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quillsandblades · 3 months

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A levihan fic I wrote inspired by the wonderful art of @addiej01

Lucky

Dust motes and overflowing sewerage. Dirty streets, uneven houses, and a large rocky ceiling, cutting out the sight of—Levi could only imagine what it may look like— the sky.

A typical day in the Underground.

Levi was eight, and pissed off at the random men that kept showing up to the small room where they lived. His mother had, as usual, sent him away, sneaking him out through the window and drawing the threadbare curtains over it before anyone could see him. He knew she was doing it—whatever it was—for him, and it also hurt her. And it involved men.

She had explained patiently to him that she was working and he must never peek through the window or she would be very angry and sad. But he’d seen her tired eyes, pale face and the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. He’d seen how she would wince in pain when she moved, and he’d heard her silent sniffles in the deep night when she thought he was asleep. He blamed the men, and her work, that she was so adamant on hiding from him.

He had been tempted to look through the window once. If he knew what was hurting her, he could find a solution. But her words had rung sharply in his mind and he knew if he followed the impulse, his mom would never ever forgive him.

So there he was, wandering the streets on yet another day, feeling helpless and cursing life with all the ferocity a child could muster.

Levi knew his way in the area around his home quite well. He was familiar with the narrow alleyways and passages that ran through the district like a tight network of spider webs. And just like a spider web, they were traps for all the stupid flies that dared to venture into it.

Levi was not a fly; rather he was one of the spiders, albeit a smaller one. Having grown up on those streets, he knew exactly what kind of person to avoid and how to avoid them. As a child he did lack many talents needed on the streets, like strength, fighting tactics and killing, but he knew how to survive, and that’s what mattered most. He was pretty quick and stealthy as well. Though his mom didn’t like the idea of stealing and Levi went along with it, it was still a handy little skill.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and he instantly looked around. The distant sound of hurried footsteps compelled him to dive into a gaping alley. He flattened behind a dripping pipe, holding his breath, partially due to the stink, and peered out.

A tall, burly man marched through the street; waves of anger were emitting from him and he was fingering the gun in his belt, moving with a purpose.

As he’d suspected, it was one of the spiders. A big one. Levi wouldn’t want to be in its pincers. He waited with bated breath, until the man was out of sight and it was safe for him to come out. But just then, he heard a small squeak and jerked back, fists raised.

‘Who’s there?’ he called out.

When nothing but silence answered, he stepped back into the alley, and squinted in the semi-darkness, eyes roving, searching—there!

A small figure was hunched behind some boxes. Another squeak sounded.

Levi approached it and realized it was a kid, around his age. The kid stumbled back as Levi came closer, hands held in front of him . . . or her? It could be a boy, sure looked like one. He wore glasses and was dressed in fairly bright and expensive looking clothes, but they were covered in dirt, and his short brown hair framed his face in messy strands.

He looked terrified, but was doing a fairly good job in masking it.

‘Who are you?’ Levi asked, folding his arms.

‘H—Hange,’ surprisingly the voice sounded female.

Levi raised his eyebrows, ‘You a girl?’

‘Uh, I . . . yeah,’ her eyes darted around, unsure and nervous.

‘You’re not from here,’ Levi stated flatly.

She winced, ‘Well, yes . . . but I swear I’m not gonna cause any trouble! I just wanted to look around! I’ve never seen the Underground before!’

Levi rolled his eyes; as if it was such a delightful place. So she was from the surface, and completely oblivious to this world. What an idiot.

The perfect fly.

He decided it was better not to let the girl, Hange, wander around by herself, so he accompanied her to the gates. Besides, he had nothing to do anyway.

She liked talking, as he soon found out. A lot. And throughout their little journey, she chattered happily in his ear. In a span of forty minutes, he knew everything from the name of her pet dog to the annoying governess who made her sit through hours of lectures on how to be a proper lady, even though she didn’t want to be one. Apparently, her father was a kind-hearted doctor who had come down to treat the victims of a prevailing disease in the Underground. Naturally, Hange wasn’t allowed to come with him. And naturally her unbridled curiosity made her slip in while her father crossed through the gates. How she managed that feat was beyond him.

He learnt quite a lot about life above the ground, and realized just how different it was from his own. But he really wished she would shut up for a while, otherwise he was sure to have a headache soon.

Thankfully, the gates came in sight, and she turned to him. She was grinning, and her eyes were shining brightly.

‘Thanks for being my guide, Levi!’ she exclaimed.

‘I wasn’t your—’ his retort was cut short as she enveloped him into a hug.

‘Bye! I’ll see you tomorrow, okay!’ she shouted in his ear.

‘Oi! Get off four-eyes!’

She laughed at the nickname and headed towards the gates, preparing to sneak out. She might get caught but it wasn’t like he cared. She’d managed to come in after all, he was sure she could go out as well. He turned on his heel and walked away.

***

True to her word, Hange came down again the next day. He saw her descend the giant stone steps with a man that could only be her father. It seemed she’d somehow convinced him to bring her along this time. She beamed down at him and adjusted the bag at her shoulders, as the guards held them up by the entrance.

‘You were waiting for me!’ she jumped in excitement as she rushed down.

Levi scowled, ‘I wasn’t.’

Of course he wasn’t waiting for that moron to come; he was simply walking around the gates. It’s not like he was bored or anything.

‘Your father let you come today,’ Levi pointed out.

‘Yeah! I asked him sooo many times yesterday that he just had to,’ she said.

‘But he only agreed when I told him I made a really nice grumpy friend,’ Hange skipped ahead, full of energy. ‘So, where are we going today?’

‘I’m not your friend,’ said Levi, ‘and we’re not going anywhere.’

‘Oh c’mon grumpy pants,’ she pouted. ‘Show me around! I even brought food for us today; we can have a picnic somewhere!’

Levi shook his head, equal parts amused and irritated. What did she think this place was? An amusement park?

‘You can't fool around here,’ he said gruffly. ‘It’s dangerous.’

‘Buuut I wanna explore,’ she whined, ‘and you know the Underground well. Pleeease Levi.’ She looked at him with big, pleading brown eyes.

He sighed and trudged ahead, ‘Come on.’ It wasn’t as if he was busy, some company wouldn’t hurt.

‘Yes!’

He led her to areas that he knew were relatively safer. Four-eyes tagged along, staring at the shops, houses, bars and people as if she’d never seen those things before. He noted that she stared at the stone ceiling every now and then, mouth half-open in wonder.

‘These people,’ she began after a while, ‘they’ve been in the Underground all their lives?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So that means none of you have ever seen the sky?’

He nodded stiffly. Hange gasped.

‘That’s horrible! You’re telling me you don’t know how it looks like when it’s clear, or cloudy, or early in the morning, or when the sun’s setting?’

‘I don’t.’

She stopped and grasped him by the arms, bending forward. Levi leaned back, eyes widening.

‘Don’t you worry Levi, I’ll take you to see the sky!’ she said earnestly. ‘Why don’t you come with me today when I leave?’

‘I can't,’ he shook his head. ‘None of the Undergrounders can leave just like that.’

‘Oh,’ her shoulders slumped and she frowned, crestfallen.

But then her eyes lit up once more, ‘Y’know, my mom’s a painter, and I just remembered two of her really good paintings about the sky. I’ll bring them tomorrow for you to see!’

And with that she bounded forward, calling for him to catch up.

Levi stood there for a second, not knowing what to make of this overly enthusiastic girl who somehow felt it was her duty to show him something he’d always wished but never had the chance to see. Was this what they called kindness? He couldn’t be sure.

Four-eyes insisted to see a livelier place next, so he took her to the market square, bustling with people. She moved around the stalls with a bright gleam in her eyes and gushed over the local handiworks. After she’d looked around to her heart’s content, they both sat down on the large steps of a storehouse and four-eyes took out food from her bag. Bright-colored fruits, bread, sandwiches, an orange drink.

The sight made his mouth water. How long had it been since he had a proper meal? Weeks? Months? How long since his mother had eaten anything?

Hange nudged him, ‘Go on, I brought this for both of us.’

He picked up a piece of bread gingerly and took a small bite. It was warm and sweet and so painfully real that for a moment he just savored the feeling of something solid and edible filling his mouth. He tore off a large bite, then another and another, filling himself with food. He finished the whole loaf in a minute.

Levi glanced at Hange, expecting her to be staring at him judgmentally, but she was simply chewing an apple, gazing around thoughtfully.

So Levi picked up a sandwich and bit into it, taking time to chew properly and eat slowly this time.

‘So . . . you said you lived with only your mom,’ she started.

‘Hmm.’

‘Where’s your dad?’

‘Dunno, and don’t care,’ he shrugged.

‘Can I meet your mom?’ four-eyes asked eagerly.

‘She’s busy right now, working.’

Her face fell. He hesitated, and then said, ‘Maybe another time?’

‘Of course! I would love to!’

She began taking again, telling him about her life, her little adventures back at home. This time he threw in small comments here and there, making her laugh out loud. It was a nice feeling: to learn that you could make someone smile widely just because of your words.

Much too soon, it was time for her to go. She let him—more like forced him—to take the rest of the food home, and promised to come down tomorrow and show him the paintings.

The next day, Levi greeted her with the words, ‘I want to show you a place.’

‘Ooh!’ Hange was all excitement as she followed him.

He went to the far corner of the district where the tumbledown houses gave way to the high walls that marked the end of the city. The spot was a mess of cracked rock and broken stones protruding from the ground and rising up to a great height.

‘C’mon,’ Levi said, lodging his hands and feet between the gaps in the stone and hoisting himself. He looked back down at four-eyes, ‘Can you climb up?’

She nodded, a bit uncertainly but followed his lead. It wasn’t that hard, the rocks weren’t slippery or steep, but they did have a long way to go. Levi focused on climbing up and kept checking on Hange in between. She seemed to be doing okay.

Finally they reached the wide ledge at the top and Levi pulled himself up and then helped Hange. They both sat there, catching their breath for a while. Hange produced a bottle of water from her bag, drank some and then handed it to Levi.

She turned to look back and gasped.

‘Whoa!’

The whole Underground city was spread out below them. From their great height, the houses looked like children’s toys. The buildings were squashed in close to each other, with narrow streets weaving between them. The tall towers stood out majestically among them. Everything shined in the flickering lights of the city.

Levi looked at four-eyes and almost smiled at her expression of awe. She was quiet for a while, watching the scene intently.

‘This is beautiful,’ she said finally in a quiet voice. Then turned to him and smiled, ‘Thank you for bringing me here, Levi.’

He turned away from her and mumbled, ‘Yeah whatever . . .’

Hange chuckled and settled back comfortably on the ledge. Then opened her bag and took out various food items and patted the space beside her. Levi sat down and they began to eat, looking down.

‘I noticed that there aren’t any plants or flowers in the Underground,’ said Hange.

‘How could there be any, you moron. There’s no sunlight.’

‘I know, but look at that,’ she pointed to the roof that felt way closer now that they were up there. It was damp and covered with fungus. ‘There are parts of the roof that have grown thinner than the rest,’ she went on. ‘And the stone will continue to weather away due to wind and water. It’s possible that a hole might open up in here. So if sunlight comes in there’ll be greenery.’ She smiled.

