#Old Testament overcomers

[a-godman]

Overcoming Believers will Reign with Christ and Enter the Lord's joy in the Kingdom

The overcoming believers will be rewarded in the coming kingdom with feasting with the Old Testament believers, inheriting eternal life to have a fuller enjoyment of the divine life, entering into the Lord’s joy and saving their soul, and will reign with Christ and rule over the nations. May we aspire to be the Lord’s overcoming believers today, those who will be rewarded at His coming with the…

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Nnwom 118:25-26 Gye yɛn nkwa, Awurade, gye yɛn nkwa! Ma yenni nkonim, O Awurade! Awurade nhyira obiara a ɔba Awurade din mu. Yehyira mo fi Awurade fi.

Blessed be he that cometh in the name of the LORD: we have blessed you out of the house of the LORD. — Psalm 118:25-26 | Nkwa Asem (NA-TWI) and English Revised Version (ERVB) Akuapem Twi, dialect of Akan, Life Word New Testament And Psalms, Copyright © 2000 by Biblica, Inc.® All rights reserved worldwide and the English Revised Version of the Holy Bible is in the public domain. Cross References: Psalm 106:47; Psalm 122:6-7; Matthew 11:3; Matthew 21:9; Matthew 23:39; Mark 11:9; Luke 13:35; Luke 19:38; John 12:13

[geekpreacher217]

Under the Broom Tree - 1 Kings 19:4

Elijah was in one of the darkest moments of his life when he lay down under a broom tree in 1 Kings 19.  He was running for his life, and was overcome with sorrow.  But with God’s help, he was able to overcome, and continue to serve the Lord.

[dkcdude]

Anxiety Destroyed Saul

Introduction In my journey with the Daily Audio Bible through the Bible in one year, we’ve slogged through the miserable period of the Judges of Israel (where we’re reminded repeatedly that everyone did what was right in their own eyes–does that sound familiar?) and reached the strange story of the first two kings of Israel: Saul and then David. One odd thing about this story is that Saul seemed…

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

epilogue

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: pregnancy

series masterlist │my masterlist

every day since you found out you were pregnant, you’ve found logan in what used to be an unused office. it’s the room closest to yours, just across the hall, and where your daughter will stay until she’s old enough to sleep through the night, to be further from logan and yourself. you plan to redo the guest room to her tastes eventually, but first you need to get through the early months with her.

logan refuses to allow her first bedroom to be anything less than perfect, though you’ve told him time and time again that she won’t remember it. you think it might be his way of getting rid of the anxious energy that courses through him, the worry that he won’t be a good enough father, that he’ll hurt her somehow. he’s good at building, at working with his hands. he may not know how to be a father, but he can do this for her.

he goes out to the hardware store and returns with materials for custom shelves and a dresser, never mind the fact that he could go to any furniture store and buy premade sets, already measured and cut, ready to be assembled. he paints the walls a pastel yellow, meticulous and careful. the colour looks strange surrounding him, though not in a negative way, a man who surrounds himself in dark shades standing in a room of bright colours.

your big, tough husband, reduced to putty by his unborn daughter.

you’ve been watching him day after day, your new favourite way to pass the time, enjoying the flex of his muscles as he works. you’re only five months along, there’s plenty of time, but logan acts as though every day that passes without the house being completely ready for the new addition to your family is a travesty of the highest order, a crime against him personally.

you mock him for it, but his dramatics are awfully endearing. he cares so much, occasionally so overcome by feelings that he doesn’t know how to express them. the animal in him comes out more during such moments, when he’s overwhelmed with it.

he’s more protective now, something you’d previously never thought possible, and clingier too. he says your scent is different, says there’s a second scent mixed into your own that must be your daughter’s, the beginnings of her own person manifesting painfully slow and yet much too fast.

you feel her growing and changing inside you, the strangest sensation and yet one that never fails to take your breath away. you spend nights with your hand pressed to your stomach, not convinced that she’s real, worried that your bump might disappear if you let go for a second too long, a dream lost to the winds, merely a reach away and yet impossible to touch.

you watch logan’s large arms move with every stroke of the paintbrush, muscles flexing in his arms and shoulders and back, and without realising it you find yourself at his side, a hand reaching out to trace over the lines of his body. he acknowledges your presence with a kiss to the top of your head but nothing more, refusing to allow his concentration to be broken. it’s a testament to his devotion to his daughter, as he would usually drop anything if it meant getting to hold you in his arms.

“do you think she’ll be like you?” you ask, a thought that’s fluttered through your mind briefly but never stuck around for long, always distracted by something or another.

“you mean a mutant?” logan clarifies, his movements faltering. it’s still not something he adores about himself, not the way you do, though he no longer wakes up every morning drowning in an ocean of self-hatred and despair. it’s become something to accept, a part of him that he cannot change, and therefore something that there is no point in fighting.

there is no reason to ponder on what ifs when it is an impossibility. so with your love and reassurance, he’s found a middle-ground, a peace where he can allow his instincts to be free and yet doesn’t feel confined on the days where he does feel more man than animal.

“yes,” you agree, “i mean a mutant.”

he sighs, a sound that gets caught in his throat, grip tightening around the handle of the paintbrush. your fingertips prod at his hand, poking at his tight grip until he lets go just enough for you to pry it from his hold, placing it down on an old newspaper he’d left on the floor to protect the wood.

“be honest with me,” you say, “i just want the truth.”

it’s a game you play sometimes, a system you’ve created from your deep knowledge of logan’s thought process, to use when logan feels something that he worries isn’t right to say, that he worries you’ll dislike. you’ve had to teach him that his feelings are valid, that there is nothing wrong with them one way or another, that his thoughts are a product of his lifetimes. it doesn’t mean you’ll agree, but you’ll always listen.

