#agnella

[animegirlspongebob]

oc wip…..who knows if i’ll finish it

[kittysuicoffee]

The Rossi cousins agnella is the oldest Rossi Alessandro is the second oldest and Lila is the youngest Rossi. Agnella is a manipulator she would use people emotions against them or others if the person she’s currently manipulating try to expose her she would out right force them to leave school or something more permanent…. She loves both her cousins dearly.

[melis-writes]

Sonny and Gabriella’s only daughter would definitely have a name ending in -ella!

Annabella Estella Fiorella Gisella Graziella Luisella Maiella Mariabella Mariella Marinella Maristella Mirabella Mirella Raffaella Rosabella Rosella

Agatella Agnabella Agnella Airabella Altabella Amabella Annastella Ariabella Auriella Avariella Aviella Biancabella Capella Carabella Castella Cerasella Clarabella Dariella Evabella Evella Fiorebella Gemella Ghisolabella Giabella Gioella Grazziella Isella Isobella Jacobella Jophiella Leonella Liliella Lorella Lovella Lucella Lucibella Luciella Lunabella Maiella Marella Miabella Miriella Ninabella Reginella Romanella Romella Rosanella Rosinella Seraphiella Serenella

Heheheh we'll see!! 🥰🤭 So many options to choose from!

[aggiemelwyn]

Aggie Melwyn of Esselsea, by way of Bridgeford

full name: Aggie Melwyn age: 24 gender: cis female pronouns: She/her occupation or position: gardener (with wisewoman/witch background) birthplace: Esselsea by way of a Bridgeford family

Her mother was one of three sisters born in Bridgeford, children of a woodworker and wisewoman. Her father was born of no consequence, but learned his trade as an apprentice and eventually married one of the three daughters, Maren, in the woodworkers family.

Quick to be married and quick to be pregnant, quick to leave their rainy homeland for somewhere quiet by the sea, that was the story Aggie was brought up believing when she still had her parents.

She was Aggie, just Aggie. Not Agatha, Agnes, or Agnella. It was noted on the sea-salt stained record of her birth, the first Melwyn born in Esselsea. Water called to her more than anything. Maybe it was the ebb and flow between peace and violence as water hit the banks, and she liked the way the drops would blend in her hand or follow the command of her steps in damp earth.

Maren Melwyn watched. She saw there was something natural in her child's workings. There were even a few times where she saw a branch or two from the brush reach out and snag gently at the tips of Aggie's skirts.

So her mother did give her the family book with tips, tricks, tonics, and more to see where her child best excelled. It was rather a shock to see that their traditions and rules seemed to invoke something...less controlled under Aggie's whispered words.

"Practice" Maren said softly to her daughter.

This wasn't as intuitive as bending branches or commanding a few drops of water, Aggie felt her energy deplete pretty quickly and gave up on her family's tradition as her mother had taught.

There was no disappointment, maybe some relief instead to think her daughter would do better than selling cure-alls and wish-sticks. It was true, there was something stately in Aggie who wore her hair pulled back tight and interacted well with the few nobility that passed through their town every so often. Maybe she'd be a governess, live in a city.

It was a pleasant thought that Maren kept with her even as illness took over. She'd stayed too long in wet clothes and withered wistfully with her husband and child near her bedside.

Aggie tried the family book often during that time, looking for something that would pull the cold from her mother, fill her with warmth. But things sizzled, burned the edges of her robe, turned off shades until there wasn't any time left.

On their last day in Esselsea, Aggie held her family book over the flame swearing off the attempts for now. Her father felt it best too, there was no need to share Aggie's knowledge of the practice as they headed back to Bridgeford when she was sixteen to be with whatever family still remained.

It was there that Aggie learned just a little more about Maren's life before leaving. Of the sisters, only one remained, Mavis, the oldest of all. Aggie stayed in Mavis' home while her father returned to the woodworking trade and watched silently as Mavis had apparently continued on with her own version of the family book.

This book was different, less instruction and steps scribbled into tight lines on parchment. This was ideas and feelings, greenery and gold seemed to sprout from its edges if you looked at it too long.

Mavis caught on. "Your mother," she said "was a more by the book woman than myself or our sister." And that is when Mavis gave the story of the sister who entered the witchwood to Aggie.

She never spoke her name, as if its weight was to heavy to say. It was when her mother was newly pregnant with Aggie, that the third sister's impulsiveness drew her out. The loss was too much for Maren who took her husband and child away.

