#and the anxieties of recompense

[l0vefreak]

In all seriousness nosferatu shouldn’t get any flowers for its depiction of the roma. The vampire as a literary genre is heavily influenced by British xenophobia and the small and stereotyped role of Roma in that literature is perhaps one of the most period consistent aesthetics of the 2024 movie. It is also something that is intrinsic to the fearmongering of the other that popularized and relied on depictions of the type in this film to instill horror in its repressed English audience. That mode sees continued use in this movie.

[sandy-writing]

"capitalism breeds innovation"

actually capitalism breeds a dystopian nightmare you all pretend is normal

[bamsywrites]

Recompense: Prologue

Pairing: Adar x Reader

Words: 1.4k

Summary: There's a fire in your that Adar is not willing to extinguish

Tags: blood, wounds, being dragged by hair, mentions of death, mentions of slavery, orcs doing orc things.

Notes: this is more like a teaser, I guess, than a prologue, I just wanna gauge interest. Another part of And Comes Dawn will be up soon. Let me know what you think.

“Go! Go now with haste,” you hoisted the last of the small ones onto a horse. You tightened the satchel around the horse and made sure it was in place. In it was water and bread and dried food, just enough for a day's ride.

The fire from your village burning and the stars above were all the light that you had. Every horse from the stables had a rider. Most had two. It was the only hope the children had for survival. Child slaves would be no use for the labor the Orcs had planned once the people were marched to Mordor. Already, the ones who resisted were killed.

“Where should we go,” one of the older boys asked you. “What if they…”

“They will not. Dawn comes soon, and they can not travel in sunlight. Chase the sun. As fast as you can. Do not stray from that path. You will come to an elven city in a day's time. Now go!” You insisted, giving him a look that signaled he best not argue. You watched for a moment as they rode away, turning back to your village. You saw your home burning, the cruel laughs of the orcs as they rounded your people up. You had half a mind to run away, but your feet would only take you so far.

As if reading your mind, an enemy arrow sored through the sky and pierced your thigh, causing you to cry out in pain. The searing pain spread through your body like fire, and you could see spots in your vision. In moments, you were being dragged to the others by your arm, the orc grunting something to his companions in a language you didn't understand. Your teeth dug into your lips so hard that blood ran down your chin. The pain was unbearable, but you didn't need them to have the satisfaction of knowing the pain you were in.

You were shackled and chained to the others from your village, your eyes looking around for the familiar faces of your family and friends, feeling relieved that you could account for them all but anxiety gripped your chest as you realized where you would be going and what that meant for your people.

A lifetime of slavery.

For you, it was a death sentence unless you could get care for this wound.

The trek was grueling. Your leg getting weaker and weaker as you walked, you had broken off the long stem of the arrow as it was incredibly painful anytime it brushed against something, the dried blood from the wound caked and cracked on your skin. It would soon be infected if not treated quickly, which was an unlikely scenario.

You were starting to accept your fate. Maybe you'd be able to talk with the people you cared for one more time before dying. Perhaps death was better than slavery.

As you entered Mordor, the smoke filled your nose and choked your lungs. It took your eyes a while to adjust, the ash making them itch. There were pockets of men and women working, but you knew there were many more scattered amongst the southlands. They were just beginning. Soon, you were positive all of the Southlands would be here, toiling away until they were of no use to the orcs.

“Where are the children?” A rough voice bellowed from somewhere in the swarm of orcs. “Where are the fucking children?!”

Some of those around you flinched, and others eyed you, but your eyes stayed focused on the ground. The pain consuming your thoughts only lessened by the knowledge the little ones had got away. If they had not been found by now, they would have made it to safety. You could only hope.

“There were none,” answered one of the orcs.

“No children? I see men, I see women. Are you telling me not a single one of them fucked?”

Before there was an answer, the orc grabbed his brother by the throat and pushed him to the side. “You are useless.”

Red eyes scanned the crowd, a tense silence falling over it. Red eyes landed on the blacksmiths son. He was lanky and notoriously cowardly, altogether unpleasant. “You, where are they?”

Instantly, his eyes darted to you, and there were rough fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “Tell me and tell me now.”

You looked the orc in his eyes, surely if you were going to die, why not make it fun? Besides, these creatures had stolen your home, your people, your freedom. You were tired of living under boots, tired of having no say, tired of being treated as lesser.

When you didn't speak quickly enough, the orc's fingers dug harder into your cheeks, “Speak, girl.”

“It is quite hard to gather one's thoughts when orcs smell so atrocious.”

In a flurry of movement, the orc had a knife blade pressed into your cheek and twisted it until blood poured down past your lips and onto your chin. “I would watch your words and tell me what I want if you wish to keep your tongue.”

“We take celibacy very seriously,” your voice was hoarse as you spoke. “Ever since the blacksmith had a son that was such an affront to basic decency, we have all sworn off intimacy as to not risk making more like him.”

The orc pressed his blade harder into your cheek until more blood poured, “You think you're so funny now, let us see what Adar has to say.”

He released your face, throwing you to the ground and grabbing your hair as he dragged you away. Your feet desperately tried to find footing underneath your body, but the pain from the arrow made it impossible, along with the muddy ground, causing your feet to slip. Rocks and branches nicked your skin as you were dragged along until your body was covered in bruises and scratches and blood mixed with mud on your skin. The time was achingly slow, filled with agony, but it only fueled the anger in your belly more.

Soon, you were taken into a tent and thrown across the floor. You tried to stand, but your leg gave out, your eyes darting around the tent. Many more orcs stood there and at the center was what looked like an elf but burns and scarring and the tone of his skin made your suspect he was something darker than an elf.

“What is this pathetic little thing?” The not elfs voice was low and deep as he eyed your form.

