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viagemladob · 2 months ago

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O que fazer na Liberdade

Você já ouviu falar da Liberdade, o bairro mais japonês de São Paulo? Se não, está perdendo uma experiência cultural única! Neste post, vamos escrever sobre o que fazer na Liberdade, desde passeios imperdíveis até lugares que farão você se sentir como se estivesse vivendo um pedacinho do Japão no coração da capital paulista.

O que está esperando, prepare-se para uma boa caminhada, leve seu apetite e descubra o que fazer no bairro da Liberdade!

Lugares para ir na Liberdade

Este é um bairro que tem sido muito visitado tanto por turistas quanto pelas pessoas que moram em São Paulo. É uma ótima experiência, pois ele carrega autenticidade e história da cidade, afinal, nem sempre foi o “bairro japonês em São Paulo”.

É muito legal aproveitar uma tarde por lá, é uma de nossas indicações de passeios em São Paulo. De forma geral, todos os lugares ficam próximos ao metrô Liberdade, sendo de fácil acesso.

Veja o que fazer na Liberdade SP:

Feirinha da Liberdade: Um festival de sabores e cores!

Dica: vá cedo para evitar as filas e aproveite as barracas à vontade.

Descubra as lojas japonesas

O bairro da Liberdade está repleto de lojas que vendem produtos típicos japoneses. Aqui você encontrará de tudo, desde objetos de decoração até alimentos, doces, cosméticos e souvenirs. Lojas como a Daiso, Marukai, Miniso, e muitos outros mercadinhos, são paraísos para quem gosta de descobrir coisas novas.

O que fazer na Liberdade se não é entrar em cada uma dessas lojinhas e sair com algumas sacolas cheias de coisas que você nem sabia que precisava?

Visite o Templo Busshinji

Para aqueles que buscam um momento de paz e tranquilidade, o templo Busshinji da escola Soto Zen é uma visita obrigatória em seu roteiro pela Liberdade. Com sua arquitetura típica e jardins bem cuidados, é o lugar ideal para fazer uma pausa em um dia agitado.

Endereço: R. São Joaquim, 285 – Liberdade, São Paulo – SP.

Descubra restaurantes e cafeterias tradicionais

Depois de toda essa caminhada, que tal fazer uma pausa em um dos muitos restaurantes e cafés tradicionais da Liberdade? O bairro é famoso por suas casas de chá e padarias, como a Itiriki Bakery e a Kazu Cake Shop, onde você pode experimentar os autênticos doces japoneses, como dorayakis e mochis.

Não sabe o que fazer no bairro da Liberdade? Comer bem é sempre uma boa opção!

Na linha dos populares Hot Pots chineses, tem o Top Pot, já fomos e é muito bom. É no estilo em que a comida vem em um rechaud e você mesmo vai juntando os ingredientes e preparando. Preços bem justos e porções igualmente bem servidas. Endereço: Rua da Glória, 288.

Se você gosta da Hello Kitty, não deixe de ir no restaurante e café da Hello Kitty, o Eat Asia – Hello Kitty, tem diversas unidades. O restaurante fica na Rua Thomaz Gonzaga, 61 e o café fica na Rua Américo de Campos, 118.

Conheça o 89 Coffee Station, onde o café é feito exatamente a 89º, que é a temperatura ideal para ser preparado. Também tem diversas outras bebidas e quitutes para saborear, fica na Praça da Liberdade, 169. Outro muito bacana também é o We Coffee, na Rua dos Estudantes, 24.

Mergulhe na cultura do Museu Histórico da Imigração Japonesa

Endereço: Rua São Joaquim, 381. Horário de atendimento da exposição: De terça-feira a domingo, das 10h às 17h, sendo a última entrada até as 16h. Entrada Gratuita: todas as quartas-feiras Valor dos ingressos em 2024: Adulto: R$ 20,00 Estudantes com carteirinha: R$ 10,00 Crianças de 5 a 11 anos: R$ 10,00 Idosos acima de 60 anos: R$ 10,00

Aproveite a noite na Liberdade

A vida noturna do bairro oferece opções também. Bares como o Isakaya Issa oferecem uma autêntica experiência japonesa com drinques exóticos e deliciosos petiscos. E se você gosta de karaokê, o que não faltam são lugares para se divertir com seus amigos!

Tem muito o que fazer na Liberdade a noite!

Bora lá! Por que visitar a Liberdade?

Este lugar é um pedacinho do Japão em São Paulo e oferece uma mistura única de cultura, gastronomia e história. Agora que você já sabe o que fazer na Liberdade SP, é hora de planejar sua visita e se perder nas ruas charmosas e coloridas desse bairro em sua visita a São Paulo.

O post O que fazer na Liberdade: Descubra o bairro japonês em SP apareceu primeiro em Viagem LadoB.

#viagemladob #viagem #viajar #turismo #roteiros

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schoje · 4 months ago

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Foto: Divulgação/SCGÁS A partir de 8 de julho, a SCGÁS inicia as obras para ampliação da rede de gás natural canalizado ao longo da Avenida Eng. Max de Souza e Rua Desembargador Pedro Silva, em Coqueiros. Serão cerca de 3 km de novas redes e o término está previsto para outubro deste ano. Durante o período das obras, poderá ocorrer interferência pontual no trânsito que será tratada em conjunto com a Guarda Municipal de Florianópolis, com intuito de garantir a segurança e a fluidez do tráfego local. As atividades diárias têm previsão de início às 7h até 17h30. Abaixo, os detalhes das ruas afetadas pela instalação da tubulação de gás: Av. Engenheiro Max de Souza no trecho entre as ruas Sávio Gonzaga e Vereador José Vale Pereira Rua Desembargador Pedro Silva no trecho entre as ruas Vereador José Vale Pereira e Simone Pascoal Rua Desembargador Pedro Silva no trecho entre as ruas Simone Pascoal e João Meirele Rua Desembargador Pedro Silva no trecho entre as ruas João Meireles e Dona Antonina Alves A ampliação da rede de gás natural pretende atender inicialmente mais de 30 estabelecimentos comerciais, incluindo restaurantes, bares e supermercados. Esta primeira etapa facilita ainda a expansão da rede para atendimento a outros clientes residenciais e comerciais próximos à essa linha principal. A SCGÁS utiliza a técnica de construção de menor impacto, reduzindo a necessidade de abertura de valas extensas ao longo da via. Desta forma, os potenciais transtornos à comunidade são significativamente menores. No que se refere a recomposição do pavimento, a SCGÁS utilizará uma técnica que permite a retomada imediata do trânsito original de veículos nos pontos abertos nas vias. Será aplicada recomposição provisória de alta eficiência até que todos os testes da rede recém construída sejam concluídos. Finalizada a fase de testes e garantida a segurança e confiabilidade das instalações, será executada a repavimentação asfáltica dos pontos de intervenção A SCGÁS está comprometida em minimizar os transtornos para os moradores e comerciantes locais durante o período das obras e agradece a compreensão e colaboração de todos. É importante destacar que o transtorno é temporário, mas o benefício é permanente. Esta ampliação da rede de gás canalizado representará um avanço na infraestrutura da região, agregando mais valor àquela via e suas imediações. O gás natural oferece inúmeros benefícios, incluindo conforto e comodidade por ser canalizado, além de segurança e confiabilidade, já que não necessita de armazenamento em tanques. A tarifa pós-paga é regulada pela Agência Reguladora (Aresc), garantindo transparência. Ambientalmente correto, o gás natural emite menos poluentes e contribui para a mobilidade urbana ao reduzir o trânsito de caminhões que transportam outros combustíveis. Para entrar em contato com a SCGÁS ou reportar qualquer reclamação relacionada às obras, a comunidade pode utilizar a área “Fale Conosco” do site da empresa, ligar para o número 0800 048 5050 ou enviar mensagem pelo WhatsApp para (48) 3229-1100. Fonte: Governo SC

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sportsminorityreport · 1 year ago

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Douchebaggery and the fall of the PAC (part 2)

Continuing where we left off...

6. The PAC Commissioner is not taking enough blame, part 5. President Robbins of Arizona gets a lot of blame for the collapse of the PAC and some of it is valid, but some of it is not. Robbins told everyone that the UofA needed the package to be 50% linear. While everyone WANTED more linear coverage, Arizona said it was mandatory. To present a media package to the Presidents that had NOTHING at all earmarked as linear, when you should have KNOWN that Arizona was the lynchpin of the PAC potentially collapsing, was beyond stupid. At bare minimum, you should have had Apple earmark all of Arizona's HOME basketball games as games promised to be resold to a linear provider. Think about it. Home games are not very valuable to Apple. A large portion of people who want to see those games, go to the game. Away games are much more valuable to a streaming provider. Away games would have driven the Apple TV sales and driven the model. I think that and the SDSU + Gonzaga expansion would have saved Arizona. You could have done the same thing to some Oregon and Washington Home football games and dramatically eased the angst of your "nervous members".

