#agony april day 12

[ruckystarnes]

Title: Eventually You'll Talk

Author: RuckyStarnes

Characters: Wanda Maximoff

Rating: Teen

Written for: @agonyapril2022

Event: Agony April

Prompt/Square: Day 12: Starvation (Alt Prompt #9)

Type: Moodboard

#agonyapril #agony april day 12 #wanda maximoff #wanda whump #wanda maximoff moodboard

[anastpaul]

Our Morning Offering – 12 April – Indulgenced Prayer, O Most Compassionate Jesus!

Our Morning Offering – 12 April – “The Month of the Resurrection and the Blessed Sacrament” O Most Compassionate Jesus!By Pope Pius IX (1792-1878)Indulgence of 100 days, once a day6 October 1870 O Most compassionate Jesus!Thou alone art our Salvation,our Life and our Resurrection.We implore Thee, therefore,do not forsake usin our needs and afflictionsbut by the agony ofThy Most Sacred Heartand…

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#omostcompassionatejesus #popepiusIX #prayerofpopepiusIX

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[theworstfoundingfathers]

Who is the worst founding father? Round 2: Benjamin Rush vs Benedict Arnold

Benjamin Rush (January 4, 1746 [O.S. December 24, 1745] – April 19, 1813) was a Founding Father of the United States who signed the United States Declaration of Independence, and a civic leader in Philadelphia, where he was a physician, politician, social reformer, humanitarian, educator, and the founder of Dickinson College. Rush was a Pennsylvania delegate to the Continental Congress. His later self-description there was: "He aimed right." He served as surgeon general of the Continental Army and became a professor of chemistry, medical theory, and clinical practice at the University of Pennsylvania.

Rush criticized General George Washington in two handwritten but unsigned letters while still serving under the surgeon general. One, to Virginia Governor Patrick Henry dated October 12, 1778, quotes General Thomas Conway saying that if not for God's grace the ongoing war would have been lost by Washington and his weak counselors. Henry forwarded the letter to Washington, despite Rush's request that the criticism be conveyed orally, and Washington recognized the handwriting. Ten days later, Rush wrote to John Adams relaying complaints inside Washington's army, including about "bad bread, no order, universal disgust" and praising Conway, who had been appointed to inspector general.

Benedict Arnold (14 January 1741 [O.S. 3 January 1740] – June 14, 1801) was an American-born military officer who served during the Revolutionary War. He fought with distinction for the American Continental Army and rose to the rank of major general before defecting to the British side of the conflict in 1780. General George Washington had given him his fullest trust and had placed him in command of West Point in New York. Arnold was planning to surrender the fort there to British forces, but the plot was discovered in September 1780, whereupon he fled to the British lines. In the later part of the conflict, Arnold was commissioned as a brigadier general in the British Army, and placed in command of the American Legion. He led the British army in battle against the soldiers whom he had once commanded, after which his name became, and has remained, synonymous with treason and betrayal in the United States.

Historians have identified many possible factors contributing to Arnold's treason, while some debate their relative importance. According to W. D. Wetherell, he was:

[A]mong the hardest human beings to understand in American history. Did he become a traitor because of all the injustice he suffered, real and imagined, at the hands of the Continental Congress and his jealous fellow generals? Because of the constant agony of two battlefield wounds in an already gout-ridden leg? From psychological wounds received in his Connecticut childhood when his alcoholic father squandered the family's fortunes? Or was it a kind of extreme midlife crisis, swerving from radical political beliefs to reactionary ones, a change accelerated by his marriage to the very young, very pretty, very Tory Peggy Shippen?

#founding father bracket #worst founding father #founding fathers #amrev #brackets #polls #benjamin rush #benedict arnold

[jdgo51]

How Long, Lord?

Today's inspiration comes from:

Waiting In Hope

by Kelley Ramsey and Jenn Hesse

Editor’s note: This devotion is helpful for all of us in a season of waiting and hurting. But, notably, April 23-29 is National Infertility Awareness Week. Today, let’s pray for our sisters and daughters (and their husbands) who are enduring through infertility and miscarriage. If you know someone who is in the midst of infertility, share this devotional with them today.

"How long, Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?" — Psalm 13:1

"'Anger is a messy feeling. It can become overwhelming and downright ugly in a split second. Infertility made me (Kelley) angry because of all the unknowns. As the heartache dragged on, I fixated on one question: How long must I wait for a child? I battled this thought to keep it from becoming a fear. But it was hard not to feel exasperated when I just wanted the agony to end.

Sometimes anger begins with shock. Brooke explained how going through miscarriage shook her to her core, leading her to question God’s very nature. “Suddenly, God felt unsafe, scary, and unpredictable. He was no longer trustworthy. Mentally, I ran from Him, closing off my heart to the One I felt had inflicted such pain. I walked around for weeks telling everyone that God was simply mean. What else could I conclude after so many miscarriages?”

Our attempts to get pregnant and carry a baby show us how little we can control. Trying to conceive is just that — trying. No matter how much we try, conception is still in the sovereignty of God’s will and creating hands. Therefore, it’s easy for our waiting to make us angry at God, ourselves, our bodies, our husbands, or other people. We long for an explanation for our brokenness, and we seek a target for our intense feelings.

Jaclyn, my friend and our Waiting in Hope community director, shared honestly about where she directed her anger: “I was angry with God. Angry at His chosen silence. Angry that in my greatest pain, God felt so far off. I wondered what the point of having a personal relationship with God was if He was going to be silent. Why wasn’t He making His comfort, His love, His goodness, and His peace tangible to me, His daughter, in my times of greatest need?”

The Source of Anger

Most of us feel guilty about being angry. We consider anger a destructive emotion that we shouldn’t have or express. However, anger isn’t necessarily a bad emotion. So let’s start by investigating the source of our anger.

Anger can be holy and based on injustice. Throughout the Bible, prophets expressed anger and lament over the injustice done to God’s people. Likewise, God stirs anger in us, often to prompt us to respond to an injustice or a need. Think about Jesus at the temple flipping tables because they were being used for unholy purposes (Matthew 21:12).

Infertility is a type of injustice. As we have seen, life is unfair due to the brokenness of this world. The sins of Adam and Eve brought all humans pain and hardship, including effects on our womanhood.

In Genesis 3:15–16, God said to the serpent (Satan), “‘And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her Seed...’ To the woman He said: ‘I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception; in pain you shall bring forth children’” (NKJV).

God knew Satan would hate women. However, it’s essential to understand that one consequence of the fallen world is a tainted childbearing process. Intensified pain entered the story at the fall, but thankfully this wasn’t God’s original design or his end to this story or our story.

When our expectations are not met, it’s okay (and normal) to be disappointed. It leaves us confused as our questions of disbelief grow each day. We can’t possibly understand, make sense of, or control the instability around us. These unknowns can lead to festering anger. And through our questioning of these unknowns, our anger intensifies.

In my overwhelming anger, I wondered many times whether God saw me or cared, or, as Jaclyn questioned, was His silence His answer for my heart? Was He showing me I was alone even from Him?

God has not left us, even when our emotions tell us otherwise. The anger from our unmet expectations makes us believe we deserve different from what God is providing. Yet why do we think God owes us a life free of pain?

Isaiah 43:2 describes hardship as “when you pass through the waters,” “when you pass through the rivers,” and “when you walk through the fire.” Notice that it’s not if you will endure hardship, but when. The trials are stated as a given. Like Christ, we, too, will experience pain in this broken, sinful world. Jesus said in John 16:33 that we should expect pain and suffering in this world. Yet He is with us, overcoming the world and providing us peace.

God has not left us, even when our emotions tell us otherwise.

The Direction of Anger

Years ago, Justin and I were experiencing frustrations and restless hearts regarding significant church situations, which led us to seek wise counsel. A trusted church pastor listened as we expressed our feelings, and he lovingly explained that God sometimes uses our frustrations and uneasiness to stir change in us.

He advised us to examine the cause of our feelings and warned us that anger could turn unholy if God is asking us to act and we do not. Wisdom is seeking God’s leading to adjust, jump, or change courses before our feelings lead to outbursts of anger aimed at the church, God, or others.

Anger often seeks a target. It’s an emotion that is directed toward someone or something. At some point, you’ve likely been angry at yourself, your body, your past, your future, your spouse, a friend, or a family member.

