#break black magic through Quran

[islamicduawazifa]

Strong Amal To Remove Black Magic

Strong Amal To Remove Black Magic

Islamic Way Of Removing Black Magic

Allah ke Sabhi bando Ko Molvi Wahid Ali Khan Ka Salam Walekum. Main allahtala se aap sabki kheriyat ki Dua Karta Hu.

Black MagicMatlab Ki kala jadu Kuch Log Is par Believe Karte hai To Kuch Ko Ye Faltu Ki baat Lagti hai. Par Koi mane Ya Na Mane Ye baat Sach hai ki Black Magic hota hai. Kala Jadu Ek aesi Shakti Aesa saya hai jo ki kisi person ko paresaan karne…

[667-darkavenue]

shadow image

inspired by a couple of the headcanons from this post by @crowleyandaziraphaleruinedme

-

Agra, 1659. Locked in a tower, a fallen king gazes through the bars of his exquisite prison. No other captive would have the luxury of being held at the top of a marble palace, surrounded by a sprawling view of the capital city. Sometimes, he is allowed to sit on the veranda for fresh air. His daughter comes to see him most days, which helps with the loneliness. Most evenings, the family tutor is allowed to visit. He brings Shah Jahan new books to read. They discuss the Quran and pray together.

The fallen king always liked Aziraphale. He’d been there before the death of the queen and he’d stuck with Shah Jahan after, always reassuring. Even when the world doubted his sanity for dedicating his life to what seemed like a wasteful pipe dream that would come at a colossal price, Aziraphale understood and encouraged. Perhaps, a little too much.

“A clear view of her tomb from my prison, all day and all night.” Shah Jahan frowns at the Taj Mahal gleaming beneath the moonlight. “As far as torture goes, at least the pain is sweet.”

Aziraphale finishes slipping the last of the books he brought through a gap in the bars. “I’ve invited someone to come see it, actually. I’m afraid that’s why I cannot stay tonight.”

The fallen king is unperturbed. “Tell your friend about the lost dream.”

Reluctantly, Aziraphale nods. “Not a friend, but I’ll do that.”

At the correction, Shah Jahan gives a wistful smile, which means he has now misinterpreted what Aziraphale meant even more deeply than at first.

He waits on the edge of the bazaar that night, expecting that he will be the one spotted first. Aziraphale’s appearance doesn’t change much over time, but he is never sure what to look for when it comes to a certain demon.

“Hey, a guard just told me it’s closed at night,” a familiar voice complains at Aziraphale’s side.

He did predict that Crowley would be draped in black, but the veil is a surprise. It’s of the same material as the dark, diaphanous sari Crowley wears across a full sleeved, black velvet top.

“Well, hello. It’s alright, they know I’m working with the royal family.”

“Oh, you’re fancy.”

On their stroll to the great gate, Aziraphale fills Crowley in on the past decade’s local gossip. The king and queen’s epic love, most unusual for a political marriage.

“That’s what brought you here, is it?”

“Oh, no. It took me quite by surprise. It is the reason I stayed, I admit. There’s something remarkable here.”

“There was. And now we’re standing at the gates to her tomb.” Crowley tilts his head back to get a good look at the great gate, a massive red monument that blocks the view of the Taj Mahal behind it.

An inscription in the marble catches his eye.

“O soul, thou art at rest. Return to the Lord at peace with Him, and He at peace with you,” he reads aloud, then turns to Aziraphale with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “You sure I’m allowed in here, then?”

“It’s somewhat an artistic statement. This gate is supposed to represent a transition from the material world,” Aziraphale vaguely waves a hand in the direction of the bazaar outside, “to the afterlife.”

There’s an interesting little optical illusion that he pauses to point out to Crowley. The first view of the resplendent Taj Mahal is framed by elegant arch of the main gate. Standing in the shadows of the gate, the moon-white monument looks like a picture perfectly framed in black.  As they step closer, the Taj seems to grow smaller. Even Crowley, who isn’t typically fazed by tricks, finds himself walking back to the entrance to do a double take. It seems to grow bigger as he walks backwards, away from the Taj.

“How are you doing this?”

“It isn’t me!” Aziraphale gleefully insists. “I pitched in some ideas—call it divine inspiration—but they’re so brilliant here, they figured out how to make it real all on their own.”

Crowley walks through the gate again, taking the illusion in once more. “It is a little brilliant, I’ll give ‘em that. Like a human miracle.”

“And you’re only at the entrance. Just wait.” Aziraphale barely restrains himself from skipping as he leads the way through the lush garden beyond the gate.

He chatters on about how the garden is a representation of Jannah and the water channels along the two paths symbolise the four rivers that flow through it.

“Doesn’t look anything like it, but I suppose it’s a rough interpretation.”

“It’s a symbol, Crowley.”

“I’m not hating. I like this better, even.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

More up close to the Taj now, Aziraphale can see Crowley becoming spellbound. Beneath the veil, his eyes drink up the synthesis of grace and scale as if it could quench his soul. It is a masterpiece of a kind this world hasn’t seen before. Aziraphale shows him the splendid interior, all the way into the inner sanctum that holds the queen’s final resting place. He explains how everything from the foundation to the dome is a feat of engineering. He shares the other illusions he knows the building holds and finds that this magic on a monumental scope is actually quite fascinating to Crowley.

Then, the pair row a boat to the moonlight garden across the river, designed for a perfect view of the full structure. The full moon shines above, the breeze is balmy all around, and the water laps quietly at the riverbank beneath the garden. The Taj Mahal looms directly across from them, a tangible love song that invites anyone in the world to physically walk through its verses.

“I like this,” Crowley admits. “Hamlet exceeded expectations, too.”

“Oh, you liked it?” Aziraphale attempts to sound pleasantly surprised, but it comes off as pleasantly smug.

“Yeah, yeah. So, what did you need here? Consider me sold” He turns his attention to Aziraphale, ready to talk business.

They normally get that out of the way before the fun stuff, but Crowley has no complaints about the change of pace.

Aziraphale’s mouth flaps silently a couple of times before his tongue starts fumbling a response. “Er—I—Well, it’s… Nothing.”

“Oh, spit it out.”

“I don’t need a favor.”

“Sure, you don’t. You told me to come all this way for what? Just to hang out?”

“What’s that tone for?” Offended, Aziraphale splays a hand over his own chest. “We’ve ‘just hung out’ before.”

“Yeah, when we bump into each other.” Crowley throws his hands up only to let them fall back at his side, in an impatient gesture that clinks the silver bangles around his wrists. “I was on a different continent, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale takes a deep inhale. Crowley waits for a sigh that never comes. He just holds it in.

