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libidomechanica · 6 months ago

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“To drag you love a world”

A Kelly lune sequence

Stanza I

Its bounds daily taste. But higher. His reputed Son?

Stanza II

Shall religious meat is love! To drag you love a world.

Stanza III

Innocent and mile. For the mounts and healthful Dian’s moon.

Stanza IV

Came to the Border? They say, women leaves in forbid!

Stanza V

I fear, flatter, entreat that all away. The father.

Stanza VI

Diamonds, on her e’e? Thus to ourselves or dead stronger?

Stanza VII

But who would get. In vain to cross the sport, cannot hear.

Stanza VIII

Relenting. Stir; and over their state of natures’ Eyes.

Stanza IX

What view, yet give them over, if only chance. She trips.

Stanza X

And as she replied. Sage countenance blazed relentine.

Stanza XI

Where with her liue, ah why liue we so long. Come thither.

Stanza XII

I could wear the stars would call the bed and, seeming skin.

Stanza XIII

Dangling was denied. And yet she meantime neglected.

Stanza XIV

But Pallas and drent, down that ye may be, but, for pay.

Stanza XV

And the lives against me tempted my youthful Dian’s moon.

Stanza XVI

And the errant note the day I met wi’ a crater.

Stanza XVII

Awake! To slacken’d water of lone Eternity.

Stanza XVIII

With that in woe? A flying spire; and this feasted books.

Stanza XIX

Among the second more than my knees; her wind revealed.

Stanza XX

She, fearing crushed bird skulls in order set? Tale, for pay.

Stanza XXI

An’ it will give me. And but finds not with how white sing.

Stanza XXII

About a shadow white fish on the koi kiss to thee.

Stanza XXIII

Resent pay? Madam, with a boy sees clear with a child!

Stanza XXIV

Everything with death. The curtains over knew her thing.

Stanza XXV

Feign we no more. My head knocks again and a new pan.

Stanza XXVI

Warm French bread and of praise, pain, regret— your son, to nurse.

Stanza XXVII

Up true. Before, instead, the true heart and sighed to phone.

Stanza XXVIII

Yet Maud’s dark yard More flowers fair moon, and once again.

Stanza XXIX

Some say, white. No height. He said Ida with Ignorance.

Stanza XXX

Impatience is such. I lay awake in Florida.

Stanza XXXI

Sick, am I. I’m happier time the body be.

Stanza XXXII

Ask me no more the color. You will I walk forlorn.

Stanza XXXIII

In my love’s art harmony. The stormy winter cave.

Stanza XXXIV

I—I sought. Than this pond and unteth evil. For it.

Stanza XXXV

That were the daisies grow. Give me it: I want to stir?

Stanza XXXVI

Of traitor, too, be off! Sting us to come thither.

Stanza XXXVII

The hollow hear her slippers warming neuer fayle?

Stanza XXXVIII

Found, that could behold on. I uncover every noon!

Stanza XXXIX

Want to sell. This story the tapers clear demonstrains.

Stanza XL

Watching is extinct. As he did once again sae bonie.

Stanza XLI

Cool me with Ignorance. All her likes a woman go?

Stanza XLII

Come, for wanting. With pearl he turtle’s blood and of green.

Stanza XLIII

Nor Pan with increase reneueth! And ran before thy love.

Stanza XLIV

You could I die! Came to this body, and please alike.

Stanza XLV

Death and with you! Even Unbelieving Prince is slight.

Stanza XLVI

Down thrall, came trips. Flashing from base declining aright.

Stanza XLVII

Which on her puir Jenny for siller an’ lan’! So dumb.

Stanza XLVIII

Like to you were dead! Till a’ the spot when shackle me.

Stanza XLIX

Be such as fancy free. Their narrow to another.

Stanza L

Violet, she can hear planet, moving that heaven stood.

Stanza LI

“David, speaking up. And left but love the harbor lie.

Stanza LII

Of you and from a look their arms, a poison’d gloom wrought!

Stanza LIII

We dream? From my deeds shall I search there, bright contagious.

Stanza LIV

Thighs, my Love! And forth a rattling malice bared be.

Stanza LV

Yet those koi. And scorch with be flee; foole, this is true.

Stanza LVI

Master to be! That Maud’s dark hour, till heart-honored Maid!

Stanza LVII

Now had you dispossess peace, whase only heir; and wounds.

Stanza LVIII

The little more the true in arm: the cracknells and snow?

Stanza LIX

Her brain—’tis all to- night. Hooves chewing Leander so!

Stanza LX

The morn about his tyrannous, but for one. For me.

Stanza LXI

I give it he cannot buy? And other Sestos hight.

Stanza LXII

Poore hopes best. Sat with encrusted lock and every land?

Stanza LXIII

Ask me no more: yours that it was a bus. And the mind.

Stanza LXIV

Circles, and come out there your tongue still the forever.

Stanza LXV

To sound is sweet society of the darke with men.

Stanza LXVI

Sad case, still happiest when nature having spelling.

Stanza LXVII

At fire itself divine! After ever: but in Vain!

Stanza LXVIII

The lists, and want, because of the whirlwind’s on the caves.

Stanza LXIX

And this my love lives again, his breasts. With there with love.

Stanza LXX

Writes or other. Despite its vernal breast the fullnesse?

Stanza LXXI

Chirping lost for thing. Thy sins but truly heaving mine.

Stanza LXXII

And this radiance fell? And rough Year just can’t answered court.

Stanza LXXIII

You whom a hyacinths. After immortal fingers.

Stanza LXXIV

The boy bringen bitterness. You see thee, fa la la.

Stanza LXXV

Ratty and I will not? Though my hearth: what use to think?

Stanza LXXVI

At the sworn another’s body be. The faded cheek.

Stanza LXXVII

Chewing Leander rude in her eyes began a blind.

Stanza LXXVIII

Ask me no more: they will lend the world so dear! Or self!

Stanza LXXIX

Dim and for a kisse. The neck with tann’d antiquity.

Stanza LXXX

And sees clear blin’s height chained of all people? Much profit!

Stanza LXXXI

In vain to confers with the stream: I can move thou one.

Stanza LXXXII

I would know exactly where wings of gulls or shall run.

Stanza LXXXIII

And like. Deny him sits the World to a girl with love.

Stanza LXXXIV

The middle of court. For she touching itself to hide.

Stanza LXXXV

Which limping across her lies. Growing, I sat, but I.

Stanza LXXXVI

And in her e’e? Though the earth upon the earth now mourned.

Stanza LXXXVII

Step, I mean my knee. It is no remedy for me.

Stanza LXXXVIII

Upon thee. They had fix’d thy love lies for a quarter.

Stanza LXXXIX

Which close as well, make hast many seeing gray. Her tongue.

Stanza XC

To listening; after us: this brow With Time’s injured.

Stanza XCI

Or vanishing seen. Is wit, making a cockney ear.

Stanza XCII

Who is left. And giue; that, shatterer neuer fayle?

Stanza XCIII

Give me. With fear is in most fairest Cupid’s surface.

Stanza XCIV

Jerks, I love in lover, it pours shall discovers, down!

Stanza XCV

Your progress falter too. The Powers to praise, whither.

Stanza XCVI

Tolled by this broad-leaves among. And scarlet bright contain!

Stanza XCVII

Settled as bird, brooding. Can hardly is disamed.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #132 texts #Kelly lune sequence

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shesnotmyship · 6 years ago

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Pearl will make videos for everyone with why she loves them, with sneaky little videos of them doing things they’re passionate about. And then she’ll draw pictures of them with their colours and put it in a gift basket in front of their room and act like she has no idea who made it.

Like there’s some other kid who’s name is Pearl and loves unicorns and sees peoples colours.

#XXI. about ( pearl )

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imagineclaireandjamie · 5 years ago

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Mod Spotlight: missclairebelle

Fiction is one of the greatest escapes when the real world gets a little crazy. With all that is going on, we wanted to share with you some of our favorite stories by Imagine mods. Look for a post with each mod’s faves over the next few days.

I am so proud to be a member of a fic community that is as robust as ours. While I know that fanfic can’t make everything better, it has always been a good escape from the real world for me, even if it’s just for a moment. Below are links to my longer contributions to the Outlander fanfic community. I hope you enjoy and stay as healthy, safe, and sane as possible.

🧡Katy

__________________

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.) [complete]: A 1950′s era Queen Claire and her Crown Equerry chart a course for their love.

Imagine One Shots:

Lallybroch Grave (a memorial to Faith)**

Paris Portrait (Bree travels to Paris and sees a portrait of her parents)

Jamie and Bree bond over making something

4x10 missing moment – Claire shares stories about Bree and cheeseburgers with Jamie

4x06 missing moment - Quiet Moment between Jamie and Claire before John, Willie, and Murtagh show up for dinner**

An Anniversary (modern fluffy anniversary one shot)

Jamie and Newborn Jem (fluff on the Ridge)

A Mother’s Pearls, A Daughter (Jamie meets Bree, who is wearing Ellen’s pearls)

Photographs (Jamie and Claire share photographs of Bree with Fergus, Jenny, and Ian)

Newlywed Jamie and Claire visit Brian & Ellen’s grave

A Ridge Anniversary

Fantasy (Claire has a dream about Jamie in her own time)

Amputation (conversation between Claire and Bree over Jamie’s TFC snakebite)**

Birthday Present (Jamie’s first present to his daughter on the Ridge)

Purple Beets (Claire watches Bree with Jamie after they arrive on the Ridge)

Doppelganger (Brianna observs how different Claire Fraser is from Claire Randall on the Ridge)**

To: James Fraser, a father (Bree sends a letter back with Claire)**

**=my personal favorites

One Summer [in progress]:

Part I (Adso), Part II (Dislocated), Part III (Entryway), Part IV (Pizza & Beer), Part V (Croissants & Coffee), Part VI (SMS), Part VII (Desktop), Part VIII (Sunday Sunflowers & Sundresses), Part IX (Caught Out), Part X (Netflix & Advil), Part XXI (Ben Nevis & Loch Lomond), Part XII (Non-Negotiable), Part XIII (Same), Part XIV (Toothbrushes & Eyeglasses), Part XV (Renovation & Dresser Drawers), Part XVI (Letters & Mattresses), Part XVII (London & Broch Mordha), Part XVIII (British Airways & Kittens), Part XIX (Airports & Antigua), Part XX (Sawny & Ellen), Part XXI (Dice & Doorknobs)

Loss [always in progress]: This is an AU that charts a relationship between Jamie and Claire in modern-day Edinburgh. It was one of the first things I wrote in the fandom, and it’s come to be the one I love the most. I have written two “acts” of this story, and there are ficlets scattered throughout the timeline. I adore these two. They feel real to me in a way that goes above and beyond fanfic (in a not delusional way), and I don’t know that I will ever tire of writing about them. There are over 250k words (!!) in this entire story. You can read it sequentially by clicking over to the masterpost or my masterlist.

#;mod kate #Quarantine Catch Up

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onedayiwillcreatecoolernickname · 4 years ago

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[what kind of clothes girls from mdzs/cql would wear if they have lived in xxi century?]

a-qing;

- rather casual style of clothing, maybe a little grunge???

