#wardof

[marijoseimukefan]

É uma pena que one piece seja muito intimidador pra novos leitores (e não muito agradável com as personagens femininas) porque a Robin e Nami são verdadeiras inspirações acadêmicas pra fashionistas.

As Elle Wood, Rory Gilmore, Spencer Hastings, Blair Wardof dos animes.

[survivorwildwest]

Episode 9 - I’m My Own Girl

Returning from Tribal Council Russell ties his horse to the saloon and turns back toward his tribemates to say, “So, everyone voted for Todd but me?”

“That was the plan from the very beginning, Russell,” Kass reminds him. “I don’t know why you had to go trying to screw things up.”

“I’m not screwing anything up!”

“Clearly,” Kass smirks.

Russell storms off to the inn above the saloon. The rest of the tribe chuckles as he leaves.

Somewhere in the Mojave Desert, a kangaroo rat’s eyes glow as she scurries around.

The next morning, the tribe reads the tree mail. Colby clears his throat as the residents of their small ghost town gather round.

“gun,” Ben finishes.

When their shadows are their smallest, the Cheynne tribe finds Jeff behind the saloon. Painted on the wall is a silhouette of a cowboy on horseback. The horse is grey with the number one printed on it. The cowboy is black with the number two printed on it. The cowboy’s head is yellow with the number three. The tan hat is worth four points and the cowboy’s red heart is five. Jeff tells them they will split into two randomly selected teams. He places two six-shooters, one with a teal grip and one with an orange grip, on the wooden stand in front of the silhouette. “Each person has one shot at the cowboy and his horse. The team who scores highest, wins reward. A breakfast buffet with sausage and eggs and bacon, biscuits and gravy, pancakes and syrup and of course, beans.”

Everyone cheers, especially when the beans are mentioned. The team wearing teal is Russell, Wardog, Ken, Bi, and Ben. The team wearing orange is Michaela, Jerri, Colby, Kass, and Wendy. Lauren draws neither and sits out.

Russell fires first. He takes aim and hits the cowboy in the leg. A teal gel is left where the bullet strikes, giving them two points. Michaela takes the first shot for the orange team. Her orange bullet explodes on the cowboys head, giving them a 3-2 lead. Wardog takes a shot and hits between the horse’s legs and its chest, giving them zero points. It’s 3-2 as Jerri takes her shot and hits the cowboy’s chest. The score 5-2 as Ken takes a deep breath, steadies his arm, knowing exactly where he’s aiming, he fires and hits the hat, giving the teal team a 6-5 lead. Colby fires and just barely knicks the cowboy’s leg. The score is now 7-6. Ben lines up his shot and everyone gets quiet. He pulls the trigger and the bullet hits the edge of the cowboy’s heart, giving them five more points. The score is 11-7 when Kass takes her shot. She hits the cowboy in his ribs, giving them two more points. Wendy takes her shot and hits the cowboy in the leg, covering Russel’s shot. The score is 11-11. Bi picks up the gun, lines up her shot and asks Jeff, “What do I need to win?”

“One point.”

“Oh, easy.” She fires. Her bullet explodes in the exact center of the cowboy’s heart, winning reward for her team.

“But five will do,” Jeff continues.

“Killher Bee!” Wardog yells as their team celebrates.

Somewhere in the Mojave Desert, a swallowtail floats through the dry air with grace.

The teal team find themselves at a long table set up in a small cave. A pile of pancakes wider than any one of them sits as a centerpiece within a mountain of scrambled eggs, sausage and bacon. A ring of biscuits lines the mountain. The peak of the mountain is decorated with deviled eggs, each dashed with just enough paprika to give the ensemble that pop of red any good Cave Breakfast requires. At the end of the long table is a plate of beans on a warmer. The five castaways take their seats. Russell looks over his compatriots, tucks his napkin into his collar and folds his hands in his lap before touching his food.

Wardog makes an argument against Kass again, but it doesn’t gain much traction. Then Russell speaks up, “I’m glad to have you all here. I’m sure you all know my game. And I’m sure you all know how well that’s done me. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since Brandon left. Who I am, who he thought I was, who I want to be. I am turning a new leaf. I am becoming a new man. I want to play an honest game.”