7. Pac Commissioner, George Kliavkoff, is taking too much blame on this one single area…right before Colorado left Kliavkoff had a break through with the linear providers and apparently had 2 offers in his hand, one from the linear providers and one from Apple. The PAC members were going to be able to choose the right plan for them. There were conflicting reports at the time that the pac had the framework of a deal with linear providers and that that was BS. The post mortems suggest it was not BS, but that the departure of Colorado killed the linear deal. Now certainly Kliavkoff lead the whole conference around in the dark for months not giving status, but if you look at things, Colorado was either going to be in a Big 12 where they could recruit but played in a shitty division with no other PAC schools or if they torched things on the way out, they could end up in the Big 12 with affectively their best possible conference wrapped around them. Did Colorado KNOWINGLY leave to torch the PAC 12 Linear TV offer? I cannot discount that. 8. Arizona President Robbins sent in his application for the Big 12 something that generally only happens when you INTEND to leave even as it seemed he was reportedly being strongly encouraged to sign the PAC GOR with ASU and had an Intent to sign the PAC GOR. That was a sneaky ploy that did the bare minimum to allow the Big Ten to pronounce the PAC as compromised and poach Washington, cracking the door to allow Arizona to leave. 9. How did Robbins know to do that? Logic suggests the Big 12 commissioner likely was involved. How did Fox know about the application? Again…Sounds like someone leaked the info to FOX with the hope that Fox would pull Washington and collapse the PAC. Which they did. 10. It should be noted that if you total the projected payouts that ESPN and Fox will end up paying the PAC schools, you end up with the PAC schools averaging about $25-29M….exactly what was the reported amount required to keep the PAC schools from moving to the Big 12. ESPN and Fox intentionally ripped this conference apart. 11. Half of the public in Oregon and Washington may hate Washington's Head Coach because a story broke that the President of Washington went to Kalen DeBoer and said, "Hey we are about to sign a media deal with no linear TV coverage. Should we do this or go to the Big Ten?" That would be like the CEO of a company that makes automobile parts going to the guy who makes gas tank lids and asking them, "Hey should we continue to make lids?" Of COURSE he is going to say Join the Big Ten. He is a football coach. The odds suggest his tenure at Washington won't be more than 5-7 years. Should he really be the one that is making the call on the optimal partnership for the university and not the president who would make an academic driven decision? Look…frankly this looks horrible. This looks like pushing the blame if things go bad on to someone who never should make that call.

#pac12

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arun-pratap-singh · 2 years ago

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Toni Gonzaga's decision to go back to school welcomed

Toni Gonzaga’s decision to go back to school welcomed

Toni Gonzaga on this trailer of “My Teacher,” a Metro Manila Film Festival 2022 entry. (Screengrab by Interaksyon from YouTube/TINCAN) A celebrity’s comment on going back to school and hinting at taking up law was welcomed by a portion of the local online community. Actress-host Toni Gonzaga bared that her Metro Manila Film Festival 2022 movie, “My Teacher,” inspired her to go back to…

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ed092 · 2 years ago

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。。Rolê noturno pela Liberdade 🏮⛩️ No clima do Natal 🎄 Rua Thomas Gonzaga Onde tem vários restaurantes, cafeterias, bares e até Karaoke. A diversidade do bairro ❤️ 。 Reposted from @lueine • • • • • • リベルダーデ ⛩️🏮 • • • • • • #サンパウロ #リベルダーデ #saopaulo #bairrodaliberdade #bairroliberdade #liberdadesp #ig_sampa #diariosp #achadosdaliberdade #spnalente #sampaposts #existecoremsp #omelhordesampa #ig_spnafoto #centrosp #euamosp #splovers #euvejosp #cidadedagaroa #achadosdaliba #sp4you (em Bairro Liberdade) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmZ-UAmvRcB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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scottatkinson · 2 years ago

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Brotherly Love

I dig my feet into the hot coarse sand of Cinque Terre beach in Spain. My feet attempt to find refuge in some colder sand below the surface. My Gonzaga bucket hat covers my bright red face from the scorching it has gotten the past week.

“Heads up bud !” My brother Eric throws a nerf football and it slams into my gut. Startled, I quickly look around to spot him. He’s bolting off into the water. I act fast and reach out for the ball, quickly recoil it behind my head and launch it with all of the arm strength I have. It’s headed right for the back of his head. He lunges forward and submerges himself into the water, the ball skipping out several yards past him.

I sit down and submerge my feet back into the sand until it's up to my knees. Still fuming a little bit. I try to close my eyes and let my mind go to peace. However, thoughts of how I will get my revenge run through my brain. I open my left eye ever so slightly to spot if my brother has moved. He’s floating on his back lightly fluttering his feet. I let my back thud into the soft sand which cushions me like a pillow. My thoughts drift towards dinner tonight. A huge plate of calamari still sizzling from the frier, accompanied by an icy soda and a prawn and mussel pasta. A thick slice of fluffy tiramisu is soon to follow. My mouth waters just thinking about it.

Life seems to be put on pause for a moment, with no responsibilities, and no commitments. My whole body lays motionless, not holding any tension at all. My thoughts begin to fade out as my breathing begins to morph into a snore.

My eyes snap open at the sound of a seagull screeching overhead. Barely conscious at this point I pick my head out of a small divot it has made in the sand. I vaguely see a spiraling object heading my way. I blink expecting my vision to just be a bit blurry.

WAM! The nerf football wacks me square in the nose. This time I don’t even consider what to do next. I spring to my feet and begin a full sprint toward my brother. The blank expression on his face showing fear that his little brother might give him a beating. He pivots and runs down the shoreline.

He runs right through a young child's sandcastle leaving it a messy heap. I’m close to his tail barely two arm's length away. My teeth are grinding in anger and I can taste faint drops of blood leaking from my nose. I’m slowly gaining ground on him, my hands balled up into a fist. Everything around me is not in focus. As I reach out to grab his right bicep for a takedown, I’m swept clean off my feet.

“Easy there, Scotto.” Says the disciplined voice of my dad. He holds me slightly off the ground by the back collar of my shirt. My brother with a devilish grin standing behind him. I’ll get him one of these days.

First picture : A view from the hike we did above one of the small town in Cinque Terrre. Cinque Terre is french for “five lands”, as five of these small beach towns are connected along the coast. A train can be taken in between them, or about a 45 minute hike.

Second picture : Me and my brother laying peacefully (for once) on the beach in Cinque Terre.

Both pictures taken by my mom

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fatehbaz · 5 years ago

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ughhhhhhhhh noooo stop it! aha! don’t release non-native earthworms in random plots of soil for enhancing gardens or free bait, don’t do it anywhere in North America lmaoooo! stop, it’s so dangerous and extremely harmful, with devastating and surprisingly dramatic and visible biome-wide effects! haha popular tumblr blogs should stop repeatedly and widely sharing advice recommending the release of non-native earthworms and calling it “anti-imperialist praxis” and “bioregional autonomy” and “vegan self-suffiency” lol! dooooon’t! it straight up destroys soil and outright kills forests :/ it directly causes death of understory plants; death of iconic species like goblin fern and serviceberry; elimination of vital fungal networks providing both soil structure and tree-to-tree nutrient-sharing; loss of native invertebrates and amphibians; savannification of the boundary between woodland and tallgrass prairie; death of red maple, sugar maple, and red oak stands; and especially harms hardwoods forests of the Great Lakes and Midwest lmao seriously stooooop it >:(

Anyway for real, I sure hope no one is deliberately releasing non-native and invasive earthworms, or bait worms, anywhere on Turtle Island/North American land, especially west of the Mississippi River or north of the Wisconsin glaciation. Earthworms and bait worms sold in stores are, by and large, not species native to the continent. They severely harm forests and soil ecology, leading directly to disruption of fungal networks; death of saplings and seedlings; death of forest understory plants; replacement of typical understory species with grasses; mortality in adult trees, as well; changes in pH; and other harm, especially devastating in northern hardwoods forests of the Great Lakes region.

Not gonna name names, but several times this year, popular blogs from the [forest-lover, anarchist/leftist/solarpunk, Moomin-fan, environmentalist-ish] realms of Tumblr have widely shared advice recommending the release of non-native earthworms or bait worms into the wild, as a form of “praxis”. I’ve got these posts screenshotted, but since I generally respect people in these circles - and in the interest of avoiding discourse and drama - I’m not going to share them. (A popular post was widely shared in February 2019; another “release store-bought earthworms” post was shared in December 2019.) I appreciate where their hearts are at. But:

Source: [x].

Some things:

From a Phys dot org summary of Great Lakes Worm Watch:

"The western Great Lakes region, which is the area we're focused on, has no native earthworms," says ecologist Cindy Hale, a research associate with the Natural Resources Research Institute at the University of Minnesota in Duluth. Native earthworms in the region were all wiped out after the last Ice Age. The current population was brought by Europeans hundreds of years ago, (soil was often used as ballast in ships) and they’re now changing the face of local forests. Anglers are adding to the problem by dumping worms that don't end up on the end of a hook.

With support from the National Science Foundation (NSF), Hale's team created the Great Lakes Worm Watch website and outreach programs to stop the spread of non-native earthworms and to clear up the common misconception that they're harmless. [...] Earthworms may be small but when they take over a forest, the impact is dramatic. They cause the rapid incorporation of organic material into the soil, changing its structure, chemistry and nutrient dynamics. What's known as the duff layer is suddenly removed, and this duff, or decaying organic material on the forest floor, is habitat for several species of insects, spiders, small vertebrates, bacteria and fungi. It is also the primary rooting zone for most plants."What's really the biggest negative effect on the plants directly is the removal of their rooting zone. It can cause mortality of adult plants but, furthermore, it can cause a loss of reproductive potential. A lot of these native plants have seeds that have very complex seed dormancy and germination strategies," says Hale.