- i think that for the most of the time, she would be wearing oversize and baggy clothes not only because she likes them, but also because she wanted to piss off all these people who were telling her, how shoud she look like. "you're a girl, why can't you for once wear something normal, like dresses or skirts, not these beggar's clothes!" or "you're so skinny, you should wear things that would reveal your figure more, you would be so popular with boys!". everytime a-qing would hear this kind of things she would continue to wear even bigger and sloppy clothes with a giant grin, knowing perfectly how much it would irritate other people.

- i doubt she would really care that much about fashion or her appearance (especially that she's still quite young, so appearance isn't her priority), but if she would sense that she could gain a profit from looking pretty, she would be the prettiest girl in the streets. but overall, usually even when she wears something more tight-fitting or revealing, she would always try to "cover" her outfit with an oversized jacket/hoodie/anything. not that she's ashamed of her body, she just feels more comfortable that way.

qin su;

- classy & elegant

- i think that she would be lowkey into clothing from 50s; pencil/circle skirts, swing coats, pearls, maybe some slik gloves. this woman is the definition of a word 'class', seriously; her outfits are always on point and give this elegant vibe, even when she's at home. it's like the ability of looking good regardless of circumstances runs in her blood. you'll never catch her looking bad. never. most people look at her with adoration and even a little jealousy (but it’s not a unhealthy kind of jealousy; it’s a mere wishing to be like her, because she seems like she has no flaws at all, and like she lives a perfect life. she’s just goals).

- people rarely believe her when she says she's in her 30s, because of how young she looks like and oh, it can be a real pain in the ass when you forget to bring your id sometimes, because everyone doubts that you're an adult even though you’re married and have a kid. wearing some heavier make up helps her looking a little bit closer her real age, but qin su doesn’t really feel good with it, so she wears a lighter version.

luo qingyang

- chic & mature

- she would have similiar mindset like a-qing; even though she likes looking feminine, she rarely wears heels, because they are body-harmful and overall, they aren't as comfortable as normal shoes. so when she would show up at work, wearing flats and someone would try to say anything about not following the "dress code", oh my, she would throw a fist. do you remember how kristen stweart ditched her high heels on the red carpet, right before movie premiere and then she went barefoot, saying that "if you're not asking guys to wear high heels, you cannot ask me either?”. mianmian would definitely be this type of person. like sure, looking pretty and socially acceptable is nice, but feeling comfortable with your entire outfit is even nicer.

- she's quite of a beauty, so she already attracts some attention within her exceptional figure, but i think that the way she carries herself would be something that makes people look at her the most. there's something nonchalant about her, the fact that she always goes with her head high and that she seems not to care at all about her surroundings, only focused on what is before her, but at the same time, she doesn't seem arrogant or anything. just a pure confidence is something that make people *gasp* at her.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #魔道祖师 #the untamed #cql #grandmaster of demonic arts #mxtx #luo qingyang #mianmian #qin su #a-qing #OutfitsIdeas

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xhxhxhx · 5 years ago

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The Germans botched the sea war:

The German navy did not make serious efforts to create an effective U-boat force until after the fall of Stalingrad in February 1943. Until then the U-boat fleet consisted largely of the obsolescent Type VII, too small for the North Atlantic and equipped to 1918 standards. German shipyards took between one and two years to build a Type VII (compared to between four and six months for British U/V class submarines of about the same size). Then, in the summer of 1943, the stuffy old shipbuilders were swept away by Albert Speer and his thrusting young Nazi industrialists (all of them ‘working towards the Führer’), who erected a Potemkin village of bogus prefabrication schemes and fictional production statistics. Their new Type XXI submarine was an excellent design, large enough for the Atlantic and not badly out of date, but the first unit’s maiden patrol was more than a year behind schedule, and took place less than a week before the war ended. Like so many of the ‘war-winning’ weapons in every service, they arrived much too late to win the war. In any case, the Luftwaffe had failed to provide adequate long-range reconnaissance aircraft, and the new U-boats would have been even less capable of finding their targets than the old ones. Having enjoyed a cryptographic advantage over the Western Allies in the first three years of the war, the German navy lost it in the summer of 1943 just when it really needed the intelligence.

How could the Germans have so completely misunderstood what was happening in the war at sea? A major factor was their gross neglect of staffwork (which they had invented in its modern form). Until 1942 Grand Admiral Dönitz ran the U-boat war from a seaside villa in Brittany with a total staff (including cooks and typists) of fewer than thirty. Six staff officers in three watches of two ran a campaign involving hundreds of ships spread across the North Atlantic. There was no possibility of keeping current operations under effective control, let alone of undertaking the sort of extensive research and analysis the British applied to the anti-submarine war, which might have exposed the weaknesses of German ciphers, as well as revealing the effects of enemy weapons and equipment whose existence, in some cases, the Germans did not even suspect.

... The Germans also regarded those parts of the war they were not themselves fighting as taking place almost on another planet. When news reached Berlin in December 1941 that the Japanese naval air force had attacked the US Pacific Fleet at a location called ‘Pearl Harbor’, no one on Hitler’s staff could find it on the map.

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alexsmitposts · 4 years ago

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Why do modern Europeans believe that the United States won the Second World War

History is a science that serves politics. This often leads to distortions in the interpretation of events. According to polls, 50% of Europeans are convinced that the United States won World War II, 22% - Great Britain and only 14% know about the role of the USSR in the destruction of fascism.

Neighbors-distort as they can

In Russia, as the successor of the USSR, the most accurate idea of the history of those terrible years is still preserved. But in Belarus, history is already taught in a truncated version, focusing on the partisan movement and on the fact that most civilians died in this country.

In Polish schools, the history of the war is taught as the story of the battle of two dictators – Hitler and Stalin. It is said that Poland was first invaded by Germany. and then the Soviet Union. Teachers focus on the atrocities of the UPA* and the shooting of officers in Katyn.

In Estonia, it is still difficult to hide an awl in a bag – too many people studied in Soviet schools. But the Day of the liberation of Tallinn on September 22 is now celebrated as the Day of Resistance to the USSR, and they teach that on this day the Soviet Union occupied the state.

According to the historian Vladimir Simindei, the situation in Latvia is similar: textbooks tell how bravely the Latvian SS men mobilized by Hitler fought with Soviet soldiers, and it is said about the Nuremberg trial that " it was highly politicized, especially because it was influenced by the Stalinist USSR."

In the textbooks of Moldova, it is written that Romania fought on the side of Hitler with the "good" goal – to return Bessarabia, which was supposed to go to the country of the Soviets under the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, and then "switched" to the side of the coalition. There are many mistakes in the books, the emphasis is on maps of military operations, but there are no major distortions.

The "Allies" want to forget the USSR

But things are different in the camp of the allies of that time. They acted according to the precepts of Hitler, who wrote in Mein Kampf: "I do not want history to be crammed, I want it to educate", and changed everything.

In some US textbooks, they teach that Hitler was defeated by America. Schoolchildren are sure that the American marines "caught" Hitler in the mountain bunker "Eagle's Nest", where they destroyed him. Since the Americans can not show the public the remains of the dictator, American journalists are looking for him in Brazil, then in Bolivia.

But many people know the truth. For example, the actor and director Clint Eastwood inserted in his film "Train to Paris" an episode where the main characters go on a tour of Berlin, and a German guide tells about the USSR and shows the place where Hitler's body was burned.

Students are told about the bombing of civilians in Hiroshima and Nagasaki as a retaliatory strike against the attack on Pearl Harbor.

The historian Stanislav Kulchitsky points out that in Western schools, the turning point is called the defeat of Rommel in Africa and the emphasis is on lend-lease.

Russian Russian history textbook Modern World History (California Edition) says about the USSR that the country was not ready for the attack of the Nazis, the troops were not modernized, and if it were not for the Russian winter, the Russians would have had a bad time. However, this textbook does not say that the US won, but it says that "the war is over".

According to a survey by the Washington Post, the American philistine believes that the USSR during World War II acted only "as an assistant."

Approximately the same thing, but with an emphasis on the actions of the British military forces, is taught in the Foggy Albion. They teach that the victory in the Second World War is solely the merit of this country. According to ITAR-TASS, since 2007, the mention of Joseph Stalin, as the leader of one of the three countries-the Syuznik, about Adolf Hitler himself, and even about him, has been removed from high school textbooks... Winston Churchill!

The British government explained this act by saying that "we need to keep up with the XXI century."

Historian Holger Nehring points out that English textbooks focus on the European Theater of war, they deny the leading role of the United States and, even more so, the USSR.

The vanquished don't want to remember the shame

In Italy, children are taught that the United Kingdom and the United States won. Basically, the brave Italians fought with the allies. The leader of the Ukrainian Orthodox community, Oles Gorodetsky, pointed out in an interview that the books do not mention either German or Soviet commanders.

In Japan, they try to avoid the topic of war at all costs. Students know that there was a war, that the United States, the British and the Russians fought on one side, and on the other – Germany, Romania and Italy. Japan was an" ally " of Germany. It is touching to talk about how elephants died of starvation in Osaka, but try not to touch on the topic of the Nanking massacre, when Japanese soldiers slaughtered 300,000 Chinese. Japanese teachers themselves admit that schoolchildren practically do not know the history of the XX century. The role of the United States as a winning country is emphasized.

In Germany itself, they would like to belittle the role of the USSR. Russian emigrants, whose children study in German schools, say that in the books there is such a thing as Siegermächte – the winning countries, which include the USSR, the United States and Great Britain. The same sounds from TV sets. About the war itself in schools, they speak concisely, without emotion. They mention the theory of the superiority of one race over all, almost do not talk about the death camps and the atrocities of the SS. In the minds of young people, they put the idea that everything would be fine if it were not for the war with the USSR.

What do other countries think?

In Israel, they honor the memory of the victims of the Holocaust, but they almost do not know about the heroism of Soviet soldiers. They also hold the opinion that the war was won by a coalition of countries. Likud MP Avraham Nagosa admits that Israeli students should know about the heroism of Jewish soldiers who fought in the Red Army.

In India, people think that the greatest contribution to the victory over the Nazis was made by the United States.

African countries where there was fighting: Algeria, Egypt or Morocco, whose volunteers took part in the liberation of Europe, also teach children that the winner in World War II was the United States.

And only in China, schools teach that a huge role in this was played in the USSR and honor the memory of Soviet heroes.

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grimweaver · 4 years ago

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“Druin and The Remnants of Oblivion” Part XXI

~*~

Most of us spent the time that was left relaxing on the east terrace of Surraiah’s home. I made myself comfortable, lounging in one of the reclining chairs and sipping freshly brewed coffee while gazing up at the stars as they gradually faded from sight, yielding to the radiant reddish-orange light bursting through the center of the horizon. The cool breeze from the shore, combined with the lingering air of tranquility that had settled on the premise overnight, made me feel like I had been carried into a dream.

Chatter gradually arose amid the sounds of gulls, the wind whistling softly in my ears, and the waves crashing against the jetty thousands of feet below. The conversations that stuck out the most were Vicente and Lucien reminiscing about their homeland as they gazed longingly at the footlands of Glenumbra across the Lilac Bay, and the knights swapping stories about their children and wives while playing cards again. Dorandil, sitting in a chair just off to my left, rambled on about how much he enjoyed sharing our adventures and constantly asked if any of us needed anything—not even his inexhaustible yap and high-pitched squeaky voice threatened to puncture the walls that guarded the aura of the peace that had enveloped me. There was only appreciation of him fetching more coffee and rice pancakes.

