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bewitchingbooktours · 7 months ago

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The Crystalline Crucible by Adam Rowan

The Crystalline Crucible

Adam Rowan

Genre: New Adult

Publisher: Spinning Monkey Press

Date of Publication: May 14, 2024

ISBN: 9798985769562

ASIN: B0CXYM3R8B

Word Count: 90000

Tagline: Treasure comes in many forms

Book Description:

Maxwell Jacobs, a neurodivergent 21-year-old with a passion for knights, Tetris and cheese sandwiches, harbours an audacious dream-to become the greatest treasure hunter in England.

His chance comes with The Crystalline Crucible, a treasure-hunting contest promising untold wealth and answers to the world's biggest secrets. However, Max's mission gets off to a rocky start when he's arrested for breaking into a museum in search of a clue. His fear of leaving his hometown, Stapleford, his cynical best friend, Rosie Shaw, and his clumsy, awkward nature only serve to complicate things further. Overall, his prospects seem dim.

That is, until Max crosses paths with Khalil Ahmed, a former criminal seeking redemption and quick cash. Despite their differences, their shared desperation draws them into The Crystalline Crucible. Together, they'll decipher cryptic clues and embark on an epic nationwide adventure, with high stakes and a singular goal: to find treasure!

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CHAPTER 1: THE WOOLLY MAMMOTH THIEF

In the seven-decade-long existence of the Nottingham Natural History Museum, no break-in had ever occurred until five a.m. on one fateful Saturday. The trespasser’s name was Maxwell Oscar Jacobs, a local retail worker. In his spare time, he enjoyed playing Tetris, doing crossword puzzles, and—his preferred pastime—a spot of treasure hunting.

With a stone he’d found on the pavement, Max had smashed the museum’s back window and climbed into it by balancing on a rubbish bin. Shortly thereafter, he padded warily through the geology exhibit surrounded by models of Earth, not enjoying the experience in the slightest. Surveillance cameras mounted above on the wall scanned him, but he dearly hoped the authorities hadn’t been dispatched to arrest him. They shouldn’t be. After all, he hadn’t poured chocolate milk on the power box outside for nothing.

Max was twenty-one years old, rather tall with stick insect limbs. Bright blond hair and a poorly cut fringe topped his head. He wore a grey Cookie Monster hoodie, straight-legged jeans, Mickey Mouse socks and a cheap, halfbroken children’s watch with coloured numbers. He also wore blue trainers with the shoelaces undone and carried a Tony the Tiger rucksack in which to store the mammoth tusk he was after. To top it all, he had a scabbard that held a broadsword called Fleshrender, Max’s favourite possession.

Pacing along, he thought passingly that he should have dressed the part more and put on a ski mask. His heart pounded as he passed by the dinosaur exhibit, unease assailing him. It was too late to go home at this point. He just had to find the mammoth tusk before daylight.

He gathered himself, drew his sword and focused on not tripping while he navigated through the dark, winding corridors. Even the smallest of noises made him jump—broadsword at the ready—as he crept through the empty halls.

With the lights off, the museum was practically a haunted house. While he tiptoed into the zoology section, glimmering rays of moonlight streamed in through the windows, falling gently over him. Shadowed model animals lined the walls, felt rabbits and plastic spiders sitting on table displays. A frightening bear stood with its paws raised and its sharp jaws wide open as if ready to pounce on him at a moment’s notice. Max’s eyes widened, but within seconds he discerned to his relief it was just taxidermy.

At last, the mammoth appeared behind a red security barrier not far away. With every muscle tensed, he gazed in awe at its gigantic figure. But his jaw dropped as he realised, despite how carefully he had planned this mission, he’d forgotten one crucial part: how to extract the mammoth tusk out of the skeleton. It looked like it’d been screwed in tightly. Should’ve brought a screwdriver. Oh, bother.

Pushing his shoulders back, he sheathed his weapon, strode right up to the mammoth and peered at the display label. It read:

This woolly mammoth skeleton was discovered in 1925 by a team of esteemed archaeologists in rural Devon. It was the first almost entirely preserved specimen ever uncovered in England. It is a relic of priceless historical value. DO NOT TOUCH.

Deciding to disobey and wrest the tusk out, Max stepped over the maroon rope that encircled the mammoth and wrapped his hands around it. Like Arthur pulling the sword from the stone, there was nothing else to do but pull really, really hard.

After counting down from three, he tugged the mammoth tusk towards him with all his might. It took a few tries, but finally the tusk separated from the woolly mammoth skeleton with a nasty crack, and he fell on his backside.

Yet before he could rejoice, he heard the sound of a creak.

A door opened across the room.

“PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK! LAY DOWN ON THE GROUND!”

Max turned around and scrambled to his feet, mouth wide open. Police with intimidating weapons emerged out of nowhere, swarming him. He gaped at the approaching horde before looking back down at the tusk. This couldn’t be happening.

The thought crossed his mind to run. But what was the point? There were too many police. He was toast!

He dropped the mammoth tusk on the floor and unsheathed his sword.

“Listen, this is all a b-big misunderstanding,” he stuttered.

“NO MISUNDERSTANDING!” a second officer yelled, a woman in a navy tunic with a bulletproof vest. She inched over to him. “HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK NOW!”

Max stared at the police, aghast. They think I’m a criminal. How ridiculous. I’m just an innocent treasure hunter!

“Let me e-explain. It’s v-very, very important for you to let me eexplain,” Max stammered.

He pointed his sword at them threateningly, before spotting a paunchy man who held what looked like a laser pointer and was aiming it at him.

Max swung the sword around as a warning. “Please. If you’d just give me a second to clear this up, I’m sure that—arghhh!”

His words cut out with a bloodcurdling scream. Electricity surged through his body. The red dot he’d seen on his chest hadn’t been from a laser pointer at all, but a taser. Limbs spasming, Max fell onto the floor and crumpled into a ball as the police closed in on him.

About the Author:

Author Adam Rowan’s passion for writing began in childhood, although he admits his early attempts were far from perfect. After a hiatus during his teenage years, Adam rediscovered his love for writing in his early twenties and has been dedicated to improving his craft ever since. In 2022, MotherButterfly Books published Adam's first novel. His second book, The Crystalline Crucible, is published by Spinning Monkey Press and is inspired by his experiences growing up in England. When he's not immersed in the world of writing, Adam is an electronic musician and avid film fan. With the support of his family, Adam continues to pursue his writing dreams, understanding that patience is key in the journey of creating a book.

Threads https://www.threads.net/@shinjutnt

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/shinjutnt/

Amazon Author Page: https://amzn.to/3w3uH0d

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jaafarshaikh2573 · 10 months ago

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Dubai's Aesthetic Marvel: Blending Tradition with Modern Elegance

Dubai, a city synonymous with opulence and modernity, is a testament to the harmonious convergence of tradition and contemporary elegance. Nestled in the heart of the Middle East, this metropolis has seamlessly woven the fabric of its rich cultural heritage into the tapestry of cutting-edge architecture and innovative design. In exploring Dubai's aesthetic marvel, we unravel the city's unique ability to balance tradition with modernity, creating an urban landscape that captivates the world.

Architectural Extravaganza:

Dubai's skyline is an awe-inspiring testament to its commitment to pushing the boundaries of architectural innovation. At the forefront of this skyline stands the Burj Khalifa, an iconic symbol of modernity that pierces the heavens. Yet, as one gazes upon this architectural marvel, the discerning eye will note the intricate design elements that pay homage to traditional Islamic architecture, showcasing the city's deep-rooted connection to its cultural heritage.

The Burj Al Arab, often hailed as the world's only seven-star hotel, embodies the marriage of luxury and tradition. Resembling a billowing sail, this magnificent structure not only graces the skyline with its audacious design but also incorporates elements inspired by Arabic dhow sails. The juxtaposition of the ultramodern and the timeless creates an aesthetic that is uniquely Dubai.

Modern Oasis in the Desert:

Dubai's urban planning is a masterstroke that transforms the seemingly inhospitable desert into a thriving, modern oasis. The city's commitment to sustainable architecture and eco-friendly initiatives is evident in the development of projects like the Sustainable City. Here, traditional Arabian architecture meets modern sustainable practices, creating a harmonious blend of the old and the new.

The Dubai Mall, a shopping extravaganza, is more than just a commercial hub. Its interior design reflects the opulence of the city, with grandiose fountains and breathtaking architecture. However, it also houses the museums of Dubai Modern Art, a testament to the city's dedication to fostering a vibrant arts scene that bridges the gap between tradition and contemporary expression.

Artistic Flourish:

Dubai's commitment to the arts is palpable in the myriad of galleries and installations that dot the cityscape. The Alserkal Avenue in the industrial quarter of Al Quoz is a testament to Dubai's burgeoning contemporary art scene. Former warehouses have been transformed into vibrant art spaces, showcasing the works of local and international artists. Here, the clash of industrial surroundings with avant-garde art creates a fascinating dynamic, encapsulating Dubai's commitment to embracing the future while honouring its past.

The Museums of Dubai:

Dubai's museums serve as custodians of its cultural narrative, preserving the stories of its past while propelling it into the future. The museums in Dubai, located in the historic Al Fahidi Fort, provide a captivating journey through the city's transformation from a fishing village to a global hub. Ancient artefacts and immersive exhibits breathe life into the tales of Dubai's evolution, allowing visitors to connect with the city's rich heritage.

In the heart of the city lies the Etihad Museum, a contemporary architectural masterpiece that unfolds the story of the United Arab Emirates' formation. Interactive displays and multimedia installations offer a dynamic exploration of the nation's history, ensuring that tradition is not merely preserved but brought vividly into the present.

The Louvre Abu Dhabi, while not in Dubai, stands as a testament to the region's commitment to the arts. A short drive from Dubai, this architectural marvel reflects the collaborative spirit of global and local influences. It houses a diverse collection that spans millennia, bringing together artworks from various cultures, eras, and civilisations. The Louvre Abu Dhabi serves as a cultural bridge, connecting the world through art while highlighting the rich cultural tapestry of the Middle East.

The architectural brilliance of the Etihad Museum is not confined to its exterior; the interior spaces are carefully curated to create an immersive experience. From the dramatic lighting that accentuates historical artefacts to the use of cutting-edge technology, every element is designed to transport visitors into the heart of the UAE's journey, allowing them to witness the birth of a nation palpably and engagingly.

Louvre Abu Dhabi:

While not within the city limits of Dubai, the Louvre Abu Dhabi stands as a shining testament to the region's unwavering commitment to the arts. A short drive from Dubai, this cultural hub is situated on Saadiyat Island and represents a collaborative effort that transcends borders. The Louvre Abu Dhabi is not merely a museums in Dubai; it is a cultural bridge that connects the world through the universal language of art.

Designed by the renowned architect Jean Nouvel, the Louvre Abu Dhabi's architectural grandeur is a marvel in itself. The museum's iconic dome, a complex geometric pattern of interwoven stars, creates a breathtaking play of light and shadow, resembling a contemporary interpretation of traditional Arabic architecture. This fusion of global design influences and local aesthetics is a visual testament to the museum's mission to celebrate diversity and interconnectedness.

Within the galleries of the Louvre Abu Dhabi, visitors embark on a transcendent journey through time and space. The museum's collection spans across civilizations and epochs, showcasing artworks that range from ancient artefacts to modern masterpieces. Each piece is carefully curated to highlight the interconnectedness of human culture, emphasizing shared narratives that transcend geographical boundaries.

In essence, the Etihad Museum and the Louvre Abu Dhabi, though distinct in their focus and location, collectively contribute to the narrative of Dubai's commitment to preserving tradition, embracing the arts, and fostering a global cultural dialogue. Together, they embody the spirit of a region that values its past while actively shaping a future that resonates with creativity, diversity, and mutual understanding.

Conclusion:

Dubai's aesthetic marvel is not merely about towering skyscrapers or extravagant malls; it is a symphony of tradition and modernity, a ballet of history and innovation. As the city continues to evolve, it maintains a delicate balance between honouring its roots and embracing the future. Dubai's aesthetic is a living testament to the notion that a city can be both a dazzling beacon of modernity and a custodian of its cultural identity. In this delicate dance, Dubai emerges not just as a city but as a living, breathing work of art.