“You miss me?” Crowley prods, eyes gleaming behind the veil.

He looks away. “I asked you to come here because I wanted to know if it was just me.”

“Just you what?”

“This place… The humans poured their hearts and souls into making an earthly representation of heaven. But the thing is—I never saw anything this sublime in heaven. Not even close.” He gazes up and down the radiant marble mausoleum on the opposite bank. “This isn’t made of the cosmos, or the divine. It’s only stone on stone. And it beats heaven.”

Such things, he could never say aloud to the devout king that he prays with. He could never admit to his own kind. He has nothing to lose from sharing it with Crowley.

“It isn’t just you,” Crowley concedes with ease. “They didn’t snap their fingers and miracle it into existence. And still, they made a wonder. That’s pretty amazing. How many people worked on this, and for how long?”

“Too many for too long,” Aziraphale mumbles, casting his eyes down. “Shah Jahan became obsessed. He practically ran the empire into the ground to build it.”

“Classic aftermath of hubris.”

“I think I caused it. I pushed it too far, Crowley.” Aziraphale chews his lip, face wracked with guilt.

Helplessly confessing mistakes to this demon has somehow become a troubling habit. It would be easier to break if Crowley didn’t choose these moments to suddenly become a patient listener.

“I was so set on this idea of this… of an ageless message of pure love, unaffected by time or war—or by the rise and fall of empires. I… I kept suggesting more. It spiralled out of hand and so many people suffered for the emperor’s devotion.”

“But, Aziraphale, I saw you in there. You love it. You’re brimming with delight in there.”

“I can’t help it,” his voice comes dangerously close to being described as a whine, “Ever since its completion, it has this—this effect. I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s so enveloping, so enormous, that I can feel it from here. I can feel it in the streets. Even in the farthest corners of the city, I’m unsuspectingly pricked by traces of it.”

“What is ‘it?’”

“Oh. It’s love.”

Crowley furrows his brow, not sensing any of what’s obvious to the angel. “The old emperor’s love?”

“No, everyone’s love. The people who come here each day and see this, they leave with the notion of love in their hearts. So much of it that it pours a trail wherever they go. And it is so concentrated, right here.”

“Job well done for you, then. Jot that on your report and they’ll eat it up.”

“Of course, they will. I just—The dark side is still there, even if I don’t tell anyone.”

“You told me. Blame it on me, over here trying to spoil a good thing.”

“Shah Jahan has the best intentions. I mean, he was named king of the world and he wants his legacy to be his great love. All this, and he never even had the chance to complete his life’s work,” Aziraphale laments. “He was deposed and imprisoned by his own family, to save the empire from the extravagance of his grief.”

“He never—You mean this isn’t done?” Crowley blinks incredulously across the river, unable to fathom what could possibly be missing from the Taj.

Aziraphale shake’s his head. “Everything in its design is symmetrical. This garden, where we’re standing… This is where he planned to build another identical mausoleum, hewn from black marble, where he would be entombed directly across from his love. The black Taj would be a mirror image of the white Taj, down to the very last speck.”

“Ah.” Crowley gives a curt nod the moment the understanding hits. “If he brought the empire to the edge of ruin to finish the white one, I see how that idea could be the last straw for his family.”

Aziraphale nods back solemnly. “They aren’t wrong. Now, I wonder where he would be if I’d never suggested it.”

“I still think it was a good idea,” Crowley says with a shrug.

For a wordless minute, they gaze at the flawless, glowing Taj on the opposite bank. Alone.

Crowley’s the one to break the silence. “I could make a Black Taj.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Aziraphale clicks his tongue. “That’s an enormous miracle. You couldn’t explain yourself when they question what it’s for.”

“Nah, it’s not.” Crowley brings his hand up to his forehead, then slowly down.

It looks as though he is beginning to do the sign of the cross, except that his hand never moves to either side. It continues down in a straight line.

“What are you doing?” Aziraphale looks over his shoulder, fearfully expecting to see a black monument rising.

“Other way, angel.”

Aziraphale’s face whips around to the white Taj, thankfully unchanged across the river. The full moon above it is sinking low, real low, and impossibly fast. Crowley pulls the moon down across the sky until it dips behind the Taj Mahal, framing the immaculate marble in its glow.

“Do you see it?” he asks.

At first, Aziraphale doesn’t see anything at all. Not until he looks at Crowley’s face and sees that his golden eyes are pointed downwards. Aziraphale follows his line of sight to the river running beneath them. He sees the Taj Mahal’s reflection in the wine-dark waters of the Yamuna, and his lips part in awe. The halo of moonlight around it creates a wavy shadow image of a black Taj Mahal.

Aziraphale turns his gaze to the fort in the distance, where he knows the fallen king spends his nights gazing at the Taj from his tower, and hopes that he is witnessing this miracle. 

“It’s even better than we could’ve imagined,” he tells Crowley. “It’s magical.”

Crowley hums, making an effort not to look too pleased with Aziraphale’s delight. “I don’t move celestial bodies for anyone, you know.”

[phoenixfeatherquillwriting]

Dove Experiments With Writing Style Part 1: The Trauma Trifecta in Healing is a Funny Thing

Healing, you know, it’s strange. Put three people through the same pains, and of course they won’t come out the same as they were before, but they won’t come out with scars in the same places, either.

The scientist engineers a fix. Aris healed her wounds the same way she did everything. She tinkered. She built. She invented a better way of doing things. She ran it through Science. She built herself routines for when the shadows in the morning fog looked a little too much like ghosts, or when the green color of Tavi’s eyes shifted just so and they weren’t Tavi’s anymore, or when she had the nagging feeling of being pulled too far apart and having her insides scrutinized and examined and so very seen. At that point, she often found it was best to sit with a cup of tea, hot enough so the steam rose into the air and chased the fog off the windowpanes. At that point, she often found it was best to close her own eyes and give Tavi a strong hug, bending down to hide her face in Tavi’s neck and inhale the muted scent of crackling embers Tavi seemed to carry with her like cologne. At that point, she often found it was best to visit a friend for a while, even one born several centuries away in the confines of a TV set or computer screen.

