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stereax · 9 months

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the kingdom is being rebuilt // the director's cut

a bit of a retrospective on the poem series :)

(and yes, I DID write those poems)

My personal favorites are marked with a (⸸) symbol. Each number links to the respective poem. Enjoy!

2 glory is a foreign word on your tongue and what little you had is left behind you, railroad tracks descending into the past. there is no curse so painful as training your replacement.

Smith's poem comes first. This one was a bit tough because, let's be real, nobody actually gives two shits about Brendan Smith. But I remembered this one interview where Smith was like "yeah my job is basically being a veteran presence for the new generation of defenseman, I'm kind of teaching them to take my job" and if that didn't hit me right in the fucking gut. So yeah. Smith's best days are definitely behind him. He's never going to reach the fame and glory of his brother Reilly. But I think there's something uniquely poignant about him.

6 welcome home, soldier. gunpowder stains your teeth and shrapnel draws lines on your arms. tangled up in you, this inferno burns. don't let it sting too much, the wings of paradise heavy on your back.

Marino is a vital part of the backbone of the Devils. The defense of this team is perhaps its singular most important part, and Marino drives the defense and the penalty kill. He is, in a sense, a grizzled soldier for the Devils' cause, upon whom much of the Devils' dreams lay, and the fire of the Devils runs through defensive efforts. We learned this in our Cup runs - defense wins Cups. Defense takes you to paradise.

7 free bird, what do you sing of? there's no more cage to restrain you, no boundaries but your own. you're where you want to be - just beside the spotlight with a grin. this laughter can heal your soul.

Oh, Dougie. Caged Bird by Maya Angelou is perhaps an overdone poem in the literary canon, but it is such a strong one and one of my personal favorites. For a player whose wings have been tied at many occasions, subverting the idea of only the caged bird singing works well. He's singing more than ever now that you've let him out - out of teams that didn't appreciate him, out of injuries that held him back - and he's found his favorite position, not being The Guy but being one of the guys, standing beside the spotlight. Let him be his introverted little trickster self. Let him have his personal space in the locker room. Let the free bird sing with joy and learn to call New Jersey home.

10 there is a door in front of you that we pray you can unlock. the key is buried deep in your chest. how much will you bleed for your desires? how much do you want it, really, and is wanting it enough to get it?

Holtzy boy has quite literally been a victim of our success, as even Lindy Ruff puts it. He was unable to find ice time, rode the bench for half a season, and then got hurt when he got sent back to Utica. This upcoming season is widely seen, even by the Devils organization, as Holtz's last chance to make the roster on a permanent basis, to open the door to lasting success. But hell, sometimes, no matter how much you want something, you just won't get it. Is that going to be his fate?

13 atlas is your name, holding a nascent world between your hands and on your shoulders. the steadiest star is not the brightest, but you've made peace with that already, haven't you? it's alright to be outshined when you set the world on fire.

Nico... Nico. This is the one that got the most attention, which is funny because I don't really consider it one of the best in this series. But anyways. Nico has carried the burden of this team the longest out of anyone - he is the top line center, expected to perform to perfection constantly. He is the Atlas for the Devils, he carries this new world of the Devils - and no, he's not the brightest, flashiest, best-goal-scoring player on this team. He's not the brightest star, and he is all too aware of it; he's always, always played second fiddle, from his very first season where he boosted Taylor Hall and enabled him to drag the team into the playoffs until today where he's not Jack Hughes. And yet - and yet Nico doesn't have to be the brightest star. He doesn't have to be Jack, and he doesn't need to be Jack, and he doesn't want to be Jack. He is steady instead, a 200-foot player and Selke nominee. He is enough the way he is. His team knows it. His team is there for him - they're all built around the steadiness of his flame, not the brightness of Jack's flame. He's already set the world on fire, so what else does he need?

14 your presence is never as pronounced as your absence. you've seen it so many times, how your job is simply to be. pull out your roll of duct tape, put on a movie for them to enjoy, and maybe you can save us yet.

Bass!!! I don't think any Devils fan is capable of being normal about Nate Bastian - as God intended, of course. His poem revolves around him being the team's "glue guy", the kind of person that binds the Devils together. Recall the Bastian Effect, where the team had an 80% win percentage with him on the ice versus 55% without. But when he's there, you don't really notice him; he's a fourth-line grinder who gets relatively limited minutes. It's only when you lose him (to a shoulder injury or to Seattle) that you realize what you're missing. The movie line comes from a Polish song I love, Scenariusz dla moich sąsiadów, by Myslovitz - I've talked about it before on this blog (I think I said it was Dawson-esque) and I can and WILL talk about how it's a very Nate-coded song as well, but that's an essay for an ask, so if you're interested in that, hit my askbox.

17 day and night blur over and over and columbus balances his egg in time to the lapping of the waves. what is your dream, but more important, what is your destiny? temporary tastes wrong on you.

Shango's poem was one of the more stopgap-type ones where I didn't have a whole lot to say about him, so I went with whatever felt right. Columbus's egg is used to described something that seems simple only after the solution is found - the original story is that Columbus challenged a group of critics (who claimed that going west to find a new trade route wasn't anything novel) to balance an egg on its tip. The critics try and fail; eventually, Columbus shows them how it's done, by flattening one of the ends of the egg. When the critics say it was easy, Columbus replies that going west was also easy, but somebody had to do it first. Shango's got some of that about him - that it's not difficult, you just have to do it. Similarly, his dream and his destiny are at odds (just like the Oilers and Flames he'd been playing against in the pictures chosen); obviously, he seems to want to be a top-line sniping winger, but he gets traded after a relatively low season for him playing third-line minutes. His destiny goes through Calgary and through Tyler Toffoli.

18 you spin the wheel on this ship, control its path through the winds that blow. a veteran stands the test of time even when time stands too. a victor remains a victor. the records cannot take them away, no matter how high the tide rises.

Pally's poem deals strongly with his tenure with the Lightning - which makes sense, given the guy still uses "we" when talking about the Bolts. Bless his veteran soul. It also calls back to Shango's poem with the marine imagery. Not much else to say here, honestly, except that he got high-sticked, lost three teeth, came back and scored a goal in that one game against Toronto. What a power move.

20 they replaced you before they even had you so you learned to change everything just to be desirable again. when your old colors came seeping through they basked in your glory and cheered. what is the price of your salvation?

Mikey's poem went through a couple of iterations before I landed on this one. The idea for it is that he was drafted to be a top-six center, but got jumped in the depth chart by Nico and Jack, so he quite literally changed everything about his game to turn himself into a luxury defensive fourth-line center specializing in faceoffs. This new style of play he pivoted to was quite different from how he played in juniors - but that old style came back during the playoffs, most notably in the shorthanded goals he scored. That last line of his alludes to two things - firstly, the giant question that hangs over his head, but it also ties back to Nate's poem, both being saviors, in a way - Nate with his Bastian Effect, Mikey with his playoff efforts.

28 the last relic of a bygone era, you have stood the test of time, a pillar of salt in this desert. it's time to let go of your family now, walk away from this home you've built on sand, and whatever you do, don't turn back unless you want to shatter into crystals and get swept away by the wind.

(⸸) Sevo... Don't talk to me, I'm still sad. But, uh, yeah - this one deals with Sevo being the longest-tenured Devil and having to leave his team as family. Remember how his wife celebrated not being traded at the deadline? Yeah. His poem alludes strongly to the story of Lot and his wife from the Bible - Sevo already is the pillar of salt, though, as the last of the old Devils, so his punishment for turning back is instead the loss of the rest of himself and his memory. He's been here since he was a baby rookie, he was the last Devil left to play under Lou Lamoriello, he's seen all of the Devils Dark Ages, and his reward is getting shipped to Ohio... God, I'm still sad.

29 don't let the nails dig too deep into your palms. this sacrifice may yet be noble even if your back chars with burnt wax and the imprints of feathers on your shoulder blades. at ease, you served well.

Mac's poem. I know we all love to dunk on Mac Black, but allow me to give you a little bit of a history lesson here. Mac was actually a kickass goalie when he started out with the Devils - his first two years, he had save percentages of .918 and .915, effectively taking over the net from Cory Schneider, who we basically broke as he tried to carry our shitty Devils Dark Ages team. Hell, we called Mac MB29, after MB30, Martin Brodeur; we thought he would be the next Marty. And then Mac broke too. So yes, he gets the motifs of Christ on the cross and of Icarus (one of my favorite Greek myths). You did your best, Mac. I hope San Jose treats you well.

33 yours is a thankless job, marked by spit and blood and sweat and all the most disgusting things. just as the flame ignites, you are extinguished, left on the street corner like a beggar with a sign. you did nothing wrong. the cruelty is that it is not your fault.

Gravy played as the other half of the shutdown pairing alongside Marino, so a lot of the same ideas are in play here, of being a soldier. Spit and blood and sweat is meant to evoke imagery of Winston Churchill's blood, toil, tears, and sweat speech. But Gravy differs from Marino in that he's leaving just as the team breaks through - he got traded from Colorado the year before they won the Cup, and he leaves New Jersey just as they throw open their own Cup window. And he leaves not because he was lacking in any way, but because Luke's here now, and Luke is simply more cost-effective, younger, and likely better as well, even as a rookie. There's nothing Gravy can do about it, and maybe that's the cruelest of all.

40 and everyone asked, isn't this enough? but there's no point in wanting if you only want so much of a good thing. there's no point in halfway prayer. the crown of kings is heavy but it won't hurt if you keep your head held high.

(⸸) Akira's poem is probably my favorite out of the entire Kingdom series, and that's saying a lot. I think it explains itself, for the most part, but the idea of it is essentially that the Devils weren't meant to win the series against the Rangers. We thought that it was enough that we got there. We said next year would be our year. Wasn't it enough to just have made the playoffs again? And in comes Akira and says fuck that noise, we're not done here. There's no reason to only want us to make the playoffs if we can go further than that, no point in halfway prayer. And through that, Akira solidified his position in Devils history, outdueling one of the best goalies in the NHL, killing a god. Now he's being looked at as our potential starter by the end of next year - but remember what happened to Mac and to Cory, how they broke when being given Marty's crown of kings, and how Vitek, too, fell apart to a lesser extent in the playoffs. If he is the successor to Marty, Akira needs to keep his head up and his wits about him - don't let this divinity get to your head.

41 god didn't hang all the stars in one day, you know. you shouldered this hurt time and again, took the love and the hate in tandem and twisted something wonderful out of it. tomorrow is another day. tomorrow is a beautiful day.

Vitek's poem serves as the counterpole to Akira's. Where Akira is viewed as the new god in the flesh, Vitek is instead deigned as a regular-season merchant. And yet, he was the god for that regular season. When we thought we would never get a good goalie again, he came and proved us wrong. Vitek is great, he just needs to be in a tandem. He can't play 50, 60 games a season effectively. Those goalies are a dying breed. But yes, Vitek's message is perhaps also Akira's opposite - leave the past in the past. And yet it's exactly the same - don't let this get to your head. You are so much better than you give yourself credit for.

42 they say that mint will grow anywhere. mint puts its roots down wherever it can and clings to itself, carving out an existence in the unlikeliest of places. imagine what you could do with sunlight and water.

Curtis's poem relies on the motif of mint. Mint is a known invasive plant - it can take root almost anywhere and it is almost impossible to eradicate once it takes hold. Curtis, too, is a bit of a journeyman, never really finding a home on any team, but perhaps New Jersey changes that. What happens with a little bit of nurturing? What happens when you open the door for mint and let it grow instead of uprooting it again?

43 unaffected by the torch spewing hot ash onto your fingers, the weight of legacy. there is a list of demands on your front door and every day it grows longer and longer. martin luther, tear down your walls.

Luke has a lot of historical references for a five-line poem. He carries the torch for the Devils as the newest rookie, helping to lead the defense forward, and yet everything he does is colored by Jack before him (and Quinn as well). He has almost too much to live up to, but it seems not to rattle him at all. Martin Luther was a priest best known for starting the Protestant sects of the Christian faith when he nailed his Ninety-Five Theses (dealing primarily with the Catholic Church's corruption and indulgences) to the door of the church. This parallels with the list of demands on Luke's door, the idea that he's going to be shoved into a top-four role with the Devils with the hope that he becomes a franchise defenseman, and he's going to have to figure it out pretty damn fast. And yet when Martin Luther is called by name, it is in the same breath as the iconic quote from Ronald Reagan's speech about the Berlin Wall. Luke must transcend history in much the same way, in the way Jack already has, and carve his own legacy on the Devils.

44 the sun shines brighter on your back. when you let go of this life, will you remember the smiles or will you remember the tears? you can lay flowers on the grave of what could have been, but give a bouquet to what is first. nobody blames you for forgetting.

Woody's poem goes in the same vein as many of those who left before him, most notably Sevo's. But it also follows a line consistent with Mac's, Shango's, and even Smith's poems. See, Miles was thought of as a top-sixer for a good while during the Devils Dark Years - he was a power forward who played on a line with Jack Hughes and Jesper Bratt. I'm not joking. His greatest years were years ago, before he busted his hip and lost the most important part of his game, his speed. And now he leaves for Colorado as a maligned fourth-liner. It's up to Woody how he remembers us, and, on a much realer level, how he mourns his lost potential.

49 the short stick was your burden. every battle has a casualty. there's something good brewing out west even if that's where the sun sets. persevere, and you will be rewarded.

Zett has a quite simple poem that mostly just revolves around him being shipped off to San Jose. He was the most important piece (non-pick-wise) that the Devils gave up for the Timo trade, which is a bit of a testament to how weird that trade was. But, at the same time, that trade is very possibly going to set the tone for the Sharks for the years to come, with the assets they received. Zett's now being given space to grow and a looser leash, and who knows? Maybe in a few years we'll see him as part of a Sharks Cup run.

56 the wanderer keeps his bags packed and sitting by the door for the next journey. cut open all the cardboard boxes, you don't need to take the midnight train anymore. hang the pictures and make this house a home.

(⸸) Haula, oh boy oh boy. His poem isn't all that deep, but man does it hurt me. He, like Curtis, was a bit of a journeyman (I've talked about Haula's peculiar journey to Jersey before on my blog), and he's now found a home in New Jersey. Having been traded and having signed one-year contracts, Haula's spoken openly about how he's happy to settle down, get a house, and raise his son and family here. When you're a wanderer like he was, you essentially have to be ready to pack up your entire life at a moment's notice, but now that Haula's got his contract, he can finally start unpacking his life and the cardboard boxes that come with constant moving. Also, Haula being a paternal/older brother figure to Jack makes me cry. So of course I had to include a picture of them.

63 did they call you a miracle when you were born? did your mother cradle you to her chest and whisper how lucky she was to have you? or did they know that the tempest in your soul could never be tamped down no matter the odds? you write your own destiny. make it so.

Bratter is the epitome of potential, which is what his poem tries to capture. Going from a sixth-round draft pick (which almost never make it to the NHL) to one of the oldest Devils by tenure and a core part of the top-six is a feat in and of itself, almost a miracle. And hell, he has an entire fan club based around the idea of JBITBPITNHL (Jesper Bratt Is The Best Player In The NHL). Can't say the same about Nico or Jack. Bratt beat the odds to get here, time and again, and now he's signed his destiny to stay in New Jersey. It's his choice where he goes from here.

70 drape a cloth over your eyes, invisible man. let them know what you're here for, what you still want to prove. dip your hands in molten wax so they'll be seen when you wave. wear jingle bells on your ankles so they hear you coming.

Boqvist, in his time in New Jersey, was basically the least notable Devil on the ice. So he got the motif of the Invisible Man from H. G. Wells. The Invisible Man was a character that managed to turn himself, well, invisible with sophisticated science. When he finds he cannot undo this, the Invisible Man slowly goes mad. But what I'm getting at is that the Invisible Man would always be trying to wear as much clothing and accessories and such so that he would look like a normal person. Boqvist, too, if he wants to break out of his invisible mold, needs to do something to make him stand out against the backdrop of replacement-level NHL players. Oh, and I almost forgot about this. Generally, when a player left for another team, at least one of their pictures was them playing against their new team. Boqy's New Team Picture actually has him trying to beat Taylor Hall to a puck. Small world, huh?

71 you told them it didn't matter what they did as long as they used you, as long as they valued you, as long as you were valuable to them. you stood in line to buy this dream when nobody else thought it worth the price. how powerful is your belief? will you turn yourself to stone to lay the foundations of this castle?

(⸸) Siegs's poem is another of those that hits me right in the gut and refuses to let up. Siegs got traded to the Devils because - well, he requested the trade because the Capitals, who drafted him, acquired Zdeno Chara, and it left Siegs sitting on the bench or in the press box almost every game. One night, he had one single shift at the very end of the game for like, thirty seconds. So Siegs basically said "if you're not going to use me, trade me somewhere that actually wants me", and he ended up in New Jersey with Nico. Siegs was the first to take the Nico Discount to play for the Devils, back when it looked like we would never leave the rebuild, and he flat-out admitted it on multiple occasions that he took a pay cut so other players could get paid and so a team could get built around him. On a very real level, Siegs enables Dougie by covering for his defensive lapses, as well as pushes the offense forward through some incredibly clutch moments (see: his goal against the Rangers in the playoffs). He's expected to be the rock on which the castle can be built and on which the free bird sits.

82 the jester exercises his privilege and the king listens to his call. lift your cap, triboulet, and dance. there's a new path before you and an old friend to walk it with.

I almost forgot about Okhotiuk, to be honest. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Okie played a couple of games for us in December and January (when Gravy and Marino were both dead) before being shipped to San Jose as part of the Timo Meier trade. He's notable as a physical defenseman who has thrown fists on many an occasion, including (notably) against GM Tom Fitzgerald's own son while in the AHL. Okie gets the motif of jester's privilege, or the idea that a jester can make fun of things without being punished for it... like punching your boss's kid. Triboulet was a famous jester for the French king who slapped the king on the rear and, when threatened with execution, apologized because he thought he was spanking the queen. When the king decided to let Triboulet choose how he would die, the jester famously replied that he would like to die of old age and thus outwitted the king. While Okie wears Triboulet's cap to San Jose, at least he does not travel that road alone.

