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cevans-is-classic · 2 years ago

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18+ only please! Language, sexual content, religious themes

Pedro Pascal

My Masterlist

It’s rare to find moments like this — where the world was far away.

He feels alive in these moments.

“Javi.” It’s the soft breathy way you say his name, how your fingers touch his chest, nails scratching over his nipples. If this is as close to heaven as he gets, he’ll fucking take it.

Long days of running lead after lead, tearing him apart, leaving him feeling hollow for each person who died. He chased Pablo around on a stick. Getting close enough to taste it but never earning the praise. The days were bleeding into nights, and time became a burden.

Except in moments like this.

Here, the DEA didn’t exist, Pablo didn’t exist, Carillo’s death and Murphy falling apart didn’t exist.

He held your thighs down, kept you in place, listening to the rise and fall of your moans matching the snap of your hips. He can get lost here, live here, and not think of anything else in the world.

Having you over him, on him, his senses being filled with you as you ride his tongue — the saints of Jesus can descend and Javi wouldn’t look at them twice. He’d drag you back over him, dig his nails in deeper, and taste his own salvation.

His redemption lies between your legs for Javi. All the bad he does, all the ugly he sees, it all fades away the moment you say his name.

He wonders at times if this is what cocaine felt in the veins of an addict?

Javi can’t get enough of you, the way you smell, taste, the feel of your hands in his hair. It keeps him awake at night — drags him through the day and back into your bed — and he’d do whatever it takes to keep it. To have this sense of sanctuary.

Once, months ago, murphy leaned against the desk and asked him what kept him going — what made all of this still worth it?

Javi didn’t answer him then, didn’t point out that Escobar’s death keeps him fucking going because he knew Murphy would see right past him. He knew what made all this shit worth it.

At the end of the fucking line, when the son of a bitch is dead and they all get to stop — he’ll have you. Permanently. He could allow himself to be lost inside you. No expectations, to have you holding him at night, kissing him good morning. He would have all of it.

Would he say the same thing this time? Or would he stop pussyfooting around the fear of it and say, “There's a light at the end of this tunnel for me, Murphy,” and see the smile that lights up your face?

Your thighs tighten, one hand leaving his hair to smack the wall as you trembled. Groaning as you fucked yourself over his mouth, taking any thought he had floating around, scattering in the wind. Your chest heaved with each gasp of air. Javi wanted to feel you, touch you, hold on tight as you wrap around him.

Feeling the tremble of your legs as you crawled back down over his shoulders, his teeth nipping goodbye. He helps settle you on his stomach, holding you, touching the slick of sweat on your hips, up your ribs, and over the peak of your nipple.

“Come here.” He guides you up, over him, “Are you ready?”

Your legs were trembling when you sank onto his fingers, falling forward with a sobbing moan. Fuck, fuck, you soaked his hand, gripping his wrist with your own to keep him in place and he needs it. Wants it. Wants to feel you come all over again.

You stop him though, pull his fingers out and bring them up to your lips.

“Javi,” You hover over him, “Fuck me.” You sank down.

These fucking moments remind him he’s alive, he’s real, this is real. Watching you move, the slow roll of your hips glued him to the spot.

“I missed you.” You murmured, hands sliding up his chest, to his shoulder, pushing against them to help you move above him. He was at your mercy, letting you use him the way he wanted to be used.

It took far too long to allow himself to have this. To give in to this. The way you hold him down, knowing that he’d let you.

Here he could be Javi, he could be yours.

He grew up catholic. Watched those around him throw their hands to a God who gave them nothing but pain and suffering. He saw people give up pieces of who they are to a God that allows them to be sick or dying. Javi watched all the churches offer prayers and thoughts but no actual solution.

The people wrote faith on every wall in every house that becomes wreckage in the war of a small, small man. People have died for God. For their religion.

Not once did Javi understand why until he had your mouth around his cock and your hand holding his.

The next snap of your hips jerked both of you across the mattress. Your hand squeezed his shoulders as you groaned and Javi lifted, wrapping both his arms around your waist and holding you tight against him.

It felt surreal now. He felt electric by the way your bodies moved together, your hips coming down to match his going up. Javi’s skin ached where you touched, where your mouth fell to his skin, and your scraped light across his side, shoulders, and back. His hand held you up, your tongue sliding with his as he lifts again, dropping you on your back and covering your body.

“Baby.” You gasped, “Javi.”

He felt you around him, squeezing him, your heels digging into his ass as your hands grabbed hold, rolling his hips the way you needed.

God, fuck. Each push, each groan of his name sparked inside him, under his skin, twisted your thoughts altogether, “Good boy, Baby, please.” The praise shot to his core, dropping him to his elbows. Your teeth clashed together when you kissed him, your heels digging deeper, hands sliding to rest at the small of his back.

He kept moving the way you showed him. He stated where you needed him, right where you needed him.

“Yes,” Your body tightened around him and that warm feeling flooded his groin, “Javi, Ja-a-vi.”

“Si, Come for me, sweetheart, let me feel it.” You gritted your teeth, moved lower, hands moving back to his ass and taking hold, groping him, pushing him, your chin tipped up with a drawn-out moan.

Yes.

These moment’s right here.

Your eyes closed, chest pressing closer to his, the way your whole body goes still before a sharp gasp has you pulsing around him.

“Fuck,” He mashes your mouths together again, rutting harder, deeper, pressing you into the mattress as your teeth grab at his lips and his body burns, “Yes, fuck.”

Moments like this, your lips over his collar, legs hanging loose around his hips as he jerks through his orgasm, are what religion was.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena #javier pena x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #narcos

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fatgumsurpremacy-remastered · 2 years ago

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Do you have any kinks that you like to write about? Any that you don't like?

Ooh. Anon that’s a wonderful question.

Many of my kinks don’t get brought up when it comes to my requests, and generally I feel like my audience wouldn’t prefer the way I go about portraying characters when I write them.

There’s a lot, a lot more dark then the rest be ready.

Tw: Discussion of kinks further on, dark themes.

Like: Bondage (light and heavy), body worship, oral, yandere, impact, pegging, sounding, roleplay, breath and temp play, dom/sub, light marking.Heavy verbal degradation, sensory deprivation. Cucking, voyerism, threesomes, Medical malpractice adj. (Ie. Inappropriate use of medication, medical equipment, or medical profession.) Body mods, robotics, monsters. Water sports, spit, Heavy physical violence, Heavy knife play, Burning, Marking (permanent), CNC, Dubious consent, NonConsent. Mindbreak, Captivity. Primal, aphrodisiacs, Blood, blood consumption and other gore. Amputation. Anything relating to Catholic trauma.

Refuses; Forced detransition, sissification, sensual genital mutilation, general filth, puss, dirt, necrophillia, beastiality, gang, feet, socks.

When it comes to my lighter works I don’t like to include kinks so much as experience. Light bondage maybe, as more of a trust factor in these.

I get requests for softer things sometimes, and it does give me a chance to write fluffier work surrounding the characters. Many of the people I like are older men, so softer works give me an opportunity to write about their body. And their age. A huge component in these is body worship. I feel like it’s a component focused primarily on the reader most times, when in fan fiction not directed at cannon characters.

In short meaning I like to draw focus away from the readers body so they can feel attracted to the characters in the story. A lot of that is told through foreplay. I personally like oral in these cases, as I feel it adds a need of tact to an act otherwise kinda messy, lol.

In my darker works I feel a bit more liberties but I try and keep it more tame for my audience. When I want to go dark I want to make it really dark but I’m afraid I might accidentally trigger someone in my work, even unintentionally. A lot of dialogue in my darker yandere fics are based of my own and my close friends experiences, and it’s realistic. But it’s also a release of trauma and anxiety related.

Many of my kinks on this end are kind of embarrassing so please-please don’t judge me too harshly. I’m gonna go from most ‘acceptable’ to lesser. I just feel like thats a good way to go about it.

Heavy bondage, light impact, pegging, and roleplay. I like these generally, they’re on the lighter end and generally will have a softer underlying tone coming from me. Spattered about will be bits of humor and a less heavy tone.

Breath, temperature, dom/sub, light scratching, marking as in hickies. I like these, they’re pretty base but they’re good for setting the mood in stories.

I feel bad because I’m blanking on what’s more socially acceptable or not so I’m going to move onto ones I’ve been side eyed for liking to write.

Heavier verbal degradation: I enjoy this specifically in context. Usually it’s for a darker or more yandere story and plays into another element which I’ll go into more context over later.

Sounding: Like the idea of a hole that’s ‘not supposed to be used’ being used. Really enjoy that.

This one’s specific and I don’t know the name for it, so I’ll explain but I think it goes hand n hand with my medical kink.

Person a) dommed by person b. Person b) Out of control given some sort of control mech by person c. Person c) initiated it all so they could record findings.

Medical kink, needles, surgical play, medical malpractice but sexy?? Gaslighting kinda. I’m scared of the doctors but fear can be a huge motivator and I feel the sterile atmosphere of a hospital or the creepy attitudes of a doctor can set a great mood.

Body mods, robotic parts, things not considered human on a human being, plays into monsterfucking.

God I’m going to get killed for this.

Piss. Piss and spit, I find them hot, but a lot of people don’t so I never get the chance.

Physical violence to the point of pain.

Deep stabs, cuts, burns, or marking.

CNC, Dubious consent, NonConsent

Mind break, gaslighting. Heavy bondage and captivity. Again yandere themes and heavy subject matter, a lot of which has to do with subdoing the s/o of the yandere.

Primal, this one allows me to run and convey the fear I have without actually being in danger!

Drugs and aphrodisiacs.

Blood, and other gore. I don’t know what fucked me up in such a capacity to like this. I’ve never actually done this and don’t plan to.

Blood sucking came from vampires but as I grew out of vampirism It grew from there, and now I have a much worse kink that people will certainly judge me for.

Amputation, especially when it’s not needed and as a form of possession. It sends shivers down my spine. The pain plays a heavy role. It’s also about writing dacryphillia.

A lot a lot a lot of religious trauma went into my preist kink. Think of anything that can be related to blasphemy and I most likely want to fuck with it.

I don’t like forced detransiton, or other things about gender such as sissification as a trans man. Generally it makes me cry trying to write it so I just don’t.

Anything dealing with dirt, puss, other insertion I can’t deal. Genital mutilation, scat and farting are off the table.

Scent kinks are ok so long as the above aren’t mentioned.

Nothing to do with feet or socks or relating to feet or socks I will cry my eyes out.

I don’t Like Gang scenes because they’re hard. I refuse to write necrophillia or Beastiality.

Thank your for asking ive left a tldr at the top.

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alephnol · 2 years ago

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Hello, as for my quest to make a fandom, here.

This is Klaus , enjoy!

He would love to awnser questions n what not. (Eventually i will Share all my characters!) (hopefully he isn’t ableist)

General Info

Name: klaus Krause

Nickname: Doktor k, doc. klaus, Doctor love

Gender: male

Ancestry: half German half Ukrainian. (Lives in Germany)

Age: appearance age: 37-40. True age: 2000>

Appearance

Height: 5”7 or 170.18 cm/ 1.7 meters

Weight: 128 pounds or 58.0598 kilos

Hair: fluffy and feathery outward, length around to shoulders if straightened. Bangs swept to the right to his view. Curls at ends. Pale taupe color with frosted ends and white hairs littering everywhere. He has a stubble.

Skin: freckles litter his skin. His skin color is called Chardonnay. His skin always has a light blush to it.

Distinguishing marks: He has a tan line over his eyes where he wore goggles all the time. One of his eyes is permanently space inflicted from the teleporter's rage. He has sharp teeth as well. His hair behaves as if it was electrically static-ed.

Eyes: almond shaped. One of his eyes as said is spacey whilst the other is a very dim cyan. If you look close enough, you will see he has central heterochromia with green.

Clothing: he tends to wear semi classy outfits like a turtleneck with a dark science jacket. He always wears military boots and military pants. He says it is useful in bad weather. He sometimes dresses librarian-esque.

PHASE LEFT (EMESIS BLUE superstate)(Klaus)

Temperament: calm and collected yet easily startled. Very sophisticated and royal-esque. He is an intp.

Moral/ethical beliefs: he believes that something shall be achieved at all costs unless it is murder or torture. He cannot stand the sight of death there. But unless someone is borderline trying to kill him or his family, he ont engage in violence. Despite this, he is very blunt and bold.

Religious beliefs: he used to be catholic, but is now undecided.

Political stance: I don't believe it matters but he is more centrist. Leaning a smidgen left.

Hobbies: he knits and reads. He also learned guitar and the piano. He was in choir as well.

Habits: when nervous he will rub his head. He scratched his right arm a lot. Now he has a prothstetic. Still does it. He stares at people a lot. He also spaces out.

Quirks/eccentricities: he has a hard time talking to women. It’s not that he gets all OOH A GIRL! no, he has just never got along with them. He talks quieter to them in fact.

Likes: cats. He likes borscht and tea. His favorite tea is grapefruit tea. He is a scientist and medical professional so that too, bunnies are his favorite lil creatures. Oddly enough he loves triangles, or polygon shapes. Turtleneck sweaters as well. Tarantulas ironically

Dislikes: birds, funny enough. He hates dark blue too. Bright lights, public spaces… too many people makes him feel paranoid. He is petrified of tiny spiders

Fears: claustrophobia. Death. Being alone forever

Strengths: he does science well, he is a good therapist too. He has the right level of patience and impatience.

Weaknesses: he can’t stand large crowds. Frogs. Allergic to peanuts. He is depressed

Short term goals: he wants to achieve peace in himself.

Long term goals: he wants to discover all worlds out there as possible and defend them.

Hopes and desires: he wants to have a family and to be happy. Wants people to love the mysteries of the world.

Occupation: doctor, chemist, traveler

Skills: knitting, dancing(very flexible) singing (up to soprano) great piano player.

Secrets:.

He is nasbird. THE nasbird. (Peace nation personification)

He is knows when EB fritz dies because of dreams

PHASE RIGHT (comic au superstate) Doktor k)

Temperament: enfp almost. Hyper, eccentric, and impulsive. Alike his other personality, very bold and blunt.

Moral/ethical beliefs: unlike his other personality.. he wants everything at all costs unless it’s murder on most occasions. Torture is ok.

Religious beliefs: atheist

Political stance: more left than his other side.

Hobbies: singing, acting, guitar playing.

Habits: he laughs a lot and is quite loud and jittery when he talks

Quirks/eccentricities: he tends to stutter when lying, enough to notice. He fidgets with his hands a lot. He has an oral fixation.

Likes: I mean, yeah, he likes sex.(no shit, he isn’t ace) He loves cats, bats, his mutated pets, he finds red soothing. Purple and green is his fav colors. He is a sausage guy

Dislikes: arguments and fussy people (too annoying) being alone for too long I suppose.

Fears: death or being forgotten.

Strengths: he is very brave and ambitious, he is flexible as hell and very prideful in his speech, a good debater.

Weaknesses: he can’t stand people who hate him. He is allergic to peanuts (still) and left alone too long will make him paranoid.

Short term goals: wants to cure cancer

Long term goals: wants to see tf2 medic again and beat god with him

Hopes and desires: to have an army of alien pets, to help his nation be strong and powerful. (In the peaceful manner)

Occupation: scientist, (mostly chemist) actor and shitty spy

Skills: he is good at ballet. (All forms) same as other state.

Gear

Always has:

Green balance Goggles (helps him calm down or hide emotions as dr k)

medic emblem eyepatch (for when he is Klaus so he can hide that eerie eye)

Sometimes has:

Necklaces of medic, Test tubes scattered, along with other chemist stuff. Medical and chemical textbooks and books he wrote, so on.

Events and History

Recent notable events

He learned he had technically died in the teleporter yet is stuck in a super state

he and the medic reunited.

Bad events in the past

He got a syndrome known as teleporters rage (1) from teleporting to ww1

He has major insecurity issues because of what he did.

he was he attempted self death, but learned he can’t die.

Good events in the past

He and the medic were very good friends in childhood.

Him and Otacon made decent friends!