That's where Mavis left the story , perhaps fearing she'd told too much to someone too young. For the next few years of Aggie's life, she did no more than teach the girl her own brand of wise-workings. It seemed Aggie did excel in the very least, where plants were involved.

Tightly bound hair loosened, feeling most herself at dusk or dawn with dew drops touching her fingertips in the garden. It drew her when everything else said be confined. It drew her out so much that she often found herself walking east, far off her family's land where suddenly her breath would catch and she'd realize where she was going. Maybe it was fascination, or something else but Aggie couldn't cause more pain because she lacked control.

When she told her father and Mavis, it was decided they'd need to leave Bridgeford again. Her father would return to the property in Esselsea while arrangements were made for Aggie to take a job as a gardener in Fiellew.

She arrived, hair again bound tight. It was close enough to her mother's wishes for her. But Mavis had left something in the bottom of Aggie's satchel. Her own book, with the workings she's established best. Far away from Bridgeford, some magic here or there to help with her gardening work would really cause no harm.

Aggie used it sparingly, a little worried that something wild still might call her as things in the kingdom turned dark with the dissapearance of the King.

She kept her head down and the book tucked beneath her pillow. Only to find, what was intuitive to her now was not something she could place in ink to a page.

[aldameriniofficial]

Io desidero te che mi rapisca

siccome il tempo porta la fontana,

dove l’amore con amor ferisca,

divento cosí agnella e cosí strana

che potresti ben mettermi nel fuoco

anche per un scherzevole tuo gioco

e immolarmi a quel Dio che fece male,

al Dio d’amore bello e universale.

[evolia7]

🇮🇹 Santo del giorno: Santa Caterina da Siena, vergine e Dottore della Chiesa

Caterina di Jacopo di Benincasa, conosciuta come Caterina da Siena (1347 - 1380), fu una terziaria domenicana e mistica, venerata come santa nella Chiesa cattolica. In una visione la Madonna la presentò a Gesù che le donò uno splendido anello, dicendole: “Io, tuo Creatore e Salvatore, ti sposo nella fede, che conserverai sempre pura fino a quando celebrerai con me in Cielo le tue nozze eterne”. La Santa Sede la riconosce come patrona di Roma e d'Italia, compatrona d'Europa nonché dottoressa della Chiesa per la sua estesa opera teologica.

Scrive Maria Valtorta:

Una figura alta, bella, imponente, luminosa, ilare di paradisiaca letizia, e una voce piena, dalla parlata dolce. Nel tono mi ricorda il velluto d’amore della Maddalena, nell’accento la più schietta loquela toscana.

Mi dice: «Sorella, io pur son venuta. Scrivi le mie parole, ti daranno gioia e pace grande».

E attende mentre prendo il quaderno e scrivo questo. Adesso torna a parlare:

«Son Caterina. Tu mi ami e non m’ami, perché mi sei simile, e pur ti sgomenti per la mia forza. Sorella dolce, a che ti sgomenti? Non sai che la mia forza è la stessa che è in te: quella del dolce, svenato Agnello? Oh! che tutto il suo Sangue è nei suoi amatori! E per questo Sangue che è fuoco, noi nel mondo possiamo, e in Cielo giubiliamo. Può, chi seco ha quel Sangue, non esser forza e fuoco? E non sai tu che quel Sangue è succo di Dio e seco ha ciò che è essenza di Dio: Carità perfetta? Giubila, sorella.

Bene sta che tu pure, agnella e falcone, avessi il tuo Tuldo¹. Bene sta. Più grande preda hai rapito col tuo rostro d’amore tu che non io sul palco. Quello: delinquente di sangue. Il tuo: delinquente per Satana e di spirito. Ad uno stesso pascolo tu l’hai condotto, dolce agnella del mio Pastore, al pascolo delle tre divine virtù e delle infinite verità. Sangue e fuoco hai dato. Sangue e fuoco qui avrai per veste e diadema.

Sorella, addio. La Pace, ossia il dolce svenato Agnello, sia sempre teco».

¹ è il nome di un giovane condannato a morte che fu assistito da Caterina e morì santamente. Il “Tuldo” della scrittrice è il cugino Giuseppe Belfanti, spiritista, per la cui conversione Maria Valtorta aveva “ingaggiato la più grande battaglia”.

(Maria Valtorta, “I Quaderni del 1944”, 9 novembre)

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

[ “Santa Caterina da Siena” di Alessandro Franchi da Google Arts & Culture ]

[angelandgypsy]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NEW Mara Hoffman Agnella Black/Brown Wrap Midi-Maxi Calaia Print Dress.

