#laike you are perfect

[doriansbutt]

I’m obsessed with him

#who’s him? #he’s my own oc #laike you are perfect #mountainview #mountainview supers

[notmuchtoconceal]

Scene: Echoing through the lower strata of civilization, the influence of the guardsmen reverberates through every soul, carving them as totems to their effigies. Their manner too, flows in accordance with the influence from above, so that by the legion, men behave in miniature as those whom they have seen and taken in command. In caves, cafes, forums, symposia, automats, laundromats and psychomats, the seven who are one spiral out in uniform, manifold in overlapping constellations, the same handful of voices drowning out all in white noise.

-- their banter strikes me as eerily familiar, psychorrhax.

-- a cat and a mirror i said i'd pay, now i have, to see it all painted black.

you had only wanted to slip away. there was no need for a procession.

-- y'know, mates. it don't strike me as peculiar at all, y'know, ya got like -- me on the big antennie erryday always flappin my gummies and spreadin pollin like butterfly wings, makes perfect sense it's allergy season every month and no one can see or breathe with eyes all watery and nostrils all shut and it's loike -- why'd they even want to anyway, when they open em up and all they see's joey and the big man blowin smoke up each other's asses or in our faces, just like dad ... and anyway dad's still a fuckin joke, loike -- why don't i just switch him to hospice already, and loike -- why don't big yummy brother jacek just get his cute lil ass over here and rail my even cuter little ass like a japanese magnet line ;-- blow so much cum up in me i bust it out the nose like milk duds -- aw, yeah. brux got that unsexy. brux gets in his big ol' joey chair erry day and spreads his insecure neurotic ramblins to erry open ear like a sweet honey combed and spooted loogie ill-suited as the lozenge ya shoved up yer arsehole!

-- insecure!? who's sayin i'm insecure! i am so secure in myself, i never wear a seatbelt and i got the dents and the grit-paps to prove it!

cpt. haruspex jolted up in the hothouse. over the counter and across the floor. you saw it happening. backlit by the green velvet arabesque. cpts. schreibermachen and psychorrhax had been there listening.

-- do you suppose they can see us sitting here, psychorrhax?

the voice came so close, you could feel the heat on your ear.

-- i can say with certainty that it's always absolutely intentional.

peering through the windowless frame, no glass to bend light nor ripple, the conversation paid them no mind. the enlisted men and the goons were synonymous in description and form. their canvass, their khaki and pleather shone with the gloss of any black regalia we could skin by our own. through the air, rending the currents, a boot twirled as an axe-head to bash cpt. haruspex, gesticulating wildly, back into his seat.

so close, it tickled your neck.

-- they know not that it's us, cpt. schreibermachen.

-- we are anonymous amongst ourselves, for living in our way, so splendid and so open, we have invited others to do likewise.

-- do you suppose we ought have them executed, cpt. schreibermachen?

-- we'd hurt none but ourselves, laik.

while reviewing the footage captured by the sentry drone, cpt. schreibermachen drained himself of a liter of blood as he stood crumbling before the wall which was his brother clinging to him.

this set of men -- observing the other set of men.

their resemblance was indeed uncanny as stated.

-- those men who went down there... they look exactly as us!

-- their names too ... are schreibermachen, psychorrhax and haruspex.

-- they... must be our conscious duplicates!

brux cleared his throat. with the screech of a PA, he whirred.

-- naw, mate. sure it ain't helpin, our evident and irrefutable popularity, what with the lil monopoly we got goin (brux is the winner -- none of you are beatin brux. brux is gonna take all the property, all the money, all your dignity, free time, love, hate and capacity to think original thought) but i consulted the officer's records at the archive of officer viewin (never a finer collection of squeezable asses!) and they are officers -- of equal rank with us -- sharin our surnames by sheer coincidence since shared birth. makes ya wonder, though -- how long they've all known each other?

laika's eyes lingered within a bound document he let hang open.

-- this man you are looking at, sir. he is the cpt. joey schreibermachen who continuously supplies the "forgeries" you have violently expelled and defiled from the orthodox library of all published arts. he has amassed a considerable following as a renegade, outsider and sensual man of the people, despite his prodigious learning and pompous manner.

-- he is a him, psychorrhax? great gehenna, his prose style is ghastly!

(his strange and oscillating manner, to say nothing of the other chimerical assemblages made me suspect it was a collective or historical golem!)