He adopted Cesare

History and background details

He and the medic (tf2 Ludwig), were friends. Best friends even. Both going into medical school together in fact. Medic was less ethical, but Klaus didn't mind. Even crushing on the medic, but figuring it would destroy their relationship, he never acted upon it, at least until they were 20. They graduated from medical school getting their license, (medic barely) and celebrated with.. (how do I put this) partying drunk and doing the do. (consensual of course. They planned to whilst sober) two weeks after, medic got his license revoked for stealing a man’s skeleton and had to flee his nation. Klaus never saw him again and he missed the medic a lot. Right before medic fled, however, Klaus got whispers of the gods (probably just his destiny as nasbird but he never knew that) to create teleportation and such. So he does, contacts medic after his 4 years of creating it, and they turned it on and Klaus went in, right after that it closed automatically, medic never seeing Klaus again. Klaus ends up going into a warped ww1. He gains a syndrome called ‘teleporter’s rage’ and after two hours murders 3 people in defense and eats their corpses. He is rabid for two days. He hated what he did but it wasn’t on his mind as much as survival for the next two years. (He gained a hatred for fighting.) Maksim then opened a portal and dragged Klaus out. (He has no idea who he is) and Maksim explains everything and later they become friends. Klaus then learns modern teleportation machinery (space watches) and becomes a world logger. Teleporting from world to world to figure out how true they are. Eventually, ivanska, (litteraly related to Ivan braginsky) goes crazy and tries to nuke Switzerland. Promptly, Klaus is pissed, sending the nuke back to Russia and teleporting away. After such, he ends up in a middle world where he builds his lab and stuff. His two ‘personalities’ start to show as states of physicality, not as personalities. Learning he is a living paradox (Schrödinger’s cat, he doesn’t realize he is dead and alive till way post story tho), he tries to find out how to select one of the AU’S he is from. Desperately teleporting universe to universe to find out how to get home. He gives up and just does experiments in his lab for 3 years until he decides he kind of wants to raise someone. And who better to raise than… a 25 year old somnambulist with heavy trauma. (Hmmmmmmm) anyways, through realizing sleepwalking some how can transfer universes and remembering his dreams, he does some harmless sleeping tests to study somnambulism so he can project it onto one of his phases to see if this can make him transport not just mentally, but physically to EMESIS BLUE. after so many tries, it works and Cesare was pulled there too. So yeah. Now he is trying to become friends with fritz. Les go.

#original character #ask blog #multifandom oc #send me asks #tf2 oc #cesare the somnambulist is adopted here

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natache · 3 years ago

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Ita Rina

First and Forgotten Yugoslav Film Star who provocated Gestapo

Ita Rina was born on 7 July 1907 in the small town of Divača (then Austro-Hungarian Empire, later Yugoslavia, now Slovenia) as Italina Lida Kravanja. She was called Ida Kravanja for short. She was named after a journalist Finzi Haydée, Jewish family friend from Trieste. The first daughter of Jožef a railroad worker and Marija Kravanja, Rina had a younger sister Danica. Shortly after the outbreak of the World War I, the family moved to Ljubljana, where Rina matriculated in 1923. She was not a good student; she repeated the third grade of elementary school. However, her dream was to be an actress.

In October 1926, Slovenski narod (Slovenian People) magazine organized a beauty pageant, and Rina entered the competition. She was crowned Miss Slovenia and was to travel to the final event for Miss Yugoslavia, which was supposed to be held on 20 December 1926 in Zagreb. However, her mother did not want to let her go to Zagreb. After a group visit from the Slovenian delegation, Marija Kravanja relented. Unfortunately, when Rina arrived in Zagreb, the jury was already choosing the most beautiful of three finalists. She was, however, noticed by Adolf Müller, the owner of Balkan Palace cinema in Zagreb. He immediately sent her photographs to German film producer Peter Ostermayer. As her mother did not want to let her go to Berlin, Rina ran away from home.

Her escape was enabled by a family friend, a painter Alojz Malota and his wife Hedvig Šarc. They invited her to come with them on a trip to Austria, and instead she went to Berlin. She has said that she felt very lonely and scared during the train ride and thought about returning home.

“That was my longest and hardest journey. I huddled myself in a corner of a coupe and looked around myself in fear. I only knew few words in German...”

Rina arrived in Berlin in 1927. Shortly after she had her first audition, following which she had classes in acting, diction, dancing.

"They would shine a spotlight on me" she later said "cameras would buzz. There were cables everywhere. Some complete strangers would stare at me, whispering amongst themselves. They told me to scream, to laugh, wave and cry. I think I looked most natural in scenes where I was crying. All I had to do was remember how far away from home I've gone and how I've deceived my mother."

"You don't know how to walk!" a director was yelling. I've dedicated all my strength on walking as gracefully as possible, and I thought to myself "how's it possible that I, who have climbed Triglav thrice, all of sudden am incapable of walking." I must admit, first few steps on film were harder than any danger definitely mountaineering.

After several small film roles in 1927 and 1928, the critics finally noticed her in the 1928 film The Last Supper. The same year, Rina met at a Yugoslav embassy party, her future husband Miodrag Đorđević, a shy engineering student from Belgrade, son of a general director of the Royal Post Office.

He asked her out to dinner in a little more upscale restaurant. What he would find out later is that his students account was not enough to pay for the meal. He went to the phone in an attempted to call a friend who could lend him money. Ita figured out what was going on, and since she was already rich, secretly passed him a few bank notes, to spare him the embarrassment. She always liked him, and they understood each other well.

Around that time newspapers in Yugoslavia started to sensationalize her love life, as a counter she published an open letter.

Cenjeni g. urednik!

Vsikdar sem bila ljubeznjiva napram g. dopisniku Vašega lista. Želela sem na ta način izražati simpatije, ki sem jih gojila do “Vremena”. Toda nežentlementski dopis Vašega dopisnika od 15. t. m. je zlorabil to mojo ljubeznivost in me prisilil, da Vas naprošam zaradi istine za uvrstitev naslednjih vrstic: Prišla sem domov na oddih, da se pripravim za bodoče delo, ne pa da se zaljubljam kakor goska. Zaradi tega ne potrebujem nikakih senzacij, zlasti pa ne senzacij, ki gredo preko meja dopustnega. Čudim se prostosti, ki si jo jemlje g. Ambrož, da izmišlja kar imena mojih idealov. Prava senzacija bi bila šele, ko bi g. Ambrož nekoliko srečneje uganil moje ideale. Kar pa piše g. Ambrož, je bilo doslej meni in vsem mojim znancem docela neznano. Odpotovala bom tedaj, ko me pokliče novo delo. Senzacijonalni odhod avtomobilov itd. je prosta glupost.

Da končam. Žal mi je, da se je edini g. O. Ambrož smatral za najpametnejšega od vseh tukajšnjih novinarjev in da je segel po tako nehvaležnem poslu. Naši javnosti je treba servirati resnico o mojem delu in moji osebi, ne pa glupih izmišljotin. Prejmite g. urednik izraze itd.

Ita Rina.

Her breakthrough into European stardom came after taking a role in a controversial film Erotikon by a Czechoslovakian director Gustav Mahaty. As soon as she read the script about a seduced and then abandoned daughter of a guard of a railroad station, she understood it as her big chance, and she was right.

Erotikon premiered in Prague. Czechoslovakian censors cut out the scene of her giving birth to a child, but the movie garnered great success with film critics and audiences across Europe. At the premiere in Paris in Moulin Rouge and the film goers carried her out of the theatre on their hands.

The films success angered the puritans. Especially the french catholic theologian, abbot Betteleme who wrote: "... First, they lie next to each other, and then one to another ... It is true that the cover hides their figures, but it certainly does not hide their movements... The protagonists are shown in particularly long shots, especially Ita... A viewer can recognize her excitement, then her expression of anxiety mixed with longing, then the pain and at the end... I blush while describing the scenes". He went though streets of Paris tearing down the posters that were plastered all over. That only raised the popularity of the film.

In 1930, Rina acted in three films, most notable being the first talking Czechoslovakian film Tonka of the Gallows, which is often named her best role. Meanwhile, she married Miodrag Đorđević in 1931. Although she had announced her retirement from her film career, but she actually continued her acting until the outbreak of World War II. Her last prewar film was crime drama Zentrale Rio.

The situation in Germany was getting tense, especially for anybody who was considered undesirable which included actors who were foreign. She left Germany on the insistence of the then ambassador of Yugoslavia Ivo Andrić. In 1939, very close to the start of WW2 every time she went to work or went home, there was a man who sat in the car. In the beginning he was very quiet and she thought he was an assistant of the producer and that he might represent some new custume, a way of saying thanks to the actors. And then he spoke. At first there were talks of the superiority of the German race, but later his changes because more apparent. "I argued with him in that car" she told to the operator in the studio and retold him the whole conversation. "How could you have dared, that man is from Gestapo." said the operator. The story was retold to Ivo Andrić, and he ordered her and her husband to urgently leave Germany. The taping of the film was mostly done. That night they packed all of their belongs. In the morning she taped a few leftover scenes and absconded for Belgrade that same day.

"Only on the road I understood what's going on. Tanks everywhere, soldiers."

They went to live in Belgrade. She didn't act as the war was starting to rage and had her first child Milan in 1940 and thee years later a daughter Tijana. Her in-laws disagreed with the marriage to a controversial actress at first. And they had a permanent table for themselves and their friends at the local tavern.

After the bombing of Belgrade they moved to Vrnjačka Banja. Life during wartime was hard and she laboured and sold all of her possessions to keep family fed. She even rescued her husband from jail where he landed after he, in a tavern proclaimed that Hitler will have the same fate Napoleon did in Russia.

They moved back to Belgrade after the end of World War II in 1945. Although she was promised several roles in Yugoslav films, all projects were cancelled and she was treated unfavorably. After receipt of a letter she had written to President Tito, Rina began working as a co–production advisor in Avala Film. But she soon left Avala Film and moved to Lovćen Film.

She returned to the silver screen once, in the 1960 film War, about nuclear war fallout, directed by Veljko Bulajić. This was her last role. She got her role not though a studio, but through her husband asking nicely.

“Before the shooting of the film War began, I was approached by a very likable gentleman, that was the husband of Mrs. Ita Rine Miodrag, and in a very discreet, shy way, asked if we can talk and during that conversation, suggested to cast Ita. Honestly speaking, I have already completely forgotten about her. There was war, and they she didn't work for a very long time. She wasn't listed anywhere in cinematography as an active actress. I remembered her from her films. I suggested we meet. So we met, I don't know where in Zagreb or Belgrade, I cannot remember, but she impressed me. She made a strong impression, of a smart woman, an actress who didn't want to be in a film for no other reason, but to be filmed. She wanted to know about her role. I really liked that, so we made a deal.”

As she suffered from asthma, Rina and her husband moved to Budva (then Yugoslavia, now Montenegro) in 1967. There, she took care of her husband, who was ill with sclerosis. Rina died on 10 May 1979 from an asthmatic attack during the great earthquake that leveled the capital of Montenegro. She was buried a few days later in Belgrade, in the presence of numerous film artists, admirers, friends and family. Her husband died next year.

Best source is in Slovene here:

#ita rina #slovenia #german cinema #european cinema #20s #fritz lang #german expressionism #1920s #1930 #Yugoslavia #natache

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pedropascalunofficial · 5 years ago

Text

My Cousin, Pedro Pascal

Ximena Riquelme

16 NOV 2017 12:53 PM

Before being the protagonist of Narcos or filming with Colin Firth, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal (42) was a child whom I knew very well because we are from the same family. A man who today looks with nostalgia and some perplexity at his place of origin and his history and who still does not answer what would have happened if he had stayed here.

The first memory I have of Pedro is in the arms of my mother during his baptism, in the garden of my house. She was a weeping bus and had huge black eyes. I was 9 years old. It was cloudy. Years later I learned that the priest was Gerardo Whelan, the legendary rector of Saint George's College. Pedro's parents were not at his baptism: my uncle, José Balmaceda, my mother's only male brother, and his wife Verónica Pascal were asylees at the Venezuelan embassy, which was on Bustos street, near my house. Pepe, as we used to say to my uncle, who years later would become a famous gynecologist, an expert in fertilization, was then a 27-year-old young doctor, in those days wanted by Dina. Some time before they had hidden Andrés Pascal Allende, Mirista and his wife's uncle. One day they came to take him to the José Joaquín Aguirre Hospital and he managed to escape by jumping through the roofs. It was October 1975.

Like most of the Chilean families, there were supporters of both sides in mine: for and against Pinochet. Trying to help Pedro's parents, my dad called a relative who held a high position in the Army. "Tell the children to get asylum, because I cannot guarantee their lives or that nothing happens to Veronica," was his reply. She was 22 years old. Then began the journey of my uncles and with them that of my cousin José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal. Pepe and Verónica had to start living secretly in different houses. Pedro, who was only 6 months old at the time, and his 3-year-old sister Javiera were left in charge of my mother's older sister, "Aunt Juani."

The second memory I have of Pedro is when I accompanied my parents, who carried him and his sister in their arms, to stand on the sidewalk in front of the Venezuelan embassy so that their parents could see them through the window.

My uncles left the Venezuelan embassy for the airport in January 1976, Pedro was 9 months old and obviously does not remember anything. I just remember that they didn't let me go. Pedro could not record the image, which I could not see, of his grandfather Luis Pascal Vigil - a very prominent lawyer - singing the National Anthem on the balcony of Pudahuel. A memory that is not mine but that I adopted, for cute.

As the people of the International Red Cross advised our family on time, Pedro and his sister did not leave the embassy with their parents, but arrived directly at the airport: this allowed their passports not to be stamped with the "L" for " limited to circulate "that stamped on the exiles who left. Therefore, the years that Pedro and Javiera came could come to Chile without problems. And for that reason, the choclón of cousins, we were able to share long summers in Pucón and some winters in Santiago.

The Balmaceda Pascal first arrived in Aarhus, Denmark, in October 1976. A year later they left for San Antonio, Texas, where Pedro's father was able to continue improving himself thanks to a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation. Veronica earned a PhD in Child Psychology.

________________________________________

"But Denmark is invisible to me," Pedro writes me by email. A while ago I proposed to interview him at a distance to travel a little about his history, and here we are, in front of the computer, sharing memories. "It is invisible to me, like everything that happened before. Although once, after telling him about my childhood, a doctor told me that the temporary separation with my mother was trapped in the memory of my body and that I could remember it through the senses".

My cousin, far away

The third memory I have of Pedro is a summer in Pucón. It must have been in 1978. "Pepelo", as we said, was no longer a guagua but a restless, very blond boy, who was so impacted by poverty in Chile that when he went out on the street with his gringo accent, he asked any person: "Are you poor?" He took food out of the pantry and gave it away. With my cousins we rented a warm wooden house, colorful, with the door frames out of square. It was summers with trips to those black sand beaches that burned the feet and picnics in Caburgua with lamb on the stick. They took us to mass and Pedro sang very inspired.

"This is where the memories become more vivid, like dreams," he writes. "I remember so many details: my older cousins, children my age who were like family. The beach seemed endless. I also remember running down the hallways and stairs of Aunt Juani's house looking for Santa Claus at Christmas."

XR: What was it like leaving your parents in the United States?

PP: "I think the trauma was going back to the States, although I obviously wanted to be with my parents. But childhood in Chile, with the Balmaceda and Pascal, was a dream, a world where nothing was missing, pure adventure and love."

Now that he tells me that, I remember that image of Pedro hanging on the neck of our aunt Juani, crying in Pudahuel because she did not want to return. At that time going to the airport was a panorama: we were going en masse to leave him and his sister, who traveled in charge of the stewardesses.

In 1981 I went with my parents and my two sisters to see the Balmaceda Pascal in Texas. I remember an eternal road trip from Miami, I remember Pedro's house, in a middle-class neighborhood, comfortable, beautiful, lovingly arranged by his mother. I remember the tears of my mother and Pedro's mother when we said goodbye to return to Chile. We still didn't know when they could return. Although Pedro never fully returned.

In December 1983, Pepe and Verónica were able to enter Chile. The whole family was packed on the terrace of Pudahuel, waiting for them. I remember the Balmaceda Pascal walking from the stairs of the plane to the International Police. I remember them happy, triumphant. Pedro was 8 years old and chose to stay in my house, in love with my girl sister.

We all went to Quintero, to the house of our grandfather Pepe, a great smoker, tennis player, and fanatic fanatic who took us to the town cinema to see double Tora! Programs, Tora !, Tora! More Bridges on the River Kwai and other old movies. Surely Pedro had to see several. Since he was a boy he said he wanted to be a "director". He liked horror movies and was a big movie consumer, like his dad.

PP: "I remember going to the movies with the cousins and the grandfather to see anything with Clint Eastwood, Sylvester Stallone. They leased me VHS movies to see alone and happy."

XR: You once recited Hamlet on the beach with Grandpa.

PP: "No, it was Death of a Salesman, by Arthur Miller. I was about 14 years old. I videotaped it and lost the fucking camera on the trip back to the United States."

