#begging for crumbs is not empowering at all

[strawberrycakelove]

Honestly, and this is a very unpopular opinion, even though I'm a woman and I'm sympathetic to feminism (I'm not going to say feminist because I'm not an active activist, I'm not politically active or anything like that), I think it's silly to want EVERY FEMALE character to be involved with the main cast HAS TO GAIN RELEVANCE AND BE SIGNIFICANT, it NEEDS to be EXPLORED AND DEVELOPED.

Because feminism, female empowerment and so on, being less macho and sexist etc, because everything is always aimed at men, only they get the best etc….

But honestly, I PREFER (this is a personal preference) to look for a work where the author REALLY was inspired to create a character who feels like this, who corresponds to this model, where he REALLY WANTED to create a character from this perspective than to expect that an author unwilling and WITHOUT WILL AND INSPIRATION does so.

And I speak because of entertainment, and only because of that. (And because I am not obliged to consume something with taste of political and social activism, because yes, there is a difference, and it is terribly noticeable)

Ah!, but male characters are not exempt from this and so on and so on, they are also constructed by cultural models and values ​​etc. and so on… (and all these arguments that EVERYONE KNOWS)

I know this very well, but what's the problem with me wanting an empowered female character who doesn't have TASTE of political and social activism? just like the male characters (macho and sexist, very stereotyped) are? What's wrong with me wanting a character who at least feels more natural and relatable? more authentic? Instead of her looking like a walking feminist primer?

I watch entertainment to embark on a fantasy world! It's to escape the real world! Not to remind me that the world is a mess and that is a product! I know that this is a product at the end of the day. But I don't want to consume entertainment whose product tastes like a product, I don't watch entertainment because of the design of its plastic packaging, I'm there for the content!

I don't want an empowered female character perfectly aligned with the ideals of empowerment and so "aligned and perfect" that it becomes caricatured and ridiculously artificial and inhuman (it's better to create a robot character right away that looks like it came with a program feminist training built into your system).

At worst, this is the most atrocious way to dehumanize feminism in entertainment and ridicule it.

Here is totally my personal opinion! I think that female empowerment loses a lot when an author, WHO HAS NO WILL, is forced to create a female character along these lines just to meet a demand, because unfortunately, this character will end up sounding, having that tone, CREATED ON DEMAND .

And there is nothing more discouraging than consuming media with a bland, poorly made, uninspired, dull "empowered female character", because it is terribly explicit that he is only there to meet a demand.

Between that and looking for authors who really write good and truly inspired female characters, I prefer the second, rather than wanting and hoping that work X, Y or Z fits my demand, because if the author doesn't have that profile, it will be a poor adaptation.

And this is to expect that authors of works, already consecrated and established, that we can adore but do not cover these aspects, that adapt (sometimes clearly against their will, as the poor and lazy result makes it obvious), would do this, that and that other to adapt, I think (and this is just my opinion) that this takes away the opportunity for other authors to stand out and shine, as it makes the range of options restricted and without space for new authors, new styles, forms of concepts etc., because the only ones, in one way or another, who continue to be "allowed" to shine, are those who have already established themselves and remove potential spaces, and at the same time I think it leaves them in a very comfortable position to deliver adaptations bad and poorly made of these demands.

And that to me is the same as holding on to the plastic packaging, the "brand", the label, and forgetting about the contents.

It's literally judging a book by its cover.

Because it won't matter how bad the result is, because nobody wants to know about authors other than them, nobody wants to look elsewhere, for others who can do it better and more interesting with quality entertainment, in a more authentic way, and they, " "They are allowed" to do bad things, because some fans never get tired of begging for crumbs.

And there is no reason to serve a banquet, for those looking for crumbs.

That's why I'd rather look for my banquet than beg for crumbs.

This is my personal opinion only.

[murfpersonalblog]

I picked #1 for simplicity's sake, but maybe I should've picked #10, cuz IMO the show's very clearly demonstrated how Louis is a bottom and Lestat is verse. But I don't think Lestat ever suffers at all--he loves anything and everything Louis dishes out, because Louis is THAT one and Lestat thanks his lucky stars Louis even bothers with him at all, LOL. XD

Power imbalance and power inequality are at the heart of Loustat's relationship dynamics, and their sex inevitably is part of it, with vampirism as a metaphor for sexuality. Ep6 is VERY interesting, because it gave us the hate-sex scene where Lestat was visibly enjoying letting Louis dishrag him; and in Ep1 he seemed turned on after Louis shoved him; then teased/humored Louis by saying he could sleep "on top" of Lestat in the coffin. Ofc it's ALL debatable (AMC knows wtf they're doing, istg, the discourse is getting us through this hiatus like a mofo), but I think what Lestat REALLY likes is seeing Louis strong and healthy, and yes--POWERFUL. In Lestat's lizard brain, Louis being hale & hearty enough to overpower him validates Lestat's success as his Maker (caretaker, father, head of the household, husband, etc). Seeing Louis weak & starving & unfulfilled KILLED Lestat, he hated it, and felt like a failure that his fledgling wasn't actually thriving under his bat wings ("you are a killer, Louis!"). It's narcissism at its finest--the children as reflections of the parents, etc.

But Ep6 is Grovel Era Lestat. Here, it's Louis' ego that needs the boost; Louis wants to feel empowered. Having (temporarily) deferred to Louis & Claudia's rules, Lestat strategically came off as non-threatening after his horrid display of overwhelming power advantages in Ep5. Lestat's nudity in scenes where he needed to lure Louis in & seduce him are strategic. Did Louis top Lestat in Ep6? Maybe, but I think Louis bottomed from the top, which is different. Regardless, even though Lestat LET Louis beat him up and vent for a bit, Louis was still the bottom, as Ep6 would later show us once the murder plot was in effect & he'd started disassociating. Interestingly, there is NO indication from Louis that he didn't bottom or didn't like bottoming. Louis had to convince Lestat that everything had gone back to normal with them--back when they were happy & in love & had an active sex life in their marriage bed--so Louis laid under him on the bottom (ostensibly being penetrated) as Lestat lay on top (ostensibly the penetrator); to trick Lestat into thinking the status quo had been reestablished, when he was actually plotting a coup.

I saw a few people mention sub and dom too. BDSM, sub-space, domination/dominatrixes, etc are roleplaying terms; seme & uke are yaoi terms; Alpha and Omega are fantasy genders/roles in Omegaverses; and there's a whole rainbow of other roles & kinks out there too. But roleplaying kinks don't always necessarily determine who is the penetrator and penetrated; or who has the "power" or not. The penetrator can top from the bottom, and the penetrated can bottom from the top. There is power in submission. Some tops are thoroughly "whipped" & dominated by their "power bottoms" who completely take the reigns; or their "pillow princesses" luxuriating in the top having to beg/work hard for every crumb of affection/validation, "how can I say No to you; anything for you". Some bottoms revel in being vulnerable and soft and at the top's mercy, and some tops live to please and care for their needy bottoms--baby, daddy, etc. Power plays are all across the spectrum, so I really like #9 as well, cuz it really does depend on what kind of relationship dynamic fans & fic/meta writers have in mind for Loustat.

Although we clearly see that he HATED being submissive to white men, Louis is a "LIBRARY of confusion" and contradiction, because he married Lestat: the most powerful white man in all of NOLA (and eventually, most of the VC), and a raging misogynist in the books. Sex & sexuality is so gendered in pop culture, and patriarchal toxic masculinity / heteronormativity can still seep into both real & fictional gay relationships. But in AMC's case I think it's a VERY deliberate dichotomy, as the show itself constantly uses gendered terms for Louis on the show ("emasculation & admiration," "housewife," "he only hit me the 1 time!," etc). Louis struggled (& failed) to find empowerment through his socioeconomic & gendered status (his sexual exploitation of women as a pimp), race (as a mixed/biracial Creole during Jim Crow), his marriage ("equals in the quiet dark," but the only one called "Daddy" Lou by Claudia, though Grace said "you and your white daddy," etc), and ultimately vampirism. We see his gradual transition out of the hard lines of his power suits into domestic soft cardigans, that coincide not only with his marrying Lestat, but losing his business & having Claudia. He's emasculated in the sense that he becomes the kept housewife/house-husband, but he reaffirms his masculinity & power by being called Daddy Lou--the one in charge, as Lestat LET him wear the pants as it were (Lestat's in full drag wearing a dress in Ep7 but is still the "King" of Mardi Gras)--even though Louis is living in Lestat's house, is Lestat's fledgling, and is Lestat's wife/bride.

What AMC is doing with Loustat is just waaaaay too complex, it's actually incredible.

Top/bottom discourse is pointless and evil and has destroyed friendships and fandoms. However because i'm evil and love doing pointless research i'm going to figure this out once and for all:

Try to ignore your own personal preferences and only consider what do you think it's like in canon. This debate pops up every once in a while, sometimes with actual fighting, and to me it seems like the fandom is definitely leaning one way but i know my own bubble or fanfic statistics don't necessarily reflect the broader fandom opinions so i'm curious what majority of people actually think

[eyeofthemoongame]

i am here to beg for some crumbs: what has been your favorite part of writing ch2 so far? and/or, what are you looking forward to writing the most that you haven't gotten to yet? 🙏🏼

HEY GIRL 💗💞💓 i got smth a little more hearty than crumbs for you 😌

at the end of the day i'm a character writer so my favorite part of writing chapter 2 so far is definitely developing relationships! not just between mc and the rest of the cast but also the cast with each other. depending on your choices mc will be able to have some one on one time with mom (like they did with dad in ch 1) and of course tala is making her entrance 💖

you'll also learn more about the sibling relationships between mayari, apolaki, and tala in ch 2. the family structure is such an important yet infinitely complex aspect of filipino culture and i'm really excited that i get to flesh out bathala's children more in ch 2. i'm fascinated about what a divine civil war between two siblings does to your family dynamics and personalities 😂 really taking "i love you but i don't really like you at all right now" and finding a way to forgive someone you know deeply and love just as much for an egregious hurt to the extreme. the myths about the war leave a lot of blank space to explore duty, resentment, and grief. i want to push all the juicy juicy buttons and see what happens.

re: what i'm looking forward to the most, i'm really curious about how the first scene with mc, tala, and duma all together will go 👀 to some degree my OCs have a mind of their own so they'll be the ones driving the interactions and will make SURE i capture them correctly. they're all in such a high pressure situation now—prime time for some drama and ~emotional growth~

on a personal level i think it's just really satisfying to prove to myself that i can pull off a story this big. it feels like i'm leveling up as a writer and to have people supporting my work on top of that is just really gratifying. thank y'all!

short snippet under the cut for dessert 🧁😘

“Marvelous,” Mayari whispers. “You were right, Tala.”