“i don’t want her to be like me,” logan admits at last. you’d expected the words, the sentiment, but it still stabs you in the chest, a knife he doesn’t know he’s wielding. “she deserves to be normal, like you. i don’t want her going through anything i have.

“but she’ll have us,” you remind him, “she’ll have you to teach her that it’s okay to exhibit these behaviours, although there’s a time and place for them as there is for all things, that she can be herself and there’s nothing wrong with that. and she’ll have both of us here to make sure no one can try to take her away, to hurt her the way they hurt you.”

he shrugs, doesn’t give you a verbal response, but he holds eye contact with you for what feels like days before eventually nodding once. it’s the best you’re going to get from him now, but you have four more months to talk about it, and perhaps years until you discover if your daughter truly is a mutant - since logan had confided that his mutation had developed in his early childhood, not at birth as some others do.

you kiss him, hopeful that he can read your thoughts and feelings on the curve of your lips, feel the love you hold for him in the way your hands press to his back, wanting him as close to you as possible. 

“i’m going to make us lunch,” you say, glancing outside at the mid-afternoon sun and the pale blue sky free of clouds. you’re already coming up with ways to pull logan away from his work, promises to whisper in his ear, smiling as your hands linger on his body. “i think baby wants to take advantage of the sunny weather.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

[codeinesturniolo]

Lover, You Should’ve Come Over ⤹˚˖ ♫ ୭ `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

PARING : matt sturniolo x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

In the quiet, rain-soaked streets of a small town, the echoes of Jeff Buckley's haunting melodies hung in the air, weaving through the lives of its inhabitants. The song "Lover, You Should've Come Over" played softly from an old record player in a dimly lit room, setting the stage for a tale of love, loss, and longing. This is the story of Matt and Y/N, two souls bound together by an unbreakable yet tragic bond.

Matt was a young man with a heart full of dreams and a soul that resonated with the music he adored. His life had always been a series of melodies, each note a step in his journey. He found solace in the strumming of his guitar and the lyrics that seemed to speak directly to his heart. It was during one of his late-night performances at a local café that he first laid eyes on Y/N. She was sitting alone, a book in her hands, her eyes distant and filled with a sadness that intrigued him.

Y/N was a mystery wrapped in an riddle, a beautiful yet fragile being who seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her past was a tapestry of pain and sorrow, each thread a reminder of the battles she had fought and the scars she bore. Despite her struggles, there was a spark in her that drew Matt to her like a moth to a flame. He saw in her a kindred spirit, someone who understood the depths of his emotions and the intensity of his passion. Like if he had been living in grey scale and she was the first thing he had ever seen in color.

As their paths crossed more frequently, Matt and Y/N found themselves drawn into a whirlwind romance, their connection deepening with each passing day. They shared their hopes and fears, their dreams and regrets, finding comfort in each other's presence. Yet, beneath the surface of their love, there lay a darkness that threatened to consume them both. Y/N's struggles with addiction and self-harm cast a shadow over their relationship, creating a chasm that Matt desperately tried to bridge.

Matt's love for Y/N was unwavering, his determination to help her unwavering. He stood by her side through the darkest of nights, holding her close as she trembled with the weight of her demons. He whispered words of comfort and hope, trying to pierce through the veil of despair that enveloped her. But as much as he tried, he couldn't save her from the pain that gnawed at her soul.

Their love story was a symphony of highs and lows, a testament to the power of love and the fragility of the human spirit. Matt and Y/N's journey was one of heartache and healing, a bittersweet reminder that sometimes, love is not enough to conquer the darkness within. As the rain continued to fall outside, the echoes of "Lover, You Should've Come Over" lingered in the air, a poignant reminder of the love that could have been.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, Matt's life became a delicate balancing act. He juggled his music career and his devotion to Y/N, often sacrificing his own well-being to ensure she was safe. He watched helplessly as she spiraled deeper into her addiction, her once bright eyes now clouded with despair. The nights were the hardest, as he lay awake, listening to her cries for help, feeling powerless to ease her suffering.

Y/N, on the other hand, was trapped in a cycle of self-destruction. She loved Matt with all her heart, but the demons inside her were relentless. They whispered lies, convincing her that she was unworthy of his love, that she was a burden he didn't deserve. She pushed him away, hoping to spare him the pain of watching her fall apart, but Matt refused to leave her side. He held on to the hope that one day, she would find the strength to overcome her struggles.

One fateful evening, as the rain poured down in torrents, Y/N reached a breaking point. The weight of her addiction and self-loathing became too much to bear. She locked herself in the bathroom, tears streaming down her face as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The person looking back at her was a stranger, a shadow of the vibrant woman she once was. Desperate for an escape, she reached for a bottle of pills, her hands trembling.

Matt, sensing that something was terribly wrong, rushed to her side. He banged on the bathroom door, his heart pounding with fear. "Y/N, please open the door!" he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "I love you, and I can't lose you. Please, let me in."

Inside, Y/N hesitated, the sound of Matt's voice cutting through the haze of her despair. She wanted to believe him, to trust that his love could save her, but the darkness was overwhelming. With a final, anguished cry, she collapsed to the floor,

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖^ྀི˚ ༘ ���⋆｡˚ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖^ྀི˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚

part 2 will be out soon !! maybeee

[mariclerc]

Family cuddles | pg10

Summary: Your little girl decides to interrupt the peace and quiet of the morning. Warning: None, just you and Pierre being sweethearts.

a/n: dedicated and requested by: @martaaairwin1994-blog

Sunlight streams through the blinds, painting warm stripes across the bed where you and Pierre lie intertwined. The air is thick with the quiet contentment of a shared morning. Pierre, still half-asleep, mumbles something unintelligible against his girlfriend's neck.

