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daughterofhel · 3 years ago

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My icon died last night.

The little black and white cat, Auk (or-ick). A silly name from a badly remembered name from my childhood.

He was pretty much deaf; car got him.

I haven’t seen him since I left Texas, as I moved for a year to VA before finally moving to be with my wife in Vento. One of my guy friends family took him in on their ranch.

It was fitting; I did get Auk from a ranch. He was used to it, loved it even. And this was without the competition of an unhealthy amount of breeding stays like the ones I grabbed him and Ivy up from. I could only take two, my friend the same.

Funny. I had originally gone there to see the birth of a colt only to leave with a cat. Return the next day and get one more, a friend for my tiny runt of a thing.

And who should but all demand it be him to leave with me but Auk? The friendliest of cats that I’ve ever had the pleasure to be around. He also thwarted my attempts at having two girl cats. He was insistent to leave with me and you don’t argue when you’re chosen you know?

I won’t detail the tears following or the rough road and chaos that went on, but many double shifts back to back to back endlessly, a medicated clumsy grandmother with rapidly failing health, and complex roommate situations, I just wasn’t able to provide the needed time and care for my cats.

I cried the entire 45 minute drive to my buddys property when he said he could take them in. I had to pull over twice. They also cried the entire time, being afraid of the car, which made it harder. My buddy, He was the same guy who rescued a big pup clearly abandoned some years back. I had helped train him to not jump on people and other stuff. His folks also owned a longhorn ranch, lots and lots of space.

Those cats deserved better and this was a familiar element, now neutered, vaccinated, and with no stray competition and the dog was so careful. But god. I never wanted to say goodbye to my cats. It didn’t matter though, what I wanted; they needed care and time I wasn’t able to keep providing.

So I dropped them off. As expected, Ivy kept close but never got too close to the family. She simply doesn’t trust; I’ve no idea why such a little thing bonded instantly with me and remained quite the fixed cuddle bug. But she had. I felt worse about it with her than Auk if I’m to be honest.

Auk loved attention. Loved fetch. Belly rubs. This cat was a classic dog and a huge whore for attention. XD He essentially made himself at home and lavished any and all attention, to which my buddies mother instantly fell for this fuzzy dorks charms. He has been well cared for.

I know younger me could’ve and should’ve done better when I got these cats. Mind you, I’ve been gone for over 10 years now, so it has been quite some time. I’m doing what I wish I could have done for my cats then with the two rescues we got last year here.

I was young and working so many hours for nearly no profit after stuff was paid, even living at home and with roommates. I couldn’t afford the extra vet fees I needed or the fanciest of foods or any of that. I loved them, and I felt them being with me instead of the half starving state they were in from constantly competing with so many other cats, was still a better option for them. I still was at least able to do some of the important visits for them.

I cleared their fleas and earmites. I never did get rid of Ivys worms, though I desperately tried. I tried so many ways to get this pill into that cat. Even crushed into wet food. Friends helping to wrap and hold her to make her swallow. All the tricks we found, failed. She just. She wouldn’t take it. And I didn’t have the cash to go every single day and time she needed a dose to a pet clinic. I had checked more than once. It was so much money.

Older, better situated now.. I’ve been able to do right by the cats, Nyx and Tivali, that I have now.

We even saved Nyx’s eye. We have a system to give her her seizure medicine every 12 hours. They’re both fully up to date with their shots and are fixed. Ears totally clean. Monthly newly added anti flea tick collars.

The best food we can reasonably find at the local pet shop; their pelts are beautiful, soft, shiny, and they never smell.

We’ve even found a biodegradable corn based litter we can flush which has been the greatest find.

We get semi regular check ups on our girls and they’re doing just fine now. I’m still proud about saving Nyx’s eye. It was a tedious ordeal. 3-4 times a day we had to clean and medicate a cats eye. We got good at it even if she wasn’t fond of it. Thankfully the vitamins they required were like treats. Even the antibiotics from the colds they had from the shelter.

I miss Auk. And Ivy. And I wish I could’ve not only given them the life I’ve given my current cats now, (I’ve constructed basket beds, hammocks, a whole canopy jungle gym and rope bridge to boot for them with my wife!), but I wish I could have been the one to have them in my life still. I know it was not possible. It wouldn’t have been possible.

But I think of them. A lot. And I knew it was inevitable. Auk would’ve been well over 13 or so years by now. A little old but could’ve lived longer yet for sure. My buddy didn’t mention he has gone deaf. Of course he rarely goes home himself; I don’t blame him. Life’s complicated.

I have mourned these two cats multiple times now. So I’m not thrown into tears upon this news, I’ve cried plenty over the years already. But I’m still sad to hear that fuzzy delight has passed on. I won’t ask, but I hope, and believe, the accident was a quick end for such a friendly guy.

I’ll mourn him eventually in full. I know I will. But considering this is the fourth major bad news I’ve gotten in less than a month and most of it a week, I thought to write about it. If only to keep sane.

May I not receive the same news of my grandmother or my sister who both remain in the hospital.

And god. May my mother stop forcing me to recall and talk about our shared trauma under my father and just keep me up to date on my families health. I don’t want to be crushed under this suffocating vice on my neck that makes me hesitate to call and see my family. I know she needs to vent. And god. I try to let her. I do. I try to be kind; she needs it.

But it isn’t the time and place when I’m trying to figure out if my grandmother is dying or getting better. I shouldn’t have to receive that confirmation, be granted a brief video called hello and check in, with the price of an hour long dredge through a past I personally have gone to two different types of therapy through to try and cope with. Which, only to some degree, have helped.

One of the last longer calls we had she all but said she hoped her theories on my father possible molesting me were true, so, you know, that would be one more trauma we had in common. She went on and on, even trying to provide loose evidence to her theory. Troubling sentences I would say in my rare visits. Etc. She just. Wouldn’t. Stop. And that was after an hour of recalling how terrible her life was with my father and the abuse, the screaming, the terror, the hiding, the injuries, all of it. As if I wasn’t left to live my life with this very man she said her three years with ruined her more than all her past shit combined.

She assured me she was a good mother who tried. And honestly. No. But I do believe she tried. But she was already weak emotionally and mentally and my father wrecked what was left. She left me sometimes for a couple days lock in that house when I was in diapers. You don’t forget that shit. I’m still scared of the dark. I can’t reason with myself on it. But being mad about all of it doesn’t change anything and would hurt a woman already broken. Why would I do that.

Still. It bothers me. So fucking much. But she’s such a fragile person in a fragile emotional state with everything else on top. She’s been heavily depressed for many many years and it’s a bunch of other stuff that spirals and honestly, at this point, she’s toxic even to herself. I’ve tried working on it with her but it matters not if she’s not willing to work on it too. I don’t know my mother besides her many traumas. We’ve been separated and estranged for most of my life. Unless I was physically able to actually be there and provide a use.

But that’s par for the course; no one will have you around if you’re unable to provide something for it. My wife’s the first person who genuinely seems to enjoy having me around just because and wants nothing more. I do stuff of course; but with her I am not afraid a slip up could mean everything it taken away and lost. I can forget the dishes once or had a bad mental health day and stay in bed without it having catastrophic consequences. She’s such a wonderful kind woman; I cannot help stressing over how to repay her.

I try and I’ve expressed my distraught on the topic and though she always seems baffled and confused about my insistence that I should be doing far more, that lass doesn’t agree at all. It’s her parents home so I am not able to freely run the house as I would on our own, as I’m able and have in many places, so I’m often less useful with the restrictions. She’s also use to the flow and swing of things and has things half done before it’s being asked.

Our own place will make life smoother and calmer for both of us; most importantly her. I’ve watched this family, sweet, but absolutely tone deaf to how many and often their demands are tossed to her. All the other kids moved out with partners. Hell, the oldest s child basically lives here. Our own hurdle with raising a kid who we don’t have the final say on any single thing. His grandparents are enablers cuz they don’t want to hear any loud noises, no matter what. And that causes strain when the kid can and does get anything and everything as long as he kicks up a fit. And he sure as hell does. There are days it’s so bad my wife’s in tears. And that pisses me off. The kids a good person, but the fact no one will actually parent and draw definite lines and be firm with No’s can also make him horrible too.

I’ve to deal with the chess match that is my father. I often call him my own personal Devil. He kind of is. But one I’m familiar enough with at this point in my life. I know where and when to cut my losses, where to step around, when I need to swallow my pride or the easily seen through lies, and nod my head. If he was all terrible, I could have cut him from my life. But no one ever really is. And I do know I owe it to the man; he has helped tremendously in my life as much as he’s been a big problem of it. I know his biggest fear is to be alone and forgotten. I wouldn’t do that, not even to the devil.

I need some bland news. Not thrilling. Not depressing. Just some ‘hey that happened’ ‘oh cool.’ Kind of news. Just a small reprieve.

Im. Scared. Of what’s next.

I. Know that things are teetering dangerously into a very very tragic terrible story on my mothers end. I know her husbands already super suicidal. My half brothers severely autistic, non verbal, among a few other things and will require his whole life to have someone be there for him. He’s not stupid, and I hate when people treat him as so, but he is absolutely unable to care for himself. He doesn’t have the right motorskills even, though we’ve gone to many different places to try and help him find ways to do actions in his own way that still get the same result. I admire how he’s such a positive little man, generally not just happy, but delighted. I aspire to look at the world like he does. He reminds me to try. I do love that about him.

He is, however, a Big boy, 15 now, and growing. He’s also very strong now. My mother is getting to an age where his, as well call em happy slaps, are really hurting her. He is generally good about slapping your hands and not your back if you provide them. But when he is upset he is a shover; one bad fall could really cause a lot of chaos for my mother with her health. The husband spends most of his time locked in his room.

My half sister is epileptic. They have done tests for years and can’t figure out all her triggers or the whys. They just sometimes stop for a long time then suddenly happen. She’s 16, turning 17 soon. And I don’t even know if she’s going to be, since my mother won’t let me know. And there are large gaps from my sister being on tech due to concerns of what triggered her seizure this time so she’s often removed from electronic devices for a time.

When I had turned 21, my mother and her husband tried to have me sign a paper to become legal guardian of my half siblings, should something happen to them, so the kids didn’t get separated.

At that time, I was still taking care of my fathers mother along with working at a shit job, and had a house full of temporary roommates who I had offered rooms to as a sort of safe house for them. I have a knack for finding people from broken homes, what can I say? With the house my father and I built, we had space, so I used it. I was able to help the girls get out of toxic places, get on their feet, and move on. Not all of them always. But it did generally work out. One has a boyfriend who was growing worse to her on top of getting more and more into hard drugs while also she dealing with an abusive aunt who got worse once her mother died of cancer. So she was stuck with the terrible boyfriend. I had her stay with me as soon as I heard.

Another was complicated, but generally revolved around the alcoholic mother and the many, shady, men in and out of the house. The dangers of that alone were.. problematic without the friend also being suicidal and not taken seriously. I’ve stayed many times with her to just hang out, clean, cook, or even read a book cuz she just wanted to hear someone talking and such. You know? Until eventually I had her move in with me too.

Another’s mothers died of a cancer and dad an alcoholic; not abusive, he just became childlike and super forgetful. To a hurtful degree in his totally dependent state, whenever he was home. Plus their whole little trailer smelled of piss. And her boyfriend (they’re married with kids and happy now) was in jail. He had a bad past but had cleaned up his act quite well, but. Well that’s complicated. We all know that the police don’t squint at details of any issue if the accused has a problematic past.

I had two different girls with trouble at home who were being used by their family to constantly work, clean, and pay for everything.

I had an ex and her girlfriend with problematic homophobic parents who were terrible and semi violent so I had them stay with us so they could be together somewhere safer.

I did not. At all. Have the assured means to also be a parent of ten children with very different needs nor any medical benefits to help out with.

I also knew, that, with how my mothers husband was, if he had some guarantees for his children’s safety, he would likely end his life if he could. He’s been so close so many times. If signed this paper, he would have the last big most important concern that’s kept him from.. I just. I didn’t want him to do it. I selfishly didn’t want to be responsible for my siblings that would take away any bit of time I had for myself away. If anything happened, I would not abandon and forget my siblings. That’s absurd. But my mother implied heavily she wanted to be sure of that. And thus this paper.

I was struggling to find aid for college so I could go to school (never got to, by the way. Minus two classes in total. Aced them both, but it doesn’t matter. Credits in the wind). I was already dealing with my grandmother. The girls I chose to help. My shit job. My fathers temper and his horrible horrible ‘on again off again’ girlfriend. The chaos that alone committed.

I was busy providing a safe space in my home and making sure it stayed that way for the rare times trouble makers made the mistake of stepping up to my door to try and harass my girls.

I often worked 10 days in a row before a day off. Many of those days often had double shifts which were 16 hours. Sometimes I got an hour nap on the double shifts.

I just couldn’t do it.

And now. I remember something that came to mind back then that comes back to mind now. My moms husband adores my grandma. She’s been better to him than his own mother. She’s dying. He’s not taking it well and his mental health has always been pretty low and in the last couple years, already dangerously rock bottom. I’ll admit, same.

His daughter is now in the hospital. My brother is smart but there are some things we can’t really explain for him to get. He understands something is wrong but not sure what and it upsets him. He doesn’t like change and gets super fussy for it. Which can be taxing and hours and days and weeks of it. Grandmas been in the hospital for a couple more or more now. She coded a few days ago but they got her back.

If grandma dies. If something happens to my sister…

God. I don’t see that man sticking around.

And with my mom isolated. A lot of it her doing with her own family but also a good part of it being dumb petty bs of other folks that have no reason to behave like that (a whole drama I don’t have the energy to keep up with..). I just.

I see it as a domino effect of terrible terrible events I don’t want to write.

My mothers side im not very close to. I don’t blame my cousins, we were kids ajd our meetings were brief as they were. But the adults kept their distance with me. No one expected me to survive and decided it was easier to not get attached. To not get involved with me, and by extension, the devil himself, my father. So I never got the chance to know that family. Even when I tried.

So the only family I do have some ties to ajd know, is in a hospital bed, or on my dads side, and they’re dying to. And I get it… that at a certain age in life, many of the people around you start to. It’s just life. Ajd it sucks. And I miss having a best friend. I miss having friends who just seem to like to have me around. Want to have me around.

And I wonder if the friends I thought I made with my roommates were just because I provided something for them. Sure we laughed a lot, we cried over shared traumas, celebrated holidays together so as to not be alone.

But not a one speaks to me now. And hey. That’s also life. But it makes me feel pretty shitty; every where I look in the past, I can’t see any relationship, family, partner, friendship, that ever had me around unless I was providing services they wanted and needed. And I don’t mean the natural give and take.

I’m aware that I’m not the friend folks have around. I’m a fun distraction at best and have been told and reminded as such. I feel like shit cuz my wife’s wonderful and the best person in my life, and yet I still mourn having close friends to hang with. I miss gaming together the most. Or the bullshitting. Sharing food.

I’m not a nice person. I’m working on it. I am. I’ve also, for years, been working on my own personal problems so as to not bring them into even conversations. I don’t know what I am doing wrong but I just.. can’t seem to keep anyone around. And frankly.

I find myself crying about it a lot with no idea what to do.

And. I’m burnt out.

I don’t want to make friends anymore. And yet I still crave it. Which sucks. I can’t stop seeming to want that. And I keep trying. And trying.

I’m trying to accept and be happy with any bit of time I get from the few friends who talk to me. I try to take my chances where I can to hang out (online, as they’re all distance by now), cuz I know it’s a short window and I’ll be lucky to get a next time in the near future.

Online is harder to provide a use, and once the ‘honeymoon phase’ of the friendship winds down, some drop off the map entirely. A few abruptly. And I just. That’s fucked me ho a ton. I can’t even express how many hours I stay sitting. Thinking. Unable to understand what I am not doing or what I am.

It’s a pity party. I know. But it’s fine. I’m still the only one at it and though I’m quite forward even with nerves eating away at me, I still just don’t know how to keep anyone in my life.

It’s taken almost 6 years for me to relax enough to believe my wife will, in fact, stick around.

But at this point in time, I’ve realized, on a note I just keep getting really sad over, that the bits of friendship I’ll get to experience with people, will be brief, snippets, and frankly, only if I am providing something they’re not getting.

I’m essentially the magazine next to the toilet when you have a bad bad stomach bug and your phones dead.

Man’s that’s.. probably my own doing. I know I’m a lot of woe is me in here. And it’s a post talking to me, so I’m indulging in it. I absolutely can’t out loud or in life. I’m working on just.. trying to feel instead of ignoring it. Per my therapists suggestions. So I feel fucking overwhelmed, sad, and alone. Isolated. Heavily.

Ignorance is bliss for real. I wish I wasn’t so aware that I was the friend you go to when all options are down and you’re bored. When you are in a bind and need a safe spot (I don’t mind that one but it does suck that it’s the only time some folks pop back in or up). That if I’m not working then no one even has a small little want to just say hi. I wish I had people who just wanted to say hi because they just.. missed me? I gues?

I wish I knew how to be better as a person and a friend. I thought I was making strides on that. I really had. And yet.

Here I am. Just.

Bitching to the void. Becuase my wife doesn’t need me to add more to her life with her father (finally back from the hospital after surgery) and his health concerned along with everyone else’s and the own sets of ordeals here. I don’t need her to fret over me.

She’s needed distraction and I’ve left her alone for a couple weeks now to her drawing. Probably one of the best things I did do for her was clean up a space for a literal drawing room for her. She’s happier for it. People compliment her art and she rather enjoys the well deserved attention.

I personally would love to have her around more. But I’m having a lot of bad shit days. Weeks at this point. And I’m using my energy to be useful in setting the table or doing the dishes, the cats, playing with the nephew, etc.

All I want to do is sleep.

Frankly. I’m tired of waking up.

But for her. I will.

#void screaming #ignore

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shannapage · 4 years ago

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Stellae: Chapter 1

Author: Shanna Page

Status: Incomplete / Ongoing

Genre: Fantasy / Sci-Fi

Synopsis: The gods do not exist. Divine intervention is only imagined by those too cowardly to act. No, we only have ourselves in this word. Ourselves, the weapons we wield and the evil we choose to tolerate.

Eline Ritvak is the most renowned thief in all three Kingdoms. Mentored by the infamous criminal, Nightshade, she lives by a strict code of honor seemingly at odds with her chosen profession.When the Prince of Nitenbeir requests Eline steal a sword for him, she is curious enough to accept on his terms. What happens next sends Eline’s world tumbling into chaos, and she finds herself on the run from the most feared man on the continent. All she has is a sword, a know-it-all bookkeeper and the realization that perhaps, they are not alone in this world.

Word Count: 5,782

Author’s Note: As part of my fundraising initiative on my other blog for BLM, I stated that if a certain number was reached, I would release the first chapter of my unpublished (non-fanfic) novel. Since this amount was reached, here it is! This is only the first chapter and I do not plan on releasing more on this website. Know that this fight is not over and we still have tons of work to do. If you can still donate, please do so. If you’re living in the US, ensure you’re registered to vote at TurboVote.Org.

More information about this world / my novel can be found here on my page.

Those who frequented the gambling dens of Kebasa had a saying they told to anyone who would listen; the most fruitful of grounds often bore the most teeth.

The saying was old, stemming from the antewalk, an animal known equally for its migratory patterns as a distinct lack of self-preservation. There was a game amongst children named after the animal in which the smallest of them attempted to cross a field before they could be tagged by the larger, faster children. If they were tagged, they were considered out.

The game was cruel by nature but then again, most things were cruel by nature. Every summer, the antewalk migrated to their northern breeding grounds through the Beir Mountains. If any place could be described as ‘having teeth,’ the Beir range was a natural contender.

Spiders as large as a person’s fist dangled from shoddy webs, draped across caves which housed the fearsome gargantum – a predator as feared as death itself, whose jaws could easily snap a cougar in half. Snakes the size of tree trunks hid in the canopy above before dropping ten feet to feast upon unsuspecting prey. Despite all these horrors, the antewalk continued to make the same journey.

To them, the potential goal of their breeding ground was worth the likely cost.

Much as those who frequented gamblers row viewed the potential for riches to be worth its likely cost – bankruptcy.

It might be worth noting that the antewalk were nearly extinct.

Regardless, the gambling dens of Kebasa drew a multitude of customers, not only its regulars who sought to turn copens to riches. The dens were famous across the vast continent of Prima – and even further than that, drawing attention past the Farephen Sea. Merchants, nobles, and paupers alike were drawn to the gamble and in this way, the dens were amongst the most diverse places on the continent.

Lounged in a seat, one leg crossed over the other, Eline considered the Merryweather laid out before her.

Contrary to its name, the Merryweather was neither a cheerful place, nor was it exposed to the elements. As far as gambling dens went, the interior was much of what Eline had come to expect – crooked tables, crooked people, and an overwhelming stench of spilled ale in between.

At a first glance, she counted seven people in the crowd who did not belong. They were easy enough to spot, once one knew what to look for. Although Eline herself was not Kebasan, she blended in as though she might have been. Her gaze lingered near the bar, assessing a lone, pockmarked youth who glanced longingly at the door. Likely, someone had said this would be the easiest way to escape in case of an emergency.

Utter nonsense. Once a person entered the den, the only way out was further in.

Uncrossing both legs, Eline returned to her game. Casually, she tossed a gold coin on the table.

“Jinn,” she declared.

Murmurs of outrage rippled around the table – to Eline’s right a man growled, not bothering to conceal his state of frustration. The move was a provocative one, to be sure. Scarab was a game designed to confuse its own players, an eclectic combination of dice, cards, and boldfaced lying. It took several years to become proficient but luckily, Eline had learned the game from the best.

Jinn was a give me command. A player could use it only once per game, but once declared, all players were required to increase their bet or exit the table. By using it when she did, Eline had raised the game not by a copen – which was traditional – but by an entire talir. Such riches would have bought the very table they sat at.

“That’s not fair,” grumbled the man to her right. He spoke around the toothpick which dangled precariously from his lip. “Copen’s the norm.”

“It may be the norm, by my move wasn’t illegal.” Eline spoke with great boredom, as though the entire conversation were below her pay grade. “What’s the matter, Revani? Not good for the money?”

The man beside her started, not having expected her to know him by name.

Eline was no fool. She did careful research before deciding to enter any given situation; this was the main way she ensured she only walked into situations she could walk away of. Not everyone was as careful as Eline, but then, not everyone was as successful as her either.

Revani scowled and removed his toothpick. Much to Eline’s utter disgust, he placed this on the table beside her palm.

“I’m in,” he declared, tossing down a gold coin.

The hair beneath his cap could have been either blonde or brown; it was difficult to tell through its matted mess. The clothing he wore gave nothing away either; plain, loose fabric designed to resist the sweltering heat of Kebasa. The only hint of his heritage were his eyes, which were blue. Only certain parts of the southern Kingdom of Sur claimed such a color.

After much hemming and hawing, another two players tossed their coins down. The rest pushed back their chairs, scraping the floorboards, and casting annoyed glances at Eline.

Beneath her crimson hood, she tried not to smile.

Only four players remained: a more manageable number. A lucky number as well, according to Surnese superstition. Eline was not the type who subscribed to good fortune, but when she did, she found the Surnese gods to be most obliging.

Stretching, Revani extended both arms overhead to reveal a wrist tattoo. Foolish of him to flash his crew’s sign so carelessly since it was not the same colors as those of the Merryweather. Men had gotten killed for less than gambling on other crews’ turfs.

He was not the only player Eline knew at the table. To her left was a man who called himself Lorcin and directly across from them were two called Copper and Jo. Those two seemed to move as a team, one of them shifting when the other went still, and vice versa. Eline wondered if they behaved like this always, or only when they felt they were cornered.