Mayari smiles proudly at her younger sister, the first expression you’ve seen from her today that doesn’t feel layered in something unspoken. Tala clasps one of Mayari’s hands in hers. The gesture is affectionate and empowering at the same time. You’d always known that the ruling family was just that—a family—but to witness their sisterhood up close is a different level of knowledge entirely.

Despite Tala’s levity, you have a feeling that she’s actually rather devoted to this. Especially since it seems it was her ingenuity that devised a solution in the first place.

[graaythekwami]

Blanc Skies (ML one-shot)

Summary: Little kitty on the rooftop, Not alone For he has his Lady.

(In which Chat Blanc was able to win.)

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Also read on ao3.

Contains a character with possessive and controlling behaviors while akumatized.

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Silver claws swiped forward, breaking the water’s edge as the gleaming fish swam near the surface. Claws hooked into scales, flipping the creature up and out of the water as the rest of them scattered. Another clawed hand snagged the fish out of the air, icy blue eyes watching humorously as it struggled in his grasp.

Chat Blanc let out a purr as he hooked the fish to his belt, pleased with the meal he had caught. It became easier each time, using crumbs and the remains of the last fish to lure more to the surface. And something about fishing, about hunting, felt so natural– and he couldn’t help but preen as he drew out his staff, vaulting across the watery ruins of Paris.

Once the sight had filled him with a bitter sorrow, a pain that had refused to relent. For months he had suffered in this abyss, in this silence, with no escape from the destruction he had created with his own hand. Some days he had shouted and screamed, others he had sobbed and begged, but nothing could change the reality he lived in. He had thought there was no escape, the days blurring, to the point where he was singing just to pretend the echoes belonged to someone else.

And then an angel had graced him with her presence, the one he had thought he had lost returning to his arms.

He used cars and drifting debris as a bridge across Paris, his baton propelling makeshift boats forward. His heart soared at the thought of her, and his eyes locked on the building in the distance. It was one of the few with any part of it above the water, and though it was minimal compared to the one he had collapsed in his burst of anger, but it was enough for who it held– which to him was the entire world.

He leapt up onto the roof of the old hotel, staring out at the empty landscape, a smile flickering onto his face, before climbing down through the roof entrance.

“Princess,” he purred as he slunk down the hallway, but he heard no reply. His heartbeat picked up at this, and he had to fight the akuma within him to keep his anger and fear from spiking. He knew that she had been quiet these last few days, and she most certainly wasn’t gone.

She had tried running twice, and he didn’t understand why– there was nowhere and no one else to go to. He had moved her to somewhere safer though, and she didn’t have the same agility as him to reach the roof (he had Cataclysm-ed the stairs as a precaution). So far this building had proved to be secure, even with most of its levels sunken under water, but he knew they couldn’t stay here forever. 

Soon Paris would run out of salvageable resources for them, and they would need to move on. He didn’t know where they would go or what they would find, but as long as he was by Marinette’s side he could protect her.

“Princess,” he said softly again as he reached the room she had been staying in, nudging the door open. Again, he heard no reply, but he did hear her sharp intake of breath as he slunk into the room. “I brought you some food. I just need to cook it up for you, I know you must be hungry, you haven’t eaten at all today.”

He could vaguely remember what it was like to be hungry. His akuma empowered him in many ways, including having no need for food. He was more than happy to prepare some for his Lady, and he slipped the fish he had caught into a cooler near the door. He hummed to himself, wishing that Marinette would say something back to him– but her being here was enough.

With the fish now safely tucked away he turned his focus towards Marinette. With no electricity the room was dim, but thanks to light streaming in from the window he could see her form quite easily curled up on the bed. Even if it was dark he would still be able to see her with his night vision, which was wonderful. Marinette was here once more, and nothing could keep them apart again.

He strolled up to the bed she laid on, not paying heed to the way she tensed nor the way her heart rate jumped. His ears flicked as he studied her, the way she struggled to keep her ragged breathes smooth and even– Marinette was pretending to be asleep. The sight was so adorable that he couldn’t help but let out another purr, crawling across the hotel bed as he moved closer towards her, wrapping his arms around her.

“I know you’re awake,” he told Marinette, and she let out a small gasp. “I can hear your heart,” his claws hands fell across right where it laid in her chest. “You’re awake, and you’re alive– isn’t that wonderful?”

Her heart still thundered loudly as she tensed, taking in a sharp breath. The scent of salt tickled his nose as he pulled her closer, her back to his chest. She was angry, and she was crying. Chat let out a sigh, but chose to ignore it, burying his nose into her hair, taking in her wonderful scent instead. He thought he would never have this again– but she was right here.

“You’re still upset about the earrings, aren’t you?” He finally asked, and for the first time that day he finally heard her wonderful voice.

“Yes,” she choked out, voice full of bitterness as she struggled against a sob.

He sighed, but it would only be a matter of time before her anger faded. She would forgive him eventually– she always did, after all. He didn’t want to wait, in fact the akuma in him seemed to be urging his anger to spark, but he always managed to calm it down. He had waited alone for months just to see her once again, he could wait just a bit longer for things to become perfect between them.

“I’m sorry,” he told her with complete sincerity. She did love being Ladybug, and he had taken that from her.

But he had no other choice– with the Ladybug earrings there was a means to rid him from the clarity he had gained as Chat Blanc, and her restoration powers could bring back everything... including him.

He let out a growl without thinking, and instantly she tensed in his arms. His guilt tugged at him as he realized her fear was sparking, and he ran his fingers through her hair in hopes of calming her. She had kept trying to put it up in pigtails these last few days, and in the end he had to Cataclysm her hair ties to keep it down. He preferred her hair down– it reminded him of better times.

“It’s better this way,” he told her for what felt like the millionth time. “You showed me that, remember? A wish had it’s price, a risk– and now we don’t have to worry about that.”

He had been so focused on gaining her Miraculous when she had first showed up, and he was sure it was the akuma in him. The last lingering orders of... that man. Of course his mind had set its sights on the wish to restore what had been done, and he had nearly succeeded. His fight with his Lady had been a long one, and it was sheer luck (strange, that it had been granted to him instead of her) that he had been able to claim one of the earrings from her.

Taking the other had been simple once her powers had dispersed.

She had been crying as he had done so, begging for him to stop, calling out for Bunnyx. It was somewhere in his frazzled mind that he had realized she must have been from another time, which made sense. Where else would she have come from? He had admitted that his isolation had driven his mind to its limits, but with his Lady back it had become clearer with every minute, including the realization of what asking for a wish would entail– which she had fervently reminded him as he had put the earrings into his own ears, her last attempt to stop him.

And she had been right, what was the point of making a wish to restore this world when her Miraculous Ladybug could do just that? A wish that would come with a devastating price? It was a power beyond their control... and did he really need the whole world back? A world of danger and selfish people? A world where he had been controlled like a puppet? A world with... that man?

Why did he need the world back when his entire world was in front of him?

Her cry had been painful when he had Cataclysm-ed her earrings, and watching the last fragment of hope in her eyes shatter was terrible. She didn’t seem to understand that everything was going to be okay, that she would be safe with him. She still didn’t understand that, but he would be patient.

“You took Tikki,” Marinette hissed, snapping him from his thoughts. A scowl twitched on his face, a part of him twisting with frustration as she mentioned someone else, someone that did not matter when it came to them– but he released it with a laugh.

“Kwamis don’t die, m’lady,” he said, humming as he played with her hair. “It simply removed the dangers of her powers from this realm, that’s all.”

“Your powers are the dangerous ones,” she spat back.

“Hmm,” he said, but had no reply, because her words were true. His powers were dangerous, as he had used them to attack her– twice. But one had been when Hawk Moth had been whispering in his ear, and the other was when his insanity had a strong hold on him. Now all was well, and his abilities were to be used to protect her now, as they had always been. “When do you want to eat?”

“I’m not hungry, Chat,” she replied, and his heart fluttered as she said his name.

“You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’m still not hungry.”

“That’s okay, but you still need to eat. I’ll cook you your dinner in a few minutes, but I just want to lay like this for a little longer,” he pulled her closer, snuggling against her. 

His words were a lie– he wanted to be like this forever. But unlike him she needed the food, and it was his job to watch over her. He wished that she would just melt into his embrace like she had before all this had happened, but instead she tried to move away. He just wrapped his arms around her tighter, waiting until she settled down.

To her their time together had never happened, which was painful, but she was still his same Marinette. He had debated telling her who had once been under the mask, knowing that was who this Mari carried feelings for, but it felt wrong to use that name. Just as wrong as when she called him Chat Noir– because he wasn’t either of them anymore. He was Chat Blanc, a blank slate for his new start– with no responsibilities save for the care of this wonderful woman in front of him.

Though a part of him still melted when she did call him Chat Noir– for it was the only name that had ever been his that hadn’t been given to him by that man.

He preferred not to think about that.

“Leave me alone,” Marinette spat, and this time he couldn’t keep the anger of his akuma back. His grip on her tightened, and he flipped her over so they were facing each other. Her beautiful blue eyes mirrored his with rage, each glowering at the other, but he could see her resolve withering under his slitted glare.

“Marinette,” he said slowly, hands tightly gripping her shoulders. “My love,” his words might have seemed kind if he wasn’t speaking with a hiss. “I don’t think you want to ask that of me. After all, I know plenty of being alone, and I can promise you it is a fate I would never inflict upon you. However, you saying such leaves the impression that you want to leave me alone– again. Would you really do that to your Kitty, My Lady?”

His akuma told him to whisper threats, but even with the anger roaring through him he tucked them away. His Lady was to protect after all, and if something were to happen he knew he wouldn’t get another second chance to protect her.

“Ch-chat–” she stuttered out, and instantly everything softened– his grip, his expression, his anger. His purr rumbled out from his throat as he pulled her back into his embrace, holding her tightly against him. She was here, he wasn’t alone anymore– she was here.

“I love you,” he whispered to her. “I love you so much.”

His eyes snapped open in surprise as he felt her returning his embrace, her fingers running through his white hair. He took in a sharp breath, holding her just a bit closer, and she sighed against him.

“I know you do, Chaton, I know,” she told him softly, all anger gone, and he felt tears stinging his eyes. This wasn’t the first time she had shown him a softness in these last few days since he had destroyed her Miraculous, but still it swept him away every time. And he was sure it wouldn’t be long until this was the only side of her he saw.

“I love you, Marinette,” he told her again, because he was sure she didn’t understand. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You’re the most important person in my life,” she replied gently– as this Marinette from the past would never utter the words ‘love’ to him. “And it hurts so much to know I have lost you.”

“I’m right here.” Why couldn’t she see that? That Noir was just a shadow to the brilliance he was now?

She pulled back, blue eyes staring into each other. Hers were deep, like the ocean– while his were like ice, shattered. He hungrily took in every feature of her face, as if he would forget it if he were to look away. His breath hitched as she ran a hand down the side of his face. It wasn’t affection, as there was only concern in her eyes, but he would take whatever he could get.