After that summer, Pedro began to come more sporadically. He was already grown up, at school and then at university. They had moved to Newport Beach, California. His father was doing very well. But Pedro, not so much.

PP: "I think that the way the family supported me in Chile was the opposite of what I experienced in Newport Beach. I started well in California but at 13 years old, very involved in the cinema, reading plays, books, TV, TV, TV, obsessed with these things, I had the bad luck to find few like me. It was a world very attached to conservatism and its privileges where not fitting was punished. There was a group of shitty goats who were my friends the first year and became my terrors thereafter. I don't enjoy remembering that time, but there are deep connections from back then. Friends of my parents who are like parents until today."

Pedro's mom soon found a performance arts program at a high school in another district. A more inclusive school compared to Corona del Mar, the neighborhood where they lived in Newport.

PP: "My mom and my driver's license were my salvation. There I was able to unleash my appetite for movies and theater without limits."

As time went by Pedro became a fun, provocative teenager with character. He said he was "lazy", but he went to study Theater at NYU in 1993 and he loved it. I started to see it less. When he came to Chile he went out with his friends, I was already married and having children.

XR: Did you find that our way of life was very boring?

PP: "Bored, no. But overwhelming regarding life's permanent decisions. I didn't have the Catholic structure, and I felt there was no room for a young guy like me. Like suddenly, from one trip of mine to another, you had lives that included marriages and children, and pleasing the visits of the gringo cousin was no longer an option for all of you. I had to duel, because I was jealous of his inattention."

XR: Do you find us very conservative?

PP: "Yes, but it is a major contradiction for me. I come from the perspective that no one can decide how someone else should live their life. And well, in our family there are social rules that are very firm. I think that a person has the right to live his life conservatively or wildly as long as he does not negatively impact anyone or tries to embarrass others by his lifestyle. I don't touch these issues very much with our family for fear of hearing their perspective, but what I do know is that if I ever needed help I could ask any member of our family by the name of Balmaceda, and I would get it."

In 1995, Pedro's parents returned to Chile with their two youngest children, Nicolás and Lucas, who had been born in California. Javiera also came for a couple of years. Pedro stayed in the United States.

PP: "It was a very scary period. I grew up with my family in the United States and from one day to the next there was no home to return to. Suddenly the idea of the safe nest was gone. It was shocking because in previous years I took for granted the privileged life we had in California. I never thought that this could change as suddenly as happened to my parents when they became exiles. Everything felt fragile. Also, I knew that my parents' marriage was wrong and that the tension of those circumstances was hardly going to end. My mother's life felt in danger and the line between needing her, being there for her and finishing my studies and pursuing a career was a horrible conflict. I knew that my mom wanted me to continue doing mine, she never would have wanted me to sacrifice it."

XR: Did you really resent the failure of your parents' marriage?

PP: "For me it was the hardest time. I have not been able, and I do not know if someday I will be able to reconcile completely how my parents separated and the tragedy that came after that separation. The circumstances of my mother's death made it very hard for us to keep her memory of who she was. It hurts so much ... Sometimes I feel distressed and try to face it in the best possible way, because I know that my mother would not like me to do it in any other way."

Pedro lost his mother when he was 24 years old.

PP: "It's hard to say what I remember most about her. You met her, so it is easy for you to understand that she was the love of my life. I think of her every day. Since I don't pray, I can't say that I have a practice to feel her close, but I live for her even though she's gone, and that makes sense to me."

From Alexander to Pedro

XR: Do you believe that pain makes us stronger or does it seem like a horrible cliché?

PP: "I don't think it's a terrible cliche but a profound reality. In some way, losing the most important person in your life, discovering that something like this is possible and that what you fear most in life can happen is an identifiable and permanent moment. There is a before and after after his death. I think, yes, that old age would not have been for my mother, there would have been no footwear with her. Of course, no one wants to grow old, but others can handle it better. I would not have liked to see my mom struggling with it, but at the same time, I wish I had her every day still with me."

It may have been the summer of 2012. Pedro said to our aunt Juani: "I am 37 years old and I still can't get what I want. And it's the only thing I know how to do." It had been a long time since the death of his mother in the summer of 2000 that Pedro had changed his name. From Pedro Balmaceda to Pedro Pascal. He had been searching for years, years of casting where, by being called Pedro Balmaceda in the studios, they hoped to find a Latin or classic Mexican phenotype. He had only made minor appearances in some series.

XR: Although you did not regret it, you did wear Alexander at some point. Why?

PP: "That was a desperate period and directly related to having lost my mother. I was desperate to work, to fill my days with something more to suffer. To eliminate the confusion that casting directors had with this guy named Pedro with European or Caucasian traits, I changed my first name to Alexander and took my mom's last name, Pascal. That only lasted a year, until I was able to find a job and be selected for an Ibsen theatrical classic. But it was too late for people to identify me as "Alex". Also, my mom named me Pedro. So the decision was to call me Pedro Pascal, a name that fits with me more than any other."

Soon after that came Brothers and Sisters, other small roles, and later more important ones in The Good Wife, The Law and Order, The Mentalist, until Game of Thrones, Narcos in 2015 and now, filming Muralla china with Matt Damon and William Dafoe - last year we all went to see his cousins together - and then Kingsman 2 with Colin Firth, Julianne Moore, Jeff Bridges, Halle Berry and Channing Tatum.

XR : Have you ever been excited acting with such powerful actors?

PP: "I have been thrilled with everyone."

With fame have come the new meetings of the cousins with Pedro Pascal. We all want to see him, take pictures of us, we ask him for greetings-chub for friends, we inflate ourselves by saying that he is our cousin. That Peña, the protagonist of Narcos and the sexiest guy in the world, is my cousin-brother. He laughs and humorously calls us "scoundrels" because now we remember him. In fact, that's what our cousin chat on Whastapp is called.

But there is also the modesty to disturb him. Know that you are busy. That while I'm sending you these questions, you're filming in Boston with Denzel Washington. And to feel that there is always a lack of time to speak to him calmly, a space to ask him questions like the ones that occur to me now:

XR: Exile changed your life. Can you imagine growing up in Chile?

PP: "I don't know, because I haven't thought much about it. I have been asked this question all my life and have never been able to come up with an answer. Perhaps my life would have been more complete and solid. What I am used to is that the past disappears as if it had been lived by someone else, in another time."

XR: Do you miss something from when you were Pedro Balmaceda?

PP: "You know? There is very little difference between Pedro Balmaceda and Pedro Pascal. As it is all part of José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, I feel the same person. But with back problems and more money."

XR: Would you like to start a family?

PP: "Being a dad? I don't know. I have no fucking idea. I love being an uncle. It may just end there. But anything is possible."

XR: Marialy Rivas said something very nice about you on Saturday: that when you play a character, you pretend that this character brought a whole previous story, much bigger than what they are telling. And it's true: you carry a bigger story than you tell it.

PP: "I don't know, cousin. I am very confused trying to organize the past and see what turns out. It helps me understand the pain or be grateful for what I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm a fraud, living between waiting for fame and attention and completely embarrassed by these wishes.

In reference to what Marialy said, I think she means that I put all my confusion, joy and sorrow, ambivalence, hostility, rage, love, lust, greed, compassion, ignorance, knowledge either to indicate a map with the finger on Narcos, throwing an arrow in Game of Thrones, lashing out at Kingsman. Cool! But I think my experience in theater taught me that."

XR: Would you someday like your life to be a script?

PP: "No way." (in english)

XR: Do you still want to be a "director", as you used to say when you were a kid?

PP: "Yes! That will be my way of being a father. Father of a production."

XR: Is dreaming about an Oscar the dream of every actor, even if you don't confess it?

PP: "I confess that possibly… yes."

#pedro pascal #cousin #la tercera #2017 #family #mother #father #asylum #embassy #pedro pascal article #article #javiera balmeceda #peter balmaceda #cousins #pp article

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spiritualgateway · 4 years ago

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The crisis virus

written by Steven Black:

While you look around and get the impression that the whole world has gone crazy and is going nuts, you have to realize: This is all perfectly normal and has happened over and over again. With the pest plague, the cholera and the Spanish flu – people reacted with unreasonableness, resentment and rebellion, against ordered measures.

With the plague, people selectively believed that bad winds, an unfavorable constellation of Mars, Jupiter and Saturn or the contaminated water were to blame because the Jews were poisoning the wells. As a logical consequence of such thinking, persecution of Jews throughout Europe occurred. Entire Jewish quarters were burned down and their inhabitants murdered.

Oh yes, a punishment by God was also possible. Even then, in the early 14th century, quarantine and isolation were ordered – as a very late measure.

In the case of cholera, 1831, quarantine and isolation were also applied. From the chronicle of the german city Stettin of this time, one learns:

„The burial of the deceased, buried in a special newly built churchyard […] aroused fear and horror, especially among the lower classes of the inhabitants. These precautions were made even worse by the complete blockade of traffic, which deprived a large part of the inhabitants of their livelihoods and probably also their means of subsistence. The lower classes could not bear this state of affairs and, believing the most absurd rumors, saw in the precautions taken only the means to their perdition.

„The prolonged duration of the cordoning off increased the bitterness, the excitement grew with each passing day, so that the workers most affected were finally inclined to use force to overturn the hated coercive rules.

„…because the agitated crowd, misled by some troublemakers, was under the delusion that cholera and security measures were only being used „to exterminate the common rabble.

The Spanish Flu, 1918 – 1919, rolled over the globe in three successive waves and claimed millions of lives. Conjecture and conspiracy theories arose among the most diverse peoples. Some saw the disease as the devil’s work of German agents, and Germany was suspected of either using insidious biological weapons or poisoning aspirin tablets from the pharmaceutical manufacturer Bayer in order to win the world war. Another theory, widespread at the time, was that the flu had been imported from Spain in tins, which had been poisoned by the Germans who had brought the Spanish canneries under their control. Or it was oraculated that the cause was consequential damages of the war by poison gas missions, which were caused by the exhalations from the mountains of corpses of the battlefields. And of course there was also the evergreen that it was a punishment from God …

First with the second wave, the danger was really recognized and flu alarm systems were introduced, quarantines were imposed over ports and railroad stations, isolation stations in hospitals were set up. „Social Distancing“ was ordered, mass gatherings were prohibited. Schools, theaters, markets and churches were closed. The use of face masks and disinfectants was recommended and in some areas made mandatory by law.

Those who refused to wear face masks were fined. By the way, later studies proved that the prohibition of mass events and the requirement to wear a mouth-and-nose mask reduced the death rate in American cities by up to 50 percent. Where it was not prescribed by law, i.e. only announced as a recommendation, there were many more deaths. The same thing is currently happening in Sweden.

The Corona Virus – today

100 years after the Spanish flu, a new medical crisis is entering the global stage. And just as with the plague, cholera and Spanish flu, where fear and uncertainty accompanied the daily events, the most colorful rumors and theories are flourishing. There seems to be a lid for every pot.

Some political party sees the Corona virus as an obvious foreigner epidemic. Logically, migrants must be to blame for it too. Within the extreme right groups the old perennial argument is active that the Jews are to blame for Corona.

Many vaccination critics freak out at the name Bill Gates, who allegedly wants to decimate humanity and enslave it with microchips. He has the WHO, the media and Angela Merkel personally in his pocket. Then there are people who believe that the new 5 G technology is the real cause of the Corona virus. The Qanon community believes that the virus is merely an excuse for Donald Trump to free thousands of poor, tortured children from underground tunnels.

There are an ever increasing number of people who believe that the virus is nothing more than a normal flu. There is also the idea that this Corona virus does not exist – it would all be just an excuse to get rid of cash and have a controlled financial crash. The usual suspects also know exactly from whom and why – of course to enforce the infamous New World Order, either by the „Deep State“, the „Kabale“ or the „Illuminati“.

A few fundamentalist church officials also took up the same cause:

In a text entitled „A Call for the Church and for the World – to Catholics and all people of good will“, signed among others by the German Cardinal Gerhard Ludwig Müller and initiated by Archbishop Carlo Maria Vigano, former Pontifical Ambassador to the USA, the Corona measures were sharply criticized. The signatories had previously spoken out against bans on worship because of the corona virus and they are all arch-conservative opponents of the current pope. The text stated: „It is a fact that under the pretext of the Covid 19 epidemic, in many cases inalienable rights of citizens have been violated and their fundamental freedoms have been disproportionately and unjustifiably restricted, including the right to freedom of religion, freedom of expression and freedom of movement.

It was further stated that there is reason to believe „that there are forces that are interested in creating panic among the population. Their goal is to permanently enforce „forms of unacceptable restriction of freedom and the associated control over persons and the persecution of all their movements“. „These illiberal attempts at control are the disturbing prelude to the creation of a world government that eludes all control“.

Personal note: By the way – dear church idiots: What about the „forms of unacceptable restriction of freedom“ of my mind, by your religious doctrine? Or „the associated control over persons“, where you let people slide around on their knees and establish a sense of sacrifice by having a figure nailed to a cross worshiped? But a „God’s world government“ would be all right with you, wouldn’t it?

Anyway, I don’t really expect an answer to that. But what else you should know – the signatories represent an arch-conservative, right-wing current within the Catholic Church. They fervently hate the current pope because he accepts homosexuality and divorce as facts of life and is open to pro-migration and capitalism-critical positions. It is also no coincidence that these clerics of all people are waving their fear of a „new world order“ around. The whole thing is organized by a notorious ultra-right-wing populist – namely Steve Bannon. The man who brought Donald Trump to power through tons of fake news and conspiracy theories.

By the way, there are strong indications that the art product „QAnon“, a fictitious Internet personality, is a product of Steve Bannon. He is the thinking head and mastermind of the so-called new right.

The American government, led by Donald Trump, sees itself as the victim of a Chinese conspiracy initiated either by a mysterious „Deep State“ or preferably by the Democrats – which is one and the same thing in his case. Evangelical clerics see the Corona virus as a punishment from God for homosexuality. A handful of doctors contradict the official statements and believe that the Corona virus is little more than a common flu. The population would get scared over nothing and wearing masks would be very unhealthy. And in the chest tone of conviction, many an empathy-free idiot rambles that it would only affect pre-existing patients who would have died soon anyway. You know, just collateral damage …

In the USA, the president himself is the main accelerator of emotional states. There were protests against the curfews in several US cities and about 3000 demonstrators, some of them armed and wearing Trump campaign caps and flags, took to the streets in Michigan. Encouraged by Donald, who tweeted „Free Michigan,“ dozens of gunmen entered the parliament building in the city of Lansing.

In Germany and Austria, people suddenly took to the streets and demonstrated against the corona measures of their government. Against an alleged panic-mongering, against an allegedly intended compulsory vaccination, against the curtailment of their basic rights, against an allegedly threatened freedom of opinion, against the obligation to wear masks, against an alleged „Corona dictatorship“, against a „New World Order“ by Bill Gates and much more. What one would not have thought possible before, happened now:

People who call themselves „leftists“, right-wing conservatives, neo-Nazis, people of the freeman movement, spiritual people, and also people who had never been involved with any of the groups mentioned before, stood together in a public square and chanted „We are the people“. And of course they did not wear masks, and of course they did not keep a „minimum distance“. With righteous indignation they held flyers in their hands where „The Basic Law“ is written on them and lamented a loss of it. Although the basic right to personal liberties was only limited due to the situation and receded into the background in favor of the basic right to personal integrity of EVERYONE, suddenly not only the Corona virus seemed to mutate.

A wide range of people suddenly mutated into virus specialists and health experts, legal luminaries and political insiders. It was not at all helpful if individual physicians and virologists publicly held different views, which are not in accordance with the scientific consensus. These people were suddenly elevated to „heroes of „truth“ and made anti-witnesses of the establishment.

Like moths to a flame, all the discontented, angry opponents of the system, critics of capitalism, right-wing populists pouring oil on the fire, bawling bald-headed people and „Merkel must go“ yellers flocked together and mingled with yoga practitioners, meditators, as well as people who simply wanted a „better system“. Emotional fire accelerators like KenFM, Sven Liebich, Lügenstöckl, NPD offshoots and various AFD supporters moderated the „happening“ and it did not take long until this situation led to the foundation of a new party – called „Resistance 2020“. Founded by Victoria Hamm, the Sinsheim swindle doctor Bodo Schiffmann and the Leipzig lawyer Ralf Ludwig.