86 oh, prince of a new dawn, hold your sceptre tight. you know better than to listen to liars but will you let the truth overwhelm you? this is not your destination. keep pushing forward, you've yet to break the horizon.

Jack's poem deals heavily with the idea that he is the new Devils superstar. He, more than anyone else, is what makes the Devils contenders. Yes, he is self-aware and walks his own path. He knows not to let the voices calling him a bust get to him. But, at the same time, we've seen many a player get a big head at the prospect of being the deliverer of a franchise. Will Jack let his ego get the better of him, now that he knows what he's capable of? And yet, he is only the prince of this new dawn. He has not yet reached his potential or his destination. So much more is coming, and perhaps that's the scariest thing of all. A star as bright as Jack has so much left to give, but will he burn too brightly and fizzle out too soon?

88 sing it to the wolves, head tipped back, crying sweet mercy at the moon. you were made to be eclipsed but that doesn't mean you were made to be forgotten. there's a beauty in your dark.

Bahl's poem, more than anyone else's, deals a fair bit with his physical appearance as well as his role on the team. He's a lower-pairing defenseman whose main draw is being invisible, but in a good way. Eclipsed, but not forgotten. Bahl gets the imagery of a pack of wolves howling at a missing moon. There's a quiet sort of powerful energy you get from him that aligns with that, I think. (And yes, maybe there's a little bit of a hidden story being told with Jack in those photos too...)

90 when you look at the pictures years from now the regret should be that you left too soon, not that you stayed too long. when paths like these cross, they don't run parallel forever but the land they cover is lush with butterflies and daffodils.

Tuna, like a bunch of others, gets a goodbye sort of poem. I think his is fairly self-explanatory - the idea of memory of the past, just like Woody, just like Sevo. Except, unlike them, we knew Tuna was a short-term rental. We all knew his journey with us would be on the shorter side, but it doesn't mean that it hurts less to see him go. For a player like him, all we can hope for is that he holds fond memories of us when he looks back on it years from now. Oh, Vitek and Tuna for the butterflies line is on purpose, because, you know, goalies, butterfly position, but also it's Vitek, who's the most "butterflies and daffodils" player out there.

91 and just when they thought they knew you you turned yourself into something new again. wonder what you've borrowed, wonder if it's blue, because your heart's old, old and full of life. call to the masses and they will respond. they wait for your commands.

Dawson's poem plays on the saying for brides "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue". Dawson's only been getting better with time (what is a sophomore slump, anyway), and he keeps reinventing himself, being a player you can put in just about any spot in the lineup, being a collection of somethings that ends up being better than any one of those things alone. Need a bottom-six center or a top-six winger, a powerplayer or a penalty-killer, a goalscorer or a playmaker? Look no further than Mercer. He's even more versatile that Mister Swiss Army Knife Nico Hischier himself, which is no small feat. And yet, despite all that, he's such a humble and gracious kid who's genuinely grateful just to be here, a little old soul. Show me someone who hates Dawson. You literally can't find one. The last two lines call to his Player's Tribune article, where he made the entire Devils fanbase want to run through walls for him. He's got so much power - it's his choice how to use it.

96 you're in the middle of it, always, and it feels like you always have been. whirlpools under your feet when you walk, the bite and the snap of skin on skin. this might be the end of one show but the encore is just getting underway. don't take a bow just yet.

Timo gets a poem that rolls with shark-like motifs. He's known to be the center of attention - power forwards tend to be that, for better or for worse. So the idea of whirlpools when he skates tracks from that, making the ice melt underneath him with the spotlight shining down. Yes, the Trouba picture was on purpose for the line that sounds like it's referencing his hit on Timo, because it literally is. And Timo's spent his entire NHL career in San Jose - him leaving the Sharks was the last nail in the coffin of their looming rebuild. He's got eight years of being a Devil ahead of him, and we're hoping those are his best years. As one curtain closes, another opens.

00 the kingdom is being rebuilt. the castle may have been razed to the ground but the stones are being laid again, one by one, until the ship of theseus sets sail for paradise once more. this is no longer a story of survival but of flourishing despite the odds. this is no longer a story of nothing but of something greater than its pieces. this is the castle and this is the kingdom.

(⸸) The summary poem gets NJ Devil's jersey number. And I think, honestly, this is one of the most poignant of all. The pictures really make it for me. The thing about the Devils is that we have so much history packed in such a team that is often dismissed as New York's little brother. In the 1990s and 2000s, we had a legitimate dynasty that the NHL implemented specific rules (the trapezoid most pertinently) to help take down. Hell, if we didn't win the Cup in 1995, chances are that we'd have been the Nashville Predators. The story of the Devils is that of a kingdom - and that kingdom was destroyed entirely by 2010 or so. The 2012 Cup run was the last hoorah of the dying kingdom before it was dismantled entirely. But now, after so many grueling years of rebuilding, the Devils are finally back on the map.

The ship of Theseus is a thought experiment basically asking whether a ship with all its pieces replaced is still the same - just like a Devils team with an entirely new roster and staff is still the same in its soul as the one that forged that dynasty. The "story of survival" alluded to in the pictures is that of Brian Boyle, a journeyman who spent two years with the Devils in the Dark Ages during which he battled and won against leukemia. He later scored his first hat-trick on a Hockey Fights Cancer night. Many tears were shed. This is still one of the highlights of the Devils Dark Ages and probably will be forever. The "story of nothing" shows Keith Kinkaid when his goalie net fell on top of him during a Ducks game. We lost that one, by the way.

Motifs used in other poems are called back in the summary with accompanying pictures to match, most notably Siegs (and Nico) as the stones and foundations of the castle, but also Marino's idea of paradise, Bratt and Akira's beating the odds, Dawson's greater than his pieces, and Jack's being a prince of his kingdom. Nico is the castle, Jack is the kingdom. Nico is the steady star, Jack is the bright star. This team was built around Nico and its dreams are built around Jack. Do you get it now?

(⸸) (⸸) (⸸) (⸸) (⸸) (⸸)

And... cut! That's all for this! Thanks for reading this massive text post, haha :)

If you've got any more questions about the Kingdom series, please drop them in my askbox - I'd be super, super happy to receive them and answer you! :D

#nj devils #new jersey devils #hockey+poetry #the kingdom is being rebuilt: a collection of flash poetry #sterepoetry

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itsmelb · 1 year

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Welcome to my 2nd rant about Jeffbarcode aka Kimchay.

(It was foreseeable but yeah..bc of the event today my brain exploded and I am crying again now..ok..)

So we got a Duet first. And yall know how much I love them singing together (see all my Jeffcode posts haha) and then we got beauty and the beast. And Codes Voice is like sooo soo good at this point I wanna throw up so good is it. And Jeff's adlips and the Harmonies uff dead.

Then there is this game and jeff let code win obv. And we got WDYS from Code and his angelic voice and my brain disfunctioned. How tf is this possible after everything we been through. And have I mentioned the harmonies???

And then we got Fate. Oh lord the masterpiece of Jeff. And Code singing it with ease? I mean hello whaaat?

Okay..okay and the hugs and connection btw those 2. Lord. Crazy.

And the God himself Jeff mf Satur. Wow. He is so handsome I swear. (And I say that only from pics of my phone but hello I am jealous of u guys who been there.)

And this leads me to - the future of Kimchay-. So we always pray to get a 2nd season of KP. And imagine now that Code is so much more Confident (and 18!!!) What we could get. The images. The stories. The Kisses aaaah!!! If there is some Series God or so pls make it happen. I wanna see a reunion a Duet or sth for kimchay. Some cuteness.. no hurt!!

And for Jeffbarcode I wanna have some songs together. That would be so fucking good! He'll yeah..

End of rant. Thanks.

youtube

P.S. I know there have been some issues with "shipping" them bc of the age gab but hear me out. They are close friends. And I love to see that. I LOve their journey so let them simply be.

#kinnporsche #jeff barcode #jeffcode #jeff satur #barcode tinnasit #kimchay #porchay kittisawasd #kimhan theerapanyakul #Youtube

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jdgo51 · 7 months

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DAILY DEVOTIONAL FOR OCTOBER 6, 2023

Love Notes

By Monica A. Andermann (New York, USA)

READ JEREMIAH 31:1-14

"Neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

ROMANS 8:38-39 (NRSVUE)

"Early in our relationship, my husband gave me a card with a beautiful love note. After many years of marriage, I don’t need a note to know how much he cares. It’s evident in the things he does and the way he acts toward me every day. Even though we sometimes don’t come to terms in certain situations or have a disagreement, I know his love for me is steadfast and certain. I find great comfort in this.

God’s love for us is like the steady love my husband shows me, only greater. At times, like when I lost my job of twenty years, when I faced grief, or when I heard the words of a frightening diagnosis, I shook my fist at God wondering where God’s love had gone. Yet, it was there all along: in the kindness of a friend, in the skilled hands of a doctor, in the sunrise of a new day, in the blossoms that herald the promise of a new season. These are God’s love notes to each of us. Do we recognize them?" God is there and we can recognize it in many, many things. He is your shoulder to fall into and find peace.

TODAY'S PRAYER

"Gracious God, your love is at work in our lives at all times. May we be instruments of this love, sharing it at every chance through kind thoughts, words, and deeds." Amen.

Jeremiah 31:1-14

"1 At that time, declares the LORD, I will be the God of all the families of Israel, and they will be my people. 2 The LORD proclaims: The people who survived the sword found grace in the wilderness. As Israel searched for a place of rest, 3 the LORD appeared to them from a distance: I have loved you with a love that lasts forever. And so with unfailing love, I have drawn you to myself. 4 Again, I will build you up, and you will be rebuilt, virgin Israel. Again, you will play your tambourines and dance with joy. 5 Again, you will plant vineyards on the hills of Samaria; farmers will plant and then enjoy the harvests. 6 The time will come when the watchmen shout from the highlands of Ephraim: “Get ready! We’re going up to Zion to the LORD our God!” 7 The LORD proclaims: Sing joyfully for the people of Jacob; shout for the leading nation. Raise your voices with praise and call out: “The LORD has saved his people, the remaining few in Israel!” 8 I’m going to bring them back from the north; I will gather them from the ends of the earth. Among them will be the blind and the disabled, expectant mothers and those in labor; a great throng will return here. 9 With tears of joy they will come; while they pray, I will bring them back. I will lead them by quiet streams and on smooth paths so they don’t stumble. I will be Israel’s father, Ephraim will be my oldest child. 10 Listen to the LORD’s word, you nations, and announce it to the distant islands: The one who scattered Israel will gather them and keep them safe, as a shepherd his flock. 11 The LORD will rescue the people of Jacob and deliver them from the power of those stronger than they are. 12 They will come shouting for joy on the hills of Zion, jubilant over the LORD’s gifts: grain, wine, oil, flocks, and herds. Their lives will be like a lush garden; they will grieve no more. 13 Then the young women will dance for joy; the young and old men will join in. I will turn their mourning into laughter and their sadness into joy; I will comfort them. 14 I will lavish the priests with abundance and shower my people with my gifts, declares the LORD." Everyone will be restored with the joy and excitement they once had. The dancing will be evident and the laughter will replace the mourning of loss and dissatisfaction. God is there for you. Let's praise Him! Blessings Joe

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pooma-bible · 2 years

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Min.Olusola Babarinde Nigeria

Hallelujah.

Let us pray.

Our father we praise your name for you are good and your mercy is eternal. We pray that this time you manifest your glory in our midst, let everyone be blessed. In Jesus name I pray, amen..

Positioning yourself for miracle harvests is the topic.

Let me first say this by the Holy Ghost that we are in the season of harvests of miracles.

Yes! Angels had been released for the activation of this season. But it should be noted that only those who are sensitive will be in alignment with the echoes of the Spirit and enjoy the blessings..God wants to release or better said, God had started releasing blessings but not to all but to the sensitive. Those who are sensitive to the season and align with it.

[18] Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. [19] Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:18-19

How to position yourself for miracle harvests?

When God speaks, man is to meet it with agreement.

Such agreement is the staring point of positioning oneself for miracle harvests. If God says he will do a new thing and you don't believe it, then you miss out of that season.

To position yourself:

1. Meet the word said by God with faith: this is what I paraphrased as agreement earlier. Without faith it is impossible to please God and you cannot receive from God without faith.

See Hebrews 11:6 and James 1:6-8.

Faith is the bases for receiving miracles from God.

If you believe, everything is possible for him that believes. Faith moves God to perform that which he had promised. If God speaks and you don't meet that word with faith, you will make that seed to die. You must meet God's word with faith, that activities the word and make it to start walking towards fruit bearing..Faith moves God's hand to perform his promise and qualifies the demonstrator for the promised blessing(s).

If you fail at this point, you have missed out, it will take special mercy for the blessing to be yours..

2. Water the seed (word/promise) with the words of your own mouth:

whatever God says is worth saying. You must daily and constantly water that promise. God said I would give birth this year, God said I would get married this year, God said I would have ministerial breakthrough this year, God said he will give me prosperity this year, etc. You are to sing it, say it, and do it steadily. That watering the seed/the word..Watering it means saying positive things. Declaring with assurance that what he said would surely happen.

Believing in the following:

Integrity of God,

Faithfulness of God,

Ability of God,

Power of God,

Mercy of God,

Grace of God,

Favour of God,

And lot more, and for that you surely believed that he can't fail. Strong persuasion makes you to utter words of faith. And that is like giving the seed water and manure, it will surely grow.

That is what watering it entails. And you are to keep on doing it till you see harvest. In fact, angels wait for such words before they can drop the blessings God had given them to deliver to you.

And Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word. And the angel departed from her. Luke 1:38.

This were Mary's words of watering God's word or promise to her. She just kept on singing be it unto me according to thy word and that was empowering the seed..

3. Take away the weaknesses: this weeds in agriculture are the unwanted plants that opposes the real plants. They hinders the real plant from having nutrients and choke life out of it if allowed. Most weeds don't kill the plant, they only render it unfruitful.

That is it, doubt, fear, anxiety may not make you forget the promise, they only hinder you from embracing it with faith, thus rendering it unfruitful.

Many reading this are like that. Many promises of God in their lives are just lying dormant. Many promises are now dusty, and rusting. May God use this word to revive such in Jesus name.

Through faith also Sara herself received strength to conceive seed, and was delivered of a child when she was past age, because she judged him faithful who had promised. Hebrews 11:11.

Personal limitations are weeds too. Here Sarah did not allow the fact that she had reached menopause to hinder her from receiving God's blessing.

4. Wait in faith with thanksgiving: this is the level four. Thanksgiving is a catalyst that hastens the miraculous. So you are waiting in assurance and you are expressing that through thanksgiving.

As you do these four things, you will see the performances of God's promises and you will testify. Let me stop here.

May we all have testimonies.

Don't forget, it is the season of harvests of miracles.

Till next week, shalom..

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poohkeepsee · 3 years

Text

I was going through my AO3 bookmarks, and I wanted to organize them a little bit. These are my Dean/Cas canon-ish fic recs.

season 5

canticles by 2street2car Words: 10,311 Chapters: 1

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

FTBYAM MY BELOVED

post season 6

Someone Who's Feeling For Me by ellispark Words: 45,876 Chapters: 1

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

post bunker

Sun Can't Set Until Nine by LeverDrift Words: 67,939 Chapters: 16

Cas moves into the bunker as his powers start to fail. Dean doesn’t know if the arrangement is as permanent as he wants it to be. He's also not sure why he keeps dreaming about his friend. All he knows is that he wants Cas to stay. Overall warnings: canon-typical miscommunication & Dean having self-hatred issues.

Life Skills by ilovehowyouletmefall Words: 26,052 Chapters: 3

After Metatron steals Castiel's grace, and Cas comes to live in the bunker, Dean spends a lot of time with him, sharing all of his favourite things. Dean can't help it if sharing things with Cas just makes everything better. Besides, it's Dean's job as Cas' friend to introduce him to the joys of human life. To teach him how to be human. And if one of the experiences they end up sharing is sex with women, well... that's just part of Dean's job as Cas' friend too, right? The desire is triangulated, the rituals are intricate.

Sam Stole My Boyfriend by sobsicles Words: 8,445 Chapters: 1

“Dude, you’ve been staring at me a lot lately, like even enough that Sam noticed. More than usual. So, like, what’s up?” Dean pauses, purses his lips and reconsiders. “What did I do?”

Cas knows that would be a perfect time to confess to Dean what exactly happened and what he was thinking. Maybe, Dean had some insight into the situation or even some kind of comfort to offer. But, the longer that he sat there, he realized that he could not tell Dean absolutely anything. So instead, for the first time, Cas fumbled.

“Um,” Cas mutters and abruptly stands. “Freckles?”

Dean blinked up at him as Cas pivoted and left the room. There was only one remaining option he had and unfortunately, it involved Sam.

Aching in the Absence of You by sobsicles Words: 95,090 Chapters: 10

Brittle and battle-worn, Cas looks at him over coffee one morning and says, "I need to go," and Dean instantly knows that he's not coming back.

He's not really sure how he knows it, but he does. It settles into the pit of his stomach, curling hot and tight like something he instinctively wants to tear out with his bare hands. He takes a breath, and it gets stuck in his throat, hitching there. It hurts, hurts, hurts when he finally exhales.

"Yeah," Dean says, "of course you do," and he nods jerkily as he looks down at his phone. He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't look up from the screen when Cas gets up and leaves the room. He doesn't finish his coffee, or move for a long time.

By nightfall, Cas is gone.

'Communication' by JustAnotherSamlicker Words: 11,656

The same story told from two perspectives.

Dean bought a house and he and Cas fix it up.

Is Dean moving out? Is Cas moving in?

Should they just talk to each other already? (Yes they should)

Build a Home by domesticadventures Words: 20,102

After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them.

