#bruid

[daintyus]

[daisys-notes]

Grenzen versus Egoïsme: De Grote Verwarring

Grenzen stellen of gewoon egoïstisch? 🤔 In mijn nieuwste blog ontdek je waarom het één niets met het ander te maken heeft. Lees en lach mee! #zelfzorg #grenzenstellen #egoïsme #mindset #humor #zelfliefde #persoonlijkeontwikkeling

Laten we beginnen met iets heel simpels: Grenzen hebben is niet hetzelfde als egoïstisch zijn. Maar dat weten de meeste mensen niet. Ze denken dat als je “nee” zegt of je tijd voor jezelf claimt, je meteen een narcistische eikel bent. En laat me je vertellen, dat idee is precies waarom zoveel mensen als uitgewrongen dweilen door het leven gaan. Maar hey, als jij graag de deurmat wilt zijn, wie…

[bestersbridalboutique]

Baie geluk Chanell. Jy het so mooi gelyk. 👌©️ @annikoophotography @deopstalcountrylodge #bruid #bruidspaar #troukoors💍 #trourok #troudag #trouidees #mooitroues #sabruid #trouinspirasie (at De Opstal Country Lodge) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cpy-R5mqunb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[thesensibilityofagirlintrouble]

halsey - lucky

[vrouopgenade]

Lente in die strate van Johannesburg

Kom kyk op rinabester.wordpress.com wat ek alles hierdie week raak gesien het: van graffiiti tot bloeisels en nog!

Ek vat pad, straat af, en net om die hoek loop ek in haar vas : Dombeya rotundifolia” stel sy haarself voor. My hart sing (die bye ook) want as die wildepeer haar bruidsgewaad selfs in ‘n stad se strate aantrek, dan weet ek, lente is hier! Wildepeer (Dombeya rotundifolia) Foto: Rina Bester© Bruid van die Bosveld, is haar ander naam.

[stellamodeshop]

Moeder van de bruid(egom)' jurk Online Uitverkoop| Stellamodeshop.nl

Vind uw perfecte jurk bij Stellamodeshop.nl. We hebben een uitgebreide collectie van lange en korte jurken. Waaronder gala- en vintage jurken. Maar ook jurken voor de ‘moeder van de bruid(egom)’ en nog veel meer. Tegen aantrekkelijke prijzen en snelle (wereldwijde) verzending krijgt u de beste prijs-kwaliteitverhouding voor alle producten. Kijk op onze internetsite voor meer details.

Bruid moeder jurk sale online

[a-aexotic]

HEYYYY! So like every other mf on the planet right now I am in my hunger games era!!

Please could you write a Finnick x Reader where she is selected for the quarter quell (Maybe in her games she was lethal and killed like 10+ people?)

And when Katniss shoots the arena in catching fire she gets taken by the capitol (Like Peeta) and they torture her and shit? Then Finnick and her get there reunion she’s all like battered and bruided and it’s dead sad? Not sure if this made sense because i’m half asleep and dyselxic but let me know😭🤣

Maybe he says “It’s okay baby i got you” ??? x

hey of course i can! i hope u enjoy it babe <3 its a tiny bit long! my apologizes

cw's: angst, mentions of killing/dying, typical thg stuff, torture, ptsd, lmk if i missed anything

You were one of the youngest victors alongside Finnick, being only 15 and having won your games. You were also from District 4. You won the 68th Hunger Games, a few years after Finnick.

When you were reaped, Finnick and Mags were your mentors. Finnick came off as self absorbed and arrogant but once you started talking to him, the more you realized that was total bullshit. He wasn't how the Capitol portrayed him, he was much more caring and compassionate. He was very sympathetic to your situation, having gone through the same things.

During your time in the arena, you were one of the most ruthless tributes of all time. In the beginning, you were easily overlooked. The tributes weren't thinking that you were going to be much of a challenge because of your size and the way you carried yourself.

But that was exactly how you wanted to be portrayed. You tricked the Careers into thinking you were some naïve little girl, stabbing them in the back (literally) the first chance you got. The Capitol loved the turn of events, cheering you on.

When you had come back home, you had finally understood the intensity of what you had done. You had killed a whole group of people, ending their lives permanently. Those people had lives and family who loved them, and now they're gone because of you.