“Mornin', sleepyhead.” you say with a smile.

Pierre stirs, his eyes fluttering open. He smiles at her, that easy, charming smile that makes her heart clench.

“Morning, beautiful. Sleep well?”

“Like a baby. You?”

“Like a king. Though, maybe a king with a tiny princess ruling over him.”

He gestures towards the doorway, where your almost! three-year-old daughter, Lucille, peeks in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She's wearing mismatched socks and a giant T-shirt that swallows her whole, but her grin is infectious.

“Peek-a-boo papa!”

“Luci! Come here, you little monkey!” you said squealing.

Lucille squeals with delight and launches herself onto the bed, landing with a soft thud between her parents. Pierre scoops her up, showering her face with kisses.

“Good morning, sunshine! Did you sleep well?” Pierre asks her.

“Yes, Papa! I had a dream about bunnies and fluffy clouds.” She giggles.

“Sounds magical. What did the bunnies do?” you asked curiously.

“They flew on the clouds! And they sang a song about carrots.” She said shyly.

Pierre and his girlfriend exchange a fond look. Lucille's boundless imagination never fails to amuse them.

“Sounds like a pretty cool dream. Maybe we can draw a picture of it later?”

“Yes! And we can color the bunnies pink!” Luci says while clapping her hands.

“Pink bunnies, huh? Sounds perfect.” You say with a smile at your daughter's creativity.

Lucille nestles closer to her mother, her soft breaths tickling her skin. Her girlfriend smiles, wrapping an arm around her daughter's small frame. Pierre joins them, his hand finding hers, creating a warm circle of love. The morning sun paints the room in a golden glow, casting long shadows across the bed.

“I love you, Mama.” Lucille mumbles.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always and forever.”

Lucille's breathing becomes even, the rhythmic rise and fall a soothing lullaby. Pierre watches them, his heart swelling with a love he never thought possible. He remembers the countless sleepless nights, the endless diaper changes, the moments of pure exhaustion. But looking at them now, bathed in the quiet contentment of morning, he wouldn't trade it for anything.

“You're incredible.” He says as he kisses your forehead.

“We're incredible together, don't you think?” You smile sleepily.

Their fingers intertwine, a silent promise of shared dreams and unwavering support. The silence is broken only by the soft chirping of birds outside the window and the gentle hum of the refrigerator downstairs. It's a simple moment, yet it holds the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

“Remember when we were young and carefree?” Pierre whispers.

“Barely remembers yesterday, let alone years ago!” you chuckled.

“I meant carefree in a good way. No responsibilities, just us.”

“And now we have the biggest responsibility of all, but the best kind.”

“You're right. Being her parents, watching her grow each day, it's the most rewarding thing in the world.”

They fall silent again, their thoughts turning to their future as a family. The little girl nestled between them is a constant reminder of the journey they've shared, the obstacles they've overcome, and the love that binds them together. The sun climbs higher, painting the room in a brighter light, signaling the start of a new day. But for now, they hold onto this precious moment, a stolen cuddle in the morning sun, a testament to the enduring power of love and family.

[meazalykov]

she was the golden girl

uswnt x (romantic) aitana bonmatí x (platonic) fridolina rolfo x uswnt!reader

summary: what happened in a world where reader plays in the 2023 World Cup after winning the 2019 World Cup?

warnings: tiny bit of angst and sadness, google translated spanish.

part two (part one here)

I remembered when I stood on the french pitch, surrounded by the deafening cheers of the crowd, sometimes I can’t believe that it happened. Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged my best friend Mallory, threatening to spill over as a whirlwind of emotions flooded my mind. 

My hands trembled as I clutched the World Cup trophy tightly to my chest, feeling the weight of my team's triumph. The third goal in the world cup was scored by me, the youngest goalscorer in a Women’s World Cup final. The journey to this moment had been grueling, filled with sacrifices, sweat, and endless dedication. But looking back, all the pain and hardship were worth it.

Before the World Cup, the Champions League medal hung proudly around my neck, a testament to the skill and hard work I’ve displayed on the field. At the time, Lyon was the club of my life. I believed that I would’ve never left the french institution, extending my contract as much as I possibly could’ve. The memories of each game, each goal, each victory rushed back to me, overwhelming my senses.

And then there was the Ballon d'Or many months after both competitions, the ultimate recognition of my individual excellence. To be acknowledged as the best, only at the age of 19 years old, was a dream I had hardly dared to entertain. Yet there I was, being the second woman holding the prestigious award in my small hands, my name etched into football history forever as I stood beside Lionel Messi who received the men’s d’or. 

Surrounded by my teammates, coaches, and supporters, I felt a surge of gratitude and humility. This moment wasn't just about me; it was about the collective effort of everyone who had believed in my skills along the way. I will never forget it.

Four years later, It's 2023. I am 23 years old and still impressing the fans around the World. However, the scars of my ACL injury were still fresh, a constant reminder of the hurdles I had overcome to be here after the harsh 2022 year.

Playing for Lyon had once been a dream come true. I’ll never forget that experience. When I signed to Lyon from Portland Thorns at the age of 18, I was overwhelmed in joy. I needed that new challenge, and that challenge earned me the best awards, collectively and individually. But, the fallout from my December 2021 injury had left a bitter taste in my mouth. The club I had once called home had felt more like a distant memory as I felt forced to make the difficult decision to part ways and start a new life in the sunny Spanish city.

Now, I wore the red and blue Barcelona jersey onto the pitch. The transfer left me heartbroken, at first, now I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The road to recovery after my ACL injury in France had been long and arduous, filled with doubts and setbacks. Sometimes, I believed that my prime occurred at the age of 19, instead of the predicted 24-30 years old. Yet here I am, defying the odds once again to represent my country on the world stage in two months.