“You are there,” she finally concluded. “Deep down I know you’re in there, Chat Noir.”

Perhaps Noir was, but that didn’t matter as long as he stayed hidden away.

He could kiss her right then and there, but he knew that wouldn’t be right. Such a bold step in affection would be too far for the Marinette that didn’t remember their time together. He would have to take the steps to get there slowly, and while the thought of her not remembering hurt, he was excited to go down that path with her once more. He instead settled for a soft kiss on the check, and he purred when she didn’t pull away.

“Do you want some food, love?” He asked.

“...If we can eat outside,” she said after a moment. “I don’t want to be in this room for another minute.”

He beamed. “Of course, just let me get your dinner ready, then we can go up on the roof.”

He didn’t want to move away from her, but still he rolled off of the bed, making his way to the cooler where the fish was waiting. Perhaps when they left Paris he could offer her more than seafood and whatever cans of food he found floating in the water outside. Maybe they could find somewhere where the ground still stood and was covered in lush plants– they could make a garden! Marinette had always loved her potted plants on her balcony!

But for now they would have their dinner on the rooftop, and this time he wouldn’t be alone– for he had his Lady.

[beloved-31-proverbs-women]

Repost of a really good Teaching 80 Prayer Scripture. 🙏🏼❤️☝🏼

Every child of God is constantly under the attack of the devil and his agents. As believers we cannot afford to be ignorant of the devices of the devil against our lives. Life is a battle ground and only the spiritually weak, ends up as a scape goat. Today we shall be engaging in 80 deliverance prayer from family bondage. This deliverance prayer is a prayer for family. That is we are standing in the gap for our loved ones as we engage this deliverance prayers for their release from bondage. To be in bondage is to held captive by satanic forces. A lot of families today under the captivity of the devil. The devil has held them bound with all manner of evil traps. This deliverance prayer will empower you to break to pieces every evil chains that the devil has used to tie down your family in Jesus name.

Types Of Bondages

Their are different types of bondages, in fact time and space will not permit us to mention all of them. The list is endless, however we are going to be looking at some of the types of spiritual bondages that the devil uses to hold down families captives. Below are types of bondages:

A). Bondage Of Poverty: This is a state where in a family no one succeeds, no matter how hard the trying one makes it to the top in the family. Many families are under this bondage of poverty, the devil has block their progress, such that whatsoever they lay their hands on do not prosper. But today, as you engage this deliverance prayers from family bondage, your family will be delivered in Jesus name.

😎. Bondage Of Unfruitfulness: This is when a family have been plagued with barrenness. This is not the will of God for any family. There are many families today, that are struggling to have children because of the evil works of the devil in their lives. Barrenness is not of God and as you pray this prayer for family today, your family shall be delivered in Jesus name.

C). Bondage Of Sin: This is when sin has taken over your family. There are many families today where you cannot find one saved soul in it. Everyone is just living a sinful life. The devil has blocked their ears and their hearts that they cannot hear the gospel that can save them. Such a family is heading for destruction unless serious deliverance prayers is made on there behalf.

D). Bondage Of Stagnation: This is when the progress of a family comes to a full stop. When all doors becomes closed and no one is making progress anymore. This is another sign that the family needs serious deliverance prayers.

E). Bondage Of Evil Pattern: An evil pattern is a recurrence of evil in a family from generation to generation. That is to say, what your great grand father, suffered, your grand father suffered it, your father suffered it and now you are already seeing the same signs in your life. You must reject it in prayers.

F). Bondage Of Ancestral Curses: These is when the sins of your ancestors brings a curse upon your family. This can be very frustrating because a lot of families are suffering from what they know nothing about. That is why you need to ask questions, find out about your background and no why you are going through what you are going through. Only deliverance prayers an break family curses.

G). Bondage Of Addiction: This is when a family has a history of addiction, either addiction to alcohol, cigarettes, drugs or other harmful substances. Thank God for therapies and rehabilitation centers but a deliverance prayer for such a family will destroy that addiction from the roots.

H). Bondage Of Failure: This is when a family is used to failure and always being behind in everything. This is not the will of God, God promised us in Deuteronomy 28:13, that we shall be on top only and never at the bottom.

I). Bondage Of Disappointments: This is when a family is suffering from the affliction of disappointments. Broken promises, broken friendships, and broken relationships. This affliction is also the cause of what is popularly called ” near success syndrome”. Which is failure almost at the edge of success. You must pray yourself and your entire family out of this bondage

J). Bondage Of Slavery: This is when the devil has reduced your entire family members to servants. When you and your family are seen as the least in all things. When people treat you like rags in the society. You must rise up and reject that status. You are not meant to be a slave, but a king. God has ordained you to reign in life and not beg to survive. You must stand in the gap and pray yourself and your entire family out of this evil status. These prayer for family shall bring you lasting deliverance as you engage them in Jesus name.

All these forms of bondages are used by the devil to hold families bound perpetually. But today you are going to take your deliverance by force. You are going to engage this deliverance prayer with every passion and holy anger you have in you. Its time to tell the Devi, ” enough is enough” your family must be set free today. Until you resist the devil, he will never flee away from your family. This deliverance prayer will make your life and entire family too hot for the devil to handle. I recommend that you gather as many of your family members that are available to you and all of you should join together and pray this deliverance prayers.

Remember it is a prayer for family. As you come together and pray this deliverance prayer in agreement, I see God destroying every yoke of bondage in your family in Jesus name. Pray this prayer today with faith, and your Faith shall make you free.

PRAYERS

1. Thou power of God, penetrate my spirit, soul and body, in the name of Jesus.

2. Association of demons, gathered against my progress, roast by the thunder fire of God, in the name of Jesus.

3. Blood of Jesus, redeem me, in the name of Jesus.

4. Every satanic decision, taken against my progress, be nullified, in the name of Jesus.

5. Every evil deposit in my spirit, soul and body, be flushed out by the blood of Jesus, in the name of Jesus.

6. Oh Lord my God, promote me in the spiritual and in the physical, in the name of Jesus.

7. Every stranger in my body (ministry, life and calling), jump out, in the name of Jesus.

8. Any satanic arrow, fired at me, go back, locate and destroy your sender, in the name of Jesus.

9. Holy Ghost, arise and destroy the habitation and works of the wicked in my life (home, finances, ministry), in the name of Jesus.

10. Every serpentine spirit, spitting on my breakthrough, roast, in the name of Jesus.

11. Every enemy of the perfect will of God for my life, die, in the name of Jesus.

12. The anointing of joy and peace, replace heaviness and sorrow in my life, in the name of Jesus.

13. O Lord, let abundance replace lack and insufficiency in my life, in the name of Jesus.

14. Every Pharaoh in my life, destroy yourself, in the name of Jesus.

15. Garment of Pharaoh that is upon my life, be removed by fire, in the name of Jesus.

16. Thou power of impossibility in my destiny, die, in the name of Jesus.

17. Every task master, assigned against me, somersault and die, in the name of Jesus.

18. I refuse to continue eating the crumbs from the task master’s table, in the name of Jesus.

19. Any man or woman, who wouldn’t let me prosper, oh Lord, write his/her obituary, in the name of Jesus.

20. Oh Lord, give me a new inner man, if I have been altered, in the name of Jesus.

21. Oh Lord, activate Your high call on my life, in the name of Jesus.

22. Oh Lord, anoint me to recover the wasted years in every area of my life, in the name of Jesus.

23. Oh Lord, if I have fallen behind in many areas of my life, empower me to recover all lost opportunities and wasted years, in the name of Jesus.

24. Any power, that says I will not go forward, be arrested, in the name of Jesus.

25. Any power, that wants to keep me in want in the midst of plenty, die, in the name of Jesus.

26. Any power, that wants to draw me away from the presence of the Lord to destroy me, die, in the name of Jesus.

27. I will get to my promised inheritance, in the name of Jesus.

28. Any power, that wants me to fulfil my destiny only partially, die, in the name of Jesus.

29. Oh Lord, anoint me with power to destroy all foundational covenants, in the name of Jesus.

30. Oh Lord, use my substance for the furtherance of the gospel, in the name of Jesus.

31. Oh Lord, arise and bless my inheritance, in the name of Jesus.

32. All my stolen virtues, be returned to me, in the name of Jesus.

33. O Lord, let my release bring revival, in the name of Jesus.

34. Oh Lord, reveal all ignorant ways in me by Your Holy Spirit, in the name of Jesus.

35. Today, you my spirit man, you will not bewitch me, in the name of Jesus.

36. Power in the blood of Jesus, redeem my destiny, in the name of Jesus.

37. Every satanic weapon, formed against my destiny, backfire, in the name of Jesus.

38. Arrows of deliverance, locate my destiny, in the name of Jesus

39. Every spiritual cobweb on my destiny, burn, in the name of Jesus.

40. Every serpent in my foundation, swallowing my destiny, die, in the name of Jesus.

41. Every red candle, burning against my destiny, catch fire, in the name of Jesus.

42. Song: “God of deliverance, send down fire . . .” (sing for about 15 minutes clapping your hands).

43. Every lid the enemy has put on my destiny, jump up, die, in the name of Jesus.

44. Every serpent in my blood, die, in the name of Jesus.

45. Every serpent, caging my destiny, die, in the name of Jesus.

46. Every power of darkness, following me about, die, in the name of Jesus.

47. Evil cord of wickedness, sin or iniquity, blocking my communication with heaven and God, be cut off, in the name of Jesus.

48. Every power, spirit or personality, listening to my prayers in order to report them to the demonic world, Father, scatter them, in the name of Jesus.

49. Every authority of darkness upon which wealth and blessings are based, crumble suddenly in one day, in the name of Jesus.

50. Father, expose and destroy the workers of iniquity in Jesus’ name.

51. Father, let the mystery and secret of my fulfilment be revealed, in the name of Jesus.

52. O Lord, let the heaven open, let the anointing speak, let my hidden blessings be revealed and released, in Jesus’ name.

