#did i misplace them or put them back with the main bulk of them??????

[lcpmon]

i cant identify my grade c emmets wtffff

[blackboar]

Journey to Bosworth: Participants and their motives at Bosworth field: Henry Percy, the failed fence-sitter.

Hello! I wrote this piece as I had  numerous sources on the War of the Roses at hand thanks to my master. I hope folks who enjoy reading about this period would like it!

At Bosworth Field, August 22th 1485, the last Plantagenet king was killed. Richard III died on a last, desperate charge against a rival whom little foresaw as a viable contender for the throne. With him died the longest ruling dynasty in England's history. Except for this symbolical conclusion, Bosworth field's importance was magnified by Tudor propaganda, as an ultimate fight between good and evil and the end of the Middle Ages. It forgets that the battle lasted at best for an afternoon and was quite ill-documented, to the point where the battlefield was inaccurately identified at first. It is thus fair to say that Bosworth mostly holds importance in retrospect. If Henry Tudor had been defeated or killed before he could uproot his new dynasty, Bosworth would have been seen as one of the many sterile struggles for the Crown in XVth century England.

Today, I would like to share some informations about one of the major participants of this battle. One whom, not by his actions but by his inactions, changed the outcome of this day.

The powerful Henry Percy, the fourth earl of Northumberland. Henry came from a family traditionally considered as one of the major power players in Northern England. The famous saying: ‘the North knew no Prince but a Percy’ was quite self-eloquent, even if exaggerated. During the 1400s, the Percies opposition to Henry IV almost led to the king's destruction at the battle of Shrewsbury. After their attainder, Henry Percy’s grandfather (another Henry) did reconcile with the House of Lancaster but lost many lands and prestige. Even after those losses, the Earl of Northumberland was one of the major supporters of the House of Lancaster in the War of the Roses, their current Earl dying at Towton against the newly crowned Edward IV.

Edward IV had counted on their rival: the junior line of the Nevilles, which was one of the mightiest Houses in English history. Through marriages, alliances, and shady maneuverings, the Kingmaker Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, and Salisbury hold the inheritance of houses Montagu, Beauchamp, Despencer, and also the bulk of the Neville inheritance in the North, against the senior line who retained the title of Earl of Westmoreland and less important holdings.

Richard Neville and his family were quite ambitious, and as the leading supporter of the burgeoning  House of York, they were lavishly endowed by the new king. Richard’s brother took in 1464 all the lands of the House of Percy, with the title of Earl of Northumberland, thanks to his service in the North. However, for Henry Percy’s fortune, Edward IV and the Nevilles had a falling out, as it often happens between king and Kingmaker. Richard Neville opposed Edward IV’s marriage to Elizabeth  Wydeville, from a modest, noble family, and his policies in favor of Burgundy. Likely worried about the rising star of the Nevilles in the North, Edward IV decided to clip their wings by giving back his titles and lands to Henry Percy, which would be formalized solemnly in the 1472 Parlement.

This decision was a disaster for Edward IV, as the loyal John Neville, unhappy with the compensations, decided to join his brother in his attempt to restore the House of Lancaster. As for the new grantee, he seemed to have become a cautious man, conscious of his predecessors' tragic end, and seemingly determined not to reproduce their mistakes. It can be seen in the events of 1470-1471. Henry Percy didn’t help the Lancastrians in their effort to resurrect their rule on England in 1470. He also didn’t try to stop Edward IV when he landed in Yorkshire the following year while he was on the first line.

After the Yorkist victories of Barnet and Tewkesbury, the civil war was over. The destruction of the lines of Lancaster and restored peace in England. Henry Percy, confirmed in his lands and titles despite his fence-sitting, was prepared to restore the House of Percy to its rightful place after a decade of unrest and absenteeism.

The conditions were seemingly favorable to prepare an extended Percy hegemony in the North. Hadn’t the Kingmaker died and his holdings taken back by the Crown? Wasn’t the Earl of Westmoreland mad and the Cliffords at odds with the king? Percy seemed in favorable conditions to fill a region partially poked power vacuums. It was without another newcomer: Richard Plantagenet, Duke of Gloucester. The twenty-year-old duke was originally granted extensive estates and offices in Wales, the Welsh Borders, and East Anglia. However, the Nevilles' demise gave Richard a unique opportunity to replace them. From 1471 onward, Richard secured from his brother the bulk of Neville’s northern estates. By his marriage to Anne Neville, the youngest daughter of the Kingmaker, he could pretend to be the heir of the deceased Earl and not someone put on by royal authority. Richard constantly tried to accrue his northern estates at the expense of other regions. By the demise of his brother Clarence in 1478, he trades with Edward IV several northern holdings, including the Honour of Richmond, for other estates he had in the south. By the many offices he was appointed and the leadership of the Council of the North, Gloucester was the natural hegemon in the North. Henry Percy became one of his retainers and obtained the preservation of his traditional hegemony in Northumberland. Was Henry Percy happy with the arrangement? He did follow the Duke of Gloucester in his main activities as local ruler of the North, especially the war against Scotland in the early 1480s.  Henry Percy also supported Gloucester’s usurpation of the throne in 1483, although it’s quite possible that he wanted to get rid of his influence in the North for good. If so, he was sorely misplaced, as the Council of the North continued with his heir, the Prince of Wales and after the Earl of Lincoln. Worse, the Duke of Gloucester now had the full power of the Crown for his patronage. His brief reign was marked by extensive and heavy-handed trade in favor of northerners. The Earl of Northumberland did profit from this situation, as he was granted the reversal of the attainders of his ancestors during Henry IV’s reign and the lordship of Holderness.

But Richard III also started to infringe on Henry Percy’s indenture of retainers. He needed loyal service in times of treason, and the new king seemed to have placed enormous trust in northerners. Richard III began to employ and endow many Percy retainers. This was a threat for Percy’s base of power, as he couldn’t match a king’s patronage. Even the death of Anne Neville and his only son Edward of Middleham during his reign didn’t seem to waver northern loyalty toward Richard. His ‘good lordship’ and the lavish grants he gave to his retainers made him simply paramount in northern politics.

Henry Percy was threatened on the very basis of his power. His retainers were becoming broadly too loyal to Richard III to allow the Earl to join the Tudor cause, even if he willed so. His ‘good lordship’ necessitated him to represent his affinity, and his numerous retainers wanted to keep Richard III on the throne. Henry Percy was on the verge of becoming a non-entity, with no true autonomy as his servants would become Richard’s.

There is evidence that Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, tried to sabotage Richard III’s war effort. He showed up with only 3,000 men at Leicester for the confrontation with the rebels. It seems that the Earl deliberately forgot to recruit men in several key northern areas, even though Richard III had given him the commission of arrays to do so in Yorkshire. He notably didn’t try to recruit soldiers from York, who upon their own authorities would raise eighty men to join Richard III at Bosworth. They would arrive too late. Richard III knew Northumberland’s guile as he had received messengers from York. Perhaps Northumberland brought, as a justification, the fact that the city was enduring an epidemy of plague. Or maybe Richard III was overconfident upon his forces and eager to show by chivalric prowess his right to retain the Crown. Those petty moves didn’t interest him in front of the upcoming battle, which was God’s judgment. In any case, Richard III put him in charge of the rearguard, but close enough to the immediate action.

In the heat of the battle, Henry Percy refused to support Norfolk against the assaults of the Earl of Oxford. This decision had a fateful consequence, as it prompted Richard to led a personal charge against Henry Tudor in the hope he would slain him. After Richard’s demise, Henry Percy surrendered to the triumphant Tudor king. He was briefly jailed by Henry VII, who kept him as his lieutenant in the North in place of the Council. Northumberland wouldn’t be more loyal to him, as he didn’t genuinely commit force during Lambert Simmel’s rebellion in 1487. Neutrality, once again, might have been the best thing he has to offer to Henry VII, as the North was sympathetic to the yorkists and Richard III’s heirs. However, Northern hatred against his behavior was ostensibly shown in the uprising of 1488. Initially a popular revolt against taxes, the rebels would have Henry Percy as their sole victim. The Earl, who was murdered in front of his retainers during a meeting with the rebels. His retainers simply didn’t defended him. Thus ended the fourth earl of Northumberland, abandoned by his retainers the same way he forsake his sovereigns.

     Sources:

Chris Given-Wilson, Paul Brand, Seymour Phillips, Mark Ormrod, Geoffrey Martin, Anne Curry and Rosemary Horrox. Parliament Rolls of Medieval England. Woodbridge, 2005. British History Online: http://www.british-history.ac.uk/no-series/parliament-rolls-medieval.

Great Britain. Public Record Office. (1891). Calendar of the patent rolls preserved in the Public record office. London: H.M.S.O.. HathiTrust: https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/009029274.

Hicks, Michael. Bastard Feudalism. Longman Group, 1995.

Hicks, Michael. Edward IV. London; Oxford University Press, 2004.

Hicks, Michael. The Fithteenth Century, Volume II: Revolution and Consumption in Late Medieval England.  The Boydell Press, 2001.

Hicks, Michael. Richard III and his rivals: Magnates and their motives in the War of the Roses. The Hambledon Press, 1991.

Hicks, Michael. The Political Culture in the Fifteenth Century. London, Routeldge, 2002.

Hicks, Michael. The War of the Roses. Yale University Press, 2010.

Lander, J.R. “Attainder and Forfeitures, 1453 to 1509”. The Historical Journal Vol. 4, No. 2 (1961), pp. 119-151.

Kendall, Paul Murray. Richard III. Traduction d’Eric Diacon. Fayard, 1979

Kendall, Paul Murray. Warwick, le Faiseur de Rois. Traduction d’Eric Diacon. Fayard, 1981.

Wolffe, Bertam Percy. The royal demesne in English History, Alden Press, Oxford, 1970.

[unokins]

No Truth Left - part 5

CW: monsters, claustrophobia, drowning

Link to Archive

With a heavy sigh, Chie’s feet reluctantly dragged to the left. There was too much danger to spite Maverick's knowledge out of a sense of misplaced pride. Survival came first. 

After a few steps into the tunnel, Chie paused near a puddle. The light shined through the water, illuminating a turn in the narrow hole and nothing else. She sat down, splashing her arms and shirt. The purple stains clung stubbornly to her. Chie rubbed harder, using her nails to scrape at it to no avail. This was pointless.

Chie stood and continued. Branching paths connected to the main tunnel at odd intervals, some angling up, others down, all spiraling out like a network of veins. The main tunnel she walked in bulged and contracted irregularly, like a quivering intestine petrified during a spasm. Her footsteps tapped quietly against the stone, echoing around her. No wet slapping, no gurgling. Chie took a shaking breath and Maverick laughed.

"What?" 

Aah, nothing, Maverick sighed. It's just funny how spineless you are.

Chie's shoulders bristled. "Excuse me?!" 

Wait, did you hear that? Panic laced Maverick's tone, and she could feel his urgency prickling her. Hide!

"Oh God, oh God." Chie flashed her light around. There! Chie moved to a branching path closest to her, but the tight entrance blocked her at the shoulder. The one next to it was wider, half her height. Chie threw herself into it, pulling her knees up to her chest. She clicked off her light and strained her ears. The cold rock pressed against her, raising goosebumps over her skin.

Through the pitch darkness, Chie heard water dripping, waves rolling above, and a faint whistling of a breeze. Maverick laughed again.

Look at you, he crooned as if talking to a particularly stupid cat. You just react. No thinking, no observation. 

"Oh, you son of a bitch," Chie snapped quietly, pulling herself from the hole. Her legs shook, and she braced against the wall to stand. "This isn't funny. I'm being chased by things that want me dead, and you're pulling pranks?!" 

I'm just proving to you what everyone else already knows. 

Chie turned the light back on and continued walking. She was glad he couldn't see her face flush. "No one has ever called me spineless before."

Of course not. They like that you do things for them, so why would they? Do you always agree to cover shifts when your coworkers bring you a particularly sappy sob story? Are you actually interested in brushing up your Japanese because you want to, or because your grandparents push you?

Chie scoffed. "Being nice to other people and wanting to remain connected to my culture doesn't make me a pushover."

Yeah, but arguing with me and then doing exactly what I say does.

"You know the situation better than I do," Chie said, stopping. "That's being smart. And if you want me to continue, then this conversation is ending."

You have no choice but to move forward, Chie, regardless of what I say.

Chie shook her head, as if he was a fly buzzing around her. A small angry part of her wanted to push against his petulance with stubbornness. But Maverick didn't say anything else, so she continued through the cave system. 

Their conversation thankfully fell into a pattern of Maverick giving directions and Chie following. Chie's questions about how he knew where to go were met with the same answer; he didn't know how he knew, he just did.

When Chie dropped the subject, her thoughts cast back to his accusations; the more she tried to push them out of her mind, the louder they got. She wasn't spineless. There was no shame in believing the best in people, in putting faith that they wished well for her. Sure, Savannah never picked up any of her shifts, but she had a kid and was super busy. And-

Chie's stomach growled loudly and she stopped, hand to her guts. Hunger pangs gnawed at her. Slipping to the ground, Chie pulled out some of the snacks and ate, despite Maverick's protests. Part of her wondered how she forgot her hunger. The image of that Deep One flashed in her mind, and she no longer wondered.

Chie, move your head to the left. Maverick spoke quietly, as if anyone else could hear. Swallowing a mouthful of figgy bars, Chie glanced to the left. The darkness was still.

There's something there, Maverick said. You need to go.

A chill crept up Chie’s spine. She watched enough horror movies to know that disregarding Maverick would put them in danger. Quickly shoving the wrappers in the backpack, she stood and moved to the right, keeping low and quiet. The tunnel bent at a sharp angle, and Chie stopped at the turn, watching the darkness for any encroaching threat.

Again, Maverick's laughter rang in her head. Got you.

"The hatred I feel for you is mounting," Chie whispered. Her hand gripped into a tight fist. "Keep this up, and see what happens." She stood, rubbing the small of her back. Movement caught her eye. The walls around the bend were awash in an eerie blue glow, dancing along the stone in waving tidal patterns. Not bothering to turn her light back on, Chie took a couple steps down it and was met with a yawning cavern.

Several large pools split the ground, glowing as if a lightbulb sat just below the surface. Half a dozen Deep Ones worked nearby, pulling strange objects from the water. Carved statues, golden jewelry, and bars of silver veined with red were toted up with delicate care, and stacked to the side in neat, uniform rows. They spoke with gurgling grunts and low hisses in a language that Chie didn't recognize. Her ears ached with the sound.

The things moved on land like a cross between a gorilla and a toad, back bent, using their knuckles to brace their bulk as they shuffled and hopped along the stone. They hadn't noticed her.

Careful.

Chie stepped back. A Deep One stopped in its movements, held tilting to the side as it sniffed the air. It patted its chest and looked over itself, croaking to the others. They examined each other in turn, slowly shaking their heads. Chie took another step back, frowning as they sniffed the air. They were checking for injuries, as if they smelled-

Blood.

Heads snapped to her direction and Chie froze, only halfway out of the cavern's mouth. Wide, unblinking eyes locked onto the deep purple staining her. There was a moment of stunned silence between Chie and the Deep Ones.

Then they opened their mouths and shrieked- a single hideous note held for several agonizing seconds. Chie's vision blurred and her ears rang. They reached for her, work forgotten.

Run! Maverick yelled.

Bolting blindly away, Chie ducked into a sloping tunnel, skidding down the decline as the ceiling dipped.

Left now! Maverick's instructions rang in her head. 

Chie blew past the small turn, and her legs spasmed as they tried to compensate for Maverick's vying control. With a gasp, Chie hit the ground.

"You can't do that!" Chie cried, hand on her leg, muscles throbbing painfully. "I can't-" she cut off as the hulking forms of the Deep Ones shambled down the slope, croaking at her intrusion. Despite her cramped leg, Chie got up and followed Maverick's directions. 