Eline was the only woman at the table, although this was to be expected. Many nations and Kingdoms underestimated womenkind. Eline supposed she could not be perturbed by this fact, since it meant those same people underestimated her, as well.

In her line of work, underestimation was a valuable tool.

Lowering her gaze, Eline looked once more her cards. They were not terrible, but neither were they a winning hand. This fact did not bother her since the prize Eline sought was not a singular card game. No, her quarry was far more valuable than that.

Thumbing the sharp edge of her deck, Eline sighed. “Are you going to take your turn, Jo?” she asked, looking up. “Or will we all die of old age before you realize you’ve lost.”

A low chuckle rose from the other men at the table.

Jo – a man whose mustache was the most defining thing about him – scowled. “Don’t know why you’re trying to rush things, ma’am. Scarab is a game best savored, not swallowed.” He paused, allowing a smirk. “I’d imagine you know a thing or two about that.”

How clever; a reference to Eline’s assumed sexuality. She’d dealt with far worse jibes in her lifetime though and so, she ignored him and awaited his next move.

Copper nearly choked at the remark, forcing Jo to reach over and pound him on the back. Eline tried not roll her eyes at this, although it was hard.

Ko women were not known for being overly revealing and this was Eline’s chosen character for the night. Beneath her bright cloak, she wore simple merchant’s clothing from Ko, a distant Kingdom across the Farephen sea.

It was one of Eline’s preferred disguises; it was infinitely easier to pretend she hailed from Ko than say, one of the northern lands, like Dagmari. Dagmari women all had skin the color of the bone underneath, with copper-colored hair distinctive on every continent. Their accent alone was difficult to emulate, full of clipped consonants and elongated vowels.

At least Ko women had dark hair, even if their eyes were known to be golden, not silver. No Kingdom on any continent was known for silver eyes though, and so in this, Eline remained squarely out of luck.

Whenever someone asked about the unusual color, Eline would brush it aside and claim bastard parentage. Likely this was true, but she had no way of knowing for sure.

Exhaling loudly, Jo reached for the dice.

His resulting throw was not favorable and based on his sour expression, Eline assumed his cards to be no good. Ruling him out as competition, she moved her attention to the other men at the table.

Twisting around in his seat, Revani flagged a passing waitress. “More ale,” he instructed before turning back. Glancing in Eline’s direction, he offered a wicked smile. “What about you, Lady? Care to partake?”

The word Lady was mocking and belied his nation of origin. Although the three Kingdoms of Prima were monarchies, Kebasa was run by wealthy merchants, Nitenbeir was militaristic and only Sur had retained the notion of nobility – in more ways than one.

The use of Lady indicated Revani hailed from the south, although none of their renowned education seemed to have stuck. From where she was sitting, Eline could see his whole cards, and they were not particularly good ones.

“Thank you, but no,” she declined. “I prefer to keep my wits about me when I play.”

Revani’s upper lip curled. “Ah. Womanly concerns.”

“I’d imagine so,” Eline said. “As one must first possess wit in order to be concerned about losing it.”

Revani’s cheeks reddened, his entire expression darkening as Lorcin released a chuckle. He had been the quietest at the table so far and thus, was the only one Eline judged as true competition.

Shooting her a bemused look, Lorcin crossed both his feet at the ankles. Based solely on appearance, Eline assumed him to be from either Nitenbeir or Dagmari. Both were northern Kingdoms, so the complexions were similar, although neither wore their hair in the way Lorcin did – long and unbound, hung nearly to his waist.

He kept one hand beneath the table to conceal his cards from view; the other lay casually beside his untouched wine. Smart, to blend in while keeping his head clear.

Copper laughed, the joke just catching up to him. “A clever tongue,” he said, reaching to pick up his dice. “That’s a shame. Isn’t it a pity when women are clever?”

“It is at that.” Revani accepted the flagon he had ordered. “Clever women always get themselves into trouble.”

Outwardly, Eline betrayed no reaction but inwardly, she burned. What she would not give to have these men know her true wrath; to let them know exactly who she was and what she was capable of.

She knew if these men only knew her other name – if anyone in this establishment so much as whispered the word Umbra – it would make them shake in her boots and yet, here she sat and pretended to smile. To reveal who she was meant losing the upper hand, and in Scarab – as in life – having the upper hand was tantamount to winning.

“Indeed,” Eline said. “Clever women often make men uncomfortable. I imagine those without beauty are often discomforted to find it has a voice.”

Lorcin burst out into laughter as Revani’s scowl deepened.

Eline imagined that under different circumstances, she might have been able to enjoy Lorcin’s presence – a pity then, that her line of work failed to leave time for meaningful connections.

In the corner of her gaze, she saw the door to the Merryweather swing inward, allowing balmy, summer air to escape from the street.

“Shut the door!” someone called from the closest table.

All the gambling dens of Kebasa were housed belowground. This allowed for the coolest environment, since Kebasa was a desert city half as often as it was mountainous. A narrow staircase at the front led to the street; a purposeful decision to restrict entrance or exit.

In Ko, humidity and high waters made underground enclosures impossible. There, gambling dens were tied together like rafts, bobbing in sea at the ends of each dock. Eline disliked these types of places; the small amount of time she had spent in Ko was enough for her to realize she despised the ocean.

With the entrance of Kebasa’s heat came an actual person – several people actually, each one climbing down from the mouth of the alley. This was not unusual; men rarely chose to gamble alone. What was unusual was the way they all gripped the balustrade, as though uncertain whether the stairs could support all their weight.

Eline hid her smile. Make that ten men in the Merryweather who did not belong.

At least the first two men tried to blend in. They wore breathable fabric paired with the colorful vests preferred by Kebasa’s working class. Of course, most Kebasans wouldn’t wear such attire to a gambling den. Bright clothing was how one got noticed; it ensured one’s memorability and most who visited the dens preferred to remain anonymous.

The last man through the door didn’t even bother with a vest, though. His back stayed straight as he entered, steadily scanning the premises with an air of disgust. His distinguished sideburns marked him as a high-ranking citizen of Nitenbeir, as did the thin sword he had buckled around his waist. A rapier, much preferred amongst the dueling sort of men. Eline had always found the weapon rather silly, preferring instead the flexibility of her short sword.

It was the scar though, burnt into the side of his neck, which revealed who he was.

As far as legends went, General Marksam was known across the whole continent. He had been captured in his youth by Dagmari forces, held for twenty days and twenty nights until he escaped by fashioning a knife from his spoon to kill two guards through the door of his cell. That had been years ago, but the man’s name remained feared across Prima.

Nitenbeir nobility was strange; they dressed in severe cuts and sharp lines, as though to emulate their method of thinking. It was surprising to see one Nitenbeiran in a gambling den, let alone two, but Eline had been certain Marksam would appear tonight.

It was rumored the General had a fondness for gambling, which was something his Kingdom frowned upon – at least they did in theory. It was the Nitenbeir way to present no external weakness, but to privately indulge if they wished. Whenever Marksam traveled, he was known to clean out a tavern or two.

The Merryweather had a reputation as the highest of stakes, the most varied clientele, and a mostly discrete owner – for the right price, of course. Travelers had recently swelled Kebasa’s town limits for the summer solstice festival; Marksam was merely one amongst the many. It was the perfect opportunity for him to slip away, get his gambling fix and return before he was noticed missing.

Their group were stopped just inside the entrance, searched, and ordered to hand over their weapons. Marksam looked as though he argued with the bouncer, pointing at something on his chest which might have been a medal. He should have saved his breath for how much he succeeded. Eventually, Marksam handed over his sword, as Eline knew he would.

The rules of the Merryweather were simple – disarm, or don’t play.

Of course, the bouncers did need to find your weapons in order to remove them.

This was something of a game to the locals but people like Marksam were obviously unaware of the rules. It was proper in Nitenbeir for a General to wear their sword at their waist. The gesture was intended to show discipline, decorum and had absolutely no place on gambler’s row.

Swords around here came for their target in night, cloaked with darkness and ill-intent. It didn’t matter if a person showed their sword when one couldn’t be certain what they hid behind their opponent’s vest.

Shifting her weight, Eline stretched her toes against the worn pad of her boot. There were several knives concealed on her frame, since Eline had been forced to leave her short sword at home. One knife was hidden in the sole of her boot, another in its lining and a third strapped to the inside of her thigh.

The key to remaining armed in the Merryweather was to look unimportant. Marksam was obviously unaware of this lesson.

Flapping his coat out behind him, Marksam gingerly sat upon a rounded stool in the corner. His table was closer to the front than Eline’s – which meant the stakes of his table were lower and his game was considered easier. Eline assumed he would move further back over the course of the night; men like him were rarely satisfied with a cheap thrill.

His back faced the door – again, not what Eline would have done. His two comrades seemed to be smarter; they faced the only entrance, keeping careful watch on whoever walked through the door. Eline could only assume Marksam had hired them because they were more familiar with the gambling dens than he was.

Smart of him to seek out their guidance. Stupid of him not to listen.

Returning her attention to her own game, Eline scanned the table before her. While she had been distracted, Jo had backed himself into a corner. Only she, Lorcin, Revani and Copper remained as contenders.

Scowling, Jo threw his cards down to stand. “I’m out,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “May your pockets stay strong.”

Another idiom; this one easier to discern, if no longer applicable. Back when Kebasa was barely a town, trade was exchanged using gemstones as currency. The stones were so ubiquitous to its natives, legends stated they didn’t know their true value until neighbors from Nitenbeir and Sur reached them across the Imir desert. That was when Kebasa began to blossom as a Kingdom and eventually, coins came to replace gemstones as currency.

While in use though, the gemstones had been heavy and to have sturdy pockets meant you had been blessed with good fortune.

Downing the rest of his ale, Jo slammed his glass on the table and stalked towards the bar. The same pockmarked youth Eline had noticed remained slouched in its corner; Jo squeezed in beside him to order another round.

Revani added a second gold coin to the pile. “And what of that, Lady?” he asked, leaning back. “Are you good for it?”

He mimicked her words from earlier. Eyes narrowed, Eline moved to respond but before she could speak, there came a shout from the bar.

“Thief!” The pockmarked boy pointed, wide-eyed, at the door. “THIEF!”

The response around the room was instantaneous.

Jumping up from their table in the corner, both bouncers rushed towards the rickety stairs. Alertness swept through the crowd, jumping from table to table as players craned their necks to look. Many did not seem to care – they had already bet their livelihoods on the games – but many more flinched and scrambled for their purses.

Including Marksam, who instinctively clutched his right pocket – after patting it once, he exhaled and let go.

Hiding her smile, Eline returned to her cards. Fool.

“In,” she declared and added a coin.

Lorcin increased the pile without comment, throwing his dice and losing his next turn. Copper took up the dice and shook, glancing up at the ceiling before rolling a sixteen.

His smile broadened. “Reveal.”

Groaning out loud, Revani slouched in his seat.

The rules of Scarab were complicated, but the final player in any increase round had the opportunity to roll to end the game if they desired. Copper had rolled high enough to do just that, which meant the rest of the table was forced to lay down their cards.

Eline kept her face casual as Lorcin revealed his hand to be better than hers – better than anyone else at the table, including Copper, who looked a bit green as he stared.

Placing her cards down, Eline revealed her hand to be slightly lower than Lorcin’s. Revani’s was worst, but Eline had already known that before he revealed them. His cards held no coherent order, almost as though he had never played the game before, nor learned what it was. Eline idly wondered how he had gotten a seat at their table. Probably money.

“I need another drink,” declared Copper, standing up from his chair.

He wandered over to Jo, who still stood at the bar. The youth who had yelled thief was nowhere to be found, likely scared off by the events of the night.

Undisturbed by his loss, Revani spread his legs wider. “Care to play again, Lorcin? Or you, Lady?” he added, shooting Eline a smirk. “I would have the chance to redeem myself.”

Eline pushed her chair back. “Unfortunately,” she said, gathering her coins. “Redemption is not something I’m in the habit of giving.”

Scanning the den, she drew her cloak tight and wondered where to go next. There was no purpose to her cloak’s color other than to be remembered. At the end of the night, she wanted her face to be paired with this cloak in the den’s memory.

“I agree with the lady,” Lorcin said, also standing. “Best to quit while ahead.”

“Nitenbeirans.” Revani sighed and rolled his neck. “All of them the same. So meticulously practical. Very well,” he said, glancing past them to where multiple players had lined up on the wall. “Which of you wants to try their hand?”

Several rushed forward, eager to take their departed seats and Eline slipped past them, unnoticed.

The den was more crowded than when she had first entered, the dense scent of sweat and alcohol hanging low overhead. Elin scanned the room as she walked, coming to a stop beside the wooden bar. Drinks stained its surface, blending into the varnish until it seemed part of its décor.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Marksam stand from his seat. One hand splayed to the table, he questioned his players and glanced away from the entrance.

There were several halls which led from the back of the Merryweather. One of them ended in a stairwell which climbed to other floors of the building. As it was with the rest of gambler’s row, the Merryweather was not only a place in which to take bets. Its owner, Ren Drago, dabbled in various illicit activities throughout Kebasa; the main floor was merely the tip of the iceberg.

Marksam nodded at whatever his table said, turning around to disappear into the crowd. Eline’s gaze followed him to the back where he entered a hallway marked with a green arrow. Its interior was dimly lit, she could barely see his cloak whipping around the cramped corner.

Eline waited a moment, then slipped behind a group of players to remove her cloak and pull it on inside-out. The other side was dark, a coarser material not unlike that of the other gambling patrons. Lowering the hood, she moved out from the men who hid her from view.

Anyone who saw her would fail to place her as the gambler in red. Another trick from the thieves’ manual – create a memorable character, then become someone else. No one followed Eline as she moved towards the same back hall, which meant no one would remember her as the person Marksam encountered.

He was not difficult to spot once Eline reached the hall. He stood out even amongst the shadows, glancing about him with a puzzled look on his face. It seemed not even the advice of his table had been enough to locate the washroom.

Eline paused before entering, reaching out to puck a flagon of ale from a table. Adopting an intoxicated swagger, she raised the cup to her lips as she pretended to drink.

The light from a singular gas lamp dimmed when she passed, the hood of her cloak blocking out most illumination. Said lamp swung from above her, attached to the weathered ceiling; all sconces in the hall had been pilfered, their metal likely stolen and sold to melt down into wares.

Hearing Eline’s approach, Marksam turned his head. Giving her a swift once-over, he apparently decided she was harmless and lifted a hand.

“You there!” he called out. “Madam.”

As though surprised by the address, Eline stumbled for some of her ale to slosh towards the ground.

Nose wrinkled, Marksam drew back as though he could smell the imaginary alcohol on her breath. Eline noticed he didn’t seem to be drunk – at least one of the Nitenbeiran principles had rubbed off on him. It meant he would be more aware though, which made this transaction dangerous.

“Are you familiar with this establishment?” Marksam’s other palm rested upon the hilt of his rapier. “Do you happen to know where one might relieve oneself?”

“Establishment?” Laying the Ko accent on thick, Eline came to a stop. “You’re out of your depths, soldier,” she laughed, ending the word with a hiccup. “This here’s no establishment, it’s a right pigsty.”

Marksam’s eyes narrowed at the title she gave him.

Nitenbeir social hierarchy was based upon military rank. Their system was complicated – overly so, in Eline’s opinion – but based on his attire, Marksam could be identified as at least a General. Calling him a soldier was an insult; one strong enough that in Nitenbeir he wouldn’t have been remotely out of line in challenging her to a duel.

And they had the nerve to call other Kingdoms savages.

“Regardless of where you think I belong,” he said stiffly. “I would hear your response.”

Lifting her drink, Eline’s hand trembled, more ale sloshing over the rim. “You would hear my response?” she mocked, mimicking his imperious tone. “Most people just piss down that hall to the left, I guess. That’s if they even bother to – ah!” she blurted, spilling the flagon down his front.

Marksam swore and jumped back, but the damage had been done. Brownish-gold liquid dribbled down his front of his shirt, seeping to stain the white silk underneath.

“S-sorry,” Eline stuttered, blinking at him in horror.

Marksam froze for a moment, staring stunned at his shirt. Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers. “You… vermin,” he hissed and lunged forward.

Eline cowered away from him, her right shoulder hitting the wall as she tripped on the end of her cloak. She cut a pitiful figure in the dark of the hall, both hands lifted as Marksam reached for his sword. Here he hesitated, chest heaving while he considered the pathetic figure before him. Eline worked to make herself seem smaller, hunching both shoulders as she stared at the ground.

At last the image seemed to work, since Marksam slowly exhaled and slid his sword in its sheath.

“Bah,” he grumbled, shoving past. “Filthy urchin. Not worth my trouble.”

Eline let herself be pushed, briefly gripping his cloak to steady herself – and then he was gone, disappeared around the corner. He left not in the direction of the gambling floor, but to the left, deeper into the den in search of a washroom.

As soon as he was gone, Eline straightened.

Trying not to smile, she slipped her hand into her pocket and ran the tip of her finger along the edge of a key. Here, at last, was her true prize for the evening. The entirety of the wealth played in the front room barely held a candle to the key inside her pocket.

It was one of twenty keys distributed by King Tulen himself, the ruler and monarch of the Kingdom of Kebasa. Each key granted entrance to the most exclusive level of the summer solstice festival; the highborn, an ongoing celebration to which only twenty people could enter at one time.

Eline had a buyer who wanted a key.

What her buyer needed it for, she did not dare ask, nor did she care. Eline had a job to do and that was all that mattered. After all, she more than anyone understood people often did desperate things in desperate situations.

Marksam was one of twenty individuals who had been granted a key. Each Kingdom on the continent usually received two or three to distribute. Marksam was considered important enough in Nitenbeir that the King had sent him in his place.

While Marksam had been distracted by the drink she spilled, Eline had dipped a hand in his pocket and pilfered his key – the very same pocket he had patted when the pockmarked youth at the bar had yelled thief earlier.

Yet another thief’s trick, and a widely effective one.

When a reasonable person heard the word thief, they immediately reached to protect their valuables. Of course, if another person – say, Eline – were also watching, said person would give away where they were keeping their valuables. All it took was a little distraction to ensure Eline stole the key out from under his nose.

She made a mental note to pay Jaspin, the pockmarked youth, double tomorrow for a job well-done.

Turning around, she strode down the corridor. At the crossway she turned in the opposite direction of Marksam. It would be a while before he returned from that particular hallway. Eline had purposefully sent him in that direction, since the corridor housed the back rooms where private games were held.

If no one stabbed Marksam as soon as he entered, it would take him a while to explain his mistake. Once he did, Eline would be long gone.

Paused at what seemed like a dead end, Eline came to a stop and lowered her hood.

Glancing above, she scanned the long grate in the ceiling – another common design on gambler’s row. Although there was only one way inside the den from the street, there existed another way out from the back.

It would be inconvenient for a den’s owner to barricade themselves in, along with anyone else they wished to trap. As a precautionary measure, most buildings housed a special exit: a crawl space between the first and second floors, just large enough for a person to move through while escaping to the next alley.

Glancing over her shoulder, Eline ensured no one was watching and backed up a few steps.

Bending both legs, she leapt to grab hold of a stone jutting out from the wall. Using the smaller crevices as handholds, she swiftly climbed to reach the ceiling above. Positioning her weight evenly on all limbs, Eline reached above to loosen the grate and push.

It clattered off to one side – frozen, Eline waited, but no one seemed to have heard. Re-gripping the grate, Eline swung her legs upwards and launched herself into the hole. Once inside the crawlspace, she carefully repositioned the grate in the floor.

Crouched to the ground, Eline examined her surroundings.

The space around her was dusty, as though no one had used the corridor in quite some time. Eline suspected this was the case; Ren Drago, the owner of the Merryweather, was amongst the most feared men in Kebasa. To break a rule in his establishment usually meant you’d break something else. There were not many a man like Ren would feel the need to escape from.

Not wasting any time, Eline began to move, carefully positioning her weight so she failed to make noise. It was unlikely anyone would think to look for her here, since the actual entrance to the crawl space was on the second floor, but it was better to be careful than dead.

At the end of the tunnel, Eline pulled a knife from her boot and went to work on the grate. Twisting the screws one by one, she calculated how much time had passed since she left Marksam alone. It wouldn’t be long before he returned – if she were lucky, he wouldn’t notice the missing key until he returned to his lodgings.

Removing the final screw from the grate, Eline jiggled it free from the wall. She hesitated a moment, listening to the sounds of the alley below.

Nothing unusual.

Setting the steel grate aside, Eline leaned out of the opening to glance at the ground. Nose wrinkled, she sighed. The grate emptied into an alleyway behind a butcher shop. Scraps of days-old meat were piled below, their blood trickling slowly to join through the cobblestones.

At least the meat would offer her a soft landing. Swinging both legs aloft, Eline held her breath as she dropped down from the ledge. For most people, this would have been a difficult task, but these kinds of feats had always come easily for Eline.

Straightening from her crouch, Eline immediately strode in the opposite direction of gambler’s row. Her footsteps were muffled, thanks to special boots Eline had designed herself.

Even if the alleyway was quiet, the city around her was not – each distant yell of laughter sounded at once too far and too loud. The dense, squatted buildings forced Eline to imagine she saw shapes in the shadows.

One hand drifted towards her belt as she walked; a pointless reflex, since her short sword remained at her lodgings, but she still found it comforting.

It would have been suspicious for her to run from gambler’s row, so Eline forced herself to calmly walk on. Each muscle in her body strained against instinct, yearning to be free now that the job was complete. All that was left was dropping key in its preassigned destination, collecting her money, and washing her mind of the memory.

Eline was good at that.

She was good at forgetting what she needed to forget, unseeing what she needed to unsee. It was why she made such a good thief, as her mentor once said. Eline could compartmentalize her soul in ways few even dreamed of and even while distracted, her senses remained intact.

It was how Eline heard the moment someone turned down the alley, their footsteps echoing hers around the sound of leaking pipes. Tilting her head, she listened as she walked, her stride never breaking as she pretended not to hear.

When the footsteps were barely a pace away, she exhaled and turned, yanking a knife from her belt.

Her blade was met with another, aimed directly at her heart.

The man on the other end of the sword smiled, his face hidden by shadow. “The famous Umbra,” he said, inclining his head. “I’ve been searching for you.”

#writeblr #fantasy #sci-fi #writing

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things2mustdo · 4 years ago

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Understanding shit tests is important. Real important. Not just for navigating your relationships with women, but also for understanding, defining and defending yourself.

Don’t believe me? Then why did God chronicle the world’s first shit-test in chapter 3 of Genesis, immediately after the trifling matter of the Creation of Heaven and Earth? Before any discussion about, say, the purpose of life, the nature of God or the path to freedom, God sits us down and says, “Okay men, this is how it is. Listen up.”

And yet here we are, eleventy bazillion years later having to relearn the lessons of this primordial story of man vs. woman. Be of good cheer though. The story is short and the lessons are vivid.

The first shit test

Let’s set the stage:

The serpent was the shrewdest of all the wild animals the Lord God had made. One day he asked the woman, “Did God really say you must not eat the fruit from any of the trees in the garden?”

“Of course we may eat fruit from the trees in the garden,” the woman replied. “It’s only the fruit from the tree in the middle of the garden that we are not allowed to eat. God said, ‘You must not eat it or even touch it; if you do, you will die.’”

“You won’t die!” the serpent replied to the woman. “God knows that your eyes will be opened as soon as you eat it, and you will be like God, knowing both good and evil.”

