#NOW I SHALL GIVE SMASH THIS PEAR!!

[bubblesthetherapyfish]

"Sephiroth is coming to smash" has the same syllables as "Santa Claus is coming to town" and i expect y'all to adjust accordingly

#NOW I SHALL GIVE SMASH THIS PEAR!! #text #sephiroth #ssbu #my post

[agentrouka-blog]

ASOIAF - Dany and the persimmons of doom

The persimmon is mentioned 13 times, 12 times in Dany chapters.

What’s a Persimmon?

The word Diospyros comes from the ancient Greek words "dios" (δῐος) and "pyron" (πῡρον). A popular etymology construed this as "divine fruit", or as meaning "wheat of Zeus" or "God's pear" and "Jove's fire". The dio-, as shown by the short vowel 'i', has nothing to do with 'divine' (δῑoς ), dio- being an affix attached to plant names, and in classical Greek the compound referred to "the fruit of the nettle tree". 

The word persimmon itself is derived from putchamin, pasiminan, or pessamin, from Powhatan, an Algonquian language of the eastern United States, meaning "a dry fruit".

The name was misconstrued to mean something a lot more elevated, something divine, olympian, fiery and impressive, when it really is a lot more basic than that. 

Kind of loving where this is headed already.

(Long, because many quotes.) 

The first and only persimmon mention outside of a Dany chapter is in AGOT, Eddard V. It’s contained in a list of offered refreshments by Pycelle, while Ned has gone to him to inquire about Jon Arryn’s death.

"Lord Arryn's death was a great sadness for all of us, my lord," Grand Maester Pycelle said. "I would be more than happy to tell you what I can of the manner of his passing. Do be seated. Would you care for refreshments? Some dates, perhaps? I have some very fine persimmons as well. Wine no longer agrees with my digestion, I fear, but I can offer you a cup of iced milk, sweetened with honey. I find it most refreshing in this heat."

 (AGOT, Eddard V)

Things in a list are, in my opinion, very often symbolically loaded. 

Dates. Persimmons. Milk sweetened with honey.

Dates, counting just the actual fruit, are also most heavily associated with Dany (7 mentions) and to a lesser degree Tyrion (3 mentions) and Arys Oakheart and Arianne (1 each). Also, Dorne in general. 

Milk with honey, which is what Ned ends up choosing, as a combination is associated with Brienne, Jaime and the Riverland mess, oddly enough, and, sweetened milk in general also with the suppression of Sweetrobin (sweetsleep). I’m sticking to the persimmon for now.

So, what are persimmons about for Dany? 

The first mention occurs in Qarth, close to the beginning of Daenerys III.

Descendants of the ancient kings and queens of Qarth, the Pureborn commanded the Civic Guard and the fleet of ornate galleys that ruled the straits between the seas. Daenerys Targaryen had wanted that fleet, or part of it, and some of their soldiers as well. She made the traditional sacrifice in the Temple of Memory, offered the traditional bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, sent the traditional persimmon to the Opener of the Door, and finally received the traditional blue silk slippers summoning her to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones.  

(ACOK, Daenerys III)

Another list. Hmm...

A sacrifice in the Temple of Memory... (If I look back, I am lost. What was Hazzea’s name again?)

A bribe to the Keeper of the Long List. (Keeper of lists... Arya keeps a kill list. Other list keepers might be the maesters at the Citadel for marriages births and deaths. There are two specifically mentioned “long lists”, Pycelle’s list of people who should swear fealty to Joffrey, and Hizdahr’s list of Dany’s enemies after smashing the slave trade.)

A persimmon to the Opener of Doors. (The red door likely foreshadows her Burning of King’s Landing, which is what I think this refers to. Elsewise, Jon significantly opened the gates of the Wall for the wildlings to march through. Jon, and Dany both open doors in significant dreams or visions.)

Then she receives the blue silk slippers and is summoned to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones. (Blue silk is heavily associated with Sansa, where it’s associated with catastrophe, violence, betrayal and defeat. To a lesser degree same for Brienne and Cersei. And the blue bard. This is not a happy fabric.)

But anyway, so the persimmon is associated with the Opening Of The Door. And what else?

The Pureborn reject Dany’s offerings and do not give her a fleet. She grumbles. She contemplates returning to Vaes Tolorro and making a home there but rejects the idea. Xaro asks her to marry him. A lot. Quaithe says reaches out to her again and gives her the “To go North you must go south etc” prophecy. She decides to go see the HOTU. (Destruction will follow.)

So, persimmon -> rejecting non-conquering path. And Quaithe egging her on.

Next Mention, still in Qarth. The persimmon opens the chapter.

She was breaking her fast on a bowl of cold shrimp-and-persimmon soup when Irri brought her a Qartheen gown, an airy confection of ivory samite patterned with seed pearls. "Take it away," Dany said. "The docks are no place for lady's finery."

If the Milk Men thought her such a savage, she would dress the part for them. When she went to the stables, she wore faded sandsilk pants and woven grass sandals.  

(ACOK, Daenerys V)

She consumes persimmon, and returns to her Dothraki garb, rejects Xaro’s proposal of marriage, finds herself unloved by the smallfolk of Qarth and pressured to leave. 

They know who I am, and they do not love me. Dany could tell from the way they looked at her.

Xaro refuses to help her get a fleet. She contemplates the visons in the HOTU. We get a book series title drop. 

“I remember,” Dany said sadly. “They murdered Rhaegar’s daughter as well, the Little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon’s sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?” 

“It’s no song I’ve ever heard.”

Dany wanders the docks and meets Barristan Selmy and Strong Belwas, who save her from a poison assassination attempt by the Sorrowful Men. Selmy and Belwas were sent by Magister Illyrio along with three ships. She accepts them, and renames them for the three conquering dragons Vhagar, Meraxes, Balerion. 

So, all in all we are on theme here with Dany embracing her inner dragon and rejecting alternative options of making a home. Aegon the Conquerer with Teats it is. Thank you, persimmon.

Next up, A Storm of Swords. Dany goes Unsullied-shopping in Astapor. The persimmon is at the beginning of the chapter.

“Your ears heard true,” said Dany. “I want to buy them all. Tell the Good Masters, if you will.”

She had chosen a Qartheen gown today. The deep violet silk brought out the purple of her eyes. The cut of it bared her left breast. While the Good Masters of Astapor conferred among themselves in low voices, Dany sipped tart persimmon wine from a tall silver flute. She could not quite make out all that they were saying, but she could hear the greed.  

(...)

Dany let them argue, sipping the tart persimmon wine and trying to keep her face blank and ignorant. I will have them all, no matter the price, she told herself. The city had a hundred slave traders, but the eight before her were the greatest. When selling bed slaves, fieldhands, scribes, craftsmen, and tutors, these men were rivals, but their ancestors had allied one with the other for the purpose of making and selling the Unsullied. Brick and blood built Astapor, and brick and blood her people. 

(…)

Two thousand would never serve for what she meant to do. I must have them all. Dany knew what she must do now, though the taste of it was so bitter that even the persimmon wine could not cleanse it from her mouth. She had considered long and hard and found no other way. It is my only choice. "Give me all," she said, "and you may have a dragon."

(…)

“Missandei is no longer a slave. I free you, from this instant. Come ride with me in the litter, I wish to talk.” Rakharo helped them in, and Dany drew the curtains shut against the dust and heat. “If you stay with me you will serve as one of my handmaids,” she said as they set off. “I shall keep you by my side to speak for me as you spoke for Kraznys. But you may leave my service whenever you choose, if you have father or mother you would sooner return to.” “This one will stay,” the girl said. “This one … I … there is no place for me to go. This … I will serve you, gladly.”