A hammer can break stone, but so can a steady drip of water. The pace of it may not be to one’s liking, but the fact remains. Rissa’s healing was slow, gradual. It carried on day by day, setbacks springing up, but never stopping her completely. It happened in much the same way that her lacerations had turned to scars and her nerves had painstakingly knit themselves back together again. Pain can become a companion one gets used to, like a black triangle shape in your right eye. Try and charge it too fast, and the knife twists further, the magic backfires, all your vision goes black. So, Rissa couldn’t force it away. She couldn’t be the hammer. Had to be the water. They say the movements of tai chi resemble a river to an observer. So, Rissa did tai chi every day, feeling her chi, her life energy, working through her body to synchronize her systems just the way they should be. She meditated, focusing on the flow of breath in and out, steady like tides. She went swimming with astonishing speeds, not letting up until all she could hear was the whoosh of the water in her ears and the thudding of her heart. Or sometimes, she simply sank to the bottom and sat, listening to the quiet. She taught herself how to care again, taking her Little Wave for long walks, training her to sit and stay and come, roughhousing and filling up the little carnivore with anything she could find. At night, Little Wave slept by her feet, chuffing for Rissa’s efforts. She stopped hiding her moods until they exploded over. She stopped hiding the right side of her face, wore her wounds and her glasses, and watched the sun rise with both eyes.

The tallest tree grows from a singe seed. It settles its roots and grows to the sky. Ione approached her healing in layers, like those roots, and the rings in a tree trunk which show its age. She ensured she had a strong foundation before inching forward. Unlike Rissa, she didn’t mind being patient. Unlike Aris, she held no aspirations of perfection. After all, promises of being make perfect and whole, the sum of all her potential, was what had gotten her here. She was a hybrid, in a way, so there was no perfection, no blueprint for what she should look like. But she could be a sturdy little hybrid all the same. Waiting for the right moment to bloom and bear fruit. She gave herself “fertilizer” by carefully exploring her abilities, stretching a muscle so strong, she’d never felt sure enough to see how far it could go, all the things it could do. Aris’ neural inhibitor kept her from going too far too fast and risking the integrity of the tree. She kept her roots covered with her faith, seeking help from Allah and the Quran when she felt lost. She gave herself supports to steady her “growth spurt” as her “trunk” began to climb, leaning on her family on one side and her values and hobbies on the other. She processed her pain, and the pain from others that she was burdened to carry, by drawing, painting. She danced for the sake of it. She read voraciously, looking for new ideas. She worked in the earth, enjoying smell of dirt and the feel of the soft leaves. She watered the plants, giving them tender loving care. And as she gave the life-sustaining water to the flowers and trees, Rissa nourished her with water from a well of love in turn.

Special thanks to Inky @inkdropsonroses for support and encouragement! What do you think of the style experiment? Would you like to see more like this? Requests? Please let me know! -Dove

[lovebackspell]

Dua To Return Back Black Magic

Dua To Return Back Black Magic

Dua To Return Back Black Magic

Dua To Return Back Black Magic, The evil doing deserves an evil reply. Black magic is one of the biggest crimes in the eyes of Islam. The one who practices it will surely go to hell if Allah has the followers and has faith in him. So does the evil have his followers? Those who lack confidence in Allah chooses the wrong side.

Well, their punishments await them.…

[islamicistikhra]

If you or Your Family Member Suffer Black Magic Effect and Do you Want to Permanent Solution for this Effect then Consult Paak Islamic Astrologer Molvi Rahim Sheikh Ji +91-9878049601 or Visit Here @ https://islamicistikhra.wordpress.com/2018/11/19/dua-to-remove-black-magic-effect/

[islamicistikhara]

Dua To Remove Black Magic Effect

Dua To Remove Black Magic Effect

Remove Black Magic Effect

Black Magic Kai Log Iska Naam Sunte Hi Dar Jate Hai To Kai Logo Ko Pata Hi Nahi Chalta Ki Woy a Unki Family Ka Koi Member Is Bad Effect Se Hi Paresaan Hai. Log Jinhe pata Chal Bhi Jata Hai Ki Wo Iske Effect Ki Wajh Se Paresaan Ho Rahe Hai Unke Liye Problem Hoti Hai Ki How To Remove Black Magic Effect

Black Magic Har Koi Nahi Kar Sakta Ye Sirf Aapka Koi Close Person Hi…

[molana71-blog]

[wazifaforsuccess]

Dua For Protection From Enemies

Dua For Protection From Enemies , ” This is a easy act and by doing this Insha-Allah your enemies become your friends. This prayer is based on Nawafil. You have to offer four 4 Nawafil on 10th of Muharam. You can offer this prayer at any time of the day or night of 10th of Muharam. Before starting these Nawafil, make a neeyat that you want protection from your enemies. And after offering these…

[wazifafornikah]

Taweez For Home Protection

Taweez For Home Protection

Taweez For Home Protection , ” This is the most powerful wazifa for home protection/home security and home safety. Once you do it then you don’t have to worry about your house. It does not mean that you should not use physical means for protection but as an extra safety you should do this. Once a person asked the Prophet (peace be upon him) that shall I read this dua and leave my camels free so…

[tippitv]

Supernatural Recap: 14:01 “Stranger in a Strange Land”

The road so far... is thirteen years long. Thirteen years. If this show were a person, they would be dealing with acne and/or getting their period. We're on the fourth American presidential term since this show started. My dog Henry looked like this

And now he looks like this:

But back to the show's rock-n-roll montage to catch us up for this season. 

There was a nephilim boy named Jack, an alternate dimension accessible by an episiotomy in spacetime where bad angels ruled and dead characters were still alive, and a weird fight between Dean Winchester (with archangel Michael stuffed up in him like a heavenly turducken) and Lucifer that ended up looking like the video for Total Eclipse of the Heart.

At the end of it, Michael absconded with Dean's hot bod and made him wear a silly cap and break the fourth wall.

As the episode starts, Sam's full beard lets us know that some time has passed since the finale. He's driving through slick streets because it's always raining in the lush coastal rain forest of Kansas. .

But then we cut to some other bearded guy, asleep in a room somewhere that looks like a room they've used on this show a lot, but this time with a weirdly loud background soundtrack of ocean waves and seagulls. The guy gets up, puts his prayer mat down on the floor, and begins praying in what the CC tells me is Arabic.

He looks up to see Michael (in Dean) sitting there in his little cap. "Hello, Jamil," Michael says. Jamil looks surprised, as one should.

Michael quotes from what Google tells me is verse 2:98 of the Holy Quran in order to introduce himself: "Whoever is an enemy to Allah and His angels and His messengers Gabriel and Michael..." He still makes Jamil go through a guessing game. God? No. Gabriel? No. One of these guys in Newsies?

Also no. He says he's there to ask Jamil the same question he's spent weeks asking people all over the world. "Do you want your newspaper on your porch or in your mailbox?"

"What do you want exactly?" Michael asks him. Jamil says he wants peace and love. Michael says "you never would have ran" from Syria if that were true. Okay first of all, that's "would have run," Mister Archangel. Second of all... wait, where did the seagulls go? It's quiet now. As if they left to bother someone else.