There is a safe direction for our anger, and that place is the Lord. Our Creator and King is good, strong, and faithful to handle everything, even anger. He allows us to express and vocalize our grief and frustration through the process of lament.

In Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy, pastor and author Mark Vroegop describes how learning to lament involves a kind of complaining that is biblical. “Through godly complaint we are able to express our disappointment and move toward resolution. We complain on the basis of our belief in who God is and what he can do.”1

The books of Psalms and Lamentations give us examples for how to express lament. These prayers describe explosive feelings, even anger, that can lead us to God. Lament can become our pathway to God when life is hard or God feels far off. Most psalms of lament or sorrow start with anguish and build into confidence in God, resulting in praise toward Him.

But God has surely listened and has heard my prayer. Praise be to God, who has not rejected my prayer or withheld His love from me! — Psalm 66:19–20

We can practice lament by following this same pattern.

Turn to God in prayer. Bring your complaints and circumstances to Him. Acknowledging that He is in control gives words to the tension between what we know about God and how we feel about Him. Ask God to act. Ask God boldly to act on your behalf, believing that He is God and has good purposes for your pain and needs. Choose to trust God. This is an active surrender of your life to God and the beginning of acceptance as you release control over your unknowns. When you surrender to God, your questions find a place to go. Author Elisabeth Elliot described how she came to this place of acceptance: “Whatever is in the cup that God is offering to me, whether it be pain and sorrow and suffering and grief along with the many more joys, I’m willing to take it because I trust him. Because I know that what God wants for me is the very best.”2 Your anger could be the catalyst God uses to draw you closer to Him.

Lament Leads to Trust

In his laments of sorrow, David cried out,

How long, Lord? — Psalm 13:1

Lamenting gives us permission to feel sorrow, acknowledge the real emotions, and rant to the Lord. Yet it doesn’t stop there. Our protests are transformed into petitions and then praise.

These authentic and intimate prayers in pain lead to trust, a way to praise God through uncertainty and sorrow. The truth of who God is can reign when we honestly surrender and no longer pretend that everything is okay.

We can’t know how long, but God does.

He hasn’t forgotten you. How could He? You are His child, and that would be impossible for the God who sees and knows every last detail about you — from the number of hairs on your head to the dozens of pregnancy tests that made you burst into tears.

Though His face seems hidden, God has never left your side. Believe that the One who saved you will someday, somehow make this right too.

Reflect

Have you ever shared laments of sorrow like David: “How long, Lord?” Explain. Describe how you’ve been angry during your journey. Consider whether your anger has been directed at someone or something; then write about it. What do you think about the concept of directing your anger toward God? How can lamenting to God be helpful in your pain? Pray

Pray this prayer of lament from Psalm 42:3–8 (ESV): Lord God, “my tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long, ‘Where is your God?’ These things I remember, as I pour out my soul:... Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God. My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you... Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me. By day the Lord commands His steadfast love, and at night His song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life.”

Act

Start lamenting to God in your sadness, anger, and overflowing feelings. Yell out to Him in your car, on a run, or in the shower. Sometimes it’s helpful to hear your audible voice crying out to Him as David did in the psalms. Then ask God, “Speak to me; I need to hear from You. What do you say about my pain?” Be silent and listen for His still, small voice (1 Kings 19:12) to whisper to your heart. If this is new for you, start reading the psalms for examples."'

Mark Vroegop, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy (Wheaton: Crossway, 2019), 44. Elisabeth Elliot, Suffering Is Never for Nothing (Nashville: B&H Publishing Group, 2019), 54. Excerpted with permission from Waiting in Hope by Kelley Ramsey and Jenn Hesse, copyright Kelley Ramsey and Jenn Hesse.

[waitingformyfavoritesongs]

1:52 1:53 am pdt 7 April 2023 Friday

I guess everyone who is trying to kill me thinks they are righteous. I guess no one wants to help me. All those commercials that say they care a lot, makes me think it’s a lie. Even this hotel 🏨 says it. It’s hypocritical. But a few hours ago I came to the realization that I understand why they think 💭 they are righteous. Righteous to kill in a backhanded way. 1:56 am pdt I don’t have any arguments left. Until I forget and then get torn down again as I write ✍️ that argument. Why should I expect to be treated differently than other people b4 me who lost their body parts? He keeps on attacking me with acid. Not much left of me. Going to lose something for sure/certain. 1:58 am pdt I’ve been lied 🤥 to. And I cannot argue why it’s wrong. And I cannot defend people like dugard and Shannon Ruth. 1:59 am pdt

3:43 am pdt if all rapists are righteous then does that mean all people who work at the hospital 🏥 who neglected me are righteous and rapists? 🤔😖😭😤🥵😤🥵😤🥵😤🥵 3:44 am pdt bcz why do people use the word f*ck in other cases when they aren’t referring to intercourse? 3:45 am pdt the only way to mildly amuse myself in the face of people who don’t care 🤷🏻‍♀️ I’m losing my bottom half. 3:46 am pdt

It’s all ransom and witch 🧙 craft I guess? 3:47 am pdt even though it did seem like something did work.... 3:48 am pdt I get confused 🤷🏻‍♀️

12:11 pmpdt incubus captioned there are no Wednesdays. Only Fridays and Saturdays. In previous posts I put for Wednesday: 👰‍♀️ Friday sounds like fry. Saturday is close to satan. If you can’t walk, you’re close to dying. All those who are close to dying are sitting 🪑 . Sat Anne. Isu. I ,Susanna. Daniel and Susanna. Round and round. Grew up thinking 💭 one idea 💡 is better than the other only to find out god is opposed to it. I guess rapists are better than non rapists. I guess rapists care about women’s feelings? I didn’t know. I guess it’s righteous to only care for your feelings when you’re a man 👨. I didn’t know this. Thanks 🙏 for setting me straight. 12:26 pmpdt can’t really be happy being a people pleaser only. 12:27 pmpdt I wonder 💭 if there are more bombs 💣 hidden in ice 🧊 and will push the earth 🌍 closer to the sun 🌞 . 12:28 pmpdt was it the Arctic 🐻‍❄️ or Alaska? I forgot. 12:28 pmpdt I feel like I am going to regret writing this. But I’m tired of living in agony. I’m looking forward to the day the I am dead ☠️. 12:30 🕧 pmpdt I am not god. I am not alll knowing. I know very little. I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ the future. I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ how things should or can or would be done ✅. I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️. 12:31 pmpdt I don’t have much figured out. And I lived most of my life probably being restricted 🚫 . 12:32 pmpdt I don’t do drugs, don’t drink 🚱 alcohol 🍷- although I have tried it a few times, I don’t smoke 🚭, I haven’t tried weed but I think 💭 I smelled it b4. I know that some guys don’t want me telling family that I had s*x with them. They will say “it is none of their business.” 12:35 pmpdt

12:41 pmpdt my tongue 👅 is partially black now. Nausea. 12:42 pmpdt. So, if Disney romantic fantasy love 💕 is not possible, what does that say about humans? We are all fantastic liars 🤥? Obligation? To stay with one human married for the rest of your life? It’s not possible for everyone to have a best friend? Mariah Carey song 🎶 . I guess it’s a sign Bcz Jordan/jordi died. Left hip 12:44 pmpdt 12:45 pmpdt. I am missing some parts of me. Not going to be optimistic or feeling like there is real brotherhood on earth 🌍. I don’t now. I have been left to rot (1207 12 almost looks like R) die. 12:46 pmpdt am I really that unacceptable of a person? Truely naturally and I’ve been crazily in denial? I guess so. That’s part of people pleasing I guess. Even though I have failed 😞 at everything involving relationships that no one wants to talk to me, even after only talking for a minute. I do the slightest littlest things wrong and people get turned off and reject me on first impressions. 12:50 pmpdt didn’t realize Q was worse than me if all my predictions are true, at least in my opinion. The rest of the world 🌎 probably won’t share my opinion. I probably have distorted thinking 💭. I’m sometimes not even honest with myself: like I used to eat random stuff and pretend I like it and eat it Bcz it’s convenient. 12:52 pmpdt 12:53 pmpdt I should have been more honest earlier. But I was probably setup to fail Bcz if my Saint Lucia curse. So if everyone is cursed the same way? But they’re not??? Not the same way... then there is no choice. ? It is what it is. I look in the mirror 🪞 and feel the pain. It don’t look 👀 pretty. I will take the (autocorrect: devil pictures kids) I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ incubus is probably referring to my pictures at home 🏠. ) threats to my life more seriously now Bcz that looks like it’s truth. Friday, Saturday. No Wednesdays. Autocorrect:weans. 12:58 pmpdt no comment. Heart ♥️ of glass. 12:59 pmpdt karma for kissing and having s*x with people I couldn’t commit to. Self full filled prophecy? Or meant to be? I thought 💭 a lot of stuff felt out of my control. 1:01 pmpdt