You suffered through months and months from never ending nightmares. Even getting consoled by your mother didn't help anymore; she doesn't understand. You didn't even feel worthy of food anymore.

You closed off Mags and Finnick when you had come home, driving yourself into isolation and depression. You rarely went out anymore, eating one meal a day and slept more than 80% of the day. Even sleeping couldn't mend the eternal tiredness you had, the void that filled your body.

Finnick had felt more than responsible for your pain. He gave you time before he realized he was just adding to your pain. Even when you didn't communicate back to him, Finnick visited you every day. He gave you advice and told you what he had went through after the Games as well. Eventually you opened up more to Finnick, and slowly, he had become your best friend.

He had told you that numbing it wasn't going to make it go away. He reminded you that you had him and Mags to help you with this process, and that you weren't alone despite of how you felt.

He helped you regain your sense of purpose again, your self image again. Finnick had singlehandedly helped you rebuilt your sense of self again.

He saw a part of you in him, that scared 14 year old boy who was trying to go back home to his parents. He never wanted anyone to feel that, especially you.

He promised you that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you again.

During your Victor's tour, Snow had suddenly deemed you desirable by the Capitol, wanting to sell you as he did with Finnick. Finnick couldn't risk getting involved, wanting to protect his family.

Every night in the Capitol, you were always consoled by Finnick. Every time you had to do a favor, you remember walking to Finnick's room to sleep, not baring the thought of having to sleep alone in the cold bed. He was always there, holding your hand comfortingly as you both slept.

The Capitol adored you both, nicknaming you the princess and prince of Panem. The more time you spent with Finnick, the more the media had speculated a relationship between the young victors.

You and Finnick had connected in many ways. Both having the same trauma, it was easy to talk to him and for him to understand how hard it was.

You and Finnick eventually got together a few years later, then getting married (in secret, of course) almost right after. You were both deeply in love.

Finnick found solace in the thought of always having you by his side, remembering that no one could tear you apart. That was until the Quarter Quell was announced.

You and Finnick were sitting at the edge of the couch, listening to Caesar's words carefully as he explained that this year's Hunger Games was going to be very different.

When it was announced that there will be only be Victors in this year's games, you heard dropped. You looked over at Finnick and he shared the same terrified look on his face.

--

When Annie's name had been called, you without any second thought, put up your hand. "I volunteer as tribute."

The crowd gasped and you looked over at Annie and you could tell she was a bit relived but still scared nonetheless. You immediately embraced her tightly, letting her let out a small sob. "It's okay, you're okay."

Mags looked just as terrified and you took her hand. When Finnick's name was called, you felt your stomach drop. Not only were you back in the arena, but you were with Finnick.

You looked over at Finnick and he looked prepared to fight. You both stood up and he grabbed your hand, raising it up in union.

The trainride to the Capitol was pretty uneventful. Finnick had wanted some time to think about the plan and so did you. A part of you knew what he was planning; he kill everyone else in the arena and then eventually himself, all for you.

As you sat on the bed, you felt the sadness and anger turn into numbness. No amount of crying was going to stop the Quater Quell and you had to be smart.

You didn't want to survive without Finnick. You were either winning with him or dying with him. Life would be meaningless without him.

Finnick knocked on your door slightly, before walking in. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile. He took a seat next to and took your hand.

"I have a plan."

"Finnick, I know what you're thinking, and no. You're not killing yourself for me."

Finnick looked defeated. "One of us has to survive, Y/N. For Annie. For Mags."

You look a deep inhale, looking away from Finnick. "I don't want to life without you, everything would lose all it's meaning without you."

Finnick felt his heart burst into two pieces as he squeezed your hand. You felt your eyes watering again and you couldn't help but let out another quiet cry as Finnick pulled your head in, as he embraced you tightly.

"Shh, it's okay. I promise, I won't... I won't leave you."

--

It had all happened so fast, you couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. One moment, you were with Finnick trying to find Johanna and Katniss and suddenly there was big loud boom. You were relieved for a moment; Plutarch's plan had worked. Until you realized how far away you were from the others.

