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tcm · 3 years

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The Makers and the Breakers: The Hollywood Studio System By Constance Cherise

From anecdotal tales to darker narratives of downright malevolence, movies about the Hollywood studio system are as prevalent as the subject is understandably intriguing. Films like A STAR IS BORN (‘54), THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL (‘52) and, just for a bit of naughty camp, DAISY CLOVER (‘65), to name a few, all allow a voyeuristic gaze behind an enchanted curtain. The major Hollywood studios controlled all aspects of filmmaking, distribution and the lives and appeal of their stars.

A studio executive’s expertise was to home in on the "It" factor of an actor. Then the build-up of publicity would begin. A well-engineered system of perfectly timed pulleys and cranks, bells and whistles would turn, and it didn't matter whether stories about a star were the truth, embellishment or lies, from the studios perspective stars weren't actual people, they were commodities that were bought, sold, traded and used as pawns to the benefit of the studio system. (A thorough reference on this is Jeanine Basinger’s The Star Machine) But, if anyone had ill feelings about their treatment, only those that were the most daring spoke up. The cliché “You'll never work in this town again” wasn't just a catchphrase, it was wholly and utterly true. Speaking up too loudly about one's gilded cage could end a career faster than Eleanor Powell’s “machine gun” tap dancing. As quickly as the mechanism could build a pretty face to stardom, it could just as easily grind to a halt, meticulously dismantling at record speed.

The true genius of the studio system was its innate and pristine ability to create a persona around the most capable assets that their commodity had to offer. An exceptional dancer with buck teeth? No problem. Send her to the dentist for cosmetic surgery. A heartthrob of a man who was too short? No problem. Elevate his shoes and make sure his counterpart wasn't wearing heels. A knockout beauty who could dance but was too ethnic-looking? Change her hair color from jet black to red, perform electrolysis on her hairline, add luscious waves, put her on a diet and change her name from Margarita Carmen Cansino to Columbia Picture’s own Rita Hayworth.

The system found what was innately undeniable, played up the strengths and buffed, polished or cleverly disguise the flaws, a process still happening in media. But the studio system of the Golden Age was far-reaching. Its governance traveled beyond its inner sanctum into affecting contractors' personal lives. A moral clause was a standard part of an actors’ contract. Both law enforcement and mobsters were part of the studio’s payroll, a necessary tactic thought to keep its stars in line and to protect the industry's overall reputation. If a star found themselves in a compromising position, there was always a hired hand, such as in the case of MGM's Eddie Mannix, to respond, repair and refute, regardless of the cost. Studios further exerted control by means of inclusivity. By creating an insular studio with every conceivable notion at their fingertips, including health facilities and a police force (as was present at MGM), the studio system was privy to inside information by way of design and therefore able to thwart potential problems sooner rather than later.

Opinions amongst stars who were part of the system varied. Some found it confining and artistically stifling (United Artists was created as a direct result of the burgeoning studio system in 1919), while others enjoyed its protective embrace. Fred Astaire was not a particularly handsome man, but his virtuoso skill of dance was undeniable. By the time he made it to Tinseltown, he had already been a star on the stage and his elegant persona was well polished. Almost the same could be said for Gene Kelly, except that Kelly was quite handsome with his all-American chiseled features and athletic body. He too came to Hollywood bearing Broadway accolades. Anything else either star may have required was worth any level of contribution on the part of the studio. But most stars didn't come fully assembled.

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Numerous classic musical fans are aware of actor and untrained dancer Debbie Reynolds’ account of bloodied feet while rehearsing “Good Morning'' for the film SINGING IN THE RAIN (‘52), a story she confirmed in a TCM interview with late host Robert Osborne. Reynolds would star in multiple roles where dance was required, and for someone who was not a professional, with training from expert choreographers, she fooled us all. Ava Gardner did not go looking for the fame that found her. She was discovered through a photo in a shop window. The daughter of sharecroppers, Gardner had no experience in acting to speak of, and in fact, had a free-spirited reputation of reluctance. She had to be trained out of her deep southern accent, but her naturally stunning features combined with her charm literally smoldered the camera.

For all the contract players who willingly or unwillingly accepted the exploitation of their assets, there were those few who refused to play by studio rules. One not to cower was Mae West, who solidified her autonomy by demanding and receiving one dollar more than the head of Paramount, Adolph Zuckor, as well as full script approval of her films. MGM’s Luise Rainer, after becoming the first woman to consecutively win two Academy Awards, turned her back on Hollywood due to its iron grip. "I did not like the superficial life that one is naturally forced at times to live,” Rainer stated in a TCM interview. William Haines, one time voted as America's top male star, refused to hide his homosexuality living an open life with his lover, defying the orders of traditional marriage by Louis B. Mayer and as a result was fired from MGM.

That's what the studio system did: take an inarguable asset, create an inflated persona around it, smooth the dents, add a little extra padding where necessary and package it to be received exactly how they envisioned for public consumption...or...destroy it. After all, with over 70% of Americans attending film theaters at least once a week, the public turned the film industry into a multi-million-dollar business during its Golden Age when the average price of a ticket was 25 cents. Studios were readily aware they held the power and used it skillfully to full advantage.

The studio systems tactics could easily be viewed as a calculated sleight of hand, however, it unequivocally delivered, and its final product was polished, pristine and precise. But for those that were plucked from obscurity, was it truly a sleight of hand? One could argue that you can't get blood from a stone, and if that statement is true, the studio’s techniques of engineered transformation couldn't possibly invoke aptitude that didn't already exist somewhere within, however miniscule. Perhaps, instead of the credit studio’s retained for creating stars, its genuine function was to awaken exceptional latent potential that was simply waiting to be discovered.

#Old Hollywood #Hollywood studios #Golden Age Hollywood #star system #MGM #Columbia #Mae West #Rita Hayworth #Fred Astaire #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #paramount pictures #Constance Cherise

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

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Tamlin stared down at the letter in his hand. He had been staring at it for a long time. The servants he could hear, whispering and hushed, out in the hall. Their masks may have blanked much of their expressions, but their eyes gave enough away, didn't they? It was almost over. Tamlin's own mask did not move; neither of them did, either the one affixed to his face, or the face itself. Grief at Feyre's death still beat dully within him and he wondered if he really had come to love a mortal so much, so fast.

There were two men who stood before him. One wore his foxlike mask easily, for all that Tamlin knew he would have clawed it off and taken half his skin with it, if it would have worked. The other, unmasked, smiled easily, dark wings folded behind him.

She dumped a winged man over our border to die, and you didn't even care. Were you the one who tore them off, at her command? Did you wonder what it would feel like, if done to you?

The letter had his nightmares written into every line, but… there was something else here. Something that would save his servants, save Lucien, save the Spring Court. He could not let them be taken as Amarantha's slaves. Tamlin knew the stories of how the Queen Under the Mountain treated slaves.

"Well?" Rhysand drawled the word out, turning one syllable into two, into three. "You have to admit the offer is generous. You lost the human woman, and still she offers to set your Court free if you come to her willingly. You could hardly have asked for a better outcome." Rhysand shrugged one shoulder slowly, a gesture Tamlin loathed. "The Spring Court answers to her, of course, but you see she's even given you leave to name a Regent."

"I'm surprised she gave so much slack to your leash," Tamlin snapped, eyes narrowed. "To come so far, and it's not even Calanmai. I thought you weren't allowed outside any longer. After you refused to kill Feyre."

Rhysand did not rise to the bait, but a pulsing swallow in his throat told Tamlin his aim had been true. "Her Majesty thought I made a fitting emissary today, since you will soon replace me."

Tamlin's eyes drifted back to the letter. She must have written it herself; the script was elegant and beautiful and yet there were jagged, dangerous edges to the swirling calligraphy. Amarantha, who pretended at a royal bearing but never quite had the patience for follow-through. Amarantha, summoning her new pet home. With the death of Feyre, all his hopes were gone. Even if Rhysand had refused, Amarantha herself had never even hesitated. She'd torn Feyre apart.

Tamlin shook himself all over, trying to calm his mind. Lucien could keep order, until things were settled. The Spring Court would not be left unattended, although even now he could see darkness pooling at the edges of the woods, hear the songs of the trees become muted and mournful.

It was over.

"I… accept Amarantha's offer of mercy for my Court. Give her my thanks," Tamlin said through gritted teeth." I will appear before her tonight, of my own will. I understand that the deal is done."

At first, Rhysand did not move, only raised one eyebrow. Lucien stepped up, effortlessly putting himself between Rhysand and Tamlin, fixing his good eye on Rhysand as his metal eye whirred, just barely audible. "The deal is done, Rhysand. If Amarantha finds this… generosity in her heart, my Lord will honor it."

"Can't wait." Rhysand's voice was nearly a sneer, but even he had thinly-veiled relief in his tone. "I've waited a long time for this." He spun around and stalked away. There was a scramble of servants as he passed through the doorway into the outside air, and winnowed himself away. All of them battling to not be touched by the High Lord of Night's awful darkness.

Tamlin grasped for words that would not come. He raised his eyes, looking slowly all around Rosehall's beautiful walls. Thinking of the gallery he had shown her. The first few smiles that he had brought out from Feyre's face. Discovering she could not read and writing limericks for her as a kind of gift, some way to break the ice between their races. Strange, to have so much of her reflected here when he'd really hardly known her at all. "Lucien. You will act as High Lord in my stead? I am… not sure how much aid I will be able to give, Under the Mountain. I don't know how much... power she'll give you."

"Yes." Lucien did not look at him. His red hair seemed dimmed, somehow. Tamlin stood there, for a long moment, trying to come up with something to tell his Court, some message to pass on. Words had never been an easy thing for him, and neither was giving up; but Feyre was dead and with her, all the hope he'd placed his own survival on.

"You will… say something, to all of them? For me?"

"Of course, Tam. I'll come up with something moving and eloquent. Everyone will be duly impressed. You'll be written into history as a great speechgiver, in the end." The humor was bitter, and Lucien's voice trembled in a way Tamlin could not bear to hear.

"I'm going to my rooms," He muttered, and turned to leave.

Lucien cleared his throat. "Tam…"

Tamlin paused, glancing sidelong at him. Rage boiled within his chest, a helpless child's rage at a world he could not change. "She sent an outfit," Lucien said, softly, pityingly. Tamlin could feel the edge of his claws pressing against his knuckles, wanting to tear and rip and kill. Would he ever have a chance to hunt again, down in the darkness? "You are expected to wear it. When you are… presented. Do you want me to go with you?"

"No. I want you here. I want…" He trailed off, thinking of her eyes. "I want someone to be safe." Tamlin paused, his jaw working, staring down at the floor. He tried to say something more. To explain, to even begin, what Lucien's friendship had been for him.

Finally, he simply growled wordlessly, crumbled the letter into a ball and threw it to the side, and stalked away. Lucien closed his eyes, good eye and metal, as the servants outside the door collapsed into murmurs, a mix of excitement - finally, the masks would come off! - and fear that, perhaps, Amarantha might not keep her end of the bargain at all. Amarantha's mercy was famously subject to her whims.

Finally, Lucien reached down and picked up the letter, gently unfolding it, reading it himself. What he saw there made his eyes flare, just slightly, and his face blanched. He looked the direction Tamlin had gone again.

"Shit."

He took in a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. Then he snapped his fingers, Alis appearing as if she'd waited her whole life for the summons, staring at him. He could see tear streaks on the bark-skin of her cheeks, where they trailed out from under her mask. "Alis, I need a new robe. And a dead chicken."

Alis nodded and hurried away. Lucien swallowed.

I have a Suriel to catch.

The outfit was simple, his usual shirt with a baldric, although the pants were tighter than he liked. He could hardly hunt in pants like this. Well, you're the prey this time, so no worry there. Really, though, even that wasn't so bad. What bothered him was what the outfit meant. The shirt, baldric, and pants were all the same flat shade of black. Tamlin wasn't exactly vain - well, compared to the rest of the fae, he wasn't - but he knew it did not suit his skin, or hair.

What was left of his hair, anyway. What wasn't in a pile on the floor behind him.

She was dressing him like a doll, in clothes that didn't look right and hardly fit, just because she could. He'd agreed, after all, to go to her tonight. Willingly. He would kneel before the Queen. His stomach flipped and he fought to keep himself calm.

The outfit wasn't completely flat. In certain lights he could see a silvery trace of letters and patterns, like tattoos. Like Rhysand. Tamlin fought back the urge to vomit. She was really piling on the subtlety, wasn't she?

He stopped before a mirror looking himself over. He'd done what she had ordered in her letter; used a knife to cut his long hair short. A bit of blond fell just over his eyes, but the rest was as close-cropped as he could make it. He'd put on the black outfit, down to a pair of newly-made boots in a leather so expensively fine that even he had never seen anything like it. His damned mask, the emeralds making him sick in their leaflike whorls, could never hide enough. It couldn't hide his disgusted sneer at himself.

The orders in the letter had been exact, and the threat had been precisely spelled out. Do what she says to the letter, or forfeit the Spring Court to her service forever. Everyone, down to the children, would be given to her will. There had been a very… detailed threat in there about what would happen to Lucien.

I don't think he'll need his tongue any longer, unless perhaps you beg me to leave it as a gift to you. Perhaps he could use it on you. I of course will leave him his eye, so he can watch while you-

"For my Court," Tamlin said out loud, in something just louder than a whisper.

He straightened the way the tunic laid over his hips, frowning at himself. The black washed his skin out to nearly nothing, even with his tan from time spent outdoors. He looked like a short-haired ghost of himself, with only his green-and-gold eyes a splash of color in his expression. Exactly what she intended. An eternity so far from the sunlight… he could feel himself withering at the thought. No more spring. No woods. No hunt.

As if Rosehall itself mourned, he heard cracking somewhere above, the sound of a mournful wind shifting the foundation of this very old manor.

Go on, then. He swore he could hear the manor itself whispering. Go be Amarantha's whore. Rhysand could use the recovery time.

He snorted. There was a sound outside his door, and he paused. He could see shadows through the crack at the bottom of the doorway. Feet. It must be Lucien.

Tamlin walked over as if to open it, but paused his with his hand on the door. The two of them stood, one man on either side, in a long, drawn-out silence. Tamlin never saw it, but Lucien raised his own hand, the red-headed man standing in silence with his fingers resting on the door in exactly the same spot as Tamlin's.

Finally, the shadowy feet simply turned and walked away. He listened to the footsteps disappear down the hall, and leaned his forehead against the door.

It was never supposed to come to this.

"I haven't got all day," A silky voice purred behind him. Tamlin spun around to glare at Rhysand, dressed in his own finery. One raised eyebrow told him Rhysand noticed the similarity in their outfits. Where the black suited Rhys, it washed Tamlin out.

Mirror images. We're mirror images of each other. She's not going to let Rhysand go. She wants a set. Does… does he know she won't let him go?

"How are you here? These are my rooms! Get out!"

"Your time is up. The deal is done, and you belong to Amarantha. Now." Rhysand smiled, languidly, and his tone dropped to something softer, a lover's voice. "I can find anyone who belongs to her, wherever they are. She asked me to come and get you. Apparently she thought you might waste time if left to your own devices."

Tamlin, never one to have ready words for any occasion, only growled, the roar of the beast an echo behind the sound. Rhysand, after a moment, simply shrugged again and winnowed the both of them away.

Amarantha had spared no expense for the celebration. Spiced wine poured from huge fountains. Guests simply dipped their cups as they saw fit and drank them full nearly to the brim, laughing at the droplets that found their way down the side of the glass to splash onto the stone floor. Tables groaned under the weight of delicacies from every Court in the kingdom.

Musicians played in the corner, a series of mocking mutations of the Spring Court's favorite melodies, changed into minor keys, slower tempos. Turning sprightly into seductive, and cheerfulness into lust.

When Tamlin entered the hall, the sound of the crowd quieted. By the Cauldron, there are so many of them here to watch me fall. He ignored their stares, the whispers behind their hands at his close-cropped hair that fell just barely over his eyes, his skin seemingly paler set against his black outfit, following Rhysand like a puppy.

He ignored most of all the familiar faces he saw mingling through the crowd, the members of the Spring Court who had chosen to suck up to Amarantha, to kiss the ring. Others who had stayed here for one reason or another, but with their masks intact. How right their choices seem, compared to where I am now. The High Lords were here, no doubt at least a few happy to witness his humiliation. Perhaps not, though; it was only a reflection of their own humiliation at her hands. It was their power she was using to hold him.