“So, what are you suggesting,” Bi asks.

“The five of us come together. Ken can bring in Lauren and then we have the upperhand for the rest of the game.”

“Who do you want to take out, Russell,” Ben asks.

“Wendy. She has proved to me time and time again, she is not trustworthy. I want to play a game based on trust. I know you two are close, Wardog, but you gotta think about your future in this game and Wendy ain’t it.”

“That works for me,” Bi says, licking deviled egg yolk from her thumb.

“Ken, can you get Lauren, Ken” Russell asks.

“Yeah, I think so,” he says.

“Ben?”

“I’m in,” he says.

“Wardog?”

“I hate to go against Wendy, but I’m in,” he admits.

Russell says in a talking head, “And they say Survivor’s hard.”

Somewhere in the Mojave Desert, a goldfinch sits atop a willow tree.

Back in town, Lauren, Kass, Michaela, Jerri, Colby, and Wendy sit around the fire and boil some beans.

“Do you guys want to talk about who to target,” Kass asks.

“Is anyone close with Bi,” Colby asks.

“I’d rather see Wardog go to be honest,” Lauren says, “I know he’s itching to make a move. He’s going to do something that blows up everyone’s game soon. I promise you.”

“I’m good with that,” Michaela says and everyone around the fire comes to an easy consensus.

Somewhere in the Mojave Desert, a scorpion hides between two rocks.

After the beans they considered lunch, Kass and Jerri wash dishes in the sink in the inn’s kitchen when Wendy and Lauren walk in. They sit at the rickety wooden table in the corner.

“So, you two are really on board with voting Wardog,” Jerri asks as she looks into the pot she’s drying.

“Absolutely,” Lauren says.

“I’ve wanted him out since I saw he was here,” Wendy says.

“I’m surprised you three don’t have some Edge of Extinction alliance,” Kass says while she rinses the dishes in the sink.

“No way,” Wendy assures her through a hiccup.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Jerri says.

“What about your friend, Lauren,” Kass asks, passing a freshly cleaned bowl to Jerri to dry.

“We’re just friends. That’s it.”

Jerri turns around and raises a single eyebrow to Lauren then looks back to Kass. They share a snicker before returning to dishwashing.

“So, when are you gonna cut him loose,” Kass asks Lauren.

“Well, I think the four of us would be a strong final four, so I could use him up until five?”

“I think Final Five is a good time for the Ken & Barbie story to end.”

“He actually doesn’t like to be called that,” Lauren says.

“What,” Jerri says.

“Isn’t that his name,” Wendy asks.

“Yeah, no but like the barbie doll, he doesn’t like that.” Lauren explains.

“Okay,” Jerri says as she dries the last dish.

“Oh my god,” Lauren says in a talking head, “That was so stressful. I felt like a teenager bringing a boy home for the first time.”

Somewhere in the Mojave Desert, a cottontail rabbit hops up to and munches on a plant under a log.

The winning team returns to camp with enough leftovers for the rest of the tribe to eat for the day. Russell immediately finds Jerri and the two head to The Oasis for water.

“What’s going on,” Russell asks.

“We’re targeting Wardog.”

“Wardog? Why?”

“It’s what Lauren and Wendy wanted.”

“Hmm. Interesting,” Russell says, scratching his head.

“Who did you target?”

Russell looks up at her, apologizing with his eyes before mouthing, “Wendy.”

“No, why?!”

“It was the consensus.”

“Fuck,” she says, massaging her temples, “Okay. Fine.”

“Really, you’re fine with it?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a massive wrench in my plan, but it’s fine.”

“I thought you’d be more mad. Isn’t that your girl?”

“I’m Jerri Manthey,” she says with a grin, “I’m my own girl.”

Russell smiles a real big, proud smile back to her.

Somewhere in the Mojave Desert, the shadows of rocks grow and shrink as the sun rises and sets.

Michaela finds Ken in the inn. He’s laying down on a cot after a hard day of eating and chatting on the reward.

“How was the reward,” she asks.

“Oh, It was great,” he says, “Oh my god. I think I ate too much.”

“Where’s everyone’s head at?”

“Looks like Wendy’s the target. I’m supposed to get Lauren to come over to our side.”

“Cause y’all are shacking up?”