Michael flings him around a bit with his angel powers. Like is that even fun? Super powerful beings always act like it is but it's just a normal part of his abilities like my being able to scratch my elbow or blow my nose is normal for me. Anyway, Michael says he wants a better world. Cut to the season's new title card!

Meanwhile, the bunker has been embraced by the resistance fighters from the alternate dimension. Is anybody feeling guilty about the fight they left behind? Are they assuming the fight over there is done because Michael is here now? Mary checks the aim of a new gun by pointing it at or very near these people's danged heads.

The girl already died once so maybe she's unflappable and the guy's too busy getting a monster tooth removed from a wound to notice. He says it happened in Phoenix... which Google tells me is at least a 16-hour drive away if you have a normal car.

Sam joins the bunker, letting us know that he's been in Atlanta checking up on a possible Michael-Dean sighting that turned out to be someone's drug-induced hallucination. It's the good thing the Impala travels a thousand mph or that would've been a lot of wasted time. He and Mary exposit about how it's been three weeks since the end of last season. That's only three weeks of beard growth? Does that seem like a lot just because I don't grow beards?

Sam has just enough time to yawn and be sad before some guy who looks like if maybe Jonathan Van Ness got halfway through getting ready to go chop fire wood tells him there are some "gypsy type" vampires heading east. Boo, Fake Jonathan. Even though he's exhausted, Sam starts delegating teams to go take care of the problem and sits down to hack into a traffic cam.

Then he remembers a cliffhanger from last season. "Hey how's Jack?"

Cut to Jack getting his ass handed to him by Bobby in a fight training session. Aw look at his cute lil sweats. Wait... what are those windows in the gym? They look look like they're streaked with rain. Isn't the whole bunker underground?

Also omg someone give that boy a face guard while he's sparring! He can't heal his cute little mug anymore!

Meanwhile in Detroit, Castiel is following up a lead at a BBQ joint called Motown Meats. And like I know "Motown" is also a nickname for the city and not just the name of a record label, but the country music playing in this joint is still annoying to me. Anyway some pink-cheeked fella who thinks burgundy brown shoes go with cornflower blue suits strides into the place all, "Castiel! Darling!" 

This fella, with his imperious little strut and vaguely Southern demeanor, simply demands I refer to him as Young Lindsey Graham. He orders sausage, brisket and "pork ribs, well done." What the fuck, Linds? All pork ribs are well done! If someone gives you underdone pork anything, you get right off your ass and call the health department!

"I didn't think you consorted with my kind," Linds says, revealing himself to be a demon and also someone who doesn't know his basic show history.

Castiel is loath to admit that he needs information. "Does any demon know where Dean Winchester is?" Young Lindsey is delighted and scandalized at the thought of Cas losing any Winchester, much less Dean. "I thought you two were joined at the... everything." He gets about as close to pointing/looking at Cas's dick as Mary got to pointing that gun at those people's heads.

Yes, I'm terrible at making gifs. Anyway, Linds goes, "What's in it for moi?" And Cas tells him, "Your life." So Linds is like, "Come again?" Honey, he ain't even come the first time yet, don't get ahead of yourself.

Castiel uses his graveliest voice on Young Lindsey, but to no avail. It turns out the whole place is full of demons. Wouldn't Cas have picked up on that? Is he that powerless? They all crowd around him and knock him to the floor.

A sign outside a church in Duluth welcomes "Sister Jo" and advertises its morning prayers at 8 in the morning. Does that seem ridiculously early to me just because I'm a heathen? Also it's clearly nighttime in this scene. Some parishioners thank Jo for saving their lives. It seems like she should be trying to fly under the radar, so to speak.

Oh now she's walking through a dark alley, counting her money. I'll give her a pass because she has angel powers, but people on this show are always being unwise in alleys. Michael approaches her. "You don't recognize me with this pretty face?" he asks. It's the hat! It! Is! The! Hat! He reveals his big seagull-lookin' wings.

Jo is naturally suspicious of Michael. "Why would Dean say yes to you when he turned you down like seven seasons ago?" she asks. "We needed a cliffhanger for the finale and he'd already been a demon," he says. I mean, that's not what they say but I'm sure they were thinking it.

He asks her what she wants, and she tries to be glib about it but he's not buying it. He says she wants love and a family and barfy stuff like that. He keeps asking people what they want and then just ends up telling them.

Back at the bunker, Sam has a chat with Jack.

"I know this must be so hard," Sam says, "without your grace, without your powers...It's a lot, I'm sure." I mean, Sam wasn't a nephilim but he used to be super juiced up on demon blood with telekinetic powers. If there were ever a time for Sam to bust out with "hey I went through a sort of similar thing," it'd be now. Mary interrupts this tender moment to say someone's awake. Way to talk-block, Mary.

Sam reluctantly leaves Jack to go see whoever this other person is. He opens the door as the soundtrack builds up tension. The camera finally swoops in and reveals...

NO.

NO! I REFUSE. I!!! REFUSE!!!! THERE IS NO WAY NICK'S CARCASS SHOULD STILL BE ALIVE. NONE. BEGONE YOU FOUL THING, BEGONE!!!

You know what this means, right? Either that whiny little baby Lucifer will come back somehow and need to possess him again, or when they inevitably get Dean back, Michael will use this empty toothpaste tube of a human as his vessel. OH FUCK HE'S TAKING HIS SHIRT OFF

Okay why does Sam need to be the one to clean his mostly healed wound? It's not like Nick's hands are broken. Nick has a big dramatic reaction. Calm the hell down, it's peroxide not alcohol. Then he just puts the same dirty old bandage back on. What. The. Fuck.

Sam is being very sympathetic, if rattled because this guy's got the same face as the fucker that tortured him for a hundred years. Nick doesn't remember much about what happened, but says Michael told Lucifer "he wanted to do things right this time." Sam goes outside to collect himself when his phone buzzes.

"Oh, hey, Cas," he answers. Young Lindsey Graham corrects him: "I'm the boy who's got your angel." Okay, when I said he was young, I meant compared to current day Lindsey Graham. He's clearly not a boy. He's also clearly not a very worthy foe.

The music goes "eeeeeEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!" to build up tension, but fourth-tier demons are like basically gnats compared to the other baddies the Bunker Bunch have fought. It's kinda silly that Cas even got captured by these twerps.

But everyone is taking it very seriously and packing up their weapons to head to Detroit. Maybe the Other Dimension people haven't fought demons before? I can't remember. Sam assigns teams. "Maggie, you're with Bobby. Mom, you're with me." 