Sometimes the memories of my victories with Lyon and the United States lingered in the back of my mind, serving as both motivation and a reminder of what was at stake. The Champions League trophy I had lifted with Lyon and the World Cup I had claimed with the United States were testaments to my talent and resilience. But now, I lifted the Champions League trophy with Barcelona. 

After scoring the second goal of the final, with Patricia before me and Fridolina afterwards, the gold hung beautifully around my neck. It was my fourth time I've felt such a high amount of glory, but the happy tears still came as if it were the first. 

A month later, I am on a fourteen hour flight from Los Angeles to Wellington, New Zealand. As The plane soared through the clouds and I sat in my business class seat, my hands gripping the armrests tightly and my heart pounded in my chest.

“Y/n?” I took out my airpods when I heard the faint sound of my name coming from outside of them. I turned to my right and saw my teammate and captain, Lindsey, looking at me with a confusing look. 

“Hey.” I joked, pretending like my stress wasn’t visible for everyone to see. 

“Are you okay?” Lindsey asked. In my head, I debated on if I wanted to lie and say yes, just so I didn’t have to burden her with my stress. However, she’s known me for many years, the woman would notice my lie from miles away. 

“Not really. I’m just–a bit nervous.” I swallowed. The blonde girl nodded her head in understanding as she rested her arm beside mine. 

“That's understandable. Is it the competition that's bothering you? I mean– we are defending champions so we have a lot to prove.” Lindsey asked. I took a deep breath as my mind shifted to a particular person from my Barcelona team. 

“No– It's about–um.” I stopped speaking. I didn’t want her to cloud my head during the competition, as we both promised ourselves that we would play as rivals, not lovers. 

“Aitana?” Lindsey questioned, but yet finished what I would’ve said. I noticed my head as my face was plastered with sadness.

“yeah.” I mumbled. The Lyon midfielder looked at me with a questionable look, wondering if there were problems between the Spanish girl and I. 

“I mean– there's no problem between us. However we prioritize football first you know? we both agreed that during the competition, we wouldn’t talk much.. just so we can focus on this.” I ranted. I’m not stressed because of a possible match between Spain and the United States, I know that I’ll miss the shorter woman a lot. Also, what if we stop talking and a third factor might influence our relationship moving forward? 

“That's good that you’re prioritizing us– You shouldn’t feel nervous about your relationship because this will give you time to miss each other– things will go back to normal once the world cup is over.” Lindsey patted my shoulder in sympathy, I smirked as my nervousness started to subside. 

A month later, as I stepped up to the penalty spot, the weight of the world seemed to rest upon my shoulders. We finished the match against Sweden 0-0 and after extra time, we had to go into a penalty shootout. The stadium roared around me, a cacophony of cheers and chants from both sides echoing in my small ears. Nerves danced in my stomach, threatening to consume me with doubt and mistakes.

With a deep breath, My eyes focused on Zećira Mušović standing between me and the goal. She did great throughout the game and has the reflexes to stop my shot. Determination burned in my eyes, she saw it too. 

As I approached the ball with speed, the tension in the air was palpable but I couldn’t care. Every step felt like an eternity as my foot sent the ball soaring towards the goal. Mušović dove in desperation, but my ball went directly to the middle as she dove left. The ball crashed into the back of the net, eliciting a deafening roar from the crowd and from my teammates. 

My dimples on my cheeks showed as I am happy to make the penalty. Being substituted on the pitch after halftime, I tried my best to score but my shot on goal was overturned by VAR. Apparently, my body was offside. 

Now, my arms wrapped the bodies of Sophia Smith and Megan Raphinoe as I looked ahead at Kelley O’hara. My heart raced as I stared at her white colored cleats. She needed to score this, or else Sweden had the opportunity to win the knockout. 

She Missed. My heart dropped to my stomach as I looked at the Swedish players with rising confidence and opportunity. Hurtig took the shot and Alyssa blocked it over the line. This caused a debate among the crowd. Deep down, I knew Sweden made it. They’ve won. However, VAR was the only hope which would have proved me wrong. 

Unfortunately, I was right. Sweden emerged victorious in the penalty shootout, their celebration serving as a bitter reminder of the heartbreak that awaited my teammates and I. 

No, No, NO! I thought to myself as I felt the moisture in my eyes start to take place. Immediately, my mind did a flashback to the 2019 World Cup Final. Being 19 years old and happy as my small, yet muscular, arms held the heavy World Cup trophy. 

With a heavy heart, I broke away from my teammates and looked among the Americans in the stands. My shaky hands clapped to the fans in the stands, my facade of strength crumbling with each step she took. Cameras could capture my weak struggle to stay strong as the Swedish crowd rightfully celebrated. 

Turning around, walking back towards the Americans who were on the team, my knees collapsed on the grassy pitch, tears streamed down my tired face. This was the worst that the United States had completed in a World Cup. What went wrong? 

I wanted to stand up so badly, but I didn’t. Shame and Defeat took over my body which laid in the grass. What is my family in the crowd thinking? What are the USWNT fans thinking? What are my fans thinking?... my tears cried out more when I wondered what Aitana was thinking. 

After ten minutes of darkness in my eyes, covered by my hands. A comforting presence enveloped my body. I recognized the floral smell mixed with a tint of sweat. I looked up from my hands and saw Fridolina, my teammate from Barcelona and now my opponent who won the Round of 16. 

“You did so good, Don’t beat yourself up over this!” Fridolina spoke to me first as her thumbs wiped over my teary eyes. I felt comfort but a small amount of envy was inside of me, I wanted to win so badly. 