“Shacking up?”

“Or whatever you’re calling it.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Right. Sure. I know y’all are just waiting for the opportunity to take Ben out so you can get this room to yourselves.”

“I mean, it’s not our number one priority…”

“But...”

“It’s been brought up.”

“Ha! Y’all are nasty.”

Ken just shrugs his shoulders.

Somewhere in the Mojave Desert, a coyote howls as it crosses a path left by a roadrunner.

Wardog finds Lauren sitting with her horse at the fire just before the sunset. She holds the reins in her fist beside her.

“Hey, Lauren,” Wardog says as he sits next to her, “I gotta talk to you.”

“Yes, Wardog?”

“I know you me and Wendy were supposed to be working together but,”

“What did you do Wardog?”

“Wendy’s the target.”

“What? Since when?”

“Since the reward, we all got together and decided to vote Wendy because she’s untrustworthy.”

“What?”

“That’s what Russell said.”

“Why are you listening to Russell? You know who he is.”

“No, he said he’s turned a new leaf.”

“Wardog. Come on. Don’t be stupid.”

“So, who are you voting for?”

“Russell! Obviously,” Lauren says, rolling her eyes and looking back at the fire.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Wardog says as he runs the plan through his head.

Ken approaches on his horse and reaches a hand to Lauren, “m’lady,” he says as she takes his hand and climbs atop her horse. The two ride off as the sun descends and the sky turns from blue to orange to pink and violet. Far from ear shot, as the stars become visible, Lauren tells Ken, “I know we agreed to not talk about the game on these walks, but I have to tell you, I can’t vote for Wendy.”

“So, who are we targeting instead?”

“Wardog.”

“What’s Wardog ever done?”

“Nothing. That’s my point. He’s going to do something soon if someone doesn’t take him out.”

“What if he wins immunity.”

“Have you seen Wardog in challenges? He’s not winning immunity.”

Somewhere under the Mojave Night Sky, a ringtail cat stands alert.

The next morning, Colby rouses the tribe and gathers them around the fire to read them the day’s tree mail.

At high noon, Cheyenne rides their horses out to the challenge where they meet Jeff. He stands in front of 11 balance beams. 

“For today’s challenge,” he explains, “each of you will stand on a beam while balancing a ball as it races around a ring. If your ball drops or you drop, you’re out. Last person standing wins immunity, and, as you have all informed me, has exclusive access to the immunity suite.” 

He holds up the rusty old key and tucks it into a pocket inside the bandolier.

Everyone takes their place and begins spinning the ball. Once everyone finds their rhythm, Jeff announces the challenge has begun. Almost immediately, the ball clips Wardog’s finger and he falls off the beam. Michaela drops soon after, then Kass, then Ben, all within a few seconds of each other. Russell loses his rhythm for a moment but is able to gain it back for a few moments before succumbing to the sound of wood scraping against wood. Colby loses focus and drops his ball. Ken, Lauren, Bi, Wendy and Jerri remain. Ken’s ball increases in speed with each rotation. Next to him is Lauren, who instinctively matches his speed. It eventually becomes too fast for either of them to control and they drop out one right after the other. Jerri, Wendy and Bi remain. All three women have found a concentrated rhythm.

Jeff announces they must move to the next smallest section of the beam. Once they do, Jerri easily finds her rhythm again, followed by Wendy. Bi is unable to find her speed again and drops out. Jeff notices Russell grinning.

“What are you so happy about,” Jeff asks.

“It’s both my girls up there. I’m good either way.”

“You don’t think you’d be good if Bi won?”

“Let’s just say, I’m more good with one of them two winning. I know they got me.”

“That’s right, Russ,” Jerri says, not breaking her concentration, “We got you.”

Wendy loses her concentration after a high pitched tic, forcing her ball to the ground.

“Jerri wins immunity,” Jeff yells.

Jerri quickly drops her ball to check on Wendy. Wendy tells her she’s fine. Jerri kisses the top of her head and cuddles her under her shoulder.

In a talking head, Wardog says, “I gotta choose between Wendy and Russell. I’ve played with Wendy but that’s the past. I gotta worry about my own future. Wendy’s my past and Russell’s my future.”