The woman was convinced. She saw that the tree was beautiful and its fruit looked delicious, and she wanted the wisdom it would give her. So she took some of the fruit and ate it. Then she gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it, too. At that moment their eyes were opened, and they suddenly felt shame at their nakedness. Genesis 3, NLT

So what is the shit test? Simply this: Should Adam take the fruit to please Eve and maintain his relationship with her? Or should he tell her, ‘Shut up. Walk away from the talking snake and go back to the tent. I want to be fruitful with you.’

Lesson #1

– this crap isn’t new

God’s response to Eve’s disobedient shit-test is rather enlightening:

“And you will desire to control your husband, but he will rule over you.”

In other words, this tension, this conflict between men and women that we deal with constantly goes back to the very beginning. First-wave feminists didn’t create it. Second or third-wave feminists didn’t create it either. All they’re doing is coming together collectively to do what they can’t do individually – control men.

Feminists will tell you that feminism is all about equality. ‘Equality’ is a lie. As it ever was, their desire as women is to rule over you. Period.

Now fast-forward a couple thousand – or million – years. Because women haven’t changed, the same admonition is given:

“…you wives must accept the authority of your husbands. For instance, Sarah obeyed her husband, Abraham, and called him her master. You are her daughters when you do what is right without fear of what your husbands might do.” 1 Peter 3

Now, women wouldn’t be told to submit to men if they weren’t capable of it. That would just be mean. But even well-meaning women quite naturally fear what their man would do with his authority if she actually did submit to him. Letting go, trusting another human being, is hard. Humans mostly suck. I get it. And feminism is always there to stir this fear and distrust.

Managing this age-old conflict requires us to acknowledge their fears and to manifest a solid, trustworthy – if playfully unpredictable – masculinity.

Lesson #2 – Be active not passive

Adam’s punishment is:

“Since you listened to your wife and ate from the tree whose fruit I commanded you not to eat, the ground is cursed because of you. All your life you will struggle to scratch a living from it.”

Did you catch that? The cause of Adam’s transgression was that he ‘listened to his wife’ and followed her into disobedience. Happy wife, happy life my ass!

He should have grabbed the nearest shovel and chopped the serpent’s head off before admonishing his wife for her covetousness – this despite their lavish habitation! Instead Adam passively sat there as the scene unfolded.

The lesson is simple. Be active. Be engaged. And actually care about your woman. Sure, many women will call you a bully and say you’re too controlling. That’s fine. If you’re in it for an actual relationship, next her. This one can deal with the ‘serpents of life’ on her own.

Lesson #3

–Women are gullible and covetous

Women have exquisite feminine virtues based on openness and receptivity that men rightly treasure when we can find it. Frankly, when we see it, it’s impossibly attractive and intoxicating. But there’s a flip side to feminine virtue.

When you’re open and receptive, you’re also more easily fooled.

And it was not Adam who was deceived by Satan. The woman was deceived, and sin was the result.

And when your nature is to attract and receive, you are also more prone to materialism and covetousness as you search for validation in all the wrong places.

She saw that the tree was beautiful….and she wanted…

This is one reason – there are others – that men should lead women in relationships. It’s not to lord over them abusively or for self-gain. It’s to provide women a safe space to express and share their feminine nature with us without being taken advantage of.

Conversely, when women call the shots in a relationships, it’s inherently exhausting and ultimately unsatisfying for both of you. Her covetousness and gullibility will combine to dominate the purpose of the union. She will see and want and be sold…. a bigger house… a bigger diamond…. a newer car… another expensive vacation… a fairy-tale wedding. You know the drill.

In the end, her covetousness and gullibility will become your own. And the things that control her will become your masters.

Lesson #4 – Lead your woman, or else..

Let’s game this out. There’s a period of time when Eve has taken the fruit but Adam hasn’t. At this point, Adam has two choices . He can follow Eve – submitting to her – or follow God. In the end of course, he submits to Eve.

But why did he chose Eve over God knowing it was wrong? Because he was afraid of losing his relationship with her which he treasured, a relationship marked by unquestioned trust and pure physical and emotional intimacy. Sounds good right?

In the end though – and this is the lesson for us – by selling out his own integrity and his call to leadership, he ended up losing the very relationship he sought to protect. In its place, he received a new relationship with Eve marked by distrust, conflict and competition.

Likewise, when we abdicate leadership, when we sell out our own integrity, we lose self-respect first, and then in turn, her respect. And then the relationship either ends, or worse, it lingers in blue-pill hell. There is simply no acceptable alternative to men leading relationships.

Conclusion

So there it is. Nothing new is under the sun. Women are the same as they’ve ever been. And the tension between us is as old as humanity – baked into the heart of every man and woman.

So what do we do? Well, what did Adam do? He picked himself up after that colossal shit-test failure to end all shit-test failures and took the red pill.

Then the man—Adam—named his wife Eve, because she would be the mother of all who live.

In other words, he takes his authority back and moves forward the best he can, perhaps having learned a little along the way. Oh, and he take Eve back to the tent. And she follows.

Read More: The 4 Important Shit Tests Rocky Balboa Passed To Win Adrian

Television and movie wives have been a staple in the fabric of American entertainment for as long as any of us can remember. From Carol Brady to Joanna Eberhart to Skyler White, these women have influenced western culture for decades. But as the years passed, masculine traits began to seep into their personas like a slow poison and before we knew it the on-screen traditional American Housewife was extinct. It wasn’t long before women in the U.S. predictably followed suit. A quick look at the steep decline over the last 60 years sheds light on this runaway train.

Leave It To Beaver

The 50s and 60s gave us June Cleaver, the gold standard of what a wife should be. Doting, nurturing, and supportive, Mrs. Cleaver was the picture of femininity and grace. Her loyalty and deference to her protective, capable husband was the blueprint for women to emulate if they wanted a chance at a happy and fulfilling life as a domesticated homemaker.

The Cosby Show

Clair Huxtable was the TV wife of the 80s but this is where we start to see a noticeable change. While it’s presumed that Cliff is the de facto head of household, it becomes rather clear that Mrs. Huxtable is the man of the house. When there was discourse in the family Cliff stepped in a precious few times while Claire was the judge, jury, and executioner much more often than not. The icing on the cake was that she, of all things, was a lawyer (and we all know how happy and fulfilled female attorneys are).

King Of Queens

The late 90s and early 2000s all but put the nail in the coffin of the traditional on screen housewife by force feeding Carrie Heffernan down our collective throats. The witty Mrs. Heffernan was a slick talking, fist pumping paralegal with a brash attitude and a short temper. She undoubtedly wore the pants in this relationship which was evident from the very beginning. Carrie’s only redeeming qualities were her perky tits and ample ass but weight gain quickly diminished her aesthetically pleasing figure. Surprise, surprise.

Last of a dying breed

One of the last great television/movie wives makes her first appearance in the 1976 motion picture, Rocky. This timid but cute pet shop employee that stole Rocky’s heart is none other than Adrian Pennino, who later became who we all know as Adrian Balboa. Most of us know the Rocky story but few acknowledge the true reasons she played such an important role in his life. One of those reasons was that she was a quality woman.

When Adrian met Rocky she was a shy, young, pretty girl with a submissive demeanor. Best of all, she hadn’t so much as gotten in line to ride the carousel. Yes, gentlemen, Adrian was a virgin. Now Rocky wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed but even he recognized that women like her were becoming increasingly rare so he did what any man would do and took her off the market immediately.

Adrian enthusiastically took to her role as Rocky’s girl as would any woman in love. Aside from cooking the meat he famously tenderized with his fists, she studiously tended to his aches and pains from training, enthusiastically offered him post-training sex, and supported him when he doubted his ability to go the distance in his upcoming fight against the heavyweight champion of the world, Apollo Creed. All of this was before she became his wife. Adrian added real value to Rocky’s life because she followed his lead and seemed to be the genuine article as far as quality women go.

The other reason Adrian brought the best out of Rocky is one that is oft missed by the blue pill masses. As innocent and rare as the future Mrs. Balboa seemed to be, let’s not forget one important factor: she was a woman. And while every woman is unique in her own way, their operating systems are identical. That is, all women shit test! From the most chaste Madonnas to the sluttiest whores, all women are programmed to test your mettle as a man. The reason for this is simple: if a woman is going to invest 9 months of her life carrying a man’s seed, she’s going to make damn sure that he has strong, masculine genes that will be passed on to her offspring. As a result, her operating system kicks in and employs a series of tests to ensure that he is a worthy donor.

Now keep in mind that most of the time this is all done on a subconscious level. When a dominant alpha male gives her ‘gina tingles, she’s seldom thinking thoughts like “This man is displaying masculine traits that I want passed on to my young. I must mate with him.” All she knows is that she wants to be fucked stupid and her hamster is in overdrive searching for reason to justify it. She is utterly incapable explaining her insatiable desire for all of her holes to be plundered by alpha cock but her OS is on auto pilot making sure she isn’t about to be impregnated by some spineless beta. Concepts like “shit test” and “cock carousel” hadn’t been given actual names until recently but you can bet your salty man juice makers that they were all too prominent back in the 70s.

That said here are the 4 most important shit tests of one Adrian Balboa.

Shit Test #1: His way of life

Adrian: “Why do you wanna fight?”

Rocky: “Because I can’t sing or dance!”

Right off the bat she tests his manhood by challenging his lifestyle early on during their first date. The answer Rocky gives her is brilliant because it sets the tone for the relationship. His response tells her in no uncertain terms “Well that’s a silly question, so I’ll give a silly answer.” He does what he wants and doesn’t feel the need to justify this to her or anyone else. Alpha move, Stallion. He passes her shit test with flying colors and is handsomely rewarded with her virginity. (see: Shit Test #2)

Shit Test #2: My brother is my keeper

So now Adrian has the tingles and finds herself in Rocky’s apartment. The slut shields are definitely up as she goes full throttle with some of the most impressive, rapid fire LMR (last-minute resistance) I’ve ever seen. We all know that LMR is just another shit test and so did the Italian Stallion. So he summons his inner Don Juan and systematically disarms every layer of her defenses.

Adrian: “ I wanna let my brother know where I am. I think he might be worried.”

Rocky: “I’ll call your brother.”

Rocky: “Yo Paulie!!!! Your sister’s with me!!! I’ll call ya later!!!”

Well played. Adrian knows damn well that Paulie was probably too drunk to care about much of anything. She’s standing by the door so she’s definitely hesitant about the situation she’s in but she’s still there. Her hamster is out of control waiting to be satiated. Rocky, who is completely relaxed on his couch, stays in the set.

Adrian: “I don’t belong here.”

Rocky: “It’s alright—you’re my guest.”

Adrian: “I’ve never been in a man’s apartment before.”

Rocky: “They’re all the same.” <gesturing>

This was handled beautifully with gentle, well placed sarcasm. Her snowflaking (yes, virgins snowflake too) doesn’t phase him in the least. She’s sitting with him at this point so her defenses are weakening. Being keenly aware of this, Rocky moves in for the kill:

Adrian: “I don’t think I’m comfortable. I should leave.”

Rocky: “But I’m willin’ to make the best of this uncomfortable situation”

Rocky: <softly> “Would you take off your glasses?”

Adrian: <dumbfounded> “What?”

Rocky: “The glasses….please.”

Adrian: <timidly> “T-Thank you.”

Rocky: “Do me another favor?”

Adrian: “What?”

Rocky: “Could ya take off that hat?”

Rocky: “I always knew you was pretty”

Adrian: “Don’t tease me…”

…and she was his for the taking. Masterful escalation by the champ. He had a clear understanding that Adrian’s introverted disposition combined with her lack of sexual experience meant he would have to gently and carefully escalate lest he scare his prey away.

The look in a woman’s eyes when LMR is destroyed

Throughout the exchange her body language quickly went from “no” to “yes”. Even when she made an “attempt” to leave she offered little resistance when Rocky intercepted her at the door. She wanted to be taken as all women do. As soon as she lost her hat and those horrific glasses, her deflowering was a foregone conclusion. Adrian never stood a chance.

Shit Test #3: Apollo is bad for your health

Fast forward 6 months. Rocky is basking in the afterglow of his new found celebrity after nearly pulling off the greatest upset in the history of boxing since Cassius Clay beat Sonny Liston in 1964. Things could not be better. He’s got a little extra coin from his share of the purse from the Creed fight, Adrian is now his wife and pregnant with his child, and he is Philadelphia’s new favorite son. Life is pretty damn good.

But it’s not long before the money runs dry and the Balboas fall on hard times. Rocky’s provider instinct kicks in and tells him to get back in the ring to support his growing family. And wouldn’t you know it, the perfect opportunity to drops into his lap when Apollo Creed challenges him to a rematch that would be worth millions. Slam dunk, right?

Wrong. The newly minted Mrs. Balboa forbids her husband to trade punches with the champion because she’s “worried about his long term health”. While this is very noble of her, this is simply another shit test. No woman in her right mind would prohibit her husband from accepting an opportunity to set the family for life financially. Sure, Adrian pouts and protests but her hamster secretly wants Rocky to defy her and maintain his alpha status to reassure her that the decision she made to willingly accept his seed was the correct one.

Her hamster gets its wish and true to form she throws a fit (another shit test). But like the true alpha he is, Rocky stays the course. Adrian eventually comes around (as women who belong to alphas always do) and watches her husband become the new heavyweight champion of the world, forever changing their lives.

Shit Test #4: You can’t win!

The last and final shit test administered by Mrs. Balboa was the most significant because Rocky is literally risking his life having agreed to fight his most deadly opponent, Ivan Drago. At 6’6” and 260 lbs, Drago was a lightening quick fighter with super human strength. That strength was on full display when he killed Apollo Creed in an exhibition bout.

Drago kills Creed

Balboa and Creed became best friends when they joined forces to help Rocky regain the heavyweight title he lost to another fierce opponent, Clubber Lang. When Apollo died in the ring at the hands of Drago, Rocky’s objective was clear: avenge his fallen comrade.

When Adrian learns of his decision, she hits him with everything she’s got to try to talk him out of it. She broke out the heavy artillery telling him this fight was suicide among other things. She even tells him “You can’t win!” Brutal. But Rocky Balboa is a true alpha and regardless of what the love of his life thought, said, or did, he knew he had to stick to his guns. Fresh out of options, she pulls a last second power move and tells Rocky she would not be going with him to Moscow to support him ringside. This, gentlemen, is a major league shit test. Even the most battle-hardened Super Alpha would be hard pressed to admit that he didn’t, at the very least, reconsider his decision. Remember, he’s been married this woman for years and truly loves her so it could not have been easy to get on that plane by himself. But like before, Rocky stays true to his task and starts his journey alone. And like before, Adrian rushes to his side and cheers him to victory.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CaagSfBj2To

Conclusion

While it’s common knowledge amongst ROK readers that women aren’t as necessary as they once were for a man’s long term success and fulfillment, there’s no denying that a good woman has the potential to increase a man’s value as well as his quality of life. Don’t get me wrong, banging sluts is great fun—there are plenty to go around and the abundant supply isn’t dwindling any time soon. But when a man gets his hands on a decent woman who understands and abides by traditional sex roles, has no discernible signs of having ridden the carousel, and finds legitimate joy in pleasing him, it would be to his advantage to let her stick around for a while. Rocky understood this and acted accordingly.

Now Adrian could certainly be a handful as we’ve seen above. But make no mistake about the fact that she tipped the balance in her husband’s favor in the two most difficult fights of his life. Never forget that before Adrian showed Rocky her support for his rematch against Creed, Rocky wasn’t giving it all he had during his training. The fact that his new wife didn’t have his back visibly affected him. Ready or not he was getting in that ring because it was what he had to do as a man. But if he continued his half-assed training, Apollo would have most assuredly ended Balboa’s career, or worse. It wasn’t until Adrian told him she wanted him to win did he train with the conviction necessary to dethrone the champion. The same thing happened in Russia. Rocky started his journey alone but Adrian’s physical presence gave him the extra resolve to beat Drago.

Few titles in this world are more alpha than Heavy Weight Champion of the World. The money, fame, and status that comes along with this title is more than enough to satisfy the hypergamy of the vast majority of woman. But regardless of title, wealth, or social standing, women will always be women and the shit tests are coming. Count on it. Rocky loved his Adrian but his mission came before her and it showed. As a result, she grew more attracted to him with every shit test he passed. Even when he risked his life by fighting Ivan Drago, Adrian couldn’t help but be more drawn to him, win or lose (Roissy Maxim #200: Chicks dig guys willing to risk an early, gruesome death. Expendability is a DHV).

But what if Rocky tried to justify himself when Adrian questioned his way of life or gave up trying to close the deal when she threw up that epic LMR? And what if he backed out of the rematch against Creed or caved into her demands to throw in the towel against Drago? Chances are he would never have had the spectacular life he was afforded as a result of failing her shit tests. Sure, he may have been able to accomplish a few minor goals here and there but Adrian’s attraction and devotion to him would have been gravely compromised. On the other hand he may have had a great life had he never met her. Being a single, rich, champion prize fighter would have offered him unlimited access to the paradise of poon. As awesome as that life would be let’s not kid ourselves here fellas—nothing feels better than having a quality woman in your corner. But if you want a quality woman you have got to be alpha because all. women. are. like. that. Even the rarest of snowflakes like Adrian Balboa.

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silverfootstepswrites · 5 years ago

Text

Amaryllis | Chapter 6

< Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 >

+++

A knock at her door interrupted Sakura’s reading.

It wasn’t Haku because Haku sat in the corner of her room, folding fresh towels. And it couldn’t be Moegi. Because the two attendants had developed the habit of whispering “General” outside her door. If she was sleeping, their soft voices wouldn’t rouse her. If she was awake, she would reply. It was a good system. Because she had spent the large part of the last few weeks napping throughout the day.

There was another knock.

“Yes?” she replied.

“Do you like peonies?” came Itachi’s voice.

“Peonies?” she repeated. Just to be certain that she hadn’t misheard.

Haku got to his feet, taking a cautious step toward the door. He waited until Sakura nodded before he crossed the room. He pulled the door open.

Prince Itachi stood in something other than a dressing gown and slippers. The crisp black shirt and tailored grey pants seemed odd on him. It was a little jarring to see him standing there dressed like that. She was so used to seeing him wrapped up in robes.

He brandished a large bouquet of flowers. The rounded petals were a delicate shade of light purple. He seemed unsure of what to do with them for a moment. And then Haku held his hands out. Itachi placed them in the servant’s arms. Haku brought them over for Sakura to inspect. “I’m sorry. I should have sent word ahead of time. This was all a little impulsive,” Itachi confessed. And the blank look on Sakura’s face probably did a good job of conveying her surprise.

“Oh…. peonies,” Sakura finally understood.

“I thought it would be fitting. They symbolize healing,” Itachi informed her. Sakura laughed.

“Then I could certainly use them. Although, if I’m honest with you, I’ve received enough flowers to last a lifetime.”

She looked down at the flowers. Touched the petals.

“Still… thank you,” added Sakura. She then glanced at him. “You look well,” she observed.

Itachi nodded. “My physician finally gave me permission to leave my room. I’m on the way to lunch with my father,” explained Itachi. When he stood up straight like this, he didn’t look nearly as frail as she remembered him.

“Well, then I’m honored that you used part of your good health to visit me. Despite appearances, I’m also well. I went for a walk this morning,” Sakura responded.

Karin had removed Sakura’s stitches about a week ago. As long as things continued to progress smoothly, Sakura was allowed light activity. So no horseback riding and no combat. Kaze sulked whenever she visited the stable, laying his head on her shoulder, giving her big, teary eyes.

In the month since Sasori’s departure from Ispolin, Sakura had gone through all the moon tea he had left behind. A few days later, a package arrived from Plumeria. Moon tea, dried fruit, and her favorite nightgown sat nestled in a bed of banana leaves. They sat on her desk, giving her a whiff of home whenever she walked past.

Letters continued to pour in and out of Goliaf Castle. Sakura had purchased the contracts of several messengers based in Ispolin. They ran messages exclusively for her. And in return, she made sure that they were rewarded handsomely for fast deliveries.

It took about a week for a letter from Goliaf to reach Whiteriver. And several days more than that for a letter to reach Plumeria. Still, the responses were surprisingly prompt. It seemed that word travelled quickly back home.

Ino’s normally smooth, elegant hand was jagged as she scrawled a reply. She asked after Sakura’s health first, as was polite. And then expressed her devastation that Sir Sai was not the noble knight all the court ladies claimed him to be.

What use is a handsome face when is unable to perform his only duty?

Sakura could imagine Ino sniffing as she wrote that critique. She went on to inform Sakura that she would continue to eye the knight, however.

Given that Mother and Father will likely marry me off to some ancient Count, I will at least allow myself to look upon a handsome face now and then. I don’t believe the goddess will strike me down for that.

Ino’s letter was not entirely light-hearted gossip, however, She went on to update Sakura on internal affairs- things that only a high-ranking family like Count Yamanaka’s family would be aware of.

The Queen Regent remains unsurprisingly silent about the matter of your injury. The entire court is abuzz with gossip. Some have accused you of working with the Mountain Kingdom to eliminate Prince Naruto. Otherwise say that it was staged so that you could gain favor with the Uchiha family. The speculation that some of these creatures indulge in is truly amazing.

Mother threw a garden party last week. Lady Hanabi had the gall to ask me if I knew when Prince Naruto would become king. Her mother made a big show of appearing horrified. But one can tell that that’s the sort of conversation that surrounds her at home. Mother laughed and said that it’s because she’s just a child. But she’s nearly 12. Father was already preparing me for marriage at that age.

Be well, Sakura. Be well or I fear what will befall us all if you are not.

Ino did not sign her name. The red wax stamped with a bush clover was more than a signature. It was the symbol of the Yamanaka family. And Ino’s seal, in particular, looked a little different from that of her mother or father. That was how it was in every family. Hours and hours were spent by private tutors to educate noble children of these minute differences. Sakura was no different in that aspect.

Sakura, hand on her cheek, sat staring at the letter for a long time. And then she set it in the stack to burn. In truth, most letters she received nowadays went into the fire.

“Power breeds nosiness. Better to leave your secrets in your head,” Sakura remembered her mother once telling her. Pointer finger pressed to her lips, the Queen had smiled. And even though it was just advice, Sakura had giggled and copied her mother. It was like they were sharing a secret.

The next letter she burned was from her Aunt Kurenai.

Should we locate the mastermind behind this plot, I will offer his head to you.

The vindictive streak in their family was nothing to scoff at. Sakura almost pitied the man or woman responsible. Her aunt was very creative and equally unforgiving.

Among the letters she kept were some from Sasori. In the few where he didn’t openly slander other nobles, he kept her up to speed with the goings-on at home.

When I returned to Sami, Mother gave me an earful about not causing trouble for you. A traitorous cousin of ours chimed in that causing trouble for you is one of my finer talents. I would defended myself against such a base accusation until I imagined how much you would laugh upon hearing that.

I would add here how I hope you are recovering well. But you and I both know that you are impossible to kill. So I will simply express my confidence that you are healthy and causing mayhem by the time this reaches you.

Though Sakura had smiled throughout the letter, when she reached the final paragraph, that smile faded.

By the way, a little bird delivered some information the other day. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that they move so quickly. It seems you’ve gathered some good people. One of your informants wonders whether that boy was the intended target. I find the question a bit odd, but not impossible. Another bird suggested to check for poison. Although that seems a bit of a dead end, considering that you seemed fine. I will, obviously, have my people do some searching as well.

All my love,

Sasori

The letter was creased from how many times Sakura had unfolded and refolded it. Sasori had obviously tried to keep the mood light with his jokes. But the matter she had entrusted to Colonel Hyuuga was no laughing matter. If he was as smart as she thought he was, he would have asked her three Lieutenant Generals for help in his investigation.