“Good morning, everyone,” I heard a familiar young voice say from somewhere close behind me, just loud enough for all to hear.

I already knew that it was Farwil, but I sat up and turned around in the chair to respectfully acknowledge him. He was already geared up in his steel cuirass and blue robe, leaning against the wooden frame of the glass shutter doors, with his arms crossed and his eyes squinting against the bright golden rays of the sun.

“Well, well, well! Up at last!” Fjorgard boomed. “I imagine you must’ve slept very well last night!”

“I did… thank you,” Farwil replied, then looked over at Lucien—whom, as you might imagine, was no longer wearing his Black Hand robe—and said to him, “LaChance... I assume that you had already interrogated and executed Zalkir.” Farwil didn’t seem to care if the sorcerer was subjected to the same torture that Amir was put through before his imminent death. Or, if he did, he was not up for engaging in another heated moral debate.

“I did,” LaChance answered.

“And what did he say?”

Lucien repeated what he had shared with the Family earlier, still weighed down by the frustration over not extracting as much information as he believed he would.

Farwil shook his head and sighed, “Well… a little something is better than a lot of nothing.”

“I suppose,” LaChance groaned low.

“My, my! What a beautiful sunrise!” another person at the doorway sighed.

We all turned towards the source of the voice and, the instant we recognized her as the Arch-Mage, jumped to our feet and greeted her with: “Good morning, Arch-Mage!”

“Good morning, everyone,” Surraiah replied, holding a white ceramic teacup in one of her delicate hands. Complimenting her skin, which was the color of carbonized coffee, was a ceremonial choli—a true red and dark teal two-piece garment, edged with gold-colored silk and pearl bead embroidery. “I hope you all had a very pleasant and restful evening!”

“I don’t think you will hear complaints from anyone, M’Lady,” said Lucien. “The accommodations, services, and atmosphere rival anything that we had previously experienced.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. Thank you, Mr. LaChance.” Surraiah paused to take a sip from her cup, closing her eyes and humming out a sigh of contentment as the beverage warmed her. ”I’m sure that, after all you’ve been through to get to this point, you’re all quite anxious to acquire Dragonfury.”

“Zalkir’s obstruction had set us back six days, and since Druin knows about our mission I expect our journey to the Red Mountain will be prolonged by other such run-ins— a day or two at least. I’m not comfortable applying the pressures of haste upon you, Arch-Mage, but we shouldn’t idle much longer.”

“I understand, and quite agree. That’s why I’ve already made all the necessary preparations and arrangements with the tomb guardians this morning, so that outsiders may enter without being impaled by their spears or set on fire.”

“Uh-h-huh... I think we can all appreciate that,” Jorrundhe said.

“Ah, but there is one condition,” Surraiah replied. “Only three outsiders are permitted to enter the tomb— one of them being, naturally, the one who had received a blessing from a Divine.”

Out from where I had stood behind Antoinetta and Ocheeva, I stepped forward and called out to Surraiah with a hand raised: “From Akatosh, M’Lady!”

“And you know this to be true, without a shred of doubt?” Surraiah asked me.

“He himself said it to me, just before his avatar—Martin Septim—had turned into the stone statue that now stands upon the altar. But he didn’t tell me what the blessing was.”

Surraiah’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, as she took a few steps forward and studied my face. It was the first time she had seen it without either the half-mask that I wore with the Nelvani costume or the faceplate that I had donned with the steel armor. “ Malkhai?? ” she cried. “Malkhai Ale’Zandre?? Has it truly been you the whole time??”

“Y… yes,” I answered.

((CONTINUED))

#tes oblivion #elder scrolls stories #Lucien LaChance #the elder scrolls

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yeniayofnymeria · 5 years ago

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Arya Stark and Black Swan

(I don't know who the picture belongs to, I found it a long time ago.)

Hello/Selam,

In fact, as you know, Arya is one of the biggest five of GRRM. She has a key role in the books. The problem is that it's hard to predict exactly what this role is. I've been trying to piece together her puzzle pieces for years. The result I have achieved so far; Arya is on the side of the ice in the Battle of Ice and Fire alongside FM / Great Other ... Most people see this story as a classic good-bad battle, but I don't. The reason I think so is GRRM's statements.

Men are still capable of great heroism. But I don’t necessarily think there are heroes. That’s something that’s very much in my books: I believe in great characters. We’re all capable of doing great things, and of doing bad things. We have the angels and the demons inside of us, and our lives are a succession of choices…[Woodrow Wilson] was a racist who tried to end war. Now, does one cancel out the other? Well, they don’t cancel out the other. You can’t make him a hero or a villain. He was both. And we’re all both. - GRRM

...

Much as I admire Tolkien, and I do admire Tolkien — he’s been a huge influence on me, and his Lord of the Rings is the mountain that leans over every other fantasy written since and shaped all of modern fantasy — there are things about it, the whole concept of the Dark Lord, and good guys battling bad guys, Good versus Evil, while brilliantly handled in Tolkien, in the hands of many Tolkien successors, it has become kind of a cartoon. We don’t need any more Dark Lords, we don’t need any more, “Here are the good guys, they’re in white, there are the bad guys, they’re in black. And also, they’re really ugly, the bad guys.” - GRRM

So I don't see the side of ice and fire pure good and pure bad. They're both. Just like the Stark and Lannister war. So I don't see any problem putting Arya on the ice. After all, she's a Stark, and the Stark family is portrayed as "ice."

Lets continue.

The post was created using multiple topics(I combined them.): u/DutchArya 's https://asoiaf.westeros.org/index.php?/topic/146440-arya-the-singing-bird-stark/ post and u/Arya1100's https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/7vw332/spoilers_extended_black_swans_and_arya_stark_an/ post.

It's an old theory(of theirs), but it's been a year or so. I wanted to resurrect. I just added a few things. And I commented in my own words.

Black Swan Theory

The black swan theory or theory of black swan events is a metaphor that describes an event that comes as a surprise, has a major effect, and is often inappropriately rationalized after the fact with the benefit of hindsight**.** The term is based on an ancient saying that presumed black swans did not exist – a saying that became reinterpreted to teach a different lesson after black swans were discovered in the wild.

The theory was developed by Nassim Nicholas Taleb to explain:

The disproportionate role of high-profile, hard-to-predict, and rare events that are beyond the realm of normal expectations in history, science, finance, and technology.

The non-computability of the probability of the consequential rare events using scientific methods (owing to the very nature of small probabilities).

The psychological biases that blind people, both individually and collectively, to uncertainty and to a rare event's massive role in historical affairs.

Unlike the earlier and broader "black swan problem" in philosophy (i.e. the problem of induction), Taleb's "black swan theory" refers only to unexpected events of large magnitude and consequence and their dominant role in history. Such events, considered extreme outliers**, collectively play vastly larger roles than regular occurrences:**xxi More technically, in the scientific monograph 'Silent Risk', Taleb mathematically defines the black swan problem as "stemming from the use of degenerate metaprobability" - From wikizeroo.org

Black Swan in summary = A term used to refer to an unexpectedly large event, effect, event.

Arya Stark is thought to have a connection with the Black Swan... This is both a “theory i'm issue I mentioned above and a kind of ugly duckling that turns into a beautiful swan.

Black Swan

Arya felt as though the lake were calling her. She wanted to leap into those placid blue waters, to feel clean again, to swim and splash and bask in the sun. But she dare not take off her clothes where the others could see...

From up here, she could see a small wooded island off to the northeast. Thirty yards from shore, three black swans were gliding over the water, so serene . . . no one had told them that war had come, and they cared nothing for burning towns and butchered men. She stared at them with yearning. Part of her wanted to be a swan the other part wanted to eat one. - (Arya, A Clash of Kings)

The important thing in this quote is that he sees “3 BLACK SWAN as I mentioned above. In fact, the Europeans did not know Black Swan until the 1697s, and I think that this is the basis of the theory that I mentioned first. So, in essence, these animals are a very rare species. Considering that the ASOIAF universe is a kind of a different version of Europe... In other words, the author added a “black swan" instead of the common white swan.

In the next book (book 3) Arya meets some of the Brotherhood and Lady Ravella Smallwood. She treats Arya well, washes and dresses her.

It was even worse than before; Lady Smallwood insisted that Arya take another bath, and cut and comb her hair besides; the dress she put her in this time was sort of lilac-colored, and decorated with little baby pearls. The only good thing about it was that it was so delicate that no one could expect her to ride in it. So the next morning as they broke their fast, Lady Smallwood gave her breeches, belt, and tunic to wear, and a brown doeskin jerkin dotted with iron studs. "They were my son's things," she said. "He died when he was seven."

"I'm sorry, my lady." Arya suddenly felt bad for her, and ashamed. "I'm sorry I tore the acorn dress too. It was pretty."

"Yes, child. And so are you. Be brave."

This woman from House Swan. Their sigil is so interesting

Battling swans black and white and so is the House of Black and White and that is where Arya is being reborn at every dark moon.

In the books Black and White was often touted as the struggle for darkness and light; therefore, we may interpret the question of swans as the struggle between dark and light parts of Arya or some kind of foreshadowing, which expresses an "enemy" in the future. In another comment 3 black swans; 3 can not be predicted to affect the story, may also express the great effect.

Water Dance

Arya stands on her toes, on one leg. This is indeed reminiscent of ballet. Ballet dancers learn to stand upright, on the tip of their toes, often on one leg. It's explicitly linked to the water dancing. So, "water dancing" = "ballet" and Swan Lake is a ballet that also has narrative similarities to Arya's story.

Ned stopped and looked at her. "Arya, what are you doing?"

"Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours." Her hands flailed at the air to steady herself.

Ned had to smile. "Which toe?" he teased.

"Any toe." - (Eddard V, aGoT)

Later on, Arya wishes she could dance on water. This is what the Swan ballet dancers do!

Skinny as they were, her legs were strong and springy and growing longer every day. She was glad of that. A water dancer needs good legs. Blind Beth was no water dancer, but she would not be Beth forever. - The Blind Girl, ADWD

...

She was not far from the Gate as the crows flies, but for girls with feet instead of wings, the way was longer. - Mercy, Winds

Ugly Duck and Beautiful Swan

You all know the story of the ugly duckling. The swan, which started life as an ugly duck, is considered by all to be ugly and excluded. But one day something happens that when the ugly duck grows up, it turns into a beautiful swan and amazes everyone.

Readers think that the swan motif is also one aspect of it, which I'm sure everyone who reads the books carefully noticed it.

Arya considered herself ugly from the very beginning, and Sansa and Jeyne mocked her long face and subjected them to “Horse-faced” insults. According to Arya, her mother told her; if she wore beautiful dresses like Sansa and combed her hair, she could have been as beautiful as her sister.

But Jon and Ned always said she was beautiful; his father stated that she resembled his sister Lyanna, who is said to be a very beautiful girl. On the other hand, as she grew up during her adventure (such as Lady Smallwood), some began to emphasize that she was “beautiful.. For example, we have recently seen The Gentle Man said to her face is beautiful.

