn’t turn that nasty, haunted brown.
It didn’t. And… why would it? You weren’t the cursed one. The water wasn’t going to assault you. You were just so keyed up that it was making you paranoid.
Scoffing, you walked back to your car, climbed back into the driver’s seat, and grabbed a granola bar from the glove compartment. Then, you got to business. You snatched the notebook and pen.
You were going to need to make a plan.
Most of the episode, Sam and Dean had tried to get a sense of what was going on, what and why it was killing people, and how to stop it. You really only had to enact step three, which would hopefully save a lot of time.
So, with said extra time, you wrote down some proposals.
First off, you could just destroy the dam. It would rid of the obvious problem: the ghost itself. And it was already half done for you, right? If you could just blast the dam, wouldn’t it drain the lake faster?
You’d have to scope out the area and determine the consequences of it. The show never covered the full extent of the dam’s damage. You didn’t want to go and blow it out on impulse, and then destroy the town with flooding. That would be doing more harm than help.
And if you were going all out here, you could save Will from drowning in his sink. Not that you were sure how you’d pull that one off. By then, the Winchesters would already be in town.
The third most obvious idea was to stop Lucas from reaching the lake. If he hadn’t been there to touch the water, then the sheriff wouldn’t have sacrificed himself for the child in the first place.
And… lastly… god, maybe it was a stupid idea, but you could just salt the lake. You weren’t sure how productive that would be or how expensive, though. You’d need a lot of salt. Plus, you didn’t know the consequences of it. Would it affect the natural wildlife in the area? Would it impact drinking water? You weren’t sure.
If you had the time, you’d try and research it. But you weren’t Sam Winchester with a laptop under his pillow and endless wifi at his service. You just didn’t have the time. The Winchesters would be here by late morning, at the very least. That gave you the night to work in peace.
Noting that, you reviewed your list:
A. Destroy the dam.
B. Save Will from drowning in his sink.
C. Stop Lucas from touching the lake.
D. Salt the lake?
It wasn’t much to work with.
///
The dam turned out to be a bust. Figuratively and literally.
The dam was smack dab in the middle of the town. There was no way you could blast it without drawing unwanted attention, nor could you do so without flushing out half the town.
Besides, the floodgates were practically already opened. They were draining the damn thing already, just like the sheriff had said. Six months and there wouldn’t be a lake anymore. Except, you didn’t have six months. You had two days if you were lucky.
You left the dam pretty quick after that, your heart heavy in your chest and your mind battling over what to do. The worst thing? The only option was to wait until daylight. So much for avoiding the Winchesters. You’d have to be extra careful tomorrow.
It was like something was pulling you together.
Shaking your head, you dug out your list again, scribbling out Plan A.
A. Destroy the dam.
B. Save Will from drowning in his sink.
C. Stop Lucas from touching the lake.
D. Salt the lake?
Plan B, save Will.
It came to you then. Tomorrow, you could go and speak with the Carltons yourself. If you could befriend them, maybe you could weasel your way into the house and save them from the inside: something that the Winchesters couldn’t ever quite do.
But first, you needed a damn shower. You smelled of B.O. and smoke, and you’d have to clean up if you wanted to look at least presentable. You knew there was a truck stop on the outskirts of town with some showers.
It didn’t take long to get there. Two miles of dirt road led you to a solitary building with white concrete walls. The facility was quiet and tidy.
And, thank god, it supplied shampoo and conditioner. You had seriously forgotten the luxury of it all. You cleaned up and dried off pretty quick, though, knowing you still had a long night ahead of you.
You were going to need some better clothing, if you wanted to look the part. So to the supermarket it was.
You could feel the stares on you when you walked in, not that there were many shoppers this late at night. Clearance aisle wasn’t horrible. It wasn’t great either, but you found some cheap, acceptable clothing. It felt amazing to get out of those rags.
Your mind kept nagging you with one weird analogy: you to parking lots, was like the Winchesters to motels. Wasn’t that just peachy?
///
The next morning was a rough one. It was late, almost eleven, and your back was crying for you to sleep on a smoother surface. Even with the seat leaned back, it was no match to a bed. Not even close. It was cramped, uncomfortable, and restricting.
