words are a weapon and the page is a trench. writer’s block is the enemy army and your mastery of language is your bayonet. punctuation is heavy artillery and grammar is mustard gas. the first world war was actually just a big book written by wilfred owen. metaphors
Anna Morandi Manzolini (1714-1774) was an internationally renowned anatomist, lecturer at the
University of Bologna, in a time when access to education and the academic
world was very limited for women. She started lecturing as a substitute for her
ill husband, but soon became a teacher in her own right, and was invited to
many royal courts for her extensive knowledge and talent.
She was particularly
skilled in creating detailed, accurate anatomical models out of wax, being the
first person to ever reproduce minute details such as blood vessels and nerves
using this method. Her work became the prototype for countless models used in the
teaching of anatomy.
What came first... the turkey or the Christmas pud? Find out more about your favourite festive foods.
Christmas pudding is a British favourite! Back in the early 18th century, King George I was actually nicknamed ‘the Pudding King’ after he tucked into some delicious plum pudding during his first Christmas dinner as monarch.
The recipe for Christmas pud, as we know it today, features in cookbooks dating back as far as 1714, although Essex cook Eliza Acton was the first to name it ‘Christmas pudding’, in her 1845 bestseller – ‘Modern Cookery for Private Families’. She praised the fact that it could be cooked without an oven – something that very few low class households would’ve been able to afford.
Christmas pudding has now become a firm festive tradition, as well as a seasonal status symbol – chef Heston Blumenthal even designed his own luxury pud, featuring a whole candied orange hidden inside!
Christmas fruitcake actually began as ‘plum porridge’, which people ate to line their stomachs on Christmas Eve, after a day of fasting. Over time, dried fruit, spices and honey were added to the mix, and in the 16th century the oatmeal was replaced with flour and eggs, turning the porridge into a boiled plum cake.
Wealthier families began to make fruitcakes with marzipan for Easter, and eventually started doing the same for Christmas, with the various dried fruits and spices intended to represent those carried by the three wise men.
According to popular history, Henry VIII was the first king to enjoy a turkey dinner at Christmas – although it was Edward VII that popularised the tradition and added them to the table in the Royal Courts in place of peacocks. By 1720, almost a quarter of a million turkeys were led from Norfolk to the London markets each year, in flocks of 300-1000. The turkey’s long journey started in August, with their feet dipped in tar to protect them, and feeding stations to keep them nourished along the way.
Contrary to the popular belief of the nation’s children, sprouts were in fact not invented by grown-ups as a form of punishment! In fact, the vegetable dates back to Ancient Rome, although the variety we eat today gained their name due to their popularity in the Belgian capital.
Sprouts were first written about in 1587, and have held a firm position on our Christmas dining tables ever since – despite our love/hate relationship with the little blighters!
Mmm, mince pies – the ultimate Christmas treat! The mincemeat-filled treats have been savoured since the 13th century, when European crusaders returned from the middle east with recipes and spices.
1714. hazel still isn’t used to 21st century clothes being so short and revealing. whenever she sees someone wearing clothes that reveal more than she thinks they should, she would ask frank how that kind of fashion came to be.
Lady Frances Brudenell, Countess of Newburgh and Baroness Bellew of Duleek (circa. 1677 to 1735/6) was an Anglo-Irish noblewoman and bisexual socialite. Born to the fairly illustrious Brudenell family, she made a good match when she married Charles Livingstone, 2nd Earl of Newburgh in 1692. Charles died two years later, leaving Frances a widow in her late teens (this was around the time Godfrey Kneller painted her, pictured left). Soon after, she married the fiery and often troublesome Richard Bellew, Baron Bellew of Duleek and moved with him to Dublin. Lady Frances had always shown an interest in women as well as men and she really came into her own in Ireland, taking several female lovers. After her second husband died in 1714, Frances dedicated the rest of her life to being both the toast and scandal of Anglo-Irish high society.
By the time she was in her 50s in the late 1720s/early 1730s, she was known for ruling a social circle of tribades (a lesbian/bisexual club which, according to most, primarily focused on and took part in tribbing/scissoring, hence their name). Her primary lover was one Lady Allen who Lady Frances seems to have been extremely attached to.
Around this time, Oxford don, William King, alleged that Lady Frances owed him several thousand pounds in debt. He, unfortunately, lost the case against her and as revenge, he wrote a satire against her in 1732 entitled The Toast, in which Lady Frances is described as “a promiscuous bisexual witch and lesbian named Myra.’ The poem is notable in that it is one of the earliest uses of ‘lesbian’ in the modern sense of the word.
Lady Frances died at the age of 59 and remained one of the famous LGBT women of the long 18th century. Her circle of tribades is often used as an example of how commonplace such groups were in early modern Western Europe.
Summary: You try to cope with memories from your most recent encounter with Ward while dealing with your own developing demons.
Authors Note: Okay, here it is! In honor of me being over 1,000 followers I am going to start up on Live Wire: An Aftershocks Sequel, seeing as Aftershocks was my first story. If you have not read Aftershocks, please do, so you have the context and story for this sequel! Anyway, here we go! I hope you guys like it, Tags are open but will probably not stay open as long as they did for divided so if you want to be tagged, let me know. As always I love hearing what you think so feel free to drop me a line <3 Enjoy!