Right up ahead, Maverick said as the tunnel ahead of them came to an abrupt stop. That should open up and-

Chie turned, and pulled up before she could fall into another small pool. Its water rippled from the movement of small, invisible fish. Stone walls loomed around her. Trapped. Maverick's sharp surprise cut through her.  

"Not again," Chie breathed. The dead end had nowhere for her to hide. No alcove, no stalactites, no cracks. "Not again…" She couldn't fight them all.

Jump into the pool, Chie.

"Are you mad?!" She spat back. Her raised voice brought a call from the Deep Ones. A call of guttural, ancient anger.

If you stay here, it's a sure death. The tunnel may go somewhere. Maverick urged her, and she felt a foreign energy in her legs. She had to move, had to go. Now. Maverick pushed her harder.

"It's too small. I won't fit." Chie's breath exhaled in ragged gasps as dread surged. 

Then we'll die, was Maverick's simple reply. Under the thin veneer of detached coolness, Chie felt his own rising panic. He chose wrong. He chose wrong and it was going to kill her.

Another shriek rang through the tunnels, and Chie turned to the mouth of the dead end. They were falling over each other to get to her, clawing at the ground, clambering around stone and howling beastly. Their fishy odor was overpowering in the confined space. Scale and fin, reaching webbed hands, wild golden eyes, and snapping teeth. One rushed ahead of the rest and swiped at her.

Screaming, Chie ducked. Its fetid claws grazed the backpack. Chie scrambled for the pool. It grabbed her ankle and Chie screamed again, slamming her foot at its face. A sickening squish, skin and muscle giving way like putty, and its grip loosened. Chie broke free, took a deep breath and dove into the icy pool. 

It was too small for her to swim properly. The stone walls pressed against her shoulders, trapping her arms over her head. She couldn’t fully bend her knees as she pushed against the stone, and her arms could only move a few inches in the confined space. One hand gripping the flashlight, the other stone, Chie squirmed through the flooded tunnel inch by agonizing inch, wide eyed and panicked.

Behind her, the water splashed and the muffled cries of the Deep Ones screeched behind her. A claw tickled her leg and a flash of terror sent Chie scrambling wildly. Stone scraped against her belly as the tunnel constricted on her, turning upwards sharply. 

Chie’s lungs burned. A partial exhale through her nose brought some relief. The flashlight flickered, plunging her into total darkness. Aching muscles, stiff from cold, sluggishly pulled her onward. Chie’s free hand scraped against rock while her feet kicked. 

Too close. The walls were too close and kept pressing against her. The tunnel narrowed more, and she wedged against the rocks. The stone squeezed her forearms, holding them to her head like a vice. Fingers scrambled for purchase, shoes slipping against the tunnel walls. She was stuck.

Was this how she died? Drowning in a cave brimming with monsters? Her stomach twisted with panic as another small exhalation escaped her. Her lungs burned with the need for air. Chie fought the urge to cry out, to beg for someone to help. There was no one here but a derisive little voice.

Keep going, Maverick urged. The flashlight flickered. There! I see the end! Just a bit further.

Chie struggled, twisting her shoulders against the stone. It tore through her shirt and her skin, but her body slowly scraped along the narrow passage. Shoulders, chest, then hips, and Chie was able to brace her feet again. Another push and she was free. 

Chie’s hands met hard stone. She screamed profanities at Maverick in her head, cursing him for tricking her now of all times. 

No! Maverick shouted. Genuine panic cracked his voice. No, no, no! I saw light!

Her lungs couldn’t hold it in any longer. A bubble of air burst from her mouth, floating upwards, through a break in the rock. Her diaphragm twisted in on itself, desperately empty.

Frantically, Chie pounded, hand and flashlight. The tunnel was beginning to blur. Chips of stone gave way to her beating. Chie’s heart hammered. More bubbles floated up and through the widening crack. Water glinted at the surface. So close!

Chie’s body automatically inhaled. Water rushed into her oxygen-deprived lungs. They burned hot and violent in the icy water. More air, her body demanded. The world pitched to black.

Maverick possessed her arms. The pain in her lungs and the foggy lightheadedness didn’t touch him. He could only feel the throbbing ache in Chie’s arms, the water sapping her strength. She may have given up, but he refused to die- not when they were so close. Maverick slammed Chie's fists. The stone ripped skin from her knuckles, but he didn't care. As soon as he pulled back, the pain would be gone. With a final push, Maverick rocketed Chie’s body upward, crawling through the remnants of the rubble. He pushed her body past its limits, and with a final shove, Chie breached the surface. 

Chie coughed, Maverick scrambling for purchase as he pulled her body out. Hunching over on dry ground, Chie gasped and then vomited. Air came to her in painful gulps and her lungs seized with the effort to rid themselves of the water. 

Keep coughing it up, Maverick said, settling comfortably away from the pain. You’re going to live. 

"Th-This is," Chie sputtered, "this is your fault."

Several minutes of violent coughing passed, the water spilling from her in bouts of shuddering heaves. Chie vomited again and, body spent, collapsed. Maverick waited for a moment, then sighed with relief when he heard her wheezing breaths. While he didn't know what would happen if she died, he didn't want to find out, either. He reached out, slipping his will into her body. 

Pain, exhaustion, and cold shocked him, and Maverick retreated. No, he was not going to suffer through that to move forward faster. He would just need to give her a couple minutes to recover. Taking control of just her arms was less tortuous, and Maverick pulled her body behind a pile of… 

Giddy comprehension overwhelmed him.

Gold. The cavern was filled with piles of worked gold. It was all jewelry, from tiny rings to grandiose tiaras. Each piece was intricately crafted with swirling lines and twisting details that turned at odd, sharp angles. Those details spun and shaped themselves into the bent, hulking shapes of the Deep Ones; some bowed in reverence of some unseen being and others threw spindly arms up in adulation. The craftsmanship and technique was otherworldly. No human hand could have crafted something so equally sublime and grotesque. 

Of course, Maverick knew the Deep Ones made them. Knew they gave them to their followers as payment for sacrifices and breeding. Knew that, perhaps, if Chie had her own jewelry, they might be able to pass safely through the Devil’s Reef.

Guilt itched at him. He had been wrong about navigating the tunnels. One incorrect turn and they almost drowned. With a huff, Maverick pushed those useless feelings aside. What was guilt to him? They lived, thanks to him. Despite the minor slip up, he could still feel confident in his knowledge… right?

>Take some jewelry >Leave it alone

[thiswasinevitableid]

Apple, Delight (Sternclay)

Prompt for the fourth was: Apple Orchard

Barclay has cinnamon sugar in his pores, he’s certain of it. The first of October means the crowds arrive in earnest to Amnesty Farm which, from late September to mid-November, becomes a center for fall fun. They don’t serve tons of food, but Barclay is in charge of what they do offer, his pride and joy being their apple cider doughnuts, which he’s made by dozen since eight that morning.

He’s ready to settle in for the night when he discovers he has less firewood than he thought. Ah well, Sass needs to go out anyway, a trip to the wood pile won’t kill him. 

Except, as he’s gathering an armful of chopped logs, Sass goes tearing off towards the orchards, dark fur disappearing into the shadows under the trees.

Barclay sighs, sets the wood down and starts off after him. It’s not like he can get too lost, since the farm is fenced in on all sides, but it’s supposed to rain tonight and he’d hate for him to be out in it. Plus, if he gets into the garden display again, Dani will be pissed. 

He passes the petting zoo, then the goat and sheep pens, smiling when soft clucks come from the chicken coop. They’re on a country road, so at night there’s no traffic to drown out the sounds of the farm and the nearby woods. Maybe some people find it eerie, but hes’ grateful for the relative quiet after a day of being in the kitchen. 

Skirting the end of the U-Pick Pumpkin Patch brings him to the apple orchards. There are also pear and cherry trees, but the apples make up the bulk of what they grow, and visitors are welcome to pick from designated sections. 

Now if only he could spot a wagging tail or hear a jingling collar in the midst of them. 

“Sass!” He whistles, but no shape comes bounding towards him. Usually when the dog fails to come when called, it’s because he’s chasing some poor squirrel or rabbit into the underbrush.

Which is why, when he hears a  distinctly human cry of alarm, Barclay jumps out of his skin before taking off towards the subsequent barks. 

He finds Sass directing his deep woofs at a man about Barclay’s age, with dark hair that was slicked back at some point but is now mussed, and a sweater and jeans that are far too clean for him to be a farmhand. When he gets closer, he realizes he recognizes the guy; he’d been in with his family earlier that day, and Barclay had just enough time to think he was hotter than the fryer before a new wave of visitors came to the counter. Given that he was there with a woman and  young girl, he’s gonna assume the guy is off-limits for flirting. 

“Sass, c’mon boy, heel.” 

The dog turns, lopes over to Barclay as he steps to the man and offers a hand. 

“Sorry, he’s a surprisingly good guard dog for something that gets distracted by butterflies.”

The man takes his hand, stands and brushes leaves from his sweater, “and he's terrifying to have bolting towards you out of the darkness.”

Barclay raises an eyebrow, “that's kind of the point of a guard dog. Y’know, keeping intruders out?”

“I’m not an intruder, I am a visitor who misplaced something.”

“We’ve been closed for two hours.”

“I’m aware. But the front gate was locked and I couldn't get anyone’s attention.”

“Because the staff who live here live out towards the back. That's why we put that phone number on the gate. '' He turns them back towards the cottage, Sass trotting happily in front of them. 

“Which would have worked perfectly. If the thing I was missing wasn't my phone.” The man holds up a smartphone.

“I mean, guess it’s good you found it, but you coulda used someone else's and let us know to look for i in the lost and found. Folds are good about bringing dropped stuff back to the main farm.”

“I considered that option but I might not have a job come morning if I did it that way.”

“Jesus, where do you work?”

“The FBI.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, pretty much.”

“That how come you were able to scale the fence so easily?”

The man nods.

“What kind of work do you do in the FBI?” He may as well make the most of having a cute guy walking with him. A little practice flirting can’t hurt. God knows he needs it. 

“I work for the, um, the UP.”

“....Holy shit, I didn’t know that was real, I thought they made it up for the X-Files.”

“No, though it involves far more dead ends than that show portrays. Oddly, Twin Peaks is more accurate to what I do.”

“Man, that’s fucking cool agh, shit” rain patters on the leaves, “please tell me you moved your car away from the gate?”

“Only a little.”

“Shit. Okay, you probably figured it out from wandering around, but we are literally on the other end of the property right now, and the golf cart is in the shop.”

“It’s, um, it’s alright, if you get me to the main route through the farm, I can walk back on my own and climb the fence. Again.” His tone suggests he’s already working through the logistics in his head. 

“Uh, if you aren't in too big a hurry, at least let me swing by my place and get you a raincoat?”

“Oh. Um, that’d be great. Thank you.”

They veer right and soon the cottage comes into view. He grabs some dry firewood while Sass waits on the step and the man rubs his hands together. 

Once they’re inside, the man turns to him and Barclay has to work to keep his focus on his words rather than the blue eyes and handsome face.

“May I use your restroom? I got a bit muddy.” He holds up his hands. 

“Just down the hall.” 

The man smiles, and Barclay starts building a fire as he walks away. There’s a ding, and he goes to check in case Mama needs something. But it's not his phone, it’s the other man's, glowing where he set it on the table. 

Hayes: I expect better than technical mishaps from you, agent,

Shit, he wasn’t kidding about work. And his other notification is showing thirty unread emails.

The water shuts off in the bathroom and he hurries back to the fire, is just getting it caught when there’s a groan behind him. Turning, he sees his guest running a hand through his black hair, staring defeatedly down at his phone. 

“I’m moving to the bottom of the sea.”

Barclay chuckles and the man looks a little embarrassed at being heard.

“If you want something closer to home, we're hiring seasonal help.”

“I’m sure it’d do wonders for my physique, if you’re anything to go by, but I doubt I’m cut out for it. I’m white-collar through and through, unfortunately. Sorry” he looks at the hardwood floor, “probably shouldn’t whine about my job, since you’re helping me stay dry instead after I committed at least two misdemeanors on your property.”

“It’s Mama’s, I just work here. And it’s okay. Though, uh, kinda surprised you wanna talk to some random dude on a farm about it instead of, like, your wife.”

“Wife?”

“The woman who was with you today? You came into the restaurant at one point.”

“Oh! No, that’s my sister, I came with her and my niece. Her opinion on my work troubles is to get a boyfriend so I’ll have someone to complain to.”

Barclay closes the fire grate slightly harder than he means to at that last sentence.

“Did, uh, did you all have a good time?”

“Very. Ellie, my niece, adored all the animals, and Lily comes here every year to pick out pumpkins for decorating the house. I, um, my favorite part was the food. Those doughnuts were amazing, as were the pumpkin scones.”

Barclay blushes; a cute guy complimenting his cooking tends to make him all fluttery.

“You thought those were good, then I got something you need to try. Uh, I mean, if you want to stay a little, if not I can get the coat and we can go.”

The man looks at his phone, then back to Barclay, “what the hell, things are under control until the morning. I’d love to stay. Um, may I dry my sweater by the fire? It got pretty wet just in the few minutes we were out.”

“Sure thing uh, Mr-”

“Joseph is fine.”

Barclay smiles, heading for the kitchen, but not before watching Joseph's shirt catch on his sweater and ride up, revealing honest-to-god cut muscle. Instead of asking if he can lick apple butter off his abs, he grabs the jar of said butter, the loaf of bread, and starts a kettle for tea. 

Soon he’s setting a plate and a cup of cranberry-apple tea un front of Joseph, who inhales appreciatively.

“Let me guess; you made all of this?”

“Yep, the apple butter is an old family recipe.”

They eat in silence for a few moments until Sass, roused from his spot by the fire by the smell of food, pads over to sit in front of Joseph and stare. When that fails to produce treats, he turns his puppy-dog eyes on Barclay. The cook makes him sit and shake before tossing him a small piece of bread.

“What kind of dog is he?”

“Bernese Mountain Dog and Rottweiler, we think.”

“Is his name short for something?”

Barclay smiles, “Sasquatch. He had huge feet as a puppy.”

“We have similar dog-naming habits.” Joseph pulls out his phone, “this is Nessie.” When he turns it, Barclay almost snorts tea out his nose, unprepared for the sight of a greyhound in a sweater decorated with tiny Loch Ness Monsters. 

“Believe it or not, she adores that sweater. Last time I took it off to be washed, she whined for an hour.”

“Awww” It’s an adorable image, but not quite as adorable as the thought of Joseph on laundry day, in pajama pants and one of Barclay’s shirts, hair still relaxed from a shower. 

“She’s a good girl.” He tucks his phone away, “I feel terrible whenever I have to travel for work; my sister can’t take her so I have to board her somewhere, and it’s just infrequent enough that she forgets the staff and is terrified of them anew each time.”

“We could always get her used to me and board her here, assuming she and Sass get along.” The offer is sixty percent out of the goodness of his heart and forty percent wanting to see Joseph smile. 

“You’d really do that?”

“The farm is secure, she’d have a playmate, and there’d be lots of people here looking after her. She’d sleep in the cottage, of course.”

Joseph gives him an inquisitive look, then glances down at Sass, who’s wagging his tail so hard he’s sweeping the floor.

“Sure, what the hell. Assuming they get along, the next time I have to go, she can stay here.”

They chat for awhile longer about books, cooking, and various farm mishaps, before Barclay reluctantly fetches the spare raincoat so they can get Joseph back to his car. 

“Doesn’t quite bring out your eyes the way that sweater does.” He murmurs, then tries to correct for the come-on with, “because it’s such a, uh, a nice sweater?”

Joseph stays close to him as he replies “I’d offer to trade, but I’m not sure any of my clothes could survive that broad chest.” He ghosts his fingers across Barclays shirt, “Though it could be fun to see them try.”