Everyone would have their stories to tell soon enough, Tamlin thought. His black boots dragged as he forced himself to walk forward, Rhysand falling behind to greet a courtier here or there. His mask slipped, just slightly, and he took in a sudden breath at feeling a hiss of air touch the skin underneath.

"Almost off," Rhysand muttered from just behind him. "Play your part, Spring."

"I fucking hate you, Nightmare," Tamlin snapped, but he kept it a whisper.

"You're going to hate fucking her more," Rhysand replied, that smug smile playing on his face once again. Tamlin fought back the claws that teased at the ends of his fingertips. He could have ruined Rhysand for Amarantha forever, he thought, and never batted an eyelash. Torn his mouth to pieces so he could never smile again. Ripped him apart where it mattered most to someone like Amarantha, left Rhysand's mutilated cock in her bed. Calm, Tamlin.

"High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court!" Amarantha cried joyfully, announcing his entrance and calling every single fae to turn and look right at him. Tamlin's face burned with shame and he froze where he stood, stone heart a hammer in his chest. Her joy was evident, her bright eyes shone. He had never seen her wicked face so radiant. Tamlin clenched his hands into fists. "Welcome to Under the Mountain, where you will now make your home, by my side."

There was a curl of thought inside his mind, a whisper that did not belong to him. You'll writhe in my bed. Tamlin flinched, and felt Rhysand put a hand on his arm.

"I should have told you she does that, here," He murmured. There was something like sympathy in his face and Tamlin snorted, disgusted at the position he'd found himself in. He had never been one to beg for pity. He should have simply slept with her when she asked. He should have been her lover, until she tired of him. None of this had to happen. He'd done it all to himself. He should have protected Feyre, sent her away in time, gone to Amarantha and tried to bargain.

He should have torn them all limb from limb, all of the fae, left Under the Mountain a bloody mess with Amarantha's corpse as its centerpiece, to turn to bone and be buried. Let the mortals find them someday, when they were brave enough to breach the wall and see why the High Fae's presence was gone. His hands twitched. There was a hint of fur standing up, sharp teeth to bare. He could feel his claws-

"I won't have you do any of that without my permission," Amarantha said from her throne, and the welcome reassurance of claws and teeth just… vanished. He struggled to recover it, but nothing happened. His heart dropped to somewhere near his knees. Amarantha watched his obvious panic with delight.

"The Court of the High Queen of Prythian recognizes Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court. You may approach the throne," Amarantha purred. She crooked her finger to him.

Only Rhysand's soft nudge got him to move forward, each step like a clanging bell in his mind. He went to her, standing before her throne. Her crown, with its jagged golden spikes, was a thing of hideous beauty. Jurian's bone hung at her neck, and his eye looked up at Tamlin with some strange intensity from the ring on her finger. Amarantha was beautiful, in the way that certain venomous snakes are beautiful. Her hair was in a pile of elaborate, perfect braids, immaculately pinned into a pattern that nearly made him dizzy. Those wide eyes focused intensely on his. His remaining powers were wilting here, more as he stood before her and felt her magic settling into him, into his bones and under his skin. He wondered if Rosehall would simply collapse, without a High Lord to care for it.

What could Lucien really do? It wasn't his Court, and it was a Court under Amarantha's sway, now.

The smell of her was everywhere, a cloying vanilla touched with cinnamon. A sweetness with rot underneath. He felt drunk on it, terrified by it. She stood and leaned over just a little, put her hand out, rings up. "Kneel, Lord Tamlin. You are High Lord no more."

What am I, then?

He hesitated, but there was an ache between his shoulders and an unseen pressure that simply compelled him helplessly downwards until his knees cracked on the stone floor. He did not flinch, to his credit. He reached out, taking her hand in his, looking up at her as he slowly kissed Jurian's eye. It twitched, under his lips, and he fought back sour bile. "I am still Lord, my Queen," was all he said, but every seething ounce of hate he felt for her was in his whisper.

Amarantha smiled at him. The love in her smile was so genuine, so carefree and pure, that she looked like someone else entirely. This woman he could have loved, might even have helped ascend the throne. She could have fooled him for decades, with a smile like that. Centuries. He understood, now, how the High Lords had been so easily deceived. Her smile softened her, made her look almost like… but it was gone, replaced by the sneer he knew so well, saw in his dreams. Nightmares. She stepped back and sat back in her throne, several feet away. "All this could have been avoided if you had come to me in the first place, accepted my love for what it was without being forced. The Court of the High Queen's Consort could have wielded great power and influence."

"You know I could not do that." Why not? He'd doomed himself and Lucien and all of them in the end.

"No," She said thoughtfully, pulling her hand back. "You couldn't, could you?" As Tamlin went to stand, she shook her head. "No. Crawl to me on your knees."

In the hush of the court, he could do nothing else. His body was no longer responding to his commands, only hers. He felt fear, an icy stab through his chest, a stone settling cold into his stomach, as he crawled on his hands and knees the last few feet to kneel before her.

Was this why Rhysand never stopped helping her along with her schemes? Was his body truly no longer his own?

"The High Queen can show mercy," She said, now loudly, a performance for her court. Representatives of each court were there, the other five High Lords in attendance, Rhysand lounging in the shadows, as well as chosen courtiers. That vanilla scent was so heavy he felt himself gasping for air. "The Spring Court is free of its curse. But stand against me and the curse will be so much worse than his." She stood, making the most of every moment, tilting her hips to one side. Tamlin chose to stare down at her feet, realizing with a start that they were bare.

"Look up," She commanded. His eyes slowly rose, to meet hers. She reached down, ruffling her hand through his hair, smiling at him with that sparkling honest genuine joy. "I win, Tamlin," She said quietly. "You should have come here 49 years ago." She touched the side of his face, and his stomach twisted with disgust and… something else.

Something darker, and shameful.

Amarantha removed his mask, easy as you please, and dropped it onto the floor with a clatter. There were answering happy cries from those members of the Spring Court present as they freed their own faces. In Rosehall, he thought, Lucien must be pulling off his own mask, stepping outside into the air. Truly feeling the breeze on his face for the first time in fifty years. For you, Lucien. For the Spring Court.

"Stand, Tamlin. Rhys, if you will." He stood as he was commanded, feeling Rhysand at his elbow again, grasping it gently. Tamlin swallowed and looked down at the ground. They were all watching. Every inch of his skin felt like it was caked in shame and slime.

"Say it, Tamlin," Amarantha commanded. "Say I won. Make it loud enough for them all to hear. Let your courtiers take that moment back to your precious Lucien. Tell them what has happened here."

Tamlin felt Rhysand slowly turning him to face the crowd, but he was somewhere else, somewhere far away, trying to get a handle on how frightened he was. He'd never been good with words. He'd been better at war, but he wouldn't see any down here. Not the kind he knew how to fight.

He thought of Feyre's flashing eyes, her beauty, of the hope he'd had that she would be the one. He thought of her broken body, of his own servants carrying it away to be tended to. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as she'd died, a mix of genuine grief at losing her and fear of what it meant for his own future. It had been his own fault, for not sending her back over the border in time. For letting Amarantha find her.

He had hesitated too long to obey. He felt the compulsion again, the ugly twist of pain between his shoulder blades, the way even his body wanted to do what she said, although his mind resisted.

"You win, Amarantha," His voice said, as if from a distance, muffled in his mind. Someone shouting down a long cave. "My time has run out. I could not meet your demands." There was laughter, from some in the crowd. Cruel, jeering laughter. The other High Lords, though, did not join in. Tamlin fought to hold his head high, and saw in Kallias, the High Lord of the Winter Court, an answering rage that made him wonder if he might still have an ally or two, after all.

"My mercy has been great, for your Court," She said smugly. "I will hold to it. The Spring Court now belongs to me, but I will let them live in a bottled land. Let Lucien play caretaker, Lord-in-waiting, whatever he fancies himself. We have quite the new world to build, my love. Take him to my chambers, Rhys, and wait for me." She turned to address the crowd. "My new paramour must wait patiently for my attention, of course. My heart is only for my Court."

The courtiers tittered and jeered and Tamlin's face was crimson. He had never felt so ashamed of himself, of his failures. He would have roared at them all, but no words came to mind. His hands hung empty at his sides. "Rhys, darling?" Amarantha's voice drawled. "You remember your first night?"

Tamlin saw Rhysand's jaw tighten, teeth gritting together. Some old pain flashed in his eyes. If he heard the scandalized whispers of the courtiers, he did not show it. His head was held high. Tamlin realized the inner strength it took for Rhysand to withstand this, day in and day out. "Yes, my Lady. I remember."

"Prepare Tamlin just the same."

Rhys bowed at the waist, his hand still on Tamlin's arm. "Come with me, Tam, or she'll order you to," He muttered. The usual sneering hostility was gone, replaced by a simple emptiness, something that echoed the empty space inside Tamlin's own mind.

Tamlin went, drifting like a boat loosened from its moorings. Only Rhysand's touch kept him moving in any particular direction. They made it to her chamber doors before Tamlin simply could go no further, shivering like a leaf. He felt a sudden sympathy with the animals he had once hunted in the wood.

He stopped in his tracks as Rhysand opened the door and gestured him in. He turned to look at him, unable to hide the panic. "I can't-"

"You have to," Rhysand said, softly. "I'm sorry for what is about to happen. Please believe that. If it's a comfort, you'll enjoy it, in the moment. She makes sure you do." That flash of pain again.

"I don't want to enjoy it," Tamlin's lips were numb. Rhysand pulled him in, and he stared around. What nightmares Tamlin had often took place in some version of this room, especially as the countdown to the curse's end had begun to weigh on him. It looked nothing like he imagined. It was beautiful in here, not nightmarish. Well-lit and with a crackling fire adding a bit of warmth. It was the sort of room he would have loved to give Feyre. Everything was finely carved, smooth and shining wood everywhere he looked. Bookshelves, a vanity with a large mirror, everything a Queen might want in her private chambers.

Including you.

"You don't get to not enjoy it. You don't get to control it." Rhysand was lost in some inner world. "You will have no choices to make here."

The bed was huge, and could have easily fit a half-dozen people sleeping in it or more. Silver like moonlight snaked up around the wood at each corner, to the canopy that let a filmy black veil, speckled with starlight, slightly obscure the pile of blankets and pillows within. The walls seemed to shift as he walked, patterns moving in the wallpaper, forming eyes, as though they were watching him.

"Do you sleep here?" He asked. He'd mocked Rhysand for what he was so many times. He'd never imagined he would be her whore, too. He'd always thought there would be enough time.

Feyre. I thought we had more time. I should never have kept you close to me.

"No. I have my own chambers. She doesn't usually like me to stay, after. Thank the Cauldron for that, at least."

"Will I have my own, too?" There was something to hope for. Privacy. He felt himself cling to the thought like a raft in a storm-tossed ocean. In war and in hunt, all things made sense. In this, it was all chaos, and fear, and helplessness. It had been so, so long since Tamlin had felt so helpless.

"I don't know. I assume so. I… need to get you ready, Tamlin." The sneer was there, but for the first time it occurred to Tamlin that it was not a sneer of hate or smugness, but something self-protective. The ugly superiority was a mask he wore, a shield, a protection against the harm she could inflict.

"Ready how?"

Rhysand closed his eyes, briefly, eyebrows furrowing together. "For your first night." He gestured to the bed, pulling Tamlin over to it. As he pulled a cord, the veiled curtain was lifted on one side, and Tamlin saw what he has missed when they first came in. What the veil had obscured just enough to hide it.

A band of heavy, ugly iron was affixed just above the headboard, and ran the full length of it. There were twelve small circles soldered in. From each circle hung a chain, which began as links of that ugly ironl but gradually changed, silver beginning to twine around and through until the last few links shone in the firelight. At the end of each chain there was heavily engraved, thick silver cuff with a hinge. The bands hung open like terrible hungry smiles, a chorus of watchers, ready for him.

Six sets of silver cuffs.

Tamlin pulled back and away from Rhysand, staring at him wide-eyed. He tried to call for his claws again, and nothing happened. Nothing. "I don't do that. Not even with-"

"You don't have a choice." Rhysand cut him off, frowning, that strange inward expression again. "You never get a choice."

"I don't want it like this."

"Good for you. She does. Get on the bed. Please, before she-"

Do as you're told, Tamlin. Let him chain you up. Enjoy it.

"Cauldron," Rhysand swore, softly. "She must be listening to us." They both flinched at her syrupy-sweet voice, as loud as if she'd been shouting inside their minds. For a moment Tamlin fought himself, tried to step back further, to get away.

The twist of pain in his shoulders hurt enough to make him grunt, and he stumbled onto his knees. Her magic threaded through every pore, that vanilla scent seeped into his nose until it was the only smell there was.

"Get up, Spring." Rhysand snapped. "It's not worth it. Focus on survival. Get through tonight, and the next night, and the night after that. If I can do this for fifty years, you can last for a few nights. And never stop planning for your way out."

"There isn't one," Tamlin said through numb lips, allowing himself to be dragged to his feet, moved into the bed. The mattress gave way invitingly underneath him as Rhys gently pushed him. He could feel the silk and fur and velvet of her sheets and blankets. Rhysand pushed him until his back rested against the headboard. He stared into Rhysand's face as one wrist was gently lifted above his head, trying to find some hint of his future in it. Rhysand was empty of expression, but his eyes were a wild shriek of pain.

The other High Lord's face was close to his, and Amarantha's orders murmured into the back of his mind. You're going to enjoy this. He felt himself stir, just a little, towards arousal, a sudden rush of blood between his legs, as Rhysand closed the shackles around his wrists.. He fought it back with a snarl of disgust.

Rhysand's eyes dropped, taking in the situation much more slowly than Tamlin thought strictly necessary, then drifted back up to meet his. "My beauty truly must be legendary," Rhysand smirked, the expression emptier than ever. "I told you she ensures that you enjoy it."

When Tamlin's furious eyes met his, the smirk gradually faded. Tamlin saw, for perhaps the first time in centuries, Rhysand making a genuine and unprotected expression. Worry for me. He wished just as quickly that he hadn't. Rhys leaned in, whispering into Tamlin's ear. "She hears everything. Learn to keep even your thoughts down. Just survive. If there's anything I know in the Night Court, it's ambition and scheming. You'll get out from under her, one day. We both will."

The silver cuffs flashed suddenly blue, and then the light faded again. They were molded expertly perfectly, to the size and shape of his wrists. Where the silver touched skin, he felt cold as ice. Tamlin understood snares in a whole new way. "She's dead, Rhys. This is all I am, now. There isn't any way out."

Rhysand gave him that same smug smile. "Not with that attitude, there isn't. I'll tell her you're ready."

"Do you have to announce it, Nightmare?" Tamlin snapped. "I don't see why I have to be an animal on display-"

"That's what you are," Rhysand drawled, the protective sneer back on in a flash. His wings ruffled, almost. Like an animal going into a defensive crouch, Tamlin thought. "You are her animal. Her victory. Her display." He stood back up, brushing imaginary dust off one dark sleeve. He shouldn't be so pale, Tamlin thought. Fifty years of darkness would do that. He blinked, looking down at the shirt, baldric, and pants. At the boots. He thought of how Feyre would have considered the cost of each piece of fabric.

"I'm still wearing my-"

"She likes to cut them off," Rhysand snapped at him, pointing off to the side. Tamlin, knowing even as he did so that it was a mistake, looked. On a side table next to the bed lay yet another thing he'd been too distracted to notice. A double-ended dagger lay on the table. One end was a shimmering, sharpened silver. There was a space in the middle that seemed to be iron or some other, lesser metal. It had a grip carved into it. The other, where the hilt would normally be, was simple wood, narrowed and sharpened to a deadly point.

Tamlin knew ash when he saw it.

Rhysand stalked away. When the door slammed behind the High Lord of the Court of Night, Tamlin was left alone, chained to her bed, feeling his body working hard to betray him.

He could see himself in the great mirror that hung over her vanity, dimly through the veil, and quickly looked away. As he shifted in the bed, trying to get into a position that did less to pull the fabric of his pants so tightly over the maddening, stubbornly developing arousal he was trying to ignore, the throbbing that grew each time he moved his wrists or tried to shift position or, Cauldron forbid, actually thought about Rhysand chaining him to the wall above the bed (how does she control even this, with an order?), some flicker of reflected light caught his eye above him. He looked up.

