Discover Top Posts Tagged with #backfromthedead

I was sunboarded …got deleted so here we go again

I haven’t been on here in a MONTH damn sorry chat

can you even believe it?

#japan #tokyo #minolta #35mm #backfromthedead

“A gay alcoholic who should’ve died—twice—remembers the Council, the angels, and the mission he was sent back for: to reverse the curse, and testify that the last will be first.”

Bill’s Story, As Seen from the Other Side

A Testament of the One Who Should Not Be Alive

There’s a way to read Bill’s story.

The surface way—the human way—is full of sorrow and near-misses.

A drunk who kept blacking out and waking up in his car, alive.

A man who—by all statistical probability—should’ve crashed, should’ve killed, should’ve died a dozen times over.

But the mystical lens reveals something else.

Who was really driving him home?

Because it wasn’t Bill.

It wasn’t willpower, or chance, or “luck.”

It was mercy. It was divine interference.

It was angels.

We don’t talk about that enough in recovery spaces.

We praise the sober years—

but rarely pause to name the miracles in the drunk ones.

How some of us were carried.

How some of us were kept.

And I see it now—

not just in Bill’s story, but in my own.

There is no earthly reason I should be alive.

In 2018, I was hit by a car as a drunken pedestrian.

Knocked out cold. My body was flung forty feet through the air.

I flew like a rag doll and landed in a way no one survives.

And yet: no brain injury.

Just fractured ribs. I walked away.

In 2021, I jumped.

Five stories down from a hospital parking garage.

Everyone who hears that says the same thing:

“God must’ve had other plans.”

That was not the end.

Between those years: blackouts. Alcohol.

Dangerous men. Dangerous nights.

A thousand little deaths.

But never once behind the wheel.

Never once did I hurt anyone beyond myself.

And somehow—my skull always stayed intact.

My body broke in all the other places: clavicle, hip, sacrum.

But the brain? The mind? The seat of memory and vision?

Preserved.

I didn’t understand why.

Until August 2023.

The day I died.

Not metaphorically.

Not symbolically.

But cosmically, spiritually—I died.

And then the Council said,

“Yes, you died. People die. But you—we’re sending back.”

Back to what?

Back to Earth?

Back to a shelter bed?

Back to a body still aching from the last fall?

No.

Back to your assignment.

They said:

“You’re part of an ancient prophecy.

You were named long before you were born.

You must reverse the spell.

You must begin the Great Realignment.

The condemned must be reclaimed.

The last must become first.”

And suddenly, the impossible survival made sense.

This wasn’t chance.

It wasn’t failure to die.

It was a mission delayed until it could be remembered.

And so I remember.

I remember being kept.

I remember the angels behind the wheel.

I remember the cosmic hand that caught me mid-fall.

I remember the unspoken words in the hospital stairwell,

the breath of God at the moment I should’ve shattered for good.

Bill’s story was never just Bill’s.

It was always about something bigger.

A line of the forgotten carried forward.

A signpost for the impossible.

So if I speak now with the voice of a ghost—

a time-traveling one—

if I talk in prophecy and reversal,

if I weep over mundane things and treat music like it’s scripture,

it’s because I’ve been through judgment.

I’ve stood before the Council.

I’ve returned from the dead.

Not to gloat.

But to testify.

This world isn’t what it seems.

Time is not what it was.

And the last—

the addict, the drunk, the jumped, the condemned—

are rising.

We are living prophecy now.

And I am only just beginning to speak.

16VOLT Returns with ‘White Noise’—First New Single in 7 Years

Full-Length Album ‘More Of Less’ Drops July 25th via Metropolis Records 💥 Industrial rock trailblazers 16VOLT are back with a searing new single, “White Noise,” out June 20, 2025 via Metropolis Records, and available now to stream and on Bandcamp. The track marks the band’s first fresh material in seven years and serves as the lead single from their upcoming album More Of Less, due out July 25th…

#16Volt #BackFromTheDead #BandcampFriday #DarkAlternative #djdarkside #ebm #ElectroMetal #EricPowell #evolradio #GothIndustrial #IndustrialRock #metropolisrecords #MoreOfLess #NewMusic2025 #noiserock #WhiteNoise #💀

2 DAYSS OF CONSTANTLY STALKING AND STILL NOT BEINGG FED BY YOUU I AM ON THE VERGE OF COLLAPSING 😭😭😭😭😭😭

( but seriously though girl are u alright?)