Caption by Shireen Gonzaga for EarthSky: “A forest understory with a high diversity of native plants, the result when there are no earthworms in the soil. Image courtesy of Paul Ojanen.”

Caption by Shireen Gonzaga for EarthSky: “Forest soil with an abundance of non-native earthworms can result in a bare understory. Image courtesy of Scott L Loss.”

Non-native worms disrupt fungi networks, alter soil pH, damage seedlings, and allow grasses to gain stronger footholds to replace native/natural forest understory plants (from an EarthSky review of 2016 research by German Centre for Integrative Biodiversity Research):

Bottom line: European earthworms, introduced by early settlers, are changing the physical and chemical characteristics of soil in northern North American forests, creating a decreased diversity in native plants. [...] At the top soil layer, earthworms convert fallen leaves to humus. That’s a good thing if you’re growing a garden, but, in a natural forest, it causes a fast-tracking of the release of nutrients instead of allowing the leaf litter to break down more slowly, as it would without the earthworms.

Also, as they burrow through the ground, earthworms disrupt the mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship between fungi and plants. Some deep-burrowing worm species change the pH of upper soil layers by mixing in alkaline soil from deeper in the ground. [...]

All of these changes adversely affect native plants that did not evolve in such conditions. For instance, the goblin fern is rarely found in areas with high earthworm density. Other native plants facing threats include largeflower bellwort, trillium and Solomon’s seal. Earthworms also consume the seeds and seedlings of some plant species, influencing what grows in the forest understory.

In some locations, grasses, with their fine root systems that quickly absorb nutrients, dominate the forest floor. Non-native invasive plants that evolved in soils containing earthworms gain an even stronger foothold in these forests.

Cindy Hale, the prominent University of Minnesota-based researcher of non-native earthworms in the Great Lakes region, has published this book through Kollath-Stensaas Publishing:

Non-native worms harm birch trees specifically and hardwood forests generally (excerpt from University of Toronto research, 2016):

The worms can cause dramatic changes to ecosystems by altering soils, reducing leaf litter and disrupting microbial interactions, which reduces biodiversity. Now it seems they are also eating plant seeds in the wild, potentially altering the make-up of forest communities. (…)

“They eat a lot more seeds than we think,” says Cassin [ecologist at University of Toronto in Mississauga], now at the Ontario Invasive Plant Council in Canada.

The study shows another way that earthworms can alter forest ecosystems, particularly for small-seeded species such as birch, says Lee Frelich, an ecologist at the University of Minnesota in St Paul. (…)

Once earthworms have invaded a habitat, they are almost impossible to eradicate, says Erin Bayne, of the University of Alberta in Canada. Conservationists must instead work to keep worms out of pristine habitats, he says, for example by restricting the use of worms as fishing bait and by controlling accidental transport of contaminated soil.

Non-native worms lead to wildflower, fern, and sapling death. In hardwood forests, this loss is probably due partially to how worms degrade the duff layer; the loss of this layer also provokes soil erosion and directly eliminates the forest floor shelter of larger invertebrates and amphibians. When saplings cannot establish themselves, there is tree loss. (From Minnesota Department of Natural Resources)

Studies conducted by the University of Minnesota and forest managers show that at least seven species are invading our hardwood forests and causing the loss of tree seedlings, wildflowers, and ferns.

Sugar maples, important both for forests and human food production, are devastated by the worms (from several years of research by Michigan Technological University across multiple national and state forests in the Upper Great Lakes):

A new study suggests that non-native worms are eating up the forest floor, causing sugar maples to die back and perhaps harming other forest dwellers.

Sugar maples are prized as much for their valuable lumber as for their sugary sap and dazzling fall colors. In Michigan alone, they are the basis of a multi-million-dollar industry. But several years ago, foresters began noticing that the crowns of the big trees appeared unhealthy, with bare limbs and little new growth. “They were losing trees before they could harvest them.” (…)

Great Lakes Worm Watch has some fun links and resources:

You can download a comprehensive key that helps identify earthworm species. Available for free, via Great Lakes Worm Watch:

Text from Great Lakes Worm Watch: “Different plant species respond to earthworm invasions differently. Some native plants appear to be very sensitive, so much so, that they can rapidly disappear when earthworms invade a forest. Some examples of these plants include…”

Worm Watch: “If earthworm invasion leads to changes in the mycorrhizal community of fungi, the diversity of plants that make up the understory would be dramatically changed. Fungi are a preferred food of many earthworm species and they graze it heavily, which could dramatically impact the abundance and composition of fungi in the soil. By grazing fungi on or near plant roots, the earthworms not only can damage the roots, but they prevent the plant and fungi from forming the symbiotic relationship where mycorrhizal fungi exchange nutrients and water for carbohydrates with green plants. If the fungi can't get enough food, they will die back even further. For some of the native plants that need mycorrhizal fungi, especially when the plant is young and small, survival will be difficult if earthworms prevent this relationship from being formed.”

NO MUSHROOMS

#NO MUSHROOMS #heed warning

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fascination-street-writing · 4 years ago

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Sober to Death | Teenage Au! Risotto Nero x Reader

Under the shroud of the moon, your shadows become ghosts

Content Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (Not Underage), Mentions of Suicide, Implied Child Abuse, Underage Smoking, & Emotional Manipulation (Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics)

It is the summer of 1988. You have spent the past few days cooped within the shelter of your home to evade the arid, sweltering heat; even the spigots are dry. You long for autumn leaves.

The smouldering faces of painted women stare at you and watch, still, as you glide the twin blades of your mother’s cooking shears through pulp paper. She had promised you for weeks now to buy a new set of crafting scissors for you; your last pair disappeared, seemingly out of thin air. Your father insists that it was the work of garden fairies. You suspect interfamilial thievery.

A dollop of hot glue pools beneath the tip of the gun. A string not unlike a cotton candy fiber chases the glue gun upon separation; a scar on the back of your hand prompts you to not touch the simulant gemstone-encrusted tool. You press the trimmed image of a smoking model against the glue. Turquoise glitter rains down from the bottle and coaxes over the greyscale photograph. Plastic diamonds the color of honey, a magenta feather streaked in silver – you blow over the page of your scrapbook and grin.

The smooth voice of Mina Mazzini echoes from the turntable atop your dresser. Paper trimmings fall to the carpeted floor. Glitter sticks to the palm of your hand. Christy Turlington joins Isabella Rossellini and a nameless American model – the seventeenth page of your third portfolio is complete. You pride yourself in this hobby of collecting the images of women who have been frozen in time by glamour shots and risqué poses. Perhaps immortality truly means to be plastered inside of a teenage girl’s fashion scrapbook and hidden beneath her bed. You fancy yourself a curator – a conservator.

You kick back your feet and breathe in the perfume of the candle that burns on your bedside table. Instead of a pair of proper scissors, you mother had returned from the craft store with the caramel-scented candle. She is, admittedly, a bit forgetful at times.

You hear his fingers rapping against the pane of your window before you notice his presence: a pair of black-sclera eyes with red irises peer into your bedroom. You blow out the candle and turn off the overhead light. He is patient as he waits for you to slip on your Mary Jane’s. The bulge of a cigarette carton peaks out from the pocket of his torn jeans.

Through the opened window, Risotto Nero wordlessly extends his hand to you: yours is dwarfed by his calloused grasp. He leads you beyond your father’s wilting flower garden – you dance over marigolds, asters, and tithonias, careful not to step on the blossoms that suffer in this Sicilian drought.

Under the shroud of the moon, your shadows become ghosts. Cicadas and katydids sing. Risotto’s brooding, silent form matches your pace as walk towards your rendezvous place. Your legs have memorized the journey: up the hill, past the schoolyard, down the spiraling path behind the market, to the park across from the shoreline.

The wooden plank of the swing creaks beneath your weight. You grip the rusted chains and push, only enough so that your body sways, suspended above the ground. Risotto sits beside you, stagnant. Ashen earthiness wafts through the cloud that forms before his face. The smell of cheap tobacco is so strong that you forget how lovely the scent of the caramel candle felt in the well of your lungs.

The cigarette slips from his fingers to yours. Hot to the touch, you bring it to your lips and breathe in. “Mio padre said he could look at your bike, by the way,” you say to your companion, the first words of the night thus far. He takes back the cigarette. “He says he’ll let you work for him or something, just so you don’t have to pay him back for the new tires.”

He hums with the filter stuck between his teeth. “Thank you,” he mumbles through smoke.

You smile and nod. He had been without his bicycle for nearly a month now, ever since one of the boys in his tenement building slashed its tires. Risotto’s parents had refused to replace them, insistent that their son had purposefully dug his own grave with the older, less reputable residents of their complex – it was his responsibility to lie down and bury himself alive.

If not for his cousin Barolo’s intervention in the matter, you thoroughly believed that your friend would have been thrown out onto the streets. The Nero’s were a temperamental pair, to be sure. You have lost track of just how many times Risotto has come to school with a bruise on his cheek or a busted lip – how many times you have met him at your window in the dead of the night, to be greeted by the aftermath of a blackeye: and always, he blamed the welts on fights with his neighbors, but you knew better. To him, it had never mattered what his parents did – so long as he has his cousin. And you.