(ASOS, Daenerys III)

Persimmon & “buy them all, have them all, give me all” on triple display. Gee, I wonder if we will have another dragon escalation coming up?

Also, Dany’s special brand of slave liberation is in full swing. You are free to leave - with no alternatives provided for you. Or stay and serve as my “handmaid”. Ask Irri what that means.

The night before the transaction, she dreams she is Rhaegar on dragonback, bathing her enemies in dragonfire. A good dream, for Dany. She gets a visit from Quaithe. The next day, she dresses in Dothraki garb again. Fire and Blood.

“Unsullied!” Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. “Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.” She raised the harpy’s fingers in the air … and then she flung the scourge aside. “Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” “Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire.

It would appear that the persimmons signal the proximity of a dragon escalation. Persimmons always appear at the beginning of a chapter where Dany chooses Dothraki garb and dragonfire. 

Does it hold up?

A newly conquered Meereen has the next persimmon mention right at the top of the chapter:

Dany broke her fast under the persimmon tree that grew in the terrace garden, watching her dragons chase each other about the apex of the Great Pyramid where the huge bronze harpy once stood. Meereen had a score of lesser pyramids, but none stood even half as tall. From here she could see the whole city: 

(…) 

And beyond the walls was the pewter sea, the winding Skahazadhan, the dry brown hills, burnt orchards, and blackened fields. Up here in her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world.  

(…)

All my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror.

(…)

“My city,” said Dany. “I was looking for a house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.”

“A red door?” Missandei was puzzled. “What house is this?” “No house. It does not matter.” Dany took the younger girl by the hand. “Never lie to me, Missandei. Never betray me.”

"I never would," Missandei promised. "Look, dawn comes."

(…)

 On the terrace, a few flies stirred sluggishly. A bird began to chirp in the persimmon tree, and then two more. Dany cocked her head to hear their song, but it was not long before the sounds of the waking city drowned them out.

The sounds of my city. 

(…)

“What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo. “Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.”

(ASOS, Daenerys VI)

After the first persimmon mention, she reflects on the conquest of Meereen in a terrible, savage sack. (Incidentally, using the same kinds of weapons to attack their gate as Jon defends against the Wildling attack on the Wall, specifically the “turtle” and ram. Jon/Dany romantic foreshadowing, surely.) 

Persimmon ->  Dragon and dothraki. Yes, it holds up.

But there is a second persimmon mention. Persimmons in the middle of a chapter tend to signal a rejection of the dragon path. 

After a series of bad news from Astapor and beyond, making her question the success of her actions, she decides to change her plans. The birds draw her attention to the persimmon tree of dragon escalation BUT the sounds of her city drown them out. She turns away from the siren call. She decides to try and responsibly deal with actual ruling. 

So far, so on theme. Will the persimmons make a comeback when Dany re-dragons? Yes. Yes, they will. 

ADWD gives us more persimmons. Many more.

Daenerys II. Middle-chapter persimmon -> Dragon rejection.

She is unrestful. The Sons of the Harpy killed Missandei’s brother, and many more. She agrees to have a suspect’s young daughter tortured to get answers. She grows very tired of ruling. She struggles to comfort Missandei who asserts Dany’s Mhysa identity. But Dany is lonely and longs to be loved, longs for Daario. She takes a bath and, hello, Quaithe!

A woman stood under the persimmon tree, clad in a hooded robe that brushed the grass. Beneath the hood, her face seemed hard and shiny. She is wearing a mask, Dany knew, a wooden mask finished in dark red lacquer. "Quaithe? Am I dreaming?" She pinched her ear and winced at the pain. "I dreamt of you on Balerion, when first we came to Astapor."

 (…)

“Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are.” “The blood of the dragon.” But my dragons are roaring in the darkness. “I remember the Undying. Child of three, they called me. Three mounts they promised me, three fires, and three treasons. One for blood and one for gold and one for …”

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood in the door of the queen's bedchamber, a lantern in her hand. "Who are you talking to?"

Dany glanced back toward the persimmon tree. There was no woman there. No hooded robe, no lacquer mask, no Quaithe.

A shadow. A memory. No one. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once. "I was praying," she told the Naathi girl. "It will be light soon. I had best eat something, before court." 

(…)

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

(…)

I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

(ADWD, Daenerys II)

Dany is chaving under the pressures of ruling, already resorting back to cruelty, and under the persimmon tree, Quaithe beckons and tries to lure her back down the dragon path. Dany hesitates. She considers Hizdahr’s 7th proposal to open the fighting pits and questions Ser Barristan on his escape from Joffrey. She visits her dragons and questions herself, harshly. 

This chapter is one big hope spot before it all goes to ashes.  

Daenerys III. Closer to the beginning of the chapter, but not quite up there. -> less enthusiastic dragon rejection.

A banquet to honor the visit of Xaro from Qarth. Sensual dancing. Food and trade on the forefront of Dany’s mind, longing for Daaaaario in the background. 

Daenerys held out her cup for Irri to refill. The wine was sweet and strong, redolent with the smell of eastern spices, much superior to the thin Ghiscari wines that had filled her cup of late. Xaro perused the fruits on the platter Jhiqui offered him and chose a persimmon. Its orange skin matched the color of the coral in his nose. He took a bite and pursed his lips. "Tart."

"Would my lord prefer something sweeter?" 

“Sweetness cloys. Tart fruit and tart women give life its savor.” Xaro took another bite, chewed, swallowed. “Daenerys, sweet queen, I cannot tell you what pleasure it gives me to bask once more in your presence. A child departed Qarth, as lost as she was lovely. I feared she was sailing to her doom, yet now I find her here enthroned, mistress of an ancient city, surrounded by a mighty host that she raised up out of dreams.” No, she thought, out of blood and fire.

(ADWD, Daenerys III)

Tart v. sweet. Right now, a sweet queen? The persimmons beckon. She and Xaro philosophize on the relative merits of slavery. He would buy olives, she has to wait seven years for the newly planted trees to bear fruit. She hears of all the alliances made against her. Then he offers her a fleet to leave Slaver’s Bay and go home. Selmy likes the idea. Dany is sorely tempted, but the swirling rumors cause her court to question her and she lets go of the plans. She rejects Xaro’s tart persimmon-flavored offer of sailing off to conquer elsewhere. Xaro regrets not having killed her in Qarth. They part on bad Terms, she receives declaration of war the next morning.

Daenerys IX. The persimmon’s open the chapter. Uh oh.

The sky was a merciless blue, without a wisp of cloud in sight. The bricks will soon be baking in the sun, thought Dany. Down on the sands, the fighters will feel the heat through the soles of their sandals.

Jhiqui slipped Dany's silk robe from her shoulders and Irri helped her into her bathing pool. The light of the rising sun shimmered on the water, broken by the shadow of the persimmon tree. "Even if the pits must open, must Your Grace go yourself?" asked Missandei as she was washing the queen's hair.

(...)

My handmaids are Dothraki, she told herself. Death rides with every khalasar. The day she wed Khal Drogo, the arakhs had flashed at her wedding feast, and men had died whilst others drank and mated. Life and death went hand in hand amongst the horselords, and a sprinkling of blood was thought to bless a marriage. Her new marriage would soon be drenched in blood. How blessed it would be.

(…)

He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I. Daenerys Targaryen vaulted onto the dragon’s back, seized the spear, and ripped it out. The point was half-melted, the iron red-hot, glowing. She flung it aside. Drogon twisted under her, his muscles rippling as he gathered his strength. The air was thick with sand. Dany could not see, she could not breathe, she could not think. The black wings cracked like thunder, and suddenly the scarlet sands were falling away beneath her. Dizzy, Dany closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she glimpsed the Meereenese beneath her through a haze of tears and dust, pouring up the steps and out into the streets. The lash was still in her hand. She flicked it against Drogon’s neck and cried, “Higher!” Her other hand clutched at his scales, her fingers scrabbling for purchase. Drogon’s wide black wings beat the air. Dany could feel the heat of him between her thighs. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst. Yes, she thought, yes, now, now, do it, do it, take me, take me, FLY!