The walk to the gate isn’t nearly long enough, and he blushes when Joseph once again thanks him profusely for his help and his company. The walk back, however, feels like an eternity, one that gives him time to doubt the other man had any interest in him at all. 

But all that evaporates when he gets home. Because sitting on the table is a slip of paper with a phone number and a short message. 

For arranging dog playdates. And dinner next Friday if you’re interested.

-Joseph

And sitting just below the message is a small, precisely drawn heart.

[loganscanons]

warm-up - 28 july 20

Character(s): Bambi and her brother Avi

Bambi leans against the headrest of the passenger seat and gazes out the window of Avi’s car, watching as McMansions make way for suburban houses, rows of the same house design with their two car garages and immaculately landscaped lawns, all flitting by at a steady twenty-five miles per hour. Avi has his Spotify on shuffle playing over the car stereo, filling the comfortable silence between them as they head to the grocery store at their parents’ behest. As Avi turns onto the main road, leaving the residential streets, he reaches to turn down the stereo. The music still vibrates through the speakers, but the words are nearly intelligible. Bambi glances at Avi expectantly.

Avi clears his throat, then says, “Bambi, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” Bambi says. She tries to quell her inner annoyance. Maybe he has news to tell her or he wants to vent about something, but based on his tone of voice, she has a feeling that he’s about to lecture her.

“How are you liking being part of a superhero team with other people your age?” Avi asks, flicking his eyes in her direction for a fraction of a second.

“It’s fine. A nice escape from Mom and Dad,” she says. She’s hesitant to say more. He could just be curious about how she’s doing, but this feels like a setup. “Why?”

“Curious, mostly,” he says. “It seems like you’re enjoying it, which of course I’m happy about.” He pauses, then adds, “I am a little worried about some things, though.”

Here it comes, Bambi thinks. She refrains from rolling her eyes. Avi means well, but his concern is so often misplaced.

When Bambi says nothing, he continues, “I’m really happy you have people to talk to and relate to, but you should keep in mind that just because someone is a superhero doesn’t mean they make for a good friend.”

Oh, so that’s what this is about, she thinks.

He’s hit his stride now and doesn’t give Bambi a chance to add her own thoughts. Not that she wants to. She knows who he’s alluding to, but she wants to give him a chance to not say something stupid before she says anything.

He continues, “A job doesn’t determine if someone is a good person or not, necessarily. Like firefighters. I mean, they spend their lives rescuing people, but there are still firefighters out there who aren’t good people, right? The same can be true of heroes. So, you need to be careful about who you get close to.”

“What’s this about?” Bambi says tersely, glaring in his direction. Enough beating around the bush.

“I…” he glances at her, reluctant to say what he’s really thinking. “I’m just not sure you should be spending so much time with Bennie, that’s all. There are other people on the team you can befriend, right? Bennie is…”

“Bennie is what?” Bambi snaps. “What’s wrong with Bennie? Is it because of how she dresses?”

“No, I’m just—”

“Did Mom and Dad put you up to this?” she asks, sounding far more bitter than she intended. “You haven’t even met her. You’ve seen one picture of her! One!”

“Bambi—”

“You guys go on and on about how worried you are that I don’t have friends. Like ‘oh, Bambi, why don’t you invite someone from school to come over after school on Friday? Do you have a group to go to homecoming with? Why don’t you go to the school games? You could make some friends!’” Bambi says, lightening her voice to mimic her mother. “But now that I have a real friend, you guys are suddenly concerned and don’t want me to get close to her?”

“Bambi, it’s not—I’m just saying—”

“What? What are you just saying?” Bambi asks, scowling at him. She’s leaning forward in her seat, her muscles tensed. She huffs and veers the conversation, “You know, people would probably say the same thing about me at first glance. ‘Oh, you shouldn’t be friends with her, look how she dresses! She must be dangerous; she’ll corrupt my beloved angel child because she doesn’t dress like every other respectable teenager!’”

“It’s different,” Avi says quietly. His eyes keep flicking toward her, and he’s tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“How?” Bambi demands. “It’s judging based on what someone is wearing, which is exactly what you and mom and dad are doing with Bennie.”

“I…” Avi opens his mouth than closes it again. His lower lip moves, like he’s trying to form words, but no sound comes out. Bambi watches him, silently daring him to disagree with her. When he blows a soft breath of air and reaches to turn the stereo back up, Bambi slumps in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares out the window.

She’s finding herself getting more and more annoyed with her family’s “concern” lately. Perhaps this is a side effect of growing older. Or a side effect of dying. She wouldn’t dream of snapping at her parents the way she’d snapped at Avi, so Avi faced the bulk of her anger, which she knew was unfair. However, he was repeating the same dumb things their parents said, so she felt at least partly justified in snapping at him.

Their shopping trip was quiet. With few words, they split the list that their mother had handed to Bambi before they left, then meet at checkout, letting Bambi stew in her annoyance in peace for the duration of their grocery shopping. Avi puts the charge on his credit card, and they wheel the carts to the car. As they stand at the trunk of the car, packing the grocery bags in for the ride home, Avi speaks up.

“I’m sorry, Bambi,” Avi says

Though he didn’t specify why exactly he was apologizing, Bambi feels her anger immediately melt away, replaced with a twinge of guilt for snapping at him.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she says, watching the profile of his face as he gently places the bag of fruit into the trunk.

“It’s okay,” he says. “You were right. I was just repeating what I’d heard mom and dad saying.”

“When are you going to learn not to do that?” Bambi asks, her tone teasing. Avi glances at her to see a small smile on her lips, and he returns the smile.

“Hopefully soon,” he says with a little laugh.

He reaches up to close the trunk of the car, then wheels the carts to their designated spot in the parking lot while Bambi settles in the passenger seat. The drive home is spent in comfortable silence.

[vaxir]

Argent Dawn hatred

Y’know, the reason some of Argent Dawn hates me is because...

I don’t give in to their bullshit. I stick up for myself, not allowing them to get me down. I’ve never let them get a hold of me and I’ve never backed down. And that really pisses some people off. 

They expect you to feel bad about yourself and inevitably leave the server after they harass you in public on the forums and in-game and shit talk you in their own discord. All because they chose to dislike you. 

And why do they dislike me, what started it all?

I started on AD in 2010, January. I didn’t know the lore so made lots of mistakes. I was a San’layn RPing in Stormwind. THAT was where I got my first hate. Why? Because I was a newbie to the game and lore. That somehow was deserving of hate, and I would get whispers of abuse and hate frequently. Instead of trying to help me, I would get simple, misplaced hate. Of course, I just ignored them and continued on my way, being ‘badrp’. So they got angry and I got more hate because I wasn’t changing to suit their elitism. Instead, I was having fun with my friends and breaking the lore.

That, to them, was worth abuse.

Eventually, through self discovery, I learned more on the lore and adapted over time to become lore friendly and left Stormwind at the end of 2010. Over time, Vaxir grew in size and bulk and her looks changed - which progressed over eight years mind you. So all in all I was playing a behemoth hyped up on blood magic and blight. She was muscular, heavy set and ugly. And powerful. But without revealing her history, nobody knew HOW she got this way.

That, to them, was also worth abuse. Because they couldn’t work out her history, so it must be ‘badrp’, and ‘badrp’ means you can hate someone. That and the damage from my ‘badrp’ and standing up for myself had already gotten me a bad name.

I was invited to the ‘LFRP’ channel once. Curious, I accepted the invitation, only to be met with hatred and abuse for my ‘badrp’. So I just left, bewildered why anybody would do that.

Before I continue, I must say that I am an adult. I do adult things in life and enjoy adult themes. This does not mean, however, I bring it into Warcraft’s game itself.

This landed me with more hatred.

I commissioned a ‘non-canon’ picture of Vaxir sporting a dick. Why? Because I found the idea amusing. I had debated for a while what gender she was - MtF or just female, and stuck with fully female. But the idea never left my mind and so I commissioned a ‘what if’ picture. This was quickly discovered by AD and shared around the game and forums.

Which pissed me off, not because I was being ‘shamed’, but because they were subjecting possible minors to pornography I purposely kept away from prying eyes. Yes, you had to literally search my name on 18+ sites to find this art, meaning this people were genuinely stalking me by now in some sense. They were keeping tabs on me because of their dislike for me, then sharing any ‘dirt’ they could find, to then put it on the forums for children to see. I ignored it for the main part, tried to explain it isn’t ‘canon’, but they had made up their minds. 

This landed me with full time in-game and out of game stalkers. Because I had started as a newbie and did ‘badrp’.

Yes, I was legitimately being stalked online. 

Some time during all this I converted my OOC guild into an IC one and named it Bane. I invited my friends and we role played freely in Duskwood, just having fun. The previously mentioned image surfaced and then the stalking began, mere months after Bane was formed (or maybe longer, I’m not sure on the exact time).

One person joined who seemed promising and I allowed them to be an officer. Unknown to me, he was heavily into ERP and was inviting people to the guild to ERP with, inevitably creating a ring of ERPers inside Bane. Right under my nose. Without me knowing. It went on for a while.

Rickarla eventually joined the guild and we picked up on this ERP circle and had the members either leave or be kicked. But the damage was done. People had cottoned on to these ERPers - without telling me - and branded Bane an ERP guild. Coupled with my non-canon art, all they could speak about was that we must all be ERPers. 

We made a rule - no ERP. If you’re discovered, we kick you. But that didn’t stop ERPers joining and over time we just had to find out and kick them. For example we had two male Worgen in the guild who were caught in cat form in the middle of a field... ERPing. Prior to this they seemed like fine people, but of course, they turned out to be public ERPers. So they were kicked on the spot.  

Still, I received daily abuse, accusations of being a ‘futa’, had people trashing me on the forums, you get the idea. And I was being constantly stalked. People would stealth around me to spy on my RP, following me everywhere I went in hopes of ‘catching me in the act’. How did I know? I’d catch people out in stealth as I moved, and I would use TRP3′s tracker to see who was around me.

It has to be said, there are only two screenshots of me doing ‘bad’ things - One is a screenshot of me biting into someone’s arm and ripping the flesh off which is on tinypic.com. The other is of Rickarla and I torturing someone in Karazhan catacombs (also laying proof to the stalking thing - it was so far out of the way they had deliberately followed us), which people are desperately trying to claim was ERP (if it was, why didn’t the stalker screenshot the text?). 

So essentially, people were desperately clutching at straws to try and put me down and most likely chase me off the server as they have various other people. But I continued playing, ignoring them, doing what I wanted to. They weren’t worth my time of day.

Rickarla was a growing artist, advertising her art in all possible places, and landing many, many commissions. She will not draw very few things, and so will draw... nearly anything. This got people riled up. They claimed that because she draws sexual artwork for people then she must engage in it too. We tried to explain it’s her full time job to draw for people, but they were having none of it.

This got Bane a lot of hatred. It got us both a lot of hatred, myself mainly, because I refused to ignore the slander and spoke back.

Over time I had to take a break from the game due to IRL issues and left the guild in the officers’ hands. Bane grew... but also attracted some unsavory people. They would attack people on sight for instance, and a few were... into the sexual side of things. Though nothing was actually screenshotted, I was being told rather often that a few members were ‘futas’ and so forth, commissioning sexual artwork.

My response? I don’t care - I still don’t, as long as they didn’t bring it into the game. As for the attacking, I would sort it out when I came back from my hiatus.

Either way, I came back, but still the damage was done. 

The abuse only grew from certain people and eventually Rickarla left the guild for personal reasons and I closed it as I couldn’t run it. It was just time for the guild to die, but the stalkers still stalked, the others still spouted abuse where possible. I didn’t argue back, more either ignored it or replied to the best of my ability to try and sort out the issue. But these people weren’t interested in resolving anything.

They just wanted to put others down, and still do to this day.

Over time these people seemed to give up as they found no dirt on me other than my adult taste in art, landing themselves forum bans for exposing children to pornography (and so well deserved that is).

Lots of people decided to speak to me and I made a lot more friends than enemies and was more accepted into the community as more people spoke to me to ask my side of the story, or saw the stupidity of these ‘haters’. Yes, some people had the decency and courage to approach me to ask me my side, and I explained things to the best of my ability. 

So time passed. I continued doing my thing, they did theirs - with less abuse, mind you, but it was still there if less hate filled. It all seemed to be getting better as more people accepted me and less hate was present.

Somewhere between a year to two years ago, one of the main hostile people came to the Alliance side and I decided to approach him. I asked why he hated me so much and he said because I ‘break the TOS by ERPing’.

I have done ERP with my ex in private, but this guy presumed I did it on all my characters all the time. 

I explained it wasn’t the case, that I am an adult that did a few things with my partner at the time, in private, but he wasn’t having it. I asked again, really, why he hated me - I knew for a moment his hatred wasn’t based on the TOS at all because hating someone over breaking the TOS is a lousy excuse at best. He had the audacity to say I started it (that I started hate against him) and then ignored me and proceeded to spread it around I had tried to ‘arse-lick’ him.

So I just decided to ignore that instance. It seemed trying to resolve the issue didn’t work because this guy was too stuck on hating me for no reason.

Note: I have always admitted that I have done ERP on a few occasions with my ex, but never on Vaxir. She is an asexual virgin for crying out loud.

Discord became a thing and this guy made a server for people on AD to join. I joined, all seemed fine. But things started to turn odd when I realised I couldn’t speak without being sent abuse or being sent to the ‘trash’ channel for answering people’s questions. One instance was that someone asked if cat ears are ‘furry’, so I was explaining that they could be if desired, but the term is kemonomimi. The channel owner, with a strange hatred for furries, decided I was ‘breaking the rules’ or whatever excuse it was, and sent me to the trash so I couldn’t talk to anyone.

So the abuse was back.

Eventually I was kicked for ‘being an ERP sympathizer’ when I had explained I don’t care, simply, what people do between two consenting adults in private. But this guy decided, after pretty much harassing me with his friends for weeks in the discord, enough was enough, and removed me (with luck).

This brings us to this day.

I am hated because these people decided my role play was ‘bad’. I am hated for literally baseless rumors. I am hated for being an adult. I am hated for keeping myself to myself. I am hated for keeping my adult art out of the game where it belongs. I am hated for sticking up for myself in the face of public abuse. I am hated for admitting I have, like most people, tried ERP. I am hated for being me.

And that is why I’m hated. Because they want me to be ‘bad’ and ‘wrong’, but in reality they’re the bad ones. Because I did ‘bad rp’. Because I’m a free adult. Because I won’t let them get me down.

I wrote this in hopes people will read it and understand I’m unnecessarily hated and perhaps clear their minds of any dislike against me for wrong reasons.

[foodreceipe]

My Favorite Beverage Is a 2,000-Year-Old Energy Drink From Ancient Rome

The Romans sure knew how to quench their thirst.

Gwynn Guilford

Photo from the Metropolitan Museum of Art/The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1949.

We all know it’s good to hydrate. Water can be so blah though. So when I’m trying to rehydrate after a long run in the summer heat, I tend to reach for an old-timey solution: The energy drink of ancient Rome.                

The Romans were famed for their innovations in military logistics, which allowed them to extend their territory from Rome and its immediate surrounds to the whole Mediterranean and ultimately, with the establishment of the Roman Empire, virtually all of western Eurasia. But an army can’t win if it’s thirsty. Enter posca. This blend of vinegar and water—and possibly salt, herbs, and other stuff—holds a special place in beverage history thanks to its role as the Gatorade of the Roman army.                

It’s possible posca was Greek in origin. Its name may have derived from the Greek word epoxos, which means “very sharp,” according to The Logistics of the Roman Army at War, by Jonathan Roth, historian at San Jose State University. But the beverage owes its fame to the small, but essential, part it played in the Roman army’s legendary efficiency. As early as the middle of the Roman Republic era (509-27 BCE), the military rationed posca to troops along with grains and, very occasionally, meat and cheese. That policy continued for centuries, well into the Roman Empire.                