He doesn't

season 10

The Most Important Thing by NorthernSparrow Words: 94,462 Chapters: 14

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

season 12

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord Words: 42,922 Chapters: 7

Canon-divergent from 12.08

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

season 13

i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees) by sobsicles Words: 74,173 Chapters: 8

Dean keeps going back.

When he arrives, it's always to blooming flowers and a windmill in the background, not too far from a brook, the sun painting the plains.

He likes it there. He likes to stand in front of the makeshift urn and check that it's still where he put it, switching out the flowers when they wilt. He likes to listen to the sound of birds chirping, insects singing, the faint sound of water trickling in the distance. He likes to turn his face up and feel the sun on his skin, wondering if Cas would do the same if he were here, somehow knowing that he would.

He likes to talk.

There's never a response, but Dean feels the breeze rustle through his hair and watches the flowers bob when bees come to them and stares as the windmill keeps turning, turning, turning. And he imagines that Cas is replying—the windmill is the tilted head, the bobbing flowers are a gentle smile, the breeze is whatever words Dean wants to hear at the time.

Sometimes, it's almost like he's there.

Trial and Tribulations of Raising a Nephilim by Sickandtiredofyou Words: 14,910 Chapters: 6

Dean has far too much on his plate, losing his mom, his best friend and now being a single parent to a newborn nephilim.

In which Jack is an actual newborn instead of a teenager.

post season 13

dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination) by sobsicles Words: 108,427 Chapters: 4

Freedom is just one adjustment after the next.

Cas hums again. "I think you already have. It's been months since everything settled. All that's left to do is...get used to it, and perhaps—" His voice stalls out, uncharacteristically, and his gaze roams Dean's face with intensity. When he speaks next, his tone is a little raw. "Perhaps what one does with peace is...whatever they want."

"What if I don't even know what that is?" Dean grumbles, arching an eyebrow in challenge. "'Cause I know damn well you don't just mean good food and a good bed and time in Baby, not simple wants like that. You mean—ya know, the big things, the wants we didn't get to have before."

"Yes," Cas agrees. "If you're not sure, figure it out."

"Easier said than done."

Reasons to read this:

Dean reads a story that ends like despair and his reaction is FUCK THAT

Cas wears Dean's hoodie

Jack is a toddler

The Jack and Claire sibling energy we deserve

Eileen being awesome and pulling pranks with Dean while Sam thinks she's an angel

Sam knows

YOUR HONOR THEY'RE IN LOVE

First Date by aeli_kindara Words: 8,968 Chapters: 1

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

Also known as the Dean Winchester makes the first move fic.

season 14

Broken Road by thegeminisage Words: 109,629 Chapters: 7

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.

post season 15

fools and pilgrims by lagaudiere Words: 31,904 Chapters: 2

Claire shows up at the bunker a day before Dean was planning to leave, with her hair cut short and a fresh tattoo on her left arm under a bandage. Chuck is dead, Jack has given up his godlike powers, and Cas is back from the Empty, which doesn't make it any easier for Dean to talk to him. Suddenly finding himself in a world without monsters, supernatural forces, or any need for hunters, Dean's solution is to go on a road trip. Claire tags along.

Dean-Claire mirror fic post Despair

what's missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles Words: 27,403

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

canon(?) au (Hunters and Men of Letters)

Dean Winchester's Secret (Angel) Boyfriend by reluctantabandon, Winter_of_our_Discontent Words: 11,191 Chapters: 1

Dean Winchester isn't exactly a team player. So when he starts mentioning a new Hunting partner, Ellen and Jo Harvelle aren't sure whether they should be worried or relieved.

But they're starting to get the feeling there's something important Dean's not telling them about Cas...

Shot Through The Heart by peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim) Words: 11,191 Chapters: 1

Dean is a hunter.

Castiel is a Man of Letters.

And even though they have to work together on a regular basis, there is not much sympathy between them. Castiel thinks Dean too brash and reckless while Dean in return sees nothing more in the other man than a rude asshole with an obsessive love for books and a truly terrible fashion sense.

But fate clearly has a funny way of throwing those two together over and over again.

And somewhere along the way feelings change into something neither of them would have expected.

#destiel #deancas #fic recs

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mspufflehuff · 3 years

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Surprise!

Pairing: Gadreel x Winchester!plus size!reader, mentions of Castiel x Dean

Summary: Gadreel finds you knitting in the bunker while listening to music. He finds out you’re making a blanket for a baby. Who’s baby are you making it for though is the question.

Word Count:

Warnings: Implied smut that happened before time in fanfic, established relationship between Gadreel and reader, some angst, mentions of abortion, mentions of death, some cursing

Masterlist!!

Author’s Note: Spoilers for season 8 of Supernatural!! Proofread by Grammarly (shoutout to grammarly), almost all of these fanfics are things I’ve thought of myself before I go to bed at night. Except the Steve Rogers fanfic, someone gave me that idea for the fanfic. Spoilers!! In this fanfic, Kevin is still alive. Gadreel didn’t kill Kevin. I hope everyone who reads this has a great day!

It was an off day for everyone in the bunker. Most of the time, you had to be researching something going on with your brothers or researching to find the next case. Today was different for everyone. Today, everyone could relax and have a calm day in the bunker. You had cooked breakfast for everyone who was staying in the bunker at the time. Kevin had gotten breakfast and went to his room in the bunker after pulling another all-nighter from researching something.

After everyone had gotten their breakfast, you set on cleaning around the bunker. It needed some cleaning as Sam and Dean wouldn’t do it as they picked researching more than cleaning the bunker, which is now your home. You regularly got on your brother’s asses for how they don’t help you clean. Aside from nagging at them, you always had a sweet angel who wouldn’t mind helping you clean around the bunker even though he could snap and the bunker would be clean. Gadreel. He was always there to lend you a hand if you needed anything at all.

Well, today was different. Gadreel had gone with Castiel to help out the other angels in Heaven. You and Gadreel had been dating for close to a year now. It was coming up on your anniversary with Gadreel, and decided to start on a little project for his present. After cleaning a fair bit of the bunker, you made your way to your shared room with Gadreel. You sat down in a chair in the corner of your shared room, picking up a ball of yarn and knitting needles. You put on your headphones and turned on your favorite band, All Time Low. You played Dear Maria, Count Me In as you started your knitting.

*Time Skip*

It had been a few hours since you started your knitting project, and Gadreel had made it back with Castiel. As Gadreel and Cas told Dean and Sam a little about how everything went, Gadreel noticed you weren’t in the war room. He looked around for you with a confused look, tilting his head like a curious puppy. “She’s in her room.” Sam told Gadreel, not looking up from his book. Gadreel nodded and walked past a cuddling Dean and Castiel to get to your shared room. As he made his way to your shared room, he could hear some soft singing. He walked closer, standing in front of the door to your room. Gadreel could hear the words, “I wanna be your lost boy, your last chance. A better reality, yeah…” He smiled and quietly opened the door to find you sat in the same chair.

You hadn’t noticed Gadreel yet, still working on the knitting project you started hours ago. You were smiling as you sang and kept knitting. Gadreel could tell you were knitting what seemed to be a blanket in a thick pastel yellow yarn. Gadreel got closer, quietly walking up to you. You soon noticed his figure getting closer, smiling brighter at him. You took off your headphones and paused your music. “Hi my angel.” You gave him a happy smile and put your knitting in your lap. “How did everything in Heaven go?” You asked, watching his face. “It went fine. Heaven is doing good since Metatron left and since Hannah is in charge. What are you doing?” He nods towards your blanket you were knitting.

“Oh I’m knitting something! I decided since there are days when I don’t have any cases to go on, I would take up a hobby and learn a new skill. So I chose knitting!” You smiled and picked up your needles, continuing with your knitting. “Who are you making this blanket for?” “A baby.” You replied calmly as you continued to work on the blanket. Gadreel sat on the floor in front of you. “A baby? Who’s baby?” He asked you, confused and with a soft tilt in his head. “That’s a surprise.” You teased and smiled happily.

After you gave him that answer, you wouldn’t answer the rest of the questions he had for you. Since you wouldn’t answer his questions, he went to ask your brothers, Castiel, and maybe Kevin if he knew. He was trying to rack his brain for a person you may know that was having a baby. You and Gadreel had an open and honest relationship and would tell each other everything, from deep dark secrets to something as simple as if either of you were jealous of someone staring at the other person.

Gadreel knew you had a close relationship with your brothers, so maybe you had told Sam or Dean something about this baby. “A baby? Who’s having a baby?” Dean asked Gadreel, sounding as confused as Gadreel. “I do not know. That is why I came to ask you. I thought she may have told you or someone here in the bunker.” Gadreel explained to Dean, after getting nothing from Dean, he was off to ask Sam. Just like Dean, Sam didn’t know anything either. He soon asked Castiel if he knew anything to do with a baby. “I’m sorry, Gadreel. I do not know. I suggest asking Kevin. Y/N has been hanging out with him since she is here in the bunker with Kevin while we are on cases.” Castiel told him, making his way to the shelves to find lore books for a case.

Gadreel walked around the bunker, trying to find Kevin. He seemed to be having trouble finding Kevin as he usually was in his room. Kevin was nowhere to be found at the moment. Gadreel soon heard whispering as he got closer to a door at the end of the hall. He got closer, hearing your voice say something in a hushed tone. He then heard Kevin reply something back in an equally hushed tone. After standing there at the door and listening to you and Kevin converse, the door started to open. Gadreel widened his eyes and flew to your shared room so either you or Kevin wouldn’t see him.

After he flew to your shared room, he stood in front of the bed. He stood there, thinking about what you would be doing in a random room with Kevin. He started having doubts about your relationship and if you were going to leave him for Kevin. He knew he wasn’t perfect like the other angels in Heaven, but he tried so hard to be perfect for you. Of course, you had told him countless times that you didn’t want him to be perfect; you wanted him to be himself. But, now he was worried those were words you were telling him to shut him up. He knew he had to talk with you, scared of your relationship ending soon.

As he turned to walk out of your shared room, you opened the door to your room. “Oh Gadreel!” You jumped a little, not expecting him to be there, and quickly gave a smile. “I didn’t know you were in here.” You noticed his face and dropped your smile instantly. He watched your face turn into worry and concern. “Angel, what’s wrong?” You asked, taking his hands in yours. He sighed and looked down at you. “Y/N, do you want to break up with me?” “What?? Gadreel, where is this question coming from?” You looked at him in shock and blinked a few times at his question. “I heard you and Kevin talking in a random room. I didn’t hear anything said, but I heard you both talking, and it sounded like you both wanted the conversation to be quiet. I understand if you wish to break up with me, Y/N. I only wish you and Kevin the best of luck in your relationship.” He moved past you, starting to walk out of the room. Your mouth was gaped open as you watched him walk out of your room.

You were so confused at his words and soon thought back to your conversation with Kevin. As you thought about your conversation with Kevin, Gadreel had made his way to the war room to tell your brothers and Castiel that he would be leaving the bunker. Gadreel soon walked into the war room, making his way over to Sam, telling him it was a pleasure to work with him and if he ever needs him, to pray for him and he will come at his call. Sam watched Gadreel with confusion but nodded and told him he wishes him the best. Everyone knew you and Gadreel had been dating but wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Gadreel!!” You yelled throughout the bunker, soon running into the war room. You grabbed Gadreel’s hand before he could walk over to Castiel and Dean. You panted lightly, standing there so you could catch your breath. “Gadreel, I’m not breaking up with you. I would never break up with you. Gadreel, you have treated me so kindly since we’ve met and since we got together. I could never leave you for someone else. I always get scared you’ll leave me for someone else as I’m just a plain hunter.” You told Gadreel, tearing welling up in your eyes. Gadreel looked at you and cupped your face, wiping your tears as they fell down your cheeks. “Why would I leave you, Y/N? You’ve treated so well even with you knowing of my history and what I’ve done.” You chuckled softly and kissed Gadreel’s palm. “Gadreel, I was talking with Kevin because he was helping me plan for our first anniversary.” You told Gadreel, holding his hands in yours. “Oh... but why were you two whispering?” You sighed and pulled something out of your pocket. You opened Gadreel’s hand, placing a small strip of pictures in his hand. “Gadreel… I’m pregnant.”

Hey everyone!! I’m sorry this is a cliffhanger. I was thinking of writing out the full fanfic, but I kept thinking and decided to see if you guys wanted a part two to this fanfic. If I get enough requests to make a part 2, I’ll make one and maybe even a little series. If this gets a lot of requests that people like it, Ill make a mini series. I hope you guys like it as much as I do. ❤ -Savannah

#gadreel x plus size reader #gadreel #plus size reader #supernatural #winchester!reader

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rovewritesit · 4 years

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Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 5) John Deacon x Reader Series

GIF: @johndeac

Apologies for the delay! Work has been an absolute shit fest. The big show I’m on got canceled, but we still have to finish the season at some point so oof. Also, my boss is moving to Italy? Pray for my sanity, folks.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety. Angst (oooo!)

Chapter Notes: I've rewritten this chapter so many times that I don't even know what it is anymore. Angst is hard, my dudes! Why can't it all be flirty glances and quick banter?!

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady @theresalexis @uglipotata72829

- - - - - - -

September 1982 - The Music Inn, New York City

“Bri, get a load of all these fucking maracas!”

Brian makes his way over to where Roger is gazing at a massive wall adorned with shaker-filled shelves, dipping his head low to avoid the sea of guitars hanging from the ceiling above his long frame.

Queen was back in New York for their first-ever appearance on Saturday Night Live. Finding time in between the intensive rehearsals during the week had been hard, but Freddie insisted they would make the time for his favorite New Yorkers. When the time was finally found, he, of course, was unavailable, off antiquing at some of Manhattan’s luxury spots but promised to meet up with the group later on.

The Limbs managed to snag the other three men for a trip to the historic Music Inn. Nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, the dingy treasure trove was located a stone’s throw away from the city’s most prominent folk clubs that boasted discovering the talents of Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel.

You were quite confident that your newfound English friends would love it. Every visible space was stuffed or covered with an abundance of musical paraphernalia. So much so that you had been in the store dozens of times without ever finding out what color the walls were. Its layout was always changing to fit the ever-growing amount of items displayed, the familiar specks of dust that sparkled in the sunlight being the only constants.

“Hey, Jeff!” Steve calls out to the eccentric owner. “Where are these from?”

The aging hippie shuffles over. “Mostly South America,” he explains in his usual gravelly drawl. “A customer brought back some new shekeres from West Africa last week that have a nice sound to them.” Jeff motions up the sprawling wall. Roger immediately grabs a few, testing the sounds out against the ones Steve is already playing with - the two of them like kids in a candy store.

Jeff had been a good friend to The Limbs since their early teen years, having let the group spend hours on end attempting to learn every exotic instrument they could get their hands on. Anyone who entered the shop could count on him as a spirit guide of sorts to a wealth of worldly music. And while The Limbs had kept their first album fairly plain in context, they were already itching, particularly Steve, to experiment on the next album. Whenever that would be.

Now that a few more of their singles were moderately successful hits, Columbia Records was focused on milking it for all that it was worth. The execs were currently setting up an extensive American tour of the Mid - West Coast part of the country, all the major cities they hadn’t hit on their first tour.

“Y/N,” Jeff gestures for you to follow him, probably excited to show you a new find seeing as you were always eager and willing to give them a test run. You make your way down the staircase lined with large balalaikas to the musty lower level filled with various sound equipment and electronic instruments.

“What on god’s green earth would you use that for?” you hear Rich’s deep voice implore. He rolls his eyes as Eddie moons over an ornately engraved mandolin.

“It worked for Rod Stewart, didn’t it? That mandolin solo in Maggie May shredded,” he retorts. “Plus, look how pretty she is!”

You watch your feet as you carefully maneuver around the amps and pedals haphazardly strewn around the floor, following Jeff to the back of the room - taking special care to step around John, who is crouched low looking over the wiring of a particularly grody-looking amp.

Upon entering the store, he had taken off on his own right away, immediately entranced by the sprawling selection all about him. But you had caught the worn, far-off look in his eyes when he greeted you with a short wave earlier. You try not to let the lack of attention bother you as you pass him without so much as a glance up. The heartfelt conversation you had the last time they were in town had rooted itself in your memory. Spilling your guts like you did that night wasn't a common occurrence for you- figuring you were already easy enough to read due to the panicked expression often etched onto your face.

Why him? Even your bandmates weren’t privy to the babblings of your intimate thoughts. It couldn’t just be his boyish tooth-gap or the pleasing line of his straight nose. Maybe it was the confusing mix of nerves and comfort you felt whenever in his presence. It was unlike the persistent butterflies you were used to when around attractive humans. Feeling instead like a gentle humming that you somehow sensed everywhere at once.

You’re brought out of your swimming thoughts as Jeff clears his throat loudly to get your attention. You must’ve been staring blankly at the floor for quite a while. He gestures to a bulky item draped in a tarp, as you give him a small apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” you smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes as he attempts to sweep the tarp off in a dramatic reveal, but in reality, it gets stuck. The man scrambles to uncover it, and as soon as it peeks out, you gasp.

“A theremin!”

You gaze at the ordinary-looking wooden cabinet in awe. It must be old, seeing as they were mostly compact now.

“You haven’t had one in ages,” you marvel, locking eyes with Jeff.

“Which means it’s been a while since I’ve heard your ambient screeches plaguing these walls.”

Your finger points to him in protest. “Hey, I was getting better until you sold the last one on me!”

“Well, I didn’t see you making a bid for it,” he playfully shrugs.

“Let’s hear those screeches!” Eddie yells out. Rich claps his hands excitedly beside him. You poke your tongue out at them, but your eyes catch John’s, and you quickly close your mouth. Still crouched, he looks on with mild curiosity wrinkled on his brow. He lightly raises them at you in silent encouragement.

You slowly make your way behind the instrument as Jeff plugs it into the wall. Turning one of the knobs, it hums to life as you check the metal attachments protruding from the wood frame. It really is old. You have no idea how to even begin to calibrate it. Taking a deep breath, you timidly bring your hands up in position.