“A villager, Lord Father, there were no children with them, and she knows where they are. I feel she needs to be taught respect”

You looked up at the orc, “You brought me to your father for him to reprimand me for being unkind to you?”

The orcs darted from you, and then to Adar, you were intrigued by this display of restraint.

“She's got quite a tongue on her,” Adar spoke, his armor clacking as he made his way to you, “Perhaps we should remove it.”

He kneeled down before you, his fingers dancing over what was left off the arrow. Even the small movement caused immense pain to shoot through your body.

“Where are they?” He asked as he twisted the wood, causing you to cry out in pain.

“I will not tell you.”

Twist.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Twist.

You spit at his feet. “I will not allow the children of my village to butchered.”

Adar stopped, “You think us too cruel. Our interest is not for bloodshed. Small fingers make easy work for finding small ores for our armor.”

You stared at him with narrowed eyes, “Slavery is little better than death.”

“Is that why you taunt my children? You fear slavery more than death.”

You didn't speak, simply looking into his eyes with contempt. He looked back, contemplating you. It was as if he was looking into the eyes of someone he knew but had long forgotten, something he knew everything about yet nothing all at once.

“Leave us.” He stood, his attention turning towards his ‘children���, all of whom followed his command.

The room was quiet for a few moments before you broke the silence.”I suppose you are going to kill me now.”

“No, I'm going to heal you now.”

[bokettochild]

Bit of a weird question, but how do you think Legend (or any of the Links, really) would handle getting separated once the quest is over?

I'm personally of the opinion that he and Warriors would be the ones to figure out a way to visit afterwards, but that's mostly because I hate found families breaking apart to go home after the plot ends. I also like seeing takes where one of them doesn't return to their original time for one reason or another.

Time is used to this sort of thing; losing everyone after it's all over and not able to go back. If anything, I think he drifts into a short depression but eventually moves on. He doesn't try to get back to them because none of his efforts with similar incidents ever did any good, so he really doesn't see the point in trying this time. Instead, he tries to make sure to take care of the world he has to pass to them.

I think Four would be a bit broken up about it, but he's also used to saying goodbye to brothers once the adventure ends. He might dabble a bit with trying to find a way back to them, but he;s very cautious for fear of bringing back anything else, so eventually gives up and/or get's distracted with a way to bring back Shadow instead.

I think Sky would probably consider trying to use the time gates to visit the others, maybe he succeeds, maybe he get's lost for a bit and Zelda has to pull him back to their time so they can fix the gates to do what they want, maybe it works. I think he'd try though.

I think Wind and Hyrule would be broken up about losing their brothers, but they have too many responsibilities in their worlds (rebuilding their Hyrules) to really get to dabble with ways to meet the others again. I think they'd handle the loss well though, as they're bright souls and still young enough that change isn't as shattering for them. Not knowing any horrible future fates also makes letting go of the others easier, and they help themselves process it by trying to remind themselves that the others can now be at rest and at home.

Twilight and Legend would take the loss terribly. The vet keeps losing people so I think it'll really break him, and Twilight's fear for Time, for Wild, for all his brothers who he can no longer protect 100% gives him constant anxiety. Depression and a need to find a way back to the others probably take them over until either they do make it back to see the others again or they give up in despair (hence why Twilight's spirit lingers beside Wild as the Old Wolf)

Wild, obviously, is so busy rebuilding Hyrule and going through TotK that he doesn't really have much chance to do much more than miss his brothers. Post TotK though, he and Zelda probably do look into time traveling around if/when they find out Zelda's time powers.

Warriors though, Warriors probably confronts Cia and demands visitation rights as recompense for the war, Zelda backs him up. Cia is willing and the heroes get established visiting times so they ca keep up with each other. I will take no discussion on this, Warriors refuses to leave his brothers alone and sad, he will visit them even if he has to beg Cia for it.

(And if Cia doesn't agree, Nayru sort of owes Legend her life, and she's definitely got a soft spot for him, so I can see her allowing him to visit his brothers as long as he promises to not screw up the timeline.)

[incomingalbatross]

Castaway

Well. Here is SOMETHING for the @inklings-challenge. Thank you as always for the challenge! I had some trouble with this one, and am not sure how it ultimately came out in terms of completeness, but I am attached to it and glad that it's written.

Team: Tolkien (time travel)

Theme: Instruct the ignorant

---

The thing of it was, when a person washes up on your beach, it’s presumably your responsibility to take some kind of care of him. This goes double for unfortunate teenagers who have already taken on other extraordinary responsibilities, like “battling the forces of chaos and darkness;” as has been said more eloquently elsewhere, somehow the consequence of stepping up for hard jobs is that you turn more and more into The Person Who Does The Hard Jobs.

Which meant that, in between maintaining their equipment for sealing up cracks in reality, trying to figure out where the cause of said cracks would strike next, and looking over potential colleges for next year, Kathleen was sitting by a Mysterious Stranger’s bedside and wondering what they’d do with him when he woke up.

“What if he’s dangerous?” she observed — half to be contrary, but not without genuine anxiety — to her brother.

Brian shrugged. “He didn’t seem like it when I found him.” Maybe because he’d been the one to find the young man lying in the surf, or because he was the only one so far who’d seen him with his eyes open, Brian’s eyes held much more concern than wariness. “Seemed scared.”

“Which doesn’t contradict ‘dangerous.’”

“No, but we definitely shouldn’t start by giving him more reasons to be scared.”

Kathleen was about to answer, when something caught her eye. She could swear the man’s eyebrow had twitched, which was an odd movement for an unconscious person…

She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing his face and breathing.

“He’s faking,” she said accusatorily.

Brian followed her gaze. “He is?”