The appeal of „Resistance 2020“ continued as long as Covid 19 and the restrictions imposed by governments were highly active. In the meantime this has abated. First the chairwoman Victoria Hamm stepped down from the party (because of internal differences of opinion), her replacement, the chairwoman of the supervisory board of „Humanimity“, Sandra Wesolek, also threw in the towel soon after. And now also the founder and vice-chairman of the party, Bodo Schiffmann, has left Resistance 2020. Only Ralf Ludwig remains, who keeps the coma patient „Resistance 2020“ alive.

In conclusion – it will not yet be completely silent about the topic Covid – 19, but it slowly fades in its importance. At least for the moment. If we are lucky and there will be no 2nd or third wave, it will stay that way.

Crisis intensification

Another topic has now captured the attention of the world, people and media – a topic that has never been completely absent: racism and police brutality in the USA.

The violent death of the African-American George Floyd, after a police operation, was followed by peaceful protests in the USA, but there were also riots and looting. And as in dealing with the corona virus, Donald Trump shifts to denial of the structural problem, puts the blame on others and does just about anything to pour even more fire into the heated atmosphere.

Under the hashtag #blackllivesmatter, which has been known since 2013 and is a name for an African-American civil rights movement, people are gathering again to demonstrate against state arbitrariness, police brutality and unfair treatment of dark-skinned people. Previous slogans of the movement, such as „Hands up, don’t shoot“, „White silence is violence“, „No justice, no peace“, „Is my son next?“ are being used again, including the now popular „I can’t breathe“ and „BlackOutTuesday“.

It is no longer just a movement of the „black community“. Within just a few days, numerous politicians, celebrities and large companies have raised their voices and spoken out in favor of the BlackLivesMatter movement. More and more representatives of the video game industry are also joining in. Sony, for example, has refrained from presenting the new Playstation 5 due to the current situation. But also companies like Microsoft, Activision, EA, Massive Entertainment, Square Enix, Bethesda, Naughty Dog, Disney, Marvel, Warner Bros, and many other global big players made clear statements against racism and expressed their solidarity. Over 50 influential companies have donated large sums of money to the movement.

Yes, Soros‘ Open Society Foundation is one of them (about $33 million), but is rather outdone by all others, especially FORD Foundation and Borealis Philanthropy (about $100 million). Also worthy of mention are the Hill-Snowden Foundation, Solidaire, the NoVo Foundation, the Association of Black Foundation Executives, the Neighborhood Funders Group-Funders for Justice, Anonymous Donors, and many more.

It is already becoming apparent that this issue could potentially break Donald Trump’s neck and prevent his re-election. „Poor Donald“, after his mismanagement in the Corona crisis became visible to everyone, now police brutality and racism challenge him. And here again he reacts headlessly and impulse-driven instead of showing presidential leadership. Instead he meets the problem in the familiar perpetrator-victim reversal tactic.

Incidentally, the same thing happens as in the Covid 19 demonstrations in Austria and Germany – extreme right-wing „withe supremacy“ agitators mingle with the demonstrators. They incite people and loot, start brawls and set fire to buildings. Incited by Donald Trump, who simply claimed that it was „the ANTIFA“ that was firing up the demonstrations, his followers do everything in their power to discredit the movement and make it look bad in the eyes of the public.

In a series of messages, a Twitter account called „Antifa US“ had called on protesters to march into neighborhoods and „take what is ours“. Twitter itself had cleared up the fact that behind this account „American Identity Movement“ is the extreme right-wing formerly known as „Identity Evropa“, that was behind the protest and deleted the account.

Blacklivesmatter is a movement that I wholeheartedly endorse. What I find less good about it is that this conglomeration of people is happening on the streets while the corona virus is still highly active in the world. There is also no question of keeping a distance, a large majority can be seen wearing masks during the protests, but not all of them. I fear that this will have some unpleasant consequences. But the German demonstrations against a „Corona dictatorship“ and against police arbitrariness and brutality by blacklivesmatter could not be more different.

The sense of demonstrating against a world domination by Bill Gates and an alleged forced chippings or because one is forced to wear a mask temporarily stinks against blacklivesmatter. This is about addressing really important issues of the human species. The core statement of „Blacklivesmatter“ is – “ stop treating us like shit!“

It did not take long, of course, for the rumor mill to start bubbling on this topic as well and the „usual suspects“ went peddling „THE truth“ about it to everyone. You know, from „it’s all a government diversion“ to George Floyd wouldn’t be dead. It would all be a false flag operation and George Soros would be behind the protests. Xavier Naidoo also tells his followers about it and although the man from Mannheim had his own experiences with racism, he is not too stupid to devalue the blacklivesmatter movement. He described the demonstrators who are now taking to the streets against racism and police violence as hypocrites. And ends with a whataboutism rant – „anyone who comes up with an organization called Black lives matter is a divider“.

Naidoo justified his statement by saying that for him all lives count. Sounds plausible on the surface but clearly demonstrates that he did not understand the fundamental problem at all. Naidoo parrots something he has probably read or heard from Alex Jones or another opponent from the disinformation movement. The blacklivesmatter movement has been struggling with such whataboutism arguments from the beginning, since 2013. Not surprisingly, „All Lives Matter“ is often used as a counter-argument by the racist „white supremacy“ groups.

Barack Obama found good words for this: „I think the reason why the organizers use the term „Black Lives Matter“ was not because they wanted to imply that other lives do not matter. They are saying that there is a specific problem in the African American community that does not exist in other communities. This is a legitimate problem that we need to address.

Sounds logical, right? It is. Let’s say you broke your arm and you go to the doctor. He won’t tell you – „all bones count“, but will turn to the current problem. The bone that is just broken. If your house is on fire, the fire department will not tell you “ all houses caunt“ – they will simply put out the fire.

If you come to blacklivesmatter with alllivesmatter, you are part of the problem not the solution. This tries to ignore or disguise the problem by directing the criticism behind it to another topic.

It is definitely crisis – and virus time

A virus form that is completely unknown to most people is going around and is at least as infectious as Covid 19. They are mental and emotional viruses. Positive, negative, destructive and constructive viruses of all kinds. Created by humans every day and they influence all humans, more or less.

We are usually not used to accept the idea that our thoughts as well as our feelings and the words we utter have substantial meanings. Substantial is literally meant here – both thoughts, emotions and words contain substances that act as carriers of their expression. Through which the respective content of thoughts, feelings/emotions and words is transported, which always involves an „inaudible“, complex bundling of frequencies and takes on form, sound and tones. We do not „just think“, we generate a thought form for it, depending on the intensity of our respective thoughts – a kind of „pale being“.

And we do not „just feel“, we generate emotional signatures that can be perceived, „read“, felt and recognized by other people, consciously or unconsciously. We do not „just talk“, our words always convey a large context of mental and emotional content. Whoever listens carefully can often discover contradictions in the words, because the transported feelings are not in harmony with them.

As the person we are, we resemble a piano. We are a musical instrument with many keys and tones, with which the most diverse vibration frequencies can be expressed. Depending on how well we have learned to handle our instrument and how the individual tones are tuned, it will decide how harmonious or disharmonious our personal sound, our own melody, is. Everything we think, feel, say or do sounds through us and creates sounds that are received by others.

The more sensitive a person is or the better he can listen, the more contents of his counterpart he will be able to perceive. How aware someone is or is not of these levels, however, is basically irrelevant. The thought forms, emotional content, sounds and frequencies of other people are also perceived unconsciously. Basically, we all speak through individualized codes – the spoken or written words mean nothing in themselves. The linear arrangement of symbols (letters) that form words has a meaning for us because they are charged with emotional and mental sounds that form a kind of overall picture. We all encode such images on a daily basis and send them out from us. And we all decode every day a huge accumulation of sent consciousness images – which we have either seen, heard or read.

How much we are influenced by the opinions of other people or media – their generated images – depends to a large extent on our own identity structure. And on the respective topics that are founded in it.

Our exchange of information and images becomes a virus – either constructive or destructive – when it spreads in wide circles and becomes more and more emotionally charged. Our thoughts, emotions and the words we speak not only influence ourselves, but also other people. This means we infect other people with our ideas. And other people infect us with their ideas. If an idea or assertion fascinates, impresses, captivates or outrages us, it can go so far that we forget the origin and, spurred on by the charge of an idea, run amok with it.

All of us together are embedded in a collective frequency field, which is reflected in personal, national and global situations. None of us is virtually „an island“, we all manipulate and influence each other. We can hardly escape this, unless we have no contact to other people anymore. But even then it would probably be difficult to escape the collective astral field.

The collective field contains positive, negative, destructive and constructive viruses of all kinds. We encounter emotional and mental viruses all the time, but nowhere in such a concentrated form as in the „social media“. In this respect, the Internet is a single, gigantic virus slingshot. And all of us who make use of it cannot get away with it.

The opinion of others

The technical development of the Internet has made it possible for us to be exposed to a storm of opinions and views on a daily basis in a way that has never been possible before. About 22,510 GB of data are fed into the Internet every second. That is about 2 billion GB per day (exactly 1,944,864.00 GB [2015]). YouTube has a monthly data volume of about 16 Exabyte (Exabyte = 1018 Byte). About 3 million videos per hour are consumed on YouTube. There are 1. 012 315 000 websites on the net. About 16 million of these websites are hacked annually.

About 4 million new blog entries are written every day, 80 million photos are uploaded to Instagram, 618 million „tweets“ are posted – that is 7130 tweets per second. Facebook processes 2.5 billion pieces of content, 2.7 billion likes and 300 million photos every day. All in all, this adds up to a daily data volume of more than 500 terabytes, just for FB alone. About 4 billion search queries are made daily via Google and 10 billion videos are viewed on YouTube. And these numbers will increase, the rush on our inner senses will become more and more intense.

One drama after the other is being chased through the internet every day. An ever-increasing number of bloggers and websites vie for our daily attention. And hardly anybody takes the time to ask themselves, is it really true what I hear or read? What is it really about? And what would be even more important: Does it really have anything to do with ME? Is this really MINE? Or did I just get infected with an emotional virus that is related to a personal topic?

Although we humans generally assume that we have reasonable opinions and justifiable arguments, or that we see the world with clear eyes – this is rarely the case. Each of us lives in our own reality and we all believe that the world is as we secretly assume it to be. The perspective of how we see the world is largely based on the filter of our own beliefs.

One of the effects that has come through the Internet is the amazing development that many people have become aware of how the mainstream press often reports manipulatively or at least with omission – and sometimes doesn’t present the whole picture. By the way, this is not the fault of the press. Nobody can cover all sides of a story, and certainly not in a single article. If you want to know halfway exactly what’s going on, you have to make an effort yourself and look at different perspectives. But the same people then believe every shit that somebody says on YouTube. Actually, many people today don’t believe anything anymore.

But „alternative facts“ to the corona crisis, you believe them. Doctors who are not virologists or virologists who have not been up to date in this field for a long time, we listen to them more than to the top specialists.

We believe that a statesman who uses victim reversal as a means of perpetration. People who lament with a chest sound of the conviction that the Basic Law is in danger – we let ourselves be influenced by that. We reject a black civil rights movement because we allow ourselves to be persuaded that this means that not all lives count. One encounters „BlackLivesMatter“ with WhiteLivesMatter or „AllLivesMatter. Or if someone once again complains – „you’re not allowed to say all this anymore“ – we agree with indignation. Not realizing that he/she has just said it on Facebook, Youtube, Twitter, blogs, etc. Which of course leads the statement ad absurdum, but somehow we don’t really notice it anymore.

A youth movement for environmental awareness, „Friday for future“, is met with „Friday for poverty in old age“. Renewable forms of energy, such as wind turbines that generate renewable electricity, are met with „but they kill innocent insects“. If you read somewhere, in any newspaper, that right-wing extremist violence has increased again in the last year, you don’t have to wait long for someone to comment „hey, what about left-wing violence? A women’s movement for sexual abuse and violence is countered with the argument that there is also abuse of women against men. An African-American movement against police brutality and structural racism is countered with „and what about racism against whites? Particularly deep-seated – „what about racism against Germans?

What is actually wrong with us?

Why do we let „whataboutism arguments“ manipulate us? Why can’t we see through the transparency of such cheap maneuvers and recognize that they distract us from the actual core of a situation or a justified criticism and divert our attention to another area?

Besides all the positive and constructive things the Internet stands for, there is also a dark side to it. Among other things it is misused for a modern form of witch hunts and witch burning. Angela Merkel, Greta Thunberg, Barack Obama, George Soros, Bill Gates, the Rothschilds, Rockefeller and many other public figures are burned at some Internet stake every day, applauded and cheered. And this comes not only from the right, but from all sides. If you look at the comments on such postings, you can observe the violent reactions, where a storm of indignation, anger and hatred is unleashed, which is then projected onto the designated persons.

The art of differentiation seems to have become a lost art.

There is such a variety of information and opinions, often colored by interests, sometimes just imaginatively lied about and only partially true, that it would basically take some time and energy to separate the facts from rumors and lies. A personal effort that hardly anyone is willing to put in, or perhaps doesn’t have the time.

But that is what we all have to learn.

Media competence

Without media competence, we run the risk of drowning in the flood of information. Not only reading texts, but also watching YouTube videos or films today requires more and more critical discernment. The critical filtering of information, comments, text content and the images offered in addition, is proving to be an ever increasing challenge. Today, for every x any topic, completely different and often contradictory opinions are in circulation. And we are experiencing the phenomenon that people often only read the headlines of articles and not the whole article. The attention threshold has become extremely low for some people. Headlines alone can lead to emotional convulsions …

It is important that we learn to understand how communication works and how information affects us. When we read or hear words, we don’t just sort the meaning of the words and sum them up in a particular context. We also record all the unsaid, the energetic, mental and emotional signatures that the speaker or writer gives to their words. It is already scientifically known that in communications, brains are synchronized. To a synchronization of brain waves that goes beyond mere speech processing. It will not be long before we discover that this synchronization does not only occur in spoken communication, but in any kind of communication, even when the information is transported via screens.

If we identify with what someone writes or says because something within us resonates with it, then synchronization occurs with the mental, intellectual and emotional content that is presented to us. Emotional content of all kinds affects the heart field, the glands and the electrochemical energies of the body, i.e. the energetic environment in the body, which causes either an increase or decrease of the personal energy level.

The question that arises is, what do I focus my personal attention on? And can I think for myself or do I simply take over every piece of information offered to me, which includes concepts and perspectives from other people that I usually don’t even know? If we take over everything that strangers prepare for us, we are condemned to walk around with concepts that are not our own.

But the only person who has a responsibility here, what kind of information he lets into his system, is me. The only person who is able to differentiate between the information and my personal feeling about it is me. The only one who can learn to check the opinions of others is me. Nobody will do that for me.

Nevertheless, it is also true that constant effort, investigation, checking and research is no guarantee for a secure knowledge – sometimes you are simply confronted with the fact that you cannot know at the moment! But you can learn to endure that.

What we see is in my eyes, in many respects, an expression of a massive crisis of orientation and a resulting upheaval. Humanity is beginning to define itself anew, once again. We are moving from an age where people were rather „prisoners of their consciousness“ and their experience, to an epoch where people understand that they are NOT their consciousness. But that his consciousness is an attribute, a quality, his very own being and his creative power. And how this is expressed, lies in his very personal responsibility.

The old psychological self of humanity, which accepted oppression of the weak, predator capitalism, perpetrator-victim conversion, wars, exploitation of earth and humanity, will be replaced. But this old energy is struggling for survival. Hard and fierce. We are far from being through this.

One thing can be sure – the next crisis is waiting. And again it will be driven through the Internet village in an over-dramatized way. Where will you stand then? To which side will you then give your spiritual support? What will you be guided by? Your reason and your own views after you have dealt with the situation to some extent or will you follow the emotional pull that was triggered by the opinions of others?

What kind of sound will you add to the overall melody?

Until next time same station

DISCLAIMER: Nothing you read here is THE truth. It is my truth. My perception and how I see things – now, in this moment.

THE INFORMATION SPACE

#crisis #virus #consciousness

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hieromonkcharbel · 3 years ago

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I tell you without hesitation: You want to rebuild the Church? Then we must get on our knees!

You want to rebuild this beautiful cathedral that is the Catholic Church? Get on your knees! A cathedral is first of all a place where men can kneel, a cathedral is where God is present in the Most Holy Sacrament. The most urgent task is to recover a sense of adoration! The loss of a sense of adoration of God is the source of all the fires and crises that are rocking the world and the Church.

We need adorers! The world is dying because it lacks adorers! The Church is parched for lack of adorers to quench her thirst! We lack people who fall to their knees like Jesus when he addresses his Father and our Father: “Then he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, knelt down, and prayed…My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me, yet not what I want but what you want” (see Lk 22:41; Mt 26:39; Mk 14:35).