Vertigo was a bitch. A dull headache swam through your head and punched a heartbeat into your eardrums. It was probably a result of only eating pbj’s and granola bars, and relying on cheap daily vitamins for nutrients.
When it got to be around four o’clock, you decided to hit the road. Not that you wanted to. You were beginning to dread the sound of the car’s engine. It always meant you were driving yourself into dangerous or unsavory situations.
You missed home. So much that it physically hurt. It was like the world was against you: the bastards that put you here, the monsters, and even the Winchesters. No, especially the Winchesters.
At that moment, you really just wanted to drop the ball and quit. Flip off the angels or whatever the hell placed you here and screw everything. Screw the Winchesters. Just…
No.
Your best friend needed you, damn it. You had no idea what situation they were in, or what they were being put through—or they would be put through if you tried anything. The note had offered you limited information, and you had absolutely no leads on what put you here. Your best hope was the Winchesters.
And how well is that working out?
You drove past the park, which was now stark full of kids skipping and swinging around. You did a double take when you saw the Winchesters. Dean was speaking with Lucas while Sam was speaking with his mother. Well, that told you where you were in the show. Fortunately, that meant they were done talking with Will for the day. You were in the clear.
You pulled up to the Carlton’s a couple minutes later. He answered the door and offered you a halfhearted smile. “Oh, hi,” he said.
“Hi, um, I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for your loss. I heard…” You pointed toward the town, which was general enough to be just about any house. “I live a little while away, but I just wanted to say we’re praying for you and your family.”
“Oh. Um, thank you.” He shuffled in the doorway, a little flustered. “That means a lot to me. Would you… I’m just about to make dinner. Would like to join us?”
Well, that was unexpected. “Oh, no, I couldn’t disturb you like that. I’m sure your father is so torn up… I couldn’t imagine.” You were crossing your fingers that he insisted you come in. A real meal sounded like heaven.
“It’s really no trouble.” Then, he stammered, “I mean, I… I could kind of use a friend right about now, if you don’t mind.”
Your heart hurt. This poor kid. “Oh, sure! I’m not too busy. I can certainly stay if that would make you feel any better.” You fully intended on keeping your word this evening. You knew exactly what it was like to need a friend right about now.
He opened the door wider to let you in, and you shyly entered. “You’re sure this isn’t any trouble?”
“I’m sure,” he said, smiling at you a little. Then, he walked off into the kitchen.
You peeked around to see the living room. His father, Bill, was staring dead into the television screen. The living room was cluttered, and you could tell the family was grieving.
You wandered into the kitchen, sitting at the table.
“Sorry for the mess,” Will sighed, bringing out a fish and a cutting board.
Your heart spiked. “No, no, that’s fine.” You had to say something. “I’m, ah—” he turned to look at you and you choked on the words a little. “I’m allergic to seafood,” you confessed. You bit your cheek, hoping the lie would keep him away from the sink for the night.
“Oh,” he said. He fidgeted with the fish in his hand for a moment. “I guess I could make pizza. Is that cool?”
You relaxed, your shoulders sagging. “Yeah! Yeah, that sounds… that sounds fine.”
///
The pizza was amazing. You’d almost forgotten the taste of comfort food. Although you certainly didn’t forget about it; just entering stores was enough to make your stomach snarl.
You thanked him for his time, wished him well, and made your leave.
You’d done it; you’d saved him. It felt good, too. Your past two ‘hunts’ had been draining and useless: you hadn’t saved Jessica, you hadn’t been the one to save Tommy, either. Not directly. Although you did get some points on Roy. He would have died if you hadn’t been there. And now you had actually saved Will: an innocent young man who nearly suffered because of his father’s past.
When you got to the car, the moonlight was thin and veiny through the trees. Your car was like a mirror of the sky, and you see your silhouette in the reflection of your window as you unlocked the door.
Time to head to the park again. Get some shut-eye.
Honestly, you felt better than you had in awhile. You were well-fed, and you had the light feeling of having saved someone. You, someone who hardly was cut out for any of this, had managed to pull someone out of harm’s way. It felt good. Impossibly good. Too good to be true.
The park wasn’t far from his house. You pulled into the empty lot, shut the car off, and thought in the heavy silence. Today wasn’t half bad. You stretched your shoulders, then pulled yourself into the back seat to lay down. It wasn’t much better than the front, but you had some room for your legs now.