(ADWD, Daenerys IX)

Well. I’d say the pattern fits. Persimmon tree shadow breaks the image of a new dawn on the water, dothraki references, FIRE AND BLOOD.

And her final ADWD chapter? 

Daenerys X. Persimmon joins us close to the beginning of the chapter, but not quite at the top. But Dany makes up for that with enthusiasm.

Hers had been a lonely sojourn, and for most of it she had been hurt and hungry … yet despite it all she had been strangely happy here. A few aches, an empty belly, chills by night … what does it matter when you can fly? I would do it all again.

Jhiqui and Irri would be waiting atop her pyramid back in Meereen, she told herself. Her sweet scribe Missandei as well, and all her little pages. They would bring her food, and she could bathe in the pool beneath the persimmon tree. It would be good to feel clean again. Dany did not need a glass to know that she was filthy.

She was hungry too. One morning she had found some wild onions growing halfway down the south slope, and later that same day a leafy reddish vegetable that might have been some queer sort of cabbage. Whatever it was, it had not made her sick. Aside from that, and one fish that she had caught in the spring-fed pool outside of Drogon's cave, she had survived as best she could on the dragon's leavings, on burned bones and chunks of smoking meat, half-charred and half-raw. She needed more, she knew. One day she kicked at a cracked sheep's skull with the side of a bare foot and sent it bouncing over the edge of the hill. And as she watched it tumble down the steep slope toward the sea of grass, she realized she must follow.

Dany set off through the tall grass at a brisk pace. The earth felt warm between her toes. The grass was as tall as she was. It never seemed so high when I was mounted on my silver, riding beside my sun-and-stars at the head of his khalasar. As she walked, she tapped her thigh with the pitmaster’s whip. That, and the rags on her back, were all she had taken from Meereen.

(…)

Below, she saw men whirling, wreathed in flame, hands up in the air as if caught in the throes of some mad dance. A woman in a green tokar reached for a weeping child, pulling him down into her arms to shield him from the flames. Dany saw the color vividly, but not the woman’s face. People were stepping on her as they lay tangled on the bricks. Some were on fire. Then all of that had faded, the sounds dwindling, the people shrinking, the spears and arrows falling back beneath them as Drogon clawed his way into the sky. Up and up and up he’d borne her, high above the pyramids and pits, his wings outstretched to catch the warm air rising from the city’s sun baked bricks. If I fall and die, it will still have been worth it, she had thought.

(…)

No, Dany told herself. If I look back I am lost. She might live for years amongst the sunbaked rocks of Dragonstone, riding Drogon by day and gnawing at his leavings every evenfall as the great grass sea turned from gold to orange, but that was not the life she had been born to.

(…)

“Quaithe?” Dany called. “Where are you, Quaithe?” Then she saw. Her mask is made of starlight. “Remember who you are, Daenerys,” the stars whispered in a woman’s voice. “The dragons know. Do you?”

(…)

“Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …” Dany could not recall the child’s name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away.

(…)

Never, said the grass, in the gruff tones of Jorah Mormont. You were warned, Your Grace. Let this city be, I said. Your war is in Westeros, I told you.

(…)

As the western sky turned the color of a blood bruise, she heard the sound of approaching horses. Dany rose, wiped her hands on her ragged undertunic, and went to stand beside her dragon. That was how Khal Jhaqo found her, when half a hundred mounted warriors emerged from the drifting smoke.

(ADWD, Daenerys X)

She WANTS the persimmon tree. There is the Dothraki environment. She WANTS Quaithe. She starts acting like a literal dragon, nesting, eating Drogon’s leavings, wanders the grasslands half-crazed, suffery dysentery, miscarries (Mhysa v. Mother of Dragons) and makes her sacrifice to the Temple of Memory (Hazzea), which was the first step to the Hall of Thousand Thrones in Qarth. 

Next up, a bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, persimmon to the Opener of (Red) Doors and then it’s Hello, Blue Silk Slippers of (stabbing) Doom in the Hall of Thousand Thrones. 

Considering how consistent the theme of the persimmon is, I’m kind of excited about it seeing how GRRM will use it in TWOW and ADOS.  

Next up I think I’ll look at the context of dates, and milk with honey, just to find out why GRRM chose to have Ned reject the persimmons and dates and did let him choose the milk and honey, in that very first mention. Iced milk and honey. 

#asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #persimmon #foreshadowing #fruit symbolism

[hortascountrysidenotes]

Seasonal Shift

There is a distinctly different feel in the air and the look of the countryside.  Gone are the lush cool greens of May and early June, and we have arrived at the beige season - ripening corn and rape, early stubble fields, pin pricks of yellows and browns on tired bits of foliage.  Hot drying winds, dust in the air from the harvest and the sounds of the combine never far away.  The nights are still warm and the slightest drop of rain brings high levels of humidity and a heaviness that saps the energy and brings forth beads of sweat very quickly with the slightest exertion!

We have now moved into another chapter in the long saga of Beck Farm with the official ownership of the wood, and last night we celebrated the grand opening when some dear friends who are staying up on the coast with a gang of youngsters came over and cut the ribbon at the entrance.  We toasted the wood and wished it well and enthused over the possibilities it brings.  We have been reliably informed by the Tree Officer for our local council that no permissions are needed for felling any trees, so fire up the chainsaws and away we go in late October.  Hedge planting and new trees from the end of November and a development of the path system following a rudimentary cutting yesterday to give us a weaving walk to the top.

Speaking of councils, we have enjoyed the improvement in the state of the verges in our locality and wild flowers have actually had a chance.  Alongside the small lane running from the back of Brisley to our neighbouring parish Bilney is a lovely selection of wildflowers including the now endangered and on the red list Harebell.  I have been watching this patch every year get systematically blitzed by an idiot cutting the verges, just as they were at their peak, and therefore someway before they would have set seed.  This year it looked as thought we might see success but no...... very early yesterday morning we could hear the destruction unit at work and when I walked the dogs along, not only had they cut all the flowers but they had managed to scalp a good deal of turf and smash into a portion of the rather nice hedge.  I couldn’t bear it so as I had my phone I went through all the pain of Press 1, 2 or 3 etc to find the right department, and to my complete amazement got a real Hero!!! He told me who the contractors are, explained they have been expressly asked to leave the verges this year until a certain point and only do important roads where safety is at issue.  He assured me he would send this higher up the tree so I am encouraged.  Luckily a small patch of harebells escaped the sword so at least they will get to seed.  My faith in human nature was restored until the next time!

The garden is much the same save for the dahlias bursting with colour and the borders look great plus the new Kniphofias are flowering and having hated the ubiquitous red hot poker all my life, the new range of soft tawny browns, oranges and yellows are actually very good and make good accent plants.  Autumn raspberries in full production, apples are swelling which reminds me I still have not thinned the pears, and I have got the bolted lettuces out now so the veg patch looks better.  The wallflowers have been sown - and have already germinated.  We have a huge crop of walnuts developing - the squirrel is definitely still about and gave me a considerable shock when the other morning hearing a commotion above our bathroom window, I encountered a squirrel’s tail and foot showing in the gutter - where it then went I do not know but Miss Horta reports a bit of movement in her ceiling so I am on the warpath.  Next week I shall cut down all the summer jasmine which is near the bathroom window in case it has been creeping up through that - more to follow on this one!