It had crossed her mind that perhaps this assassination attempt wasn’t actually an assassination attempt. There were too many possibilities for her to be able to make any sort of decision. There was no rush, however. Even if she never learned the truth, she would get her answers. She always did.

+++

Before crossing paths with the assassin during the summer festival, Sakura had sparred with Sasuke a few times. It kept her skill from growing too dull. Pampered prince or not, Sasuke had clearly receive tutelage from the best masters in his country. And he was a good student. With his competitive streak, Sasuke began to pick up on her suggestions. He lost every match, but he never seemed truly upset at the outcome. Someday, she thought, he would become a splendid sparring partner.

By the time August rolled around, the physician approved Sakura for more rigorous exercise. Sakura proposed a spar to Sasuke over lunch. His dark eyes sparkled as they flew to her.

“There’s no rush,” she chuckled as she watched him rush to finish his tea. He winced as he burned his tongue. They finished their meal and promised to meet in an hour, giving them enough time to dress and find each other outside.

The courtyard behind the castle was paved with smooth tan stone and it even had steps leading down to the royal gardens. The round fountains draped artfully with ivy made the courtyard a popular place for the young noble ladies to have late afternoon tea. The western wing of the palace provided shade against the summer sun, providing the perfect refuge for people afraid to tan their delicate skin.

Sakura's afternoon spar with Sasuke drew attention, as always. The noble ladies of court, who spent most of their days eating pastries, drinking tea, and gossiping to one another, flocked to the courtyard whenever Sakura and Sasuke drew their swords. They sat whispering to one another behind their fans. The only reason they didn't chatter out loud were the looks of ire they drew from both the General and the Prince.

There was still some tightness in her back. The pain made her reflexes just a little slower than normal. Sasuke drew blood once. When he recoiled, she barked a reprimand at him not to hold back. When he drew blood a second time, Sakura graced him with a smile. She managed to nick his right wrist before the match ended.

Before Sakura could suggest a rematch, Sasuke lowered his blade.

“How did you do that?” he wondered.

“Do what?” asked Sakura, dabbing her forehead with the back of her hand. Haku ran forward with two clean towels. Sakura thanked him as she used that to wipe her face instead.

“You almost bent your blade. It was under mine. And then it was suddenly on top,” Sasuke struggled to describe.

“Ah. That.” Sakura finally realized what he meant. She handed her towel back to Haku. And then she took a step toward Sasuke. She turned to the side so that he could see her form. She extended her arms, gripping her falchion in one hand.

“You need to relax your wrist,” she instructed him.

Later that afternoon, they met again. This time in a salon. Running her fingers through the ends of her damp ponytail, Sakura settled in the chair across from Sasuke's. Moegi moved around pouring their tea into elegant white and red cups. She slipped out of the room, leaving them with hot tea and a platter of pastries stacked high between them.

"What will you do once the summer ends?" questioned Sasuke as he picked up his cup. The fragrant steam gathered around his face as he blew on his drink. Sakura dropped a cube of sugar into her own cup but left it alone to cool off for a bit.

"I'll head home- to Plumeria. I need to rest,” she answered.

"What will the weather be like during your travels?" Sasuke went on to inquire. He never seemed to grow tired of hearing about the island. After some thought, Sakura dropped another cube of sugar into her beverage but didn't move to drink it.

"We usually get some strong storms during the summer. And it tends to rain a lot in the middle of the spring. But it should be fair around then,” Sakura told him. Just because Sasuke didn’t look satisfied by that answer, she added, “There should be a large silk harvest when I return.” When Sasuke’s eyes lit up, she explained.

Silk was a violent and time-consuming business. The worms that had been carefully fed and sheltered all their lives were boiled. They brushed the outside of the cocoons to unravel the delicate threads. Deft hands worked what seemed like endless hours to take the wispy strands and turn it into thread. Which was woven into cloth.

This raw silk was then handed off to the artisans who extracted the juices from shellfish to dye the silk purple. Other plants and chemicals painted other bolts of fabric a rainbow of colors. Light blue was Sasori’s favorite. Sakura preferred white, with a dash of red every now and then to honor her family’s crest.

The finished bolts of silk sold for high prices that could feed a family many times over. And despite all the hard work, the dyeing houses were always filled with laughter and chatter. Fingers stained green and yellow waved to friends. Women often brought their children to work, teaching them, even from a young age, what combinations would produce the most beautiful colors. Women without husbands could survive and even prosper this way. Sakura adored these women with their skins forever dyed a mosaic of bright colors. Loved the way that they could tell who had dyed what just by the particular shade of the fabric. Loved that they held themselves with such pride as they worked.

They sat in a pleasant silence as Sasuke took in all the descriptions. Sakura sipped her tea and bit into a strawberry tart. Sasuke seemed lost deep in thought as he picked up a muffin. Ripped off the top.

“I’d really like to see that someday,” he mused.

“…Perhaps someday you will. I wouldn’t mind you coming for a visit. I’m sure your parents would love to see you strengthening diplomatic ties between our families,” Sakura suggested.

Sasuke’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Sakura merely nodded, taking another sip of tea.

After a long moment, Sasuke’s expression shifted. “Oh, I almost forgot. Have you heard the news about tonight?”

Sakura shook her head while reaching for a crustless sandwich. She peeked between the slices of soft bread. It looked like it might be a savory sandwich. She took a bite.

“Apparently my brother is feeling well enough. So you’ll be formally introduced to him at dinner tonight,” Sasuke drawled, his eyes rolling.

“Really,” she replied without any real inflection in her voice.

When Sasuke was silent, she tried to urge him to keep going. “You did mention once that you two are not… close.”

Sasuke grunted his affirmation. Elbows on his armrests, jaw set. As Sakura observed his posture, she realized that that was the look of someone who had had to hold his tongue many times over.

She took pity on him. Which was why she asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

His rant tumbled out of him.

“When my father and mother had their first child, the entire kingdom celebrated. A boy. A handsome boy. And they named him Itachi. Raised him to be king,” Sasuke began. His mouth twisted in a smirk. “They had me three years later. Ever since I was a boy, it was made clear to me. My brother would be king. I was just a prince.”

To her surprise, Sasuke added, “I was alright with that, you know.”

He looked up at her. “I never wanted to be a king. I just wanted my brother to spend more time with me. I wanted my father to say ‘good job’ instead of ‘your brother is better at this’.”

And then, Sasuke recounted how his brother’s health had taken a sharp decline. He could no longer practice sword-fighting as he always had. Strain of any sort sent him into an attack that robbed him of his breath. Sometimes he even coughed up blood.

“I thought, that if he was sick, perhaps my parents would start to see my accomplishments. Realize that I could do things on my own,” Sasuke recalled. He shook his head. “Instead, if I was with my brother when he suffered an attack, it was my fault. Why wasn’t I looking after my brother? What had I done to aggravate him?” And the times when Itachi lay sick in bed, his parents fawned over their sickly heir. Sasuke was left in the hands of his tutors and the servants for weeks at a time.

“Once. When I was eight, my father told me to stop being so selfish.”

Sakura couldn’t help but shake her head as she listened. She empathized with Sasuke more than she was comfortable with.

"You wouldn't be so angry about this if this was all something in the past. What's so bad about things now?" Sakura queried once Sasuke had fallen silent. Sinking low in his seat, Sasuke spared her a brooding glance. Clearing his throat, Sasuke crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well… a couple years back, parliament met and decided that having an heir to the throne with such unstable health was too risky. At the same time, my father is unwilling to set my brother aside completely. So as of now, there is no real heir to the throne," Sasuke explained.

Sakura blinked hard as she pieced together the state of affairs that Sasuke had presented to her. She had heard rumors about something like that back home, but she hadn't realized just how serious the situation was. Weighing the details in her mind, Sakura only spoke when she had had enough time to gather the right words.

"…Crown Prince… but not…" she mused.

Letting out a sigh, Sakura leaned back in her seat.

"A crowned heir to the throne who may or may not be the true heir. Disappointment. Uncertainty. This is all beginning to sound like my autobiography," commented Sakura. The appraising look Sasuke shot her over his drink betrayed very little.

Many minutes passed before Sasuke spoke again. He set his cup down in the saucer. “I really enjoy your company, Sakura. For your wit, among a host of other things. And that made it very easy for me to decide to hate Prince Naruto when he arrived.”

“I thought it was because of his stupidity,” she snorted. Sasuke smirked right back at her.

“Of course, that does play a part. But that face you made whenever anyone brought him up. That was what made my decision.”

“What face?” she wondered.

“That face… like you’re trying very hard not to cry. So you pretend to be angry instead,” he slowly replied.

A chill ran up her spine. “You presume many things about me, my friend,” she said.

“I do. But it’s also because I’ve practiced the same face in the mirror many times over,” he assured her. And then, Sasuke smiled at her. “I’ve decided that I’m on your side. And I hope that you’re on mine.”

Sakura could read between the lines. “Are you asking me to support your bid to the throne should it come to violence?”

“No.”

The simplicity of his response baffled her.

“No?” Sakura repeated.

“No. I’m just asking you to be my friend. Because I think we understand each other better than others might,” answered Sasuke.

“Friendship isn’t free. Not for people like us,” she pointed out. That was a lesson she had learned a long time ago. And apparently, so had Sasuke. She could see it in his eyes as he looked right back at her.

“I’m aware. But I’m not strong like you. I don’t have the motivation or the courage to try to seize the throne. So it’s alright if you think I’m a coward. I just need someone who understands,” he confessed.

“I might not,” she warned him.

“That’s alright,” replied Sasuke. His eyes crinkling as he smiled. Only this smile was different. It occurred to her later, that this was probably the first time she seen Sasuke actually smile like that.

After tea, Sakura had some time to herself. She returned to her apartment. Sasuke walked with her. She was long past the point in her recovery where walking was difficult. The gesture was nice nonetheless.

As Haku opened up the doors, Sasuke’s gaze fell on the white porcelain vase sitting in the foyer.

“Flowers,” Sasuke observed in an appropriately neutral tone.

“Yes,” she responded. “Peonies. They were a gift.”

“Huh,” Sasuke said, noncommittally. Letting her know that he wasn’t interested the slightest.

Now, sitting at her desk, Sakura could see the vase through the open bedroom door. Her eyes drifted over and over from her unfinished letter to the petals.

Sakura was no stranger to receiving flowers. Just last month, she had received baskets upon baskets of blooms. And the cloying fragrance had filled the hospital room until she, unable to stand the headaches anymore, had Moegi and Haku dispose of them to be made into compost for the Queen's gardens. There had mostly been carnations of varying colors. Some vibrant wildflowers had also appeared, probably picked from the sides of the mountain. As if that added labor was intended to impress her.

The peonies were different, though. Sakura had never been handed flowers like that before. More women gave flowers to her than men did, and even then, they were always brought by a messenger or someone’s lady-in-waiting. Even Sasori had never arrived with a bouquet in his arms. She didn’t know what to call this feeling that sat in the bottom of her throat. But she didn’t like it.

She was grateful when Moegi came to help her dress for dinner. The girl’s chatter helped her keep her mind off things. Haku was normally the quieter of the two. But Sakura couldn’t help but read into Haku’s expressions as he glanced at her.

The two attendants guided her down to the Grand Hall. Sakura knew where it was by now. But it was still nice to have footsteps with her as she walked down from her apartment. Haku brushed off her shoulders and straightened one of the medals on her jacket.

Haku’s eyes met hers. He opened his mouth, like he was about to say something. But then his gaze flickered over Sakura’s shoulder. He closed his mouth. Smiled.

“Enjoy your dinner, General,” he greeted her with a bow. Moegi also bowed before she took her leave.

Sakura took a moment to square her shoulders. She took stock of her expression. It needed to be just arrogant enough. It wouldn’t do for her to slouch into the room looking like a scolded dog. When she nodded at the servants flanking the door, they pulled them open.

There was a long wooden table in the middle of the room. Seated at the head, of course, was King Fugau. To his left sat the queen.

“My apologies for my tardiness, Your Majesties,” Sakura greeted them.

“Please, General, no need for an apology. Our sons are even tardier,” the king said with a wave of his hand. Sakura dipped her head. She glanced around the table, pretending to notice just then that Naruto was missing.

“Will Prince Naruto not be joining us?” she asked, even as she made her way to the table. A male servant rushed to pull out the chair to the right of the king. She sat. Keeping her hands out of the way as various servants filed in and out to spread a napkin across her lap. To bring a glass. And then wine to fill the glass.

“Unfortunately, Prince Naruto has sent word that he has taken ill and will be unable to dine with us this evening,” the queen said as the doors opened. Sasuke walked in, already looking like he didn’t want to be there. Just behind him followed Itachi. His eyes scanned the room. When they fell on Sakura, an odd expression crossed his face. Like he wasn’t sure of what his face was supposed to be doing. When Sakura smiled, he returned the expression. He almost seemed relieved.

The king and queen greeted their sons as they settled at the table. Sasuke sat to Sakura’s right, even though no one had told him to. And that left Itachi to sit on his mother’s left. Sakura could feel the scrutiny already.

“Ah, General, we don’t believe you’ve been introduced to our eldest. This is our son, Prince Itachi,” Fugaku spoke up.

“We’re actually already acquainted, Your Majesty. We met by chance in the library,” admitted Sakura. Mikoto’s eyebrows rose. Sakura also noticed how Sasuke was staring at his brother. It wasn’t a friendly expression.

“So, Sasuke, I heard you and the General had a pleasant spar today,” Mikoto quickly changed topics as the food began to appear, steam still rising from the platters.

Sasuke stole a sidelong glance at Sakura, who shrugged. Sasuke nodded.

“Well, I’m glad to see that Sasuke has been treating you well, General. I can’t tell you how many times he’s sent honored guests home in tears.”

Sakura already had an idea of how this conversation would go. So she was unsurprised when halfway through the second course the queen said, “It makes me wonder, General. Sasuke is of a certain age. If you two are so compatible, closer ties might be something to consider.”

Sakura barely batted an eyelash. “I thank you for your consideration, Your Majesty. But my circumstances are such that marriage will not be possible until certain… affairs are handled.”

The delicate words didn’t hide what she was talking about. Mikoto’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Oh, of course,” she said in a tone that indicated otherwise.

When dessert was cleared from the table, the king got to his feet. The queen took his arm. They thanked everyone for the pleasant meal. And then they left.

Sakura stared after them. Even when the doors had closed and they were no longer in the room. Leaning back in his seat, Sasuke said nothing. Itachi sat swirling his glass around and around, even though there was nothing inside.

Sakura motioned for more wine. The servant filled all three of their glasses.

“Well… that was stressful,” mused Sakura.

Sakura stole a sidelong glance in Sasuke. Sasuke missed this, because he was busy glowering in his brother’s direction. None of them spoke again. Only when Sakura finished her wine and stood did the odd silence break. The two men rose, too. Their chairs scraping across the floor was a welcome sound.

“I’m afraid I must bid you goodnight, Prince Itachi,” Sakura said, her palm over her heart. Itachi nodded, the confusion apparent on his face.

Sakura then looked over at Sasuke. “Come with me,” she ordered.

At her approach, the servants pulled the double doors open once again. Sasuke tossed his napkin onto his plate. He avoided looking at his brother as he hurried after Sakura.

“Where are going?” demanded Sasuke.

“The garden,” was all she told him.

Now that he knew the destination, Sasuke took the lead. He walked tight-lipped as they made their way through the empty corridors. They emerged out a set of doors, finally arriving at the terrace. Sasuke hurried down the steps, hands in the pockets of his trousers.

Sakura paused at the top of the steps. Her stare traced the tense outline of his shoulders. But Sasuke gave no indication that he even noticed that she was falling behind.

“It’s difficult. Isn’t it,” she called.

Sasuke froze halfway down the steps.

“What is?” he retorted, not looking at her.

“It would be easier if you really hated all of them. Your brother. Your parents.”

She saw Sasuke clench his hands into fists. She knew that she was right.

“You should pay closer attention, Your Highness. While your royal father certainly supports your brother, it seems like your royal mother favors you,” she advised him.

“What?”

Before Sasuke could press her for more information, Sakura waved. “I’m off to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow. Do be in a better mood by then,” she requested.

She took her time heading up to her apartment.

It wasn’t uncommon for a king and queen to disagree on a future heir. From Sasuke’s story, it was obvious that the king still wanted Itachi to be his heir. But from the queen’s needling, Sakura could see that she had some plans for her younger son. Whether that was for him to take the throne, she wasn’t sure. But this was all valuable intelligence she would have to share with her family when she returned home.

Arriving at Goliaf a week and a half before Naruto had been no happy coincidence. Her excuse had been that she preferred to travel in solitutde. And that it was faster if she moved alone. Both things were true. But coming first had proven to be a critical advantage. Despite what Sasuke had said, she suspected that they were such close friends because she had dug her claws into him first. Behind his bone-headed clumsiness, Naruto was actually quite likable and good at making friends.

Back in the Forest Kingdom, the nobles fawned over Naruto. They indulged his whims, laughed at all his jokes.

“You should really just push him and his parents off a cliff before you turn 16,” Sasori had once advised. When she had remarked on his lack of discretion, Sasori had yanked her sleeve up to reveal an array of half-faded scars and bruises.

“Look at what you do. Do they even know how to appreciate the depth of your sacrifices?” he had spat. “Things will only grow ore complicated the longer you let them fester.”

“I should have listened to him,” Sakura huffed under her breath as she climbed the staircase up to her apartment.

There was a nagging soreness in her right shoulder that had irritated her ever since early that morning. Maybe a hot bath and an early night would resolve that problem. Hands in her back pockets, Sakura strode leisurely along the halls. As she rounded the corner to the corridor where her room was, Sakura spotted an odd thing.

There was a person splayed out on the floor. As she drew near, Sakura recognized the clothing and the hair. After a quick look around, Sakura found that no one was hovering nearby. She turned Itachi onto his back, pushing his hair out of his face. She watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest. And then, to her surprise, his eyes opened. Grasping her arm tightly, he sucked in ragged breaths.

“I’m going to have to move you, Prince,” Sakura warned she put her arm around him. Despite his gasping, she forced him to sit up. Rubbing her hand in circles on his back, she breathed deeply and evenly. She felt his hand clench the front of her jacket as he struggled to take in shaky breaths. But gradually, his breathing began to match her own.

“There, there. Everything’s alright,” she murmured. Slowing. Slowing. Sweat dripped down Itachi’s face and neck as he sucked in a deep breath. Until, bit by bit, he breathed when she breathed. She smiled at him.

“There we go, Prince. See? Everything’s fine,” she continued speaking.

By the time his breathing had eased, Itachi slumped against her. Sakura looked up as she heard a door open. Drawn by the noise, two heads poked out. Both Moegi and Haku gasped. Haku’s head disappeared back inside, while Moegi threw herself out into the hallway, fussing and fretting as she tried to figure out how to help.

Sakura pulled Itachi’s arm over her shoulder before she coaxed him to his feet. She steadied him as he faltered to one side. Eyes sliding shut, he rested his head against her. She looked over at Moegi, waving her arm. Moegi pulled the prince’s other arm over her shoulder. Together, they helped him shuffle a little further down the hall. Until they reached the open door to Sakura’s apartment.

When they walked inside, Sakura nearly ran into Haku, who was running around. He pulled her cloak from the closet, folding it in frantic movements.

“You need to go before they see you, General. It’s dark, so you need to move quickly,” Haku was whispering. And then he froze in his tracks as he saw that Itachi was on his feet.

“Oh… you didn’t kill him,” Haku remarked.

“Haku, what have I done to make your first assumption that I had murdered a prince of this nation?” Sakura questioned. Haku turned bright red.

“Nothing, General! I was just… he was on the floor. And you were there. And my first thought was…. what if you get caught? I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble…” he mumbled. Moegi laughed as she helped Sakura pull Itachi into the guest room.

Haku, still flustered, did his best to tend to the prince while Moegi helped Sakura bathe. Seated on the edge of the tub, Moegi rinsed the bubbles out of Sakura’s hair. As Sakura twisted to lather up the soap in her hands, Moegi flinched. Sakura caught the motion out of the corner of her eye.

"Does it hurt, General?" the girl asked as she eyed the long scar on Sakura's back. A fleeting smile flashed across Sakura's face.

"Do you pity me?" she asked in return. Moegi hesitated for a moment.

"No, General. I don't know why you did something like that. You're a princess too. You're just as important as Prince Naruto," Moegi replied. The transparency in her response made Sakura laugh.

Sakura was still young. And a vast majority of her injuries healed quickly. But on her body was still a catalogue of scars from all the times she had broken a fall or just failed to dodge a blade. For Moegi, who had probably grown up serving nothing but sheltered noble women, the marks on Sakura's body were probably horrifying in some sense.

Letting out a long sigh, Sakura scrubbed the rest of the soap off her body before she stood. Moegi retrieved a towel and handed it to Sakura.

"I will let you in a secret, little one. Ladies still bleed blood," Sakura said with a sort of finality. When Moegi looked at her questioningly, Sakura simply smiled and held her hand out for her clothes.

By the time she emerged clean and dressed from the bathroom, Haku was busy folding and sorting the clean clothes he had brought up from the courtyard. The sheets had spent the day drying in the warm sun and they smelled fresh. Sakura stood watching Moegi and Haku work before she dismissed them for the night. It was late and they were undoubtedly tired. She stood in the doorway of the guest room, watching Itachi sleep for a while before she decided to take a seat. She had plenty of time to kill.

"You're in my apartment," Sakura said as soon as she saw Itachi's eyelashes flutter. His eyes then opened very quickly. When he tried to sit up, Itachi winced and fell back against the pillows with an expression of defeat. He turned his head to the side to find Sakura sitting in the armchair in the corner.

"You collapsed in the hallway. With this," she added, gesturing to the book she had found lying on the ground. Itachi stared at the book, his face turning a little pink.

“See? This is why we’re the Bedridden Nobles’ Society. Look what happens when we try to act out,” Sakura pretended to scold him. Itachi smiled, despite the fact that even his ears had turned pink.

Itachi blinked a few times as he looked around the room. He had been inside these quarters before. But the yellow floral wallpaper was unfamiliar to him.

"The guest room," Sakura explained before he could ask.

Itachi then turned to look at her again. At this point, his ears were so red that Sakura began to worry they would burst into flames.

"…Did you carry me?" demanded Itachi.

Leaning back in her seat, Sakura nodded. Face in his hands, Itachi heaved a deep sigh. Though his ears were no less bright, when Itachi peered out at her between his fingers, the smile that Sakura gave him was neither condescending nor smug.

"Thank you…General," he finally said.

"Sakura," she corrected him.

"Sakura," repeated Itachi with deceptive calm. But even as he turned his head to look out the window, his ears burned bright red.

+++

June and July in Ispolin had been mild and sunny. Though it was much cooler here than what she was used to, Sakura took in the crisp mountain air with satisfaction. It was humid down south, and though she would not admit it out loud, that stickiness was part of the reason she liked to be away from the capital during the social season.

August, however, brought sudden rains to the mountains that caught Sakura completely unawares.

One morning, during her usual outing with Kaze, water spilled from the sky with little warning. It was as if someone had split the heavens open to begin dumping buckets of cold water down. Sakura guided them into an area of the woods sheltered by some cliffs. But as the minutes passed, the rain showed no signs of letting up. Kaze nudged her shoulder. His silvery mane was a mop against his head and neck.

“Poor thing,” she cooed. She pushed his mane out of his eyes.