We will not rediscover an understanding of the dignity of the human person unless we recognize the transcendence of God. Man is only great and most noble when he falls on his knees before God. The great man is humble and the humble man is on his knees!

My friends, if we sometimes despair in the face of the powers of this world, if we sometimes lay down our arms before the powers of this world, remember that no one has the power to take away your freedom to kneel! If impious priests abuse their authority and brutalize you to prevent you from kneeling to receive Holy Communion, do not lose your calm and serenity before the Eucharistic Lord. Do not resist them, but rather pray for these priests whose behavior blasphemes and profanes him whom they hold in their hands. Try to imitate the humility of God and let your heart, your will, your intelligence, your self-love and your whole interior being kneel. It is God’s exclusive domain. A man on his knees is more powerful than the world! He is an unshakable rampart against the atheism and folly of men. A man on his knees makes Satan tremble in all his pride!

All of you who, to the eyes of men, are without power and influence, but who know how to kneel before God, have no fear of those who want to intimidate you! Your mission is great. It is to “prevent the world from destroying itself”!

I speak especially to you who are sick, weak of body or mind, you who suffer a handicap, whom society finds useless and wants to suppress: when you pray, when you adore, you are great! You have a particular dignity because you uniquely resemble Christ crucified! If you allow me the expression: the whole Church kneels before you because you bear Christ’s image, his presence! We wish to serve you, love you, console you, please you. We wish also to learn from you. You preach us the Gospel of adoration in your suffering. You are a treasure!

A cathedral no longer makes sense if no one goes there to adore, to prostrate themselves before God’s face! A cathedral no longer makes sense if the liturgy we celebrate there is not entirely meant to orient us toward God, toward the cross. Therefore, our cathedral needs priests who will celebrate the liturgy of the Mass and the liturgy of the Hours in it.

If the people of God are to adore, then priests and bishops must be the first adorers. They are called to hold themselves constantly before God’s gaze. Their existence is meant to be an unending prayer, a permanent liturgy. They are our leaders.

Very often it is bishops and priests who neglect adoration. Thus, they are centered on themselves and their activities, preoccupied with the human results of their ministry. They do not find time for God, because they have lost the sense of God. God has no more place in their life.

My dear friends, I am convinced that at the heart of the crisis of the Church is a crisis of the priesthood, a crisis of priests. If the cathedral is collapsing, it is because priestly identity has collapsed first. We have taken priests’ identity away from them. We have made them think they must be businessmen, efficient workers, active and present everywhere at every minute.

But the priest is fundamentally a continuation among us of the presence of Christ. He is essentially an adorer, a man who holds himself constantly under God’s gaze. He must not be defined by what he does but by what he is. He is ipse Christus, Christ himself.

The discovery of many cases of sexual abuse against minors reveals a profound spiritual crisis, a grave, deep, and tragic rupture between the priest and Christ. Of course, there are social factors: the crisis of the ‘60s and the sexualization of society, which rebound on the Church. But we must have the courage to go further. As Benedict XVI said recently, the roots of this crisis are spiritual. The ultimate reason for abuse or for a moral life incompatible with priestly celibacy is the concrete absence of God in the life of priests. We have witnessed for a long time now the spread of a priestly life that is no longer determined by the faith. Now if there is any life that must be entirely and absolutely determined by the faith, it is the priestly life. In the final analysis, the reason for abuse is the absence of God. Only where faith no longer determines the actions of man are such offenses possible.

The priest’s place is on the Cross. When he celebrates Mass, he is at the source of his whole life, which is the Cross. Celibacy is one of the concrete ways that allows us to live this mystery of the Cross in our lives. Celibacy inscribes the Cross on our flesh. That is why celibacy is intolerable for the modern world. Priestly celibacy is a scandal for moderns, because the Cross is a scandal.

I wish to encourage priests. I want to tell them: love your priesthood! Be proud to be crucified with Christ! Do not fear the world’s hatred! I wish to show my affection as a father and brother for the priests of the whole world! I want to express, before you and with you, my profound affection for all faithful priests in the world! I want before you and wish you to render them homage!

Cardinal Sarah

Source: https://www.catholicworldreport.com/2019/06/21/cardinal-sarah-we-must-rebuild-the-cathedral-we-do-not-need-to-invent-a-new-church/

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nightklok · 4 years ago

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charles! :D

1) Uncommon headcanon about them I am deeply attached to.

HE WANTS TO LOOVEE but he has a bad way of expressing it/not used to it! You can’t tell me he wouldn’t love to go to his room where his partner is there and gives him a nice backrub while reminding him he’s loved and they watch Mythbusters or a true crime documentary and ah shit it’s basically just chickles whoops sdfjlk

And also Charles being autistic all my faves are autistic and no one can stop me

2) Widely-held headcanon about them that I reject.

Charles being a top-sorry the man’s gotta work 24/7 i think he’d love to be the one taken care of! Also I REALLY CANT See him as being an aggressive daddy dom type- maybe he can be a bit aggressive but not to the point where he doesn’t remembers his partner is human, ignores the safe word and basically is downright abusive. BDSM is a rather complex thing that many writers should take courses on or something if they wanna portray it right but I can only remember one chickles fic off the top of my head that did it right (I should find it-the writer drew very good fanart of it-) but all others is just nope

3) What were they like as a kid? What was their early life like?

i really see him as a quiet kid, the kid with glasses who doesn’t talk much at all, has his nose in a book all the time. However, people know to not cross with him. A bully tried to steal his lunch money and they had to go to the hospital for a broken bone or something. So people learned that maybe it’s best to not pick on him-he probably had a friend or two though, they still keep in touch as adults!

I also don’t think he had the best family dynamic. Basically using an old headcanon I have here but I did imagine him having a family until one day he didn’t. Maybe his parents died, he had an abusive family and he was taken by the state, something where he was suddenly stripped off a permanent home and family and he basically had to live from home to home with only a garbage bag to carry his things. Because of that, he can be a bit afraid of comfort, familiarity, love, because it can all be taken away so easily as a result.

4) Symbols/motifs that I associate with them–colors, animals, zodiac signs, mythic themes, imagery, objects, etc.

I love playing around with death for him. I love the fact it’s so symbolic and can be beautiful in a sense; playing with death, a god falling in love with death and death in love with a god. I’m also recently starting to play around with religious symbolism though right now I’m really into priest/god concept. There’s just something so HAUNTING and symbolic about it I can’t quite describe-because priests aren’t supposed to fall in love if we go by catholic rules here but a priest falling in love with a god he’s known a majority of his life/a god falling in love with the priest? I’m gonna be working on that priest/god chickles fic i swearrr fkdlj

5) Other characters or types of people I have in mind when I draw and/or write them.

Uhhh-Brian Epstein? I feel like I should REALLY start basing these characters off people or something sfkjl

6) What I project onto them when I draw and/or write them.

I kinda like to project the seriousness and even awkwardness of trying to express oneself onto another when you have no clue how to. I think Charles is amazing at what he does but he does close himself off a bit too much and honestly relatable.

7) A surprising hobby, interest, or phobia they have.

I think i mentioned this before but I love the idea of him taking up pottery!

He also has a Soundcloud for his raps, because he can.

I feel like he has a fear of the dark that only ended up forming after he came back from death. He described viewing Salacia’s vision like having his soul taken from him and cold and he did have to die and go through a revival process (which, basing off my own interpretation on the ritual for And It All Became Quiet, will be brutal.) and I think that would scar even the toughest of men. He won’t admit that he’s afraid of the dark because in some ways, he is the dark. He is the dead man. Dead men don’t fear the dark but he does. So he keeps the lamp on when he’s sleeping at all times.

#charles offdensen #thanks for asking! :D #lampmeeting #Insomniac Coffee Talks [asks]

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thegospelaradia · 4 years ago

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Crystal Matrix Basics

Hello my witches, baby witches, aspiring spell casters, students of the occult, and seasoned shamans alike! I'm coming at you today with a brand new entry in my special series on intermediate to advanced sorcery. I'll try to keep updating this blog on at least a weekly basis - if not more often. But, I'm only an interdimensional multifaceted galaxian xenine quantum manipulation nexus in a human body, after all!

Crystal matrices are a component of a much larger school of magic, and one that I always enjoy teaching: the art of WARDING!

To ward means to guard or protect. We do this in the most basic sense a lot of different ways. Someone making the sign of the cross, spitting upon seeing a bad omen, casting a circle of salt, amulets, talismans, gris gris bags, a chicken's foot, eleke beads, a pocket full of iron nails - these behaviors all have one thing in common: they're wards.

My Catholic mother rarely makes the sign outside of church, but when she does? It's a whole production. Spitting to her left and right as she crosses herself, raising her eyes to the sky, and muttering what I imagine is the Hail Mary. There's a rarity to it, because of the severity to it. My mom is in the habit of crossing fingers and knocking wood, and there's always a crucifix around her neck. That, combined with her morning and evening prayers, is typically enough to keep her feeling "warded" all day.

All cultures have their own warding rituals, and it's very likely there is a specific tradition (I find "superstition" racist and colonial) from your own family's culture. If there is? Use it. The magic of your ancestral lineage is always going to be more powerful than a spell you find online.

I've gotten a bit off track, but it's important to realize that all people, from all cultures, and from all walks of life perform some manner of warding magic.

Now, the working we'll be learning today is a bit more complex than the sign of the cross, but as a witch I believe we have more complicated needs when it comes to magickal protection.

Whenever we create sacred space in a traditional manner or cast a Wiccan circle, it's important to remember that these practices are fundamentally seperate from warding spells. A magic circle is a space in which to raise and contain energy in a cone of power. They are NOT circles of protection. No matter how deeply you are embraced by the magick, there is very little chance that a circle of salt is going to "protect" you. That's why we have banishing spells after our rituals.

Why is it important to have this in mind? In my practice, demons and spirits are what we make of them. All demonolators know that just as one might work with the Greek and/or Roman gods - for example - demons can also be part of your pantheon. Not even a very accomplished Magus could cast a warding spell to keep out Diana or Bacchus, and the same goes for demons. At best, a magical circle keeps out all the negative "vibes" that we're increasingly bombarded with.

I have a labyrinth of selenite as a permanent part of my altar - they're great at absorbing EMF and negative energy, and I keep them front and center for just that reason. But, back to demo

Demons are the gods that Christianity tried to eliminate. There's really not much to be afraid of where they are concerned. Working with demons is something best attempted by shadow magi (those who have integrated their shadow selves) but again - I'm not teaching wards that stop demons, angels, or gods. Do you really think Belial or Leviathan can be bothered to pay you personally a visit?

A fear of demons is a Christian concept. The word originally (the Greek Daimon) was a sort of guardian spirit everyone is born with. The Devil isn't the source of all evil (that's capitalism) and demons aren't in shadows waiting to ruin your life. Few things are.

Now, let's get to the magick!

With those disclaimers and background out of the way - let's talk crystal matrix warding!

For this enchantment, you will need:

Palo Santo, Agua Florida, Holy Water, Black Salt, Yerba Santa, or any other purification medicine. (Remember: white sage is over farmed and culturally specific.)

A magic broom / a bundle of tree leaves, esp. from the druid sacred trees.

Copal, sandalwood, cedar, francincense, myrrh, or your preferred incense.

4 quartz points*

A small table

Incense holder

Wand

Athame

Optional: an equal number stones of various types.

Optional: an orgone pyramid, a large piece of vanondanite, a meteor, or a large free-standing piece of selenite/himalayan pink salt

*as these are the only requisite stones, and will be doing the brunt of the work in the spell, choose 4 crystals that are at least 1.5 to 2 inches and well shaped for the task (jamming into the corners of your room).

Personally, I'm not a huge fan of spells that come with long lists like wedding registries. Brujería on a budget is my favorite kind of magic. That said, you should always have purification medicine (I can't ever remember NOT having a bottle of Agua Florida), at least one sacred incense (Nag Champa is a great substitute), and some kind of ritual tool (don't have a wand made of elk horn, emerald, and gold? Enchant a kitchen knife or paint brush. Consecrate a Sailor Moon wand replica. Go outside a stick, hold it up, and shout "this is my magic stick!". You really don't need to drop a lot of cash on this.

Oh, and a magic broom.

Seriously.

Your broom needs to be functional but sole-use. Using the same broom to sweep the kitchen and then your sacred space? It almost cancels out. A magic broom must have a single purpose - to sweep away negative energy.

Your magic broom doesn't have to be fancy. You need not buy a hundred dollar bundle of twigs from Etsy (you can though, if you want). In a pinch, buy a hand broom (not that comfortable) or a regulation size broom from a home goods store.

TBH? I just finished my masters degree so I've had to get very creative with my spell ingredients. Rather than go make an Ikea trip to find a nice witch broom, I gathered a few thin branches from a cedar tree. I've also - when they were blooming - used stems of my yerba santa and basil plants. These work best with holy water, but consecrating is a breeze. Find what you have on hand and use that - don't blow all your money on magic.

OK, now down to the actual spell! Let's go through it step by step.

First, cleanse and purify the room you want to ward. Using either a standard broom or a bundle of herbs dipped in holy water, sweep or swish from the center out - widdershins.

Light your incense in the center of the room. Sit in front of the censer and enter into a state of contemplation. Slow your thoughts. Follow your breath.

If you work with deities, divinities, demons, orishas, etc. - invoke their power.

With a clear mind, close your eyes and begin to meditate on safety - set your intention: "harmful forces: be this your bane. Go ye back from whence you came." Your intention is to block negative energy - not spirits. Most supernatural beings are indifferent to you.

Walking clockwise around your room, place into each corner a quartz point. Whisper into the stone your wish - that no negative energy will enter.

Once you've placed all four crystals, take your athame in hand. If you have a compass, locate the NE or E crystal. Check that the crystal is secure (I shoved mine in the wall cracks) and then touch it with the tip of your athame/tool.

Here you'll need to utilize your visualization skills. Using your athame/tool, draw a line of energy (gold, white, or blue are good choices to envision) from the first crystal to the next.

Repeat this process until you return to the first crystal. You will have a line of magical light running along the wall and around the bottom of your entire room.

Starting at the first crystal, raise a line of magick up to the ceiling. Repeat the previous process.

When you are done, (you should be going up, across, down, back up, across) you will be in a cube (or irregular polygon) of magical energy. Focus on the crystals as you move.

Sit for a moment in front of the censer and strengthen the visualization - you are sitting in an irregular polygon of energy.

With your wand, walk around clockwise from the first crystal. This is where your creative energy comes in - draw (like a light drawing) magickal and protective symbols as if on a wall that sits like skin atop the physical wall. Invent your own mantra to chant. "Ommmmmmm" works in a pinch.

Your room is now a cube or polygon of energy, covered on all sides with magical graffiti. These symbols will protect you. The crystals have become sentient guardians. Imagine, if you can, a spider web of runes and protective symbols stretching across it.

This is optional, and a bit labour intensive, but the next step would be to create a "generator" to "power" your warding. On a small table, lay out a cloth and place in the center a crystal pyramid, an orgone pyramid, or any other large power stone. Around it, either in an ordered or organic manner, place various small crystals.

Once you are confident with your "core," enter into as deep a meditative state as possible. Channel energy from above and below, push it into your core matrix, and then envision beams of the same magical energy from the central matrix to the other, larger one. In your mind's eye, see the energy swirling clockwise from the generator outwards. Your matrix is now powered by a crystal core.

For the next few days, meditate on your matrix and the core (if you built one) to reinforce the permanence of the ward.

It's easy to find crystal matrix cloths online - especially on Etsy. I use a Cube of Metatron crystal matrix cloth - because it's pretty. You can use anything, honestly. The energy and intent are what's important.

And that's pretty much it! Keep your matrix in mind as often as possible. Maintenance is importance so this spell isn't a one time deal. In addition to reinforcing the wards, it also will give you a good indication as to when the system needs to be recharged - from the core outward.

I know, I know; this is a lot. I just hope you haven't gotten too confused by what should have been "crystals in each corner and some more in the middle of the room."

Complicated and long as it may be, this spell has given me a peace I didn't know I could have. As someone with PTSD, feeling secure and safe anywhere is massive. And it isn't just me: everyone who comes into my space remarks on how safe and warm they feel in the matrix. As I said - forget demons and "evil" spirits. Once you're protected from the rampant negative energy radiating from your surroundings, you'll thank me.

And then there's my favorite protection charm - my Black Magic woman.