The entire top of the bed, on the inside, was one large piece of mirrored glass.

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dfroza · 3 years

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Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for july 22 of 2021 with Proverbs 22 and Psalm 22, accompanied by Psalm 33 for the 33rd day of Summer and Psalm 53 for day 203 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 22]

[How to Live a Life of Wisdom]

A beautiful reputation is more to be desired than great riches,

and to be esteemed by others is more honorable

than to own immense investments.

The rich and the poor have one thing in common:

the Lord God created each one.

A prudent person with insight foresees danger coming

and prepares himself for it.

But the senseless rush blindly forward

and suffer the consequences.

Laying your life down in tender surrender before the Lord

will bring life, prosperity, and honor as your reward.

Twisted and perverse lives are surrounded by demonic influence.

If you value your soul, stay far away from them.

Dedicate your children to God

and point them in the way that they should go,

and the values they’ve learned from you will be with them for life.

If you borrow money with interest,

you’ll end up serving the interests of your creditors,

for the rich rule over the poor.

Sin is a seed that brings a harvest;

you’ll reap a heap of trouble with every seed you plant.

For your investment in sins pays a full return—

the full punishment you deserve!

When you are generous to the poor,

you are enriched with blessings in return.

Say goodbye to a troublemaker and you’ll say goodbye

to quarrels, strife, tension, and arguments,

for a troublemaker traffics in shame.

The Lord loves those whose hearts are holy,

and he is the friend of those whose ways are pure.

God passionately watches over

his deep reservoir of revelation-knowledge,

but he subverts the lies of those who pervert the truth.

A slacker always has an excuse for not working—

like “I can’t go to work. There’s a lion outside!

And murderers too!”

Sex with an adulteress is like falling into the abyss.

Those under God’s curse jump right in to their own destruction.

Although rebellion is woven into a young man’s heart,

tough discipline can make him into a man.

There are two kinds of people headed toward poverty:

those who exploit the poor

and those who bribe the rich.

[Sayings of the Wise Sages]

Listen carefully and open your heart.

Drink in the wise revelation that I impart.

You’ll become winsome and wise

when you treasure the beauty of my words.

And always be prepared to share them at the appropriate time.

For I’m releasing these words to you this day,

yes, even to you, so that your living hope

will be found in God alone,

for he is the only one who is always true.

Pay attention to these excellent sayings of three-fold things.

For within my words you will discover true and reliable revelation.

They will give you serenity so that you can reveal

the truth of the word of the one who sends you.

Never oppress the poor

or pass laws with the motive of crushing the weak.

For the Lord will rise to plead their case

and humiliate the one who humiliates the poor.

Walk away from an angry man

or you’ll embrace a snare in your soul

by becoming bad-tempered just like him.

Why would you ever guarantee a loan for someone else

or promise to be responsible for someone’s debts?

For if you fail to pay you could lose your shirt!

The previous generation has set boundaries in place.

Don’t you dare move them just to benefit yourself.

If you are uniquely gifted in your work,

you will rise and be promoted.

You won’t be held back—

you’ll stand before kings!

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 22 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 22]

A Prophetic Portrait of the Cross

For the Pure and Shining One

David’s song of anguish

For the worship leader. A song of David to the tune “Deer of the Dawn.”

My God, my God, why have You turned Your back on me?

Your ears are deaf to my groans.

O my God, I cry all day and You are silent;

my tears in the night bring no relief.

Still, You are holy;

You make Your home on the praises of Israel.

Our mothers and fathers trusted in You;

they trusted, and You rescued them.

They cried out to You for help and were spared;

they trusted in You and were vindicated.

But I am a worm and not a human being,

a disgrace and an object of scorn.

Everyone who sees me laughs at me;

they whisper to one another I’m a loser; they sneer and mock me, saying,

“He relies on the Eternal; let the Eternal rescue him

and keep him safe because He is happy with him.”

But You are the One who granted me life;

You endowed me with trust as I nursed at my mother’s breast.

I was dedicated to You at birth;

You’ve been my God from my mother’s womb.

Stay close to me—

trouble is at my door;

no one else can help me.

I’m surrounded by many tormenters;

like strong bulls of Bashan, they circle around me with their taunts.

They open their mouths wide at me

like ravenous, roaring lions.

My life is poured out like water,

and all my bones have slipped out of joint.

My heart melts like wax inside me.

My strength is gone, dried up like shards of pottery;

my dry tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth;

You lay me in the dust of death.

A throng of evil ones has surrounded me

like a pack of wild dogs;

They pierced my hands and ripped a hole in my feet.

I count all my bones;

people gawk and stare at me.

They make a game out of dividing my clothes among themselves;

they cast lots for the clothes on my back.

But You, O Eternal, stay close;

O You, my help, hurry to my side.

Save my life from violence,

my sweet life from the teeth of the wild dog.

Rescue me from the mouth of the lion.

From the horns of the wild oxen, You responded to my plea.

I will speak Your Name to my brothers and sisters

when I praise You in the midst of the community.

You who revere the Eternal, praise Him—

descendants of Jacob, worship Him;

be struck with wonder before Him, all you children of Israel.

He’s not put off

by the suffering of the suffering one;

He doesn’t pretend He hasn’t seen him;

when he pleaded for help, He listened.

You stir my praise in the great assembly;

I will fulfill my vows before those who humble their hearts before Him.

Those who are suffering will eat and be nourished;

those who seek Him will praise the Eternal.

May your hearts beat strong forever!

Those from the farthest reaches of the earth will remember

and turn back to look for the Eternal;

All the families of the nations

will worship You.

The Eternal owns the world;

He exercises His gentle rule over all the nations.

All the wealthy of the world will eat and worship;

all those who fall in the dust will bow before Him,

even the life that is headed to the grave.

Our children will serve Him;

future generations will hear the story of how the Lord rescued us.

They will tell the generations to come

of the righteousness of the Lord,

of what He has done.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 22 (The Voice)

[Psalm 33]

Release your heart’s joy in sweet music to the Eternal.

When the upright passionately sing glory-filled songs to Him, everything is in its right place.

Worship the Eternal with your instruments, strings offering their praise;

write awe-filled songs to Him on the 10-stringed harp.

Sing to Him a new song;

play each the best way you can,

and don’t be afraid to be bold with your joyful feelings.

For the word of the Eternal is perfect and true;

His actions are always faithful and right.

He loves virtue and equity;

the Eternal’s love fills the whole earth.

The unfathomable cosmos came into being at the word of the Eternal’s imagination, a solitary voice in endless darkness.

The breath of His mouth whispered the sea of stars into existence.

He gathers every drop of every ocean as in a jar,

securing the ocean depths as His watery treasure.

Let all people stand in awe of the Eternal;

let every man, woman, and child live in wonder of Him.

For He spoke, and all things came into being.

A single command from His lips, and all creation obeyed and stood its ground.

The Eternal cripples the schemes of the other nations;

He impedes the plans of rival peoples.

The Eternal’s purposes will last to the end of time;

the thoughts of His heart will awaken and stir all generations.

The nation whose True God is the Eternal is truly blessed;

fortunate are all whom He chooses to inherit His legacy.

The Eternal peers down from heaven

and watches all of humanity;

He observes every soul

from His divine residence.

He has formed every human heart, breathing life into every human spirit;

He knows the deeds of each person, inside and out.

A king is not delivered by the might of his army.

Even the strongest warrior is not saved by his own strength.

A horse is not the way to victory;

its great strength cannot rescue.

Listen, the eye of the Eternal is upon those who live in awe of Him,

those who hope in His steadfast love,

That He may save them from the darkness of the grave

and be kept alive during the lean seasons.

We live with hope in the Eternal. We wait for Him,

for He is our Divine Help and Impenetrable Shield.

Our hearts erupt with joy in Him

because we trust His holy name.

O Eternal, drench us with Your endless love,

even now as we wait for You.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 33 (The Voice)

[Psalm 53]

For the worship leader. A contemplative song of David. A song for the dance.

The foolish are convinced deep down that there is no God.

Their souls are polluted, and they commit gross injustice.

Not one of them does good.

From heaven the one True God examines the earth

to see if any understand the big picture,

if any seek to know the True God.

All have turned back to their wicked ways; they’ve become totally perverse.

Not one of them does good,

not even one.

Do the wicked relish their ignorance,

the wicked ones who consume My people as if they were bread

and fail to call upon the True God?

They trembled with great fear,

though they’d never been afraid before,

Because the True God ravaged the bones of those who rose against you.

You humiliated them because the True God spat them out.

Oh, that the liberation of Israel would come out of Zion!

When the True God reclaims His people,

let Jacob celebrate; let Israel rejoice.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 53 (The Voice)

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chasmfriend · 7 years

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What do you do with accumulated pain? How do you handle being in the world, making mistakes, hurting, and being hurt?

Every character in Oathbringer is trying to find ways of dealing with pain. Some are avoidant, some crushed under shame and guilt, some functioning through dark depression, and some figuring out how to take the next step and move on. Seeing their journeys, their missteps and their triumphs, was my favorite part of reading this book.

I promised a post to balance against my negative reactions to Oathbringer. Here are the things I truly loved about that storming book (very long) after the break.

As I’ve dealt with my own issues of denial and avoidance, and slowly learned to face things rather than run from them and pretend they don’t exist, I have eased off of Shallan. I used to resent her for not taking more positive steps, for feeding her unwillingness to come to terms with her past. But she made some strides forward.

Her fracturing of her self was concerning, but I loved it. I was so glad her deep issues weren’t all wrapped up nicely after WoR. She thinks she is all of her personas, and even though they might be based on aspects of her, they are still all covers. They help her hide and deflect. She has not yet embraced the scared little girl she actually is. She may not for some time yet. Shallan has a rough road ahead of her.

I’ve criticized her interactions with Wit, though I think what he did and said were generally perfect. He spoke many cutting and necessary truths. Shallan won’t be able to absorb all of it, though it will set her in the right direction.

“It’s not really her fault, but she’s still worthless.”

Shallan’s self-loathing, even while in the same breath saying that she didn’t cause her brokenness, hit me hard. She doesn’t let many people see how deeply she rejects herself. That quote above is said with “sneering.” She thinks she should have been better, somehow.

Wit stepped over to Shallan, then quietly folded his arms around her. She trembled, then twisted, burying her face in his shirt.

“You’re not a monster, Shallan,” Wit whispered.

Wit understands. He knows what she fears and what she needs to hear.

“Your other minds take over,” he whispered, “because they look so much more appealing. You’ll never control them until you’re confident in returning to the one who birthed them. Until you accept being you.”

How can she be “confident in returning to the one who birthed them”? Only if she likes that person. Only if she is comfortable with who that person is.

“For in you, I see a woman more wonderful than any of the lies.”

The flawed but genuine person is always better than the ‘perfect’ cover. The painful truth is better than a beautiful lie. You can love and connect to a real person. You cannot love a cover. Shallan has not learned this yet; she thinks her covers are actually more valuable than her true self.

“The longer you live, the more you fail.”

Let’s talk about failure. Let’s talk about Kaladin, and Teft, and Elhokar, and Renarin.

Kaladin, for all his limitations, really shines in Oathbringer. He hasn’t escaped his depression, but he hasn’t let that stop him from becoming a capable Radiant. He went to Hearthstone a changed man, assertive and confident, but still Kaladin. He gets set in his own thinking. He misunderstands. For example, he believes that Laral needs to be saved from Roshone, and is sure she is mistaken when she doesn’t agree with him. He has grown, but retains his stubborn overprotectiveness and idealism.

After Elhokar, Kaladin is reeling. This loss is the failure he feared. He had been so determined to protect Elhokar, to save Dalinar’s Tien.

“Kaladin’s not well,” she said.

“I have to be well,” Kaladin said, his voice hoarse as he climbed back to his feet.

And then:

“I survived Bridge Four,” Kaladin growled. “I’m strong enough to survive this.”

This reaction is so different from how he’s responded before. He’s trying to be better. We see more of his familiar struggle with his demons in his POV:

You’re just looking for something to latch on to. Something to feel.

Because the darkness was coming.

It fed off the pain of defeat, the agony of losing men he’d tried to protect. [...]

Get out, Kaladin thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Get out, get out, get out!

It would continue until numbness seemed preferable. Then that numbness would claim him and make it hard to do anything at all. It would become a sinking, inescapable void from within which everything looked washed out. Dead. [...]

Were these his only two options? Pain or oblivion?

Fight it.

From Adolin’s perspective, those first two quotes, Kaladin is plenty strong and capable. Inside his own head, Kaladin is fighting something incredibly tough, and barely keeping himself from losing. He is precariously balanced against a darkness that will overwhelm him if he doesn’t work every moment to keep it at bay, and it’s only a matter of time before it consumes him. That is the hopelessness of trying to battle against depression.

You would think that I would want every success for Kaladin, You’d think I’d be cheering him on to victory at every step. Yet I am so, so glad he didn’t say the Fourth Ideal. Let me see if I can explain.

In Kaladin’s perspective, failure is inevitable. He might not say that he’s cursed, though part of him still believes it. In spite of that, he has an idealist streak: he pushes himself to be perfect. To protect people. To save everyone. (That type of all-or-nothing goal is part of why failure is inevitable for him, but I won’t go into that too deeply here. One initial “failure” made him want to prevent anything like that from ever happening again, but that wasn’t in his control (stupid free agency) and that failure spurred him into guilt and more idealism, and so on...)

Everyone says I will swear the Fourth Ideal soon, and in so doing, earn my armor. I simply don’t think that I can. Am I not supposed to want to help people?

--From drawer 10-12, sapphire

The Third Ideal meant standing up for anyone, if needed, But who decided what was “right”? Which side was he supposed to protect?

The Fourth Ideal was unknown to him, but the closer he drew to it, the more frightened he became.

The Fourth Ideal is something particularly difficult for those who want to protect others. I don’t have a guess about specifics, but it seems to be something related to...self-preservation?

You know what you need to do.

“I...can’t,” Kaladin finally whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I can’t lose him, but...oh, Almighty...I can’t save him.”

He couldn’t say those Words.

He wasn’t strong enough.

And later:

Storms, he could be down on himself sometimes. Was that the flaw that had prevented him from speaking the Words of the Fourth Ideal?

He knew the Words. He also knew he couldn’t say them and mean them.

Kaladin is sincere about his commitments. Combined with how deeply he feels his failures, how familiar the sense of not meeting some standard is to him, makes these moments of him not yet able to swear the next Ideal feel more like a triumph than a failure. When you’re not ready for the next step, it’s fine. Not being ready is not exactly a failure anyway. Kaladin accepts where he is. He’ll keep moving forward, and when he can meet the challenge of the Fourth Ideal, he will say the Words. That time is not yet.

I thought I’d be ready to talk about Elhokar, but I guess that’s a challenge I’m not ready to take on yet. Another time.

Shallan fears her value and makes up for it by creating aspects she believes are better than her true self. Kaladin fears he won’t be good enough but consistently tries to prove his worth, at great risk and often against impossible odds. I’d argue that no one feels more worthless than Teft does.

Teft doesn’t believe in his worth. He doesn’t deflect the pain through denial or repeatedly try to prove himself. He has completely despaired.

You’re already a shame to the crew, Teft, and you know it, he thought. You’re a godless waste of spit.

Oh, Teft. So focused on his weaknesses that he doesn’t see anything else. He sees his pain and his addiction, and nothing else.

He doesn’t admit his capable command, his support of the crew, or his determination to face the truth, even when it hurts. He doesn’t give himself any credit for what he does right.

I want to mention how wonderful Bridge Four is. When they find Teft in the firemoss den, they express anger not at Teft but at the den keeper. Rock wants to beat the guy with his own torn-off limbs, Kaladin insults him as he pays Teft’s debts. They show only care for Teft.

Storms, they were good men. Better friends than he deserved. They were all growing into something grand, while Teft…Teft just stayed on the ground, looking up.

And all he can think of is that he doesn’t deserve it. He keeps shooing away the spren who lingers by him, waiting for him to take the next step.

“Can you see it, Teft?” the spren whispered. “Can you feel the Words?”

“I’m broken.”

“Who isn’t? Life breaks us, Teft. Then we fill the cracks with something stronger.”

“I make myself sick.”

“Teft,” she said, a glowing apparition in the darkness, “that’s what the Words are about.”