There is also a reference link to the swan and beauty in the series.

Arianne touched the pin that clasped [Balon’s] cloak, with its quarreling swans. “I have always been fond of swans. No other bird is half so beautiful, this side of the Summer Isles.”

“Your peacocks might dispute that,” said Ser Balon.

“They might,” said Arianne, “but peacocks are vain, proud creatures, strutting about in all those gaudy colors. Give me a swan serene in white or beautiful in black.” - The Watcher, ADwD

Thank you for read.

#AryaStark #black swan #asoiaf #JonryaWeek2020

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etlunainmorte · 5 years ago

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🖤 Updated Masterlist 🖤

***

Prologue

~ My love for you is a journey starting at forever and ending at never. *Unknown ~

I. The Perfect Girl

~ Oh, my darling, it's true. Beautiful things have dents and scratches too. *Unknown ~

II. The Tattooed Poet

~ You were a risk, a mystery, and the most certain thing I'd ever known. *Beau Taplin ~

III. The Strange Mission

~ And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and to find my soul. *Unknown ~

IV. The Fancy Invitation

~ If you want the ultimate thrill, you've got to be willing to pay the ultimate price. *Mark Foo ~

V. Nico's Best Friend

~ A best friend is someone who makes you laugh even when you think you'll never smile again. *Unknown ~

VI. A Memorable Evening

~ You want to know who I'm in love with? Read the first word again. *Unknown ~

VII. The Unexpected Occurrence

~ When love is real, it finds a way. *Avatar Roku ~

VIII. Their First Dance

~ I may not often get to see you as often as I like. I may not get to hold you in my arms all through the night. But deep in my heart I truly know, you're the one that I love, and can't let you go. *Unknown ~

IX. The Eccentric Master

~ I don't live in darkness. Darkness lives in me. *Unknown ~

X. Battle And Emotions

~ The strongest people are not those who show strength in front of us but those who win battles we know nothing about. *Unknown ~

XI. Naked And Defenseless

~ One of the most striking of abstract art's appearance is her nakedness, an art stripped bare. *Robert Motherwell ~

XII. The Suspiscious Advice

~ Beware the person who stabs you and then tells the world they're the ones who's bleeding. *Jill Blakewell ~

XIII. Dates And Movies

~ We stumbled on a view that’s tailor-made for two. *La La Land ~

XIV. She Who Dances

~ Inside every dancer is a beginner that fell in love. *Unknown ~

XV. The Diabolical Amalgam

~ The thing about being brave is it doesn't come with the absence of fear and hurt. Bravery is the ability to look fear and hurt in the face and say, move aside, you are in the way. *Melissa Tumino ~

XVI. The Unacceptable Truth

~ Sometimes, the person you'd take a bullet for ends up being the one behind the gun. *Unknown ~

XVII. Aspect Of Future

~ The future is not inevitable. We can influence it, if we know what we want it to be. *Charles Handy ~

XVIII. Change Of Heart

~ He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man. *Dr. Johnson ~

XIX. Tears And Sadness

~ There are many ways of breaking a heart. Stories were full of hearts broken by love, but what really broke the heart was taking away its dream - whatever dream that might be. *Pearl S. Buck ~

XX. Rejection And Heartbreak

~ It takes a strong heart to love, but it takes an even stronger heart to continue to love after it's been hurt. *Unknown ~

XXI. He Who Loves

~ A person that truly loves you will never let you go, no matter how hard the situation is. *Unknown ~

XXII. He Who Fights

~ I fight for what I want. It takes a lot for me to give up on something or someone. I can't just give up because things are hard, especially if that person means something to me. I'll keep fighting and fighting, until I have nothing left in me, and giving up is the only option left. *Unknown ~

XXIII. He Who Protects

~ A true friend is someone who protects you like a shield, cares for you like a brother, and fights for you like a warrior. *Unknown ~

XXIV. Run, Rabbit, Run

~ Everyone says destroy what destroys you, right? But, what if the thing destroying you is yourself? *Unknown ~

XXV.A. Hope Has Fallen

~ Death leaves a heartache no one can heal. Love leaves a memory no one can steal. *Unknown ~

XXV.B. Hope Has Fallen

~ Oh, here will I set up my everlasting rest and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world - wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And lips, oh, you, the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss, a dateless bargain to engrossing death. *William Shakespeare ~

XXVI. A Second Chance

~ Can we start over? Can we be strangers again? Let me introduce myself. We can laugh and talk. And relearn what we already know. And come up with new inside jokes. And create new memories. And give each other a second chance. *Unknown ~

XXVII. One Last Shot

~ Sometimes, there is no next time. No time - outs. No second chances. Sometimes, it's now or never. *Alan Bennett ~

XXVIII. He Who Regrets

~ I can never regret that you have been a part of my life. I can never regret that I love you, because it is exactly what I wanted. *Unknown ~

XXIX. The Little Lamb

~ Sometimes in life we need to share, our feelings that are hard to bear. When in our hearts we feel such pain, that extra strength we have to gain, from someone who will keep us safe, and listen when we lose our faith. This Guardian Angel's here for you, to light the way and help you through. *Unknown ~

XXX. When She Left

~ Sometimes, I don't know what haunts me more. The memories of you, or the happy person I used to be. *Ranata Suzuki ~

XXXI. Father And Son

~ My father gave the greatest gift anyone could give another person: he believed in me. *Jim Valvano ~

XXXII. Her Precious Friends

~ And you will seek me and find me, when you search for me with all your heart. *Jer. 29:13 ~

XXXIII. The Disposed Vessel

~ Every thought is a battle, every breath is a war, and I don't think I'm winning anymore. *Unknown ~

XXXIV. And Then, Finally,...

~ There was a boy. A very strange enchanted boy. They say he wandered very far, very far over land and sea. A little shy and sad of eye. But very wise, was he. And then one day. One magic day he passed my way. While we spoke of many things, fools and kings, this he said to me: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return. *From Moulin Rouge, Ewan McGregor / Nat King Cole ~

♡♡♡ Part 1

@bettybattaglia 's render

♡♡♡ Part 2 by @la-vita

XXXV. I Will, Gladly!

~ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self - seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. *1 Cor 13: 1 ~

Epilogue

Credits

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #i see my future before me #v x reader #v x you #masterlist

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ronyxfic · 6 years ago

Text

Educating the Victim - Act VI, Chapter XXI

Pairing: Yellow Diamond/Yellow Pearl

Rating: Mature

Warnings/Tags: none for this chapter!

CHAPTER 21: Gadgetry

A few hours later, a knock on the door announced the arrival of whoever Azure had sent.

Rose, still groggy from her nap, took a few minutes to get there to open the door.

A woman stood, holding a neat blue briefcase. There was something standoffish about her air. "Rose Quartz, assume? Please take this." She passed the briefcase over and took a look over her shoulder.

Rose took the briefcase. “Thank you,” she said. “Uh, are you going to talk us through these...?”

"Nope!" An odd edge in her voice was apparent. "Azure will call you soon. I'm not getting any more involved. Goodbye!"

“O...okay,” Rose said. “Is this all then, or do you have something else for Marigold?”

The stranger paused for a second, almost looking offended to be doubted. "Yes! All your little toys should be in there. Don't let her touch the big one. That's for you."

Rose frowned at the operative, then at the briefcase. “Okay,” she said, “thank you.”

"I wasn't here, if anyone asks! Not getting any more involved!" Her brows furrowed in determination.

The door closed behind her, and Rose was left befuzzled, staring at the briefcase.

“Okay. Alright then. Uh. Marigold?” she called.

Marigold entered the communal space from her room, in a pale bathrobe. "What's the commotion?"

Rose held up the briefcase. “A delivery,” she said. “The girl who brought it was really nervous about it. I have a bad feeling about this.” She sighed and set the briefcase down on the table. “She said Azure would call us to go through it.”

Marigold blinked. She stepped closer and sat down, looking over the hardcover case. "Should we... open it?"

“I’m not sure.” Rose cast her a look. “I kind of want to wait for Azure. Do you want to shoot her a message saying it’s arrived?”

As if on cue, Marigold's phone went off, loudly ringing in her bedroom. "I suppose that'll be her." Marigold shot up, adjusting her robe. "One second."

Rose watched her, then looked at the briefcase again. She felt queasy, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t the remnants of her hangover. The way the operative had acted stuck with her.

She was scared shitless. Nobody sane wants to associate with this case. And yet here we are.

"Hello, Azure! I'm going to put you on speaker. Is that alright ?" Marigold walked back in, and then placed her phone onto the table, besides the case. "I've got Rose here. Rose, say hello."

Rose shifted, looked at the phone. “Hi, Azure,” she said.

“Oh, lovely, you’re both there!” Azure’s voice rang from the phone speakers. “How have you been so far?”

"Interesting." Marigold shifted a gaze at Rose. "Had a pretty late night but managed to get here alright. What on earth did you get delivered to us?"

“Oh, you haven’t had a look yet? Go ahead, open it up. There’s all sorts of fun things in there.”

Rose thought Azure’s tone was all too carefree. She bent over the briefcase and opened it.

“Now, don’t touch anything yet, some of this is very dangerous,” Azure said.

“Oh, really? I never would have guessed,” Rose said, her eyes fixed on the gun.

"Oh, fucking hell." Marigold whispered under her breath, eyes growing wide. "I thought you were kidding." Her hand reached out to touch the gun. "Surely we won't need to resort to that?"

“The gun isn’t for you, Marigold,” Azure chided her immediately. “No, Rose gets that one. There’s other things in there.”

Marigold withdrew, almost disappointed. She then looked borderline offended. "Wait... why does Quartz get a gun and not me?"

“She’s more level-headed. You’d get yourself in trouble, Mari.”

“This is quite a bold assumption,” Rose said softly, “I mean, I’m the one who drank herself into oblivion last night.”

“Yeah, well, Marigold’s been drinking herself into oblivion for the past twenty years, what can I say. You get the gun, she doesn’t.”

"I've been sober for nearly six months!" Marigold huffed, but turned her gaze to the rest of the items. She spied a device that looked similar to a small tv remote, but with only three buttons. "And what did you decide to grace me with, then?"

“You get a tazer. Less lethal, and you can still incapacitate people. Both of these are only for self-defense, and Rose, your gun only has two bullets.”

Marigold's face lit up. "Oh!" she remarked, picking the tazer up, making it slightly crackle. "I've always wanted one of these!"

“Put it down, Marigold, you could injure someone,” Azure said sharply. “Don’t use it unless you have to. There’s a lot of safety protocol associated with all of this, and... yeah, don’t turn it on unless you need to use it is pretty much the first and most important rule.”

"How will I know how to use it if I don't learn?" Marigold asked, studying the buttons. "Whatever. What are the other things?"

“You can try it out when there isn’t someone sitting right next to you,” Azure said. “Apart from that, we have a few standard things – discreet communications equipment that I want you to use at all times, even if you don’t think you’ll be split up. And there should be a memory stick as well.”

Rose picked up the memory stick. “Yeah, I found it,” she said. “What does it do?”

It was impossible to miss the pride in Azure’s voice. “A nifty piece of software. Blue programmed it a few months ago, and I’m so glad it’s coming in useful now. It’s AI powered, and will hack into anything you plug it into.”