His mother and father terrify you, and rightfully so. And yet, a part of you is grateful for their negligence; it means that you have the chance to spend more time with their son, to whisk him away from the strain of his household. You are beholden to the burning in your legs because it reminds you that walking to the park takes longer than a simple bike ride. Though few words are ever spoken between you and Risotto, you savor every moment spent in his company.

His actions tell you that he is appreciative enough of your presence. He drops the spent cigarette into the carton and pulls out a second; the flare of the match glistens in his eyes. You hide the frown that creeps upon your face behind a curtain of hair.

A nicotine high is nothing more than a nasty headache and an upset stomach – you do not enjoy smoking nearly as much as he does.

Although, you have gotten rather good at pretending.

Insegnante di Scuola jailed, charged in Manslaughter

Sordi Fellini, 32, was arrested at his home after Polizia Municipale di Palermo said he fled the scene of the 1:50 a.m. accident. Fellini, insegnante di lettere for Istituto Gonzaga, has been charged for driving while intoxicated, manslaughter, and leaving the scene of an accident involving a death.

Dead at the scene of the 1:50 a.m. wreck was Barolo Nero, 20.

The dried leaves crunch beneath your feet. The wind pulses against your legs, pressing your pleated skirt taut to your stocking-clad skin. There is a certain bitterness that comes with walking home from school, alone. The autumn air becomes more frigid. The journey, longer. The weight of textbooks in the bookbag slung across your back is far heavier.

More than anything, you miss Risotto. You are reminded of him every moment that you catch yourself staring, longingly, at his empty desk in each classroom. Though you consciously leave a seat open for him next to you at your lunch table, as if he might sit down at any moment, you know that it is for naught.

You were not invited to the funeral, because there never was one. Barolo was cremated and scattered along the coast of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Signore Fellini, your estranged literature teacher, has been stripped of his certification – not that a degree would do him any good in prison.

And Risotto disappeared.

His bicycle has become something of a centerpiece in your father’s workshop: a drying rack for freshly cleaned hand towels. Each night that you find yourself hovering over your father – who is typically hunched in his desk chair – to press a kiss to his cheek and summon him for a meal, the bicycle taunts you. It is the emblem of your missing friend.

Tonight, you do not enter the workshop. A detour to the park has set you three hours behind. Your mother greets you from her place at the kitchen sink with a worrying tone. You have missed dinner, though truthfully, you are not hungry. Her water-pruned hands reach for you, yet you bat her away and retreat to your bedroom. Homework assignments wait to be completed. You strip yourself of your uniform and settle for a nightgown.

The evening sky has not yet settled to dusk – the cicadas and katydids no longer sing, for summer has passed and taken everything else with her: the drought, the wilted flowers, and Risotto. Still you sleep, a hand clutched to your chest, as if the meager act of cupping your aching heart might alleviate the dull rhythm that pulsates through you, even while you dream of cigarettes and torn jeans.

And when you open your eyes, jostled awake by the rattling of the window, you know that he has come back, perhaps compelled by devotion. Or perhaps, after all this time, it is that he could no longer bare the self-driven deprival of your affection.

In your room, Risotto’s battered shoes sink into the plush carpet. You close the window and draw the blinds shut. His gaze falls to the record player, then to a neglected crafting toolbox – scattered laundry on the floor, a framed watercolor painting of lilies: everywhere except for you. Your mouth opens, but words fail you. The questions that you have wanted to ask no longer matter because he is here now.

As you study his face, you wonder if his cheeks were always this gaunt. His fists are clenched. You pull him into your arms, crossing a line that you have only ever fantasized of toeing. His hands raise to your spine after a moment of hesitation. Fingernails pry into the thin fabric of your nightgown – he grips you tightly, like he fears that you might drift away if he pulls back. You feel the quaking of his shoulders before his tears fall and collect against the crook of your neck, to pool in the cavity of your collarbone.

Vulnerability has never come easy for Risotto. He wears stoicism like a mask. But here in your room – the forbidden safe haven – he wills himself to let it go; it falls to the floor as you lead him to your bed and pull his clothed body flush against yours, beneath the shelter of a duvet and wrinkled sheets.

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper into the dark. “I was so worried about you.”

His grip on you eases and he settles onto his back before he speaks: “I’m sorry.”

Your face falls. “Don’t apologize. I don’t want you to.” The mattress creaks. You lean against your bent elbow and watch him as he stares at the ceiling. You can practically hear the gears churning in his mind. He is begging for help, but he does not want it – he is drowning, yet he refuses the buoy. “You don’t have to talk about it right now,” you say, referring to Barolo’s death and consequently Risotto’s absence. “Just understand that I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

But he already knew that.

Your eighteenth winter hails no snowfall, but rather gentle rain. You clutch the steering wheel of your hand-me-down sedan, foot coaxing over the pedals. It had once belonged to your father, until your seventeenth birthday. The scenery blends and contorts through the windows and Risotto puffs on a cigarette, exhaling through his opened window. Softly, Christmas carols hum through the speakers. The noise of your tires grinding against the slick roads is muddling.

Midnight Mass was a blur. Tradition demanded your attendance, yet your thoughts wandered. You broke the bread with quivering hands and said your holy words to Mother Mary, fingers and palms conjoined ephemerally. When the bishop dismissed the clergy, you found Risotto in the crowds of embracing strangers and giddy children.

The car swerves into gravel. The scent of sea spray climbs to you. The waves crash against the sand just as the tide beckons them to. You have reached spiaggia di Capaci. The gingham blanket settles into the sand. You and Risotto take your respective positions, a considerable distance left between your bodies. You do not mind the early rain that peppers your face with mist.

Above your heads, the stars embellish the ethereal ink-black sky.

His thumb coaxes over the back of your hand, tracing the grooves between knuckles. Your breath hitches in your throat. It is unknown just how many times your hand has found its way into his grasp before. And yet, you shiver and flush because now it is different – because now, you are an eighteen-year-old woman in love with your childhood friend.

You crane your neck to face him, a question of his intent frozen on your tongue as his red irises meet your gaze. You are motionless, even when his stare falls to your parted lips. The chill that radiates from the ocean holds you in place.

Time stops as he speaks to you: the waves refrain from the shore – the steady drizzle eases – but your heart beats in a fury.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nod and suddenly his lips slant over your own, which remind him fondly of a freshly split strawberry. He bites back the gasp that betrays your composure. He kisses you with such fervor that he pulls his hand away from yours and tethers it to the back of your head, his fingers lost in the matted mound of hair. Like a kitten starved for milk, you explore the caverns of his mouth, the taste of communion wine heavy on his breath.

You find his shifting grasp on your hip daunting. A knee threads between your legs, parting them. A heat pools within you – you grab the back of his neck and pull him closer, closer. You lean into him, keening, desperate for friction.

He toys with your clothed sex and swallows the adolescent moan that you choke on. The hand beneath your dress is cold; goosepimples rise over your tender skin. He separates his lips from yours and pulls back to admire, through half-lidded eyes, as you bite your cheek and squirm while his thumb hooks around your dampened panties. You lie beneath him – your hair splayed around your head like a halo and a red blush stained to your cheeks – and he thinks, utterly and truly, that you must be Persefone herself.

Risotto’s heart beats, faster still; a contender only to yours. You feel like you might die, blissful that it would be a winsome way to go – on a beach somewhere, echoed only by thoughts of the one you might have loved in time. But when his long finger brushes against your untouched folds and tethers you to your very core, you know that you cannot possibly be dead. He curls himself and retracts. You raise your hips to meet the fever of his palm, eager for the second finger that he has yet to add.

“Please, Ris,” you beg. “More – please.”

He obliges. It is not long before you feel the coil tighten within your lower abdomen – before you fall apart for him.

Through your stupor, you manage to grab his wrist to cease his movements. “We can’t do this here,” you airily insist. “My car –”

He pulls you to your feet. Your shaking legs have you fumbling over sand. The key jiggles in the lock of the backseat door. You shimmy over crinkling faux leather. Your dress falls to the carpeted flooring.

A shirtless Risotto takes in the sight of your naked form. A body once saved for marriage, now prepared for sacrilege. He utters your name and groans: “Voglio scoparti.”

“Per favore.”

He fills you, slowly. Knees bent and tucked beneath his weight; you cry out against the skin of his neck. With little time to adjust, he rocks into you. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, desperate to anchor yourself. Every thrust elicits a gasp from your swollen lips.

You grimace peevishly when Risotto slows his pace. “I can’t do this,” he mutters. “It’s not comfortable.”

He pulls himself out of your folds, only to flip you onto your stomach without a moment to spare. A hand finds its way to the back of your neck, effectively pinning you down onto the car seat. His other arm ensnares your waist and hoists your backend into the air. On bended knees, he enters you again, pounding with a burst of newfound energy and desire.

Condensation coats the windows. The pressure on your neck deprives your lungs; however, the mere thought of Risotto asserting such dominance over your bent form has you reeling towards the edge. Your fingers fly to your sensitive nub, tweaking the it in your own grasp. Your release washes over you, and you cum on his cock with a moan laced in ecstasy.