[poleznotut]

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[internetsites]

Интернет-магазин "Эко-ковры". Купить ковер на пол с доставкой в Москве и области

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[almanach2023]

Aujourd'hui, lundi 13 mars, nous fêtons Saint Rodrigue.

SAINT DU JOUR

. Rodrigue . Du germanique hrod, "gloire", -rick, "roi", "puissant" . Saint-Rodrigue (+857) Prêtre espagnol à Cabra près de Cordoue, il est trahi par son frère musulman. En prison, il rencontre Salomon avec qui il est livré au martyre à Cordoue. . La fierté est naturelle aux Rodrigue, qui développent par ailleurs une grande vivacité physique et intellectuelle. Ils se montrent généralement très doués dans les domaines de la communication et aiment à voyager. En amour, ce sont de tendres infidèles. Nous fêtons également les : Agnel - Agnella - Agnelle - Agnello - Aniel - Eldrad - Helder - Heldrad - Helrad - Kania - Kennoc'ha - Pient - Rod - Rodrigo - Rodrigue Toutes les infos sur les Saints du jour https://tinyurl.com/wkzm328

FETE DU JOUR

Quels sont les fêtes à souhaiter aujourd'hui ? [ Bonne fête ] . Rodrigue Beaubois, joueur de basket-ball professionnel français évoluant aux postes de meneur et arrière. . Rodrigue Jean est un réalisateur canadien.

Ils nous ont quittés un 13 mars :

13 mars 2022 : William Hurt, acteur américain (20 mars 1950) 13 mars 2012 : Michel Duchaussoy, acteur français (29 novembre 1938) 13 mars 2010 : Jean Ferrat, né Jean Tenenbaum, parolier, musicien, compositeur et chanteur français(26 décembre 1930) 13 mars 1711 : Nicolas Boileau, poète et critique français (1er novembre 1636) 13 mars 1901 : Benjamin Harrison, 23e président des États-Unis (20 août 1833) 13 mars 2002 : Yvonne Dumont, femme politique française (3 septembre 1911)

Ils sont nés le 13 mars :

13 mars 1985 : Emile Hirsch, acteur américain 13 mars 1976 : Danny Masterson, acteur américain 13 mars 1967 : Pascal Elbé, acteur français 13 mars 1950 : William H. Macy, acteur, scénariste, producteur et réalisateur américain 13 mars 1946 : Yann Arthus-Bertrand, photographe, journaliste, reporter, homme d'affaires et militant écologiste français. 13 mars 1945 : Didier Decoin, écrivain 13 mars 1943 : André Téchniné, réalisateur

Toutes les naissances du jour https://tinyurl.com/msmk5e22

Fêtes, Célébrations, événements du jour Du 13 au 19 mars 2023 semaine nationale de la lutte contre le cancer

CITATION DU JOUR

Citation du jour : Les cadeaux sont des hameçons. Martial.

Citation du jour : La sagesse est l’arbre du bonheur dont les racines sont synonymes de contentement, le tronc de discernement, le feuillage de considération et le fruit de serviabilité. LAZREK Mohamed

Toutes les citations du jour https://tinyurl.com/payaj4pz

Petite histoire... digne d'un caramel...

P'tite #blague du #lundi Brèves de comptoir : Le sucre, c'est ce qui donne mauvais goût au café quand on en met pas dedans.

P'tite #blague du #lundi Un radin est en train de décoller le papier peint de son salon. Le voisin de palier s'étonne : Vous allez poser un nouveau papier ? Non ! On déménage !

Petit clin d'oeil sur le jardin : C'est peut-être le moment...

De bouturer les plantes vertes. De tailler les fuschias.

Nous sommes le 72ème jour de l'année il reste 293 jours avant le 31 décembre. Semaine 11.

Beau lundi à tous.

Source : https://www.almanach-jour.com/almanach/index.php

[confessionsofstorydom]

@qingboo @bibiddipoppyboo @fcdinha @blizzboo​

[insert-coin-to-continue-fool]

FORESTA PER GLI ALBERI

Lo scontro si rivelò come un banchetto. Com'è dolce la vita, ti offre così tante vittime, così tante prede. Il Lupo avanzava nelle vie innevate mentre l'Agnella si muoveva dolcemente nella sua danza tra lame di spade e punte di lance. Il sangue dei carnefici non macchiava il suo candido manto.