Roman soldiers did, of course, drink water. But historical records suggest that it wasn’t their beverage of choice. Consider what Plutarch wrote about how Cato the Elder, an officer during the Second Punic War (218-202 BCE), dealt with his thirst, according to Roth:                

Water was what he drank on his campaigns, except that once in a while, in a raging thirst, he would call for vinegar, or when his strength was failing, would add a little wine.

Like Cato, Romans prized wine for its supposed health benefits, as Rod Phillips, a historian at Carleton University in Ottawa, writes in his book Wine: A Social and Cultural History of the Drink That Changed Our Lives. That made posca—which contained vinegar made from wine gone bad—vastly preferable to plain old H20. And wine, at the time, was plentiful. Rich Romans put back titanic volumes of it. As the reach of Roman imperialism spread throughout Europe, viticulture followed, which “gave their armies ready access to wine depots almost everywhere,” writes Phillips.                

For military officials, off wine was a cheap source of calories to distribute in bulk. Diluting it with water to make posca “effectively doubled the volume of liquid ration given to the soldiers at a very low cost,” observes Roth.                

There probably was something to the Romans’ belief in posca’s health benefits. The drink’s acidity and slight alcohol content would likely have neutralized bacteria, making it safer than drinking straight water. That could have been a big benefit, given that tainted water has been known to ravage armies more effectively than battle. Vinegar was also thought to help stave off that scourge of militaries throughout history—scurvy. (It doesn’t, as it turns out. But Ancient Romans were hardly the only ones to misplace faith in vinegar’s antiscorbutic virtues; as late as the mid-1800s, the US Army rationed apple cider vinegar to troops stationed in America’s southwest during the Mexican War, according to Roth.)                

Mind you, military leaders and other elites generally didn’t deign to drink posca, which was more a drink of the common people, according to Pass the Garum, a fantastic blog dedicated to exploring Roman cuisine. When Roman emperor Hadrian wanted to slum it with his soldiers, this would have been his drink of choice. As Pass the Garum notes, the ancient historian Suetonius mentions vendors selling posca on the streets during the early years of the Roman Empire. Both among soldiers and common folk, posca continued to enjoy favor well into the Middle Ages, writes Andrew Dalby, a renowned historian of Greek and Roman cuisines, in Food in the Ancient World from A to Z.

Aside from slaking Roman thirst, posca’s other main claim to fame arises from its controversial cameo in the Bible. As Jesus Christ was suffering crucifixion—or possibly just before, at Golgotha—Roman soldiers offered him sips of the stuff from a sponge held aloft with a reed, according to Matthew 27:48. Depending on the interpretation, they did this either to help lessen his anguish or to needle him, notes Phillips. Whatever the case, Jesus wasn’t having it. “After tasting the posca, Christ refused to drink it,” writes Phillips.            So what did posca taste like? It’s a little hard to say. Due to its ubiquity in Roman literature of the day, we can safely conclude that it involved some ratio of water and red wine vinegar. But might it also have featured other flavors? History isn’t very helpful on that score, since no Roman posca recipes exist.                

Thanks to Byzantine medical writers, however, we’re not totally in the dark. Aëtius of Amida and Paul of Aegina, both Byzantine Greek physicians of the sixth and seventh centuries, respectively, included recipes for a “palatable and laxative” posca that included cumin, fennel seed, celery seed, anise, thyme, and salt, according to another book by Dalby, Tastes of Byzantium: The Cuisine of a Legendary Empire. (However, Dalby complicates the matter somewhat by noting that the word they used, the Greek loanword phouska, may by that time have become a catchall term for second-rate wine substitutes.)                

Adding herbs and sweeteners push posca in the direction of more familiar old school vinegar-based drinks like switchel, sekanjabin, and shrub. Throw in salt, and you have the combo of carbohydrates and sodium used in Gatorade and other modern sports drinks that help you recover the water and salts lost during exercise (or from simply sweating a lot). That makes sense: tromping around Europe and Asia Minor while saddled with armor and packs was undoubtedly sweaty work.                

As for modern-day perspirers, why buy commercial sports drinks to slake your thirst when you can make the Gatorade of the ancients? While the scribes of antiquity haven’t left us a lot to go on, that hasn’t stopped food bloggers and Roman enthusiasts—and me—from trying. For anyone wanting to join in, here are a few recipes and guidelines to get your started. Make sure to use brewed vinegar only—red wine, black, balsamic, or apple cider, for example—and not distilled.                

Though we have only the faintest hint that posca was sweetened, lots of recipes call for honey—like ”Sharp-but-sweet Posca” from Pass the Garum:                

2 tbsp red wine vinegar

250ml water

1 tbsp honey

According to this recipe, honey should first be melted in the microwave for about 20 seconds, and then added to the water and stirred. Then add the vinegar.        

 If you want something a little “sharper,” this recipe, from the site Romae Vitam, calls for a much higher proportion of vinegar to water, as well as crushed coriander seeds:                

1.5 cups of red wine vinegar

0.5 cups of honey

1 tablespoon of crushed coriander seed

4 cups of water

The recipe calls for boiling the honey and letting it cool before combining. Also, make sure to strain out the crushed coriander before drinking.                

My own posca–making is guided not by zeal for ancient Rome, but, rather, because I’m really thirsty. So while my concoction was inspired by what I learned from a lecture on ancient Roman cuisine a few years back, it has since strayed from the more authentic recipes listed above. I’ll still use diluted apple cider vinegar, if it’s handy, but I’ll sometimes go with homemade kombucha. And instead of honey, I prefer a glug of maple syrup (less messy). Also, usually, a little salt. And definitely a ton of ice. I’m not sure if you can still call that posca. But whatever it is, on a hot day, it sure hits the spot.

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/my-favorite-beverage-is-a-2-000-year-old-energy-drink-from-ancient-rome?utm_source=pocket-newtab

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [71]

“I thought you said your daemon was shy,” Kata-kost says, softly, great wings pressed to her body as she leans down off of Bull’s shoulder to be closer to Ellana’s face.

Ellana purposefully flicks the small, nail-sized seashell that’s been pinned closed with a wooden peg off her chest. The shell bounces on its string.

There, up until now, have been two main assumptions concerning their Inquisitor’s daemon.

One, it was small and she kept it in that shell. A ladybird, a pill bug, a spider, a caterpillar, a wasp, a bee, a beetle, any many dozens of small things that could have fit into that shell.

Two, her daemon is some sort of bird that could fly a great distance from her and watch over her - as Kata-kost does with the Iron Bull.

Both, in their own way would have fit.

The delicate ingenuity and tenacity of a bug or an insect, mixed with some sort of possible poison or bite or sting would match her well. Similarly, the swift agility and sharp instincts of a bird.

Instead there is Mahanon, who as his massive bulk created waves of gathered nobles and servants as they pushed away from him - creating a large bubble of silence and fear - could be physically felt sneering at their existences. Instead, there is Mahanon who - as Lavellan greeted Gaspard, loomed over the man’s hound with bared teeth and a crooned, many thanks for opening these doors.

There is Mahanon who looked the Empress’ gold-coated lynx in the eye and did not bow.

There is Mahanon, who has not followed Ellana here but instead has gone - nails and scales audibly rasping along the floor - outside to the gardens.

“He is very shy,” Ellana agrees, smile flickering around the edges of her face as the Iron Bull and Kata-kost both look down at her.

Bull pointedly looks at the seashell she’s playing with.

Ellana’s smile becomes a touch more tangible.

“I like seashells,” She says, pausing to take the necklace off and toss it out the window behind him. Her eyes challenge him to say something, anything.

He doesn’t. Kata-kost doesn’t.

Lavellan had never said that her daemon was inside the shell.

“Clever, clever bas,” Kata-kost hums, wings spreading just a bit as she steadies herself. Bull angles his shoulder towards the window and pushes the glass panes open a few inches more. Kata-kost jumps onto the sill with a click of her nails before she pushes herself out into the sky.

“I think,” Bull says when Ellana’s eyes drag from watching Kata-kosts’ flight back to his face. A slow travel of her dark, dark eyes that drags up his body in the same way Mahanon’s thick armored tail drags across the floor, “That you’ve sent the poor Ambassador’s plans for making you semi-presentable down to literal hell.”

Ellana’s mouth twists into a lop-sided grin, “You think so? Should I apologize?”

“Nah,” Bull shrugs his shoulders, “Personally, I think she likes the challenge.”

Lavellan sways into him for a brief moment, and Bull finds himself resisting the urge to lean into her space, into her -

“I think you like the challenge more,” She whispers.

She is not wrong.

-

Most people expect Mahanon to be a small thing. A narrow thing. It is typical of the Dalish elves to have things meant for underbrush.

Foxes, hares, snakes, badgers, the occasional wolverine. The odd hedgehog or insect here and there - quails, too.

When they were younger Mahanon was often a fox. He was many things that were expected of them. Ellana cannot say that there was any definitive point in their childhood that would lead him to become the massive, poisonous, beast that he is now.

There are those with daemons for heavy work - bears, oxen, deer, elk, so on and so forth. There are those with daemons that are for hunting - wolves, hounds, big cats, hunting birds. There are those with daemons for careful watching and guarding - serpents, insects, hares, little birds.

One’s daemon often becomes a means of survival in the clans.

Ellana’s daemon is none of the above.

Mahanon could not be put to work - not with his scales and his claws and his poison. Mahanon could not be used for hunting in the forest with his size and the glaring obviousness of how he is misplaced.

That of course, rules out the latter option as well.

What Mahanon was good for was protecting Ellana and not much else.

This is not something that anyone could fault him. This is not something anyone ever attempted to fault him.

This is something, however, that both of them sometimes regret.

Ellana’s breath is too loud, too harsh. She curls up so tight it hurts her back and strains her muscles and she curls up even further.

Mahanon is hot pressure on all sides as he curls around her. His own breathing, his own heart, pounds with her own.

The unfortunate truth is that Mahanon is too bold, too clear, too visible.

In this situation where she has been blasted straight into a sink-hole and covered in rocks by Venatori, Mahanon is not helping this situation.

He was helping when he - in all his brave irreverence of convention - was ripping Venatori arteries and spraying crimson blood onto sand. He was helping when he swatted daemons to the side so hard they turned to dust mid-way. Mahanon was helping when he was very far away from her and watching enemy movements and acting on his own to foil plans.

Here, at best, Mahanon is crushing her while trying to keep the rocks on top of them from crushing them both.

Regret, anger, bitterness, and rueful adoration mix together in her mouth like the sand and grit and sweat in her eyes and coated all over every exposed part of her skin. Lips, ears, trickling down the back of her neck, her hands, and sliding hot and sticky down her front.

Ellana has been trapped before. This is not uncommon when one is a Dalish mage and a child growing up in strongly Andrastian lands close to Tevinter borders.

She has been put in cages, barrels, crates, wagons, chains, among other such things crafted with the purpose of containment.

It was different then, because Mahanon could curl up and hiss his comfort into her ear, or buzz his own irritation at the situation, or crawl his way and cling around her neck. He could be so small - a rabbit, a cat, a bee, a spider, a wolf pup, a bear cub, a snake, a crow.

He could be comfort in her hands close to her heart.

He is none of those things now.

She knows that he is panicking just as much as she is. She knows that they are both having deep and chagrined regrets in that this is not something that could be helped. The fact that Mahanon is currently crushing her worse than if it was just her alone - most likely - is not something that they can change or help.

“I bet you,” She says through hot and dry sand-flecked lips, “The Iron Bull fucks them up good.”

“You talk like one of them now,” Mahanon’s voice hisses back in hot darkness, “Stop betting with yourself. You always lose.” He pauses, “Cassandra and her daemon will have them in a smear before the Iron Bull can do anything. Kata-kost might as well be a fly when Adrian gets mad.”

“I hope that Adrian and Cassandra don’t finish this fight right here,” Ellana replies.

They both grimace at the thought of the heavy horse trampling people directly on top of the pile of rocks they’re currently under.

“Pop,” Mahanon muses.

“Squish,” Ellana agrees.

[olga-eulalia]

Trying to write S1 SilverFlint like, Who are these people? What’s going on? Warnings: Non-native speaker writing, crack light, mature content, light corporal punishment, unbetaed, unfinished.

Notes: Reference gifset here.

Long after sundown, Flint made his way below decks and towards the galley where he found his new cook bent over some papers, reading by the dim light of a lantern. A closer investigation seemed in order. Distrust was, after all, not misplaced here.

"Mr. Silver," he said gruffly, startling the man right out of his studies. As the hour was already late, he then lowered his voice. "How are things? Managing to stay out of trouble, I hope?"

"Well,” Silver said, turning around, hands gripping the table’s edge, “it does seem considerably easier now that Randall has taken on the bulk of responsibility."

Flint stepped to his side. He lifted one of the papers. As far as he could tell, it was nothing but a recipe for the preparation of some gelatinous marine creature. Well may it serve them to be prepared for these eventualities, but for pity’s sake, may fortune well keep them from such fate. He put it back down among two leather-bound tomes and a multitude of loose sheets and, looking over the chaos with rising unease, worried the fingers of his left hand with his thumb.

A feather-light weight came to rest on his shoulder, ran down the length of his upper arm, and cupped his elbow with a reassuring squeeze.

It had been years, if not decades, since any of the members of his crew had dared to touch him in such a familiar manner. Flint stilled at the sensation, noticing how his heartbeat tottered about. He raised his head and looked into Silver’s face. No defense training had ever really prepared him for gentleness.

"Is there something I can do for you, captain?" Silver asked, tone comforting and smooth. His expression was amiable and relaxed. Flint could even see the pearly sheen of his front teeth between his parted lips. Nonetheless, the hazy notion that Silver was only biding his time, waiting for his opposite to make the first damning blunder, persisted.

"A nightcap, perhaps?" Silver continued, moving in too close, his body too warm, making the blood rush and pound near the surface of Flint's skin. "Or something else?"

As luck would have it, novice Silver, who had seen him cave in a man’s face with a six-pound cannonball, who had been there when he'd parted another man from his leg with a meat cleaver, had no idea that it wasn’t customary to threaten the men on this ship with bodily harm whenever they stepped out of line. So Flint could reach forward and fist Silver's hair while still keeping his credibility as captain more or less intact.

The thick crop of dark locks pulled taut between his fingers. Silver’s eyes turned glassy and the softest uhh escaped on his breath. In that moment, Flint could see himself, a famished beggar, sliding his tongue over the base of Silver's bared throat, then closing his mouth over the appealing shape of Silver's lips and putting his tongue there too. And he balked.

"That'll be all, Mr. Silver. Thank you." He relinquished his grip.

Flint stared into the darkness of night. With fingers interlocked behind his head, he was lying on his cot, letting his mind wander in a manner that was neither seemly nor, indeed, conducive to much-needed rest. A frown puckered his features. “Shit,” he muttered to himself.

"It appears you have finally discovered the purpose of the bay leaf," he said to his audience at large. The hubbub around the hearth at lunchtime was greater than he’d come to anticipate. The two cooks were present, but also two of the riggers, one of the gunners, and Joshua.

Silver, with his sleeves rolled up, was wiping his hands dry on a white apron that pinched his midriff like a bodice, splayed fingers dragging down the entire length of it. "I'll take that as a compliment, captain." He beamed.

Somehow, that little exchange had drawn the entire group’s undivided attention and the chatter had quieted down to nil. Randall, whose hair was as frazzled as the look in his eyes, regarded the scene with an eagerness that bordered on lechery.

"As you were, if you please." Flint nodded curtly and, before his discomfort could become any more obvious, left them to their gossip.

Late afternoon was spent absorbed in the perusal of maps and the taking of notes. A flimsy distraction, as the big event moved inexorably closer and the tingle of excitement settled in his bones. But one thing led to another, and soon he found himself leafing through one of his books. There was a passage in the account of the sea battle at B-- that felt somehow incomplete, beckoning him to go over the maneuvers in his mind and try to piece a coherent strategy together. A knock on his cabin door snipped his concentration. He ran a hand over his face.