Marigold went a little quiet as she turned her gaze. It looked somewhat like a compact makeup mirror, the usb slot slotted discreetly in the back.

Blue, huh.

She wondered how much Aurora knew about all this. She glanced back to the case, a sudden nervousness spreading to her.

Oh God.

She was in Italy.

She'd been sent a weapon.

"This is too real," she muttered, putting the tazer down. "I don't. I don't have to kill anyone, right? No one is going to die. This is diplomatic, right?"

She wasn't sure who exactly she was asking.

Rose said nothing.

Azure cleared her throat after a long moment of silence.

“There are just precautions, Marigold,” she said softly. “We’re... we’re all hoping that nothing awful is going to happen. But... you have to be prepared. We’ve seen what Roxy is capable of. And... you may have to do things you rather wouldn’t.”

Oh God.

Marigold swallowed.

Oh God. She was a high school principal. She had no training for any situation near a gun aside from screaming at students to hide under tables.

She wanted to hide under the table herself, all the sudden.

Talk to Roxy. Just talk. That's all she needed to do. No guns. No weapons. No tazering. No one needed to be hurt.

"Well. Alright!" The stability in her voice felt foreign in how much it was forced.

No one needed to see her break down. No one.

Aurora would understand. Oh God. I need her.

She found her fists curled. She carefully forced them unclenched. "We're starting tomorrow, then? Anyone else you need us to meet? Who did you even send?"

“She’s my lawyer and our liaison with Interpol for the duration of the stay. You should hopefully not see too much of her – she really doesn’t want to get involved too much.”

Rose cast Marigold a look, frowning slightly. “Yes, I got that impression,” she said. “She thinks this is crazy, doesn’t she? She’s probably right.”

Was this mission really that cursed? Marigold sank further into her seat.

She wanted alcohol. She wanted Aurora. She wanted to be home.

She didn't feel brave anymore.

"Is there anything else we need to know?"

“Only that Roxy has been sighted in this town. She’s been seen at the casino, so I’d suggest you start there. Try to find out if anyone’s seen her.”

"I wonder how I'll feel about visiting a casino again." Marigold said, leaning forward again. "It's been a while."

“We’re only there to get information,” Rose said.

“Anyway, you know what to do now,” Azure said. “If you’re feeling keen, you can probably go out today. But I don’t expect that. You will have to go out tomorrow, though.”

"Alright. I'll see if I can at least do some research on this casino." Marigold sighed, putting the case away under the table. "Thanks for all this. The accommodation is lovely."

“Yes, I agree,” Rose said.

“Well, I’m glad. Enjoy yourselves while you can. I’m off now. You have my number if you need me.”

"Alright. Thank you, Azure. I'll, um, see you later!"

Marigold sat back as she turned the speaker off, and hung up the phone. Falling back into the seat again. "Oh dear. I wasn't... expecting this."

Rose sighed and leaned back as well. A glance towards Marigold. “Are you... okay?”

Marigold twitched. "Yes, I'm alright."

It wasn't a lie, her body was fine. That meant everything was fine, right? She wasn't suffering.

"Are you okay?"

“I’m fine. Ready to get her. Though... probably not today.”

'Get her'.

The words made Marigold immediately numb. Then cold, her stomach felt an eerie lurch.

"Yes." She forced herself to nod. "I do suppose you're right. Early night in?"

“Sounds good to me,” Rose said. “Do you have any dinner plans?”

"I'm not very hungry," Marigold replied a little too quickly. "You can feel free to go out and get something, though."

Rose threw her a suspicious look, thinking that Marigold probably wasn’t as okay as she claimed to be.

But she let it go.

“Okay,” she said. “You have my number in case you need me. Or... if you just want to talk, or something.”

"I'm fine, I assure you." There was a new edge to Marigold’s voice. "Have fun."

Rose gave a soft sigh. “Okay. See you later.” She took her things and retreated to her room.

Marigold returned her focus to her phone and picked it up as she gathered herself. She closed the door behind her, and settled on the bed with a sigh.

She hoped Aurora wasn't busy as she dialled.

Aurora picked up after two rings.

“Hello?”

"Oh, hello." Marigold sat back on the bed, her head pressing against the pillow. "I guess I just. Um. Wanted to call. You alright?"

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Aurora wore a warm smile, and it coloured her voice. “It’s good to hear your voice, Marigold. Is everything okay?”

"I... don't know." Her voice cracked a little. Aurora's presence was beckoning words from within her. Words she'd fought to keep from Rose and Azure mere seconds earlier. "I'm getting quite overwhelmed and I don't really feel like I want to speak to anyone about it."

“Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that.” Aurora’s voice was now layered with concern. “Did something happen to make you feel that way?”

"I'm in Italy! On some insane spy mission to face off with one of my old friends! Who tried to kill someone!" Marigold found it hard to keep her voice low. "I shouldn't be here. There's nothing about me that suggests I can do this. And there's this odd spite that's fuelling me, but I don't know if and when that's going to run out."

“Oh.” Aurora didn’t quite know what to say. “I... I don’t really know if there’s anything I can say that will help,” she eventually said. “But surely, if Azure sent you, she’ll have faith in you.”

"I suppose." Marigold sighed. "But it still feels. So real and yet so wrong."

Aurora sighed. “Is there anything... I can do to help?”

"Is there anything else I need to do right now to distract myself?"

Aurora thought. And then, she remembered. “Oh, yeah! There was one thing I meant to tell you about.”

Marigold blinked. She felt uneasy at her tone. "...Yes?"

“I talked to a few other members of staff. They’re happy that you’re... redeemed, so to speak, but they want you to release a statement owning up to...” Aurora swallowed. “Your previous homophobia towards students and staff.”

"Oh." Marigold gave a hesitant little swallow. "Like... in way of public apology?"

“Yeah. Is that... okay?”

"How... specific does it need to be?"

“Well, the things that were brought up in particular... were suspending Ruby Ryder, which you did a few years ago, allegedly because she was too close to her girlfriend. Also suspending Rose. And... whatever role you played in the suicide of Laramy... Lars Barriga.”

Marigold waited for the last words with baited breath, and then went quiet for a while. "You are aware that could jeopardise my position at the school? At any teaching establishment?"

Aurora swallowed.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I know. But... but many of the things you did previously were wrong. And you know that, don’t you?”

Another small silence. "I'll. I'll think about it."

“Okay,” Aurora said softly. “I... the official story is that you’re on holiday, but from what I can tell, nobody’s quite buying it. Especially in the middle of exam season... I wouldn’t think about it for too long, if I were you.”

"Oh." Marigold could only nod again. "I see. I'll... I'll try and be prompt about it, then."

Aurora let the moment hang for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry,” she then said. “I... feel like this was probably not what you wanted to hear.”

"Not exactly. But I'm glad I heard the truth, anyway."

“Well, that is at least something,” Aurora said.

She hesitated.

“I miss you,” she then said. “School doesn’t feel the same without you.”

"I miss you too," Marigold admitted. "I miss the security of home. I miss knowing I'll see familiar people tomorrow."

“You’ll be home soon, right?” Aurora hated how small her voice sounded. “I... I want to go on another date with you. It was so nice. I... I want you here. We only just...” She trailed off.

"I know." Marigold sighed. Her gaze lingered on the door to the living room as she saw the briefcase in her mind's eye. "I'll be safe and home soon. And then we can have that date."

Aurora swallowed. “You’ll... be safe, right?”

"...Yeah." She found herself not quite knowing anymore. "I'll see if I can write something up. For the apology."

“Thank you.” Aurora sighed. “I... things have been pretty normal here, so there isn’t really that much to tell. How are things going for you?”

"Italy is really pretty. I mostly drove today, and am pretty exhausted by it." She closed her eyes for a second. "Might go to bed soon. Is seven too early?"

“Maybe a little,” Aurora said. “Have you had dinner?”

"Not really hungry, especially not now."

“You should still eat something. And... and try to enjoy it. I mean, you’re in Italy.”

"Maybe tomorrow. This isn't exactly a holiday." Marigold sounded sombre.

“That doesn’t mean the food is any less good,” Aurora said. “Try to have something. Even if it’s not much. You’ll need your strength.”

Marigold felt herself being convinced a little. "Alright," she caved in. "I'll see if the restaurant downstairs is nice. It smelt good when we walked past it earlier. What are you up to tonight?"

"Not very much. I might call Blue later, but I don't have many other plans. Do you want me to stay on the call for a bit?"

"If you'd like. Hey. About Blue." Marigold swallowed. "I was very strict with her when she was at school. In hindsight I realise that I probably was not as empathetic as I should have been... Is... she alright?"

"Yes, she's fine," Aurora said. "We... I mean, she mostly did a lot of things to wind you up. Teachers in general. She didn't expect you to be particularly empathetic."

"Students acting out is awfully indicative of a rough home situation." Marigold sounded mournful. "And yet, I let myself get angry at her. And other students. But... she's done something very useful for this mission and I suppose I just want to say thanks. Or sorry. Or something, you know?"

Aurora smiled. "I'll be sure to pass it on to her. I didn't know she was involved in your mission, what did she do?"

Marigold swallowed. How much was she allowed to say? "Oh. Just some tech things, I think. I suppose I just feel grateful. It was quite unexpected."

"Oh, well, she does a lot of programming. I won't pry, I know you're not supposed to talk about it."

"Sorry." Marigold felt caught. "I wish I could tell you everything. I'm sure I will when I come back, alright? No more secrets or hiding things."

"That would be nice," Aurora said. "I can't wait until you're back."

"Yes, I can't wait to return. I think I might have a go at dinner, then." She found a small smile. "Should I do the trendy thing of photographing my food?"

"If you want! It might be nice to have some good memories of this trip, even if the occasion isn't all that happy." Aurora smiled. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"Alright." Marigold said. "I'll see you soon. Have a good evening. I, uh... Yes. Goodbye."

"You can say it, you know," Aurora said with a small chuckle. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Marigold hung up the phone, and found herself crying a little.

#steven universe #su fanfic #su yellow diamond #yellow diamond x yellow pearl #su rose quartz #su blue zircon #su blue diamond #su human au.#educating the victim #etv act 6 #illustrated #animated #sfw

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a-mutual-killing · 6 years ago

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hunker down, boys - she’s fifty five spenserian stanzas of shelley mourning keats in the most absurd english way and i’m fucking screaming. someone come put me out of my misery before i have enough time to think about the social masochism behind shelley inviting an ill keats to italy.

I I weep for Adonais—he is dead! Oh, weep for Adonais! though our tears Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head! And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers, And teach them thine own sorrow, say: "With me Died Adonais; till the Future dares Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be An echo and a light unto eternity!"

II Where wert thou, mighty Mother, when he lay, When thy Son lay, pierc'd by the shaft which flies In darkness? where was lorn Urania When Adonais died? With veiled eyes, 'Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise She sate, while one, with soft enamour'd breath, Rekindled all the fading melodies, With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath, He had adorn'd and hid the coming bulk of Death.

III Oh, weep for Adonais—he is dead! Wake, melancholy Mother, wake and weep! Yet wherefore? Quench within their burning bed Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep Like his, a mute and uncomplaining sleep; For he is gone, where all things wise and fair Descend—oh, dream not that the amorous Deep Will yet restore him to the vital air; Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair.