Your fists slam forcefully into the bag, your knee rising up to counter the hit on the other side, causing the heavy leather to ricochet backwards, groaning on the straining chain under the force of your constant abuse.
You grab the bag, steadying it slowly as you fall back into your fighting stance, throwing a fist powerfully forward. “Y/N,” Ward breathes, a sickening sweetness to his voice, “I’ve missed you sweetheart. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to see that pretty face.” His hand caresses your cheek as you struggle beneath him.
Your fist flies forward as your eyes blur slightly stinging with the memory of your encounter with Ward only weeks ago. Feeling a small throb in your upper left shoulder as you make contact with the bag, the freshly healed gunshot wound reminding you of the many marks he’s left on your skin.
You bite your lip, ignoring the pain as you continue in your hurried movements throwing multiple combos that Bucky had shown you at the bag. “So long since I touched the sweet softness of your skin.” Ward’s hand slides down your torso, reaching up under your shirt, to drag across your stomach and move up towards your breast.
Your fists fly feverishly forward, the speed of your hits causing the chain to screech loudly as you abuse the bag, breathing heavily as tears stream down your face. You step back breathing deeply as your mind swims, the memory of Ward’s hands sliding across your skin causing goose bumps to erupt.
A loud sob rips from you as your hands fly up to your head, your ears ringing as your mind swirls. “You’re never going to get away from me. I own you.” Ward snarls, “What did I tell you sweetheart? What did I promise you? I swore that I would make you suffer until I kill you myself. And now you’ve dragged the Winter Soldier along with…”
The tears stream down your face as you a scream rips from you, reverberating loudly in the empty gym as you throw yourself towards the bag, slamming forceful hit after hit into the leather, the bag groaning on its hinge under your unrelenting pace.
You scream again, tears streaming down your face as you lose control, the white rage ripping through you as your fists juts forward the final hit too forceful, causing the hinge to tear from the beam, the bag sailing backwards under your contact. You watch in disbelief for a moment before dropping to your knees, sobbing roughly as your bruised hands shake in front of you.
“I always love it when you pretend to be tougher than you are. It’s so much more fun to break you when you fight back.” Ward’s whispered taunt drifts back to you, making your skin crawl as the words echo in your ear as if whispered behind you. You gasp, breathing heavily as you try to steady your reddened hands.
You breathe deliberately, your sobbing slowing as you flex your fingers, curling and uncurling them, your hands gradually steadying as your swell of emotion subsides. You wipe the tears from your eyes, taking a few deep breaths as you look up into the mirror at your kneeling form.
Your eyes dart to a shimmer of blue in the reflection behind you as Bucky walks forward towards you out of the darkness. His bare feet are silent on the padded floor as he approaches you, his gray sweatpants hanging loosely around his hips, with the hem of his tight white undershirt barely covering the bottom of his abdominal muscles.
His hair is roughly tousled from sleep as he comes to stand behind you, looking down to make eye contact with you in the mirror as you lean gently back against his legs, allowing his fingers to slip lovingly into your hair.
“I thought you were going to start telling me when you can’t sleep.” He whispers, leaning down to kiss you on your forehead, crouching low as he comes to sit beside you, his legs splayed out in front of him as he looks at you.
“You were…” You cough slightly, clearing the hoarseness of your sobs from your voice, “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you love… just wanted to get in a workout…”
He nods silently, his eyes flicking up to the hole in the beam before traveling to the discarded bag a few feet away. His tongue flicks out over his lips as he takes a deep breath, reaching for your quickly bruising hands.
“Doll,” He breathes softly, pulling your fingers up towards his mouth as he places soft kisses on your knuckles, scooting closer to you. “What’s going on?” he speaks quietly as he lowers your intertwined hands into your lap. He looks at you, trying to hold your gaze as the concern grows on his face.
“I… I don’t know… I just don’t feel tired and I can’t stop thinking… I just… I don’t know Buck.” You whisper, shaking your head as you break from his gaze. “Hey,” He whispers, his hand flying up to touch lightly along your jaw, pulling your eyes back to his.
“That’s ok… It’s ok to not know… to have feelings that can’t be explained. But I’m here for you, whatever you need I’m here. But you have to let me be, you can’t just go disappearing on me in the middle of the night…” You nod, knowing the panic he must have felt when he woke up and didn’t know where you had gone.
“I’m sorry…” You whisper, your arms wrapping around him in a hug, “I didn’t think… that wasn’t fair… I…” “Shhhh” He whispers, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, his fingers stroking lovingly in your hair, “I know… I get it. It’s ok doll,” He pulls back, his fingers sliding to your cheek as he kisses you tenderly.
“How about we try going back to sleep? Think you’ve tired yourself out enough?” He smiles, as he moves to stand. You nod allowing him to pull you to your feet beside him. His arm curling protectively around your shoulder as you two walk out of the gym heading back to his room.