It lets out a high pitched wail that burns your ears from being so close, and you yank your hands away from the field of current. Eddie and Rich erupt into cheers while John slowly stands, moving a bit closer to see the mechanism properly.

Jeff lightly pushes you back towards it in a gentle coax. This time you slowly bring your curled hand a reasonable distance away from the pitch antenna, keeping your other low on the one for volume. Squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the tone, you slowly move until you find your starting note. It was all about sense memory and your ears to fill the gaps with nothing to physically touch.

Uncurling your fingers, you begin the opening notes of Moonlight in Vermont - the one song you had somewhat taught yourself through hours of painstaking practice. You fumble a bit, eliciting a squeak or two while trying to remember the hand placements that produce the proper notes. While you might “play” many instruments, you were middling at many, master of none. You make it through the first verse before your head starts to pound from your jaw-clenched concentration.

“Fuck the mandolin, let’s get that for the next album!” you hear Rich tell Eddie.

“Ah, yes, you’ve heard Pet Sounds. Now prepare your ears for The Limb’s sophomore attempt, Ghost Sounds,”

Their banter is drowned out as John chimes in. “How on earth did you learn that?” You meet his struck expression and shrug lightly.

“Don’t downplay it, Bun. It’s pretty fucking cool,” Rich assures you. “And her knowing ASL also helps,” he explains to John.

“Sign language?”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s mom is deaf,” Eddie reveals bluntly. You shoot him a look.

“Sorry, hard of hearing,” he holds his hands out in defense.

John is silent for a moment as he mulls the information over, causing a speck of tension in the room.

“Your mother’s never heard you sing?” he asks incredulously as if he can’t possibly imagine it.

You give a small smile. “No, I guess she hasn’t. But I was in the car with her the first time I heard us on the radio. I turned the treble down and the bass all the way up and she bopped along to the beat pretty well.”

Rich chuckles lightly at the story. “She’s always been hoot, hasn’t she?”

You nod gently. “Aptly put. That’s how she describes herself as a matter of fact.”

John shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he takes a look around the room, his cheeks a light pink. You're unsure of why.

“I’m gonna head out for a quick smoke,” you decide, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I know how you hate it.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze before you make your way upstairs, hoping to catch John’s eyes, but he avoids yours yet again.

A pleasing blend of harmonies can be heard as you hit the landing. You peek your head around a large assortment of bongos to find Brian strumming a small acoustic on the other side of the store. Roger, Steve, and Lawrence all crammed around, the four of them singing a rendition of Blues Run the Game.

Your heart warms at the sight, remembering the times when you and the boys would sit around a campfire and croon out the same sad tune. Eddie and Rich will be pissed they missed this. Steve notices your presence and silently ticks his head for you to come join. You hold up your pack of Marlborough’s in response to him before finally slipping out the front, trying your best to not jingle the adorned bells too much.

A cool breeze promptly passes through the knit of your sweater. It’s late September, and New York has begun to really cool off. You pull down the sleeves to cover your hands as you light your cigarette, wincing a bit on the first inhale. It was a leftover habit from your college days- scarcely used, only in social situations, or to get out of awkward ones.

Taking in the familiar street, you can’t help but giggle at the day you were having. To be showing Queen around your old hangout still felt absurd. No matter how genuinely they seemed to like the company of your band, you couldn’t fathom them wanting to spend the day with you all. Weren’t there bigger and better musicians in this city to be hanging out with?

The sound of a lighter flicking to life comes from your left, and you turn. John leans against the faded wall as he takes a drag, his eyes trained on the dirty sidewalk.

“I’m sorry, i- if I offended you with my comment about your mother,” he professes quietly.

Your brows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“We have a friend whose father is deaf. A lovely man. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” He sighs, finally turning to face you. “It’s just that the memory of hearing your voice for the first time isn’t something one can easily shake. I mean that in a way that- it’s just a shame really. For her to not be able to share in it when it’s something so...” he looks as if he’s racking his brain for an appropriate word. “Well, singular.”

You suck in a breath at his words. In all your years, you had never gotten that as a response to your mother’s disability. It was mostly a polite, “Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that.” His honesty and consideration for your feelings knock the present hum of your body up to 100.

You flinch as gentle burning hits your fingers, and you look down at your forgotten cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground before crushing it under your heel. John shifts his weight from side to side, never taking his eyes off of you while he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I write out my lyrics for her so she can read them as poems,” you state simply, smiling up at him. “Sometimes she makes up her own melodies and sings them around the house. It’s not the easiest on the ears, but she’s pretty inventive.” His eyes crinkle as he returns your grin - his first genuine one of the day.

“So she’s heard music before?”

“Oh yeah. She has nerve deafness, which didn’t start till her late twenties. She actually spent a lot of time around here when she was younger. Bitter End and The Gaslight are just a few blocks away.”

He hums lightly as he stares at you- like you’re a puzzle whose pieces are just beginning to fit together.

“Can you teach me something in sign language?”

Once again, your brows shoot up, shocked by his response. You blink a few times, trying to think of what to say. Going with the only thing that pops to mind, you sign out a phrase as he watches your hands intently.

“And what does that mean?”

You smirk, “You are a cheesy cow.”

“I’m sorry?” he laughs out.

You repeat it back slowly while signing along. “You. Are. A. Cheesy. Cow. It’s the first thing my mother taught me how to sign.”

He runs his hand over his jaw as he chuckles. “Rich was right. A hoot she must be.”

“I’m pretty shit, to be honest, and she read lips, so it’s mostly used for snide comments during extended family gatherings.”

You watch as he puts out his cigarette and carefully takes a step closer to you. “I’m assuming your colourful vocabulary extends to those instances as well.”

“Right you are.”

“Freddie will love that,” he snickers. “He always seems to collect vulgarities in other languages wherever we go.”

Your attention is torn away as a sleek black car rolls up to a stop at the curb. It’s out of place in the middle of the street filled with old and worn buildings, which can similarly describe the people who mill about.

“Speak of the Queen herself,” you laugh as a sunglass-clad Freddie steps onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, isn’t this quaint!” he exclaims, peering into the shop window. He straightens as he turns to you, hands-on-hips.

“Deacy. Thumper. Are we fans of freezing our tits off, or shall we go inside?”

You give John a small smile and push yourself off the wall, making your way over to Freddie, who immediately pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The bells against the door ring out as you all enter the shop.

“Ah, Deacy,” Brian pokes his head out from one of the narrow aisles, still in a constant crouch to avoid the instruments above his head. “I was looking for you. Found these adorable teeny guitars I thought might be good to bring back for the kids. What do you think?”

“Kids?” you mumble to yourself as John makes his way over to inspect them.

“Brian has two, and John’s already up to 3. Maybe we should’ve nicknamed him Bunny.” Freddie laughs, nudging your arm. “You know… fucking like rabbits,” he expands due to your lack of chuckling.

He leans into your field of vision as he studies your statue-like expression, eyebrows knit in confusion. His eyes take in your ashen face and your lifeless expression. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. When you lock your eyes with his, you know he understands from the sheer size of how big they become. He straightens up, glancing around quickly as if looking for something to put out a fire.

“Freddie!” Steven dances over, clicking a pair of castanets in his hands. “I wanted to show you thi-”

“So sorry, love, we can’t. Y/N promised to come to a fitting with me, and we’re already late," he announces loudly, pulling you by the arm and out the door before anyone can react.

- - - - - - -

You blankly stare at your reflection in the long mirror. Freddie had instructed his stylist to pull some outfits for you to parade around in as he tried on a bevy of metallic coats.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell the girl staring back at you.

Freddie sashays over, a shag jacket swaying with him as he places his hands on your shoulders, surveying the strappy dress you were currently squeezed into.

“Oh yes, this will do for the after-party,” he instructs.

“I’m not going.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Darling, you already refused the ticket I got you for the show. You’re coming to the party,” he declares, turning away to look at more options.

“This isn’t really me…” you mumble, gesturing to the dress.

He regards you with a small smile. “Exactly. I say this with love, but you need a look, Y/N. Something that makes you feel unstoppable,” he gestures to his body as he twirls towards you. “Don’t you want to shock them?”

You chew your lip as you ponder that sentiment. Dawn usually just shoved you into whatever ensemble she had picked for you - leather jackets, monochromatic sets, tight jumpsuits. She kept hoping you’d find a style you fancied, but you had yet to find anything remotely likable under the lights of the stage.

“To be honest, I just want to be able to feel comfortable out there," you sigh. "But I can’t strut around in flashy outfits or conduct a whole crowd like you do." Huffing as you collapse onto one of the white couches around you. He perches beside you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa.

“Then don’t,” he says simply.

You snort a response as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but have you tried showing them a bit more of yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

He turns to you now, grabbing your attention with his eyes.

“And why not?” he questions.

You gaze down at your hands, which you’re now wringing together in your lap. “What if it’s nothing spectacular?” you whisper out the criticism that you'd drilled into your mind for the past year.

Freddie laughs lightly as he stands. “Let’s not start lying to ourselves, shall we?” He moves in front of you and kneels, now at eye level, making so you can’t look away.

“Sometimes people go to a concert for an escape. A big bloody show with dazzling lights and petite men galavanting around a stage in spandex tights,” he smiles.

“But most of the time they just want to find a piece of themselves in it, don’t they? Commonality. They want to hear you, see you, and feel just a little less alone than we all know we are. I saw just a slice of it at your concert, and it was indeed something spectacular. So take that as you will.”

You’re not one to cry much, but your eyes soften as you take in the icon of a man in front of you. A man loved by millions, who was currently filling in as your personal rock n’ roll fairy godmother.

“You’re a fantastic person, you know that?” you tell him genuinely.

“Yes,” he quips as he gets to his feet. “Now, are we done scurrying around the real problem at hand?”

You sigh as you look away, firmly willing yourself not to break the dam of bottled emotions threatening to spill out. Why couldn't you just feel numb? It would be better than the wave of childish self-pity you found yourself in.

Freddie huffs at your reaction. “Oh, you brat. Sorry to tell you, but you’re an open book, my dear. And not one of those big pompous things Brian reads. A bloody children’s book. One filled with pictures.”

You're sure you’ve now bitten through the entire top layer of your lip as you contemplate how to even begin.

“I’m an idiot,” you shrug to yourself yet again.

“No,” he points a finger at you. “You’re decidedly not. Though I am curious as to how someone who’s as big of a fan as your friends say you are, missed out on that detail.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, I listen to your albums and go to your show, but I guess I didn’t pour over the tabloids or press interviews or anything like that.”

Freddie nods along as he sifts through another rack of jackets, choosing an incredibly tight white leather number.

“I assumed you knew,” he answers while glancing at his reflection. “And I would say Deacy should know better, but he’s not quite himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” you press, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

He turns to you, palms up in explanation. “It’s not that he wouldn’t normally be charmed by your shy presence and occasionally crass mouth… But I’m a bit worried he’s finding comfort in your smiles for the wrong reasons.”

“Huh?”

Sighing heavily as if debating if he should keep skirting around his words, he holds your gaze. “An impending divorce is crippling lonely, even if it is somewhat amicable.”

His mouth is brought into a pout as you suck in a sharp breath.

Divorce. All your previous interactions play through your head from a different angle. Pity sneaks up on you as you remember John’s advice he’d given you. The concept of home is a funny thing. You scoff out loud at how your childlike crush had skewed your interpretation of your relationship with the man.

“I’m usually the one singing his praises,” Freddie muses, breaking you out of your inner monologue of resentment towards yourself. “But he seems more lost than usual at the moment.”

He gently lifts your chin. “I don’t normally meddle in- well, actually I do. Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bunny. Not when the world is soon to be at your feet.”

"I'm fine," you lie, gently brush away his gesture. "I barely even know the guy. I was just shocked to have my silly fascination with him interrupted. Stupid, really."

"Don't do that," he exhales. "Don't put it on yourself. You'd have to be blind to ignore the fact that he's quite taken with you."

"I'm fine," you repeat, making your way into the back to change out of the ridiculous dress that suddenly felt even tighter now.

Shutting the door slowly, you let out a deep breath. It's all good, you tell yourself. Of course you got caught up in the attention of a world-renown musician. Who wouldn't? It's nothing special. As Freddie said, he's not even acting like himself. Although you were indeed in true form- getting caught up by the slightest of interactions. Unconsciously playing them as a loop in your head. You can't help but cringe at your own escalation of the situation.

Squaring your shoulders, you take in the image of yourself in the dress again. Perhaps it was time for you to shock them all.

- - - - - - -

“And so my grandfather goes out to the alley and sees her just wailing on this scrawny man. I mean, really going to town. So he pulls her off him, and the dude’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. And he’s like, “Thanks mate, thought she was gonna kill me there.”

Roger ruffles your hair in response to your poor attempt at a British accent. The group of cast and crew around you chuckle at the gesture.

You had decided that if you were going to be forcibly dragged to this after-party by your bandmates, you would at least aim to make it worthwhile. A debut of your new mentality. One where you weren't just acting the part of a rising rock star, but living it.

Which is why at the moment, you found yourself the center of attention, surrounded by the cast and crew of SNL laughing along to your amusing story. But this was all hinged on you carefully, avoiding the presence of John Deacon at all costs. Which, in reality, wasn't very hard to do- you had yet to see him since arriving an hour ago.

“Oh my god, who was it?!” the young cast member beside you presses. You think her name is Julia, but the sheer amount of people you'd been introduced to was dizzying.

"That's exactly what we asked him when he told us. All he said was that it was some man with big lips who was in a fur coat and looked like he hadn't eaten in a month..."

The cam op across from you gasps, "It was MICK JAGGER? God bless your grandfather, I would've wept if she murdered him."

"So would my mom AND grandmother," you laugh. "Give us each a glass of wine, and it's basically a Mick fan club."

"Who else?" Brian taps your leg, surprisingly urging you to divulge more gossip.

You can't help but smirk as the group leans forward intently.

"Robin Williams?" you tease as their eyebrows all raise.

"Horrible tipper, but he makes up for it by performing dirty puppet shows with the napkins."

"Sounds about right," funnyman Brad Hall confirms, offering you another drink.

You politely decline, determined to keep your wits about you this evening. "I'm gonna go grab some water. Anyone want anything?"

The group shakes their heads, but Lawrence jumps up to join you on your trek to the crowded bar.

"Wouldn't it be insane if this was us one day?" he exclaims as you weave your way through the mass of bodies littering the Capitol Grill.

You smile up at him, "Dream big, buddy."

"Oh, I intend to," he confirms you as you spot Eddie and Rich waving you over from a spot at the bar.

Rich promptly wraps his arm around your shoulders as you join them. He always had a stoic way of letting you know he saw through the cracks in your poorly constructed armor. Taking the role of a caring older brother, more so than your own.

"Have we lost Steve again?" Lawrence asks the group.

Eddie nods across the room. "He's exactly where you think he'd be," he scoffs as you catch a glimpse of Steve, trailing Freddie like a lost puppy.

"Um, excuse me?" a short girl mumbles from behind Eddies' denim-clad shoulder. He turns, glancing down.

"Hiya," he regards her casually, causing her a deep blush to creep across her cheeks. She shoves a napkin and pen at him.

"C-could I get an autograph? Please?"

Eddie smirks at her flustered appearance, making sure to brush her fingers as he grabs the items out of her trembling hand.

"And what beautiful name should I be making this out to?"

She lets out a jarring high pitched giggle as she stumbles over her words. "Oh, uh, Shelley."

"Well, here ya go, Shelley," he hands the napkin back to her, now adorned with his messy scrawl. "Maybe I'll see you later."

She squeaks as she hurries back to her shrieking friends who are huddled conspicuously off to the side.

"Gross," you state. "She's a child. Probably one of the executive's kids."

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Gotta keep em' interested, Bun. As the heartthrob of the group, it's my sworn duty."

"Slow your roll there, Rob Lowe," Rich interjects. "I think Y/N's giving you a run for your money in this dress."

You glance down at the Freddie approved ensemble. It was eye-catching for sure, precisely what you were going for. It's black suede straps crisscrossed strategically against your body, giving peaks of the skin underneath.

"It looks good, Bun," Rich assures you.

“Guys,” you all turn your attention to Steve, who has just joined the circle clumsily. His pupils are blown wide from his current blood alcohol content, and he sways slightly on his heels.

"I- I have something to say," he announces to the group, getting your attention. You all wait patiently as he hesitates, clearing his throat twice before lowering his voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”

You glance around to the other boys whose expressions mirror your own warm smile. You’d all known Steve was gay since high school, not that any of you had talked about it. You had just assumed it was something unspoken. That he’d tell you whenever he was ready or met someone good enough to introduce to you all.

Steve gapes at your expressions. "Where is the shock? I was expecting shock and awe, people!"

"Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m assuming we’ve all known for a while," Rich says gently. You all nod lightly in agreement.

"How?"

"Do you remember the types of girls who used to throw themselves at you? Like Becky Whale? Man, I would’ve killed for Becky Whale to throw something at me. But you never took them up on it," Lawrence elaborates.

Steve smiles around at all of you, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I had a crush on Eddie in high school,” he confesses.

Eddie pumps his fist lightly. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lawrence exclaims. “You just had to boost that ego, didn’t ya? I know pretty boys are great and all, but I’m the one with the big soft cuddles. People love big soft cuddles!”

Rich expands his arms as he brings you all in for a hug.

You kiss Steve gently on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, bud,” you whisper.

"Thank you guys, I just felt like it was time. And now that that's out of the way," Steve grunts as you all untangle yourselves. “I’m gonna go find Freddie. He said he’s taking me out to a club after this!”

He skips away with a grin, back towards Freddie, who catches your eye with a knowing smile and winks. It seems you weren’t the only band member who had found a fairy godmother in Mr. Mercury.

You all lightly laugh affectionately at your friend until Eddie and Lawrence wander off to scope out the food situation. You lean against the bar next to Rich, glancing around at the loud laughter erupting from the outgoing crowd. One person noticeably sticks out. A sullen John Deacon sits at the end of the bar, hunched over what looks like a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like he's in need of a friend," Rich surmises.