"Let's head back. The sooner we return, the sooner we can get you dried off," Sakura sighed after some thought. Mounting her steed, she urged him forward into the downpour. Though Kaze seemed reluctant to reenter the cold, he obeyed. Soon, they were sloshing up the mountain paths. Mud sprayed each time Kaze's hooves pounded the ground. Even without looking, Sakura knew that Kaze's belly and legs would be completely brown.

By the time they ran through the gates and to the stables, Sakura was shivering from the cold. The stable boys ran halfway down the path to greet them. They led Kaze, who was dripping with thick mud, into the wooden building. Though there were insistences that Sakura get inside to dry off, she pushed them aside. She shed her jacket and rolled up her sleeves. She helped the stable boys fill a big pot with clean water and heat it over flames before dividing it into buckets. They poured the warmed water over Kaze, repeating the process over and over until his natural white coat began to peek out through the muck.

They washed him, dried his coat, and brushed him. Sakura combed Kaze's mane until it shone against his clean body. When she fed him a cube of sugar, Kaze nuzzled her cheeks and throat until Sakura pushed him away laughing. And then they had to wash his face all over again to get the muck off.

Only when Kaze was cleaned up and fed did Sakura leave the stables. She ran through the rain to the back of the palace. When she walked into the kitchens, Moegi, chopping up potatoes for lunch, bolted upright. Pushing her way past the cooks, the little redhead took Sakura by the hand and pulled her out of the noisy clanging and chopping and into a smaller hallway. Moegi then ran off, grabbing her skirts to keep herself from tripping. All the while, the girl shouted for Haku until there was a distant yell in response.

Soon, both Moegi and Haku returned armed with towels and blankets. They fussed around Sakura, wiping her hair and patting her dry. But mud had caked onto her boots and breeches. After wiping off the bottoms of Sakura's boots as best as they could, the servants bundled Sakura up in several towels. Moegi filled a laundry basket with all of the linens they had used, along with Sakura's sopping jacket and gloves. Haku stayed to help Sakura up to her room.

They walked in relative silence, save for the occasional chatter of Sakura's teeth. But as they travelled through the narrow but clean halls of the annex building and into the palace itself, Haku continued to steal glances back at her companion.

"Is something wrong, Haku?" Sakura asked between shivers.

"No, General!" Haku immediately exclaimed. His cheeks tinged pink as he realized he had been caught staring. But then his round eyes found Sakura again. He had encountered people before who hated being questioned. They saw it as a sign of disrespect. But the General seemed to like his questions. When she lifted her eyebrows at him, Haku decided to ask anyway.

"I was just wondering, General, why didn't you just leave your horse to the boys and come in quickly? The stableboys would have done their job. And you could fall ill delaying like that,” Haku queried. Sakura could see him picking and choosing his words for fear of insulting her. But Sakura nodded to herself. It was a fair question.

"Kaze's been with me since I was a little girl. He's not just a horse to me," Sakura patiently explained. Haku slowed a little, falling back to walk beside her rather than lead her.

"Your mother was the Queen of the Forest Kingdom," Haku stated. His words, however, held another question.

During her month at Talast, Sakura had spent a lot of time with Moegi and Haku. And though they were indeed her servants, they felt more like younger siblings bubbling with curiosity. Moegi's mother was also a servant in the castle while her father worked in the basement of the castle feeding the furnaces that warmed water for the entire structure. And Haku, Sakura learned, was an orphan. A distant relative had introduced him to someone, who had then found him a job as a servant.

Sakura had also shared much about her own life. She spoke of her friends scattered throughout the kingdom. She spoke of Plumeria and of the staff there. Answering any questions about the weather or the food there. But one subject that Sakura rarely touched upon was her parents.

"My mother was the Queen of the Forest Kingdom. She was also the Duchess of the Southern Tea Isle," Sakura affirmed with a smile.

"And… your father was the king?" Haku tentatively went on to ask. Sakura shook her head.

"My father was the King Consort. King Jiraiya of the Forest Kingdom. And its General as well. And Duke of the Southern Tea Isle, if I want to be accurate,” Sakura listed off. She then glanced over at Haku.

"Quite a mouthful of titles, isn't it?" she said. Haku nodded.

"Are you wondering what a consort is? I don't believe you have that sort of thing here," Sakura continued. Haku nodded even harder, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“A consort is the spouse of the king or queen. It’s all about succession. My father wouldn’t have been next in line for the throne. Not that he would have wanted it anyway,” she explained.

“Was your father noble as well, General?” pressed Haku. His eyes shone lIke the rapt audience at a particularly enrapturing play.

"My father was originally heir to a Marquess’ house. He passed his lands to his younger brother when he married my mother. He said it was too much of a hassle to manage all of his titles. My uncle was overjoyed. Otherwise, he would have inherited nothing. Anyone besides the first son in a family subsists on scraps, essentially.” Sakura let her words trail off as she realized how bitter she sounded. She hadn't meant for it to leak out like that. Staring straight ahead, she finished the rest of the walk in shivering quiet. And she was thankful that Haku didn't ask any more questions.

When they made it up to Sakura's apartment on the third floor of the western wing, Haku immediately went into the bathroom to draw a hot bath. He set out clean towels and a robe, as well as slippers before he gestured into the room.

Sakura stepped into the bathroom. She paused at the sink to wash her hands. Stopped.

She thought of how the boy had reacted the other night. When he had assumed that she had assassinated a prince in the palace. He didn’t scream. He didn’t run for a guard. His first instinct had been to pack her bags. To help her escape undetected.

"Haku," Sakura said as she stared into the mirror. In the reflection, she could see Haku pulling clean clothes out of the armoire. He froze at the sound of her voice.

"Yes, General?" he replied. He stopped what he was doing. Hands folded in front of him.

"Is there a reason why you're disguised as a girl?"

"Yes, General."

"Is it a reason you can easily tell me?"

"No, General."

There was a pause.

"It's… complicated. And I was told never to share the secret. Not even Moegi knows, General,” Haku explained with clear reluctance.

Sakura studied the boy's face for a moment. His features were so delicate that it was no wonder his disguise fooled everyone else.

Putting her hand on his, Sakura smiled down at him.

"Then I will guard you secret, even if I don't know what it is. Everyone is entitled to a few secrets every now and then," she assured him.

Haku's smile was one of pure relief.

+++

Light yellow cakes were piled high in the kitchens. The sweet smell engulfed the entire palace. One of the chefs stood at the counter, whipping something in a bowl until it sat in fluffy white peaks. As she dipped her pinky into the edge to taste the frosting, there was movement in the corner of her eye.

"Those aren't for you, My Lord!" the woman admonished as she resumed whipping. Shoulders slumping, Sasori leaned against the counter with his elbows. He stared longingly at the sweet pieces of cake. The vibrant color gave them away as passionfruit. And as he stood gazing at the food, the chef let out a long sigh and handed over one of the smaller pieces to the man.

"Wonderful as always. What's the occasion?" questioned Sasori.

The look the plump woman shot him was somewhat insulting. Leaning in towards him, she said in a loud whisper, "My Lord, have you forgotten? It's the anniversary of Lady Tsunade and Lord Jiraiya's deaths."

Sasori immediately felt like an ass. His fingers, which had been slowly inching their way over to another cake, returned to his side. Then he took a step back from the counter and took a long look around the kitchen. Indeed, the other chefs were all occupied with preparing their own sweets. The late Duchess of the Isle had liked sweets well enough, but her husband had been well known for his insatiable sweet tooth.

It seemed fitting that during their memorial day, the altar was stacked with pastries, then.

Still, sneaking one last piece of cake, Sasori slipped out of the kitchens. Feet bare, he padded down the sun-warmed walkway until he reached the throne room. Gaara sat in the large chair, his hands clasped under his chin as he stared at the commoner kneeling before him.

"So, My Lord, I would like to request, humbly, of course, that you check your records. I swear to you that I have paid my taxes," the old man insisted. Gaara mulled over this for a long moment. And then he turned toward his brother standing to his left.

"Kankuro, confirm this man's testimony. If his claims are true, bring in this tax collector to be disciplined. Lady Sakura would not have her people being cheated," Gaara ordered.

Kankuro was a few years older than Gaara. Stocky and tan, he resembled his brother very little other than the reddish tinge to his hair. Black kohl rimmed his eyes. A single strip of thin leather hung from his neck with an hourglass hanging upon it. And despite the fact that it was his younger brother giving him orders, Kankuro only nodded before he left the room to carry out his task.

"The Lord Regent will see that your issue is addressed. You may take your leave," Temari spoke up from Gaara's left.

Temari was five years Gaara's senior. With sandy hair tied back in ponytails and eyes a vivid shade of teal, she was known all around the island for her beauty. Skin bronzed from hours in the sun, she sported impressive muscles to testify to her years of training. While her youngest brother was acting lord and her other brother was training to take their father's place as the treasurer, Temari leaned toward less bureaucratic pursuits. Famed for her physical strength and fighting skills, she had spent a few years at sea, serving in the navy under her cousin Sasori before she returned home. Nowadays, she spent her time as guard and advisor to her youngest brother and that seemed to suit her just fine.

The old man bowed deeply before he hurried out of the throne room. In the lull between people, Temari shifted her weight and then sighed.

"I could use a vacation," she muttered. Gaara eyed her briefly before he sat up in the throne.

"You should take a week off. Go sailing around," Gaara suggested.

"That's completely boring unless Sasori is there. And you know he's not going anywhere right now," retorted Temari.

"Are you saying that he doesn't trust me enough to leave me on my own?" questioned Gaara with a tinge of humor.

"Don't feel bad, little brother. Our cousin doesn't trust anyone that isn't our lovely Lady," Temari assured him.

Sasori chose that moment to make his entrance. Hands tucked behind his back, he strode up to them with exaggerated swagger in his step.

"Are these whispers of slander I hear?" Sasori demanded in a mockingly stern tone.

"Whispers of you nagging, more like," Temari muttered not quite under her breath. Kankuro rejoined them, flashing a grin at Sasori as he reclaimed his place at Gaara's left.

"A letter arrived from Lady Sakura this morning," Temari announced as she held out a piece of paper. Gaara accepted it and began reading it out loud.

To my dear family at home,

I'm ashamed to admit that, for the second year in a row, I will not be able to make it home for this year's anniversary of my parents' deaths. And as regretful as I am, I am somewhat comforted to know that everything will still be handled by all of you. But please do not forget to make those passionfruit cakes. Those were my father's favorite and I'd hate to see this day go by without some being made in his memory. They are always in my hearts, as are you, and I would light a thousand candles if only distance would permit.

In other news, it has come to my attention that there has been some fighting over who is allowed to use my private rooms and gazebos. Let it be clear that as the acting regent, Lord Gaara has the final say over who is permitted to use these places. And I would also like to note that the monthly donations to the orphanage and women’s shelter should not be neglected.

I miss home more and more with each passing day. As of now, I believe that I will be back in time for autumn. I send only my love until then.

Sakura

Sasori exchanged worried looks with Gaara while Temari and Kankuro crowded around to get a look at the letter. Sasori wasn't sure about Gaara, but he had received his own letter from Sakura earlier that week. And her tone had been just as positive and uninformative. In fact, the generally small amount of letters he had received from her in the past weeks was worrying. But Sasori also knew that if he barged in to check on her a second time, Sakura would thrash him halfway to hell before he could get a word in. She hated it when anyone hovered over her shoulder.

"This doesn't sound like her at all. Are you sure this is from the right person?" Kankuro complained. Temari squinted at the message.

"Well, if I were Lady Sakura and I was staying in a foreign country with people I don't trust, I wouldn't exactly go around saying whatever I wanted," Temari pointed out to them.

"The letter was sealed. And what would anyone get out of her letters? She never writes anything scandalous," countered Sasori. But Gaara shook his head.

"The point isn't that there would be anything scandalous to find. The point is that someone is looking. Letters can be resealed with a little bit of heat," Gaara said. Bristling at the thought, Sasori clenched his hands into fists.

"What do we do then? How can we help her?" wondered Temari. Teeth grinding together, Sasori turned on his heel.

"Nothing. You do nothing. I've got some letters to write," Sasori uttered in a low voice before he stormed out of the throne room. His cousins stood watching his retreating form with concern.

+++

"Did you know," Sakura said as soon as she entered the library. Itachi sat at one of the tables, wrapped up in a thick robe. He offered a smile at her entrance but said nothing.

"Did you know that roses don't have thorns? They're called prickles," she announced as she sat down across from him. Placing her latest book on the table, she slid it over to him. Itachi raised his eyebrows as he leafed through the thick pages.

"That seems a touch ironic for you to discover considering that your family's sigil is a rose," he remarked after a moment. Shutting the book, he met her eyes with another smile. His attempt to tease her was endearing.

"Well, it seems ironic that a man with weak lungs to have a fan for his family's sigil," she rebutted. A look of surprise crossed Itachi's face, and for a moment, Sakura wondered if she had crossed a line. But then Itachi's expression returned to normal and he began to chuckle.

"I'm guessing that you're unaccustomed to being poked fun at," Sakura said. Propping her chin up in her hand, she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Observant," he answered.

“Do you feel well now?” she queried. Itachi's hand rose to touch his throat for a moment.

"…The attacks have become less frequent but my physician believes that it has to to do with a nervous disposition. He believes that if I stress myself, they occur more frequently," he admitted.

"Stressing yourself? Such as carrying a book across the castle to my room or sitting through an awkward family dinner?" quipped Sakura. They both laughed at that. Leaning back in her chair, Sakura tucked her bangs behind her ear.

"Then, I have a question for you, General," said Itachi in such crisp and measured words that Sakura couldn't help but suddenly be a little wary. Still, she folded her arms over her chest and nodded.

"I've been doing some research on your family. And according to the histories, it was your mother's mother and then your mother that succeeded the throne before you," he began. He indicated the book he had been holding in his own hands. Sakura didn't say anything but kept her eyes fixed on him.

"And so naturally, it should be that you were crowned on your 16th birthday and ascend the throne just as they did. And yet…" Itachi trailed off but the implication was clear. Sighing, she motioned for the book and he slid it across the table to her. With brusque motions, she flipped to the back index of the tome where there were pages upon pages of complex family trees. She searched until she found the simplest one recording only the most recent generations of the Haruno family.

"This," she said, pointing to her father's brother, "Is the main reason why I haven't ascended the throne."

"The Regent? Isn't he supposed to be a simple placeholder?" asked Itachi.

"That, my dear Prince, is complicated. You may be better versed in the theory and terminology of politics. But I simply know that once you put a man on the throne, it is very difficult to get him off," declared Sakura. Rather than being deterred by her bitter tone, Itachi seemed curious. Eyes bright, he leaned in toward her.

"What do you really want the throne for? Is it your birthright? Or something like pride?" he inquired.

Slowly shutting the book in front of her, Sakura closed her eyes. Her lips pulled up into an empty smile. When she tilted her head to look at Itachi, she let out a short huff of laughter.

"What a silly question," she answered. His forehead wrinkled.

"It's both, Prince. It will always be both," she clarified after a long moment.

+++

< Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 >

#amaryllis #writing #itasaku #courtly intrigue! au #fanfiction #haruno sakura

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madrivervalleyicelandics · 6 years ago

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Personal reflections on the ethical dilemma of responsible care and decision-making for horses that can no longer be ridden:

(cross-posted from my Facebook page, here’s the link to the FB post if you’d like to interact with the post on that medium instead: https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=2189166171191133&id=1257596561014770&__tn__=K-R )

This is sort of a hot-button issue, so bear with me. After reading a few posts and discussion threads this morning, I decided to write about this subject, which is one that weighs heavily on my mind as a horse owner (or steward, if you prefer that word), breeder, trainer, and overall enthusiast.

We live in a country where it can be said that every good horse is just one bad sale away from slaughter. The US market is saturated with horses who cannot find suitable homes, due to age, injury, health or behavioral issues, etc, and each year thousands of horses are shipped over our borders for slaughter after running through traumatic sales and bouncing around from location to location, scared, stressed, and poorly cared for in the interim. The scale of the problem is immense, and for many owners the message is clear: keep your horse. Keep the old horse you can no longer ride, do not try to re-home it into situations where it leaves your control and may be mistreated, passed around, injured further or ultimately end up on a truck to a slaughterhouse.

It seems very simple: you've made a commitment to care for an animal, and so that commitment should be for life. But horses are complex creatures with very nuanced needs.

So this is the story of two retired mares that I own and can no longer ethically ride: Glæta and Tinna.

Glæta is a beautiful 1st prize mare who I purchased as a competition horse. She was known for being a somewhat complicated ride, but she was fully trained and I bought her at around age 11. She was diagnosed with Cushing’s Disease less than a year after I bought her, and because of her young age, her diagnosis was delayed because we were chasing symptoms and missing the big picture - we simply could not believe that our new, young, athletic mare had developed this awful condition normally associated with elderly horses. By the time we finally figured it out, her suppressed immune system (a symptom of Cushing’s) had caused her to develop secondary infections including Ehrlichiosis and then Lyme Disease. We gave her all of the best veterinary care and medication and I spent years paying for all sorts of therapies ranging from traditional to alternative, as well as giving her the best care and biomechanically correct R+ training possible (she was the first horse who sparked my interest in clicker training, and my first foray into bridleless riding and liberty work). We had more good years together and did ultimately return to the competition track, but over time, Glæta began to let me know that she did not enjoy being ridden anymore. She did everything I asked, but I could feel that she just wasn’t fully comfortable. The Cushing’s / Lyme combo made it hard to build her topline normally, and meant that sometimes she had aches and pains that she told me about with just a meaningful look. On those days, I knew not to bother her. I felt that there was no reason to push a horse who had done so much for me to do something she no longer enjoyed, so I made the decision to stop riding her. I took to ponying her a lot, but it was not really enough exercise or stimulation. She could not retire onto lush pastures, given her metabolic condition, and due to the hormonal component of her disease, she became infertile so our dreams of breeding her were dashed. Her days consisted of doing a whole lot of standing around in our paddocks. It didn’t seem like a great life, and she began to lose muscle and gain weight, even on a low-sugar, slow feeder diet and no grass.

Tinna came to me as a bit of rehab training project. She was a horse I had trained in the past who had lost the ability to trot since I’d seen her last, and she had become quite tense. Once she arrived home and I was able to have her thoroughly examined by a vet, we found a large rope of scar tissue beneath her skin, running from her elbow to almost her wither - we suspected that at some point she had had quite the injury and torn her tricep. The scar tissue had shortened that side of her body and she was very tense and reactive. Using clicker training, classical dressage techniques, regular bodywork, and scar tissue massage daily with arnica oil, I was able to retrain her to trot and to move harmoniously and comfortably. I even began to ride her again, and got her up to walk/trot/canter, some tölt, and basic lateral work. But she was only able to tolerate light work, and no matter how carefully I conditioned her, once we got past a certain point of exercise, she began to express discomfort. Ultimately we found that she, too, had contracted Lyme disease, and based on the numbers, it seemed she had had it for a very long time (which prompted my new policy of testing ALL new horses that come in for training for Lyme disease, if they haven’t been tested). Treatment did make her more comfortable, but she was still not able to be exercised normally. The amount of exercise that we were able to do with her was not enough to keep her fit, and she began to gain some weight. I knew that, without exercise, she would develop metabolic issues if she were allowed to graze on pasture, but that put her in the same position as Glæta - confined to dry lot paddocks. Not a very interesting life.

So you see my problem: I love my horses, had the means to keep my retired horses, and I wanted to keep them, and I didn’t give a damn if I never rode either of them again - but keeping them meant that their health needs were not being met. They were not getting adequate exercise or stimulation, and “putting them out to pasture” was not an ethical option, as it would have resulted in inflammation, obesity, and the further decline of their health. Neither one of these mares could be ethically rehomed, as they both required rather special care and handling, and were not suitable as pasture pals or riding horses, even for light riding.

I got lucky. I found Meadow Ridge Farm, which is a fabulous Natural Horsecare facility in Ontario that provides a stimulating lifestyle for herds on paddock paradise track systems. The horses roam all day on miles of tracks, where they have slow feeder hay stations instead of grass to graze. Their hooves largely self trim, and their body condition stays fit and healthy as they move around so much. Boss lady Jen White is very skilled in equine nutrition and feeds them mineral-balanced diets, trims and balances their hooves if they fail to self trim adequately, and provides them with any medication they may need. I continue to own both of my mares, but I board them with Jen. Both are healthy, happy, and well-adjusted - far better off than they were here at my farm.

Retirement boarding facilities like Meadow Ridge are SO needed. But for many, they are not accessible. For those owners, the question of what to do when a horse can no longer be adequately exercised becomes even more complicated. Some horses can go out to pasture, but many can’t, especially easy-keepers who cannot tolerate a lot of pasture. Some people can build paddock paradise systems, but many, like me, do not have a suitable property for track systems. Many of these horses cannot be ethically re-homed. I will say, right now, that I feel there is no shame in humanely euthanizing a horse who can no longer be adequately managed. If the choice is between the horse merely surviving (no thriving) with compromised welfare, or being sold into uncertainty, or being put to sleep while comfortable in a happy, safe environment before he begins to suffer, I feel that I would always prefer to see a horse put to sleep than forced to live in pain or be risked to uncertainty. It is my hope that, as veterinary medicine continues to improve and we all continue to learn more about our equine partners, retirement boarding facilities like Meadow Ridge Farm will become more and more common and popular. Until then, I try to always be open-minded and nonjudgemental when people run into the problem of what to do with a horse they can no longer ride. It’s too common to see snarky people snap, “well, you shouldn’t have bought the horse if you ONLY wanted it for riding,” and, as I found with my two mares, things are simply not so cut-and-dried.

Horses require exercise to stay healthy. They need to move constantly in order to have healthy digestion, balanced blood sugar, good circulation, joints, hooves, etc. When that becomes impossible, for a myriad of reasons, it creates a complex ethical question for the person who loves the horse. It’s not about RIDING, it’s about exercise and adequate welfare for the animal. Be kind in these discussions, and recognize that there is no one-size-fits-all solution. Different horses have different needs, and deciding what comes next for a horse who can no longer be exercised normally may prove very complicated. Sometimes there is no happy solution. At the end of the day, I do believe that most people want what is best for their animals.

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maserati-yokota · 5 years ago

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AJW We Are Running Thru Korakuen Hall 5/26/91 Commercial Tape

This one has links! So you know I'm not making this shit up!

Suzuka Minami & Takako Inoue & Cynthia Moreno vs. Bison Kimura & Mika Takahashi & Miori Kamiya part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mb9L6-ybHoc part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7Ok-L8g3Jc Kamiya gets to work tossing Suzuka around before getting piledriven into pudding. Moreno tags in and man it's a shame she was perpetually disrespected by this company. Moreno was a treasure, you rubes. Bison is in full beast mode and she doesn't even have the leopard-print yet! Takako is young and gets stretched a lot. Whatever happened to Kamiya you say? She's Cooga, ya dingus; the dullest part of any late-90s card. Takahashi gets tagged in, puts Takako in an upside down double-underhook STFU WITH A BRIDGE and goes back to her corner so Bison can dropkick some more. The 70s Miles Davis solo of tag-ins. Incredible. Suzuka does a gorgeous vertical suplex to signal to all of us watching that though this is a heatless spotfest, the spots are in season. So dig in. Suzuka's dropkicks are so snappy it's a wonder she didn't get CTE from them. Kamiya must've just been spent by the Cooga era because she busts out tons of fun stuff here. Youth is young on the wasted. Bison, sensing the lack of Classic Tag Match Heat, throws Moreno into the bleachers. Good on her. Takako wants revenge but eats a Bison Chop. This is an interesting era for a spotfest--ie the pre-CTE era--despite it still being built off of the video-gamey idea of "strong attacks wear down more HP". Everybody busts out the weirdest shit they can come up with in the hope something--anything--will do it. But I shouldn't complain much. This is heavy on action, light on pointless near-falls, the screwups are minor, and there are some really fun and odd spots I haven't seen before. And Kaoru Ito is there to moisturize the losers!