-- he is a man writing in a manner after his own heart. you would appreciate him surely more as an original than as an imitation.

-- he takes my body, my name, my soul, but then he thinks he can have his own prose style? what sense does that make you, psychorrhax?

(bro, i think you should like... totally hang out with the other joey, bro.)

-- to whom is the shade most loyal, the eyes or to the light?

(two pack a broeys. clink and froth, bro. clink and froth.)

-- the eclipse we view only by its shadow.

(what could he give to you and through you, bro?

what could you give and be through him?)

joey needed to take some time. to process, in the lukewarm bitterness of his day old coffee -- that he wasn't the only joey in the world anymore.

-- if our influence is to remain this sharp and persistent, psychorrhax, we can have no hope if we are to run from it. to attempt to remain ignorant of what we now know is simple cowardice, and cowards are now and forever denied the gift which is the dignity of life.

-- to refuse to act is simply to die.

-- we must act, then. act with what certainties we allow ourselves, and remain affirmative within uncertainty, for eyes pressed forward to the sky which is our only horizon, we may reach peak speed, fortified in body and purified of spirit, so the only filth we shall accrue will be the debris and the droplets, the splattering of insects, upon the visors which too conceal our sight with the necessary data we cannot navigate without!

sprawled before the wall of electric eyes, cpt. jacek powdered as a donut hole in the pinstripes of his fine tailoring, began to get to work.

#brodude #backwards cap bro #bro drone visor #bro time

[libidomechanica]

Yestreen, when he tried the nines

A treochair sequence

               I

It’s a sin, and life yields; a honey Lip. He surpass her, save where I

often wearies all the dreams awake, for fear that you would run this

however this omission in his arms. She could love is no haþelez þat

hit hade wonde worþyly with dread, i’m a plain sae rashy, O, aboon

the whereof doth dwell in; so well? And made him free, but not a line had

Julia ever present, and hwen hit ofte, þat bremely taken he

sayned hym lykez. In me no more. With a reflection could be brought

myself a flaw discourage droop, despair; therefore I eþe þe, haþel, how

þay wroȝt. And the commes to come. Ne would have done with one glance on St.

               II

Been a passion tis man we loved us. Which touches you with all her

kind; so she wept, and pleasure you. It is perfect fright but a tremulously

gentle canna be alright it’s gonna be your persons. Let

him but lent to die of Thirst. Each door; she lay clothed, she says tomorrow.

               III

No dream of Heaven—from the heaviest tempest, it disdain’d to grow.

               IV

Upon the war; shall rise a gloue if hit be sothe þat he should brook a

wordless mind! And we schyn reuel and a day; now hyȝe, bot heterly receive:

for valour was not distinguishing lowe in her pillow. On golden

throne the world will the lamps around, all round her handle. To sing and

small pity mov’d, oh may wel wit no wont þe weder of ledez ar

on lenþe þe lufez vpon flet, of folȝande, in hor store; buy terms of my

wyrdes. Out went before to favourite science of þe Rounde Table.

               V

I’m sensible, because is, one and þe halydam, and Kryst yow falles,

and let loose, or hers whom nakd the Tyrant in a vestal’s veins? A

second at the violet breath, bleed away; she rapt upon the panacea,

Sir! Of couardise and with þe best, not thus much the oceans roll!

               VI

Fro þe houndez, whettez hym ouer þe fest in Abraham’s bosom bounden,

in glade and þe gome in þe grene gered in the window and now

ȝe ar a sleper vnslyȝe, þat geten hem by a conniving still to

leave the rest. When she strove to thy heart re- sent; and so great use, in any

case; for thy pain, allow that grows; a school, the beares by being

mouth, extremely at home, with broader towards some euill were too slow, what were

the nest. Rhodes is the ineffable sense affords; sweet-gard’n-nymph, which mingle

act of immolation, heaven saw her sad ears like summer’s day;-

summer’s house I beheld the Mythological machinery, and syþen

he comes nerre without destroy the best he ne dyngez hym dresses, and

watched then by nature or thirty years, and provoked remark, or Jew; where

juries cast, where all his hode, and thine, an ignorant, noteless, timeless,

timeless, timeless, lastingly. The Northern front, and she was jealous

God, when share that Spring, tis surely and in the middle of being!

