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pankowperfection · 2 years

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Written in Ink

Summary: JJ is intrigued by your appearance and one night at a party, you finally take the leap and go home together

Warnings: smut, oral (male & female receiving), spanking, tattoo kink? piercing kink?

JJ had never seen a girl quite like you. Covered in intricate tattoos on basically every inch of visible skin from the neck down, piercings on display all over each ear and in your belly button. He found himself wondering what else you might have pierced. He swore on one particular day when you were wearing the tightest little crop top, he could see the outline of nipple rings and the thought had him hard as a rock. Your ink was mesmerizing to him. Any time you were nearby he wanted to be close to you and admire the art on your skin. He also wondered if the cliches were true. Were tattooed women really more adventurous in bed? He was determined to find out, willing to do whatever it took to get your attention. Little did he know, he had caught your eye also. The resident playboy on the island, you were dying to know if the rumors were true. Could JJ Maybank really be a master in the bedroom?

One night at a bonfire party, it seemed like you might get your chance. JJ had made every excuse in the book to be beside you all night: greeting you with a beer, saving you a seat by the fire, offering to walk down the beach with you so you weren't alone. His gaze made your skin hot and your panties wet, almost sensing the need pouring off of him. Empowered by the alcohol, you grabbed his hand, pulling him to a stop on the beach. Your eyes locked together, his baby blues almost daring you to make a move. You pushed up to your toes, arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him into a searing kiss. He only hesitated a second before he was kissing you back just as passionately, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as you let out a moan. You both pull back reluctantly, foreheads resting together as you catch your breath. "Do you want to get out of here?" his eyes silently begging you to say yes. "Please J, take me home."

You hadn't realized he had ridden his dirt bike there. He sees you hesitating, questioning if you trust him. You sling your leg over the bike, settling against his back as you wrap your arms tightly around him. "Hold on sweetheart," he grins over his shoulder as the bike roars to life. Your heart is pounding as you speed through the streets on the island, but watching JJ's arms flex as he pulls the clutch or when he steers into a corner has you dripping. A man in control is just so sexy to you. He rolls up to the chateau, killing the engine and helping you pull the helmet off your head. As you shake out your hair you smile at him, grabbing his hand as he leads you inside.

As soon as you make it into what you assume is his bedroom, his lips are back on yours, walking you over towards the bed before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. He kisses down your jaw to your neck, biting the flesh hard before soothing it with his tongue. You grind your crotch over his, desperate for some friction. He grabs the hem of your shirt, slowing pulling it up and off and praying in his mind he was right about your nipple piercings. When he finally allows himself to look he lets out a groan, seeing the barbells threaded through making his cock even harder. "Like what you see J?" you smirk down at him, bringing his hands up to touch your breasts, teasing his fingers over your piercings. "Fuck y/n, you are so hot. I want to worship every inch of your inked skin."

He stood up quickly, spinning you around and laying you down on the bed. Wasting no time he took one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the ring and sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. You arched your back, pressing your breast further into his mouth as his fingers gently twisted your other nipple. His mouth trailed down your body, stopping to unfasten your shorts before pulling them down you tattooed legs. He settled between your ankles, kissing his way up to your thigh so he could take in the tattoos he hadn't seen before. By the time he reached your pussy, you were desperate, grabbing a hold of his hair and pushing his face into your soaking core. His nose bumped perfectly against your clit as he fucked you with his tongue, slurping noises filling the room. The rumors were apparently true, the man knew how to work his tongue. He started alternating between sliding up to flick over your clit and down to fuck back into you and within minutes you were soaking his face, thighs trembling as you came down from your high.

You pushed him onto his back, straddling his waist as you kissed him deeply. He groaned when you found his sweet spot behind his ear, making sure to give it extra attention. As you settled between his thighs on your knees, you slowly unzipped his shorts, unprepared for his massive length. He was definitely the longest you had ever had and your mouth watered at the opportunity to taste him. You made quick work of his boxers before taking him all the way down your throat. "Fuck baby girl, go easy on me." You moaned at the feeling of his velvety skin against your tongue, causing JJ to buck his hips up, sending him even deeper. You set a fast rhythm, bobbing your head up and down quickly as you hollowed out your cheeks around him. As much as he wanted you to keep going, he grabbed your hair and pulled you off of his length. "I want to cum in that sweet pussy."

He pushed you down into the mattress, face pressed into the covers as he pulled your hips up into the air. He rubs himself through your slick folds a few times before lining up with your entrance. Pulling your arms behind your back, he wraps one hand around your wrists, holding your arms in place. His other hand lands a hard smack to your ass cheek, causing you to cry out. He thrusts in quickly, bottoming out in one thrust. As he lets you adjust to the size of him he spanks you again. You moan out his name as you clench around him. He sets a brutal pace, slamming into you over and over as the headboard bangs against the wall. You're sure you'll walk with a limp in the morning. The hand gripping your hip slides around to stroke your clit, rubbing harsh circles over the bundle of nerves. Your orgasm comes out of no where, taking you by surprise as you scream. He fucks you through it, waiting for you to come back down so he can finish. He flips you over quickly, slamming back in before you can even miss him. Your long nails claw into his muscular back, the new angle having another orgasm building. He feels you clenching around him again, urging you to let go. As your walls squeeze him he pulls out, spilling his seed over your stomach and chest.

He flops onto the bed beside you, both of you trying to catch your breath. He breaks the silence first. "Well, I guess the rumors are true." his blue eyes sparkling as you gaze at each other. "And what would the rumors be J?" "Oh just something about inked women being good in bed." He leans over to kiss you again as you chuckle. "The rumors were true about you too. Everyone said you were a sex god, and they were right." As you both shower together he takes his time spinning you around, firing off questions about what each tattoo means or why you chose that design. By the end of the night he decides he wants one also and you agree to go with him to his appointment, the start of a perfect relationship written in ink.

Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist

@adventuresinobx @starkeyobx @hoebx @ailee-celeste @pankowforlife @outerbankspov

#jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #obx smut #smut

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your-mom-friend · 2 years

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to all the people yelling about “burning hijabs won’t solve anything! It’s to protect your decency/ strengthen your faith/protect your honour” I beg of you to take a single step back and look at this situation with eyes unclouded by judgement as I pick apart that ridiculous argument

“It protects your decency” congratulations, you’ve picked an argument I think is slightly less stupid than the others. It’s still wrong. Women in Iran are not only being killed for not wearing hijab, they’re being killed for wearing it improperly. Iran’s policy was never about protecting someone’s modesty or decency it was about forcing women to wear it whether they chose to or not. Choose which side of this fight your on.

“Strengthens your faith” I ask you this. Would Allah swt, in His infinite grace and compassion, approve of people being murdered over this? In Islam, does Allah not give women the right to choose? Does Allah not tell man that they do not get to decide punishment? Does he not tell people to be tolerant? Do you think Allah would support the murder or people over a perceived idea of morality by a government, or people burning a piece of cloth to show that they will not support that government?

“Protects your honour” this is by far the stupidest take I’ve seen and yet I’ve seen it. Your honour is something you hold yourself. It cannot be taken away from you by not covering your hair.

“Some people have to fight to even wear hijab” as a fun bonus, here’s this point. Yeah, some people have to fight to wear it. It’s happening in France rn. We know. It’s about the god damn choice. The government shouldn’t have a say in how you dress. That’s including whether you wear hijab or not. The whole problem is that government is deciding that people can be attacked for wearing/not wearing is and the fight is about the right to CHOOSE.

If you want to gripe about the hijab being a choice, then go right ahead. But that means you support people whether the choice is yes or no. Western Muslims, I am looking at you. It may be a choice for you, but unfortunately people there aren’t allowed to make that choice. For them it’s not a decision made to empower themselves and strengthen their ties to Allah, it is something forced on them so that they don’t get murdered. And if you can’t see the issue with that then I honestly don’t know what to tell you

#rem rambles #muslim #Islam #islamic republic of iran #iran protests #jina amini #mahsa amini #ex religious #ex muslim

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streamsofstardust · 2 years

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Here it is: let me start by saying that if you’re going to advocate for something, especially if you are not in the group that it is impacting, you have to be careful with your wording. Saying “I feel the WORST for those whose bedroom pleasure is difficult…” can be very degrading. Then, to go even further say “those who attack other women who speak up about the issue…that’s actually the saddest.” So, what she basically said was “I pity those who don’t have pleasurable sexual experiences BUT I feel even worse for those that attack others (aka disagree with me).” See how she brings it all back around to her? You can bring awareness to something and not make those affected seem defective. Why not empower those and show support rather than show pity? She is anything BUT an advocate. Advocacy doesn’t mean shit without intentionality. What she’s doing is a performance. White feminism at its very finest. Words don’t mean shit at the end of the day. If she is going to bring an issue up as an “advocate” the LEAST she could do is provide information on the topic or direct her viewers to those actually advocating. But that would take the attention away from her wouldn’t it? -👀

as a white women idk how much standing i have to critique white feminism but i firmly believe if you're not an intersectional feminist you're not actually a feminist.

mascarpone has a tendency to contradict herself. a prime example being saying she "can't" wear a mesh top (in response to danny's post) where she's essentially saying she should be allowed to wear whatever she wants and then literally right after she was criticizing julia fox going out in a bra and panties and basically being like "no don't encourage that bc some people are smelly!" like hello??? women empowering women until it's something that she doesn't particularly care for which negates anything good or positive she might have said. like sorry but that fully opens the door for someone to be like "ok well i don't wanna see you in shorts or a skirt bc you don't shave your legs" which we all know she'd pop off about and victimize herself because yes, she's a complete narcissist

#the letter m

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kapaskatha · 2 years

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Wishlist your favorite handloom sarees in different forms today!

Having a peaceful mind, in today's hectic world is not only a desire but also a necessity for most of us. The more important it is, the harder is to achieve it. Moreover, it's on you, to thrive on the things or activities that let you be in peace. One of the very prominent ways to cherish that happiness for yourself and indulge that within you and your chaotic lifestyle is simply by dressing your best self. The past two years, made us most comfortable within ourselves. Working from home with loose pants and shirts was the new normal. But even in those days, one in a blue moon, when you couldn't deal with all the work and home pressure, dressing slightly professionally and sitting at your desk helped you focus. If dressing appropriately can have such a big impact on you psychologically, then yes, you must invest in it, to outgrow yourself. For females, the industry is quite rules-based, wear this, wear that! But, we bet you haven't come through a space where you are not allowed to wear and flaunt your beautiful sarees! Shall we style them for your ultimate bold look at the office? Modern women are fearless, she is ready to take up chances that make them feel good for themselves. She feels confident with putting effort into the dressing. She is one of a kind, and such one multitalented woman deserves one hell of an outfit. Kapaas Katha has some easy-to-carry, yet bold enough to make people turn their heads sarees for all of them. It's not only for the women, who go to an office but every other woman, who works throughout the week, juggling between her children and husband, then having one day for herself. It's basically for every woman out there. Still, not convinced to choose “THE SAREE” as your next outfit? Well, you are surely going to change your mind once you finish having a read.

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Multiple ways to style a saree, and still won't get enough of it: Sarees are often considered as long, plain boring clothing. But in reality, it is completely the opposite. It depends on what you want to have. Kapaas Katha has many options, like rich silk sarees, and Bandhani sarees with vibrant motifs all over them. Name it and you have it. Actually, it depends a lot on your choices. How you want and like to style a particular piece of clothing. In sarees, you have multiple options like pairing them up with trousers. This way it is not only stylish but also comfortable to carry on with your chores of life. You can also style your saree with a shirt, to have a semi-formal yet bold look. Clubbing in sarees, not only sounds cool but also looks coolest. Try wearing a saree over off shoulder or spaghetti top and rock the dance floor. And how can we not mention the classic formal pairing of sarees with jackets, blazers and coats? Having a solid-coloured blazer with your saree can elevate your look by 2x.

Have it in different forms from across the nation: You must be creative and also have tons of styling ideas by now. But you are still confused about how to actually grab all these different types of sarees. It is very natural to be overwhelmed with tons of styling ideas, but also irritating to not have a place to find it all.

Well, we have made it very easy for you. As kapaas Katha has handpicked and designed various sarees and dupattas from different states across the nation. India is extremely rich in diversity, and has tried to make this diversity accessible for all.