But that will have to wait until next time, my witches!

-Magus Aradia

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years ago

Note

FULL CLEAR for the top chefs, if you don't mind! 💋

Ah my dear thank you! I love these two! I am leaving numbers out of it cause it’s a Full Clear!

- How do they fall asleep? Wake up? Any daily rituals?

Well see Cat tries to fall asleep with herself cuddled close to Raf as much as possible but he eventually always ends up on his back and she on her side most of the time. In the winter though she’s stuck on him cause it gets too cold in the night. It’s to hard to have daily rituals when one person sleeps in more than the other, though since he wakes up earlier than her Raf tucks Cat back into bed. - How’s their team work? Do they share well?

They have very great team work! .....when you don’t bring cooking into the mix. Then it’s not so great...However! You put them in a competition as a team and they can work perfectly in sync! If you would like to see examples as to how this may look please click here and here - Are they open about their relationship? How do they feel about public displays of affection?

They are very open about their relationship to a point where it makes people sick to their stomach. Cat can’t help herself by there being PDA but they are under control of it, there is a time and place for everything. There is always an arm being slung over the other or a hand being held. - First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?

Cat it may as well have been, she just couldn’t get him out of her head. Though she felt a bit sad for him since he was lamenting on the state of the food and how some ingredients were harder to come by so he could cook. Raf wasn’t ever a love at first sight kind of person, though he could very much tell how nervous she was and how she liked him. But she was nice and helped him out so he was very appreciative of that. Though the nerves and her comment on not making a nickname around her height was exactly how she got her nickname Conejito or Little Bunny in Spanish. - Nicknames? Pet names? Any in-jokes?

Raf always calls her Conejito or mi amante(but that’s for more private times). Cat has yet to find a single nickname for him, though she opts to try and give him pop culture names, she really tried to get Poe to stick but sadly no one saw what she saw. She settles to call him love most of the time in both english and spanish.

In-jokes: Their first kiss, the debate is still up as to what their first kiss is since Cat had to kiss him on impulse before they ever dated. There is also the running joke of who’s the worse cook between the two of them. Both will give more and more ridiculous reasons as to why the other is the worse on. Raf’s favorite is based on the comment Cat made about channeling her ancestors to get the recipe right, she meant it as a small joke but he never let it go. - Any tasks that are always left to one person?

Cleaning tends to get left on Raf most of the time because she can “never clean right”. She can’t meet his level so she just lets him do it most of the time since he’ll just go back over it anyway if she does. - What annoys them the most about their partner? Would they change it if they could?

Cat tends to get annoyed by how bossy Raf can be. It’s not always bad and she acknowledges she can be bossy but sometimes he takes it too far, or it feels that way at times. She also gets annoyed over how closed off he can be with some of his emotions, she’s used to have a partner that was open with her so its a bit of an adjustment.

Raf gets annoyed with how loose she can be about some things despite needing to be in control. It did also annoy him at first when she would spend the whole day sleeping in bed and how she would deflect some questions about her past with him. - What do the like best about their partner?

Cat loves how much like home he feels to her. How he’s so fun and open to the world. The loyalty and sense of family he has. He complements her. His cooking. How sensitive he is to who she is and never once seeing her for who she was before they met.

Raf loves her heart, passion, and how similar they can be. She’s listened to him and never judged him for anything he was. The hope she can have for the world despite how much it hurt her. - Do they discuss big issues? Religion? Marriage? Children? Death?

They do. They were friends before they started to date and had these conversations before a bit. Talks about death and religion more so. Once they get together these conversations come up more and it’s hard for Cat to really open up on her feelings about marriage and children given her past. She expresses that she wants those things but that’s about it for the longest time. Religion is one the two talk about seriously since Cat isn’t religious like Raf is. It is very important to him and understands it but they come into agreeance in how it will be handled in their futures together. This becomes a major talk since she cannot get married in the catholic church like Raf and his family would like since she never did her confirmation or communion. - Who drives? Cooks? Does the handiwork? Cleans? Pays the bills? Handles the public?

Raf’s the safer driver but Cat likes to drive a lot more. Don’t even ask about the cooking with these two. Handiwork falls more to Raf or Wes cause he seems to be around a lot, Cat does try and she knows some tricks. Cleaning goes to Raf again. Bills is an even split, both have the ones it’s their job to keep up on. Handling the public goes to Raf more because he’s just more charismatic than she is and she tends to have more nerves than him. - Do they celebrate holidays? Anniversaries?

They celebrate major holidays in big ways! Christmas, Halloween, Valentine’s Day, Easter once they have kids, and Thanksgiving always expect there to be something from them. There are even religious holidays and traditions that are observed in the house and practiced by Raf, Cat will try and join him for what she can, though lent still doesn’t stick for her no matter how much she tries but their menu changes during that time.

- Is there a wedding? What was the proposal like? Any kind of honeymoon?

There is a wedding and depending on the universe it can be a small one with just the closest people to them or big! There will be entertainment, dancing, good food, church bells, the whole nine yards! The proposal was weeks of planning and secret talks and dropping Cat off at friend’s houses to keep her occupied while Raf took care of everything he needed. Trying to make the dinner party seem like any other was the hardest part as he wanted her taken completely by surprise. Honeymoon would be either a secluded place in the mountains or by the coast. If they could and had all the money in the world I expect there to be a world tour of cuisine. - What do they do for fun? Do they have a favorite activity or do they like to switch things up?

As much as they fight about it they both love to cook together. Watching movies and shows is something they both enjoy also. Trivia games and board games in general are a past time for the two of them. They also try new restaurants while going to the theatre for operas, musicals, ballets, etc. Trips to the museums and other places of knowledge and art. - Anything they both dread?

Certain emotional blocks they both have. Neither wants the other to leave but from different perspectives. Raf would fear she’d runaway if things got bad, given that she did in a way and it’s why she ended up in Montana, its not a far fetched idea. Cat worries about him no longer being there and getting that call again. A conjoined fear they have is for Wes though, they both worry so much for his well being and maybe hang around him too much because of this. - How adventurous are they?

Outside the bedroom? They like to try new things now and again. They’re smart about it but like to see what’s new. In the bedroom? They are pretty adventurous. - Do they keep secrets? Lie? Cheat?

Neither cheat or outwardly lie in a malicious way. The secrets though, those they do keep from each other for a while. Cat especially, she doesn’t open up about what happened to her first marriage for fear that she would be met with everything she left behind, the looks, whispers, sympathy, misunderstanding of her feelings, being only known as the widow, etc.. She also loved living in this little fantasy world where none of that happened but like all things she had to confront it again and accept the consequences. - What would make them break up? Would it be permanent?

They do break up for a little bit(like 2 weeks max) there because again Cat refuses to open up about her past and well that’s really frustrating. At one point she’s given a slight ultimatum about it. Basically being told that if she chose to walk away from the fight to not come back. This isn’t permanent as there is outside help(See Wes) encouraging forcing her to open up and just accept whatever happens because it would also help her despite him not knowing what it is either. - What are their dates like? How long do/did they date? Do they ever feel the need to take a break from each other?

Their dates in canon start off as casual times, mostly at Wes’ place cause it’s easier for Cat to sneak away too(sorry man you gotta be part of this). Them hanging out together starts off with trying to out cook the other and then attempts to bring things like broadway, ballets, and operas to the comfort of home. Cat brings over any nerdy movie and she can find, lots of game nights, especially once she ropes John into finally coming over cause she had Wes and John pegged from the get go(she lives with John how could she not know). Other calmer universes, their dates kind of start extravagant cause Raf does most of the planning of them but when she plans them they are more casual and laid back, going out to the woods, playing video games at the Pizza Bar, and good old movie dates.

- What do they fight about? What are their arguments like? How do they make up?

Okay these two look like they are fighting most of the time because of how much it happens in the kitchen, however it never gets super loud and angry. It is also their foreplay a lot of times. Beyond that though when they do fight it is more lecturing and short words but never yelling at the other. They can both be guarded still with certain things but they work on it. There is also make up sex that happens after there is comfort, compromises, plans made to be better and fix the issue, and sorrys passed around. The amount of time this lasts is anywhere from an hour to all night. - What does their home look like? Their room?

There is enough decor to give the lived in feel that Cat loves but it is also very neat and clean. If there are books and magazines on the table you can expect them to be stacked and arranged in a specific way. There is color in almost every room in the house and their room follows suit though expect there to be one room in the house that Cat is allowed to be messier in cause it’s just her space. The kitchen though! That is their pride and joy! The one place that is kept impeccable and Cat actually keeps up with it as much as Raf does. - Do they share any interests or hobbies?

Other than their love of cooking, both are academically inclined people and have a love for the arts, though Cat is more interested in the pop culture arts she has a love and appreciation for Raf’s more refined arts. - Does their work ever interfere with the relationship?

Canon a little. This has to do with the fact that Cat is publicly married and a part of Eden’s Gate and Raf well isn’t. Though her specific work at the outreach center helps in making their meetings and getting to know the other easier. It also helps Raf in getting more people a second chance if they want to leave Eden’s Gate since, despite the giant signs(Thanks John) her place is made to be neutral ground. Though they watch how friendly they get at first until Cat finally spills to Wes and John she knew about them for a long time.

Now friendlier universes his work does. Being he has dreams and a plan for a military career there are times at first before they are married that he is far from her. Even after they are and she’s traveling with him, there are times she can’t be with him. When this happens though she stays near their friends back home. It makes it a little hard but much easier with modern technology to keep in touch. - How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort?

Raf is more of the one to tease Cat for just about everything, all in good fun, but she tries to keep up and does get her way with him every now and again. Cat is big on showing affection when she can, so hugs, kissing on shoulders hands lips cheeks just about anywhere safe in public is something she does a lot. He is okay with this also and lets her and will initiate touch a lot of times too. - Any doubts about the relationship?

Raf took more time to get into it or even play with the idea of them together so there’s little doubts from him really. Cat has doubts stemming from the long and yet short lived previous relationship. She also doubts herself as being good enough for him, and meeting expectations of his family. Despite sharing the same culture the two grew up differently and there are some things she missed out on due to that. - How much time do they spend together? Do they share their feelings, or hold things in?

They spend a lot of time together, even if they aren’t doing the same things they are together. In most all universes Cat tends to move in with him first and it kind of just happens, like they look around are just like well hey this happened. They share feelings because this is something big for Cat to have in a relationship but again there are some things the two of them keep back but eventually those things come out and they can work through them. - How do their friends feel about their relationship? Their families?

Their friends are happy for them, and love them together. Cat’s friends form back home are happy that she found someone new even though all are hesitant to accept him, but with that charm of his it doesn’t last long. Raf’s family accepts and loves her even though they do wish she was a little more religious, but she’s got good morals and values. Cat’s family, well that charm isn’t enough and it takes more time. Mostly from the idea that she seemed to just shack up with the first guy to take interest in her. And there’s the notion that he can’t beat her first husband. Her sisters are the most critical with Raf and warm up once they can confirm that he’s not someone taking advantage of their sister. Dad is easier but there are things that Raf has and does in his life that makes it easier to identify and communicate with Raf. - Do they have kids? Grow old together? Split up?

They do have two kids of their own(Great genes you know?) they have a daughter Lizette about a year after they marry and then her little brother Daniel “Danny”(They would have named him Wes but he doesn’t like his full name) about 2.5 years after her. It is up in the air still about adopting another one but one never knows. They do grow old together and have grandkids and live such a full life really. - What are their vacations like?

Depends on what they are going for really. Family vacations are more structured while couple getaways are more laid back. They go international a few times, get a cabin cut off from everyone (See Wes trying to cook pancakes), the coast, or even areas with major museums and theatres. - How do the handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness?

These two have plans in place for many things and are handled calmly and efficently. Minor injuries can be treated at home most of the time, with both knowing a basic CPR and first aid due to their careers. Sickness well there is a mixture of what doctors say and old family tricks, like almost anything having to do with the throat if its minor can be solved with Lemon honey tea. Both though become very attentive to the other when one is sick and sometimes it looks like too much. - Could they manage a long distance relationship?

I think they could honestly. Both are very loyal people and with technology involved now a days it’s so much easier to keep in contact. It’s also something that is acknowledged throughout their relationship even in canon universe when they talk about life after the whole Eden’s Gate is over. He still has his plan and she doesn’t want to stop him form that.

- Do they finish each other’s sentences? Pick up any phrases or habits from each other? Know when the other is hiding something?

Depending on the context Cat tends to get a little over excited and will interject finishing Raf’s sentences, but the main thing she picks up from him is Spanish. She already knew some but becomes more fluent in it as their relationship progresses. I think he would pick up on some phrases or references she says a lot, his imitations of her become really spot on. Cat can figure out if he’s hiding something but never what specifically all the time. He can tell a lot more often and can pinpoint it but some things she’s good at keeping by just redirecting most of the time. - Do they ever get into trouble? Is it serious, or are they just mischievous?

With each other? Raf does cause he’s the one to more so pull pranks and tease her. Nothing ever to serious all in good fun. She tries but they don’t always work out and sometimes others coughwescough get caught in the crossfire of those ones. With the law? Might be Cat more likely because drunk her couldn’t help but get involved in a fight and Raf was just a little late in stopping her. - What kind of presents do they get each other? Do they only do it on special occasions?

See I feel they give presents all the time to each other because they both cook the other’s favorite dishes pretty often, but I also count food as a gift so that may just be a me thing. Material things one can’t consume Cat more so. It’s always little things here and there, like a flower or something he mentioned needing even if it’s boring like shaving cream. I mean their whole first meeting stemmed from her leaving a gift for Raf. When it comes to special occasions she puts more thought and time into gifts, this is where she could plan some event or make sure there’s meaning behind what she gives. It’s a toss up of what she will give. Raf though likes to go extra and so he more so sticks to special occasions and events but don’t think for one second that he doesn’t put a lot of thought into it and care. Everything is well planned and perfection with him. If he does bring home gifts on non special occasions it tends to be junk food she loves or the flowers that would be thrown out, because she likes having someone appreciating their beauty before they’re just tossed out. - Do they have any pets?

“Pleas it’ll be good practice for kids.”

“Wes is practice enough.”

“Okay but hear me out though. Wes is lonely and needs a friend.”

“Fine one dog and that’s it.” *Cat opens to protest*”And don’t try to press your luck with it, Conejito.”

Jokes aside in all reality though maybe one dog and/cat. - Do they bring out the best in each other, or the worst? Do they have a fatal flaw?

They bring out the best in each other. They both find a peace with the other and help the other heal. If they have a fatal flaw it’s the fact they are both pretty bossy. - What’s their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?

Their values. They permeate in how they interact with the world and the two of them together can be a force to be reckoned with. Weakness I would put their protective natures. Individually this isn’t bad but together it can be a lot. - How much would they be willing to sacrifice for the other? Any lines they refuse to cross?

For the other’s happiness they would sacrifice almost everything. Cat especially, but she always this idea of what does she have to lose and negative self talk still. There might be a point where Raf would stop, but this could change. See these questions become hard because when it comes down to it how you say your answer is and when it happens can become two different answers. - What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do?

Bedroom is very active and a lot of being bossed around on Cat’s end. She tries, she really does but what can I say? Raf is bossy af! They dabble in different things and try new kinks and things to see what they like and don’t like. They don’t get bored in that department. Cat will not take anything up the ass, she’s tried it before but it’s just not for her. Now pegging Raf on the other hand is on the table. - Who initiated the relationship? Who kissed who first? When did they realize they were in love?

Raf initiated the relationship because it takes him longer to feel that is something he wants. Cat kissed Raf first, though it is still a debate on what their first kiss was. Realizing they were in love Cat fell hard first and she felt love within a few months of just knowing him, but really feeling that true deep emotional connection with him, that real love, came about a month after she opened up about everything with her first marriage once they dated. Raf fell in love a few months into the romantic relationship and told her as such almost naturally. Cat had said it to him before that but he had to make sure you know. - Any special memories? Do they have a special place they like to go to?

I’m putting various universes in this because I love them. As embarrassed as Cat is with that drunken kiss it becomes a special memory for the two of them. The dinner party engagement. Their first real date, where their first kiss was in the rain after an opera. When their kids were born. Their wedding, the smaller one they did behind their families backs. Meeting face to face the first time. Just a lot of little things, each have their own list but these are the mutual ones. They always go back to Hope County because that’s where it all began for them. - Are they party-goers? What are they like when they’re drunk? Does it happen often?