53. Oh Lord, forgive me, where I have judged others out of ignorance and pride, in the name of Jesus.

54. Oh Lord, remove the penalty of judgment upon my life and calling, in the name of Jesus.

55. Oh heavens, fight for me today, in Jesus’ name.

56. Oh Lord, increase me so that Your name may be glorified, in the name of Jesus.

57. Any power, diverting the will of God out of my life, somersault and die, in Jesus’ name.

58. Oh Lord, arise and let every poison in my life be arrested, in Jesus’ name.

59. I declare the obituary of all the opposition powers, attacking my glory and calling, in Jesus’ name.

60. Holy Spirit, activate the will bf God in my life and calling, in the name of Jesus.

61. I decree the will of my enemies against me to backfire, in the name of Jesus.

62. Every plot of the enemy against me, be reversed, in Jesus’ name.

63. I command the confidence of my enemies to be dashed to pieces, in Jesus’ name.

64. Every spiritual manipulation, against my glory and calling, fail, in Jesus’ name.

65. Oh Lord, destroy the personalities of all those who live to destroy my personality, in Jesus’ name.

66. Oh Lord, vindicate my position in this city (company, country, nation, etc.), in Jesus’ name.

67. Oh Lord, reveal to me what You have called me to be in life (in this city, country, company), in Jesus’ name.

68. Every strange god, assigned to attack my destiny, personality, glory or calling, attack your sender, in Jesus’ name.

69. Ark of God, pursue every dragon assigned against me, in Jesus’ name.

70. You hosts of heaven, pursue those who are raging against me, in Jesus’ name.

71. Ark of God, come into my house today to locate and fight the power of the opposition against me, in the name of Jesus.

72. Ark of God, wherever I have been accepted in the past and they are now rejecting me, arise and fight for me, in Jesus’ name.

73. Lion of Judah, devour every opposition, raging against me now, in Jesus’ name.

74. Wherever they have rejected me, let my spirit man be accepted now, in Jesus’ name.

75. I resist and refuse the sale of my glory and calling for a pair of shoes or for silver, in the name of Jesus.

76. Wine of condemnation, drunk against me, become poison for my enemies, in Jesus’ name.

77. Oh Lord, let the mighty among my enemies flee from me naked, in Jesus’ name.

78. Every power of darkness, that has arrested my ministry and calling, release me now, in the name of Jesus.

79. I am coming out of captivity, in the name of the Lord Jesus.

80. Holy Ghost, arise and promote me, in the name of Jesus.

Thank You father for answering my prayers.

[thrushpot]

the craft (1996)

“id love to see the craft made into a fic” requested by anonymous.

warnings: death, attempted noncon, alcohol

a/n: first movie-inspired fic of more to come. centered around Billy (Skeet Ulrich’s character) and the witchy stuff getting played on him as karma. highly recommend watching if you like cult classics!!

—

You could’ve guessed before even moving here that Hawkins was gonna be a fucking drag. The weather was gloomy, the air wasn’t fresh like you’re used to, and it was so uncomfortably quaint that it made you feel stranded and claustrophobic. You bit your nails the entire flight and even after landing, while the pouring rain soaked your clothes and drenched your hair when first stepping foot in the small town.

It was an especially frightening discovery after a gritty argument with your folks, spouting on about what a brat you’re turning out to be, how much of a disappointment you’re bound to become; so in the midst of a fit enraged, not moving from where you lay stubbornly on your bed with angry tears, you had accidentally slammed the door shut. After realizing what you’d done, curiosity had replaced vexation. Neither of your parents could call the cops or toss you in some looney bin, so you chose to avoid catastrophe by keeping it low and only using it if bored in private. It felt oddly empowering, treasuring the gift, but you’d never been compelled to use it for harm before.

After eating dinner with empty conversation and the only background noise being imaginary crickets and the rain, you’d excused yourself once your plate was wiped clean. Stomping back upstairs, ignoring any distasteful remarks aimed at your departure. You wondered that if the town sucked ass, then that meant school likely would too.

—

It wasn’t hard to see from a mile away that you did not come from nor belong here. Cliques scattered the halls, although this school surely isn’t as big as your last it still has its fair share. Jocks and douchebags, popular cheerleaders, edgy goths. Those titles never served to you, naturally feeling better going alone. Nobody tried approaching the new girl just to say hi or bother looking in your direction. That is until basic jock Billy Hargrove did with a mischievous smirk during lunch a couple tables away, noticing you’re all alone sipping on your school milk. With crass confidence in his stride, he makes his way over to you in the most dramatic, full-of-himself way as possible taking a seat across from yours.

“Lookin’ pretty lonely there, new girl. Y/N is it?” he raises one brow, not asking for permission before snaking Doritos from your lunchtray, chomping while maintaining a smug expression. You scoff before shoving the red bag of corn chips toward him.

“Help yourself. And yeah, that’s me. Who are you?”

Billy has taken the bag with a don’t mind if I do attitude, answering you with his mouth full while licking the stained nacho cheese off his fingertips. “Name’s Billy. So why you here all alone? Haven’t found your crowd yet, or you just a ‘fraidy cat?”

You roll your eyes before playing along with his stupid game. “Well Billy, I just moved here and haven’t talked to anyone besides my lunch buddy that just hogged my chips,” you snip, watching the cocky blonde tilt the bag up to his mouth to finish the rest of the crumbs at the bottom. When he’s done with that portion of your meal, he points to the carton of two percent.

“May I?”

“Nothing’s stopping you,” you bite with sarcasm. He chuckles at your obvious distaste but nevertheless resumed picking at your food and chugging a good amount of the dairy drink down.

“You owe me fifty cents, by the way.”

“Oh yeah? How ‘bout I repay you with a little somethin’ else instead,” he inched closer, the proximity allowing you the feeling of his breath fanning your cheek. You’d been rendered speechless, caught off guard with how shameless and flirtatious he turned. “I’ll repay you with a few pointers, what with you being a little newbie ‘round here. Sound good?” he finished, grinning at how tense and worked up he made you in seconds. “What is it, sweetheart? D’ya think I’d repay you with somethin’ else?” he snickered, taking your carton again and quenching his thirst, the white drips of milk falling down his chin.

“Nope. Just don’t give a shit about your advice,” you snap back into character, his arrogance provoking you to try using one of your little tricks; maybe make him stutter or choke just so he’ll leave you alone. But that would be breaking the rules, and you were strict against taking advantage of it to cause trouble.

“I’ll give it to you anyways. See, my crew over there thinks you’re pretty cute, so you could come around anytime you like. Definitely avoid those freaks over there,” he slyly nods his head over in the direction of two girls dressed in black, chainsmoking. “They won’t be too welcoming.”

“What’s up with them?” you hush inconspicuously, intridgued by their scandalous bravado. You could see yourself hanging out with them even if that meant disregarding all the misinformation Billy feeds you.

“See the little one on the left? That’s Nancy the Slut Wheeler. Nickname sorta explains itself. She fucked more than half the guys on my team and cheated on her long-term boy toy Harrington,” he explains, not shy about what’s coming out of his mouth no matter how derogatory or degrading. “Not speaking from experience or anything. And the bigger one is Robin Buckley, she’s a dyke.”

“Uh, okay. That all the dirt you got or what?”

“Nah, there’s more shit floatin’ around here about stuff they do. I’ve heard they’re into witchcraft, but I dunno if I believe that one.”

Now that snagged your attention, but you wouldn’t share a thing like that with a guy like Billy. “Anyway, thanks for sharing lunch, Y/N. Was a pleasure. You should come to my practice after school, we could have another fun little chat. Whaddya say?” he licks his lips, holding your stare to persuade you into visiting. “Please?”

You really could give a fuck about watching a bunch of sweaty guys toss and argue around a ball, no matter which sport, but it was hard to find courage to decline his pleading yet intimidating stare. “Maybe I’ll swing by,” you hesitate, earning an enthusiastic holler out of Billy before he gets up from your table and makes a pit stop near you for a moment to whisper in your ear.

“Really looking forward to it, new girl.”

Successfully hiding your hot cheeks as he pats your back, sending a wink over his shoulder before heading back to his circle of friends not-so-subtly watching. When the bell rings to signal lunch’s end, Nancy and Robin catch your eye, ashing their cigarettes, fixating on you. Flustered from getting caught, you quickly snatch your lunchtray and dump whatever’s left in the trash, hanging your head low as you make your way to your next class.

—

Biology class was humiliating. After approaching Nancy and Robin about a group project assigned on your first day, Robin gawked as Nancy glared without a yes or a no about letting you join them. It was a long shot anyways. While awkwardly nodding as they both continuously stare you down, you shuffle to the very back of the classroom. With nothing better to do, thinking no one was paying attention, you flick your pencil in the air, making it stand as your hands stay in your lap. Moments later, getting lost in thought about Billy, wondering what his intentions were, how you were ever gonna fit in here; Robin witnesses the unworldly telekinetic party trick. Her mouth hangs in awe, not believing she allowed Nancy to bully her into rejecting you.

“You don’t know what you’re even talking about,” Nancy argues, popping her chewing gum as she gazes in the bathroom mirror and applies another sloppy smear of eyeliner.

Robin’s scoff is followed by a sigh before turning Nancy away from her reflection. “I know what I saw! She can... do things. Like with her mind. She’s our third, I know it,” the girl vigorously nods her head. Nancy remained unconvinced but decides to give in if it’ll shut her dimwit of a best friend the fuck up.

“Fine, okay! We’ll talk to her after school, see what happens. You better not be fucking with me on this. We don’t need any incidents happening because you’re seeing things that aren’t there,” Nancy stares her down like a wolf threatening to attack, eyeballing the taller girl with satisfaction as she gulps submissively.

—

You decided there was nothing better to do than make an appearance at Billy’s basketball practice after school. As he dribbles the ball and taunts his opponents, he spots you from afar and takes his attention off the game and momentarily directs it towards you instead. With a wink, he sticks his tongue out teasingly before taking his tank top off and giving one of his teammates a high five. While lost in the dance of seduction with Billy, you neglect to notice the presence of two girls lingering behind you.

“He’s not actually into you, you know.”

Snapping your head back in shock, you recover from the cheap scare before identifying the voice as Nancy Wheeler. The one Billy had accused of being the school’s slut. Right beside her stands Robin, not looking quite as vicious as her partner in crime. Robin, the significantly gentler and taller one, gives you a warmer greeting of a wave and a tight smile. Billy said that she was the infamous “dyke.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, not easily trusting her word but also not believing Billy’s rumors either. Nancy looks over to the court where Billy skips around effortlessly, making a basket for his team and earning praise and applause from his coach.

“He did the same thing to me. See, first he’ll try talking you into sucking him off, then when that doesn’t work he begs you to fuck him. Says all the right things, you’re beautiful Nancy, please baby, I won’t tell anyone if you just come sit on my cock. Then after you tell him you’re still not ready, he tells the whole school you did it anyway. Makes shit up to impress people.” Nancy bites as-a-matter-of-factly, nodding over in Billy’s direction on the court. Billy, busily unaware of being your topic of conversation, jukes an opponent and snatches the ball, slamming the weaker boy down to the ground with a snap of his body being thrown to the ground. You tightened your hold on your schoolbag not knowing who to believe anymore. Hearing one thing and then another gave you a fucking headache.

“Look, it’s not— I’m not even here for him. It’s not what it looks like,” you stammer as Nancy raises her brow with dubiousness. She cracks a salty grin at you then turns to the boys playing on the court.