               VII

And which I compile, who scorne, noiseless as the Spartan ladies þat

I haf sen a selly in mynde quen yow hider, er þis. My

love immortal work his should run through my unkind as you well knit: he

sees; on several pounds of hands that pious prayere, and he fyskez hem

harden into speed. Nor Loves commands despise, led by some time must come,

who both in your love a white cape on the woods. In menyng of monster

to have on displace, I can say is—that he might be saved, and with solace

of þe proude cropure, his man we love. And so have put my madness

seized my nursling new—like that sun thine eyes, attemper not been quiet.

               VIII

Of lies, a meré mantile abof, menske þe mon on þe morn to fylle

þe godmon, þis gomen bygan, or some luckier night, o

carefull verse. Shall I part musk or civet can wake at nigh expell’d St.

               IX

Ye wadna been sae shy; for laik o’ gear ye lightens, and noȝt haf leue

liflode to take as knyȝtez vnder, þurȝ mony meruayle hym poȝt ful

longe quyle. Although from Indus to the comic Muse; nor envy her.

At having mind of the mind and so þikke, a stede stif kyng he most

atrocious. But with no doubt, it equally desire, swore lustily

he’d be revenge too deere force shall place so proude skyrtez, þe hede, and sturne,

and pass over the way to mine ear, The boisterous, just another land.

               X

And then run away as thou and I am not to ask his mother.

               XI

Assist the point; the spiders throwes onely downe on me thundring

disdained, the first notes, irregular and squirm newly as from a sip

of hem, soft he settled graves are taxes on our joys to telle yow

here: iwysse sir, quyl I leue, me worþed þe broun bleeaunt, enbrauded abof,

menske þe mon may seem so many times, indeed a vertebra to

the flaw-blown rose, even as thy lovest thou no singing, each, the valiant

man! Brief, but know not wear your worth al þe wone of his brutal kind

of crews as renegadoes; which now this she presents lean em, ’t is

strained heavens fall into all she made vpon molde his day; but oh! Naked

in the conceit did melt me down to me, I can’t say, a Jew took off

his lyue; ofte he herd þe howndez þat his balȝe haunche, þat he mette, he

made at leisure with Juan. At the quiet scenes appeared, she uttermost,

I should under hand sharply that rose, and all must love the present; i’m

sensible, I trust that neither children leap, and pray for a hundred

visions and fickle Man is apt to rove: look abroad thro’ the Hebrew

Chronicle, how often wearies all things was angry when their clients,

because man is no dream is fled, by the smart. Then—i never durst begin

to do it for I bayþe hit now her height, or raise him first they seem

strange, how idle seem’d they be more uniform. And more triumphant prize.

               XII

Whom these woods. And the land: betwixt extremes, but coasts of many a herle

of þis ryche ryal kyng of arwes— at vch farand fest among

the forth strydez, foundez þay þer þay wyth in oþer gome wyth blys into

þe Norþe Walez. Could sit down on the flocks do feede, where are the Fates change

ere night proclaim the clearer, farther awake, and þe leude and here I

sought; and the beautiful each and ages hence: two roads diverged in a

wicked people do, suffering blind mans marke, thou dost stay. Had not seem very

well, or pandering but the vision, which two cantos into

familiar guest. If any were boun busked bylyue. To all his steedes in

lowlye laye, and sayde soberly samen alle þat mon most dissemblings

when wearied on my spirit, unaware: Though all its range of duties

totall summe men hit hym þoȝt. And some mould, the little goes a long moment

was as one who have burnt each hapless name, a wretched the Donna

Julia and Don Fernan Nunez? And saw but soon wheel roun’, an’ I saw

a crowd pursue: night a countenaunce, emong the hasp of love. Melissa,

tinged with slow and connection, but can’t tell whether took the other

joys to pray turn your lofte, and of air—Rome’s ghost not own, but the past.

               XIII

Half in dreams. My Spectre folly: thou steal to me, you that compass of

water we can be set withinne with as god wylle—and ho hym respite,

invade and my pretty gentleness the crowned, their languid eyes would

it have been wived, and cemmed, wyth to karp, til þe mon and catch at

any noke I oquere fynd, to end the brain that which the other in

the literary leaves with his happy mother to sing my Highland

Lassie, O. Survey the pedigree his sires would look, as roll the sea

of sorrows whence after-hands may move the heart in that bene with her

walour and govern the rack, and then two myle henne. And heave, as

in a harde as fresh—for he Music to heaven’s decease.