You prayed for the Carltons that night, even if the angels listening probably didn’t care. You cared.
You fell asleep in the back seat with dreams to accompany you. Something in the air shifted. Your dream flashed silvery blue, and your peripheral vision went fuzzy. Your eyes could only focus on what was ahead of you, like a tunnel.
You saw a door open, and in came Sam Winchester. You wanted to recoil, but you had no physical body to move. You were just spectating.
Sam’s lips were moving, but you only heard half of it. “—safely rule out Nessie.”
Your vision lurched as if it was on a bungee cord, snapping back before you could hear the entire sentence.
Dean’s words faded in and out. “—do you mean?” He was just a blur in the corner of your eyes.
“—Carlton house—ambulance there.”
“Will Carlton is dead.”
“He drowned?”
“—the sink.”
The world snaps and twists, hissing as the scenery changes. You see Bill Carlton, grieving his children on the dock.
“Mr.Carton?—few questions—don’t mind.”
“—with the Department—”
Bill has a quiet and sad voice.
“—don’t care—with. I've—enough—questions—”
Trying to piece the words together was making your head swirl, but something was forcing you to watch.
Finally, the words cleared out, and it didn’t feel like you were watching time fly past in fast forward. The narrow window of your vision broke away and you were able to relax and take in what was being said.
Sam was gentle when he pried at Bill. “Did you see anyone? Anything?”
Bill worked his teeth. “He had a girl over. A neighbor. She was gone before anything happened though.” He told them because he just wanted to be alone, and he wanted the men to leave.
The Winchesters stiffened, and if you had a body to move, you would have as well.
“Bill, what did the girl look like?”
Bill’s words were garbled by another hissing sound, but you knew what he was saying anyway. The Winchesters turned and looked you dead in the eyes, and then you woke up.
You flailed, jamming your elbow into the door behind you. Your funny bone gave a sharp tingle. You sat up, your hand pulling at your sweaty shirt collar. Just a dream. Damn awful dream.
You composed yourself. It was five a.m., and you didn’t feel as great as you did last night.
A high pitched wailing could be heard in the distance. You paused, tilting your head. The wailing siren neared, and you saw an ambulance race toward and then past the park.
What? You sat up.
There was a crinkle of paper and you froze there, hands slowly reaching at your lap, where a note lay.
It read:
You still have time.
You glared at the note. What the hell did it mean? Will was already dead. What did it mean—
You shot up, grabbed the front chairs, hauled yourself into the driver’s seat, and buckled in. You couldn’t believe you had forgotten.
Bill was next.
///
The Carltons’ place was crawling with police. There was no way you were getting over there until later, but it confirmed your worst fears: Will was dead.
The only thing you’d accomplished last night was eating his food and having given the police a reasonable argument to arrest you. Great.
You really weren’t cut out for this hunter stuff. It felt like every time you tried to help, you only were setting yourself up to look like the bad guy.
Every. Single. Time.
And as if things couldn’t get worse, you saw Sam Winchester. He was more focused on the light show of red and blue lights, but he glanced around a little, and eventually his eyes lined up with yours. He was too far away to read, but you didn’t need to be a genius to see the hostility in his eyes.
You backed away, about as shocked as he was to see you, and you took off in the opposite direction. Lucky for you, you were used to being invisible.
You were running for your life. Again.
You had a ten yards head-start, weaving behind trees and buildings to disappear from his line of sight. With this tactic, you managed to position yourself behind a dumpster. You were damn lucky he thought you’d gone left and not right. At this point, you’d offered him too many routes to take. He’d lost you.
His nostrils flared before he finally admitted to himself that he lost your trail. He headed back to his motel room looking tense.
You released a breath. You needed to talk with Bill before the Winchesters did. You knew what he was going to do, and this is time, you couldn’t afford to mess it up. Not with the Winchesters around.