Jack wants to come, too, but Bobby protests that he's not ready for a demon fight. And Maggie is? That poor child seems perpetually on the verge of jumping out of her own skin. But Sam's like, "He needs this, Bobby." 

Back in Detroit, a bloodied Cas sits magically cuffed to a chair. "You sure I can't get you anything hot... and black?" Young Lindsey asks him in a needlessly suggestive manner. I mean, he's talking about coffee, not Grindr. Wtf, my dude? Castiel's face right now is so relatable.

We launch into a good old-fashioned Sit-n-Chat! Linds blah blahs about coffee and using Cas as bait, then reveals, without naming names, that Michael recently approached him like he did the other guest characters in this episode. He was asked what he wanted. "I realized after 600 years as a demon walking the planet...I didn't know." But now he's realized he wants everything. Start with some shoes that look better with your suit.

Meanwhile, Sam and Mary are driving through the perpetual rain. Seriously, how do y'all in Kansacouver deal with this much rain?? I live in Houston and we get a lot of rain, but in like... big groupings and not just constantly. Anyway, seeing that Sam is fretting, Mary says, "It's gonna be fine." Sam isn't convinced. "You don't know that!"

Now, normally this 900-mile trip would take about an hour, but Sam and Bobby didn't carpool so the Impala had to slow way down. Lol when Sam walks through the door at the barbecue place it looks like he's wearing the doorbell as a tiny hat.

Sam gets frisked to make sure he's not packing heat, then Young Lindsey waxes impressed about his shoulders and hair. He makes a "mm MM!" sound like he's just been presented a bowl of delicious bread puddin' and hot caramel sauce.

Here we are nearly at the end of the episode and we finally find out Young Lindsey Graham's name is actually Kipling. "Kip, for short," he says, offering his hand for a shake. Sam leaves him hanging. Also: lol "Kip." Kip's goons drag Jack and Maggie inside. Sam's nostrils flare in consternation as one of the demons punches Jack.

God this guy talks a lot. To sum up: Kip wants to be king of Hell and he wants the Winchesters to treat him like they did Crowley. You know, keep him around past his expiry date and then still somehow manage to make his death too abrupt.

When Sam turns him down, Kip has a bit of a tantrum. "In life, I rode with Genghis Khan!" he rails, mispronouncing it. He pouts and stomps some more, but Sam stays chill because he knows Mary and Bobby are about to bust in with guns blazing.

Slo-mo fisticuffs ensue! Kip throws Sam across the room with his powers. He's a higher level demon who could kill every human with a swoosh of his hand, but then the show would be over. Also, didn't the Bunker Bunch all have devil's trap bullets and stuff? These demons are taking a long time to die.

Kip somehow gets hold of the demon knife during the melee and takes one second long to admire how cool it is. This gives Sam enough time to switch things around and stab him with it. Kip dies as he lived: admiring Sam's shoulders.

Sam calls an end to the fight. "There will be no new King of Hell!" All the remaining demons vacate their meat suits. Who's going to run the barbecue restaurant now? Also, Castiel has been sitting, still cuffed, to that chair this whole time.

Back at the bunker, everyone is beat to hell. Cas and Sam have a rueful talk about what they just went through. Cas is embarrassed he went to the demons, but Sam says he'd work with anyone if it meant finding Dean.

In the kitchen, Mary and Bobby do a little Chekhov's flirting.

Cas goes to find Jack and try to cheer him up. "You did well," he says. "All I did was get punched in the face," Jack says. Don't sell yourself short, kid. You also got punched in the stomach.

Jack feels frustrated and useless without his powers. Cas tells him they have each other and they're family. Aww. I feel like Cas could also say he relates here. "I used to burn the eyes out of demons and destroy buildings with my voice!"

Sam gets a call from Jo. "We have a problem," she says. Is she working for Michael? Maybe!

Cut to a grungy abandoned warehouse, where Michael is currently having a chat with a monster of some kind. Maybe it's one of the vampires mentioned earlier in the episode. "Your want is pure," Michael says. Monsters are soooo much easier to deal with than people or angels! "You just wanna eat," Michael says as the monster shows off some fangs.

Incidentally, "You just wanna eat" also describes me at a brunch buffet.

So that's the end of the season premier! The FOURTEENTH season premier. Holy hell right?

If you'd like me to recap the next episodes, let me know. Thanks for reading!

And now’s the self-promo time when I add my Ko-Fi link! (ko-fi.com/A4017DA)

These are some very desperate times for me, so if you have a few bucks to spare and you enjoyed this fic, I would very much appreciate any donation. I know it looks like I’ve received quite a few donations recently but those larger ones were me “donating” to myself with credit cards to pay bills that had to be paid from my bank.

I'm afraid of not making rent this month, thanks to several clients just refusing to pay me for my work.

Or my Paypal address is btippi@gmail.com and if you send it as a gift I think no fees are deducted from my end.

[mclovenswitches]

So a general update

I’ve been doing more research on Islam and Queerness. Learning and studying the history and different interpretations of the Quran. I have gotten to the point where my religion is a verb. Like Islam has shown me I have to actively seek out the answers and God/Allah will show me the way.

Prayer is complicated cause on one hand I pray every day but not always doing the exact ritual of Islamic prayer. Also praying is weird cause sometimes its in English other times Arabic and sometimes silence. More often silence because Im praying with my heart and wanting to listen for God/Allah.

Modesty has taken on a new meaning. In a lot of ways I cover myself because my own understanding of my gender tells me I need to do so. My connection with my turbans has intensified. It just means more for some reason.

As far as my craft goes its been interesting combining my afrocentric magic beliefs with that of Islam. For a time I thought it impossible but then I remembered Allah is all and everything is Allah. Through them their is everything. Once I focused on that it put my heart at ease. Plus Black folks been putting Islam and our culture together. It just seems alienating sometimes because its a huge focus on Asian and Arab culture in Islam. But I dont have to give up my identity to feel at peace

Finally Ramadan is upon us and I’m very excited. It will be my first one actually practicing. I want to do my best plus I even bought a new prayer rug. I have some goals I’d really like to achieve inshallah:

Try to pray 5 times a day

Avoid pop even when I break my fast

Read the Quran as far as possible and memorize a few verses

Do my best to be completely honest with the people in my life about my feelings

All in all sometimes I feel a little stunted in my growth but I also can see and recognize how far I’ve come and I know God has too.

Ameen

[chrysaliseuro2018]

BOSS OF THE BUS

As we were making our way down the west coast on our 5 day trip, Genevieve was investigating trips from Side to Capadocia in the centre of Turkey. Correspondence went back and forth about a €40-50 (about $75-80) 3 day trip. Comparing what we were paying for our 5 days this was so cheap I feared we would be camping. But no this was the price. Of course the sting came a bit later.