You tear your eyes away from the sorry sight to look at him. "They're around here somewhere," you shrug.

He rubs your arms up and down lightly before slinking into the crowd, knowingly leaving you alone.

You sneak a peek over at John. He runs one hand through his curls as the other absentmindedly stirs the straw of his sweating drink. You watch him sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the spirit without so much as a wince.

Hesitantly making your way over to him, you rub your clammy hands over the expensive material of your dress. This is the opposite of avoidance, you scold yourself, silently willing your feet to change direction. But your willpower has seemingly left the building.

You carefully perch yourself on the stool next to his, as not to disturb his brooding. He glances over quickly, doing a double-take when he realizes who it is.

"Oh, hello there," he greets you with a small smile. "I didn't know you had arrived."

You nod your head lightly. "How could you? It seems you set up camp over here."

"Ah, yes," he breathes, straightening his posture. "Wasn't our best tonight, I'm afraid. Not much to celebrate."

You take a sip of your water as you continue to nod silently.

"Actually," he begins, angling his body towards yours, almost slipping off his stool as you notice his apparent intoxication. "I was thinking about that conversation we had. When I met your spritely grandfather."

"Oh?" you question. Keeping your face neutral even though your heart was already buzzing at the fact.

"Yes. Mostly about how naive I was—all that bloody nonsense about finding a home. Do me a favor and never take my advice, will you? You'll end up completely wrecking yours."

This was a bad idea.

"It's just- you draw these lines for yourself in the sand," he drawls, waving his hands about in front of him. "A stupid phrase, really. Where did it even come from?"

"The Bible," you tell him quietly.

He lets out a big sigh, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well, it's gotten it wrong before, hasn't it?"

You simply hum an acknowledgment, too scared to probe for fear of where this was going.

"Anyway, you draw these lines. Moral, physical, promises you make to yourself, things you swear you’d never do, dreams to accomplish," he lists out. "But sand moves about, dunnit? It blows all over the place. Makes a mess. Gets in your sandwich. And those lines blur. Or fade away. And all of a sudden, you've crossed them without even knowing! Broken those promises. Skipped right over those dreams."

He's too far gone in his rant to register the growing panic sweeping across your features.

"You were right. Sometimes you look in the mirror, and it's just a complete stranger staring back at you, isn't it?"

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you stare at the crumbling man before you. He runs his large hands along his face before ducking back into his former position, signaling for the bartender to bring him another drink.

This is precisely why you should've stuck to your original plan. What were you supposed to say to the man who was so obviously hurting from his failed marriage? So much so that it was pouring out of him. You know that if it weren't for the alcohol, he wouldn't be confiding any of this to you.

But there was a reason the boys called you the mom of the group, and it wasn't because you were the only female. You feel a pang of need to comfort him. You gaze at him, not with pity, but an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man and make up your mind.

You clear your throat to answer, brushing away your own warnings about how it would only sink you deeper into your fascination with him.

"I was wrong, actually," you start as he brings his head up to look at you. "And you know what phrase I hate? That people don't change."

He furrows his brow but remains silent as you continue.

"Maybe we're not made up of lines in the sand. Maybe we're the wind?" You try not to cringe at yourself and your poor use of metaphor. "And winds sometimes blow in different directions... but that's okay because it's where life is supposed to take them." Falling silent, you decide to quit while you’re ahead.

You're not ahead. You're not even out of the gate. What the fuck was that?

A slow smile inches onto his face as he holds your stare. "How did you get so wise for someone your age," he teases.

"And what age would that be?"

His mouth opens and closes as he studies your face. "Twenty?"

"Mm, close. Twenty-four."

"Really?" he ponders. "Freddie mentioned you dropped out of university."

"Ah, yes. The university I could only go to after working to afford it," you explain.

He continues to stare, the look in his eyes shifting slightly as he takes you in. A look that matches the color and intensity of uncharted, open water. You need to get out of here.

"Well, that explains your extraordinary use of analogy then."

Dragging your eyes off of his, you glance around at the party you were missing. Gladly missing, unfortunately.

"I should go check on Steve. He's having a bit of a night," you tell him as you stand. "Try not to drown yourself in those," gesturing to the new glass of whiskey in front of him.

"How can I drown myself? I thought I was the wind," he points out with a grin.

Before any more banter can ensue, you simply smile and make your way back to your friends. Thinking to yourself that maybe lines in the sand weren't so bad. And that perhaps it was time for you to start drawing some of your own.

#john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #angelofmydreams

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renaxwrites · 4 years

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Eleven

.08 - No Control

synopsis: the number Eleven had always appeared in milestones of your life. it was a constant, and you didn’t know why. but you would soon find out when you study abroad in japan and meet Him.

pairing: tsukishima x fem!reader

warnings: none!

masterlist: here :)

a/n: it’s been a quick minute! also I’m not entirely sure how taxis and such work in Japan, so for the sake of the story, we’re using uber! no smelly taxis for you ma’am >:) also I picked bops I felt fit with the groups lol don’t fight me on the vibes I got :) also here’s a TikTok that inspired the Suga scene: <3 !

previous || next

I can’t contain this anymore. I’m all yours, I’ve got no control.

“Are you sure this looks okay? I feel a little more breeze than usual...”

“Y/n, it’s fine! You look stunning. And if you don’t believe me, ask Mizuki. MIZUKI-SAN!! We need some confirmation over here!!” Suga bellowed.

You, Suga, and Mizuki were all centered in the main room. Even Akiteru was home for the night. Tonight was the volleyball “get-together” downtown, with not only Karasuno, but with other schools as well.

Everyone was expected to dress a little nicer, since it was a night out in the town. Tsukki and Yamaguchi has already left, getting ready within 10 minutes. He walked out the door as soon as he heard, “I’ll be ready in 2 hours...minimum” come out of your mouth. And you’re glad he did. For now.

Your fashion choice was mutually decided that past weekend between Suga and Yachi, who were both in on your “karaoke confession” plan. Their dress choice for you made you feel like a dream. You had eyebrows fleekd, the lashes on, the eyeliner pointed, the heels strapped, the whole she-bang! However, you were worried about actually going out in it. Right now it looks good in your room, but how does it look outside of it?

“Y/n dear, you look ever-so lovely. And might I say, I’m sure it’ll turn the head of even a more emotionally unaware, six foot tall, blonde player,” Mizuki truthfully reassures.

Wait. WHAT?

Your reaction was like an open book, causing the room to chuckle.

“Yes, y/n, as emotionally constipated as my brother is, it’s a little obvious there’s a little chemistry between you two. And itd be ludicrous if he didn’t see you in that dress like we do. If he doesn’t, I’ll teach him a lesson myself,” Akiteru punches his empty hand.

“Well...if you say so...”

“But before you go, let me take a picture! You all look adorable!” Mizuki exclaimed.

A few minutes of photo-snapping later, you were off! Since the event was farther, the two of you shared an uber for convenience. You were already struggling with breaking in your new heels, there was no way you were going to make it! Thank goodness for Suga’s common sense.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Soon, you arrived in front a low-lighted club, with neon lights accenting it’s features. The only detail setting apart from a real club was that it was being rented out to you, majority minors, so no alcohol would be seen in any of your hands. Not all of you were minors, but none of you were at the country’s drinking age yet.

The bass from the music amplified the atmosphere, which suddenly closed in on you, making you nervous. Suga noticed right away, and was quick to put a rub your shoulder and let you know “everything is fine, don’t worry.”

He leads you to where the main mingling was happening. Immediately, you see players who you recognized, but don’t quite know. You stride up to a group seated on a leather couch, seating Daichi, Hinata, and Yamaguchi. Beside them were a bed-headed individual, a pudding-haired boy talking only to Shoyo, an owl-looking dude, and a very dashing raven-haired boy. Oh, and Tsukishima. Can’t forget him.

“Oy! You guys made it!” Daichi announced. “Now everyone is here! Before we start, let me introduce these guys. This here is Kuroo and Kenma, captain and setter for Nekoma. Bokuto, and Akaashi, captain and setter for Fukurodani.”

Formalities were exchanged, but Tsukishima hasn’t uttered a word yet. He was too occupied with how Suga’s hand was on your back when you first walked in. Why’d you come with him? And that one second of silence before Daichi’s greeting. Within that split moment, he noticed all 8 of the boys on the couch had drank in your appearance. Including himself. How could he help it, when you looked as angelic as the way you did?

Only Kuroo was cheeky enough to comment on it. “Daichi, you never told me you had such cute managers! Hope you don’t mind me transferring to Karasuno,” he said with a wink sent your way.

“Keep flirting like a creep and I’ll sit you on the bench for the whole season if you do transfer,” Daichi half-jokingly replied. Kuroo only cackled in response.

“But you do look very pretty, y/n-san. I almost didn’t recognize you for a second! Very pretty!” Hinata innocently piped up. If Tsukishima was ever thankful for Hinata, it was now, as his comment made you blush.

“Let’s get this started! Captains, up to the front please!” Daichi announced, leading the captains present to the front of the room.

You and Suga replace the spot where Daichi and Bokuto were. It was then that Tsukishima decided to acknowledge your presence. With a shoulder tap.

“So. It took you two hours to pull something together like that? Looks like it only took 20 minutes to me,” was the first thing that he said.

You turn to look at him. Raising a brow, you ask, “Tsukishima. On average it takes me 12 minutes to get ready for school. And on the few months we’ve known each other, have you seen me with makeup on? Or in heels? Didn’t think so sir. So sue me if I want to slap some eyeliner on.”

You cross your arms and turn the other way. In doing so, your dress hiked up your thighs, leaving your legs a little more exposed. The sight causes Tsukishima to blush and distract himself with something else.

“Alright everyone, thank you for joining us tonight! Before we get started, we want to wish all the teams a ‘good luck’ in advance!” Daichi goes on to explain the theme for the night: TikTok. Some people were confused, but most, including yourself, were super hyped for the theme.

The teams drew numbers, picking the order. First was Nekoma, Fukurodani next, followed by Karasuno.

The Nekoma third years started it off strong, dancing and singing shamelessly to Savage from the TikTok challenge. The nerves you were nursing began to dissipate as you watch how much fun the boys were having trying to ‘throw it back’. You were still holding your stomach by the time Kuroo came back to his seat, trying to comfort the aches you had from laughing so hard.

“Enjoy the show, princess?” The captain teased as he tried to keep his own laughter at bay.

You wipe a tear, not wanting to ruin your makeup. “My gosh, who knew the players of Nekoma could thow a volleyball and throw it back? Immaculate performance, a definite ten out of ten from me.”

“There’s more where that came from, if you want. I’m excited to see your attempt, though,” he countered with a wink.

Before you could retaliate, Bokuto thunderously intervened. “Hey! If you thought that was good, just wait for mine. I’ve been told I have more...what was it Akaashi?....No, one those girls said that one time....OH! I’ve got wayyy more ‘cake’ than that bed-head rooster does!” He triumphantly crossed his arms.

“Shut up owl-face! Y/N can be the judge, winner gets bragging rights.” “You’re on flat-ass!”

Nekoma had since finished their turn (in which Kenma conveniently showed up from hiding), giving Bokuto the opportunity to sprint up the karaoke stage. He had a plan set into motion. With a mini emo-episode and several attempts of bribing, the ace-captain was followed by his reluctant teammates.

They all gathered in some formation, leaving you curious. You and your seat mates ponder as to what song they would choose to try and top Nekoma’s third years.

You hear a familiar “Hold on...” burst from the speakers, and you immediately gasp aloud. Those sitting around turn to you. However, Bokuto’s next line in the mic instantly stole the attention of the whole room.

“Did you hear what the fuck I SAID??? SHAKE!! SOME ASSS!!!”

Everyone bursts in hysterics as Bokuto started enthusiastically started twerking to the beat, his teammates following his lead, much to their dismay. However, what finally killed you was when Akaashi stood silently as he began to toss one-dollar bills in his captain’s direction.

Suga handed you some tissues for you to prevent your tears from staining your makeup. Bokuto took his boastful stride back to the couch, taking his seat.

“So? Better than flat-ass over here? Guess volleyball isn’t the only thing I’m better at, Kuroo.”

The two captains await your answer, to which you silently pull out a few dollar bills.

“Kuroo, I do believe you gave your best shake, but Bokuto is the taker. Please sir, take this token and buy yourself a drink, as the winner with the best cake,” you bow your head, trying to stifle your laughter.

Bokuto finalizes your decision with a boastful “Hey Hey Heyyy!”, and goes to buy the group some water with your generous donation.

“Alright, so who from Karasuno wants to go first?” Ah, the question you secretly dreaded.

Suga gives you a look. You return a look to him, silently praying that you don’t want to go first. But Suga being Suga volunteered you both, hastily dragging you along. As the two of you ready yourselves on the mics, a conversation sparked up back where you once sat.

“Thanks for the water, Bokuto-san, I have a feeling I’m going to need it in a minute,” the Nekoma captain stated in a nonchalant tone.

“Huh? Why?” Everyone else inquires, suddenly curious. He simply leans back. Arms behind his head, eyes on you. “She’s kinda cute, dont’cha think?”

Tsukishima follows his gaze, then proceeds to glare back at his friend. Kuroo notices, then feigns innocence. “What? She’s pretty, can’t blame a guy for noticing...why? You have your eye on her too or something, Tsukishima-kun?”

The blonde then breaks his stare, scowling. “Or something.”

The expression Tsukki wore when watching you told Kuroo otherwise.

Back onstage, you silently pray that Suga’s mystery song choice was a decent one. You trusted the man, but then again, some choices of his were questionable.

“Okay y/n, you ready? And don’t say no because we’re doing it no matter what you say!” he flashes you a blinding smile. You just nod in response and try not to sweat.

The song begin, and everyone instantly is hit with the familiar sound. You turn to Suga and lightly slap his arm playfully. “You really picked this one? I haven’t heard this in so long!” To which he responds, “Can’t blame me!” You couldn’t come up with a response before he began to sing his heart out, releasing all he needed to say within the words of the song.

“Can’t count the years on one hand that we’ve been together...I need the other one to hold you, make you feel, make you feel better...”

The sound was sucked out of the room, with Suga being the only one to fulfill it. You were so mesmerized by his voice you found yourself swaying to the music, your body having a mind of its own.

“I should be over all the butterflies, but I’m into you, I’m into you. And baby even on our worst nights, I’m into you...”

Before your part arose, he picks up your hand and spins you around in time with the melody. This was enough to bring you to your senses. Suga gives your fingers a squeeze as you began your part.

“Recount the night that I first met your mother, and on the drive back to my house I told you that, told you that I loved ya...”

The way the stage lights presented you had your friends captivated. There was something different about you as you sang your lullaby. The movement of your hips was captivating to a certain boy you once linked pinkies with. The reflection of your dress in tune with your movements left him breathless. Tsukishima swore thw way you looked into his eyes while mustering out “I’m still into you...” was for him. Even if it was a figment of his imagination, he was fine with just pretending for a mere moment.

You attack Suga with a hug after finishing Paramore’s famous song, flustered at the amount of applause you both faced. hand-in-hand, the two of you retreated back to your rightful seat, and were once again bombarded with praise.

“Y/N!! SUGA-SAN!! That was amazing!!” “The way you two harmonized...immaculate” “I didn’t know you were so good!”

“Thanks, it wasn’t much,” you play with your hair, still slightly embarrassed. You looked up into a pair of golden eyes, waiting for the only opinion you cared about tonight.

Tsukishima returns your stare, quickly glances at your clasped hands with Suga, then reverts his gaze just as quickly. “Well you didn’t mess up so...good job.”

You roll your eyes so hard you felt the tips of your false lashes touch your brows. “Thanks, Tsukishima.” You’re go of Suga’s hand and plop down to to your seat with a huff.

“Y/n-chan, don’t worry about him. Pretty sure that’s his way of saying he loved your voice. I know I did,” Kuroo reassures, patting on your head.

You failed to notice the way Tsukki’s cheeks tinted with pink as he threw a hard glare at his friend. What you did see was Suga headed outside with none other than Daichi. Alone.

You send him a tex expecting details later, not expecting him to reply anytime soon.

You’re thrown out of your curious train of thought when Nishinoya and Tanaka began to rave to “Hot wings” from the Rio movie. The underrated bop served them well, as everyone migrated to the dance floor to rejoice to their song of choice.

Silently bobbing in your seat, you’re granted an offer. “Want to join me?” The hand outstretched belonging to Kuroo, of course.

With consent, he pulls you up and starts guiding you to the middle, a hand on your back.

You look back sweetly at Tsukishima. “You coming?”

In the .5 seconds of coming up with a response, the blonde rapidly weighed out his decisions. Ultimately, he shook his head, keeping on the same deadpan expression as before.

It was obvious you tried not to look deflated as you plater a smile on your face. “Okay then! I’ll be over here!”

He watched you walk away. He watched you dance as if it was your last night on earth. He watched the way your dress hugged your figure, magnifying your endless dips and curves of your body as you moved to the atmosphere. He watched the way you glowed under the endless rainbow of stage lights, bestowing you with an alluring aura.

The way he watched you so intently sent his thoughts spiraling. He found his brain in a dilemma with his heart, which was thumping wildly in his chest.

Tsukishima decided it was best to escape his own confrontation. He exchanged some words with Yamaguchi, then strides out the door.

Not before he took a last look at you.

Practically drenched in a layer of sweat, you lug yourself off to the side and catch a breath. “I’m going to go get some water!” You shout to your friend in order to be heard over the music.

You check the time on your phone, then look to the couch you once sat on.

It was Eleven’o clock. And Tsukishima was gone.

Powerless, and I don’t care it’s obvious. I just can’t get enough of you.