Kapaaskatha– your one go-to step to uplift your wardrobe!

If you are done with those formal trousers and shirts or top looks, it's time to spice up your clothing, especially your office-going wardrobe. Let Kapaas Katha help you in doing so. Kapaas Katha is customer oriented and is very prominent when it comes to fulfilling their needs. We have made traditional clothing easily accessible for different purposes. Be it bridal sarees or office wear. Kapaas Katha has it all, in every form.

#cotton handloom saree with price latest handloom sarees with price buy handloom cotton sarees online cotton handloom saree blouse designs ha

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noorengels · 4 years

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alt er girl power week: favorite empowering moment?

#altergirlpowerweek #skam españa #amira naybet #islam #muslim representation #muslim #hijab #idc this scene is the most important #once i finished i started wondering wether it counted as empowering but its too late now #yes it is empowering women are allowed to wear what they want!! even if it means wearing a hijab!!#my gifs

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

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A Day Well-Spent

Pairing: Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: It's like... fluff to the extreme

Warnings: mention of guns

Requested: nope

Summary: Y/N has just moved to Brooklyn and doesn't know how things are there. Bucky Barnes runs things around Brooklyn but what happens when they meet? Will she run away or will she still shoot her shot?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay, first of all, THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH. also i think im obsessed with mob fics????? chile anyways so... enjoy!

---

"Ready to go, sweetie?"

"You know it, babe," Y/N grinned at her friend, Clarice. The two, on their way to work, had stopped by a coffee shop for their daily dose of caffeine. As they walked out of the café, Clarice turned to Y/N. "Finish your story! What did Brad say to you after that?!" Clarice reminded her and Y/N giggled.

"Oh, he was just too sweet! But not my type, ya know what I mean? I didn't know how to turn him down," she sighed. "Poor guy. If he had approached me…" Y/N lightly shoved her friend. "I have his number, should I pass it on?" Clarice turned to Y/N, wide eyed. "Darling, you're too good to me," she spoke with a strong Brooklyn accent.

Y/N burst out laughing. She had moved from another part of the country to Brooklyn for education; along with attending college, she was also working as a waitress at a nice little restaurant. That was how she met Clarice, her being another waitress at said restaurant. The two became fast friends.

Clarice was a few years older than Y/N, a single mother with a 4 year old son. Her son was extremely cute. As Y/N continued laughing, she didn't notice how her friend stopped in her tracks. Clarice was busy staring at the huge hunk of a man a few feet ahead of Y/N, standing in the middle of the pavement with his phone held to his ear, his back to them.

Bucky Barnes.

That man was James Buchanan Barnes, the King of Brooklyn. He ran the whole damn city along with his mob; very important and influential. On top of that? He was hot-headed, easily got angry and people knew what happened when he got angry. Except Y/N. Y/N didn't even know who he was.

As Y/N neared Bucky, still laughing for some reason, Clarice thought of calling out to her. And alert him of their presence? No way! "Clarice, you know I love it when you do your acc—" All of a sudden, Y/N collided into a soft wall, spilling her coffee all over it. Opening her eyes, she found out that it was no wall; instead, she had collided straight into a person.

And drenched his back with coffee.

He was wearing what looked like a very expensive suit and Y/N immediately felt guilty. "Oh my goodness, I'm so fucking sorry!" she blurted out as Bucky pulled the phone away from his ear, turning to look at her. His men, who were loitering around, had her surrounded as they pointed their guns at her. But she didn't notice.

She was busy staring at Bucky, her jaw slightly dropped. Hot damn, he is good looking, she thought to herself. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that she snapped out of a daydream. He had a stern expression on his face and she realized she messed up. He's someone important. Then she started apologizing profusely.

Bucky simply stared at her, taking in her features as he gave her a once-over. She's new, he realized, not from Brooklyn. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he chuckled and she immediately shut up, offering him a timid smile. "I really am sorry, I feel like a total ass. That suit looks expensive, sir, is there any way I can help? Maybe pay for dry cleaning?"

"Do you know who I am?" he instead asked and her brows furrowed. "Oh Lord, am I supposed to know?! One mess up after another…" she grumbled and Bucky couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry. My name is Bucky Barnes, you may call me Bucky." At this point, even his men were surprised, lowering their guns.

Clarice was still standing there and one of the men caught her eye. He nodded his head towards Y/N and Clarice gave him an unsure smile. He sauntered over to her. "She's with you?" he asked and Clarice groaned, dropping her head. "She's new to Brooklyn, and has no idea who he is. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."

The man smiled at her. "No worries, looks like the boss isn't gonna hurt her. I'm Sam, by the way." Clarice gave him a shy smile. Sam was also very good-looking. "I'm Clarice, nice to meet you." Better to remain on the good side of the mob. Back to Y/N and Bucky… "Bucky, that's a good name. Short for anything?"

He ran a hand through his hair, grinning. It had been years, years since someone outside of the mob had spoken to him so freely and without fear. It felt nice and refreshing, even more so because Y/N was super gorgeous. "James Buchanan Barnes." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Named after a president, huh?"

"You making fun of my name now, doll?" he smirked slyly. "Oh no no, I wouldn't dare," she flirted easily, "My name is Y/N. I still feel bad about ruining your suit, you won't even take the money…" Bucky waved her off. "First, Y/N is a wonderful name. Second, you don't need to worry your pretty head over me, this suit can easily be replaced."

"Then how about this? A coffee. My treat. It'll make me feel better," she insisted. Bucky raised a quick brow, thinking that he would be the one to ask her out but oh well, this works too. "Let's call it a date, shall we?" he purred, taking a step closer to her. She didn't back off. "If you'd like," she grinned up at him.

He couldn't help but grin back. "Excellent. Then how about you put your number in my phone and I pick you up next Sunday at 7 pm?" He thrust his phone into her hand and Y/N swore she heard someone gasping in the background. Bucky Barnes was a very private person but here he was now; handing his phone to a stranger.

She quickly put her number in his phone and handed it back, smiling. "I'll await your call." He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have to go now, so I'll see you later. Say hello to your friend from my side. Sam! Stop flirting, man, we gotta go!" Y/N looked over her shoulder to see his friend flirting with Clarice.

She laughed and turned back to Bucky, who was already looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. "I'll see you next Sunday, Mr Barnes. Again, sorry for the suit!" He waved his arm in dismissal and got into the car, throwing her one last blowing kiss before zooming off. Y/N walked back to Clarice, who was staring at her, jaw dropped.

"I know the hell you didn't just do that."

"Did I do something wrong?" Y/N frowned. Then, all of a sudden, a wide grin bloomed on Clarice's face. "Do you even know who you're going to go on a date with next Sunday?!" Y/N blinked. "Is he someone important?" Clarice made a sound of indignation. "Important? Bitch, he's the Kingpin! The King of Brooklyn! A mob boss!"

Y/N's eyes went wide. "No way," she scoffed. "Yes way! Ask anyone! He runs things around here, babe. It was fun to see him all soft, though, he's kinda hot-headed and hard to impress. Even women stay away from him. And now you two are going on a date?! If this relationship does not end in a marriage I'm suing."

Y/N flushed slightly and punched Clarice on the shoulder. "Clair, we haven't even gone on one date." Clarice shrugged. "A girl can dream. Oh, your children will be the most beautiful! Did you see his right hand man, though?! Mamma mia! Said his name was Sam Wilson, I got his number!" The two reached their workplace.

Inside Bucky's car, he was still smiling, lost in thoughts. "So, that chick, huh," Sam spoke devilishly from the driver's seat. Bucky looked at him. "That's no way to talk about the future Mrs Barnes," he admonished and Sam chortled. "Dude, you haven't been on even one date! Slow down, chicks don't like dudes who plan out a marriage on the first date."

"But I know I'm right, so why shouldn't I plan?" Bucky shrugged. He was more than confident that Y/N was going to become his in the future. The way she looked at him, spoke to him, flirted with him… it was enough for him to become smitten with her at the first glance. "What about you and her friend, huh?"

It was Sam's turn to become flustered. "Clarice Light. Has a 4-year old son, Aaron." Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "A mother. Well-maintained looks," he commented, laughing when Sam punched him on the shoulder. "Why don't you think about your own chick and leave mine alone?"

---

Y/N frantically smoothed out her dress, checking herself in the mirror. She wore a beautiful, nude coloured bandage dress that reached mid-thigh, along with similar coloured heels. Bucky was coming to pick her up in 5 minutes. Even after finding out who he was she didn't back away, instead finding it empowering that the most important man in Brooklyn wanted to take her out on a date.

All of a sudden the bell rang, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. The first thing she saw upon opening the door was a huge bouquet of red roses right in front of someone's face. He then moved the bouquet to reveal his face and Y/N smiled broadly. "Bucky!" He grinned back at her. "Hi, doll! Here, an extraordinary bouquet for an equally extraordinary woman."

"You're too flattering. These roses smell amazing, thank you so much." She took the bouquet from his hands and kept it away, stepping out of the house. Bucky offered her his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her out of the building and towards an audacious, ridiculously expensive looking car.

"Everything about you is lavish, huh?" she teased as he ushered her into the passenger seat, sitting next to her. "Bad to have a taste for the finer things in life?" he teased right back, placing his hand on her thigh as the other gripped the steering wheel. "No, I mean, you are the Kingpin. I should expect luxury."

He glanced at her to see her grinning at him. "You found out?" She nodded. "Yup, Clarice told me as soon as you left. I don't mind though, I'm just wondering… why me?" He laughed. "Why you? Sweetheart, you are the first person aside from Sam who has talked to me so freely since… since I was 18. And you're gorgeous. So why not?"

"Again, with the flattery…"

"Just stating facts, my dear."

"Also, my friend has a crush on Sam, so do tell him to ask her out." Bucky laughed harder. It had been years since he'd enjoyed himself so much. "Really? He has a crush on her too! I guess I'll tell him tomorrow." Y/N looked out of the window. "Where are we going?" Bucky gently squeezed her thigh. It was clear he wasn't taking her to a café, like originally planned.

"A picnic in the park." Y/N's eyes lit up. "I love picnics!" she squealed. "Then I guess I made a good choice," Bucky chortled along. The two soon reached the park and Bucky got out of the car first, holding the door open for Y/N to step out. "A gentleman," she noted, making him grin. He then took out the picnic basket from the backseat.

Y/N laid out the classic pink and white checkered blanket that he had brought along, taking off her heels before sitting down. "Ugh, I'd have worn pants if I knew I was going to be sitting on the ground," she groaned as she somehow sat down, adjusting her dress.

"You look gorgeous in that dress though," Bucky commented, "But you don't need to worry about public indecency because it's just you and me in the park." Y/N blinked at him as he sat down, opening the basket and taking out food. "Just us? You booked the whole park?" Bucky smirked at her. "It's easy when you run things around here."

Y/N fondly shook her head. "So much effort." He winked at her. "All for you, doll, all for you." The two maintained a chat as they ate. "So, you're new here. Why did you move to Brooklyn?" Bucky asked her. "Education. I go to [Name] college, actually, and work part-time as a waitress for some additional income," she hummed. He nodded thoughtfully.

"What about you? Is the mob a family business or a start-up?" Bucky smiled at her boldness. "Family business, my dad used to run it before me. I was 16 when I took over." Y/N realized what must've happened and gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry for your loss." Bucky returned the smile. "It's fine, he was no saint."

"No?"

"Yup, hated him actually. Used to be cruel to my mom, to me too… until he got shot. Best day of my life." Y/N gasped quietly. "Bucky! He was your father!" Bucky chuckled mercilessly. "An asshole is what he was. Geez, speaking of, my mom is gonna be so happy."

"What's her name?" Y/N took a bite of her sandwich. "Winifred. She's awesome, raised me and my sister alone, ya know? Dad was always too busy. My mom will like you, I can tell. And so will my sister." Y/N smiled at that. "A sister?" He nodded, excited to talk about his family.

"Rebecca Barnes. She's a few years younger than me, maybe your age. She goes to your college too." Y/N suddenly squealed. "You mean to tell me my best friend from college is your sister? Rebecca Barnes?!" Bucky smiled so wide he thought his cheeks were gonna tear. "You've met her?" Y/N vehemently nodded.