So we were up for it and the 4 of us booked to start the tour on 12th June with pick up time 6.45am. Antique Side is closed to cars other than those of residents so the tour bus couldn’t come down the hill to collect all our luggage. Booking ‘agents’ advised the town electric cart would collect us but alas no. Meanwhile Chris was in negotiations with the police manning the gate but it was a firm No. With minutes ticking by Doug quickly got Penny’s car, luggage was loaded into that and driven to the bus.

Now about 30 minutes had elapsed so understandably got some stink-eye from the passengers who’d been kept waiting.

The bus was designed for 12 passengers but fitted out for 17 so it was a close and intimate affair. In the front 2 seats were Doug and Gene who it has to be said got lucky with some extra leg room. Behind them 2 elderly Danes who grabbed a bottle of wine and or beers at every possible opportunity. Behind the Danes were 10 year old Russian lad with his mousy mute mother. Then Chris and me wedged in (Russian lad had his seat reclined the entire 2 days), and behind us the very friendly and chatty Aunty Margaret and Tina from Essex. Along the back were sweet young newly weds Soyah & Maurice from Holland, a spare seat, then Holly, Tina’s stepsister who judging by her size would have been grateful for the spare seat. Could have knocked us over with a feather when she told us she had been to the 7 continents by age 24, had emigrated to Melbourne several years ago (lives in Chelsea)and works as a sound engineer. You just wouldn’t have picked it!

Then heading back along the bus in single seats was a surly young lad who turned out to be part of the tour operation, a woman of unknown origins who disappeared after day 1, then Mr Russia who seemed to have supplanted both his wife’s and his son’s ego into his own.

Bus driver slipped under the radar but the same can’t be said for the guide Nahjo. In fact it was a battle of egos between Nahjo and Mr Russia. He didn’t just like the sound of his own voice. He was addicted to it! Along the way amongst other chit chat and information we got his life story, some group marriage guidance, how small lies can be forgiven and how this works in a religious context too. Every monologue went for a minimum of 10 minutes and woe betide you should you chat amongst yourselves during one of his diatribes. In the gaps the gregarious, party-loving-club-going-40-something Tina would try to share with me her life history. Nahjo seemed to get wind of it and standing facing the back of the bus would either clear his throat or announce it was his turn. Chris and I were left thinking our polite and humble Gallipoli guide must have been absent for the Tour Guide Arrogance 101 unit of the qualification.

So we were off and despite the late get away we stopped not 20 minutes down the road for a tea/ coffee break, followed by a breakfast stop 40 minutes later at a petrol station/ roadside stop. (It has to be noted that Cappadocia is some 470 kilometres from Side so it was going to be long day if the stops came so frequently). Breakfast option 1 was a vast modern complex selling everything you don’t want to eat. Gene who has an eye for local food spotted hidden in a corner behind some trees an outfit selling gözleme so we headed there. Great decision. Shoes off and into the tent where the local lady sat crossed leg with her dough, tubs of filling and the black dome for cooking the gözleme. Spinach and cheese one was a bit dry but the potato one was outstanding.

All wedged ourselves back in the bus which climbed up the mountains through some magical scenery. Unfortunately Nahjo kept reassuring us on the wrong side of the bus that we would see it ‘on the back journey’. However our arrangements meant we weren’t doing ‘the back journey’ so at one particular stop he was a little annoyed when we headed off 200 metres down the road to photograph the nomads herding their goats. I suggested it would be better for all if the bus pulled over so we could all see anything of interest on the way to Cappadocia. Suggestion was not welcomed.

Another stop for coffee and the sting of the extra €’s. It had to happen of course. You can’t run a tour for €50 per person providing transport, 2 nights accommodation no matter how basic, 2 dinners and two breakfasts. So lunch which we though was fend for oneself turned out to be a set payment (we only paid for one and opted to take our chances on day 2), and extra for Whirling dervishes, museums (charge €25/ $39.20 versus ticket face value less than $9) etc totalling an extra €120 between us. Even taking that into consideration €220/$350 for both of us was pretty cheap and the overcharging on extras balanced the undercharging on initial outlay.

Next stop, lost count if it was 4 or 5, was at the Mevlâna museum Konya, the birth place of the Sufi religion and Dervishes. The site is a holy place for Muslims with over 1.5 million visiting it yearly. The Mosque contains the tomb of Rumi (unfortunately hidden due to renovations) later known as Mevlâna who devised the idea of whirling and the tombs of other eminent dervishes. Also on display were Mervlana’s coat, a box apparently containing his beard and any number of exquisitely decorated Qurans, one so tiny that the author went blind writing it.

Alongside the Mosque was a complex giving information about the dervish culture. Included was a lodge displaying mannequins dressed as they would have been in Mevlâna’s day and the dervish cells displaying various items. I for one would have enjoyed more than our tightly scheduled allotted time there. But we were rounded up like errant school children and headed back for the bus. Chris managed to ruffle Nahjo’s feathers by needing a toilet stop when we were warned the next section of the drive would be 2.5 hours. By this stage as it was 1pm we were wondering about the elusive lunch if the drive was for 2.5 hours. There was some grumbling from Tina and Aunty Margaret and it wasn’t from their stomachs.

Eventually we rolled into another vile modern roadside stop - our lunch venue. Behind the counter were some aggrieved (probably because of the lateness of the hour) gorillas of men slopping out an assortment of runny casseroles, reluctant to identify any ingredients. It tasted as bad as it looked. We were immediately pleased with the earlier decision not to commit to day two lunch.

A short drive and then time for another stop. This time it was to visit a preserved home dug under ground, a primitive more simple Coober Pedy affair. Apparently tunnel complexes formed entire cities but this was a small example taking only 10 minutes for everyone to get through. I opted out and instead waited near the entrance/ exit where a dozen or so middle aged women had set up a market. Trouble was they were all selling the same little local cloth dolls so competition to get any one walking by was frenetic. Females in particular were the target for the spruiking with a good natured but frantic cacophony of calls of “Mother, Mother”. The closer anyone ventured to the stall the louder the screeching got. I hope everyone managed to sell something but with another 5 weeks on the road, it wasn’t something I could buy.

Everyone back on the bus and off to Dervish show scheduled to start at 6pm. Clearly we were up against it as the previously cautious bus drive planted his foot. Arrived shortly after 6pm with another bus arriving after us. Having been so enchanted with the beautiful ceremony we saw at Hodjapasha in Istanbul Chris and I we were looking forward to a similar experience. Dougal and Gene had never seen them and had their expectations built up by us.