For a second, they both just watched the man. He remained very still.

Then he groaned and opened his eyes.

“Oh no,” he said in a monotone, looking from one ot the other of them. “Two teenagers are holding me captive. I’m so scared.”

And that was the first thing Kathleen learned about Brian’s mystery beach rescue; he was sarcastic, proud, and, if he didn’t get over those traits, likely to be killed by his own ego.

The second thing she and Brian learned was that (in keeping with her first impression) he was astoundingly uncooperative.

"Where am I?" he demanded, and then blinked at their answer (Nantucket) as if he wasn't sure it actually meant anything. "What day is it?" and "How did I get here?" also got polite responses, and no clear reactions from him. When they started asking questions, though, he apparently had never heard of fair recompense -- he clammed right up.

“What’s your name?” Hostile glare.

“Where are you from?” Silence.

“Do your remember how you ended up on the beach?” Defensively hunched shoulders, and an even more hostile glare.

Brian stood up and stretched. “Are you hungry?”

“…I suppose.”

Finally. Things their mystery guest would respond to, apparently: 1) a chance for him to make a snarky response and 2) offers of food.

Unfortunately, this was not a breakthrough. The evening continued in a frustrating vein, as their guest unbent enough for sarcasm but not for information. He seemed to be judging them on one level or another at every moment -- he was baffled by their food choices, observed dinner prep with silent scrutiny, and glared fiercely at Kathleen's phone. After dinner, he requested paper and a pen, and then huddled in a corner with the notebook Brian found for him and began scribbling away at it.

“Shouldn’t we decide what to do with him, now that he’s awake?” Kathleen urged Brian. “We should at least make him explain something.”

Brian, stubborn as always, shook his head. “There’s a ot we haven’t explained to him yet,” he answered, “and he’s a lot more disoriented than we are. I say let him think some stuff through, and then wait for a good chance to break the ice again.”

“A chance?” she repeated. “And what kind of chance is that going to be--”

The household siren went off.

“This might be it!” Brian leapt up. Kathleen hurried after him, stopping in the entryway to grab their equipment before running outside.

Evil never rests, and neither did the aforementioned forces of darkness and chaos. It had been a while since one showed up directly in front of the house, though.

Behind them, their guest -- apparently also capable of being moved by curiosity, or at leas sirens -- stumbled to a halt at the sight of the rip in the evening air. Strange lights twisted through it, like sun glittering off of waves, or snowflakes spinning in the wind, and discordant sounds came through.

Kathleen pulled a sheaf of papers out of her pack, handed one copy to Brian, and unfolded her own. “If you want to help, read over our shoulders,” she said to the guest. Then she took a deep breath…

And began, as usual in these situations, to sing the Psalms with Brian.

It didn’t have to be psalms; they’d gotten good results with anything they really knew well, sacred or secular, and sometimes you needed something you knew all the words to. But chanting the Office wasn’t hard, as long as you paid attention, and you never really ran out of material. The even, measured progression of verses worked just as well as modern music’s strict meter, if not a little better.

By the time they wrapped up the final Gloria Patri, the rip had closed itself, knitting back together into plain air without anything coming through.

Kathleen sighed in relief.

“Did you just sing that shut?” their guest demanded.

All right, so maybe it was an ice-breaker. Kathleen looked at his wild eyes, and decided to take pity on him.

“Sort of,” she explained. “We don’t know exactly what these are, but they… they destabilize things, left untreated. They mess with… order. Reality. It’s messy.”

“So we treat them with order,” Brian added. “Order and harmony and stability. Reciting poetry can work too, if you really concentrate, but singing is the best defense. It usually works as long as we catch them soon enough!”

“I know it’s freaky --“ Kathleen began.

But the man cut her off. “Singing,” he repeated incredulously. “That’s -- it’s so primitive --”

Kathleen’s eyebrows climbed toward her scalp. “Do you have a better suggestion?” she asked. “Any input on our local threat to reality that we’ve been trying to figure out for five months?”

If anything, this made him look more furiously stunned. “I -- that --”

He looked between them, as if searching for a sign. Then, abruptly, he thrust forward the notebook Brian had given him.

Kathleen took it, Brian crowding next to her, and looked down at the page.

October 25th, 2022?

Once upon a time, there was a man who had grown up in a place of darkness and dangers.

"The world is splintering," someone (who?) told him, when he was small. "All we can do is try to stop the cracks."

He believed this, solemnly, and he grew up training himself to fight. The darkness and the dangers were not natural things -- or not wholly, anyway -- there were people who encouraged them, made them worse (why? why would anyone?). Seeing the results, the instabilities of the world in their wake, filled him with horror from his youth. There were other people, of course, who thought and planned and built to repair those instabilities -- but he was a fighter to his core.

(Who did he fight?)

One day, there came a day when he was on an expedition with other fighters, and those they protected, striking out from their stronghold to stop another danger to the world. When they found the wicked people, the man took the lead in the fight. Alone at the front, the enemy surrounded him. There was a moment when he understood, fully and darkly, that he had fallen into their power.

Then all was dark.

(Who was he? What was the enemy? Who were his comrades? Where did he live? What were the dangers? What was his name?

What is my name?)

“...Oh,” Kathleen said, looking back at their mystery guest. A mystery, apparently, to himself as well.

“I recognize the disturbances,” he said, looking not at them but at where the rip had been. His fists were clenched. “Nothing else. This -- what I wrote is all I have. Just an outline, like a story in my head. Everything since waking up here has been strange to me, and what I can remember is blurred.”

Kathleen looked at Brian in silent consultation. They’d been dealing with these disturbances for months, but he’d been fighting them all his life. What he’d written sounded remote, not just in form but in content, and if his memories were true…

“There’s something else that might help,” Brian said quietly. “We think… we think the rips might be openings between worlds. Or between times.”