Tag list: @jiminslonglostjams @fantasymirror @shewastheriot @lukes-princess @iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire @its-bnha-babe @desi-studys @shootooooo @noya-senpai-imagines @animefan7420 @anpancari @tsukkx @cadabby @thoebe-fly @it-was-just-a-ship @imconfusedanditsok @alexa360b34st @delicious-peaches-blog @shinguchi @creammy0 @fandoms-on-main @smellybananaz @keikink @tsukiak4ri @skyguy-peach @chicalmeida @obsessedwhxre @anhphunnnn @200th-piece-of-glass @sana-li

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! imagines #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagine #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishimaimagine #haikyuu imagines #eleven #rena imagines

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suvroc · 4 years

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Ok well crap I went and did it. An attempt to compile the songs mentioned throughout the fic and in the comments of @omgmussimm ‘s Good Omens fic Tabula Rasa.

Abandon all hope -- song titles and some choice lyrics under the cut.

1. Hozier’s Shrike “I couldn't utter my love when it counted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird, 'bout it now” <yes the whole song>

2. Orville Peck's Hope To Die “Take me back to the time I was yours and you were mine Take me back, the words I'd say I had to whisper Because you liked it that way”

3. Elle Fitgerald's 'The Nearness of You' "It's not the pale moon that excites me That thrills and delights me, oh no It's just the nearness of you"

4. Big Thief - Mary More a mood than the actual lyrics. The voice. I don't usually listen to female singers because they affect me too much? It actually was the first song in this playlist that made me cry. "What did you tell me Mary When you were there so sweet and very Full of field and stars You carried all of time Oh and, heavens, when you looked at me” - “But now you're out of sight And you'll kiss me like you used to in the January night” - “The sugar rush The constant hush The pushing of the water gush”

5. boygenius - Bite the Hand “I can't touch you, I wouldn't if I could I can't love you how you want me to”

6. Dorothy Moore - Misty Blue - 1976 "Oh honey, just the mention of your name (just your name) Turns the flicker to a flame Listen to me good, baby I think of the things we used to do And my whole world turns misty blue (misty blue)” - “Ooh baby, I should forget you Heaven knows I tried (heaven knows I tried) Baby, when I say that I'm glad we're through Deep in my heart I know I've lied”

7. Ella Fitzgerald - Angel Eyes “Angel eyes, that old Devil sent They glow unbearably bright Need I say that my love's misspent Misspent with angel eyes tonight”

..... Damn I'm not going to get through this am I?

8. Billie Holiday - I'm a Fool to Want You “I'm a fool to hold you Such a fool to hold you To seek a kiss not mine alone To share a kiss the Devil has known”

9. Under the Gun by The Killers “Because heaven sends and heaven takes Crashing cars in his brain Keep him tied up to a dream And only she can set him free And then he says to me ...kill me now kill me now kill me now kill me Stupid on the streets of London James Dean in the rain Without her it's not the same The same, the same, but it's alright”

10. Haley Heynderickx - The Bug Collector “And there's a praying mantis Prancing on your bathtub And you swear it's a priest From a past life out to getcha And I digress 'Cause I must make you the perfect evening I try my best To put the priest inside a jam jar”

Fucking love the imagery of this

11. Homebody - Nai Palm "You don't have to bury all of the memories Hold on love" FUCKING WATCH THE VIDEO!!!!!! ! !!

quote from the comments we must...’ramble or explode’

12. (All of a sudden) My Heart Sings - Duke Ellington / Joya Sherrill- 1945 dAMN IT... “Your little laugh and handsome cries The star light gleaming in your eyes Remembering all those little things All of a sudden my heart sings”

13. #726 Glen Hansard - My Little Ruin (Session Acoustique)

“Come on, my little sorrow Won't you sing yourself a different song The melody that made you Is now a worn out sing along Every body's looking at you But I can't stand to watch I've seen this scene come and go too much” <YES THE WHOLE SONG...shit... cried the second time you are better than they are> CRAP

14. It's Happening Again - Agnes Obel “I took a day or two To exile from the light To unfold that prisoner They call a mind And for a brief moment We could stop the time But with the stars and the moon I woke up in the night”

15. "Unchained Melody"

“Time goes by so slowly And time can do so much Are you still mine? I need your love I need your love God speed your love to me”

16. (not in the comments but this one struck me for chapter 22) The Boy Done Wrong Again - Belle and Sebastian “On Saturday I was an angel shining fair You shone louder, longer You put my shine to shame Put me to shame now Put me to shame What is it I must do to pay for all my crimes? What is it I must do? I would do it all the time.”

17. Landslide by Fleetwood Mac - 3x - 1975

“Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?”

(... How long is it going to take YOU to get over Tabula RAsa?)

18. Sibylle Baier - Forget About

SOOOOOOft “You made me forget about Have, want and exert And all of a sudden, I found out Oh, it's beautiful, the way you wear your shirt”

19. I Lost Something in the Hills “Oh, I yearn” 😭

20. Phoebe Bridgers - Garden Song

21. Kishi Bashi - Manchester “The very last breath of the hero of our tale Would you only to guess Did he truly prevail In the the sequel? I guess I'll have to write a sequel

My favorite part's when I die In your arms like a movie It's tragic, but now the story has its proper end” - oh you guys sobbing

“Oh hello, Will you be mine? I haven't felt this alive in a long time”

XOXOXOXOXOX

(P.S. - there are two bonus tracks -.-)

#good omens #fic rec #playlist #long post

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bestylist · 3 years

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magicandman · 5 years

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The history of Helloween Halloween- is a annual holiday celebrated each year on October It originated with the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, when people would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts. In the eighth century, Pope Gregory III designated November 1 as a time to honor all saints; soon, All Saints Day incorporated some of the traditions of Samhain. The evening before was known as All Hallows Eve, and later Halloween. Over time, Halloween evolved into a day of activities like trick-or-treating, carving jack-o-lanterns, festive gatherings, donning costumes and eating sweet treats. Ancient Origins of Halloween Halloween’s origins date back to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced sow-in). The Celts, who lived 2,000 years ago in the area that is now Ireland, the United Kingdom and northern France, celebrated their new year on November 1. This day marked the end of summer and the harvest and the beginning of the dark, cold winter, a time of year that was often associated with human death. Celts believed that on the night before the new year, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred. On the night of October 31 they celebrated Samhain, when it was believed that the ghosts of the dead returned to earth. In addition to causing trouble and damaging crops, Celts thought that the presence of the otherworldly spirits made it easier for the Druids, or Celtic priests, to make predictions about the future. For a people entirely dependent on the volatile natural world, these prophecies were an important source of comfort and direction during the long, dark winter. To commemorate the event, Druids built huge sacred bonfires, where the people gathered to burn crops and animals as sacrifices to the Celtic deities. During the celebration, the Celts wore costumes, typically consisting of animal heads and skins, and attempted to tell each other’s fortunes. When the celebration was over, they re-lit their hearth fires, which they had extinguished earlier that evening, from the sacred bonfire to help protect them during the coming winter. Did you know? One quarter of all the candy sold annually in the U.S. is purchased for Halloween. By 43 A.D., the Roman Empire had conquered the majority of Celtic territory. In the course of the four hundred years that they ruled the Celtic lands, two festivals of Roman origin were combined with the traditional Celtic celebration of Samhain. The first was Feralia, a day in late October when the Romans traditionally commemorated the passing of the dead. The second was a day to honor Pomona, the Roman goddess of fruit and trees. The symbol of Pomona is the apple, and the incorporation of this celebration into Samhain probably explains the tradition of “bobbing” for apples that is practiced today on Halloween. All Saints Day On May 13, 609 A.D., Pope Boniface IV dedicated the Pantheon in Rome in honor of all Christian martyrs, and the Catholic feast of All Martyrs Day was established in the Western church. Pope Gregory III later expanded the festival to include all saints as well as all martyrs, and moved the observance from May 13 to November 1. By the 9th century the influence of Christianity had spread into Celtic lands, where it gradually blended with and supplanted the older Celtic rites. In 1000 A.D., the church would make November 2 All Souls’ Day, a day to honor the dead. It’s widely believed today that the church was attempting to replace the Celtic festival of the dead with a related church-sanctioned holiday. All Souls Day was celebrated similarly to Samhain, with big bonfires, parades, and dressing up in costumes as saints, angels and devils. The All Saints Day celebration was also called All-hallows or All-hallowmas (from Middle English Alholowmessemeaning All Saints’ Day) and the night before it, the traditional night of Samhain in the Celtic religion, began to be called All-Hallows Eve and, eventually, Halloween. Halloween Comes to America Celebration of Halloween was extremely limited in colonial New England because of the rigid Protestant belief systems there. Halloween was much more common in Maryland and the southern colonies. As the beliefs and customs of different European ethnic groups as well as the American Indians meshed, a distinctly American version of Halloween began to emerge. The first celebrations included “play parties,” public events held to celebrate the harvest, where neighbors would share stories of the dead, tell each other’s fortunes, dance and sing. Colonial Halloween festivities also featured the telling of ghost stories and mischief-making of all kinds. By the middle of the nineteenth century, annual autumn festivities were common, but Halloween was not yet celebrated everywhere in the country. In the second half of the nineteenth century, America was flooded with new immigrants. These new immigrants, especially the millions of Irish fleeing the Irish Potato Famine, helped to popularize the celebration of Halloween nationally. Trick-or-Treat Borrowing from Irish and English traditions, Americans began to dress up in costumes and go house to house asking for food or money, a practice that eventually became today’s “trick-or-treat” tradition. Young women believed that on Halloween they could divine the name or appearance of their future husband by doing tricks with yarn, apple parings or mirrors. In the late 1800s, there was a move in America to mold Halloween into a holiday more about community and neighborly get-togethers than about ghosts, pranks and witchcraft. At the turn of the century, Halloween parties for both children and adults became the most common way to celebrate the day. Parties focused on games, foods of the season and festive costumes. Parents were encouraged by newspapers and community leaders to take anything “frightening” or “grotesque” out of Halloween celebrations. Because of these efforts, Halloween lost most of its superstitious and religious overtones by the beginning of the twentieth century Halloween Parties By the 1920s and 1930s, Halloween had become a secular, but community-centered holiday, with parades and town-wide Halloween parties as the featured entertainment. Despite the best efforts of many schools and communities, vandalism began to plague some celebrations in many communities during this time. By the 1950s, town leaders had successfully limited vandalism and Halloween had evolved into a holiday directed mainly at the young. Due to the high numbers of young children during the fifties baby boom, parties moved from town civic centers into the classroom or home, where they could be more easily accommodated. Between 1920 and 1950, the centuries-old practice of trick-or-treating was also revived. Trick-or-treating was a relatively inexpensive way for an entire community to share the Halloween celebration. In theory, families could also prevent tricks being played on them by providing the neighborhood children with small treats. Thus, a new American tradition was born, and it has continued to grow. Today, Americans spend an estimated $6 billion annually on Halloween, making it the country’s second largest commercial holiday after Christmas. Soul Cakes The American Halloween tradition of “trick-or-treating” probably dates back to the early All Souls’ Day parades in England. During the festivities, poor citizens would beg for food and families would give them pastries called “soul cakes” in return for their promise to pray for the family’s dead relatives. The distribution of soul cakes was encouraged by the church as a way to replace the ancient practice of leaving food and wine for roaming spirits. The practice, which was referred to as “going a-souling” was eventually taken up by children who would visit the houses in their neighborhood and be given ale, food and money. The tradition of dressing in costume for Halloween has both European and Celtic roots. Hundreds of years ago, winter was an uncertain and frightening time. Food supplies often ran low and, for the many people afraid of the dark, the short days of winter were full of constant worry. On Halloween, when it was believed that ghosts came back to the earthly world, people thought that they would encounter ghosts if they left their homes. To avoid being recognized by these ghosts, people would wear masks when they left their homes after dark so that the ghosts would mistake them for fellow spirits. On Halloween, to keep ghosts away from their houses, people would place bowls of food outside their homes to appease the ghosts and prevent them from attempting to enter. Black Cats Halloween has always been a holiday filled with mystery, magic and superstition. It began as a Celtic end-of-summer festival during which people felt especially close to deceased relatives and friends. For these friendly spirits, they set places at the dinner table, left treats on doorsteps and along the side of the road and lit candles to help loved ones find their way back to the spirit world. Today’s Halloween ghosts are often depicted as more fearsome and malevolent, and our customs and superstitions are scarier too. We avoid crossing paths with black cats, afraid that they might bring us bad luck. This idea has its roots in the Middle Ages, when many people believed that witches avoided detection by turning themselves into black cats. We try not to walk under ladders for the same reason. This superstition may have come from the ancient Egyptians, who believed that triangles were sacred (it also may have something to do with the fact that walking under a leaning ladder tends to be fairly unsafe). And around Halloween, especially, we try to avoid breaking mirrors, stepping on cracks in the road or spilling salt. Halloween Matchmaking But what about the Halloween traditions and beliefs that today’s trick-or-treaters have forgotten all about? Many of these obsolete rituals focused on the future instead of the past and the living instead of the dead. In particular, many had to do with helping young women identify their future husbands and reassuring them that they would someday—with luck, by next Halloween—be married. In 18th-century Ireland, a matchmaking cook might bury a ring in her mashed potatoes on Halloween night, hoping to bring true love to the diner who found it. In Scotland, fortune-tellers recommended that an eligible young woman name a hazelnut for each of her suitors and then toss the nuts into the fireplace. The nut that burned to ashes rather than popping or exploding, the story went, represented the girl’s future husband. (In some versions of this legend, the opposite was true: The nut that burned away symbolized a love that would not last.) Another tale had it that if a young woman ate a sugary concoction made out of walnuts, hazelnuts and nutmeg before bed on Halloween night she would dream about her future husband. Young women tossed apple-peels over their shoulders, hoping that the peels would fall on the floor in the shape of their future husbands’ initials; tried to learn about their futures by peering at egg yolks floating in a bowl of water; and stood in front of mirrors in darkened rooms, holding candles and looking over their shoulders for their husbands’ faces. Other rituals were more competitive. At some Halloween parties, the first guest to find a burr on a chestnut-hunt would be the first to marry; at others, the first successful apple-bobber would be the first down the aisle. Of course, whether we’re asking for romantic advice or trying to avoid seven years of bad luck, each one of these Halloween superstitions relies on the goodwill of the very same “spirits” whose presence the early Celts felt so keenly.

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mrlnsfrt · 3 years

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The Cure for Spiritual Lethargy

(This is not a Christmas post, though it also applies to Christmas)

It is December and all around me I hear Christmas songs and see Christmas decorations. This is the time we usually talk about God’s great gift, the gift of Sis Son! This post is about God’s great gift, but more specifically this post will focus on our response to God’s gift. When we think of the birth of baby Jesus, of His eternal humiliation to live and die in this sinful world, do we stop to think about what our proper response should be? I do, I often think about this. In my post Reflecting on my life - 2020 (and also Who I am) I mention how I grew up as a believer. This means I do not remember learning about Jesus, I always knew. So Christmas and calvary are stories that I have known from my earliest memories. This presents a unique challenge for me because how do I react to a story that I already know? Maybe some of you are on a similar boat. You know the story, so this extraordinary story, one that has the power to transform lives, becomes rather ordinary due to familiarity. I can’t change the story, I shouldn’t. So how do I keep it fresh in my heart? How should I react to God’s desire to be with me? (I have several posts on God with us)

In this post, I would like to outline some things we can do to keep our relationship with God from growing stale.

Blow the trumpet in Zion, And sound an alarm in My holy mountain! Let all the inhabitants of the land tremble; For the day of the Lord is coming, For it is at hand: - Joel 2:1 NKJV

There are so many different things related to Jesus coming. How are we supposed to feel?

“Now, therefore,” says the Lord, “Turn to Me with all your heart, With fasting, with weeping, and with mourning.” So rend your heart, and not your garments; Return to the Lord your God, For He is gracious and merciful, Slow to anger, and of great kindness; And He relents from doing harm. - Joel 2:12-13 NKJV

One of the things we are called to do is to turn to God with our whole hearts. This cannot be done outwardly only. Cold formalism and religiosity spell spiritual death. Never trust your dress and behavior, those can be shaped by outside pressures. What is the state of your heart? Do you long for Jesus? Of is Jesus just a cultural artifact in your social and personal life?

Can I be completely honest with you? This next part concerns me. This next part troubles me, personally.

Blow the trumpet in Zion, Consecrate a fast, Call a sacred assembly; Gather the people, Sanctify the congregation, Assemble the elders, Gather the children and nursing babes; Let the bridegroom go out from his chamber, And the bride from her dressing room. - Joel 2:15-16 NKJV

As you probably know, I am a pastor, a spiritual leader. Yet I have no idea how to sanctify the congregation. I can blow a trumpet, I can call for a fast, if it wasn’t for COVID I could even try to gather the people and assemble the elders. But here is the thing. How often are we willing to do this? When was the last time you tried fasting and praying? When was the last time you were concerned with your standing before God? I am not talking about your good works or obedience. I am talking about your love for God. Do you really love Him? If you do, how often are you concerned about His mission for your life? How often are you concerned about showing your love for Him through all that you do? Do we come together as a church, as a family, and seek God? Is that how I sanctify the congregation? Do I encourage and invite everyone to humble themselves and seek God?

If you keep reading, Joel 2 is not all doom and gloom.

“So I will restore to you the years that the swarming [k]locust has eaten, The crawling locust, The consuming locust, And the chewing locust, My great army which I sent among you. You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, And praise the name of the Lord your God, Who has dealt wondrously with you; And My people shall never be put to shame. Then you shall know that I am in the midst of Israel: I am the Lord your God And there is no other. My people shall never be put to shame. - Joel 2:25-27 NKJV

God ultimately promises restoration. Ultimately God provides for His people. My concern here is not with God. My main concern is with me being asleep in my relationship with God, and not even realize that my love for Him is growing colder each day as I simply go through the motions. My understanding of Joel is that there was a great need for spiritual reformation before the people would be ready for the day of the Lord.

I believe we need faithful men and women, who are sensitive and obedient to the promptings of the Holy Spirit and the teachings of the Bible, and will proclaim this warning to the world. God gave us prophecy in the Bible for a reason.