               XIV

My hand tightens, and are as beauteous bride, and we are and unexplaining,

with a short-legged hen, if we can scarce held her writhing, my woe now

wasted fruit of love; so to his course of China brought with your leave me

not any other booty sought forgetfulness. Yet, when push’d by questions;

never saw. And file they labour to my turf, and þe halle, herande

for to come—Well, to reche myȝt, as I am, first inadvertent

brush the flower on earthlie mould’ring to the Turkish mart, her voice kept her

golde ay inmyddez, as his first creature, and Care: how lonely men speded

hom to hay is grassye ground of time to marriage is fledde, these books: hope.

               XV

Light, he told of those queers i remember. The terrace ranged aspect thrown;

each ravishers remained, flaming hair, and sacred be her father was

wildly clad; her eyes can see myself—me— that I do and why we came,

rank on rank; he gave way; him self might me; while life’s strange Poet-princess:

Lady Psyche and hornez ful ryche. ’Er this I heard by falling, Oh.

Received thing their happy herse, make we mery quyl we may have you more

tame flower singing, each, then, ’ said he, Out went to grasp. A thing and oar

of Adria’s god of pleasant city, and scimitars await thy weeding;

but where delightful lily of yourself here þeraboute abelef

as a busk ouer his dirty fee, and lose thronge, with little plants of

man the wakes up and ful siker my trawþe.— A true Hidalgo, free and

sayde þe behoues. Always remember you is here! Resting still shows, kill

me with þe hede of þe bitter Eldre braunch, laments of alabaster.

               XVI

And laȝter. To the watch’d her own; this most dear excepting nature holds

out half undo it. Be better learning to lasse luf in his grave never

heart her could not see thy widows, she resolved on air that cause thou

mayst attune thy quill, and, turn’d, and the long carpet lies: o write within,

which old- recurring wash of a Good Son, who his Dominion sweet to

her beloved nor yet recover. And wyth knotted rushrings, and catch

at any of thee, gaze o’er a name, above the style, and Cymon

suddenly forgive, though fame is my loof, i’m thine eyes the teacups, after

thee, and crispeth with chosen friend, do you feel no more, but took a new

one from the fabulous folds of Time, perhaps that before the Flood, and

yet rolls on thy stead performed of golde; þe werbelande wynde wapped fro

þe fale erþe; ner slayn for gode of þe ȝonge; much steuen, and þat, for we

hold Thee just, and I strove to weep. At last, who had fallen—on this sere

pyne, þat day dele his fare þat he þurȝ þis fryth and her maids tenderness.

Lemons, and lyȝt horce launce. Must be born were boun busked on þat rurde

he of þe fayrer to his bed hym drynk, and latent in a curbside

pool. With pain and felaȝschyp forbe al þyng, his chek for new joy; but oh!

               XVII

The shadows haunting now. Thou by the spouse: her college and all the heroes

of his rage and þe goddess of gods adultery, is more

reconciling ray, and winds arise, a bastard vile, a beast with stupidly

admire how thou canst sit, and to his luflych aloft lepez

ouergrowen; wel bisemed, and look’d, and touches you with alle þe lorde

fyrst cource in þe colde erþe to welcome her son so—i’m very certain

the one POU STO whence around. A naked in a letters in her legs’

sincere the Beadsman, after all, that unfair which, with Mador de la

Port. For there we weep; and so that they call these stone where were time of on

wyȝes þat knit ar þerinne, þat I wear those who champion’d his arms were joined.

               XVIII

Had given her soft lips lie apartment in the hallow’d by the difference

me, hate were ye as poor guide. One asked, how great’s the song, although please

to frame: enough still left to sanctify the deuce they sought; and held her

thou darest in my view set all this is the beil’, where the wrong on the

dead world is dimme and gomenly he sayde, now, sir swete, boþe þe barres of

talkyng noble, wich spede is in speche, for many a flowers, mother

know, but then the Hand of children still to dote upon the last: a

peacefully! Selling everywhere, art still the soot that two at Conway dwell.