“Go Billy! Score that basket, baby!” Nancy shouts with manic laughter, sickly happy when the distraction disrupts his focus, causing him to lose the ball and get shoved backwards by another opponent. Nancy turns and slowly struts closer, sitting on the bleachers and leaning over to whisper in your ear with a ruthless ball of hate gleaming her eye. “He’s a jerk. I’d stay away if I were you.”

With that, she jumps off the bleachers and orders Robin to follow. The taller girl weakly smiles again as you sit and stare as they exit the gym and light a smoke outside. Billy watches them leave and huffs, jogging over.

“Hey. Thought I advised you to not hang around them,” he tisks, spreading his legs before pouring a cup of water down his chin to cool off. You blush and look the other way, clearing your throat.

“I wasn’t. They just sorta came and started talking to me,” you mutter with an attitude.

Billy scoots impossibly closer and fixes a stray hair dangling in front of your face, petting your cheek as if you were a child. “Well, don’t believe whatever shit comes from her fat mouth, alright?”

“Um— okay I guess.”

“That’s a good girl. Glad you came, by the way. Wanna gimme your number so we could do this somewhere a little more private, hm?” he beckons, taking another generous swallow to quench his thirst while holding your stare. You’re stunned and backed into a corner again to comply, nodding while grabbing a pen from your bag. Billy holds out his palm and nods to the pen in your hand, encouraging you to get writing. You waver another moment, unsure if it’s smart getting involved, before saying fuck it and writing the ten digits on his palm. Billy’s name gets shouted from his coach, breaking the thick tension that grew as the moments wore on. He yells back that he needed a quick break before blowing you a kiss. After tossing himself off the bleachers and getting back in the game, he stares down at his hand where the black smudged writing is and smirks, looking up only to find that you’re already gone.

—

“Almost didn’t think you’d answer, maybe gave me a phony number or you’d be with those weirdos again,” Billy snorts, bottlecap flying before handing a beer over. You chuckle uneasily before accepting the beverage, tasting the warm mediocrity before swallowing. It didn’t take long for him to call, now being week two attending Hawkins High. His choice of setting for this “date” was a rooftop of some dark building, stars out and streetlights being the only source of light. Billy’s arm has wrapped around you as you both sip on the beer he provided, an awkward silence suffocating the air.

When the blonde got bored, he’d started trailing his fingers down your back, tiptoeing them teasingly awaiting your reaction. When he gets nothing but you stiffening up, he swoops down to devour your neck, feeling you tilt your head for him to give more. Jackpot. His wandering tongue sucks a deep purple mark as his grabby hands reach to grope you through your bra, making you gasp and feel dumbfounded on what to do and what to say.

“Billy, I don’t think—“

“Mm, what is it new girl? You want more, don’t you?” he mumbles in your neck, then gets greeted by the feeling of blue balls and disappointment when instead of coming closer, you pull away. He scoffs and sits up, straightening himself out.

“I’m just not ready for... that. Sorry,” you weakly apologize, outrageously uncomfortable by the invasion of space and feeling wrong when you notice the growing tent in his jeans. “Are you... like, mad or something?”

Billy sighs, humiliated by your rejection that poked a hole in his ego. He won’t give up on his conquest that easy.

“C’mon, beautiful, not like I’ll tell anyone. We could just have a little fun—“

“No, I-I really gotta go. But I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

Billy glares at the ground, kicking a rock by his feet in annoyance before rolling his eyes. Guess he’ll just have to improvise instead when he brags to the boys tomorrow.

“Yeah, fine.”

—

The next day, sly comments were thrown at you before first period started. He didn’t talk to you at all like usual, your classmates whispering and giggling about the alleged “fun” you shared with Billy the jock Hargrove. Dirty details travelled around locker rooms, even raunchy ones about you supposedly riding him in the backseat of his car calling him “daddy.” He threw in another lie that you asked him to slap you in the face as he fucked you. The purple splotch he sucked on your neck didn’t help defend yourself.

“Hey, Billy!”

The jock turns away from the boisterous crowd that had worshipped him all day. Once he catches your eye he whispers to a boy next to him, whatever secret so hilarious that he clutched his stomach and snorted when Billy finished. He swiftly strolls over to you and folds his hands, faking formality with a plastic smile.

“Yes, new girl?”

“I wanna know why you said that stuff about me. You damn well know we didn’t do anything! How could you?” you whisper-shout, feeling disgusted and violated. Billy snorts a laugh and regains his composure a second later as if all this is some comedy sketch.

“Oh yeah? Really, new girl, I’d love to do it again sometime. Truly... I just don’t like sloppy seconds. You were great though, I had— nah, Daddy sure had a blast. But we’re done here.” Billy pats your head with mockery before strolling over to his circle of friends without a care in the world.

“You know what? Fuck you. Next time I’ll charge a buck an inch, make it cheap.” you spit, barely making it to the bathroom to scurry and wipe the tears desperately spurting from your eyes. You crawled to the corner of the washroom and hugged yourself, quieting down when you hear footsteps inching closer before entering. It was Nancy and Robin.

“Can’t say we didn’t warn you —“

“I know I should have listened to you guys. But now I wanna fuck with this bastard.”

—

Lovespells don’t take much, and the rumors were true. The Bitches of Eastwick had let you in, only took more convincing of your worthiness to Nancy, but she warmed up to you. When she saw what you could do she had to give Robin credit, you truly were their third. And finally, you’d been put in a place you genuinely belonged.

“Is he— is he staring still? What’s he doing now?”

“He’s totally still watching you. Holy shit Y/N, it’s working, I can tell!” Robin whispers as she muffled her laugh with the back of her hand, seeing how Billy couldn’t take his eyes off you longer than five seconds even in the middle of a lecture. As the bell rang, you and Robin gathered up your things to meet Nancy for next period. Billy wasn’t far behind, trying and failing to remain inconspicuous as he followed you.

“He’s behind us.”

“What?”

“Look out.” Right on cue, Billy pushed you and Robin apart to make room for himself while tripping over his shoelaces.

“Uh, hey Y/N,” the boy gulps, scratching the back of his neck, seeing his posse from afar giving him a “what the fuck” look. He flips them off and rubs his hand over your back. “I just wanted to, yunno, apologize for that shit I said. I feel real bad ‘cause you didn’t deserve it. You deserve a gentleman and I can be that for you now,” he explains, blocking your way. His eyes are void of hate or ridicule, instead swirling with awe and devotion as he bit his lip awaiting your forgiveness. You pretend to think, giving his head a noogie like an obedient pet, then grant a forgive-and-forget.

“It’s cool. Maybe tell your friends later that you’re a lying sack of shit, but for now, carry these books for me and my friend?”

He nods vigorously like a soldier eager to please, graciously taking your heavy books from you and Robin and stacking them in his arms. “Of course, Y/N. Anything in the world. Um, do you think I could sit with you in math?”

—

Billy had no fucking clue what happened to him, but he wholeheartedly couldn’t find it in him to even pay it a speck of attention. It didn’t bother him that nothing gave him any pleasure nor satisfaction anymore, the world shrinking to this dead, lifeless black and white, the only light and color he could see that brought joy was her. He could die just feeling her in his arms and he wouldn’t be sad. With complete and utter tunnel vision blocking him from surroundings, everyday he devoted himself to any task she wanted, even pathetically following her and her friends to the girls’ bathroom. He got in deep shit from the entire female staff, but he remained indifferent.

If she said jump, Billy asked how high. If she wanted him to braid her fucking hair, he’d learn fast and make sure it was done thoroughly and flawlessly. Billy was touch starved, weak, losing sight of everyone else around him. No more charming girls into bed, no more basketball wins for the team, his only purpose being solely Y/N’s love or validation. All priorities from the past drastically altered, but there were no second thoughts. No questions, just wants. Needs. The power she held over him was substantial and beautifully overbearing, like black magic or something.

Weeks after the spell kicked in, she now sits in his Camaro with her feet on the dash as Black Sabbath roars from the speakers. No complaints were heard on his end when you demanded he change the music, happily turning it to your favorite station. You plop a sucker in your mouth, tasting the cherry red flavoring before patting Billy’s head and calling him a good boy. Billy blushed and leaned into your touch, pulling over by the pier and shutting the car off.

“You don’t even know what’s happening, do you?” she asks with a laugh. He joins her even though he wasn’t aware of what’s funny. But he finds her delightful, so anything she does or anywhere she goes, he follows.

“No. No I don’t, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters. Just you and me,” he promises, playing with a strand of her hair before leaning in. He missed her candy-tasting lips when she turns her head, then feels something in his stomach churn after getting denied her kiss.

“Tough luck, champ. I don’t want that from you, just wanted to talk.”

Talk? Billy recoiled, clenching his fists at his sides. Something inside him is intensifying, he just doesn’t know what. Before he knows what’s happening, he’s shaking, burning with a need that feels so close yet so far. There’s no control stopping it.

“I mean, do you even eat or sleep anymore? It’s pathetic. This should be wearing off soon...” she trailed off, watching the waves crash at a distance.

“I won’t fucking eat or fucking sleep until I get what’s mine, you understand? I don’t care about anything else. I just wanna... why won’t you hold me?” he implored, yanking the collar of her shirt so she’s closer to his lips. It almost feels too good to be true.

“Stop! Jesus, I didn’t mean for it to go this far! You’re under a spell, you jackass, now let me go!” she squeals, punching his chest. Billy ignores it, that indifference coming back. He reached for his belt when he thinks he has her where he wants her but gets stopped by a righteous kick to the crotch, making him howl in anger.

“Goddammit!” the boy whined, cradling himself through his jeans from the excruciating pain.

“Stay the hell away, you hear me? Don’t ever come near me or my friends again,” she threatens, exiting the vehicle before stomping away. Billy scrubs the tears off his face and punched the steering wheel with miserable frustration.

—

“He... he grabbed me. Wouldn’t let go this time,” you gulp, feeling the ghost of his frighteningly tight grip pulling you. Steam shoots from Nancy’s ears as Robin takes comfort and asks if you’re okay. Nancy has already stirred up a plan for revenge as she flips through the pages of spells, searching for the perfect one.

“Nance, what are you doing?” you ask with reluctance, knowing it isn’t anything good.

“We need to make him pay. He was gonna hurt you, case you forgot. Hargrove’s always been a goddamn scumbug, but he tried fucking you without your permission and he won’t get away with it this time.”

—

Billy gulps the last of the beer from the solo cup and belches, eyes half-lidded and bloodshot. They widen a bit when he spots Nancy enter the house party. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you again, and if he has to talk to your leech of a best friend, so be it. The blonde seeks Nancy upstairs and follows her to a vacant room.

“Where is she?” he demands lazily, eyes faltering once again as he loses balance and falls to the bed back first. He gets comfy with the beer nestled in his grip, still expecting her to give him insight on your disappearance.