Their guest closed his eyes, but then nodded. Somehow, he looked steadier than he had all day. "Well," he said, straightening, "I suppose even knowing that is something."

And Kathleen realized, with a sudden twinge of empathy, that sometimes the Hard Job they had to do was, in fact, just giving the news of a new job description to someone else. Like every other Hard Job, this one promised to be more work down the road... but at least neither they nor the castaway was figuring it out alone, she supposed.

"You tell us about the rips," she said, handing back his journal, "and we'll explain frozen pizza."

[acevid]

DRDT TALENTSWAP INCORRECT QUOTES

AREI: Person E, I want a bedtime story! 

WHIT: I’m busy, Arei. I’ll tell you one tomorrow. 

AREI: If you don’t tell me a story, I won’t go to bed! 

WHIT: Once upon a time, there was a person named Arei, who always wanted things their way. One day, their friends got sick of it and locked them in the basement for the rest of their life. Everyone else lived happily ever after. The end. 

AREI: I don’t like these stories with morals.

DAVID: What do you do for a living? 

TERUKO: I exist against my will.

XANDER: Oh, hey, I didn’t see you come in! You should have come by and said hello! 

CHARLES: Oh! Yeah, I uh... 

CHARLES: Didn’t want to bother you. 

CHARLES: Or talk to or listen to or be around you.

VERONIKA: What are you eating? 

J: You wouldn't like it, it's really salty. 

VERONIKA: I like you, don't I?

ACE: I am strong! I beat David at arm wrestling! 

TERUKO: Anyone can beat David at arm wrestling.

DAVID: Hey-

XANDER: COMPANY IS COMING! I WANT THIS PLACE LOOKING LIKE DISNEY ON ICE IN ONE MINUTE! 

XANDER: DAVID IF YOU HAVEN'T MADE YOUR BED THROW IT AWAY IT'S TOO LATE TO MAKE IT NOW! 

XANDER: GET RID OF THE COUCHES, WE CAN'T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE S I T !

*Everyone is giving advice to David* 

ROSE: It's okay to ask for help. 

HU: You're not a burden. 

NICO: Murder is okay. 

XANDER: Your feelings matter.

EDEN: Can you PLEASE peer pressure me into doing my project? 

CHARLES: Do it or you're straight. 

EDEN: I said peer pressure, NOT THREATEN!

CHARLES: Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me the truth, Whit.

WHIT: You can’t expect me to look into your eyes and be straight.

XANDER: Levi is off at an appointment, so while they’re gone, I’m going to cut the sleeves off all of my shirts. 

HU: Why? 

XANDER: They’re like 90% of my impulse control.

CHARLES: Do you take constructive criticism? 

EDEN: Not without crying

NICO: Why do you think I don’t like you? I do. I would kill for you. 

NICO: Ask me to kill for you. 

ACE: ...First of all, calm down the fuck down—

MONOTV: I give you a cursed amulet! 

VERONIKA: Cool! It’ll make me look cute, and the shadow that follows me will make me more active, I’ll get out more!

ACE: David, I rebuke thee! I rebuke thee! 

DAVID: Rebuke? Is that a word? 

ACE: You have all invoked my fury! You will all pay recompense for your transgressions! 

LEVI: Do you have a word-a-day calendar too?

DAVID: What do you mean too??

ROSE: So, Person E, do you have a crush on anyone? 

NICO: The only crush I have is this crushing anxiety.

DAVID: We’re having a moment, aren’t we? 

TERUKO: If by 'a moment' you mean me not wanting to strangle you for the first time since we met, then I guess we are.

[astroyongie]

Why Do I Behave This Way ? - Psychology Answers

Note: we are finally to start another topic, this time with why do I behave this way. for this section we will go through the following questions: “Why Can't I Focus?”, “I Am Getting Old, Why Do I Keep Wanting Things?” “Usually I Am Well Behaved.. So Why Did I Lost My Temper?” “Why Do I Lie To People When They Ask Me Something?” “I Have Phobias: wWhat Can I Do?” “Last Week I Did Something Dangerous.. Why?” “Why Do I Keep Watching The Same Shows’” “Why Do I Embarrass Myself In Front Of Important People?"

“Why Can't I Focus?”

What happens in the unconscious brain: 

Everyone knows what attention is but few really knows how it works

In psychology, attention refers to the cognitive process of selectively concentrating on a discrete aspect of information, whether considered subjective or objective, while ignoring other perceivable information.

There’s several types of attention such as: sustained, selective, divided and alternating. 

The information received from our senses passes through the brain's processing system, but is weakened so that it can pass through the system at an unconscious level

Which is the reason we are able to do things without fully paying attention to it or through mechanical actions. Yet our subconscious is still able to visualize the entire information, it just processes it to keep the most important information. 

For example in some cases of Autism Spectrum Disorder, their brain/subconscious is unable to filter the information which makes them sensitive to stimulus and more aware of their environment. 

To resume it all, our attention is a dynamic and competitive system. During the processing of information, our attention amplifies some information while inhibiting others. 

To the question, why can't I focus, can have several answers. Anxiety and other psychological disorders or symptoms can have an impact on the brain processing system,  but the most common known impact is screen time 

The problem with screen time, such as phones or laptops or tv, it's the fact that they put all the things that attract attention together in a practical package, and add some addictive brain chemicals for fun.

One can be more sensitive when looking through a phone. you are receiving a text and your brain’s attention focuses on that.  After the text, you will see other notifications and this process is proven to have the same effect than opiates drugs have. 

Of course the process of focusing can also have other origins and will depend on your health and your environmental factors around you. 