‘Like I care,’ said Levi, although he did find the idea nice.

‘You will care when it happens. A little green would look good here—oh! I just remembered! I had to show you something!’ she unzipped her bag.

‘Is it those paintings?’ Levi asked, curiosity seeping through the indifference.

‘Yes that too, but there’s one more thing!’ Hange pulled out a book and held it up.

‘I don’t know how to read four-eye,’ he said flatly.

She simply opened the book and pulled out a small leaf from it. It resembled a flower, and had four bright green petals. She held it out to him.

‘That’s a clover leaf,’ she said proudly. ‘And they usually have only three petals. Four petals are sooo rare that people say if you find one, you’re really lucky!’

Levi held the leaf in his hand and observed its fresh green color. Lucky, huh?

‘People will make up anything to satisfy themselves,’ he said and handed the clover back to her. She carefully placed it between the pages once more.

‘But still, seeing how rare it is, it’s still quite a precious thing,’ Hange countered. ‘I’m so glad I found it.’

Next she pulled out two pieces canvas from her bag and showed them to Levi with a grin, ‘As promised, I brought you a glimpse of the sky!’

The two paintings were a splash of color that was so rarely seen in his world.

‘This one’s a sunset,’ she pointed to the one that looked like fire. Molten red and orange hues bathed the canvas, mingling into a gold-yellow. Distant black silhouettes were painted that Levi recognized as mountains and horses. A huge pale orb—the sun—was half-hidden between the hills.

‘And this one’s a clear sky.’ The second painting showed a soft blue shade dotted with something that looked like fluffy pieces of cotton. Little red-roofed houses peppered the ground, surrounded by vibrant green fields. He could see small figures of children, frozen in time, chasing each other. He could almost hear their laughter.

‘You like it?’ Hange asked.

The places in both these pictures felt free. The people there could look up and see an infinite stretch of something that wasn’t the roof of a cage. Something that washed them in different colors at different hours of the day. It wasn’t a monochrome black all the time.

‘It’s . . . nice.’ He said quietly. This was just a picture; the real thing would be a hundred times better. He wondered if his wish to go out in the open would remain a wish forever.

‘I think,’ Hange’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, ‘the clover leaf really is lucky.’

He raised his eyebrows, ‘And what makes you think that?’

She shrugged, ‘I found the leaf. Then I met you,’ she locked her warm brown eyes with his. ‘And that was indeed very lucky.’

Levi tore his gaze away, not knowing what to say. Hange laughed quietly, ‘You’re a really good friend, Levi.’

Hange kept coming for many days. They would talk, play around, and often climb onto that ledge. She would tell him about the outside world and he would mention brief fragments of his life and the Underground. Once Hange sneaked in some of her mother’s paints and they both spent a good amount of hours on their ledge, making a mess of the colors. He liked the routine; it was the first time he’d made a ‘friend’ and Levi was actually having fun.

One day four-eyes came to him with a sad smile; she was carrying just a book, no backpack. Her father didn’t go off to attend to his patients as he usually did, but stood back at a distance as she approached him.

‘Hey,’ she whispered.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘We’re leaving,’ said Hange. ‘Father’s work here is done, we won’t be coming back.’

Oh.

He knew she wasn’t going to come down everyday forever, but . . . he hadn’t expected that day to come so soon.

‘I asked him to let me just meet you one last time and only then I’d go,’ she said. Then she handed him the book, and opened a page in the middle. Upon it sat that clover leaf she’d shown him before, carefully dried and pressed between the pages.

‘I dried it. If you keep it inside the book, it’ll last for quite some time.’

Levi shut the book and looked at four-eyes. He had to say something.

‘Thank you,’ he said. She smiled, this time happily. Then he said, ‘And this won’t be last time we’re meeting, four-eyes. I’ll get out of this hellhole with my mother and then we’ll meet again.’

Her eyes widened, and then gleamed behind her glasses. She crushed him in a hug, and he let her do it this once.

‘All right then, I’ll see if you keep your word Levi.’

***

‘The name’s Levi,’ he stared down at the lined up soldiers who would blindly throw their lives away in the name of freedom. Isabel and Farlan stood on either side of him, both alert and cautious.

Then his eyes caught a familiar sight of messy brown hair and glasses. Vague memories stirred within him.

. . . I’ll see if you keep your word . . .

Well, he did keep it. Here he was, beneath the vast open sky, and four-eyes was right in front of him. He held back a smile. How lucky indeed.

#levihan #hange zoe #levi ackerman #levihan fanfiction #my writing #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #levihan fanart #enjoy

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setoangel01-fanfiction · 1 year

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In the Silence

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7 Crisis Core, Crisis Core Reunion, FF7R

Pairing: Zack x Aerith (Zerith)

Rated: T

Story Summary: Aerith's introspection when Zack comes into the church after the fateful mission to Modeoheim.

...

Fanfiction.net

A03

...

The silence was the worst.

Zack's arrival typically meant a billion gil smile and his excited greeting as he loudly clomped his way into the church like a beacon of pure sunshine he usually was…

But not today.

The change in the air was immediate open the church doors opening this day. The visage of Zack walking in used to signify a day of countless smiles, hugs, kisses and laughter, but instead, visceral grief and anguish was palpable in the stuffy church as Zack merely walked into the church without even looking up from his feet.

Silent, his steps light as if he didn't want to disturb the dust-motes lingering in the cracks of the wooden floors. Any greeting Aerith might have given died on her tongue as she watched with bated breath as Zack made his way into the sanctuary. A gigantic sword she'd never seen before pulled off his back and laid with utter gentleness against the wall before Zack made his way to the middle of the aisle of broken pews and sat down with his back to her.

It was only staring at his silent form for more than a minute than she realized how hard her heart was pounding. The backs of her eyes burned and her hands shook as she looked at his dejected form. Zack was so tall, the top of her head fitting perfectly under his chin yet as he sat so silently on the floor, he looked so unbelievably small and just so sad.

Without knowing what else to do, Aerith finally spoke, "Hey…" the words, 'are you alright' died on her tongue before they materialized. "The f-flowers got some rain while you were gone. I think they liked it, what do you think?" the words felt hollow in the midst of his silence and she cursed her tongue for ever moving.

But before she could verbally say much else or even think, she heard him crying.

And everything stopped.

It wasn't loud, it wasn't sobbing or even letting out the normal cries a person might make.

The grief was utterly silent, the barest hitches of his breath yet she felt the tears dripping down his face, the utter ache in his quivering chest and Aerith didn't say anything more.

Aerith's feet moved without prompt.

Steps felt so loud in her ears as she made her way towards him, not even caring about her white dress, Aerith's knees hit the the dirty wooden floor. Leaning forward, she pressed her chest against his heaving curved back and her arms immediately enveloped him from behind in the tightest hug she could muster.

Zack was shaking.

The minute trembles were felt throughout wherever their bodies touched, his grief, the sounds of his unsteady breath and the warmth of his tears from where she pressed her cheek against his ripped her heart out of her chest.

Eyes burning and filling with tears that dripped down her face to mix with his own, Aerith held him close. Brushing her temple against the soft nest of black spiky hair as her hands caressed and rubbed at his chest, Aerith gently rocked back and forth with him. The motion soothing her probably more than him for Zack's crying only increased. He wasn't sobbing, only his lower lip trembled, his eyes opened yet unseeing. The only visual tale of his utter and devastating grief were the tears dripping in torrents down his bleeding face.

Aerith gasped lightly upon seeing the large 'X' carved into his jaw, the deep cut was red, swollen and mixing with the tears slipping down his face. It was then she noticed everything else. His clothes were torn in places, dirty and bloodstained, his normally glossy black hair matted and dusty and so many cuts and brushes littered the skin of his arms.

When she let out the gasp, Zack finally looked at her.

The eyes she fell in love with, so deep, blue and utterly perfect were now completely haunted and blood-shot with grief and pain echoing in their depths. A rusty pair of pliers ripping her heart out right now would have hurt less than looking into his eyes. Zack, her beautiful black-haired angel who always had a smile on his face and positive outlook was broken and bleeding in her arms and she wanted nothing more than to take his pain away.

"Zack…" Aerith sobbed, ever so gently using her trembling hand to touch his unmarred cheek. "Let me help you…please?" she asked, fingers wiping at his falling tears.

Zack blinked, a few more tears leaking down his face. Aerith looked at his face, normally smiling and clear was marred with dirt and tear tracks. His nose was running and his eyes were puffy and cheeks were a blotchy red yet he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen. All she wanted was to help him… Finally, Zack's jaw tensed a bit under her touch but he finally nodded in agreement.

Even if was only a little bit, Zack allowed her to heal him.

The cuts, scrapes and bruises marring his tanned skin faded away in a wash of green from the Cure materia in her bronze bangle to cover her Cetra healing. Her own magic working in her fingertips as she hovered over cuts and bruises that healed slowly underneath her soothing touch. Skin finally clear, Aerith ran her fingers over every healed wound, wanting to touch him, to sooth him for him as well as for herself. Yet when Aerith went for the largest wound, the one on his face, Zack pulled away from her, refusing to let her heal the cross shaped scar on his cheek.

"No, not that one," he sniffled, his voice small, nasally and broken.

Aerith relented, pulling her hand back to rest over his pounding heart instead, wishing she could heal his heart as easily as his wounds. Yet all she could do was hold him close, her hand massaging his sternum.

"Can I at least clean it? I don't want it getting infected," Aerith offered, hoping she wasn't pushing her luck but to her surprise, Zack nodded, silently moving to pull out a small plastic packet filled with alcohol wipes, cotton swabs and gauze from his pocket. A white sticker with the Shinra Logo on the front with the words 'Minor Field First-Aid Kit' written on it.

Aerith took the item he handed her, tearing a few packets open and ever so gently, she cleaned the cross-shaped wound. Fingers trembling as she brushed over the red throbbing gash, she knew it must have hurt yet Zack didn't even flinch at the potent sting of alcohol. Once it was clean, Aerith opened a square of taped gauze and gingerly pressed it to the languidly bleeding wound, the crimson of his blood soon dyeing the bandage a faint red that soiled the once white cloth.

Zack was determined to make the wound a permanent scar.

Aerith said nothing.

Laying the items aside and ignoring the ache in her knees, Aerith leaned against his back, her arms over his shoulders in a loose embrace. Zack's eyes stared at something she couldn't see, reliving a memory that would most likely haunt him for the rest of his days - and she couldn't help him. As much as she wanted to ask, to have him talk to help relieve the burden, she refused to pry. She wanted answers yet she didn't allow the questions on the tip of her tongue to leave her lips.

Once or even if Zack was ready, he would tell her - and she would listen.

Until then, all she could do was hold Zack tightly in the hopes that her mere presence would suffice. That her thin arms around his strong, over-burdened shoulders would lighten the weight pressed on his heart - if only a little…

#zerith #ccff7r #ff7r #zack fair #Aerith Gainsborough #zack x aerith #fanfiction #ff7 fanfiction #zerith fanfiction

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arikos-of-caelid · 2 years

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Fingers of Fate

While the young, auburn-brown haired and gold-flecked, dark-blue eyed orphan boy Arikos had lived in the small but well-maintained chapel in a corner of the Lands Between for as long as he’d remembered. It’d been quite the special occasion when the old crone of a Finger Reader had summoned him, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Your fingers…let me read them, young one, so that you may know the place Grace has given you.”