"She's really great, the only person kind enough to introduce herself on the first day I moved in. She was the one who showed me around campus and I found out that she mostly spent time alone because no one wanted to talk to her, her brother being involved with the bad side of law or something. But I didn't care. I still don't. She's awesome, you're awesome."

Bucky felt himself tear up at her words. "Doll, you have no idea how much that means to me." Y/N grinned at him, scooting sideways so she could lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm serious, you know. I can't wait to tell her about this." Bucky laughed in a watery tone, pressing his lips to her temple.

The two quietly ate after that. When the food was over both of them lay down on the blanket, looking up at the starry sky. "It's so beautiful," Y/N whispered, cuddling into Bucky's side as she stared at the gibbous moon. Bucky wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

"It's nothing compared to you."

Y/N laughed quietly and looked up, the same time he looked down. They met each other halfway; their lips connecting softly yet eagerly. Lost in the kiss Bucky sat up, pulling Y/N on his lap as they continued making out. Finally, after what felt like hours did they pull away, breathless. They said nothing; Bucky looked at her as if she hung the moon.

Y/N stared at him as if he were the only thing in the world. "So, when will I get a second date?" she broke the silence, leaning down to press her forehead to his. "Oh, doll, you're not getting rid of me any time soon," he shot back, laughing. Y/N giggled along and stood up.

Both of them packed their things and got into the car, Bucky offering to drive her home since it was late. So I guess it had been hours. As Bucky drove, Y/N's phone chimed. He glanced at her when she laughed. "What's so funny?" Y/N wheezed before answering.

"I've got two texts. One from Becca and one from Clarice."

Bucky couldn't stop his chuckle. "What did Becca say?" Y/N read out, "Girl, just heard you're on a date with my bro? And I— I swear if you don't become my sister in law, I'm suing." Laughter filled the car. "She really said that?" Y/N nodded. "Yup! Even Clarice, on the day we met, said the same thing! It's nuts. We just met and they're already planning a wedding."

"Speaking of, what was Clarice's message?"

"Oh nothing, just that she got back home from a date with Sam a few minutes ago."

"What?!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"That asshole had work today!"

"Bucky!"

All in all, it was a day well-spent.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 3 years

Text

A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head.

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you.

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks.

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication.

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile.

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed.

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it.

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly.

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off.

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically.

He glares.

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar.

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks.

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible.

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole.

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-”

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye.

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands.

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent.

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line.

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water.

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there.

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you.

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat.

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be.

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten.

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls.

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you.

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers.

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.”

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble.

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens.

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center.

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy.

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered.

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder.

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

#harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #rick flagg #bloodsport #bloodsport x reader #robert dubois x reader #robert dubois #idris elba #suicide squad #suicide squad 2 #dc #dc smut #dc fanfiction #fanfiction #smut

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 3 years

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I appreciate the things that the west has brought my country and others in the global "south" (third world I suppose), but what I absolutely can't understand is: why do "woke" people defend things that women and children are subjected to here. There are rules barring females to enter certain places (temples, kitchens during menstruation, certain women not being allowed to work etc) , forcing us to cover up, etc. And its even worse in the middle east of Asia. Why do they defend our oppression as cultural relativism?? If they would not like to be subjected to the same rules, why is it okay for the women here to be subjected to that? Do they not want equality for us?

They really don't.

Let me clarify that a bit. There are two phenomena I've observed.

Firstly, in s simplified form, Post-Colonial Theory insists it's unacceptable to judge another culture by western standards, or view other countries through western cultural norms. Like treating LGBT people as humans, and not executing people for what they say. (Although....)

Because, as everybody knows, "western" culture is monolithic - since American, British, Canadian, Australian, German, French, etc, etc, cultures are all interchangeable, donchaknow - and all dictated by cis, straight, white men, rather than having developed, evolving and experienced as a result of embracing the participation of many different cultures, as well as solving pragmatic issues, such as how do we determine what is true, how do we maintain peace, some of which result in different answers.

But, who are we in the west to say that women in Iran might not have a deep cultural connection to wearing a full-length body-bag their entire lives? Or treated as unclean and a pariah due to normal, healthy biological cycles. It's not for us to judge.

It makes people who are struggling and need advocacy into pawns in stupid political games. in order to "stick it" to the cis, straight, white men who they imagine just want to colonize the shit out of everything, they turn around and say how empowering hijab is, how beautiful and peaceful Islam or Hinduism are.

It's deliberately contrary.

Never mind that in Islamic nations, the original culture has been completely subsumed under the boot of religious dogma, the true colonizer here.

And many people want to be free of it.

What these ideologues are actually saying is that women in these countries don't have the same hopes, ambitions, dreams. Like they're a different species altogether.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-bBHpJ9_KI

"I would like them to talk about Muslim women the same way they talk about themselves. I would like them to see us as no different from them."

-- Yasmine Mohammed

So, yes, cultural relativism, and shall we call it, "western guilt" over telling the brown people - since this is also an astonishingly racist mindset - in a foreign country that maybe there's other, better options.

The second phenomenon is best described by a quote from Christina Hoff Sommers:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O47bXIznf-E

Now Atena Farghadani is one of millions of women and men whose basic rights have been ruthlessly violated.

I have been to international women’s conferences and met women’s rights activist from countries like Yemen, Iran, Egypt and Cambodia. They are struggling for freedoms that most women in the west take for granted.

They are organizing against barbaric practices such as child marriage, forced veiling, honor killings and acid burnings. Many of them are asking for moral, intellectual and material support from American women’s groups.

Too many young feminists are too preoccupied with their own supposed victimhood to make common cause with women like Atena Farghadani.

If you look at texts used in gender studies classes, visit feminist blogs or websites—you find alarm and outrage over the allegedly oppressed state of American women.

[..]

This past year [Note: 2015] I visited Yale, UCLA, University of California at San Luis Obispo, as well as Oberlin and Georgetown. I found activist feminist students passionately absorbed in the cause of liberating themselves from the grasp of the oppressive and violent patriarchal rape culture.

Their trigger warnings and safe spaces and micro-aggression watches are all about saving themselves from the ravages of the male hegemony.

It’s not that they don’t feel bad for women in places like Iran, they feel that they share a similar fate.

Except they don’t. They are free women. They are the beneficiaries of two major waves of feminism. Their rights are fully protected by law.

American women, especially college women, are among the freest most self-determining people in the world.

Instead of retreating into safe spaces and focusing on their own imagined oppression, they should be reaching out to women like Atena Farghandani.

Oppressive patriarchies do exist—but the United States is not one of them. Millions of women are suffering. There are few nobler causes than finding ways to help them.

We must remember that third-wave feminism was the vector through which the woke theology gained a foothold, via intersectionality.

Empowerment has gone out the window. It requires responsibility and acknowledging agency. Instead, you have an entire culture of people whose core personal identity is best described as "learned, mutually-affirmed victimhood." The problem is that it works. So while newspapers run articles about such things as whether "Jedi" is a term of white supremacist, trans-patriarchal-able-bullshit-phobic-jargonistery, people like you who need to be heard are drowned out.

It's astonishingly narcissistic, and directly the result of Intersectionality.

Once they liberate themselves from their imagined oppression, such as Dungeons & Dragons, skyscrapers, Mozart, men sitting comfortably, and air conditioning, then they'll get around to helping others.

Don't hold your breath.

Both are gross. There is a deafening silence from western feminist and LGBT groups, who pretend to be interested in the plight of women and LGBT people, over what happens in other countries.

But are instead preoccupied staring at their own navels.

So, to return to my original answer: they care, just not enough to stop signalling their own virtues, or start thinking about anyone else.

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fernreads · 2 years

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Unlike other forms of hierarchy, whether race, gender, sexuality, or disability, beauty, like class, is a type of advantage we are convinced is within our reach. There are kinds of social privilege I will never acquire, but if I buy the right products, eat the right foods, wear the right clothes, and hire the right surgeon, I, too, can tap into the currency of beauty.

The “clean” beauty brand Kosas recently announced a new product: the “Revealer Foundation.” This foundation comes off the back of the brand’s popular “Revealer Concealer,” so named because Kosas founder Sheena Yaitanes “never liked the word concealer—I don’t want to hide my face,” even though the product was designed to do just that. At this point, such cognitive dissonance is hardly novel. Meaningful social change will never occur at the hands of a profit-driven company with access to empowerment buzzwords, and conflating our sense of self with the makeup or skincare we use at best allows us to be better marketed to. At worst, it deludes us into thinking we have done the work of activism by buying a product. Beauty has never been and will never be an apolitical currency, but we have increasingly been led to believe that if we simply expand its definition, it is an intrinsic good.

There is a stark discrepancy between the strength and pervasiveness of beauty culture’s marketing and our woefully simplistic discourse about it. Over and over again, we are sold the idea that a more diverse array of people can be beautiful—if they just lean in. This was the message of Amy Schumer’s 2018 film I Feel Pretty, in which the comedian realizes that the only thing stopping her from being treated well is her own insecurity, not a value system designed to exclude anyone whose appearance deviates from the white, thin, cisgendered, and able-bodied ideal. Unlike other forms of hierarchy, whether race, gender, sexuality, or disability, beauty, like class, is a type of advantage we are convinced is within our reach. There are kinds of social privilege I will never acquire, but if I buy the right products, eat the right foods, wear the right clothes, and hire the right surgeon, I, too, can tap into the currency of beauty. This veneer of individual agency hides a dark underbelly. Beauty rituals can be joyful, yes; there is great artistry and self-expression involved, as well as a real sense of community. But beauty culture functions to separate the margin from the center, with real material consequences for those who can’t or won’t conform.

To disguise this fact, makeup and skincare companies have realized that they can no longer simply sell products to fix so-called flaws: they must encase them in the language of social justice. In 2021, an Indian advertisement depicted a lesbian couple preparing for the Hindu festival of Karva Chauth—a north Indian Hindu tradition in which women fast for the health of their husbands—by using face bleach. The fiercest backlash came from India’s conservative Hindu right, which objected to the couple’s sexuality. What received far less mainstream pushback was the idea that including lesbians in the medically dangerous ritual of facial bleaching was somehow progressive. The advertisement was, in its own bizarre way, inclusive. But is inclusion in a toxic set of practices and ideologies a good thing?

This question is often hand-waved away with the rhetoric of choice. Instead of sitting with the uncomfortable reality that some things we love may be harmful to the collective, the logic becomes that anything that feels good must be good. Linda Hirshman coined the phrase “choice feminism” to describe the misplaced idea that if a woman makes a choice, then it is inherently empowering because she has chosen out of her own free will. This type of thinking disincentivizes any effort to understand what structural factors make any one choice feel like the best one. As the journalist Jessica DeFino points out, in a world where capital of all kinds is distributed based on physical appearance, there is no doubt that someone would feel better after getting filler injected into their cheeks. But instead of “democratizing” beauty, as many publications would claim, procedures like these further entrench beauty ideals that are materially out of reach for many people. Some arguments in favor of beauty culture also seem to contain a measure of self-deception, like the common refrain, “I put makeup on even when I’m not going to see anyone, so I must be doing this for myself.” It’s possible that wearing a full face of makeup at home indicates a true passion for makeup artistry. But it may mean you’ve been so thoroughly trained that you now discipline yourself.

The zeal with which we consume and share skincare routines, well-documented on cult beauty websites like Into the Gloss, indicates that the process of beauty has become nearly as valuable as the result. The subject of a beauty profile buys luxury products like Biologique Recherche P50 or SkinCeuticals’s CE Ferulic Serum because they take themselves seriously. The actress Millie Bobby Brown’s makeup line even went so far as to sell highlighters in the shades “Self-Love,” “Self-Worth,” and “Self-Respect”—all yours for the price of $16 each. It is in this manner that many women’s media outlets publish articles about the top skincare “investments” everyone should make—by their very definition, assets that have a chance of appreciating or depreciating over time. The authors of such articles are perhaps more correct than they realize. Sociologists Jaclyn Wong and Andrew Penner found in a yearlong study of more than fourteen thousand people that it was not “innate attractiveness” that corresponded with higher salaries for women but rather evidence of having put more effort into their grooming routines.