And so we have the prophetic word confirmed, which you do well to heed as a light that shines in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts; knowing this first, that no prophecy of Scripture is of any private interpretation, for prophecy never came by the will of man, but holy men of God spoke as they were moved by the Holy Spirit. - 2 Peter 2:19-21 NKJV

Do we seek the knowledge of God more than all hidden treasures? Do we count it “better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold?” (Proverbs 3:14) God is willing to reveal to us the great things of the kingdom.

The secret of the Lord is with those who fear Him, And He will show them His covenant. - Psalm 25:14 NKJV

So, are we are seeking God, at all?

The Birth of Jesus

Think of the Christmas story. At the time of Christ's first advent the priests and scribes of Jerusalem, who had access to all the prophecies, might have recognized the signs of the times and proclaimed the coming of the Messiah. The prophecy of Micah designated His birthplace (Micah 5:2); Daniel specified the time of His advent (Daniel 9:25).

God committed these prophecies to the Jewish leaders; they were without excuse if they did not know and declare to the people that the Messiah's coming was at hand. Their ignorance was the result of sinful neglect. - The Great Controversy 313

Today, we have the Bible available to us. We all have access to the word of God. Yet how much time do we dedicate to its study?

Could Christians become so absorbed in their ambitious strife for place and power that we lose sight of the divine honors given us by God? Do we get so caught up chasing after worldly things that we forget our responsibility of sharing the gospel and helping those in need?

Imagine this with me.

People have been waiting for the Messiah since Adam and Eve were kicked out of the garden (someOne is coming). The elders of Israel should have been studying the prophecies concerning Jesus. With profound and reverent interest they should have been studying the place, the time, the circumstances, of the greatest event in the world's history—the coming of the Son of God to accomplish the redemption of humanity. All the people should have been watching and waiting that they might be among the first to welcome the world's Redeemer.

“But, lo, at Bethlehem two weary travelers from the hills of Nazareth traverse the whole length of the narrow street to the eastern extremity of the town, vainly seeking a place of rest and shelter for the night. No doors are open to receive them. In a wretched hovel prepared for cattle, they at last find refuge, and there the Saviour of the world is born.” The Great Constorversy p313

Imagine, God is born among us, and we miss it.

The majority of the people were distracted. The religious leaders were seeking earthly power and honor and missed the most anticipated event in the history of the world (up to that point). This season, as we think about the birth of Jesus, this ought to be a sobering thought. The majority of people missed the birth of Jesus.

Imagine the angels with me.

Imagine heavenly angels who had seen the glory which Jesus shared with the Father before the world was. Now imagine these same angels looking forward with intense interest to His appearing on earth as an event filled with the greatest joy to all people. Imagine the angels who were appointed to carry the glad tidings to those who were prepared to receive it and who would joyfully make it known to the inhabitants of the earth.

This is unbelievable! But Christ had stooped to take upon Himself human nature; He was to bear the infinite weight of misery as He would make His soul an offering for sin (Isaiah 53:10). Nevertheless, the angels desire that even in His humiliation the Son of God might appear before men with dignity and glory befitting His character. Would the great men of earth assemble at Jerusalem to greet His coming? Would legions of angels present Him to the expectant company?

Imagine, all of heaven excited about the birth of Jesus, meanwhile here on earth, virtually nobody, is anticipating this incredible event. Everyone is just going through the motions…

Imagine the angel, disappointed, about to return to heaven and report that no one was available to receive the good news. Then at last the angel discovers a group of shepherds who are watching their flocks by night, and, as they gaze into the starry heavens, they are contemplating the prophecy of a Messiah to come to earth and longing for the advent of the world's Redeemer. Finally! Here is a company that is prepared to receive the heavenly message! And suddenly the angel of the Lord appears, declaring the good tidings of great joy. Celestial glory floods all the plain, an innumerable company of angels is revealed, and as if the joy were too great for one messenger to bring from heaven, a multitude of voices break forth in the anthem which all the nations of the saved shall one day sing: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” (Luke 2:14)

“Oh, what a lesson is this wonderful story of Bethlehem! How it rebukes our unbelief, our pride and self-sufficiency. How it warns us to beware, lest by our criminal indifference we also fail to discern the signs of the times, and therefore know not the day of our visitation.” - The Great Controversy 315

But if you’re familiar with the story you know that those shepherds were not the only ones that the angels found watching for the birth of the Messiah. In a distant land, there were also those that looked for Him; they were wise men, rich and noble, the philosophers of the East. As students of the natural world, the Magi had seen God in His handiwork. They then studied the Hebrew Scriptures and learned of the Star to arise out of Jacob, and with eager desire they awaited His coming, who should be not only the “Consolation of Israel,” but a “Light to lighten the Gentiles,” and “for salvation unto the ends of the earth.” Luke 2:25, 32; Acts 13:47.

What does this story tell you about God? These men were not Jews, yet, they sought light, they sought God, and light from the throne of God illumined the path for their feet. What a tragedy that the priests and rabbis of Jerusalem, the appointed guardians and expounders of the truth, were shrouded in darkness. And how wonderful that the Heaven-sent star guided these Gentile strangers to the birthplace of the newborn King.

Jesus came not just for the Jews, not just for the middle-east, He came to save all.

When Jesus was born as a baby, the Jewish religious leaders should have been the first to lift their voices and proclaim the birth of Jesus, the first to warn the people to prepare for His coming. “But they were at ease, dreaming of peace and safety, while the people were asleep in their sins.”(Great Controversy 315)

Jesus described His church like the barren fig tree, covered with pretentious leaves, yet destitute of precious fruit. There was a boastful observance of the forms of religion, while the spirit of true humility, penitence, and faith—which alone could render the service acceptable to God—was lacking. Instead of the fruit of the Spirit the church was full of pride, formalism, vainglory, selfishness, and even oppression.

Israel, at the time of the birth of Jesus, was like a backsliding church who closed their eyes to the signs of the times. God did not forsake them, His faithfulness did not fail them; but they were the ones who departed from Him, and separated themselves from His love. As they refused to comply with the conditions, His promises were not fulfilled to them.

This is what happens whenever we neglect to appreciate and improve the light and privileges which God bestows. Unless we follow on in His opening providence, accepting every ray of light, performing every duty which may be revealed, religion will inevitably degenerate into the observance of forms, and the spirit of vital godliness will disappear. This truth has been repeatedly illustrated in the history of the church. God requires of His people works of faith and obedience corresponding to the blessings and privileges bestowed. Obedience requires a sacrifice and involves a cross; and this is why so many of the professed followers of Christ refused to receive the light from heaven, and, like the Jews of old, knew not the time of their visitation. Luke 19:44. Because of their pride and unbelief the Lord passed them by and revealed His truth to those who, like the shepherds of Bethlehem and the Eastern Magi, had given heed to all the light they had received. (The Great Controversy 316)

Now as He drew near, He saw the city and wept over it, saying, “If you had known, even you, especially in this your day, the things that make for your peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. For days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment around you, surround you and close you in on every side, and level you, and your children within you, to the ground; and they will not leave in you one stone upon another, because you did not know the time of your visitation.” - Luke 19:41-44 NKJV

#Christmas #second coming

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beyond-the-mirror · 5 years

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Music of the night (V x reader)

Good god, how I struggled writing the final part of this chapter. 😖 But finally it is done so that’s what matters!

Now introducing two new characters! Let’s see how this story unfolds.

...........

Chapter 2: Secrets and Surprises

“Nice job everyone. You are dismissed.”

Dance practice was over, only a couple of minutes before 12 o’clock. Quickly grabbing all your stuff, you raced to the storeroom where he would be waiting.

Not a single soul could be spotted in the hallway near the room, everyone enjoying their short break before continuing with their daily activities. What will you find once you opened the door you didn’t know, all you hoped was for this “phantom” to be trustworthy after all.

You entered the room, the only thing illuminating it was a single lightbulb that was on. The first thing you noticed was a small table with an unopened water bottle and a red rose on the table, but no sign of the mysterious man.

“Hello? I’m here like you requested.”

There were a few moments of silence before the voice spoke out.

“Welcome, my angel of music. If you are ready, shall we begin with our lessons?”

“I am. Let’s just get this over with before my next rehearsal.” Firm words left your lips. You didn’t like being rude, but you had to keep your guard up as this phantom was a total mystery to you, who knew what were his true intentions towards you.

You could hear his smirk in his voice “Such fierceness, indeed. Now then, how about we start by warming up your voice?”

After doing a few warming up exercises, you were instructed by the phantom to sing an aria called “Must the winter come so soon?“ from the opera “Vanessa”, an unusual song for beginners but one that luckily you knew by heart. Right when your performance ended, you heard his voice.

“Not bad at all. Now, I must do something before we continue, but I need your complete trust for what I am going to do.”

You cocked your head to the side in confusion. “Huh? What do you mean-? Ah!”

A silken piece of fabric covered your eyes from behind, obscuring your vision and plunging you in darkness. You were about to reach for the fabric to tear it off you when you heard someone coo at you.

“Hush my sweet nightingale. It is only me. I am utterly sorry for causing you such distress, but it is important for my identity to stay hidden for the time being. Would you please grant me this request?”

Your heart felt that it was going to burst at any moment, but the reassuring words of the phantom calmed it down. You were still wary of him though, but if he really wanted to hurt you, then why hadn’t he done so already?

You gulped audibly, but you still nodded your answer, praying that this decision wouldn’t bring you any misfortune.

Hands skillfully tied the fabric behind your head before resting on your shoulders. “Thank you for trusting me, I promise you I mean no harm. Once again, I’m so sorry for scaring you like this.”

He stepped back and waited for a few minutes while you calmed down, giving you all the space you needed as to not overwhelming you.

“Are you feeling better?”

You nodded.

“May we proceed then?”

Again, you nodded.

You heard his steps coming closer to you. “Your singing voice is really good. However, I do notice that you are tense when you are singing, which causes you to breathe incorrectly and your voice to lack richness to it. It is important to relax and breathe correctly, otherwise you will only injure yourself at long term.”

Another step closer, enough for you to notice his scent. He seemed to be wearing cologne, a soft earthy aroma that reminded you of a forest after a rainy day.

“First you must make sure to take deep breaths, that way your diaphragm will contract allowing your lungs to fill up.”

A quiet pause.

Suddenly, you felt the tip of a finger lightly grazing your torso right bellow your lungs, making your breath hitch. “Would you allow me to touch you? If you don’t want to, I understand. I don’t want to hurt you in anyway.”

You were a bit nervous, but you still nodded.

He pressed his fingers gently over where your diaphragm was located. “Focus right here. Take deep breaths and feel its contractions, once you get used to breathe this way, singing shall be a lot easier for you and your vocal chords.”

His fingers retreated, and then you started doing what he instructed you, you even placed your hand over the same spot to help you focus. Then, you started singing the first verses of the aria.

The difference was considerably greater! Your voice was much fuller and you didn’t feel like running out of air at all.

After your short demonstration, the phantom clapped. “Much better now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah! I-It definitely made it so much easier! …Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome my angel. You can take your blindfold off by the way.”

By the time you pulled your blindfold off, the phantom was already gone, back to shadows were he would hide, but his voice remained.

“Would you forgive me for my previous rude behavior?”

That was the third time he apologized for scaring you, maybe he wasn’t so bad after all?

“… Alright, you are forgiven. Just don’t make it a habit though.” You huffed out a small laugh.

The phantom chuckled. Maybe this wouldn’t be a bad idea after all.

...........

As months passed, you could notice how you were improving thanks to the guidance of the phantom. At first you didn’t trust him, but now you actually felt guilty for having misjudged him at the start. During your lessons with him (you always blindfolded of course), he would instruct you gently but firmly, not to mention that when you managed to exceed his expectations, he would praise you, inevitably making you blush every time. At the end, you ended up warming up to him, each day you would look forward to the end of your dance rehearsal.

However, you couldn’t help but also notice that there was something more to him. There was something about the phantom that was kind of… familiar? You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but you tried to shake it off. You could ask him more about himself, but considering his secrecy, he probably wouldn’t answer you at all.

Still, you were curious about who he was. But you were afraid that no matter what you did, it would remain a mystery for an indefinite amount of time.

...........

“What?! BROADWAY?!”

“Yes! I got a call from a producer. THEY WANT TO GIVE ME A PART IN THEIR PLAY!”

Nico and you rushed and pulled Kyrie in the warmest group hug you could possibly give. Earlier on that day she had invited you both to a restaurant for dinner, stating that she had some important news to share with you both. She even invited her boyfriend Nero, who you had met months ago when he arrived at the opera house to visit Kyrie after a rehearsal, and even though you didn’t encounter him that many times, he quickly became a very trusting friend.

What you didn’t expect that evening on the restaurant was for Kyrie to announce that she was contacted by an important producer from Broadway after he witnessed her performance at the opera house. This producer in particular was looking for a new voice to perform as Glinda in the musical Wicked, and considered Kyrie to be a perfect candidate for the role.

“Oh my god! I’m so happy for you!” You cheered and hugged her tightly “This is an amazing opportunity after all.”

“I still can’t believe it. It actually feels like a dream.” Kyrie smiled timidly.

“Not a dream at all.” Nero assured her before playfully pinching her arm, which caused Kyrie to giggle “See? Everything that’s happening is real. You are very skilled and hard-working, you deserve this more than anything else.”

His words made her blush profusely, she was indeed a wonderful singer and an even better person. Not only you were happy about her recent accomplishment, you were also glad that she had a very supporting boyfriend like Nero by her side.

“Seems we have a rising Broadway star right here!” Nico pulled Kyrie for a side hug before continuing. “You know, I can start looking for some apartments in New York for you to stay if you want to.”

“Thanks Nico but you it’s not necessary. In fact that’s the other thing we wanted to announce.”

We?

“Yeah the thing is I found a comfortable place there, not too expensive also.” Nero continued, however a deep blush appeared on his face and he struggled a bit with his next words. “And the best part is that it’s perfect for two so... I decided that um…”

Kyrie rested her palm over his hand, her thumb stroking it in a comforting way. After a few moments of silence, she finished for him.

“Nero asked me to move there with him.”

Your eyes widened in surprise while Nico let out a long whistle. “Well, well, aren’t you a sneaky little lovebird?” She poked at Nero’s arm, making the latter advert his eyes and scratch the tip of his nose like he would usually do when he was nervous. Of course, soon enough they started bickering at each other, with Nico continuously teasing him and riling him up. Kyrie and you both laughed at their antics, yet you noticed a nostalgic gleam in her eyes.

“You know? Even though I’m excited for this, I can’t help but feel sad. Working here was an amazing experience, and everyone is pretty much a family to me…” Kyrie lifted her head and looked at Nico and me, tears already appearing in the corners of her eyes. “I’m really gonna miss you all.”

Pulling Kyrie into another group hug, she let herself cry, Nero immediately kissing the top of her head and wiping away all of her tears. After she calmed down, the rest of the night continued with normalcy, with the constant bickering of Nero and Nico of course.

...........

“Alright everyone! Gather around! I have important news to share with you all.”

Monsieur Lefevre called all members of the staff onto the stage during one of the breaks between rehearsals. After making sure no one was missing, he continued “As you already know, our dearest Kyrie will be leaving our company in a couple of weeks. She will now be performing at Broadway for the next season of the musical Wicked. Needless to say, we are very proud of you Kyrie and we all wish you the best in this new adventure of yours.”

Everyone around clapped and congratulated her, some even had started planning a farewell party for her at the opera house. After the noise quieted down, Lefevre continued with his words. “Due to miss Kyrie’s future departure, we were required to find another soprano to take her place. I have discussed this with Madame Trish, and I do believe we were able to find an ideal candidate. Now I would like to take this moment to introduce to our new soprano.”

An unknown woman, who everyone assumed was the newest member of the opera house, walked into stage. The woman was rather beautiful and stoic, an aura of pride and vanity surrounding her figure. She was dressed in a much fancy dress, her make up and hairdo expertly done. Overall, the woman looked like an imposing and flamboyant character with a strong personality.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Please meet our new lead soprano: Signora Carlotta Giudicelli.”

...........

We were now introduced to Nero! Our good boi is here being a supportive boyfriend, but now our friend Kyrie will leave the opera house 😭. Don’t be sad though, she will be back in later chapters! This is the first time I write him, so any feedback would be very appreciated. 🙏🏼

There’s also Carlotta Giudicelli, but I’m afraid her presence will cause a bit of trouble for the reader and especially the phantom. What will happen? 😱 Stay tuned!

#phantom of the opera #au #devil may cry #dmc v #v x reader #v x you #fanfiction #fanfic #self-insert #romance

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

Text

*in the middle of a case*

Wise Old Informant™: And based on all that evidence, I think we're dealing with a cult.

Dean: Awesome. But like on a scale of the Paris Hilton fandom to the Thules, where does it score?

Sam: Somewhere in the middle. So probably Illuminati level?

Dean: well except for the demonic science nerds with money pouring out their asscracks and Latin triangles tattooed on their dicks, right? Because that's really not my thing. *looks at Cas for reaction but there are none. Shrugs and laughs himself*

Sam: you're so far from correct, it is really not funny.

Dean: shut up I'm hilarious. You're just being bitchy because you fanboy for the Langdons of this World and cults *laughs, and looks at Cas for a reaction but gets none*

Sam: *bitchface*

Cas: *unaffected* So, do you have any descriptions of their rituals?

Dean: yeah, do you? Are they the sacrificing llamas type? Dancing around bonfires for tentacled aliens? Community orgies? *laughs again, and even Sam has to grin but Cas doesn't bat an eye*

Wise Old Informant™: No, they pray like we do. Different deities though, and way weirder than the ones we pray to.

Dean: are you sure? Because like Cas here is a cousin of Jesus Christ and a bunch of other evil dicks, and they're all sons of the creator, this home-alone called Chuck, who sings suckily in the shower and watches cat videos, but go off I guess

*now, Dean laughs with Sam but not Cas, and the Wise Old Informant™ looks at them worriedly*

Wise Old Informant™: I'm sorta religious, so just not going to react. So yeah, there's a hierarchy. The beginners stand. There's prostrating at the feet of statues. And then there's sitting.