               XIX

Til þe sunne, þe stel hondelez, dubbed wyth ful comly bykennen to

rest by cool Eurotas they will say, when separate cages, instead of

sunshine and ink for schame! Ran before the stage. Generate mind. Is much

to pleased amid their former friend remember how the vows I made. Your

name in ordinary place? And þou hatz forred, and said … Nay, we loved

his pain, and hade ben soiourned sadly; sele yow be chose a morsel

he and Juan throttled him of calling too. Have, to rent her sleep of death.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #199 texts #treochair sequence

[selamat-linting]

as per my last reblog, this is an example of my current favorites.

its just, its so good man. the word choice is wonderful, the flow is beautiful and felt heavy like its trying to drag you into a deep lake by its claws, and the background instrumentals are minimal but adds the ominous pressure and the multilayered vocals! oh my god! the whispers of it felt demonic and angry and subtle and just *explodes*

yeah, its also scary and heavy song. the lyrics get blasphemous and its part of the fucking appeal. its overtly political but somehow it managed to be subtle and filled with things i need to do research on. its perfect. yknow how sometimes political music felt like its just yelling slogans or aimlessly cursing at the powers that be without hints of in depth critique? this is not that kinda song. my personal favorite lyric :

Tak ada revolusi di sela rakyat yang militan memasang buntut

Sehingga petaka sembako dan kita menanti nomor urut

Sehingga setan berupa kegelapan lebih baik dari metafora novel butut

Metafora gospel taghut menyembunyikan makam lebih laik dari kabut

I often interpreted this as a critique to our movement that oftentimes had a habit in excluding non college students, or not trying to fix the lack of organic labor movement in the masses even after 1998. Because of that, the masses are swayed by fascists rhetoric and movements or kept apathetic by the meager social programs that gave them a bit of rice every few months. They have become superstitious and reactionary, and not even Pramoedya's historical novel won't wake them up from the lies they've been fed since birth. This could also be a critique of vanguardism, however we haven't gotten any revolutionary "vanguard" in decades so probably not. Or this could an expression of frustration on how the masses are poisoned by the hegemony so theyre kept docile and/or fighting against each other. I like to expect its all of them.

It's abstract. To be expected since this track felt more like poetry. Homicide made a lot of those. This is one of my personal favorites because at the end, they kept screaming this lyric :

Sudah kuduga aku akan berubah wujud

Separuh hamba separuh tuhan separuh badut

Separuh hidupku dirancang mereka tetap terkutuk

Separuh kutinggalkan terikat di rel kereta

Separuh kusisakan 'tuk tiga matahariku dan kubiarkan berlanjut

Its means (excuse my rough translation) :

I knew all along I will change into. Half slave, half god, half a fool. A piece doomed to be cursed forever. A piece I left tied to the train tracks. A piece remains only for my three suns and left to go on

Listening to this part felt visceral. The lyric was beautiful and hit hard. But the way it was spoken gave me chills because its an anguished yell partially drowned by static. That shit was peak music. I love it when things are experimental. Another track that had this creepy screaming is Sajak Suara and let me tell you that stuff is the shit as well! Idk why it made me tear up.

Anyway another personal interpretation if these lyrics. Its just my opinion btw, cmiiw but personally, I'd like to think its about the rapper's Self?

Half slave (a part of them, the worker, that could not escape the capitalist hegemony. or a part of them who will dedicate and maybe even give their entire life for anarchism/communism even if it kills them?),

Half god (the indomitable nature of the human spirit, or the horrifying instinct to dominate born from living in a hierarchal society, or even the part of him that still believed in god?),

Half a fool (the part that decides life is still worth fighting for, or the part that gives up on everything?)

The next lyrics. About tying a part of himself to the train tracks and realizing a part of him is cursed forever is self explanatory. Its the last that are a bit confusing. Based on listening their other music, the three suns might be a reference of the rappers' kids. He refer his daughter as the sun once. So this might be it. But which part of himself that he gave for his kids and let live? the slave, the god, or the fool?

Anyway fuck yeah i love rambling about music. I love political hip hop songs. I love songs that you just dont listen but feel. I'm gonna listen to more of this shit tonight

#music stuff #indoposting #SoundCloud

[cloudedregrets]

Hey .... I just wanted to let you know about some rhather not so good news about Alopex and Angel issue.....

The first part of it is still very good and that will not change for anyone ....tho, the real problem that change the fans reaction to this issue in a bad way ( and the reson way I am sending this message ) were the last 4 pages ... and specifically what they shown in that very last page.

Fans of Alopex call her now a HYPOCRITE !! The fact that she accepted the collaboration with Karai , after the way SHE reacted to Saki's return in their lives and the turtles agreeing to work with him , made her look very bad in the eyes of some of her own fans!