“Congratulations Frido.” The Swedish girl took her hands and helped me stand up as she gave me a tight hug. Aitana, Frido, and I are a trio back in Barcelona. In fact, she helped Aitana and I confess our feelings to each other. 

“Thank you! Just know that I am proud of you, she is proud of you too. Even if you aren’t proud of yourself.” The 29 year old said as my eyes stained her yellow covered shoulders. I knew she meant Aitana when she said “she”. However, I didn’t know where the Spanish woman was at the moment and what she was thinking. 

“Just go be-beat Japan. Okay?” I said through a crack in my voice. I found solace in the embrace of my friend. I might’ve lost but I am not a bitter person, now I want to see my club teammates have a good World Cup like I’ve once experienced.

As we exchanged jerseys, the voice in my head kept reassuring myself that I'll come back stronger than ever in 2027. 

Just a week later, most of my American teammates left Australia and went back home. However, my teammate Kristie and I decided to stay back. Kristies had a girlfriend who played on a different international team like I did, so we wanted to support them as they’re advancing to the semi-finals. 

Witnessing my Barcelona teammates play each other in the Spain vs Sweden match was intense. Standing beside Aitana’s parents, I wore a basic dark green t-shirt with 501 mid-thigh levi shorts. This is the first time I've met them as her girlfriend and they’re sweet people. We celebrated Spain’s win against Sweden and my heart would have exploded in happiness. My girlfriend will experience a World Cup final! 

On August 20th, after an intense match and a lovely goal from Olga Carmona, Spain won the World Cup! The feeling was bittersweet for me. I am happy for my girlfriend but subconsciously, I knew I wanted it to be me with the United States. However, I brushed that feeling aside since I needed to be happy for my lover. 

“Aitana ¡Estoy tan feliz por ti!” We both ran towards each other and hugged. I feel her lightly kiss the side of my head as I inhale her scent. Being able to feel her embrace after a month apart filled the small void in my heart.

“¡Esto es tan irreal, ahora sé cómo te sentiste hace tantos años!”  (This is so unreal, now I know how you felt all those years ago!) Aitana smiled. The smile on my face struggled to stay as a small frown, which I tried hard to conceal, plastered on my face for a quick second. I don’t think she noticed. 

“Lo siento por lo que ocurrió. En el fondo esperaba que fuéramos nosotros dos quienes nos enfrentaríamos en la final.” (I'm sorry for what happened. Deep down I hoped that it would be the two of us who would face each other in the final.) Aitana said as she understood my defeat in the Round of 16. 

“Aquí también. Sólo debes saber que todavía estoy muy feliz por ti, a pesar de mi derrota.” (Here too. Just know that I am still very happy for you, despite my defeat.) I said as I admired the goal medal that sat perfectly on Aitana's chest. She gave me a sympathetic smile before hugging me again. 

“¡Te amo!” Aitana whispered into my ear. 

“Te quiero más” I smiled back as I relaxed into her arms. 

<3

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

The Work is Ridiculed

1 And when Sanballat heard that we were building the wall, he became angry and was greatly enraged; and he mocked the Jews. 2 And he spoke to his brothers and the army of Samaria and said, What are these feeble Jews doing? Will they restore it for themselves? Will they sacrifice? Will they finish in a day? Will they revive the stones out of the dust heaps, though they are burned? 3 And Tobiah the Ammonite was beside him, and he said, Even their stone wall that they are building, if a fox were to go up on it, he would breach it. 4 Hear, O our God, for we are despised; and turn their reproach upon their own head, and give them as spoil in the land of captivity; 5 And do not cover their iniquity and do not let their sin be blotted out before You, for they made provocations before the builders. 6 So we built the wall; and all the wall was joined together to half its height, for the people had a heart to work. 7 And when Sanballat and Tobiah and the Arabians and the Ammonites and the Ashdodites heard that the restoration of the walls of Jerusalem was advancing, that the breaches were beginning to be closed up, they became very angry; 8 And all of them conspired together to come and fight against Jerusalem and cause confusion in it. 9 But we prayed to our God, and because of them we set a watch against them day and night. 10 And Judah said, / The strength of the burden bearers fails, / And the debris is great; / And we are not able / To build the wall. 11 And our adversaries said, They will not know, nor even see, until we come into their midst and slay them and cause the work to stop. 12 And when the Jews who dwelt near them came, they said to us ten times, They will come up against us from all the places that you turn to. 13 So I set men in the lowest places behind the wall, on the exposed areas, and I set the people by families with their swords, their spears, and their bows. 14 And when I saw the situation, I rose up and said to the nobles and the rulers and the rest of the people, Do not be afraid of them; remember the great and awesome Lord, and fight for your brothers, your sons and your daughters, your wives and your houses. 15 And when our enemies heard that their counsel was known to us and that God frustrated it, we all returned to the wall, each man to his work. 16 And from that day half of my servants labored in the work, and half of them held the spears and the shields and the bows and the armor; and the rulers were behind all the house of Judah. 17 Those who built the wall and those who carried burdens took the loads with one hand doing the work and with the other holding a weapon. 18 And as for the builders, each had his sword strapped to his side, and so they built; and he who sounded the trumpet was beside me. 19 And I said to the nobles, the rulers, and the rest of the people, The work is great and large, and we are separated on the wall, each far from the other. 20 In whatever place you hear the sound of the trumpet, gather yourselves to us there. Our God will fight for us. 21 So we labored in the work; and half of them held spears from the start of dawn until the stars came out. 22 I also said to the people at that time, Let every man and his servant spend the nights inside Jerusalem so that they may be a guard for us by night and work by day. 23 So neither I nor my brothers nor my servants nor the men of the guard who followed me, none of us took off our clothes; each had his weapon at his right hand. — Nehemiah 4 | Recovery Version (REC) The Recovery Version of the Holy Bible © 2009 Living Stream Ministry. All rights reserved. Cross References: Exodus 14:14; Deuteronomy 1:29-30; Deuteronomy 23:3; 2 Samuel 17:14; 2 Chronicles 34:13; Ezra 4:9-10; Nehemiah 5:1; Nehemiah 5:9; Nehemiah 6:16; Psalm 69:27-28; Psalm 83:8; Psalm 122:3; Psalm 149:6; Jeremiah 46:4; Ezekiel 33:3; Daniel 1:20; Matthew 2:16

[immediatebreakfast]

The difference between Jack's telegram to Van Helsing, and Seward's letter to Arthur, is a study of how to disguise desesperation into the most proper greeting with a whispered worry.