The fetishization of discipline is baked into such routines and evident in the language used to sell beauty and skincare products, even outside of traditional ads. In April 2021, a heavily affiliate-linked British Vogue article taught us “5 Ways to Whip [Our] Skin Back Into Shape for Spring.” In September of that same year, Elle informed us that “the perfect brow . . . isn’t birthed overnight; it takes a lot of training, threading or waxing, and an arduous search for the perfect brow gel,” as though having eyebrows is a full-time job. If this language sounds curiously close to the coded jargon of diet culture—the management, the surveillance, and the numerous products required to help you achieve your aesthetic goal, none of which work long-term—it’s because they’re both part of the same system.

The flip side of this phenomenon is an advertising approach that insists you are already beautiful—and therefore should buy a particular product. Perhaps the most famous example in recent years is the well-intentioned Dove “Real Beauty” campaign, which launched in 2004. One viral advertisement from 2013 featured a forensic artist drawing women based on how they describe themselves, and then based on how strangers describe them. When comparing the two sketches, the women observe that when they describe themselves, they look “closed off and fatter. Sadder too.” The video ends with the banal and infantilizing slogan, “you are more beautiful than you think.” Rather than questioning how fundamental beauty seems to be in the lives of these “real women,” the advertisement doubles down on beauty’s importance. Beauty is a deeply valuable and highly unequal commodity, but don’t worry, because you’re more beautiful than you think! The “Real Beauty” campaign was so successful—sales at Dove rose from $2.5 to $4 billion in its first ten years—that it has shaped much of the modern landscape of advertising to women.

American women’s media came perhaps the closest it ever has to a real referendum on beauty culture when Emily Ratajkowski published her essay collection, My Body, in November 2021. Like a modern-day Helen of Troy, Ratajkowski’s consideration of her own beauty launched a thousand think pieces. In essays about her lived experience as a famous model whose looks have amassed her both popularity and wealth, Ratajkowski showed how her success came with steep costs, including the dismissal of her intellect, rampant insecurity, and even sexual assault. In many ways, it is useful to hear from a woman who sits at the very top of the beauty pyramid: if this system is failing even her, then it must be rigged. But it also invites the question: What does Ratajkowski really know of the sharp end of beauty politics, as someone who has always been its beneficiary?

Like all collections of personal essays, Ratajkowski’s focuses on her own life—as it should. But it opened a broader conversation about the various kinds of mistreatment she experienced. Are these insults, as she alludes, only the purview of the exceptionally beautiful? Condescension, sexual violence, financial precariousness, and physical self-consciousness are not just drawbacks of being a professional model; they are often the consequences of living as a woman, period. Ratajkowski’s essays attempt to puzzle out whether commodification of your appearance can ever be truly empowering, without stopping to ask how many of us possess beauty that others are willing to buy in the first place. We are all perpetrators and victims of the system she describes so well. Few of us, however, will ever explicitly profit from it.

Indeed, many more of us will pay the price. The burdens of beauty culture are not evenly distributed. The need for people of color, trans people, non-binary people, and people with disabilities to be perceived favorably physically is far from an issue of vanity—it can often be a question of survival. This is where we start to see the distinction between engaging in self-decoration out of a sense of joy and self-expression and beauty culture as a tax. Practices like hair removal, initially framed as elective procedures, have become so commonplace as to now be considered basic forms of hygiene—a word intimately connected to morality.

The most dangerous iteration of beauty culture is when attractiveness serves as a metric for humanity—which, of course, is not new. This sentiment was explicitly put into writing in the form of America’s so-called “Ugly Laws,” which existed from 1867 up until 1974 in some states. One such law, passed in Chicago in 1881, prohibited people who were “diseased, maimed, mutilated, or in any way deformed, so as to be an unsightly or disgusting object” from appearing in public spaces. Similarly, women of color have long been used as a foil to white women’s “innate beauty and purity”—their difference from the white norm used as rationalization for everything from sexual violence to enslavement.

More recently, the iconic Afghan Girl portrait by Steve McCurry of the Pashtun girl Sharbat Gula demonstrated how beauty can shape conceptions of who is worthy of humanitarian aid. Originally taken in 1984, it was recirculated in the early 2000s during a push by the Bush administration allegedly for women’s rights during the American occupation of Afghanistan. The discourse around this photograph, imbued with what scholars like Inderpal Grewal would call the colonial desire to reveal what lay beyond the veil, was focused on Sharbat Gula’s beauty—in the words of Suvendrini Perera, her “captivating green eyes.” Such was the frenzy around this photograph that National Geographic readers donated $22 million to use biometric technology to hunt down Gula’s whereabouts seventeen years later. Among others, the reaction to McCurry’s photograph raises the question: If a refugee is not beautiful, do they not matter? Would a child without “piercing green eyes”—eyes that are legible as beautiful to a Western gaze—prompt a similar response?

Perhaps one day we will be able to conceive of the absence of socially determined physical beauty as the presence of something else. “Inner beauty” is a patronizing way to make kindness, creativity, humor, and intelligence runners-up to the real prize. However far the beauty industry thinks it has come, the fact remains that year by year, the percentage of people who feel bad about their physical appearance grows. Beauty culture, as it currently stands, isn’t serving us.

#article #excerpt #beauty #beauty culture #makeup #makeup industry #beauty industry #capitalism #advertising #discourse #other ppl seemed to like the full article under the read more thing so i think i'll do that from now on

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samwisethewitch · 4 years

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Practicing Witchcraft in Secret

I love things that are traditionally “witchy.” I love dressing candles with herbs. I love setting things on fire. I love making poppets and charms. But not everyone is able to be so obvious in their craft. For various reasons, some witches choose to be secretive about their magical practice.

Why Would You Want to Keep It a Secret?

Historically, witches kept their practice a secret because it wasn’t safe to be open about their beliefs. In the late middle ages, the Catholic Church began to actively persecute witchcraft, herbal medicine, and folk spirituality with the publication of “witch hunting guides” like the Malleus Maleficarum. This witch hunting fervor would continue even after the Protestant Reformation, with some of the most famous witch hunts (such as the Salem trials) carried out by Protestants.

It is important to remember that the witch hunts were political at their heart and that very few of the people executed for witchcraft were what we would recognize today as witches. They were mostly women, poor folks, or members of ethnic or religious minorities. But even so, the danger of being accused of witchcraft and/or devil worship drove many medieval witches, herbalists, and pagans to hide their practice.

The United States experienced a modern witch hunt of sorts in the 1980s with the “Satanic Panic.” We still don’t entirely understand what caused this cultural phenomenon, but what we do know is that it resulted in widespread paranoia about devil worship. Anything that could be misconstrued as “satanic” was shunned or outright persecuted, from Dungeons & Dragons to heavy metal music to nature-based religions like Wicca — and, yes, witchcraft. People who had been comfortably open about their spirituality suddenly found themselves practicing behind closed doors. If you’re over 30, you may remember this. If you’re under 30, the Satanic Panic probably shaped how your parents view witchcraft and paganism, and they may still be grossly misinformed as a result.

Even today, a lot of witches choose to keep their practice a secret because it would be unsafe or uncomfortable to go public. Many witches have family members, friends, or coworkers who would be uncomfortable if they knew about their witchcraft, and may even choose to end the relationship because of it. Some witches live in culturally Christian areas where it might be harder for them to get jobs or make friends if they were openly self-identifying as a witch. Some of us live in places where an outdoor ritual could get the cops called on us, or have missionaries showing up to save our souls.

On the other hand, some witches just like privacy. You may feel like your spirituality is nobody’s business but yours, and for that reason you may prefer to do witchcraft in a way that is more subtle and secretive. Desire for privacy is a perfectly valid reason to stay “in the broom closet.”

There are also some magical traditions that require members to swear a vow of secrecy and to keep the group’s secrets. However, these traditions usually require an in-person initiation, so I won’t be discussing them here.

Inconspicuous Witchcraft

If you haven’t read my posts about magical journaling and kitchen magic, I highly recommend you check them out. Those are two forms of magic that are very easy to practice discretely.

No matter what your reason for keeping your practice a secret, here are a few tips for making magic without drawing attention.

Use scented candles. Candle magic is one of the easiest and most versatile forms of spellwork, and all it requires is a candle and your intention. Scented candles are perfect for undercover witches because, rather than adding herbs and oils, you can simply buy a scent that matches your intention. (For example, a vanilla candle is great for love, while a pumpkin spice scent will attract wealth.) Plus, they’re so commonplace that no one will think twice about seeing one in your bedroom or on your desk at work. If you’re a purist and want to make sure you’re using real plant materials, you can get all natural candles scented with essential oils — but lots of witches use artificial scents and get good results, so don’t feel like you have to go with the more expensive option.

Diffuse essential oils. Essential oils contain the concentrated essence of a plant, which makes them a must-have tool for witches. Essential oils are also extremely popular right now, both for holistic healing and for aromatherapy, so you definitely won’t attract any negative attention for using them. You can get a good essential oil diffuser for under $20 online. Some brands overcharge for their oils, but you can find good quality oils for under $10. When choosing an essential oil, look at the magical correspondences for the plant it is made from. You can diffuse oils to infuse your space with their energy, similar to the way you would use incense.

Enchant your perfume. You can choose a perfume to match your intention or make your own custom perfume by mixing essential oils in a carrier oil. Focus on your intention as you spray the perfume, letting it infuse your energy field with magic. You can also buy magical perfume blends from witch-owned businesses online or on Etsy.

Learn shufflemancy. “Shufflemancy” is a modern form of divination that is done by putting a playlist on shuffle — whatever song plays first contains an intuitive message for you, either in the lyrics or in how it makes you feel. You can find playlists specifically made for divination by Googling “shufflemancy playlist,” or you can make your own by compiling a playlist of songs from different genres that deal with different topics. Just be sure to keep it diverse — if your playlist only has love songs on it, you might not get very helpful messages if you have a question about your career.

Learn bibliomancy. This divination method is similar to shufflemancy, but much older. Bibliomancy is done by asking your question while holding a book, focusing on your question while connecting with the book��s energy, and then opening it to a random page. There is a long, long tradition within Christianity of doing this with the Bible — if you feel connected to a certain sacred text, you could use it for bibliomancy. You could also use a book of poetry, a novel, or even a dictionary. However, I think it’s important to use a book you feel a connection to, rather than something randomly grabbed off the shelf.

Use Pinterest and Spotify as manifestation tools. You may have heard of vision boards, a tool used to manifest something by creating a detailed collection of images that match your intention. Pinterest boards are already essentially virtual vision boards, and creating one with focused intent can be a spell by itself. Likewise, you can use Spotify playlists for manifestation. To do this, create a playlist of songs that match your intention (songs about money or love, for example) and listen to it while meditating on your desired outcome.

Choose your outfits with intention. You can pick clothes based on color correspondences (see this post for a guide to color magic), the material they are made from (a wool sweater vs. a cotton T-shirt), or some other symbolism. For example, if you want to feel empowered, you might wear leopard print to channel the energy of a fierce predator.

Enchant a piece of jewelry for a specific purpose. You can choose your jewelry based on the correspondence of the metal or gemstones it is made from, make your own piece, or use whatever you already have on hand. You can enchant this jewelry by passing it over the flame of a candle or through the vapor of an essential oil diffuser. State what purpose you want this charm to serve, either out loud or in your mind. Wear this jewelry whenever you need to tap into that energy, and make sure to cleanse it often.

Create magical art. If you want to manifest something, draw or paint a picture of it. You don’t have to be a skilled artist — what matters is that you are taking your mental image of what you want and bringing it into the physical world. Fold up the picture and keep it in your pillow, or in some other special place. Likewise, if you want to banish something, draw or paint a picture of it and then rip it into little pieces and throw it out. This ritual allows you to purge yourself of the negative emotions tied to the thing you are banishing.

Take a magical bath. We rarely have more privacy than when we’re in the tub. Taking a bath is already a ritual of sorts, and it’s easy to add magic. You can, of course, make magical bath salts by mixing essential oils into Epsom salt, but you can also create bath spells with household objects. For example, a bath with salt and vinegar will clear up nasty energy, while adding milk to your bath will attract love and abundance.