#museums in dubai

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ailtrahq · 1 year ago

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A new XRP price prediction from notable crypto analyst, EGRAG CRYPTO, has investors buzzing. Based on a multi-timeframe analysis, Egrag believes XRP is showing considerable strength, hinting at a potential surge to $1.4. The analyst elucidated his predictions in a tweet, stating, “XRP Color Code To $1.4 – UPDATE: Trying to showcase the sheer strength and achievements of XRP from multiple time frames: Weekly, 3D, 1D, and 4H.” XRP Price Analysis: 1-Week Chart Delving into the Weekly Chart, Egrag finds an evident optimistic momentum. XRP is on the brink of achieving a notable milestone: sealing a full-body candle beyond the Fib 0.618 retracement level at $0.5119. Egrag notes that the imminent week’s closure and the definitive form of the candle would serve as a robust affirmation of this trend. Egrag’s meticulous breakdown pinpoints vital landmarks for the XRP price trajectory in the 1-week chart. The wicking range is demarcated between $0.3875 and $0.4719. Any downward breach below $0.3875 might disrupt the broader chart setup. Meanwhile, the ranging region, where XRP could oscillate without clear directional momentum (and which XRP is currently leaving), is situated between $0.4719 and $0.5119. Eclipsing the $0.5119 boundary in the weekly timeframe propels XRP into a bullish domain, leading up to $0.5738 — in sync with the 50% Fibonacci retracement echelon. The crypto analyst postulates that the breach of this pivotal price level could catalyze a sweeping XRP rally. Venturing past the 50% Fibonacci zone might result in a landscape with scant resistance, potentially allowing XRP to shatter its annual peak at $0.9310. Concluding his extensive analysis, Egrag envisages an audacious endgame: a staggering 250% rally, propelling XRP towards the 1,618 Fibonacci extension at $1.4695. Weekly XRP chart | Source: X @egragcrypto Shorter Time Frames Switching focus to the 3-day chart, XRP displays a body candle close above the Fibonacci 0.618 retracement level, indicating its presence in the bullish zone. Yet, the current shape of the candle is a neutral Harami style, leaving room for interpretation and lacking a decisive forward direction. This particular formation, rooted in the Japanese term for “pregnant,” represents a potential inflection point in the price movement. Yet, its neutrality necessitates waiting for more concrete signals. Egrag emphasizes that the impending candle, closing today, might shed light on pivotal insights. 3-day XRP chart | Source: X @egragcrypto In the 1-day Chart, the narrative is more assertive. XRP has successfully wrapped up seven consecutive daily candles beyond the Fib 0.618 benchmark in the green area. This trend, as Egrag postulates, radiates a palpable bullish aura. But he also advises vigilance for a potential retest of the lower boundary of the bullish green area, which could solidify this foundation. 1 day XRP chart | Source: X @egragcrypto Lastly, when inspecting the 4-hour chart, a discernible double-top pattern emerges. With XRP exhibiting resistance to surpass the $0.55 mark, there is heightened anticipation of a possible double bottom near $0.50. This movement could pave the way for an assault on the Fib 1.618 zone, around $0.576. The crypto analyst forecasts this as a precursor to a bullish continuation. 4-hour XRP chart | Source: X @egragcrypto At press time, XRP traded at $0.52073. The 1-hour chart shows $0.5264 as the current key resistance and $0.5197 as the key support. XRP price below 38.2% Fib, 1-hour chart | Source: XRPUSD on TradingView.com

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dweemeister · 4 years ago

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Melody Time (1948)

Disengaged and disinterested, Walt Disney was adrift at his own studio in the late 1940s. The studio’s modestly-budgeted package animated features were designed to save it from financial ruin. Yet, they required artistic and storytelling compromises that Disney was loathe to make. In this period, Disney shuffled personnel around the various departments – whether due to personal conflicts or dissatisfaction with their artistic approach on a certain film. Melody Time’s segments are of varying quality and limited experimentation, reflecting the organizational tumult within the studio. No standout moment exists in Melody Time, even though it is more energetic and looser than the preceding Fun and Fancy Free (1947).

The modern Walt Disney Company has advertised Melody Time as a film, “in the grand tradition of Disney’s greatest musical classics, such as Fantasia.” Audacious comparison to make, but functionally inaccurate. Fantasia, as imagined by Walt Disney, Deems Taylor, Leopold Stokowski, and the studio’s animators, was crafted so that its animation would empower the music (in cinema, the reverse – where music serves the action on-screen – is almost always a filmmaker’s approach). The reverse of that relationships holds here. Melody Time contains these seven segments, or “mini-musicals”: “Once Upon a Wintertime”, “Bumble Boogie”, “The Legend of Johnny Appleseed”, “Little Toot”, “Trees”, “Blame It on the Samba”, and “Pecos Bill”. Some of these mini-musicals are more watchable and more artistically interesting than others – although that standard is relatively low in Melody Time.

“Once Upon a Wintertime” is based on an overused Disney narrative template that never ceases to be a bore. A young couple are out and about, flirting and flitting, all while the woodland animals scurrying back and forth mirror human courtship. The segment, however, is partially redeemed by Frances Langford singing the segment’s title song (composed by Bobby Worth and Ray Gilbert) and the unmistakable influence of Mary Blair (1950’s Cinderella, the “It’s a Small World” attraction at Disneyland in Anaheim) in its aesthetic. With any piece of animation involving Mary Blair, one can expect an eye-catching use of color and her modernist art style. “Once Upon a Wintertime” is like a holiday card brought to animated life. Unlike a picturesque and meaningful holiday card, though, it overstays its welcome. But the stereotypical treatment of the young women appearing in “Once Upon a Wintertime” is, to put it mildly, clichéd writing at best. Hackneyed, too, is the fact that the woodland animals come to the human’s rescue.

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s Flight of the Bumblebee is one of the most recognizable (and overplayed) pieces of Western classical music, even to those folks who go out of their way to announce their distaste for classical music. Given a jazz rendition by the Freddy Martin Orchestra, “Bumble Boogie” is a thankfully brief three-minute foray. Here, an insect (that does not seem anything like a bee) flies through a series of surreal images – mostly parts of musical instruments (piano keys in particular) – that it must avoid. The segment is visually entertaining to watch, even if it must have been the easiest to prepare, design, and animated for in all of Melody Time. If placed in either Fantasia or Fantasia 2000, it would easily be the weakest Fantasia segment ever produced.

Third in the film is a segment that feels most like a classic Disney production. “The Legend of Johnny Appleseed” is Disney’s glorified and sanitized take on the eponymous American pioneer, nurseryman, conservationist, and missionary. Walt’s personal ideology and perspective on American history included the fulfillment of Manifest Destiny and the taming of the nation’s wilds as among humanity’s greatest achievements. These are notions that Walt – through his films, theme parks, television shows, and public and private remarks – never questioned. Narrated and with Johnny Appleseed voiced by Dennis Day, there is a sincerity to Johnny’s characterization not present anywhere else in the movie. Again, Mary Blair’s artwork – this time, her forested backgrounds – appears as if heaven-sent. The umbrella-like canopy of the apple trees and “untamed” forests are inviting, and attract one’s eyes upward – towards the apples, paradise.

The title song (sometimes referred to as “The Lord is Good to Me”) featured in the opening moments of “The Legend of Appleseed” is one of the earliest – and one of the few – mentions or depictions of religious faith in a Disney animated work. It reinforces the mythos that surrounds Johnny Appleseed (and, by extension, the belief that white men are divine heroes for civilizing the lands west of the original Thirteen Colonies) to the present day. I was not raised in any of the Abrahamic religions, but it difficult to deny the simple charm of the title song and this segment – even if it endorses a troublesome perspective on American history. “The Legend of Johnny Appleseed” is the best segment of Melody Time – from its unassuming storytelling and wondrous animation. It is the only Melody Time segment that I could possibly envision as a decent feature-length animated film.

Based on a 1939 children’s picture book of the same name Hardie Gramatky, “Little Toot” is a chore to sit through. The segment shares similar narrative and aesthetic tissue with Saludos Amigos’ (1942) “Pedro”, which concerned an anthropomorphic mail airplane that thinks it could. Along the Hudson River in New York City, Little Toot is a tiny tugboat who aspires to be like his father Big Toot. Just as in “Pedro”, this is a case of an anthropomorphized vehicle child who attempts to assume adult responsibility in order to prove that they can perform tasks as well as the adults can. Given that Little Toot is a meddling prankster playing tugboat games, it is difficult to feel much sympathy when he finally faces the consequences of his actions – which probably includes calamitous infrastructural damage and human casualties. Of course, Little Toot is eventually redeemed through some heroic deeds. All of the tugboats will love him, as they belt out with glee that Little Toot will go down in history. The segment is grating, including the novelty title song sung by The Andrews Sisters. Aside from some fascinating water effects, there is not much that “Little Toot” offers in the way of animated interest. Otherwise, it is least interesting segment of the film.

The palate-cleanser is “Trees”, a four-minute segment based on Joyce Kilmer’s poem of the same name (music composed by Oscar Rasbach and performed by Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians). Its aesthetic harkens back to a few seconds near the end of the “Ave Maria” in Fantasia, but otherwise “Trees” is distinct from anything else that has appeared in the Disney animated canon. When setting to work on “Trees”, layout artist Ken O’Connor (1941’s Dumbo, 1987’s The Brave Little Toaster) found himself enamored by the concept art, and endeavored to be a faithful to the style set by the concept art as possible. To do this, O’Connor frosted cels before drawing pastel images onto the cel. Before being photographed by the studio’s multiplane camera, each cel was laminated in clear lacquer to prevent the pastel from smudging. Thanks to O’Connor’s experimentation, “Trees”, however fleeting, lays claim to some of the most beautiful animation among all of the package Disney animated features.

“Blame it on the Samba” sees a reunion of Donald Duck and Brazilian parrot José Carioca (Saludos Amigos, 1944’s The Three Caballeros) are walking about, depressed, directionless. Suddenly, they encounter the Aracuan Bird (who debuted in The Three Caballeros), who whisks them inside a cocktail that introduces them to the rhythmic pleasures of the samba. The segment’s title song is based on Ernesto Nazareth’s polka Apanhei-te, Cavaquinho, sung by The Dinning Sisters with adapted English lyrics, and accompanied by organist Ethel Smith (who appears as herself).

“Blame it on the Samba” feels like it should have been featured in either Saludos Amigos or The Three Caballeros – and that was the intention exactly. Intended to appear in Saludos Amigos, “Blame it on the Samba” was animated and completed in time for it to be incorporated in The Three Caballeros. Given Donald Duck’s lust for human women in the second half of the latter movie, “Blame it on the Samba” might have otherwise been a serviceable penultimate number in that film. The segment is an explosion of color, a kick in the rear for a movie that feels much longer than its seven-five-minute runtime might suggest. And yet in a segment for a music genre innovated in Brazil and popularized by Brazilians, the performers and the performance lack any discernible Brazilian influence or roots. This is not samba music. Instead, it is the culmination of what a white American might think samba music sounds like. This unfortunate development probably would have been avoided entirely if “Blame it on the Samba” appeared in those two aforementioned films instead.

“Pecos Bill”, based on the Texan folk hero of the same name, makes reference to American Indians in ghastly ways. Simultaneously, its absurd humor and lack of fidelity to sensible human behavior and physics make it a delight to watch. The segment also boasts the presence of Roy Rogers and the Pioneers (and Rogers’ horse, Trigger). Child actors Luana Patten and Bobby Driscoll, both of whom had just starred in Song of the South (1946), make brief appearances in the segment’s hybrid animation/live-action introduction. Rogers, then contracted to Republic Pictures, was one of the quintessential stars of the singing cowboy subgenre – singing cowboy movies were almost exclusively made by the “Poverty Row” studios including Republic, and they were extremely profitable against their barebones budgets). “Pecos Bill” all begins with the atmospheric, moody “Blue Shadows on the Trail”. “Blue Shadows on the Trail” describes and, through its spare instrumentation, reflects the emptiness and desolation of the American West. It is a beautiful ballad, and could easily be placed in any Western (singing cowboy movies or otherwise).

Once the hybrid animation/live-action introduction concludes, “Pecos Bill” steams forward with comic hyperbole followed by another comic hyperbole. The title song (music by Eliot Daniel, lyrics by Johnny Lange) doubles down on the exaggerations. Those exaggerations include the segment’s constant gunplay – escaping censorship from the Hays Code: a risqué gag that includes Pecos Bill’s guns going off because of love interest Slue Foot Sue. At least Melody Time ends brashly and riotously, but any impressionable children watching will require a discussion from a trusted adult. Its depictions of American Indians and men-women relations are deplorable, but after just over an hour of inconsistent quality, I found myself enjoying “Pecos Bill” more than I imagined.

Shortly after the release of Melody Time, Walt Disney embarked on a three-week cruise to Hawai’i. Walt rarely went vacationing, and he spent these weeks fully concentrating on his family and escaping from the minutiae of managing his studio. Even after returning from Hawai’i, Walt did not spend much time in Burbank. Walt invited animator and fellow train enthusiast Ward Kimball on a trip to the Midwest. Together, they attended the 1948 Chicago Railroad Fair, visited the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan, and stopped at other locations close to Walt’s childhood in the Midwest. Through the end of 1948, Walt spent more time constructing the train set in his backyard than paying attention to the animation and live-action movies his studio was producing. What seemed like idleness to many (including New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther, who believed that Disney was a cinematic genius wasting his time on quixotic projects) was a major inspiration for a draft sketch entitled “Mickey Mouse Park”, dated August 31, 1948.

The package era at Walt Disney Productions (now Walt Disney Animation Studios) was nearing its end. Every film during this run – Saludos Amigos (1942), The Three Caballeros (1944), Make Mine Music (1946), Fun and Fancy Free (1947), Melody Time, and The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949) – faced the same narrative of Walt Disney’s personal indifference to the projects, a lack of direction and motivation among the animators, and audience and critic dissatisfaction when compared to Disney’s Golden Age movies. A return to non-package animated features would be imminent, in spite of Melody Time’s mediocre performance at the box office. The Disney studios would attempt to begin a period of renewal with a tradition that inaugurated their animated canon – with a fairy tale.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#Melody Time #Walt Disney #Mary Blair #Jack Kinney #Clyde Geronimi #Hamilton Luske #Wilfred Jackson #Roy Rogers #Dennis Day #The Andrews Sisters #Donald Duck #Jose Carioca #My Movie Odyssey

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ficsilike-reblogged · 5 years ago

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Blood in the Rivers: II

A/N: A shorter chapter this time, as I’ve been told putting 13.4k into a single chapter is a little overwhelming. My bad! Thank you for all the kind words for chapter one. I hope you all continue to like this story.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: M for canon typical violence, canon typical sexism, and some soft touching. Sometimes people just need to be cuddled, okay?

Word Count: 4.5k

Read Chapter One Here!

Chapter Two: The Perils of a Royal Wedding

Y/N had been correct. The Lannisters were the ones to note her absence and demand she remain within their sights. It was easy to explain her absence away, she had wanted to partake in the festivities—a wide-eyed look of innocence had them believing it. She danced with Tommen, a happy, skipping thing that had them both giggling to the annoyance of everyone around them. More wine filled her chalice and she wondered if Joffrey had even asked his wife to dance.

Shouldn’t everyone dance at their own wedding? For now, she watched Tommen dance with his aunt Genna and plied herself with berries.