“Rogers! Barnes!!” Tony bellows down the hallway as he storms into the kitchen, finding you, Wanda, and Steve sitting around the table as Bucky makes eggs on the stove. Tony appears in the doorway his face red with irritation as he rounds on Steve.
“What the hell happened to my punching bag?” He thunders, looking incriminatingly at Steve beside you as you and Bucky both tense up. “What are you on about Tony?” Steve asks, quizzically raising his eyebrows at Stark.
“I’m talking about you damn super soldiers and your god damn super strength destroying my gym.” He hollers pointing his hand at Bucky as well. Bucky bites his lip, his body tense under Tony’s wrath.
Wanda’s head snaps hurriedly to Bucky, her eyebrow raising curiously as her eyes dart to you. “Oh for peete’s sake, Tony! What are you talking about?” Steve raises his voice, becoming annoyed with Tony’s temper tantrum.
“I’m talking about the hole that is now ripped in the beam and the 300 pound punching bag that is now slain across the floor!” Tony yells back, Steve’s brow furrows in confusion, as you straighten up, taking a deep breath.
“Tony, calm down, it was…” You start but Bucky quickly interrupts you, “It was me. Sorry Tony, I was going to go about fixing it today, just wanted to grab a bite of breakfast first.” Wanda watches Bucky searchingly, perplexed by his confession, a similar expression mirrored on your own face as you watch Bucky claim responsibility for your mess.
Tony rounds on him, advancing threateningly into the kitchen, still seething, “You better pal, I want that put back to perfect condition by the end of today.” He growls, whipping around as he storms from the kitchen, causing Bucky to laugh dryly as you mouth a silent thank you to him.
He smiles quietly and winks at you as you turn back to the newspaper. Wanda quietly rises from the table, moving into the kitchen to bustle about in the fridge as Bucky flips his eggs. She moves to stand beside him in front of the counter leaning back to look at him full in the face.
“Why are you lying Barnes?” She whispers quietly, looking perplexedly at him as his eyes flick up to hers, the shadow of panic dancing behind them. “Shove off Wanda.” Bucky rolls his eyes, dismissing the witch as she looks at him closer.
“There’s something you’re not telling her…” She says quietly, her eyes flashing towards you at the table as Bucky tenses, reaching for a plate, his hand faulting in midair. “Will you knock it off Wanda?” He growls, trying to disrupt her in her crusade to unravel his mind.
“Y/N’s hands are looking very bruised this morning,” she observes in her heavy Russian accent, “How exactly did that bag get broken…?” She pesters, Bucky sets his plate down, gripping her by her bicep roughly as he pulls her back into the kitchen, speaking in a low growl.
“That’s enough Wanda. I said to knock it off.” Wanda looks him in the eye, her brow cocking upwards as she questions his command. “You’re keeping secrets Barnes, and you should know better than anyone that secrets have a way of getting out…”
Bucky’s eyes flash up to Y/N as she chuckles at something that Steve said, his stomach feeling uneasy at Wanda’s warning as she shakes her head, moving back towards the table to settle in her seat once more.
She was right, secrets did have a way of getting out and how would she react if she finds out what he’s done. Will she understand… What if she doesn’t? His eyes watch her as her gaze flicks from Steve, falling onto him as he stands silently in the kitchen.
She smiles widely at him, blowing him a small kiss, a soft smile pulling on his own cheeks in response. I’ll tell her soon. He thinks as he watches her in her comfort. She has enough going on… I’ll tell her soon…
During the U.S. Revolution smallpox swept west from the Atlantic Coast
into the heart of the continent. Many Native American nations, like the
Lakota, were effected. These images
depict the 1779-1780 and 1780-1781 entries in Battiste Good’s Winter
Count with the words “The eruption and pains in the stomach and bowels
are shown as before, smallpox used them up winter”. The first Winter
Count record of epidemic disease is from a Yanktonai Dakota in 1714 with
the description “fatal cramps and convulsions”. On average, epidemics
struck the Great Plains every 5.7 years, with epidemic-free periods
ranging from zero to 45 years depending on the band in question, and
disease mortality increased in years following nutritional stress.
(Sundstrom, 1997, “Smallpox Used Them Up: References to Epidemic Disease
in Northern Plains Winter Counts, 1714-1920”).
Christians must follow Christ, follow his methods and prescriptions, do the things that he says, follow his example and pattern, walk as he also walked, follow his conduct by his providence and Spirit. We must go whither he leads us, and in the way he leads us.
Matthew Henry (1662–1714) in his Commentary on the Whole Bible
Jeśli chcesz się poznać zwykłym chłopakiem, dobra jestem już stary, 19 lat, facetem z którym zerwała dziewczyna w dzień Walentynek to wyślij swoje imię i nazwisko (które macie na fb) w nowym ogłoszeniu lub w komentarzu, a admin poda mi i się do Was odezwe.
Uprzedzam, w żadnym badz razie nie chce sie żalić, bo nie na tym życie polega, pogadam o wszystkim. Nie chce osoby ktora chce sie zabic i pisze tylko o tym jakie zycie jest beznadziejne