He finishes on your back, lacquer to your sweat-slicked skin. He rubs something soft against you. You realize, as sand particles fall to the car seat, that it is your blanket. Head flush to his chest, you listen to the thumping within his ribcage. A sigh passes through your lips and your eyes fall to his discarded wristwatch. It is just after 3:00 a.m. – in five hours, you will wake to the sound of your mother’s knuckles rapping against your bedroom door to join her and your father for breakfast before an onerous day of entertaining relatives. But for now, you will enjoy the solace of Risotto’s embrace.

You press a kiss to his cheek. “Bon Natali, Risotto.”

He grins, tired. It is enough to fill you with unadulterated love.

“Bon Natali, bella.”

The early days of the springtime bloom yield the first wave of tourists to Palermo for the season. Market vendors inflate their prices. Restaurants become far too crowded. The beaches – the sacred places – lose their luster as they become a haven for foreigners.

You do not mind the influx of strangers, for you have never found a reason not to. After all, no one comes to your city to gawk at Catholic school students.

The hand pressed to your bare backend feels limp. Even as you trail your finger over his chest, through patches of hair and young muscles, Risotto is unresponsive. Your lips brush against his clenched jaw – he flinches but does not relax. He is perturbed beyond question.

“Ris?” you begin, waiting for him to look at you. He does not. You frown. “Are you alright?”

A stiff nod is his response.

“Well, if that’s the case, can I ask you a something?”

Another nod.

"Would you like to go out for dinner tomorrow night? You know – as in an actual date.”

"No.”

You sit up, tucking the blankets around your breasts. “Oh . . .” you trail off, suddenly self-conscious of the post-sex haze that lingers on the sheets. “Why not?”

Because I’ll be gone – he wants to say. The pair of crafting scissors that he once stole from you years ago, now tucked away within his backpack, is a nasty contemplation. “Because I don’t want to,” he huffs.

“Did I do something wrong? Are you embarrassed of me?”

No. “Yes.” He can feel the splitting of your heart – it feels just like his own.

“I don’t understand,” you insist. He reaches for his jeans, dressing in silence. “You’re just going to ignore me?”

“It’s easier than telling you the truth.” He shrugs on his jacket.

“What truth?”

I’m never coming back. “I’ve only been using you for sex, and now I’m bored – I never thought you were stupid enough to think that any of this was genuine. But I shouldn’t be surprised.”

You bring a hand up to catch the tear that rolls down your cheek. You wait for his rebuttal – for a smile, a shaking of his head, and an insistence that it was only a cruel jest taken too far. But the look in his eyes, that callous sneer, tells you that he is serious.

You will not cry for him – you will not beg him to stay. “Get out.” You choke over your words. The figs of your tree have shriveled and fallen to your feet, black as death itself. “Get out of my house.”

And so, he leaves you beneath the barren tree you once thought to have planted together. Springtime has left a sour taste in your mouth, after all.

Sordi Fellini Dead in Suicide at Jail, Spurring Inquiries

Signore Fellini, the insegnante di lettere sentenced for his convicted manslaughter of Barolo Nero in 1988, was not under suicide watch at the time of his death.

Signore Fellini was found around 6:30 a.m mercoledì mattina. He posted bail seventeen hours before his alleged demise.

On la Costa Smeralda, echoed only by thoughts of the one he loved a decade ago, Risotto Nero basks atop bloodied sand, dying. A crushed carton of cigarettes lies beyond the reach of his severed hand. The phantom pangs of adolescence remind him of you.

Years of schooling under the scrutiny of god’s eye have turned him away from religion: he was a deist and nothing more. Still, the silent prayer on his lips pleads that he might see you once more – to beseech your absolution, though he knows that he does not deserve it. To prove his fidelity. To give you the life you have always been so deserving of.

No, Risotto was never a religious man. But he worshipped the very ground you walked on. You were his savior – and he denied you like a disciple driven by guile.

The lump in his throat elicits a painful cough; a blade to his esophagus. He recognizes his folly far better than any man. How differently might things have turned out if he had just stayed by your side – if he had agreed to go on your silly little date; if he had never snuck his way into Fellini’s prison cell to slit the wrists of the man who bequeathed to him an unending grudge; if he had never found Passione.

He might have been a husband, if you would have wanted to marry him. He might have been a father, if you were so inclined to become a mother. He never knew your thoughts of the future because he had never asked.

He might have been anything other than a broken, dead man who has lost everything.

The wooden plank of the swing creaks beneath his weight. He grips the rusted chains and digs his feet into the dried woodchips. A katydid crawls over the mulch next to his sneakers and chirps; Risotto brings the sole of his shoe over the mating insect, ready to squish it.

A pair of Mary Jane’s comes into his view. He leaves the katydid be, which resumes its path to the second katydid beneath the opposite swing. The scent of cigarette smoke wafts through the air.

He meets your gaze. You smile and take your seat in the swing above the female katydid. The cigarette slips from your fingers to his. Hot to the touch, he brings it to his lips and breathes in.

Under the shroud of the moon, your shadows have become your ghosts.

| 3869 Words |

#risotto nero x reader #risotto x reader #risotto nero #jjba reader insert #jjba x reader

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botecodebolso · 5 years ago

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Pizza Bar Santos – Domingo, 19/05/19 – 17h. HOJE TEM rodízio! Por apenas R$24,90 você garante os sabores mais tops do cardápio. 🍕🍕 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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ottomanladies · 4 years ago

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Is it true that Hayreddin Barbarossa once attempted to kidnap the famously beautiful Giulia Gonzaga with the intention of presenting her to Suleiman?

Apparently, it is true:

But Kheir-ed-Din had in mind a particular prize for the Sultan: something that would shine like a pearl among the simple treasures of his other captives. Twelve miles northwest of Sperlonga lay the ancient town of Fondi, the family home of the Counts of Fondi. The present Countess was none other than the renowned Giulia Gonzaga—descendant of one of Italy’s greatest families, related to the late Pope Martin V, and the young widow of the noble Vespasio Colonna. Giulia Gonzaga’s beauty had been celebrated by painters and poets to such an extent that rumour of it had even reached the Sublime Porte. The unfading amaranth, the flower of love, was the appropriate device on her coat of arms. What more suitable gift, then, could Barbarossa bring the Sultan than the lady herself—beautiful, nobly born, and highly suitable therefore for the Sultan’s harem?

After leaving his troops to sack Sperlonga, Kheir-ed-Din with a raiding force moved swiftly up the road to Fondi. Fortunately for the lady, some advance news of the approach of the Turks must have reached her. Although she was in bed when a messenger stumbled up to the villa, she just had time to leave the house, leap on her horse in her night clothes, and make her escape. In the words of Von Hammer in his History of the Ottoman Empire: “The attendant who accompanied her on this desperate midnight flight she later had condemned to death—saying that he had taken advantage of her distress and had been overbold.” An illustration to the Histoire des Pirates et Corsaires shows Giulia Gonzaga, with a sword in her hand and her breasts bare, riding down a Turkish soldier while the town of Fondi goes up in flames behind her.

Foiled of his prey, Kheir-ed-Din abandoned the town to his troops. Hamilton Currey, with more imagination than documentary evidence, writes: “They sacked Fondi and burned the town; they killed every man on whom they could lay their hands, and carried off the women and girls to the fleet. Kheir-ed-Din was furious with anger and disappointment. ‘What is the value of all this trash?’ he demanded with a thundering oath, of the commander of the unsuccessful raiders, surveying as he spoke the miserable, shivering women and girls. ‘I sent you out to bring back a pearl without price, and you return with these cattle.’ ” — Ernle Bradford, The Sultan's Admiral: Barbarossa, Pirate and Empire-Builder

#anon #ask post #ask: ottoman history #suleyman i #Anonymous

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fly-pow-bye · 4 years ago

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DuckTales 2017 - "The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck!"

Story by: Francisco Angones, Madison Bateman, Colleen Evanson, Christian Magalhaes, Ben Siemon, Bob Snow

Written by: Bob Snow

Storyboard by: Stephanie Gonzaga, Krystal Ureta, Brandon Warren, Hayley Foster

Directed by: Matthew Humphreys

I'm not the only judge around here.

The episode begins with Scrooge and Louie dealing with a bunch of furry, multiplying monsters that are in no way supposed to be the Tribbles from Star Trek. They're Gribbles, they're completely different. Before they can deal with them entirely, and almost immediately after Scrooge tells Louie how he should accept responsibility, they are suddenly summoned into the All-Powerful Karmic Court. This otherworldly court features a seemingly all-powerful bailiff, and a giant Lady Justice holding a scale that will hold Scrooge's innocence and guilt. Who was responsible for getting Scrooge and Louie into this Karmic Court?

None other than Doofus Drake, who is just as creepy as he always was in this reboot. He makes his entrance by being wheeled in while wearing a strait-jacket, an obvious reference to Silence of the Lambs, he puts chap-stick all over his face, and, right before a commercial break, he appears to start an attempt to lick Louie's face. We get it, the character was bad and unlikeable in the original, so the new version of the character has to be disgusting and intentionally unlikeable. They could have just not have him appear, put him on a milk carton somewhere, or, since this is a reboot, they could have made him a different character entirely like they did with Burger Beagle, but instead, we get this Licky McCreepo.