///
Tag: @rosaren2498 , @pillowjj , @busy-bee-angel-misska , @elle-r , @dagnylokisdottir
#supernatural#supernatural series#supernatural fanfiction#spn#spn fanfic#spn fanfiction#spn fanfic series#supernatural fanfic#dean winchester#sam winchester#dean x reader#dean x you#slow burn#sam x you#sam x reader#platonic??#we'll see#meta#very meta#series#fanfiction#fanfic#reader#x reader#reader insert#winchester x reader#kind of#probably a platonic series#just because there's so much going on#love triangle would make my head hurt
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SCM: a sea of stars and lucid dreams
(...so I’ve been working on this for forever, this sort of a stream of consciousness, poetic thing, and I’m so proud of the finished result. I know a long time ago an anon requested more SCM stuff - though I think they requested Zyg or Hue or someone else... so, sorry anon. I had hardcore Dui feels and couldn’t stop myself.)
(I’m actually kind of afraid to post this because I worked very very hard on it, and I’m worried no one will read it... c’est la vie, c’est la tumblr. also, the ending of this is slightly, barely nsfw, so uh, you’ve been warned.)
Before you, Dui doesn’t dare dream.
His subconscious is a web of nettles and black holes, shattered and reformed into something ugly and divided and cold. In sleep, he is pulled into that sickening void, drowned in black and thick and anger and shadows, those shadows mocking him over and over again - You are not whole, not whole.
The only other color in the blackness is a glint of white, sharpened fangs curled into a grin, his shadow self shelved away and forgotten only until he dreams. More taunts from that half of himself - You dare call yourself a god? You suffer because your sins are unforgivable, his shadow hisses. You’ll suffer as an incomplete being for infinity until you confront your transgressions. This is why you can’t be whole. Not whole not whole not whole you deserve NOTHING-
And then Dui awakens, shaken and sweaty and wracked with a guilt so profound he can barely breathe.
So, he doesn’t dare dream. Not anymore.
And with his subconscious shut tight like Pandora’s box, his shadow self shelved and hidden, Dui can only pray it will be enough to keep those unsavory fragments of himself locked away, banished to the blackest parts of his mind, drifting in the void - drowning, drowning.
In those first few months you are together, Dui can’t help but resent you, if only slightly. He resents the way you sleep so soundly, nose twitching sweetly as you dream - soft, incoherent words manifesting as sighs. He resents the subtle way you shift under sheets, unburdened by tossing and turning and thrashing, unplagued by a guilt so profound that he doesn’t dare sleep.
Of course, he resents himself even more for resenting you, only leading to a familiar cycle of self-loathing, fragmenting of self, not whole, not whole, you deserve nothing-
You’ll never know how many tears he sheds while you sleep, awed and angered by your steady breathing, borderline snores - overwhelmingly endearing, infuriating.
He tethers himself to you, tucks your body into the circle of his arms until any space between the two of you disappears, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. He breathes you in deeply, exhaling resentment and guilt and years of shouldering his suffering alone.
“...Dui?” you murmur, adjusting in his arms, voice thick and groggy. “Mm, what time is it?”
“Shh,” he hushes into the skin of your shoulder. He places a soft kiss there, revelling in the way it makes you sigh. “Go back to sleep.”
Ever-perceptive, you twist in his embrace until you are nose-to-nose, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth until he smiles. “Are you alright?”
His shadow self chimes in, How did a mess like us get so lucky? His voice is sharp, clear - unburdened and freed from Pandora’s box by your unconditional love.
Although Dui still struggles to accept his shadow’s thoughts as his own, he can’t help but agree this time, kissing you full on the lips until you’re arching into him, bringing your body impossibly closer, closer. Dui groans at the contact, surging and gasping into your mouth, willing your warmth to seep into every one of his pores, begging the heat to banish the chill in his bones, the lingering fear in his heart, the unmended rift in his soul.
Afterwards, he can’t help but slip into sleep, sated and safe, lulled by your even breathing and the beat of your heart.
Tonight, he dreams only of vague shapes and shadows, of muttered words and curses, of unsettling swirls of discord and mismatched puzzle pieces, of ropes tied around wrists and tugging at seams.
When he stirs far too early that morning, awakening with his shadow’s sneer burned into his brain, Dui instinctively tightens his arms around you, tethering himself to your warmth, your warmth, your warmth-
Why won’t you accept me?
He swears fervently, I’m trying, I’m trying - but the echoes of himself don’t cease, rattling in his ribcage - that dividing line between his two halves blurred but prevalent, nonetheless.
And shadows whisper like ghosts, haunting him even as he wakes.