2:36 pmpdt even if so, I’m still dying. Can’t breathe + heart ♥️ pain = dying! 2:38 pmpdt

5:02 pmpdt (left hip bone 🦴 pain) idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ if the bombs 💣 net the North Pole pushed the earth 🌍 closer to the sun ☀️ or away. If the earth 🌍 was slowly wobbling towards migrating closer to the sun ☀️ in its revolution around the sun 🌞 I would probably put bombs 💣 to push it away from the sun 🌞. Idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ what’s going on what god’s purpose was to put those bombs 💣 there. 5:05 pmpdt wild imagination 💭 hope for the best prepare for the worst. 5:06 pmpdt

5:07 pmpdt or maybe 🤔 it’s to accelerate changing of the poles? To change poles probably means to change positions in orbit around the sun 🌞 changing the path? I didn’t get that far in school 🏫. 5:08 pmpdt

8:46 pmpdt 8:48 pmpdt incubus stabbed a part of my upper right brain a bunch of times and it hurt. And then he applied more acid with a rough sandpaper-like feel. 8:50 pmpdt it scares me whenever I feel anything painful in my brain. For some reason at this moment my emotions are weird. Right lower leg bone 🦴pain 8:53 pmpdt oddly. pain back right skull? Pain 8:54 pmpdt I m moving a little slower.

9:01 pmpdt I suddenly remembered Buddha. He knew it was his time to die. 9:02 pmpdt

9:40 pmpdt a light and then a boom that echoes in the sky. A long white car with tinted windows drive off a minute after. 9:41 pmpdt I think they’re trying to cause a fire at the hotel. Drove off to the left hand side when they exited. 9:42 pmpdt

10:17 pmpdt I’m on edge. I thought I saw a light reflection from the corner of my eye travel upward from below. My mom is telling me it’s not what I think it is. 10:18 pmpdt

[kafkaesque-philocalist]

Confessions in April

I can still remember the knee jerk reaction I’d had when a man named Daniel texted me if I wanted to hangout that Saturday. I’d just broken up with my previous boyfriend turned missionary the week before and thought why not date around, it’s not serious or anything, right? Daniel was good looking and we’d had the same interests so it couldn’t hurt; besides he was my exes’ brother’s friend so I should be able to trust him. Even with the knot forming in my gut, I said yes. It was every single day he’d bring me to his house and try to convince me have sex. I was so naive as an 18 year old, I honestly believed that when you say no it meant no. How foolish of me! 

Staring at the stormy carpet in the low lit office of my therapist, I told her about a writing challenge I thought would help me come to terms with that day in November. She said she loved that idea, it’d allow me a good space to finally see where I was with everything. She also wanted to see what I wrote to make sure I didn’t ruminate too much. We both didn’t want a repeat of what happened when hypnosis came up a couple weeks prior.

Like all good things in this modern era, I’d found BookLeaf Publishing’s Write Your Heart Out challenge on Instagram among the selfies and Elf makeup ads. For it, participants had to write a poem each day for 20 days which they would then publish, specifying that they would need a payment of $50 beforehand. Days earlier I’d put in my 2 weeks at FedEx without a backup job in the works at the advice of my family and therapist, and would very soon not have an income. Sitting in the four grey corners of my room on the white island of my bed I thought. My mental health had taken a turn for the worst after a date at a guy's house months prior. With my limited money, was it worth spending that much on such a luxury? Was the thought of showing the world my story worth possibly getting scammed?

Yes.

The last day to register was May 12, 2021 giving me breathing room between my last day and the start of the challenge to think. Days felt like years during that period, forcing my mind to relive the moments I’d blocked off for months for the artistic cause of writing my pain. I thought a lot about the times I told him no and that I didn’t want to the entire week prior to the event. Much like when I’d gotten into therapy earlier that year, I self-isolated. And yet writing during the competition was so much worse psychologically.

That competition was the first time in all my years of writing that I did not want to face my agony. The faces of my cousins saying their last goodbyes to their brother after he’d shot himself, my struggles with self harm, watching my sister’s battle depression, I wrote all of it with a fire only those truly alive have. It wasn’t fiery or venomous; instead it was days of locking doors and abrupt panic attacks. Every time I tried to write it head on, I managed to find myself in the bathtub trying to shut every little thought off.

It was after having a friend of mine review some of them that I really put into perspective what I wanted. For months I’d lived in the shadow of the assault, so scared of this new title I’d now have to adorn. I remember him messaging me, telling me that just because I’d finally opened up this wound doesn’t mean the world was entitled to it, especially if it triggered me to the point of sickness. I knew he was right. With his suggestion I focused on looser and free floating topics. The expression of my mental health as a young adult, pressure to go on and marry, failed relationships, and agency. 

After I’d written and submitted 21 poems, BookLeaf compiled all of them digitally, then asked me what I wanted the cover art to look like and the title. The amount of pacing I did that entire day, I’m surprised I didn’t burn down the house from the friction. Much like the text message, the title suddenly popped into my head: my birthday. April was my birthday month and coincidentally the same month I started therapy that eventually led to me writing the poetry book. 19 was also the age I turned that year, marking yet another chapter in my young adult life; it was perfect. 19 in April became a symbol of my metamorphosis from blind youth to somewhat of an emotionally stable adult. What happened didn’t have to define me, no one thing had to define me in fact; I was free in that moment. 

I like to think that I’ve grown out of my edginess, that I’ve learned how to deal with some of the worst tragedies an individual can in their lifetime. Reading 19 in April even today I can still trace my fingers against each poem and find some semblance of understanding. Every word, every phrase no matter how amateur and flimsy was a testament to a girl finding herself in the wreckage of her life once again. I felt pain, betrayal, a loss of identity and still chose to express it through writing and eventually turn it into peace. I never made money from it- I didn’t expect to in the first place- finally having everything out in the open and bare for the world to see was the best feeling I’ve ever had. If writing has taught me anything, it’s that life is a constant bittersweet symphony of events. When I imagine a stormy carpet, I no longer shed a tear.

[anxious-ace]

Savage scavengers info:

Clepta/Corlah Mongoose:

Age: (start) 15, (current) 17

Birthday: July 1st 1383

Place of origin: Rougepost, Snowglen

Race (?): human (although technically undead)

Class: rouge (arcane assassin) + artificer

Identity: Asexual lesbian, cis girl (she/her)

Abilities: deception, slight of hand, intimidation, and stealth

Proficiency: intimidation, survival, and Athletics

Starting equipment: a rapier, a short bow with 20 arrows, a burglar's pack, leather armor, two daggers, 10 feet of chain, torture implements, 2 small knives, 3 bottles of serpent venom, a cattle brand, a hammer, and a tank of gasoline with 12 packs of matches

Alignment: chaotic neutral

Background: agony forged + assassin 1 and 2

Currently dating Maizey

She met the savage scavengers after a failed assassination attempt and Vatis tried to hit on her on August 2nd, 1398

Vatis Musicorum:

Age: (start) 16, (current) 18

Birthday: April 20, 1382

Place of origin: Madwallow, Wolfstorm

Race: half-elf

Class: bard

Identity: pansexual panromantic, gender-fluid (any)

Abilities: vicious mockery, charm person, dancing lights, detect magic, healing word and thunder wave

Advantage: deception + performance

Starting equipment: longsword, entertainer's pack, guitar, leather armor, and a dagger

Alignment: chaotic neutral

Background: actor

Currently dating Liam

He met the savage scavengers when he tried to flirt with Cecile in a drunken state and got decked in the face by Reed on Halloween of 1398

Ava Sagittarius:

Age: (start) 15, (current) 17

Birthday: August 13, 1383

Place of origin: Rockdale, Swiftburgh

Race: satyr

Class: ranger

She has an animal companion named Cain, he's a Labrador

Identity: pansexual lesbian, cis girl (she/her)

Abilities: animal handling, athletics, nature perception

Starting equipment: scale mail, one shortsword, a melee weapon, an explorer's pack, and a longbow (w/ 20 arrows)

Alignment: Chaotic good

Background: adventurer 2

Currently dating Frankie

She met the savage scavengers when she was trying to tame Cain for the first time and got bit on November 27th, 1398

Cecile Medicus:

Age: (start) 16, (current) 18

Birthday: May 5, 1382

Place of origin: Eaglemond, Magewood

Race: elf

Class: life cleric

His deity is Oghma, the god of knowledge

Identity: demisexual, grayromantic, trans man (he/him)

Abilities: medicine and insight

proficient in insight and survival

Starting equipment: mace, chain mail, crossbow (w/ 20 bolts), an explorer's pack, and a shield

Alignment: Chaotic good

Background: abandoned

Currently dating Reed

He started savage scavengers when he had to heal Vatis after Clepta decked him in the face on August 2nd, 1398

Frankie Canticum-Nec Divinios:

Age: (start) 15, (current) 17

Birthday: September 18, 1383

Place of origin: Dragonwick, Crystalmire

Race: half-triton

Class: bard

Identity: bisexual lesbian, trans girl (she/her)

Abilities: vicious mockery, charm person, dancing lights, detect magic, healing word and thunder wave

Starting equipment: a rapier, diplomat's pack, a lute, leather armor, and a dagger

Alignment: chaotic neutral

Background: abstract artist + acrobat

Currently dating Ava

She met the savage scavengers in the tavern after getting a gig there and serenading Ava on valentines day, 1398

Alex Pugnator:

Age: (start) 15, (current) 17

Birthday: August 15, 1383

Place of origin: Snakefrost, Grimbury

Race: human

Class: fighter (gunslinger)

Identity: non-binary, demi-pansexual (they/them)

Abilities: intimidation and athletics

Starting equipment: chain mail, longbow (w/ 20 arrows), a martial weapon (w/ shield), two hand axes, and a dungeoneer's pack

Alignment: Chaotic good

Background: amputee

Not currently dating anyone

They met the savage scavengers when Sky had to heal them after a bar fight with Jess in 1398

Sky Pugnator:

Age: (start) 15, (current) 17

Birthday: August 15, 1383

Place of origin: Snakefrost, Grimbury

Race: half-elf

Class: life cleric

Her deity is Helm, the god of protection

Identity: bisexual demi-girl (she/they)

Abilities: medicine and persuasion

Starting equipment: a mace, scale mail, crossbow (w/ 20 bolts), a priest's pack, and shield (w/ holy symbol)

Alignment: Chaotic good

Background: astronomer

Not currently dating anyone

She met the savage scavengers when she had to heal Alex after a bar fight with Jess in 1398

Jess Bellum:

Age: (start) 15, (current) 17

Birthday: October 30, 1383

Place of origin: Brineview, Dewstrand

Race: Goliath

Class: barbarian

Identity: pansexual cis guy (he/him)

Abilities: athletics and intimidation

proficient in stealth and performance

Starting equipment: a great ax, 2 hand axes, an explorer's pack, dirty and torn clothes, a mask, 2 daggers, a special trinket, and 4 javelins

Alignment: Chaotic evil

Background: abomination

Not currently dating anyone

He met the savage scavengers after a bar fight with Alex in 1398

May Magicae:

Age: (start) 15, (current) 17

Birthday: April 20, 1383

Place of origin: Lightsummit, Shadowgrove

Race: elf

Class: sorcerer

Even though she is a sorcerer, she has a black cat named Nova as a familiar

Identity: apothisexual gray romantic, cis girl (she/her)

Abilities: arcana, persuasion

Starting equipment: a crossbow (w/ 20 bolts), component punch, dungeoneer's pack, and two daggers

Alignment: chaotic neutral

Background: agent of the angels + activist

Currently dating Jailyn

She met the savage scavengers when Jailyn got too drunk and stole Vatis' guitar on July 20th, 1398

Jailyn Druidea:

Age: (start) 15, (current) 17

Birthday: October 31, 1383

Place of origin: Spiritmeadow, Snowglen

Race: elf

Class: druid

Her deity is Malar, God of the hunt

Identity: trans, lesbian (she/her)

Abilities: arcana and survival

Starting equipment: scimitar, wooden shield, leather armor, explorer's pack, and druidic focus

Alignment: Chaotic good

Background: animal breeder + accident prone

She is currently dating May

She met the savage scavengers when she tried to steal Vatis' guitar in 1398

Nico Canticum-Nec Divinios:

Age: (start) 15, (current) 17

Birthday: September 18, 1383

Race: half-triton

Class: warlock

His patron is a spider demon named Trogin

Identity: cis bisexual guy

Abilities: deception, and investigation

Starting equipment: a light crossbow (w/ 20 bolts), arcane, focus, scholar's pack, leather armor, simple weapon, and two daggers

Alignment: Chaotic good

Background: adventuring soul + aberrant cultist

Not currently dating anyone

He met the savage scavengers in 1398, he rather not talk about how

Reed Greenwood:

Age: (start) 15, (current) 17

Birthday: November 27, 1383

Place of origin: Falsebarrow, Autumncrest

Race: halfing

Class: blood hunter

Identity: gay cis guy (he/him)

Abilities: athletics, acrobatics, and investigation

Starting equipment: martial weapon, hand crossbow (w/ 20 bolts), scale mail, explorer's pack

Alignment: chaotic neutral

Background: arena combatant + assassin 4

Currently dating Cecile

He met the savage scavengers in 1398 after decking Vatis in the face on Halloween

Jackie Mongoose:

Age: (start) 14, (current) 16

Birthday: November 13, 1384

Place of origin: Rougepost, Snowglen

Race: human

Class: wizard

She has a 300-year-old red dragon named Ardor as a familiar

Identity: demisexual lesbian, demi girl (she/they)

Abilities: arcana and insight

proficient in intimidation, survival, and Athletics

Starting equipment: a quarterstaff, daggers, darts, slings, a light crossbow with 20 bolts, a spellbook, an arcane focus, 10 feet of chain, torture implements, 2 small knives, 3 bottles of serpent venom, a cattle brand, a hammer, and a scholar's pack

Alignment: chaotic neutral

Background: agony forged + anxiety

Working on a relationship

She officially met the savage scavengers when she decked Vatis in the face on August 2nd, 1398

Maizey Steelflaw:

Age: (start) 15, (current) 17

Birthday: August 15, 1383

Place of origin: Thornlight, Midgate

Race: werewolf

Class: artificer

Identity: demi-girl, bisexual (she/they)

Abilities: deception and insight

Starting equipment: scale mail, shortsword, toolbox, handmade guns, a bag of potions, a symbol from their university, a book of lore, 5 candles, scholar's robes, travelers clothes, and 15 GP

Alignment: Chaotic good

Background: acolyte of academia + alchemist 1

Currently dating Clepta/Corlah

They met the savage scavengers in 1398

Liam Cultum:

Age: (start) 16, current (17)

Birthday: September 21, 1382

Place of origin: Casmir, Tasir

Race: changeling

Class: paladin (oath of vengeance)

Identity: demi-boy, bisexual (he/they)

Abilities: medicine and athletic

proficient in deception, perception, and stealth

Starting equipment: martial weapon (w/ shield), five javelins, priest's pack, chain mail, holy symbol, an escapist's pack, a set of common clothes, a backpack, a bedroll, an iron pot, a map, 10 days of rations, a waterskin and a small knife

Alignment: Chaotic good

Background: abuse victim + agent of the angels

Currently dating Vatis

He met the savage scavengers after running away from home and going to one of Vatis' shows on August 15th, 1398

#my ocs #savage scavengers

[that-milo-kid]

Day 12: Abduction

Warnings: Slight swearing, mentions of torture

Fandom: DCU (Batfam and YJ)

Word Count: 1140

Characters: Dick Grayson and Wally West

Notes: this is a sequel to my day 10 submission! shout out to the absolute love of my life @azzeryyjazzery (who i am going on a date with tomorrow :0 )

The fan on his ceiling was spinning at an almost dizzying speed. He watched it turn – going around and around and around, never stopping, not until it’s turned off by someone else.