You were wandering, trying to find anyone until you heard people behind you. You turned and then you saw some unfamiliar faces; suddenly, your vision went black.

Then, you woke up in a white room. You felt like your stomach had dropped out of your body once the realization hit you; the Capitol captured you.

You were strapped down to a bed and you couldn't move or shake it off. The severity of the situation had hit you; even if by some miracle you did escape, where would you go? How would you find your way to 13 and back to Finnick?

You knew how ruthless the Capitol was to everyone who disobeyed them. Your worst fears had come true and there was no getting out of here.

You heard the door open and you saw some Peacekeepers come in and then you saw the person you dreaded to see most; Snow. You felt like your whole had come crashing down, how could this nightmare become any worse?

"Hello, Y/N."

You didn't respond, resorting to stare at the wall in front of you instead.

He tutted disappointedly. "Out of all the tributes, you were the one I expected least to be involved in this mess. You are the Princess of Panem... What a shame."

You still hadn't replied and you hadn't dared to look at Snow. Months and months you spent trying to heal the trauma he had caused you, you were sure if you had to look at him now, you would break.

"I want to take mercy on you, dear Y/N. If you tell me everything you know about the rebellion, I will make sure the Peacekeepers are gentle with you."

You shook your head. "No."

He let out a small chuckle. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. What?"

"No." You said again, louder.

He hummed in disapproval. "Okay then, you leave me no choice. You are going to regret this."

He nodded to the Peacekeepers and walked out of the room. You were then met with Peacekeepers, loosening the straps then taking you to another room.

If Snow knew one thing about you, it was that being only physical with you wouldn't hurt you enough. He had to hit you were it hurt most.

They threw you in the seemingly vacant room and immediately locking it. You were confused until you heard it.

"Y/N, help me!" Finnick's voice screamed. "Please, help me! Get up and do something, they're killing me! Please."

You looked everywhere in the dark room, trying to find the source. It kept going.

"Y/N, please! Help! What the hell are you doing, just sitting there? You are such a disappointment!" The voice started shouting. "We should've just left you to died in the arena! You are useless!"

Now this was something new. Your body was filled with panic and fear and even though you knew it was fake, you felt like you were going to throw up from all the noise.

Suddenly, Annie's voice came in as well. Then Johanna's. Then your mother's. There was nonstop noise filled with screams for help, shouting with disapproving messages. Your body couldn't handle it; it was so overwhelmed with fear that you started shaking on the ground, putting your hands on your ears but that did little to nothing.

You wanted it to stop. It was too much, you were trembling. It felt like days, just sitting there in that room listening to all those demeaning voices of your loved ones. You couldn't even think straight anymore.

It was so bad you had started to pound your head on the ground, screaming and crying. You had have enough. And then, it all stopped. Silence was foreign for you; your ears were ringing.

You were sitting on the ground, almost lifeless as the Peacekeepers took you away. Your eyes hurt from the tears, your body sore, your ears ringing and your head was pounding.

But you knew that was just the beginning.

--

You were asleep in bed and you were awakened by the door opening, you instantly jolted up. You looked over to see a group of masked men in front of you and you had started to tremble again, silent tears rolling down your face, thinking that the Peacekeepers had come again.

"No, no, no." You started to mumble to yourself.

A man came up to your and took your bruised hand slowly, rubbing it gently in silent empathy. That was the first soft touch you'd felt in a few weeks and it almost stung.

"It's okay, you're safe now. You're going to 13 now."

You had to blink a couple times, trying to process what he said. Was this a dream? You went to pinch yourself but it was real life.

He then helped you up but you couldn't help but stumble; your legs were weak, you couldn't remember the last time the Peacekeepers let you walk for this long.

As you got into the hovercraft, you saw Annie. Your eyes widened as you both ran up to each other, embracing each other. She had started to cry a little bit and so did you.

That was when it hit you. You were going to see Finnick. You were going home. You started crying into Annie's shoulder as she held you. "We're safe now, we're safe."

You had seen Johanna as well but she didn't seem too responsive. Neither did Peeta. You fell asleep on Annie's shoulder on the ride back and for the first time, you actually felt yourself drifting off calmly.