Using the combined money and supernatural powers of him and his witnesses, Doofus, wanting revenge, er, justice over losing his inheritance to his own family, managed to get a supernatural summon to sue Scrooge McDuck out of the fortune, land-holdings, and treasure that would have been Louie's inheritance. Why? Because he ruined their lives! Scrooge immediately balks at these accusation that he can be guilty of ruining anyone's life, saying that he got everything fair and square and he has done nothing wrong. The Bailiff, acting as the judge as the giant Lady Justice can only nod or shake her head, has to keep telling him to sit down and be quiet as the plaintiff and his witnesses bear their case. As Scrooge can't help but make himself look guilty in the face of the all-powerful and all-seeing Karmic Court, it's up to Louie, the irresponsible schemer that Scrooge was scolding minutes before, to help him against three different shorts, er, three different witnesses! Our first one is...

Witness #1: Flintheart Glomgold!

Or, as he puts it as he jumps out of the door:

Flintheart: FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD, HA HA HA HA HA!

Yes, he even introduces himself with lightning strikes behind him. I'd like to think he requested the court supply those, as that was also the explanation for the Hannibal impression. It does not matter to the Karmic Court that the plaintiff and witnesses are acting like villains, as the case is supposed to be that Scrooge's actions have led them this way in the first place. We get a flashback, courtesy of the Karmic Courts power to get video clips of anything that happened in the past. Having video clips of things that couldn't possibly have been recorded is a reason for the supernatural element to this court. It is magic, it does not need to be explained.

No, this isn't about his former Duke Baloney persona, though I like how they mention that right in the beginning, but how he managed to steal the heart of Duckburg from him. It happened all the way back in 1987, as they sure liked that year for reasons that should be obvious. Back then, Duckburg was in a state of Glomgold Fever, as reported by Webra Walters. Her joke, besides being an obvious parody of Barbara Walters, is that she has a lisp. In the beloved adventurers latest adventure, he's going into a cave full of sharks and booby traps to get a large, sharktooth-shaped diamond for the people of Duckburg. He even takes Webra Walters and a cameraman with him, all so they can report on his benevolence. He is trying so hard to make himself look like a hero, though I'd argue putting a reporter in danger for the sake of his own ego is a hint that things are not right with this. Well, besides the fact that he's Glomgold, but the people in 1987 didn't know that.

However, that unapproachable and miserly billionaire, Scrooge McDuck, shows up with a grappling hook, swinging effortlessly. Glomgold, in his anger, accidentally pushes Webra off the rock she was standing on. As she grabs onto the ledge for dear life, Glomgold sees this reporter struggling to not get eaten by sharks and accuses her of being in cahoots with Scrooge, and jumps away to that diamond without even trying to save her. As Scrooge manages to get to the diamond and Glomgold ending up holding on to a stalactite after accidentally hitting a booby trap that caused that rock Webra barely managed to climb back up to start sinking. As Debra starts with what she thinks is her last report on how Glomgold has revealed his stupidity and cowardice, assumedly ending Glomgold Fever for good, Scrooge uses the grappling hook to save her and the cameraman, the diamond still strapped to his back.

Needless to say, Scrooge becomes the hero of Duckburg as Webra reports that the originally "miserwy" Scrooge is now showing his "herowic" side, while Glomgold Glomgold then laments at the days he had to hang on to the stalactite, eventually having to make friends with the sharks that infested the cave's waters. It's here where we learn why Glomgold loves sharks so much: because it's the only love he had after that fateful day. Revealing key moments of the villain's past that shaped them into the villains they became is going to be a theme with all of the witnesses, bringing some more importance to this episode. I'll admit that this part is the weakest of the three to me, though I can't deny Glomgold's charm in his reminiscence of his friendship with the sharks. Also, his unforgettable intro.

There is one moment that definitely did not shape them into the villains they became: Scrooge. At least, according to Scrooge himself, who continues to blast the court for even considering this to be evidence against him. The bailiff has to conjure up a muzzle at some point, though even that does not last. Louie eventually comes up to the court and tells them that he was clearly evil even before this incident, and the court. This goes to show that the court is indeed all-seeing, though I do still have a feeling that this court seems to be really easily convinced, as they seem to accept it. They probably should have accepted the "dooming Webra to a shark-caused death" as evidence against the Plaintiff, but this isn't even the worst the court gets with this sort of thing. There's no reason to complain, it's currently Innocent 1, Guilty 0.

Witness #2: Ma Beagle!

Next, it's Ma Beagle, and she wants to get the deed for the town the Beagles rightfully owned before it was stolen by that crook. While the last story revealed Glomgold's shark affinity, this one is the very backstory for how the Beagle Boys became the enemies of Scrooge. We finally get the story behind that painting of Scrooge McDuck and Grandpappy Beagle on how he managed to get the deed for the place. It's been shown in that picture that hangs on Scrooge McDuck's wall, but this is the first time we actually get to see what events that picture depicted, taking place long ago in a place known as Fort Beagleburg.

To make a long story short, it was an arm wrestling match, with Grandpappy as the undefeated champion. Scrooge shows up, talking about how this place used to be known as Fort Duckburg, and he offers to buy the town with his endless riches. Putting his money down on the table, Grandpappy and Scrooge agree to an arm wrestle for the fort's deed, the former getting praise by his daughter that he never lost. However, Scrooge proves that "never" rarely lasts, as much sense as that makes, and manages to defeat him using his wit. He also reveals him to be a cheat, once again revealing some villainy on the part of the Plaintiff that the all-powerful Karmic Court seems to ignore. In fact, unlike Glomgold and his former Glomgold Fever, there's no sense of heroism with these guys at all. In fact, they're all wearing the masks that would be made famous by their descendants.

Scrooge: Pleasure doing business with you! (Takes deed and the cup of juice Young Ma was drinking)

Young Ma Beagle: (crying) Aw, I can't believe you-

(video pauses)

Sure, Grandpappy Beagle was a cheat, but Scrooge does admit that it was unnecessarily mean to young Ma Beagle, and this would be a major cornerstone in her becoming the evil mastermind that headed the Beagle Boys. Lady Justice decides this is a win for Guilty, teleporting Ma to the Guilty side. Much like the wrestling episode, the episode's tension would be completely gone if one side went 2-0 unless they were planning on more than three witnesses. However, Louie isn't going to deal with that, and points out that the young Ma Beagle's line was clearly cut off, which it was. Again, for an omnipotent and omniscient karmic court, not only can't they keep a muzzle on Scrooge, they sure like changing their mind. Then again, this seems to work for the villains as well. At 2-0, it seems like Doofus is doomed to have his case dismissed, but he has one more short, er, witness:

Witness #3: Magica De Spell!

Right from her appearance and despite Louie gloating that he can totally take her case on, Scrooge realizes this is the one that may outweigh the other two. We flash back to a time where Magica is currently controlling an entire town's wealth and food with the power of her magic. In fact, she's not alone, as she reveals she's not an only child.

We get to meet a brand new character: Magica's brother Poe De Spell, making his first appearance in the series. One may guess by the amount of guilt Scrooge is showing that it is also his only appearance, and they are correct. To give more of a description, these twin sorcerers are causing chaos among the people they ruthlessly rule over, turning people into various animals, including a daddy goat that is expected to give them milk. Don't think of that too hard. While Magica is just as evil as she ever will be, it's Poe that ends up being the closer to Earth one. This all changes when Scrooge comes up, and, much like the Beagles, he manages to defeat Magica and Poe with his wit and make off with the money. Some of it went to rebuilding farms.

Of course, the worst part is the reason why Poe is missing. I'll keep this one vague as it is a major crux of the episode, as this is mainly caused by Scrooge being selfish. Even though Magica and Poe are clearly villains, this is one true The episode does build up more and more in both Scrooge's guilt and the quality of the segments. One may guess Poe's fate judging by the author he's clearly named after, and if they can't guess, they haven't gotten to that part in their English class.

What's important is that this is the one where even Louie has to admit that he can't weasel his inheritance, er, Scrooge's innocence out of this one. The ending seems like it's going to go into this cliche where they just admit Scrooge's guilt and the court decides that's good enough to let him off the hook, but they throw a few curveballs at that. As much as I don't want to spoil it, it's hard to believe Scrooge and Louie are going to lose their fortune, land, and treasure, especially an episode before the finale, but I think the way the episode ends, while feeling a bit rushed as a lot of events happen in the last minute, is good enough for me to judge this episode as innocent.

How does it stack up?

I debated whether this should be 3 or 4 Scrooges, and I felt this shouldn't get the same rating as Kit Cloudkicker despite being a good showing of Louie's cleverness. With an okay first part, a second part that is good to see, and a third part that's quite interesting, I'd put this at the same level as the decent Split Sword of Swanstantine. Unfortunately, with DuckTales 2017, decent can only go so far. 3 Scrooges.

Finally, after facing off against all of these non-FOWL related villains in a Karmic Court, the McDucks get to face off against FOWL once and for all.

← The Lost Cargo of Kit Cloudkicker! 🦆 The Last Adventure! →

#fpb dt 2017 #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #disney #fpb reviews

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sportsminorityreport · 1 year ago

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Flugar’s Act 12: Colorado’s one shot, The Arizona risk, and the declining revenue sports attendances in the west.

Greg Flugar’s “Peak around the Corner” podcast has been an informative and entertaining show to watch lately for a PAC follower. He has been talking about the PAC struggles as a series of plays.

He said something happened may 6th or 7th in the PAC (act 10) that will have big raminfications in Act 12.