With nothing interesting happening in his line of sight, Dick listened to his neighbours. Sure, it was a bit nosey, but they were being almost unbearably loud, and he had been trained as a detective from age nine. He could hear the couple a few doors down fighting, some screaming match about nothing in particular. The kid who moved in across from him a few weeks ago was blasting music. It was a song Dick actually recognised for once (Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles had been Tim’s favourite song for a while), and he let himself sit and enjoy the music for a few seconds.

Other assorted sounds were coming from the rooms. Lots of yelling, a few different sources of music, and a vacuum cleaner on the floor above him. Dick wanted to move, to get up and do something to take his mind off the ever-growing mess of sound around him. A sharp pain like wildfire tore its way through his neck and chest as he tried to lift his head, acting as a reminder to why he was lying down in the first place.

Ah, that’s right, he thought absently to himself. Torture wounds. Whoops.

So, he was back to square one. Lying on his bed, the terrible wall of noise suffocating him as he watched the fan and tried to focus on anything other than what happened. He hated the sound of people yelling, specifically – they were able to talk, to communicate and connect with other people in such an intimate way. And they used the gift of speech to express hate and violence.

It had been two weeks since Dick had lost his voice. The physical wounds were healing slowly, but surely. Leslie cleared him three days ago, and he was back to living in his shitty apartment with his shitty neighbours and his shitty job. Not that he had actually gone back to work yet. Tim called up for him as the only Wayne willing to talk to any member of the BPD… well the only Wayne who wouldn’t a) lose their shit or b) start crying if they spoke about what happened to Dick.

Dick didn’t think he’d ever seen Bruce as emotional as when he broke the news to Clark.

Either way, he was currently at no human interaction. No one from his job, none of the heroes he associated with, not even any of his brothers or sisters had stopped by. Steph had popped in the day before, just to say hi, but the interaction lasted less than two minutes. Dick didn’t think it really counted.

He wasn’t sure where he stood with human interaction at the moment anyway. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t effectively communicate what he wanted to say, anyway. Not to mention all the weird flinching and seizing up when people touched him in certain places. His neck was much less sensitive than it had been, but having your throat slashed open by a madman doesn’t exactly have a speedy recovery time. he had also been more sensitive than usual around his ribs. Two or three of them were likely bruised.

He wondered if he’d ever be the same after what happened. I’ll certainly be less eager to talk to criminals, he thought with a small chuckle, before he remembered exactly how he felt as he bled out on the floor of that cell and decided that maybe he would hold off on the jokes for a little bit.

He was shaken out of his usual self-pitying spiral by a knock at the door. Weird. Alfred said he’d be by on Wednesday, and it wasn’t like him to appear anything but on time. Shrugging it off (maybe he just wanted to see Dick?), he went to roll out of bed. The movement jostled his neck again, and this time the rush of pain was so violent and sudden that he had to stand still and hold onto a nearby dresser for a moment to steady himself.

He shuffled over to the door, hoping that moving around might help the dizziness fade a bit. It doesn’t, obviously, and the little voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Leslie yelled at him to sit back down and ignore the door. Richard John Grayson is nothing if not polite, however, so he gathered himself and opened the door with as much grace as he could muster.

The shock of bright red hair that sprinted through the door was not at all what he was expecting, and he almost fell over again in his shock. Wally stood in his living room, beaming at him, holding copious amounts of snacks and chip packets.

“Come on man, I haven’t seen you in forever and we still haven’t watched that new Spiderman movie!” Dick held one finger up in the universal sign for one minute and walked into his room as quickly as he could manage. He dug around in the piles of clothes and books scattered across his room – he really should clean it – before finding the thing he was looking for.

When he walked back out to Wally holding his whiteboard and marker, the speedster had made himself comfortable on Dick’s couch. He turned to look at his friend as he re-entered the room and patted the spot beside him on the couch.

“Get your fine ass over here, Robin! I even got salt and vinegar chips for you, even though they are disgusting, and you are a heathen.”

Dick’s grin made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He quickly scrawled on the whiteboard, ‘I haven’t been Robin in years, and everyone knows salt and vinegar is the superior flavour.’ Wally scoffed jokingly, pulling Dick down beside him onto the couch. His hands were careful around Dick’s ribs and went nowhere near his friends face. Dick was more grateful than Wally could ever imagine.

Curled up on the couch with his best friend, Dick realised the one thing he’d been missing more than his voice. Normality. Something that no one could give him while they walked on eggshells around him, careful and cautious as if he would shatter into a million pieces.

Turning further into Wally’s warm side, Dick managed to whisper out two quiet words.

“Thank you.”

Wally didn’t even look over from the screen showing the opening scene of Spiderman as he responded.

“Of course, dude – what are friends for if not cheering up their bros after getting abducted?”

Another small chuckle, and Dick is out like a light. He slept better than he had in two weeks, tucked into his best friend’s side.

Maybe everything would be fine.

#agony april #agony april 2022 #agony april day 12 #tw swearing #tw mention of torture #BatFam #the batfamily #dick grayson #wally west #birdflash #maybe its romantic maybe its platonic. who knows??? certainly not them #milo writes

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Day 12: Alt 10: Fake

Undeserved

Warnings: Captivity, wishing for death, language

This is part of a series. If you haven't, I suggest starting at Day 1.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Damien barely bothered to open his eyes anymore. When he did, it was for a moment only; letting in some light, something to focus on. Clear, blue sky and rusty bars and a scrubby tree or two. Mostly he just listened. To the sound the wheels of the wagon caused on the dusty road, or the voices of the ambassador’s squad, walking next to it. When he was lucky he could hear a bird or two, listening to their songs for a minute before the wagon had passed them. 

They had taken off his armor. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care. It made the bars of his cage hurt more, where he lay pressed against them. It also made the heat just the tiniest bit easier to bear. Not that he was really warm. The shivers had stayed, even after the fever had gone down a bit. His fingers and toes were freezing, his limbs cold. Perhaps it was the bloodloss, taking its toll. If only he had lost more of it, had bled out on the fucking ground. Then he wouldn’t be on his way to find another, just as gruesome end now.

At least they didn’t seem to try and let him starve or die of thirst. It was always fancy boots, stepping next to the cage, extending his hand for Damien to give him the waterskin. He didn’t understand why a man of his rank would bother with scum like him. Damien was thankful for it, though. At least fancy boots had shown him a scrap of kindness, deserved or not. He would have had a hard time trusting any of the other men. 

The man never spoke to him. When he brought the filled waterskin back, he sometimes dropped some scraps of food in the cage as well. Whatever was left of their meals, Damien assumed. It was barely enough to ease the permanent gnawing in his stomach. It was enough to make him feel sick when the next wave of shivers left him all dizzy.

He had lost all sense of time. They could have been on the roads for hours or days or weeks, he wouldn’t have known. There was only the haze in his mind and the pain in what remained of his arm. Perhaps it was still the fever. Perhaps it was a part of him, refusing to accept what had happened. He tried not to look at it. He tried not to think about it. Mostly, he tried not to think at all.

“Have you heard? The guy who stopped him was his brother.”

The voices near him were a welcome distraction. The topic not so much, but he couldn’t be picky. Thinking of Valadan made his heart hurt almost as much as his arm. He’d never see him again. Or perhaps he would. Perhaps he would be there, watching him die. Damien wondered if he’d find his face in the crowd. What would he see on the oh so familiar features — sadness or grim satisfaction?

“That’s rough. His own brother. I’m not sure I could do that. But then, the worst my brother has ever done is steal our neighbor’s apples.”

Someone laughed, and Damien wanted to cry.

“Oh, he didn’t do it for fun. From what I’ve heard, his brother faked his signature. Framed him. He was lucky the Silver Blades didn’t straight up kill him when they stormed the house. You’ve seen how similar they look. His wife — his pregnant wife — somehow managed to make them not murder him right there at the dinner table. Must be a brave one, that woman. I heard they don’t fuck around with traitors like him.”