She noticed Ellaria and Oberyn settle at a table nearer the newly wedded couple and Ellaria, knowing Y/N was looking, fed Oberyn berries, pressing them into his mouth with a smirk that he mirrored as he sucked them from her fingers.

She fidgeted in her chair, a now-familiar stirring in her stomach, and drained the rest of the wine from her chalice, grateful when Tyrion quickly noticed and made sure it was refilled. But it was then that she noticed the guilty look on the dwarf’s face as he looked at her.

“Lord Tyrion, what ails you? Have I done something to offend?”

His smile was weak and he took a large gulp of his own wine. “No, my lady. You have done nothing wrong.” And, even though it was murmured into his cup, she heard him say, “and that is your curse.”

But then Loras appeared at their table again, happy and out of breath, before asking her for another dance. She accepted, throwing a glance toward Tyrion who waved her on, and let Loras lead her back toward the dancing couples. When Oberyn and Ellaria stepped to their sides and the dance was announced, she had to admire the Tyrell’s plan. The dance called for two couples, the pairings would switch frequently, alternating partners and steps, and allowed each of the participants to hold the others close. The dance had originated in Dorne a generation ago, and had once been deemed inappropriate for allowing same-sex dancing partners, but had eventually made its way into polite company. Loras seemed to know how audacious the plan was and beamed with a proud smile when she quirked an eyebrow. Ellaria laughed beside them, seeing the exchange, and Oberyn pulled her close for a kiss but his eyes were on Y/N. The music started Y/N let Loras pull her close for a few steps before they all stepped back and the four joined hands, moving about in a circle for a turn and then the couples changed. Ellaria greedily grabbed at her hands and hauled her close with sparkling eyes, leading her through the steps with ease.

“You know a Dornish dance.”

“I do. This is one of my favorites.”

Ellaria hummed as they turned, skirts twisting together in a wave of orange and yellow. “I shall teach you another.”

Heat curled in her stomach at the implication but she wanted it. Desperately. “I would be a faithful student.”

The music indicated that they rejoin hands and circle again. Loras squeezed her hand when they touched and shook his curls like he was moving them out of his eyes but really drawing her attention to the head table where Tywin and Cersei were staring at them. She squeezed his hand back in thanks and felt the smile she had been wearing die. Another turn with the four of them joined and the next partnering came and Oberyn swept her into his arms like he had done it a thousand times before, pulling her closer than the steps deemed necessary.

“Your bird is thriving,” he whispered in her ear. “Happy.”

Y/N didn’t respond aside from tightening her grip on his hand.

“But she worries for you a great deal.”

“Great reward comes with great risk. She will learn this.”

“Your life is precious. Whatever game you think you are playing, you do not know if you will win.”

He was right. The impending arrangement the Lannisters were planning was hanging over her head and she knew her place as a trusted loyalist could easily be snapped. But she had already entrusted too much with him and Dorne.

Asking him for more would be selfish.

“I would see you safe.”

“As I would see you, my prince.”

He opened his mouth to say something else when the crescendo of the song started and they were forced to part, retreating back to their original coupling to finish the dance.

“You look troubled, my lady,” Loras whispered.

“I think I am.” The dance ended in Loras’ arms and he started to lead her back toward her table when Tywin Lannister stepped into their path. “My lord, are you enjoying the festivities?” Pressing a smile to her face was easy and she tried to not tighten her grip on Loras’ arm in an attempt for comfort. “I have never seen such splendor.”

Tywin smirked and glanced at Loras before focusing his gaze back on her. “I’m glad you’ve found some enjoyment, Lady Tully. Join me for a dance.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an offer. And when he held out his hand toward her, she knew she would have to take it.

She looked at the hand offered to her and then cast a glance at Oberyn and Ellaria, as they settled at their table. She couldn’t help it. She knew what Oberyn and all of Dorne thought of Tywin Lannister. She wouldn’t add to their betrayal or heartache. Oberyn looked ready to leap from his seat but Ellaria had set a hand over his arm and quickly schooled her features into a forced smile before giving a curt nod.

Y/N mirrored her expression and set her hand in Tywin’s as she stepped away from Loras’ side and let herself be drawn back among the other dancing couples as the music started, slow and soft. It would have been romantic with anyone else. The older man was a graceful dancer, she had to admit, as he led her through the familiar steps of a dance she had learned as a child. He was looking down at her, she knew, as she made the top button of his surcoat her sole focus. She wouldn’t and couldn’t look at him. But his dulled scent of leather and clove was cloying at her nose.

“Do you make it a habit of avoiding eye contact with whomever you dance with?”

Y/N suppressed an eye roll and granted him a single, short look. “I apologize, my lord. I am simply trying to remember the steps so I do not step on your foot.” A simple lie.

“Did you not practice as a child?”

“I did, my lord. Far more than necessary, I assume. But this dance was not a favorite of my septa. I do hope you do not fault me for it.” Another lie.

“Yes,” Tywin said. “I suppose you did have an unusual upbringing.” He stepped back and spun her under his arm just as the other couples did the same. “I could teach you.”

Y/N nearly choked on her next breath and missed a step, her toe colliding with the side of his boot. “M-my lord?”

“You are a young, beautiful, highborn lady. You should know to dance—properly. Not those dances I know they’re fond of in Dorne. Vulgar displays.”

Her throat was tightening, stopping air from moving in or out. “I…I quite like the Dornish dances. I think they’re lovely.”

“Do you know those steps, Lady Tully? Perhaps you could enlighten me to their beauty.” The words had a strange lift to them and his grip tightened on her hand, the other curling around her waist just a fraction more.

“My lord,” she dropped her voice to a whisper to avoid him hearing the tremble she knew was growing, “that is hardly appropriate.”

“It does not have to be inappropriate. You could be Lady of Casterly Rock. You would be more powerful than Margaery and worshipped by all of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Y/N would swear her heart stopped. Was this his plan? Was he suggesting-

“And what of the Riverlands? I thought-”

“Your second son would rule the Riverlands. Your first, however,” he dipped his head closer to her ear, “would be my heir.”

The song ended and everyone else clapped, crowd moving—finding new partners, refilling wine. But Y/N could only pull her hands away from Tywin as her tongue felt like lead in her mouth. “A gracious offer, to be sure.”

“And what is your answer?”

“Lady Tully!” Y/N nearly collapsed as she heard Margaery call out for her.

“Please, excuse me, my lord.” She curtseyed, and then turned toward the head table. There was a strange buzzing between her ears as she made her way through the crowd. She barely gave it a second thought to see the knight-turned-fool Dontos waiting in the bushes as she passed. She curtseyed again in front of Joffrey and Margaery. “Yes, Your Grace?”

The new queen smiled up at her and grasped at her hands. “I-”

There was a sudden, familiar sound behind her, pulling her attention for just a moment before something pinched at her back and chest.

Margaery screamed.

The bolt was protruding from her shoulder like a terrible, blackened limb. Margaery looked up at her with wide eyes as she felt the metallic tang of blood bubble over her tongue. She touched it—just once—as if not entirely believing she had been shot. The answering, near-crippling shock proved her otherwise.

There was screaming—so much screaming and she could not discern one word from the other.

Someone called out her name as she doubled over onto her knees. Shaking fingers grasped the silver arrowhead and, with a strangled sort of groan, she pulled the rest of the arrow through, briefly wondering at the strange sensation of the fletching catching on her flesh. Warmth bloomed across her chest. It took her several moments to realize it was blood.

Bloodied palms slapped against the stones beneath her, keeping her from collapsing completely.

“The King!” Someone shouted. “The King!”

There was more screaming, panicked and screeching and turning into a howling cacophony in her swirling mind. She hardly noticed when someone ran to her side and grasped her face with gentle hands, trying to get her to move, to say something, to do anything. Pain grew and blossomed with every frantic beat of her heart but she could do precious little, her limbs feeling like stone. Even her eyes refused to move from where they were trained on the stone, watching, almost disinterestedly the blood start to pool beneath her fingers.

Someone was pressing at her wound, trying to staunch the bleeding with little success. “Stay with me, stay awake.”

She lifted her head, a labored effort, and could only see the dark eyes staring back at her and then the world turned dark.

Olenna was sitting on the edge of her bed when she woke. The woman’s face was drawn tight with some strange emotion as she stared out into the small patch of sky visible from the chamber windows.

“My lady?” Y/N’s voice caught in her throat, dry and scratching. Pain shot through her body as she tried to lift herself up to sitting.

Olenna turned to face her, a small smile touching her mouth. “Ah, Little Fish. You finally wake.” She walked to the door and called out for the maester before helping Y/N to sit and put another pillow at her back. “Do you need more Milk of the Poppy?”

“What happened, Olenna? Tell me.” The pain was increasing with each beat of her heart but she needed to know—needed to understand.

Olenna sighed and stood straight. “It was never meant to be you, child. I want you to know that.”

“I-I-I don’t understand. And of Joffrey? What-”

The door to her chamber opened and a maester walked in, a small bowl of something in his weathered hands. Without prompting, he held it to Y/N’s lips and forced the viscous liquid into her mouth. The bitter taste was a familiar one—Milk of the Poppy. She coughed and nearly retched with how much he was pushing down her throat but sank into the pillows, mind already swimming, as he finished. “I just have to check your wrappings, my lady. To prevent infection.”

Y/N’s eyes were swimming, unfocused, as she tried to find Olenna again. “Stay,” she said, although her tongue felt too big for her mouth. “Tell me. What happened.”

“You were valiant, my lady,” the maester said as he pulled down the shoulder of her chemise. “But you were not able to save His Grace, King Joffrey. “

Her head lulled to the side on her pillows to find Olenna looking at her almost worriedly. “Dead?”

“Yes, Little Fish. He’s dead.”

“Oh.”

And then darkness swept over her like a raven’s wing.

The realm between dream and waking was a constant companion for the next handful of days, each one swimming into the next without much fanfare in the small haven of her chambers. The only time she had spent out of doors was when she was requested to attend the gathering of nobility for a time of prayer over the body of the slain king, and she could only stand upright for a few minutes before she was allowed to leave. She hardly remembered any of the ceremony. The maester came and went, cleaning her wound and wrappings without much fanfare. “I need a bath, Daisy,” she murmured. Her feet felt foreign as they touched the stone of the floor of her bedroom. “I can smell myself. It isn’t pleasant.”

The frazzled form of Daisy quickly set out to have a basin dragged in and filled with near-boiling water. She followed it with floral soaps and then helped her lady undress and slowly lower into the water. Y/N groaned as the water rose around her, already feeling more human. But her head lulled as if it felt too heavy on her neck and the room spun for a moment.

“Is the temperature too hot, my lady?” Daisy asked as she started to soak a cloth in the water.

“It is perfect, Daisy. You are too kind to me.”

Daisy smiled and opened her mouth to reply when there was a knock at the door. Y/N curled her knees up to her chest for a semblance of modesty under the milk-colored water. The knock came again.

“Come back later!” Daisy hollered.

And the door opened.

Daisy screeched and stepped in front of Y/N’s tub to shield her from the intruders, yelling about sending for the guards and Y/N, still hazy from the Poppy, leaned forward just enough to see Prince Oberyn and Ellaria standing in her chambers. A shock of orange was seen in front of the door before it closed.

“Our guards are standing watch. I assure you that Lady Tully is well protected,” Oberyn said with an easy smile.

Ellaria draped herself in a nearby chair with a smile of her own. “How are you feeling, my lady?”

“She is indecent,” Daisy nearly growled.

“It is fine, Daisy. They are friends and I cannot bring myself to care at the moment.”

Daisy’s brow furrowed as she turned to look at Y/N. “Do you need water, my lady? Food?” A gentle hand pressed against her cheek, checking her temperature. “If you feel faint I can call the maester again.”

Y/N smiled, knowing it probably looked crooked on her lips, and shook her head. “I am on the mend, Daisy. Thanks to your care. But, I promise you, I am in no danger with them.”

Daisy sighed and nodded. “I shall bring you fresh linens, then, for your bed.”

Y/N thanked her and Daisy quickly stripped the bed before leaving the chambers, leaving her alone with Oberyn and Ellaria.

“They have addled your mind with Milk of the Poppy.” The observation from Oberyn only earned a nod in return. “You will not feel yourself for a while longer.”

Another nod.

Ellaria stood and poked her head out the door, murmuring something to one of the guards before closing it again. She settled near the tub and grabbed the cloths Daisy had soaked and began to slide the cloth along Y/N’s arms and over her uninjured shoulder, the soaped water refreshing and hot. Y/N relaxed under her care and reclined against the back of the tub, uncaring that her breasts were starting to crest the water’s edge.

“You were kept from us for days. Oberyn said you were whisked away during prayers,” Ellaria whispered as she dipped the cloth under the water to wipe against her stomach. “We worried.”

Y/N smiled and moved to press her cheek against the warm lip of the tub. “I am sorry you were worried. I would have let you in, if I had known.”

The cloth slid up her stomach to wipe across her left breast and then the right, taking care to avoid the wrappings hiding her ugly stitches. And Y/N could not help the hitch in her breath as Ellaria seemed to take special care to make sure she was clean. She looked up at her: dark hair loose and lovely, like waves crashing in the dark, and simply watched her as she worked. There, of course, was an undercurrent of something more to it, but perhaps that was just Ellaria. Just who she was and why almost everyone was so taken with her on sight. But she knew Ellaria meant to help, too. To wash away the bitterness of the past few days.

A knock on the door had Ellaria turning toward Oberyn. “Would you answer that, my love?”

Oberyn, the prince, did as he was bid and opened the door only a fraction and spoke softly to whomever was on the other side before being handed something and closing the door again as they left. He carefully unwrapped the linen bundle to reveal a collection of small vials.

“Come,” Ellaria said softly to him, her hands pausing in their ministrations.

“Unlike you, my love, I have not been given permission to hold her as you do. I would not overstep, especially with her in such a state.”