Toshiyo Yamada vs. Yumiko Hotta part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gfHqj7TdoTY part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtYiI8pb5hQ Q: And kicks?

A: And kicks.

Yamada is as spry and bland as ever and Hotta is still pretending she isn't a violence pervert. But the crowd knows The Truth so Hotta gets 1000000 streamers. Yamada, mad at her comparative lack of streamers, comes out swinging, only to get swung. Hotta brings the UWF realism but Yamada is convinced the puroresu will WIN. One thing they can both agree on is KICKS. The first notable one busts Yamada's nose and we are off to the races--which is to say, we are witnessing the suffering of women who work for men and therefore are never encouraged to have healthily competitive relationships with their peers. Healthy competition comes from camaraderie and a sense of community. Bull Nakano spoke in interviews about how brutalized and casually despised she was by the other wrestlers when she started. The Crush Gals fucking hate each other irl. Aja Kong was made into a monster heel literally because she was biracial. These things and this match dynamic (hardway blood in basically a TV taping) are all symptoms of the same disorder: misogyny and the market sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Yeah, there's a ton of great work and powerful drama in this era, but how much of it was the inadvertent by-product of an unhealthy working environment? We'll never really know, since there was practically no other game in town--and what game there was (LLPW and JWP) was so consumed by the battle for market dominance, they could only mimic this model. AJW begat Rossy Ogawa which begat Arsion’s weirdly disjointed breed of misogyny which begat Stardom. “Send the girls out there and make them murder each other for the love of the fans! And fuck it! They're somehow also responsible for shilling all their merch, too, just to survive! And they’re little a nude sometimes! As a treat!” This match is pretty fun, don't get me wrong. But it's sometimes hard to distinguish a legitimately competitive match from all of what I just described. Did Hotta bust Yamada's nose cuz she was pissed about jobbing and there was no other outlet in the context of the company to properly express that frustration? Was that frustration even really directed at Yamada? Or was this more of a "Yoshiko shoot"-type situation, in which a wrestler makes a public display of frustration? Hotta turns the shoot into a work for good measure by attacking Yamada post-match. 1991 was 4000 years ago.

Aja Kong vs. Manami Toyota part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NI746sByB-g part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnKy0Kp5_MU part 3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5gdv67lFa5M Two of the most compelling figures this era produced--both of whom took the weird and bigoted roles they were given and turned them into powerful characters that transcended that small-mindedness. Aja set out to be a fan favorite despite the booking and it fucking worked. Manami didn't want to just be a pretty baby-face; she wanted depth and conflict. She also trained Tsukasa Fujimoto and Tsukushi, who carry on her legacy of being weirdos with pin-straight hair who love punishment. Aja still sells at this point and Manami is such a string-bean it looks like her boots are weighing her down. Apart from that contextual novelty, this is pretty classic Kong/Toyota. Toyota gets tied in more knots than those catalogued in Moby Dick; eats every kick ever and even takes a headbutt to the lower back. But contrary to their later body of work, Toyota's hope spots don't pop the crowd as much since they're not yet sure she's capbable of fighting from underneath. They like it when she fires up, but they don't yet believe in it. In defense of Aja and Toyota, their work is just as compelling as in 93, 94 or 95, the bookers just didn't believe it yet. It would take the hair vs hair match and Aja's teary performance at the end of Big Egg to convince them of what everyone else on earth already knew. It's as thankless to be out-of-step with the times as it is to be ahead of the times. If you haven't seen this and you're familiar with their higher profile matches, you should. It's more than just a curiosity or a template for later and "greater" things; it's a sign they already knew who they were and how prepared they were to transcend management's expectations. Wild finish and a moving post-match moment, too.

Akira Hokuto & Sakie Hasegawa vs. Bull Nakano & Bat Yoshinaga (2/3 Falls Match) part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=En6sdmXeMAY part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HQ2crxtgZhY Hokuto's legacy is equally massive but differently complex. Hokuto was never really given an explicit role other than asshole. An early injury earned her a reputation with fans as a wrestler who refused to lie down--despite the fact that breaking her neck and refusing to abandon the match was probably due more to how toxic the work environment was in AJW. Can't blame her, or really anybody under these circumstances. Christ, they all started training when they were barely teenagers; what other reality did they know? But because she was picked by the fans long before management knew what to do with her, she had a far different arc. In the ring, she worked from underneath, but as an asshole. Imagine if Muta was somehow Cactus Jack: a being who existed outside the bounds of normal human morality but also took such a colossal beating it made you feel bad for them. Only a tremendously charismatic, well-drawn performance could carry that off. Hokuto is so hard-headed in every sense it's impossible not to root for her; she refuses to know her own limits and, subsequently, refuses to acknowledge the limits of any of her opponents. Anyhow, AJW was hoping Bat Yoshinaga would be Lil Bull, even though that never panned out. Sakie is comically timid in the pre-match promo and Hokuto seems doubtful but down to clown as usual. Bull comes out in a feathery gown only to reveal a tattered tie-dyed Grateful Dead shirt to let everyone know she a) likes to party and b) is ready for a call from Vince whenevs. Hokuto is fully on her Maeda shit: aloof yet nervy. She's still in her Marine Wolves colors, too. A woman without a country. Sakie looks literally terrified about what she knows is coming. Ten seconds after the bell, Bull clotheslines them both and powerbombs Sakie for the first fall. THAT'S how Bull do. Hokuto is having none of it and top-rope dropkicks Bat's clavicle into a billion pieces for the second fall. THAT'S how Hokuto do. Now it's Bull vs Hokuto, what the crowd was thirsty for. Hokuto gets thrown over the ropes onto the bare floor but rallies and comes back with a suplex and the same dropkick she gave Bat--proving her contempt for Bull. Double underhook driver for good measure, but Bull gonna Bull. Sakie gets a huge pop on the hot tag despite being the obvious Kikuchi in this setting. Bat kicks and stretches Sakie back into her place. In some ways its hard to tell if Sakie's time in AJW is compelling because she is obviously better than how she was booked or compelling on its own merits--and due to her repeated injuries and transition to trainer we'll never know. But either way, Sakie whips. Hokuto helps her get some good licks in on Bull to drive home that despite her crankiness she believes in this young upstart after all. Sakie capitalizes on this heat by delivering a gorgeous flying headbutt to Bat, following by a pair of god-tier heel-kicks. The crowd is SHRIEKING. Bull senses Bat is gonna whiff it, so bum-rushes Sakie to get Hokuto to tag in. Hokuto is rewarded with a German suplex to the base of her skull and a double-team. A few dozen harrowing exchanges later, Hokuto is back on top and Sakie is ready to die for her. Unfortunately, the moment Bull comes off the top rope with a legdrop, we all know the credits gonna roll. Bull leads the crowd in chanting "Bat-o, Bat-o, Bat-o" and it's a shame that never got legs. Bull feels bad about how things ended, so gives them another chance at a fall. Sakie and Bat slap each other instead of kissing.

Weird but fun card full of all your faves before their prime. Have at it!

Wait . Hang on. Plum Mariko vs Chigusa Nagayo (JWP, 2/11/94) is tacked onto this tape! Fuck YES. Lorefice: the beef been squashed. THANK YOU. (jk jk you're still a bigot)

Watch it here, with glorious pre-match training footage cut from the commercial tape: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQLWwEHP4FQ Plum comes out HOT and bloodies Chigusa early. Never seen Plum this vampiric and fired tf up. Chigusa is having none of it and Hulks out because she's deeply cynical about joshi audiences at this point in her career. She also doesn't mind getting blood in her eyes because, of course, she is still Chigusa Nagayo~! (*DVDVR shout-out interrobang) I've talked a ton already about how much Plum rules and how wistful I get seeing any of her matches. I'm not sure if I'm comfortable saying "the business killed her" so instead I'll say "the business let her die." (The business has let many die but few so blatantly.) Chigusa has yet to enter her dom stage so instead inhabits a kind of quasi-Dynamite Kansai persona appropriate to JWP. She kicks less often but smushes necks just the same. She also is 1000x better on the mat. The announcer mentions, in English (?!) this is a full house at Koruken Hall. Chigusa hits pause to talk shit and Plum is OUTRAGED. Chigusa is also rocking a tan that says "yeah, I took some time off to chill tf out, what of it?" Plum thinks she can restart the match with a respectable test of strength (this is Chigusa, she of fightingo-spiritu, after all) only to get immediately clowned by The New Chigusa. The Post-Crush Gal. Plum says "oh fuck that" and throws on the Stretch Plum and DDTs Chigusa thru the earth's mantle. Chigusa is takes a breather outside then demands Plum give her enough room to get back in the ring, thus going full southern heel. Plum caaaan't quiiiite sink in the Stretch so does a quick German for good measure. Chigusa fights from beneath but gets shut down QUICK. Weird that this legitimately feels like anyone's game, given Chigusa's legendary status. Chigusa sets the record straight by soccer kicking Plum's head into the Mir space station (topical). The crowd now hates her. Plum squishes her back to the mat where she feels safe and torques Chigusa's legs until she looks like Brian Yuzna's seminal critique of capitalism, Society. Despite the contortions, Chigusa chinlocks her way to a victory we all kinda knew was coming.

#joshi #joshi puroresu #all japan womens #ajw #1991 #jwp #toshio yamada #aja kong #manami toyota #akira hokuto #plum mariko #chigusa nagayo #vhs #wrestling tapes #sakie hasegawa

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plusarevfa1979-blog · 6 years ago

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I know where you coming from. While my mom has never been a criminal, she has behaved in toxic ways to say the least. And for the longest time I had the exact same thought you expressing here that she had so much negativity in her life that I needed to be a positive one.But unfortunately, that really hardly ever how it works. Its a habit and it takes hard work and time to break it. U gotta be self aware and take time to notice what you doing and then reverse it and change it. It hard work and it sucks but its worth it.. If the Garleans moved more troops in to defend the bases, it be an aggressive move that breaks the peace. If the alliance makes a move against the bases, it could force the empire to move the war into full scale again. No matter who starts the war, it will likely be a nasty affair, with high casualties on both sides given both sides have generals capable of wiping out hundreds of soldiers with minimal effort. We are expected to be absolutely perfect, successful and joyous so that people will see us in a decent light. In the media either we are a beautiful being that makes women jealous or a fun jokester not taken seriously. 구미출장샵 It kinda bleeds into the expectation of gay men to, that they must be effeminate.Also most parents would not like to have their child be trans, and there are many case of domestic violence because of that.Things are better day by day though, and I wish that one day I could get rid of this in front of my name for good.TLDR: Thais are laid back and let people do or be anything as long as it not bothersome, but that does not mean people would not judge us.KyleJasonSarg 6 points submitted 3 days agoThis is a problem that faces long running reality competitions. But wait; the competition doesn't stop there. Next comes the award for Best of Breed. Dogs that have earned the points necessary to be champions can enter this race with the Winners Dog and Winners Bitch. A father figure doesn't mean an actual father who's there all the time lol lol if he did any more than everything he did without actually being in a serious relationship with lorelai (not till late in the show anyway), it would just be weird. I think the reason they showed so much of Rory wanting max as her stepdad is because it was to show why Lorelai was always hesitant of bringing another man into their lives. She was afraid her flightiness would affect Rory and it did. I always thought it would be a cool feature if there was a "central repository" Krita could connect to for downloading resource bundles like CSP. Users could look at thumbnails and descriptions for each resource bundle other users upload. The they can download and automatically install the resource bundles right from Krita.. Oh my god that fucking terrible. Doomfist was definitely a nightmare for me when I was playing Ana. At that point I think I would just switch to Widow or Brigitte or something I can stop him with haha. FoundationFoundation is the foundation of all makeup application(no pun intended). There are many different kinds offered on the market these days. From full coverage to light coverage tinted moisturizer. I say this because one of their implemented policies, as reported in a blog post in 구미출장샵 2017 by Youtube's vice president of product management Johanna Wright, is that "comments of this nature are abhorrent and we work. To report illegal behaviour to law enforcement. Starting this week we will begin taking an even more aggressive stance by turning off all comments on videos of minors where we see these types of comments."1 However, in the wormhole I still see countless users time stamping and sharing social media info.

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thisentertaining · 6 years ago

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The Way of Models- Stormlight Archives Fanfiction

Characters: Adolin/Shallan, Jakamav/Inkima

Summary: Adolin can’t wait to be featured in a televised fashion design competition, but a bet with his friends may make things a little more difficult.

Modern AU with Roshar elements. Basically I couldn’t commit to either so I did a little melding. It’s basically modern technology on Roshar. Also men can read. I don’t mention Spren but they could be around.

_____

Jakamav accepted his wine with a wide grin to the waitress that was returned with a well-practiced, if insincere, smile in reply. Adolin accepted his drink with a smile of his own, though he kept his eyes on his friend.

“I hear congratulations are in order, you made it onto the show.” Jakamav said, turning up the collar of his green sportscoat.

“Finally,” Adolin said with a broad grin. “I think they’ve just been trying to get a name for themselves before calling in the real stars. Smart if you ask me, every other season of ‘The Look’ will pale in comparison after they see what I’m capable of.”

The Look was a competition-based reality show highlighting the best and brightest upcoming fashion designers and models in Roshar. For 10 weeks designers would be given a particular theme for inspiration for a single outfit that their models would wear down the runway, with one team getting eliminated each week until the three best would have a full show. The fairly new show was quickly gaining in popularity boosted by live online audience voting. This year they were trying to become more interactive than ever as the competitors were tasked with staging and photographing a photo shoot to promote outfits for side-challenges. The pictures would be posted to social media for the public to vote on, with the winners given an advantage in the next challenge. As a model, Jakamav knew very well what the next few months would entail.

He looked forward to it. He knew that he was handsome, and that he wore clothing well. He was already growing a name for himself on the ‘best dressed’ lists at the kings banquets and other high society events. There was only one problem, well two really. First, none of the outfit’s he’d gained ‘best dressed’ notoriety with were designed by his girlfriend Inkima, and she was to be his designer for the competition. Second, Adolin really was good at what he did. He may not be as good as he thought he was, but he was good. He knew color better than Inkima, and he was more creative. He would be a great contender, a greater one than Jakamav really cared to go up against.

“And you and Inkima of course,” Adolin suddenly added, as though noting his faux pas. “With all of us competing at once, it will be a season to remember.”

Clunky recovery, lacking any poise or subtlety. Jakamav wished the highprince’s designs were as ill-refined as his politicking.

“Of course.” Jakamav said, indicating to the waitress that they wanted another drink. “And I assume Shallan will be joining you?” That would be good at least. Sure the girl was pretty, but the man thought her hair wasn’t nearly as refined as the Alethi black, and her freckles may cause problems as well.

Adolin grinned stupidly at the mention of his girlfriend. Storms, but the man had it bad. “Yes, but not as my model. She wanted to be my assistant.”

Jakamav’s nose wrinkled in confusion. He never understood Shallan. What girl would rather be an assistant than a model? Didn’t all girls want to be models? All girls aside from Shallan, apparently. “An assistant? Really?”

“She is a master with makeup. You should see it sometime, she can look like a completely different person. It’s incredible. Plus, she’s good with lighting and stuff, she’ll be good for all of the… you know, new stuff. Who’s going to be Inkima’s assistant.”

“Danlan offered.” Jakamav took care to watch Adolin’s reaction at dropping the name of his ex so abruptly, but the other man was so caught up in thinking about his current girlfriend that he hardly seemed to notice. Oh well, the way Adolin went through women, they would probably break up before the third episode was through. That would be give Inkima an edge then.

Adolin nodded and took a long draw of his drink to empty it as the waitress came to refill it. The man’s head was starting to bob to the music of the live band on the stage, likely already feeling the effects of the strong drink.

“And your model?” Jakamav asked, settling back into his chair.

“I’m not sure yet. I’m thinking of finding someone online, maybe putting an add out at an agency.”

Well that was interesting. Jakamav wasn’t nearly as good at manipulations as his girlfriend, but Adolin was a fairly easy target, maybe he could nudge the man a little. “Hmm. It’s not exactly fair though, is it?”

“What?”

“You, having the cream of the crop of models to choose from. You’re the nephew to the king, son of the Blackthorn the greatest martial artist of all time, a master duelist, one of Roshar’s most famous eligible bachelors even without the show. You could show models a sack and they would pretend it was an honor to model for you. Even if the rules do state you have to use an amateur, you’re going to end up with the best of the best. No matter the other’s designs, you’ll have an edge.”

Adolin snorted. The combination of his euphoria at getting accepted, Jakamav’s compliments, the pulsing beat of the nightclub music, and the intoxicating wine was beginning to get to him. That much was obvious to the other man. It was making him overconfident, cocky. It was prime breeding ground for the manipulative Alethi brighteye. “Please,” The blonde-and-black haired man said. “I could make anyone look good, and I mean anyone.”

Jakamav scoffed. “Please, we both know you say that, but you’ll choose some light-eyed beauty whose been practicing modeling for years.”

“No man, I’m serious. I guarantee that I could win with anyone.”

“Fine. How about we make this interesting then, eh?”

“Fine. Choose anyone here, anyone, and I guarantee I’ll win with them as my model.”

Jakamav grinned. This was perfect. He hadn’t been sure how Adolin would react to his prying, but this was perfect. A guarantee like that could mean only one thing: a bet. Jakamav was certainly a gambling man. The brightlord thought for a moment, what could the payment be though? Adolin was so confident, this could be an excellent moment for some political dealings. There was some tension between his house and Dalinar’s at the moment. Oh, but that was so boring. Also, if the stakes were too high even Adolin wouldn’t agree to the bet. Adolin swiped a lock of black-blonde hair out of his eyes and Jakamav grinned. That would be perfect.

“Fine then, I will choose your model. If you lose though, you have to shave your head.” Adolin gaped at his friend, completely aghast, and Jakamav grinned. This was probably actually higher stakes to Adolin than any kind of political subterfuge. “That is, unless you don’t think you can do it.”

The kholin bristled. “No, I’ll win with whoever you pick. When I do, you have to shave your head.” Jakamav froze. Maybe these stakes were too high. Adolin grinned at him. “Well? Pick your champion.”

Jakamav looked around and his heart began to sink. This is why he usually let Inkima plan stuff like this. OF course he would make this challenge in one of the kingdoms most exclusive clubs. No one could even get in unless they were rich, beautiful, young lighteyes. None of the clientele would have any issues being a fantastic model, and none of them would even consider passing up the chance to grow in the esteem of the Kholins. Who then, should he pick? Someone who he knew to be annoying and argumentative? Someone in his pocket that he could easily bribe? Perhaps a beautiful woman that would be sure to draw Adolin’s eye and hasten his and Shallan’s falling out?

Wait, was that- perfect. Jakamav pointed with a smirk. “Him.”

____

Adolin followed his friend’s pointing finger and froze. “The bouncer?” He asked, incredulous.

Jakamav was pointing at a well-muscled darkeyed man standing at the entrance to the club. The man’s stance bespoke of strength and aggression as he eyed the lighteyes in line to get in with a discerning gaze. His uniform, while well cared for, was obviously worn, as though he wore it every night because he didn’t own alternatives. His eyes were dark brown and what looked liked prison tattoos peeked out from where the tank top revealed his shoulders and back.

It was obvious that had he not been an employee, the man would not have been allowed within ten miles of the place without someone calling the police on the ‘ruffian loitering around the high-end district’. Worst of all though was his expression. It was as though a storm cloud had become trapped in the man’s face, dangerous and volatile. Adolin doubted that the man could do anything but scowl, he certainly was not the type to ‘smile for the camera’.

His friend grinned. “Yeah, him. I thought you wanted a challenge. Oh and look, he’s going on break now. You’d better hurry, this may be your only chance.”

Looking up, the highprince could see that the bouncer was being replaced with an equally intimidating man, though the new guy’s scowl could never compare to the original’s. Jakamav clearly wasn’t going to change his mind. Adolin stood and hastily began walking towards where the bouncer was headed, determined to beat the man to the employees only area.

The man was walking with a quick, purposeful stride, but wasn’t actively trying to hurry like Adolin was so the brighteyes managed to catch up quickly. The designer stepped in front of the man with a large smile, putting every ounce of charm he had into the expression.

“Hi, I’m Adolin. Nice to meet you.”

The bouncer gave him a flat look in reply, “I’m not letting your underage friends in, I don’t care how much you pay me.”

“No, no” Adolin laughed, “That’s not it, I just wanted to ask you about something.”

“I also have no interest in being the ‘darkeye’ notch on your headboard.”

“No!” Adolin blushed. “That’s not what I, no. You misunderstand. I have a proposition for you.��

“My answer stands.” The bouncer said, just as flat as the first time he spoke. “Also, no, I don’t know who you are and why you are so incredibly important. Nor do I care. I also don’t care if you complain to the manager about me. I’m hired here because I don’t give into the whims of lighteyes like you. I suggest you give up.” He tried to side-step around Adolin, but the highprince blocked his path.

“Please, just hear me out.” The bouncer sighed. He remained in the spot, though he did it with the air of someone dealing with a difficult customer and didn’t want to get fired. Refusing Adolin was one thing. Walking away from a lighteved customer who wanted his attention would be another.

Adolin realized that this man would not be impressed by his charm nor his position. No, the plain, blunt truth would best serve him here. Though few other highprinces used it, Adolin knew what a powerful tool the truth could be. It was what had interested Shallan at least. “I am a contestant on ‘The Look’ next season. Do you watch it?”

The bouncer raised one, unimpressed brown and Adolin deflated. Right. He didn’t seem like the fashion show type. The young lord coughed awkwardly. “Right. Uh, anyway, My friend and I just made a bet that he could pick anyone as my model and I’d still win the show. Loser has to shave his head. He picked you.”

“Then I suggest you find a nice hat.” The man tried to get around Adolin again, and the brighteyes started sputtering.

“But this is a chance to be on TV! It’s one of the highest rated shows of the year, you’d be famous!”

“I’d want that, why?” The man was scowling even fiercer now, which Adolin wouldn’t have thought was possible. He also didn’t have any idea how to respond to the man’s question. Why wouldn’t he want that? He glanced over at Jakamav in despair, but the other man just held two fingers up in a way that looked vaguely like a pair of scissors and pretended to cut his hair. Adolin grimaced.

“I’ll give you all of the prize money if we win! Every cent.” Shallan was going to kill him. Oh, Shallan, speaking of. “My girlfriend is kinda sorta related to Sebariel, the owner of this club.” Or not related. He was very confused about that relationship, but he’d long since stopped questioning Shallan. “I can guarantee that you can come right back to your job afterwards.”

The man’s dark look remained, and for a moment it looked like he was going to give another curt reply and walk off, but then he paused and looked thoughtful. The man sighed heavily, as though the next words were being rung out of him. “How much?”

“Huh?”

“How much is the prize money?”

“500 Ruby Broams. And we’ll win. I know it, I’m the best.”

The stranger looked physically pained by the boasting, but his lips moved and Adolin could almost see him making calculations in his head about what that amount could gain him. “That’s two months, right? After that I get back to my normal life?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise. All the prize if we win, and your job waiting for you guaranteed.” The money would have been nice, but neither he nor Shallan really needed it. She was going to give him an earful, but it would be fine.

He hoped.

The bouncer sighed. “I must be a storming fool.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a single black and white business card. ‘Bridge 4 Bodyguards, Bouncers, and Catering services.’ Under the title was a single phone number. “Call sometime tomorrow. If I don’t pick up, ask for Kaladin.”