"Yes?"

Clatter outside. Then Silver poked his head into the room. "May I?"

He entered, serving three dishes at once. Balancing the third on his bare forearm, he waited for Flint to roll up the charts before he gingerly arranged one after the other on the desktop. The first two bowls contained supper. Which was rather considerate, Flint thought, as time had slipped him by and he’d missed the communal meal.

"What's this, then?" He indicated the last, linen-covered dish.

With a flourish, Silver revealed it to be a sponge cake garnished with some type of fruit, possibly apple, whose surface had been baked to a fine copper colour.

Flint looked at Silver’s expectant face sharply. "I'm sure you were familiarized with our customs. Equal shares for everybody. I trust you can manage to make forty-three portions out of that cake?"

“I’ll see what I can do, captain,” Silver said, eyes a blazing blue, as he removed himself and the offending dessert from Flint’s presence.

Supper turned out to be warmed-up lunch, a thick potato soup that yielded the odd piece of meat, hearty in flavour. As it definitely carried more spice this time around, Flint poured himself a good measure of rum which he diluted with water. But one had to count one’s blessings, he mused, it wasn’t the eternal fish soup. And if this whole endeavour to capture the Spanish treasure galleon did fail, Silver, at least, would make a not completely useless husband to someone, someday.

He gaged the hour by looking at the moon outside his cabin window and took the mint leaf out of his mouth. It was almost time for his round on the main deck. He cleared the desk to some extent in preparation for next day and was busy stowing away his cartographic instruments when Silver reappeared, wielding the pewter once more. What measly amount of benign mood had accumulated throughout supper quickly evaporated at the sight of him striding into the room and coming around the desk, as though he’d been given permission.

A reprimand ready on his tongue, Flint saw to his added dismay that a very large, succulent portion of the cake still remained sitting in the middle of the plate, sweating butter.

"You didn't specify the size of it," Silver said, leaning his weight against the desk. He smelled of pepper and burnt sugar, a confusing combination.

In truth, the entire situation seemed to be a challenge specifically concocted to test Flint’s patience. He watched, on edge, as Silver, holding his gaze with brutal fervor, picked up the cake, put more than half of it in his mouth and took such a massive bite that he had to use his fingers to keep everything stuffed inside his bulging cheek. What remained of the slice he held out as an offering.

Flint bristled with irritation. Though he could see himself gradually accepting it at his mouth in order to take his share, could perhaps even see himself abandoning his seat and planting a kiss on disobedient Silver, making him cough and sputter, he’d long since decided that harbouring one fantastical idea and pursuing it, often to his detriment, was quite enough.

“I believe I expressly did,” Flint said, rising from his chair to stare Silver down. “I ought to have you flogged for this.”

Silver seemed unfazed. His thumb was chasing stray crumbs across his chin and pushing them between his lips, as he chewed and swallowed with some difficulty. Eventually, he licked the corner of his mouth, a glistening slide of pink. “How many?”

“What?”

“Strokes. How many?”

Flint felt like he’d taken a punch to the throat. His next words grated. “For a first-time offender such as yourself? Five are protocol.”

“You would administer the punishment yourself?” Unwavering, Silver stared back at him. Some of his breaths were audible, chest rising and falling like heavy swell.

An imaginary bite of the cake ground to mush between Flint’s back teeth. “I’d make sure you learned your lesson.”

“And I am to wear the apron while you do it, yes?” Silver blinked slowly up at him. “While you teach me?” His voice seemed to lower during that last inquiry. His hands were already moving to unbutton his pants.

Distantly aware that he was doing it, Flint nodded. Though, as far as he knew, a removal of clothes was not mandatory. And, as far as he knew, corporal punishment was not something to be negotiated with the offender in the first place. Besides, as the practice had been abandoned on his pirate ship, there weren’t any of the tools needed for such a chastisement in his vicinity. No stick, no rod. Nothing but his own two hands. Sweat broke out along his hairline. Everything was happening too quickly, but he couldn’t let Silver call his bluff now.

At his side, Silver had arranged himself across the desk. He’d pulled down his pants to mid-thigh, spread his legs, and was resting on one forearm, but kept fumbling with the back of his shirt and tugging at his apron. He was fidgeting a surprising amount.

“Am I going to have to tie you down,” Flint said, transfixed by the display of restlessness, “or are you going to keep still?”

“I-” Silver yelped delicately. The first blow had landed.

Regretting that he’d squandered the first slap so swiftly, Flint reined himself in and promised himself to take a more measured approach, even as his thoughts were whirling out of control like a spinning top. A crimson handprint bloomed on Silver’s otherwise unblemished backside, skin stunningly responsive there. Flint repeated the motion two more times, mind rotating in a void of sense all the while, as he tried to think of the many reasons why Silver deserved this treatment, tried to think of all the reasons why this shouldn't be happening, tried to think about what Silver expected to be getting out of this in the long run, the big picture, he tried to think.

The hard smack of his palm moved Silver across the desk, buttocks jiggling and curls bouncing. The flesh looked red and burning hot. There was only one more stroke left to deliver, Flint realized.

He felt dizzy. Need was thrumming through him, but kept being denied. He was disintegrating as yet another moment passed without him sating it. But he’d never been a man to abuse his power, had only ever used the authority of his position as captain to command respect and, at worst, intimidate. He’d never expected to be goaded into this.

“Please, captain,” Silver said, voice pressed, white knuckles fused with the edge of the desk, “make it count.”

Flint breathed in and brought down his hand. It was steady.

[olda4d5-blog]

15 Up-and-coming Old School New Body Bloggers You Need To Watch

Have you ever hit a weight reduction plateau? It's time to learn why, and what you are able to do about it.

Excess fat was pretty much slipping off The body just a few weeks back, and now you happen to be thinking if your scale is damaged because regardless of what you need to do, your bodyweight will not likely budge.

What provides?

Why did your regimen abruptly cease Performing, and what could you do to press by way of this weight reduction plateau?

Being familiar with Weight Loss Vs. Fat Reduction

"Weight reduction" is a tricky tiny devil as it does not differentiate between improvements in Body fat, muscle mass, and water.

The target, certainly, is to shed maximum Excess fat and minimum amount muscle, and to maintain water retention at a balanced minimum amount. If you step on the scale and sign-up a pound lighter when compared to the day or 7 days before, you probably think that you've missing a pound of Fats; in the event you weigh a similar or maybe more, you most likely presume that you have misplaced no Extra fat, or gained. However, it isn't really that simple.

Nothing at all swings excess weight up or down as very easily as drinking water retention, for instance. When you consume lots of sodium and carbs, and drink very little water, you are going to keep quite a bit of h2o, giving you that puffy, easy appear. This can certainly increase 3-5 pounds in a day, which may be really disturbing if you take place to strike the scale In this particular condition. Around the flip aspect, you try to eat minimal sodium and carbs and consume a good amount of h2o, your body will flush h2o out, providing you with a more challenging, far more described search, which could lead you to believe it was an incredible working day of fat loss.

The unpredictability of water retention is one purpose why I only weigh myself once a week, on the exact same day, each morning, naked. Weighing your self a number of times each week, or even worse, a day, will promptly get rid of your self-assurance and mess with all your head.

I also recommend that you decide on a "weigh working day" that does not have a cheat meal, as This could certainly normally include a pound or two of h2o that could occur out by the top of the following day (my encounter, no less than).

What exactly is a real Weight Loss Plateau?

A true weight-loss plateau is often a circumstance where you're no longer dropping Body fat.

I contemplate that I've hit a plateau if my bodyweight hasn't adjusted in two months. As I am only likely for one particular pound of precise Fats decline a week, no adjust on the dimensions following a single 7 days of dieting is just not necessarily a cause of concern-I could've misplaced that pound of Excess fat but take place for being retaining some h2o, or maybe my bowel movements weren't as common while in the prior working day or two. No alter in bodyweight right after two weeks of dieting tells me that I'm certainly caught.

Some Unwanted fat-Loss Information to bear in mind

Before I deal with how to break these plateaus, I need you to know a handful of items about dropping fat.

1. Weight reduction Plateaus Are to generally be Envisioned

Just about Everybody encounters fat reduction plateaus. In case you don't know what I am talking about and can reach solitary-digit human body Extra fat percentages with complete relieve, depend by yourself Blessed. It can be quite common for persons to hit various plateaus on their journeys to a 6 pack simply because, very well, the human entire body is just stubborn In terms of shedding Fats.

I've located that I can't get down below nine-ten% system Fats on eating plan by yourself (you may only lessen your energy a lot, or you begin to take in up muscle mass)-I should incorporate in cardio if I want to continue losing. When I bulk, I commonly stop off around fourteen-fifteen% body Fats, and I am able to food plan off the 1st 5% or so, but then I hit a plateau that only 3-four times every week of cardio can get rid of (twenty-twenty five minutes per session). Then, the next plateau for me arrives about eight%. If I would like to go decrease, I must up my cardio to 4 times every week, for 30-forty minutes for each session.

Every person I've skilled and usually helped has skilled the exact same phenomenon, though the thresholds change. I have regarded a few rare people that can food plan decreased than ten% without having incorporating cardio, but plenty of people are not able to split double-digit physique fat percentages without a very rigorous food plan and regular cardio plan.

two. The greater You Get rid of, the More challenging It Gets

The leaner you grow to be, the lengthier it will require to shed fat healthily (The important thing, as you would like to protect as much muscle mass and energy as you can whilst losing Extra fat). If you are at twenty five% body Unwanted fat, it's extremely possible to lose two-3 pounds of Fats per week for the main several weeks. If you are at ten% entire body Extra fat and therefore are generating a run for one digits, nonetheless, two-three lbs . of Extra fat each week will be extremely hard with no risky medication.

For me, after I get down below twelve% or so, I am extremely pleased to find out only one pound of Unwanted fat reduction per week, and I have to work for it.

3. The body Incorporates a "Comfort Zone"

Although it may possibly seem a little broscientific, it's the best way I'm able to describe a phenomenon professional by me and countless other athletes around the globe. The body would seem to have a bodyweight (and, accordingly, a human body Excess fat percentage) that it is most relaxed at. Your natural urge for food tends to maintain this pounds and when you eat lower than this, you feel hungry. In the event you consume a lot more than this, you really feel really total.

For many, this "consolation zone" is pretty Excess fat, while some settle into a pounds that is very lean. For me, for example, I find that my entire body is most snug about eleven% system Extra fat (which would now put me at about 200 lbs). I haven't got to watch my energy as well carefully and I am able to cheat numerous situations weekly, And that i'll just continue to be close to 11%.

Now, protecting a bodyweight beneath this comfort and ease zone necessitates continual function in the shape of proscribing calories and doing cardio. Receiving fatter than this calls for frequent overeating, and when this continues for way too extended, the comfort and ease zone creeps better and better.

5 Means to Break Your Fat reduction Plateaus

Alright, given that you are aware of the distinction between weight loss plateaus and Extra fat loss plateaus, Listed here are a few surefire solutions to stoke The body's furnace once more to help keep the fat coming off.

1. Re-Compute Your Day by day Caloric Focus on

Your metabolism slows down as you get rid of body weight mainly because your body doesn't should exert just as much energy to keep up its now-slimmer physique.

If you don't change your calories to account for this, you could strike a plateau. The easy way to stay away from this is to re-estimate your everyday caloric focus on following every fifteen kilos of weightloss. As you will see, the goal creeps decreased and decrease.

There are numerous formulas in existence for figuring out simply how much you need to consume to lose body weight, but This is a simple a single based upon the Katch McArdle:

one.2 grams of protein per pound of entire body body weight

one gram of carbohydrate per pound of body pounds

one gram of Unwanted fat per five lbs of system weight

That simple macronutrient method will place you inside of a reasonable caloric deficit and allow for steady, nutritious weight loss. To turn it into calories, simply just multiply the protein and carbs by four, as well as the fats by nine.

2. Manage the "Concealed Calories"

Most fat reduction plateaus are attributable to nothing at all much more than "calorie creep"-that is certainly, ingesting a lot more calories than you think that. This, combined with an ever-slowing metabolism, is actually a confirmed method for stagnation.

Energy can creep in from a lot of locations. Purposeless snacking, taking in out at dining establishments (they load calories into foods with butter, oil, sauces, etc.), overdoing it with condiments, and consuming Liquor are all widespread approaches to incorporate sufficient energy to stall your weightloss with out earning you're feeling like you're totally "off your diet regime."

The unfortunate fact is usually a mere two hundred-300 energy a lot of every day can wholly halt Unwanted fat reduction. To put this into standpoint, which is only a few handfuls of nuts, some tablespoons of fatty salad dressing, or a little bag of chips. Yup, Excess fat reduction is the fact finicky. It isn't really very difficult, however it necessitates absolute precision.

So, to beat the "calorie creep," you simply need to know precisely what's going into Your system every day. You'll be able to continue to keep a food stuff journal, or you are able to do what I do: work out what you need each day, break it down into daily meals, and take in the same detail each day, just about every meal. I don't have the time or patience to operate a lot of range into my diet regime, so I embrace the simplicity of choosing nutritious foods which i like, and taking in them repeatedly.

three. Enhance your Cardio

If you realize that the day-to-day caloric concentrate on is good and you've got Unquestionably no calorie creep, then it is best to increase your cardio.

You may include Yet another day if at all possible (I do not advise more than four days each week when you are also body weight training), or add the perfect time to on a daily basis (I love to include ten minutes to each session and see how my physique responds).

The thought is to simply idea the scales a bit a lot more within the course of Unwanted fat decline and notice the outcome. If the initial spherical of extra cardio does not get it done, increase far more (One more ten minutes to every session, As an example), and you will get there.

Oh and do HIIT cardio, remember to.

four. Embrace the Cheat Meal

Yup, Truth be told, the cheat food essentially will help you reduce Fats.

How?

Nicely, first you can find the psychological Improve, which keeps you joyful and enthusiastic, which finally tends to make sticking in your diet program simpler.

But there is also a physiological Raise.

Research on overfeeding (the scientific expression for binging on meals) show that doing so can boost your metabolic fee by between 3-ten%. While this sounds great, it basically doesn't suggest A great deal when you concentrate on that you simply would wish to consume a anywhere from a number of hundred to some thousand more calories in a day to accomplish this result.

Much more crucial are the effects cheating has on a hormone identified as leptin, which regulates hunger, your metabolic price, urge for food, enthusiasm, and libido, in addition to serving other capabilities in One's body.

When you are in a very caloric deficit and reduce physique Fats, your leptin stages drop. This, consequently, leads to your metabolic charge to slow down, your urge for food to enhance, your drive to wane, and also your mood to bitter.

Then again, whenever you give One's body extra Electricity (energy) than it requires, leptin concentrations are boosted, which can then have optimistic consequences on fat oxidation, thyroid action, mood, and perhaps testosterone concentrations.

So if It can be a rise in leptin amounts which you really need, How would you ideal achieve it?

Having carbohydrates is the most effective way. Next to that may be consuming protein (high-protein foods also raise your metabolic amount). Dietary fats aren't very efficient at escalating leptin degrees, and Alcoholic beverages actually inhibits it.

So, In case your pounds is stuck and also you're irritable and demotivated, a pleasant kick of leptin could possibly be all you have to obtain the scales relocating all over again.

Have a pleasant cheat food full of protein and carbs, and enjoy the Strengthen in the leptin concentrations. It may help your fat reduction!

5. Carry Significant Weights

In case you are acquainted with any of my work, you already know I'm a giant supporter of lifting weighty weights. Perfectly, Amongst the several benefits of lifting weighty is The truth that it helps hasten Body fat decline.