--

There were lots of doctors and nurses looking at you and asking you all sorts of questions and you tried your best to answer them. You were still in shock; you were safe. They couldn't hurt you anymore.

"Y/N?" You turned around to see Finnick. You immediately got up from the examiner's table and ran into his arms, your eyes starting to water up again.

"Finnick," you sighed slowly. You pulled away, putting your hands on his face and touched him as if he wasn't real.

"Are you.. Are you really here?"

"Yes, I'm really here." Finnick looked at you and suddenly his voice transported you back into the dark room. You quickly twisted out of his embrace and his expression changed.

His voice was back and you heard all of the nasty things he had to you. You back away, stumbling into the examiner's table and your breathing became heavy. "No, no, no, please-please go away. No."

You slid down to the floor and you closed your eyes, putting your hands on your ears and rocking back and forth trying to get that voice to stop.

Finnick ran up to you and put his hands on your knees, trying to get you to look at him. His heart broke in half; he didn't know what the Capitol had done to you but now he knows it has something to do with him.

Of course the Capitol would try to ruin him. His eyes started to tear up at the sight of you, in so much pain and panic.

You opened your eyes, Finnick in front of you. You started to cry some more before Finnick slowly went up to you, wrapping his arms around you.

When he had started wrapping your arms around you, your instinct was to push him away but his warmth was welcoming and safe and you started to focus on his touch. The voices slowly drifted away, the sounds of your silent sobs only being heard.

You then gave into Finnick's touch, falling into him and putting your head in his chest as he caressed your back gently, shushing you.

"It's okay baby, I got you. You're safe now, they can't hurt you."

[walzerjahrhundert]

Jan Thorn Prikker

De bruid

circa 1892

[nuclearmu5hroom]

It was so wonderful to meet @maggotwithanf and @confirmedcannibal this wasteland. Yall are family now. Thank you for welcoming me to The Bruid/ODS, your tribes are positively lovely and i adore all of you. I will gladly come and lend a hand again anytime 🖕💜

[maggotwithanf]

ok it's FINALLY DONE LOL

You are CORDIALLY INVITED to attend Shantytown this year at Wasteland Weekend!! KitKat and Bison have prepared some fucking AWESOME stuff for the grand shanty march, and friends are always welcome to share our grog!

All are welcome + it starts at Bonertown (#1: The Bruid/Operation Dessert Storm in the Theme Zone) right after the Jugger match, where my tribe will be playing against the Army of LA!! COME HANG OUT WE LOVE YOU

[devosopmaandag]

Het verleden is van papier

Al twintig jaar ligt ongeopend onderin een kast een felgeel koffertje met daarop een sticker 'Emile Kemper'. Het handschrift is van mijn (half)broer H, die ik al bijna vijftien jaar niet meer zag. Vriendin F vertelde onlangs het heerlijke verhaal hoe een koffer ergens op een zolder in Normandië in een schatkist veranderde, vol brieven, foto's, tekeningen en andere stukken van een kunstenaar over wie zij op dit momenten een roman aan het schrijven is. Ik kon haar ingehouden opwinding navoelen toen zij haar eerste blikken erin wierp.

Het gele koffertje is maar een bescheiden schatkistje, waaruit dwars door de vele ambtelijke documenten heen mijn vader tevoorschijn komt – niet uit het vele, maar juist uit het karige van ambtelijke papieren. In de BBC-reeks 'Who do you think you are' kunnen de hoofdpersonen in tranen raken door droge ambtelijke of kerkregisters, waarin de namen en spaarzame gegevens van soms verre voorouders te vinden zijn. Iets daarvan voelde ik na, toen ik dat kleine archief doornam, uit een gevoel van verantwoordelijkheid zo keurig door H aangelegd. Maar toen mijn vader, zijn stiefvader dus, op sterven lag, vroeg hij mijn moeder of hij toch op vakantie naar Indonesië kon gaan. Natuurlijk vroeg ze hem niet te blijven, maar het deed haar pijn dat hij besloot daadwerkelijk te gaan.

Uiteindelijk verandert elk mensenleven in een handvol cijfers en wat namen: Emiel Kemper – Madioen 26 augustus 1911 – Leeuwarden 10 juni 1995, zoon van Wilhelmina Kemper-Vankelegom, geëcht door Anton Eduard Kemper. De biologische vader van mijn vader is in de geschiedenis verdwenen.