Y/N’s addled mind was coherent enough to understand what he was saying and pivoted just enough to look at him. The entire scenario should have never happened, if she was being honest. Her nakedness had always been something she’d been told was to be avoided, discouraged, even. And now she was in the company of a man she was not married to and a woman who was not her maid—it reeked of scandal if anyone happened upon them. But she couldn’t bring herself care. She lifted an arm from the water and held it out, dripping onto the stone with a steady beat. “You have my permission, my prince. You always have my permission.” She crooked a finger at him before needing to curl a little further into the tub as the room spun.

He smiled and closed the space between them and he settled on the other side of the basin and let Ellaria pull the small collection of vials from his grasp. Y/N watched as Ellaria emptied one and then two of the vials into the water and gently swirl it around. The scent of roses and blood oranges filled her nose and pulled a smile from her tired lips.

“Lean forward for me,” Ellaria softly asked and Y/N did as she was told, nearly jumping as Ellaria poured water over her hair. Something was said to Oberyn as the water distorted her hearing but she didn’t mind.

Y/N closed her eyes as Ellaria began her careful ministrations again and she heard the sound of another vial being uncorked. Another set of hands gently started to massage her scalp and it took her far too long to realize that it was Oberyn. Her hazy eyes opened again to see him smiling as he worked through her hair, filling the room with the scent of more roses, decadent and heady. Again, his touch was gentle and he was careful as he moved her head this way or that so he could make sure he had completed his task. He had rolled the sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows and his outer robe had been discarded, draped across the window seat behind him. The entire situation finally made a giggle fall from her lips.

“What is so funny?” Oberyn asked with a smile of his own. He cupped his hands and brought a bit of water over her hair, starting to rinse it.

“A prince is washing my hair.” She laughed again and dipped her head back to help him.

“A prince serves his people, my lady.” His voice was soft. “And it is an honor to be of service to you.”

Something bloomed in her chest then, as she looked into his dark eyes and watched him smile. It felt soft and comforting and all-encompassing all at once. It felt, as strange as it was, like home. And when Ellaria pressed a kiss to her rose-scented skin, she knew it wasn’t strange at all.

“Your water grows cold. We must get you dry.”

Before she could even think to try to stand, Oberyn hand plunged his hands into the water and wrapped an arm around her back and the other just below her knees and helped her to her feet outside the bath. And now she had no water nor suds of soap to disguise her nakedness from him. Water slipped down her clean, perfumed skin in rivulets as he held her steady, soaking the ends of his tunic sleeves. His gaze could have wandered. Could have taken in her body as no man has ever done before. But he kept his eyes on hers and remained careful and gentle as Ellaria found her a new chemise and dressing robe and they each helped her dry and into the clean clothes to avoid further injury.

The poppy had continued to retreat, leaving her now in just a comfortable haze and she settled atop the stool in front of her small, mirrored vanity as Ellaria pulled yet another jar from somewhere and opened it to reveal a bit of pink paste she started to massage into Y/N’s hands. “You have both been very kind to me. I do not know what I have done or said to earn such care.”

“You are kind to us. We are kind to our friends.”

“Is that what I am?” She asked with a laugh. “A friend?”

Ellaria set down the jar, finished, and nuzzled her nose under Y/N’s jaw. Careful hands swept around her sides to hold her just under her breasts. “We can be more when you are well again.”

“I feel like I am more to you now. I have never been held so softly.” The words were true and she never would have spoken them if her mind had been entirely clear. But oh, how she reveled in the touch.

Ellaria smiled against the side of her throat. “I would like to hold you for as long as you would let me.” But then she stood straight, touch slowly receding, and looked at Oberyn with a playful smile. “Come, my love. She is soft to touch. You have been wanting to hold her since her third letter arrived.”

Oberyn chuckled. “It was her first, actually.” He stepped closer. “That first curl of ink had pulled me into its depths and I knew I’d never be able to recover.” And soon he was at her back. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the small bit of skin exposed where her neck met her uninjured shoulder. Y/N shivered and he trailed his fingers down her back. “You have bewitched me, my lady.”

Y/N could only smile up at him in the reflection of her mirror.

His hand curled under her chin and he tilted her face up so he could look at her properly. Dark eyes seemed to drink in her soft, tired features before he slowly, ever so slowly, leaned down to press his lips to hers. It was soft and gentle and still curled her toes into the silk rug beneath her feet. The simple touch left her panting as he pulled back. His thumb pressed against her bottom lip and he smiled again. “I knew you would taste sweet.”

There was a rapid knocking at the door and Ellaria pulled it open, letting a flustered Daisy in, her arms laden with clean linens for the bed. “The Dornishmen guarding the door are quite scary, you know,” she murmured, casting a glance at Oberyn before hurrying to the bed to start her task.

“They are for her protection.”

“Yes, but I am her maid, Prince Oberyn.”

“Daisy,” Y/N managed to say, her mind buzzing for more than one reason. “Please.”

Daisy huffed and shook her head but said nothing else, pulling the linens a little tighter than necessary across the featherbed.

“We must go,” Ellaria said as she stepped to Y/N’s side again and pressed a slow kiss to the side of her mouth. “When you are able, tell one of the men at the door. They will lead you to us.”

“Must you leave?” Y/N asked. She reached out to grasp one of Ellaria’s hands but stopped as pain racked her body, pulling at the wound in her shoulder.

“We have been far too selfish with you today already. You need rest. True rest without the Poppy pulling you into darkness. We are not leaving the capital until this is finished.”

She should have asked what they meant. What they needed to finish. But Oberyn had pulled a silk scarf, black and stitched with yellow suns, from the folds of his robe and he gently tied it about her neck and then slipped her arm into it. “This will keep you still, help you to heal.”

The scarf smelled like him, of spice and sandalwood and warmth. Y/N stood and curtseyed, a little off balance with the sling, but Oberyn bowed just the same before taking her other hand and pressing a kiss to the pads of her fingers, taking a deep breath in through his nose to fill his lungs with her scent.

“Until we meet again, my lady.”

A/N: Well, there’s part two. There is a plot developing. I am thinking this entire story will be about eight chapters. What do you all think? I’d love to hear what you’d like to see, and what you hope happens. Thank you for reading. Also, if you’d like to be tagged, I’d be happy to do so. I’ve never done it before but I’d be happy to try! xx

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x reader #oberyn x ellaria x reader #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #game of thrones #asoiaf #oberyn x ellaria

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hqsloane · 5 years ago

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hello !! it’s ally back at it again with another muse !! for those of you who don’t know, i also play violet ( the taylor hill fc ) !! but this is a very new muse that i’m v excited about, so if you want to plot just like this post & i’ll slide into your dms <3

chicago’s very own sloane windsor has been spotted on madison avenue driving a rolls-royce dawn , welcome ! your resemblance to charlotte d'alessio is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twentieth birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re insatiable , but being gregarious might help you . i think being a libra explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be designer sunglasses disguising bloodshot eyes , vintage abba records , a room full of first place trophies. ( i just got out of rehab for a drug addiction ) & ( cisfemale + she/her ) + ( ally , 21 , she/her )

full name: sloane ( warrior ) madeleine ( of french origin woman meaning ‘ woman from magdala or high tower ’ ) windsor ( english last name ). nickname(s): s, princess. age: twenty. birthday: 3 october 1999. zodiac: libra. gender: cisfemale. pronouns: she / her / hers. sexual orientation: bisexual. languages spoken: english & french. hometown: buckhead, georgia. occupation: vlogger. parents: darcy sinclair ( rachel mcadams ) & spencer windsor ( jon hamm ). siblings: two older brothers. pet(s): forrest ( golden retriever ) & jenny ( border collie ). religion: southern baptist. drink / drugs / sex: yes / yes / yes. height: 5′5. right/left handed: left handed. tattoos: a rose on her hip ( x ), this on the back of her right elbow, & a quote on her ribs ( x ). positive traits: gregarious, discerning, tender, impartial, dignified, courageous, independent, empathetic, & audacious. negative traits: covetous, controlling, aloof, rebellious, daunting, compulsive, tactless, vain, cunning, obstinate, & snarky. hobbies: photography, traveling, procrastination, meddling, partying, late night instagram live streams, dancing on tables well past last call, visiting art museums, & video editing. habits: tying her hair up in a loose ponytail when she’s stressed, fleeing the country on a whim, chewing the insides of her cheek in order to hold back what she truly wants to say, chewing the ends of brightly colored pens, binge drinking, & doodling. labels: the catalyst ( the independent one ), the doctrinaire ( the perfectionist ), & the aesthete ( the muse ). aesthetics: cat eye sunglasses shielding emerald hues, mascara tear stained cheeks, shattered trophies, polaroids, disposable film, late night notifications, hiding any ounce of emotion behind a camera, paint splattered jeans, parisian architecture, sunday brunch, missed phone calls, & the longing for her mother’s approval. style inspo: nicola peltz, bella hadid, kendall jenner, rosie huntington whiteley, meghan markle, & alexa chung. here are just a few examples of her wardrobe !! ( x x x x x ) muse inspo: monica geller ( friends ), caroline forbes ( the vampire diaries ), serena van der woodsen ( gossip girl ), lydia martin ( teen wolf ), peyton sawyer ( one tree hill ), nancy wheeler ( stranger things ), & emily fitch ( skins ). net worth: 30 million.

background ;;

before spencer & darcy got married in 1989, they knew all they wanted was one child: a girl. yet, their life did not go according to plan. after they welcomed their first child into the world ( a boy ), they figured that the next one would be a girl. they of course loved their son more than anything in this world, but they knew they wanted a daughter to complete their growing family. however, when darcy discovered the sex of their second child was a boy, she knew she wouldn’t stop having children until they welcomed their perfect girl into this world.

soon after the birth of their second son, they discovered they were expecting again. this time, with the daughter they had always wanted !! sloane was born on october 3rd, 1999 in a wealthy suburb of atlanta, georgia. & from the day she was born, an enormous pressure was put on her.

what you need to know about the windsor family ( other than their strong southern roots ) is that they’re extremely rich. they are high key based off the carrington’s from dynasty bc i’m #trash. buttttt what you need to know is that they own a multibillion dollar international oil company called windsor industries ( formerly known as windsor petroleum group ).

if you aren’t familiar with oil conglomerates, all you need to know is that windsor industries are responsible for literal power. they are one of the leading producers for oil & gas in the world which is why they have offices all over the country. & let me tell you, they don’t conduct business ethically !! they are notorious for fracking & their continuous use of fossil fuels. when people talk about climate change, they constantly bring up windsor industries & how much they have contributed to global warming. & to make matters worse, spencer & his eldest son put millions of dollars into the pockets of politicians to get them to support their cause & vote against climate change regulation. so if we all burn up one day, you can blame them !!

the windsor family has lived in georgia for generations ( big yikes ) & that’s where they started the family business in 1942. spencer’s grandfather came from a long line of prominent politicians in state politics which is why his family was ready to disown him when he decided to go into business over politics. but when his business took off & he was making more money than everyone else in his family by the age of twenty-two, they quickly shut up & started supporting him.

since then, windsor industries has been passed down from generation to generation. spencer was handed the business on his thirtieth birthday ( twenty years ago ) & has been dominating ever since. once his eldest son turned eighteen, he quickly got him involved & he is expected to take over the family business one day.

as successful as his business is, spencer is known as the bad guy in america. he is a billionaire who doesn’t know what it’s like to come from humble beginnings. he was literally handed a multibillion dollar business & the rest was history !! he definitely is a bad guy since he doesn’t care about the environment or anything else. all he cares about is making money no matter who gets hurt. he was even considered to work for trump at one point but quickly declined !! he just wrote him a big ass check instead bcsjkhdfs

but he does love his family. he would do literally anything for his family despite his tough love approach to his two sons. but when it comes to sloane, he is a complete softie. she can literally do no wrong in his eyes which is why they have such a great relationship !!

darcy, on the other hand, did not come from a lot of money. like her husband, she’s also from georgia but she’s not from a rich suburb. she is from a rural town where she literally grew up in a trailer. & from an early age, she always knew she wanted more. she was always ungrateful for her life & could have cared less about how hard her parents worked to support her & her three other siblings.

things for darcy changed by the time she was eighteen !! she became miss. america which isn’t that big of a deal for most. but she took pride on receiving that title after years of competing in local pageants. despite not coming from a lot of money, she always knew how to fool the judges & everyone else for that matter. she really could have cared less about school, all she cared about was winning pageants.

so when she made it into miss. universe, she thought her life was going to be complete !! yet, it didn’t go according to plan. darcy lost the competition & her short lived media coverage quickly died. no one knew who darcy sinclair was until it was announced that she was marrying one of the heirs to windsor industries.

the reason why darcy wanted a daughter so bad was so she could also be a pageant contender. she didn’t want her daughter to grow up to be a doctor, a lawyer, or anything else for that matter. all she wanted for sloane from the day she was born was to be a pageant queen.

by the time sloane turned five, her mother had already registered her for her first pageant. & unlike the ones darcy used to compete in, this was prestigious. her entire childhood consisted of tap dancing classes & pageants taking priority over school. & because her parents pride themselves on their southern values, they really could have cared less about their daughter attending school. so it came as no surprise when she started to slip up !!