Practicing in secret does not have to mean a less deep or well-rounded practice. There are lots of magical acts that can be done subtly or kept private. The suggestions in this post are by no means exhaustive, and I hope they will give you some ideas for other ways to fill your life with undercover magic.

Resources:

“Introduction” from The Malleus Maleficarum at http://www.malleusmaleficarum.org

The Fat Feminist Witch podcast, “Episode 34 — Witches, Midwives, and Doulas”

“Most witches are women, because witch hunts were all about persecuting the powerless” by Bridget Marshall for The Conversation

New World Witchery podcast, “Episode 118 — The Satanic Panic”

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amariemelody · 3 years

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Under the Bonnet Debate, it Smells like Misogynoir

I know that the discourse over Black women wearing bonnets, scarves, head wraps, do-rags, etc. in public is nothing new. I know a lot of the discussion on what Black women can and cannot, should and should not say or do in public period is nothing new.

I am a Black woman who admittedly would not wear a bonnet (I'll shorten the many coverings we can wear to just "bonnet" from here on out) in public. The most I'll wear it outside is if I'm just checking the mail box, picking up a package outside the door, and/or taking some trash out. Otherwise, I'm inside my home when I wear my head wraps. I sport an afro and admit I've only started wearing coverings regularly as recently as last year. They've helped my hair retain moisture and start to grow even more; they've helped me stop an anxiety tic of mine wherein I pull, tug, twist, etc. at my hair until it's breaking off and my hands have leeched all the moisture out; they’ve also helped protect my hair from the heat of my shower, right under my shower cap.

So I'm a Bonnet-in-the-house Black girl...and I am still 10,000% down for Black women who wear bonnets outside of their home.

There seems to be a reinvigorated camp for those who say that Black women should never wear bonnets outside of their house. I'm not surprised but one of their justifications stands out to me because it is...an empty, dangerous platitude. That platitude is, to paraphrase, "We should want to look and be our best at all times. Because remember one of us represents all of us."

One of us represents all of us.

Initially it can sound...comforting and empowering. Simple social common sense for Black women constantly under besiege from misogynoir. It possibly even echoes of popular expressions and movements like #BlackGirlMagic or #BlackGirlsRock, both of which I use and enjoy quite a bit.

But it's not any of those things.

And I don't despise it simply because it's wrong-I despise it because it's actually only half-true and it is a half-truth Black women the world over should reject.

When it comes to bonnets, we're being told that we shouldn't want to be represented on one side of the half-that is, the half wherein we appear less than presentable in public. And bonnets in public are considered less than presentable.

This is playing into a game that all Black women of all shapes, sizes, shades, socioeconomic status, etc. are well familiar: the game of body policing.

Body policing based upon white supremacist, kyriarchal standards. Body policing that neither really benefits anyone nor lets anyone win-not even cishet, able-bodied, conventional white men can win at the end of the day and certainly never Black women.

And truly the policing of bonnets is but a longtime sibling of overall body policing, which begins even before anyone cares about what we do and do not put on our heads. And that body policing is not just dangerous because of the immense psychological and emotional damage it can create, but because for the most part 1.) black women cannot readily escape our bodies and 2.) a lot of the vitriolic misogynoir is often directed at how our bodies simply naturally occur.

Take my natural body for example. Regardless of the fact that I don't wear bonnets in public myself.

I am a plus-sized, dark-skinned black woman. I am 5"6; weigh well over 200 lbs (stress been making me gain weight long before the pandemic); have broad/wide shoulders; have a natural 'fro; and did I mention that I'm plus-sized?

From the time of my childhood, because of the intersections of misogynoir, sizeism, and fatphobia against my natural body, I have been made to feel that:

Just by existing in public, I automatically take up too much space/more than my fair share of space. It is always space that I do not deserve and I should always work to shrink myself as much as possible and stay out of other people’s way.

I am automatically aggressive, antagonistic, and angry/easy to anger. I'm a hair trigger always just waiting for my moment.

I am naturally dirty/unhygienic and unkempt.

I am neither attractive/desirable (at least not within the context of my own agency and consent) nor should I even think about expressing attraction/desire for someone else.

There's no way in the world I possess any kind of varied, valuable intelligence and thoughts.

There's no way in the world I possess any kind of healthy, mature communication skills.

That was a lot to unpack in not so many bullet points.

And understand this is just what I've learned is projected onto my body as it naturally occurs. This is before I even open my mouth to say "Hello". This is before getting to what I’m wearing. This is before getting to my actual demeanor/aura.

All of this comes before whatever I may or may not be wearing on my head.

On a side note, I hadn't realized how much of this I had subconsciously internalized and how it influenced how the way I moved and navigated my body in public. For example if I need to brush past people, I of course always say, "Excuse me"; I also often give a smile if the person can see it. I do this so easily that it's all but a reflex. But because of the breadth of my body and the brownness of my skin, there's been many a time when I feel that I actually bowled the other person over and shouted at them to get out of my way.

I'm still working on feeling safe and comfortable enough to naturally claim public space.

But yes, that is my natural body which, again, is something that I can neither readily change nor escape. It is often found quite wanting for being positive representation of my fellow Black women.

That means that I have to contend with one side of that half-truth: my natural body as it simply exists is deemed not positive representation of Black women as a whole, is considered to be the rule proven.

And the rule is that, as a Black woman, I am not presentable no matter what I step out of the house looking like. Bonnet or no bonnet.

Now when you get to my personality, traits, habits, etc…I’m very much the opposite of what is projected onto my body. The contradiction people don’t expect often starts with my voice: it’s naturally soft, pretty low in volume, and a little high in pitch. I smile readily and easily (hell, sometimes I smile and make funny faces in my bathroom mirror to make myself feel better). I’m often so agreeable and companionable that when I was a senior in high school I won the senior superlative of “Friendliest” out of 400+ other senior students. And to this day people still say that I am [one of] the sweetest, kindest people they’ve ever met.

I am a giant nerd who absolutely loves to learn and has generally done well in school all my life; when I can quiet and clear my mind enough for it, I am an avid reader. As an adult, I still often find myself being as inquisitive about the world around me as when I was a child.

More or less to White and non-Black people of color, all of these are considered positive representations of a Black woman. And people typically just have to get to the “Hello” phase with me to find out one of my above traits.

But when those positive traits are brought to light-and they’re often brought to light quickly-I am now pigeonholed on the other end of the spectrum. That is, I am no longer the rule proven but the exception to the rule.

The psyche of bigotry cannot and does not want to conceive that their target can ever be anything other than the negativities and deficiencies it projects onto them. When said target proves those projections wrong, it is just often far too difficult-possibly even unthinkable-that that single positive can renew and refresh the perception of the whole. Instead, it is much easier for the single positive be treated as an outlier, an exception so that the perception of the whole can remain the same.

White supremacy has many neuroses in place that make sure to always allow White people to win while people of color, especially Black people, always lose. One such neurosis is that when people of color have negative attributes, setbacks, traits, etc. applied to them, they remain the sore thumb that proves the rule, but if they have positive attributes, accomplishments, traits, etc. applied to them…they then become an exception to the rule.

The true phenomenon is not, “Black women, every time you step out of your house, you represent all of us as a whole” but actually, “Black women, every time you step out of your house and you say/do/are something bad or simply perceived as bad (i.e, wearing bonnets in public), then you represent us as a whole. But every time you step out of your house and you say/do/are something positive or simply perceived as positive (i.e, not wearing bonnets in public), then and only then do you represent yourself as an exception to the rule.”

And to digress a little, in my experience it honestly is not fun being deemed the positive exception. It caused me to grow up suffering a huge disassociation between who I was and what I was. From everyone including other Black girls that bullied me for being different from them to well-meaning White teachers, I started to internalize that my personality meant I was not a typical Black girl. Or barely a Black girl at all.

Long story short, it wasn’t until about my early twenties that I was able to start on the road to un-internalize that terrible mess. I learned that I can say that I am nice and kind and smart and giggly and still Black. I am a lot of good things and I am also Black Black Blackity Black. Generally positive traits are not paradoxical with Blackness because to be Black is not a bad thing that must compensated for.

Black girls and women can be and are a lot of good things and our Blackness is one of those good things.

So I’m definitely not saying that being considered an exception to the rule is any kind of accomplishment. It can actually be very psychologically damaging and take a long, long time to unlearn it.

It’s true that Black women will always be burdened with the dichotomy of the half-truth “One of us represents all of us!” because it is an inescapable part of the many neuroses of white supremacy-we lose no matter what we step out of the house looking like.

The core of the issue is not Black women leaving their houses and being visible in public with bonnets on, but Black women leaving their houses and being visible in public period. For goodness’ sake, once upon a time it was the law for Black women to cover their hair in public-hello there, Tignon.

But being unable to escape such a burden does not mean we should be surrendering to it.

We shouldn’t want to believe and buy into the idea that part of taking care of each other is taking on the impossible strain of all of us representing each other. That is not an empowering statement-it is disempowering to the extreme because it’s perpetuating the mindset that we are a monolith undeserving of our individuality. My god, we Black women come in every kind of shade and shape and size and music taste and food taste and language and dialect and we don’t all know each other and we don’t always even like each other.

I just…I’m not yet that old, but the older I get the more and more I feel that sometimes as black women we can not only be our own worst enemies and each other’s worst policers. And I wish deeply and desperately that black women would stop policing each other and policing each other for, of all things, an arbitrary acceptance that ultimately means nothing even if we could achieve it.

One of us represents just that: one of us.

#Misogynoir #Internalized misogynoir #Anti-black racism #Black hair #Anxiety tw #Amarie talks

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fun-family · 3 years

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These feminist films of 2020 are actually the most disempowering.

After I watched the film “Promising Young Woman” I spent days in an internal tangent over what I did not like about the film. I realized that this internal tangent was very similar to the one I’d had after watching “Wonder Woman 1984″. I’ve concluded that it’s because both of these films were marketed as feminist films centering on powerful female protagonists and neither delivered.

(SPOILERS & LONG REVIEW AHEAD)

First, let’s look at Wonder Woman 1984. In the first film, Diana was curious, naive, and playful. We watched her learn about the world. We felt her heartbreak when people weren’t as good as she believed them to be. We saw her eyes opened a little bit more.

While the sequel may have taken place decades later, there seemed to be nothing of Diana left. The 1980′s were an iconic time in America and Diana had little interaction with any of it. She was in a mall, okay, but her style was unchanged. Her home decor was bland. Her hobbies nonexistent. Why has Diana stopped engaging in the world?

The film seemed to want us to believe that Diana was stuck on Steve, that she had been pining (more like Chris Pining....sorry) over him for actual DECADES. He was the first man she’d ever been with and there’s nothing to suggest he isn’t the ONLY man. Diana is a GOD. She is an Amazonian princess. Why does she have to be a saint? If you’re going to make a female superhero virginal, at least give me a reason for it aside from “Her heart is broken.”

You know what would have been better? If another Amazon joined Diana in the city and she was the fish-out-of-water, not Steve. Diana could have shown her everything she loved about the 1980′s. We could have learned more about Diana’s life. Every other superhero gets to have a life outside of being a hero. This movie deprived Diana of that.

Now, let’s talk about Barbara Minerva (Kristen Wiig). Why is it that in film when a woman is becoming “more attractive” she loses her glasses and starts wearing heavy eyeliner? WHY? Give me a break. And the film wouldn’t even let us have Barbara as a true villain, she had to be “losing her soul”. Her evilness was out of her control. Why did Barbara have to be a victim? Why do women have to be the victim so often? Why are women only allowed to be strong if they have superhero strength in this universe? Barbara was deprived the chance to be a formidable opponent for Diana. Are we really so afraid to have two women battle in a film that we must turn one into a big cat? In the first film Diana didn’t want to save Ares, she wanted to kill him. If you don’t want Diana to kill a human, give her another God to kill. This sequel seemed to forget that Diana was once called the God Killer.

Finally, the elephant in the WW84 room is that Steve is in another man’s body, a man who is not conscious of what is happening and is not able to consent to what is done to said body. This isn’t okay, and if this was the movie “Promising Young Woman”, the character Cassie would give Diana a stern talking to and then walk away.

And yes, with that I am going to transition to “Promising Young Woman.”