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fantroll-purgatory · 6 years ago

Photo

@plumb1tes

This is my Athena Troll! Hope you like her ^u^

YES with the 80′s businesswoman vibe! Love her!

FIRST: Alternia or Beforus or some type of AU?

Ok, this is a WIP AU where twelve trolls (based off of Greek Gods) play sgrub, and their planet is pretty similar to Alternia in terms of enforcing the hemospectrum and the like. This troll is based off of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war (the tactical side of it)

Name (preferably include how you came up with it and why): Athine Pallas (Athine from the goddes’s name, Athena. Pallas is from the extra title that some address Athena, as some call her Athena Pallas.)

Hmmmm I worry that this name tips its hand a little too readily? Athena’s got a lot of epithets besides “Pallas,” many of which serve an actual function of her role as a goddess. Based on your description, I think the best ones to use for her are Atrytone, “The Unweariying,” and Promachos, “She Who Fights in Front.”

So maybe…Atryon Pachos? Also keeps her initials the same.

Age: 7 sweeps (almost 8)

Strife Specibus: shieldKind (Can be throwable, and its quite high-tech, like Captain America’s. It has retractable razors on the rim of the shield, and circles back after thrown like a boomerang.)

God I love this! As CD pointed out, Athena from borderlands has a rad shield that might be fun to use as a visual anchor!

Fetch Modus: Not really great with these, but puzzlemodus seems to fit her, as she likes solving problems.

I kinda like giving her Jade’s Pictionary Modus since Athena is a also a goddess of handicrafts.

Blood color: Teal

Symbol and meaning: It’s an astrology sign of Minerva, Athena’s roman counterpart.

Love it! It already fits tealblood sign language pretty well! I may add a line and open up the upper loop a little but I think it’s good to go!

Trolltag: adroitExarch

You’ll see below that I’ve offered suggestions to modify her ancestor’s title, but I still like this trolltag since it sets up a desire to rise above her station.

Quirk: She doesn’t use any other punctuation other than a period. It’s to show her monotone voice. (If you have any suggestions I’m glad to hear some!)

Nah, I think this works! Troll quirks don’t have to be super complicated. If you wanna add a fun one, maybe she extends her “oo” sounds into “ooo” when she’s over-excited, sort of like an owl hoot!

ex: “Whooo the fuck do yooou think yooou are?”

Special Abilities (if any):

Lusus: An owl, which is sacred to Athena. She was a mentor to Athine, and raised her without much fighting, as Athine was a pretty composed grub. However as Athine gets older, she spends less time with Owlmom, and doesn’t really listen to her advice as much due to believing she’s smart enough to not need it, becoming absorbed into studying due to wanting to be a general, like her ancestor. Owlmom loved Athine, and felt pretty sad about being ignored. She grew a bit mischievious, and would frequently cause trouble to get Athine to pay attention to her.

Personality: The first thing to describe Athine: logical to a fault. She is a pretty unemotional person, and responds to questions with the most logical answer she can think of. Athine is an ambitious person, and a go-getter. She doesn’t want to settle with being a legislacerator, even though she assumes she’d be a pretty good one. She has her sight on being the general of the emperor’s army. With her perception and intelligence, she gained a decently sized ego, though it’s much more subtle than others in her session (*cough cough* the Aphrodite troll *cough*).

I wanna MEET the Aphrodite troll!

Athine is also a pretty irritable person, but most of her frustration is directed at her lusus’s mischief, and tries not to lose her cool in front of her group if she can help it. She is a pretty professional person, and almost always reacts to situations with an apathetic demeanor. This doesn’t mean she’s emotionless, but she prefers to not have her feelings cloud her judgement on others.

God yeah she’s a Dersite.

Athine is confident in herself as a leader, and is good at ordering others to work in order to achieve a goal. She’s definitely not a personable troll, nor is she very friendly, but is able to quickly make decisions in the heat of the moment. She is very no nonsense, and has no sense of humor most of the time. While she thinks herself as a good leader, if a friend were to be harmed by her own judgement or decisions unintentionally, she would be quite remorseful and critical of herself for a long time.

Interests: She loves to play chess, and has played it since she was a grub. Athine is also pretty studious, and likes to gain knowledge that will benefit her or her group, though she doesn’t really like trivial knowledge, or information that isn’t useful to her.

Athine likes to play FLARP with the Ares troll of their session, being a pretty formidable duo (him being the one that does most of the actual fighting, and her giving him orders. This is symbolic of the fact that Ares and Athena are two sides of war; Ares is the brutal fighting, and Athena is the tactical planning.)

Honestly if I could add something? Include weaving. She’s the goddess of warfare and of handicrafts, and her weaving competition with Arachne is one of the more famous myths with which she’s associated. Also much like tactical warfare, weaving requires immense pre-planning and rapid adjustment if you mess up.

Ansestor: The Exarch. A supreme general that squashed rebellions, leaded fleets of soldiers to victory, and the Emperor’s right hand woman. Her story was a pretty well-known one, and it is from her ancestor that Athine aspired to become as brilliant as her, and wanted to become a general instead of a legislacerator. Athine greatly respects and admired her ancestor, and wishes to be just like her.

Man I like the concept but troll rules as far as we know still state that ancestor titles be eight letters long. If we go a rank above Exarch, we get Patriarch, which actually matches the correct number? Whether you wanna change it to Matriarch or not is up to you, but I like Patriarch since it lines up with Athena wanting to be on the level of her male contemporaries. As CD points out, a common feminist criticism is that Athena favors men in her stories but also like…men wrote those myths, so…

But the point stands. I especially feel like this fits her because you’d expect army generals to be purplebloods or violetbloods, both of which are apparently male-dominated castes.

Title: Thief of Mind (I think this suits her pretty well, but if you believe you found another one that suits her, I’m all ears.)

I…honestly think she might be a Space player? Tactical warfare and handicraft have a lot to do with manipulating space, and while I admit that I’m the one who included weaving, Space definitely has an association with fashion (Just look at Kanaya and Jade, the most fashionable characters in Homestuck).

Given her desire to be this flawless leader, I think Heir of Space is a fitting title? Especially since the inverse, Mage of Time, also lines up with the character you gave her.

Land: Any suggestions?

Yes! Land of Spiders and Frogs. Given the Arachne myth, I can’t imagine she’s a fan of ‘em. Also lets you design a very witchy-looking planet, which is fun since Athena is also worshiped as an aspect of the Goddess in Wicca. Go wild! Put some crystals on it! And Hoo BOY is frog breeding the perfect task for her! It’s literally all about pre-visualization and intense strategy.

Dream Planet: Derse

Yep yep. With her new classpect, that would make her Liga, sign of the Dogged. I think it suits her real well, and incorporating it into her original sign is as easy as adding just a couple lines. Let’s go to the redesign!

My redesign was pretty heavy handed, partly because of how well-designed she is in the first place. Sometimes it’s like, I could just textually give you one suggestion or go absolutely crazy with it.

So CD and I have a running theory that tealbloods are all designed after college kids of some kind. But the lady on the left doesn’t look like she goes to my college! She looks like she’s mock-interviewing me and keeps scribbling way too many notes after each of my answers and never changes expression.

She’s 7 sweeps old. She should look like a teenager. So I wanted to design the girl that might eventually grow up to be the woman on the left. And who becomes an 80′s powersuited war general? A 70s college feminist, potentially. I based the design on the right on Gloria Steinem, who was really weirdly upfront about working for the CIA because it was “liberal, nonviolent, and honorable” lol. Let’s go top to bottom!

Hair - Original is heavily edited from Sollux’s hair, of all people (I admit to being very weak when it comes to spriting hair with limited volume), while the new version is from a naphal sprite sheet. Gloria Steinem had iconically highlighted hair and I wanted to nod to that.

Eyes - whenever we talk about a “wise owl” we usually see a cartoon owl with a graduation cap, a set of comically large glasses, and a pointer. I wanted to give her glasses to make her look more owlish while keeping the downcast condescending look from the original.

Lips(/Heels) - I wanted to add a little bit of college-y rebellion to her aesthetic and felt the best way to do that was to play on the trope of “lipstick as red as the blood of her enemies.” Instead, she’s sporting a seadweller-purple lip and a matching kitten heel, to make it clear she’s gonna chew ‘em up and stomp on ‘em.

Shirt - I was listening to Death By Glamour on loop when I sprited the left side to get in the mood for those shoulders. On the right I simplified a lot. Gloria Steinem usually wore plain shirts with high-waisted pants, which was easy enough to edit from your original.

Symbol - made it a little bigger and added two internal horizontal lines to reference Liga

So that’s my very indulgent review of your troll! I hope you like some of the suggestions I made!

-TR

#plumb1tes #athine pallas #athine #pallas #atryon pachos #atryon #pachos #tealblood #review #redesign #tr review #submission

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bet-sinclair-blog · 6 years ago

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Why do we gamble?

Supposedly individuals always make rational decisions by trying to maximise their advantage whilst minimising their losses. For disciples of rational choice theory the business of gambling presents a headache. If a bet has an expected value of zero or lower, why do gamblers strike them?. You wouldn’t pay €1,000 for a holiday if you thought it was worth only €500. The psychology of betting is undoubtedly a complex subject but on the surface, there is a simple question; if gamblers, on average, lose money, why do they still find it desirable to gamble? In this article, we will explore the lack of understanding in terms of expected value as well as why mathematical expectation and utility (or desirability) don’t necessarily mean the same thing. Is gambling irrational? For the vast majority of sports bettors where outcome probabilities are not determined mathematically from first principles, expectation appears to be similarly unprofitable. For most types of gambling, including casino games and lotteries, the expected value is negative. Furthermore, there is abundant evidence to suggest that players do not understand the probabilities that accompany their decision making. Granted, short term providence can see them make gains but ultimately the law of large numbers will conspire to defeat even the luckiest of players. On this basis it might be reasonable to argue that gambling represents an irrational behaviour. Once the costs of playing have been taken into account – the house edge, the poker rake, the bookmaker’s margin and so on – the typical gambler will lose money over a period of play. One specific example of the above involves the Possibility and Certainty Effects where decision makers overweigh and underweigh the probability of unlikely and near certain events respectively. In the context of gambling it arguably gives rise to perhaps an even more powerful bias: overconfidence. In betting, this manifests itself as the favourite–longshot bias where longshots contain relatively poorer expected value with respect to favourites. Our inability to judge probabilities correctly is but one of many cognitive biases that we experience and which lead us astray from rational decision making. Overconfidence The Lake Wobegon effect, where the majority of a group claims to be above average, has been observed in many domains including social popularity, intelligence and driving skill. . Given the competitive environment that exists in gambling and particularly sports betting where forecasters’ wits are pitted against each other, we should expect to see overconfidence commonplace. Sometimes known as the Lake Wobegon (or above-average) effect, named after a fictional town in Minnesota, it describes the natural human self-serving tendency to overestimate one’s capabilities. Overconfidence or illusory superiority is a cognitive bias whereby individuals overestimate their own qualities and abilities relative to others. In Lake Wobegon all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking and all the children are above average. I have certainly observed the Lake Wobegon effect amongst the sports advisory service community. These figures diverged even more when rating for leadership qualities (70% versus 2%). For the ability to get along with others, none of them considered themselves to be below average at all!. In the 1976/77 (US) College Board Student Descriptive Questionnaire, 60% of the 829,000 high-school seniors rated themselves as being above average in athletic ability compared to just 6% below. When someone is selling, who is buying? “When you sell a stock, who buys it?” More generally, what makes one person buy and the other person sell? What do the sellers think they know that the buyers don’t? Evidently, someone must be wrong, or at least more wrong than the other. Given that both parties are happy to engage in a transaction, mutual overconfidence of their own abilities to assess a stock price accurately must account for why they are willing to do so. The alternative is that every transaction takes place at the ‘true’ price implying no one ever makes a profit. Now that would be irrational. In his best seller Thinking, Fast and Slow, cognitive psychologist Daniel Kahneman tells the story of an encounter with an investment manager at a Wall Street firm, and specifically a question he posed. Both backer (buyer) and layer (seller) will intuitively have in their minds roughly what they think a suitable price would represent for them. After all, no one is going to bet 1.05 (or 1/20) for Sutton United to beat Arsenal FC, regardless of what they might think about Arsène Wenger. Overconfidence then allows for both parties to mutually hold the perception that each of them has secured some sort of positive expected value at the expense of the other, which of course is a logical impossibility. In essence, the odds for an outcome broadly reflect the probability of it happening. The odds just represent a public reflection of all privately held opinions about the likelihood of the outcome, expressed through money. The value the odds settle at represents an implicit process of bartering and compromise. The same is true in betting. Without this overconfidence, the bet would not take place since both rationally self-interested parties are motivated by the expectation of making a profit based on information that is better than his opponent’s, not throwing away money for the sake of it. What about those on the outside looking in? While irrationality, overconfidence and other behavioural biases may explain why we bet, it doesn’t necessarily mean they can control how we bet. Knowing how behavioural biases influence betting decisions and being able to calculate betting margins doesn’t detract from the enjoyment it can bring, it simply sets you on the right path to finding expected value and taking a more educated approach to betting. The obvious question that arises from this article is: what is it that breeds such overconfidence in a betting context? What makes bettors so sure that they are right? With an understanding of what these behavioural biases mean and that to some degree, they influence everyone; bettors can take an “outside looking in” view. Go back to Betting Resources to learn more about betting strategy and psychology. Read the full article

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le-pokerus · 8 years ago

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My thoughts on Sun and Moon

So after a couple of months collecting my thoughts, I finally have written a list of all the stuff I liked and didn’t like about Pokemon Sun and Moon. It’s a long one, so I’ve made it nicer for your dash. (Also heavy spoilers).

Okay imma split this into four sections to make it more organised:

things I liked about the game

things I didn’t like about the game

things have mixed feelings or am impartial about the game

things that I personally would’ve liked.

Things I liked about the game:

The silliness. In an interview with GF somewhere they said they wanted the game to focus on the fun aspect of Pokemon, so from weird dances to silly expressions and team skull not being taken seriously, I think they nailed it.

The Island Challenge! Despite really liking gyms, I thought the Island challenge was a cool thing that suited alola well (until a certain point, I’ll talk about that later).

Alolan forms. Regional variation is something I found really cool and gave some pokemon (only some) a nice twist (despite some awful forms).

The evolution music. Specifically when a pokemon evolves to or from and alolan form, giving the music a nice Hawaiian-esque sound was a little thing I liked.

A story line that doesn’t involve trying to control a legendary pokemon and using it to try and take over the world (or something like that). Yes all the previous games did it a bit differently and for different means, but by X and Y it was a stale story line and I’m glad they changed it.

Z-moves. Despite them being a bit OP at times, I quite liked them and thought they introduced a nice new battle mechanic.

Apricorn balls. Although you can only get one of each, it was nice them bringing them back even a little bit.

The new graphics. Despite really liking the graphics style of 3rd, 4th, 6th gens, I actually liked the graphics of sun and moon and it made them feel like a modern game.

Island Scan. I am a sucker for new ways of encountering pokemon, pokeradar, rustling grass, dexnav, I love ‘em. Island scan is also great, albeit not perfect and could’ve been improved, it was still a cool thing, and allowed me to catch the johto starters which is always great.

SOS battles. Speaking of new encounter methods, SOS battles not only allowed you to chain for more powerful pokemon, and increase your chances of a shiny, it also allowed you to find pokemon you couldn’t usually catch in the wild, e.g. salamence, snorlax, mereanie, lucario (although lucario was a pain in the arse due to riolu knowing fucking final gambit).

The Alola League. Pokemon leagues were always something that were just there and had been for ages, I loved the fact that the league was formed whilst you progressed and you became the first ever champion. I also liked how you defended your title against a small roster of different people rather than one (although I would’ve liked maybe another new elite 4 member instead of loads of island kahunas).

Team Skull. Honestly one of my favourite villainous teams, they’re silly and stupid and no one takes them seriously, 10/10.

Lillie. CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. Oh my god Lillie is a great character, the way she develops as a character throughout the story line is really well done, and the way she stands up to her mother towards the end is great, and when she leaves is a really sad moment and actually something not done before in a pokemon game.

All the other characters. From Hau to Professor Kukui to Gladion to Lusamine and the Guzma, sun and moon had great characters whith very different personalities and personas. Most of pokemon games, the characters are just there, there’s very little back story or real personality, but sun and moon went so far into these things that honestly it makes the game worthwhile just for them.

The mini map. Having a mini map was cool and made traversing the map easier so you don’t get stuck looking for something in the wrong place.

The music was pretty cool as far as pokemon games go, more memorable than XY but still not as good as previous gens in my opinion.

Magearna QR Code. One of the main problems of pokemon is events that only run for certain times making events such as the aurora ticket, oak’s letter, and genesect impossible to get without cheating in older games. Making Magearna available by a QR code that will never expire makes it so even fans in the future picking up these old games can get this mythical pokemon without hacks and honestly have a better experience for it.

Gridless. Due to limitations of old consoles, pokemon games have stayed to a grid like overworld, and even up to xy and oras they seemed to stay like that. Now don’t get me wrong I really like the grid like map etc. but sun and moon changed that and I love it. It really does make alola seem like a real tropical island based region, and really does change the whole feel of the game.

Added to the pokedex! I like how after evolving pokemon or breeding pokemon, or getting pokemon as gift or through trade that the data for the pokemon is added to the dex on screen, something that i’ve always thought previous games would benefit from.

Things I didn’t like about the game:

The Island Challenge! Wait didn’t I already do this one? Yes I did, but they fit on both good and bad lists (but not mixed feelings). As I stated before, I like the island challenge it was a fun thing that really made sun and moon different. HOWEVER, it just stopped, like the 1st and 2nd islands were great, they had cool challenges and cool leaders, the 3rd island sorta died down, and by the 4th island it had stopped, like it felt as if GF had given up by then, it was just hey there’s one challenge and theirs no trial captain or kahuna, and it’s just 3 straight battles. At least with gyms you were always guaranteed them, there was always a gym nearby and always one to challenge after the main story, but up until the pokemon league I was like where’s the next challenge and then when i got to the league I was like oh, there isn’t one.

Zygarde. Zygarde and its cells did fuck all and was basically just a gimmick.

The Rotom Dex. Oh god where do I start? This thing just doesn’t shut the fuck up. It always has something to say even when you’ve got nothing left to really do. The markers on the map killed the exploration aspect, the unnecessary commentary when you register a pokemon to your dex. Making it difficult to touch the mini map, cuz for some fucking reason you tickle him instead.

The A button. Having the press the A button every god damn fucking time you want to go through a door. Who’s idea was this? There’s no point, it just makes the A button whittle down faster, it should have just been left at walking into it automatically makes you go through.

Fishing. Only being able to fish in certain spots. Stupid idea. 0/10.

Legendary evolution lines. Didn’t like that cosmog evolved into the mascot legendary (through another legendary). Like legendaries are supposed to be these really powerful pokemon that are just there, they’re supposed to have been created like that, not evolve from another pokemon.

Unbreedable evolutions. Speaking of legendaries evolving, I dislike that fact that cosmog and type: null evolve, are not able to breed, and are only available once, it makes a living form dex (my main pokemon quest) very difficult to complete since i have to own another game and go through that story as well to have all the evolution family.

All legendaries are shiny locked. Who’s idea was shiny locking? Not that I’m gonna hunt for them but the off chance of encountering a shiny legendary was always a cool one.

The PC boxes. XY/ORAS PC boxes were great, they were quick, easy to use, and simple. SM boxes were slow, clunky and had some unnecessary changes. They also had very little space compared to the previous gen, despite adding 81 new pokes, they only added two boxes (60 mons), meaning that a living form dex is almost impossible to have on one game.

The Battle Tree. For myself, a filthy casual, the battle tree is impossible. Unless you have made/bred a competitive team, you cannot progress at all. At least with the battle maison they had tiers, so gaining battle points wasn’t tedious. but with the battle tree, there’s just one tier and it’s the worst. You only get one BP for battle (if you win) and you need 1000 alone just to get the mega stones (which are only available there. All I can say is, thank god pokebank gives you BP.

Post game was shit. Again, the post game was lackluster and the looker missions were just doing the same thing a few times with little point to it.

The ultra-beasts. The Ultra beasts, despite being a “massive threat” didn’t do anything at all and were just catch fodder. They also just don’t fit into the pokemon universe (yeah I know they’re from a different universe, but from a franchise point of view, it’s like a halo character in a my little pony universe).

The battle scenes were slow. Too slow from encountering a wild pokemon to being able to battle it.

Surf encounters. Is it still surfing if you don’t use HM03 Surf? Regardless, the encounter rate for pokemon while surfing is ridiculously small, like you do multiple laps of a a pool of water and hardly encounter any at all.

No National Pokedex. Seriously every game has had a national dex in some form (gen 1’s dex was basically national, gen 2′s was national in a different order, ruby/sapphire got one after trading with firered/leafgreen/emerald) like why have they removed this feature? Yes bank has a national dex as of the update, but sun moon doesn’t get one making it more difficult to sort pc boxes, and it means pokes not in the regional dex don’t get a dex entry for sun moon (maybe this’ll get fixed in the future (much like ruby/sapphire was)

Legendary battles. I’m a fan of interacting with the overworld sprite to battle a legendary, however for almost every legendary in sun and moon there isn’t one: the tapus, you interact with the shrine; and the ultra beasts and necrozma are just in the grass, idk it just makes them feel weird.

More than one ultra beast. One weird thing sun and moon did was make more than one of some ultra beasts available, I get that there are more than one and it would make sense for more than one of some to come through, but when you have 4 kartana or 4 pheromosa in your box, it just makes then feel less special.

Event only Z-Crystals. This is tentative since it may be changed in the future but much like as stated before event only stuff is annoying for those who pick this game up in the future. So the snorlium-z and mewnium-z won’t be available to some players and since z crystals are an important thing, it’s kinda annoying.

A small loan of $1,000,000. So after beating the looker missions, you get rewarded with $1,000,000, although this is very nice and means you don’t have to grind for money, I feel it’s a bit too much and makes it so there’s less to do post game.

No auto save after elite 4. Just an annoyance really, all games have saved after the elite 4 and it made me lose some progress cuz it didn’t save. It also doesn’t repeat the credits and send you back home which i liked about the other games.

Experience gain. The way of how experience is calculated has been changed back to the shitty gen V method, where the lower the level you are from your opponent the more experience you gain. This sounds good in theory but the highest levels are 59 in the wild and 63 on the elite 4 which makes getting your team to level 100 or evolving some pokemon very tedious. The only reason it worked in gen v was cuz they had audino literally everywhere and they give a fairly high amount of exp, but there aren’t really any high experience giving pokemon in alola at all.

Things I am impartial or have mixed feelings about the game:

No HM’s. Although having no HM’s allowed me to finally have a six party team (which i definitely used to make sure I have type coverage, 3 fairy types is the way to go), I just missed them and only getting fly and surf post game was annoying since I always have them on my main mons.

Pokepelago. I liked a lot of aspects of pokepelaga, growing berries was made insanely easy (and better that way) gaining evolution stones and rare items was so much less tedious unlike super training, hot springs were cool, levelling up pokes was an option if you wanted. HOWEVER, the pokemon capture method is complete bs. so sometimes a wild pokemon will appear, and when interacted with mohn will say come back tomorrow to see if it likes being here or whatever, but it’s complete chance there is no way to affect if they stay, sometimes they will just disappear for no reason, honestly it’s stupid and reminds me of the awful safari zones in gens 1, 3 and 4 *shudders*.