From going to a functional, short, on point, literal, and fast telegram which warns of Lucy's debilitating state to a more subdued, longer, and detailed in other matters letters that tells how Lucy is "not so good". Jack really exemplified how hard it is to balance that worrying content within victorian society, moreso when Arthur is nobility.

Terrible change for the worse. Come at once; do not lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holmwood till have seen you.

With Van Helsing Jack can convey the horrible truth of Lucy's condition with a few paid words, and a petition that warns the old professor that it's a matter of time, or possible death. The mention of Arthur gives more weight to the telegram as now it is unsaid that Jack, somehow, has to tell about Lucy's condition after Van Helsing examined her.

My news to-day is not so good. Lucy this morning had gone back a bit. There is, however, one good thing which has arisen from it

In contrast, the letter starts softer, and tries to not give alarm over Lucy; yes she is a little worse, and we are treating her (please do not come, and leave your dying father). The mention of how both Seward, and Van Helsing finally can drop the pretense of a simple visit after Mrs. Westenra gave them her permission to treat Lucy. How there are difficulties, but surely all of them will overcome them.

It's a testament of Seward's writing abilities to convey this dire situation into something less dire, for a friend who has left his full trust on his hands.

[geekpreacher217]

The Spirit God Gave Us: No Fear - 2 Timothy 1:6-7; Isaiah 43:1-7

For much of this year, we have focused on an underlying theme of overcoming fear in our every day lives.  2 Timothy 1:6-7 is one passage among many that reminds us that God does not want us to be fearful, but that we can overcome fear through the Spirit that He has given us.

[its-wabby-stuff]

Krang Will Rise

I have a couple theories, regarding the Krang.

There is such little evidence for it, that I don’t even think there’s evidence against it. But hear me out.

I think only Krang prime can abolish mystics. It’s not an ability tied to every Krang, only to him.

Thé Krang value strength above all else, putting no remorse into losing those deemed weak. As such, wouldn’t that make Krang Prime, their leader, the strongest? And what better way to deem yourself the strongest than carrying a unique ability that takes away your enemies greatest potential threat.

Another reason: it seems there are three types of krang. The biotech, the warrior, and the interrogator. I’m not sure how much they overlap, but I do think they carry specialities. Given krang brother is most often asked to- spread their krangness. He is responsible for krangification, domain expansion, and manipulating the technology they have (Nevermind how all these abilities make him the perfect match for Donnie)(also think Krang Brother is mute). Krang sister is the most skilled and best fighter. I’m sure she outclasses the boys in that regard. I’d go as far to say she’s second in command, leading the charge while brother krang stays behind (her role as commander matches as Commander O’Niels opposite in war, hence their quarrel). Leaving Krang Prime, who has the ability to dig into a persons mind, manipulate their captives, control the hive mind, and abolish mystic powers. Perhaps rare amongst Krang, this makes them the perfect leader (do I even need to explain why he’s Leo’s main antagonist, his opposite in every way?).

I mentioned how krang brother is likely responsible for krangification, which leads me to a second point. Clearly, from the start of the invasion to the end in the bad timeline, the krangs numbers increased 100 fold. From 3 lone survivors to hundreds if not more. Which has led me to wonder how krang are created. I have two theories: 1) in the bad timeline, the krang in the prison dimension didn’t die. Meaning that when Leo grabbed the key in the movie, and altered time, the resulting explosion caused the krang to be wiped out. 2) the probably more likely one- they repopulated.

Thé krang are clearly parasitic creatures. Meaning their reproduction is likely from a source, that source being humans. “Recreating this world in the image of krang.” Krang possession is simple, and any krang can do it, latch a bit of themselves to a human and start the battle of wills. Krang dogs are amother easier way to make more, a quick process that mangles the hosts body. We see this happen with the foot clan. But if you want powerful krang, with no chance to turn on you, and to truly become one with krang, you transform them.

Raph was found in a bubble. In a slimy krang cocoon stuck to the ceiling and filled with glowing yellow goop. He was going to be turned, transformed into Krang. And he was going to be powerful, his source material being stronger than most. He was- until the process was interrupted. Notice how the krangification didn’t come from the outside, it wasn’t attached, it was growing inside him. And, unlike the other krangified peoples we saw, his eye turned purple. It wasn’t just covered in hoop with the yellow hive mind eye, it was purple. Let it be a testament to Raphs inner strength cause he very well may have accomplished a feat deemed impossible to overcome. The process wasn’t supposed to be reversible, he wasn’t supposed to be able to break free, he was krang now. Krang Prime could feel his struggle, sense his resistance, and hear his thoughts as the turtle fought it off.

Once you turned, there was no going back. You were krang. Your old life didn’t matter. Your old friends didn’t matter. You had a new family. A new purpose to fulfill. New powers to explore. And given treasures for the hunt. The mark of a krang and a fucking massive piece of armor. This way of reproduction was useful when hunting new prey, as their knowledge of the species past through, truly allowing them to know their enemies and conquer planets. Krang can never die.