Mavis is ever larger - we now have the whelping box ready and some new vet bed.  Dan has made the panels for my puppy pen so for the moment all we can do is wait.  Having managed to take the top off my thumb on Thursday I am glad we still have a bit of time as I am not very dextrous at the moment and certainly would struggle with the hot water and towels bit.

A lovely morning training with mates today - except one dummy I threw into a bramble bush again and simply cannot see so it may have to remain till the leaves come off, and the other which I put out last night with 4 others has completely disappeared - I think the foxes do move them as I have had this happen before - presumably as they smell of dog they need investigating, but I have even taken the chubby one with her super nose to look and it simply is not there.  Scout came along just to watch as the outing was more for young Elsie Grimwade and very sweet and slightly nervous Dot Broughton - both are doing so well and it is super to see Elsie’s enthusiasm and brilliance in finding everything, alongside Dot growing in confidence and happiness everytime we go out.  We shall all meet again on Thursday at a proper training evening with our Welsh Wizard friend Julian who runs great sessions.  Mavis will hopefully be able to join in again about 6 - 7 weeks after whelping.

Hedgecutting time looms yet again, second flushes of roses should begin to kick off in about two weeks time - Maigold is already flowering again, deadheading is paramount for all the herbaceous plants particularly dahlias. Sweet peas are still going thanks to a bit of rain, so worth feeding and watering one more time to prolong them.  Keep feeding containers and of course tomatoes.  Keep picking beans so they keep producing - dont let the courgettes sneak up!  Honey production today - estimate 100+ jars so not bad.

HORTA

[jo526]

“There were, then, these two first feelings, indefensible and indisputable. The world was a shock, but it was not merely shocking; existence was a surprise, but it was a pleasant surprise. In fact, all my first views were exactly uttered in a riddle that stuck in my brain from boyhood. The question was, “What did the first frog say?” And the answer was, “Lord, how you made me jump!” That says succinctly all that I am saying. God made the frog jump; but the frog prefers jumping. But when these things are settled there enters the second great principle of the fairy philosophy  

 Any one can see it who will simply read “Grimm’s Fairy Tales” or the fine collections of Mr. Andrew Lang. For the pleasure of pedantry I will call it the Doctrine of Conditional Joy. Touchstone talked of much virtue in an “if”; according to elfin ethics all virtue is in an “if.” The note of the fairy utterance always is, “You may live in a palace of gold and sapphire, if you do not say the word ‘cow”’; or “You may live happily with the King’s daughter, if you do not show her an onion.” The vision always hangs upon a veto. All the dizzy and colossal things conceded depend upon one small thing withheld. All the wild and whirling things that are let loose depend upon one thing that is forbidden. Mr. W. B. Yeats, in his exquisite and piercing elfin poetry, describes the elves as lawless; they plunge in innocent anarchy on the unbridled horses of the air -- 

“Ride on the crest of the dishevelled tide, And dance upon the mountains like a flame.”

It is a dreadful thing to say that Mr. W. B. Yeats does not understand fairyland. But I do say it. He is an ironical Irishman, full of intellectual reactions. He is not stupid enough to understand fairyland. Fairies prefer people of the yokel type like myself; people who gape and grin and do as they are told. Mr. Yeats reads into elfland all the righteous insurrection of his own race. But the lawlessness of Ireland is a Christian lawlessness, rounded on reason and justice. The Fenian is rebelling against something he understands only too well; but the true citizen of fairyland is obeying something that he does not understand at all. In the fairy tale an incomprehensible happiness rests upon an incomprehensible condition. A box is opened, and all evils fly out. A word is forgotten, and cities perish. A lamp is lit, and love flies away. A flower is plucked, and human lives are forfeited. An apple is eaten, and the hope of God is gone. This is the tone of fairy tales, and it is certainly not lawlessness or even liberty, though men under a mean modern tyranny may think it liberty by comparison. People out of Portland Gaol might think Fleet Street free; but closer study will prove that both fairies and journalists are the slaves of duty. Fairy godmothers seem at least as strict as other godmothers. Cinderella received a coach out of Wonderland and a coachman out of nowhere, but she received a command -- which might have come out of Brixton -- that she should be back by twelve. Also, she had a glass slipper; and it cannot be a coincidence that glass is so common a substance in folk-lore. This princess lives in a glass castle, that princess on a glass hill; this one sees all things in a mirror; they may all live in glass houses if they will not throw stones. For this thin glitter of glass everywhere is the expression of the fact that the happiness is bright but brittle, like the substance most easily smashed by a housemaid or a cat. And this fairy-tale sentiment also sank into me and became my sentiment towards the whole world. I felt and feel that life itself is as bright as the diamond, but as brittle as the window-pane; and when the heavens were compared to the terrible crystal I can remember a shudder. I was afraid that God would drop the cosmos with a crash. 

Remember, however, that to be breakable is not the same as to be perishable. Strike a glass, and it will not endure an instant; simply do not strike it, and it will endure a thousand years. Such, it seemed, was the joy of man, either in elfland or on earth; the happiness depended on not doing something which you could at any moment do and which, very often, it was not obvious why you should not do. Now, the point here is that to me this did not seem unjust. If the miller’s third son said to the fairy, “Explain why I must not stand on my head in the fairy palace,” the other might fairly reply, “Well, if it comes to that, explain the fairy palace.” If Cinderella says, “How is it that I must leave the ball at twelve?” her godmother might answer, “How is it that you are going there till twelve?” If I leave a man in my will ten talking elephants and a hundred winged horses, he cannot complain if the conditions partake of the slight eccentricity of the gift. He must not look a winged horse in the mouth. And it seemed to me that existence was itself so very eccentric a legacy that I could not complain of not understanding the limitations of the vision when I did not understand the vision they limited. The frame was no stranger than the picture. The veto might well be as wild as the vision; it might be as startling as the sun, as elusive as the waters, as fantastic and terrible as the towering trees. For this reason (we may call it the fairy godmother philosophy) I never could join the young men of my time in feeling what they called the general sentiment of revolt. I should have resisted, let us hope, any rules that were evil, and with these and their definition I shall deal in another chapter. But I did not feel disposed to resist any rule merely because it was mysterious. Estates are sometimes held by foolish forms, the breaking of a stick or the payment of a peppercorn: I was willing to hold the huge estate of earth and heaven by any such feudal fantasy. It could not well be wilder than the fact that I was allowed to hold it at all. At this stage I give only one ethical instance to show my meaning. I could never mix in the common murmur of that rising generation against monogamy, because no restriction on sex seemed so odd and unexpected as sex itself. To be allowed, like Endymion, to make love to the moon and then to complain that Jupiter kept his own moons in a harem seemed to me (bred on fairy tales like Endymion’s) a vulgar anti-climax. Keeping to one woman is a small price for so much as seeing one woman. To complain that I could only be married once was like complaining that I had only been born once. It was incommensurate with the terrible excitement of which one was talking. It showed, not an exaggerated sensibility to sex, but a curious insensibility to it. A man is a fool who complains that he cannot enter Eden by five gates at once. Polygamy is a lack of the realization of sex; it is like a man plucking five pears in mere absence of mind. The aesthetes touched the last insane limits of language in their eulogy on lovely things. The thistledown made them weep; a burnished beetle brought them to their knees. Yet their emotion never impressed me for an instant, for this reason, that it never occurred to them to pay for their pleasure in any sort of symbolic sacrifice. Men (I felt) might fast forty days for the sake of hearing a blackbird sing. Men might go through fire to find a cowslip. Yet these lovers of beauty could not even keep sober for the blackbird. They would not go through common Christian marriage by way of recompense to the cowslip. Surely one might pay for extraordinary joy in ordinary morals. Oscar Wilde said that sunsets were not valued because we could not pay for sunsets. But Oscar Wilde was wrong; we can pay for sunsets. We can pay for them by not being Oscar Wilde.”