Grace…the sacred guidance that led those in the land on their path. He’d long heard of it, but got the impression it was something only the Older People really got. So to be told as such, as young as he was, barely even over a decade old, was special. How could someone that special deny the crone taking his fingers into her hands? Arikos beamed up at her, figuratively and literally, as the motes of gold in his eyes began to shine subtly brighter. He waited, with bated breath, to hear her words.

“You are a blade held between the Fingers; to bring justice to the enemies of the Order, and keep the long fought for peace in these lands.”

A blade…the stuff of a warrior, a fighter. He gasped for a moment; it seemed odd in his immediate perception. He didn’t feel very strong; indeed, he felt more comfortable brewing the nearby red lilies blooms into tea for the travelers, worshipers, and soldiers that came to the chapel for refuge and healing.

But now was no time for doubt. He looked up, nodded at the crone, as if to inquire: tell me more.

And so the finger reader nodded back, squeezing the fingers Arikos had offered more tightly and seemed to tremble momentarily before speaking again.

“A blade of the lands of Caelid, under the eye of General Radahn. He who conquered the stars; after his father now King Consort Radagon, and in the spirit of First Lord Godfrey.”

Yes, this was what this land was called. The soldiers that so often visited, were the ones under that General’s command. The Redmanes, he believed they were called. Yes, that was right, those were who the red flowers were named for. But this chapel wasn’t a place where they made armor and swords. This is where they taught the truth of the world, of the one goddess Queen Marika, of the life-giving Erdtree that watched over the lands, of the Golden Order it stood as a symbol of. Of the Two Fingers and of the Greater Will they were an envoy to. He didn’t understand all of it; he figured he would, once he was older. And it definitely seemed like Arikos needed to now, for fulfilling whatever Grace seemed to demand of him. He trembled slightly, and the trembling finger reader running her fingers along his seemed to subtly amplify his anxiety.

The crone’s next words seemed to, in part, answer some of what had arisen in his heart of hearts.

“But the battles to be fought are not in the open light anymore. They lurk in the shadows, the enemies with hidden faces and sins. Your eyes shall winnow them, storm them in the darkness where they hide.”Hiding. In the darkness. Where things weren’t so obvious. Oh.

So he wasn’t supposed to be a soldier then. Arikos was…supposed to be something else. Some kind of an agent of this chapel, of these Fingers, then. To give something back to the place that had taken him in and given him care. That made more sense.

He didn’t know why then, of course, what enemies those were and why. Why something like this would be something people wanted to destroy. But, he was supposed to find that out, understand, if this lady’s words were any indication. And so once again, the young boy waited with bated breath. And then came the most severe of the Crone’s words.

“But you must be careful, child. Lest your heart stray from the path of true Gold, and all be rent to disaster.”

At the time, certainly, that warning seemed especially absurd. But he took it to heart in his own way: the enemies couldn’t win the fair way, so they had to do things dirty to break it down. So he had to fight on that same territory, so they couldn’t destroy his home, this place, the people like that. Yes, I think I can be a warrior like that. This really is my destiny, then. “...I accept this. This path of Grace, and where it may lead,” Arikos said, his high young voice nonetheless full of a serious tenor beyond his years.

And with that, the dark blue of his irises was now fully subsumed by bright, shining gold. The crone finally released his fingers, and nodded.

“Yes, indeed…let the words of the Fingers guide you from here on out, young Confessor.”

#[Confessor's Personal Files]#[Mun's Writing]#[Headcanons Ahoy]#Baby Ari you sweet summer child #It sounds so cool but leads to so much Pain and Guilt #I feel bad for him but Good Angst!#working backwards from his current fixations and hangups to a Source whee

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keliv1 · 2 years

Photo

Print de uma das palestras da Fenasan 2022, com João Augusto Poeta, diretor Administrativo da AESabesp (ao centro), Paulo Roberto do Lago Helene, diretor presidente do IBRACON (Instituto Brasileiro do Concreto, foto à direita) e Vinicius Silva Caruso, coordenador do CT901 (IBRACON de Aplicações do Concreto para Obras de Saneamento Básico) - reprodução

Nos dias 23 a 15 de setembro ocorreu o 33º Encontro Técnico AESabesp/Fenasan 2022, promovido pela Associação dos Engenheiros da Sabesp e em formato híbrido.

Conferi online uma das palestras, sobre a importância do concreto nas obras de saneamento, para um job de ghost writer.

Parece distante da realidade do meio ambiente, mas esse assunto é importante para entender os impactos e desafios em levar esse bem tão essencial, a água, para o maior número de pessoas.

E lembrar que, em pesquisa recente do Instituto Trata Brasil, 100 milhões de brasileiros não tem acesso à coleta de esgoto.

Confira a íntegra do texto aqui (página da AESabesp) e aqui mesmo!

33º Encontro Técnico AESabesp/Fenasan 2022: importância do concreto em obras saneamento é mote de painel no último dia do evento16 de setembro de 2022

Com o foco em lançar ideias sobre a necessidade de normas específicas para a aplicação do concreto no saneamento, os especialistas mostraram as maneiras mais comuns de uso desse material nas construções e possíveis soluções para que as obras sejam mais duráveis e, principalmente, mais eficientes.

Como a durabilidade das estruturas de concreto no saneamento pode unir resistência e mitigar impactos negativos em sua aplicabilidade nos mais diversos terrenos no Brasil e, ao mesmo tempo, cumprir a sua função em levar esse recurso tão importante, a água, a um número cada vez maior de pessoas? Essas e outras implicações foram discutidas no painel intitulado “A importância do concreto nas obras de saneamento”, no último dia do 33º Encontro Técnico AESabesp/Fenasan 2022, o maior evento do saneamento ambiental da América Latina, nesta quinta-feira (15 de setembro). Promovida pela Associação dos Engenheiros da Sabesp (AESabesp), a edição aconteceu de formato híbrido: presencial, no Expo Center Norte, SP, e online.

Coordenado por João Augusto Poeta, diretor Administrativo da AESabesp, e em formato de bate-papo, participaram da conversa Paulo Roberto do Lago Helene, diretor presidente do IBRACON (Instituto Brasileiro do Concreto), diretor da PhD Engenharia e professor titular na Universidade de São Paulo; e Vinicius Silva Caruso, coordenador do CT901 (IBRACON de Aplicações do Concreto para Obras de Saneamento Básico), e assessor de Recursos Hídricos e Saneamento na Agência Reguladora de Serviços Públicos do Município de São Paulo.

Vinicius Caruso fez uma breve apresentação, destacando o trabalho do CT901 e relembrando aos presentes que o concreto é um dos materiais mais usados na construção, só perdendo mesmo para a água. “Se pensarmos em universalizar o acesso ao saneamento no Brasil, conforme previsto em seu Novo Marco Legal e, na outra ponta, temos um cenário de 100 milhões de brasileiros sem coleta de esgoto. Como podemos realmente universalizar esse acesso? Quanto de concreto será usado? Quanto de aço? Que fôrmas serão usadas, qual escoramento? Serão em terrenos planos, inclinados? Para além do projeto hidráulico, há muitas perguntas a serem feitas e ações que precisam ser levadas em conta”, disse.

Paulo Helene, por sua vez, fez um vasto panorama sobre o tema, falando que o chamado “envelhecimento” de obras de saneamento é algo previsto e esperado. O problema é quando se deterioram em um espaço muito curto de tempo. “Me surpreende que muitos problemas básicos não estão na pauta no plano de engenharia e de manutenção dentro dessas obras. Três, em especial: o aço, o concreto e a estrutura em si”, destacou o professor.

Ele frisou o fenômeno da lixiviação, o que compromete a vida útil de uma Estação de Tratamento de Água. Sua durabilidade pode chegar em média a 30 anos. “O concreto tem muita cal e contato do material com uma água mais ácida, a da chuva, por exemplo, resulta na remoção do hidróxido de cálcio. Esteticamente falando, essa substância em contato com o CO2 provoca um aspecto esbranquiçado, porém em um estágio mais avançado, quando o CO2 consegue atravessar o concreto, pode causar corrosões. Em ETAs é um fenômeno muito comum e é isso deve ser levado em conta desde a concepção do projeto”, explicou Helene, complementando que o mercado conta com recursos para evitar tais transtornos, como os cuidados básicos do concreto até aditivos para combater agentes corrosivos.

“Acreditem, senhores, o concreto é impermeável. Porém, o que não conseguimos é fazer uma estrutura estanque! O concreto tem a capacidade de reter a água, mas a água tem a capacidade de passar por todos os defeitos presentes na execução do projeto e na sua estrutura. Nós sabemos da possibilidade de fazer estruturas duráveis e estanques, mas por que não fazemos do jeito certo?”, provocou Helene em sua apresentação.

Sugestões aos projetistas e aos construtores, o que abrange desde a importância da elaboração de uma Norma Recomendada até em pensar nos sistemas de saneamento não apenas após na obra pronta, mas desde a sua elaboração são algumas das soluções não apenas para um produto final durável, mas extremamente útil. “As normas atuais não englobam completamente o setor de saneamento, muitas abrangem a construção civil. E são universos com suas particularidades. Vale ressaltar que não precisa esperar encher o reservatório para saber onde irá vazar. Ele já dará sinais que algo está dando errado pelo simples vazamento em alguma fissura, ou mesmo molhando as paredes de uma estação de tratamento”, alertou o especialista.

Após as palestras, os presentes puderam fazer perguntas e o painel também foi palco da parceria firmada entre a AESabesp e o IBRACON, na promoção de cursos do Instituto aos membros da Associação.

33º Encontro Técnico/Fenasan 2022

Com o tema “Saneamento: prioridade para a vida”, o evento promovido pela Associação dos Engenheiros da Sabesp – AESabesp, teve 12 mesas redondas e 8 painéis de discussão, com participação de grandes especialistas do setor. Nos três dias do evento (13, 14 e 15 de setembro), mais de 100 especialistas apresentaram cases, trabalhos técnicos e novidades para o setor. Saiba mais: clique aqui.

#eventos #artigos #fenasan2022 #agua #meioambiente #jornalismo #água

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headlinerportugal · 10 months

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Queria resumir este dia num só título 'porém não posso' - Dia 2 do Festival Ponte d' Lima 2023 | Reportagem

A efervescência do costume de Paulo Furtado | mais fotos clicar aqui Com um final de tarde convidativo, assim começou o segundo dia do festival (4 de agosto de 2023) com CAIO a dar-nos a mão e embalar-nos por entre sonhos e travessias.

CAIO, nome artístico de João Santos (voz, teclado e guitarra) que se fez acompanhar e, muito bem, por Bernardo Manteigas no baixo, Hugo Luzio na bateria e Henrique Guerreiro na guitarra e sintetizador, iniciou o concerto com “Temporal” do último álbum ‘Travessia’, editado em 2022.