After the challenge, everyone congratulates Jerri on her win as she hangs the bandolier over the bar in the saloon. At the bar, Colby, Ken and Jerri all take a seat. Jerri spins around, tips her hat back and asks in an exaggerated drawl, “What can I get y’all?”

“Y’all got any sarsaparilla,” Colby asks, mirroring her charm.

“Darn tootin we do!”

“What are you guys doing,” Michaela asks with disdain as she takes a seat next to Ken.

Jerri and Colby giggle together like teenagers while Jerri pours each of them a whiskey. As she passes each of them a tumblr of the brown stuff, she asks, “So, it’s Wardog tonight, yeah?”

“I don’t know, Jerri,” Michaela says, “I’ve thought about it a lot and I think we’re pissing off less people with Wendy.”

“But, who cares about Wardog?”

“It’s just not the time,” Ken says.

“We can take him out at any time,” Michaela assures her.

“Colby,” Jerri asks for support.

“I just don’t think it’s worth the effort to save her,” he says.

“Fine,” Jerri mutters.

She downs her drink and walks upstairs. In one of the bedrooms, Jerri finds Kass resting. Jerri falls back on the creaky mattress. Her greying brown curls fall over the pillow as she groans.

“They’re targeting Wendy,” she says with her face in her hands.

“Do they have the numbers?”

“I think so.”

“Well that really throws a wrench in our plan, huh?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“What is Lauren thinking?”

“She doesn’t want to vote for Wendy.”

“You don’t have an idol for her?”

“No, I don’t...”

“Well, that is unfortunate.”

Somewhere in the Mojave Desert, a spider jumps over a crevice between two rocks as it builds its web.

As the sky takes on an orange hue, Ken and Lauren work on the fire when Jerri approaches them.

“Hey guys,” she says.

“What’s up Jerri,” Lauren says.

“Hey Jerri,” Ken says.

“So, you know it’s Wendy?”

“I heard.”

“You’re definitely voting for Wendy, Lauren?”

“I mean, what’s my vote for Wardog gonna do?”

Jerri gets up from the fire and wanders through the town until she finds Wendy doing the same.

“Wendy,” Jerri calls over.

“Jerri, hi.”

“Who are you voting for tonight?”

“Wardog, isn’t that the plan?”

“No, listen to me. Don’t waste your vote on Wardog, unless you want to. You have an opportunity to take out whoever you want in this game with your vote.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna need to play your idol.”

“I don’t have an idol.”

“I know you do.”

“How do you know?”

“Because when I asked you if Hannah had an idol, your eyes darted around the same way they did just now. The votes are coming your way. All of them.”

“What do I do?”

“Play your idol. Take out whoever you want.”

“Whoever I want?”

“Whoever you want.”

Somewhere in the Mojave Desert, a leopard lizard rests on the side of a rock formation.

With the moon now lighting the desert town, the tribe rides out to Tribal Council. Jeff takes his usual seat at the head of fire while the remaining members of Cheyenne gather around. Todd and Elizabeth ride in on two gallant and gold akhal-tekes. The horses stand across from each other, as their riders preside over tribal council.

“Ben,” Jeff begins, “you mentioned at last tribal council, you felt there was a target on your back for having won before. Do you still feel that’s true?”

“Oh, yessir. Of course. I imagine there will always be a target on my back.”

“Do you agree, Michaela, will there always be a target on Ben’s back?”

“I don’t think so. If we take out Ben, then do we take out Colby and Russ next because they did the next best? Nah, you know that’s not how this game works.”

“Colby, do you feel targeted?”

“Well, sure. I’ve done well in Survivor, why shouldn’t I be considered a threat, but this game’s evolved. It’s so much more than building strong relationships with people. I don’t know that I can navigate this new advantage-heavy game.”

“Russell, how do you feel you fare in this next evolution of Survivor?”

“Well, clearly I’m still a threat or else Michaela wouldn’ta said my name!”

“I think at this point, Jeff,” Kass says, “It’s fair to say everyone’s a threat.”

“That’s the thing about Survivor,” Bi says, “Anyone can win.”

“Can anyone win, Survivor, Ken?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Lauren, do you believe anyone can win Survivor?”

“With the right amount of tact and luck, I think anyone could win Survivor, yes.”