Then again. I could be wrong.

——————

Thanks for reading! Likes and Reblogs appreciated! Other related theories and stories:

Resistance to Krang; The Shredder armor; Emperym Life Blood

[tiredwitchplant]

Everything You Need to Know About Crystals: Amethyst

Amethyst (“The World’s Most Popular Purple Gem”)

Color: Dark Vivid Purple to Pale Lilac

Hardness: 7

Rarity: Easy to Acquire

Type: Quartz

Chakra Association: Third Eye, Crown

Deities: Buddha, Dionysus, Diana, Artemis

Birthstone: February

Astrological Signs: Pisces, Aries and Aquarius

Element: Air

Planet: Jupiter

Origin: USA, Britain, Canada, Brazil, Mexico, Russia, Sri Lanka, Uruguay, East Africa, Siberia, India

Powers: Pride, Sobriety, Peace, Spirit World, Protection, Celibacy, Luck, and Homesickness

Crystals It Works Well With: Ametrine, Citrine, and Moonstone

How It Is Created: Amethyst receives its color beginning at the crystal’s growth. At the first stage, trace amounts of iron are incorporated into the crystal as it starts to grow. After the crystallization starts, gamma rays are emitted by radioactive materials within the host rock and the irradiated iron gives the amethyst its beautiful purple color.

History: One of the earliest references to amethyst is in the Old Testament book of Exodus as it is mentioned that one of the stones in the breastplate of Aaron the High Priest was an amethyst. There is not a clear indication to where the name comes from but it is said that it is derived from the Greek word “amethyst” which means “not drunk”. Despite this, it is associated with the god, Dionysus, because the purple hue of the crystal looks like delicious grape wine. Wine goblets were carved of this stone to prevent drunkenness. There is also a Greek lore involving Dionysus with a young girl named Amethyst. The lore reads:

“Dionysus was angry one day and swore that he would exact his revenge on the next mortal that came by. He created several tigers, informed him of their mission and went his way. As it would happen, a lovely young girl named Amethyst was the next to come by, on her way to pay homage to Artemis and was attacked. Artemis quickly changed the girl into a statue of solid quartz. When Dionysus returned to see what he had wrought, he was overcome with remorse and wept tears of purple wine which flowed over the statue, staining it permanently.”

The color was also in demand throughout history since the color purple is associated with royalty and was worn by royals in Egypt and Europe. In some traditions, Catholic Bishops wear amethyst rings to symbolize their piety and celibacy, and rosaries are still fashioned with this stone.

What It Can Do:

Excellent focal point for meditation and scrying

Used to unlock mysteries and figure out spiritual matters, such as death and rebirth

Helps cleanses, purify and heal the body, spirit, and mind

Balances emotions and prevents nightmares

Useful for spells to help let go of addictions

Uses on the tip of wands for healing and can produce high spiritual energy

Brings a sense of calm and clarity

Helps with decision making

Can open your third eye and connect to the crown chakra

Protects the mind from dark magic

A gateway stone to connecting with the spirit world

Helps with transmitting energies to a specific point

How to Get the Best Out of Amethyst: Wearing it on your person with a bracelet or necklace. Putting amethyst on bare skin invites the stone to release its vibrations directly into the body, amplifying its power.

How to Cleanse and Charge Amethyst:

To cleanse: Leave your Amethyst stone placed under the light of the full Moon for a whole night, that is, about 8 hours

To charge: It can also be recharge via the moon so just leaving it in the moonlight can do double duty.

Crystal Grid:

Protection and Cleansing (Hexagram)

Amethyst

Selenite

Snow Quartz

Hold your crystals in your hands and state your intention for the grid.

Lay the first triangle, placing clearing crystals on each point.

Join up the points and spray the grid with clearing essence.

Lay the light-bringing crystals in an overlocking triangle over the top of the first. Join up the points, starting with the first crystal you laid.

Place your keystone in the center, stating your intention once more.

Sources

[meara-eldestofthemall]

Tim and Damian: A Tale of Two Robins

The latest issue of Batman (# 147) clearly underscores the differing ways Tim and Damian each approach the role of Robin. It's why DC has been able to get away with having two very different characters simultaneously wearing the mantle.

For Damian, Robin is fundementally a position of honor and a source of pride. It's an affirmation of his unique status as the biological child of Bruce Wayne. Damian wants to do good and he wants to be the best at it. There's nothing wrong with that per say. Many heroes are driven by the same inner need for validation. Being Robin is an honor to which Damian feels he has earned the right.

For Tim, Robin is foremost a calling or vocation. The Robin mantle is definitely an honor but it's not the primary driving force behind why he's in the cape. To him Robin is much more than just a kid who fights with Batman. Tim is heavily invested in in protecting the symbolism of what both Robin as well as Batman and Robin stand for. Please note that it's not Damian or Dick that tracks Bruce down in this issue even though they're both quite capable of doing that. It's Tim who goes after Bruce.

Tim being the one to step up to save Bruce from his own worst impulses is what he does. He's an Emotional Support Robin as much as he is a partner to Batman. From the very beginning Tim saw Robin as someone Batman needs to function properly.

To this day Tim still maintains that Robin's primary responsibility is not to be a sidekick but be someone who will save Batman from both external and internal threats when required. He's a vital balance, a counterweight to the shadows that Batman inhabits.

In many ways that idea is at the crux of the differences between Tim and Damian's approach to being Robin.

Damian initially saw the mantle of Robin as his birthright due to his being Bruce's biological son. Yes, it seems like a strange idea but let's cut the kid some slack. Damian was all of ten years old when he first met his father. He'd also been raised in a cult that all but worshipped the AL Ghul family. He was an arrogant little princeling because that's what he was raised to be.