The trailers for “Promising Young Woman” gave me the impression that, while the film was going to be a bit “on the nose” I was going to watch a bunch of shitty dudes get murdered. Or at the very least, I thought they would get a nice big tattoo like Lisbeth gave her rapist guardian in “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.”

I imagine the suggested violence and then the lack of it was intentional. The character Cassie almost never breaks the law. She is always in the “right”. The men are in the wrong and we live in a culture that has allowed men to sexually assault women without consequence. That message was loud and clear.

But in this film the assaulters still don’t have any consequences. Are we supposed to believe that Cassie’s intimidation is making a difference and that her death makes a difference? It seems likely the men she confronted will keep assaulting women and just find ways to make sure their date is truly unconscious. The men who were arrested at the end would probably get away with it because they’re rich, white, and, if none of them confess, it would be hard to prove which person in the group killed her.

The biggest question the film left me asking was: Why do women always have to sacrifice themselves for men?

Aside from that very big issue, I also felt the character of Cassie was all style and no substance. Her outfits, her environments were so manicured. Her final outfit felt designed specifically to become a Halloween costume; the nurse costume and the wig are probably coming to a Spirit Halloween near you. It’s like they portrayed this very real problem in our society in a very unrealistic way.

I know everyone is raving about Carey Mulligan’s performance, but she’s played far more dynamic characters in her career. For example her roles in “Wildlife”, “Mudbound”, “Shame”, and “Never Let Me Go”.

I suppose this role was more subtle, but I got the sense that Cassie was supposed to be a stereotypical Manic Pixie Dream Girl. And I understand that what happened to Cassie’s friend and the response by the school and the authorities has left her traumatized, depressed, and apathetic. But I find it hard to see how the men didn’t win in this film. Cassie lost her best friend, she lost her education and her career, she lost her social ties, and then she lost her life. Maybe I’m missing the moral of this story, or maybe I just don’t like it.

The final point I want to discuss with “Promising Young Woman” is one that bothers me in society in general. There are multiple points in the film when we’re told how smart Nina was, how she was the top of her class, and how they both would have been amazing doctors. And I actually yelled at my TV, “It shouldn’t matter how smart Nina was!” Even if she was failing her classes she didn’t deserve to be sexually assaulted. It’s a societal problem that we need victims of abuse to be promising in order to care that they were abused.

And if the character of Cassie is trying to be a defender of women, a martyr of sorts, why is she so dismissive of the teenage girl in the coffee shop? Her character sets out to punish men and in turn protect women from being assaulted, and yet she treats a teenage girl like garbage, like she doesn’t matter. I guess in this universe you only deserve respect if you’re a smart, successful female, not a teenage girl who dares to ask the barista for another coffee.

The protagonists of “Promising Young Woman” and “Wonder Woman 1984″ exemplify the very things they’re supposed to be fighting against and maybe that would work if it seemed at all intentional. Both of these films marketed themselves as the feminist films of 2020, but ultimately diminished the strength of the very female protagonists they had set out to empower.

There are far better films out there with strong female protagonists. Here are a few of my favorites: Winter’s Bone, Alien, Furie, First Wives Club, Okja, Mad Max: Fury Road, Girl’s Trip, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2009), Mulan (1998), Sweetheart, Westward the Women, Waitress, Annihilation, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, A League of Their Own, Little Monsters (2019)

#wonder woman #promising young woman #carey mulligan #gal gadot #movie review #film review #films #movies #2020 #2020 movies #2020 fics #review #feminist films #female protagonist #female

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windbournefree · 3 years

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AARON SORKIN'S "WOMAN PROBLEM" AND THE NEWSROOM

After binging on The Newsroom (and loving it) created by Aaron Sorkin I got to thinking about his reputed "woman problem" when some YouTube commenter described all the female characters on the show as "twits." That's a characterization I strongly disagree with, and will show why, but also can't shake the intuitive sense that his portrayal is rightly controversial. By that I mean it is right that it should be a matter of discussion, not that it is necessarily wrong. The people holding the discussion need to decide that for themselves.

First the bald facts. Women in this drama hold power: Leona founded and still owns the company, Mackenzie is the Executive Producer of the network's flagship news program with a male second-in-command and many male staff, Sloan is the acknowledged smartest person in the company with far more lucrative prospects awaiting her should she choose them, Maggie is promoted instantly from a personal aide to an associate producer by a woman despite her youth and inexperience. Women are in leadership roles with real power that they do exercise.

In their relationships to men, the women in The Newsroom engage in give and take.

Mackenzie may look at Will like a doe-eyed schoolgirl at times but she's in love with him and is self-recriminating about previous behaviors. She isn't like that with any other male characters. Even with Will she frequently takes charge and makes him follow her direction, which he does. Mac exercises real power in her relationship with Will from episode one on. When Will doles out his "punishments" she only takes them to the degree that she believes she should. She holds the power at any time to say, "That's enough!" which she does in regards to the engagement ring. When she does that he realizes he's gone too far and changes his behavior.

Maggie coddles Don in most of the scenes we see of them and breaks up with him mostly in scenes we don't see. I'd venture to guess that the early breakups happen because the relationship has no room for her passion and she gets tired of soothing his ego to make things work. In contrast, Maggie's drawn to Jim because he awakens and allows room for her passion. Most employees who confront and yell at their bosses as much as she does with Jim would be suspended and/or fired. He lets her get away with it to a degree because he recognizes that that same passion drives her to become an excellent journalist. And because he likes her. Both are true. Every once in awhile he has to reprimand her in public to assert authority over his team or it gives permission to his other staff to behave the same way. Maggie is no shrinking violet. She is strong and self-directed and refuses to allow a man to control her. Most of her errors come from inexperience and human frailty. None of them occur because she's a woman.

Sloan clearly wears the pants in her relationship to Don which, to his surprise, he doesn't mind. Ever once in awhile, though, they switch roles or just relate as equals. Don goes from dating the young intern who part of him wants to dominate to dating the highly intelligent, self-directed professional who no man can dominate and becomes a better version of himself as a result. Sloan's errors in her first broadcast about Fukushima occur not because she is scared by Will as a man but because she's scared by him as respected professional. His gender doesn't matter to her. When Charlie yells at her about it she tells him strongly, "Do not call me 'girl,' sir!" And that's to the head of the News Division.

Leona clearly rules the roost and fights with Charlie as an equal or as a subordinate, never as a superior. They fight the way old friends do.

In no respect are women as a class portrayed as inferior or subordinate to the power of men. So why do I get that intuitive itch that there's something old-fashioned about Sorkin's writing on gender relations?

I think it's that some of the male characters in The Newsroom tend to be the carriers of logic and reasoning while the female characters tend to be the carriers of emotional expression. This isn't always true: Sloan is highly logical (while also passionate) and Charlie is highly emotional (while also reasonable) and Neal carries both in balance. It's certainly true, however, of the Jim & Maggie relationship which is intended as a reflection of the older Will & Mackenzie one. Remember how, in episode one, Mackenzie points out Maggie to Jim and tells him that she's a younger version of her before she grew into herself and got hotter with age? And why has Jim long been Mackenzie's choice for supervising producer? Could it be because he reminds her of Will? I think so. I also think it's fair to assume that Sorkin does not intend for that rational/emotional dichotomy to typify all gender relations since he gives us alternate examples. More likely it's because Sorkin is a brainy guy who prefers an emotionally expressive woman to bring balance into his life. When he writes romance it comes out of who he is, what he likes. That's how he connects to the material at a feeling level. Some viewers may prefer a flip on those traditional associations and the Don & Sloan relationship may have been his attempt to provide that. It's not where Sorkin feels at his strongest or most natural, though, so he writes what he knows.

There ARE problems with The Newsroom, though, that I think if addressed would have reduced criticism. In no way should bosses be allowed to date subordinates over whose careers they have an influence. The producers decide what stories are aired. The career of a journalist rises and falls with the number and quality of stories they get aired. Dating a subordinate in this environment is a breach of ethics and most professional workplace standards. To be fair, Maggie was first an intern then a personal aide and only became an associate producer (journalist) as Don was on his way out so it wasn't a total breach; definitely in the gray area, though. The sexual tension between Jim and Maggie, obvious to everyone (as Sloan pointed out in the finale), often broke out into open conflict. Mackenzie should have addressed this conflict as their supervisor but instead encouraged it. As Jim points out it was Mac's idea for him to get together with Maggie in the first place. Again, it was Mac's advice to Jim to "gather ye rosebuds while ye may" that led to his and Maggie's first kiss and then Jim deciding this was wrong. Mackenzie's regrets about her relationship with Will colored her judgment and led her to offer advice that may have been okay coming from a friend but was inappropriate coming from a supervisor. She could have been rightly disciplined or even fired by HR if found out. Jim does decide that he can't date a subordinate however he feels but Mac should have intervened and threatened to move one of them out if they couldn't handle the tension in a professional manner. In the series finale Jim offers the Supervising Producer position to the woman he's in love with. How is that not an HR violation? How would Maggie's career not be dogged by rumors of "sleeping her way to the top" if she accepts it?

The other thing is the way emotional conflicts between several of the characters break out into office wide battles. Talk about an unsafe working environment! I can't see how the entire management staff wasn't fired on an almost weekly basis. And when Mackenzie commends Maggie for her loyalty by saying she wouldn't complain to HR if her hair was on fire I cringed. Is that the message you want to send out in a #MeToo world?

Aaron Sorkin says he likes to write "very romantically, very idealistically." The chaos in the newsroom is intended for laughs, not to be taken as a serious reflection of a workplace. The characters are flawed and frequently do not do what they should. The lack of HR supervision is even mentioned by a character in season one so there's awareness that liberties are being taken. I don't think there's an inherent woman problem here, just a production not as sensitive as it might be to the struggles women face in the workplace. There are good reasons why "no dating" policies are in place, why it's unprofessional to carry your personal life into the workplace. Workplace comedies routinely feature HR nightmares for the sake of laughs: Brooklyn 99 is a good example. We don't take them seriously. It's the sheer intelligence of The Newsroom and the realistic setting that may make the comedy part seem more serious than it is. Personally I see the show as a kind of joyful fantasy; Sports Night without the canned laughter. If you can separate the fantastic from the realistic I think you'll find that The Newsroom is actually very empowering for women.

#the newsroom #mackenzie mchale #will x mac #maggie jordan #jim harper #aaron sorkin #women in tv

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years

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RP meme from Tori Amos quotes

- Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it.

- I think that people who can't believe in fairies aren't worth knowing.

- I know I'm an acquired taste - I'm anchovies. And not everybody wants those hairy little things.

- Some of the most wonderful people are the ones who don't fit into boxes.

- I have so many different personalities in me and I still feel lonely.

- The violence between women is unbelievable.

- I'm too wacky for most weirdos. Who am I to judge?

- If they keep crashing stuff into the moon, the moon's gonna get pissed off, and the tides'll change, and all the women'll start PMS-ing together. Then you guys are going to fucking regret it.

- If you really want a challenge, just deal with yourself.

- I don't see myself as weird, I just see myself as honest.

- I see the dream and I see the nightmare, and I believe you can't have the dream without the nightmare.

- Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much.

- Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin.

- On some of my darkest days, Lucifer's the one who comes and gives me an ice cream.

- Most people would rather be sheep than stand on their own with antlers on.

- The sense of loss is such a tricky one, because we always feel like our worth is tied up into stuff that we have, not that our worth can grow with things we are willing to lose.

- When you've got the virgin and the whore sitting next to each other, they're likely to judge each other harshly.

- I think you have to know who you are.

- Get to know the monster that lives in your soul.

- Dive deep into your soul and explore it.

- I don’t want to renounce my dark side.

- The truth has always held an enormous interest for me.

- Healing for me is being able to sit next to the butcher and say 'Yes, I’m sitting next to the butcher now,' instead of saying 'there is no butcher'.

- This is very simple in the world of chicks; some are hoochies, some are not, and some should never try to be.

- We don't often see our own stories. Good artists are the ones that whisper our own stories back to us.

- Music is about all of your senses, not just hearing.

- Again, we go back to the power of words and how they can make you feel. They bring liberation or stagnation, they're chains.

- You don't have to apologize for growing and learning and changing your mind.

- Music has an alchemical quality.

- Certain relationships can just wear you down.