A examine revealed by Greek sports activities experts observed that Males that qualified with major weights (80-85% of their one-rep max, or "1RM") increased their metabolic fees above the following a few days, burning hundreds much more energy than the Gentlemen that experienced with lighter weights (45-65% in their 1RM).

So hit the weights and hit them tough if you'd like to jack up your metabolic fee and in turn, quicken your fat reduction.

And in order to score added factors, deal with compound lifts like squats and deadlifts, because they are the categories that burn up the most write-up-exercise routine energy.

[lamesorrow]

Dig, dig, dig

After seven hours spent shovelling sand in the searing heat of Uldum Varius was slowly starting to think that the Thalassian reverence of the sun was severely misplaced. Thick beads of sweat tickled mercilessly as they trailed down his stomach and back, pooling in the indents between each tired muscle. His shoulders on the other hand were starting to burn despite sun-protecting ointment he slathered all over his body in the morning, unsubtly implying that he will soon be shedding peeled skin all over the place like an oversized lizard.

Still, duty was duty and as such there was nothing Varius could do but pick the shovel up himself and dig. Unsurprisingly enough, while plenty of scholars were very excited about going to Uldum to uncover priceless Titan-made artifacts, the diggers were much less eager to work in the sweltering heat.

People often had a (very) inaccurate picture of archaeology as a gentle thing, one that was all about revered scholars using tiny brushes to lovingly sweep the dust away from half-unearthed relics. The much less romantic reality was that the main tool of an archaeologist was a shovel. The bulk of the work was done by the diggers.

And what to do in the absence of the diggers? Why, the Blood Knights were the next best thing.

Varius sighed deeply. He was being very unfair now, of course; he didn't have to dig. He was technically the coordinator of this expedition after all. It's just that he's always been the kind of person who preferred to have the work done rather than undone, so seeing the untouched excavation site rubbed him the wrong way. It was more of an internal imperative than an order to follow.

Lost in thought, he almost missed the red wooden pole that the archaeologists used to mark the end of the interesting perimeter.

Varius stabbed the shovel into the sand and placed his hands on his hips. He critically regarded his work. A swatch of land had been sectioned off with red string and dotted with marker flags to identify places that held a realistic promise of precious artifacts from a bygone era.

The knight grunted and reached for a small square of cloth that he had folded and tucked behind his belt to stop the sweat trailing down from his spine. The tissue was a little damp and became considerably damper when he used it to wipe his chest and neck.

He instinctively looked around, eyeing the nearby hills for enemies and friends alike. He saw several dark shapes of sentries posted where he wanted them to be and no sight of anything else, be it the locals or the Alliance. Good. The few diggers that let the gold cloud their judgement for long enough to make them agree to join this expedition were safe to, as Lei—as surveyor Brightcloud put it, “play around in the dirt.”

Brightcloud himself was nowhere to be seen. No doubt the sight of sweaty elves insulted his delicate sensibilities. Since the expedition started Varius hadn't seen him leave the main pavilion during the day even once, and even long after nightfall the best the world could see of Leinan was just a flash of his ornate robe as he quickly made his way to his own aircane-conditioned tent.

That thought made Varius exhale softly in relief. Their relationship was short-lived and happened to fizzle out right before the Reliquary was scheduled to embark on the expedition to Uldum. It was way too late to find a replacement for either of them, so Varius had to go through this awkward post-breakup period with no chances for even a bit of solitude and privacy. The memory of Leinan's words still stung painfully whenever he let his mind wander.

You don't care enough.

You don't spend enough time with me.

You would make time for me if you loved me.

You don't make me feel wanted.

You don't love me any more.

I don't love you any more.

Varius sighed.

He was a soldier and he loved like a soldier; in the free moments, when he could afford to think about his own matters. Warmly but quietly. Without much pomp or fanfare.

That was not enough for men like Leinan Brightcloud. He wanted to be courted, fawned over, constantly showered with gifts and attention. Varius understood that, he really did, and he tried, but whenever he came home after a long night spent escorting a convoy and fending off pirates, mercenaries and thieves, all he wanted to do was take a quick bath, collapse on the bed and sleep for a week... Not go to the opera, check out that cute little bakery that opened on the opposite side of the city, make a detour to visit the botanical garden and finally walk all the way back home just to be roped into making love for approximately three hours. Oh, he forgot about the wine. With Leinan Brightcloud one never forgot about the wine. There would've been wine. Plenty of wine.

And then a repeat of that the next day. And the next. And the next.

It was a little cruel to admit, but—despite the sadness and disappointment—Varius' quality of life went up considerably since that breakup. For starters he was actually getting enough sleep to be at least remotely functional again.

He looked up again and froze when he saw the flap of the pavilion ripple and move away. For a second he fully expected to see Leinan's face—but no. It was just Melathara, armed with her white parasol. Varius felt his shoulders sag in relief and instantly felt bad about it.

Mel waved at him cheerfully and made her way across the dig site. Between a bright orange dress, an equally orange headband and kaldorei-style laced-up sandals she looked like she was on her way to attend a beach party rather than conduct important research. That unpretentious approach to life was easily Varius' favourite thing about her.

He watched her approach with a small smile that only grew wider when he noticed a large glass jug in her hand.

“I see you're being your usual overachieving self again,” Mel called out happily. “How's it going?”

“Hard to say. Difficult to make a proper test pit in these conditions, but... two more levels and I think we're going to know whether or not these are a waste of time,” Varius said, nodding towards the markers that dotted the site.

Mel handed him the jug and he almost dropped it when his tired, puffy fingers closed around icy glass. “Ice,” he whispered reverently. “Mel, I love you.”

She laughed loudly and affectionately slapped his shoulder. Then she groaned and wiped her hand on the expensive fabric of her dress. “Sunwell, you're sticky. I've changed my mind; give me that jug, you're going to drop it.”

Varius obediently let her take the jug back and took a few steps away from the dig site to avoid accidentally damaging any artifacts—there was no realistic way of that happening now, but at this point protecting the excavation was a deeply-ingrained instinct he didn't bother fighting.

He gasped loudly when Mel poured cold water over his hands. Soothing coolness breathed some life into his tense wrists and swollen fingers. Varius sighed gratefully and slowly rubbed his hands, trying to work the moisture into his dry skin.

“Bend over,” Mel said. “I'll cool down your neck.”

He obediently folded himself in half and reached for his ponytail to keep the hair out of the way. The splash of cold water over his sun-warmed skin could only be described as shocking, but in a good way. Cold droplets trailing down his shoulders made him shudder in intense relief.

“Thanks, Mel,” he sighed contentedly and straightened out his back. His friend smiled at him.

“Don't mention it. I was dying to get out of that tent anyway.”

Varius hesitated and cast a cautious look at the pavilion.

“How is...?”

“Leinan?” Mel rolled her eyes. “Drowning his grief in wine, swearing that he's never falling in love again and proclaiming that all Blood Knights are emotionless bastards. He's pretty insufferable, really, but that's his usual state of being. Once he reaps his share of condolences and consolation he's going to forget all about it. Trust me, I know him.”

Varius nodded. On one hand, that was comforting—he didn't want Leinan to suffer. On the other hand... it was a little hurtful to be made aware just how forgettable he apparently was.

Mel instantly picked up on his discomfort. She shook her head and gave him a lopsided smile. “No, Vari, don't you worry about that. I told you: I know Leinan. He's a vapid, shallow bimbo.”

Varius winced, prickled by the instinct to defend his (former) boyfriend's honour. As brutal as it was, Mel's statement was... not entirely wrong, but it was definitely not right either; those several months they had spent together had assured Varius that Leinan Brightcloud was a witty, quirky and inquisitive individual. Yes, he was a little prone to theatrics and drama, but which nobleman wasn't? Varius couldn't even blame him for being spoiled and attention-seeking, not after attending that one memorable family reunion and seeing how the nobleborn children were being treated. All shortcomings of Leinan's character were simply a product of his upbringing and to hold it against him would be cruel.

“You have a terrible taste in men,” Mel added, not at all helpfully. Varius grunted.

“Maybe I should stop trying,” he said dryly and reached for his shovel.

“Or maybe you should let me try to fix your bachelor status.”

Varius gave his friend a disbelieving look. “Aren't you the one who set me up with that Farstrider?” He asked incredulously. “The one who insisted on being called 'Wolf' and glared at everything? And smelled like damp leaves?”

Mel scoffed. “It was a trial run!”

“It was a disaster, Mel.”

The mage snorted. Even she couldn't argue that, from the looks of it.

“Okay, fine,” she agreed reluctantly. “But there are plenty more fish in the sea, you know. For example, I was thinking about introducing you to my cousin Elberan...”

Varius raised his eyebrow. “The one that spends extraordinary amounts of gold on vintage Magic: The Sundering trading card games?” he asked, feeling amusement pull at the corners of his lips.

Mel gave him a sour smile. “For a man whose love life consists of a string of awful relationships, you sure are picky,” she said dryly.

“If you want to send me on a blind date with one of your relatives then maybe don't make me listen to endless lists of things you don't like about them.”

Varius rolled his shoulders. Sunlight was already warming up the damp skin on his neck, but there was still work to be done. Cold water helped, but not nearly as much as Mel's presence did. The knight glanced at his friend and gave her a wide, shameless smirk.

“Besides,” he added, knowing full well that his next statement would be enough to make Elberan run away screaming if he ever heard it, “I've always liked Hearthstone better.”

[annoyingcherryblossomnight-blog1]