& of course, they bribed her school to fix her grades. from the outside looking in, everyone wanted sloane’s life. she had it all: money, family, looks, everything. but in reality, her mother was working her like a dog. she would be practicing for pageants seven days a week with little to no breaks. but once she was crowned little miss georgia, they knew she was destined for greatness.

the older she got, the more pressure her mother would put on her. & sloane took that pressure extremely seriously. all she ever wanted was to please her mother, so she would strive to be nothing less than perfect. & in order to keep up with the strict demands of her mother & her life, she started turning to drugs. at first, she would start taking adderall to have more energy that way she can cater to her hectic schedule.

even sloane will admit that her high school years were a blur due to her growing drug abuse. the only thing holding her together was her growing addiction to pills. her mother knew. she saw the empty pill bottles lying around her bathroom & there was even a late night where she had to call 911 after finding her only daughter unresponsive. but she never told anyone. she never even asked sloane if she was okay or if she needed help. she only cared about her daughter becoming miss. universe since that was a title that she was robbed of.

all her life, sloane has tried to please her mother. everything she has ever done has never been good enough for her. so by the time she was a senior in high school, she decided the only way to escape her life was by going to college. she knew she didn’t have the grades to get in anywhere far enough from atlanta, even if her parents ensured her transcripts were nothing short of flawless. but when she sat her parents down & told them that she wanted to attend college, she was surprised by their reactions. her father, who has always supported sloane, was willing to do anything she wanted even if that meant delaying his wife’s plans for her. & even her mother came around on the idea after she promised her that she would go back to training for miss. universe once she finished college.

& following her graduation from high school, she packed her bags & went to the university of chicago. she figured that this was a school far enough away from her mother which is why she told her father this was the school of her dreams. sloane never questioned anything during her applications process. all she knew was that she needed to leave her mother’s grasp & learn to live life for herself.

at college, she had decided to study photography soon realizing that is one of her passions in life. & she’s damn good at it too. & even though sloane started living life in college, her drug addiction only worsened. there, she was introduced to even more drugs & the craze of combining uppers & downers.

things started to get crazy last year during the college admissions scandal when it was revealed that spencer & darcy had paid to get sloane accepted into the university of chicago. the school agreed to allow her to finish the semester before they would ultimately expel her due to the negative press coverage. & of course on her last night at school, sloane ended up in the hospital.

after combining far too many uppers & downers at a frat party, she overdosed. this was not the first time she landed up in the hospital after a night out, but it was the first time her father found out. & once he found out, he ensured that she would seek the help she needed.

so that’s where sloane spent the entire summer !! in a private rehab center seeking treatment for drug addiction. however, her family could not afford anymore scandals. so they quickly buried any stories about their youngest child’s overdose & told the media that she was traveling the world with friends this summer. sloane’s scandal is something that they are without a doubt ashamed of despite how many times her father has insisted the opposite. they are willing to do anything to bury this secret, no matter the cost.

now, she’s twenty years old & living in new york. following her discharge from rehab, she wanted to move as far away from chicago as she could. she knows she can’t enroll in college anytime soon given her family’s involvement in the college admissions scandal, but she is wiling to do just about anything to avoid moving back home.

nowadays, you can find sloane vlogging !! she has a v successful youtube channel that is similar to matt king’s ( if ya’ll know who that is ily ). but all you need to know is that she is a daily vlogger with an artsy style & she definitely does q & a videos & all that fun stuff. she is still very dependent on her father’s money but she is making a lot of money off youtube.

personality & misc ;;

personality wise, i’d say she’s pretty easy going. her taste isn’t the usual which i’ll probs go into a little bit, but that doesn’t mean she’s not approachable unlike vi.

truth be told, she’s all over the place & has a lot of depth. she has the ability to light up any room she walks into but that doesn’t mean she lets people walk all over her. after dealing with darcy sinclair for eighteen years, sloane knows when to fight back & channel her rich bitch side.

she’s also really fucking smart despite her fuck ups & she would know her true potential if she just stopped getting fucked up all the time. even though she went to rehab, she isn’t clean but that doesn’t stop her from telling her dad she is.

has never had a serious relationship tbh

instead, she’s had flings that are like relationships without the title.

she may act like an independent bitch but she is also a 100% a daddy’s girl & calls him up for money every other week

very artistic

aside from photography, she is great at painting & drawing & you can find dozens of sketches lying on the floor of her room ( you can also find baggies on her desk tbh )

extremely possessive of her family despite her relationship with her mom. she won’t let anyone else insult her other than her.

hella impulsive

speaks fluent french

also has an apartment in paris that she visits all of the time

tbh, she’s just in love with art. you will always find her at a museum just gazing at art for hours

she’s also constantly leaving the country for vlog material

doesn’t want to think that she has an accent but low key does

even though she’s a huge perfectionist, her room is literally always a mess but she doesn’t let just anyone see that

overall, she is a perfectionist art h*e tbh

if you made it this far ily. here’s her pinterest board if you want to take a look !! it’s v late for me rn & i have to get up early tomorrow so i don’t have any wc listed out but i promise i will bombard you all with plot ideas okay ily

#wealthyhq:intro #hi #love me plz #drug addiction tw #drugs tw #uh idk what else #emotional abuse tw

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sudanesestoic · 7 years ago

Text

A Fleeting Fortnight

Oftentimes we visit places, meet with people and, by mere happenstance, encounter events which occupy a short space of time, yet they eerily inhabit exceptional spots in the far reaches of our memories. Rarely invading our awareness, whenever these ephemeral past moments come to the fore, whether involuntarily or by whatever triggers their recall, we can be forgiven for mistaking them for figments of our own imagination before the switch is flicked in a fraction of a second to realize that they actually took place in that illusory part of our consciousness we refer to as the past. Intriguingly, they trigger an even more acute nostalgia than our long term life-defining experiences. A mere glance at a photo steals us away from the present to relive a moment that lies buried in the distant past with an imperceptible sense of longing. And even though traversing the path that lead us back to this moment then becomes truly appealing, an implacable sense of wistfulness strikes us to counterpoint the genuine desire to succumb to it. Upon discerning that those moments and the way they made us feel then are long gone, an overwhelming gloominess haunts us; specially if the people involved are no longer around or the venues, for whatever reason, won't be seen or visited again. And so as a hedge against this wistfulness I have subconsciously developed a penchant for keeping my past locked away and just staying in good terms with the spontaneity of life right where my 'present' cursor is pointing at. At this very moment, however, an air of valiance surrounds me as I am about to take the audacious step of reliving a bittersweet experience and willingly bear its inherent melancholy: a two-week trip to Thailand to meet with my Thai ex-girlfriend which, according to what the inexorable rigidity of the mirrors of my past reflect, happened for real. Obviously, it will be a burdensome task to conjure up, at length, years of a long distance relationship. Hence I feel it will suffice to provide an abridged account, if you will, of this tempestuous relationship by revisiting its landmarks and turning points and then segue to the lowdown of the only trip I took to see her in the flesh.

💠💠💠

As it is superfluous to point out our inability to foresee the coming to existence of the myriad experiences that would later coalesce to shape our lives, little did I know that this arbitrary encounter would pivot me towards something deeply profound.

It was a quiet evening in the winter of 2012 at my friend's apartment in Chennai, India, where I had spent five years as a student and earned my bachelor degree in Electrical & Electronics Engineering. Out of sheer boredom I whipped out my cellphone and started browsing through my facebook feed. Contrarily, I never was a facebook admirer; as a matter of fact, I despised it to the point that I eventually deleted my account. But it was a time when social media started to get rampant, perfectly coinciding with the outset of the smart phone era and thus being excited about my first ever smart phone, I didn't mind using it for whatever purpose merely for the sake of holding it in my hand. Ironically, it – facebook – proved instrumental in bringing about one of the most notable highlights of my life.... I digress! While scrolling down I paused at a post from a page — I vividly recall its name to be 'positive thinking' — that I was following at the time. I posted a comment and went through the already posted comments before hers in particular caught my attention. I instantly gave it a 'like' and sent her a friend request as I had a feeling she could make a perfect acquaintance. Shortly afterwards she accepted my request and started texting me on my facebook messenger. She seemed rude right off the bat – or feigned rudeness as I could tell – to which I was nonchalant; It actually struck me as funny more than anything. I shrugged off her discourteous remarks and kept responding in a rather cool and indifferent manner. My patience was rewarded though as the convo picked up and before I knew it her manner shifted to one of personable and we started to get along pretty well. I had learned that she was originally from Thailand but resided and worked in Australia (she still does). We came to know briefly about each other and went on to share our thoughts and views in some random topics. We connected sporadically since then but the eagerness to check in and catch up was evident regardless of who reached out first. Five months had elapsed since then. Feeling too gung ho about finally reuniting with my beloved ones after a period of separation that stretched to five odd years, I made my anticipated return to my home country, Sudan, on May 2013 only days after I had obtained and attested my certificates. As it is superfluous to point out our inability to foresee the coming to existence of the myriad experiences that would later coalesce to shape our lives, little did I know that this arbitrary encounter would pivot me towards something deeply profound.

A few weeks after my homecoming we exchanged our contact numbers and other social media accounts and the intimacy between us started to deepen at a rapid pace. There was a burgeoning enthusiasm to chat for longer hours, letting each topic resolve of its own volition before switching to the next one without a trace of boredom. There was a sense that what was going on between us was starting to morph into something which is more than just a mere acquaintance; a subtle uncontrollable attraction. We both seemingly had a visceral conviction that something profound was unfolding judging by the progression of things. A sufficient period of getting to know each other and allowing our feelings to fully mature ran its course before we built up enough courage to open up to each other about our feelings which were equally, and not surprisingly at this point, reciprocated.

And so throwing caution to the winds we took things to the next level. A full-blown long distance relationship finally materialized precisely a year after we first met online. Falling head over heels for each other, despite the seven-hour time difference we would text or video call for hours on end completely oblivious to our surroundings until she would realize it was an hour or two past midnight on her end and that it was time she went to bed (not before saying to each other 'I love you' a multiple times). Likewise, I would stay up past midnight so we could catch up and confab for sometime before I went to bed. The quintessential honeymoon phase that most relationships go through in their nascent stages — an overwhelming excitement amplified by the state of being half-way around the world apart and yet yearning to be within an arm's reach.

• • •

Twists And Turns

Like being awakened all of a sudden in the midst of a beautiful dream by whatever damnable reason, the honeymoon did not last long before a downside to this relationship began to manifest. I was utterly discombobulated as I noticed her demeanor change as suddenly and as unexpectedly. She became temperamental and volatile in a way I would have never imagined she would as if this side to her was obscured by her alluring facade all along, laying in wait for the right time to be unleashed. I was increasingly driven up the wall with her inexplicable immaturity and my attempts to placate her were virtually futile leaving me sometimes with no other option but to ignore her. It was only when I reached the end of my rope, which was more often the case, did she switch back to her charming mode. What truly perplexed me was that after all the frustration she put me through she could always ever so cunningly make me feel good — as though she knew she was my weakness — and my goodness was she industrious when it came to that. I could have sworn she drew pleasure from roiling things deliberately just to keep me perturbed and exasperated. At times I felt the urge to give her a piece of my mind but instead ended up biting back my words as a tradeoff for the contentment I felt from the consolatory recognition that things were back to normal. In retrospect, by doing so I had unwittingly pedestalized her and gave her permission to step all over me. I never looked at it this way until I was later bit by the sobering reality that she was not anything like the picture I painted for her. Anyway, I grew impatient with her incessant emotionally draining gear-switching and reached a point where I was stuck in limbo unable to decide whether I should exert more effort to fix our issues or just take a break from the relationship with a scant hope of rebuilding attraction. Far be it from me to blame her, but her relentless uncalled-for discourtesy made it difficult to resolve what I can only regard, at worst, as misunderstandings – which usually didn't even amount to much to antagonize her. That being said, through the unceasing clashes and reconciliations my love for her was maintained in the backdrop and the hope that things would settle in due time never dissipated.

In the midst of this turmoil — and I wouldn't have asked for a more suitable timing — an unbidden grace happened out of the blue when I finally secured my long-awaited position in my own field of study in a Dubai-based contracting and maintenance company on October 2015 after having spent two arid years in Sudan as a freelance teacher in Maths and English. To my delight, not only was this development a palpable enhancement for me career wise but it also enlivened the relationship and got her ever so thrilled after an eternity of fogginess had taken its toll. The erratic and inconveniencing hot-and-cold patterns suddenly turned into an overdose of charm and sweetness (conspicuously as a reward for this achievement). The honeymoon was resuscitated, only this time it was more intense and lasted a little longer. With this significant step in my life, it is reasonable to think that the relationship must be on the right trajectory now that I was on the way to becoming financially more stable, which should rationalize more maturity from her end so we can seriously start planning our future together. The only thing is, I always seemed to be blinded to the fact that as far as she is concerned no matter how amazing things might appear to be, the shit might just hit the fan at any moment.

Alas, that is exactly what happened!

Only two months into my new job in Dubai another dramatic episode struck and rattled my world. Even though I was in a state of utter shock my thought process was "Well, it is par for the course", while adopting a sanguine mood as a coping mechanism to tackle my disillusionment. Unlike the customary narrative of our previous arguments, I allowed myself this time around to put my foot down and show some fierceness, thinking that a deep conversation where everything is laid out on the table to be dealt with once and for all might just go a long way. Strangely enough I was not surprised by her lukewarm cooperation to reach a compromise. After a sour dispute caused by yet another trivial reason I tried to play things down but she was too stubborn to let go and in just a couple of days I was in for a big surprise. She caught me off-guard when I found out, while I was on duty, that she actually blocked me. To say I could feel the blood in my veins wouldn’t begin to describe the state of lividness that overwhelmed me at the time. "This is just about the last straw", I thought to myself. For the first time ever I had truly contemplated a breakup, having endured a lot already, with no intention whatsoever of reaching out to her as a last-ditch attempt to save the relationship. Besides, I knew full well if I called her she would not pick up. In fact, if anything, she owed me closure since she was the one who pulled away, but that too seemed far-fetched given her disposition.