Tim sees Robin as Batman's partner but not his subordinate. Sure, all the Robins started as "sidekicks" but Dick and Jason's Robins never had the kind of independence Tim's Robin enjoys. Remember that it was a lack of autonomy that drove Dick away from Bruce in the first place. Jason's Robin rarely, if ever, worked independently of Batman. Tim, on the other hand, started handling his own cases less than a year after debuting in the role. Tim doesn't see himself as an apprentice but as a full partner. What's more he throughly enjoys that aspect of being Robin.

People wonder why Tim hasn't created a new identity that's not linked to Batman. The short answer is that Tim feels that he's already doing that. Robin is an independent hero and has been for years. He's been more than capable of operating without a net since before Damian showed up. Tim isn't shy about that view point, either. When Bruce tries to push Tim's Robin in ways Tim doesn't like, the kid will tell Batman "no" then continue doing things on his own .

Damian, on the other hand, constantly chafes against how Bruce's Batman wants him to act as Robin. Just like his father Damian doesn't like to be wrong and that shared stubbornness causes the two of them endless arguments. Damian's earliest teachings within the League will forever be at odds with Bruce's demands of Robin. The clashing expectations cause an internal conflict that leaves him at war with both his father and himself. No wonder the poor kid has a short temper. Trying to be both Damian al Ghul and Damian Wayne has got to be exhausting.

It's a testament to Damian's strength of character that he's been able to overcome the indoctrination from the League as much as he has. It's never going to completely leave him, however, because the lessons engrained into Damian at such a young age formed the core of his personality. Working with Dick's Batman helped him to learn some empathy and the value of tempering his worst impulses. Unfortunately Damian is primarily working with Bruce not Dick.

Damian is also 13 years old who has been seeking his father's approval and respect since the day he met the man. Bruce, being the emotional disaster that he is, fails to recognize that most of the time. This is why Damian is so completely taken in by Zur pretending to be Bruce. For the first time Damian is getting both approval and positive attention for being more violent than is necessary. His dysfunctional childhood and his work as Robin are finally in harmony and Damian loves it. It's also why poor the poor kid is so crushed when he figures out what's going on.

Tim, meanwhile, has stepped into his role as Emotional Support Robin (whether that's a good or bad thing is a debate for another time). His ability to ground Batman is why he can have this conversation with Bruce:

Tim also has one other crucial advantage that Damian, Dick or Jason never had. Tim was Bruce's partner long before he became his son. He's able to slide back into that role at the drop of a hat.

Damian will always be the son of Batman first and Robin second. That father/son dynamic that Bruce isn't very good at will try and lock Damian into a subordinate position in a misguided attempt to keep his son safe. That kind of micromanaging is something Dami will only tolerate for so long. Leaving Robin to take up a mantle of his own creation is all but inevitable.

Tim and Damian may both be Robin to Bruce's Batman but their perceptions of who and what Robin should be is radically different. And as I said before, that's not a bad thing at all.

[gabebrodudeman]

Overcoming the enemy's lies:

Lie 6: "You'll never change"

One of the most daunting lies the enemy whispers is that you will never change. This often arises during moments of struggle or when facing persistent sin patterns. The enemy points to your past, saying, “This is who you are. You’ll always be this way.” Such statements can lead to feelings of hopelessness and despair, making you feel trapped in a cycle of defeat. You might even begin to believe that your circumstances define you rather than the transformative power of Christ.

However, the promise in 2 Corinthians 5:17 reveals a profound truth: in Christ, you are a new creation. The old has passed away, and the new has come. This doesn’t mean that change will happen overnight or that you will never face challenges again, but it assures you that God is actively working within you to bring about transformation. The process of becoming more like Christ is ongoing, and it is God’s work in you that enables true change to take place.

Embracing the truth of your identity in Christ means recognizing that your past does not define you. When you stumble or struggle, you don’t need to be discouraged. Instead, lean into God’s grace and the work of the Holy Spirit in your life. Each step forward, no matter how small, is a testament to God’s transformative power. Remember that while change can be difficult, it is entirely possible with God, who works in and through us for His glory.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

"stained-glass window in my mind" is such a great way to describe something that has distorted how you see things now. That description also explains A LOT of how Taylor struggled to understand a healthy relationship dynamic because at 19 she had a relationship that distorted her for years.

Which is why WCS is song of all time and why I keep saying that it’s going to end up being one of the cornerstones of her discography like All Too Well is.

The stained glass window line says sooooooooooo much and the way you said it distorted her memories is great way of putting it. The memories can never be fully blocked, no matter how much she may have tried, because they always filter through like the light whether she wants it to or not. But it’s like she can’t fully access them either, can never get the full picture, because it isn’t a clear window she can look through. The light (memories) peek through but they aren’t a reflection of what’s really there but distorted through the refraction of the light through the coloured glass. There may be this beautiful picture in the frame that the faithful revere, but it hides the sun. She can’t trust what she sees. (Trauma do be like that.)

But then there’s also the religious imagery, which I’ve already said earlier is one of my favourite themes in her work. The song touches on religious guilt and loss of faith, and the stained glass windows in her mind could also paint an image of her alone in this metaphorical chapel searching for salvation or peace, getting no answers, instead only being wracked with guilt.

(I know there’s also the added icky detail of the actual subject’s then-home which adds another disturbing layer to it.)

My heart aches for 19 year old Taylor because I don’t think she was equipped to deal with what she went through (no one would be) and it sent her down a path in relationships that ended up hurting her for years. To be the butt of jokes for something that would be seen so differently these days must have been so painful and the fact that she’s managed to overcome so much and lead a pretty happy and healthy life these days is such a testament to the work and healing she’s done and the support system she has.