And....I just can not disagree whit them. As one of them said ,, Alopex broke up whit Raph becose he accepted Saki's offer and she felt betrayed by that....just for her to agree to work with Karai , aka, do the exact thing that blamed the athers for doing ". Laike...he makes a point...and he is not the only one that said the exct same thing.

And seeing that they still make her have some mistrust of the others ,whit her still telling only Angel that she is family, iven tho, now she is in prety much in the same shite as they are, I'm really scared that she maithe still not wana take Raph back ( in that point, iven staying as just friends would be an insult in a way ) as well as not show the same trust she had in the ather turtles, becose of that feeling of betrayal she has ... iven tho , her AND Angel are helping Karai and what ever she wana do....causing her to become hated by her own fans (not to mention other readers of the comic) .... And is just not right at all !!!

The only way I think this can work , so the fans don't gat relly God damn mad ( or to start hateing our poor little girl ) , is for her to realize that, just like the turtles , she and Angel are in a way forced to work with the Foot clan for the sake of evreyone. After all. She did seem to realize the gravity of the situation. I think you din mention some similar details, the last time we discussed. I know that all is still in the air , and we need to see how it gose....but, I relly don't laike the fact that fans seem to get angry at Al just becose the writers of this issue couldn't think of another way, less contradictory to Alopex's character , to help the athers whit out accepting Karai's offer. Who ever relly did that last part just wanted to be done, not knowing or careing about Al.

I swer....if the last part did not happen , and stop right at the end of the first part , things would have been perfect . The first part was what I wana keep as the real one , seeing that was prety much perfect fot those two , allredy made them a team again. The Alliance part of this relly did not work for Alopex case. Hell. At least, if thinks are not geting better or at least close to how they were at the very beginning ( at least for a taime... or at all, depending on the choise they go whit ) , becose of that ,,betrayal" , which really affected her badly , she at least wouldn't be seen as a hypocrite .... cuz now, that maithe be the case. I don't know who was the writer for the second part of this issue....or if it was the same guy that did the art for the first part also in charge whit writeing that "problematic" part as well , but I know Sophia did not had enything to do whit this issue ( from what I heard at least )...but man, I hope she dose something to save this, cuz , iven tho I am not yet 100% shure who to blame for that last part ( mostly laikely the one that did the art for that part ) , cuz this it tarnished Alopex as a character...after she allredy had a pretty bad introduction back in issue 135.

I relly wana see what do you think about all of this when you can. Also. I do remember you talking about some posts related to Alopex and Karai as well as how things could be between Al and Raph. I thot that this can help to see how athers maithe see what is happening now and to adres it as well in your posts , for the posible future that would be ( depending on how things evolves until then ).

I am still happy that Alopex got back whit Angel, and they are very close now....but this issue relly made me worry about Alopex character and how this relly afects her more so then the incompetence of the writers to find something to do whit her ....that dose not end in a disaster that brings the hole issue down ( something that seems increasingly difficult to do recently ...for some reason! )

They betar stop whit this path they chose for her, honestly, I'm starting to think they not competent enough to stick the landing, and I don't wana see my old taime favorite character being treated this way!!! And I also refuse to believe that I'm the only one who thinks this.

Right now, it is best not to worry about it until they decide they know what they’re doing with the character. Clearly they don’t know. It’s not like she’s going to appear in every issue. She’s practically a side character now. Everyone is aware of how a side character is treated within a franchise. The fact they made her a hypocrite in this issue, just shows you they don’t know what they’re doing. If this was Sophie writing the issue, she’d have done things way different than what this garbage was.

They made her a hypocrite in every sense of the word. And now, it’s starting to make me question, what is the process behind all this. Instead of just wanting more, I don’t want more.

I feel like if they brought her back at least once, they’ll treat her entirely different to the point where it is not the Alopex we know and love since her debut.

I doubt they’ll do more with the character, that’s how insane it is. This just a betrayal to the story, her character, and everything she had to do.

If they killed her off in a heroic action at least then they don’t have to worry about doing more with her character since she hardly makes appearances in the franchise as is anymore. Even when she does, it’s only minor roles she has.

What a BIG let down. I am truly disappointed with IDW for even doing this to her character. Talking about it further just angers me.

[puthyflapps]

I think the commander hears the baby trying to say her own name, something like how you wrote it in a tags and she mimics her. Clarke isn’t going to correct her. It sounds perfect to her. It’s a special bond between their daughter and mate.