[ivebeenreadingandwriting]

If Lyra and Iorek were hoping for a quiet stay, they were wrong.

---------------------

It was incredibly chilling how much a city could smell so of fear, of escape, of life left halfway in that picturesque colorful landscape, yet cold and bare despite the sea waves creating a sort of contrast between the tranquility of an abandoned country and the awareness to be alone in a place so ... empty, messily chaotic for the matter.

But still empty.

The only figures to fill the calculated spaces with a triangular architecture connected to itself were the girl, her daemon, and the white bear. All three were battered with no injuries, so on this side they had been fortunate not to have suffered bodily repercussions from crossing parallel worlds. But they were hot and cold at the same time, tired and badly in need of a full night's sleep.

But caution was inherent in Lyra's footsteps: she and Pan walked a few paces ahead of Iorek, who was holding the rear guard with a skeptical, wary, unconvinced look of his surroundings. Lyra had seen him snort just before passing him with two steps, but immediately he had stretched his muzzle and through the delicate use of his teeth had pulled her back to him from the teal shirt that she still wore from Bolvangar. "Do not start walking away." he told her. Offended, Lyra turned her wild head towards him. "I wasn't! I was looking around!" she bristled, her nose wrinkled in the process. Any other human who faced him so brazenly would have ended up with his face smashed to the ground without going out of the way: but when Lyra was proving her worth, not backing down, Iorek felt his heart grow so proud. And also amused in a way, because the sight of that little face so ferocious yet still so childish brought up big smiles. But Panserbjørne don't smile, they show their affection in other ways.

And his affection was playfully snorting in her face, tickling her cheeks in the process. Lyra immediately chuckled, albeit with some annoyance, shielding her face. "stop that!" she screeched laughing. "Iorek!"

"Now listen to me. Walk beside me and don't go away." he said "if I lose sight of you, I won't have the chance to find you here."

His senses might not work as well as in their world, and if Lyra got lost, finding her would be a mess. Prevention is better than cure.

Lyra, who was stubborn but not disobedient, realized that Iorek had no intention of giving her way. Then she followed him: Iorek had the power to make her obey in the net time of five seconds, seven at the most. But because Lyra admired him so much that even just arguing as she did with Asriel seemed disrespectful to her, precisely because Iorek had great respect and admiration for the little girl he had renamed, and whom he considered as one of them. It would have been ungrateful.

Then the little girl walks cautiously next to the white bear as he gazes at his surroundings equally wary and cautious. The city was a real disaster, a slaughterhouse. Some wooden doors had been removed from the hinges, others lay on the ground ... there were writing erased on signs everywhere and childish drawings on the walls. Some shops still had clothing and food inside, but all the doors that remained were wide open.

Crates of fruit had been spilled on the ground, and apples, pears, apricots lay motionless on the roughly set stone ground. Lyra bent down to pick a few, just to understand what she was talking about. "someone must have gone in a hurry." Pan murmured as he leaned over to smell a very bad looking fruit. "It's been a while ... this stuff has gone rotten." His marten face twisted at that acrid smell. "this kind of fruit goes rotten quickly." corrected Iorek "they may have been gone for a day."

But the town was too decayed to have been abandoned for a single day. It had been uninhabited for weeks, perhaps ... difficult to understand. "what happened in this place?" Lyra wondered as she stood up and started walking next to Iorek. "maybe Asriel...?" Pan began.

"I wouldn't rule it out." Lyra responded with acidity and anger, continuing to observe the town and the sky slowly unfolding above their heads.

Something had happened in this place ... maybe people had fled for an outside attack? Iorek surveyed the walls, peering at them carefully with a critical eye. He excluded a war on his own: there were no signs of blood or marks from bullets or arrows. It was as if the city had depopulated overnight. "Lyra, can you consult the alethiometer and ask where we are?" but before Iorek could even finish, an unknown though subtle rage in Lyra railed at him briefly. "I'm not going to ask that thing anything." she growled, not looking at the Panserbjørne in his eyes. Lyra had been, more often than not, quite calm beside Iorek's presence. But now he could clearly see anger in her and frustration, clearly at Roger's death. He paused to watch her marching, her soft brown curls sitting on her shoulders and rocking with each abrupt step. "Lyra-" Pan began.

"No." she answered resolutely, her thin brows curled down threateningly as she looked at the wall beside her for signs in their language.

Not even Iorek recognized the language he saw written everywhere ... By ear it could have been Latin, but it was much less articulate and short."now we have to make our way alone." Iorek spoke calmly, "Lyra, try to be reasonable."

But the girl shook her head, lips tightly closed in a strike of silence.

And once Lyra gets stubborn like this, good luck trying to move her. Iorek gave her a nudge with his nose to make her walk "let us find a place to stay, then we shall decide what to do."

"what place?"

"It is full of empty houses, any one will do."

The house they found, which seemed quite spacious from the outside, had been closed with wooden poles stuck between the two handles of the main door. But once those were broken, the house would be accessible.

"Can you break down the door?" Lyra suggested to Iorek.

"Let's try the sweet manners for once." replied the bear, simply cutting the piece of wood in half with his index claw (thick, strong and sharp as a knife) The half-broken wood fell to the ground with a crashing sound, and automatically the dusty doors swung open sending dust in the face of the trio, who coughed and sneezed in response. "we're off to a good start ..." Lyra commented, sneezing into her arm. Pan sniffed "A dusting in here wouldn't hurt." Iorek did not deign to answer them, he just poked his head inside the house to observe the surroundings. He smelled stuffy, musty ... but the oxygen was there and seemed quite livable. He took a sniff in the air to see if there was any danger, but the way seemed clear "Come in, but do be careful." he said "don't go upstairs until I tell you."

"you say there might be someone here?"

"Do not move too fast, and do not attract attention anyway."

Whose attention, exactly? that city was empty. But without arguing and wasting their time Lyra walked in behind the bear with cautious and slow steps, coat still leaning on her shoulder and her daemon trotting behind her. Iorek now had one paw resting on the rough surface of the symmetrical stairs leading upstairs, neck tilted up and nose functioning to detect foreign odors or dangers. Lyra put her coat down on a chair, walking towards the back of the stove to see if there was any water they could carry around so as not to die of thirst, when suddenly she felt watched.

It wasn't Iorek.

It wasn't Pan.

And when a dark hand came to touch her shoulder, her nerves jumped before Iorek could even warn her of the danger. She turned with a lightning jerk, violently planted a hand in the shoulder of the one behind her and gave a shove grabbing the opposite arm of the other to keep it yanked backwards and with equal violence she sank her elbow into the back of their neck, shoving with all the force that stood straight on the surface of the table with a dull thud. Whoever it was, landing so hard on the wooden table was hurt quite badly. "Lyra!"

Before Iorek's voice could even reach her, he had already rushed to her rescue. But he had stopped immediately at the sight of a boy, at a guess much taller and stronger than her, stuck under Lyra's elbow and trying to tilt his neck to look at the one who had just landed him against a table without a precise reason. "you're hurting me!" he said in a loud, frightened voice.

Lyra had no mercy. In fact, she gritted her teeth and pushed her arm even further into the back of his neck. "so you learn to move stealthily." she growled straight into his ear.

"okay! I scared you! I'm sorry!"

"you didn't scare me! I scared you!"

Iorek had never felt more proud.

The boy spoke again. "let me go, please." he said quickly, breathing heavily. With yet another shove against the table Lyra freed him, and he hurried to get up and walk away from Lyra with his back to Iorek. And the bear was silent. "who are you?" the boy asked.