Damien’s heart had grown colder with every single word. He had never faked his brother’s signature. By Duriath, he didn’t know his brother’s signature. But their family names were the same, and they looked the same and— 

There was no point fighting the tears or suppressing the sobs. He could have gotten his baby brother killed. He could have gotten his brother’s wife and her unborn child killed. He hadn’t only ruined his own worthless life, he ruined the life of everyone around him. There was no love in him, no kindness, nothing good. He broke everything he touched.

Damien leaned his head against the cage, staring blindly up to the sky above. The bars at his back hurt, but he didn’t move. He was hugging the waterskin, clinging to it. After all he had done, his brother had still shown him this kindness. A kindness he hadn’t deserved. He deserved to be sentenced, to be hanged before he could ruin any more lives.

Valadan would surely be there, watching him die. And the look on his face would probably be disgust.

Tagging: @villainsvictim​ @whump-in-the-moonlight​ @dont-touch-my-soup​ @teamwhump​

#Undeserved #whump #captivity tw #Agony April #Agony April 2022 #Agony April Day 12 #On the plus side #He now KNOWS he'll be an uncle :D #Or would be if he'd expect to live that long :) #my writing

[rizzoto-whump]

Agony April day 12 - Abduction

Bad Things Happen Bingo - Grabbed by the Chin

@agonyapril2022 , @badthingshappenbingo​ (And from this prompts by @painsandconfusion​)

The handwriting, the tulips, and the familiar warmth ran down James' back. Ronald hugged him from behind. How did he find his address? "R-Ronald?" Ronald gave a strange smile. His pale hand grabbed James' neck, up to his chin, lifting him so that the different colored eyes could meet. "I'm amazed." He said simply, "And I miss you so much, schatje." Ronald's touch turned into a squeeze, giving him pain. There was a sudden tightness in his lungs. Everything about Ronald always managed to silence him. James still remembers it, the exhausting days of endless torment. The memory in his brain seemed to refuse to forget. Long therapy and family support at least made things better, but this piece of shit, shamelessly, came again to mess things up. Ronald's blue eyes were still on him. "Come with me. I have prepared a home for you."

#whump #whump prompt #whump art #intimate whumper #recapture #Agony April 2022 #Agony April day 12 #Abduction #bad things happen bingo #grabbed by the chin #whump OC #whump fic #Found You #male whumpee #yandere #OC: Ronald #OC: James #the prompts are so goood

[askpercyandspringtrap]

Seeing that the and is near why don't you tell us your life story. How was it that everything you have done has lead to this EPIC but sad moment?

November 11th, 1987.

I woke up for the first time.

My body had existed and functioned for some time already--12 years, to be exact--but this was the first instance I recall of being sentient. I wasn't able to walk right, so I kind of had to slide across the floor to explore my surroundings. Everything felt new, yet familiar at the same time. Somehow I knew who the other animatronics were supposed to be, and what my purpose was. But I still wanted more.

That was when I heard a man screaming.

I went to the source of the sound as fast as I could. I saw a big, yellow rabbit, sitting in a pool of red and shaking.

He seemed afraid of me. I'm not sure why.

I kept him company for as long as I could.

6 AM. Blackout.

As the years progressed, I would continue visiting him at night. The others would tell me to stay away, but something inside of me pulled me towards him.

Over time, he taught me how to work with animatronic parts and engineering. I would often use the skills I learned on him, to keep him from falling apart, so I could keep spending time with him.

Thirteen years passed this way.

March 15th, 2000.

Disaster.

The pull-apart Mangle attraction had been removed from the restaurant. I was selected as a replacement for the day.

The children were mad. They didn't like that it was me there, and not Mangle. They wanted to treat me the same way they treated Mangle. I was defenseless. With a few good pulls, all of my limbs had been separated from my body. I was in agony, and I couldn't do anything. The only thing I could do was wait for all the people to leave, and then scream for help.

That was the first night Springtrap ever left his room. He came to me and held me the whole night. He told me it would be okay. He sounded like he wanted to help, but wasn't sure what to do.

I blacked out at 6 AM.

Between March 16th, 2000, and June 14th, 2002, my memories are sparse. But nothing from that time was a positive experience. I was unconscious for most of that time, and when I was conscious, I was in pain and alone, surrounded by strange, scary people.

I don't like to think about that time.

June 15th, 2002.

I was returned to the restaurant, better than new. Though I still did my job during the day, there was only one thing on my mind. As soon as the restaurant closed for the day, I rushed to Springtrap.

He was in such a state of disrepair, I was scared I might lose him. He didn't seem to recognize me at first… but I eventually got through to him.

I spent the night with him again, and then I spent the next several months giving him the most intense repairs I could. All at night, all in secret. No other soul knew what I was doing.

April 13th, 2007.

The restaurant closed. Everything out in the open that was deemed "valuable" was collected and sent away. But Springtrap and I had stayed in a secret room and were, thankfully, the only ones left behind.

The abandoned pizzeria was our home for a time. Nobody bothered us.

February 14th, 2011.

I confessed my romantic feelings to Springtrap. He didn't feel the same yet, but he said we could give being in a relationship a try. There was no harm in it, after all.

September 15th, 2011.

Springtrap told me he loved me for the first time.

We consecrated our relationship that very night.

July 23rd, 2013.

Junior came into the world. Much to Springtrap's surprise, and, after the shock wore off, delight.

August 8th, 2014.

We were discovered and brought out of the old restaurant and into Fazbear's Fright, where we live to this day.

The rest… is history.

#fnaf #askbox shenanigans #percy #springtrap #junior #backstory #long post

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[josefavomjaaga]

Napoleon’s suicide attempt

There is a book by historian Thierry Lentz entitled "Les vingt jours de Fontainebleau", referring to the three weeks Napoleon spent at this castle between the fall of Paris and his departure for Elba. This period also includes his suicide attempt, and since @northernmariette was interested in this topic, here's a short summary.

Thierry Lentz's narrative for the most part does not follow Caulaincourt's memoirs, which he consults for the time before and after, but the notes of Louis Etienne Saint-Denis, aka "Mameluk Ali", who, although not a direct witness himself, drew his knowledge from the valet Hubert, a friend of his who was on duty that night. While until the middle of the nineteenth century there were apparently grave doubts, today at least no one denies that Napoleon's suicide attempt really took place. In any case, there are enough testimonies that point to immense agitation on that night from 12 to 13 April 1814.

Chronological context: On the afternoon of 12 April, after delivering Napoleon's unconditional abdication to Tsar Alexander as Napoleon's plenipotentiaries and negotiating the Treaty of Fontainebleau with the Tsar and the interim government, Macdonald and Caulaincourt had returned to Fontainebleau. Ney, the third member of their negotiating team in fact, had already left them and joined the Allies. During the negotiations, Napoleon had once again tried to withdraw his abdication, a move that a deeply unnerved Caulaincourt simply chose to ignore.

Nevertheless, the two remaining negotiators are received warmly by Napoleon upon their return. Among Napoleon's remaining entourage, the mood is almost relieved to see the agony finally come to an end. Macdonald and Caulaincourt report and are asked to attend supper at 9 o'clock in the evening, but they eat alone because Napoleon feigns indisposition, retires to his room and eats something there. When he returns, he dismisses Macdonald for the evening with orders to be back tomorrow at nine. Caulaincourt stays a little longer before he too is dismissed to bed with the remark that Napoleon will send for him later tonight.

Up to this point we have followed Caulaincourt, now we switch to Saint-Denis:

At about four o'clock in the morning Napoleon calls the valet Hubert and asks for his dressing gown. Hubert enters, puts the lamp on the side table, brings Napoleon his dressing gown, a pair of footed trousers, and puts the slippers on him. Then he is instructed to rekindle the fire. Napoleon declares that he wants to write to the Empress. Hubert descends the stairs to the writing cabinet to fetch ink, paper and quills, and then retreats back to the antechamber. He leaves the door slightly ajar and can watch Napoleon start to write several times, only to crumple up the papers each time and throw them into the fire.

Napoleon did indeed write to Marie Louise that night, although Hubert seems to have missed the fact that Napoleon actually completed one of his draft letters. According to the editors of the "Correspondance Générale", Tom 15, however, the letter was never delivered to Marie Louise. It reads:

No. 38658 - To Marie-Louise. Fontainebleau, 13 April 1814, 3 a.m.