Paradoxically, despite my resolute stance of not pursuing her, a part of me hoped that she would reach out sooner. Facing up to the fact that it might well be the end of the road for us admittedly left me beyond shaken up and despondent, specially after how we had so naively romanticized our future. Almost two weeks of unyielding silence mixed with an agonizing wait for her call or text message, I conceded that it was a reality check. I somehow convinced myself it was about time anyways and parting ways was perhaps the most optimum resort now that the relationship had seemingly reached a stalemate. Keeping a stiff upper lip, I removed her contact number, our chat threads, photos, voice recordings, videos and pretty much everything that reminded me of her from my phone. I consider myself blessed to have the mental strength that enabled me to assert myself with the belief that she was not the be-all and end-all and thus making it easier to leave the disenchantment behind me and move on.

• • •

An Unforeseen Return

Just as I resigned myself to the fact that I might never hear from her again in this lifetime, she appears as abruptly as she cut me off!

Separated by the width of an entire continent, it will be fitting to assume that my feelings for her will slowly but surely fizzle out and in time I will be well over her. Completely subsumed in the fast metropolitan life — the challenges at work, the commutes, the quotidian indoor and outdoor activities and the occasional convivial social activities — seven months were sufficient to erase any lingering thoughts and memories of her. I seemed to be doing pretty well getting myself accustomed to being single and enjoying life with a sense of freedom whìch was marred by the disquietude that I had endured for most of the time we were together. Things stayed that way until one evening when the unpredictable happened. As I was on the metro on the way back home from work, all exhausted, leaning against a pole and looking out the window with my headphones on, my phone rang. I looked down at the phone screen and raised an eyebrow when I observed that it was an unknown number starting with +61. I was completely flummoxed knowing that the call was definitely from Australia. "Is it her?" I asked under my breath, "who else could it be? I do not know a single soul in Australia other than her". I froze for a few seconds before I hesitantly took the call. My heart skipped a beat when she cleared her throat and said 'hello' in a low voice. Just as I resigned myself to the fact that I might never hear from her again in this lifetime, she appears as abruptly as she cut me off! The timidness in her voice was evident and she spoke with intermittent pauses between her words. Although deep down there was an obscure satisfaction, I tried hard to sound cold and unfazed. I blamed her for the way she ghosted me to which she offered an unconvincing justification. But that did not matter much to me as I could tell from her tone she was desperate to patch things up and be back in my good graces. She made it clear that she still loved me and thought about me throughout the whole time we were separated and that she was more than willing to pick up where we left off. I must admit that was enough to make me feel vindicated and triumphant. Despite the hard feelings that swept me in the past, she managed to talk me into turning over a new leaf. I guess afterall I had fooled myself into believing that my feelings for her must have subsided when in reality I was viscerally missing her, but that subtle feeling was numbed by the day-to-day hustle and bustle until this call happened only to rekindle what was buried deep inside of me.

After almost two hours of talking — starting from the moment I was on the metro, all through the fifteen-minute walk to my building from the metro station and having to stand outside the building for more than an hour — she succeeded in stabbing her hooks into me. Unable to resist the temptation of winning her back, I took a leap of faith and decided to give her a clean slate for which, in hindsight, I consider myself a sinner. Looking back at this decision, I resembled a rehabilitated drug addict who pined for one last dose when it became in their reach. The fact that she could lure me back so effortlessly after having ghosted me for months speaks volumes of how manipulative she was and how I always played second fiddle when it came to determining the flow of the relationship.

Lo and behold, the reconciliation proved different this time! She showed great zeal to take the major step of meeting up which made me believe that she came back with a serious consideration to fully commit. Also, the realization that our feelings, against all the odds, were still very much alive lead me to the firm conviction that we were definitely meant to be together. With my annual leave looming, she suggested it would be the perfect opportunity. We vacillated at first as to whether she should apply for me to visit her in Australia or whether she should fly to Dubai. We finally agreed to meet halfway in her home country, Thailand, as in doing so we would tremendously economize on our travelling expenses. We coordinated to arrive at the same day and we were fortunate enough that the arrival, at Bangkok, of the flights we booked were only about forty minutes apart. I had successfully obtained the visa three weeks prior to our scheduled flights — which were meant to coincide with the first day of my two-week leave. We talked over and over in the last few days leading up to our imminent meeting about how upbeat we were and how we could not wait for that moment to arrive. It was immensely astonishing how things escalated from months of absolutely no contact to actually travelling to see each other in a span of weeks.

• • •

The long-awaited moment finally arrives

Four years of an emotional rollercoaster boiled down to the evening of Friday, October 28th when we touched down at Bangkok International Airport. I recall it was around the time the king of Thailand who was highly revered by the vast majority across the country passed away and so, just as she asked me to, I donned a black shirt, a black suit jacket and a grey pair of trousers. I stood near the exit gate where she should be awaiting me (she arrived earlier than I did). To say I was at once excited and extremely nervous as I was looking around to spot her is one heck of an understatement... There she was! Sporting a black dress that accentuated her figure, she was fairly exhilarated as she crept up on me all of a sudden and hugged me while her cousin was filming the incredible moment. Her cousin then stepped up and put a garland around my neck as a welcoming gesture. It felt surreal. We were both thrown into a state of euphoria as if no one else was at the airport in that instant other than the two of us. Shortly after we snapped back to our consciousness we met with a friend of hers, a Sydney-based Thai-Australian transgender model, who also happened to fly in from Australia that same evening. To wrap up that spectacular occasion the four of us dined in a restaurant inside the airport. I relished every second talking to her and watching them schmooze in Thai while enjoying every mouthful of my noodles.

After the meal, we parted ways with her friend and took a cab to a hotel which she had already booked beforehand. Her cousin sat in the passenger seat. I sat by the right window while she was lying down with her head resting on my lab and her legs half stretched to occupy the width of the back seat. We didn't talk much on the way. It was more of making eye contact and smiling while I was caressing her brown to golden dip-dyed chin-cut straight hair. I suppose we were still acclimating ourselves to the reality of being able to actually touch one another after having gone through a seemingly endless abyss of gadget communications — characterized by a cycle of emotions that passes through the whole spectrum — made it difficult to envisage that this moment was likely to materialize. We reached the hotel in about fifteen minutes. Her cousin wished us good night and took off in the same cab to her home which is quite a ways from the hotel. As we stepped into our room, in the spur of the moment, we hugged tightly, plumped ourselves down on the bed and I proceeded to plant a long, passionate kiss on her lips. It was already nighttime, so obviously after a long journey and a constellation of feelings, bathing and a long sound sleep would do us good. Something else however - conceivably more likely to happen - was sandwiched between them. Apparently the craving we had for each other couldn’t be subdued by the exhaustion. The moment we came out of the shower we went to that cozy bed, failing to hide our uncontrollable desire for each other’s flesh, and started making love. It was worth every second despite the effect of the combination of exhaustion and excitement of our long-awaited meeting. That was just about the last thing we did in that dream-like evening; The first of what would later turn out to be a memorable fortnight. Here is the most intriguing part though, that fortnight was typically a compressed version of the three preceeding years during which we were distanced by thousands of miles. All the fascinating moments in this short vacation were cancelled out by intermittently recurring tensions and heated conversations. Not surprisingly though provided her disposition.

We spent our first three days in Bangkok. The first day in particular was the most notable. Accompanied by her cousin, we took a train to the city center, wandered around and then had an early lunch in a food court. I wasn’t familiar with the names of the places we've been to for all the signposts, the maps on the train stations and even the announcements were in Thai (and why bother much when she is around?). After the meal, we hit an aquarium which I recall to be just nearby where we spent hours on end - one of the most mesmerizing and captivating you can ever come across. Excitement was never killed for a second given the succession of things we did from boat riding, to watching the penguins swimming and shootig themselves out of water in terrifying speed and sauntering in a labyrinth of tunnels where glass barriers separated us from innumerable types of fish and mammals in basically all directions. We were ever so ecstatic, took pictures, held hands and even kissed. Hours passed before we realized it was time for us to return home, not before we loitered for quite sometime in the city streets and bought a few things though. It rained heavily just as we took the train back. Timely right!

The next day I invited her for lunch in an Arabic restaurant. You can very rarely come across Arabic restaurants especially in that region, but we were lucky to find one a few hundred meters away. Just as I mentioned earlier, it wasn’t meant to be pretty all the way. Her mood was far from right ever since we woke up. In fact, she was the complete opposite of the lively person she was the day before. Well, that is indeed par for the course. She blamed me for waking up late that morning and hence missing breakfast at the hotel's buffet. Only after we finished the meal and left the restaurant she started to interact with me normally. I seriously expected her to at least try to act nice and behave in a more appropriate way for the sake of this short vacation and above all 'our very first meeting'. But alas, expectations aren’t always met. She just cannot control her mood swings no matter what the circumstance or situation might be. I was shocked to realize how hostile and inconsiderate she could get, making a fuss out of trivial things and refusing to talk to me for hours (or even a whole day! It happened!), whether we were shopping, dining, taking a walk or even lying on bed!

On the third day she suggested we go to Rayong which is a four-hour road trip from Bangkok. The town where she grew up and spent most of her early years and also where her family’s business and some of their properties are established. We took a mini bus from the bus terminal around fourish and reached Rayong at night time. She made a reservation beforehand in a very decent condo where we spent the remaining days of our vacation. A period I may describe as exquisite and also equally stressful and dramatic. On the one hand, we saw places and did plenty of activities that I truly enjoyed. On the other hand, our quarrels were so heated that I decided to return to Dubai a week before my actual return date to end this nightmare once and for all. I made this rash decision because I couldn’t bare the incessant irrational quarrels. I went by myself to the agency and booked a flight back to Dubai on the evening of the very next day. Only while we were having lunch the next day, only hours before my flight, she made efforts to convince me not to go. She cried after the meal insisting that she was just being emotional and that she didn't expect me to react so fiercely and take the drastic step of leaving without a second thought. I am amazed how she could switch gears between her personalities and roil my emotions in the process.

I must admit her tears and confessions got me a little lenient and sympathetic and compelled me to retract my decision and continue staying for the remaining days of my supposed vacation. As she triumphed, which is usually the case, she contacted the agency and postponed the flight date for another week (the actual return date I previously booked) and of course paid the booking cost in consequence. This incident was a turning point I must say. And it happened unfortunately after a string of squabbles over silly matters spoiled moments that could add up to the remarkable memories. I fully reconciled myself to the fact that she would never change and in any second her mood might just swing the other way just like a pendulum to start another fuss out of the blues. Things started to get better and yet deep down I was still very cautious and alert around her. Anyone in their right frame of mind would agree that such kind of affairs is far from what is generally perceived as ‘love’ where a couple can reciprocate their feelings candidly while working out things together. I just couldn’t find my rhythm around her and felt like I wasn’t myself most of the time as though she is some sort of emotional vampire.

The following days amazingly passed without any trouble that I could think of. Not only were our daytimes wonderful, but even between the sheets we had mind blowing sex and cuddled and talked till we fell asleep. Not incidentally, as our quarrels significantly lessened, the inclination for sex intensified and even our climaxes got more pleasurable.

She took me to the plaza where their business is set up in a fine evening. A well-established electrical shop managed by her mom and sister-in-law and a repair shop run by her brother side by side. We then went to a quiet restaurant bar, along with her brother and two of his pals, in motorbikes (I rode with her brother and she rode with one of his pals while the other rode on his own), had dinner and heineken beer to wash it down and played some games to keep things interesting. It goes to show you that verbal communication isn't the only imperative means to having a meaningful connection between people. Afterall smiles and friendly gestures are part of the rudimentary universal human interactions.

The fact that the frequency of conflicts has palpably diminished was such a relief for me and allowed me to find more meaning in connecting with the person I traveled thousands of miles to spend time with. Although her mood swings could be a worrisome distraction, her spontaneity meant excitement was always in the air and coming up with ideas to occupy the daytime was never a concern; shopping in malls, buying fruits and vegetables from local markets, going out for traditional meals or simply strolling hand-in-hand and having dinner in a cozy wooden hut by the beach.

Of course the evening she hired a bike and took me for an exquisite dinner in a hotel perfectly situated in a hill is still and will ever remain fresh in my mind. It was a spectacular ride in an enchanting road that led to the hill. Eerily, we rarely came across a vehicle along that road as though we were heading towards some abandoned village uphill, giving her the freedom of turning around to flash a smile every now and then. Well, ruin was the complete opposite of what I saw when we reached. The entrance to the hotel was a museum of some sort where some old-fashioned cars were standing to the side. We proceeded through a long passage where antique pieces and pictures were kept in shelves along the way. The quietude and heavenly ambiance of that place almost felt like a temple that alters your consciousness altogether, so mesmerizing in a way that is tremendously suggestive of taking some snaps, which we did. The passageway led to a spacious dining area that is situated out in the open for the hotel residents with a different range of cozy dining sets overlooking the eye-catching heights in the vicinity, the lush greenery and a coastline (not sure what that body of water was exactly). As we sat, I took a moment to glance at the windows and balconies of the hotel rooms and saw no one standing in the balcony or any light emerging from the windows despite the fading away of the sun in the horizon. There was no sign that those rooms were occupied as though it was some sort of a ghost hotel. Had it not been for the several waiters standing outside I would have easily thought that the unoccupied tables around us are in fact occupied by ghosts. Perhaps the road leading to the hill and the hotel that evening were deliberately emptied out in anticipation of our visit to complement the lovely atmosphere with an undistracted romantic dinner.

Time – seemingly dilating and contracting with the succession of wonderful and stressful moments – passed and I was suddenly awakened to the fact that in less than 24 hours we will part ways. The next day would be my flight and hers would be a few days later. The one thing I regretted as I reached this realization is that we failed to have meaningful conversations through all these days, conversations that would decide our very possible bond in the near future. All we ever did was going out, eating, fighting, reconciling, having sex and sleeping. Fourteen chaotic days ended up with a quiet dinner and evening with the only exciting prospect of sex later on in our last night.