En dan ontdek ik een regelrechte leugen: op de trouwakte van mijn vaders eerste huwelijk staat vermeld dat zijn moeder een onbekend gebleven inlandse vrouw is: Soepinah “beroep en woonplaats onbekend, zijnde het niet bekend of zij al dan niet overleden is”. Er is een inlandse vrouw uit een hoed getoverd om het ambtelijk allemaal niet te ingewikkeld te maken! Zijn feitelijke moeder is verdonkeremaand. Of is dát een leugen? Op die trouwakte staat natuurlijk ook de naam van zijn bruid vermeld: Wilhelmina Margaretha Krijgsman. Ook zij is geëcht door een andere man dan haar biologische vader, en heel toevallig is ook zij volgens het document de dochter van een inlandse vrouw. Uit weer een andere hoed is een 'Soekariah' getoverd. Het is ook nog niet zo lang geleden dat ik ontdekte dat van mijn drie voornamen 'Christine Wilhelmina Margaretha' er dus twee afkomstig zijn van de eerste vrouw van mijn vader! Mijn eigen biologische grootmoeder heette overigens ook 'Wilhelmina' – een van de bizarre uitkomsten van Nederlands koloniale geschiedenis.

Met het openen van dat gele koffertje werden de feitelijke historische gegevens van mijn herkomst en dus ikzelf ook een beetje, zo fragiel als oud papier. En ik denk aan de uitspraak van Hongaarse schrijver Gyorgi Konrád: “Op de vraag naar de zin van het leven, antwoordt iedereen met zijn levensloop.”

[bestersbridalboutique]

Baie geluk Chanell. Jy het so mooi gelyk. 👌©️ @annikoophotography @deopstalcountrylodge #bruid #bruidspaar #troukoors💍 #trourok #troudag #trouidees #mooitroues #sabruid #trouinspirasie (at De Opstal Country Lodge) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpwgottqHw-/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[azvolrien]

Portrait of the Berserker as a Young Man

I've drawn the tattoos on Bruide's chest and arms before (see here), and I fancied designing the ones on his back as well. I suppose it's not really a portrait since you can't see his face, but he's still a berserker - albeit enjoying some downtime here - and a fair bit younger than I've drawn him before. He was in his mid/early fifties when Roan was born, and I'd put him in either his early thirties or the tail-end of his twenties here, after his son (Roan's dad) was born but before he hung up his battle gear to settle down for good.

The three scars all came from the same fight. When he first started out his warrior-adventurer career running with a mercenary band, he decided that he wanted to do the iconic saga thing and go into battle shirtless. The mercenary captain indulged him for one skirmish to let him get it out of his system, that happened, and he invested in a proper hauberk+gambeson combo going forwards.

---

Now comes the part where I ramble at length about history.

So, Bruide and his granddaughter take an obvious inspiration from the Picts. His name is a Gaelic variation of 'Bridei', the name of several Pictish kings, most famously Bridei mac Maelchon -- who met with St Columba, and is one of the first kings we know as more than just a name in a list -- and Bridei mac Beli, who defeated the Northumbrians at the Battle of Dun Nechtain. ('Roan' is not a Pictish name; it's just an anglicisation of ròn, the Gaelic word for 'seal'.) I've also based their tattoos on Pictish designs, sometimes to a pretty specific degree; the wolf on Bruide's back here is drawn from the Ardross Wolf Stone displayed in Inverness Museum, though I've changed the pose to be running rather than walking, and you can find variations of the others on one stone or another.

But: was tattooing a genuine Pictish practice? The romantic Victorian pop-culture view would certainly have you believe so, but the actual historic evidence is inconclusive. We get the name Picti from the Romans -- most likely it means something like 'the painted ones' -- and Roman sources do indeed make reference to designs on the bodies of Caledonian warriors.

Point the first: It's not clear if this is actually referring to tattooing, or to something less permanent like body paint.