Now he is saying act 11 has Colorado in the middle of the stage and Arizona is moving towards the middle of the stage. He is saying Gonzaga has left the building.

Finally he says Act 12 will occur on June 1st and it will likely devastate the PAC.

Now honestly I HATE the analogy, but I think It finally clicked in my head and I can explain what he is codedly saying.

My speculation is that what he is hinting at is that maybe the PAC leaders wrote off the long discussed idea of adding Gonzaga as an Olympic member. (Gonzaga has gone home).

My general impression is that many if not most PC leaders are both risk averse in addition to being academically overly selective and even on the edge of disaster would slightly prefer to roll forward with the existing 10 teams if the media deal amount is viable.

Or maybe a better way to put it is 6-8 school prefer expansion in a league that historically has required a unanimous vote.

BUT the fact that the PAC has to pay off their legal issue --- repaying comcast $50M --- which has already lead Washington State to freeze new athletic spending, may create issues.

Every PAC school has to dig up $4M to pay back comcast.

Now the rumor floating out there is that Colorado had to scrape around to find the money to pay Deion Sanders. Now obviously CU has access to money far, far, far in excess of $4M, but moving money from academic spending to athletic spending is cloying.

The implication is that for Colorado digging up ANOTHER $4M to pay back comcast might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. The idea implied seems to be that on June 1st Colorado will use the excuse of no acceptable TV deal presented by the PAC leadership to allow them to buckle to the wishes of their fanbase. Colorado has the sexiest brand in the PAC 12 today in Deion Sanders’ dumpster fire.

The idea is that Colorado wants to move first rather than potentially having say Arizona, SDSU, UConn, and Memphis move to the Big 12 and CU losing their landing spot.

It is a reasonable premise that CU has maybe been told that there are 4 spots open and 8 schools (CU, UU, UA, ASU, MEMPHIS, UConn, Temple, AND SDSU) under consideration.

If it is the 4 corner schools that join the Big 12, its a ton easier for the Big 12 because the money from the media partners is far more likely be there.

Maybe they have even suggested that they are GUARANTEED a spot in a league that is about to push hard into basketball (and turn that sport into a serious revenue generator) if they move by June 1st. Maybe after the 1st, the Big 12 tries to build a basketball foursome around UConn.

That seems a reasonable premise. (Colorado is in the center of the stage with Oregon and Washington on the first row taking notes. Uconn is also in attendance, observing.)

Arizona and ASU have built their academic stature on the PAC association and access to California students --- just like Utah and Colorado more recently have been doing. I have read enough to conclude their leadership truly doesn’t want to leave. Leaving WILL hurt their academic brand. But Arizona may think they can academically bare it.

The PAC closing the door on Gonzaga likely has pissed off Arizona, as the Arizona leadership doesn’t WANT to leave the PAC, but the PAC has NO developed basketball programs while the Big 12 has Kansas, plus large turnout schools Tech, ISU, plus on the court monsters Houston and Baylor...and seems primed to try to add more basketball heavy hitters.

The more tourney teams you have, the more supplemental revenue you can pull from basketball. The PAC today is an afterthought in that regard. There is NO supplemental basketball revenue.

Oh there is San Diego State on the horizon, but San Diego State may not even get added unless a school leaves.... based on the PAC’s historic very cautious expansion behavior and reports from Jon Wilner..

Jon Wilner has already said that if Colorado goes the PAC will probably simply add SDSU in the hope there will be stability. (That does suggest that SMU might be on the list in large part just to open DFW recruiting up for media darling Deion Sanders.)

Is that going to be enough for Arizona?

It seems that is a VERY risky premise with Washington and Oregon consistently trying to join the Big Ten as junior members. (And likely Stanford and Cal probably trying as well via back channels.)

Where are the 4 corner schools if the Big Ten pulls Washington, Oregon, Stanford, and Cal because they conclude the ACC implosion is at least 4-5 years of legal wrangling away?

(Pulling the remaining media jewels of the PAC at a discount rate could both turn the fire up under Notre Dame, FSU and Clemson to get out of the ACC. It could help the Big Ten’s sweet nothings whispering with Notre Dame. And given the discount rate the PAC schools took, you could see the ACC targets --- UNC, Virginia, FSU, and likely also Clemson, Miami, and Georgia Tech with the slight possibility of Pitt, Syracuse, and Georgia Tech figuring in --- also willing to take junior partner rates for a few years. )

The Big Ten has an expansion shopping budget for roughly 6 schools at their current payout rate. I think it is POSSIBLE that they might chose to add 6 western schools today to basically keep as much as possible of their longtime partner conference if they think the ACC implosion is years away.

Given that Junior Partner status in terms of payouts iis being discussed for this contract window, If the Big Ten went west they could take 8 PAC schools, but lesser numbers..6,4,2. are probably increasingly more likely.

If the Big Ten took 6, would they take the Arizona duo or would they take Colorado and Utah --- two schools in quicker growing states...? Where is Arizona on the Big Ten’s PAC expansion list? 6th? 8th?

Arizona has to be looking at the landscape and freaking out.

Arizona has to be about leaving with the the next wave of defectors or signing a ridiculously ironclad agreement with the other members of the PAC academic spine. The first option may be the one that looks reasonable to them.

Take a look at college basketball overall today.

Look at the top 30 basketball programs in the US:

Do you see the issue?

Where are the other western basketball powers? There is Arizona. There is San Diego State, who might not get in soon. There is BYU that the Bay PAC schools don’t want.

Creighton and Marquette are not leaving the Big East. Louisville is not leaving the ACC and lacks a PAC academic profile.

The PAC leaders STUPIDLY dragged their feet and missed out on Kansas, Texas Tech, and Iowa State.

Who is out there? Memphis? Dayton? Not exactly close to the PAC footprint.

The liberalism of the western states is absolutely brutalizing PAC negotiations. Liberals took covid seriously. They have opted to be safe and so you have seen attendance down pretty much across the west in both revenue sports.

The MWC and PAC used to have strong basketball attendance. But the MWC basketball powers outside of SDSU have fallen off competitively and attendance wise.

Arizona does one thing well athletically....basketball. And because the rest of the Pac has been lousy in basketball forever and now has lost USC and UCLA....?

I think this premise IS very possible. (Arizona is stepping from the edge of the stage closer to Colorado in the middle of the stage.)

This is why expansion should have come first.

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lukeskywaker4ever · 4 years ago

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King Pedro V’s 5th sibling: Infanta Maria Ana de Portugal

Born: 21st August 1843 Necessidades Palace, Lisbon, Portugal Died: 5th February 1884 (aged 40) Dresden, Saxony

Infanta Maria Ana of Portugal (Maria Ana Fernanda Leopoldina Micaela Rafaela Gabriela Carlota Antónia Júlia Vitória Praxedes Francisca de Assis Gonzaga) (21st August 1843 – 5th February 1884) was a Portuguese infanta (princess), the eldest surviving daughter of Queen Maria II of Portugal and her King consort Fernando II of Portugal, a member of the House of Bragança.

After her mother's death in 1853, when Maria Ana was just ten years old, she became the leading lady of the court, until her older brother, King Pedro V of Portugal, married Princess Stephanie of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen,

in 1858. Although in the early stages of their acquaintance the two sisters-in-law had a good relationship, in a letter written in 1859 to Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha,

when Stephanie was already dead, King Pedro mentions that his sister made unflattering comments regarding his wife "because of her feminine vanity caused by a lower status (...)"

The relationship between the sisters-in-law seems to have had its ups and downs since Stephanie's arrival in May 1858 and Maria Ana's wedding in May 1859. The Queen wrote about her sister-in-law: "She is, in every respect, the one who is more like Pedro (...)", "She is a charming person, good, generous, remarkably sensible for her age, with no trace of selfishness, respected and loved by all of us (...) George of Saxony has discovered a true gem. She is happy and loves him, but she cannot talk about the moment in which she will leave her family without crying. What is certain is that she will leave a terrible emptiness behind". Maria Ana's brother, Pedro, also claims during this time that his sister is "the pearl of our family circle", in a letter to Prince Albert.

She married in Lisbon at the Belém Palace on 11th May 1859 Prince George of Saxony (1832–1904),

second son of King John I of Saxony,

a kinsman from the Catholic Albertine branch of her father's Wettin dynasty. Queen Stephanie tried to organize a brilliant ceremony, but, in the end, the wedding was quiet and went unnoticed in both Portugal and Saxony. The newly-weds spent their first days as a married couple at Belém Palace. During their short stay in Portugal after the ceremony, Prince George left a poor impression with the Portuguese Royal Family, as he "barely talked to the bride" and did not attend a theater performance to which he had been invited. During that same performance, 15-year-old Maria Ana was seen crying. The couple left to Saxony on May 14th. Maria Ana was not allowed to take Portuguese ladies-in-waiting with her and was only accompanied by her brother Luís

in the journey. Pedro V wrote the following regarding the wedding: "the wedding of my sister to Prince George of Saxony was celebrated with more pomp than happiness. The former is followed by a regretful fate, as he left no sympathies and people who met him often left with a poor impression."

The marriage was not a happy one, according to Historian Eduardo Nobre who claims that the Prince "did not live up to the expectations and qualities of the Portuguese Infanta". Despite their issues, they had eight children.