"Lyra Silvertongue."

It was the first time the new name Iorek had given her had left Lyra's mouth, and with so much pride. As if she meant 'yes, Silvertongue will forever be my name.' as the boy picked up some meanwhile fallen vase pieces, inadvertently bumping into the white mountain that was Iorek and backing away before he even got to look him in the eye "oh my god-"

"that's Iorek." Lyra replied nonchalantly while Iorek's eyes flashed in the direction of the boy, intent on fearing for his life as he swung his gaze between the girl and the bear. "Where does it come from?"

"he, not it." Lyra corrected sharply "his name is Iorek, and I'm Lyra. Are you deaf or what? Is this your house" The boy didn't seem angry, he was just confused and a little sore. You know how it is ... An unknown girl had just slammed his face against a table, and a white bear was glaring at him. "No. I'm Will." he answered, keeping a safe distance from both of them "Will Parry." he gave a tentative smile, but it was cut off quickly because Lyra was glaring at him suspiciously. At least until Pan came out from behind her, little black eyes looked at Will in surprise. "finally, someone else to talk to!" he said.

Will's eyesbrows shot up.

"and that's Pan."

The boy remained silent, total silence as he stared at Pan with wide eyes "how does he talk?"

Iorek and Lyra blinked in sync. Why did the boy seem so perplexed and surprised?

"Is this your town?"

if Pan's voice had unsettled him, Iorek's voice made him jump with fright. Hearing a bear speak in such an inquisitive way would make anyone turn white. Will opened his mouth, suddenly dry, and tried to let out a few words. Amazement stopped him, and he turned back to Lyra indicating briefly to Iorek "He talks too?" And the girl shrugged "yeah, but he doesn't talk much." She answered.

Pan began to look around the boy, while Will waved his gaze between Iorek and Pan "Talking animals ..." and a smile had made its way across his serious face. He didn't even try to reach out to caress Iorek, because he knew losing a limb would be all too easy. He then he turned to caress Pan's little head, bending over to the counter and holding out a hand.

But before she could even get close, Lyra tensed and stepped between Pan and him making a steady, threatening eye contact with him. "he's not a talking animal!" she exclaimed indignantly. "he's my daemon!"

Dæmon?

In the sense of a demon?

Will felt his brows curve down. "your what?"

The bear took a step forward from behind them, eyes pricking up. "you don't have a dæmon?" Lyra asked, looking around. "I don't see one." Pan enchoed softly, a lot more softly than Lyra.

Who was this girl? Who were the animals that accompanied her? Will shrugged gently. "I don't know what you're talking about- I don't know who you guys are, nor where you come from-" But it was at that moment that an unfriendly spark appeared in Lyra's eyes, and the girl immediately backed away. "No." she murmured, turning only to the last when she was towards the door. "Pan, Iorek, let's go." The ermine on the counter followed closely, the bear did not hesitate to go behind them leaving Will alone in the room.

"Lyra Silvertongue, wait!"

#his dark materials #hdm fanfiction #hdm spoilers #hdm season 2 #hdm series

[cornholeaddicts]

A Guide To Going Pro In The ACL

So, it seems that you are a little more than just a Cornhole Addict. You’ve seen them on TV kicking butt and cashing checks. You’ve probably even their Pro Profiles here on the website. Now, God help you, you want to tell your family that you’re actually considering going pro in the ACL and becoming a Cornhole Professional. Since the threat of divorce hasn’t stopped you yet (“What do you want for Christmas, honey? Say ‘bags’ and I’m throwing this lamp at you I swear to…"), I won’t try to stop you either. Instead, here’s a handy guide to help you separate what the Players Guide actually says from what people think they know from their experience in the ACL. Hopefully this sheds a little light on the subject. The points race is well under way but there seems to be a bit of confusion as to what everyone's goals are this season. For some, this won't matter because you're "PLAYING ALL THE TOURNEYS!!!", but for others, a little clarification might help you plan the rest of your season better. The rules have changed dramatically from last year with the implementation of a separate Pro division. To add to the confusion, points systems have yet to be updated in certain areas and there has been no announcement as to how many "Become A Pro" tournament spots are up for grabs at The ACL Championships (aka COBs). Let’s start with an excerpt from the Guide itself, then we will try to break down each. Will I help make anything clear? I will do my best. How to Qualify: Going Pro in the ACL for 2020-2021 There are four ways to qualify to become an ACL Pro: ACL Pro’s for the 2019-2020 season who finish in the top 192 of the ACL Pro Singles standings will *automatically be eligible to be an ACL Pro in 2020-2021. *These players must also participate in at least 10 Regional or Conference events AND 6 ACL Pro National Events during the 2019-2020 season. Playing in singles and doubles at an event counts as 2.ACL Pro’s for the 2019-2020 season who do NOT finish in the top 192 of the ACL Pro Singles standings will have a chance to play to be an ACL Pro at the 2020 ACL Championship event assuming they have participated in the 10 Regional/Conference events and 6 ACL Pro National Events.The top 32 players at the end of the season in the Advanced Standings will automatically be eligible to be an ACL Pro in 2020-2021.The top players at the end of the season in the Advanced Standings who did not finish in the top 32 will also have an opportunity to play for ACL Pro status at the 2020 ACL Championship event. The exact number will be determined at a later date once we know how many Pro’s we have for the 2019-2020 season.”