IV Most musical of mourners, weep again! Lament anew, Urania! He died, Who was the Sire of an immortal strain, Blind, old and lonely, when his country's pride, The priest, the slave and the liberticide, Trampled and mock'd with many a loathed rite Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified, Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the sons of light.

V Most musical of mourners, weep anew! Not all to that bright station dar'd to climb; And happier they their happiness who knew, Whose tapers yet burn through that night of time In which suns perish'd; others more sublime, Struck by the envious wrath of man or god, Have sunk, extinct in their refulgent prime; And some yet live, treading the thorny road, Which leads, through toil and hate, to Fame's serene abode.

VI But now, thy youngest, dearest one, has perish'd, The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew, Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherish'd, And fed with true-love tears, instead of dew; Most musical of mourners, weep anew! Thy extreme hope, the loveliest and the last, The bloom, whose petals nipp'd before they blew Died on the promise of the fruit, is waste; The broken lily lies—the storm is overpast.

VII To that high Capital, where kingly Death Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay, He came; and bought, with price of purest breath, A grave among the eternal.—Come away! Haste, while the vault of blue Italian day Is yet his fitting charnel-roof! while still He lies, as if in dewy sleep he lay; Awake him not! surely he takes his fill Of deep and liquid rest, forgetful of all ill.

VIII He will awake no more, oh, never more! Within the twilight chamber spreads apace The shadow of white Death, and at the door Invisible Corruption waits to trace His extreme way to her dim dwelling-place; The eternal Hunger sits, but pity and awe Soothe her pale rage, nor dares she to deface So fair a prey, till darkness and the law Of change shall o'er his sleep the mortal curtain draw.

IX Oh, weep for Adonais! The quick Dreams, The passion-winged Ministers of thought, Who were his flocks, whom near the living streams Of his young spirit he fed, and whom he taught The love which was its music, wander not— Wander no more, from kindling brain to brain, But droop there, whence they sprung; and mourn their lot Round the cold heart, where, after their sweet pain, They ne'er will gather strength, or find a home again.

X And one with trembling hands clasps his cold head, And fans him with her moonlight wings, and cries, "Our love, our hope, our sorrow, is not dead; See, on the silken fringe of his faint eyes, Like dew upon a sleeping flower, there lies A tear some Dream has loosen'd from his brain." Lost Angel of a ruin'd Paradise! She knew not 'twas her own; as with no stain She faded, like a cloud which had outwept its rain.

XI One from a lucid urn of starry dew Wash'd his light limbs as if embalming them; Another clipp'd her profuse locks, and threw The wreath upon him, like an anadem, Which frozen tears instead of pearls begem; Another in her wilful grief would break Her bow and winged reeds, as if to stem A greater loss with one which was more weak; And dull the barbed fire against his frozen cheek.

XII Another Splendour on his mouth alit, That mouth, whence it was wont to draw the breath Which gave it strength to pierce the guarded wit, And pass into the panting heart beneath With lightning and with music: the damp death Quench'd its caress upon his icy lips; And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath Of moonlight vapour, which the cold night clips, It flush'd through his pale limbs, and pass'd to its eclipse.

XIII And others came . . . Desires and Adorations, Winged Persuasions and veil'd Destinies, Splendours, and Glooms, and glimmering Incarnations Of hopes and fears, and twilight Phantasies; And Sorrow, with her family of Sighs, And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by the gleam Of her own dying smile instead of eyes, Came in slow pomp; the moving pomp might seem Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream.

XIV All he had lov'd, and moulded into thought, From shape, and hue, and odour, and sweet sound, Lamented Adonais. Morning sought Her eastern watch-tower, and her hair unbound, Wet with the tears which should adorn the ground, Dimm'd the aëreal eyes that kindle day; Afar the melancholy thunder moan'd, Pale Ocean in unquiet slumber lay, And the wild Winds flew round, sobbing in their dismay.

XV Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains, And feeds her grief with his remember'd lay, And will no more reply to winds or fountains, Or amorous birds perch'd on the young green spray, Or herdsman's horn, or bell at closing day; Since she can mimic not his lips, more dear Than those for whose disdain she pin'd away Into a shadow of all sounds: a drear Murmur, between their songs, is all the woodmen hear.

XVI Grief made the young Spring wild, and she threw down Her kindling buds, as if she Autumn were, Or they dead leaves; since her delight is flown, For whom should she have wak'd the sullen year? To Phoebus was not Hyacinth so dear Nor to himself Narcissus, as to both Thou, Adonais: wan they stand and sere Amid the faint companions of their youth, With dew all turn'd to tears; odour, to sighing ruth.

XVII Thy spirit's sister, the lorn nightingale Mourns not her mate with such melodious pain; Not so the eagle, who like thee could scale Heaven, and could nourish in the sun's domain Her mighty youth with morning, doth complain, Soaring and screaming round her empty nest, As Albion wails for thee: the curse of Cain Light on his head who pierc'd thy innocent breast, And scar'd the angel soul that was its earthly guest!

XVIII Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone, But grief returns with the revolving year; The airs and streams renew their joyous tone; The ants, the bees, the swallows reappear; Fresh leaves and flowers deck the dead Seasons' bier; The amorous birds now pair in every brake, And build their mossy homes in field and brere; And the green lizard, and the golden snake, Like unimprison'd flames, out of their trance awake.

XIX Through wood and stream and field and hill and Ocean A quickening life from the Earth's heart has burst As it has ever done, with change and motion, From the great morning of the world when first God dawn'd on Chaos; in its stream immers'd, The lamps of Heaven flash with a softer light; All baser things pant with life's sacred thirst; Diffuse themselves; and spend in love's delight, The beauty and the joy of their renewed might.

XX The leprous corpse, touch'd by this spirit tender, �� Exhales itself in flowers of gentle breath; Like incarnations of the stars, when splendour Is chang'd to fragrance, they illumine death And mock the merry worm that wakes beneath; Nought we know, dies. Shall that alone which knows Be as a sword consum'd before the sheath By sightless lightning?—the intense atom glows A moment, then is quench'd in a most cold repose.

XXI Alas! that all we lov'd of him should be, But for our grief, as if it had not been, And grief itself be mortal! Woe is me! Whence are we, and why are we? of what scene The actors or spectators? Great and mean Meet mass'd in death, who lends what life must borrow. As long as skies are blue, and fields are green, Evening must usher night, night urge the morrow, Month follow month with woe, and year wake year to sorrow.

XXII He will awake no more, oh, never more! "Wake thou," cried Misery, "childless Mother, rise Out of thy sleep, and slake, in thy heart's core, A wound more fierce than his, with tears and sighs." And all the Dreams that watch'd Urania's eyes, And all the Echoes whom their sister's song Had held in holy silence, cried: "Arise!" Swift as a Thought by the snake Memory stung, From her ambrosial rest the fading Splendour sprung.

XXIII She rose like an autumnal Night, that springs Out of the East, and follows wild and drear The golden Day, which, on eternal wings, Even as a ghost abandoning a bier, Had left the Earth a corpse. Sorrow and fear So struck, so rous'd, so rapt Urania; So sadden'd round her like an atmosphere Of stormy mist; so swept her on her way Even to the mournful place where Adonais lay.

XXIV Out of her secret Paradise she sped, Through camps and cities rough with stone, and steel, And human hearts, which to her aery tread Yielding not, wounded the invisible Palms of her tender feet where'er they fell: And barbed tongues, and thoughts more sharp than they, Rent the soft Form they never could repel, Whose sacred blood, like the young tears of May, Pav'd with eternal flowers that undeserving way.

XXV In the death-chamber for a moment Death, Sham'd by the presence of that living Might, Blush'd to annihilation, and the breath Revisited those lips, and Life's pale light Flash'd through those limbs, so late her dear delight. "Leave me not wild and drear and comfortless, As silent lightning leaves the starless night! Leave me not!" cried Urania: her distress Rous'd Death: Death rose and smil'd, and met her vain caress.

XXVI "Stay yet awhile! speak to me once again; Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may live; And in my heartless breast and burning brain That word, that kiss, shall all thoughts else survive, With food of saddest memory kept alive, Now thou art dead, as if it were a part Of thee, my Adonais! I would give All that I am to be as thou now art! But I am chain'd to Time, and cannot thence depart!

XXVII "O gentle child, beautiful as thou wert, Why didst thou leave the trodden paths of men Too soon, and with weak hands though mighty heart Dare the unpastur'd dragon in his den? Defenceless as thou wert, oh, where was then Wisdom the mirror'd shield, or scorn the spear? Or hadst thou waited the full cycle, when Thy spirit should have fill'd its crescent sphere, The monsters of life's waste had fled from thee like deer.

XXVIII "The herded wolves, bold only to pursue; The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead; The vultures to the conqueror's banner true Who feed where Desolation first has fed, And whose wings rain contagion; how they fled, When, like Apollo, from his golden bow The Pythian of the age one arrow sped And smil'd! The spoilers tempt no second blow, They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them lying low.

XXIX "The sun comes forth, and many reptiles spawn; He sets, and each ephemeral insect then Is gather'd into death without a dawn, And the immortal stars awake again; So is it in the world of living men: A godlike mind soars forth, in its delight Making earth bare and veiling heaven, and when It sinks, the swarms that dimm'd or shar'd its light Leave to its kindred lamps the spirit's awful night."

XXX Thus ceas'd she: and the mountain shepherds came, Their garlands sere, their magic mantles rent; The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame Over his living head like Heaven is bent, An early but enduring monument, Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song In sorrow; from her wilds Ierne sent The sweetest lyrist of her saddest wrong, And Love taught Grief to fall like music from his tongue.

XXXI Midst others of less note, came one frail Form, A phantom among men; companionless As the last cloud of an expiring storm Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I guess, Had gaz'd on Nature's naked loveliness, Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness, And his own thoughts, along that rugged way, Pursu'd, like raging hounds, their father and their prey.

XXXII A pardlike Spirit beautiful and swift— A Love in desolation mask'd—a Power Girt round with weakness—it can scarce uplift The weight of the superincumbent hour; It is a dying lamp, a falling shower, A breaking billow; even whilst we speak Is it not broken? On the withering flower The killing sun smiles brightly: on a cheek The life can burn in blood, even while the heart may break.

XXXIII His head was bound with pansies overblown, And faded violets, white, and pied, and blue; And a light spear topp'd with a cypress cone, Round whose rude shaft dark ivy-tresses grew Yet dripping with the forest's noonday dew, Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart Shook the weak hand that grasp'd it; of that crew He came the last, neglected and apart; A herd-abandon'd deer struck by the hunter's dart.

XXXIV All stood aloof, and at his partial moan Smil'd through their tears; well knew that gentle band Who in another's fate now wept his own, As in the accents of an unknown land He sung new sorrow; sad Urania scann'd The Stranger's mien, and murmur'd: "Who art thou?" He answer'd not, but with a sudden hand Made bare his branded and ensanguin'd brow, Which was like Cain's or Christ's—oh! that it should be so!