If you are interested in more of these topics you can check the works of Broadbent, Cherry, Skinner, Treisman and Helmholtz as they have the best insight on attention and perception theories in psychology and neurology.

So what can we do?

The first thing we can do is try to understand why it is causing us to lose focus. Is it the screen time? Is it an underlying medical condition? Is it your emotions? are there any other bio-environmental factors? by pointing out what is causing the trouble, we can start working on it

We humans, we possess a limited quantity of attention and thus it's important to try and care for it the best we can

Some solutions can be used to try and regain focus on your everyday tasks such as: limiting screen time, using a reward recompense system with your causes of losing focus, setting boundaries and limits to when and where to use screen time, helo through medication and/or therapy depending on each one case 

You can also re-learn to stay focus. For that you can start doing simple activities like: studying (without screen time), reading, practicing yoga or meditation, playing board games or doing cognitive exercises specialized in attention. 

Now, you know where to work to become a better version of yourself 

[josefavomjaaga]

Letter to Eugène, February 1810

After Napoleon had given Josephine the boot in December 1809, Eugène had wanted to return to Milan as soon as possible, once the legal procedures were settled and Josephine had gotten over her first shock. But, as things always go when Napoleon is involved, plans changed, and while he had wanted to leave Paris immediately after the New Year's celebration, Eugène found himself still in Paris by February. Ample occasion for more correspondence between viceroy and vicequeen.

Auguste to Eugène, Milan, 7 February 1810 Fenaroli returned last night, the King of Naples took another route, despite having announced himself... I hope he will know that everything had been prepared to receive him as king.

Is it me or does somebody sound slightly piqued here? This must refer to Joachim Murat returning home to Naples after Napoleon's "divorce" from Josephine. With relations between Murat and Eugène being rather strained and Murat having to pass through the Kingdom of Italy on his way to Naples, they obviously had not wanted to add fuel to the fire, and Auguste had been ready to welcome Murat with all royal honours.

And then the guy doesn't even show up. Typical.

I flatter myself, my friend, that you will not follow his example and that you will take the shortest route to get here. Besides, you must know what a delight your arrival will be to me and to the whole kingdom, whose anxiety grew the longer you were away. I have therefore been careful not to mention the Grand Duchy, as this would cause widespread alarm.

The Grand-Duchy in question being that of Francfort, that Napoleon had promised to Eugène in recompensation for the Kingdom of Italy. And Eugène likely loosing the Italian crown is also the reason for the anxiety in the kingdom that Auguste speaks of. The Italians were not stupid and probably already suspected that their viceroy would not return to them at all. Which might not have concerned them all so much because of him, but because they saw their viceroy as the one thing that stood between them and being annexed to France.

Though Auguste does see some personal attachement, too:

On this latest occasion, we were clearly shown how much people love us. The Emperor can't be angry about it, because we don't intrigue for that, and our way of thinking has always been and always will be the same. 

Interesting that Auguste even assumes Napoleon would be angry about the vice-regal couple being well-liked in their Italian domain. As she has not met Napoleon since her wedding in Munich.

To tell you the truth, I don't believe in this new destination that we are supposed to receive, but our good conscience must compensate us for an oblivion that would otherwise be very painful, and that would only afflict you because of me, I know; but don't you know me, my sweet husband, and don't you know that with you and my children I will always be happy? I am young, but events have taught me to appreciate grand things as they ought to be seen; so don't torment yourself because of me, and think only of the happiness I shall soon feel when I embrace you and tell you in person that I love nothing in this world like my Eugène; this feeling will last at least as long as life itself.

[sliceroftpeirweirisles]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 2

2. (Jan 03-04) "Get away from me" / Collapse / Choking

Lup doesn’t realize what Cyrus Rockseeker has truly done until she finally seals him into the vault. She leans heavily against the sealed door, panting from the pain burning between her shoulder blades. Her duties are over and the grand relic she had created is finally out of anyone’s reach. She should be relieved…

Lup’s breathing remained labored as she walked away from the door. She had to get home. Barry and Taako were waiting, and she’d already been gone far too long. Barry was probably overworking himself with the anxiety of being alone. And Taako… he was more than likely inconsolable. Taako never really handled being alone well. It wasn’t until she realized she couldn’t take a deep breath that she understood the gravity of what was happening.

She recognized the signs of dying. 

Her hands started to feel like ice as Lup looked at them with curiosity. Silverpoint. The poison in her bloodstream was quickly staining her blood vessels. She knew she didn’t have long.

This was always the uncomfortable part. Dying quickly and painlessly was always a good way to go, but the slow ones were always the worst for her. She didn’t have the luxury of comfort from her friends as she collapsed against the cave wall. Lup rarely cried during these times either. She never really did cry unless something traumatic was happening, or if Taako was there to witness her dying. This time though, she felt like crying. The pain of being poisoned was an intense pain she wasn't prepared for.

This cycle was supposed to be the one that stuck. She wasn’t supposed to waste her physical form this early. Perhaps this was for the best. Recompense for starting a war they should have never started to begin with. 

Lup noted the slow sensation of the pain releasing from her body, but she couldn’t catch her breath no matter how hard she tried. It felt like drowning with no water in sight. She couldn’t even cough. So she just closed her eyes and waited as the sounds of her own choking reverberated off the walls.

[makibeni]

Ch. 41- My Jealous Little Monster

Himeno jostled the lock on her apartment door, turning the key with an exhausted frustration. A day of stress and anxiety finally nearing it's sundown. The satisfying click of the pins falling into place finally rang out and she managed to get it open, haphazardly tossing her coat in the general direction of the rack while loosening her tie after barely taking a step through the door. By the time she noticed the lights were off she'd already walked too far to bother turning back, stumbling her way towards the fridge. She noted the uncharacteristic quiet that filled the room, opting not to question the momentary peace she'd been granted. She opened the fridge, a refreshing mist of cold air wafting over her as the buzzing light brightened her view. She reached for a can of cheep beer, cracking it open with a satisfying hiss before closing the door, turning her head and locking eyes with her little devil.