Escorted Tours And China Holidays

Immediately and is happy to have as our visitor Shelley Jiang, editor of LET'S GO CHINA, 6th Edition, one among fifty seven guidebooks revealed by the bestselling budget series from LET'S GO PUBLICATIONS. Books written by Stein, Hedin, and others have generated curiosity in the oriental thriller of the Silk Route, and various international travellers are keen to visit these locations. Journey companies are capitalalizing on the benefits of the country's ancient tradition. Packages like the "15-Day Ancient Silk Route Escapade" provide a distinctive experience of Beijing, Urumqi, Turpan, Dunhuan, Xi'an, and Shanghai. This includes spherical-journey transpacific air transportation from the U.S.; intra-China air and land transportation; 12 nights in deluxe and superior first-class lodges; one night time aboard an in a single day practice in a personal compartment; round-journey transfers between airport and resorts; resort taxes and repair fees in every metropolis; sightseeing excursions; and $100,000 Automatic Flight Insurance coverage for transpacific air ticketed by PDT. So you determined to go to China as a tourist and now you might be wondering concerning the food in China. Don't fret because there isn't a must panic. The reality is that there's some actually good food in China. Many American's will let you know that the meals in China is best than the food in America. We cannot stress to you just how good the meals in China actually is. When you've got never tried meals in China then you should do it as soon as you recover from there. Electrical gear, DVD's, Cameras, stuff like this isn't value shopping for in China, Hong Kong remains to be the most effective place for this. The completion of China's famous Gran Canal in 609 by the Sui Dynasty (581-618) positioned Suzhou on a significant trade route which did wonders for Suzhou's prosperity and it rise to prominence again. Created in 1140, the Grasp of Nets Backyard is the smallest of Suzhou's gardens and the most stunning, nicely proportioned and charming. The backyard achieves this impact by an unimaginable steadiness in using water, vegetation, rocks and buildings. The good use of house in this garden creates an phantasm that the garden looks a lot larger than it really is. 1. Traveler's Checks: The safest option to carry money in your trip is by traveler's checks. Be sure that you take a be aware of the denominations, serial numbers, date and the agency that has issued them. The checks should not be signed till they're used. The Taihu rocks used within the creation of this garden are from the nearby Lake Tai and are fabricated from sandstone that erodes over time. Originally the stone formations had been built to resemble lions but many misplaced their shape from continuous erosion over time. The area around Beijing has historic roots courting way back to 500,000 years. The town is one of the seven ancient capital cities of China and is located on the northwest fringe of the North China Plain, adjoining Tianjin City to its east and Hebei Province to its north, west and south. Beijing has sixteen districts and two counties beneath its jurisdiction, overlaying an area of 16,800 square kilometers. In the Warring States period (403 - 221 BC), the state of Yan established its capital here, as such, Beijing can also be commonly known as Yanjing to at the present time. Earlier than you finalize your journey plans for China, it's worthwhile to do a number of research in regards to the nation, concerning the food, culture, transportation, vaccination, visa formalities and so on, but sometimes you may not have to stress yourself with all these info. That is the rationale why tour operators were created; they provide all forms of journey related services from flights, hotels, escorts, automobiles, meals and entertainment to your stay in China from start to end; all it's essential to do is calm down and revel in your trip experiencing the distinctive Chinese language life-style. Among the many current 25 minority groups, the Yi, Bai, Dai, Naxi, Zang (Tibetan) and many others. are the bulk and most well-known. They've dependent cultures, customs, languages and histories. Most of them also have their own faith beliefs, including Tibetan Buddhism, Taoism and Muslim. Prior to now thousands of yr, they had co-existed and developed in peace and harmony. At present, many live in over-lapping areas and transracial marriage occurs typically. China is now the fastest growth market for the European travel business and with the fitting approach, inns, B&Bs, outlets and attractions throughout Europe stand to win large income from this newly opened market. This reaction to Europe is just not unusual from Chinese language vacationers who are used, in their very own country, to excessive commonplace resort lodging at low costs, clean and fashionable transport methods and really low crime charges. Visas: You will want a Chinese visa with the intention to travel in China. You'll have to apply on your personal visa at the Chinese language Visa Application Service Centre (CVASC). cheap flights going to manila philippines A single entry Chinese visa will value you round £60. This is made up of a £30 visa fee, and a £30 processing charge. Each single time I went to Hong Kong I visited Ocean Park. Each single time I took a tour bus to the Park. Each single time the tour bus stopped off at this jewelry store as a ploy to make the tourists purchase some jewellery. It is a type of conditions have been you might be compelled to get off and go into the shop and the whole environment forces you to take a look at jewelry while you'd relatively be looking at fish. The tacit strain is on for you to make a purchase. This is without doubt one of the finest advice I'm ever going to present: go to a spot in that store ask a few piece of jewellery, nod wisely, then depart. Take no more than 5 minutes, ignore the stares and depart. When you stay to lengthy you will maintain up the tour or cough up some money whenever you'd quite not. Simply stroll out of there and go on to Ocean Park. Oh yeah, they also "invite" you to look at a short video about their jewellery before "welcoming" you into the store.. Not one to be outdone, the Genghis clan additionally captured Suzhou and lots of other cities when they defeated the Jin Dynasty around 1215. By the time the Mongols had reached Suzhou, Khan Ogodei had apparently sated his blood lust and the city was not put to sword like so many others before it. Other than Humen, the town is also rich with historical cultural sites that date again to the Ming and the Qing dynasties. One of the most famous place that you must go to is the Keyuan Backyard. There are also plenty of temples that is of interest and these include the Jin'aozhou Pagoda and the Huangqi Ancient Temple courting again from the Track Dynasty. Both the seascape and the landscape of the city is mesmerizing, to say the least. After a lot negotiation, China has signed 'Accepted Vacation spot Standing' (ADVERTISEMENTS) agreements with over 100 companions together with some European countries. ADS simplifies the exit procedure for Chinese vacationers, allowing them to journey on strange passports and to use for vacationer visas. On the time it was hardly common for an individual to travel independently in China, let alone enter Tibet by way of Qinghai or - even more unlikely - exit China via Tibet into Nepal. However that is exactly what Vikram Seth did, and to add icing to the achievement cake, his most well-liked mode of transport was hitch-mountaineering. It's largely the mechanics and logistics of this journey that provide a lot of the content material of the ebook. So outdoors of the main cities conditions might be robust. However most of the time every little thing can be nice, particularly when you book a tour; every part will have been checked out before hand. However even the best laid plans can go unsuitable, so be prepared, the toilets within the smaller cities, towns and villages will be scary. One factor that is helping to drive down costs is competitors from inventive Chinese operators primarily based in Europe. These brokers are prepared to use informal networks of enterprise contacts that bypass lots of the regular necessities of group tourism. It's troublesome for an established tour operator to compete on price with a China Town agency supplying a mini-bus driven by an area waiter and until the Chinese tourists themselves demand more, this situation may not change. The excellent news is that we predict Chinese vacationers can be demanding way more very quickly. Shopping for garments in China could be nice enjoyable particularly from the markets where you possibly can often discover 'designer' labels at a fraction of the same old worth - but in fact these could also be of inferior quality. Additionally remember that clothes are often cut very small, and so you should think about shopping for a a lot larger measurement than you'll do at home. • Images: Taking photos is allowed in most places. Nonetheless, in some it is either prohibited (as in certain museums and archeological sites) or a payment is charged. It's at all times advisable you get permission earlier than capturing pictures of the locals. Fall in Beijing is one other attractive time within the Chinese language yr. The sunshine is abundant and the temperatures are gentle. Activities to participate in, in China, in the fall, include: choosing greens and fruit at local orchards and farms, visiting Aromatic Hills Park, which is known for gorgeous autumn surroundings, and visiting Yudu Mountain, one other spot recognized for superb fall magnificence. There are various delicious cuisines. Amongst these are dim sum, shark fin soup, char siu or pork barbeque, and plenty of more. Even when loads try, nobody can mimic the distinct style of these dishes. No one can cook dinner them the unique Chinese means. Adventures and blood dashing actions will be executed by way of hiking adventures within the Great Wall, bike excursions and golf vacation in golf golf equipment of Sanya and Kunming and much more. The country has locations for nature loving individuals. These are where they might chill out and reminisce the colourful past of China through the beautiful mountain and backyard sceneries. China is a country of epic proportions. From the broad open and empty panoramas of Tibet to the push and shove of Shanghai, from green paddy fields within the misty hills of the southwest to the scorched vistas of the Central Asian Silk Road, from the spicy dishes of Sichuan to the steaming dumplings of Manchuria - China has obtained all of it. To fulfill the demands of the travel-savvy generation, several China journey services are making an effort to entice them with experiential tailored packages. For instance, the "14-day Journey to the Home of Martial Arts" is an inexpensive journey service for martial arts aficionados. The journey service includes spherical-journey air transportation from the U.S.; intra-China air and land transportation transfers; China airport departure taxes; 12-night time resort lodging with day by day buffet breakfasts; escorted sightseeing excursions; Tang Dynasty show; Shanghai Acrobatic present; and round-trip transfers between airport and accommodations; hotel taxes and repair expenses in every city. The historical past of Suzhou started in 514BC when it was established over the past years of Zhou Dynasty (1046-256 BCE) and quickly rose to prominence. Much of this prominence was misplaced in 306BC throughout a warring kingdoms period when it was annexed the Chu Kingdom. Sure there are rumors that in Chinese eating places you're consuming dog or cat and they say it's rooster. Don't let these rumors get to you it's only rumors. If the Chinese language restaurants tell you it is hen then it really is chicken. In case you are a vacationer eating in China for the primary time then you need to contemplate making an attempt a few of the Chinese soup. Have you ever heard of Received-ton soup or egg drop soup? These are each actually good soups which can be in china. This backyard is the biggest of Suzhou's gardens and has an space of around of about fifty two, 000 sq. meters. It is usually certainly one of China's four most classical gardens. The other three gardens are Summer Palace, the Mountain Resort of Chengde and Lingering Garden which can also be in Suzhou. -It is thought of to be extraordinarily rude to take pictures of individuals with out their consent in China. In some areas where the locals are used to vacationers, it is more accepted, but it's a good rule of thumb to get permission before taking a picture with someone in it. You might gesture along with your digicam and nod, when you get a constructive response, then go ahead. Afterward, you'll be able to present them the picture if in case you have a digital digicam. Children will discover it thrilling to see themselves in your digital camera, and it might make others want to be in your photos as effectively. Of all the China Journey Ideas Nationwide Day is the biggest one. Tens of millions of Chinese travel at these vacation occasions of the year. Most are travelling back to house towns or visiting household. Accommodations, trains, planes, automobiles, buses, and roads are all crowded to the utmost. Major congestion, everywhere. The general image of the Chinese language journey trade is considered one of robust development pushed by rising income levels, the relief of journey restrictions and extra vacation durations being made available. Solely a sure variety of licensed travel agencies are eligible to operate worldwide outbound journey companies and, in 1997, there have been only sixty seven outbound journey businesses in China; by 2004, that number had risen to 528. Latest years have seen privatization and restructuring of the former state owned agencies. -Chinese individuals have an awesome sense of humor. Like most people, they love to chortle. In this stressful time of Chinese adoption, and adapting to a brand new culture, the art of laughter could serve you well. Preserve it gentle although, and do not forget that sexual and political topics are strictly averted. Chinese language International adoption could be difficult in many ways, but in all facets of life, laughter always makes things a bit of easier. Be ready to chortle at yourself. Chinese gastronomy is another attention-grabbing exercise you might wish to expertise during your journey in China. These include Chinese cooking types and traditions of the assorted ethnic tribes in China. If you want to tackle this cultural experience, Chinese gastronomy tours is your good answer to discovering the exotic wonders of positive dining and a novel tradition on your China tour. You should purchase RMB earlier than you arrive in China, from the airport on arrival, and doubtless additionally from your resort reception in addition to banks and change bureaux in all cities and cities. The alternate charge is regulated so rates are just about the identical in all places. Ask for notes in small denominations as large notes for 50 or one hundred RMB may be awkward for individuals to provide change from. The next listing is my prime seven spots I'd prefer to see in China. I included the province of Tibet in the checklist, but exclude Taiwan websites from the listing - as Taiwan isn't part of communist China despite the parties one China policy. To keep away from political controversy let's simply say this record is the highest 7 of mainland China. Language: Mandarin Chinese language is spoken in most of China. Nonetheless, countless dialects are also spoken. English is gaining reputation in China, however you still won't discover many people who speak English, particularly in rural China. Deliver along a Chinese pocket dictionary. Do not drink faucet water. Your resort might provide bottles of water in your room - whether it is within the bathroom it is free, if it is elsewhere, you may be charged for it. When shopping for water always be certain the seal across the cap is unbroken. Health. China is unquestionably a contemporary nation in many respects, but in others it is nonetheless developing. There are comparatively few facilities for disabled folks and you will probably find yourself walking, climbing stairs and battling climate and pollution issues when you're there. Consult your physician before you make plans and you should definitely carry an extra provide of your prescription medicines with you (together with the scripts displaying your identify). Also you should definitely hold an excellent supply of tissues with you at all times. These could be bought in any small convenience store or store around China. It is uncommon for toilet paper to be provided in Chinese loos, so you will have to hold your individual. The quickly-creating Pudong space is a must-visit if you happen to recognize the latest in fashionable structure. Right here, you'll be able to marvel at two of the glossy structures which have cemented their place within the city's urban landscape - the Jinmao Tower and the Oriental TV Tower. For the European international locations, ADVERTISEMENTS signifies that international locations can legally promote group leisure journey via distribution and sales channels with wholesalers and travel agents as well as advertise the destination and its products to Chinese shoppers. Forex: The official Chinese language currency is named the renminbi ('peoples cash'), RMB for brief. The financial unit is the Yuan. Hong Kong has its personal forex - the Hong Kong Dollar. The Hong Kong Dollar is pegged to the American Dollar. It is accepted in Guangzhou (Canton) and Shenzhen. With a purpose to ring house from China, do not use the telephone in your hotel room but purchase a telephone card for international calls from the reception desk or the airport or station - but remember that the cardboard would possibly only be usable in the space you have got purchased it in, for instance, playing cards purchased in Beijing might not be usable in Shanghai. Badaling part is legendary for its imposing constructions, completeness, and the well-known Juyonguan Go. Many of the photos of the good wall revealed in guidebooks have been taken at the Badaling section of the Great Wall. The Mutianyu part also provides great viewing pleasure for vacationers. As English is just not broadly spoken, you're advised to hold the identify, address and telephone number of the lodge where you're staying. Most resort reception desks have small playing cards with the resort tackle and telephone quantity in English and Chinese on opposite sides. With china escorted excursions you'll be able to combine a go to to the Nice Wall of China and the Terracotta Warriors in addition to the historic city of Shanghai. There are numerous excursions that absorb many extra of China's customer attraction spots and range from 9 to fifteen nights, every tour has the services of an expert tour manager that is fluent in speaking English in addition to local guides at each destination you visit. SHELLEY: Born in China, I spent the primary six years of my life in Beijing, the town that I'll always consider as my first dwelling. Though I moved to America and attended school there, I remain deeply related with China via books, news, motion pictures, family, and spending summers there each two or three years. During these summer season journeys, I typically journey across the country and have visited lots of the locations in Let's Go: China. Hangzhou: These in love with classical China can head to this swish city of the south and historic dynastic capital. Willows, gardens, pavilions, and delicately arched bridges dot the shores of the West Lake, the setting for historical China's most well-known love tales. Sip fragrant Dragon Nicely tea while dining at one in every of China's oldest eating places that once served emperors. The misty waters and city pleasures are enough to captivate anyone; if not close by Shanghai guarantees a plunge back into modernity. Vikram Seth had been a pupil in China, so his goal was to see a few of the much less visited elements of the nation and to exit, eventually, to India to be reunited, after years in college, along with his family. He did have some language with out which, given the twists and turns bureaucracy compelled, he would absolutely not have achieved his objective. INPORTANT LEVEL - for many of the mass produced packet sort medicines, the packaging can be written in Chinese on one aspect, English on the opposite. Nevertheless in the shops you solely see the Chinese language aspect. Have a superb look, flip the packs over, it provides you a lot more confidence understanding you can read the bundle. Greatest time to journey: The most effective time to journey is through the months Aprtil by way of October. Nevertheless, it's best to keep away from the primary week of May and the primary week of October. These are Chinese national holidays. Right now, the Great Wall of China stretches to a size of over 6,seven-hundred kilometers winding by means of hills, cliffs, plateaus and deserts from throughout the east coast to the northwest of China. The Bai folks's houses are distinctive. The typical fashion is "sanfangyizhaobi" and "sihewutianjing." "Sanfangyizhaobi" refers to three homes on three sides and a decorative display screen wall to reflect daylight to the home. " Sihewutianjing" is a house with a significant courtyard and tour small ones on the four corners of the main oneThe Bai people's homes are typically decorated with wood carvings, stone carvings and marble, which add luster to the normal characteristics of the homes. Most individuals come for two reasons to Yangshuo: see the limestone rock formations and do some biking, mountaineering, rockclimbing or different out of doors activities right here. Moonhill is among the most famous and most visited rocks within the space. It's located at the predominant highway some kilometers south of Yangshuo town middle. However there's a lot extra to see. The tallest mountain on the earth. Apart from the superb top - you more likely to undergo perspective illness even at base camp, visually Everest is a shocking mountain. Add to that the yaks, Sherpas and isolation within the plateau on high of the world and you have something that pulls the adventure. I've no want to climb the mighty mountain, one I'm getting too outdated and second going into any death zone is not my cup of tea. But to climb among the slopes might be fun. China is a famous historic place ever since. Though there are many historic locations throughout the globe, China is distinct for its preserved structures. Their colorful past was also carefully preserved and will be seen through a few of its artistic sceneries. Each and every place in this nation is unquestionably a good getaway for many tourists. If you're a food traveler, China is also the place to go. Get on a guided tour. You would possibly really feel overwhelmed at the idea of getting round China. Maybe the language barrier seems insurmountable or you might be nervous concerning the general safety and high quality of transportation there. The easiest way to see China is to enroll in an all-inclusive tour. These package offers are the most common way that both worldwide travellers and domestic Chinese language vacationers journey, so there are literally 1000's of packaged excursions accessible, a lot of them specialising in seniors journey teams. Signing up for a bundle deal, you will be taken care of from airport to airport with no problem. There is only one software form that can be utilized for every type of visa. It is only two pages long and is split into seven sections. The first part requests private info reminiscent of full identify, date of start, passport number and occupation. You will complete Section 2 with information about your go to to China. It's here that you select the type of visa you need, the supposed variety of entries and validity. There is something distinctive about China and that is what travelers are interested in. China is not just a country; it is a completely different world fully with a distinctive culture, long historical past and attention-grabbing individuals. Endurance is really a advantage if you journey to China; it is because you need a long time to plan out your itinerary to the different provinces and regions to see what this beautiful nation has to offer. From natural surroundings to historic architectures, great culinary arts, robust defense systems, purchasing sprees, high tech modern buildings and local minorities, China is greater than what you really expect. China receives a excessive variety of tourism yearly; this has allowed the nation to turn out to be one of the crucial fascinating locations to visit on a getaway escapade from a different way of life. Transport deals. Hong Kong is a sexy destination for the senior traveller, not only for its beauty and plethora of lovely motels and great restaurants, but for the reductions! Senior travellers (65+ with a senior ID) can ride the Star Ferry throughout Hong Kong harbour without cost. Seniors can also purchase the Octopus Elder Card, which works on all of Hong Kong's public transportation choices, and offers assorted reductions relying on whether you're taking the bus, MTR trains or ferries.

[bramar-jr]

Dead Men Burn Brightest

This piece is an essay that I wrote for Advanced Higher English in 2017. While a competent piece I’ve never been truly happy with it. It is too filled with fluffy description that lengthens the piece and adds little. It also shows how I tend to overuse commas and it is far too long. Despite it’s length I feel like the ending is too short. As a result I’m rewriting this piece from the ground up to further cement the themes, give it a solid beginning-middle-end structure and rewrite the main character into a more unpleasant person to justify his cruel end. As is it sits at 2914 words. 

The rains had turned the well-walked path from Warsaw to Lublin into a mud bath that even a pig would turn its nose up at. Sodden ground, churned mud, and horse filth left by the wagons going to and fro along the trail had made it into a slog which tested both travelers physical endurance, as they slipped and slid about, as well as their mental endurance as their noses were practically peeled off their faces by the overwhelming stink. Sir Cahir had been on the road for almost three days now and he was at wits end. It had been months since the last war the king led had ended. Cahir was itching for a fight. While he didn’t have to slog through the mud like the peasants he passed by, he did have to stay on the back of his horse that, while being a fine steed,  was built for charging, and was as such not very stable when only ambling along. He was dressed not in his armour, but instead in a gambeson bearing the his family crest, his trusty, battle hardened sword dangling in its scabbard behind his leg, attached to his saddle. His only reprieve from the cold of the night was the burning torch he held aloft.

Cahir came to a crossroads, and lifted his torch to get his bearings. Around the crossroads there were rickety wooden fences that separated fields from the road, the remains of someone's cart, and one solitary oak tree, ancient and warped into a shape that loomed menacingly through the murky blackness towards Cahir. Much to his annoyance however there was no road sign, which meant that he would have to either pick a path at random or wait for someone local to come by to give him directions. He liked neither of those options for one could lead to him getting lost or worse, while the other involved talking to the lower classes, which struck Cahir as being beneath him. A voice called out through the gloom, which shook Cahir from his indecisiveness rather hurriedly.

“Greetings sir! You look lost.”

Cahir was put off by how the voice was somehow soft, well spoken and yet loud enough to startle him. He hurried to reply.

“I am indeed! Where are you? I would prefer a face to talk to.”

“Here sir, beneath the oak.”

Upon hearing the words Cahir immediately caught glimpse, not of a man, but of his burning torch reflected in dark eyes. Beneath the oak, on a particularly large root, sat an older gentleman, dressed in fine, dark clothing unbefitting of a man in this local. He was almost positive there had been no one there only moments before.

“Ah, there you are my good man now, can you tell me the way Black Orchard?”

“Nae sir I cannot,” came the voice from the gloom “turn back Sir, evil haunts that place.”