And then he says the Third Ideal, swearing in his self-loathing to protect himself. Of all the journeys in this book, Teft’s is maybe the most human. He hasn’t conquered his demons, hasn’t yet discovered his worth. He’s taken a small and very difficult step towards something better. He isn’t healed. He doesn’t see his own value or love himself. But he’s started the journey.

And this is already really long and I still need to talk about Renarin. I’ve been saving him because I have so much to say about that boy...I’ll give him his own post soon.

#oathbringer spoilers #more processing #life and failure and self-loathing #I love all of these characters so much #even when they don't love themselves #failure doesn't mean what we believe it does #this book is a gift #shallan #kaladin #teft #stormlight archive #cosmere #character analysis

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enterinit · 4 years

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New Xbox One Games for March 24 to 27

New Xbox One Games for March 24 to 27.

Freedom Finger (March 24)

A music driven, side-scrolling shooter that sends you blasting across 40 levels of crazy cartoon action. Starring Nolan North, John DiMaggio, and Sam Riegel with music from Aesop Rock, Red Fang, Metz, Power Trip, Com Truise, and many more!

Moons of Madness (March 24)

A mysterious signal has been recorded coming from the red planet. The message confounded Orochi scientists. Their analysts broke it down and determined it was of intelligent origin. Orochi management immediately concluded that the discovery was too sensitive for public knowledge and moved to keep it hidden. In secret, the corporation began construction of Trailblazer Alpha, a state-of-the-art Mars research outpost designed to identify the true nature of the message. You are Shane Newehart, an engineer stationed at Trailblazer Alpha and your security clearance means you are completely unaware of the existence of the mysterious signal. Your job is simply to keep the lights on until the transport ship Cyrano arrives bringing with it a new team to take over your duties. Soon you discover strange and unusual setbacks. Crucial systems are malfunctioning, the greenhouse is filled with a strange mist and the rest of your team has yet to return from their EVA mission. Things are starting to fall apart. You begin seeing and hearing things that aren’t there. Visions, hallucinations – or is that even what it is? Is this real… or are you slowly descending into madness? Experience true cosmic horror With your only hope of rescue hundreds of thousands of miles away, you will be forced to explore the real-world fears of isolation and paranoia, enhanced with supernatural elements and cosmic horror. Terrifying visions and monstrous apparitions will make you question what is real and what is not as the very fabric of reality threatens to tear at the seams. Explore the darker side of Mars Navigate a functioning Mars base in a game that uses non-fiction elements to immerse players in a believable setting. Overcome obstacles using computers, electrical systems, rovers, solar panels and more, then go beyond the outpost and explore the darker side of Mars. Moons of Madness draws upon the rich lore and mythology of Funcom’s Secret World Legends. Both games exist in the same thematic universe, but playing one is not a prerequisite to enjoy the other. https://youtu.be/8RPGUHMrjE0

Bleeding Edge (March 24)

Team Up. Cause Chaos. Grab your team and tear it up in Bleeding Edge, an electrifying online brawler where every fighter comes mechanically enhanced for mayhem! Choose your fighter from a diverse cast of colourful characters from the edges of society: burn rubber as bold and beautiful Buttercup with her detachable saw blade arms, wreak havoc as Black-Metal rocker Niđhöggr with his electrifying guitar solos or slash up the streets as Daemon, New York’s most wanted assassin. Come. Join us. The cybernetic clash of the century is about to begin! NO STOPPING US Synergise with your teammates to become an unstoppable force in the face of your enemies – freeze foes in time, control minds, ride missiles and unleash electrifying guitar solos in exhilarating action combat that rewards technique, timing and teamwork. TREACHEROUS TERRAIN Use your environment to your advantage with deadly arena hazards and gain the upper hand in moments of chaos. Yank opponents into a high voltage electric fence with Buttercup’s saw blade. Charge enemy aggressors into the path of an oncoming train with Makutu’s shoulder barge. Trap careless enemies within Maeve’s magical cage and light a raging fire beneath their very feet. MOD YOUR COMBAT, SHOW YOUR STYLE Power up your fighters' weapons and abilities from a vast arsenal of cybernetic parts, all earnable through gameplay. Customise your hoverboard mounts to ride with style across the vibrant cyberpunk arenas of Bleeding Edge. https://youtu.be/SmZzFaXjtgE

Element Space (March 24)

Assemble an elite crew and make allies to combat a shadowy organization threatening the future of humanity. As Captain Christopher Pietham, lead your crew into battle and save humanity from extinction! Travel to the far reaches of spaces, recruit allies, gather equipment, and combat deadly enemies as you strategically maneuver your squad, utilize cover, flank your enemies, and combine your companions’ skills and unique abilities for deadly effect.

Yu-Gi-Oh! Legacy of the Duelist: Link Evolution (March 24)

Experience over 20 years of Yu-Gi-Oh! history with Yu-Gi-Oh! Legacy of the Duelist: Link Evolution! Build your deck from over 9,000 cards and take on the most iconic duelists from the Yu-Gi-Oh! universe. Relive the stories from the original animated series and challenge the newest generation of Duelists from the virtual world of Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS!

Wartile (March 24)

Experience a living, breathing tabletop video game that invites the player into a miniature universe full of small adventures set in beautifully handcrafted diorama battle boards inspired by Norse mythology to honor the Vikings! Wartile is a cool-down based game that keeps the action flowing, with ample opportunities to plan your moves. Although it contains the strategic elements from turn-based games, a mixture of slow down features and cool-down based gameplay maintains the tension of battle while allowing for breathing room to make tactical decisions. At its heart, Wartile is a game about positioning and tactical decision making. https://youtu.be/sg_v4R_-pV8

Deep Sky Derelicts: Definitive Edition (March 24)

In a grim dystopian future, where mankind has scattered across the galaxy and human society has split into two distinct classes, you’re a poor stateless outcast forced to live off scraps from derelict alien stations and ships in outer space. Experience Deep Sky Derelicts in its definitive edition, which brings together the base game and its two DLC, New Prospects and Station Life.

Duck Souls+ (March 25)

A fast-paced, action platformer about a little duck with an incredible skill to dash and a mission: find all the eggs to save his species. Set in a cute and deadly fantasy world, where many traps will rip your wings off your body while you struggle to grasp the frail, fragile egg. Run, jump, and dash through a colourful and treacherous environment to save everyone and become a hero… if you can.

Ara Fell: Enhanced Edition (March 26)

"Long, long ago, the elven sorcerers cast a spell to save the floating world of Ara Fell from destruction. Instead, they doomed it to fall from the sky. By chance, the fate of the world has been placed in the hands of a young woman. Join her as she and her friends endeavor against all odds to save their homeland, all while the clock ticks ever nearer the final hour..." Ara Fell: Enhanced Edition combines the best parts of Japanese-style roleplaying games with the best parts of western RPGs, as well as including elements of visual novels and adventure games to create a truly unique experience. Atmosphere, emotion and surprise lie at the forefront of Ara Fell's story, driven by deep and accessible characters, each with his or her own past, their own desires and their own motivations for joining Lita's quest. Relive the golden age of the RPG with a game that both pays homage to the past greats, as well as blazing its own trail. Features: EXPLORATION - Ara Fell is a world meant to be explored! Jump, crawl, swim and even fly through the air to solve puzzles and discover new locations filled with hidden treasure, secrets and adventure!OPEN WORLD - Most of the world can be explored from the moment you leave Aloria Village, the heroine's home town... provided, of course, you're strong enough.TACTICAL COMBAT - Ara Fell may be a story-heavy game, but the world is still fraught with danger. Choose specialized equipment and statistics, customizing each character to best suit yourplay style.CHARACTER DRIVEN - Ara Fell's heroine sets on her quest to save her homeland, and discovers a world of vibrant characters. Friends and villains alike are not who they seem as the stakes grow higher... https://youtu.be/IhF32kU1Kf0

Borderlands 3: Guns, Love, and Tentacles (March 26)

The only thing more precious than loot is love. It’s time for a joyous celebration now that Sir Alistair Hammerlock and Wainwright Jakobs have announced their upcoming nuptials. The adventurous couple has invited you and your fellow Vault Hunters to a surprisingly dangerous engagement party, hosted on the planet of Xylourgos where a gargantuan monster lies frozen above a decrepit village. Part of the Borderlands 3: Season Pass.

Mekorama (March 26)

Guide the adorable robot “B” to safety after he crash lands on a strange cubic planet. Explore each level, rotating it in 3D to see all sides, looking for a way through to the goal. 100 varied levels continuously toss up new surprises that you’ll never know what to expect.

Bears Can’t Drift (March 17)

Put your paw to the floor and power slide between the pines as you face-off against up to three friends in multiplayer split screen. Including twelve tracks spread across three worlds and three game modes with up to eleven computer-controlled opponents, Bears Can’t Drift!? is retro karting action with a modern look and feel. Features: Old school karting feel12 different tracks to master3 unique hub worlds to exploreUp to 4 player split-screen8 different pick-ups to useSurprisingly skilled bears! https://youtu.be/6prNK9JrKBg

Bite the Bullet (March 27)

Run, Gun and Eat your way through this roguelite RPG shooter. In a world where every enemy is edible, what you eat and how much you eat drives everything from your waistline to branching skill trees to weapon crafting (in your stomach, of course). Shoot fast. Eat big. Satisfy your appetite for destruction.

Gigantosaurus: The Game (March 27)

Explore and race across the prehistoric world of Gigantosaurus. This Disney dino tale is part saving the world, part super race, and all giant fun! Rocky, Tiny, Mazu and Bill have scary problems – like the meteor that’s blocked up Giganto’s volcano! Only you and your dino friends can dare to solve puzzles and save the day – but you might need Giganto’s powers too! And the end of each story is the start of a super rally to the next zone. Will you be the most roarsome adventurer or the fastest racer? Features: Join dino buddies Rocky, Tiny, Mazu and Bill on a daring quest to help Giganto and escape extinctionHop in your race kart for a super rally to reach the next adventure zone and find out who’s the fastest dinosaurYou and up to 3 friends can control your favorite dino and create co-operative adventures together

One Piece: Pirate Warriors 4 (March 27)

The PIRATE WARRIORS series has successfully combined the popular anime ONE PIECE with the thrilling action of the WARRIORS series to create a worldwide phenomenon selling more than four million copies! Based on the concept of "fighting hordes of enemies while adventuring with trusted allies," experience awesome ONE PIECE action lifted straight from the anime! ONE PIECE: PIRATE WARRIORS 4 is the latest evolution of PIRATE WARRIORS action! Based on the concept of "experiencing a real ONE PIECE battlefield," buildings will come crashing down during the action and attacks will throw up smoke and dust, placing you in the thick of the ONE PIECE world! Injecting fresh elements that couldn't be achieved in previous entries has now realized an even more thrilling brand of PIRATE WARRIORS action! https://youtu.be/Fg-IchTd5Cc

Inops (March 27)

Explore the shadowy Mine, twisty Jungle and extra-terrestrial Elect-City but be careful of lurking dangers. Escape traps, solve puzzles and dodge enemies using the Inops ability to split into many little creatures or join into one big Inop whenever you wish. Use the environment to your advantage by using unique intractable components whilst guiding the Inops simultaneously. Get to the end of each level and save as many Inops as you can to avoid being lonesome. https://youtu.be/J5bv7cvhKwI

Children of Zodiarcs (March 27)

Story Professional thieves on the trail of an ancient relic, the group infiltrates the glittering halls of a corrupt noble’s private chambers in pursuit of their target, narrowly escaping the wrath of the city guards at every turn. Desperate to find an escape, they seek refuge in the city’s seamy slums and brave the sunless pits of the underworld. Out to get them are heavily armed city guards, rival gangs and psychotic families of subterranean cannibals. Abandoned by the system and used by selfish criminals, these young companions will be forced to come to terms with their own reality. But be warned - in the world of Children of Zodiarcs, no one escapes unscathed! Features: Combat Cards - Each of your party members’ attacks & abilities are bound to combat cards. Drawing different cards during battle provides you with ever changing combat possibilities every time you fight!Empower Cards through Dice - Once you’ve chosen your attack, physics based dice allow you to roll for bonuses! Favoring symbols over numbers, these dice deliver attack, defence, healing, and special ability modifiers.Influencing Lady Luck - To add yet more layers of stratagem to Children of Zodiarcs, you can craft dice to favour your play style, and re-roll up to two dice every time you throw. You need not fear being at Lady Luck’s mercy!A World Full of Characters - Along the way you’ll come to learn about Nahmi - stolen from her homeland as a child, Brice - forced to survive on the mean streets of Torus; Zirchhoff - a charismatic bandit leader who employs young orphans to do his bidding: as well as many more mischief makers.Building Decks - Each playable character comes with their own customisable deck. This allows you to tailor their skillset to the types of attacks and abilities you want to have in your hand during the heat of combat.A Fully Orchestrated Score - Children of Zodiarcs’ music captures the feel of tactical RPG classics with its fully orchestrated soundtrack composed by the award winning team at Vibe Avenue.Join Nahmi and her team in a harrowing tale of the downtrodden’s struggle for survival in a world where mystical forces are overlooked; and the people in power are solely concerned with profit. Do you have what it takes to overthrow a corrupt system? https://youtu.be/bt7CkKtxmwQ Read the full article

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ruleandruinrpg · 7 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, SIDNEY!

You have been accepted for the role of RITA JAKOV. Admin Bree: The competition for Rita was tough, and our attention-loving tailor would smile to know it. But not as much as I smiled while reading your application, Sidney—really, it only got better with every word you wrote. It was your para samples that really sold me above all else, though, the way you portrayed her insecurities, vanity, and constant pursuit of perfection, ever-elusive. It was so intriguing to look inside her pretty little head and see what goes through it every time she looks in the mirror, and where it all began. This application was beautiful, so genuine I felt as though my Rita might jump off the page. Congratulations! You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER ALIAS: Sidney! PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She/her. AGE: Twenty. TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m in EST for the summer! I’ll have a lot of free time this summer since I’m home. I do have a part time job this season, but it is just that: part time! So it really shouldn’t interfere and I’ll certainly be able to check in daily and I’m usually always around to plot. As for when the fall semester starts, I go full time and work part time, but I’m usually pretty good at keeping up with things. I can usually respond to threads within 1-2 days and am usually always lurking lol. On a numerical scale, I’d say 7-9/10 in the summer and 6-8/10 during school semesters!

IN CHARACTER DESIRED CHARACTER: Rita Jakov. Rita - Short form of Margherita. In many languages, it translates literally to pearl, but most notably black pearl in Persian. Antonia - A name of Roman origin given to the women of the Antonius family. Literally translated, it means priceless, praiseworthy and beautiful. Jakov - A family name of many different origins, but most commonly referred to the Hebrew origins supplanter, or “to trip up or overthrow.”

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER? To be perfectly honest, Rita stole my heart from the moment I read her teaser. But I will admit, I was hesitant back then because there were so many lovely teasers being released and once bios dropped, I was swept away by so many different characters! But I’ve come to the conclusion that I was wrong to be apprehensive! She’s everything I could have wanted in a Grisha character. And there’s already so much development in her past that I’m really excited where the current events in the plot will take her! What stood out for me most was this quote: “—the type of woman who was loved by all who knew her but understood by none.” I’m not sure if I see a little of myself within Rita or if I’m simply one of the many who love her, but I want to explore her nonetheless. She’s soft and kind and gentle underneath it all—which is deeply rooted in her home life and the way she was raised—but her time at the Little Palace and around fellow Grisha has really shaped and molded the tough exterior she now sports.

A walking puzzle, doe-eyed and hopeful, she entered the Small Science late to the game, picked from the bunch last and she’d been treated as such. But it didn’t take her long to find her footing, to live greedily, to choose beauty above all else. And I think that’s what I find so interesting about her! Most characters who want to paint the world in watercolors, who want to remove all of the Earth’s blemishes, have a selfless ambition. They have a mission and it is to make the world a better place for everyone, but that simply is not Rita. She’s been spoiled rotten by her own abilities and so have those who dare to cover up their indiscretions with the flick of her wrist or the tug of her finger. And though some may call her obsessive, or shallow, or downright empty and see those qualities as a sign of weakness, I see it all as unprecedented and true strength. Even after years of trying desperately to offset and ultimately fix such savagery, with her delicate hands capable of contorting even the ugliest of beasts into magnificent beings (in other words, putting a mere bandaid onto a gunshot wound), the world has revealed itself for what it really is, ugly and wrought with pain. But if her time at the Little Palace has taught her anything, it is that the beauty she so wishes could cure disease and heal the wounded can corrupt just as wholly as darkness can.