- Containment of your opinion is a must if you are going to nurture an artist's development.

- It's a good thing I'm curious, because sometimes I just research how a soccer player kicks a ball and the impact it has on his foot. I haven't used this yet, but I might.

- But over the years you can cultivate hate for the art you love.

- I don’t believe anyone’s story is boring. Every story has value because it belongs only to you.

- Sometimes I fantasize backstage about how people do their laundry. Woolite? Mixed-color loads? Do they fold? Do they press? Do they Shout it out? And the thing that kills me—do their whites come out dingy?

- Our generation has an incredible amount of realism, yet at the same time it loves to complain and not really change.

- We like our pain. And we’re packaging it, and we’re selling it.

- Festivals or radio shows can be the heavyweight championships of arrogantly detached clusterfucks.

- People who are addicted to power can live on the same street or attend the same school as us or even play on the world stage.

- None of us are this light and dark fantasy. What's dark to you may be light to me and vice versa.

- I don't think that many performers necessarily want to see their audience empowered. I think a lot of performers, no different from priests, need the hierarchy.

- Modern, celebrity-driven entertainment turns the stage into an altar, and so many celebrities refuse to be removed from those altars once they manage to ascend.

- All storytellers, all troubadours worth their salt knew their myths.

- The Sídh's historical myth is the source of the bastardized concept of a fairy—as if anyone gives a rat's ass.

- The problem with Christianity is, they think everything is about outside forces, good and evil. There's not a lot of inner work encouraged.

- Over the last few hours I've allowed myself to feel defeated, and just like she said if you allow yourself to feel the way you really feel, maybe you won't be afraid of that feeling anymore.

- I'm the queen of the nerds.

- Don't give up. Don't listen to these foolish critics that are so small minded they don't get it tonight.

- Sometimes listening to music can motivate you.

- I think even in a good marriage, especially if you stay together long enough, there are going to be events that happen.

- An ounce of breast milk is even more potent than the finest tequila.

- Music is always a reflection of what's going on in the hearts and minds of the culture.

- Many people lock a part of themselves away. It's a bit sacred.

- I've always seen the songs as having a consciousness.

- Our world is a huge mess right now, and not big enough for masses of intolerant people.

- We are all fairies living underneath a leaf of a lily pad.

- That is some funky-fresh, pop lockin' shit.

- If I saw someone destroy a piano I'd fuckin' kill 'em. Wouldn't think twice.

- I experiment with things that are usually an internal experience, because that's just what excites me. And yes, it does sometimes give me visions.

- Some of those trips were eighteen hours long and I'll never forget, once I ended up sitting by the bush trying to ask the flowers why they didn't like me. It's like, Why can't I be your friend?

- You might not like my story because I'm not gonna tell you how it ends yet, and you need to travel it with me.

- I just imagined a huge juicy vagina coming out of the sky, raining blood over all those racist, misogynist fuckers.

- You can't control your popularity

- If you can't create physical life, you find a life force. If that's in music, that's in music.

- I started to find this deep, primitive rhythm, and I started to move to it.

-I held hands with sorrow, and I danced with her, and we giggled a bit

- I usually get myself into situations that cause sparks.

- I love feeling alive, I love walking out in the cold in my bare feet and feeling the ice on my toes.

- For the most part, pianos are female to me.

- Anger is natural. It's part of the force. You just have to learn to hang out with it.

- In our minds, love and lust are really separated.

- I think all the boys that write the screaming stuff would write the best love songs

- When you stop putting yourself on the line, and you don't touch your own heart, how do you expect to touch other people?

- Guys would sleep with a bicycle if it had the right color lip gloss on. They have no shame. They're like bull elks in a field.

- Your worst enemies are made when you ignore people.

- It's as if the horses have come to take us back, to descend, to find the dark side. By dark I mean what's hidden, not necessarily satanic.

- There's room for everybody on the planet to be creative and conscious if you are your own person. If you're trying to be like somebody else, then there is isn't.

- Sometimes you have to do what you don't like to get to where you want to be.

- You know that saying, bad things don't happen to good people? That's a lie.

- I'm not a habit, I'm a lifestyle.

- There are a lot of hidden nerds.

- People who become the front runners often used to be outcasts or loners.

- Um, don't get me wrong because I love boys, it's just that sometimes we don't need you.

- There are only ten ideas under the sun. What makes the difference is how you spice them.

- So I'm in Virginia, and I had crabs--I keep saying that! I had crab sickness, I had eaten bad crabs in Maryland!

- I'm a winter girl; I like coming out when things are desolate and everybody's ready to slit their wrists.

- You can only be you. A lot of times it's never enough for people.

- I've never played the guitar, except throwing it against the wall cause it was pissed off I couldn't play it.

- Truly, I was a sweetheart when I was little, like the Honeysuckle Faery. Sweet-pea. But sweet-peas are not popular after second grade. Sweet-peas become nerds really fast.

- I really enjoy having a giggle with a friend, but then someone crosses my line, then I don't really take it lightly.

- I sometimes forget I'm not 7'2" and a Viking.

- A boundary was crossed. And maybe I drew a boundary, consciously.

- It was a bit violent, a bit sexual.

- When nothing makes sense, music seems to come and bring me a margarita and sit down with me.

- You don't have to justify everything. Being pissed off is just absolutely okay.

- There is a level of the vampire in me, which is OK.

- It hurts me when a woman doesn't come through for me, more than a man.

- I'm a grown woman. I've earned my experiences, my scars.

- What is an angel but a ghost in drag?

- I'm beginning to accept and love the parts of me, of women that I was trained to hate all my life.

- People can be so vicious toward the imaginary world and it saddens me. You kill a lot of little people's dreams that way.

- Even if you don't read history or you aren't interested in anything that happened before the '60s, there are reasons why we think the way we do.

- That's how the story goes but I don't believe the story.

- I would find myself either the lovey-doveyest-woviest sweet pea, or a mad-woman.

- I believe in eating.

- You can't change what happened. And nobody's asking you to forgive.

- Why be afraid of these cuddly, soft, adorable things?

- I have good days. Like if I get really good coffee ice cream with just the right amount of chocolate syrup.

- A lot of people see themselves as victims, even when you have to stand in line for ice cream.

- It's so difficult to be critical of children because they need to discover themselves. We're always telling them, "No, the tree has green leaves!"

- I'm tired of being a rebel. Now I just want to be me.

- When things get really empty for me, empty in my outer life, in my inner life, the music world, the songs come across galaxies to find me.

- Do you know what it's like to be a girl and have blood running down your legs and think that you're dying, just because no one's told you that's what happens? It's horrible.

- An angel's face is tricky to wear constantly.

- Mess with me and you will not survive.

- I think that happiness is when you can let yourself feel every emotion you want at any time instead of being a lying little fuck.

- I'm not into this dieting thing.

- The cross has been used as a weapon, as it has been used against all women throughout the ages. And that's the greatest evil of all.

- I think you've got to find a giggle somewhere in stuff that would scare the poop outta ya.

- A cornflake girl is Wonderbread whereas a raisin girl is whole wheat bread.

- I would like to think I'm a raisin girl, because in my mind they're more open minded. Cornflake girls are totally self centered, don't care about anything or anybody.

- I like butter and the people who like butter."

- I'm known as that girl who has tea with the Devil.

- I'm not afraid of sadness.

- Everybody has creativity and each person has it in a different way. Some people aren't musical, some musicians can't even think about painting or gardening. There's so many different ways to be creative.

- I wanna be burned, definitely burned, like the witches.

- Give the kids tools, so they can go build their own houses; not the blueprint of what the houses should be.

- Look at me now. I'm breast feeding pigs.

- I wish I had more of a sense of humor.

- I can be so hard on people.

- If somebody's being a jerk, I would like to go wee on their head. And then I do that, mentally.

- The people on the internet know more about what I am doing than I do. Like, they will say that I am going to be in this mall on this day, and sure enough, I am there!

- I'm like a lioness who kills her own prey and no one else has to kill for her. But if some other lioness comes to me and says "I just got a good prey, do you want a piece?" I can say "of course" - and the other way around.

- There are things that I would disagree with Jesus about, and I feel really good about that.

- History has recorded some pretty nasty things that have happened to people. I think we remember. I think it's in our cells and I think it can still hurt sometimes."

- I don't believe in the saying that it all happens for the best, it's just not appropriate.

- Of course I believe in past lives, I mean, three quarters of the human race believes this, it's not like a great new thought here.

- I use innocence in my demeanor like a Venus flytrap.

- I do like to talk about things no one wants to hear at the dinner table.

- I'm not interested in being a really nice person; I want to be a creative, responsible person that's balanced.

- Boys are cute but food is cuter

- Do any of you dream about crocodiles?

-I know I dream about crocodiles. I'm obsessed with them.

- If people can't see things from the other side that's not my problem, it's theirs.

- I think I give equal time in my hatred, right?

- Sometimes I'm mad at some guy, sometimes I'm mad at some girl, and sometimes I'm totally loving some guy, so and sometimes I'm loving some girl.

_ Well, Pele is the volcano goddess and I thought of like, um, sacrificing some of the boys in my life to her but then I decided that that wasn't really a very good idea.

- Anger originates from envy and outrage, not being seen, not being heard.

- We don't know where souls go when they die. We don't know a lot of things. We didn't create the planets. We didn't do this all by ourselves. So, therefore, why wouldn't there be a creative force if it can create humans and planets?

- I've been hanging out with some of the Hell's Angels in England. They're some of the sweetest people I've ever met.

- Real friends have to be understanding of each other, and their faults.

- I think I'm really hard to get to know on a personal level.

- Thailand is calling me.

- People I see laughing all the time, check for razor blades in their anal-force underwear, because it's just a little lie.

- I'm not interested in taking drugs. I do hallucinogens once in a while for journey experiences.

- I hear the wine. It's like a structure. I see it as a piece. I hear it before I taste it. It's calling me. And then I start to hear it when I'm tasting it.

- Not that I use crystal suppositories, I'm not New Age.

- A peach tree says, 'Some of me will be juicy and some of me will be dry I'm not growing for you; I grow because that's what I do.' You always hear some person complain about how dry their peach is and the peach says, 'It's not our fault you have no understanding on the proper use for dry peaches.'

- My theory is that women were the Mona Lisas for a long time and now men are Mona Lisas with little goatees. They are our muses.

- If you're gonna tell a story, you have to grow into the head of the rapist as well as the raped.

- He was a lite sneeze, and not the flu. Most boys would like to think they're the flu, wouldn't they? But they're really just a achoo.

- If you call me an airy-fairy new age hippy waif, I will cut your penis off.

- It's a double-edged sword and if you pretend you don't want it you're a liar and that is going to rip your soul to pieces.

- I'm always dreaming that these bulls are chasing me. Half the time I don't get away - I almost get over the fence, and then they gore me.

- I believe in energy, everything is energy. And therefore sometimes magic can be created if somebody is open to letting energy do what it does, instead of being so cynical, that you miss magic happening.

- I feel like a work really has many sides to it when people have such extreme reactions. When a work is greeted with just, 'Oh, you know, it's nice', then it's not affecting people. So love it or hate it, that's okay.

- I am a real believer in looking at pain and taking it out shopping.

- The music is the magic carpet that other things take naps on.

- I just try to strip myself, peel myself like an onion. At different layers I discover stuff.

- Why is the world where it is? It's so deep-rooted, if we really start looking, and we might not like what we find. But I think we have to, we have to ask the questions.

- I'm beyond the fury of youth.

- I love young women who are angry. They're wild mustangs.

- I didn't want her looking and hearing me and thinking, "Oh my God, that's a scary lady!"

- They felt that it was detrimental material for their children and that it was blasphemous.

- They've decided they kinda' have you figured out.

- My nightmares are so bad, that I mostly reject it when my friends want to take me to a cinema to watch a horror movie. Then I say, "No, thank you. I will dream in a few hours."

- I don't know of anybody who's gonna be fulfilled if they get hit by a bus. You have to surrender to that eternal need to be fulfilled.

- How do you know I'm not having a margarita with Jesus tonight at 10 o'clock?

- Let's be honest, religion has not supported women and men exploring all sorts of their sides, their unconscious. It has not been supportive of, you know, go into the places without shame, without blame, without judgment, and just let yourself really see what's cooking in there.