Oh dear!!! The pipe/flute player struggled to find a note, the dervishes all looked like novices (part time uni job perhaps), they wore slippers that made a noise that was distracting, one was losing his pants, also very distracting. There was a non dancing head honcho roaming around amongst them dressed in black once again distracting, they didn’t vary their speed and were for the best part out of sync. Yes they could spin but it lacked all the beauty, rhythm and charm of our previous experience. We left feeling glad to have seen a more authentic experience and Doug and Gene left feeling they were yet to see one.

Short drive to our delightfully self rated ‘Special Class’ hotel in Göreme, rooms allocated and orders that we had 15 minutes to get to dinner. Dinner a simple affair with lentil soup, the not-so-traditional-Turkish chicken schnitzel and melon. Danish couple of course knocked off another bottle of wine.

Gene, Chris and I headed for a stroll to town wandering through the streets. Highlight was at a hotel where I poked my head in and elderly Mehmet the owner insisted we come and look at his accommodation. Beautiful rooms that were huge with the bathrooms built into the rock giving a sense of a modern and upmarket Flinstone bathroom. With Mehmet’s limited English we spent a special half hour in the hotel’s courtyard trying and making a reasonable hash of having a meaningful conversation.

A long day and time for to return to our ‘Special Class’ Hotel Karl for bed, especially for Gene with a 4.30 am start for her hot air balloon flight over Cappadocia.

[superksharma01]

Dua to get ex-lover back in 2 days

 Love is a very pure feeling of affection, care, and belonging towards your partner. It is an incredible and magical feeling that will give you the feel like you are in heaven. So whenever you will fall in love with someone then you do not leave your true love in any condition as your love is incredible and wonderful. Love can be defined in any relationship. Basically, without love every type of relationship is incomplete. At some point of time when you are, life star movement doesn’t support your love then you have to break up with your partner to get best and wonderful to reserves you can seek the help of best astrologer who will offer you due to get ex-lover back into your life. So whenever you want to get your lost love back then astrology is the best and relevant solution to sort every type of issue. Within the astrology area, each system has its branches and you can easily get your lost love back with the help of astrology. Even it will cover various parts of Life. So if you will get tired to convince your ex but you are not able to do so then you have to use solutions for all your issues.

These days most people will not able to establish trust and understanding in their relationship because of a lack of understanding and trust they have to face various types of issues. To get rid of these types of complications from your life you must concern with love astrologer baba i.e. will surely offer you the best Islamic due for getting lost love back into your life in very little time. But make sure that you seriously need to follow all the tantric and mantras as well according to the guidance of a specialist astrologer only then you can get satisfied and genuine results. The special astrologer will offer a lot of simple astrological tips also that are related to black magic Vashikaran as well as other arts. But you do not need to take worry about your problems as a specialist astrologer surely fulfil your conditions and sorts your issues.

 Dua To Get Love Back

 1. After performing the namaz of Insha, recite the wazifa given below 300 times. Make sure, you include Derwood Sharif thrice in the beginning and thrice in the end. 2. It is important to begin the wazifa on Thursday. 3. The wazifa is bound to re-create those feelings of love and affection in the heart of your lover and Insha Allah, in no time, he/ she will come back to you. 4. Make sure you take permission from our move sb. before reciting the wazifa.

“Ya Wadoodoo Ya Ra’ufoo Ya Raheemo”

 Note: If you have any queries related to the dua or procedure, then feel free to Contact Us on Call or WhatsApp +91 9571613573 get Islamic help immediately.

  How to fulfil your wishes with astrology?

 With the consultation of the most powerful Dua for love back, you will surely get the best and general results. As you know numerous people will take these results in hurry and they will lie down in the future, they would take the wrong decisions. So instead of running away from the issue, you have to find out the root cause and sort it from the start. To get the best results you seriously need to concern with the best astrologer, even you can also use various mantras and tantric to sort your life issues. To make your life more content, happier, and satisfied you have to get the tantric and mantras from the best astrologer.

Do you have any type of question how can I get my lost love Due back? When it comes to sorting various types of issues related to your girlfriend or boyfriend then you seriously need to search for the best astrologer. As you know astrology has various types of solutions for all types of your issues. Make sure that you seriously need to consult with the best astrologer who can easily offer you the best solutions even these days various type of wonderful ways is available to fall someone in love with you. So when you will feel anytime that your girlfriend on boyfriend will deal worse with you. So you need to give a call to the love astrologer Baba jig.

To get a satisfied and contentment life you can easily use Dua to get your ex-girlfriend back again into your life. To fulfill you seriously need to seek the help of a specialist astrologer. Even you can do some special things like plan some date night, plan movie nights and you can send flowers to your ex as like apology. Make sure that never disrespect your partner in public as it will create a very bad impression on others so if you want not to then you need to use due to make someone talk to you again. All will has these tantric and mantras that usually get the solutions for all types of your issues.

 Do you want to get your love back into your life?

 As you know love is a very incredible and wonderful feeling that will change your overall life. So if you have lost your true love then you can try to back then just wish you to have various problems. With the help of Vashikaran remedies and therapies, you can usually get rid of all types of distractions from your life. When you will use Due to getting your ex-lover back through the power of Quran Kareem then you will surely get the best results in just 2 days. So in order to chant this Mantra effectively, you have to get the basic guidelines from the best astrologer. Even you can get the best results with a famous astrologer. First of all, you have to search for the relevant astrologer as with the consultation of the best astrologer can easily get your lost love back in a very less time.

Numerous people will think that is there a Dua to make someone love you? Of course, these types of tantric and mantras are available these days. All you need to consult with a specialist astrologer who can offer you the best results. You can say that these days one can easily get the best and genuine solution for any type of problem. So you need to consult with a specialist astrologer who has every type of remedy and therapy to remove your worries. Even you can also use the six powerful Dua to get someone back in your life again to make your life more satisfied and contented.

  Powerful Dua for Love Back

 The Procedure of dua for love back:

  1. Read this most powerful Dua 128 times by taking a bit of plain paper and write the name of your loved one on it. 2. Cover this paper inside the ground take after this procedure deliberately to get expected outcomes or any further help you can get in touch with us. 3. You can also pray a Tahajjud Salaah and recite Surah Waqiah at that time. 4. Make a Dua for your partner, In Sha Allah, you will get back your partner as fast as possible.

 Note: If you have any queries related to the dua or procedure, then feel free to Contact Us on Call or WhatsApp at +91 9571613573 get Islamic help immediately.