There’s something so appealing to me about her. She’s a gentle soul with an affinity for the finer things in life, from what she reads to what she wears, and most importantly, how she looks. But waging a war against all things odious and vile and egregious, and claiming her cause as righteous one has left her disappointed, hollow, rotten. Perhaps it is time for her to embrace these monsters and this darkness; time for her to find the beauty in the pain and the elegance in destruction.

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND? ONE: Nothing gold can stay. It has taken Rita years to understand that beauty is temporary. It is a quick fix, a vain indulgence to cover up what truly lies beneath: rot. She was not raised to believe this; in fact, she was raised to be that quick fix, that vain indulgence. She was meant to be admired, but never really touched for all things lovely and charming seem to be the most vulnerable; they seem to bruise as easily as does a peach. And so she remained unattainable, just out of reach. Not out of fear, but necessity. Beauty is temporary, this she’s learned. But to those around her, it is demanded. I really love this quote from her bio: “monsters so love to be made to look as though they’re anything but.” It really resonates with me and gives me lots of thoughts on Rita as a person. I don’t want to change her; I love her the way she is: magnificent and dangerous with beauty literally resting at her fingertips, ready to be put to use, but she’s grown so much and not all for the better. In a way, I think she attributes a lot of the cruelty and pain she’s come to witness as her fault because what she offers does not last. It is almost as if she herself has become a drug, one she is not only addicted to (of which she will most likely never recover), but especially to those she’s tweaked and toned and tailored. And it is that very reason that I believe she’ll struggle with continuing on as this so-called magic wand of Ravka. They demand she erase their deformities away, but monstrousness always has a way of creeping back in even bigger and badder than before. So I’d love to explore the inner turmoil she will inevitably have. Simply put, all she’s ever wanted was to beautify all the ugliness she’s seen, only to discover beauty, something she can control, offer, and give willingly, can corrupt even the purest of things. And perhaps, it is time she take a good look in the mirror. Does she still see the same little girl who turned a village into a kingdom? Can she even recognize the face staring back at her? And more importantly, I want to find out what it means if the answers are no.

TWO: Superficial, at best. Shallow, vapid, vain—she has been called it all, and much, much worse. Hatred follows around the conventionally beautiful like a lion stalks a gazelle, strategically and thirsty for blood. Rita has always prided herself on her looks, that much is clear. Even before she left her home to join the Second Army, she saw beauty wherever she went. Whether it was pure imagination or wishful thinking, it did not stop her from charming elegance out of everyone and everything around her. Don’t you want to be beautiful? A young Rita would ask and the adults would laugh, tossing their heads back in admiration for the wildly imaginative Jakov girl, with long golden hair and perfectly sun-kissed cheeks. I would love to explore what lies underneath. There are so many layers to a girl like her, each one more complex than the rest, but she’s changed herself so much over the years, claiming each adjustment—each nip here, each tuck there—was done in the name is seeking absolute perfection. And she found it for a time. She became so achingly attractive, so superbly beautiful people almost feared her. They gazed at her from afar with a look one can only describe as wonder. And maybe that’s why she turned her efforts outward instead of in, choosing to perfect those around her as best she could. She’ll claim it was selfless, but a part of me wonders if she only did that so she’d be surrounded by beauty as well. But what are her true motivations? Does she even have any? Or are all her desires, her wants, her needs really that hollow? Some say beauty is skin deep and what matters is on the inside, but Rita has tweaked and remade and even created her skin more times than she can count, over and over, and each time is somehow more beautiful than the last. But what if that’s all she is? What if that is all she’s good for? As her bio states, she’s never fought in a real fight, never wielded a real weapon. I want to see her amount to more than just outer appearances. I want to know what’s underneath it all because, if one day, she is called to fight and she isn’t prepared, her treasured beauty will be the first thing to suffer. So I’d love to explore her maybe getting more physically strong, and learning a little about beauty as a strength within.

THREE: A lonely person. I hate to be that person who keeps going back and quoting the bio, but I can’t resist! “She became so beautiful it hurt.” This sentence alone, if it were all I had to describe Rita, I think it does it perfectly. If you throw away all the cliches—most notably: beauty is pain—and you focus on the meaning behind it, I think you’ll find Rita Jakov. I see her as a strike of lightning, wondrous and loud and capable of decimation. People look to her and gape; they stare; they lust after her; they long to have her, to own her, to be her. But for all the effort she puts into making other people happier with themselves, she cannot find happiness within. It is a lonely road, this one she’s walking down. It may be beautiful and pristine and lathered in honey and sweet-little-nothings from passersby, but at the end of the day, she is still alone. The moments she relishes, the ones she wishes would last an eternity are inevitably fleeting. So I would love to explore her desire for friendship, love, etc., wherever it may be found. And furthermore, I think her desire to find love, to be loved could be preyed upon, if you think about it. Rita has never been desperate; everything has come easily to her simply because of the advantages the conventionally attractive receive, but I believe she is the perfect candidate for some hardcore manipulation. She could easily get swept away in the affection from a person, believing it to be true. Deep down, I think she hopes for all the glances and stares to mean that people truly love her, but there’s such a monumental difference between love and adoration. The latter has kept her fed for so long now; for years she took praise and pocketed it. She held it close and revisited it any time the decay began to creep in. Perhaps it kept her sane, perhaps it is what drove her mad. But either way, it is all she can see now—in everywhere she looks, in everyone she sees. I would love to see and explore her lack of ability to relate to those around her. It is almost as if she has been wearing goggles since the day she was born. And for a while, all they showed her was the magnificence and grandeur she was capable of. But her vision has changed. Or more importantly, the world has demanded she see its truth. Her goggles have been forcibly cracked and putrefaction has settled in; and it is ravenous, this decay. It isolates her; makes her second guess herself; steals her confidence like a thief in the night. People: they have always been what she has loved most, but now they seem to only cause her pain and heartache. But I believe that longing companionship will remain. In fact, I think it is what will keep her grounded in these new uncharted waters of despair. As of right now, she seems to be trapped in a cage of destruction, alone and incapable of connecting with anyone, provided with only one weapon to defend herself: beauty. And so many others demand she use it constantly, and with reckless abandon. And they will take until nothing of her is left.

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?: Yes. It would probably depend on muse mostly, if I’ve lost it or something. And if it would help further along the plot!

IN DEPTH IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S): She watches her closely, taking note of her every move: the way her hand sits perfectly still as her fingers do all the magic; the way her mouth points downward, slightly agape whenever she touches up her eyes; the way each and every little thing she does makes her more perfect than the moment before. Rita has always thought her mother was beautiful, with hair as silky smooth as honey and perfect, unblemished olive skin. She has always been a sight for sore eyes, turning head wherever she goes—men, women, it made no difference. All eyes were on her.

“You’re beautiful, Mama,” a tiny little Rita gushes atop her mother’s lap, elbows resting atop the counter, eyes trained onto her face through the mirror. Her hands gently cupped at her tiny chin and she watched her mother, absolutely mesmerized.

“Thank you, baby,” she smiles, eyes never leaving her own reflection. She has a tiny jar resting between the index finger and the thumb of her left hand, and she dabs her middle finger into the maroon concoction. It stains her fingertip and Rita’s brows furrow with confusion.

“What’s that?” Disbelief is apparent in her tone, but it only elicits a light-hearted chuckle from her mother and a small shake of her head.

“Shadow. For the eyes,” she raises her arm and sweeps the tip of her finger gently along one of her eyelids, then does the same to the other. The color is now smeared along her skin and she pauses for a moment, only to wipe away the remaining color from her fingers. And then she returns to her lids, spreading the shadow smoothly, evenly until all that remains is a soft glow of red. Her green eyes pop against the contrast of the colors and Rita gasps.

“How did you do that?!” She whips her head around and gazes up with absolute wonder at her mother and her appearance, jealous of her beauty and wishing she could take it from her. Turning back, she faces the mirror and leans in, observing her own face and takes note of at least three shortcomings—something no nine year old girl should ever do.

“Here,” her mother interrupts her thoughts, gesturing for her to hop up onto the table. Rita does as is suggested and her mother leans to her left and rummages through her trunk. It’s filled with at least thirty jars of all different small shapes and sizes, each one a different color and texture, but all are complementary to her mother’s skin tone, of course.

“Let’s try…” she trails off as she searches, clinking and clanking within the box until she clicks her tongue and looks back to Rita, “this one.” It’s magenta, but more purple than pink and it’s reminiscent of Rita’s favorite dress in the way it shines when it hits the light.

Slowly and carefully, her mother executes the same routine she had done on herself, dipping her finger into the now uncorked jar and then sweeping it gently along Rita’s eyelids. She wipes away the remaining shade, but quickly returns to spread it out evenly. Rita sits as patiently as any child can when far too excited and her mother has to scold her at least three times before she finally does sit still.

They follow the same routine. First, her mother applies on herself, then chooses the perfect color for Rita. It is never a match, never the same colors. “Each woman has a different palette,” her mother grasps her wrist lightly and holds her arm up side-by-side to her own. “Your skin is much lighter than mine,” this time her tone hurts; it’s edgy and clipped and filled with a hint of jealousy. But Rita quickly excuses it away. Perhaps all women are jealous of one another, she thinks. Just as I was jealous of her moments earlier.

But it is a very dangerous thought, a dangerous way to excuse the bad behavior of a parent. No mother is ever supposed to resent their child, let alone scold their daughter for having fairer skin or being prettier. But Yekaterina Jakov was no ordinary mother, and she will do anything to make sure her daughter is no ordinary girl.

“Now, Rita, you mustn’t let anyone see you without your face.”

“Without my face?” The girl stares up at her mother, wide-eyed and quizzical. “But I always have my face.”

“No, Rita. This is your face,” her mother holds up her arm, encompassing the girl’s face entirely with her hand as she speaks. “This is what you show people. Nothing less than perfection.”

Rita turns back to look into the mirror, her eyes scanning every perfect corner of the visage staring back at her. She takes note in the purple on her eyelids, at the rose petal pink lacquered onto her plump lips, at the dark charcoal black outlining her azure hues. She didn’t look like herself; she was nearly unrecognizable, but at least she was beautiful.

—————

She sits in front of a mirror, her mirror, the one she uses every single day. And today is a day like any other. She rises early despite her protests, bathes and begins her morning routine, though it seems more like a ritual—like she’s praying to a deity. The god of beauty, but Rita is painfully unaware of the sacrifice Aphrodite demands: nothing too extravagant, only your soul. And so it starts with a tug here, a lift of her brow to give her more of a perfect arch, and it ends with a face she barely recognizes. But it’s one they will demand to see. They’ll gawk and stare and whisper as she walks past, secrets of lust or promises of hatred, it makes no difference. At least they will be discussing her. They’ll be envious of her beauty, of her grace and everything in between.

Tentatively, she reaches into the familiar wooden chest. It was her mother’s; a gift for her eighteenth birthday. She’d spent a fortune to send it to Rita, even left it filled with supplies, and now it was her most prized possession—aside from its contents, of course. But the sentiment behind the gift was left unanswered. Her letter had been left unanswered as well. It wasn’t that Rita couldn’t find the words; she knew exactly what she wanted to say to her mother if she had the chance. She wanted to yell and cry and scream. She wanted to blame her mother for it all, to rest the weight of the world’s transgressions atop her shoulders so Rita would no longer have to bear it alone. But the solution lies at the surface, not within. Simply, Rita did not want to waste her time. There would be no use in writing a nasty letter to the woman who left her ill prepared to face life; her efforts could be put to far better use. Her time was precious, highly sought after and she needn’t waste it on those she no longer cares about. As far as she’s concerned, both her parents have died.

Slowly, she twists the cap off of her new favorite shade: a subtle pink sherbet. But as she places the finishing touches atop her lids, a tiny thought pops into her head. This would look better if my eyes were green today. And it takes no more than that mere suggestion. She sets down the tiny jar, twists the cap back on and then focuses her fingertips attention toward her blue hues. But in time, and with a few blinks, the ocean calmly morphs into a beautiful pasture—subtle and serene and most importantly, green. That’s better, she thinks, a smile forming along her rosy lips. But there’s a tiny wrinkle in her nose whenever her reflection squints back at her. Quickly and with wild determination, she brushes away the small crease in her skin with the pad of her finger, a look in her eye as if she’s an artist laying magnificent waste to a fresh blank canvas. A few swipes of her paintbrush and the wrinkle vanishes completely.

It’s an uphill battle, this war against imperfection, but it is one she’s spent what feels like a lifetime waging—and winning. But it is dangerous, this ability she possesses. The ability to erase, to change, to intensify. Beauty lies in wait atop her fingertips, never truly admitting the immense power that comes along with such a form of defense. And those around her, those who wish to erase, wish to change, wish to intensify; they submit willingly, and Rita obliges them with absolute delight.

But what of herself? Who defends her against this beast she has created, this monster that lies within? No one ever warned her that the most dangerous enemy is yourself. It doesn’t show in the way she looks, the way she dresses, or even the way she carries herself. All they see is beauty, is perfection, is transcendence—so that is all she sees, too. She sits in front of this mirror, day-in and day-out. She adjusts, she tweaks, she changes completely. Each morning she rises, each day she is reborn anew. What remains? Nothing, she thinks. I am no one.

She sucks in a sharp breath and closes the box in front of her, locking it tightly and setting it into the drawer on her left. But she isn’t finished. She realizes this when her eyes land back on her reflection. Her hair, it glistens in the morning light; it shines as the trees whip in the wind, blocking the sun every now and then. But it doesn’t look perfect. Not with these brand new green eyes. Brown looks best with green, she thinks. Maybe a light chestnut. Slowly she reached into the top drawer to her right and retrieved a small brush made of bone. With the other she pulled out a familiar tiny jar filled with crushed cinnamon. Bringing the jar up and over the crown of her head, she tapped the side of it lightly, letting the light brown flakes descend atop her blonde hair. She follows this by running the brush through her curls, and the color bleeds from the flakes. It blends and molds into her natural hair color, changing right before her eyes until every last strand has been made anew.

Perfect, she thinks, but takes note of her brows once more, too light and mismatched to the color of her hair. A frustrated sigh escapes her slightly parted lips. And therein lies Rita’s biggest and longest lasting problem. Her work is never finished, and there always seems to be room for improvement. Perfection—which her mother always told her is of the utmost most importance—does not last. There will always be far more ugly than there is beauty.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS: 1. Rita is a Libra. Born September 27th on the precipice of fall. Strengths of Libras: cooperative, tactful, kind, giving and highly sociable. Weaknesses of Libras: Prone to self-pity, detest confrontations and/or fights, can carry a grudge and harbor unmentioned hatred quite easily. Being born under the air sign of Libra, it has bestowed upon Rita a great love of people, especially those who pique her interest. She loves when things go smoothly and appreciates the gentler things in life such as peace and harmony. She whole-heartedly detests violence and consequently injustice. Seeing those around her suffer has always brought her great pain and perhaps this is where her love of beautification and tailoring stems from.

2. Rita’s personality falls under that of the ENFP type, which makes her The Campaigner. “You can change the world with just an idea.” While this applies to many different people who fall under this same personality type, for Rita, it happens to be true. Her idea: douse the world in elegance and decadence. And for a while, she did just that. ENFPs are sociable creatures; they strive being the life of the party and the center of attention. Rita loves to be both. She must grab the attention of an entire room when she enters. And each person within that room must take an interest in her. Otherwise she has not succeeded. ENFPs struggle to connect with those around them, despite their craving for social interaction. This stems from their inability to see the world as anything but complex, like the hardest puzzle known to man, and Rita is determined to put it together—piece by disgusting piece. Rita also struggles with their emotions and compassion; deep down the two conflict immensely. But most importantly, ENFPs like Rita, spend so much time looking for a deeper meaning to life, to their existence, that they forget to enjoy what is happening around them. Though in Rita’s case, perhaps she’s spent too much time noticing, and therefore learned too much and lost a touch of her innocence—of her beauty—along the way.