Although she renounced her claims to the Portuguese throne when she married, Maria Ana could still become Queen if the male line became extinct. This situation nearly happened in 1861, when King Pedro V and two of her other brothers died from Typhoid Fever and left no children. However, this hypothesis was completely put aside when her brother, King Luís I, married Princess Maria Pia of Savoy

and had two sons, the future King Carlos I

and Infante Afonso.

Despite everything, it's not likely that Maria Ana ever gave this hypothesis great importance because of her troubled marriage and many children.

Around 1883, her youngest son, Prince Albert of Saxony,

became seriously ill. Maria Ana took care of him for several months until he recovered. This effort would be fatal, as the Infanta died from exhaustion, on 5th February 1884, before her husband became King. Her husband would remain unmarried for the rest of his life.

In Portugal, her second brother Luís I soon succeeded her eldest brother Peter V as king.

Her husband's elder brother Albert

succeeded her father-in-law as King of Saxony and gradually it became clear that he and his wife Carola of Vasa

were not able to have children of their own. Maria Ana's eldest son would almost certain to one day succeed to the throne.

Marie Johanna Amalie Ferdinande Antonie Luise Juliane, (19th June 1860 - 2nd March 1861), died in childhood, no issue

Elisabeth Albertine Karoline Sidonie Ferdinande Leopoldine Antonie Auguste Clementine (14th February 1862 - 18th May 1863) died in childhood, no issue

Mathilde Marie Auguste Viktorie Leopoldine Karoline Luise Franziska Josepha (19th March 1863 - 27th March 1933) died unmarried, no issue

Frederick Augustus Johann Ludwig Karl Gustav Gregor Philipp (25th May 1865 - 18th February 1932)

married Princess Louise of Tuscany (1870–1947),

later divorced, had issue

Maria Josepha Luise Philippine Elisabeth Pia Angelica Margarethe (31st May 1867 - 28th May 1944)

married to her cousin second degrees Archduke Otto Franz of Austria (1865–1906),

had issue

Johann Georg Pius Karl Leopold Maria Januarius Anacletus (10th July 1869 - 24th November 1938) married first Duchess Maria Isabella of Württemberg (1871–1904) and second Princess Maria Immaculata of Bourbon-Two Sicilies (1874–1906)

Maximilian Wilhelm August Albert Karl Gregor Odo (17th November 1870 - 12th January 1951) ordained as a priest, died unmarried, no issue

Albert Karl Anton Ludwig Wilhelm Viktor (25th February 1875 - 16 September 1900) died unmarried, no issue.

Princess Maria Ana predeceased her father Fernando, her husband George, and her brother-in-law King Albert of Saxony. In 1902 George succeeded his childless brother as king, and on his death in 1904 Maria Ana's eldest son became King of Saxony as Frederick Augustus III.

#infanta maria ana de bragança #house of bragança #queen maria ii of portugal #king consort fernando ii #king pedro v of portugal

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lixiepeach · 5 years ago

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Heart of the Sea, Part 6

Pairing: Arthur Curry x OC

Summary: Marina Allen has dedicated her life to conserving wildlife but when she stumbles upon the truth about the company she’s working for she decides to take a stand. A stand that leads her to nearly being killed and meeting her soulmate by chance. It seems like fate is intent upon repeating history but Arthur Curry has other ideas.

Warnings: None

MASTERLIST

Arthur and Marina lay out in the sand, both of them damp again after washing themselves off in the waves. Arthur had donned his pants again, Marina having gotten her shirt and panties on before Arthur had pulled her against his side. It had been hard fighting the drive between their souls to complete the bond. Most soulmates did it right away, not wanting to struggle against the need to fulfill the bond between them. Now there was a peacefulness in both of their souls, like a cord had been loosened and they could finally breathe.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” Arthur asks, his fingers tracing patterns on her arm.

“Because we had other things to worry about. We still have things to worry about.”

“I feel better now though. It feels...complete now.”

Marina smiles, lacing her fingers with his. “I know.” She nuzzles her face against his chest, taking in his naturally briny smell. “Who was your first?”

He gives her an insulted look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She leans up on her arm, giving him a look back. “No one’s that good their first time.”

He laughs, pulling her back down against his chest. “It was my highschool graduation party. Back of my dad’s truck in the middle of the woods. Her name was Janna Evans. I’d known her since kindergarten. She was on the basketball team. She got a scholarship to Gonzaga and moved across the country. Haven’t seen her since. You?”

“Senior prom. Back of his mom’s car. His name was Roger Matthews. First chair cello in the school’s orchestra. I don’t know what happened to him. First and only.”

“Mine too. Just...didn’t feel right.”

Marina nods, listening to Arthur’s heartbeat. “It didn’t. But that...what just happened...was amazing.”

Arthur smiles, pulling her up for a kiss. “It was pretty awesome.”

He kisses her for a few moments, both of them relishing in the newly strengthened bond between them. Marina’s stomach growling breaks the silence, causing her to pull away from his lips with a laugh.

“We should probably get back. The tide’s coming in anyways.” Arthur steals another kiss before sitting up, finding the rest of their clothes.

He takes them back to his parent’s house, using the towels his mother had set out that morning to dry off as much as they can. They slip inside, feeling like naughty teenagers as they make their way up to Arthur’s room, both of them changing into dry clothes.

*******

Atlanna can tell as she watches Arthur and Marina during lunch. They way they move around each other, Arthur’s inability to stop touching her: her hand, her hair, her arm. Any chance he gets his hand is somewhere on her. Only one thing can bring about that kind of desperation for intimacy and Atlanna knows.

“So you two finally, what’s the human phrase? ‘Took it to the next level?’”

Marina’s cheeks heat up, practically blushing to her toes. “We...I...we… you can tell?”

Atlanna nods. “You have the look. That, and Arthur can’t keep his hands to himself.”

Marina blushes again. “It just...feels so different now.”

“I was wondering when it would happen. I’m surprised you made it that long.”

“Well...we didn’t want to...in the house…”

Atlanna squeezes her shoulder gently. “We wouldn’t have cared. It’s a natural process in a relationship.”

Marina feels like her entire body is going to burst into flames, unable to form words in her embarrassment.

“So, when should I be expecting grandkids?”

Marina stutters for a moment, nearly spitting out her drink. She hadn’t even thought about the repercussions of her and Arthur’s moment on the beach and the possibility, well, guarantee of more moments like that one. She was willing to bet Atlantean reproduction was different and would therefore render her birth control most likely ineffective. She didn’t even know if Arthur wanted children. They hadn’t quite gotten to that talk yet with everything else going on. And what had happened between them had just happened so suddenly, there was no real time to discuss things of that nature.

“I...well...probably not for a while. But if it did happen unexpectedly, I wouldn’t be upset.”

******

Marina stares out Arthur’s bedroom window at the ocean. The sun had set a while ago and the ocean was nothing but a dark endless void in the distance. Marina hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her conversation with Atlanna earlier. She had taken the final plunge with Arthur without even thinking about what would come after. She was only human but Arthur wasn’t. Sure he was half-human, but he seemed more and more like an Atlantean the more she came to understand him. Not only that, but he was the King of Atlantis too. He had a lot of responsibility on his plate, responsibility that he had been pushing aside for her. What would happen if she did get pregnant? She couldn’t live with him in Atlantis, and the likelihood of their child being able too as well would be small. Their child would only be a quarter Atlantean. Would that be enough? Arthur had told her how long it took the Atlanteans to accept him as a half-Atlantean. Their children would be mostly human. Would they suffer a worse fate than their father? What would the repercussions be for Arthur if his children were unable to become his heirs?

Warm arms wrapping around her draw Marina out of her thoughts. She hadn’t even heard Arthur approach her. He could be silent when he wanted to, for such a large being.

“You’re thinking too much.” He buries his face in her hair, his breath warm against her scalp.

“Sorry. Just...got a lot on my mind.”

She can feel him smile, starting to move her backwards towards the bed. “Care to share?”

Marina is silent for a moment, Arthur lifting her onto the bed before settling down with her. She turns to face him, making out his features in the dark room, her fingers going to his bare chest and the smooth skin there. “Arthur...what would happen if...if we had...kids?”

Arthur leans up on his elbow, looking down at her with a smile. “Then I would be the happiest man in the world.”

Marina smiles but she can’t keep it on her face. “I know, but...they’d be mostly human.”

“And I would love them just the same.” Arthur cups her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. “What’s got you thinking about children?”

“Your mother knows that we...consummated our bond.”

Arthur laughs, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her on top of him. “Don’t worry. She’s not trying to pressure you. We don’t have to have kids until we’re ready.”

“Yeah, but...I don’t think my birth control extends to Atlantean extremes.”

“Don’t worry about that either. I have an implant.”

“You...what?”

Arthur grins at her. “Atlantean technology is very advanced and in their culture, men are the ones who get birth control. I got the implant not long after I met you and I’ll keep it until we’re both ready.”

Marina smiles, resting her head against his chest. “I think you’re the greatest man I’ve ever met.”

“Aww, thanks darlin.” He kisses her forehead. “Now stop worrying about kids and get some sleep.”

Part 7

#heart of the sea #arthur curry #arthur curry x oc #aquaman #arthur curry x reader #dc #dceu #jason momoa #soulmate #soulmate au #post aquaman

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