Item # 1 above is about how to stay a Pro for those that are already pros this season in the American Cornhole League. About a month into this season, there were 220(ish) Pros signed up, publicly announced and ready to go. I have no clue if that number has changed but the goal was to have 250 ACL Pros to start the season. Assuming that limit stays the same come next year and 192 Pros retain their position in accordance with the number one qualifying method above, there will then be 58 positions left to be filled (or refilled by Pros who didn't make the cut). Skip item #2 and go to #3. Of those 58 openings for Pro status, the top 32 advanced players in overall points in the nation (repeat: NATION) will grab 32 of those slots. Again, assuming there will still be 250 ACL Pros next season, that means only 26 spots will be left and up for grabs for those going pro in the ACL at the end of the year tournament. Back to item #2. Read that and item #4 again. So who plays in this end of the year tournament for the last 26 spots to be a pro? All the bottom tiered Pros of the 2019-2020 season (about 30 of them) and as indicated by #4: the "top players" in advanced standings. The top players? Which ones? Top 100? Top 200? I don't know. No one knows. How much will it cost? I don’t know. No one knows. Man, this blog is so informative! Thank you, I’m blushing. How to become the top advanced player in the nation So how do you become the top advanced player in the nation in the ACL? Here’s the answer from the Players Guide and I will add my commentary afterwards. “Advanced Standings is a Combination of: Top 10 Regional Points (Best 5 Advanced Singles Events, Best 5 Advanced Doubles Events) + Top 4 Conference Points (Best 2 Advanced Singles Events, Best 2 Advanced Doubles Events) + Top 2 National Points (Best 1 Advanced Singles Event, Best 1 Advanced Doubles Event) + Top 10 Local Tournament Points. Points are used for seeding and to determine Pro eligibility.” First thing that I need to make clearer than clear is that you need a sick high level partner, yo. I don’t care if you’ve found the easiest local blind draw on the planet and you’ve milked your 300 max local 1st place finishes already before 2020, if you’re not racking up doubles points, you’re as good as hopeless if you plan on making top 32 in the nation and going pro in the ACL. So bounce around! Bribe a top dog to partner with you! Desperate times calls for desperate measures. Attendance, bare minimum, is as follows: 5 regionals, 2 conferences, 1 national, a partridge in a pear tree and however many local ACL points tournaments you need to get as close to 10 1st place finishes as you can. You can play in 75 regionals in the month of January and only two sets of scores will count: your best singles and your best doubles (including blind draws, so bug your directors to have more). There are 3 conferences and 4 nationals through the season so there's not as much flexibility there. That's why, at the end of the day, the best players with the best partners usually still rise to the top despite all the crying you hear about small point differences. You have to KILL IT at conferences and one national!! But let's say you do all this, and somehow, it seems some lesser player earned 100 extra points over you at the end of the season. Unfortunately, this is (in my opinion), the worst part about the points system. If a player attends (attends, doesn't even have to do well) all 3 conferences and all 4 nationals, they'll get a bonus 50 points for each perfect attendance accomplishment--100 points total. Now because gaining a spot in the top 32 and going pro in the ACL is going to be so ridiculously tight, this might end up really annoying you if you think about it too much. But hey, if you're thinking about going pro in the ACL, then you had better be good enough to earn top prizes playing this game so the idea of paying to attend all 3 conferences and traveling the country to all 4 nationals, shouldn't intimidate you. Put it another way, if you just want to tell your Memaw you're a pro cornhole player but you really have no chance in the world beating James Baldwin, Cody Henderson, Adam Hissner, Daymon Dennis, Derrick King, (shall I go on?)…then hit the weights and dream again when you're ready. But if you're a pro, then everyone and their mothers should already view you as a pro. Are you committed to becoming a Pro? Weigh the costs of committing to this journey against money that's realistically available to be earned by you and your partner if you enter the dome of the cornhole Pro money in the ACL (this year it's a quarter million). So let's say you are one of the unknown greats. You smash faces and take names at every regional. But no one knows you and no one wants to sponsor 4 nationals and a COBs for you. Is there some backdoor way to get on that ESPN screen next season with the title of Pro besides you? My strong suggestion would be for you to hit the bare minimum with participation as noted above. Since you're that good, your name should appear and qualify you nationally to be recognized as a "top player" even if earning top 32 doesn't happen. If you are seriously thinking about going pro in the ACL, give yourself the best chance to get that invitation to the "Become A Pro" tournament. Once you're there, make the competition weep and take your rightful spot next to the greats in the ACL--grabbing one of those final 26 spots. I will not comment much on becoming top 16 in your conference here--especially the points involved--oy! I will say that it seems to be the source of the most confusion. Last year, the top 16 from each conference received invitations to become pros. This year, there has been no indication that that will happen again and most likely will not be a backdoor way in. Top 16, according to the guide, will give you a ticket to participate in a 16v16 battle at COBs against other conferences across the nation (and the world) and you'll get a sweet t-shirt. BUT, Top 16 doesn't make you a Pro. Top 16 doesn't make you a Pro. Top 16 doesn't make you a Pro. Okay, this is getting too long winded. I hope there was something useful here for those who are already a pro or those who are thinking about going pro in the ACL next season. If anything, I hope we can speed up some crucial answers needed for the people who want to make some of their cornhole dreams come true. Happy holidays! Look out for part two before the New Year! Read the full article

[theaouinis-blog]

•I'm writing again..

You see ,, I don't even know the proper way to start this , at first i thought that i should keep it for myself but when i got to this final stage , again , i keep asking , why am i writing this ? Its definetly not a gig , not to be publihed everywhere or even somehwere , even if these persons received it it'll be just printed letters to a white page , meanless , this is a stereotypical perspective that made me hesitates doing this at the first place , so i think you didn't get my answer so far , you see , i'll give you a general view , as if you're reading this close your eyes and imagine that you are filthy rich , you have this locker behind that fancy painting over your desk , filled with whatever keeps you tracked on a balanced happy path , and someday when you're working , away , you get that anonymous phone call saying that your everything has burned , faded , gone with the ashes , wind , carried away . I know it sounds less convincing like i won't be even expecting you to imagine so let me try again , so for you , yeah i know you'll be nodding your head and smiling whenever you recognize this line , you don't need to close your eyes , as you get my pdf and read this you'll go into a deep trance hh , a gaze of a pretty woman with a short hair with a huge package to deliver , now you open it and it's the latest MSI gaming console , with a large screen and razer equipments , with a comfy black seat and an endless amount of food and cigarettes , you don't even get to leave your seat , you get to keep that women as an assistant too , and once you settle and you hold your breath to the awaiting moment of seeing that view of a dark room with razer lights creating stairway to heaven , as you ask her to plug in the adapter and then .. everything burns again , i know you'll hate me more but you don't know why you'll love me even more , but you get that point now , i'm writing so that my hormones creates a barrier to the void that was summoned , a canal that will detach each word i wrote and and make it either flow or float , a moisturizer girls if you know what am talking about ,but you know what's worse than that void ? i guesss you'll find out soon , or if you're really close enough you might have already known or seen . i think i answered my question by now. now , as am sitting in my usual corner with the laptop on my lap , my degital apple pet and two books ( An instance of the fingerpost by Iain Pears and Dead simple by Peter james ) , because i know that some of you are wondering , or not , anyway i did mentioned it because i got it as gifts like 3 or 4 days ago from my 8 years and eternity favorite woman modeling tumblry kind , i guess that was the perfect refers for her , yes , no doubt . so , i was trying to think about my next line , it took me a table organization and lunch to find it. Everything started a year ago , a condemned February , the big bang theory was all over again , but when my human body was smashed between 18 years of lies and earth , i guess my litle dots created their own way , away from the past life and the present life , but still , trapped on earth . As if i'm stuck on purpose . Through my 80 days of wasted time , i downloaded like 40 movies every couple of days , so my routine was like : wake up , do whatever girls do , food , 6 movies or more , up to my daily mood , that will make it a 2 hours for each which is 12 hours or more , depends , sometimes gym sometimes i'm lazier than Ziggy from the lazy town , but let me tell you when i deleted torrent files to download more movies it was totally over 300 and summer isn't over yet .. Well , i suck at math but the whole deal of mentioning all of this was a movie , i came across a beautiful movie it calls " I ORIGINS " , a combine of a science person and what i call a free spirit , it gave birth to a whole new perspective of eyes , i even remember that i spent my day digging the internet for a real experiment that actually proves that theory , now i shall stop spoiling, i'd like to suggest it and share the most beautiful 2 hours of my life with you , i guarantee you won't regret it , except for Him , the short haired ladies's fan , i know you going to smile again now . And second place goes to " Posthumous " and it means " the after death " one of the most beautiful artistic scripts , i even kept this specific part replying so i get to memorize it : she said : " Death is a funny thing , it is all about timing. Like it or not the ending of a story changes the context of everything that preceded it , what was once a love story becomes a lie , what was once worthless becomes valuable and was once forgotten can be rediscovered . Liam Price's death lead me to discover a hoax . A near perfect con . That of my own life because , as i've learned, the most convincing lies are the ones we tell ourselves .. " These lines are my red light to stop this chapter for now . To be continued. •COPYRIGHTS RESERVED ✔️ & last but not least my English isn't perfect so ignore the grammar.