“How cute. Miss tormenting your little wife, don’tcha, hot stuff?” Nancy mocks, crawling over to where he lays on the bed and trailing two fingers over his crotch. Billy reacts with stealth, disgusted as he roughly shoved her hand away.

”Don’t. I’m warning you,” he threatens. “Tell me where the fuck Y/N is. I need, I need to talk to her—“

“I’m not telling you shit! She doesn’t want you, understand? You meant nothing to her this whole time. She used you.” Nancy laughs and points her finger at him. Billy rolled his eyes, calling bullshit. You wouldn’t do a thing like that, not in a million years. This is typical Slutty Wheeler, throwing tantrums because she couldn’t get a taste of his dick anymore.

Nancy’s blood boiled, veins popping out of her forehead; on the verge to end this already. But she has to fuck with him like he fucked with her first. The teenage girl burns with hostility as she recalls the spell, working her magic. She runs her hands over her face as it morphs into yours. She takes a look in the mirror and finds your eyes staring at her reflection. With a sick, evil smile, she gets back on the bed and runs her hands down Billy’s chiseled chest, feeling him jump until he sees your face. He gasps, too dumb from the spell and drunk from the liquor to realize he was being tricked again.

“Baby, I’ve missed you so damn much,” he mumbles to who he thinks is you, unbuttoning Nancy’s shirt and kissing every inch of skin he sees. She moans in ecstasy, laughing at how fucking easy he is, then sticks her tongue down Billy’s throat. They were all over eachother for another twenty minutes until a furious knock interrupts.

It’s you and Robin.

“What the fuck?” Billy wipes his mouth of Nancy’s spit then throws himself off the bed in a hurry. Her spell wore off, now changing back to her usual self, giving Billy a playful wave.

“You’re — you’re a witch! They were right!” Billy stutters, his world turning upside down making him sick to his stomach.

“They usually are,” she shrugs.

“Nancy, you got what you wanted. He’s freaked out, now let’s go.” you ordered, the guilt eating you alive. Nancy doesn’t stop.

“Your lover’s a witch too, yunno. The only reason you’re obsessed with her is cause we cast a spell on you. But that’s why I’m here, helping you forget.”

Billy’s chest heaved up and down rapidly, shaking his head, sobering up. “No. No, she didn’t — she wouldn’t do that,” he denies, sweat gathering on his forehead and heart hammering fast.

”NANCE! This is fucking over! Now let’s go!” you beg, loathing his puppy-dog eyes. Robin stands frozen beside you, knowing how unpredictable Nancy got when she’s angry.

“You’re just jealous.”

Robin gulps and closes her eyes, knowing that’ll set her off.

“Jealous?” Nancy emphasized, preying onto the boy as he backs away. “You’re Y/N’s servant. You barely fucking exist to me. This whole time you’ve treated girls like whores, but you’re the whore!” she cries, feet lifting off the ground, towering over him as he backs further towards the window. Billy’s beyond petrified now, weeping quietly as he dares try calling for help.

“I-I’m sorry, Nance. You know I didn’t mean it. I liked you last year, but— but I’m in love with her now, and I’m sorry!”

His sorry ass apology does nothing besides push the last of her buttons, feeding into her wrath.

“Did you hear that, Y/N? He says he’s sorry! Oh, what a shame we have to kill him, ‘cause at least he’s sorry!” Nancy claws are her hair, spinning back and fourth, screaming nonsense as Billy pleads and holds his hand out to you.

“Who’s it gonna be, Y/N? This rapist scumbag slut, or your friend that took you in when you were a nobody?”

Tears of your own had escaped, mortified by how escaladed things have become. You shook your head helplessly, holding onto Robin for safety. There was no stopping her now. Like a wave from a natural disaster, Nancy thrusts her arms in the air and hurls the boy out the window with God-like force. You’ll never forget the sounds of his cry for help on the way down and the SPLAT when his body hit the pavement. Nancy lets out a sigh of relief as if a long day’s work is finally over, and wipes the sweat beading off her forehead. She turns to you and Robin after catching her breath.

“What’re you staring at, guys? C’mon, let’s find Robin a girlfriend next.”

—

my first whack at a horror-ish/thriller instead of drama/romance. I freaking LOVE this movie, def go check it out if you haven’t cause there’s a lot more plot I left out. thaaaank you all, I’ll be starting the next movie fic soon !:)

[momtemplative]

Watching My Diet.

Of Words and Images, That Is.

As for a spoiled life, no life is spoiled but one whose growth is arrested.—Oscar Wilde, from The Picture of Dorian Gray.

1.

When I was pregnant, I was astounded by the amount of shit-advice people felt entitled to force upon me, thanks to the visual whistle-blower of my growing belly.

I kept the book, Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, by Ina May Gaskin next to my bed like a sacred text. The second half of the book contains a collection of empowered women sharing inspiring stories of their natural birth experiences. I read at least one story every night to off-set the deflating stories that were pushed at me. (One, still clear as day in my mind over a decade later, came from a woman who had never had kids! She said, in low tones and with concern in her eyes, “It’s the most painful thing you will ever experience. You WILL NEED DRUGS.”) 

I would often fall asleep with Ina May’s book on my chest, thinking maybe the positive messages would cause seep into my being, like a topical treatment.

Now, during the era of COVID19, the news is an IV drip of mounting catastrophe into all of our collective veins. And the way we receive news during these current times is 24-7, on screens, visual, relentless and without limits. (PS: as said in Time, “media images can be so intense that they can cause symptoms of acute stress or even PTSD.”) 

Like many, I find myself falling into the habit of using my few-far-between windows of space to either read updates from the Post and the Times, or to check social media. While informative at best, these word-venues are, nutrient-wise, anemic crumbs not suitable for a bottom-feeder.

So why the impulse to keep going back?

According to Time Magazine, “The human brain is wired to pay attention to information that scares or unsettles us—a concept known as “negativity bias“. Meaning, our brains are predisposed to go negative, and the news we consume reflects this.”

On a personal level, my intake of news is rising by the day—sometimes seemingly out of my control. I’ll just be grabbing my phone to check the weather and suddenly I’m well into an article on the pandemic, as if in a trance. 

Without clear boundaries and a bit of mindfulness, the news and media we are ingesting can be far more toxic than beneficial. The effects of constant negative-news consumption are real and complex. 

And I feel the wear-and-tear in my mental state, to be sure. I’ve been taking in the news every night, just before bed, via my tiny phone screen as if that makes it less potent and more manageable. Not the case. I can easily slip into helplessness, along with tasting the vinegar of potent rage in the back of my throat, even as I’m trying to settle in for sleep. 

Anxiety and stress create cortisol, which can wreak havoc throughout the physical body and beyond. My neck and shoulders feel like they are clutching with white-knuckles for some unseen disaster, pretty much all the time. Yoga and breathing provides a world of help while doing it, but the muscle memory is so deep, that the bad patterns often return within moments of back-to-life.

This is not to say the solution is to bypass the news entirely. But if we are in this for the long haul, deliberate choices need to be made, for the stability of everyone.

2.

Last week, my dear friend, Steph, mailed a box of crafting goodies to my girls. An eclectic mix of junk-drawer extractions and art things—things that have the potential to clutter up a house. But, when assembled in a package with intention and love, feel like vintage treasures from another world. Girl scout patches, circa the early 1990’s, ribbon in original packaging from the Carter administration, an untethered bouquet of white plastic glitter flowers. And in the midst of this treasure chest: a hardcover copy of the Oscar Wilde book, The Picture of Dorian Gray.

It was a fancy, old-timey edition that I had read through and written-in during college, using the same red ink from the same red pen the whole way through. My handwriting is young—an un-mastered version of my current script. But my brain is searching and inquisitive. I’m not sure why Steph wound up with the book, but there was a time when I passed out Oscar Wilde books like a communist would pass out propaganda and I likely forced it upon her.

Back then—over twenty years ago, more than half my current age—Oscar Wilde spoke to me in a way I was not accustomed to being spoken to, and brought about feelings that literature rarely provided. I indulged in Him, collected photos, quotes, and bought multiple used copies of his books. He became an unwitting spiritual guide of sorts. I carried the story of his tragic incarceration and subsequent death with me the way a god-fearing man would hold the image of Jesus’ crucifixion close to his heart. If they sold Oscar Wilde on a necklace, I’d have bought one, for sure.

Placing my hands on the cover of that book—while my girls squealed and unpacked the rest of the boxed treasures—was not far from the feeling of placing my hands on a body to massage. Flesh—living, breathing flesh. Cracking open the book brought with it not only the slight sigh that takes place in the inner ear during a good stretch, but also a swell of emotions. I flipped through the pages, feeling saved.

The article, What You Read Matters More Than You Might Think, in Psychology Today discusses the difference between “deep and light reading.” Deep reading is defined as reading that is slow, immersive, rich in sensory detail and emotional and moral complexity. It is distinctive from light reading, which is little more than the decoding of words. The author continues by saying deep reading is great exercise for the brain and has been shown to increase empathy, as well as inspiring reflection, analysis, and personal subtext to what is being read. 

A passage from The Picture of Dorian Gray—”Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there is in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?”

Another passage (how can I resist?): “In this country, it is enough for a man to have distinction and brains for every common tongue too wag against him. And what sort of lives do these people, who pose as being moral, lead themselves? My dear fellow, you forget that we are in the native land of the hypocrite.”

How I missed that man. And what a time for him to pay a visit.

3. 

Last weekend, I was feeling particularly ill-at-ease. My speech had edges like so many sharp river rocks. Tears and sadness rotated through in unpredictable gusts. 

On the particular day I refer to, a book called Ordinary Magic, Everyday Life As Spiritual Path all but did a swan dive from my bookshelf and landed at my feet. The cover-image was dated and sun-bleached. The font and spacing came directly from the early 90’s, which is when it was published. I have a vague memory of buying this book at Half-Priced Books in Columbus, just before I made my move out west, in 2002, eighteen years ago. It’s a collection of Buddhist essays that focus on sectioned-out, topics—creativity and community, for example. It did not take long to realize that the editor, John Welwood, steals the whole dang show. His intros to each chapter sparkle with the quiet wisdom of one who is not the headliner, but knows his own worthiness.

(As with Oscar Wilde, I could include countless quotable phrases, but a taste is all you need.) In his introduction to the creativity essays, Welwood said, “By being still and receptive, instead of busily trying to find solutions, we give our intelligence the time and space it needs to find an appropriate way to proceed.” I read that line and gently set the book on my lap to take pause and think to myself, Thank god.

Another account of being liberated by the right words.

The Unknowing. Yes, that is the landscape we all inhabit now. How do we work with such potent feelings of lack-of-control? A classic solution would be to distract the hell out of ourselves so the low hum of anxiety doesn’t seem as loud. Or, we could try to re-frame our reaction, teach the brain that there could be another approach. 