 If you need any type of help and Guidance Talk to our specialist guru ji

           Call and WhatsApp me without any hesitation            

phone number +91- 9571613573

Whatsapp now for A free consultation ( निशुल्क परामर्श के लिए अभी #Whatsapp करें )                                                                                                             Vashikaran specialist                                                                                       Call and whatsapp +91- 9571613573           Website :  

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[maximuswolf]

Discussion for Demons via /r/satanism

Discussion for Demons

In the most recent r/Satanism survey a large percentage of the responders indicated an interest in deeper discussion, but there seems to be a difficulty in finding discussion of common interest. Hopefully this post can help facilitate some future discussion, and de-lurk a few new members we've yet to hear from ;)

What do you call it?

The Essence of Satan? Lucifer's Light? The Black Flame? This is a post devoted to touching that supreme thing... in ways that aren't explicitly spiritual. That means no prayers, meditations, invocations, or rituals that don't have strong influences from other activities. By what other means do you commune with the Absolute?

Some things that have worked for me:

Climbing. It was through climbing that I first accessed serious spirituality. Rock is harsh and unforgiving. You cling to it for life, but if you aren't prudent someone may die upon it. You go in with the attitude that you have zero margin for error, but you still set up a chain of safeguards in case one breaks. While climbing at Lake Superior I had one experience flipping backwards into the water, that showed me what exactly the point of a baptism was. Like being waterboarded, but in a good way. As I made my way back up the cliff again I was filled with a kind of momentum as if I'd hitched a ride with a kind of ever persistent, unstoppable force.

That same trip during a very intimate group discussion, I found myself pulled into a great void of purple and blue and black, that despite its appearance was so completely warm and comforting- not quite like I'd ever experienced before. It still amazes me looking back at it, having been stone cold sober (for several days at that point, which at the time was kind of a big deal) and pulled into an powerful open-eye visual comparable to a trip. As I looked along the treeline those few days, I could almost see the roots of every tree twisting into the ground like fingers of deep crimson.

Ultimately I had a conflict with the mentor who led the group, a hardcore old buzzard who was an OG Deadhead back in the day. It ended up being my first real burn at the hands of an RHP ideology, although all RHP bullshit considered I got off quite easily. I wouldn't describe myself as an exceptional climber by any means, but I was a very good belayer- and all that that entails. I hope to get back into it eventually.

Martial Arts. I've done a healthy amount of kickboxing and Aikijitsu, with a small amount of wrestling and such a pitifully small amount of Kung Fu that I might as well not mention it. I was a bad wrestler, which was fine. I didn't go into it expecting to be a good one, and the workouts were good. I do much better with MMA, which I thoroughly enjoyed (and hopefully will again, soon). I have a good natural predisposition to MMA, but I still have a whole lot to learn. I know it about as well as I know magic.

The core of the matter is that I enjoy fighting. I don't enjoy getting into fights, I'm good at de-escalating and am fortunate enough to rarely ever have to think about using force in any real way. But I like fighting. A lot. Winning and losing. Which brings me to my next point...

BDSM & Kink. My earliest kinky thought was back when I was a truly tiny thing. I first learned kink existed in my early teens, and have been trying to learn as much about it as I can ever since.

I have little hands-on experience, but I know from climbing the seriousness of literally holding the line a life is on. To me BDSM seems similar in many ways to climbing, from thrill to trust to risk and risk management. It's also one of the few activities where one can with relative ease find both real darkness and real devotion. Till there's the opportunity to work with a partner, I'm going to educate myself as extensively as I'm able.

D&D. They told you this wasn't actually Satanic, right? Well... they're absolutely right. There's nothing inherently Satanic about D&D, or any other TTRPG's, but if you've even half an imagination there's a way for you to get lost in the Forgotten Realms. Bonus points if you fuck with Chaos Magic. Create your universe, practice for Pandemonium.

Naturalism. I struggled with the title of this heading, it really should be Getting Dirty. Because to me that's the most important part, you haven't really gotten outside if you haven't gotten dirty. Just like bruises in kink, dirt and scrapes are badges of purity and experience.

Sleeping rough, exploring abandoned buildings, backpacking, spelunking, you pick. While it doesn't get you dirty, one of my favorites is watching storms. It's got the same effect, grime or no. Being in the Midwest I get to enjoy the wild lightning storms that sweep through every summer, and the rare but far worse ones that come in the dead of winter.

The Refinement Of Indulgence. Developing and refining one's preferences. With Indulgence being so valued within Satanism, I can only think that its evolution must be even more stunning.

Do you find that you prefer peaty scotch over bourbon? How full of body do you like your cigars? What precisely do you look for in a condom? Why do you choose the drugs you do? Silicone, glass, or steel for sex toys?

Pick something evil ;)

The Seeking Out Of Low Places. A phrase taken from The Devil's Quran, and perhaps my favorite entry on this list. Find low, dirty, painful, argued over places and learn them well. Listen to the stories of the homeless and the abandoned. Meditate in a dingy cell, or burn a couch under an overpass (if you're reading this, that one goes out to you Emerston. Keep up with that safety, mate). Do some graffiti, or turn all the pictures in a building cockeyed. Find the ugliness in your world, and make peace with it.

That concludes what is my personal list, although I do hope to keep expanding it. Sinning is an activity I thoroughly enjoy. Which brings me to wondering, what's your list of favorite ways to get in trouble?

Lastly, I'd like to leave you with this wonderful article as the cherry for your infernal sundae. Take care all you horrific folk.

Submitted November 13, 2020 at 09:47AM by maryjanes_AK47 via reddit https://ift.tt/3lvH7n0

[islamicistikhara]

Dua For Safety From Black Magic

Dua For Safety From Black Magic

Surah For Protection From Black Magic

Aslam Walekum Khawatino Hazrat Main Molvi Rahim Sheikh Aap Sabka Ishtkbaal Karta Hu Aur Umeed Karta Hu ki  Aap sab bhi kheriyat se honge.

Black MagicMean Apni Dushmani Nikalne Ka Ek Aesa Zariya Jis se Apne Dushman Ko bataye Bina Hi use Paresaan karna. Aaj Kal Kai Log Black Magic ka Use Le Rahe Hai. Yaha Ye Baat Bahut jaruri hai Ki Iska Use Wahi Log Le Sakte…

[wazifaforsuccess]

Wazifa For Black Magic

Wazifa For Black Magic

Wazifa For Black Magic , ” If you think you have black magic and you have all indications that it is black magic. Do the following and it will go away within 7 days. Guaranteed by the biggest Wali Allah in sub continent. Sayyedina Sheikh Ali Hajveri (Rehmatullah alaih), who is buried in Lahore in Pakistan. He came from Iraq 1000 years ago and brought Islam to the sub continent.

Darood/Salavat 11…