O quarteto rapidamente fez do recinto um lugar de paz e amor ao pôr-do-sol, com “Sonhos” a fazer bater mais forte os corações desalinhados e em “Faltamos às Eleições” a convencer-nos a fugir para outro planeta onde CAIO é o único habitante. Apesar de alguns problemas técnicos, com direito a paragem para um cigarro, CAIO aqueceu e acalmou o público que não se demoveu.

Rapidamente nos entregamos de novo ao abraço de suas músicas, terminando com “Amanhã” e… Enquanto João Santos canta “Eu só quero dançar” só posso dizer “e nós também, embalados por ti”.

João Santos como CAIO em formato banda | mais fotos clicar aqui Assim terminou o primeiro concerto deste segundo dia.

Do palco, em voz off, ouve-se anunciar o início do espectáculo, qual show de dancetaria clássica, fazendo as devidas apresentações enquanto os músicos deste tributo entram em palco. José Pinhal Post-Mortem Experience, vestidos a preceito como já nos habituaram, começaram o concerto com o clássico “Ciganos”.

Num cenário perfeito de um romântico sofredor, preparam-se os lenços, limpam-se as bolas de cristal, suspira-se e agitam-se os braços no ar e toca a todos e a todas a canção “Perdoa-me”, onde a plateia mais rendida ao sentimento, bate forte no peito e entoa o refrão.

“Boa noite, é um prazer estar aqui convosco” diz-nos Bruno de Seda, que de forma tão única dá voz às canções de José Pinhal, e “Baby Meu Amorzinho” marca o início do bailarico, onde se agitam ancas cheias de estilo, e dos anos 80 diretamente para uma geração que provavelmente nasceu depois disso, as canções das festas populares dos tempos das suíças e camisas de gola bem vincada, ganham corpo e alma, nestes dias que as ressuscitam e as tornam num fenómeno de revivalismo romântico.

Bruno de Seda em homenagem incrível a José Pinhal | mais fotos clicar aqui Em “Tinhas Que Ser Tu” o saxofone de David Machado, arrebata qualquer um e como disse o brilhante vocalista, “vale por uma orquestra inteira” e após este momento de surripiar gritos de sofrimento, Bruno de Seda tira o casaco dizendo “Eu queria manter o casaco porém, não posso!” e soltam-se gritos da plateia, a euforia instala-se quando a canção se inicia e entre mãos no ar, cabelos ao vento, mosh e até circle pit e tudo a que têm direito, o público grita e canta sem falhas nem desafinos.

É contagiante a loucura de quem é verdadeiramente fã e homenageando José Pinhal no seu mais sincero agradecimento, grita-se no recinto do festival “José Pinhal imortal, José Pinhal imortal!” e pede-se uma salva de palmas para o grande artista, falecido há já trinta anos.

Bruno de Seda foi perfeito nas apresentações e conseguiu sempre encaixar, com trocadilhos, a música que se seguia com tudo o que estava a acontecer, frases como “Afinal não há aqui ninguém Covarde, muito bem! E, de facto, “Eu Não O Posso Negar”, deram mote a grandes momentos deste concerto.

A figura eterna de José Pinhal na bateria de Zé Pedro | mais fotos clicar aqui Do português ao espanhol, percorreram três volumes de bonitas canções que fizeram vibrar o público e os seus mais fiéis fãs, que vestiram t-shirts com a foto de José Pinhal estampada ou usaram bonés com “Porém Não Posso” escrito. “O tempo passa rápido com um grupo tão agradável como vocês” e ouvem-se novamente os gritos “José Pinhal imortal!” e dedicam a todos os presentes e não só “ Tu És A Que Eu Quero (Tu Não Prendas O Cabelo)” e Bruno De Seda diz “agora sozinhos comigo” e o público responde, a cantar e encantar, num momento único que só as lendas o conseguem fazer. E porque “A Vida Dura Muito Pouco” cantou-se e dançou-se como se não houvesse amanhã e mesmo com, mais uma vez, uma falha de luz, o público iluminou o momento entoando num coro perfeito o refrão de “Tu És A Que Eu Quero”, parecendo não querer ver o fim deste renascimento nostálgico.

Volvida a luz, prossegue o espectáculo fazendo-se as devidas apresentações dos músicos - Zé Pedro na bateria, Tito Santos no teclado, Nuno Oliveira na percussão, João Sarnadas na guitarra, José Cordeiro no baixo e David Machado no saxofone - estes são os José Pinhal Post-Mortem Experience e são sucesso garantido em qualquer palco que pisam. Terminaram com “Volveré” deixando essa mesma vontade de voltar e, nós, aqui ficamos a aguardar.

José Pinhal Post-Mortem Experience em grande estilo | mais fotos clicar aqui Há já algumas horas, aguardavam também, os fãs na primeira fila, o tão esperado concerto e eis que surgem, exatamente à hora marcada (21h50), num gigante jogo de sombras, os grandes que compõem The Legendary Tigerman. A abrir o concerto, preparando o cenário ideal, tocam “New Love” o mais recente single de Paulo “Tigerman” Furtado e de seguida, bem fluído, entra “The Saddest Girl On Earth”, do álbum ‘Misfit’ editado em 2017, que entre o poder do saxofone de João Cabrita e a mestria dos riffs da guitarra de Paulo Furtado, sussurram-nos uma história cinematográfica que nos seduz e nos remete para os desertos e estradas californianas.

O rock cheio de sexiness, que aqui nos delicia, passa por temas como “Good Girl” e “Naked Blues”, este último composto na garagem de Filipe Rocha (baixo e teclado) “corria o ano de 1999” e que dá nome ao álbum, editado em 2022 e “Walkin’ Downtown”, do álbum “Masquerade”, editado em 2006.

De seguida, “o homem tigre” apresenta-nos “Uma música que fala de um homem apaixonado por uma mulher demasiado depressa com demasiada força “e tocam “& Then Came The Pain”, do álbum ‘Femina’ de 2009 e Paulo Furtado grita até ficar sem, e tirar, fôlego.

Os solos vibrantes do saxofone de João Cabrita, levam-nos para um mundo só nosso, onde estamos à vontade para tirar a roupa e relaxar, ouvindo os sussurros de Paulo Furtado a enaltecer o mundo da energia feminina e a bateria, de Mike Ghost (substituiu Katari que já não faz parte da banda), a marcar o ritmo que tanto se quer fluido e bem espaçado como se quer vibrante e veloz, sobre a batida quente e reconfortante do baixo de Filipe Rocha.

The Legendary Tigerman de garras afiadas junto ao público | mais fotos clicar aqui Do universo do rock ‘n’ roll, o público passa rapidamente para o punk rock, onde Paulo Furtado com um grito a plenos pulmões anuncia “Quem é que conhece The Bellrays? Punk forever!” e “The Saddest Thing To Say” com Lisa Kekaula, não ao vivo mas a cores com voz em vídeo, faz um momento de arrepiar.

Do grito “Rock” num sopro só e demorado, à homenagem aos “Suicide” em “Ghost Rider”, com os seus sons psicadélicos a deixar-nos levar, e o grito “Rock ‘n’ roll” repetido entre Tigerman e o público, em “21st Century Rock ‘n’ Roll” levam Paulo Furtado a descer do palco, procurar as vozes e partilhar o microfone…quando de repente, o mosh com o público! Ao voltar, o homem tigre, atira a sua Gibson e salta para cima da bateria, impondo o caos em cima do palco. Isto sim é rock ‘n’ roll e ele é o rei!

“Façam muito amor hoje, por favor! E batam nas pessoas que são más! Evitem, e só o façam se elas forem mesmo muito más! Protejam os vossos amigos de pessoas más!” e assim termina o lendário nome do rock ‘n’ roll.

Com os rockeiros a ter o merecido descanso na colina de relvado do recinto da Expolima, ‘“En tus sueños”’, o nome do novo álbum do músico, editado este ano, avista-se do palco e ARON inicia o concerto com a música “Sigo”, single editado em 2020, e que o lançou no mundo da música, e levantando o copo de vinho tinto, brinda a Portugal e ao público ali presente e agradece o convite para um festival tão marcadamente português e com tantas bandas de rock.

A representação internacional a cargo de ARON | mais fotos clicar aqui Arón Julio Manuel Piper Barbero tornou-se conhecido por interpretar Jon no filme “15 años y un día” e Ander na série Original da Netflix “Élite”, segue o concerto preparando a plateia para dançar um pouco ao som de êxitos como “Big Drip” single editado em 2022 e “Stars” do EP ‘“Nieve”’ de 2021. Foi evidente a entrega e concentração do público e Arón Piper não pode deixar de o mencionar dizendo “Vejo muitos poucos telemóveis e isso alegra-me bastante, é sinal que me estão a ouvir!”

“Esta canção é para todas as solitárias e todos os solitários” e toca “Me Reces”, single editado em 2021 um momento de introspecção com o público bem atento em total conexão com ARON que finaliza “De todo o coração, viva Portugal!”

Em “Rip”, single de 2021, o músico contou com a presença do convidado Omizs vindo diretamente de França, e aqui o espectáculo passa do cenário reflexivo das canções tristes para o instante de dança, continuando em “Cadillac” onde Omizs se despede dizendo “From Paris, we love you!”

Omizs & Arón, a dupla em palco | mais fotos clicar aqui Entre brindes e mais agradecimentos, ARON foi conduzindo o público num momento de deleite, terminando o concerto com o êxito “Nieve”.

Entram a abrir com “Tá Queimar”, último lançamento de Throes + The Shine, que logo encheu o recinto com o público a correr, atraído pelo som da festa. Aos mais céticos, estava aberta a incerteza de como manter este nível de energia durante os próximos minutos, mas rapidamente todas essas dúvidas se dissiparam, com M.ø.B dono de uma energia inesgotável, a anunciar “Estamos aqui com uma única missão: pôr o povo a suar de tanto dançar!”

Um mar de gente a saltar, braços no ar de um lado para outro numa velocidade frenética, porque assim dita o som do trio - M.ø.B na voz, Igor Domingues na bateria e Marco Castro no teclado - marcado pelo frenesim da junção do kuduro, da música eletrónica e da fúria do rock.

Trio Throes & The Shine sempre com aquele brilho | mais fotos clicar aqui Pela primeira vez em Ponte de Lima, o trio que junta Portugal e Angola, não se poupou de desembaraços e rapidamente fez das terras do Vale do Lima, sua casa.

Músicas como “Guerreros”, do álbum ‘Wanga’ de 2016 e “Dombolo” do álbum ‘Mambos de Outros Tipos’ de 2014 fizeram “o povo” efetivamente suar com Mob a não tocar sequer no chão, tanto eram as molas dos seus pés.

Incendiaram todo o festival e ninguém ficou parado, entre o desce e sobe a saltar, aos gritos e mãos no ar, os Throes + The Shine fizeram do recinto sua casa e arrumaram-na como bem quiseram. Gritando “Esta casa é nossa!” Mob pede para que se abra um corredor entre a plateia e esta responde prontamente e, com uma rapidez digna de um verdadeiro furacão, Mob percorre o corredor aberto até à régie, fazendo aí todo um tipo de performance artística no meio do público sem que as alas que fez abrir, se fechassem.