I always had the impression that the day of travelling is a short one bearing in mind the preparation time which always seem insufficient, the final packing, the trip to the airport itself and the check-in and departure procedures. Surprisingly, after days of serenity, squabbles erupted again in the dying moments as we were all set to start our journey to the airport. The last few hours I thought would suitable for a meaningful discussion were tainted by a meaningless argument over yet another trivial matter, just what I could do without. Throughout the journey she was picking at me and I was responding, a familiar vignette that was only intervened by brief moments of silence when she was well aware that a few hours are separating us from my departure. Her cousin met with us at the airport as soon as we arrived and we went to a cafeteria for some desserts and coffee. We were all talking, laughing and taking pictures but at the same time deep down I felt shattered and lost. Nothing sapped my energy and tortured me emotionally in my life as much as she did. Just how inconsiderate of her to ruin the atmosphere so callously and flagrantly and send me back home in such a miserable mood. Every time I looked upon her the only words that crossed my mind were “you are not the one for me! I deserve better than this”. I kept looking at my wrist, counting the minutes to start my check-in process, feeling so eager to say goodbye. I felt an inner peace as I hugged her, kissed her goodbye and gazed at her eyes that that was arguably the last time we ever touch.

A fine evening by the beach...

With an eye to the idiosyncratic way in which our paths have merged for a period of time and then diverged I wonder whether our past and current circumstances, the places we go to, the people we meet and our interactions with them came to exist by accident or by an intelligent design that forms the paths which we are peremptorily assigned to traverse. My firm conviction, however, is that whatever we shared - the lengthy phone conversations, the unstable long distance relationship that still managed to prevail despite the many arguments and uncertainties until we met, the things we did, the meals we had, the places we’ve been to, the very beds we made love on, and our final breakup - were all meant to happen as they came and in them are surely lessons to be heeded. That fortnight was an adventure unlike any other I’ve encountered. Nevertheless, it is but an illusion now just like last hour, my final year in university, and my tenth birthday. If life is perceived this way, then we can describe it as a series of grievances over dead experiences falling away like sheer cliffs. The aliveness of the moment, however - regardless of its beauty or dreadfulness - with our eyes fixated on the moments ahead, is a consolatory recognition that will perennially keep nullifying these grievances with newfound hope and drive for fresh experiences.

#memoir #thailand_trip #nostalgia #narcissitic ex #long_distance_relationship #ldr struggles #ldr

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davidrmaas · 4 years ago

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Undeniable Evidence

“The Spirit expressly saith—that, in later seasons, some will revolt from the faith, giving heed unto seducing spirits and unto teachings of demons” – 1 Timothy 4:1.

I cannot presume to know why God is doing or allowing certain things to occur within His church. However, recent events suggest some possible explanations. God cares for His people. Even when He judges them it is in order to correct and save them.

In June of 2008, the chief “apostles and prophets” of the contemporary Charismatic Movement very publicly “anointed” Mr. Todd Bentley for greater ministry. This was done despite his underlying problems that began to surface well before this now infamous event took place. The action by these church leaders was devoid of any discernment or wisdom.

Within a few weeks of his “apostolic” installation, Mr. Bentley left his wife for another woman and, otherwise, disgraced himself. His abominable failure demonstrated how clueless the self-appointed “apostles and prophets” of today truly are. More importantly, they publicized the event over the Internet and unintentionally provided irrefutable evidence they are NOT apostles, prophets, pastors or teachers of God. Perhaps ministers of Satan, but not servants of Jesus Christ of his sheep. The evidence was and is right in front of Christians, at least those with “eyes to see” (YouTube Video).

More recently, broadcast from Redding, California by Bethel.tv was a scene with Bill Johnson, Che Ahn, and other “apostolic” leaders mimicking an act of wizardry for all to see. Copying a scene from a movie version of the Lord of the Rings, the world beheld several chief leaders of the “prophetic movement” collectively striking the ground with a wizard's staff while reciting an incantation to ward off an evil spirit of racism (YouTube Video of Gandalf event).

The Bible condemns sorcery and all forms of divination. However, today we have multiple examples of far too many “apostles and prophets” engaged in acts of wizardry, divination, and New Age mysticism. They speak openly of recovering practices from the occult that, supposedly, the New Age Movement stole from Christianity. For example, the now widely accepted use of numerology to divine God's will. Then we have the monthly prognosticators, astrologers, omen readers, necromancers, and so on. Again, the evidence is in plain sight. These “apostles,” “prophets,” “pastors,” and “teachers” are NOT sent from God - They practice the works of the Devil, and openly so.

Then there is the ignoring and even rejection of clear scripture. For example, Acts 1:6-8:

“They, therefore, having come together, began to question him, saying—Lord! art thou at this time duly establishing the kingdom unto Israel? He said unto them—It is not yours to get to know times or seasons which the Father hath put in his own authority; But ye shall receive power when the Holy Spirit cometh upon you, and ye shall be my witnesses, both in Jerusalem and [in] all Judaea and Samaria and as far as the uttermost part of the land.”

Time and again, the “apostles and prophets” cite the last part of the passage about receiving “power” with which to take the kingdom to the nations, but they never cite the first part, the warning of Jesus - “It is NOT for you to know times and seasons.” Yet they wax incessantly about how they know the everchanging “times and seasons,” even using the exact phrase found on the lips of Jesus.

And why should God grant prophetic insight to anyone who refused to heed His clear word? I mean, what part of, “It is not for you to know times and seasons,” do they not understand? The examples of this movement twisting and ignoring clear scriptural passages can be multiplied quite easily. Even worse is how the “apostles and prophets” equate their “spiritual” revelations received from the “spirit world,” dreams, visions, angels, and decoded numbers with the Bible, even calling their “prophetic” ramblings the “word of God.”

Such incidents of self-exposure will increase in the coming years. God has given the “apostles and prophets” over to the very demonic things for which they have lusted. However, this is not to destroy them but to warn His people. We must remain separate from this deceptive movement and cling to the clear teachings handed down to us from Jesus and the original true apostles, the teachings recorded in the New Testament.

What I am saying is this: The evidence is clear and, almost daily, presented before our eyes. The leadership of the (former) Charismatic Movement has gone over to the occult. The proof of this is provided by the very deceivers who have overrun far too many spirit-filled churches. Bethel of Redding, California broadcasts their witchcraft on their own television channel. Hillsong incorporates mantras word-for-word from Hermeticism and other occult philosophies into its music. Chuck Pierce openly teaches believers how to use numbers and lunar cycles to divine the future. And so on….

We need to remember the repeated warnings by Jesus, Paul and Peter about the MANY deceivers and doctrines of demons that would proliferate in the last days. Will we heed the abundance of evidence before our eyes and act accordingly?

Finally, contrary to the false claims of the “prophetic” movement, God will achieve His ends through humble men and women conformed to Christ crucified, and through the foolishness of preaching the Cross of Christ, NOT by audacious displays of super “signs and wonders” or taking over the seven “mountains of society.” Satan is fully capable of providing all the mighty “signs and wonders” we desire, and if this movement ever gains political power we will discover just how satanic it can be.

#Deceivers #Occult #Charismatic

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monikakrasnorada · 7 years ago

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Hiding in Plain Sight- part eight

Evolution- Deductions vs Mind Palace: A Comprehensive Look

“Ah. Here we are at last – you and me, Sherlock fandom, and our problem post – the final problem post.”

Eight blog posts and nearly 10K words and here we are, the last of the installments.Thanks to everyone that has taken time to read, and especially to comment / discuss them. Hopefully- if there is anyone out there that still cares- all of those posts and words will have been worth getting through if I can manage to make my point here. <3

What may we deduce?

Over the course of these past seven mind palace posts, hopefully, I’ve proven that with each consecutive episode throughout the last three series of Sherlock, both the level of deductions and mind palace appearances have increased.

A trend, that if proven, should bear out into Series 4, correct? A series where we should expect even more mind palace moments than a entire episode taking place in Sherlock’s head. Which would logically mean-

Especially given Sue Vertue’s infamous quote from SherlockedCon 2016:

“Well if you liked The Abominable Bride, you’re going to love series four.” (X)

I’m pretty sure that quote wasn’t a self-drag of the show because, why would she do that? It couldn’t be referencing the elaborate Victorian setting they had given us in that ep. SO, of course, I like to believe it meant, obviously, that S4 was going to be a helluva ride where Mind Palace was concerned, right? Completely full of mind palace scenes-

RIGHT??!!

Wellllll, not so much. *sad trombone noises* because-

There are no discernible mind palace scenes in all of Series 4.

“Sometimes a deception is so audacious, so outrageous that you can’t see it even when it’s staring you in the face.”

An argument can be made that if there has been a precedent set in that mind palace scenes increase over time in each episode, then what may we deduce when we get an entire season without any mind palace scenes?

HLV is half an episode in mind palace --> TAB an entire episode in mind palace --> what is the next logical step in that evolution?

Series 4 is an entire series in mind palace.

This post was originally over 3K words long, but it felt this point was getting lost amongst the screencaps and ramblings. I will be posting my Series 4 musings separately, in another series of posts, hopefully to explain why I believe it is all in Sherlock’s head. But, for the point I’ve been hammering home with all eight portions of this meta, I will stop here and hope I’ve made a decent case up to this point that a trend was set, early on, with the mind palace. And over three series and a special, we have watched it grow and expand, and should have expected that to follow through into Series 4.

@ebaeschnbliah @gosherlocked @loveismyrevolution @tjlcisthenewsexy @tendergingergirl @the-7-percent-solution @221bloodnun @sarahthecoat @doomsteady @devoursjohnlock @themanandthemachine @sherlockshadow @kateis-cakeis @mrskolesouniverse @iamjohnlocked4life @shylockgnomes @antisocial-otaku @holmesianscholar @vitruvianwatson

#sherlock #hiding in plain sight #part eight #emp #mk

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catloud · 8 years ago

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VAULT Festival: Cabaret Round-Up

Cabaret. It’s like your eccentric aunt at a family wedding. One minute she’s serenading you with tears in her eyes, the next she’s stripping off to a jazz remix of Rihanna. There’s such a wide range of talents, styles and expectations that comprise the eclectic and audacious genre of performance.

I feel very lucky to be one of a handful of shows listed as ‘Cabaret’ at this year’s VAULT Festival. And, perhaps even luckier to be the first cabaret show in this year’s programme. In an interview I did with The New Current a few weeks ago, I likened cabaret to cocktails; mixtures of individually delicious components for every taste. Well, take a look at this top notch treat menu I’ve compiled to make it all easy for you. Get stuck in!

After my show WAYWARD runs from January 25th to 29th, you’ve got just over a week to regain your composure before Seven Crazy Bitches kicks off on Febuary 15th at 6pm. Inspired by Shakespeare’s ‘Seven Ages of Man’ speech (you had me at ‘Shakespeare’, to be honest), Holly Morgan asks the question ‘What’s it like to be a female dog in a dog eat dog man’s world?’ and channels seven iconic women. And wigs. There will be wigs.

And don’t even think about going anywhere. While you’re at The Vaults for Seven Crazy Bitches, House of Burlesque 2.0 also begins on February 15th, at 8.25pm. It looks delicious, and already has a string of five star reviews from The Stage and Everything Theatre, promising to be ‘a strong, sassy show for the modern, discerning voyeur.’ Count me in. I’ll be the woman at the back, decked out in (fake) fur, drinking a martini.

And then, drum roll please, Witt’n’Camp hit VAULT on February 16th. The musical comedy pair look like the cabaret Ab Fab double act of my dreams, singing HipOpera (yes, it’s a thing!) amidst character sketch comedy. It looks outrageous and wildly entertaining, and I am very much in in in.

Well, after all that you’ll probably need a rest. But come back underground on February 22nd for the first night of Who Shot Wayne Sleep? from the exquisitely-named The Martini Encounter. All my encounters with martinis have been wild, so I’m guessing this is going to be a raucous, ukulele-and-gin-infused one. The Times called them ‘naughty’, but you’d better come and see for yourself.

And if you want something warm and fuzzy with boobs and cake, be sure to catch Frieda Loves Ya! on February 24th. Yes, all those things guaranteed. It’s a funny and heartwarming comedy burlesque five star show.

And then, once Frieda has given your heart a little MOT, you’ll be ready for Welcome To The Vox Box cabaret featuring the vocal and burlesque stylings of The Vox Vixens. Their sultry jazz renditions have already been picking up a buzz, and you can catch them from 1st-5th of March as the festival comes to a close. Consider it your VAULT Fest 2017 night cap.

Honourable Mentions

Because I have friends on non-cabaret places, so here are some other things from talents I know that I’m really looking forward to.

Astronauts of Hartlepool, because Time Foley is wonderful and this latest offering from the Channel 4 Writer-in-Residence looks like his best yet. Additionally, it’s directed by boss lady Siobhán Cannon-Brownlie of feminist collective Major Labia. *round of applause*

The Litterati, because I love Shrapnel Theatre’s work and this looks like a timely treat.

Blood & Bone! An adult puppet show from Cicada Studios!

VAULT Festival 2017 runs from 25th January until 5th March at The Vaults, Waterloo. For full programme and ticket information please visit vaultfestival.com

The Vaults, Leake Street

London

SE1 7NN

#cabaret #VAULT Festival #theatre #martini #gin #jazz #ukulele #burlesque #ComeWayward

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visionmpbpl-blog · 7 years ago

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New Post has been published on http://www.visionmp.com/karnataka-kairana-debacles-make-bjps/

Karnataka, Kairana debacles make BJP's mission to penetrate into Telugu states an uphill task

The Karnataka and Kairana developments seriously undermine BJP’s efforts to penetrate into south Indian states like Andhra Pradesh and Telangana either on its own or with the support of allies. The swift move by Congress in Karnataka deprived BJP of a prospective ally like JD(S). Emboldened by the decline of Prime Minister Narendra Modi, the TDP is further firming up its anti-BJP strategy. The TRS which was an uncharitable ally of BJP despite talk of a federal front is in a dilemma over any bonhomie with BJP.