- I think human beings are so much more capable of what they told us we're capable of.

- Anyone can attend yoga, kabbalah classes, church, lectures by the 'Dalai Lama', yada, yada, yada - but can you be present for your life, and live with the way you treat other people?

- Only a few people should have a "greatest hits". I'm not one of those people.

- I feel like our leaders have hijacked America's personality, and taken her to personality plastic surgery school. And they decided this is who she is.

- The playground is the biggest war-zone in the world.

- You have to read visionaries to have visions.

- They squash the baby bird because their bird got squashed.

- I love reading. I'll read the first sentence and if it makes sense to me I pick it up.

- It's ridiculous saying there's only one true faith, it's like saying there's only one map to get you up the mountain. I want to see those other maps, man.

- I kinda have all the aspects of my personality round one table for spaghetti.

- If it's too loud, turn it up.

- I was doing drugs with a South American shaman, and I really did visit the devil and, well, I had a journey.

- There is no passion without broken crockery.

- You have to ask, how could a nation nearly vote in somebody who isn't qualified for the job?

- We're living in a frightening time and I wish people would wake up and realise they're surrendering their civil liberties.

- Who wouldn't want to shag a queen?

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #tori amos #tori amos quotes

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giftofshewbread · 3 years

Text

It’s Sin (Prophecy Update)

By Daymond Duck Published on: August 29, 2021

On Aug. 17, 2021, LifeSiteNews reported that conservative Bishop Joseph Strickland warned that “we are suffering as a world because of our sins (promoting abortion, homosexuality, and oppressing ordinary citizens) and failing to recognize God as the Creator and true author of life.”

Strickland urged Christians to stand for the “truths of the faith” and said, “They (godless world leaders) can kill us, seriously curtail our freedoms, but they can’t take away the very essence of who we are: free beings that can choose to say yes to God or not.”

This writer agrees with the bishop.

America’s problem is sin: political corruption, judicial corruption, moral corruption, the Church is lukewarm and declining, etc.

We’ve thrown God out of our schools.

We’ve thrown God out of our courts.

We’ve thrown God out of our government.

We’ve thrown God out of our homes.

We’ve thrown God out of our churches.

We’ve drenched our land with the blood of innocents (abortion).

We have openly blasphemed our God for ages, in books, movies, and the media, but even Christians have come to regard it as ‘normal.’

We have elected unbelievers to rule over us that want to establish a godless world government and religion.

These are not the characteristics of a Christian nation or sins that a holy God will tolerate forever from a nation that was created under God.

Payday has arrived for America and the world, and it is our own fault.

There is still hope for individuals that have truly accepted Jesus as their Saviour (the Rapture), but there is no hope for those that have joined the Church without truly trusting in Jesus (unless they do it before they die or before the Rapture).

Hopefully, this writer is wrong, but it is possible that America has reached a point of no return, that God has already decided to bring our sin-filled nation down, and it’s possible that America will never recover.

One, concerning the impact of Afghanistan’s fall on world government and wars and rumors of wars:

Many Americans don’t believe Biden is in charge, and there are calls to remove him, but removing him won’t remove America’s godless shadow government (the CFR and their minions) or alter their efforts to establish a one-world government by 2030 or sooner. If the shadow government orders Biden removed, it will be because they are afraid he will cost them control of the House and/or Senate, and they don’t want to risk that.

The debacle in Afghanistan has convinced many world leaders that America can no longer be relied upon to lead the free world (America’s military is still strong, but America’s civilian leaders are corrupt, inept, and unreliable. U.S. Sec. of State Blinken admitted receiving a cable from about two dozen diplomats warning that the Taliban could seize Afghanistan in a hurry if Biden removed the troops. An Audit uncovered by the group called “Open the Books” listed 600,000 weapons; 75,000 Humvees, armored personnel carriers, tactical vehicles, mine-resistant vehicles, etc.; $200 million dollars worth of drones; 208 planes/helicopters in Afghanistan).

China now believes it can attack Taiwan and get away with it.

North Korea now believes it can attack South Korea and win because America’s leader is weak and indecisive.

Russia, Iran, and Turkey now believe they can march into Israel, and the U.S. will do nothing.

China, Russia, and Iran have now scheduled joint military drills in the Persian Gulf for later this year or early next year.

Israel now knows that her enemies no longer fear her number one ally (the U.S.), and Israel must now act in Israel’s own best interests.

The EU now knows that something is wrong in America, and the EU must build up its military if the EU wants to remain free.

America is no longer the world’s number one superpower, and the decline of America is just what the globalists needed to bring in their godless one-world government and religion. (George Soros gave millions to the campaigns of the Clinton’s, Obama and others who were in favor of weakening America to eventually bring in the NWO. George H. W. Bush, George W. Bush, and the Rockefellers were also strong supporters of the NWO.)

As Jan Markel so often says, “Things are not falling apart; things are falling into place” (lining up exactly the way the Bible says they will at the end of the age).

Update one: On Aug. 18, 2021, the U.K. Parliament held Pres. Biden in contempt for withdrawing from Afghanistan and called his decision “catastrophic” and “shameful.” This reflects the thinking of one of America’s strongest allies.

Phase 1 of the Globalist plan to establish the New World Order was to create trading blocks of nations, and many trading blocks are now in existence.

Phase 2 of the globalist plan to establish the New World Order is to remove America as the undisputed leader of the free world and replace it with leaders from ten groups of nations (Ten Kings). It is the opinion of this writer that America has been deliberately disgraced, world leaders will soon say Biden is not mentally capable of leading the free world, the U.S. must be replaced – they will select ten leaders from ten trading blocks of nations, and the U.S. will be in the trading block known as the USMCA (United States, Mexico, and Canada).

Phase 3 of the globalist plan to establish the New World Order is for the Ten Kings to empower one man to rule over the entire world. This will be done after the Rapture.

In addition to seeing the global development and advancement of technology and policies that will lead to the Mark of the Beast – forced compliance, development of passports or passes, a demand for government databases to track people, a demand to prevent the unvaccinated from entering stores to buy or sell, the spread of anti-Christian rhetoric, etc. – we are seeing the development of the government that will use that technology and force the Mark upon the world.

Remember that the goal is to have it up and running by 2030 or sooner if possible.

It is likely that Satan’s man with a plan is alive and well right now.

This writer also believes that God is showing us these things to remind us of what Jesus said in the Book of Revelation, that He knows the end from the beginning, and there is a great need for us to repent of our sins.

Two, the Bible teaches that the Kings (plural) of the East will invade the Middle East during the Tribulation Period (Rev. 16:12).

The Bible doesn’t identify the Kings of the East, but many prophecy experts have long expressed the opinion that they will include China, North Korea, and other nations.

China now has the largest navy in the world; China is expected to soon be the number one economy in the world; China has built a railroad and highway to the Middle East; China has already reached out to the Taliban government in Afghanistan; and China is seeking to negotiate a deal with the Taliban to mine an estimated one trillion dollars of essential minerals in Afghanistan.

Three, on Aug. 20, 2021, it was reported that even though the Biden administration says it is evacuating people from Afghanistan for free, a State Dept. official admitted that they are charging U.S. citizens up to $2,000 per person to get them out (more for non-U.S. citizens).

The Taliban has taken over the banks and emptied the ATMs, so some evacuees are being forced to take out a loan from the U.S. government.

Four, concerning persecution, on Aug. 22, 2021, it was reported that Christians are facing imminent death in Afghanistan, women and young girls are facing rape, beatings, and forced marriages (candidate Biden said he is a good Catholic and he loves women and children).

Five, concerning persecution and the days of Noah (great wickedness): on Aug. 24, 2021, the Head of the UN Human Rights Council said she has received credible reports that the Taliban is executing civilians and members of the Afghanistan Security Forces.

The blood of these victims is on the hands of those (the shadow government and Mr. Biden) that have deliberately weakened the U.S.

Six, concerning the refusal to let people buy and sell unless they take the Mark of the Beast during the Tribulation Period (Rev. 13:15-18): on Aug. 20, 2021, it was reported that some very large French supermarkets in areas where there is a high rate of Covid are requiring people to show a valid government-issued Covid pass before allowing them to enter to purchase food.

The only two ways to get a valid government-issued Covid pass are: 1) proof of vaccination, or 2) proof of a negative Covid test in the last 72 hours.

For years, Bible prophecy teachers have been saying this is coming.

Some French citizens are refusing to be vaccinated, and thousands are protesting by marching and demonstrating.

During the Tribulation Period, those that refuse to take the Mark will be killed.

Seven, concerning peace, Israel and the Arabs: on Aug. 13, 2021, Israel and Morocco announced that they will open reciprocal embassies within two months.

Eight, concerning deceit:

we were told that candidate Biden didn’t know anything about Hunter’s business dealings with other nations (Hunter’s laptop proves otherwise);

we have been told that America is back (but America is going down);

that domestic terrorists plotted to take over the White House on Jan. 6, 2021, (but the FBI found little to no evidence of that);

that there is no crisis on our border (but children are in cages and Covid is being deliberately spread from there);

that there is no crisis in Afghanistan (but it is now a terrorist state);

that U.S. military leaders advised Biden against pulling our troops out of Afghanistan before he removed our people and weapons (but he trusted the Taliban instead of trusting our military leaders);

that there was no election fraud (but the Arizona audit proves there was);

that masks offer no protection (but everyone should wear a mask);

that a vaccination will protect us from Covid (but we need a booster shot because vaccinated people are getting Covid);

Climate Change is the greatest threat to America (but sin is the greatest threat to America);

Biden will unite America (but he says all white Republicans are racists), etc.

There is no reason not to tell these whoppers because big tech and most of the media ignore them.

The Satanic Antichrist will have to be terrible to out-deceive this administration.

Think about it; Democrats impeached the previous president over something he didn’t say in a phone call.

Nine, here is some of this writer’s thinking on what we may be seeing:

Islam believes in world government and world religion, but the Radical Muslims want it to be an Islamic world government and world religion.

They are fighting and dying to accomplish that.

God will allow a world government and world religion to rise and exist for seven years (the Tribulation Period), but it will not be Islamic.

Some Muslims will perish in the Psa. 83 war (if that is an end of the age prophecy, and this writer believes it is).

Some Muslims will perish in the destruction of Damascus (Isa. 17).

Some Muslims will perish in the attempted Russian-Islamic invasion of Israel (Ezek. 38-39).

Some Muslims will perish when the Antichrist plunders Egypt, Libya, and Ethiopia during the Tribulation Period (Dan. 11:43).

It is likely that some will perish when the Kings of the East invade the Middle East during the Tribulation Period (Rev. 16:12).

Russia and China are already wooing Afghanistan, and this writer is not sure which group Afghanistan will wind up in (the Russian-Islamic invasion of Israel or the Kings of the East), but this writer is sure that Afghanistan will wind up in the right group and Jehovah will not allow Allah to have His (Jehovah’s) glory.

Jehovah could even be drawing the Taliban into a coalition that will soon be defeated and an embarrassment to Allah.

This writer believes that Russia, China, Iran, and other radicals will now think an evil thought (America is weak; America is preoccupied with Covid, Climate Change, the Woke culture, etc.; it is time to strike; time to plunder Israel; time to create an Islamic Caliphate, etc.).

The prophesied end of the age wars and rumors of wars could be on the horizon.

Biden abandoned billions of dollars of high-tech weapons in Afghanistan; some are already finding their way to Russia and China, but they are nothing compared to the power of God.

The globalists will use the defeat of these nations to establish a world government and religion under the Antichrist and False Prophet.

America’s problem is sin, and I believe we are the only generation in history that could be the terminal generation.

Finally, are you Rapture Ready?

If you want to be rapture ready and go to heaven, you must be born again (John 3:3). God loves you, and if you have not done so, sincerely admit that you are a sinner; believe that Jesus is the virgin-born, sinless Son of God who died for the sins of the world, was buried, and raised from the dead; ask Him to forgive your sins, cleanse you, come into your heart and be your Saviour; then tell someone that you have done this.

#vax #covid #death #woke #china #russia #iran #afghanistan #military #biden #obama #american #defeated #from #within #globalists #socialist #facist #communist #eu #taliban #refugee #illegals #rapture

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