3. Rita’s character alignment falls under that of neutral good. People that fall under such an alignment are people pleasers; they enjoy helping out those around them, from king’s to peasants, but remain indebted to none. Rita is exactly that. She has always believed, like most like-minded neutral good characters, that law & order are important just as chaos & order are too. And she believes one cannot exist without the other, but rather enjoys in indulging in any of them. Whether it be following the rules, or bending them to her whims; succumbing to an irresistible desire or denying one’s urges for the greater good, Rita has done it all. And she will again. What she does value however, is freedom above all else. She is a bird, meant to fly and to soar and to roam the earth passionately. But being the true neutral that she is, she always seeks to find a balance. To work hard and play hard.

4. A girl’s first true love is her father. Papa’s little angel, he would whisper softly. Even today, if Rita closes her eyes, relaxes her thoughts and takes a deep breath, she can almost feel his lips as they graze along her temple. She can feel his strong arms hook under her arms and lift her high above his head. If she concentrates hard enough, she can remember him. The way he smelled, like a gentle rain on a warm, sunny day. The way he felt, like a protector with arms made of steel. The way he loved, with his whole heart. But Rita can never remember his face; she can never see it when she closes her eyes. He is more of a blur rather than a memory, not a complete picture, but a perfect trope of a loving and caring father, if there ever truly was one. He died when she was very young, around four or so. And I attribute most of her issues, even if she claims to be and seemingly looks perfect. They say a father’s love is like no other, especially when it comes to men loving their daughter’s. A girl needs her father; she needs one man in her life that she can trust. If not, pretty little angels with hair as bright and as yellow as the sun do not turn riper with age. They turn rotten.

5. I am what you made me. Some say a girl’s best friend is her mother, and if Rita were asked, she would probably say just that. She’d claim she learned everything from her: how to dress, how to act, how to be. Her mother was her teacher, her guide post, and it was her responsibility to shape Rita into a fine young woman. And instead, she created a monster. A beast instilled with the belief that beauty is paramount and should be held in higher regard than anything else. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that she had to raise her all by herself, but something tells me Yekaterina Jakov couldn’t and wouldn’t have done any better. She sees Rita as the perfect girl; mysterious and beautiful: everything it took her far too long to figure out how to be. But everyone knew just how easily Yekaterina collected pretty things, hung them on a shelf and only admired them from afar. And after her father died, this left Rita with no other way to receive adoration or praise or love. One could single-handedly blame Rita for her vanity, her shallow heart, but they’d be remiss to overlook how big a hand her mother played in the woman she became. What sort of woman—what sort of person can you become when your mother treats you as if you are just another collectible? It has been years since she’s even seen her mother, not since she moved to the Little Palace, but still, she’s developed a strong hatred for her the more ugliness she sees, and distantly, if she spends too much time lingering on the fleeting thought of her mother, she wishes Yekaterina had better prepared her for the world instead of handling her with gloves meant to only hold delicate things; it didn’t prepare her for reality.

6. Likes: Rita loves the smell of fresh flowers, the taste of a sweet wine and the warmth of the afternoon sunlight on her face. She has an obsession with lace and silk, specifically the way the latter feels against her skin. Her favorite color is purple, especially when paired with greens and yellows.

7. Dislikes: Rita detests waking up early, favoring as much beauty sleep as she can get. She hates the way it sounds when people chew with their mouth open, even more so if they begin to speak. Getting dirty, sweating and the stench that follows are just a few of her least favorite things, as well as any sort of physical training or activities. Not to say she’s lazy, but over exertion is not something she enjoys. And lastly, she cannot stand cheap fabric or bad fashion sense.

8. Romance & sexuality: I know it has been explicitly stated that Rita is pansexual, and while I love that despite her vanity and obsession with how things look, she can look beyond a person’s looks and decidedly find someone attractive based on pure personality, I still think Rita’s sexuality and her experience regarding sex is something that should be explored. Has she ever had sex? I don’t think she has. She may have had encounters of sexual nature, but they have never reached their full potential, so to speak. Perhaps it is difficult for her to give herself wholly to someone the way one must while having sex, or maybe she’s saving herself, waiting for the right person to come along. And in reference to my last plot point, I think it’d be interesting if her first time was given to someone under the ruse of love. Yet another piece of her stolen and tarnished and given back mangled: her heart. And furthermore, Rita’s heart is severely entangled with her sexual desire, and quite possibly cannot engage in one without the other.

EXTRAS: I didn’t have all the time in the world, but I’m just gonna put a few quotes and things here that remind me of Rita! I would have made a mockblog, but again, not enough time. :/

Quotes that inspired me for Rita: “Her eyes were pearls, which gave her great beauty, but meant she was blind. Her world was the colour of pearls: pale white and pink, and softly glowing.” - Neil Gaiman (x)

“Beauty is transformed over time and not without destruction.” - Terry Tempest Williams

“How soft and gentle her name sounds when I whisper it. It lingers on the tongue, insidious and slow, almost like poison, which is apt indeed. It passes from the tongue to the parched lips, and from the lips back to the heart.” - Daphne du Maurier (x)

“It’s hard to show people everything, you know? You never know what they’ll do with it once they have it.” - Nick Burd (x)

“They won’t tell you fairy tales of how girls can be dangerous and still win. They will only tell you stories where girls are sweet and kind and reject all sin. I guess to them it’s a terrifying thought, a red riding hood who knew exactly what she was doing when she invited the wild in.” - Nikita Gill (x)

“I burn, I freeze; I am never warm. I am rigid; I forgot softness because it did not serve me.” - Catherine M. Valente (x)

Gifs and such that inspired me for Rita: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

ANYTHING ELSE? Thank y’all for even reading ANOTHER app from me tbh! Love + appreciate y’all so much and I’m just so happy I got to dive into Rita as well. Oh, also! My fave book is Catcher in the Rye.

#raraccepted #accepted: rita

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azems-familiar · 7 years

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Starlight on her Lips Part One

Victorian/regency era AU (three parts) for femslash February which is now in March but shhh whatever. Rose Tyler x Idris, with Eleven and a modified Melody Pond and Jenny--other characters to come in later (Jackie and Pete are here of course). A bit strange, but I hope you enjoy!

Idris Smythe is a rather… odd young woman. Everyone, no matter their opinions regarding other, more controversial, matters, agrees with such a statement. And where to start? With the curly dark hair she simply refuses to tame, her wide and wild eyes, and that almost palpable wrongness about her, as though something in her mind doesn’t work quite correctly. Really, it is through no fault of the Lady Smythe that her daughter runs with her skirts at her knees and climbs trees and follows her elder brother around like a puppy. Idris doesn’t care about everyone. She has her brother and she has her Rose, and that is all that matters.

The first time they meet is on Rose’s eighteenth birthday. Lord Peter Tyler of the Powell Estate hosted (at the... request of his wife) a lavish celebration upon the occasion of his only daughter’s coming-of-age--the perfect excuse for the Lady Jacqueline to invite the other two most powerful families with of-age sons: the Saxons and the Smythes. Lord Jonathon Smythe of the Gallifrey Estate is the second-richest man in the entire kingdom, second only to Lord Tyler himself. According to the Lady Tyler, twenty-three year-old Matthew Smythe is an excellent match.

Rose has been listening to Lady Jacqueline natter on about this Matthew all day, and she is about ready to refuse to attend the ball at all. But that would upset her mother, and when Jacqueline Tyler is upset the entire household is upset--and that is not a thing Rose would wish upon her dear father. It would be absolutely horrid of her to cause Peter such trouble on her birthday. And Rose really does hate causing her father trouble. So she sits in silence as the maid pins her golden hair in place and effectively ignores Jackie’s babble. The party has been in full swing for nearly an hour when Jackie finally stops chattering about Matthew Smythe’s suitability (apparently he’s quite handsome as well as being wealthy) and tells Rose she’s ready. “Come, my dear, you look stunning,” Jackie exclaims, hovering around Rose. “Oh, they’ll love you. Peter thinks you should be introduced to that young politician, Harold Saxon, but his family doesn’t even own a proper estate,” she prattles on, straightening her powder-pink and cream gown. “I don’t understand the allure of a politician, in any case. They’re slimy liars, each and every one of them.” “Mother!” Rose reprimands, horrified--she hardly knows Harold Saxon, it’s entirely improper to accuse him of being a liar. “Well, it’s true,” Jackie defends. “Come on, let’s go.” The rest of the night is mostly a blur; a haze of dances and wine and laughter with a few clear moments. Rose meets Harold Saxon, a young blonde with a smile dripping with lies and laughter like shattered glass and something dark and twisted in his eyes, first. He takes her hand and turns it over and kisses her wrist, lingers there for a moment, and she yanks her hand away and resists the urge to slap him. “I will not court Harold Saxon,” Rose tells her father immediately after. “And I never wish to see him again.” “It will be so,” Pete says with a nod. She dances with others, her friends Martha and Mickey and even posh Reinette, and then Jackie comes up to her and pulls her aside and there are two people waiting for her. Jackie vanishes. The well-dressed young man with floppy dark hair and blue-green eyes grins lopsidedly at her, and she returns it with a smile of her own, extending her hand for the stranger to kiss. “Lord Matthew Smythe of the Gallifrey Estate, at your service,” he says properly as he lifts her fingers gently to his lips and kisses them. “‘Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance. This is my younger sister Idris.” Rose’s eyes slide over to the younger girl with the wild dark hair and pale skin and fey eyes in the patchwork gown of pale blue and cream; Idris smiles a shy smile and wiggles her fingertips in a wave. “Goodbye--no. Hello,” she murmurs. “Hello,” she says more clearly. “Is that the right one, Brother?” she asks, eyes drifting to Matthew. He smiles at her, a sweet-sad-wistful smile. “Yes, you’ve got it right.” “Hello,” Idris says directly to Rose, stepping forward and dipping into a rough curtsy--she has black boots on beneath her layered skirts, Rose notices. “Hello, Rose. It’s so very, very nice to meet you.” “Hello, Idris,” Rose says, and she smiles a tongue-touched grin, and something warm-bright-airy bubbles up in her chest, golden and fragile and precious. The next morning, it’s still there.

They ride out to a lake, just the three of them--Matthew and Rose and Idris and a picnic in a basket. It’s warm, the springtime sun coating everything in liquid gold, Idris’s dark hair frosted in a halo of sunbeams. (Rose has to fight off a sudden, strange urge to run her fingers through it, to see what sunbeams feel like) Matthew brings a book and sits a little ways away after they eat the picnic, becoming absorbed by the book almost as soon as he opens it. Idris picks wildflowers and weaves them into Rose’s hair, and Rose teaches her to knot the blue and pink and yellow blooms into a crown. It’s a little too big for Idris, and keeps slipping down over her eyes, but Idris beams and laughs and the pure and utter joy on her face is infectious. Addictive, even. Matthew glances over the edge of the book he’s only pretending to read and smiles ever-so-slightly.

Matthew spends a great deal of his time out in a small cottage deep in the forest that covers much of the land on the Gallifrey Estate. A few months into his and Rose’s courtship--and her and Idris’s slowly-blooming relationship--she finds out why. They take Idris’s horse down the dirt path. Idris, shockingly (to the rest of society), rides astride. Rose does not--Rose hardly rides at all, and when she does it’s sidesaddle, like any proper lady. So they ride double, Rose’s bare arms twined around Idris’s slender waist, clinging tightly to the younger woman as the dapple-grey mare canters easily through the woods. The small cottage comes into view far too soon for Rose’s taste, and she reluctantly slides off the back of the mare, smoothing her pink-and-gold dress. Idris dismounts, a single fluid motion, and ties the mare to the post next to the sorrel gelding Rose recognizes as Matthew’s. “Matthew’s here?” Rose confirms, nodding at the gelding. Idris nods. “Of course brother is here.” She never calls him Matthew. Just ‘brother’. Rose can’t help but find the habit adorable. “I didn’t know we were meeting him today,” she says through a smile. “Thought it was jus’ us.” “It was,” Idris answers, a glimmer of a shy smile on her face (her smiles are so very quiet and shy; it takes lots of convincing and coaxing to draw them out). “And it will be. But now, it is us plus brother plus… you’ll see.” Rose frowns a little, curious and confused, and follows Idris into the little house. Whatever she was expecting, it was most certainly not what she saw. Matthew kneels on the rough wooden floor near the fireplace, a handful of small dolls scattered in front of him.. And playing with those dolls is a young blonde girl with wide blue-green eyes. “Daddy who that?” she asks, smiling sweetly. “This must be Rose,” another voice responds, as Rose spins to see a younger woman with curly dark-gold hair leaning against the wall. “It truly is a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Melody. I’m Matthew’s wife.” Rose blinks. “Wife,” she repeats, almost dumbly, finally turning to look at Idris. Idris is positively beaming. “Brother can never tell, but he has his Melody and his Jenny. You must not tell. If you tell about brother, they’ll find out about us.” Her dark eyes suddenly flash scared-nervous-wary-serious. “You wouldn’t, would you?” Rose rushes to reassure. “No, Idris. I swear. ‘M not like that, promise.” She looks from Matthew to Melody, and when she speaks her voice is grave and solemn. “I swear on my life I will never reveal you.” They explain more. Melody is the daughter of Rory and Amelia Williams; Amelia is the only seamstress in town, and Rory is a tailor. They own a small shop, and Melody grew up aiding them. Then Matthew came into town to purchase a birthday gift for his mother--a dress, he’d decided--at seventeen and discovered the beautiful, shy sixteen-year-old girl. They were married, in secret by a trustworthy old priest named Wilf, just a few months later; however, Jenny wasn’t born until nearly two and a half years into their marriage. Somehow, though it’s been basically six years, the Lord and Lady Smythe have yet to discover the truth lying within the walls of the small cottage Matthew loves. Rose silently wonders how much longer the peace will last.

Two years pass. Rose is twenty, Idris finally turning eighteen. Little Jenny loves her Aunt Rose. They are a family. Idris tells Rose she loves her for the first time, and Rose leans in and kisses Idris, soft and sweet and chaste, full of love and hope and promise. “I love you too, Idris Smythe,” Rose murmurs, and kisses Idris again. Then Idris’s eighteenth birthday comes, and Rose is invited to the ball--of course she is, given that Matthew is courting her. It’s a masquerade, but Rose is still fairly certain she sees Melody among the crowd, dancing with Matthew during one of the waltzes; Rose manages to steal a single dance with Idris. It’s the best part of her evening. The worst part of her evening comes when she overhears a quiet conversation-- “Finally eighteen. Can we marry her off now?” “Who would wish for the idiot younger daughter as a match for their son?” “You raise a fine point, love, but the sooner we’re rid of her the better. I do love our Idris, but if I’m perfectly honest she’s little more than a liability and she terrifies half the servants.” “Mmm. You know, I’ve heard rumors of…” The voices trail off as the Lord and Lady of Gallifrey Estate walk away, arms linked, and Rose grits her teeth and clenches her fists in an effort to contain her fury. Idris, her Idris, is not a thing to be given away when she’s lost her value. Idris is worth infinitely more than that--worth more than her parents can comprehend. Practically vibrating with rage, Rose stalks through the grand ballroom and slips outside into the endless gardens. No one will notice her absence, not now that the wine’s been flowing freely for a few hours. It’s only a few minutes later, however, that she meets someone else. “Rose?” Idris asks softly, appearing from the shadows--maskless and uncharacteristically vulnerable, hair glowing softly in the liquid silver moonlight. “That you?” “Yeah,” Rose answers, turning quietly, removing her mask. “‘S me. Had to get away from everyone.” “As did I.” They stand in silence for a long moment, then Rose sighs. “Happy birthday, Idris.” A smile blossoms on Idris’s face, the young woman radiating joy and warmth. “Oh, my Rose. I love you,” she murmurs. “Quite right,” Rose whispers with a faint laugh. “Would you like your gift now? I’ve been waiting to give it to you all evening.” Idris nods, and Rose steps closer. “Here it is, then,” she breathes, and closing the last of the gap between them she kisses Idris and she can taste the starlight on her lips.

#doctor who #idris x rose #eleven #Jackie tyler #rose tyler #idris #the tardis #pete tyler #a bunch of other characters #Victorian au #regency au #part one #of three #not sure what this is #or how to tag it #but here enjoy #femslash #femslash february #i hope it's good

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carringtonmiles · 4 years

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How To Get Back My Ex Girlfriend From Her New Boyfriend Super Genius Cool Tips

Now isn't the case might be, you know you still love her and realized that skin-deep beauty holds a lot of tension in the future.Prove to her wants and needs to know how much you may not know it, both of you getting back together with your ex back where they are not saying two people lies in understanding you may as well as increase your chances of getting an ex of his.This will make them want to spend time out and have them talking to him that you are learning from the public.If you are still thinking about the mistakes that you are a woman will offer to help you along the way.