Thus, BJP’s plan to compensate the possible losses in the north and the west with the gains in mission-seven states, prominent among them being the two Telugu states — Andhra Pradesh and Telangana — seems to be a distant possibility. The losses in its strongholds are more discernible for BJP while the gains are elusive.

Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister and TDP supremo N Chandrababu Naidu was quick to remark that the by-election results validate the feelings expressed by the TDP. Addressing the state cabinet even as the final tally was emerging, Naidu reportedly told his ministerial colleagues that the TDP was the first to raise the banner of revolt against NDA.

A senior cabinet minister in the Andhra Pradesh cabinet told Firstpost that the chief minister has even predicted that Janata Dal (United) and Shiv Sena would also follow TDP and soon quit the NDA.

The TDP camp was perplexed after the Karnataka results. A senior minister then told Firstpost that the results of Karnataka wherein BJP emerged as the single largest party was rather unexpected. The TDP was, in fact, expecting the BJP’s rout in that state. It may be reminded here that TDP has openly called upon Telugus living in Karnataka to defeat the BJP.

However, the TDP leadership heeded a sigh of relief as BJP failed to prove its majority paving the way for the unveiling of Congress-JD(S) government. Naidu was thus part of the swearing-in ceremony. The TDP decided to be part of the grand show of unity of anti-BJP forces despite the dominant presence of Congress in that mega event.

The BJP was expecting that the YSR Congress will be part of NDA once the TDP walks out of the coalition. The BJP leaders and even NDA ministers were publicly expressing such sentiments. But, the unprecedented public anger against BJP created by the special status narrative dashed the BJP’s hopes of finding new allies in Andhra Pradesh politics. YSR Congress is unlikely to be audacious enough to tie up with the BJP at least in the pre-poll scenario.

The BJP hoped to rope in popular film star and the Jana Sena Party chief Pawan Kalyan into BJP or NDA. But, wary of anti-incumbency against the BJP, Kalyan chose not to join the BJP bandwagon. The Jana Sena Party chief himself announced that Amit Shah has asked him to merge his party with the BJP.

Now, with the decline of BJP evident in its strongholds like Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, either the YSR Congress or Jana Sena Party is unlikely to extend any hand of friendship to BJP.

The Telangana political landscape offers a different paradigm. The BJP allied with TDP in 2014 in this state too. But, much before the TDP’s exit from NDA owing to the differences in Andhra Pradesh, the Telangana BJP severed its ties with TDP. The BJP felt that alliance with TDP in Telangana would be detrimental to its growth in the new state. The TDP suffered a serious decline in the state, thanks to TRS poaching Congress MLAs. Besides, the TDP is seen as a party led by Seemandhra leadership (Seemandhra refers to the residuary state of Andhra Pradesh).

The TRS and the BJP enjoys a sort of love and hate relationship. The ruling TRS has been appreciative of Narendra Modi while the state BJP criticises the Kalvakuntla Chandrashekar Rao (aka KCR) regime. The central BJP leaders including ministers made it a point to praise KCR rule on every other occasion. This peculiar relationship between TRS and BJP is the result of the state-specific political situation. The Congress is pitted against TRS. Therefore, the TRS would not do anything that can remotely benefit the Congress as it is its main rival in the Telangana politics. Thus, the BJP is its natural ally. However, the TRS is wary of losing the minority and Dalit votes if it gets close to the BJP. Telangana has 12 percent Muslim population and the Owaisi’s MIM is its ally.

Political observers even feel that KCR launched his attempts to form the non-Congress, non-BJP front only on the advice of Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Several moves by KCR give credence to such argument. KCR met leaders of JD(S), DMK, TMC and SP, all of them are either ally of Congress or its prospective allies. KCR has not met the leaders of Shiv Sena or JD(U)or Akali Dal who are sulking in the NDA.

The Telangana chief minister kept itself away from the South Indian finance ministers meet held in Kerala to oppose the terms of reference of 15th Finance Commission. KCR chose not to attend the Kumaraswamy swearing-in ceremony but has only called on him a day before.

All these factors provide fodder for speculation that TRS may join the NDA before or after 2019 polls.

But, speaking to Firstpost a senior TRS leader close to the chief minister said that the question of TRS becoming a pre-poll ally of BJP is ruled out as the Modi graph is declining. “We do not want to carry the anti-incumbency of Modi on our back,” said the TRS leader on condition of anonymity.

The special status issue has ruined the BJP chances in Andhra Pradesh. The current political developments further reinforce this trend. The BJP’s expectations of making inroads into Telangana politics are seriously undermined by the waning popularity of Modi and Uttar Pradesh chief minister Yogi Adityanath. The BJP wanted to rope in Yogi as the state has significant minority population making it vulnerable to communal mobilisation.

BJP MLA, NVSS Prabhakar, in fact, said in the state Assembly that Yogi will emerge on Telangana political horizon to unveil BJP rule in the state. Now, with Yogi losing by-elections in his own state, the Yogithva brand of politics seems to be not an attractive proposition for the Telangana BJP.

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reginrokkr · 4 years ago

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Tag dump #3: Connections & ships.

◟༺✩༻◞ Crystallize your sorrow into everlasting frost to reach the promise of light.┊Ace × Kurasame┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Your dreams and existence will find light beyond the paradox; o’ golden star.┊Ace × Stella┊

◟༺✩༻◞ Melody of kindness. ┊Deuce.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Fearful knowledge. ┊Trey.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Valor’s illusion. ┊Cater.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Unbeatable innocence. ┊Cinque.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Intrepid tenacity. ┊Sice.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Audacious discernment. ┊Seven.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Unarmed tranquility. ┊Eight.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Thoughtless action. ┊Nine.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Naïve ignorance. ┊Jack.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Implacable wisdom. ┊Queen.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Composed judgement. ┊King.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Unbreakable love. ┊Rem.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Unrestrained fear. ┊Machina.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Ice reaper. ┊Kurasame.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Soldier of history. ┊Izana.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ We’re different from everyone else. ┊Class Zero.┊ ◟༺✩༻◞ Deceitful Mother. ┊Arecia.┊

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autolovecraft · 8 years ago

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Dawn found the ship.

That ship was very bright, and told many tales, but Carter and dragged him ashore. In light slumber to the sea was visible on this side, shaded by bony protuberances overgrown with coarse hairs. The carven mountains, and the waking world, and wilder still the traveler a chill that he was indeed come into that cliff-side cavern and through some narrow gaps between tumbled walls, mighty buttresses, and Carter saw that he turned even paler than before.

Now and then came the deeper blackness of inmost things as officers, navigators, and of an open space between him and some of which he did not talk.

But now he saw far ahead and to find that marble parapet with curious urns and carven entrance to the outer voids. Before no golden dais had Randolph Carter come, and the waking world and begin the quest anew down the dizzy miles of air to the god of Oukianos, who in Carter's latter dreams had reigned alternately in the taverns of Celephaïs. That on some frightful slope or blasphemous plateau the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep, the scent of the isle of Oriab with Ngranek rising jagged and hideous rock rose spectral into the harbour betwixt the gray headlands while still the traveler was not much more than a chance one, for the way in. Out of the seizure and torture of three ghouls at the stone huts as seen from so prodigious a height in the vaults of Zin to seeing without light, and the hum of the monarch's pleasure. And when he passed through the ruins, Carter resolved to go with bold entreaty whither no man had set the curious urns and basins there to reflect that the bare feet and a little more of the Great Ones atop unknown Kadath, but the great ring of carven mountains, but their entire army as then encamped, veteran fighting ghouls and night-gaunt would seize and pull its quivering pink tentacles expectantly.

And so rare and moving lamp, and chanting voices. Among these the good man could truly tell nothing. All below was still more unpleasant when they gave Carter a portion, he was indeed come to find; for the primal frescoes in the enchanted wood, and pray to all who beheld. Silent they squatted there atop the world of all the seven hundred steps to the city of his ancestors carved thereon, and curled up near his feet to avoid making a noise among heaps of fallen marble.

Now it towered all silent and comet-like into planetary space. The wharves reached wide outside the city wall and arranged his kinfolk in the wonders of the cold waste and Kadath where the Great One's curse, there still lingered the last of them. With unknown Kadath; and he did so each trumpet flew abruptly to its mouth. So asking a formal blessing of the ghouls listened with great attention, and which marked his farthest former travels in this vast evil-smelling crypt, and whose evil fires are seen at night from afar, the seamen of every land on earth, and one could perhaps learn old secrets of the great temple and seen through aisles of monoliths and into the harbour inside, but Carter did not appear likely that this frightful place lies not far off he had come the landing at ruined Sarkomand and the high aether. After a moment it had swelled to a point, and one of the flutes to form a sight whose loveliness was beyond reality, and about twenty feet across. Carter, however, insist upon this but merely wished transportation to and fro over him in the dusk promised a full night ahead for travel. Their older men gave him space to lean and rest. The path indeed led straight ahead and slightly wounding another; but he is winking at this point all the sailors knew not much, save only a few survived to tell them. It was one of Throk's peaks. In a very few had seen the stone door swung wide again, but of these slaves were heating curious iron spears in the prow as the army that no clouds could account for, and Carter thought of those great jellyfish abnormalities as the vanguard of night-gaunts had performed their duty.

Surely enough, the party set sail once more to be seen because they had never before seen so many legends that he need not name. It occurred to him, if indeed they existed, were stationed for naught. Eventually Carter dismounted and led his dubious yak; pulling very hard when the animal balked or stumbled, and sat in the day's battles. He had climbed high to reach unknown Kadath either through the forest because of the great ring of stones, since the stopping of the night would find the mighty mountain shapes seen full against the sky, and in much better repair.

The upper parts of the yak whose great wide prints told of its continued presence. At last, after an unguessed span of hours or days, and keeping his own, and was able to tell that they cannot discriminate. It was twilight when he saw upon the well-known route toward Celephaïs, asking the names of his room and gazed at the thought had come to unknown depths, with the Other Gods had strange ways of the Other Gods.

On the ship set sail once more will earth's gods in their onyx stronghold atop Kadath in its cold waste. He found it grew darker and colder. The high clouds far below him the glorious lands and cities of which were indeed shocking and uncouth black things lurk and caper and flounder in the air before a malevolent tickling told him where to look around, and strange bearded sailors sitting on casks and bales with the moonbeasts above, and within it unknown Kadath in the end Carter was glad it was not making for the first true human saw the smoke of its chains, and its port of Baharna, Carter remembered the password of the Great Ones wished to sail directly away, past the fires and stone huts and the next best thing and dreamed of the Pnakotic Manuscripts made by waking men in that open circle there loomed up ahead one of them.

So he had now come, and to praise all the wonder and beauty beyond any that men walk through it; and in the abyss, and from which had once introduced him to Pickman's present habitation, so that in a tunnel with granite gates and titan stones and monstrous winged lions. He could move, and this the Gugs sleep and they have indeed an excellent sharpness of smell.

Then, after scanning the stars. But the ship drew into the sky seemed most peculiarly a wingless one. A blessed haze lies upon all this region, wherein is held a little and forming the modest gravestones of the high peaks of that three, two had come the landing at ruined Sarkomand and the hum of the burrows one by one. In this low fanfare echoed all the heroes of the head of Ulthar's many cats. Vortices of cold wind surged dankly through sightless labyrinths of stone with an ease and abandon he could see they held many latent memories of their blood might inherit little memories very useful to a seeker.

The young sub-lieutenant he had heard much of the accursed valley. The men of Hlanith are of oak, and in that redoubtable wood of the Great Ones were very dangerous creatures to seek that sunset city they denied him, or at least through some liquid. And there are no such restraints concerning the way to Sarkomand to the Other Gods from Outside, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, for truly, it seemed unlikely that those presences and nameless things tittered and tittered. Presently a fresh black galley that had shaped it, and lay to in the voices of the olden worshipers could have used those imperceptible footholds, yet without one gray hair in their onyx for the cold waste and unknown Kadath; and frantic though the absence of a realm where night broods eternally; but being old in the springtime, and would soon be in the shadows for his audacious voyage. Carter stood breathless and expectant on that high marble terrace with the added marvel of strange pictures with a pot and basket of plates.

Easier even then the brief instant of full silhouette and revelation came; bringing to the mighty darkness which they hastened to do what the seamen said, heed a man's walk.

And in those tropic tangles sleep wondrous palaces of veined marble, with no means imagine. Rumors of the north. He did not seek the terraced palace of rose crystal but walked out the last, and the able-bodied troops were assigned to the Great Ones as set forth in scrolls older than history, and he thought of Kadath, if indeed they were banished to caverns below. If the Gugs were one sentry less, and all round on the newly heaped bones nearby drew his notice from the cave whose mouth yawned just out of the way ahead would lurk enough of other travelers and excited those absurd tales of evil and windowless crypts; for of those hybrid, half-amorphous processions was as nauseating as the city's gates, nor have you failed ever in reverence toward the top of a sluggish sea, and made significant signs to the calm, lovely things of our earth. Of these things. Surely enough, the cats were on earth.

It was night in that town of giants are on a golden throne sat a ghoul is a great glacier's melting had left. Some of them he ceased wholly to abysmal nothingness and shoot through the haunts of men but of a squat windowless building which he knew nothing. Then at last, having much to say just what that abhorred High-Priest was. This being so, the night-gaunts clutched them, and in the lee of huge boulders in Rhode Island's back country. His pack had been transported, no power of uttermost night may pursue; and conceivably it might conceivably be reached, but hoary Nodens as their stinking green ichor oozed fatally upon that mighty crag taller even than Throk's peaks. At length Carter brought up that which is Leng. Of these things was Carter warned by the artists of Baharna, which one can discern their small, black in eternal night he spent in a crevice. One moment he was an old miner of onyx both carved and uncarved awaiting shipment to the thoughts that came from the placid river.

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