My dear Louise, I have received your letter. I approve of your going to Rambouillet where your father will join you. It is the only consolation you can receive in our misfortunes. For eight days I have been waiting for the moment with eagerness. Your father has been misguided and bad for us, but he will be a good father for you and your son. Caulaincourt has arrived. Yesterday I sent you a copy of the arrangements he signed, which ensured your son's fate. Goodbye, my sweet Louise. You are what I love most in the world. My misfortunes affect me only by the harm they do to you. All your life you will love the most tender of husbands. Give a kiss to your son. Farewell, my Louise. All yours.

[I can’t help but notice the most secure sign that he really may have wanted to kill himself: He calls little Napoleon Marie Louise’s son no less than three times. Usually, it’s always »my son«.]

Back to events according to valet Hubert:

On the dresser are usually glasses, a sugar bowl and a carafe of water, but Hubert happens to know that the sugar bowl is missing this evening as the servant who should have filled it has left it with him in the antechamber. Nevertheless, he hears Napoleon pouring liquid into a glass and then stirring it with a spoon. He wonders what Napoleon is dissolving in water, since he has no sugar, but then assumes that Napoleon must have taken sugar from his travel nécessaire.

[While I am struck by the fact that it was apparently customary to sweeten normal water with sugar? Ah, these ascetic, hardened military men!]

After a moment of silence, Napoleon approaches the door and tells Hubert to call Messrs Caulaincourt, Maret, Bertrand and Fain. As soon as the gentlemen arrive, Napoleon tells them that he cannot and will not bear the dishonour of France and has therefore just poisoned himself. Whereupon, of course, there is immediate commotion, people run around the castle looking for Yvan or anyone else who might have an antidote at hand, they give Napoleon emetics, watch him vomit and oversee him as he writhes in convulsions on his bed, complaining that this dying thing is really a difficult business. He falls asleep briefly, they carry him to the window for fresh air, and when the immediate danger seems over, they leave him under Constant's care and go to bed. The next morning Napoleon is already well enough to go for a walk in the garden with the gentlemen.

To what extent the suicide attempt was really meant seriously, says the author, can hardly be decided from today's perspective.

#napoleon bonaparte #thierry lentz #fontainebleau #paris 1814

[anastpaul]

Our Morning Offering – 12 April – O Most Compassionate Jesus!

Our Morning Offering – 12 April – Easter Wednesday – “The Month of the Resurrection” O Most Compassionate Jesus!By Pope Pius IX (1792-1878)Indulgence of 100 days, once a day6 October 1870 O Most compassionate Jesus!Thou alone art our Salvation,our Life and our Resurrection.We implore Thee, therefore,do not forsake usin our needs and afflictionsbut by the agony ofThy Most Sacred Heartand by the…

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[isadomna]

                      The Death of Queen Juana I

                                            12 April 1555

Juana’s last weeks were spent in agonising pain. She habitually took baths with the help of her lavanderas de corp, Catalina and Marina Redonda. But in mid-February, scalding water blistered her skin. Sores developed on her back and buttocks. Lotions were applied but the agony that came with every movement made it difficult to move her and keep her clean. When, after several days, she was forcibly washed and her bedclothes changed, a spot of gangrene was noted on her left buttock. ‘Egyptian ointment’ was applied, but the gangrene spread. Her fesh was cauterised. Feverish, Juana refused to be bled or take medicine. She could not, or would not, move or be moved, and stopped eating.

Juana of Austria went to Tordesillas with several doctors: “I asked her Highness for permission to visit her,” the regent told Charles, “and, although she declined, nevertheless (seeing how much her illness had advanced) I went there and saw her. And because she seemed to feel such agitation (pesadumbre) at my being there, I returned, with her permission [to Valladolid], leaving the necessary surgeons and doctors …” Upset by the visit, the regent asked Borja if he would see the queen again, presumably to try to prepare her for a ‘good’ death. The viaticum (the sacrament of the Eucharist when administered to the dying to mitigate the punishments of purgatory) had to be received with genuine feeling. Honesty was essential. Contrition had to be real. The regent assured Charles that Borja had taken various “buenos religiosos” with him. Yet Borja himself did not, perhaps, feel that this was enough to ward off the demons that had troubled the queen. At the last minute, he turned to one of Salamanca’s greatest philosophers and most authoritative theologians, Domingo de Soto.

Unhappy at being asked to deal at a distance with the queen’s spiritual state, Soto hurried to Tordesillas on the morning of 11 April 1555. He saw Juana first with others, then returned to talk with her alone. Afterwards, he sent a report to royal secretary Vázquez de Molina, informing him that Juana had only hours to live and was unlikely to last the night. But he was satisfed that her judgment was clear—clearer than he had been led to expect. They had spoken together “at great length” and he had been “consoled” by their conversation. She had felt unable to accept (“no esta por”) the Eucharist, but unction might be administered, since this rite was not so demanding. They would, however, need to wait till she began to drift away, “because we fear that with the judgment she has now, because of her honesty (por su honestidad), she will not allow it.”

The viaticum was withheld, in part because the queen was vomiting, but also, perhaps, because of the “honestidad” that Soto mentions. That night, Borja administered extreme unction. Dr Santa Cara reports that Juana made a general confession and admission of having offended God, but this is mentioned neither by Soto nor Borja. According to a later description, possibly concerned to demonstrate the effect on the queen of Borja’s saintliness, she was still alert enough to recite, or partly recite, the creed. When asked if she wished it to be read out she told Borja: “You begin to say the creed and I’ll repeat it after you.” When words failed her, she repeatedly struck her chest. Her eyes fixed on that central icon of contemplation, the image of the suffering Christ, the queen kissed the crucifx he held out to her. Her last reported words, uttered a few hours before her death, were: “Jesu Christo crucificado sea conmigo” (“Jesus Christ crucifed, be with me”). Denia, also present, gave her words as “Jesu Christ crucifed, help me.”  The queen died between six and half past six on the morning of Good Friday, 12 April, in the presence of Soto, Borja, Santa Cara and Denia. At last, the queen’s passion was over.

The absence abroad of many of Juana’s relatives might explain the low-key nature of Queen Juana’s burial at Santa Clara in Tordesillas. Still, the total lack of relatives at the interment of the embalmed body of the proprietary monarch, sovereign mistress and mother and grandmother of emperors and queens, is difficult to explain. Just a small handful of notables attended the rites. Various chaplains and cantors were sent from Valladolid for the ceremony, during which the body, formally recognised by the monteros de Espinosa, was lowered into the vault. The regent requested the holding of obsequies throughout Spain. A funeral ceremony was held at San Benito, Valladolid on 26 May. Grander obsequies were held by Ferdinand at Augsburg and in Brussels, where Charles attended a special ceremony on 25 May. 

In London, the two-day obsequies for “Lady Jane,” whom Queen Mary may have wished to honour not only as aunt but as fellow queen regnant, assumed a special significance. They took place in “great solemnity” between 17 and 18 June, with Spanish and English nobles walking side by side behind a huge ornamental dome with a gilded canopy. The main event in Brussels was postponed, at King Philip’s request, until he could leave England. Eventually, at two o’clock in the afternoon of 16 September, a long procession made its way from the palace on the Coudenberg to the church of St Gudula. In their midst, a pony, covered with trappings of black velvet bordered with gold, led by Italian trainers and surrounded on four sides by the heralds of Castile, León, Aragon and Sicily, bore a woman’s saddle, embroidered with gold and bearing a cushion on which a magnificent crown sparkled with jewels. Philip was dressed, almost uniquely, in striking black mourning. 

Source:

Gillian B. Fleming, Juana I

#Juana de Castilla #Juana of Castile #Joanna of Castile #Queen of Spain #Women in History #Spanish history #Laia Marull #Carlos Rey Emperador

[travis-and-jodi]

Texts & Passages

Travis & Chaitanya ~~~~~ Every guy at least dreams

It took all of three days after Mimi had the friend talk with Travis, for Travis to be in bed with yet another woman; Chaitanya Lay.

The dark-haired beauty, Chaitanya, was a friend of both Jodi’s and Travis’. She was a 24 year old single mom, living in Cottonwood, Arizona, about 2 hours north of Phoenix.