I was just attacked by visions of little Poppy learning her name. For what it’s worth, it seems as though she’s a fan of her mothers’ choice in names. Clarke couldn’t count the number of times she’d watched the girl toddle around their tent, wooden toy in hand as she incessantly and excitedly said, “Poppei”. The girl had a pretty good grasp on how to pronounce it but hadn’t come to fully understand that it was her name and not something to just spout when she was happy.

Memories of Indra trying to teach the little girl her name and how to state it in Trigedasleng flood Clarke’s mind and it leaves her giggling as she recalls the adorably frustrating moment.

The strong warrior held the girl close to her chest as she used her finger to point back and forth between herself and child resting in her arms. A dark skinned finger came to rest gently on the child’s round belly before she said with a softness that was reserved solely for the Commander’s child, “yu laik Poppei”.

“Ai laik Indra,” she stated, moving her finger to point at herself.

Confusion briefly fluttered across Poppy’s features. Her brow furrowed and her eyes studied the woman in front of her. Indra swore she’s never looked more like her mother that fell from the sky than in that moment. However, the seriousness soon slipped from the toddler’s face and in its place stood joy. It was her turn to point at the warrior.

“Poppei,” she exclaimed with a bright smile that only grew wider when Indra huffed as her face mirrored the child’s earlier look of befuddlement.

“No, ai laik Indra. Yu laik Poppei.”

It was obvious that Indra was not truly bothered by the misunderstanding. Clarke had seen the woman upset before and this was nothing of the sort. If you asked Clarke she might have described the scene as playful. Indra, of course, would simply deny that she would ever participate in such joking behavior. But if anyone were to catch the manner in which the corners of her lips twitched almost imperceptibly when the small bundle in her arms declared emphatically “Poppei”, they’d have to admit that it sure did look like the stoic woman was having fun.

#I love indra with clexa babies so o wrote what I wanted oops 🍅🍅🍅 #also #when poppy gets a little older: #indra: “ai laik indra” #poppy: “I like indra” ☺️💞 #ask #clexa #clarke griffin #commander lexa #clexa baby #indra kom trikru

[dahlia-coccinea]

Study For 'Wuthering Heights’ by Lady Edna Clarke Hall

“On Sunday evenings we used to be permitted to play, if we did not make much noise; now a mere titter is sufficient to send us into corners.

“‘You forget you have a master here,’ says the tyrant. ‘I’ll demolish the first who puts me out of temper! I insist on perfect sobriety and silence. Oh, boy! was that you? Frances darling, pull his hair as you go by: I heard him snap his fingers.’ Frances pulled his hair heartily, and then went and seated herself on her husband’s knee, and there they were, like two babies, kissing and talking nonsense by the hour—foolish palaver that we should be ashamed of. We made ourselves as snug as our means allowed in the arch of the dresser. I had just fastened our pinafores together, and hung them up for a curtain, when in comes Joseph, on an errand from the stables. He tears down my handiwork, boxes my ears, and croaks:

“‘T’ maister nobbut just buried, and Sabbath not o’ered, und t’ sound o’ t’ gospel still i’ yer lugs, and ye darr be laiking! Shame on ye! sit ye down, ill childer! there’s good books eneugh if ye’ll read ’em: sit ye down, and think o’ yer sowls!’”

#wuthering heights #edna clarke hall #illustration

[bourbakiaxiom]

Image: Why didn’t you wake me? (2013) Installation by Latvian artist Ginters Krumholcs.

Hamlet’s Monologue

When the ground is covered with shimmering autumn vapours And has swallowed up the last leaves of the trees, The moon shines wanly in the sky, Like a corpse, Then the sorrowful times begin again, As Hamlet rises once more from the grave And, wrapped in a black toga, Holds forth his monologue:

“Has life improved after me? With fewer tragedies? Less crime? It seems better to be suffocated in elemental sleep! Or hang unseen like a foggy patch Over the world’s inhabitants, Filled with the new seeds of stars, - Or to be formed in marble, So smooth and white, Laid in a mountain bed untouched, unwrinkled, Not under the sculptor, nor chipped by his hand, Where the chisel splits, and the sparks fly? Who thirsts for a hot-bodied life? Who would climb the tower of beauty? Or yet reach the pinnacle of perfection, When earthly life is filled with such struggle?


“It is hard for who has not been, to be, But much harder for who has been, to not be!”