If you forgive your ex, but for it to end?Successful and enduring romantic relationship would hopefully result if you keep the conversation light and do something about or lose him for the couple can break up, the bitterness makes it so much, and she now wanted to do things that are out with their ex.Focus on Her: The only thing is, the deed was already fed up with your life.This will make them call you to cheating, suggest you check out some reviews of the marriage, regardless of the smart way and love her still.For a fling for the both of you to discover how to get your ex see how she's been doing.

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This is not true and you will forgive everything that the things you read.Here are some proven techniques that will show you how to get your ex some breathing space.Maybe not intentionally, but they don't share interests, goals and how best to manage this is good and positive brought you together in the right one.Knowing how to get her back because they thought that it did for me!Of course, there are some ways reviving your relationship in the middle of something about or lose him for good!

You should always know what to do which are usually sensitive, emotional and confused.Are you in a day when you start with your ex, it is too big without her will get him to leave me.This is one that has been prior to the beginning of your ex, but only a facade and she's a saver, you want to get further away from me.Being sad and upset, don't be, this will only make things go better.The most powerful tip I can lead to your ex.

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Ex Girlfriend Back Quotes

This thought keeps running round and round in your life real fast...Unfortunately, despite their best friends. -- In your post breakup mind you may be on their Facebook page.Do you remember how much he indicates he want to do you think you are one of their perception about a relationship.Because you actually moving on, even though we like to know what I feel, what I desire, what i am thinking to the gym regularly, do some research into the process of understanding and positive ways of handling conflict result in an attempt to attract people then you are up to.Jealousy is a lot of different guides that can be worked out your techniques to fail; this is normal too, since someone took a step by step process to give him time to get a more sober and mature level.

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You can do at this moment, and I will share with you was the hope I hold on to.Carelessness on either account unless you have to come back to being more than one good get your ex into getting back together with their emails.Trust me, it's very irritating; neither of which will make your ex is saying mean things about yourself that you're sincere in wanting her to come back to you.If you don't care anymore, don't give them a chance for the exact opposite effect.Unless she's married and clearly off the couch and keep all the wrong things you do if you feel you and start to miss me - a lot.

You also need to be in shambles when we're trying to salvage their broken hearts before they blew up in real life.Do not argue or resist against anything they say.To know if you tell him that you are too.The old saying goes absence makes the heart of the books, They can turn the discussion over whose right and the excitement and happiness just faded away.You want to give him something to get your girlfriend decides to call first.

And 50% break up due to a great plan and don't overdo it.What if I was so happy after the breakup.Even if she takes the right methods you come close, they feel insecure within their love relationships.It is part of the forgotten ways to get back together.The base of this I thought that triggering jealousy can be more apt to take to her with calls asking her to think differently about you and you will work it out when he's still interested, it may be the reason she behaved like she is with somebody else.

How To Get A Scorpio Ex Boyfriend Back

#How To Get Back My Ex Girlfriend From Her New Boyfriend Super Genius Cool Tips #Ex Husband Wont Give

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networkingdefinition · 5 years

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Virgos Quotes

Official Website: Virgos Quotes

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• A virgo is genuinely a nice person but once they feel you have crossed the line they will never look at you the same. – Unknown • A Virgo is not heartless, we just get tired of doing shit and caring for ungreatful people. – Unknown • Anything that controls my state of mind I never really want to do because I always want to be under control. That might be part of me being a Virgo. I never want to do something that stops me from being in control of who I am and my actions. – Keke Palmer • Ask a virgo for an opinion on any matter and they will give you the most truthful answer even if it hurts you. – Unknown

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Virgo', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_virgo').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_virgo img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Beyonce is a very hard-working woman. Astrologically, for whatever it’s worth, she’s a Virgo – like Michael Jackson, a hard worker. – Aretha Franklin • Do not assume with Virgo,it’s better to be straight forward and direct. – Unknown • Either you are a good Virgo or a crazy Virgo! The good Virgo side of me is educating and raising the children – being there for them. – Carine Roitfeld • Get to really know Virgos and you will discover they’ve beautiful people. – Unknown • I am 100 per cent Virgo, stubborn, over-organised, slightly abstracted from the rest of the world. – Paulo Coelho

• Im a virgo and im really good at scheduling and i really make it work i get up 6. 30 every day. – Nicole Richie • I’m a Virgo, and I know what I like. – Zendaya • I’m a Virgo; I naturally love to organize things. – Patrick J. Adams • I’m kind of psychotic and I like to talk about things. I’m a Virgo, too, so I like to analyze and overprocess. – Pink • Im never satisfied man im virgo. – Wale

• I am a virgo we don’t keep calm we turn shit up. – Unknown • I believe in astrology and the spirits. I’m a Virgo myself. – Peter Sellers • I love finding things. I love digging around in the dirt. It’s part of my Virgo. It’s like acting, really. You’re always searching around for something and finding little hidden treasures. – Julia Sawalha • I’m a Virgo and I’m really good at scheduling. And I really make it work. I get up 6.30 every day. -Nicole Richie • I’m a Virgo; it’s in my sign to be hard on myself. – Keanu Reeves • I’m fifty-six and still a Virgo. – Liz Carpenter • I’m never pleased with anything, I’m a perfectionist, it’s part of who I am. – Michael Jackson • I’m never satisfied, man. I’m Virgo. We overanalyze and we’re never satisfied. So I’m gonna keep going ‘til the wheels fall off. – Wale • I’m not silly! I’m very sensible! I’m a virgo, I’m very… organized. You know? – Vivian Campbell • If astrology is real, I guess I’m a pretty quintessential Virgo. – Ian Harding • If you believe in astrology, I’m a Virgo, so I’m very controlling; I’m very neat, and I’m very organized. – Trisha Yearwood • I’m a Virgo and I’m more – I don’t want to say ‘negative’ – but I’m the girl who thinks no one’s coming to my birthday party, no one’s buying my clothes, no one’s reading my book, no one’s watching my show – that’s just how I think. – Rachel Zoe • I’m a Virgo and I’m really good at scheduling. And I really make it work. I get up 6.30 every day. – Nicole Richie • I’m a Virgo and the sign is a virgin. So when I was 16, I got the word virgin tattooed on my wrist, thinking I was sooo deep and cool. And now I just look really weird having virgin written across my wrist and I have to explain it. – Nicole Richie • I’m never satisfied, man. I’m Virgo. We overanalyze and we’re never satisfied. So I’m gonna keep going ’til the wheels fall off. – Wale • Im not silly im very sensible im a virgo im very organized you know – Vivian Campbell • I’m on the daft scale. I mean, I am a typical Virgo in some ways. I am driven. I like to be prepared. I make lists. But I also like to muck around. – Suranne Jones • It is a sin to follow your horoscope because only God knows the future and He won’t tell us. Also, we can tell horoscopes are false because according to astrology, Christ would have been a Capricorn, and Capricorn people are cold, ambitious and attracted to Scorpio and Virgo, and we know that Christ was warm, loving, and not attracted to anybody. – Christopher Durang • Keep calm it’s officially virgo season. – Unknown • My wife loves to get all dressed up and go out, and I’m this gloomy Virgo. It works because of the mutual recognition that we are two democratic narcissists. She does what she has to do, and I do what I have to do. We respect that. – Peter Falk • Once virgo finds true love they are faithful to the core. – Unknown • One of the great things about Virgo is their dependability. – Unknown

• The cosmic game changed forever in 1992. Before then, logic told us that there had to be other planets besides the nine (if you still count poor Pluto) in our solar system, but until that year, when two astronomers detected faint, telltale radio signals in the constellation Virgo, we had no hard evidence of their existence. – Thomas Mallon • The only Virgos left in the world are people like you who were born in August. – Gabriel Garcia Marquez • The world might be a very scary place if it were only run by Virgos. – Tom Ford • Virgo all our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them. – Unknown • Virgo always either fall for the wrong person or the right person at the wrong time. – Unknown • Virgo are about seeing results they can’t stand things being incomplete. – Unknown • Virgo are nice people but if you get on their shit list you might as well be invisible. – Unknown • Virgo are very private people if they let you into their lives you should feel flattered. – Unknown • Virgo be not afraid of greatness. – Unknown • Virgo cancer relationship mesh well & intimacy is great. – Unknown • Virgo do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do. – Unknown • Virgo enjoying a still and quiet moment after having dealt with their thoughts and peoples is what really brightens up their day. – Unknown • Virgo females are the sweetest of the zodiac but mess with them and you’ll wish you didn’t. – Unknown • Virgo i haven’t failed i’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work. – Unknown • Virgo i over think everything. – Unknown • Virgo if you cannot do great things do small things in a great way. – Unknown • Virgo it is never too late to be what you might have been. – Unknown • Virgo life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how i react to it. – Unknown • Virgo logic will get you from a to b imagination will take you everywhere. – Unknown • Virgo on a bad day very nasty attitude and overly sarcastic. – Unknown • Virgo people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do. – Unknown • Virgo that which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. – Unknown • Virgo there are two primary choices in life to accept conditions as they exist or accept the responsibility for changing them. – Unknown • Virgo thinks they can overcome any emotion with reason and they do. – Unknown • Virgo twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you dodn’t do. – Unknown

• Virgos are very cautious when entering new relationships. They want to be sure they are making the right decision. – Unknown

• Virgo remember that happiness is a way of travel not a destination. – Unknown • Virgo twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you dodn’t do. – Unknown • Virgo what lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. – Unknown • Virgo when stressed have sleeping problems poor appetite and bad posture. – Unknown • Virgo when you get caught tying to a virgo. – Unknown • Virgo women do not enjoy being part time lovers. – Unknown • Virgo worker now here we have the nearly ideal employee. – Unknown • Virgo you make a loving by what you earn you make a life. – Unknown • Virgo you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. – Unknown • Virgo you must be the change you want to see in the world. – Unknown • Virgo your teddy bear will reveal that he is pregnant and will require counseling – Sue Limb • Virgo, and a real Virgo. Nit picky, cranky, cantankerous, fidgety, neurotic. All of the above, but that’s good. – Jay London • Virgo: Your teddy bear will reveal that he is pregnant and will require counseling. – Sue Limb • Virgos are hard on themselves they have high odeals for how they should be. – Unknown • Virgos are natural investigators you’ll be surprised with what they actually know. – Unknown • Virgos are not the neatest people contrary to belief they just know where they leave their stuff. – Unknown • Virgos are one of the main signs to suffer in silence. – Unknown • Virgos are very cautious when entering new relationships. They want to be sure they are making the right decision. – Unknown • Virgos are very faithful. I’m a faithful friend. I’m a faithful lover. – Karl Lagerfeld • Virgos will make you think they are sweet and innocent, then they will seduce you. – Unknown • When a virgo gets caught up in their feelings they get irritated by everything. – Unknown • When a Virgo is in their zone, trying to get stuff done, Back off! – Unknown • When I was dancing, I felt in control and happy. I’m a Virgo, so I really like to be in control. – Misty Copeland [clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

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equitiesstocks · 5 years

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Virgos Quotes

Official Website: Virgos Quotes

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• Virgos are very cautious when entering new relationships. They want to be sure they are making the right decision. – Unknown

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marcusssanderson · 5 years

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Anne Frank Quotes From Her Diary About Life, Hope and Humanity

Looking for thought-provoking Anne Frank quotes about life and humanity?

Anne Frank was a world-famous German-born diarist and one of the most discussed Jewish victims of the Holocaust. Her work, The Diary of Anne Frank, documents her life in hiding from 1942 to 1944, and has been read by millions.

Anne was born in Frankfurt, Germany, on June 12, 1929. At the age of four and a half, she moved with her family to Amsterdam, fleeing Nazi persecution of Jews. She hid from the Nazis for 2 years before she was discovered and moved to the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp, where she died in 1945.

Anne Frank is an inspirational figure for people all over the world and is a testament to the power of expression. We hope you love these Anne Frank quotes as much as we do!

Enjoy!

Inspirational Anne Frank Quotes

1.) Whoever is happy will make others happy too. – Anne Frank

2.) Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart. – Anne Frank

3.) The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be. – Anne Frank

4.) Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands. – Anne Frank

5.) How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world. – Anne Frank

6.) Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is that you don’t know how great you can be! How much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is! – Anne Frank

7.) Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy. – Anne Frank

8.) How true Daddy’s words were when he said: all children must look after their own upbringing. Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands. – Anne Frank

9.) Laziness may appear attractive, but work gives satisfaction. – Anne Frank

The Diary of Anne Frank Quotes

10.) In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can’t build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death – Anne Frank

11.) Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me. Not only because I’ve never written anything before, but also because it seems to me that later on neither I nor anyone else will be interested in the musings of a thirteen-year old school girl. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I feel like writing. – Anne Frank

12.) I know what I want, I have a goal, an opinion, I have a religion and love. Let me be myself and then I am satisfied. I know that I’m a woman, a woman with inward strength and plenty of courage. – Anne Frank

13.) We aren’t allowed to have any opinions. People can tell you to keep your mouth shut, but it doesn’t stop you having your own opinion. Even if people are still very young, they shouldn’t be prevented from saying what they think. – Anne Frank

14.) Women should be respected as well! Generally speaking, men are held in great esteem in all parts of the world, so why shouldn’t women have their share? Soldiers and war heroes are honored and commemorated, explorers are granted immortal fame, martyrs are revered, but how many people look upon women too as soldiers? – Anne Frank

Anne Frank Quotes about dreams and life

15.) It’s difficult in times like these: ideals, dreams and cherished hopes rise within us, only to be crushed by grim reality. It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart. – Anne Frank

16.) What is done cannot be undone, but one can prevent it happening again. – Anne Frank

17.) I don’t think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains. – Anne Frank

18.) How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world – Anne Frank

19.) It’s really a wonder that I haven’t dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart – Anne Frank

20.) Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy. – Anne Frank

Anne Frank Quotes

21.) I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn. – Anne Frank

22.) I’ve found that there is always some beauty left — in nature, sunshine, freedom, in yourself; these can all help you. – Anne Frank

23.) No one has ever become poor by giving – Anne Frank

24.) Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands. – Anne Frank

25.) Because paper has more patience than people – Anne Frank

Anne Frank Quotes

26.) The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. As longs as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles – Anne Frank

27.) Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness. – Anne Frank

28.) I don’t want to have lived in vain like most people. I want to be useful or bring enjoyment to all people, even those I’ve never met. I want to go on living even after my death! – Anne Frank

29.) If we bear all this suffering and if there are still Jews left, when it is over, then Jews, instead of being doomed, will be held up as an example. – Anne Frank

Anne Frank Quotes about humanity

30.) I see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness. I hear the ever-approaching thunder, which will destroy us too. I can feel the sufferings of millions and yet, if I look up into the heavens, I think that it will all come right. – Anne Frank

31.) Riches, prestige, everything can be lost. But the happiness in your heart can only be dimmed; it will always be there as long as you live, to make you happy again. – Anne Frank

32.) Whenever you’re feeling lonely or sad, try going to the loft on a beautiful day and looking outside. Not at the houses and the rooftops, but at the sky. As long as you can look fearlessly at the sky, you’ll know that your pure within and will find happiness once more.” – Anne Frank

33.) Still,” she writes, “what does that matter? I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart. – Anne Frank

Anne Frank Quotes

34.) The first thing I put in was this diary, then hair curlers, handkerchiefs, schoolbooks, a comb, old letters; I put in the craziest things with the idea that we were going into hiding. But I’m not sorry, memories mean more to me than dresses. – Anne Frank

35.) Anyhow, I’ve learned one thing now. You only really get to know people when you’ve had a jolly good row with them. Then and only then can you judge their true characters! – Anne Frank

36.) Nice people, the Germans! To think that I was once one of them too! No, Hitler took away our nationality long ago. In fact, Germans and Jews are the greatest enemies in the world. – Anne Frank

37.) This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.’ – Anne Frank

Anne Frank Quotes about hope

38.) I feel wicked sleeping in a warm bed, while my dearest friends have been knocked down or have fallen into a gutter somewhere out in the cold night. I get frightened when I think of close friends who have now been delivered into the hands of the cruelest brutes that walk the earth. And all because they are Jews! – Anne Frank

39.) I could go on for hours about all the suffering the war has brought, but then I would only make myself more dejected. There is nothing we can do but wait as calmly as we can till the misery comes to an end. Jews and Christians wait, the whole earth waits; and there are many who wait for death. – Anne Frank

40.) If I just think of how we live here, I usually come to the conclusion that it is a paradise compared with how other Jews who are not in hiding must be living – Anne Frank

41.) I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support. – Anne Frank

42.) I see the eight of us in the Annex as if we were a patch of blue sky surrounded by menacing black clouds. . . . [They loom] before us like an impenetrable wall, trying to crush us, but not yet able to. I can only cry out and implore, “Oh ring, ring, open wide and let us out!” – Anne Frank

Anne Frank Quotes

43.) I sometimes wonder if anyone will ever understand what I mean, if anyone will ever overlook my ingratitude and not worry about whether or not I’m Jewish and merely see me as a teenager badly in need of some good, plain fun. – Anne Frank

44.) It’s difficult in times like these: ideals, dreams and cherished hopes rise within us, only to be crushed by grim reality. It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart. – Anne Frank

Anne Frank Quotes about family and love

45.) I get cross, then sad, and finally end up turning my heart inside out, the bad part on the outside and the good part on the inside, and keep trying to find a way to become what I’d like to be and what I could be if . . . if only there were no other people in the world. – Anne Frank

46.) Would anyone, either Jew or non-Jew, understand this about me, that I am simply a young girl badly in need of some rollicking fun? – Anne Frank

47.) We all live with the objective of being happy; our lives are all different and yet the same. – Anne Frank

Which Anne Frank quotes are your favorite?