The Batte Royal. It’s a really cool concept and adds something new to battling but it makes the game lag on all devices and it just feels too short, instead of ending when one person loses all their pokemon, it should’ve been when there’s only one player left and then add up how many pokes were knocked out by each person.

Things I personally would’ve liked:

More previous gen legendaries. Yes, I am aware you can already get 8 legendaries in the game, but there are currently 61 legendaries and mythicals, therefor I would’ve liked to have seen maybe a couple more from those gens, just so it doesn’t feel so secluded. This may also make another case of ORAS where they just added a shit ton of legendaries to make them available in that generation due to xy’s appalling legendary selection, so if they are to make them all available this gen then they might have too many in the next game.

The bicycle. Although there is poke-ride to replace the bike, it’s not the same. the bike has more maneuverability, and the fact that I have to constantly get on and off my poke-ride to get into small places due to their stupid collision boxes is something the bike would fix.

Nebby. Wait it’s not what you think! I love nebby, it’s a great character and has great memes. What i disliked was that after nebby turned into the version mascot, we kept it, yes I get that the player has to get it somehow, but I feel nebby should always have been with Lillie not with someone who met it a few days prior, I think the best way to have done it is if you’re given like a cosmog egg or something (but I guess you had to battle the mascott so idk).

Less spoilers. Not necessarily about the game itself, but GF revealed way too many pokemon prior to sun and moon. One of the biggest things I looked forward to when SM was announced was discovering new pokemon (i’’d never had a game at release so I knew them all prior) unfortunately GF decided that was not happening and showed almost all of them before the games came out, making me lose out on this experience.

A safari zone. No not the crap ones, the ones like gen 6. I would’ve liked a somewhat safari zone where you could catch more pokemon outside of the alola dex, and it would’ve been awesome if you could catch regular versions of the alola forms too.

A post game island. Sun and Moon didn’t add any new places, everything was available to explore before the elite four and i would’ve liked to have a couple of new islands to explore, I’m not talking about another huge island, but maybe just a couple small islands with maybe like a town with cool things on (like the above mentioned safari zone).

Sidequests. Yes this is a common thing for people to want from pokemon games. But sun and moon really lacked things to do rather than the main story. Really the only thing to do is the Battle Tree which is only post game and is awful, or the battle royal which is cool but laggy and over too quickly.

In Conclusion

Great, not perfect, but a hell of a lot of fun, would highly recommend. 8.5/10.

#sumo #pokemon sun moon #my posts #like if u read #this'll probs be edited as i remember things to add #my content

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The Chase Files Daily Newscap 7/9/2019

Good MORNING #realdreamchasers! Here is The Chase Files Daily News Cap for Tuesday 9thJuly 2019. Remember you can read full articles for FREE via Barbados Today (BT) or Barbados Government Information Services (BGIS) OR by purchasing by purchasing a Daily Nation Newspaper (DN).

PM ON PINE TRAGEDY – Prime Minister Mia Mottley has given the assurance that her Government will do right by the family of 17-year-old Kyrique Boyce who died after falling into a well at Martin Road, The Pine, while declaring as “unacceptable” the lack of maintenance by a Government agency that is being blamed for his death. Mottley also gave her word that the long-standing issues residents in the public housing area have with the National Housing Corporation will be addressed. The Prime Minister, who was attending the CARICOM summit in St Lucia at the time Boyce fell into a 100-foot drainage well, told reporters this afternoon that she visited the family shortly after returning to Barbados. “I visited the family as soon as I returned to the country and rest assured that the Government will do what it has to do by the family and by the residence of all of the housing areas that continue to have difficulties that have been outstanding for way too long,” Mottley said. She did not go into details on how Government intends to handle the aftermath of the tragedy and the pain it has caused the family, who have already made it clear that they will be suing for negligence. Boyce, a former student of the Daryll Jordan Secondary School, was on his way to buy a roti when he stepped on the neighbourhood well, whose cover caved in. Residents claimed they had been calling the NHC for over a year to repair the damaged well. Anger has simmered ever since the incident as many expressed concerns that it took death for the public housing agency to respond. Housing Minister Charles Griffith revealed that the National Housing Corporation did not have the money nor the materials available to repair the well. The Minister said: “We have taken stock at what is happening at that location and the other locations and I could assure all of those residents who are living in those housing estates that we will rectify the situation as soon as possible. “We have been cash-strapped for a while as it relates to dealing with issues like this, but we understand the significance of fixing these wells. It is unfortunate that this situation would have happened, but the NHC and the ministry are actively on the job dealing with the situation.” But Mottley did not mince words in describing the situation as “unacceptable”. She declared: “Really and truly this is an unacceptable situation. We also have to set some standards for the things that we do in public spaces and make sure that when people do things that they coincide with the standards that have been set.” Mottley asked for the public’s patience as Government grapples with the issue. She added: “As I keep saying, there is only 24 hours in a day and limited funds available and we are trying to spread it out as much as we can.” There was no immediate word on when funeral services are to be held for the teenager.(BT)

HARMFUL TO HEALTH – Despite finally getting off the ground at the beginning of this month, it appears that Government’s woes surrounding the controversial 24-hour polyclinic service are far from over. Today, nurses from the Geriatric Hospital, the health facility from which the majority of nurses were taken to staff the pilot of the urgent care component at the Winston Scott polyclinic, staged a sick-out. According to a source close to the development, nurses at the Beckles Road institution are concerned that they are now being disadvantaged by the removal of staff nurses, who are reportedly to be replaced by nursing assistants. “We have not confirmed if this is true, but we understand that the staff nurses who have left the Geriatric Hospital to work in the 24-hour polyclinic, will be replaced by nursing assistants. The duties that staff nurses carry out are senior to what nursing assistants can do,” the source said. They contended that the polyclinic project, which has already suffered several setbacks due to staffing issues, had evolved into a case of shifting resources to one area at the expense of another. It was also pointed out that the issue also raises questions of exploitation of junior staffers within the state-run health system. “Are the assistants who are coming, expected to fulfil staff nurse duties? Are you going to recruit nursing assistants, who are paid at the lower grade, to carry out the duties of a staff nurse? If that is so, then that is exploitation. Nurses are so stressed by these developments that some of them could not attend work today.” the source added. It was also revealed that the nurses of the state-owned elderly care facility felt as if their contribution to the health service was not fully appreciated, following remarks by a panellist, who was speaking during a live programme carried on the state-owned television station. The source did not reveal the date and name of the programme, nor did they reveal the organisation that the panellist represents. “That person’s statements seemed to diminish what nurses do. It maligned and downplayed the duties that these hard-working nurses actually perform and many felt insulted by the comments. The very description of their duties was offensive. These are professionals, yet you have this person, who should know better, saying that all these nurses do is turn beds and turn patients. Highly disrespectful,” the source stressed. Barbados TODAY visited the Geriatric Hospital but could not ascertain the impact of the sickout. Staff members would only confirm that a number of nurses were off the job. Several attempts were made to reach Minister of Health Lieutenant Colonel Jeffrey Bostic for comment but these were unsuccessful. However, when contacted, Deputy General Secretary of the National Union of Public Workers (NUPW) Wayne Waldron would only state that the “matter was being investigated” by the union. Last month, Bostic revealed that Cabinet had taken the decision to consolidate the human resources originally earmarked to be shared between the Winston Scott Polyclinic and the David Thompson Health and Wellness Complex, into the facility at Bay Street. Fourteen nurses, comprising mainly of volunteers from the Geriatric Hospital made the transition to the round-the-clock system at the polyclinic. At the time, Bostic was convinced that the new arrangement should satisfy all concerned parties, as only the specially-contracted staff would work the “graveyard” shifts.(BT)

OIL DOWN – A new oil deal struck recently with Jamaica has resulted in Barbadians paying much less for fuel. This was revealed today by chairman of the Barbados National Terminal Company Limited (BNTCL) Alex McDonald, who confirmed that the contract had been awarded to Jamaican company Petrojam Limited “within the last six months” following last November’s closure of Barbados’ previous oil provider, Petrotrin. Last year, after 101 years in the oil refining business, the Board of Directors of Petrotrin announced that it was ceasing operations of the Trinidadian refinery. At that time the Board said the company intended to restructure and expand its role in exploration and production. Petrojam is Jamaica’s only pretroleum company and is wholly owned by the Government of that country. It provides a full range of domestic, transportation and industrial petroleum products. In an interview with Barbados TODAY, McDonald said the new deal with Petrojam meant Barbadians would pay less for fuel. However, he explained that due to fluctuating oil prices on the international market, it might not appear that way. “The quantities of oil and the quantities of fuels that we bring in, in the scheme of the global makeup, are very, very small, so typically what we buy it for is the global price plus a premium. So depending on your consumption, the premium is lowered. Countries that use a lot of fuel pay at the global price, but the countries that don’t use a lot pay the global price plus a high premium,” McDonald explained. “One of our mandates was to lower that premium. Unfortunately, the price of oil has been going up and down in the recent past and the mechanism has been very quick to adjust, so the average person would not have seen the benefit of the deal that we have struck. But I can tell you, had we not gone to this point, the price of fuel would be much higher.” In fact, McDonald said the deal with Petrojam was much better than the one with Petrotrin. He said while BNTCL had received numerous offers worldwide, Barbados’ relationship with Jamaica was a decisive factor in awarding the contract to Petrojam. The chairman however, did not disclose the price which was negotiated. “Through our competitive tendering process that went through about six months ago, we received a lot of quotations from all over the world and Jamaica had the best price for us and as a result we went and we renegotiated an even better deal based on our relationships with them and our future plans. So that’s where we get our oil from right now,” McDonald said. “The price we are getting now is much more competitive than the Petrotrin deal. What the closure of the Petrotrin refinery did was allow us to get into a position where we could be very competitive.” Minister of Energy and Water Resources Wilfred Abrahams told Barbados TODAY he was satisfied with the deal which had been brokered. “I am comfortable and I have entire faith in my chair and the management of the statutory corporation and I am comfortable that we are getting the best price possible. The Petrotrin closure affected us briefly, but it allowed us the opportunity to find a better deal somewhere else,” Abrahams noted.(BT)

SLACK PARENTS BREEDING CRIMINALS – A Member of Parliament has blamed lax parenting for creating a ‘breeding ground’ of criminals, At a town hall meeting on the alarming increase in murders in the constituency and the entire parish, St Phillip South MP Indar Weir slammed parents and guardians who deny their children’s involvement in crime. As he attempted to make sense of the seven St Philip murders in 2019, the Parliamentarian said he was often confronted with parents and guardians who appear ignorant of their wards’ involvement in crime. Weir told a modest crowd at the Ruby Church of the Nazarene on Sunday evening: “We come to church and pray and we listen to the pastor but then we can’t face up to the young ones that we are responsible for to say ‘listen, this is the order in this house’. “But they would go to the same ‘block’ will be told, ‘the order is set.’ So they [criminals] know order. They know their type of order and they will tell you nobody can disrespect the order and they live by that. Hence the reason why a son or daughter would lie in cold blood because the order is disrespected. “Your responsibility is to set the order in your home and it must not be disrespected. And if we can get that in every home across St. Philip and across Barbados, that would be the first step to end a lot of the gun violence.” It was only after parents mastered their role, Weir said, that the efforts of schools and churches would be elevated. Furthermore, the MP condemned those who blame teachers alone for deviant behaviour as he briefly made a case for the continued use of corporal punishment in schools, a position at odds with Government policy. Under the Education Act, only principals and senior teachers are authorised to administer corporal punishment. Weir said: “There’s some good in corporal punishment. I don’t think teachers should beat up children or take their frustrations out on children. But if the block can say the order is set, then we as society have to start and set the order too and we must equally demand the order cannot be disrespected.” During the town hall meeting, Weir, the Minister of Agriculture, sought to ease the fears of his constituents and assured residents the police were doing all in their power to ensure public safety. Weir said: “There is no need to fear…. As a member of the Cabinet, I am acutely aware of the respect we have to give the Royal Barbados Police Force and I am also acutely aware that we don’t discuss matters of national security in public. “But I want to assure you that even if you don’t see a police van, it does not mean the police isn’t present, because they don’t always show up in a police van. So let us not bash. Let us have a conversation and discuss this matter.”(BT)

BANK SCAM – Police say they are investigating an apparent scam in which undisclosed sums of money have disappeared from the commercial bank accounts of several customers. Police spokesman Acting Inspector Rodney Inniss told Barbados TODAY this afternoon that police have been receiving complaints from customers that they have been the victims of the reported scam. But he said he was not in a position at this stage to disclose the extent of the missing money and how much was missing. Detectives are still piecing together the information, he said. Barbados TODAY has learned the money disappeared from numerous accounts over the weekend without the knowledge of the clients after they used their bank cards to withdraw money or make purchases. The Barbados Bankers Association issued a statement on the matter without furnishing much details. It said: “The Barbados Bankers Association (TBBA) been made aware of an issue involving the use of ATMs at several commercial banks. “The matter is currently in the hands of the police and the BBA will make a further statement once their investigations are completed.” The bankers urged their clients to contact their bank if they suspect any unauthorized use of their accounts. Victims have been messaging relatives and friends warning that they have been scammed. One victim said in a text message received by Barbados TODAY: “Letting everyone know that our Scotiabank account was hacked over the weekend.” It added that transactions were made at an ABM in Holetown and a point-of-sale location in Speightstown. (BT)

NO NO TO ONLINE THREATS – The word must go out – the Internet was not developed for issuing threats and death wishes on others, Chief Magistrate Christopher Birch declared on Monday. And he wants people to think twice before they type or hit ‘send’ on their messages and posts. He made the comments as he dealt with an aggrieved man who, unable to see his brother who was in custody, posted a threat to police on his Facebook page. Nicholas Antone Benjamin, 30, a customer service agent, had just confessed that he used his cellphone, a computer, to send a message that was menacing in character, intending to cause or was reckless as to whether he caused annoyance, inconvenience, distress or anxiety to the members of the Royal Barbados Police Force, on July 6. He posted: “The only people I wish to see killed is every single police officer. Every ******* one.” As he imposed a fine of $3 500 in three months or six months in prison on the first-time offender, Chief Magistrate Birch declared that such behaviour would not be tolerated. (DN)

POLICE CHARGE MAN WITH MURDER - Police from the Criminal Investigation Division have arrested and charged 27-year-old Kemar Andre Antoine Greene, of Isolation Road, Belleplaine, St Andrew for the murder of 43-year-old Rupert Patrick Stoute. Stoute, formerly of Inch Marlowe, Christ Church was killed about 1:45 a.m. on Saturday, June 6 at Nelson Street, The City, St Michael. Greene is scheduled to appear at the District 'A' Criminal Court on Tuesday, July 9. (DN)

TEENAGER ADMITS TO STEALING PHONES – Magistrate Douglas Frederick has ordered a probation report on a 19-year-old first time offender.It came after Aquon Shanique Ince, of Kendal Hill, Christ Church pleaded guilty in the District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court to stealing two cellular phones worth $1,000 belonging to Tomar Haynes on July 4.After hearing the facts Magistrate Frederick told the teen who stated that he had no money to purchase anything: “You can’t go around stealing people’s things, you can get killed.”The magistrate also told Ince that he could do odd jobs until he got on his feet.“I know people have their pride . . . but you can pick up bottles along the highway anything like that. It is just a stepping stone until you do better,” he advised.Ince was then sent to the Probation Department so that a pre-sentencing report could be compiled.In the meantime, he is on $1,000 bail and will return to the District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court on September 6. (BT)

SUSPENDED SENTENCE FOR ‘LITTLE BIT’ OF DRUGS –Sixteen grammes of marijuana were found in a clothes basket when lawmen executed a search warrant at the Mount Friendship, St Michael residence of Dario Tramaine Marshall yesterday. The 28-year-old man wasted little time in pleading guilty to charges of possession, possession with intent to supply and having a trafficable quantity of the vegetable matter when he appeared before Chief Magistrate Christopher Birch this afternoon. After taking a look of his convictions the Chief Magistrate stated that Marshall had not learned his lesson since his first appearance in court 12 years ago. Marshall was given probation at that time and since then he has made two other appearances before other magistrates and fined on both occasions. He was informed that the was quickly exhausting all his options for non custodial sentences to which Marshall responded that the drugs found was just “a little bit”. Before imposing a sentence of 12 months in prison suspended for two years the Chief Magistrate informed him that he had given the same explanation over a decade ago. “You are working your way through the system. Let’s see within the next two years if you learned something,” Birch said before releasing Marshall.(BT)

I DESERVE IT, SAYS CRIMINAL AT SENTENCING – Admitting that he had returned to his drug of choice, a man with no fixed place of abode today opted for a prison sentence instead of another stint at the Psychiatric Hospital. Ronald Dacosta Deane will now spend 15 months at HMP Dodds for stealing 15 gallons of diesel belonging to Thorpes International Produce on July 6. The 52-year-old admitted to Chief Magistrate Christopher Birch that he was “doing good for a while” but was back using cocaine. “I prefer to do time . . . Verdun . . . has black-balled me that kind of way,” Deane claimed as he spoke to Chief Magistrate Christopher Birch candidly. Prosecutor Station Sergeant Peter Barrow revealed that Deane was seen on closed circuit television video climbing over the wall onto the property with three, five gallon plastic bottles in his hand. He then walked to the southern gate of the property were a quantity of diesel is being stored. The owner detained him as he attempted to leave the way he entered. The police were called in and Deane was arrested and charged. “This hurts me, because you are capable of so much better,” Chief Magistrate Birch told Deane who responded: “I know Sir, I deserve it, I know better.”(BT)

SWORD FOR PROTECTION –The level of violence currently plaguing the country has apparently not deterred a 22-year-old man from walking around with a sword in his pants. When Rico Akeem Nurse, of Farnum’s Gap, Deacons, St Michael appeared before the District ‘C’ Magistrates’ Court this afternoon he did not have a satisfactory explanation for Chief Magistrate Christopher Birch on his reason for having the weapon in a public place. On his arrest on July 5 he allegedly told law enforcement officers, “Me and some men from Chapman Lane get in a scene and I got it for my protection.” Today, he gave the Chief Magistrate a different explanation claiming that he had the offensive weapon because “I am not working . . . I does cut little grass . . . I collect it from a fella.” In outlining the facts Station Sergeant Peter Barrow disclosed that policemen were on foot patrol along St George Street, The City when they saw Nurse sitting on a wall at Jubilee Gardens. As the lawmen approached Nurse quickly got up and ran in the opposite direction but was quickly apprehended. When searched, the black-handle sword was found concealed in the right side of his pants’ waist. After pleading guilty to having the offensive weapon Nurse told the Chief Magistrate that the police saw him between 9:30 p.m. and 10 p.m. last Friday while he was making his way home. “You running about armed in the dark, in this Barbados? So far for the year, 32 people lay dead and you running around the dark with a sword with the prospect of adding to that number? If you don’t want to be caught in scenes stay home [don’t] loiter around in the dark armed with a sword, trouble follows trouble. “For your protection, what do you think our taxes pay the police to do? To protect you but you want to be a target running around in the dark with a sword. If you did not want to be a target you would be home taking care of your family, instead you out there looking for trouble or waiting for trouble to find you,” the island’s chief magistrate said as he gave Nurse a strong chiding before remanding him to HMP Dodds until Friday for sentencing.(BT)

NURSE, CUMMINS OUT OF CONTRACT – Barbadian cricketer Ashley Nurse has paid the price for below-par bowling performances in one-day internationals (ODI) this year which resulted in him being dropped from the starting 11 of the West Indies’ World Cup team. Off-spinner Nurse and compatriots Miguel Cummins and Raymon Reifer were among seven players who have not been retained by Cricket West Indies (CWI) on central contracts for the period from July 1 to June 30, next year. Others who have been dropped from the list are out-of-favour leg-spinner Devendra Bishoo, opening batsman Kieran Powell and batsman Sunil Ambris, who was a late World Cup replacement for the injured all-rounder Andre Russell. Nurse has taken 49 wickets in 54 ODIs at an average of 43.36 and an economy rate of 5.34 runs per over but only managed eight wickets in 14 ODIs this year after not bowling in three of those matches. He bowled in two of the three World Cup matches he played, returning figures of 5-0-31-0 versus Australia and 9-0-55-0 against New Zealand. (DN)

DISRESPECTFUL - oint Bashment Soca king, SK may opt not to defend his crown next year, due to “disrespect” from the Yellow International Bashment Soca Competition’s organisers, his agent Jamal Belgrave has told Barbados TODAY.And while SK, real name, Romario Cave on Sunday said he was not upset about having to share the crown with well known artist, King Bubba, the hours following revealed a growing level of discontent about how the night unfolded.During a live video posted to SK’s Instagram account, fans continuously questioned the decision-making of judges on the night arguing SK’s performance of hit song, Reverse was unmatched. It was also suggested promoters had not made sufficient provisions for a tie.In fact, Belgrave, better known as Pumpy Doo, reported that SK’s team was left feeling slighted when King Bubba’s entourage was allowed to make off with the 1st place trophy.The agent said organisers threatened to have him removed from the venue when he demanded to know why King Bubba, who reportedly left early to perform overseas appeared to be receiving preferential treatment.“A tied competition is a very ‘ticklish’ thing, because King Bubba’s people will be feeling like they won and SK’s people will feel as though he is the winner and he wanted to feel the energy from the crowd and wake up with that trophy the next day,” Belgrave said.SK’s 2019 hit song, Reverse appeared to be the overwhelming fan favorite on the night and his 1st place tie with King Bubba’s She Always Bend Over, has raised come controversy.“They didn’t deal with it how they should have. They announced the tie and the promoters were just done and were looking to leave. They didn’t look at the fact that there was only one trophy and one cheque. I asked them [Bubba’s family] if they’re going to leave with everything and the person said, ‘we have what is for us. You better get what is for you,’” he recalled, adding officials threatened to put him out of the venue for simply querying the situation.“What we want is respect and my artist feels highly disrespected. On the night when hundreds of people are in the crowd he wants to go and raise his trophy in the air and make a moment that he could remember… King Bubba was not in Barbados and got more respect and recognition than the man that was here that actually mashed up the show for them. I told them it wasn’t fair.”So annoyed is the agent with the treatment he revealed his artist, the first timer was contemplating forfeiting his right to defend the crown.“I already told myself we’re done. As the reigning Kings, we’re done and some of the other artists are done… because it seems like no matter what you do it’s not good enough,” he said. These things made me offset. It’s like we will never be heard, but I would like all of the bashment soca artists come together and tell them to keep their competition,” he said.Belgrave took his criticism a step further by questioning possible conflicts of interest in relation to sponsorship and the judging process and called for a more transparent process in cultural competitions going forward. Director of 4D entertainment, Rudy Maloney told Barbados TODAY he would not be caught up in the arguments on social media but lauded his team for rolling out a successful competition.“We think the judges were professional, the production was good, the patrons were good. Everything overall complemented the production of the competition,” he said.Maloney denied any suggestions that King Bubba, whose father, Habib Elias is CEO and owner of key sponsor, Slam 101.1FM benefitted from bias in the judging process.“Lil Rick works for Slam and he won the competition last year and we didn’t see that problem. When we do a competition, we don’t look at Slam because we have three radio stations that sponsor the event. So we don’t look at if something is a conflict in that regard. We see Bubba as an artist. Full stop,” said Maloney. Maloney also revealed the decision to award 2nd and 3rd places in spite of the tie for first place was addressed in the competition rules and all competitors agreed that in such a circumstance, the prize would be shared.(BT)

For daily or breaking news reports follow us on Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter & Facebook. That’s all for today folks. There are 175 days left in the year. Shalom! #thechasefilesdailynewscap #thechasefiles# dailynewscapsbythechasefiles

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