Cat isn’t one to actively look for parties but is very content with gatherings of her friends. Raf is the more social extroverted one. Though get Cat drunk and she can give him a run for his money, there is a reason why you never get Cat and Wes super drunk in a room together. Raf doesn’t get drunk to affect him but he can start to be a downer when he gets too drunk. They all drink in more social settings, Cat doesn’t drink as much because she’s such a light weight but will go big when she does. - Do they let each other get away with things that would normally bother them?

Yes. Though there is a limit to this and both of them know where that limit lies. Cat let’s Raf get away with a lot though, gotta love those rose colored glasses. - Do they talk often? What about?

In the beginning they talk a lot about just anything and everything. Sometimes conversations get deep, sometimes they get educational, or they just stay at surface level. As the relationship progresses though both can be content with not talking all the time, just being near each other. After awhile words never need to be said between a couple and by then kids take over the conversation silence. - Are the comfortable with each other? Anything they have to have their privacy for?

They are very comfortable with the other and because of this they know when the other needs space or have their privacy. I don’t think there’s anything too specific they always need privacy for. They become that couple that tells the other everything, but when they say they need privacy it’s given. - Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets?

Having a family, keeping a heart that’s at peace, grow old together. Must there be an end goal really other than to feel love from another person and fulfil the human need to not be alone. Heartbreaks there was one and that was the same reason there was a bit of a break between them. Cat just is so scare about opening up with her past. After a while there is no regrets because life works in weird ways to put people together.

#x: top chefs #These take a while but I love doing them

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scarloott · 4 years ago

Text

When Merriment’s Done

by: me (scarlett)

cw (i rly hope these are done right! i’m so sorry if not): religious trauma, death/dying, blood, body horror, ambiguity/unresolved

It’s quite long, clocking at 3k words, when it was meant to be a short poem or couple paragraphs, so it’s under the read more.. i rly hope u like! <3

(also lmfao i’m really discrediting my authorship with these crappily phrased forewords but n e way on with the show)

I was guided in by the hand, my skin bristling at the gentle grasp of an immaterial touch - like the phantom limb of another person. I wanted to ask who they were, what I was doing there, at that… was it a church, even now, when any trace of a God had been flushed out by dark? I supposed I’d find out soon enough: I followed. The air grew oppressively cold as I passed through the gate, entering this being’s domain, like the very matter of the air turned from atoms to needles, all stabbing my skin, leaving me perforated; I didn’t much like the thought of that, and I shuddered, pulling my coat tightly around my shoulders, creating something resembling a chrysalis that did little to shield me from the frost, but just enough to make it bearable. My breath seemed to freeze in mid-air, turning to tiny shards that freckled my face in red. I looked over my shoulder, to the outside, and saw it melting away into nothingness - a black darker than any I could have comprehended, that demonstrated in no uncertain terms the boundaries of this space: ahead, also, I could see the dark, consuming the unoccupied land at the far end of the cemetery. Houses surrounded the domain, but these too were consumed - I tried my best to ignore the nagging thought of their occupants’ fates.

The cobblestone path, although worn by repeated footfall, was well-kept. The being walked a few paces ahead, its gait reeking of certainty: it knew I had nowhere else to go. It didn’t even stop to invite me in, entering the church’s vestibule, a narrow corridor leading into the main chamber, with doors to the left and right. These were shut. That may have been a blessing.

The nave was stunning. The church - although blatantly Protestant - hadn’t entirely forgotten the flair of the Catholic church and, compared to the dark outside, was almost preferable - almost beautiful. The pews, constructed from brown-stained wood, were cushionless - there was a certain penance in this place, even beforehand, and it manifested in the littlest of things: uncomfortable pews; a slight, almost unnoticeable slant of the floor that tended to cause issues for the elderly - particularly those confined to wheelchairs, whose brakes may just so happen to deactivate mid-service, and they may begin to slowly - almost unnoticeably - roll away; and in the archaic - or rather, borderline nonexistent - lighting: the only sources of light were natural - now not an option - and the candles scattered sparsely around the hall. Electricity was a force unknown in this place - not that it mattered nowadays. If there even was a “now” anymore. Or “days”. In the opposite corner to the antechamber, there was a walled-off rectangle - another room, of function unknown to me. Beside it, at the front of the nave, was the altar, depicting a robed man on a cross - I assumed it was a depiction of Jesus. A long, two-pronged spear protruded from its side, leaving long, scarlet trails that - I suppose - were the statue’s blood. I snorted, quietly. “Subtle,” I said, into the void. The word resonated from wall to wall, rising to a crescendo as it reached the rafters, which groaned under the strain of this new disturbance. I didn’t expect a response. I suppose that’s why I got one.

“Subtlety doesn’t… work well in places like these,” it replied, the sound emanating from everywhere around me, and yet not reverberating. It simply remained in the air, stagnant and unmoving, and slowly decayed in its own fashion. I supposed it spoke sense, but it was hard to be scared by such a human response. The being continued walking as it spoke, as the being was not the same as the voice, but they were linked somehow. If I could figure that out, perhaps I could sever the connection. If I could sever the connection, perhaps I could escape, although I knew not what I would escape into… if anything.

“I wouldn’t even try it,” the voice said, matter-of-factly. “We’ve done this twelve times already. Give it up.” This shook me. I hadn’t considered it, but I had no knowledge of anything preceding my entry to the churchyard. Of course, I’d known about the houses, but… was that a memory? Or just an invention of the being? It could read and wipe my mind… surely it could implant thoughts too, I briefly despaired: I was truly, inescapably, trapped. Twelve times, too… does that make this the thirteenth? The Christian mythos holds a certain scorn for the thirteenth of anything, a deep-rooted superstition thanks to the thirteenth disciple, the thirteen knots of a hangman’s noose, the thirteen steps of the gallow… Perhaps this thirteenth repetition spelled bad luck, but I feared that such bad luck was my own - not that of the being, or of the voice.

I stood before the altar, enraptured as it began to shake. Well, shake wasn’t the right word: I am not sure that it moved at all, but it seemed to fluctuate as though something within were trying to break the surface, as though trying to turn the whole structure inside-out. It was while staring at this ever-shifting altar that I realised my initial assessment of the nave’s lighting systems had missed a crucial element: the pulpit itself radiated with a certain imperceptible luminescence, as though ultraviolet, and yet it clearly sufficed to illuminate the hall, as I had found may way forward without much trouble.

The being kneeled next to me, its head bowed, its palms together in a cruel mockery of what once could have been seen as prayer. I wish to bring pen to paper, to commit to some permanent record the aspect of this creature, and yet… I simply do not know. Picture it as a pitch-black humanoid figure, or as a servant of Cthulhu, or as Jesus himself - it makes no difference. Words proved an insufficient medium to elucidate this creature’s appearance. It appeared, and it was present, and it taunted me in a voiceless manner, whilst the voice it lacked berated me from all sides. I knew not what was expected of me so, in an imitation of the being, I too knelt; I clasped my hands in my own form of prayer and anxiously awaited the ritual.

In a moment, and for but a moment, my senses were alight: I could smell freshly brewed coffee turned sour by off milk, the scent of the outside world shortly after rain, the decay of flesh, and innumerable things I could not attach to any firm memory; I could hear the screams of the damned, some knowing - and calling in hoarse, tortured moans - my own name, the awful sounds of violence and of gunfire, the sobs of a new widow; I could taste dirt and naught else; I could see naught but white, though the oils coating my eyes played tricks with my perception and told me I was being buried alive during a war, my widow crying over me, while it rained out-of-date coffee, and I was being condemned to Hell. Then the first leg of the ritual was over.

“You can’t leave this place, but I won’t stop you trying. Why not explore while I prepare myself?” the voice suggested. The being was still praying. Resent growing, I left the being to its sick machinations and thought to explore the rooms behind the closed doors. The door that had been to my left when I entered stood open; the one on the right was shut. I favoured the latter, and found it unlocked, although the handle was icy and it was difficult to release my grip after. The door - a towering thing of solid, heavy wood - creaked on hinges unfit to bear such a load, and shuddered open, releasing a breath of frost onto my face. I recoiled - too far, clearly, for I found this great door closing once more, and another closing before me: the one which had before been open. The lock clicked shut as I found my bearings and began to look around. It was a stone room made from grey bricks, whereas the church proper was made of some reddish, sandstone-looking mineral. The only window in the room was narrow and high-up, and barred as though a prison cell. In the corner opposite to the entrance stood a toilet with a pull-chain; another corner housed a wash basin elevated only a foot above the ground. Affixed to the wall above was some sort of electronic boiler, although a note affixed spelled in red marker pen the words “OUT OF ORDER. DO NOT USE.” Mould had begun to spread from a damp corner of the note, so the words now looked more like “OUT OF ER. DO NOT .” The room was barren but for these few features. I was not looking forward to the second leg of the ritual, so I attempted to leave. To my surprise, the bolt of the door allowed itself to be opened, and the door swung open with a great zeal. I stepped back into the vestibule, where the being awaited me.

“It wasn’t a prison, exactly,” the voice explained. The being moved toward me and I stepped aside, but it didn’t register my presence. It closed the door of the room I had left and reached into the door itself to bolt it shut. “The townspeople had suspected the vicar of pedalling lies for some time. They loved his God, but his means… they missed their children. They locked him in there, made him wait out the forty days and nights to prove his holiness. Of course, he withered away, and they never found their children - their location died with him…” The voice laughed: a smug, self-assured noise that somehow toed the line between laughter and wheeze. “In a sense.”

“And the other door?” I demanded. The being was heading back toward the altar.

“Another time. We have so much work to do.” The being turned left at the altar, and entered the room I had noticed earlier, which obstructed the view of those on the far side of the church: in a way, blocking them from God. It was clear my role was to follow; I did so without protest.

This room was carpeted, although the carpet was the sort that scratched you and gave no illusion of comfort, and when you pressed flesh to it for more than a minute or so it would leave vibrant red marks where it had suppressed your circulation. Another slight discomfort in a place designed to punish Man for the original sin and offer conceits of redemption: another nail in the coffin of humankind.

In this room we again knelt in prayer, heads bowed as we faced a coffin teetering precariously on a comically undersized table. I could not see the name engraved on its face from my prostrated position, but I had no doubt it was my own. As we knelt, I heard the creak of hinges - the coffin opening, likely autonomously. I daren’t open my eyes - not yet. Something got out of the coffin, swinging its legs over the cusp and landing neatly between myself and the being. It walked around for a while, leaving the room and returning what felt like millenia later. It then clambered into the coffin, slamming the lid behind it. I knew now to open my eyes, but when I did I was met by a face mere inches from my own, with yellowing eyes, jet-black skin, and a red, rotting gouge where its nose should have been. It had no mouth, but it had teeth: some, at least, for most must have simply withered away, and those it did have were brown and smaller than human teeth, and all molars. It smiled at me in a childlike manner when we locked eyes and, although I knew better than to recoil, I couldn’t help but jump when I saw it. It grabbed me by the shoulders and… I suppose it kissed me? I spat on the ground, but something bit into my tongue and I felt it writhing, like a… like a…

“I’m sorry about the,”

Like a…

“Maggots,” the voice said once again. “Just thought it’d be funny.” I spat again, although I knew it wouldn’t dislodge the creature as it crawled down my esophagus. I simply wished to show my hatred to the thing. The being had entered the coffin, taking place of this new, somehow worse entity, which followed me around with its sepia-toned, bloodshot eyes that seemed ready to bulge and burst and pop from its formless head. An attempt made by this new version of the being to attain some form resembling humanity, although it had gone… poorly, to say the least.

Again I found myself unoccupied. The creature - an entity distinct from the being and, in turn, from the voice - seemed intent on following me, nigh-on mirroring my actions as though my clone. I shuddered at the mere thought. Does it mean to take my skin next? This, of course, solicited a greater shudder, and I resolved to get a move on; I wished to get away from that… thing.

My return to that right-hand ingress was met again with an icy reception, although I came this time equipped with the mental fortitude to put off the cold. I stepped in, untroubled - or, at least, untroubled by the chill. I was very troubled by the creature, which visibly shivered. If it weren’t so disturbing, it may have been comical: the creature’s head bounced around, its neck visibly - and audibly, with a squeak like an unoiled chain - stretched and deformed; its teeth knocked about, moving all over its face and disappearing under its shadowy… it would be remiss of me to describe what it possessed as flesh.

This room was narrow - more akin to a corridor, which boasted little detail but for a narrow stone staircase that quickly twisted out of view. The steps were high - uncomfortably so - and extremely short and narrow: far too much so for me to fit much more than tiptoes on the step. My unwanted companion followed with a detestable ease. I considered pushing him. My hand must have slipped, for I oh-so-accidentally did so and my arms passed through its pathetic face as though it weren’t there at all. I fell, rolling comically down the tight, spiralling staircase until I reached the bottom, landing on my face. The taste of copper filled my mouth, and one of my teeth clattered across the room in leaps and bounds, landing at the feet of the being. It bent down to pick it up and walked past me, still unaware - or perhaps simply ignorant - of my presence, to hand it to the creature, who accepted it gladly and placed it in the centre of its face, roots pointing outwards, as though it were a carrot nose on a macabre snowman.

“Do you like it?” enquired the voice, but I hardly heard. I sprinted through both the being and the creature, clambering up the stairs like some quadrupedal relative to the tarantula, passing closed doors I knew better than to try. A frenzy overtook me - a burning desire to escape the being, and to cause harm to the creature, for I hated them both equally. I turned the final corner - or perhaps the first, for the staircase was a tight spiral - I emerged to a round room containing a single, enormous brass bell at what I assumed was the apex of the church’s tower. The creature and the being had both beaten me in my ascent: the former now stood, staring expectantly at me, boasting my tooth in the centre of its face and grinning its malformed, decaying grin that bore so deeply into my soul and evoked such primal fury; the latter - the being - stood by an opening, overlooking the darkness, and paid me no heed. I fell to my knees; the creature mimicked me. I cried out; the creature did the same. I stood again, and walked toward the bell… The creature made no move to imitate me and instead watched, content or, perhaps, curious. A cord of interwoven metal hung down from the bell’s inside, with a handle a similar brassy shade to the bell itself. The darkness rumbled in trepidation as I gripped the handle, and I felt the world around me grow a little darker. Now the creature came to join me, and I made no effort to push it away. I knew that ringing the bell would kill me; I hoped only that it would kill the creature too. As we stood, the dark spreading like a cancer onto the churchyard, swallowing the ground and the grass and the graves, I stared at that creature, so pitiful in all its aspects: its stance was weary, leant to one side on a stunted leg that was forced to carry the bulk of its massless weight; its sinister smile malformed and misarranged, as though an abomination of Man trying to play God, and falling short in every manner; its tooth nose was rotting already, and would soon be consumed; its eyes were weary and lonely. I noticed it drawing close to me, and felt the maggot in my throat stir once more, as though it were compelled by the creature’s proximity. I tried to bite down, to prevent whatever may happen, but the worm tore from my throat, escaping back into the open, expectant mouth of my counterpart. After all, for all I hated it, it was but an extension of me: my shadow.

The voice was gone, its source consumed perhaps by the sea of darkness which began to shatter the stained glass windows of the nave. I could have sworn I heard a scream from the altar; I was glad I heard nothing from the coffin. The darkness rose further, swallowing the church’s roof, and the acid in my throat mimicked it, dripping through the hole bored by the maggot and melting the ground below me.

Praying - praying for perhaps the first time in my life - that I had made the right choice, I - and, by extension, my shadow - rang the bell, as my orifices were flooded with the darkness, purging me.

Then, perhaps, was I clean.

#writing #my writing #horror #long reads #but not that long #tw #fiction

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gardenofkore · 4 years ago

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“As you enter the church your eyes will be at once be attracted to the figure of the Madonna Nera and Child dominating the nave from their angel-born throne above the High Altar. The wooden statue, above 1 m high, with Nigra sum Sed formosa inscribed underneath, shows a great resembling between Mother and Child, both sumptuously crowned and robed in white and gold. Her face recalls that of a gypsy or a good witch, not dissimilar to her sisters of Dijon and Guadalupe.Her legend is as follows: She was brought from the east on a ship forced to seek safe heaven in the bay, which was once the splendid ancient harbour of Tyndaris.After the storm the ship would not move until the sailors disembarked the image in the place the Madonna had chosen. She was carried up the hill to the small church that had been built on the ruins of the Temple of Cybele, since when her cult has never ceased to flourish.”