Mob Dedaldino e o seu poderio infindável | mais fotos clicar aqui Valeu tudo neste concerto, menos ficar parado, e entre felicidade, histeria, suor, festejos e confettis fizeram o chão tremer. O trio explosivo é incansável e quer ver toda a gente ao rubro, dando os parabéns à organização do festival, despedem-se e, entre braços que se movem freneticamente no ar a pedir mais festa, Mob responde: “Sobe, sobe, sobe, vem rápido!”, o público ouviu, subiu e o palco encheu porque quem é da festa quer toda a gente na festa! “Obrigado foi do caralho!” e assim se despediram anunciando o lançamento do novo disco para breve. Fiquem atentos!

Com estilo e ternura, assim se iniciou mais um concerto desta segunda noite já bem composta, e com apenas o toque da bateria e guitarra entram em palco “Boa noite, está tudo bem? Nós somos os Capitão Fausto, muito obrigada por estarem aqui!”

Sobre eles, Tomás Wallenstein (voz e guitarra), Domingos Coimbra (baixo), Francisco Ferreira (sintetizadores), Manuel Palha (guitarra e teclado) e Salvador Seabra (bateria), diz-se que são a voz de uma geração e aqui, em Ponte de Lima, ouviram-se os lamentos e indecisões de todas as gerações juntas e sincronizadas com as melodias tão próprias da banda.

Capitão Fausto de regresso ao Alto Minho | mais fotos clicar aqui Iniciaram o concerto com “Morro na Praia” do álbum ‘Capitão Fausto Têm Os Dias Contados’ editado em 2016 e logo nos deixamos levar pela singular empatia de quem canta e conta histórias que nos são tão familiares.

A banda que frequentemente grava no Minho disse “Estávamos cheios de saudades de tocar no norte e quanto mais em cima mais em casa” agradecendo o convite para estar “a 20 minutos” onde gravaram alguns dos seus álbuns. E de álbuns estão os Capitão Fausto bem servidos e mostraram-no neste concerto, onde visitaram temas dos seus quatro, desde o ‘Gazela’, o primeiro de 2011, ao último ‘A Invenção Do Dia Claro’, editado em 2021.

Da teimosia de “Maneiras Más”, do álbum ‘Pesar O Sol de 2014, sentimos num ápice a rebeldia das palavras passar para um outro mundo e o solo do teclado de Francisco Ferreira conta histórias e brilha, fazendo-nos entrar em êxtase e levitar… De seguida, baixam-se as luzes, o ambiente no palco muda, tons de vermelho intimista com pequenas luzes amarelas lá trás invadem o ambiente, e surge “Pesar o Sol”, um momento instrumental penetrante dos sons mais puros dos Capitão Fausto onde nos faz viajar com o solo da guitarra de Tomás Wallenstein, numa pureza do rock introspectivo, que passa num tom gemido, para a guitarra de Manuel Palha, que embala a mesma voz e faz a guitarra gritar. “Peço uma salva de palmas para Manuel Palha, o nosso guitarrista e também para a organização deste festival!” diz Wallenstein.

Tomás Wallenstein sempre comunicativo e empenhado | mais fotos clicar aqui Numa despedida difícil, pelo menos para o público que não queria ver o fim desta relação, e onde os sons nostálgicos embalaram os irremediáveis românticos e os deixaram a suspirar, “Os Fausto” souberam guiar este fim de viagem e com um tom de festa e celebração lá foram conduzindo o público para um final feliz e terminaram com “Boa Memória” para que não restassem dúvidas que eles estiveram aqui para nos fazerem ver da mesma forma, o início e o fim.

Num universo de bonecas histéricas que brincam com a própria ironia, os israelitas BĘÃTFÓØT trouxeram-nos uma performance cheia de recados e mensagens sobre a loucura instalada. Adi Bronicki fez de uma mesa, o seu palco, por estar impedida de dançar por conta de um tornozelo partido, e enquanto esperneava soltava mensagens de loucura orquestradas por Udi Naor (Co-fundador dos Red Axes) que a foi espicaçando. A dupla soltou o pânico no recinto e fez-nos soltar os coletes de força e ouvir os ecos de loucura sem medos.

Ironicamente, Adi Bronicki anuncia “You got to love a foot if you have beat” e sem poder pousar o pé, faz a festa deitada, anunciando “We are from Tel Aviv and we have a thing to say about it: Tel Aviv is death!!”

Udi Naor dos BĘÃTFÓØT | mais fotos clicar aqui Sem muitos elogios à própria cidade, a dupla não se conteve na exaltação à cidade de Braga, onde estiveram recentemente em outubro, podendo até compor lá alguns dos temas que aqui foram apresentados, como por exemplo, “BLÓODFLØW” e “KIŃG~TRÃSH”.

Do cansaço à loucura, este segundo dia de festival foi de tirar o fôlego e não podia ter sido melhor e mesmo com alguns percalços técnicos, que rapidamente foram resolvidos, a experiência foi magnífica. O Festival Ponte d’Lima está quase a terminar mas…ainda muito está para acontecer!

Foto-reportagem completa deste dia: Clicar Aqui

Público em êxtase com Mob | mais fotos clicar aqui Texto: Catarina Rocha Fotografia: Tiago Paiva

#coberturadefestivais #musicanacional #ponte de lima #Festival Ponte D'Lima #Caio #José Pinhal Post-Mortem Experience #The Legendary Tigerman #Aron #Throes + The Shine #BĘÃTFÓØT #Capitão Fausto

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patiobanews · 1 year

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Mourão diz não ver motivo para Bolsonaro ser convocado para CPMI

Segundo o general, a comissão precisa ser conduzida "sem aquele clima de oba-oba, circo e bate-boca". Mourão também criticou a escolha de Ricardo Capelli para o comando do GSI

Olá sejam bem vindos ao Patioba News...

O senador e ex-vice-presidente Hamilton Mourão (Republicanos-RS) afirmou nesta segunda-feira dia 24 de abril de 2023, não ver motivos para que o ex-presidente Jair Bolsonaro (PL) seja ouvido pela Comissão Parlamentar Mista de Inquérito (CPMI) do dia 8 de janeiro.

Segundo o general, a comissão precisa ser conduzida "sem aquele clima de oba-oba, sem aquele clima de circo, sem aquele clima de bate-boca".

"No nosso caso, congressistas, precisamos apurar a invasão que houve aqui dentro do Congresso, esse é nosso principal mote para a CPMI.

Independente do Planalto, STF que foi invadido, o Congresso as duas casas foram invadidas. Esse é o grande argumento para instalação dessa comissão mista.

Não vejo razão para chamar o presidente Bolsonaro, que no próprio inquérito que vem sendo conduzido no STF não foi chamado em nenhum momento. Estava fora do país", alegou Mourão em entrevista à CNN.

"A minha visão é que houve uma grande arruaça. Vários arruaceiros devidamente identificados, sendo qualificados no inquérito e denunciados. Nós vamos procurar esclarecer porque o aparato de segurança não foi acionado", completou.

Mourão também criticou a escolha de Ricardo Capelli para o comando do Gabinete de Segurança Institucional (GSI), ironizando que o mesmo "entende tanto de segurança nacional ou pública quanto eu de física quântica".

Então pessoal mais isso ai não é so a opinião de mourão não, tem inúmeros deputados e senadores que também acham que o bolsonaro não precisa depor pois se nem no brasil ele estava, mais vamos ver as senas dos próximos episódios

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radiobotecope · 1 year

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Isabela de Holanda, Edivani Bactista & Ruy Aguiar

Rádio Boteco: Edição #54 A edição de hoje tem o teatro como mote e faz uma homenagem especial à Métron Produções, que completou 25 anos em janeiro. Conversamos com Rui e Edivani, os artistas produtores que estão à frente da produtora; e com a cantora e compositora Isabela de Holanda, que também aderiu aos palcos e montagens da Métron. Um bate-papo sobre cultura, política e muito mais, com boas…

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#A arte não pode parar #Bate-papo #Brasil #Contribua com os Artistas #Cultura #Métron #Música #Pernambuco #podcast #Poesia #Radio Boteco #Teatro

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scraby04 · 1 year

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oy mote..

dekh saari misunderstanding is baat se hui ki mai ye smjh hi nahi paya ki tujhe apni personal baate share krna pasand nahi hai..

cz mai tere se apni personal bate share krta hu.. so meko lga tha ki tu bhi mere se share kr..

bs yahi mai nahi samjh paya aur tere ko baar baar hurt kiya...

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ruin-iii · 2 years

Text

The Day of Renewal

The Warden bestows the sky upon the Lover.

The Sisters’ exchange bleeds the sky crimson. The fruit of their pact trickles through speckled glass and drawn curtains, bathing Menphina’s children in a familiar shade of red.

Among the tired eyes pried open by the sunset is a pair of baby blues. They hide just as quickly as they had emerged, burying themselves beneath eyelashes… and when that isn’t enough, retreating deep into a pillow. The Warden’s remaining light dares not reach the woman as she desperately clings to what little motes of slumber remain—

“Moonrise, Ma!”

The call precedes a pitter-patter of small footsteps. Her eyes push against their crow’s feet, forcing themselves open against her dearest wishes. Some days, she envies the unstoppable youth of her children, bright and bustling no matter the bell. Though usually, they find solidarity in sleep at this hour yet to be twilit.

It takes her a few waking moments to realize what it is that’s injected her little ones with such energy.

“The Renewal’s already come! Can you believe it? Unha Ahxe says I can even join the hunting band this moon.”

“No, she didn’t. The hunting band already left.”

“Huh? No, I’m sure they’re still here!”

“But there’s no one in the Alonhi house right now.”

“Ma, ahya is just jealous that I get to go hunting with the band and she doesn’t! Please believe me, unha really said that.”

“She said you could go someday. And I think that someday isn’t going to be for at least an epoch…”

Already exhausted from her childrens’ bickering, the woman arises from her hammock, rubbing her right eye as the left gets a good look at the two of them. Though Ukho puts on a brave, defiant face, she can see the wobble in her lip starting to form. Ona, her elder sister — her ahya — crosses her arms and shakes her head, ever the sensible temper to her anhtan Ukho’s insatiable flame.

“Ona, be nice to your anhtan,” she chides, her voice a wind chime amid the ringing bells of the young ones. “She’ll be able to join the hunt soon, just as you will, I’m sure. She has been training just as hard as you.”

“Ma, unha said—”

“Maybe next moon, Ukho. They leave at least a bell before twilight when there’s a feast for the evening. Besides, unha will need your help for the wreaths…”

But may the Gods strike her down if she allows her daughter who hasn’t even seen an epoch to join the huntresses in the forest. For all that she channels therein, she knows the Shroud is harsh and unforgiving, even more so after Dalamud came upon it. A child such as her, so wont to go out on her own, would not survive even yalms away from her party.

How much more a band of children bereft of their mother? The mere idea…

Ukho’s response dismisses the thought from her mind before it dares to take root. “I’ll keep training then! They’ll have to take me once I get my constellation rune, and I’m going to get it by the summer, right?”

“No way!” Ona says, sticking her tongue out. “I haven’t gotten mine yet, so yours isn’t going to be for, well… fifty cycles, probably. Right, Ma?”

“I—”

“First one to the Heart gets theirs first!” Without hesitation, Ukho bounds out of the room with only wind in her wake. Ona balks, tail between her legs.