“Wendy, do you think you could win Survivor?”

“Oh, I really hope so, Jeff,” Wendy says with a smile wider than her cheeks should allow.

“Alright, with that, it is time to vote. Wardog, you’re up first.”

Wardog makes his way from the campfire into the cave and the voting booth inside. He holds up a begrudging vote for Wendy and just says, “Sorry.” Colby makes his vote. He’s seen writing a “W” before fading to Russell. He proudly writes Wendy’s name, holds it just over the urn, leans his elbows on the stand, and says, ”You never should have turned your back on me.”

Wendy makes her way to the voting booth and contemplates her vote for a good while. Jeff turns around and peers into the cave after a few minutes to see Wendy briskly walking back to her seat.

“I’ll go tally the votes.” Jeff walks into the cave and returns with the urn full of votes. He sets it upon the rock he’s stood behind and says, “If anyone has a hidden immunity idol and you would like to play it, now is the time to do so.”

Wendy looks over at Jerri who’s staring back with her eyebrows raised as high as they’ll go.

“Jeff,” Wendy exclaims, getting up from her seat. She reaches into her bag and pulls out her gold nugget of an immunity idol. “During the challenge, Russell said that me and Jerri were his girls and I just wanted to tell him,” she turns to Russell before handing the idol to Jeff, “I’m my own girl.” She turns back to Jeff, “I’m playing this for myself.”

Wendy returns to her seat, looks to a beaming Jerri, then to Russell, who’s winning a staring contest with the sand. 

Jeff tells them, “This is a hidden immunity idol. Any votes cast for Wendy will not count. First vote: Wendy. Will not count.”

“Wendy. Will not count. Wendy. Will not count. Wendy. Will not count. Wendy. Will not count. Wendy. Will not count. Wendy. Will not count. Wendy. Will not count. Wendy. Will not count. Wendy. Will not count. Tenth person voted out of Survivor: Wild West and third member of our Jury... Russell.”

The jury and the rest of Cheyenne gasp. Jerri reaches over to Wendy and rubs her shoulder. Wendy smiles a humble, quietly proud smile. Russell grabs his torch, shaking his head, and makes his way to Jeff. His torch is snuffed and he walks away into the night with his small grey horse following close behind him. Jeff gets back on his clydesdale and rides off with Elizabeth and Todd.

“Player got played,” Russell says in his final talking head, “Gotta give her that. I ain’t mad. Great job, Wendy Girl.”

Read Episode 10 here

[adamac]

#wip #fairuse #wardof

[noradasuamae]

é com imensa alegria que damos as boas vindas à selecionada de belcourt, a senhorita eleanora margareth crow,da casta três. fofocas dizem que ela se parece com a vitoria strada, e está estudando para tornar-se médica. boa sorte para delphinus.

𝑩𝒖𝒚 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

com a mãe atuando como veterinária no palácio, eleanora foi criada ali, embora não saísse muito de seu quartinho — quando escapava era para fazer fofoca com as camareiras, ou se esconder na lavanderia, onde experimentava roupas da rainha para fingir que era princesa. o pai morreu quando ela tinha quatorze anos, e só então a família conseguiu juntar dinheiro — maurice gastava muito de bebidas, e foi o que o levou. a mãe conseguiu abrir uma clínica veterinária, e tendo trabalhado pra realeza, seus serviços foram bastante procurados, o que fez a vida das crow melhorar — aulas com tutores tornaram-se comum na rotina das meninas, que tinham como objetivo arrumar casamentos vantajosos. nora inscreveu-se na seleção por conta própria, sendo apaixonada pelo príncipe desde sua infância, e também porque é um absurdo que uma de suas irmãs tenha se casado antes dela!

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

ela possuí um diário de casamento perfeito, ao melhor estilo blair wardof, onde escreve seus ideias de casamento perfeito, guarda amostras de estampa para vestido, cola ideias de lua-de-mel e alguns recortes feitos com os rostos dela e do alex.

ela possuí três irmãs mais novas, sendo katia, ada e dianna.

eleanora não se importa em jogar sujo às vezes, se for para alcançar seus objetivos; o que ela se esforça para fazer, é não ser pega.

ela é bem falsinha, pode ficar toda sorrisos na sua frente e virar as costas e aprontar um milhão para cima de ti.

está estudando para tornar-se médica.

eleanora é vegetariana. tudo começou por seguir o estilo de vida da mãe, mas diferente de suas irmãs, nora adotou como suas práticas também.