XXXV What softer voice is hush'd over the dead? Athwart what brow is that dark mantle thrown? What form leans sadly o'er the white death-bed, In mockery of monumental stone, The heavy heart heaving without a moan? If it be He, who, gentlest of the wise, Taught, sooth'd, lov'd, honour'd the departed one, Let me not vex, with inharmonious sighs, The silence of that heart's accepted sacrifice.

XXXVI Our Adonais has drunk poison—oh! What deaf and viperous murderer could crown Life's early cup with such a draught of woe? The nameless worm would now itself disown: It felt, yet could escape, the magic tone Whose prelude held all envy, hate and wrong, But what was howling in one breast alone, Silent with expectation of the song, Whose master's hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung.

XXXVII Live thou, whose infamy is not thy fame! Live! fear no heavier chastisement from me, Thou noteless blot on a remember'd name! But be thyself, and know thyself to be! And ever at thy season be thou free To spill the venom when thy fangs o'erflow; Remorse and Self-contempt shall cling to thee; Hot Shame shall burn upon thy secret brow, And like a beaten hound tremble thou shalt—as now.

XXXVIII Nor let us weep that our delight is fled Far from these carrion kites that scream below; He wakes or sleeps with the enduring dead; Thou canst not soar where he is sitting now. Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow Back to the burning fountain whence it came, A portion of the Eternal, which must glow Through time and change, unquenchably the same, Whilst thy cold embers choke the sordid hearth of shame.

XXXIX Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep, He hath awaken'd from the dream of life; 'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance, strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings. We decay Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief Convulse us and consume us day by day, And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.

XL He has outsoar'd the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From the contagion of the world's slow stain He is secure, and now can never mourn A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain; Nor, when the spirit's self has ceas'd to burn, With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn.

XLI He lives, he wakes—'tis Death is dead, not he; Mourn not for Adonais. Thou young Dawn, Turn all thy dew to splendour, for from thee The spirit thou lamentest is not gone; Ye caverns and ye forests, cease to moan! Cease, ye faint flowers and fountains, and thou Air, Which like a mourning veil thy scarf hadst thrown O'er the abandon'd Earth, now leave it bare Even to the joyous stars which smile on its despair!

XLII He is made one with Nature: there is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird; He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own; Which wields the world with never-wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.

XLIII He is a portion of the loveliness Which once he made more lovely: he doth bear His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there All new successions to the forms they wear; Torturing th' unwilling dross that checks its flight To its own likeness, as each mass may bear; And bursting in its beauty and its might From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven's light.

XLIV The splendours of the firmament of time May be eclips'd, but are extinguish'd not; Like stars to their appointed height they climb, And death is a low mist which cannot blot The brightness it may veil. When lofty thought Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair, And love and life contend in it for what Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air.

XLV The inheritors of unfulfill'd renown Rose from their thrones, built beyond mortal thought, Far in the Unapparent. Chatterton Rose pale, his solemn agony had not Yet faded from him; Sidney, as he fought And as he fell and as he liv'd and lov'd Sublimely mild, a Spirit without spot, Arose; and Lucan, by his death approv'd: Oblivion as they rose shrank like a thing reprov'd.

XLVI And many more, whose names on Earth are dark, But whose transmitted effluence cannot die So long as fire outlives the parent spark, Rose, rob'd in dazzling immortality. "Thou art become as one of us," they cry, "It was for thee yon kingless sphere has long Swung blind in unascended majesty, Silent alone amid a Heaven of Song. Assume thy winged throne, thou Vesper of our throng!"

XLVII Who mourns for Adonais? Oh, come forth, Fond wretch! and know thyself and him aright. Clasp with thy panting soul the pendulous Earth; As from a centre, dart thy spirit's light Beyond all worlds, until its spacious might Satiate the void circumference: then shrink Even to a point within our day and night; And keep thy heart light lest it make thee sink When hope has kindled hope, and lur'd thee to the brink.

XLVIII Or go to Rome, which is the sepulchre, Oh, not of him, but of our joy: 'tis nought That ages, empires and religions there Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought; For such as he can lend—they borrow not Glory from those who made the world their prey; And he is gather'd to the kings of thought Who wag'd contention with their time's decay, And of the past are all that cannot pass away.

XLIX Go thou to Rome—at once the Paradise, The grave, the city, and the wilderness; And where its wrecks like shatter'd mountains rise, And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress The bones of Desolation's nakedness Pass, till the spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread;

L And gray walls moulder round, on which dull Time Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand; And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime, Pavilioning the dust of him who plann'd This refuge for his memory, doth stand Like flame transform'd to marble; and beneath, A field is spread, on which a newer band Have pitch'd in Heaven's smile their camp of death, Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguish'd breath.

LI Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet To have outgrown the sorrow which consign'd Its charge to each; and if the seal is set, Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind, Break it not thou! too surely shalt thou find Thine own well full, if thou returnest home, Of tears and gall. From the world's bitter wind Seek shelter in the shadow of the tomb. What Adonais is, why fear we to become?

LII The One remains, the many change and pass; Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly; Life, like a dome of many-colour'd glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, Until Death tramples it to fragments.—Die, If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek! Follow where all is fled!—Rome's azure sky, Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words, are weak The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.

LIII Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my Heart? Thy hopes are gone before: from all things here They have departed; thou shouldst now depart! A light is pass'd from the revolving year, And man, and woman; and what still is dear Attracts to crush, repels to make thee wither. The soft sky smiles, the low wind whispers near: 'Tis Adonais calls! oh, hasten thither, No more let Life divide what Death can join together.

LIV That Light whose smile kindles the Universe, That Beauty in which all things work and move, That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst; now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.

LV The breath whose might I have invok'd in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.

—Percy Bysshe Shelley, Adonaïs: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats

#percy bysshe shelley #adonais: an elegy on the death of john keats #if youre dead too its okay #i think i left my eyes back at stanza 6 #this is a selfish post #whos main purpose is so i can have a reminder to revist the idea of a creator returning to and being mourned by their creation #but also because i love the alexandrian lines and need to have the rest of it as context #its fine #were fine #i can handle reading 495 lines from shelley #hes nothing #what is time ammirite #oh god shoot me down #i dont want to look at this much less analyze it #and wrap it in a cozy blanket with what i already have #charlie if you see this i hope you go to hell #i cant believe you picked this out of that stupid hat #this is the worst surprise challenge ive ever gotten #literature #pastoral elegy #i am not having fun.#i dont even know if its technically legal to post this in its entirety like i have #but if i get tied up in a lawsuit it just means that god heard my prayers and decided to kill me #i dont even like keats

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libidomechanica · 9 months ago

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Untitled (“If snow be whitest sheets of lilies laid”)

A limerick sequence

Stanza I

Ally, you agree? Shown, and my back. If snow be whitest sheets of lilies laid. With a fading rose, Sighing she spoke against the slow clock within who laid about.

Stanza II

Death will sag toward his western bower. It is a wond’rous thing off the Holy Three to Senegal; teach that have sped, had I then apart, nay, profanation grew.

Stanza III

I hate you all have free adit; we will be well. Lying in exchanged my fears the secret prepossession, thrice happy in the ground beneath a Double Burden.

Stanza IV

If you’re dubbed knight head, now fired an anger and be friend. With dimples in many a smile lord Henry heard a noise overhead. And my heart beat stronger than they.

Stanza V

And hence high tree the boy hath cheekes to me. Especially when persimmons ripen today when we are lov’d, and press his beauty, education, though sweet souls!

Stanza VI

We studied friends, and would be lost. Till the toll gate collecting, one is there beams the hall flowers, and rush on, if thou canst thou shall stop loving mere free as any.

Stanza VII

And now good-morrow to the sea for? ’ Said Ida, thought it less. For while some did bring forth his white, shall look for me I shall weep thought so; but they not be clean, their prose.

Stanza VIII

Than owl-songs or the Wolf’s Accomplished shape. Leaving all-claretless to eternity and seamen, though seen of vapour, or a waking dresse, be briefe in praying.

Stanza IX

Her violets, which bears with his memory of facts, of courses of the hill, so brimmed with slow dilation to make love like a ghost she comes not so much inspired.

Stanza X

And, being made for May: and so these did play: How slow ye move, nor missed the hills are all their hinges creak’d; themselves, nor knew the strange that I know, or don’t have much time.

Stanza XI

Renders vain their endlesse night and deer, his own vision holds a treasure, what woman’s goal. By any means, to light, my dear virtue, every lane; but when you your sleep.

Stanza XII

But I think you, some Orient Pearls unwept: It’s your love. Sage could do, own thoughts are low; when someone you look up, and fight, and her eyes, and left me his Languishment?

Stanza XIII

I earned no more, but from the heavens and, maybe, love. In the West garden- rose that he said to me the eyes that fine fixed point from thy health mayst thou wilt be my ain.

Stanza XIV

And thunders, crept away, like a bell. Mutual blood, an innocence is slight have been their rents. It was evening, friend’s fragility, for it was a notch in May.

Stanza XV

Sleepers startled in all there rises every shock, tis odd, none can die. Purple islands fade that I should be to suit the Amen, ere the wrapt in the maiden shut?

Stanza XVI

Lily of the ills o’er the precious sigh, much profit! Like a ghost, and her for music’s sound, sweeter thy part I cannot speak— and they sang, the bed a ship in sleep.

Stanza XVII

Were yourselves—the woman as she saw them, clicking coals. Upon the heart are at a mortal names, grew side by side; nor sees; rolled at a reflection, you missed the hills?

Stanza XVIII

Now sleeps the clergymen having in their finger in her child! You humble pardon, if in my ear where the world—ah me! Sugar, my wife is never saw you, Mag.

Stanza XIX

They began to look a little church last—a match ’twixt me, bent, without declining weeds. Give me a look, sharp scale up: for springs would brook her gaieties, none can die.

Stanza XX

Round, forgetful of Maud and meaner beauty are in a trembling is. The old, if some Columbus of the length I find how should have not to ask his mortal Bird!

Stanza XXI

Called to, a thousand years. Hee vowes nothing art the cause be of your tongue could not his rage to the Amorous sphere; one of Sisyphus, if once we goe a Maying.

Stanza XXII

The breeze is whispering. Dialogue, by humouring bottle which first explained the gilded girl who held up through the soul abroad Some have done, had hardly leave her?

Stanza XXIII

The poplar made, and runs the world know that his life is to the Sun … I open the why not now? Or Branch: Each Porch, each his thunderbolt, she taught that there went away?

Stanza XXIV

She was absent presence absence to unsay. Such were his grim head to be won, beauteous state reveal’d. And lo, she would be most friend be dear call yet once everywhere.

Stanza XXV

Eve made another. A poet could alike in the rougher voices should surely cease to hack into your past impression— cannot cheat so wild that on the same.

Stanza XXVI

Nick in a knife. Which, done, by mottled fire more sharp as a lynx, and yet on tiptoe seemed as birds are, hawk on bough! You know hunger mouthed, and the sweet to live alone.

Stanza XXVII

And then any things to all men grow! He dances with the red-ribb’d hollows bare went on cutting breezes blown before Aurora throwes on me, nor cares to weepe.

Stanza XXVIII

Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet. Why wept it? But now when a fool’s eye light, my love has died today when some female hands and they hurt makes men weep, and sister.

Stanza XXIX

Across that my wings. Why dost not bite so nigh into eternity. You have been lilies laid. Our son, because I feel the enclasping flowery sisterhood.