“That’s not how it — Wait!”

Finally, a sigh joins the silence that befalls what was once a peaceful bedroom, wrought into the festivities by two rambunctious kits. Whether she likes it or not, she’s awake now. With sluggish limbs, she casts her shadow upon the walls of their small hut. On her journey, she pulls the curtain to the childrens’ hall aside, azure gaze flitting to and fro in the slit she’s created.

To her surprise, her mother and sister are nowhere to be found. After discovering the hammocks next to hers empty, she thought the two had found another place to sleep… Perhaps away from the doom and gloom of herself. She forgets that for all others, this dreaded day is a much-awaited observance. Where she would sooner ignore its arrival, Clan Cirka welcomes it with bated breath.

The fiery hues of the sky that had awoken her are now small licks in the Lover’s realm, Her Sister’s presence all but snuffed out in the makings of a sunless sea. With a bucket, cloth, and a change of clothes in hand, the woman emerges from her home to find that the village of Ataraxia is far more bustling than it would usually be at twilight. Weaving her way through playing children and busied adults, she finds solace in the fact that the bathhouse is empty.

The water of an uphill river flows down into an open space marked in carved rock and wood. This place of respite’s man-made cover is minimal; where the thick canopy of the Shroud doesn’t provide shelter from the rain and storms, a wooden roof supported by periodic beams hangs glowing lanterns from its rafters. From a small rack to the side, the drying cloths of those who preceded her bask in the breeze.

As she comes to the natural bank of the water’s flow, she perches atop her rock. There it is: her reflection, in all of its rippling glory.

Mholi Moshroca is a mousy miqo’te. Her ears are diminutive like a child’s, mere mounds atop her head rather than peaks, fading easily into her wavy mess of white hair. Her nose is but a smudge on her grey-blue tone, barely a break in the smoothness of her skin. Only the crow’s feet and dark circles under her eyes betray her age; her pudgy cheeks and bright blue eyes do her years no justice. However, those features are typically hidden under a low-hanging hood of patterned cloth, only ever revealing her fangs and tongue. That cloth now rests upon her shoulders, and is thus taken to her midsection, then her knees, unraveled save the parts clinging to minimal stitches. Laid bare amid her scars and wrinkles are constellation runes, marked in dots and lines and geometries not reminiscent entirely of the stars above — being glyphs of thick, bold ink — but rather of an ancient art she keeps close to her chest, nay, written on her skin.

She sinks into the bathhouse’s enchanted river water and lays to simmer. However long she prunes in the bath is of no mind to her. The river will wash away her misgivings, her doubts, her sins. If only she waits long enough…

“Mholi… I thought I would find you here.”

Mholi’s eyes pry open once more to find a familiar face. Mother stands, fully dressed in her robes and postured tall for her age, observing her daughter’s lengthy interlude with an appraising look.

“Ma,” she says, wading through the water with splashes in her wake to meet her. “Where is Ilma? I didn’t see either of you when I woke up.”

“The nose to our ears for now,” Mother says, punctuating her words with a tsk. “She told us yestersun that she would be joining the Alonhi this time, after you refused their invitation. And for what, I should ask? To bathe the night away?”

Ashamed, Mholi sinks into the water with her nose just above the level. “My head was afog… I didn’t want to hold them back. Besides, anhtan is better company when there is larger game to bring home. I… I can barely lift a hoglet.”

“Two pairs of hands are better than one. We both know that this is because of how you refuse to celebrate the Renewal.”

“I… I am trying—” Her measly voice is easily squashed under her elder’s.

“You only fast, each and every moon. The spirit of the Lover is not to sequester yourself away. She compels you to seek repentance with the others. Do you not want to enjoy the meal your anhtan secured for us?”

Only bubbles arise from Mholi’s silent grumbling. She receives the same lecture every moon about her reluctance to renew. It’s not as if Mother would understand. None of them will. None know the weight that she bears, and they should be thankful that she doesn’t inform them. A mercy, that’s what her vow of silence on the subject is. Generosity, compassion, and martyrdom. Not cowardice.

Not under the ever-watching eye of the Mother Moon.

“You cannot muster words, even for your own mother?”

“...I’m sorry, ma.”

“That is better,” she says with a laugh, her head rearing back into her hood, her hand pressing against her belly. She has a rancorous laugh for all of her sourness. “Now, practice that phrase for tonight. Your daughters want you to join them in the feast.”

Mholi can think of a dozen retorts. They have you and Ilma to eat with, ma. It’s not as if they even notice at this point, ma. But they all die in her throat, not even becoming bubbles in the water. She was never one to stand up when lying down for the slaughter is so much more comfortable.

“Mhm, ma.”

“Now, come help with the wreaths. My granddaughters need to become better ephemers! For every flower they preserve, another is broken.”

“Y… Yes, ma.”

And so her respite comes to a close, the curtain drawn on a moment of peace as she cloaks herself in her drying cloth, ruffling along her hair, fur and skin as she goes. Her new set of clothes — identical to the last in its shadow-casting silhouette, if not for the differing patterns — are quickly donned. Even though her mother has left, she can feel her gaze imposing upon her for every heartbeat wasted. Not a moment is spared fore she re-emerges into the village, briskly making her way to the center of their territory: the Heart.

The Heart is similar to the bathhouse, if not more open. A grand gazebo of lumber and light hangs high above a crackling bonfire, around which a handful of long log tables are arranged. Among them, a single dining table has been laid out with all manner of gathered flowers in brilliant white, pale yellow, and baby blue. The common heaps of dogwood and honeysuckle remain a staple at the center of the arrangement, with smaller piles of lily, baby’s breath, camellia and what have you lining the far ends. Surely enough, Ukho and Ona have already taken their seats before their wreath collections. Some are enchanted pristinely, the sheen of galvanisation evident on their petals. Others have fallen apart, and are left to their own ‘discard’ pile to be mixed in with the compost.

“Ma!” Ukho says, holding up a wreath that will certainly be discarded. “Look, I just finished one! I’m already two ahead of ahya.” Ona, whose failed wreaths are far less and few between, shakes her head — the two make space for Mholi between them all the same, allowing their mother to take the reins.

And she holds the reins with a loose grip, barely brushing the metaphorical leather of it all. Should anything need to be corrected, she gently fixes it in her own hands. Amid her childrens’ chatter, she makes busy work of a wreath she has not worn in over an epoch. Her eyes are far away as her heart sequesters itself in a time long past.

The pitch black shroud of night hangs over the two of them. The picture of her ahya with her fangs bared, her shortbow drawn, is as crystal clear as ever in her mind. They argue about something or the other, not unlike how her own daughters bicker before her. Despite knowing the ways of the woods, a talented huntress and ephemer in twain, they raise their voices as if the forest is theirs. Only rumbles in the ground bring them to a hush, but it is far too late. Her sister’s stone — that wretched crystal, that cursed thing — draws the attention of their grand stalker. A web claims her left wrist, and then her right. Her bag and bow clatter to the ground. No manner of spell deters the webs, as where one is cut down, two more quickly replace it. Mholi rips her eyes towards the heavens to bear witness to their predator: a mite unlike any she has ever seen, eyes glowing red in the shadow. It snatches up her sister as if she were a twig, webs spinning as it goes. It pierces her torso with hungering fangs, and her cries are muffled in the string, barely there. All Mholi can do is scream and scramble. Flee to protect the Moshrocan blood that stands a chance.

She weaves the flowers’ stems with a similar ease and precision as a diremite constructs its web. Smooth and sharp and tight, emphasizing the stark white hue of the flora that make up its pattern. Never baby’s breath next to honeysuckle; it would render the bunch too thin on one side. Never dahlias with camellia; they compete for space. A pattern of small and big petals makes for a balanced wreath, a harmonious one. Reconciling differences is at the heart of the Renewal, after all. Yet such a beautiful process only reminds her of that dark place. What difference is a rune weaver to a web weaver behind her eyes?

At least her deep dissociation helps the night pass quickly. Soon enough, the bells of twilight are far behind them and stars claim holes in the canopy. She reaches for another flower realizing that none are left — they have successfully converted all to working wreaths between the three of them. Her daughters are more than chuffed, cheering and showing off their favorite ones to the people around them. For Mholi, this is a moonly errand that hardly warrants any praise. In fact, it seems they have completed the task later than anticipated, as they and the wreaths are hurried away from the table to make way for the bowls upon bowls of food.

Deep, steaming stews alongside cornucopia-esque arrangements of vegetables and roots. Miqa’bobs still hot upon a slab of stone, interposed with various sauces. A grand serving of popoto staple, seasoned lightly knowing full well it’ll be doused in whatever else. Bowls of chopped fruit with a serving of cream aside for dessert. At the center of it all is a grand antelope, larger than any she has ever seen. Finely roasted. Yet to be cut. The Siltanho have outdone themselves. Though Mholi is initially confused by how much the banquet is, she quickly realizes that it serves to be a band-aid. A healthy serving of escapism amid the dread that literally towers above them. All the more reason to run to the Renewal in hopes that punishment will not befall the Lover’s people once again.

In a cavalcade of realization, she figures this must mean… Yes. Ilma has since returned with the hunting band, too. Her weighted posture thus lightens.

Slowly but surely, the lot of the clan gather at the Heart with newly kindled spirits. Chatter permeates the air as they coo over the food, catch up with the returned huntresses, or wrap up conversations they had been having in the privacy of their homes. For all of this talk, one would think that Clan Cirka were not sequestered away here together, every sun of every moon, yet the spirit of the Renewal invigorates them so.

Yet this celebration only casts darkness upon Mholi’s heart. The more people that arrive, the more her hood hangs over her features. The more she recedes into herself, fading into the shadows cast by the licks of flame.

The voice of their matriarch, Ahxe the Stalwart, rings out, dispelling everyone’s words into a hush.

“Hear one, hear all, for She speaks through me.” It is her call to bear witness as she stands tall before the fire. All meet it, even Mholi, who invokes the response in mumbled breaths.

“I hear you, I feel you, I think of you.” A chorus of practiced prayer. They had been taught to recite it since they had been born of the womb. In this, all conversations come to a close. Ahxe has captured their ears and their wills.

“We gather tonight at the moon’s last quarter for this Renewal. I can tell that the hearts of all of us here today are overflowing with attrition. Let them beat from your chest and bestow them upon your kin. For today, all that is broken shall be mended — all that is withered will be reborn — all that ails you we will bring to bear, and allow the Mother Moon to wash away in Her winds.

‘For those who find themselves clouded, lost in this Renewal, let it be known. This moon calls for bravery and courage. Should you know not who you must make amends for, begin by acknowledging your selfishness. Your inaction. Your cowardice.”

The feeling that pierces Mholi’s chest is like a shard of ice. The drop in temperature courses through her veins. Her baby blues look up to Ahxe’s gauntly lit face, features falling in disbelief. She knows the woman can’t read her mind — she hadn’t, no matter how many times they’d spoken growing up — but perhaps the Lover speaks through her even now.

Ahxe continues. “Ask for forgiveness from those you have forsaken with your silence. Seek to close gaps which have been wrought by your withdrawal. This is Her advice to you all. This Renewal will allow for two bells, not merely one, to impart your apologies, for She would emphasize the importance of participating in this moon.”