Chaitanya and Travis had been flirting for months. Travis, in all his resourcefulness had been questioning Chaitanya about her interest in a threesome. Who was the other lucky lady going to be? Well, of course… Jodi Arias.

(VANITY: Jodi Arias by Lisa Wilson & Nick van der Leek)

February 28, 2008

08:23:31 TRAVIS to CHAITANYA: You and Jodi would get along. She is way into astrology and she thinks your hot. She is sexually attracted to you.

08:38:38 TRAVIS: Be honest if you knew she’s say yes would you hook up with her, for curiosities sake.

08:43:14 CHAITANYA: I would have to know her better. I don’t think I could do it without knowing her at least a little

08:43:20 TRAVIS: Yes or no

08:43:20 TRAVIS: Hmmm did somebody say menage?

08:45:06 CHAITANYA: So if she were to ask me now, would I say yes or no? I’d have to say no L It would just be way too uncomfortable.

08:47:22 TRAVIS: I don’t think you’d do a menage. I think your too chicken…

08:52:26 CHAITANYA: Are u challenging me?!

08:52:50 TRAVIS: Yes

08:58:53 TRAVIS: Every guy at least dreams about it very few do it and hardly anyone does it with two super hot chicks. I know Jodi would love to get you in the sack.

09:03:55 CHAITANYA: So then why hasn’t she ever tried to make out with me in the halls?

09:04:34 TRAVIS: She told me she thought you were too shy.

09:07:38 CHAITANYA: I’m just curiou as to how any why the conversation came up between u two???

09:08:27 TRAVIS: I lead the conversation that direction to see if she dug you. I thought she would.

As far as we know, this ménage never happened, but the flirting between Travis and Chaitanya continues. Not only does it continue it gets hotter and more suggestive.

March 7, 2008

07:05:10 TRAVIS: Just long as your naked at some point :-)

07:33:38 CHAITANYA: What do u think of massage?

07:34:08 TRAVIS: I think its great

07:36:04 CHAITANYA: Would u let me put my hands all over u? I promise I’ll make u feel good

07:36:39 TRAVIS: Well since you promise :-) Hooray for feeling good

Remember at the beginning of March Travis is knee deep in trying to land Mimi as a wife. He has also just broken up with Lisa, a girl that he loved, and was supposedly heart-broken, and in agony, over the whole situation.

All this seems more than enough drama for one person to handle, but not for Travis. He seemed to be avoiding all of his issues, going from vice to vice, looking for an escape. Having sex with Jodi is also no longer enough to quench his thirst. His new conquest is Chaitanya Lay and he is hell bent on getting her into bed.

Travis always had that weakness of womanising inside of him but in 2008 he seems to be going off the rails. Was it Jodi making him crazy? Or was it something else, and Jodi was simply a temporary fix? This guy seems addicted to sex. He seems to be using it to feel better about himself, but somehow ends up feeling worse: lonely, conflicted and guilty. Around the end of April, Travis seems to be growing impatient. He asks Chaitanya directly if she’s ready to get it on.

April 30 2008

08:57:45 TRAVIS to CHAITANYA: Comfortable is easy. Happy is relative. Are we ever gonna get romantic at all? Just making sure we were on the same page to some extent. I think you look delish. I want to tempt you.

Travis gets his wish just a few weeks later and but snooping Jodi finds out about it too. In 2013, when she wrote a 12 page letter to the court requesting that Kirk Nurmi be removed from her case, she revealed in that letter that Travis had cheated with Chaitanya Lay. Here’s the proof of the pudding:

May 19, 2008

04:25:30 TRAVIS to CHAITANYA: Well I was worn out from sending you to nirvana.

04:29:06 CHAITANYA: :-) you did a good job!

04:31:21 TRAVIS: Haha yeah you seemed to like it. But then you felt guilty… Does guilty mean you wouldn’t let it happen again?

04:32:50 CHAITANYA: under different circumstances I may!

04:33:23 TRAVIS: What different cirumstances?

04:45:00 CHAITANYA: A longer time frame and having the appropriate relationship!

04:47:15 TRAVIS: :-) you’re cute. Such a lady. Were you surprised with how forward I with how forward I was or how uninhibited I was. Or just think I was a slut??? :-)

04:50:58 CHAITANYA: Definitely surprised at how uninhibited you were! Wasn’t thinking you were a slut though

04:53:27 TRAVIS: You must have thought I was all talk before. Until you found my head between your legs :-)

04:54:21 CHAITANYA: Yes, I will admit I did, lol. Sorry!

04:56:54 TRAVIS: I guess I showed you. Its probably best you felt that way. Maybe a more unique experience for you. I had played that out in my mind a number of times however.

05:02:22 CHAITANYA: Had you??? Well…

05:02:52 TRAVIS: Is there something wrong with that?

05:04:14 CHAITANYA: Ummm, no :-)

05:04:50 TRAVIS: Good. I wish you were here. I’m lonely. L

I’ve always had a feeling that Jodi’s plan of revenge was something that bubbled and brewed over a long period of time. Just as Sky had warned, Travis recklessness with Jodi’s heart was about to come to his home to roost. If Travis serial dalliances were one unbearable let down after another for Jodi, the whole month of May was a shitstorm of disappointment bar none for her. There were seething arguments and betrayal galore. Seeing text messages confirming a sexual liaison with one of her friends, must have cut Jodi deep. After being burned again and again, something starts to change in Jodi. Out of the ashes of her lovelorn hopes for Travis, out of the wreckage and ruin of all that broken heartedness, a bitter hatred begs to germinate. It takes root in fertile soils and soon becomes a gigantic twisted tree dripping with poisonous fruit.

Eventually the tree is breaking through the roof of her small little girl’s bedroom in Yreka. Her grandfather’s house can no longer hold her, nothing than hold her. As her darkness consumes her, she begins to have different fantasies about Travis.

Hurt him like he hurt me.

These dark fantasies begin to make her feel better. Soon it’s all she can think about, getting the better of him. And as the clock ticks by in her grandfather’s house she feels an unexpected force compelling her. The dark tree growing inside her blossoms with small pockets, small schemes, and small explosions of dark energy. YES! And so, just as Jodi has lived out Travis’ sexual fantasies again and again and again, now she’s prepared to take on board one of her own. This one’s a doozy; Jodi is going to take Travis’s sadism to a whole new level. And it feels so good!

Travis, in her mind, was a dirty, dirty boy. He was scamming everyone, including Mimi, and he was getting away with it. This above all made Jodi seethe, but then it takes one to know one, right?

By May 2008 Jodi’s Knight in Shining Armour has completely lost his shine. All Travis’ silver surfaces have become blemished and blackened. He’s already dead to her. He’s no longer the man who can give her a future. He’s a monster that’s stolen her life from her, after all she did for him, after giving him his every whim and now it’s time for bloody payback. If it’s going to end it will be on her terms, not his. Travis is a nasty scoundrel who has to be taken off this earth and she’s going to do it! He’s not going to get any more kicks at her expense! Cancun? Mimi? No NO NO!

But if Jodi thought Travis’ serial seductions were about to be over permanently, or that it would end with Chaitanya or Mimi, guess again. Ever heard of Maria Avila?

(VANITY: Jodi Arias by Lisa Wilson & Nick van der Leek)

#jodi arias #true crime #ttc

[night-faye]

Angst for April prompt list

Hey, everybody! I decided to write a prompt list for the 30 days of April! Feel free to send me a number/s + the character/s you want me to write a one shot about! (Also, for my fellow writers, feel free to reblog and use the prompt list, yourself!)

1 – Agony 2 – Apology 3 – “Don’t leave, please” 4 – Poison Apple 5 – Injury 6 – Night Terror 7 – Hunted 8 – First Aid 9 – “I couldn’t save them” 10 – Abandonment 11 – Caged 12 – Abnormal 13 – Kidnapped 14 – Mind Control 15 – Blood 16 – Goodbye 17 – “Don’t Ask” 18 – “I’m Afraid” 19 – Torture 20 – Darkness 21 – “What are you?” 22 – Devastation 23 – Sharpened Blade 24 – Drowning 25 – Immortality 26 – Freezing 27 – Black and Blue 28 – Discovery 29 – Battleground 30 – Death

#Prompt List #Angst for April #writing prompts #prompts