Ean C. M. Begg, The Cult of the Black Virgin, p. 277-278

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“When we review the attributes of the goddesses, from the early civilization of Sumer to the highly artistic civilizations of Greece and Rome, we discover that the characteristics they [Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene] shared were physical beauty, virginity, association with the moon and the tragic death, or deliberate sacrifice, of a sonlover.With this in mind, consider the image of Mary, mother of Jesus. She is worshiped as the Virgin Mary. Indeed, it is her virginity (the state of being chaste, not the original meaning of the word) which sets her apart from other women. Mary is also associated with the cosmos, often being called Queen of Heaven. To depict her heavenly beauty, she is frequently pictured enthroned on the moon. Her primary association is with her son, who is sacrificed; Mary's role as a wife is negligible. Despite these parallels with the image of the goddess, Mary is conventionally associated solely with the maternal aspect of the feminine—static and protective. The dynamic, transforming aspect, related to the passion, sexuality and fertility of the love goddesses, is conspicuously lacking.

However, there are other correlations between Mary and the ancient chthonic goddesses which, though not commonly known, are operative in collective consciousness. In a small number of cathedrals throughout Europe, both in popular and isolated places, a black madonna is venerated. She is not the more familiar, angelic madonna in the blue cloak, but one as black as the earth itself. She belongs to the lower world, not the heavenly realm.From prehistoric times, as early as thirty thousand years before the beginning of the Christian era, comes the Black Venus of Lespugue, carved from a mammoth tusk, now preserved in the Musée de l'Homme in Paris. As she predates a time when any knowledge of agriculture existed, she is more than earth; she is Life itself. Other black feminine images, symbolic of the chthonic life force, have been worshiped throughout the ages.

In Tindari, on the coast of Mediterranean in eastern Sicily, a black statue of the madonna bears the inscription, nigra sum sed formosa -”I am black, but comely”- from the Song of Solomon 1:5. Christian scholars interpret this passage as referring to a bride, the Virgin Mary as Ecclesia, uniting in marriage with the bridegroom, her son Christ. It appears to be founded in the sacred marriage rite of Ishtar and Tammuz, since there are many parallers between the ancient cuneiform tablets and this Old Testament text. Could not this “black and comely” madonna be a product of the far more ancient image of the goddess?

[...]

When women adapted to the religious tenets of the patriarchy, they also accepted man's image of his anima as an accurate reflection of feminine nature. They thereby lost their connection to the genuine feminine, including the chthonic aspects represented by the black madonna.Many black madonnas are currently valued as religious symbols, but far more numerous are images of the conventional "blue" madonnna. The latter, as anima, inspired men to build impressive cathedrals and create beautiful works of art, but she lacks a crucial dimension of feminine nature. The black madonna, associated with both the earth and fertility, is an image of the divine feminine reflecting the ancient connection between women's nature and the goddess of love. Through her, the Great Goddess still lives in Christianity.”

Nancy Qualls-Corbett, The sacred prostitute: eternal aspect of the feminine, p. 152-154

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“According to the legendary arrival of the Black Madonna of Tindari, the ship that was carrying her image was forced to take anchor in the Bay of Tindari in a storm, and was not allowed to sail until her image was taken from the ship, where it was then carried to the former temple site of the Goddess Cybele.

[...]

The sanctuary of Tindari sits on a high bluff on the northern shore of Sicily. A woman from a far-away country had come to fulfill a vow to the Madonna of Tindari for saving her little girl's life. When the woman reached the sanctuary, after a long journey, she openly expressed her disillusionment upon seeing that the Madonna's face was black. The moment she expressed her irreverence, her little girl, who had wandered away from her mother, fell from a cliff. The woman called upon the Madonna to again save her child's life. But the miracle had already happened - the sea had withdrawn so the girl could fall on soft sand. The woman now believed in the divine powers of the Madonna she had mocked and the sea stayed at a distance permanently as a reminder of what had happened.

[...]

Sometimes the versions of a story of a punishing miracle varied, with important details missing. Only one of several sources mentioned the punishment by the Madonna of Tindari,for example. Carroll also cites a case in which a modern account of a miracle leaves out the harmful details included in older accounts.This leads me to wonder whether elements of other stories have been dropped over time. Considering the patterns in the body of above miracles, at one time there may have been a full cycle of the Madonna's anger, punishment, forgiveness and healing in more of them. Perhaps, like the alteration of the dark color of the images that other scholars and I have found, elimination of the details of the stories is a kind of "emotional whitening," a gradual removal of the Madonna's "full" range of power, including those we might consider to be negative.I must state that I never got a sense at any of the dozens of Black Madonna sanctuaries I visited that these most powerful Madonnas were feared. On the contrary they appeared to be greatly beloved. The fervor and devotion was palpable. I observed the utter closeness of the people to the Madonna. The Black Madonnas of Montevergine, Somma Vesuviana, and Napoli are all addressed as Mamma, a clearly familiar form of address. Songs and prayers use familiar (rather than formal) pronouns and indicate an endearing and close relationship. Chiseled in marble above the area where the painting of the Black Madonna of Montevergine once hung are the words which translate "You Are Black And Beautiful, My Friend."

The Black Madonna's devotees may feel reassurance from her ferocity, like the women in southern India who believe the fierce goddess Kali's power is there to protect them. Perhaps the severe punishment that was attributed to the Madonna's power was a way for the women to ensure the rules were respected, that the sacred was preserved, and to emphasize that the great honor due the Madonna must never be violated.”

Mary Beth Moser, Blood Relics: Menstrual Roots of Miraculous Black Madonnas in Italy, p. 6; 9-11

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“It is a well known fact that sanctuaries dedicated to Mary were often built on sites that were originally used for the veneration of pagan goddesses. The same development could have happened in regard to statues, particularly when the statue of the Virgin is black in color. Shrines of earthgoddesses were scattered all over Europe, as are venerated statues of the "Black Madonna," which can be found in great numbers from Great Britain to Hungary and Poland. In none of them with which I am familiar can negroid features be detected; therefore, they are not black because of their race. In some cases the material from which they are made is black; in other cases, it is claimed that accumulated dirt and soot may account for their color. This explanation, usually given by Roman Catholic scholars, does not explain why the whole body of the statue turned black, even under the clothing, and not just the face and hands. And what about those to which none of these arguments apply? One answer lies at hand: they are black because they represent earth, the mother of all. That Christians could so easily think of Mary as black should not be surprising. Not only was the relationship between Mary and the virgin earth long established, from quite early the Song of Songs was interpreted in the church in a Marian way. This love song was explained as referring to the relationship between Christ and the church, his bride; since the church was identified with Mary, the song could be also be applied to the love of God and Mary; and the female lover in the Song of Songs is black: "I am black but beautiful, Ο daughters of Jeruselem."

Thus nothing stands in the way of seeing in the veneration of the Black Madonnas a continuation of the popular piety with which the great mystery of earth was honored. In some areas of Europe the roots of this piety, such as that of the Celts, may go back to pre-Roman times. It may have been Artemis or Isis who inspired the cult. In Tindari, Sicily, the Madonna Nera is in a church erected on the site of a former sanctuary of Cybele.”

Stephen Benko, The Virgin Goddess: Studies in the Pagan and Christian Roots of Mariology, p. 213-214

#women #history #women in history #historical women #history of women #tindari #culture #religion #province of messina #myedit #virgin mary

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puzzen · 6 years ago

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Rika Behind Story Plot Summary

I spent 2 hours summarising Rika’s behind story so you don’t have to. I tried my best to write down everything objectively, and anything in quotations is directly lifted from the text in the game. (Long post, TLDR at the bottom )

TW: Mentions of CSA. Please don’t read if it triggers you!

Episode 1: Three year old Mina (Rika's real name) has a close bond with another girl older than her, called Mika, who acts a older sister to her in the adoption center. Mika is growing too old and risk being sent to an orphanage, and is desperate to find foster parents. Mina/Rika is upset and doesn't want Mika to leave the orphanage. Both of them promise to be adopted together.

Episode 2: A hyper religious lady goes into the adoption center to look for a child who is as devout as her. She is impressed by Mika, who is diligent in her studies. Mika reveals that she has some radical beliefs, that children should be raised by bad parents to learn how to survive in a cruel world.

Time jump back to adult Rika, where she is telling the story of her childhood to a therapist. The Therapist contemplates whether she is in need of being hospitalised. Back at V's house, Rika laments to V that he is too much of a yes man but V says he loves Rika for her weaknesses? (They start talking with those sun and darkness metaphors again, so it gets confusing) Through Rika's monologue, she admits that V reminds her of Mika's love and how she is afraid she might hurt V.

Episode 3: Rika is given the name Serena by her adoptive mother. Her mother obviously hates her, viewing her as an evil girl in the eyes of God. Her mother constantly calls for the Pastor to visit Rika to 'exorcise Satan' out of her, and when the mother leaves Rika to be alone with the pastor, Rika begs for her mother to not leave. Because of the idea that Rika is from the devil or something, kids avoid her and she has no friends.

One day, when the pastor brings Rika to the hospital (to try to convert her adoptive father?) she spots Mika lying in a nearby hospital bed.When Mika asks Rika how she has been, Rika lies about her life, as it is revealed the Mika has failed to be adopted and still lives in the orphanage, Mika reveals that she plans to become a nurse and to take care of orphans in the future, and Rika feels that happy that she is reunited with her long lost friend.

Episode 4: Rika learns from her father (who works in the hospital) that Mika has cancer in her eyes. She tries to find Mika, but the address of the orphanage she gave Rika was fake. Bitter, Rika begins to blame parents and herself. Back to the present, V suggest to Rika about getting a new puppy to replace Sally. Rika rejects this, saying that she only kept her dog Sally because she was abandoned and she does not want a new puppy. She reveals what she needs is something that allows her to 'save more forsaken people' and that the RFA is not enough. V enquires about Saeran, and Rika says that they should separate the brothers in the long term as Saeran is 'weak at heart', with Saeyong under V and Saeran under her. She then tells V to not talk about the Choi twins anymore, even though V protests that they had promised to look after them together.

Flashback to the past, and it is revealed that although Rika's adopted mother wanted to adopt Mika at first, the paster decided to adopt Rika instead when she begs to take Mika's place. It also shows Rika adopting an abandoned dog, who she names Sally, despite her mother's disapproval. (TW: Mentions of CSA) Rika then mentions how the Paster touches her when they are alone and have done hundreds of bad things to her. but her mother dismisses it as "a ritual to condemn Satan out of her". As an act of defiance, Rika runs to the church during a sermon and yells at the Pastor about how a God and parents who forsake their children are bad, essentially calls him out. This convinces Rika that the only thing that can protect her is the "devil inside her". As her mother threatens to throw Sally out for the outburst, Rika threatens she would unleash Satan on the church, which scares her mother. This made Rika realise that she could secure her security through words that stir fear.

Episode 5: Rika joins and helps out in a catholic church, and is praised by the Nuns for her service. Rika suggest to the Nuns to help out in an elderly home next time as she can't help watching someone being abandoned. At this time, She adopted the name Rika, as she hated the name that her cruel adoptive mother gave her. Rika questions what loving parents are like but prayed for a sign to one day understand that. When Rika turned 18, Rika admits she felt incompatible with "people that shone" as she could not get close to those who don't need her help. She felt intimidated by such people as she believed that they could "see her darkness"

When Rika is visiting an exhibition, she found herself drawn to one of V's photos, which she believes she can feel the pure love of a parent from it. For a year, Rika became enamoured with V's photos and constantly hunted down any of his exhibitions. Rika eventually meets child Saeyong outside the cathedral, where Saeyong mentions he wants to sing for his little brother. Rika notes from his build and clothing that he is most likely neglected, and Saeyong starts to occasionally pop in at the cathedral. Rika starts tutoring him subjects, and Saeyong's talent of math is revealed. Rika becomes attached to Saeyong as she sees Mika and herself in him. The episode ends with her adoptive mother threatening to kick Rika out.

Episode 6: Rika explains how she met Yoosung, and how he reminded her of a child who was raised in his parent's love. She feels nervous around Yoosung, fearing that he would one day "learn that there is a devil inside her". As Yoosung and Rika talk, Rika is jealous of Yoosung's upbringing and believes that he would be ruined if he stays close to her. Yoosung reveals that he wants to be like Rika, and admires her passion and sincerity in helping others. Rika assures him that he will be a good person, while thinking to herself that unlike him, she will never be one. As Yoosung follows Rika around, Rika notes that she had no idea how to handle him and tried to look confident, but it ultimately made her uncomfortable which made her avoid him at times. Meanwhile, she found herself drawn towards Saeyong, a boy "full of wounds".

One day, she takes Saeyong to visit V's exhibition, where she finally meets the photographer. She tells V that his photos make her feel the warmth of a loving mother and V gives one of his photos to her as a gift. Rika says she can't accept such a gift for free, and V offers that in exchange, they meet for coffee after the exhibition.

Episode 7: During their coffee date, Rika is perplexed by V, as instead of seeing him as light or dark, she sees him as a " White blank container" and is drawn to him. Rika asks him if he thinks that she could ever bask in such love like in his photos, where V answers that she deserved to be loved, and that he would help her believe it. This is when Rika believes that they were fated, and became V's model and visited his home regularly. However, as his model, they did not talk much, with V merely observing Rika and taking photos. This confuses Rika, and she decides to keep her darkness from him by pretending to be a bright person who was raised with lots of love.

2 months of being V's model, Rika is expelled from her house by her mother, and Rika finds a temporary home at the cathedral. She begins to lament that the people who have not forsaken her are people like her, broken, and how she can not get close to V or Yoosung as they are nothing like her. Despite this, Rika wishes to be loved and "wants to get close to the light", even though she thinks she does not deserve it.She decides to stop visiting V's studio, as she believes that if she ever asks him to love her, that he would "treat her like made and forsake her".

Due to Rika's disappearance, V goes to Rika's adoptive home to look for her, where he runs into her adoptive mother, who reveals that she views Rika as a heathen to V. V finds Rika at the cathedral (via Jumin's connections), and Rika tells him that they live in "two different worlds that can never combine" and tells him that she is a dark tragic person. Rika admits to him that she is scared that she would be abandoned, and asks V if he could embrace her. V does, and promises that he would be her sun. In tears, Rika begs V to never leave her even if she makes a mistake or does something he doesn't like. As V agrees, she asks how V can prove himself, and V tells her that he would marry her if she wanted. This made Rika happy as V is like her, "who is far from the ordinary sort"

Episode 8: V and Rika become engaged in the year they met. In that year, she meets Jumin, and with both V and Jumin's influences and connections, Rika believes that she can finally achieve her dream of "making forsaken people happy". However, Rika still felt like she had to escape from V at times because of her darkness, and thus created her apartment. (The one that MC stays at during the common and deep routes) Behind V's back, Rika plans the layout of the cameras of the apartment and sends them to Saeyong.

It is revealed that Rika is in cahoots with Mika (who isn't dead, but eyes are damaged permanently). Mika does not trust V, and offered a plan to protect Rika from being forsaken. Mika's plan is to use Saeran and make the RFA believe that all the information from RFA that was stolen by a hacker. Rika is reluctant to follow the plan, saying that "she must save him" and questions whether she should tell V about the plan. However, Mika convinces Rika that she can "save him by using him" and that she must never ever tell V the plan. Rika agrees, and through her monologue, admits that although she knows that both her and Mika are abnormal, "devils cannot forsake each other". Both Mika and Rika come up with the idea of Mint eye together before Mika's death. Time jump to the first RFA party, where Rika gives a speech about the sun and how it represents the unconditional love of the mother. She ends her speech by saying "V, I love you. Please stay with me forever and be my sun"

Tldr:

Rika had a close friend in her orphanage called Mika --> Rika gets adopted by a hyper religious mother who believes there is a devil inside her --> A priest gets sent to ‘cleanse’ her, but uses this opportunity to sexually abuse Rika --> Rika meets Mika in the hospital, who has eye cancer --> Rika adopts an abandoned dog and after threatening to unleash the devil on the church in order to keep the dog, she realises the power of inciting fear in people -->She helps out at a cathedral and meets Saeyong there. Rika meets Yoosung and is intimidated by his loving upbringing --> Rika falls in love with V’s photos as she can sense a mother’s love from it and becomes V’s model when they meet --> Rika is kicked out of her house, and where V finds her residing in the cathedral, he promises to love her despite her flaws and her future actions --> The RFA is created, but it is revealed that Mika is residing in Rika’s apartment, and together they formulate what would become Mint Eye, using Saeran as part of the plan.

#mystic messenger #mysme #rika behind story #plot summary #mm rika #mm mika #jihyun kim #yoosung kim #cheritz dlc #so these are the two hours i can never take back

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