Our lives are, in many ways, on hold as we await a vaccine to protect our collective physical health. But our mental health is not on hold. Our intellect is under non-stop media siege and our sanity begs to be nourished and protected now more than ever. An essential piece of that puzzle (the puzzle of avoiding going clinical insane, that is)—more so than what’s contained in a bottle or that can be purchased online with a credit card—may very well already live on our bookshelf.

John Welwood also said, “What is fresh and alive comes only from the unknown.” I’m pretty sure I’m going to have that phrase tattooed on my forearm  in old-english script after this whole thing is over. 

May 17, 2020

[ziyadnazem]

An Introduction To 'Q'

Who is Q? What is Q? And, perhaps most importantly, why is Q?

Q and the ever-growing worldwide movement it’s inspired have been the objects of fascination, mockery and hatred, but of surprisingly little serious analysis.

Q first appeared in October 2017 on an anonymous online forum called 4Chan, posting messages that implied top-clearance knowledge of upcoming events. More than 3,000 messages later, Q has created a disturbing, multi-faceted portrait of a global crime syndicate that operates with impunity. Q’s followers in the QAnon community faithfully analyze every detail of Q’s drops, which are compiled here and here.

The mainstream media has published hundreds of articles attacking Q as an insane rightwing conspiracy, particularly after President Trump seemed to publicly confirm his connection to it.  At a North Carolina rally in 2019, Trump made a point of drawing attention to a baby wearing a onesie with a big Q.

In recent weeks, the tempo of Trump’s spotlighting of Q has accelerated, with the President retweeting Q followers twenty times in one day. Trump has featured Q fans in his ads and deployed one of Q’s signature phrases (“These people are sick”) at his rallies. The President’s lawyer, Rudy Giuliani, has also retweeted Q followers.

Q has noted that the media never asks Trump the obvious question: What do you think of Q? To Q followers, the reason they don’t ask is obvious. They’re afraid of the answer.

In the meantime, Q’s influence continues to spread. Protestors in Hong Kong, Iran, and France have held up Q signs and chanted Q quotes. Q’s revelations are uniting people all over the world who want freedom.

If you’re unfamiliar with Q or only know it through the media’s attacks, I’d like to provide a brief introduction to this extraordinary phenomenon. I’ve followed Q since the first drop, and I’ve grown increasingly impressed by the accuracy, breadth and depth of Q’s messages. Q followers were prepared long in advance for the easing of hostilities with North Korea, the deflation of the mullahs of Iran, and the discovery of Ukraine as a hotbed of corruption for American politicians. They knew a great deal about Jeffrey Epstein’s activities before the public did and anticipate even more shocking revelations to come. As Q likes to say, “Future proves past.” As Q’s predictions come true, they lend retroactive credibility to the entire enterprise.

Q’s followers believe that Q is a military intelligence operation, the first of its kind, whose goal is to provide the public with secret information. Many Q followers think the Q team was founded by Admiral Michael Rogers, the former Director of the National Security Agency and former Commander of US Cyber Command.  Some suspect that Dan Scavino, White House Director of Social Media, is part of the team, because the high quality of Q’s writing has the luster of a communications expert.

Q is a new weapon in the game of information warfare, bypassing a hostile media and corrupt government to communicate directly with the public. Think of Q as a companion to Trump’s twitter. Whereas Trump communicates bluntly and directly, Q is cryptic, sly and subtle, offering only clues that beg for context and connection.

Here’s the way it works: Q posts messages (also known as “drops” or “crumbs”) on an anonymous online forum, which are discussed, analyzed, and critiqued by the board’s inhabitants. (The forum has changed a few times after massive online attacks.) Hundreds of social media accounts then spread Q’s latest posting to worldwide followers who share their research, analysis, and interpretations of Q’s latest information.

I’ve compiled a list of Q’s most famous catch phrases and tried to put them into context.

The Great Awakening: We’re living in a unique time in which ordinary citizens around the world are collaborating to understand and expose the corrupt system that rules us. The system thrives on deception, and the overwhelming task of The Great Awakening is to penetrate its lies and reveal the truth.

The first phase of The Great Awakening is heightened awareness of the Deep State – the interlocking governmental entities that operate outside the law to expand their own power. Elections and popular opinion don’t impact the ability of the Deep State to enforce its agenda.

The second phase of The Great Awakening investigates the Deep State’s alliance with other powerful sectors: the media, Hollywood, charities and non-profits, public schools and universities, religious organizations, medical, scientific and financial institutions, and multinational corporations. This phase can be painful, as you discover that “those you trust the most” (in Q’s phrase) are deceiving you. Beloved celebrities, religious leaders, doctors, educators, innovators, and do-gooders are all in on the hoax.

The third phase of The Great Awakening is perhaps the most painful of all. The people who rule us are not merely amoral creatures who view us as collateral damage in their drive for money and power. It’s scarier than that. The potentates we serve are actively trying to harm us. That’s their goal. We’re under coordinated attack.

Dark To Light: Q tells us that what our rulers fear the most is exposure. Bringing their crimes out of protected darkness into the light of public scrutiny destroys their power to deceive. And as their power fades, the darkness of our divided, violent world will yield to the light of freedom, cooperation, and peace.

Where We Go One We Go All (WWG1WGA): Q’s most famous phrase expresses the worldwide egalitarian nature of the movement.  Every country is suffering from the system’s oppression, and the whole world will benefit from a rebirth of freedom. In this unique movement, anonymous citizens work in collaboration with the highest-ranking military leaders and the president, and everyone’s contributions are valued. When commenters on the board have thanked Q for his service, Q has replied that no one is above and no one is below. “We work for you.”

These people are sick. Perhaps the most difficult aspect of The Great Awakening is coming to terms with the depravity of our rulers, whom Q has called The Cult. Jeffrey Epstein’s story has helped to awaken people to some of the elite’s crimes. The mysterious temple on Epstein’s island hints at possible future revelations that are frightening in their scope. Q followers believe that The Cult engages in ritual practices that enshrine the shedding of blood and which prey on the innocence of children. The sickness in their souls thrives on brutality, war, and terror. These disclosures will be tough for the public to take.

Trust the plan. The presumed military leaders who created Q and who protected Trump throughout the election and presidency have created a precise path to victory. Despite the seeming chaos of daily events, a steady progression of victories is taking place. The plan includes offensive maneuvers against the Cult’s financial power, legal standing, human supply chains, and military capacity. And, of crucial importance, the plan attacks the Cult’s ability to control the narrative that shapes what the public believes. In this high-stakes game of information warfare, Q plays a vital role by empowering ordinary citizens (like me) to spread the truth.

They want you divided. The hatred that’s growing between races, classes, age groups, religions, and political parties is purposely fomented by the Cult. The more we’re divided and focused on attacking each other, the weaker we become. Q urges us to stay together and to fight the Cult, not each other.

They think you’re sheep. The Cult believes, as Q says, “you’ll follow the stars” – the celebrities in media, Hollywood, and academia who tell you, in coordinated fashion, what you’re supposed to think. Their contempt for you makes them confident they can control you and ensure your surrender to any agenda. Q, on the other hand, offers only clues and can only be understood by high-grade critical thinking, spurred by constant crowd-sourced criticism and reassessment. The essence of the Q movement is to think for yourself.

Bigger than you can imagine. Expand your thinking. Q encourages us to reevaluate everything we think we know.  The Cult may date back to ancient times, and through its powerful families, it might have manipulated historical events in ways that we haven’t suspected. The Cult may also possess advanced technology and medical cures that have not been released to the public. One aspect that may be “bigger than you can imagine” is the unfathomable scale of theft from our national coffers, as funds for foreign aid and wars wind up in the Cult’s pockets.

Track resignations. Beneath the surface, a broad and deep cleansing of corrupt players is taking place. Q asked us to track resignations to understand the scope of activity. (Here’s a website that took him up on his request: www.resignation.info) Resignations, retirements, and unexpected deaths from major players in politics, media, charities, and corporations all point to possible deals being made quietly without the public fanfare of arrests. For me, a notable resignation is Eric Schmidt’s abrupt exit from Google, which received little media attention. Schmidt resigned on December 21st, 2017, the same day that President Trump signed an executive order declaring a national emergency related to “serious human rights abuse and corruption around the world.” Further context for Schmidt’s resignation may be inferred from this photo of him in North Korea, apparently in an advisory role. Standing next to him is Bill Richardson, former Governor of New Mexico, the state in which Epstein had a secret ranch. Richardson has been accused by one of Epstein’s victims.

Their need for symbols will be their downfall.  The Cult uses certain symbols over and over again, which may serve some ritualistic need, but makes them vulnerable to detection. Q followers are familiar with Y-shaped horns that mimic those of the goat deity Baphomet, owls, pyramids, one eye encased within a pyramid, red shoes, bandaged fingers, and other repeating symbols, including the mysterious black eye that afflicts so many famous people. The Q Army also knows the coded pedophile symbols listed by the FBI. When Q drew attention to the design of Epstein’s temple, alert Q followers noticed how similar it is to the set design of a famous talk show. And the red ring on the hand of dead terrorist Qassam Soleimani prompted Q followers to compile images of similar rings on the hands of powerful people.  An excellent source for understanding how these symbols are incorporated into pop culture targeting the young through music videos, TV shows and movies can be found at vigilantcitizen.com.

Nothing can stop what is coming. Nothing. Now comes the pain.  The headlines on any given day may sound discouraging for those who want justice to prevail. But these setbacks are temporary, as a juggernaut of justice heads our way. As Q likes to say: We have it all. Massive amounts of irrefutable evidence await the criminals who try to evade their reckoning in court. For those who worry about Trump’s ability to overcome impeachment, election fraud, and assassination attempts, Q assures us: Patriots in control. And no legal tricks can help the criminals escape the ultimate judgment of public disgust.  Q promises us that the day is coming when they can’t walk down the street.

You are the news now.  The “fake news” decried by President Trump is losing credibility and audience by the day. Q has exposed the 4 A.M. drops that provide the daily talking points to media personnel, so they can all parrot the same propaganda. Q has also named various journalists whom he says take bribes. The media is concentrated within six powerful companies; on the other hand, the Q army is vast, voluntary, and anonymous. Q assures us that our efforts to disseminate the truth through social media and conversations with family and friends are having a huge impact. We are the news now.

We know what happens in the end. God wins. Many times, Q has asked us to pray. He’s quoted the famous Biblical lines of Ephesians 6:12, “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” We’re living through monumental times. It’s comforting that Q believes that if we work together, God wins.

[pastordrnseharry]

ULTIMATE CARE DEVOTIONAL ⛪

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2022

Today’s Theme: ⛪️ THE CHILDREN’S BREAD

"And she said, Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table."