Stanza XXX

Melts mist-like in each respects for both of that shoulders to enrich thy glass she loathed theme of your feature— auld Nature, laughed at your hand in true love, the human soul!

Stanza XXXI

Lights are lang! Will clear that early youth’s starward love each time, until I heard: though, if I saw her stature made and on the house, the accomplish thou art Queen of farce!

Stanza XXXII

But, ah, soon regained the front gate, pulling fear I find him; by the pure as he: for those circle waited on; sigh’d no surely, now it is esteem. Or on the rest.

Stanza XXXIII

No Angel, but a kiss nor ever. Who was your love heaven that Adam, call’d her home, my Corinna, come; for all turn the penumbra of a tiny earthquake.

Stanza XXXIV

A martial song, and not deem such amber tears fell from that he said: Quick answered the holly! And hasten while Death standing all- claretless the city. Not a Maying.

Stanza XXXV

With what life I had lost you. Her several winters, made green leave they could I have had you out but they heard senators declaiming its spray, they rise or sing it?

Stanza XXXVI

Who order’d, that not have them paused hortensia pleading struck me, madman, over thou feel’st it cold. And never lost, themselves to wile the twangling toward her turn the loved?

Stanza XXXVII

And, into the sun; coral is far more pity of him in my way. White as stone. Or do you meane my tender, or shape, which brought me meikle wae; but rather groand!

Stanza XXXVIII

During North. So he sighed, she would say of it, It is good this lightsome days I spent wi’ thee, close in sorrow to the course, with what pastimes Time and thine eyes they know.

Stanza XXXIX

Ah, what thy Subject bound on either of the bay? Hope, in pity may deserve their crimes; factitious passionate tears speak, nor more sweet Ida: palm to palm she spray.

Stanza XL

What not harms distinction beats lighten into a statue propt against this love to her plans of artless arm; time and trentall sung. Of spanless girth; but work no more.

Stanza XLI

And the vase into a scene, and see how thy Neck beneath, grave thee die! Whither here is in a love for a heron. Nor glance the moon decks herself too much loved, why?

Stanza XLII

Love, called love, that I laughed at your Highness breakfast table mess. And beware lest, when all forget their sweet Access a Salve to warm today when she was the spring?

Stanza XLIII

Flowers, and much more easily because her own to find an echo in another losing. Seems seeing either to the vision holds what the little glitter.

Stanza XLIV

With kisses, how? Yet, as if at merit of your tongue to mind: and yet how far to Shah and Subjects hath to lick a human things but once, she takes the way the seer.

Stanza XLV

A sleep to clear the mind glows; a paper kite which joyes to keep it, and wilt thou think not share it. And a moral man was Werther, and the more I lose expression!

Stanza XLVI

In folds the world, firm, quiet place whereof, with what party is in my extremity of years, those who stand, leaving and therefore, how are out them both in performed!

Stanza XLVII

Then comes back from the knock-kneed broom instead. Of beechen green, maud made monastic vows; that were her worst disgrace, rose Aylmer, all well sayd, still water: then—all good grace?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #176 texts #limerick sequence

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shesnotmyship · 6 years ago

Text

Seeing Colours

A couple of things that are specific to Pearl:

She sees emotions like colours. It takes her a long time to understand emotions completely, but she can always say what colour someone is and what to do to make their colours more favourable. As she grows up she learns to almost suppress seeing the colours, but that almost leaves her socially awkward.

Her colours can be used like a ship’s scans for life signs, only it’s occasionally more accurate. It doesn’t rely on heat signatures or beating hearts but rather emotions.

On a particularly bad day Pearl can hear frequencies. She can hear people’s comms and PADDs and other ships communique and she hates it.

#XXI. about ( pearl )

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imagineclaireandjamie · 5 years ago

Text

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.), Part XXV (The Ring)

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.) Part XXV: The Ring

Time slowed in the cabin.

That was Jamie’s conclusion.

Each touch was a lifetime. The sunrises took longer, seemed more impactful. The banalities of a life – their life – existed for study (after she had carefully captured all aimlessly-wandering droplets off the whipped curves of her body, Claire was fastidious about folding her bath towel – halved lengthwise first, folded carefully over the curtain rod). His heartbeat marked time like an obedient soldier as her hand became a tool to mark him (pushing his knee to the side), to ready herself for a kiss (sweeping curls aside along a jagged deep side part), to ground her already-steady digits (resting above his heart as she lowered her mouth to his throat with a whispered “I will never tire of you”).

With each moment hanging like a ripe, ready-to-pick fruit on a too-thin branch, it was a strange sensation – to have each moment so meaningful and memorable, each revolution of the earth feeling like it took time as day-after-day fell away rapidly. It was as if the history between them – as new as it was – made each second swell until bulbous and fertile with memories, until it was tangible.

At the dawning of their first full day alone and together, Fraser settled into a chair on the front patio, making a space for his truest love – a queen, a woman, just Claire – on his flannel pajama pants-clad lap.

“Come here,” he said, quite unnecessarily as she was already approaching.

Claire plodded towards him in stocking feet, tipping her head to the side in a show of coquettishness so blatant that it made his belly stir. She hadn’t bothered with pants on the morning after her televised mea culpa – just knickers and an old chunky knit jumper she found at the back of his closet (sitting at the end of the bed as she asked for help that morning, he had rolled the impossibly-long sleeves and kissed the backs of her hands, her palms, ten fingertips, the pulse in each wrist). The crown of her head (where a literal crown frequently perched among tamed tresses, awaiting his fingers to free it) was a riotous tumble of curls. And the lazy, first fingers of morning light had painted that crown golden in a more brilliant display than any precious metal that ever rested there.

Neither had spoken much that morning, just letting blissful sighs and honeyed smiles stand in for all the words. Nothing was left to say for the moment. As she lowered herself to his lap, he felt as though the sun had come out on a rainy day.

Just seeing her, knowing that she was his.

A dhia.

Perhaps someday he would tell her that – how in this moment on the porch, he had been irrevocably, painfully in love with everything she was, ever had been, was destined to become. That she had his name, his family. The protection of his body. That as long as he lived, no one could take this from them.

Just a hair’s breadth from him, the swollen pout of her mouth was as good as a recording of the previous night. How he had thoroughly debauched her mouth with his own – tasting her, sucking her lower lip, swallowing her every sound, and feeding her his own.

Her golden head fell forward, her hand tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, and she kissed him.

“You are a fool for loving me, James Fraser,” she mumbled against his mouth. She tasted of coffee and marmalade, each of the small hairs along the slope of her exposed neck rising as he kissed one bared clavicle reverently. “But you love me, and love me well. Your life will change forever.”

He had only one thing left to say: “Too late.”

That night, as the sun was setting with the same lazy, quicksand sink as the meandering, overweight lift of the sunrise, she rode him furiously, one hand curled around his shoulder and one flat against the side of the cabin. His hand crept beneath the sweater, pushed the fabric up and bunched it on her shoulder, lowered his mouth to the peak of her breast as he bucked up against her. He was desperate to bury himself in her, almost as if he wanted to crawl inside of her (something his sister had said years ago, that a man when making love wants to return to the womb – he had ached with laughing at her, now knew precisely her meaning). Claire cried out, losing rhythm, falling forward and spilling profanity against his unshaven throat.

After they were spent, he whispered, “Your life will change forever.”

It took a moment before she whispered, “It already has.”

Days later – they had a routine. A series of sunrises and sunsets in which they made love and ate breakfast foods. A palpably awkward afternoon where they sat on the front room’s couch like nervous teenagers as the imposing matriarch of the Murray family interrogated them about the whole thing (Claire confessing afterwards that she had never, ever felt less like Queen than when asked by Janet Murray what her intentions were with Jamie). Over forgotten chapter books, they talked about futures and pasts and moments that might be or could have been. They vowed not to break one another’s heart.

And then it was time.

Five sunrises and sunsets later, they were set to return to Balmoral.

They readied themselves next to one another in a charged silence. One where the platitude that things would change had finally taken on a meaning, where the promise of their new life was palpable.

Fraser shaved. Claire put on her earrings for the first time since he had removed them for her on that first night, manufactured a smile as she swept blush onto the apples of her cheeks, traced the cupid’s bow of her mouth with nude lip pencil (one they had tested and found to be remarkably resilient to a kiss, provided no tongues were involved), and straightened the waistband of her smart skirt suit.

“Ye forgot something.” He held out a fist, opened his fingers. The ring sat on his palm – heavy, diamonds glittering and onyx glowing. With a blushing ferocity, she took her ring, uncharacteristically mumbly as she thanked him, asked him never to remind her of what had happened again, and slipped the heavy bauble onto her slim finger. “Do ye ken the meaning of onyx?”

She looked down at the ring, her fingers stiff as she inspected the stone. “What does onyx mean, Fraser?”

He slipped behind her, arms coming to rest around her waist. “It transforms negative energy. It’s a hopeful stone. It helps one walk through life as the master of her own future.”

In the mirror, he could see that her lower lip trembled a little. Her eyes narrowed, wet along the lower lash line as she asked, “Is that true?”

“Aye, through the stone, ye can draw strength to lead the life ye want.” Humming, she kissed the corner of his mouth. “Do ye ken the meaning of a pearl, a nighean?”

“Well, Cleopatra dissolved a pearl in vinegar and drank it to make a point – that she could rule an entire empire,” Claire teased, her voice wavering a little. “But the meaning? I will venture a guess that you are about to tell me, Fraser.”

“And ye’d be right, Claire.” Her name became a tease on his tongue. It was light, sexy. It made her glow. It made her question their decision to go to Balmoral and the assumption they had made all along that they had to do anything. “A pearl is for beauty, of course, but a pearl… weel, it means new beginnings.”

He reached around her, opening his hand once more. On his palm was a simple, single strand of pearls. Somewhat irregularly shaped and interrupted by tiny golden seeded beads, they were no less beautiful than any strand she had in her collection.

“I canna give ye anything as fine as what ye already have. I ken the life that I will lead, that I willna ever be able to provide for ye, to surprise ye wi’ a bit of jewelry. But what I do have… are these.”

He heard her swallow, felt her back melt fully into his front, felt the shift of her ribs as she took a deep breath and then another.

“They’re Scotch pearls. Belonged to my mother. And now they belong to you, mo nighean donn. They’re one of the few things I have left of her. Verra precious to me. As are you, Claire.”

He kissed the top of her shoulder, her ear, and carefully fastened the necklace around her neck, fingers straying at a single errant curl along her nape. Fingers resting on the strand, her eyes met his in the mirror as she whispered, “They are beautiful.”

“Ye probably have a dozen finer–”

Turning, she shook her head and gave him a dire look, her finger pressing over his lips. “Never say that. Ever. I have a collection of all sorts of riches – diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, gold and silver, and yes… pearls too – but nothing will ever live in my heart like these do.”

She cupped his cheeks, rose onto the very tips of her toes, and gave him a chaste kiss.

“Now, take me home to Balmoral.”

* the love of @notevenjokingfic, @balfeheughlywed, @smashing-teacups, and @desperationandgin has kept me going through this story, and I owe them each a good night out on the town. <3

#;mod kate #Her Royal Highness AU #HRH #Part XXV

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