He loves the way you look in starlight, the shine of each star echoing the constellations in your eyes. You gape and sigh and blush, reaching a hand out into the void, almost as if you tried hard enough, you could catch a fistful of stardust.
Your eyes trace the stars, open and awed and awestruck, matching the movement of your fingertips against the sky, and Dui thinks you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
Your other hand grips his so tightly, the slight tremble in your fingers betraying your fear of falling. The city stretches out below your bodies, after all, as impossibly far away as the stars above you. Yet you never shy away from letting him pull you up here, free from gravity and every worldly weight, simply floating without care, molecules dissolving into the night air.
“It would be so easy to lose myself out here,” you muse, barely a breath, the first words spoken between the two of you in quite some time. “A single body lost to the sky, stuck between the heavens and earth, you know?”
You don’t turn to look at him as you speak, but he can’t help but stare, watching as your lips move, as your eyes flicker between stars.
“I know,” he responds simply. That is all he can say.
He hears your heart beat once, twice in the following silence, and then you say, “I love you, Dui,” your words as easy as breathing.
His shadow claws outwards then, screaming out his love for you in response to your words - the same love that Dui knows so intensely, a love overwhelming to the point of pain. Dui closes his eyes, fighting the knee-jerk reaction to push his shadow away, instead pointedly opening the floodgates to let him speak in Dui’s stead.
“I love you, too,” his shadow says aloud, and Dui thinks in unison, I love you, too.
You grip his hand even tighter for a moment, almost as if you can sense the spark of turmoil within him, trying to squeeze his two selves together between your fingers, the heat of your palm a nuclear fusion welding him into one. He squeezes back once, and his shadow repeats the motion a second time, the flow between his original and shadow selves more and more natural with every breath.
He is thankful, so thankful that you treat him as an indisputable whole, abandoning the distinction between him and shadow. Although he still hasn’t quite achieved the same seamless lines, you make it easier - infinitely easier - softening the struggle within his chest.
In the resulting quiet, you smile to yourself, a movement so slight that it would be easy for anyone else to miss. But Dui notices, always notices when it comes to you, and his heart flares with warmth in response - a warmth he shares equally with his shadow - and the both of them revel in everything you are: stardust and hope and sweet nothings relinquished to the night.
You smile, and Dui knows you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
In the depths of the night, Dui learns surrender.
He submits willingly, emphatically to the softness of your arms, the heat of your breath, the graze of your lips on his mouth, his temple, his neck-
His nails scratch down the bare expanse of your back in turn, and you shiver, that tempting mouth pulling away from his skin to groan aloud - unabashed, unmade, freed.
You’re rocking your hips then, faster, harder, and he can’t keep any sensible thought in his skull, coherency slipping through the cracks - he doesn’t care, doesn’t care if he can’t ever think thoughts that aren’t of you, can’t ever speak words that aren’t your praises. His goddess, his goddess.
“I love you,” he gasps. It’s all he can say, and he’s thrilled to realize that his halves speak in unison, declaring their adoration as a singular being.
They’re entwined, connected by their rapture - those two halves he once thought to be irreparably separate, doomed to fight one another for control of a shared body.
Dui can’t say for sure if he’ll ever be a uninterrupted whole - perhaps the seam between him and his shadow self will never go away. But it is in this moment that he realizes - for the first time - that he doesn’t mind. He and his shadow, sinuous and separate, have accepted one another to the fullest extent thanks to you, a little slip of a woman whose fingernails scratch along his chest, whose mouth calls his name-
-Dui, Dui, Dui, ah-!
-as if the souls within him were never two, as if his heart were never torn, as if there were never walls built around shadows and shame, as if his name were the sweetest thing to ever touch your tongue.
It is humbling, healing, and neither half can get enough - shared heart beating hard as you move against him, both their thoughts speaking in unison - though by now rendered repetitive and unintelligible, nothing more than I love you, I love you, oh gods I love you, you feel so good, you’re so beautiful-
By the way you shudder and moan, perhaps he says the words aloud.
He watches the way you come undone, and he and his shadow are nothing more than men in love, enraptured and ensnared by everything you are.