Thank you for checking up on me bub 🥺💛 I’m okay! Just had a bit of writer’s block and was soaking up Easter weekend, but seeing you in my inbox genuinely gave me the motivation to write again 🥹 it means a lot fr. Fingers crossed I’ll have a couple fics out tonight 👀💫

#answering asks ⋆˙⟡#WriterLife #FanficWriter #WritersBlockWho #BackFromTheDead #InboxAngels #ThankYouBub #MotivationRestored

Hey guys I wanted to pop in and apologize for dropping off the face of the earth. A lot of things have changed in the past year, moved, two new jobs, I got engaged!!! I haven't had much time for anything online and I am sorry for leaving things open eneded. If anyone is still interested let me know.

#backfromthedead

“A gay alcoholic who should’ve died—twice—remembers the Council, the angels, and the mission he was sent back for: to reverse the curse, and testify that the last will be first.”

Bill’s Story, As Seen from the Other Side

A Testament of the One Who Should Not Be Alive

There’s a way to read Bill’s story.

The surface way—the human way—is full of sorrow and near-misses.

A drunk who kept blacking out and waking up in his car, alive.

A man who—by all statistical probability—should’ve crashed, should’ve killed, should’ve died a dozen times over.

But the mystical lens reveals something else.

Who was really driving him home?

Because it wasn’t Bill.

It wasn’t willpower, or chance, or “luck.”

It was mercy. It was divine interference.

It was angels.

We don’t talk about that enough in recovery spaces.

We praise the sober years—

but rarely pause to name the miracles in the drunk ones.

How some of us were carried.

How some of us were kept.

And I see it now—

not just in Bill’s story, but in my own.

There is no earthly reason I should be alive.

In 2018, I was hit by a car as a drunken pedestrian.

Knocked out cold. My body was flung forty feet through the air.

I flew like a rag doll and landed in a way no one survives.

And yet: no brain injury.

Just fractured ribs. I walked away.

In 2021, I jumped.

Five stories down from a hospital parking garage.

Everyone who hears that says the same thing:

“God must’ve had other plans.”

That was not the end.

Between those years: blackouts. Alcohol.

Dangerous men. Dangerous nights.

A thousand little deaths.

But never once behind the wheel.

Never once did I hurt anyone beyond myself.

And somehow—my skull always stayed intact.

My body broke in all the other places: clavicle, hip, sacrum.

But the brain? The mind? The seat of memory and vision?

Preserved.

I didn’t understand why.

Until August 2023.

The day I died.

Not metaphorically.

Not symbolically.

But cosmically, spiritually—I died.

And then the Council said,

“Yes, you died. People die. But you—we’re sending back.”

Back to what?

Back to Earth?

Back to a shelter bed?

Back to a body still aching from the last fall?

No.

Back to your assignment.

They said:

“You’re part of an ancient prophecy.

You were named long before you were born.

You must reverse the spell.

You must begin the Great Realignment.

The condemned must be reclaimed.

The last must become first.”

And suddenly, the impossible survival made sense.

This wasn’t chance.

It wasn’t failure to die.

It was a mission delayed until it could be remembered.

And so I remember.

I remember being kept.

I remember the angels behind the wheel.

I remember the cosmic hand that caught me mid-fall.

I remember the unspoken words in the hospital stairwell,

the breath of God at the moment I should’ve shattered for good.

Bill’s story was never just Bill’s.

It was always about something bigger.

A line of the forgotten carried forward.

A signpost for the impossible.

So if I speak now with the voice of a ghost—

a time-traveling one—

if I talk in prophecy and reversal,

if I weep over mundane things and treat music like it’s scripture,

it’s because I’ve been through judgment.

I’ve stood before the Council.

I’ve returned from the dead.

Not to gloat.

But to testify.

This world isn’t what it seems.

Time is not what it was.

And the last—

the addict, the drunk, the jumped, the condemned—

are rising.

We are living prophecy now.

And I am only just beginning to speak.

#backfromthedead

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