Point the second: The people we're usually talking about when we talk about the Picts - the people who lived in north and eastern Scotland, who left the sculptured stones behind - lived a long time after the Romans left. Rome gave up on its Caledonian ambitions and retreated to Hadrian's Wall in 211 with the death of Septimius Severus, and pulled out of Britain altogether in 410; the very oldest Pictish stones are at least a century younger than that, and most are younger still. King Bridei's meeting with St Columba probably happened some time in the 560s or 70s.

Point the third: The writings of Isidore of Seville actually do make pretty specific reference to Pictish tattooing, with needles and all, but he could well have been talking out of his arse; in their book Picts: Scourge of Rome, Rulers of the North, Noble and Evans note that this could have been just because of the name Picti rather than any real evidence. (They point out that he also wrote that wine is good for the blood, not from any medical data but because vinum sounds like vena -- so, yeah, maybe don't take everything he wrote at face value.)

Point the fourth: The carvings of people on Pictish stones often show some quite intricate detailing where it's survived centuries weathering; the three warriors on the Brough of Birsay Stone, for example, have richly-decorated shields and their leader has quite an elaborate hairdo. They don't, however, show any obvious tattoos. Not today, at least; there could be details that have been lost to weathering, and if -- as has been proposed occasionally -- the stones were originally painted, some of those lost details may never have been carved at all.

So all of this is a long-winded way of saying: we don't really know. It's certainly plausible that they did -- symbol carvings have also been found on things like little bone gaming pieces, so they weren't reserved for monumental works like the sculptured stones or high-status pieces like the Whitecleuch Chain; most likely they were also used on textiles and other artefacts that have rotted away during the intervening centuries -- but ultimately it's just not something we can provide a definite answer to with the evidence we have.

Of course, I'm not writing historical fiction here, I'm writing pure secondary-world fantasy with occasional historical inspiration, so I can do what I want. I think they would look cool with tattoos, I give them tattoos. So there. Nyehh.

[realstumackenzie]

welve bar bruide

[rudjedet]

Hi! Silly question but you've mentioned the judge dee books a couple of times and got me interested in checking them out, but, if you have a preference, would you recommend reading them in dutch or english? normally Id pick whichever was the original but I cant actually figure out which that is in this case XD

Ha, that's because Van Gulik wrote a couple in English first, then published them in Dutch as well, and then continued the series in Dutch and later in English iirc. I have read (some of) the books in both languages, and I very much recommend the Dutch ones over the English ones, especially if Dutch is your native langauge. Not because the English ones are bad, they're not! But Van Gulik was Dutch, and his Dutch writing is top tier - hits the exact sweet spot between unpretentious, atmospheric, and dry af lmao. It's just really suited to the kind of narrative he was going for.

Like genuinely, Ma Joeng sourly saying "die had een kater die alle ratten in Mien-yuan kon opvreten" about a courtisane girlfriend he'd just visited? *chef's kiss*

ETA: If you can (afford it), though, find them in second hand bookshops. The current reprints (white covers with monochrome illustrations) have been uh, hertaald to get rid some of the 1950s vocabulary and it's not done them any favours. I think they for some reason even got rid of people addressing Tie as "edelachtbare"? The old Elsevier editions are ugly as sin, but they'll be the cheapest for that reason, too, and at least you get the right language experience.

ETA2: As for reading order, you can go one of two ways. Chronologically within series, so you start with Fantoom in Foe-lai, and then move on to Het Chinese lakscherm, etc., all the way down to Moord in Kanton, and leave De vergiftigde bruid for last (DVB is the first novel he wrote but it's set apart from all the others, because that's the one he based off the Di Gong'an. Tie and his lieutenants have different personalities in that one).

Personally however, I recommend starting with the original series (again leave DVB for after that first set at least, it will spoil the fifth book if you don't), which are Fantoom in Foe-lai, Meer van Mien-yuan, Klokken van Kao-yang, Labyrinth in Lan-fang and Nagels in Ning-tsjo. After those, I'd read the other books (Het Chinese lakscherm etc.) in chronological order.

THAT SAID finding them in that exact order in second hand bookshops is uh. hard lmao. Most of them are standalone books in any case, with some hints to previous works where necessary. There's not going to be any major spoilage happening unless, again, you read De vergiftigde bruid before the first run of five books.

[hansvandoorn]

Bruids make-up! Bianca & Daan.