"Where have you been all day?"

Power glared at her with an accusatory stance, her arms crossed with a scowl across her face.

"...out?"

Normally Himeno would have brushed it off, the bratty little devil starved for attention, throwing her a bone meant little more than a smile and some words with an apology dinner dangled in front of her face 'till she relented, but something didn't sit right with her. It was Power's tone, spat at her when she barely had the energy left to take it, she spat back in a reflexive urge to express her discontent.

"You promised to take ME out today!"

Power didn't relent, too many broken promises in too short a span of time had simmered her feelings of discontent. She wanted an apology, sincere recompense, and she wanted it now.

"Look I was busy, okay? Kobe-"

Himeno had little energy left to placate her outbursts, wanting nothing more than to throw herself down on the couch and laze about 'till she slept.

"BENI, BENI, BENI!!! It's ALWAYS about that STUPID SCRAWNY GOOD FOR NOTHING HUMAN WITH YOU!!!"

She barked with a wounded anger, spitting out words that had clearly been lodged in her throat for some time now.

"Am I not good enough??"

Power mumbled, wanting to be heard but not wanting to admit it, for Himeno to understand her pain that she didn't know how better to convey.

"Powy are you... jealous?"

The words slipped from her mouth with a giggle she couldn't suppress.

"ARGH!!! SHUT UP! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!! STUPID! STUPID!!!"

Before she could clear up the lighthearted misunderstanding Power's face had grown red as she growled angry rebukes of the accusation. She ran to the first room she could find, slamming the door behind her and locking it shut. Himeno let out a discontent sigh and walked over.

"Powy~ come on... come out so we can talk"

Her words fell on deaf ears, not so much as a grunt from the other end, furthering her annoyance.

"You wanna hear about my day...?"

She knelt down by the door, thinking to explain herself. If Power was at least listening on the other side she may as well take the opportunity, assured that the little devil couldn't maintain her petty tantrum all night.

"I was in the hospital you know..."

She paused, enough to give the girl time to respond if she wished to express her concern. After a few seconds of fruitless awkward silence she noted Power seemed to lack such inclinations.

"Had to carry Kobeni there after she got jumped by a pack of devils"

Again she waited, this time prompted by what she thought was a sound coming from the room, but Power didn't say anything more.

"Anyway... I stayed over till she woke up, y'know? Make sure she's safe and all that. Makima was there too so, when she woke up I came straight home, I didn't even stop at the bar or anything, promise!"

She wrapped up her little story, figuring the little devil seemed disinterested with this approach.

"Come oooon, 'ya gonna be mad at me all night?"

One last attempt at baiting her out with words, hopeful she wouldn't have to resort to something that took any more effort tonight but to no avail.

"Well, nothing to it i suppose, guess I'll just have to wait here till 'ya feel like coming out..."

She pulled the crumpled pack of cigarettes from her pocket, tapping it on her knee and forcing one out. The sound finally provoked the little devil on the other end and the lock began to turn.

"Finally ready to talk?"

The devil puffed her face up in a bout of frustration as all her pent up feelings finally reached a boiling point. No longer able to contain herself, she lunged for the first thing in sight and ripped Himeno's cigarette from her hand, stuffing it inside her maw with a look of irritated defiance and awaiting the woman's response.

The last remnants of Himeno's playful expression finally crumbled away, the day's worth of stress and exertion had robbed her of any desire to maintain her composure. She stuck her thumb in the little devil's mouth, sliding it past her sharpened teeth to the back of her jaw and using it as a wedge to pry her mouth open as she slipped her other hand in to retrieve her cigarette. She gave it an apathetic shake to get some of the saliva off before placing it between her lips and digging out a lighter from her back pocket. Her other hand still firmly planted in Power's muzzle, though she had put up little resistance as of yet.

Himeno struck a spark then held the flame up to her cigarette, taking a long, barely satisfying drag before blowing the smoke in Power's face, finally pulling her hand away as she started to cough. The little devil turned, words filling in her chest as the ashy burn stained her throat.

"I-"

"Quiet."

She grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and dragged her along, Power anxiously following behind. She'd managed to provoke Himeno before, gotten on her nerves, sure, but this was a side of her she hadn't seen before, one that scared her. The woman dragged her over to the couch and shoved her down before getting on top of her. She felt herself pinned, unable to wriggle her way free.

"Don't struggle."

Himeno put a finger up to Power's face, holding it up as she finished off the beer can in a single laborious action before crumpling the can in her hand and throwing it across the room.

"Just how long have you been simmering this Jealousy? Huh?"

She spoke with a hazy smirk on her face, not the usual mischievous grin she sported, but something more sinister.

"Don't worry Powy~, I wouldn't do this to anyone else but you..."

Himeno took another long drag of her cigarette, holding the smoke in as she leaned down to the helpless devil, sliding her fingers through her hair and pulling her head up from below, kissing her and pouring the ashy vapor into the girl's mouth. She held her still as the girl writhed in her embrace until tears started to well in her eyes from the burning in her lungs. Himeno released her grip.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? My full, undivided attention?"

She leaned in as the teary eyed devil tried to hack up the taste and whispered.

"Is it everything you'd hoped for my little Powy~?"