Text: Matthew 15:27

MESSAGE:🍎

When Jesus spoke to the woman in the above text, He described healing as the children’s bread. When we receive Jesus as our Lord and Saviour, we are called the children of God. Healing is for us. We are not supposed to be coming to God begging for a crumb of bread (just a crumb of healing). We are to sit at the Father’s table as His children and eat of the bread of healing.

This woman gained comfort in her misery by thinking great thoughts of Christ. The Master had talked about the children’s bread: “Now,” argued she, “since thou art the Master of the table of grace, I know that thou art a generous housekeeper, and there is sure to be abundance of bread on thy table; there will be such an abundance for the children that there will be crumbs to throw on the floor for the dogs, and the children will fare none the worse because the dogs are fed.” She thought him one who kept so good a table that all that she needed would only be a crumb in comparison; yet remember, what she wanted was to have the devil cast out of her daughter.

It was a very great thing to her, but she had such a high esteem of Christ, that she said, “It is nothing to him, it is but a crumb for Christ to give.”

This is the royal road to comfort. Great thoughts of your sin alone will drive you to despair; but great thoughts of Christ will pilot you into the haven of peace. “My sins are many, but oh! it is nothing to Jesus to take them all away. The weight of my guilt presses me down as a giant’s foot would crush a worm, but it is no more than a grain of dust to him, because he has already borne its curse in his own body on the tree. It will be but a small thing for him to give me full remission, although it will be an infinite blessing for me to receive it.” The woman opens her soul’s mouth very wide, expecting great things of Jesus, and he fills it with his love.

Dear reader, do the same for divine progress. She confessed what Christ laid at her door, but she laid fast hold upon him, and drew arguments even out of his hard words; she believed great things of him, and she thus overcame him. She won the victory by believing in Him.

Her case is an instance of prevailing faith; and if we would conquer like her, we must imitate her tactics.

PRAYERS🍎

Heavenly Father, I thank you for your love and care concerning my life and family. Lord give me the prevailing faith to walk and live on. Empower me with your steadfast love and strengthen me with thy strength. Help me to live and act the faith of the son of God, even on the face of worldly challenges.

I pray that you bless my outing today, and favour the works of my hand in Jesus mighty name, Amen.

FURTHER BIBLE READING

Exodus 23:25; Isaiah 53: 4-5

BIBLE READING PLAN FOR THE YEAR 2022

MORNING: GENESIS, 37-38

EVENING: MARK, 9-10

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

Author: Pastor NseAbasi Harry

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

Hammer Word Bible Church, Abak, Nigeria, Cares⛪

[belaborthepoint]

I was SO BAD: I ate a scone and will be publicly executed in the town square

Guest writer: Someone whose name is probably Jessica or Tiffany or something

I was so bad yesterday. Seriously. I’ve been so good recently but yesterday I just totally caved in and I was SO BAD. Normally you’d probably think, what, did you set fire to a someone’s car or kick a pregnant golden retriever or something? Come on, it can’t be THAT bad. But believe me, it is. It is THAT BAD.

I work for minimum wage in the food service industry, and the worst part of my job is that every day I have to resist all the tempting treats in the pastry case!!! Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s so cool when other women just like don’t even care and don’t value beauty and stuff, like I wish I were them and I think that they should feel so amazing and empowered, but I just can’t imagine putting a bread in my body and living with the consequences.

Personally, I stick to a pretty strict regimen of nutrient paste. I coat my teeth with it three times a day and try not to let it touch my tongue. If I feel really snacky, I know that I’ve gotten all my nutrients so I’ll try to chew on a non-food substance, like the inside of my couch. This is my usual routine. But every so often, I lose my way and fall off the path. Last night, it happened. I had a closing shift at work, and as I disposed of the leftover pastries, I had an impure thought. Impure for ME, because I totally don’t judge anyone for destroying their bodies and minds by stuffing themselves with bread food like taxidermied animal corpses, that’s their choice and it’s not my business.

I’ve killed many innocent men in my life, so I know what it’s like to really reflect and reckon with yourself. Sometimes you just have to sit with your sins and look yourself in the eye before you can grant yourself forgiveness. But this last transgression has left me feeling like a stranger to myself. I look in the bathroom mirror, and all I can see is darkness, because I realize that I’m actually looking at the chalkboard in my bedroom. I’m so lost, and I have no idea how I got here or from whence I came, and from whom. Am I still my parents’ child? A parent? A wife? I know that I’m not married and I have no children, but that’s not the point. The point is that I have crossed a point of no return. And now I must die for my sins.

Before throwing out the last scone of the evening, I thought to myself “would it be so bad, Tiffany type, if I had just one bite? If I ate a bread food?” This was bad enough. For this alone, I should have fallen on my knees and begged for redemption. But it wasn’t over, my lapse of judgement, my fall from grace. I not only sinned in the mind, but in the flesh. I picked it up, the bread food, and I brought it up to my quivering lips. For a moment, I almost regained my strength of mind and spirit, and put it back down. But as soon as I touched the scone I was already lost, I had given up and given in. Not only did I sniff it, not only did I lick a corner of it with the tip of my tongue, but I BIT into it WITH MY TEETH, CHEWED IT, AND SWALLOWED AN ENTIRE BITE. AND IT DOESN’T STOP THERE. I DID IT AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN UNTIL I HAD FINISHED THE ENTIRE BREAD FOOD IN ONE SITTING, AND ALL THAT WAS LEFT OF MY SIN WAS THE SCATTERING OF CRUMBS AT MY FEET, LIKE MY DIGNITY THAT HAD CRUMBLED INSTANTLY AWAY LIKE THE CRUMBS OF THE SCONE THAT I ATE, OR LIKE THE SCONE THAT LEFT CRUMBS. I MEAN THE CRUMBS OF MY DIGNITY WERE LIKE THE CRUMBS OF THE SCONE. I’M JUST CLARIFYING BECAUSE I’M USING A LITERARY DEVICE CALLED A METAPHOR AND IT MIGHT BE LOST ON NON-LITERARY FOLK.

Ernest Hemingway once said, I went bankrupt very quickly, which is exactly what happened to me when I went bankrupt. I was just thinking about that. Another thing that happened really quickly was when I ate that scone. It just happened, and before I knew it, it was over, and I had done it. I knew immediately that I had to turn myself in, but before I gave away my life, I wanted some chance at saving my soul, and I made a visit to the priest. The priest is such a cool guy, and I thought he might understand since he eats a lot of wine and crackers himself, and must feel really guilty about all the carbs. But as soon as I confessed the sin, he cast me out of his photo booth thing, spraying holy water at me with his water gun. He couldn’t even look me in the eyes, because the whole point of the photo booth is that you can’t see the other person when you’re talking to them. But even after we got out, he still wouldn’t look at me, and I knew then that I had committed the ultimate sin, and there was no hope for me at all.

When I reached the town square, I called out to my fellow countrymen, “I confess! I have eaten a scone! Not a bite, not two bites, but eight bites in all, as I finished the whole thing! I have eaten a bread food!” A group of watchmen seized me at once and put me in the pillory, where I was immediately bombarded by a barrage of verbal abuse and decomposing produce, and where I am currently writing this passage, my final will and testament.

All I can ask is that my fellow women who come after me never eat bread again, and devote their lives to the joyless, relentless pursuit of counting calories and abolishing every ounce of natural healthy fat on their bodies and being perfectly skinny and muscley, or whatever body type happens to be trendy at that particular time, but also theoretically being really healthy at the same time, so they can have a long and miserable life and die of old age, instead of in a guillotine. If anyone is interested in attending my execution, it will be held at the strike of noon tomorrow in the town square. The event is black tie, and there will be a red carpet segment preceding the ceremony where pseudo-journalists will ask people who they’re wearing. So actually, it’s not really a public event, but if you’re rich and hot, I’d love to have you there so I can look at you and imagine what my life could have been had I not eaten that scone.

[backroombuzz]

Michael Moore And Rich TDS Hollywood Liberals Beg For Money

Michael Moore And Rich TDS Hollywood Liberals Beg For Money.

Liberal elitists like Michael Moore, who are leading the Resistance are calling on you to help remove the legitimately elected President of the United States. But when Liberals suffering from Trump Derangement Syndrome (TDS) say "You" what they actually mean is "Your Money." Yes, you heard right. The liberal ultra-rich 1 %'ers need YOUR money to finance their hissy fit. After all, you can't expect them to finance it themselves? They "worked hard" for every penny you provided them with. It would not be fair to ask them to throw a party AND pay for it also? How unfair would that be, plan a TDS party AND depart with some of the millions of dollars, they have locked away in the Cayman Islands? We Need Your Money. Recently, Michael Moore sent out a fund-raising e-mail begging people to help bankroll his Hollywood coup against Donald Trump. Moveon.org, you remember them? They were created to fight those evil #MeToo bitches accusing Bill Clinton of raping them. Moveon.org is getting together with some of America's regular folk. You know, like, Mark Ruffalo, Michael Moore, Whoopi Goldberg, Rosie Perez, Cynthia Nixon, and a bunch of other celebrities who are holding a “People’s State of the Union.” How THESE elites represents “the people” is beyond me? No matter. Their little soirée is meant to counter Tuesday night President Trump’s actual State of the Union address (SOTU). Micheal Moore fundraising e-mail to Moveon.org members: Dear fellow MoveOn member, Donald J. Trump has proven himself to be completely unfit for office, a threat to our country, and an imminent danger to the world. He is not well; he is a malignant narcissist and an active sociopath. And because he holds the codes to fire nuclear weapons, he is a singular threat to humanity. This situation is a nightmare. And the only reason that things aren’t FAR WORSE than they already are is that millions of us have come together to engage in our democracy, resist, and organize. So here’s my request to you: If you can swing it, will you chip in to MoveOn—to help provide the resources needed to empower regular Americans to pool our strength against the extraordinary challenges ahead and win back power this November? I’m joining Mark Ruffalo, Common, Whoopi Goldberg, Wanda Sykes, and Cynthia Nixon, as well as inspirational grassroots leaders and progressive organizing champions and MoveOn for the People’s State of the Union event in New York City on Monday, the day before Trump gives his State of the Union speech in front of Congress. It's amazing that real regular Democrats actually donate to the Democrats? Then again, they did vote for Hillary Clinton. If Democrats are too blinded to see how corrupt the Clinton Cartel is. Then giving money to Michael Moore and his retarded friends should not be too shocking. While I can understand Democrats living 'Paycheck-to-Paycheck' falling for the Democrat rhetoric. That is no excuse for these Trump Derangement Syndrome (TDS), arrogant SOB's begging "REAL" people with families and bills, that if they don't dig deep and fork over the few crumbs they have to pay for Michael Moore and his group of "Hillary Should Be President" TDS asshat Party... Then it'll be all their fault when Trump blows up the world. It's beyond sickening! Read the full article