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

meu sobrenome é crow, como o pássaro, primeiro nome, eleanora; e eu tinha vinte e seis anos quando me casei com alexander schreave, no dia 9 de novembro de 2412. okay, isso ainda não aconteceu, mas aprendi com minha mãe que precisamos projetar nosso pensamento, e mantê-lo sempre positivo, para atrair que coisas boas aconteçam. e, ah, eu faço isso desde que tinha dez anos, preenchendo páginas e mais páginas no meu diário de casamento perfeito — entre exemplares de tecidos que posso usar no meu vestido de noiva, recortes de lugares que desejo passar minha lua-de-mel e detalhes sobre a decoração, existe também fotos de casais, cujos rostos foram substituídos pelo meu e o de alex. isso não é assim tão esquisito, certo? para que eu não seja tão julgada sobre isso, vamos a minha não tão longa história:

minha família e eu somos três por nascimento, mas se dependesse da administração que papai fazia do dinheiro, teríamos despencado algumas castas — quem sabe até a sete. papai é o tipo de homem que gosta de marcar sua presença, ostentando com coisas que não lhe cabiam — para meu azar, tenho uma pequena tendência em fazê-lo também. apesar disso, mamãe sempre manteve o equilíbrio, sendo a ajuizada de casa, e num movimento de sorte, conseguiu adentrar o palácio para servir a família real. sylvia, é veterinária, e depois de bastante esforço, conseguiu compor o quadro de funcionários da família real; deixamos nossa casa em belcourt quando eu mal sabia andar, para viver em aposentos de serviçais.

imagine que, para uma criança, era completamente mágico crescer dentro do palácio. eu só precisava tomar cuidado para não ser notada, e, bem, era fácil passar despercebido, quando adultos pareciam ocupados demais cuidando de suas próprias vidas. do meu lugar, acompanhando as camareiras pelos corredores, sempre curiosa sobre a vida dos outros no palácio, eu conseguia vislumbrar alexander com seus tutores. foi minha morada no palácio que me fez admirar o príncipe e, até mesmo, fantasiar com uma vida sendo princesa — ora, às vezes os filhos dos servos brincavam de teatro, e com roupas velhas da rainha abby eu me fantasiava de um membro da realeza!

foi na minha adolescência, depois de papai morrer de algum mal que atacou seu fígado — maurice tinha a mania de ostentar com álcool, também — que mamãe conseguiu guardar dinheiro para abrir sua própria clínica veterinária. e então, fomos embora do palácio. era maravilhoso ter o nosso próprio canto, sem sermos convocadas pelo badalar de sinos quando a realeza precisava de algo; mas também era péssimo não estar mais convivendo naquele meio. mas mamãe dizia que seria melhor, e tentei me convencer disso, ao passo em que focava em meus estudos para me tornar médica. 

foi neste momento em que minha irmã mais nova, katia, casou-se com um bombeiro. eu fiquei feliz por ela, é claro, até ser lembrada de que, como a filha mais velha, eu deveria ter sido a primeira a me casar. acredito que a ruga que carrego no meio das minhas sobrancelhas, tenha se originado desse estresse! querendo compensar meu atraso em arrumar um casamento, com a elevação do status social, eu me inscrevi na seleção — era tudo o que eu poderia desejar, que o príncipe finalmente olhasse para mim como a mulher que sou; e não como a garotinha que outrora serviu em seu palácio.

me esforço para ser, aparentemente, tudo o que a sociedade exige, e quer, de uma dama de minha idade e posição. elegante, obediente e comportada, minha face social é perfeita, e tenho uma reputação imaculável — nunca me envolvi em escândalo algum, e quem diz que tem provas disso, está mentindo! não costumo ir contra as imposições feitas a mim, muito pelo contrário, entendo desde nova que posso conquistar tudo o que desejar se agir da maneira correta. no entanto, por debaixo dos panos, posso ser um pouco inescrupulosa; não tenho medo de fazer o que seja necessário, contanto que não corra o risco de ser descoberta.