[thenewbrotherhood]

Ahtlas Really Uncle? You're down on Jim Carey now? Damn you're grouchy these days. Murhder Yep, even kicked the Dalai lama. Heartless bastard I know. Ahxis Someone is going to spend their reincarnation life as a yak. Ahtlas -Laughs- he already smells like one Ahxis Exactly -leans a little closer to his brother, sniffs and wrinkles his nose- Runs in the family Ahtlas -Smirks and wrinkles his nose- speak for yourself Yak boy. Did you even shower after the gym? And by the way, I trashed your stupid organic soap. Ahxis -socks him in the arm- Hey, I liked that stuff Ahtlas Look, if I wanted to smell like Lavender or roses I'd roll around in the flower garden. Ahxis It was cucumber-pear, not flowers. You know, real males can smell like something other than Lava and degreaser. Ahtlas -Laughs- Ahxis likes cucumber-pear soap. Ahxis Do. -shrugs and snags a bag of chips off the top of the fridge ripping them open- Soooo... -rests back against the sink as he digs out a handfull of the crispy wonders.- what's on for tonight? Ahtlas Uncle and I are clearing out an old warehouse West of town. -Shoves his hand in the open bag- Ahxis -Snatches it away and then with a grin offers the chips back- Need help? I can come along. Ahtlas -Frowns then takes another handful of chips- Not sure that's a good idea yet. -Shoves the chips into his mouth- Ahxis Look, I know that "cleaning out a warehouse" doesn't mean you two are moving boxes or doing the floors. I could help. Really. Ahtlas -Looks a little worried- You're still not 100% since the attack dude. Don't wanna take chances l, do You? Besides Tamsin wouldn't like it either. Ahxis -Knows all of that is probably true, but doesn't like any of it.- You and Uncle can't keep me sidelined forever. This is MY fight, more now than ever. -Fills his mouth with chips before he says anything else.- Ahtlas -Nods if only to appease his brother- Yeah, I know it is. And I ain't sayin' you can't do it. Just...Not now bro, k? Ahxis -Ax just looked at his brother and held tight to all the complaints he wanted to spew. It wasn't Ahtlas' fault that he'd let himself get into the mess that went down, but it sure as h ell WAS hard to be forced to sit back and watch as his brother and uncle went out most nights to engage their enemy.- Yeah...right... -Ax shoved the mostly empty chip bag into his brother's middle and pushed past him out of the kitchen. Didn't anyone realize that sitting home, away from the fight made him more of a female than any fancy smelling shampoo ever would.- Ahtlas -He caught the bag to keep it from spilling the greasy crumbs onto the clean kitchen floor and tossed it into the trash as he moved to catch up with his brother. He understood Ax's desire to kill the enemy but he was certain that his brother did not understand how it felt to sit by while the other half of him almost died. His twin was the very last of his family...at least he used to be. Now there was Tam and Murhder to think about and how would they deal of both twins went out and got themselves killed. He knew he couldn't keep Ax at bay forever But for a few days at least he wouldn't have to worry so much. Catching Ax by the arm, he pulled gently to stop him- Hey, it's just until were sure you're healed completely. You almost died man, on my watch. Ahxis - Ax stopped and pulled his arm free.- It wasn't your watch. -He spun around and smashed his fist against the door frame.- Damn it Aht! I'm the one who went to the club! I'm the one who decided to walk home! I'm the one who let himself get so distracted by Tamsin, that I walked us into that alley! ME! You wouldn't have done any of those things...so I get it. I do. I know you're all worried I'll do other careless things, but I won't. I've learned from all that's gone down. I won't endanger anyone else...ever again. Murhder -Stepping from the living room into the hallway where the younger males were arguing, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall- What he's not saying Ahxis is that he feels like he will be so distracted trying to keep you alive that he will endanger us all. -His mouth was a serious line while he waited for either of his nephews to retort- Ahxis -His uncle's suggestion was ludicrous and he knew it, but it wasn't like Murhder to cater to anyone's feelings, so the comment stopped him short.- Riiight, whatever.... Ahtlas -Guilt shot through him as his uncle's words spelled out exactly what he had been thinking and he had to turn away from Ax before his twin saw the truth on his face. Damn Murhder and his bouts of sanity- Murhder -Murder smirked at both Ax's denial and Ahtlas' confirmation with his actions- so I propose that I take you with me Axis while your brother stays home and tends the family business. -his fangs showed with the spreading of his grin- Ahxis W-w-what? -He knew his mouth was gaping open like a dead fish, but he seemed to have no control over his own facial muscles. He was only able to stand there and look back and forth between the two, waiting of the punchline of the joke.- Ahtlas -With the last words from his Uncle, his head turned to Murhder so quickly, his hair whipped around his face. Snatching his hair from his eyes and mouth, he spat his words with venom he didn't actually mean- What the fuck? Hell no! No way Murhder, No way! Murhder -Turning his odd colored eyes toward Ahtlas, the grin slowly fades- That's exactly what is going to happen. Tonight. -Looking back to Ax, he lifted his chin- Get your ass upstairs and get your gear. -Turning back to Aht, he frowned- You need a night off. Take it. Tamsin *I had heard the rumbling voices, then raised voices and while at other times I would have gone straight down to see what was going on, tonight I decided to see how this would end. The three males could all look after each other no matter what else was going on, Murhder was in charge and since the time at the cabin there had been a change to him that made me reluctant to question him. I was wary. I knew my strengths. So I stayed in the kitchen preparing a meal, trying to get back into arhythm of normalcy. But still I constantly worried about the twins- Ahxis - Ax couldn't believe his good luck. Uncle was the last person he would have expected to be on his side. In truth, he knew the seasoned warrior had to be extremely disappointed in how Ax had been unable to protect Tamsin or himself. Snapping out of his shocked freeze, he turned and took the stairs two at a time.- Shit Yeah! -Now if he could just get things together and get out before he had to face down any objection from Tamsin, He might be able to strike back at those evil smelly fuckers.- Ahtlas -He was literally stunned into silence as he watched Ahxis take the stairs. Turning to look at Murhder once more, anger began to mar his features as he spoke- What the HELL do you think you're doing? He's not ready! Tamsin *It was Ahts raised voice and what he said that finally brought me out of the kitchen and out of my thoughts. Rushing forward and up to stand beside Aht. Looking up at him with a fierceness. But I didn't stop to look at Murhder, and I ran up the stairs to find Ax. This wasn't going to happen, not this. I couldnt let Ax be put in any danger not yet* Murhder -He simply smirked at the female that was now tearing off after Ahxis. Setting his sights back to the other nephew, he frowned as he moved toward him until he was trespassing on Aht's personal space. His voice was low and words toxic- make a move to stop him and you'll be Sidelined for good, got me? Don't question or dispute my decision on this Ahtlas. This is your one and your only warning. -He backed away to give the younger version of himself a chance to get his head right.- Ahtlas -Still so shocked by what just went down, he didn't say a word as Murhder backed away, but his anger boiled hot beneath the surface. Snarling, he was finally able to form a few words- You get him hurt Murhder, I don't give a shit who you are. I'll fucking kill you myself. -With that he turned away and stormed back to the kitchen in an attempt to quell some of his anger, worry and...jealousy? Was he jealous that Ax was suddenly the one in uncle's favor? He drove that from his thoughts quickly. No. He wasn't jealous. Only...maybe a little. Fucking hell.- Murhder -His face remained a serious snarl but inside he grinned. Keeping the heir on his toes was his plan as was training the spare. A little anger, jealousy and heat kept one on their best. He also knew the female would try to dissuade Ax. We shall see how this goes- Ahxis - Ahxis had his shirt off before he reached the landing and was kicking out of his jeans as he crossed the threshold of his room. Adrenaline had lit up his system the minute Murhder had decided to take him out. Ending every last lesser in Caldwell had been all he could think of during the weeks since he and Tamsin had been set upon. Now it was finally going to happen. Ax quickly pulled on his leathers and started fastening up the varies holders for the few weapons he had. Once he was finished he double checked himself in the mirror. Regardless of being Ahtlas' twin and dressed in pretty much the same garb his brother wore on hunting nights; Ax couldn't help but feel that he looked more outfitted for the Paris catwalks, than slaying in the darkest alleys of New York.- #AnotherSaturdayNight