The stranger’s tone annoyed Cahir. He was a knight, no lowly farmer could tell him where he could and could not go no matter how well dressed he may be. Instead he took the peasant's warning as a challenge.

“Evil indeed?” he clamoured, “Is there some beast that stalks the fields?”

“Nae m’lord, not the fields. Black Orchard is host to an evil woman, she is the terror of the whole county.”

“A woman? Some foul witch? Or perhaps it’s your wife that you’re fearful of?”

“No m’lord, a swordstress. She’s a foreigner sir; arrived in town some months ago. Strange happenings have gone on ever since. Folk claim she’s a harbinger of evil.”

“An evil indeed.” Cahir replied, mockingly.

Cahir feigned indifference but was in reality intrigued by this. Warrior women were few and far between, but often ferocious in a fight, and if there truly was something supernatural behind this devil woman then he may have a hard fight on his hands. But Cahir was in need of a challenge.

“Where can I find this she-devil?” He queried.

Puzzled, the stranger replied “You want to find her Sir? She would surely gut you.”

Impatient, Cahir replied, “I’m not scared of some woman! I want to find her so I can slay her and free your silly little village from her grip you doddering fool! Now tell me where she is - and what she looks like, for that matter.”

A shadow passed over the stranger's face and a sad smile wormed its way onto his soft face.

“If you insist Sir. Follow the left road and you’ll reach Black Orchard in before midnight. She’ll be in the local tavern at this hour, the “White wolf”. You’ll know her the second you see her. She’s tall, lavishly dressed and draped in a head of fire. I can’t promise you’ll be paid for your work m’lord, but I’m sure the orchard folk will make sure you get what you deserve”

Cahir smiled gruesomely, “So long as there are maidens and beer to reward me then I shall leave satisfied.” and with that the knight rode off into the darkness.

The sad smile on the stranger's face melted only to be replaced with a sour grimace and narrow eyes that blazed under the light of Cahir’s torch dwindling torch.

“A virtues man if ever I saw one.” the stranger muttered as Cahir rode off into the distance,

As Cahir rode into Black Orchard he noted how oddly quiet it was. The guards had been loath to let him in, but flashing his royal seal was enough to get him past without much trouble. He had heard the “White Wolf” before he saw it. It radiated a happy chatter that was absent from the rest of the village which lay silent as a hunting wildcat in the night. Cahir guided his steed into the stables alongside the thatched tavern, dismounted and tied his humble companion to the bar above the water trough so she wouldn’t wander off into the night. From his saddlebag he took his armoured chest plate and his helmet. He also took his scabbard and sword from it’s place astride his saddle and fashioned them to his belt along his left leg.

As he pushed open the door to the tavern and took strides to the bar, an eerie quiet descended over the crowds gathered there. Ignoring this, Cahir stood in the hall and scanned the room. The many of the people in the tavern were odd looking, large and hulking, the harsh farming life had taken its toll. Some of them even looked malformed, faces scarred, eye’s misplaced and lips drooping. He could see several booths that were separated from the rest of the tavern by hand sewn curtains made from dark red and amber cloth. Not wanting to search the bar Cahir pulled himself up under the weight of his chest plate and bellowed,

“Where is the fiery she-devil?”

A hushed murmur went about the tavern and after a few seconds an old man spoke up from the corner.

“Take my advice Sir knight, and leave this place, while ye’ can.” The old man said loudly over the crowd.

Quietly enraged Cahir replied, “In the name of the King you will tell me where she is!”

From the far back of the room came a flicker of light as a candle was blown out. From behind a curtain came a woman, nearly as tall as Cahir and dressed in a long jacket finely crafted from teal silk. She wore long baggy leggings and a green silken top, unlaced to half way down to her naval. Her neck, fingers and ears were adorned with jewelry of gold, silver and precious stone. At her side, in a half scabbard lay a huge longsword with a wide handle and a long curved blade. She wore her scarlet red hair in a loose braid, with the right side of her head shaved and the braid dangling over her left shoulder. She was ornate, and she would have been beautiful had it not been for several butchered scars. One drew down her cheek nearly joining her ear to her lips and the other lining the side of her head that had been shaved, as if to show it off, in a large T shape. She was battle hardened, and she stood, not elegantly, but powerfully, with her hand on her pommel, ready to draw the blade at a moment's notice. Her body was lean, pale and thin, though made to look larger than it was by her long baggy clothing. She looked totally out of place amongst the humble farmers and stood out like a heron amongst crows against their tanned bulk.

“The king demands my attention be given to this fellow so he shall have it! My name is Lilith, what is your business in my village, knight?” The woman said in a harsh, heavily accented voice.

“I’ve come to end your tyranny,” replied Cahir callously “I challenge you to a duel of chivalric combat in the name of his lordship the king and under the gaze of God.”

“Tyranny! In my village? How dare you slander my name so?” Came the angry reply “Come then ‘fair knight’,” She said sarcastically “I will meet your challenge. Step out into the street so these good folk can enjoy their evenings.”

Cahir backed out through the doorway he’d been standing in out into the torch lit street, not taking his eyes of the swordstress that lazily followed him. He stood on the main street with thatched huts lining the road either side of him, the wide road was dark, except from the flickering light of flame that danced on his adversary's face and along the loose cobbles from the braziers dotted about the street the street. Deciding he had gone far enough he held his ground and drew his sword. The swordstress stopped too, just over ten paces away from him and drew her sword, wielding it in two hands and holding it above her head, pointed at Cahir, in a stance unfamiliar to him. Cahir held his out in front of him in a single hand, as his grandfather had taught him, and readied his legs. She would be faster than him, but he would be heavier, stronger and more brutal. If she tried to parry he would break through, of that he was confident. Meeting her eyes he taunted her.

“You will know the taste of blood before the sun rises!” he bellowed.

“Burn in hell.” she spat back.

The two began to circle each other each waiting for the other to strike. Finally, Lilith flew into a charge, using the light of a fire directly behind her to mask the attack. She let out a banshee scream and jumped before she struck, her curved blade crashing down against Cahir’s high parry. From there she spun, using her momentum to move to Cahir’s left and strike on his open side, but the knight was quicker than he looked and back stepped to avoid the blow, going for his own low strike, which the swordstress dodged with ease. Lilith backed away with her sword aloft while Cahir gathered both of his hands on his sword handle and prepared to strike. They paused and met eyes, both filled with furious intent.

This time is was Cahir who broke the silence with a colossal upwards swing which Lilith tried and mostly failed to block, as while she wasn’t struck by the blade she was put off balance. Cahir used this advantage to bring the sword down on her open side, missing the nimble woman by a hair. Lilith used this as an opportunity to try for an downwards strike which Cahir had no option but to block with his arm, in doing so he felt the swordstress’ blade bite into his bone. Two agonised cries went up into the night, for while Lilith had wounded Cahir, he had used her open strike as an opportunity to slash across her stomach, which she had not been able to avoid.

Tangled together in a mess of flesh and steel Lilith ripped the sword from Cahir’s arm and swung wide aiming for the head, but in her panic loosened her grip, and hit Cahir’s helmet with the flat of her blade. The blow didn’t kill the man but it sent him reeling backwards where he tripped and fell, losing grip of his bloodied sword. Holding her profusely bleeding belly in a vain attempt to stem the flow of blood Lilith turned and staggered into the night.

Cahir came back to his senses dumbfounded that he didn’t have a blade in his neck. He tried to push himself up but collapsed under the sheer pain of his butchered arm. Finally pulling himself to his feet he cut the sleeve from his gambeson and wrapped it around his arm as a temporary bandage before picking up his blade in his good hand and looking around for his opponent. She had disappeared, but he knew she wouldn’t get far, his blow had been a mortal one. Looking around he found a trail of blood smeared onto the cobbles in drops and in a pain fueled rage, charged after it.

As the trail led into a narrow alleyway it got clearer and thicker as his opponent had begun to bleed thicker and faster. The blood spilt on the ground was bright and frothy, bled straight from the stomach. Lilith would be dead in minutes. The trail lead to an open door in a high cut stone wall. Careful to keep his footsteps light, Cahir pushed the door ajar.

Inside he could see a large room, unlit by fire barring the weak flame of two candelabra’s at the top of a small flight of steps. It was on the steps that Cahir saw his victim. Lilith’s legs had collapsed from under her and she was dragging herself up the stairs on violently shaking arms, her breaths once well rhythmed and discipline were now little more than whimpers and gurgles. Cahir began to walk slowly down the center of the hall towards her, steeling himself and adjusting the grip on his blade. As he walked, she pulled herself onto a stone plinth that lay between the candelabras, holding herself there with bloodied fingers. Cahir strode towards her, broken by bloodied anger and painful rage, and grasped Lilith by her long braid with a blood matted hand.  

“A quick death is a bitter mercy.” he whispered.

With that he plunged his blade down between her shoulders, straight through her heart and, with some difficulty, pulled it free. Lilith's lifeless body collapsed over the plinth, her dark red life spilling in waves from her wounds.

Cahir stood, drenched in blood with his sword in hand. As he surveyed his surroundings he realised the room had begun to swim and turn before his eyes, and Cahir was surprised to find himself on his knees. From a shadowed alcove at the back of the hall, a figure emerged holding a candle, which he dropped with haste when he saw the horrific scene that Cahir lay in.

“Murder!” the figure called out “Blasphemy, heresy and bloody murder! Blood shed on holy ground!”

Cahir was horrified by this revelation, the plinth was an altar and the hall, a church.

“No…” he muttered “No, I didn’t know, I didn’t mean to…”

Swimming in and out of consciousness he was vaguely aware of the sound of bells and rough hands on his shoulders, all the time muttering incoherently.

When Cahir finally came too he felt as though he was floating. To his horror he quickly realised that he was in fact tied to a stake in the ground, atop a huge pile of cut wood and kindling. A man in dark robes walked forward, bearing a torch that burned bright in the inky darkness of the night, and with a shake of his head, tossed it onto the pile.

“Mercy!” Cahir screamed, panicking “Mercy! Oh please sweet mercy! I didn’t know, how could I know? Have mercy!”

“Your lust for the blood of others has lead you to ruin.” said the hooded figure in a familiar voice “Your blood will boil as a penitence. As above, so below.”

With horror Cahir recognised the figure as the stranger in black he had met at the crossroads. Looking around he saw a crowd of horrible apparitions, specters and ghouls gathered to watch him burn. Weird wives with pointed hats and long cloaks, cold corpse men bound in chains and a cat eyed wolf man, white with age, with a raven sat gracefully on his shoulder. As the flames danced higher, so the aberrations followed, dancing wildly to the music of smoldering wood. Cahir could feel the flames leaping to his clothes and in a final burst of fear screamed into the night,

“Mercy Lord! My life is yours if you only save it!”

Across the stranger's face a sick smile spread like a disease, beneath eyes which reflected Cahir’s burning image.

“I want not for your life,” He replied with a grin “for I’ll have your soul.”

With that the stranger turned from the fire and the dancing horrors, and walked calmly into the darkness, listening to the frantic screams of the burning knight. Traipsing through the bloodied trail left by the warriors battle he became one with the night, with his path forward illuminated only by the fire burning in his eyes.

[a-darling-thing]

When, at the hospital, John said to Sherlock that he killed his wife, maybe he really meant it, not just putting the weight on someone else because the guilt and the grief was to hard to handle. I mean, he loves Sherlock (and he knows it, just doesn't assume) killed the relationship and her 'cause she took the billet for Sherlock. She knew that if John would accept his bisexuality, he would choose Sherlock. So, maybe she did that so John would forgive her. And I think John understood that.

Yeah, my reading has always been that part of John’s anger at Sherlock (the bulk of it really), is that John’s love and attraction to Sherlock killed his marriage long before that bullet killed his wife.  I mean that’s unfair on John’s part, because we can’t blame other people for our feelings and attractions (and our inability to deal with them in a healthy manner), but it was definitely where the bulk of his anger was coming from.  

It’s misplaced anger, and he takes it out (violently) on the object of his affection, because he can’t bear to countenance it himself.  He wants to beat and hate himself, and instead he chooses to turn that on the man he loves.  Wrong choice, John!  That’s such an old, familiar queer story.  Did we really have to tell it again, and leave it hanging with no happy resolution?

When Mary died, and Sherlock was involved in the circumstances surrounding her death too, I think all John’s different sorts of grief for all the things he’d lost since The Fall, just came to a head at once.  The grief of ‘lost opportunities’, that he never really dealt with after The Fall being one of the main ones (hence that whole weird [gross] Irene convo at the end of TLD - again there was transference going on there).

Something that’s always irked me about the whole John/Sherlock/Mary thing in BBC Sherlock is how they wrote it.  John doesn’t have to definitively leave Mary for Sherlock if he finally comes out and accepts his bisexuality.  That’s not how things work in the real world - at least not all the time.  The cheating bisexual is such a negative stereotype.  They could have written it differently from the start - not had Mary as so mean-spirited, not have her shoot Sherlock in the chest when he offered to help her, and then threaten to shoot him again at the empty house when he exposed the truth of what she’d done (and was offering to help her again).  They could have made her truly likeable and supportive, and set up a polyamorous situation of some kind, or even just some sort of acceptance and understanding that they both had a place in John’s life, and those places were different, and could coexist if everyone acted like adults (you see something mildly like this in Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes films, and I actually prefer the dynamic there. I can identify with it more).  

Or, they could have had Mary the villain, which it seemed they were setting her up to be, which would have made the audience far less sympathetic to her departure.  Or, they could have just had a proper, messy divorce even before John accepted himself for who he really is.  There were plenty of reasons for him to fall out of love with Mary.  Her shooting Sherlock (when she knew how much he meant to John) and almost killing him being the main one.  

Irl, couples deal with these sorts of situations and arrangements in different ways, and in a queer story, monogamy is an option, but not the only one.  There are a lot of different directions they could have gone in, and they kind of picked the worst one, imo.

So all that rambling to say that yeah, I definitely think the audience was meant to walk away from TLD with the understanding that John was angry not just about Sherlock’s involvement in Mary’s physical death, but also the fact that Sherlock’s very presence in John’s life (due to John’s closeted attraction) was slowly leading to the death of John’s marriage long before that.  

Honestly, I still don’t understand why John went through with that marriage at all back in TSoT.  He was clearly dragging his feet from the moment Sherlock got back.  I chalk it up to John’s continued issues with being in the closet, his being unable to properly process and talk about his emotions, and his anger (which are linked to those first two).  Like he said in TLD, 

“No, no, I’m not okay. I’m never gonna be okay…  But we’ll just have to accept that. It is what it is; and what it is is … shit.”

I actually don’t accept that, but it seems that’s where John’s at, and Sherlock meets him there, and let’s him know that it’s okay, that he sees and accepts him there, which is beautiful, but heartbreaking, and a wholly unnecessary sacrifice on Sherlock’s part, imo.  John could be okay, but he has to start doing the work, and yes, being accepted as we are, at our worst is a beautiful gift, and the perfect safe space from which to start the work of healing and recovery, but you don’t want to stay there.  

We never saw that in S4.  We simply saw John back at his therapist’s office (sort of felt like the first time since the hug scene at the end of TLD), and he’s just like, “I’m doing better, yeah.”  Okay well, I’m glad the heaviest bit of your current depressive episode has lifted a little John Hamish, but you really can’t just be like, “Yeah, cool.  I’m good now.  Laterz!”  Which is kind of John’s M.O. when it comes to therapy (to be fair this therapist did shoot him in the face with a tranquilliser dart, so I’d be shopping around for someone else, too). 

I think that is the greatest sorrow of TFP, for me.  There was set up throughout TST and TLD, poorly handled though it was, for more growth to occur in Episode 3, and for us to really see John complete his character arch along side Sherlock.  But then we got that whole Shutter Island/Saw/The Ring crossover instead, and John’s arch was left totally hanging–forever.

What a waste.