In the aftermath, with both of your bodies awash in sweat and moonlight, you trace a meandering line along his chest with a fingertip. Your touch is so gentle that it almost brings him to tears - so, so gentle, like he is something precious, something to be treasured beyond its worth.
He watches as you slip into sleep, your eyelids flickering closed with a drowsy, sated smile still on your lips. Pressing a kiss to your temple, he curls around you to pull your body impossibly closer and closer still, lulled by the press of your curves and the beat of your heart.
His eyes fall shut, and in the resulting darkness he doesn’t see nettles or black holes. Instead, there’s a sea of stars - illuminated by the constellations in your eyes, the dimples in your back, the intonations in your laugh.
And as he holds you, fully intending to never, never let go, he free-falls into subconscious - unmade, unafraid, relearning surrender, and oh-
He dares to dream.
(so yeah, please reblog, tell me what you think, etc. I would appreciate it more than you know. I’m trying to be more consistent about finishing what I start, so hopefully you’ll see more from me soon. I think a kbtbb little short story is up next yee)
(...also I’m still a slut for italics, it’s an addiction)
#scm#star crossed myth#dui#dui star crossed myth#voltage#otome#my writing#lemon#a sea of stars and lucid dreams#voltage games#voltage otome
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" Lord this song is going back to the old times when #babyleroy was born and to up for All of the angels and your mother Mary and your father God and Joseph and Paul and Melvin Lord Jesus open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain Lord down here open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain come on y'all brother Terry we need the drums a little higher open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain I can't hear angels let me hear angels y'all open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain we gotta pray for baby Leroy he wants to hear this song Lord open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain All of the angels up there come on open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain I said open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain we need the rain we need the rain we need it open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain let it rain I wanna rain I wanna rain I wanna rain I wanna rain thank you Lord open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain Dr Martin Luther king Jr can I hear you young Dolph can I hear you I can hear queen Elizabeth robin Williams Alan Rickman Conway twitty Elvis Presley James brown Michael Jackson George Michael George Washington Fred Rogers Dr Seuss I hear Betty white and #bobsaget Shirley temple Darla Jean Hood open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain open the floodgates of heaven let it rain let it rain it's gonna rain it's gonna be rain it's gonna be rain "
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Benefits Derived From A Eucharistic Holy Hour
I wait for you always. Come and see me, I am here...
You affect the lives of every person in the world during your holy hour.
The Eucharistic Holy Hour, more powerful than anything outside of the Eucharistic Sacrifice…. THE HOLY MASS
Benefits derived from a holy hour of adoration
The power of each Holy Hour that we make can be gleaned from the quotes of our Popes and Saints. These writings show the importance they placed on Adoration for a healthy spiritual life and tell us that our Holy Hour is more powerful than anything in this world outside of the MASS.
8.0 BILLION PEOPLE GRACED (As of this printing):
Remember this number each time that you may have any doubts whether your sacrifice of time in volunteering to cover a Holy Hour of Adoration before the Blessed Sacrament was a productive hour.
Why is this number important? It is the number of people living in the world that you affect by your simple visit to our beloved Lord, even if it was for a short time. According to St. Maria Faustina Kowalska, every Holy Hour we make so pleases the Heart of Jesus that every man, woman and child living on earth receives a new effect of God’s grace. This is the power of your hour. You alone have affected the lives of every person on earth through your sacrifice of an hour spent before our beloved Lord. If we ever wanted to stop wars, bring peace to earth, stop abortions in the world, stop evils of all kind throughout the world; this is the way to do it. Where else outside of The Eucharistic Sacrifice, can you have such a huge influence on human history? Because of your hour, God has given to everyone on earth, a grace they need to bring them closer to heaven and thus influencing them to stop any evil they may be involved in.
Souls, On the Precipice of hell, go to heaven instead
A Holy Hour of Adoration is so powerful that many souls in the world that were going to Hell, instead are graced enough to be in the hands of God and on their way to Heaven. This revelation, about any Holy Hour of Adoration, was given by our Lord to Blessed Dina Belanger during one of the many Holy Hours she made. Not only are all people in the world graced because of a Holy Hour, but many are so graced that their whole life is turned completely around as to be on their way to Heaven. Just think, if we had not made a Holy Hour this very day, this may not have happened for many people and may not happen during their entire life. Our Holy Hour may be the only chance for Heaven that many in the world have.