"Qui si sente odore di coraggio e sofferenza, Lupo. Molti incontreranno piacevolmente la loro fine." Tese l'arco e scoccò repentinamente una freccia.

Fu così che, non appena il suo scudo cedette a una pesante ascia, un soldato si lasciò andare e, sfinito, esalò l'ultimo respiro. Il suo cuore era trafitto da una sola freccia bianca, che brillava di una luce eterea.

"Il coraggio mi dà noia", borbottò l'enorme lupo nero mentre, spostandosi, lasciava le sue impronte sul terreno innevato. "Sono affamato e desideroso di cacciare."

"Sii paziente", gli sussurrò l'Agnella. A queste parole, il Lupo tese le spalle e si appiattì a terra.

"Sento l'odore del terrore" disse, fremendo dall'eccitazione.

Lungo il campo ricoperto di neve, un uomo, evidentemente troppo giovane per le armi nonostante impugnasse una spada, aveva notato il marchio del Kindred su tutta la vallata.

"Voglio quel cucciolo. Ci può vedere, Agnella?"

"Sì, ma deve scegliere se sfamare il Lupo o abbandonarsi alle mie braccia.

Il momento dello scontro si faceva sempre più vicino. Il suo sguardo era fisso, travolto da una gigantesca onda oscura fatta di coraggio e disperazione. Questo sarebbe stato il suo ultimo giorno terreno. Fu così che il giovane fece la sua scelta, e di certo non lo fece di buon grado. Avrebbe continuato a correre, fino alla fine.

Il Lupo scattò strisciando il suo muso sulla neve come un cucciolo appena nato.

"Sì, caro Lupo." La voce dell'Agnella risuonò come una fila di perle in sequenza. "Inizia la tua caccia."

Così, il Lupo balzò dietro il giovane, emettendo ululati talmente forti da riecheggiare per tutta la vallata. Si vide la sua ombra avventarsi sui resti dei corpi esanimi e sulle inutili armi distrutte.

L'uomo si voltò e si mise a correre tra i boschi, velocemente attraverso i robusti tronchi. Continuò, senza fermarsi, con l'aria gelida che premeva nei polmoni. Si voltò ancora una volta verso colui che gli stava dando la caccia, ma non riusciva a vedere niente, solo buio e alberi. Si sentì circondato da ombre e, improvvisamente, capì che non c'era via di scampo. Ormai quella massa oscura era dappertutto. La caccia sarebbe giunta a termine presto. Il Lupo conficcò i suoi denti affilati nel collo dell'uomo, fino a lacerargli la vita.

Al rumore della cartilagine tra i suoi denti e alle grida del giovane, esultò. L'Agnella, alle sue spalle, ridacchiò alla vista di un simile spettacolo. Il Lupo si voltò e, digrignando i denti, chiese: "Questa è musica, vero Agnella?"

"Lo è per te", rispose.

"Ancora", disse il lupo leccando gli ultimi resti del giovane. "Voglio cacciare ancora, Agnellina."

"Ce ne sono altri", sussurrò. Fino al giorno in cui non rimarrà solo il Kindred."

"E tu, fuggirai da me?"

L'Agnella si voltò, sussurrando: "Non fuggirei mai da te, caro Lupo."

[belitakozmetik]

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[pizzapantheas]

Don’t worry about that witch, you sad little agnella. Neo Dorothy made her into art! Though she won’t shut the fuck up.

Don’t you want to save all Puella Magi? I was one of the original Wings of Magius, after all!

SCARY SCARY SCARY SCARY

She consumed me and I’m gonna make that her problem.

GONNA TURN ME INTO CHEESE GONNA TURN ME INTO CHEESE!!! HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP

You sad little bambina, don’t you want to save all Puella Magi? Don’t you want to do something good with your life and be part of Neo Dorothy’s masterpiece? You should be grateful, hideous little strega!

[aldameriniofficial]

Io desidero te che mi rapisca

siccome il tempo porta la fontana,

dove l'amore con amor ferisca,

divento cosí agnella e cosí strana

che potresti ben mettermi nel fuoco

anche per un scherzevole tuo gioco

e immolarmi a quel Dio che fece male,

al Dio d'amore bello e universale.

[the-evil-clergyman]

Agnella and Passerose were dashed from cloud to cloud, from Comtesse de Ségur's Old French Fairy Tales by Virginia Frances Sterrett (1920)