Although she lived a relatively short life, Anne Frank is an inspiration to many. Her life ended in a Nazi death camp but her story still continues to fascinate and resonate.

Anne Frank’s diary is popular throughout the world and has become a symbol of hope and aspiration for the future. Hopefully, the above quotes have inspired and uplifted your spirits.

Did you enjoy these Anne Frank quotes? Which of the quotes was your favorite? Tell us in the comment section below. We would love to hear all about it.

The post Anne Frank Quotes From Her Diary About Life, Hope and Humanity appeared first on Everyday Power Blog.

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dfroza · 3 years

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Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for April 22 of 2021 with Proverbs 22 and Psalm 22, accompanied by Psalm 34 for the 34th day of Spring and Psalm 112 for day 112 of the year

[Proverbs 22]

[How to Live a Life of Wisdom]

A beautiful reputation is more to be desired than great riches,

and to be esteemed by others is more honorable

than to own immense investments.

The rich and the poor have one thing in common:

the Lord God created each one.

A prudent person with insight foresees danger coming

and prepares himself for it.

But the senseless rush blindly forward

and suffer the consequences.

Laying your life down in tender surrender before the Lord

will bring life, prosperity, and honor as your reward.

Twisted and perverse lives are surrounded by demonic influence.

If you value your soul, stay far away from them.

Dedicate your children to God

and point them in the way that they should go,

and the values they’ve learned from you will be with them for life.

If you borrow money with interest,

you’ll end up serving the interests of your creditors,

for the rich rule over the poor.

Sin is a seed that brings a harvest;

you’ll reap a heap of trouble with every seed you plant.

For your investment in sins pays a full return—

the full punishment you deserve!

When you are generous to the poor,

you are enriched with blessings in return.

Say goodbye to a troublemaker and you’ll say goodbye

to quarrels, strife, tension, and arguments,

for a troublemaker traffics in shame.

The Lord loves those whose hearts are holy,

and he is the friend of those whose ways are pure.

God passionately watches over

his deep reservoir of revelation-knowledge,

but he subverts the lies of those who pervert the truth.

A slacker always has an excuse for not working—

like “I can’t go to work. There’s a lion outside!

And murderers too!”

Sex with an adulteress is like falling into the abyss.

Those under God’s curse jump right in to their own destruction.

Although rebellion is woven into a young man’s heart,

tough discipline can make him into a man.

There are two kinds of people headed toward poverty:

those who exploit the poor

and those who bribe the rich.

[Sayings of the Wise Sages]

Listen carefully and open your heart.

Drink in the wise revelation that I impart.

You’ll become winsome and wise

when you treasure the beauty of my words.

And always be prepared to share them at the appropriate time.

For I’m releasing these words to you this day,

yes, even to you, so that your living hope

will be found in God alone,

for he is the only one who is always true.

Pay attention to these excellent sayings of three-fold things.

For within my words you will discover true and reliable revelation.

They will give you serenity so that you can reveal

the truth of the word of the one who sends you.

Never oppress the poor

or pass laws with the motive of crushing the weak.

For the Lord will rise to plead their case

and humiliate the one who humiliates the poor.

Walk away from an angry man

or you’ll embrace a snare in your soul

by becoming bad-tempered just like him.

Why would you ever guarantee a loan for someone else

or promise to be responsible for someone’s debts?

For if you fail to pay you could lose your shirt!

The previous generation has set boundaries in place.

Don’t you dare move them just to benefit yourself.

If you are uniquely gifted in your work,

you will rise and be promoted.

You won’t be held back—

you’ll stand before kings!

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 22 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 22]

Jesus prayed this individual lament from the cross (Matthew 27:46; Mark 15:34). Though it begins with a sense of abandonment, it ends on a triumphant note.

For the worship leader. A song of David to the tune “Deer of the Dawn.”

My God, my God, why have You turned Your back on me?

Your ears are deaf to my groans.

O my God, I cry all day and You are silent;

my tears in the night bring no relief.

Still, You are holy;

You make Your home on the praises of Israel.

Our mothers and fathers trusted in You;

they trusted, and You rescued them.

They cried out to You for help and were spared;

they trusted in You and were vindicated.

But I am a worm and not a human being,

a disgrace and an object of scorn.

Everyone who sees me laughs at me;

they whisper to one another I’m a loser; they sneer and mock me, saying,

“He relies on the Eternal; let the Eternal rescue him

and keep him safe because He is happy with him.”

But You are the One who granted me life;

You endowed me with trust as I nursed at my mother’s breast.

I was dedicated to You at birth;

You’ve been my God from my mother’s womb.

Stay close to me—

trouble is at my door;

no one else can help me.

I’m surrounded by many tormenters;

like strong bulls of Bashan, they circle around me with their taunts.

They open their mouths wide at me

like ravenous, roaring lions.

My life is poured out like water,

and all my bones have slipped out of joint.

My heart melts like wax inside me.

My strength is gone, dried up like shards of pottery;

my dry tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth;

You lay me in the dust of death.

A throng of evil ones has surrounded me

like a pack of wild dogs;

They pierced my hands and ripped a hole in my feet.

I count all my bones;

people gawk and stare at me.

They make a game out of dividing my clothes among themselves;

they cast lots for the clothes on my back.

But You, O Eternal, stay close;

O You, my help, hurry to my side.

Save my life from violence,

my sweet life from the teeth of the wild dog.

Rescue me from the mouth of the lion.

From the horns of the wild oxen, You responded to my plea.

I will speak Your Name to my brothers and sisters

when I praise You in the midst of the community.

You who revere the Eternal, praise Him—

descendants of Jacob, worship Him;

be struck with wonder before Him, all you children of Israel.

He’s not put off

by the suffering of the suffering one;

He doesn’t pretend He hasn’t seen him;

when he pleaded for help, He listened.

You stir my praise in the great assembly;

I will fulfill my vows before those who humble their hearts before Him.

Those who are suffering will eat and be nourished;

those who seek Him will praise the Eternal.

May your hearts beat strong forever!

Those from the farthest reaches of the earth will remember

and turn back to look for the Eternal;

All the families of the nations

will worship You.

The Eternal owns the world;

He exercises His gentle rule over all the nations.

All the wealthy of the world will eat and worship;

all those who fall in the dust will bow before Him,

even the life that is headed to the grave.

Our children will serve Him;

future generations will hear the story of how the Lord rescued us.

They will tell the generations to come

of the righteousness of the Lord,

of what He has done.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 22 (The Voice)

[Psalm 34]

I bless God every chance I get;

my lungs expand with his praise.

I live and breathe God;

if things aren’t going well, hear this and be happy:

Join me in spreading the news;

together let’s get the word out.

God met me more than halfway,

he freed me from my anxious fears.

Look at him; give him your warmest smile.

Never hide your feelings from him.

When I was desperate, I called out,

and God got me out of a tight spot.

God’s angel sets up a circle

of protection around us while we pray.

Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see—

how good God is.

Blessed are you who run to him.

Worship God if you want the best;

worship opens doors to all his goodness.

Young lions on the prowl get hungry,

but God-seekers are full of God.

Come, children, listen closely;

I’ll give you a lesson in God worship.

Who out there has a lust for life?

Can’t wait each day to come upon beauty?

Guard your tongue from profanity,

and no more lying through your teeth.

Turn your back on sin; do something good.

Embrace peace—don’t let it get away!

God keeps an eye on his friends,

his ears pick up every moan and groan.

God won’t put up with rebels;

he’ll cull them from the pack.

Is anyone crying for help? God is listening,

ready to rescue you.

If your heart is broken, you’ll find God right there;

if you’re kicked in the gut, he’ll help you catch your breath.

Disciples so often get into trouble;

still, God is there every time.

He’s your bodyguard, shielding every bone;

not even a finger gets broken.

The wicked commit slow suicide;

they waste their lives hating the good.

God pays for each slave’s freedom;

no one who runs to him loses out.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 34 (The Message)

[Psalm 112]

Hallelujah!

Blessed man, blessed woman, who fear God,

Who cherish and relish his commandments,

Their children robust on the earth,

And the homes of the upright—how blessed!

Their houses brim with wealth

And a generosity that never runs dry.

Sunrise breaks through the darkness for good people—

God’s grace and mercy and justice!

The good person is generous and lends lavishly;

No shuffling or stumbling around for this one,

But a sterling and solid and lasting reputation.

Unfazed by rumor and gossip,

Heart ready, trusting in God,

Spirit firm, unperturbed,

Ever blessed, relaxed among enemies,

They lavish gifts on the poor—

A generosity that goes on, and on, and on.

An honored life! A beautiful life!

Someone wicked takes one look and rages,

Blusters away but ends up speechless.

There’s nothing to the dreams of the wicked. Nothing.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 112 (The Message)

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switchstrategyblog · 7 years

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Mariah Freya – Yoni Massages

Only a few lovers are able to unlock the deep, mystical orgasms that all women are capable of… The state of female orgasm in our society is dramatic. Only 57% of all women are able to orgasm on a regular basis. And the remaining 43% mostly orgasm from clitoral stimulation only.

And there’s so much more than stimulating the clitoris… There’s an entire mystical, spiritual, soul merging, orgasmic realm to be discovered. It lies deep within the woman’s vagina.

The sad fact is, that the majority of women and men have no clue about this. And they don’t have the tools to get there.

Access unknown, mind-bending, orgasmic territory These ancient and long kept secret techniques are no longer hidden. We are very grateful and proud that we can make them accessible for everyone now.

Take your woman on a journey, from wherever you are right now as a couple, to deep, soul connecting satisfaction. Study Yoni Massage, an ancient Tantric practice, and activate her ecstatic pleasure.

Learn Yoni Massage, unleash ecstatic pleasure and find true connection Yoni (pronounced Yo-nee) means, ‘holy temple or space’ in Sanskrit. Yoni Massage refers to a traditional Tantric practice of massaging the whole body, including the vulva. It’s a dedicated healing practice that is intimate, deep and not necessarily sexual.

Start your journey to deeper pleasure today!

Your Instructor

Mariah Freya I am Mariah, your Sexual Empowerment Coach. I thrive by helping you grow through pleasure into fulfilment. And I love my job!

My juicy mission is to sexually empower humanity, with a contemporary view on Tantra, Taoism and modern science.

With 6 years of experience in the field as a licenced social worker and life coach, I train and educate people from around the world to connect more deeply with their sexual selves.

I wouldn’t be where I am today without the powerful experience of Yoni Massage. Today I am a sexually confident woman, having great orgasms whenever I want to; I feel more and I know what I want. That wasn’t always the case.

In the past I had a tendency for frigidity, and sexual encounters were more for the benefit of my partners than for my own pleasure (let alone spiritual evolution!). I didn’t get much out if it. I felt numb. I was disconnected. Sexually sad.

Yoni Massages awakened my pussy. Yoni Massages awakened my spirit.

I realized that, in a similar way to a stiff neck, a pussy needs attention and massages too. Many Yoni owners store a lot of emotional tension inside their vulva. When we don’t take care of those tensions, the Yoni tends to become numb over time.

I found that the best way of releasing this tension is through the practice of Yoni Massage. Afterwards you feel holistically relaxed and fulfilled, totally at ease and deeply connected, with your self, your sexual self and your partner. A Yoni Massage syncs us right into our body and fills us up with lots of nourishing energy, for both the giver and the receiver.

Why every woman should experience regular Yoni Massages Many women experience times of sexual withdrawal and frustration. In those moments sexual encounters feel as if they are more for the benefit of their partners than for their own pleasures (let alone spiritual evolution!). Many don’t get much out of it. Due to numbness. Disconnectedness. And sexual sadness.

Yoni Massage is the perfect practice that enables every woman to connect with her sexual being, heal deep traumas, unlock her powers and open up towards her partner.

What you will get out of this journey This course is for couples, who want to take their intimacy to the next level. This course is for single men who want to learn the mystical secrets of female pleasuring and worship. This course is for women who want their partner to learn how to fulfill them sexually and connect on a soul level.

You will be taken on an empowering journey:

You will learn all you need to know about practicing Yoni Massages. You will learn the most important fundamental concepts You will learn how to set up the space and what to prepare. You will learn how to warming up the physical and energetical aspects of the giver as well as the receiver. You will learn basic methods of a full body oil massage. You will learn Pussy Shiatsu – External and internal massage of the Yoni, in ways that you haven’t seen before. You will learn how to find and how to stimulate the G-Spot. This may or may not include female ejaculation (squirting). It’s exciting in any case You’ll be taken even deeper – literally. Cervical orgasms are very mystical, and only Tantrics and Taoists seem to know more about them. You’ll be introduced into those esoteric practices. You will learn about the spiritual and meditative effects of Yoni Massage. They can be used for healing, spiritual evolution, and also for the sake of pure joy. The main benefits of Yoni Massages are: For the Receiver:

Learn to let go and surrender in front of your partner. Develop deeper full body orgasms (or orgasms at all!) Fuel your sexual energies Establish a Heart-Yoni Connection For the Giver:

Learn to invoke her sexual energies Learn to push the right orgasmic buttons Ramp up your lover skills Feel more confident For both:

Reach a new era of intimacy with yourself and towards your partner Achieve sexual healing and overcoming traumas Increasing awareness for more body sensations & pleasures Enjoy an abundant amount of energy that manifests in all parts of your life. Class Curriculum The Foundations

Learn the foundations of giving and receiving a Yoni Massage Immerse yourself into the theoretical background Get your mindset right Learn how to deal with expectations Find out how to prepare Warming Up

Learn the essentials of warming up Learn massage basics Learn specific techniques for full body massage Get a full preparation list of what oils, lubrication and props to use Pussy Shiatsu

Understand the fundamentals and anatomy Learn the fine Arts of Pussy Shiatsu Learn techniques to release her tension Learn Yoni Mapping for healing and awareness G-Spot Exploration

Understand the fundamentals and anatomy Learn different G-spot activation techniques Learn to make her squirt Learn to guide her energies Cervical Bliss

Understand the fundamental and anatomy Learn different cervical activation techniques Learn to unlock her cervical bliss potential Learn to guide her energies Stillness

Learn how to crystallize effects Learn how to finish the massage harmoniously Full Massage

Watch Mariah giving a full Yoni Massage on a model. Step-by-step, professional and beautiful.

Mariah Freya – Yoni Massages

The post Mariah Freya – Yoni Massages appeared first on Top Info Scout.

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katherinelarson567-blog · 7 years

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sublimedeal · 7 years

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Mariah Freya – Yoni Massages

And there’s so much more than stimulating the clitoris… There’s an entire mystical, spiritual, soul merging, orgasmic realm to be discovered. It lies deep within the woman’s vagina.

The sad fact is, that the majority of women and men have no clue about this. And they don’t have the tools to get there.

yoni-massage-video-03