Sam: yes. The most powerful position is on your knees.

Dean: ...that's what she said

Wise Old Informant™: *laughs*

Sam: *annoyedly laughs*

Dean: *proud of himself but Cas is as stoic as ever, so he finally loses it* Dude. what is wrong with you? You're not on a strike! You're allowed to laugh!

Cas: I would, if I, uh, felt the need to.

Dean: *irritated* what, like, angels can deactivate their sense of humor? And well, I think I'm on a roll here! This is comedy gold! Do you think I'm not funny, huh?

Cas: *polite* maybe we don't share the same sense of humor, Dean. If you want -

Dean: I don't need your pity laughs *mentally* challenge accepted.

*Dean decides that it's now a matter of his honor, and he'll make Cas laugh, come what may*

*while dealing with the Lucifer situation*

Sam: he's possessing some musician now ughhh

Dean: what some of us do for fame...

Dean: *sees Cas listening and takes it a step ahead* I mean, he's basically a Mean Girl now. He craves attention and would possess the President for drama™

Sam: *snicker*

Dean: I mean, think about it! He could just start driving a pink convertible and become friggin' Regina George next

Sam: *bursts out laughing*

*Dean looks at Cas to see if he laughed, but its like he doesn't even bother to react. Not even a smile*

Dean: ...you can do better Winchester

*In the middle of a vampire hunt*

Dean: *slicing some SOB's head off* Phew! Its basically routine now!

Cas: *admiring* you're very good at it, yes

Dean: *decides to seize the moment* they're just pretty bad at what they do. I mean sure, you sparkle just fine. But you don't need to shine out your ass for eternity to suck blood, just wear some headgear so that knifes don't slice through

Cas: *zoning out*

Dean: *desperate* heh I mean the only reason Twilight has all these movies is because it was those embassies against some more dumbasses. Throw in a hunter, and it would've been over before Pattinson could've cried out for the wolf with abs, Jake or whatever

Cas:

Dean: *mentally* its gonna take more efforts, but you'll get there

*Gabriel is flirting with a random woman*

Dean: *sees an opportunity and charges* for a guy his age, Gabriel sure seems to get laid a lot

Cas: yes *smiles* he has had a lot of practise

Dean: yeah that, and he has all these great lines, being an angel and everything

Cas: like?

Dean: *excited that it might work* oh come on Cas, what's the use of being an angel if you don't use the pick-up lines it brings?

Cas: I see.

Dean: *sees Cas sobering up and tries harder* you know like, the whole array of heaven related ones? "Heaven's missing an angel, I now see why"?

Cas: *serious* why, Dean?

Dean: no, its just a line, don't take it seriously

Cas: okay

Dean: *desperacito* There's more too! Like, like, "Are you my vessel? 'Cause I would love to get inside you!" *waits for reaction*

Cas:

Dean: it was funny, you ass

Cas: but how would that work like I'm a -

Dean: gODDAMMIT C A S!

*TFW sees a girl wearing a trenchcoat, crossing the street*

Dean: *mentally* I'm gonna Carpe the Fucking Diem out of this

Dean: LOOK Cas! She's wearing your trench - no, not yours, I mean, one just like it - but hey, guess what that means?

Cas: what?

Dean: you're finally in season

Cas:

Dean: get it? You're like a trendsetter? Your fashion is finally in style?? Get it????

Cas: ...yes?

Dean: *desperacito x 1234500016351903611* REACT TO IT THEN

Cas: OH! I completely forgot! I was supposed to laugh, wasn't I? Sam told me to look for cues when you spoke, but its much harder to know when to laugh when you speak than you think -

Dean: I swear to god Cas I'm goNNA -

Dean: and Sam, we need to have a fucking talk!? I'M HILARIOUS!! I DON'T NEED PITY LAUGHS

Sam: ...Sam thinks you do, Dean

*Many gruesome years later when all except Dean have forgotten about the challenge*

Sam: *teaching mode* and now you enter the name

Jack: I get to choose the name?

Sam: uh, go nuts *walks away*

Jack: *typing keenly* A - G - E - N - T B - I - E - B - E - R

Dean: *peeks* seriously kid?

Dean: *struck by a fabulous idea* HEY CAS! Remember the time you and Crowley used those fake-ass aliases when you went hunting behind our backs?

Cas: not really

Dean: *helpless, but too far gone to be brought back* You don't remember??? The Agent Beyonce and Z?

Cas: *grins* oh that. Yes, those were his idea

Dean: *spurred on* he was always an idiot. Seriously a miracle you 2 weren't caught that time! Close save!

Cas: I suppose

Dean: *dying because the moment is so close to falling flat, and jumping to the punchline* I mean, heh, if we'd not showed up, you would've moved on to the next city as Agent Kardashian and West *hopeful for a reaction, as he bats his eyes at Cas*

Cas: *polite* no we were not stupid

Dean:

Cas:

Dean:

Cas:

Dean: *sigh*

Cas: oH WAIT -

Dean: don't say it don't fucking say it. I give up okay? I'm done. I'm so done. I give up. I GIVE UP!

Cas: I'm sorry Dean, I'll laugh -

Dean: nO - I'VE G I V E N U P

BONUS

Jack: ...what's happening?

Sam: Sam keeps forgetting how new you are until moments like these happen

EPILOGUE

*Sam, Cas and Dean are reading up on archangel lore*

Cas: *to Sam* ...and that is how he uses all 6 wings to his advantage.

Sam: that information could really be useful when we take him on. All you know about archangels is really gonna be helpful Cas, I should write it down. Speak slower

Sam: I can't take all of it at once.

Dean: *tries to resist but can't* THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID *Cas is stoic as ever and Sam bitchfaces him*

Sam: grow up jerk

Dean: bitch *does the armpit cart thing to demonstrate just how grown up he is*

Cas, suddenly: *snickers*

Dean: did you just -

Cas: I - I mean, I just - *begins to chuckle as he replays it in his head*

Dean:

Cas: *rolling on the floor, full fledged laughing*

Dean:

Dean: I've been...its been...y E a r s...I mean - this is what makes you laugh...I mean...

Cas: *unable to breathe from the laughing, red in the face*

Dean: ...fArTS, CAS!?

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amwritingmeta · 5 years

Text

JiB10

So, last year, for various reasons, I didn’t actually put down my experience of JiB, but are y’all ready to hear all about this year’s experiences and adventures?

Well, in condensed form. I mean, what is this - LiveJournal? (okay yeah kinda is but no not going into excruciating detail here just the best bits) (the choice cuts, as it were) (watch me go full butcher) (it’ll be entertaining I swear) :P

So, firstly, I’m a panel rat. I fucking love those panels. All the panels. It’s mainly why I get the Angel Pass, because the seats are so good and I’m all about them good seats, yeah?

I have friends who spend a whole lot of time in line for ops or for autos and I just… can’t… do that. Not when there’s talking happening and answering of questions and just that room being MAGIC, because the entire con feels so inclusive and filled with open-minded like-minded human beings who share in our love of this glorious show.

I started a JiB Log, but figured I’d get too distracted to actually update it regularly, because that’s what last year was like. When you’re not in a panel you’re either walking to grab something quick to eat (have to commend the little smoothie place at the airport, because they did good sandwiches and really good coffee at a reasonable price) or you’re heading to the hotel bar to get absolutely plast-… No, actually didn’t do that this year, so correction: or you’re heading to the hotel bar to see who’s there and catch up with people who have been to their ops and are still shaking with excitement.

(you can also comment on the wonderful imagination of strangers in the ladies’ room when you see them shaking with excitement and are dressed up in bridal gowns) (okay there was one lovely dressed up as a bride so maybe plural is the wrong way to go but the sentiment holds true) (JiBers - you are so fucking awesome and I LOVE YOU ALL)

Okay, so wanna know the most basic things I’ve learned about how to JiB? I mean… if you don’t, then stop reading, I guess, because imma tell ya. #fairwarning

Bring Snacks (you won’t regret it)

Bring Alcohol (you won’t regret it)

Good Footwear (you won’t regret it)

Clothes For Every Occasion (you may regret it if you overpack) (don’t overpack) (Google “packing tutorial by Jensen Ackles”) (worth it)

Choose Wisely (just general solid advice) (I mean, get your priorities straight) (panel rat or up close and personal kitty cat) (or both) (sidenote: I take it choosing to be both is quite stressful) (make sure that your stress sensors are up and that you don’t overdo it) (switching between rat and cat is bound to be internally messy) (okay that actually came out as not haha solid but actual solid advice so yeah) (be prepared that doing both is difficult!) (and having lots of ops and wanting to do all autos means probably missing a whole lot of panels for standing in line and waiting) (even the solo panels with the main players or - and I will question your sanity - the joint panels that close the weekend) (well not the very final panel) (nobody missed the J2M panel because all ops and autos had closed by then) (but yes prioritise wisely)

Be Open (because, no matter what, you are bound to meet someone you click with at this event) (most people) (actually every stranger I gave a throwaway comment to) (were so chill and happy to have a brief chat or share a moment with me) (so even if you’re traveling by yourself you are bound to feel embraced) *jazz hands rome magic*

Pinches of Salt (take everything you see and hear with healthy pinches of salt) (I briefly forgot about this on Monday morning and oh boy I could’ve saved myself a world of stupidity if I’d only remembered it yeah?)

MNC (get your sweet ass to the Monday Night Concert because both my years of JiBing it has been mind-blowing) (this year was better than last year honestly) (which I did not think could happen) (they are the bee’s bees and the bear’s bear) *throws all the love at them*

When it comes to impressions and memories made this particular trip, I feel like the whole week has been one long run of blessings. Sincerely, it’s been - oh what’s the word again? --> MAGIC.

I’m not going to go through all the boring personal moments of Holy Fuck *jazz hands rome magic* but I will just say that I think I stepped out of passport control with the widest smile, and it barely left my face for the entire weekend. The panels were wonderful this year. I’m still on a high. No, seriously. It’s almost a week later and I haven’t been hit by the JiB blues yet, and perhaps I won’t this year.

*prays I land a pass for next year* *GAH* *the nail-biting begins*

Confession time? (…when in Rome)

Confession 1 — I have such a crush on Rob. I mean, I’ve had it for years, but time to make it official, I guess. He just seems like the sweetest, loveliest human being and watching him sing is like… watching the stars light in the sky. He is such an amazing singer and performer. He made me cry. He sang Fare Thee Well and he made me cry at the Monday Night Concert.

*no I was NOT drunk* *though damn that G&T was strong* *oh btw the drinks in Rome are amazing and worth the money because extra alcoholic* *like damnnnnn* *just as an aside* *but also bring your own bourboun* *winks at @waywardliliana* *sup gurl?* *winks again* *winks some more* *can’t stop now* *licks lips* *yeah I know* *uncomfortable?* *licks lipssss againnnnn* *okay stopping now* *….or am I…….?*

Confession 2 — The panel-watching truly is a huge amount of fun. This year there were a lot of things said that made me want to jump up and down in my seat, because it gives me a lot of hope for season fifteen and Jensen provided most of it on the Saturday, and then Jared was pretty much agreeing with Jensen’s assessments of how the brothers’ journeys should end on the Sunday, and I was like GAH! *happy* And then Misha throws in his belief that there needs to be a sacrifice and tragedy and we all went NO! Also his fear that this family of ours will disperse and we all went NOOO! :) Anyway, these are all stated observations, but the confession is this:

As much as I love spending time in a space that is occupied by some of my favourite human beings on this planet (oh but they are), what makes JiB so truly, deeply, personally special is meeting up with friends who otherwise live too far away to see on the regular. All of us convening in this one place to share in this one great love is like electricity through your veins. It’s like… well, it’s like going to a place of worship, and I think you know what I mean. When you’re in a room with a group of peope who’s energy jives with yours, then your energies align, and resonate, and then — MAGIC.

It’s magical. It’s fucking magical. *jazz hands*

Shoutout to everyone I managed to see this year who have not yet been lip-licked at in this post (or real life), whether it was much too brief (so many of you were much too brief) or whether we spent quality time, seeing you all really made the trip sparkle:

@captainhaterade - who made such a fantastic and impromptu seat mate - thank you, Emily, for having me next to you for most of the weekend! :D

@eriquin - Meghan, it was so lovely to meet you and I’m thrilled you and Emily both enjoyed your first con, very happy I got to be a part of it! :)

@trickster-angel - my dear Chiara, it took us a few tries, but we finally got to sit down in the Corner (if you get to go next year then I think this may be where we’re all just convene from now on) (*suggestion*) *nobody puts us in a corner except us!* :P So good to meet you!

@inacatastrophicmind - Mara! We met much, much too briefly, but I’m so, so glad we did! See you around tumblr, my friend, and hopefully at JiB11! :)

@misskittyspuffy - aw man, Aurelie, we kept missing each other and I really wanted to sit down and have a proper lunch or dinner, but at least you and--

@assbuttboyfriends - hey, Claire, my dear, at least you and Aurelie aren’t that far away, right? Come visit me in London, I tell ya! :D Otherwise, proper plan-making for next year. xx

@bold-sartorial-statement - a brief hello was still a good hello! Hope you enjoyed the con! xx

@jenmdixon - it was good to say hello to you, my dear, and really hope you enjoyed the con (and didn’t die under those lights because it got HOT) (no wonder the actors are fan-addicts) :) xx

@purgatory-jar - Elena, it was, as ever, fantastic to see you and I’m stoked I got to have a proper lunch with you this time around. You have always been and will always be one of my absolute favourite artists in this fandom and, by extension, anywhere. Already a star, girl!

Shoutout to @northern-sparrow - I was sorry that I missed you at the bar, but there’s always next year. Hope you enjoyed the con and thanks for asking The Perfect Question. :D xx

Finally, @godshipsit -- Alessia, my friend, you are this calm, welcoming, very dear part of Rome and JiB for me (last year you supported me so much just by being there) and you are simply brilliant! *all the prettiest flowers at your door*

And to my two felines who are tumblring, but not very often: Laura and Steph, you wonderfuls! Thanks for all the laughs!!

*I now proceed to throw love at you all*

Confession 3 — I have a Favourite Moose. Nope, it’s not who you think it is. (girl, I almost put the hashtag on here but in the current climate) (I think I’d just better not) (especially since I wanna tag you) (hey, Moose!) (hey @natmoose!) (yes you!) (Nat-Blue!) :) #theconversationalists

Now, the highlights from this years con are too numerous for me to write them all down, really, but here’s a taster:

Ricky Whittle (the man is a genius comedian)

Rob talking about how his fandom experience has changed since he, for the first time, is seeing comments like “I hate your face” (the way he says “I hate your face”) (*giggle*) (also it’s such a question of tone because most of those “I hate your face”s are probably said with loads of love) (because Chuck going ultimate big bad toxic masculinity representative is fucking BRILLIANT) *love to hate his face*

Matt telling the airplane story

Alex reenacting different parts of the airplane story

Alex choosing Jasmine from Aladdin to put a spin on and making the twist that he’ll rob the wishes from Aladdin like -->

Alex: *sings* I can show you the world *interrupts* I’m just like yo, just give me these wishes. Don’t mess with me. How about this? I’ll show myself the world, okay?

I really, really very much like Alexander Calvert, okay?

Briana being distracted by herself on the stage monitor (she’s gorgeous and she knows it and is also open about how it costs her a lot of money and time and effort and how that’s not for everyone and real beauty runs so much deeper) (which is why she is the most gorgeous woman)

Jared telling us all to shut up during his Sunday morning solo panel (and basically all of his time on stage, but especially this half an hour of stage time, because my GOD he was in such a good mood)

Misha

Jensen going off on a minor rant about Game of Thrones S08E05 because yesssss

Jared doing that jump-and-a-skip at his panel with Misha

Jared’s panel with Misha

Jensen telling Misha he loves him and them hugging, only for Jensen to turn it into a joke and pretty effectively demonstrating how this is how they interact and they don’t mean anything by taking the piss out of each other because yesssss

sincerely, all the solo panels (especially Jensen’s, because he’s so sincere and open and honest about how seriously he takes his work and it’s gorgeous and inspiring and always has been and always will be and)

I mean, Jensen lying flat on his back on that stage and Misha saying You Sexy Bitch is very, very, very… overt. I side-eye. But with a whole lot of appreciation for the balls on those two. I’d venture that they know exactly what they’re doing, and I’ll forever wonder what the percentage is between performative and spur-of-the-moment. Sometimes I think you can tell, but… oh, they know what we like. Usually. :)

Jared bringing the dirty. I just love his filthy mind.

All of their filthy minds tbh.

Singing Carry On My Wayward Son in the hallway after the final panel is just… one of the best parts, and this year they all came out and high fived and gave hugs and… it was special

The Monday Night Concert surpassed last year’s and went on for nearly two hours and was deeply moving for many reasons and I wish to the good Heavens (…okay you know what I mean) that Jensen and Briana will record Shallow because I think their version beat the original (damn Briana’s voice is just… damn!) (and I can’t talk about Jensen singing please don’t make me talk about it) (…) (thank you)

Also Richard Speight Jr because Richard Speight Jr!!

Also just Jason Manns because Jason Manns!!

And The Four Cheese!!

See, there’s just tOO MuCH STuFF

And now it’s over and I’m still hopped up on the adrenaline and the happiness and Jensen talking about spreading happiness (I believe it was either during the opening panel with he and Jared on the Saturday or his solo panel later that afternoon) made me feel light as a feather, because he’s right. A healthy dose of real happiness builds you up from the inside out and makes you believe you’re worth it. All of it, yeah? And that, whatever comes your way, you can handle it. Oh, it can be a struggle, but if you only dare to be open, then good things, my peeps.

Good things do happen.

I hope to see you next year!!

#JiB10 #my stuff #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #misha collins #alexander calvert #briana buckmaster #rob benedict #richard speight jr #jason manns #ricky whittle #jibcon #rome magic #<3

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