There are words unspoken that Ahxe, in her hypocritical cowardice, dares not mention: for we do not know which moons are to come. It’s no wonder that the Alonhi have gathered so much, that the Siltanho have cooked a feast of twice the boon it would usually bring, and that Mholi’s own mother has been so harsh with her. Perhaps they believe this is the last Renewal in this era, should another soon arrive — or perhaps even the last Renewal there will be. But Ahxe would not dare acknowledge such dire straits, Mholi knows. She would rather promote peace in their ignorance.

“Reflect for all that you can, and then speak with all of your soul. Those who do not find their voice — or whose voice does not ring true — will fast and are called to reflect for the night. But in two bells, those that are forgiven may dine among us, as the Lover once did with Her Loyal Hound.”

And Mholi feels her hairs stand on end, confused as to why this phrase still follows them; why should Dalamud be revered for all he has wrought?

“Go and walk in Her light.”

“That She may guide us home,” echoes the chorus of the clan — Mholi included, for all of her internal retort.

Without further ado, the crowd disperses. Some do as instructed, retreating to darker corners of the village to reflect on their apology to come, reciting prayers to invoke the Lover’s guidance or simply basking in quiet. Others immediately take up their prepared gifts, if not the wreaths provided by the Moshroca, and hurry towards their chosen recipient — these people have had the whole moon to consider their repentance, after all. Others yet take up their gifts and stand over the fire, a handful casting tears into its pit silently. But those that do not remain silent begin to proclaim their sins against those who have died, those who are exiled, those who have left for other clans — the ones from whom they seek forgiveness no longer walk among them, and so the Mother Moon must appraise their apologies.

Amid the moving figures and their long cast shadows, Mholi spots Ona presenting a wreath to Ukho — likely for all the childish teasing that had been happening not minutes ago, yet it must seem like ages to such young children. In the corner of her eye, she sees her Mother has retreated to the steps in front of their home, reciting an old, lengthy prayer to the Lover before she even thinks of partaking like the rest. Two of the Alonhi embrace, sobbing into each other’s shoulders. A woman of the Siltanho and a new man of the Cirka bicker sharply, leaving one to wonder who will be left to fast for an unforgiven apology that night.

Finally, Mholi approaches the fire. She will do what she has done every Renewal, every moon, for the past fifteen cycles.

Clutching a wreath of baby’s breath and lilies, she stands tall at the Heart. No words leave her lips. It’s here that her blue gaze is cast into the roaring flame. In its dance that casts shadows, she sees a myriad of shapes; in its crackles that claim wood, she hears a symphony of sound. The verbless voice of her sister, any vocabulary she had thrown now lost to her, but her wrathful tone still clear as day. The silhouette of a great mite, its claws and fangs bared in a horrific sight. She can hear her own hurried footsteps, her own panting breath, and the violent weeping she allowed herself, sequestered in some lonely corner of their star. Even sounds not known to her make their way into her ears. The cries of a dozen miqo’te children, searching desperately for their mother — a quest that inevitably fails. The young, blood-curdling screams that follow as Girtab would surely find them too.

Her apology need not be said, even as others might judge her. She knows what she has done, she knows what she recites, and she knows that it is not forgiven. Buried deep in her heart of hearts, this habit of attrition has been embedded. No matter how the feast entices her nostrils, it is not a banquet in which she will ever be honored to partake.

A single tear carves a line down her porcelain face. The wreath is dropped into the hearth. The fire does not claim it yet, the sheen of her magicks providing it a respite of protection. By the morning, it will be but char and ash.

Thus, Mholi meanders in return to her home, making peace with her fast for the night. Come to think of it, she hadn’t eaten the rest of the sun, either. As she passes her mother by, she hears the critical click of her tongue, but that hasn’t deterred her from taking her leave of the observance the past few moons… and neither will it now.

And so she falls into her hammock and lays awake. Her body is air suspended. Numbly nothing. Barely there.

Yet, heavy still weighs the heart.

The guilt corrodes her from the inside out. Why, when this routine has satisfied her for the past epoch and more? Dissatisfaction has never been her plague. She had written a treatise with her unforgivable sin long ago, the Renewal her punishment in turn, and this is all that it would be. A small exchange in regularity for peace of mind throughout the rest of her days.

Yet as she looks out the window, she finds it is not just the Mother Moon who watches over her now. No, there also lies the menacing glow of the tower. Though its spire is far from view, its presence is certain, and its judgment is unknown.

With this threat over the horizon… is this truly enough to earn her a place at the Lover’s side when the Lifestream claims her?

Mholi jolts out of her resting place.

Planted firmly on two feet, she makes great strides as opposed to shuffled steps. Her mother no longer sits at the front step of their cabin, now one with the rest in celebration. Like a moth to the flame, she makes a beeline for the Heart. While such an unexpected gesture earns the surprise of those around her — if not the appraising squint of those who think she’s to disrespect the sanctity of the feast — she pays judgment no mind for once in her life.

Never quite diminutive, yet never quite so vast in private did Ilma rest upon her seat. She was content to laze about, making relieved conversation with her clansmen and recounting the days across the table, her plate thankfully emptied. Mholi arrives at her side and tugs on her sleeve.

“Anhtan… Could you come with me? I wish to speak with you.”

As Mholi calls for her attention, Ilma’s wild hair sways as her head turns to meet the woman beside her.

“Ahya?” She asks an obvious question, her sister’s presence the unexpected answer. But far was she ever from denying a request from her, it was not in her nature. Once she nods, rising from her seat to accompany Mholi — gazes be damned.

“Of course. Lead the way.”

The two return to the darkened halls of the Moshroca house. It is far emptier than it used to be cycles ago. Their aunts used to bicker with their mother, telling tales to them of their adventures in youth. Their ahya used to command these halls, dust the rooms and bring back treats. There used to be wanderers that came and played with the kids, livened up the place, before their visits ran dry. Now their family is a small strain of what it once was.

Ilma breaks the quiet.

“It seems so much larger when it is empty, does it not?” Her finger traces across a wall, a dent in the wood to accompany a scar on the side of her head, only hidden by snow white locks. A fond reminder of her youth, a consequence of unheeded warnings to watch her step. As her eyes scour the rooms, she can see the eldest smiling, approaching as Ilma once remembered her. As she turns to face Mholi, she can see a much smaller, much younger girl, laughing as her anhtan had draped herself in an armor of cleaning equipment — her mighty hammer naught more than a broom.

“I will not judge, nor will I pry. But I sorely miss you at the feasts, Mholi.” Her body is strong, hardened, but the unmatching purple and pink of her irises are soft and welcoming. “I only ask that you are as kind to yourself as you have been to me.”

Slowly but surely, Mholi turns from the empty chairs and empty tables to face her sister. There is no one else she can trust as her heart is fit to burst. And while her words are softly uttered, they ring true.

“I need to tell you what happened to Vahri.”

#ch: vahri'a korla #ch: mholi moshroca #a: archive

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gruposdeamizades20206572 · 2 years

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Boas Práticas De Postagem De Links Externos Dentro De Grupos No Linkedin

Isso permite que possa entrar em um grupo com ambição por outra forma então criar o teu e divulgar no página da internet. De acordo com Wildon explicou dentro de seu Twitter na última sexta-feira , o recurso "Convidar recurso link" permite que o Google indexe os categorias com WhatsApp aquela sua busca. Isto acontece porque é possível associar os links fora do mensageiro e, portanto, sem a segurança da criptografia com ponta-a-ponta do aplicativo. Em nota ao TechTudo, o WhatsApp confirmou que os links com convites são capazes de estar encontrados por mais usuários no momento em que disponibilizados em canais públicos (eis a atenção na íntegra ao final da matéria).

Entre nos melhores links de grupos de redes sociais no Whatsapp atualmente atualizado.

Entrar dentro de grupos do whats porém similarmente em grupo do zap os melhores links do zapzap.

Isto acontece porque é possível compartilhar os links estrangeiro do anunciador e também, portanto, sem a confiança da criptografia de ponta-a-ponta do aplicativo.

Depois de o seu grupo ser qualificado, é apenas ir à sua conta e clicar em “Meus Grupos”.

Para isto, o administrador do grupo precisa acessar a seção "Integrantes", cumprir em "Convidar via link" e depois dentro de "Cancelar hyperlink". De acordo com Wildon, no entanto, o técnica somente gera uma nova URL, sem impreterivelmente desativar o link original. Bem, recentemente tem aparecido diversos ataques envolvendo o WhatsApp, sobretudo clonagem de conta, no qual golpistas costumam fazer para pedir bufunfa dentro de nome da vítima. Sem montar que isto tira o caráter “privativo” do grupo, já que alguém mais diligente pode conseguir achar grupos por aí. O que preocupa é o fato de ser provável conectar-se grupos de temas delicados e também descobrir informações dos participantes, tal como nome e número de contato.

Links De Grupos Validados

Entre nos melhores links de categorias de Fãs no Whatsapp hoje atualizado. Entre nos melhores links de grupos de Eventos no Whatsapp hoje atualizado. saber mais também essas lindas cidade do estado brasileiro como a cidade espanto tem várias belezas. Certa delas é a uva amazônia que abriga uma selva linda e também grande com varios animais selvagens.

Whatsapp Poderá Tirar Links Para Listas

Indispensável começou com o grupo SOS-MAYDAY, com solicitações com socorro. Logo depois, vendo a necessidade com um local para que as conversas a respeito de as ocorrências no SOS-MAYDAY, fossem discutidas, surgiu o grupo SOS-Bate-Papo, que hoje se fogo SOS-ESTUDO. Logo após surgiram quase que ao mesmo tempo os Grupos de Meteorologia Marítima, os grupos de Filtro que se chamam Sailing Style, os de lancha que se chamam Boating World e também os de avisos de saída que se chamam Travel Plan. Na sequência vieram os grupos de mergulho, Underwater, com pesca, Fishing Spot, feminil, Ladies Go Sailing e com meio local marítimo o Mar Doce Casa. Por último surgiram os grupos relativos ao abrigo e a navegação profissional, os grupos Port Community.

Também procurado através de TechTudo, o Google não se posicionou a respeito. Até este lugar, você encontrará distintos categorias de whatsapp, com os mais variados assuntos, como grupos de whatsapp animes, redes sociais, memes, esportes, e muito melhor. Escolha os grupos que representam seus rendimentos, e compartilhe convicções com que também está em busca do mesmo assunto. Com o aumento dos chats em grupo no WhatsApp as pessoas começaram a fazer vários grupos sobre diversos tópicos. Aqui no Portal Atualizado disponibilizamos para distribuição milhares de links de grupos do WhatsApp. Sobre o mote, o WhatsApp orienta administradores de categorias que jamais divulguem links para grupos que devem permanecer fechados.