Power had finally reached her limit, beginning a panicked flailing like a cornered animal. Himeno managed to get a hold of her wrists but the little devil was too focused on getting free to calm down and lunged. She burred her teeth into Himeno's hand, incisors piercing the flesh, deep enough to draw blood, but the woman's grip was relentless. The anxious scrambled thoughts in her head now tainted by the crimson liquid that stained her lips drowned her in a haze of fear and desire, a want to run and a need for more. Power's breathing slowed and grew heavy as her tongue lapped up the pooling blood, a quiver shooting through her body as it slid down her throat. Then she felt the tightness around her neck. She sobered just enough to notice Himeno's other hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing, trying to pry her off. She didn't struggle against it, instead sinking her fangs deeper, goading the woman to press her luck. Himeno returned a cloying smile and released her grip.

"Alright then Powy~... if that's how my greedy little devil wants to be... how about I give you something more fun to bite down on?"

[polar-jake778]

Expectation

Each and every day I am confronted by a tidal wave of expectations amassed by those dear, and people externally drear. I am to understand what I must do for them to actually like me. In reality, I am supposed to know this when even they themselves are ignorant of what they want from me.

Then the impact of said tidal hits me. The powerlessness proposed through failure to prevail for them. I should have been better. I should have been extroverted, funnier, less intelligent, less adult minded. I need to be this man who is really, not even a man. I have to be this omnipotent being that is there for everyone, excluding oneself. Every time I wake up and find myself faced by those expectations, I am submerged in the failures of yesterday, so the day to come is already heavier. And as days go on, they get heavier and heavier. The weight of the world and all expectation. What is a man to do but drown in name of those he loves and feels like he must fight to know?

There is a declaration of independence, we so wildly recall. And from its dust gathering degradedness, I bring forth a quote.

Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I have ostracised myself beyond the point of knowing who I even am. The price for withstanding the tide each day was not the life of many, but of the most personal; Myself.

Within the dark and its whispering melancholy, I was taunted by a man that was happy. Not because he rejected modernity, nor those of forward thinking capacity. I saw a man that spoke with a glee that filled my room as he uttered stories of the world. He told me what it means to live.

Learning new things.

Meeting new people.

Doing the things I want to do.

being content with the soul i have, knowing it may forever grow.

And lastly, no longer fighting to kill oneself in favour of another.

a friendship and bond built upon a body that has no soul is nothing. And that is my truth. I, at the cost of retaining relations with many, have lost myself and became nothing.

Disregarding the mere simplicity of man, I must define myself, not by the expectations of others, or by culture as a whole.

To be a man is not one thing.

To be a man is a personal endeavour each person would come to face. Even those of differing chromosomes will come to walk a similar path. Perhaps under a different title, but that solely depends on preference. We will all journey to become the person we in ourselves are free to express, and feel a certain prowess over.

If the expectations exerted by those around you are dictating who you are, then it is time to halt, breathe, and regain control. Go to the person that looks back in reflection, and spring forth those ambitions long dead, back to life. Understand yourself again.

Do so through time alone, even if that means to simply find a place for your true self to be free. For me, the freedom of my mind is in isolation. But on occasion, it has shone through the anxieties present within the masses. Piece by piece, we shall free ourselves from the rubble. From the fear of being alone, hated for being true, we can now find prosperity in future relations. Confidence in knowing that those we are soon to meet, will meet us for who we truly are. No longer will the expectation that we think they have of us, or voiced, control us.

———————

I applaud your dedication to reading this hunk of text. It is greatly appreciated, and to prove it so. Here are some cool looking polar bears in recompense.

[fideidefenswhore]

i was just reading your giles tremlett post and at the end you say anne boleyn didn't say "the cursed bastard that she was" about mary and it was added later, maybe even shifting what henry said onto anne after she was dead to smooth the situation over. Is that true? Cause the whole "anne said mean things!" line seems to rest on that. thanks.

oh, yeah, no, i often half-finish my train of thought on tags, bad habit, sorry.

it depends on the translation/book but regardless it's always une mauldicte bastarde (a/n ac/cursed bastard), the latest of the BHO being "as a cursed bastard", not "as the cursed bastard she was". more about that specific, infamous dispatch here.

my point was more that a very similar quote of henry's is not often cited , because it doesn't gel with the popular narrative of these dynamics:

Here the King explained to him what had been done by Parliament since the Admiral's departure; that the Princess had been proclaimed and an oath taken throughout the kingdom; that everyone takes Mary for the bastard she is, and he will have no other heir but the Princess, with whom, and in his power (en sa main), now is and will be the said Mary; there is no chance of her becoming queen or claiming any right to the Crown. 

Gontier then attempts to negotiate, will Henry forgive the French pension paid to him?

Henry took this ill, saying that he had done so much for Francis, his children and his kingdom, that it is not fair to ask him to give this up [...] it is an honour to his kingdom to have them; it was a strange recompense when he offered the heiress of a kingdom to a younger son;  they ought rather to give him something than ask

often the above quote and other similar ones in support of elizabeth as heiress, too, against his eldest daughter and her mother (”regard for the state of his own kingdom and the love he bears his Queen and her daughter the Princess, and his anxiety to protect their honor against the illwill of the Emperor, prevent his leaving the kingdom without taking measures for their security, for if the King leave the kingdom he would leave behind him another daughter, and her mother also, who with their friends might intrigue against them”), are ignored in favor of:

The French ambassador told me that the King, on returning from a visit to his new daughter, said that he had not spoken to the Princess on account of her obstinacy [...] and when the ambassador remarked that she had been very well brought up, the tears came into his eyes, and he could not refrain from praising her

leaving aside that the dispatch above ends with an assertion that the earl of northumberland has informed chapuys that anne is determined to poison her stepdaughter; given that chapuys is apparently quoting the french ambassador here (not to mention the unlikelihood of this interaction in context... if henry had spoken harshly against mary, it would be rather impolitic to reply that she had been 'very well brought up', no? particularly since henry is complaining of her defiance, that would more likely than not be taken as blatant disrespect), it's interesting to note that nothing of the sort is noted in the dispatches of the french ambassador himself, and that this is instead what he reports:

In the end he made answer to me, that, as to his daughter Mary, he intended always to treat that matter as a thing of no importance, and that I must say nothing more about it; adding that he was very much displeased with her, because she would rather die than acknowledge the present Queen as Queen, or the daughter of this marriage as Princess, but that he would take care to punish her. To judge by his words, he hates her thoroughly.

it was such a brief window of time in which henry defended elizabeth's position as heiress and unequivocally supported her and anne, i get that what happens here eventually is sort of read backwards into that brief period of time, but i really do wish there was a less opaque and more vigorous assessment of the primary sources of this time, and that they weren't so chapuys-centric....chapuys was not infallible, and he certainly wasn’t the only source on henry. 

[fordecree7]

WHAT DO THE BIBLE SAY ANXIETY WORRY AND FEAR GIVE IT TO GOD?

Say to those who have an anxious heart, “Be strong; fear not! Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God. He will come and save you.” Isaiah 35:4  Diane Beauford

[adversarialharrow]

Wandering Mind Wandering Mount Wilmington

High atop Mount Wilmington lived Flammy, a sorcerer unlike any other. Dressed in a teapot-shaped hat that whistled on windy days, he was more a wizard than anything.

One day, a bald adventurer named Lonous climbed the mountain. Dejected with his mystery and unease with his mistress torment, he began to suffer. He detriments the pain of the causes of suffering like stones in his shoes although unlike the stones in his shoes so he couldn’t get rid of these pains of his suffering.

So you have to wonder whether you want love or mischief and if you want love then where are you getting it from and if you’re getting it from mischief then you need to care about it and you need to get in contact with the federal investigative bureau in your country and you need to get in touch with Salaam Ismael because he’s got your ass he’s got your number he’s got your address he’s got your parents he’s got your parents address And I don’t need to know you didn’t care what can happen when Salaam‘s men get their hands on you.

If you got a surmise that Clay "Aiken" is a good role model for a boyfriend and a lover for a Renee then you got to see that Salaam Ismael is a slick and slithering demon capable of desecrations that bend reality and the limits of the imagination and sorrow.

“I don’t want to reach the top of the mountain if it’s going to be a disgrace to my life.” Lonous thought to himself and anger and envy for the antics of his capturers squared with his own virtue of love and remorse for sorrow for an anxiety and capture that ruined and from which ensued further defeats and suffering in continuity succession. 'What the f-ck' he thought. 'Respectful remorse for a self dork coming from me.' He sighed and like flung his wrist.

Upon reaching Elgin’s lair, Lonous encountered a world of oddities: a tinkle river of container of lemonade flowed nearby.

It was sickrespect with remorse for a sordid corger and a liberty to desecration of environment and civil society.

“I don’t need to see a river of piss lemonade” Lonous said as he reached for his button device.

Inside, the air was thick as Flammy prepared his infamous Giggle Juice.

“Lonous you are a loner a prostitute a sorcerer a reject stoner who has no counter fortitude to care about his mother or father.”

Lonous replied “I decide I need to know about your income.”

“Just a pinch of laughter and a dash of sorger!” Flammy exclaimed, grinning widely. Flammy laughed. Flammy's eyes and mouth grew wide in a stare-y expression as if to shout Lonous as cunning and naive. “A little ff ffimmer will send it sim ss sim simmering!” He handed a cup to Lonous they both raise their cups and drank.

Lonous had to do a little better at thinking a few steps ahead of his opponent and said “Cool I don’t need a libation I need to suffer Salaam Ismael on my ass and mouth for all eternity because I can’t get an income or a good job under a magic spell.”

Flammy replied “I think you need a doctor or a lawyer to end your suffering.”

Lonous fell from the poison he drank in the cup and shattered into 1 million pieces as his custom for the enemies of the libation and sormer.

Yeah the disrespect is eternity through and through because he couldn’t get a job because he couldn’t get a certificate for his suffering. What kind of a recompense is that? Flammy it seems just makes p-ss all day while Lonous wonder what the hell did everything just pass by and take off.

[yhwhrulz]

Charles Spurgeon's "Faith's Checkbook" Devotional for October 18

“Tears, Then Joyful Harvest ”

Psalms 126:5

Weeping times are suitable for sowing: we do not want the ground to be too dry. Seed steeped in the tears of earnest anxiety will come up all the sooner. The salt of prayerful tears will give the good seed a flavor which will preserve it from the worm: truth spoken in awful earnestness has a double life about it. Instead of stopping our sowing because of our weeping, let us redouble our efforts because the season is so propitious.

Our heavenly seed could not fitly be sown laughing. Deep sorrow and concern for the souls of others are a far more fit accompaniment of godly teaching than anything like levity. We have heard of men who went to war with a light heart, but they were beaten; and it is mostly so with those who sow in the same style.

Come, then, my heart, sow on in thy weeping, for thou has the promise of a joyful harvest. Thou shalt reap. Thou, thyself, shalt see some results of thy labor. This shall come to thee in so large a measure as to give thee joy, which a poor, withered, and scanty harvest would not do. When thine eyes are dim with silver tears, think of the golden corn. Bear cheerfully the present toil and disappointment; for the harvest day will fully recompense thee.

Copyright Statement These files are public domain.

[dianebeauford-blog]

WHAT DO THE BIBLE SAY ABOUT OVERCOMING WORRIES AND ANXIETY?

Say to those who have an anxious heart, “Be strong; fear not! Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God. He will come and save you.” Isaiah 35:4

Diane Beauford