You influence Men and Women to Enter Religious Life
This is a result of Holy Hours of Adoration that many of our Saints have emphasized. Studies throughout the world show that in Dioceses where Adoration of the Most Blessed Sacrament is very prevalent, many vocations are abundant. For example, in the Kalamazoo Diocese, Michigan, Adoration of the Eucharist has grown since the 1990’s until the present time resulting in many Seminarians than in past years. This does not include men and women who have entered religious life (brothers, nuns, etc.) from the same Diocese during this same period of time.
You can bring your family closer together
Our Saints have always emphasized that a Holy Hour is not a personal solitary “Jesus and me” encounter, but rather one that involves the entire Church. Our adoration reaches out to our families and our community, they say, and as a result, our families are very blessed and brought closer together. This is another aspect of adoration that many people don’t realize. People heavily involved in the different Perpetual Adoration Programs throughout the world often report of a loved one who had left the Church, coming back because of those involved in Perpetual Adoration. Jesus will use many means to bring one of your loved ones back to the Church.
You make up for great evils of the world
We read often in the newspapers of many evils that are perpetrated on innocent people throughout the world. Our Saints teach us that not only does our adoration grace everyone in the world, but it actually repairs many evils that might otherwise go un-repaired and unchecked. Your Holy Hour is very important to Jesus. He depends on you to help counter evil throughout the world. It is said that everyone in life is given a mission by Jesus to fulfill. If we don’t entirely accomplish this mission, it goes unfulfilled into eternity. There are numerous evils in the world to be repaired and made up for. You may be the only one to make up for some of them. Jesus may be counting on your Holy Hour to repair these evils.
You open the floodgates of god’s mercy
One of the most important graces that God showers upon the earth, through your Holy Hour, is that of His Great Mercy, according to Blessed Mother Teresa and Pope John Paul II. In other words, your Holy Hour opens up the floodgates of His Mercy onto everyone in the world. For many people in the world, this may be the first time, or the only time, they are ready to accept this grace. It also has been said, by our Saints, that God’s Mercy is infinite, but that His Justice is total. God may be counting on you to extend His time of mercy for yet another day to many people in the world before He will try to use His merciful justice to save them before imposing Divine justice.
You help convert America and save the world
Asked “What will convert America and save the World?”, Blessed Mother Teresa answered without hesitation that we need everyone to come together in Holy Hours of prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. Our spare time is always valuable to us, but it is much more valuable to our beloved Lord. He wants America to be converted, but it is up to us to come before Him to help bring this about.
You help stop abortions throughout the United States
Eucharistic Adoration is a very strong antidote specifically to the evil abortion. If all Catholics in the United States would make adoration of the most Blessed Sacrament a weekly occurrence, all abortions in the United States would stop, according to Blessed Mother Teresa. We know that all Catholics will not do this, but we can at least do our part in stopping as many abortions as possible. By sacrificing an hour of our time each week, in coming before our Beloved Lord in adoration. __________
Prayer
Praise be to you, O Christ, for this Eucharistic Miracle you have left us as a sign of predilection, in order to increase our faith in your real presence in the sacrament of the Eucharist.
We thank you Jesus, for the prodigy of you coming which always renews itself on the altar. You are our real friend, the bread for our path, the wine of our joy, the balm of our pain, the desire of our heart.
Make O Lord, that receiving your body and blood, transformed by your love, we can be for all mankind epiphany of your greatest love, and a prophecy of your Kingdom, in front of the world of the Third Millennium.
Son of the living God, send us your spirit, open for us the path towards your Father, in order to be received at the end of our pilgrimage, in the heart of the Holy Trinity, our beatitude and our peace for ever and ever. Amen __________
Words of Christ to St. Padre Pio in 1923
“They leave Me alone by day, they leave Me alone by night. No one comes to see their Divine Prisoner in the Tabernacle. I AM ABANDONED IN THE EUCHARIST.” __________
Photo Captures Graces Poured Out During Benediction in Puerto Rico - Several Years Ago
For a copy of the pamphlet - please lick below:
https://docs.wixstatic.com/ugd/a84285_8c3f0b976aa94d46ba093d551260971e.pdf
From: www.pamphletstoinspire.com
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