#yowhatsapp #fm whatsapp #ogwhatsapp #whatsapp plus #whatsapp transparente

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the-girl-who-used-to-write · 5 years

Text

Masterlist (Finally, I know)

Series names will be in bold

Character and ship names will be in italics

Teen Wolf

Choices of Love (Incomplete) (Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski) Chapter 1

Which Alpha (Incomplete) (Scott McCall and Theo Raeken) Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Manipulation (complete) (Theo Raeken) Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

You Should Have Told Me (Liam Dunbar)

You’re Back (Liam Dunbar)

She’ll Be Loved (Scott McCall)

It’s Her Life (Theo Raeken)

You Cannot Leave Me (Liam Dunbar) (16 Days Of Songs)

Bad Things (Theo Raeken) (16 Days Of Songs)

Halo (Scott McCall) (16 Days Of Songs)

Smile (Stiles Stilinski) (16 Days Of Songs)

I’ll Help You (Brett Talbot)

Lucky (Stiles Stilinski)

Another Species (Derek Hale)

Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing (Scott McCall)

Save Me (Peter Hale)

Feelings For The Alpha (Peter Hale)

Not My Family (Scott McCall)

Honourable Injuries (McCall Pack)

Big Brother, Little Brother (Stiles Stilinksi)

Down To Gown Town (Stiles Stilinski)

Where Did You Go? (New Year, New Prompts) (Void Stiles)

Ha, Yeah, You’re Not Doing That (Complete) (Stiles Stilinski) (Part 2)

Familial Warnings (Liam Dunbar)

Not Our Last Hurrah (Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski)

Not So Evil Stepsister (Stiles Stilinski)

Charmed

Costumes (Chris Halliwell)

Huntress (Chris Halliwell)

Creepy and Kooky (Complete) (Chris Halliwell) Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Ending 1 Ending 2

We Could Have Lost You (Chris Halliwell)

I’m Here Now (Chris Halliwell)

Baby Steps (Chris Halliwell)

Is She Ok? (Halliwell Sisters)

I’ll Be Back (Chris Halliwell)

Damn, You’re Pretty Scary (Cole Turner)

Who’s The Scared Girl? (Complete) (Cole Turner) Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Sorry For My Evil Brother (Chris Halliwell)

Let’s Be Bad Together (Chris Halliwell)

Right Back At You (Chris Halliwell)

I Fell In Love With The Devil (Cole Turner)

Just A User (Cole Turner)

Memories (Chris Halliwell and Wyatt Halliwell)

Hunting For My Heart (Chris Halliwell and TVD Crossover)

Never Stop (Chris Halliwell)

The Feeling Of Power (Chris Halliwell)

Taken With You (Cole Turner)

The Best Brother (Chris Halliwell and Wyatt Halliwell)

Try To Get Along (Chris Halliwell)

Never Stop (Chris Halliwell)

How They React To Your Death (Preference) (Chris Halliwell and Cole Turner)

My One And Only Demon (Chris Halliwell)

Advice Columnist (Chris Halliwell)

Saved By A Demon (Wyatt Halliwell)

Liking You But Being Scared Of Wyatt Would Include: (Chris Halliwell) (Headcanon)

Full Moon Routine (The Sisters)

In The Future (Wyatt Halliwell)

Treat You Better (Chris Halliwell)

In A World Of Our Own (Wyatt Halliwell and Supernatural Crossover)

Black And White Movie (New Year, New Prompts) (Chris Halliwell)

Whoever I Want (New Year, New Prompts) (Chris Halliwell)

How Many Times?! (New Year, New Prompts) (Wyatt Halliwell)

Don’t You Remember? (New Year, New Prompts) (Chris Halliwell)

Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Was This Just A One Time Thing? (Spike)

Try To Be Subtle (Spike)

It’s A New Life For Us (Spike)

That’s What I Do (Spike)

Big Bad Wolf (Oz Osbourne)

Piece Of Work (Spike)

Old-Fashioned (Spike)

My Sister?! (Spike)

Poetry In Motion (Spike)

Vampires Need Saving Too (Angel)

The Best Pair Of Matchmakers (Xander Harris)

Cute Date (Spike)

Secret Vampire Lover (Spike)

Courage (Doyle)

Yes, I Bought You A Leather Jacket (New Year, New Prompts) (Spike)

Peter Pan 2003

Out Loud (Peter Pan)

Nothing Can Break Us Apart (James Hook)

Never Gonna Land (incomplete) (Peter Pan) Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Once Upon A Time

No Longer Lost (Peter Pan)

Really, Him?! (Peter Pan)

You’re Still Perfect (Peter Pan)

Animals (Peter Pan) (16 Days Of Songs)

Finally (Peter Pan)

Boyfriend (Peter Pan)

Puppy Love (Peter Pan)

The Truth (Once Upon A Time)

You’ll Never Take Us Alive (New Year, New Prompts) (Peter Pan)

The Walking Dead

Back Off (Carl Grimes)

I’m Sorry, Are You Ok? (Mitch)

I Choose (Mitch and Louis)

Guns Are So Out Of Style (Carl Grimes)

American Horror Story

Co-Leaders (Kai Anderson)

Meant To Be Yours (Tate Langdon)

Devil’s Playground (Tate Langdon) (16 Days Of Songs)

You’re Not A Freak To Us (Jimmy Darling)

You’re Everything I Ever Wanted (Jimmy Darling)

Never Meant To Hurt You (Michael Langdon)

No Dinner This Time (Michael Langdon)

We’re Not Going Back There (Kit Walker)

Powerful Scares (Michael Langdon)

First Day Of School (Coven)

Toxic (Tate Langdon)

Happy And All (New Year, New Prompts) (Kyle Spencer)

High?! (New Year, New Prompts) (Tate Langdon)

It (2017)

In Derry, No One Can Hear You Scream (incomplete) (Loser’s Club) Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You Couldn’t Guess? (Henry Bowers)

Hope For The Underrated Youth (Bowers Gang)

Original Me (Henry Bowers)

How Much?! (New Year, New Prompts) (Bill Denbrough)

Nowhere Boys

Trust Fund Baby (Sam Conte)

Doctor Who

That’s Me! (10th Doctor)

Romeo and Juliet

A Rose By Any Other Name (incomplete) (Romeo Montague) Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Shadowhunters/The Mortal Instruments

Shadows Follow Me Home (Sebastian Verlac)

You’ll Be In My Heart (Jace Herondale) (16 Days Of Songs)

Just Say (Alec Lightwood) (16 Days Of Songs)

Let’s Be Friends (Alec Lightwood)

Narnia

Princess Of The Telmarines (complete) (Edmund Pevensie) Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Knight In Shining Armour (New Year, New Prompts) (Edmund Pevensie)

Gotham

The Wayne Girl (Complete) (Jerome Valeska) Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Get Away From My Daughter You Bastard (Jonathan Crane)

Don’t Be Scared Of Me (complete) (Jonathan Crane) Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Marvel

Legendary (incomplete) (Peter Parker) Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

He’d Be Proud Of Us (Peter Parker)

I Miss My Old Friends (Peter Parker)

Monster (Erik Lehnsherr)

Hold Onto Me (Logan Howlett)

Your Dream Will Be My Dream (Warren Worthington III) (16 Days Of Songs)

You’re My Best Friend (Peter Parker) (16 Days Of Songs)

Forgotten (Charles Xavier)

I’m With You (Peter Parker)

Somebody Else (Erik Lehnsherr)

Stay With Me (Erik Lehnsherr)

Gravity (Charles Xavier)

Sleep Peacefully (Scott Summers)

Coward (Charles Xavier)

Ocean Eyes (Erik Lehnsherr)

Get Well Soon (Stephen Strange)

Motorbike (Scott Summers)

E-Boy (New Year, New Prompts) (Peter Parker)

Game Of Thrones

Hellfire (Joffrey Baratheon)

Thank You Kind Sir (Renly Baratheon)

Bates Motel

It’s Always Been You (Dylan Massett)

Harry Potter

I Have No Choice (Draco Malfoy)

Together Or Apart (Fred Weasley)

Misguided Ghosts (Golden Trio)

Slipped Away (Cedric Diggory)

Wish You Were Here (Sirius Black)

Pictures Off The Wall (Draco Malfoy)

Because Of You (Sirius Black)

The Tournament (Cedric Diggory)

How Much Did You Pay? (New Year, New Prompts) (Draco Malfoy)

Friends

Are You Sure About This (Joey Tribbiani)

Baby Of The Group (Joey Tribbiani)

You

How Predictable (Incomplete) (Joe Goldberg) Chapter 1

Bohemian Rhapsody

10 Things I Hate About You (Roger Taylor)

The Society

I Have A Separate Masterlist For This

NCIS Los Angeles

Welcome To The Madhouse (Platonic Team)

Rescue (G Callen)

The Umbrella Academy

Ghost Of You (Ben Hargreeves)

Mona Lisa (Diego Hargreeves)

Paralyzed (Klaus Hargreeves)

Me! (Klaus Hargreeves) (16 Days Of Songs)

Heart By Heart (Five Hargeeves) (16 Days Of Songs)

I See Dead People (Klaus Hargreeves)

Z-Nation

Shallow (10k) (16 Days Of Songs)

From The Start (Murphy)

Be More Careful (Murphy)

The Vampire Diaries

A Thousand Years (Damon Salvatore) (16 Days Of Songs)

Mysterious Feelings (Matt Donovan)

Perks Of Being His Girlfriend (Jeremy Gilbert)

What A Buzzkill (Damon Salvatore and Enzo St John)

Hunting For My Heart (Jeremy Gilbert and Charmed Crossover)

Pushy (Damon Salvatore and Enzo St John)

This Complicates Things (Matt Donovan and Jeremy Gilbert)

Feel Like Arguing (Kol Mikaelson)

Gifts (Stefan Salvatore)

Why Don’t You Care (Damon Salvatore)

Always In Trouble (Klaus Mikaelson)

How They React To Your Death (Preference) (Kol Mikaelson and Jeremy Gilbert)

Study Buddies (Jeremy Gilbert)

Vampire Twin (Elijah Mikaelson)

Listen (Klaus Mikaelson)

The Only Mikaelson For Me (Kol Mikaelson)

Regular Customer (Kai Parker)

Memories Lost (Damon Salvatore)

Date Ruined (Kol Mikaelson and Enzo St John)

All I’m Saying (New Year, New Prompts) (Damon Salvatore)

So, What Are You Gonna Say? (New Year, New Prompts) (Damon Salvatore)

Pretty Little Liars

Old Friends (Toby Cavanaugh)

Six Feet Under (Ezra Fitz)

Never Meant (Jason DiLaurentis)

All I Wanted (Toby Cavanaugh)

I Miss You (Jason DiLaurentis)

Just My Imagination (The Girls)

Skins UK

Uptown Girl (James Cook)

On The Bus (Sid Jenkins)

Our Last Moments (Chris Miles)

Karma Hit You Hard (Tony Stonem)

Perfect Wedding Song (New Year, New Prompts) (Tony Stonem)

Maze Runner

Piggy Back (Newt)

Master Chef (Newt)

Into The Unknown (New Year, New Prompts) (Aris)

Supernatural

In A World Of Our Own (Dean Winchester and Charmed Crossover)

Grimm

Fairy Tales (Nick Burkhardt)

Our Kinds (New Year, New Prompts) (Nick Burkhardt)

The Hunger Games

Panic Room (New Year, New Prompts) (Finnick Odair)

Supernatural

Devil On My Shoulder (New Year, New Prompts) (Lucifer)

319 notes · View notes