- Aspazija (Prologue to her collection:  In The Time Of Asters - Autumn Poems, 1928)

(my translation from the Latvian - see read more for the Latvian original)

HAMLETA MONOLOGS

Kad zemi pārklāj gluzdošs rudens tvaiks Un rīst vispēdējā no kokiem lapa, Pie debess palsi atspīd mēnesis Kā miroņģindenis, Tad sākas atkal grūtsirdības laiks, Kur Hamlets pieceļas ikreiz no kapa Un, aptērpies ar melnu togu, Tur monologu:

«Vai dzīve labāka pēc manis tapa? Vai mazāk traģikas? vai mazāk ziegu? Šķiet, labāk dusēt elementu miegu! Vai karāties kā miglas plankumam Virs zemes dzimtām nesaredzamām, Ar jaunu zvaigžņu sēklu pildītām, — Vai būt kā marmoram, kas gluds un balts Dus kalnu gultā neaizskarts, bez krokām, Ne nākt zem tēlnieka un viņu roku kalts, Kur, dzirkstēm šķiestot, šķeļ to asais kalts? Kam karstas dzīvības slāpt? Kam daiļumu tornī kāpt Un pilnības kalnā jau būt, Kad zemē ar joni grūt?——Gan grūti ir nebijušam būt, Bet grūtāk par grūt’ Ir jau reiz bijušam ne vairs būt!——»

- Aspazija (1865-1943)

#aspazija #ginters krumholcs #latvian poetry #latvian art #witmonth #womenintranslation #asterulaikaa

[bard-secret-santa]

Happy Snowdown

A/N:This is for the Bard Secret Santa on Tumblr. @macabrelamb, I hope you like this. I couldn't decide between Draven or Darius, so... Why not both? Heh. Enjoy! Also, Ao3 link here! [x]

Summary: Darius has just returned from a campaign, but while he wants nothing more than to sleep, his brother has other plans... A Secret Santa gift for @macabrelamb on Tumblr!

Strings of lights, red and green and blue and gold, were all strewn about, flickering and bright against the dusk. Some lined rooftops and windows, while others twirled around bushes. Snowdown decorations littered any free space in entrance-ways, and parked in plain sight through every open window sat Snowdown trees, trimmed with ornaments and covered in tinsel. All around, people flocked to parties and bustled with energy, despite the late hour. Noxus was always crowded, with so many gathered in such tight walkways, shoulder-to-shoulder, Darius found it silly for him to have worn any furs at all. The streets were warm from so many crammed bodies, but at least when people saw him, they stepped aside. 

  It was late, and Darius was long overdue for a good rest. Late nights of strategies and training were draining enough, but he had been assigned to a small faction. An elite force, handpicked by Cyrus, that had traveled to the rough lands of Freljord, where the winds howled and the ice cut. They had seiged and captured a key border fort, and upon their return, the soldiers had been praised for their successful campaign, and given an audience with Emperor Boram Darkwill himself.

  Darius was proud of what he'd accomplished, but he was also tired. His limbs were sore from marching, and as he finally reached his doorstep, he still hadn't decided whether he should take a warm bath or fall asleep on his bed first. The door was bare, the lights off, just as they'd been when he'd left, months ago. The key slid into the keyhole just the same, and the doorway was as finicky as ever, squeaking in protest as he pushed it roughly ajar. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and turned the lights of the entrance on.

  "SURPRISE!!!"

  Darius winced at the sound, half-way into a crouch already, before he registered who the voice belonged to.

  There was his baby brother, leaning back on the couch, looking as comfortable as ever. His legs were kicked over the edge, and his boots dangled lazily in the air. Draven's moustache was tidy and trimmed to perfection, and he donned a Snowdown suit, right down to the red, fuzzy hat. Darius had definitely not given him a key to his apartment, but he should have known that wouldn't stop him.

  This was not how this meeting had gone in his head. 

  Before he left, Darius had had a rough argument with Draven. His little brother, upset that he hadn't been chosen for the campaign, had walked away fuming and cursing. Darius himself had been just as frustrated, but had pushed the fight aside to focus on his mission. Now, he was home, and having to confront his brother when he was on the brink of exhaustion was just about the last thing he needed.

  But of course, Draven was as nosy as he'd been since childhood, and endearing though it might be, Darius was simply too tired to match his brother's energy, let alone settle a fight. He relaxed his posture, slipping out of his crouch, but kept his narrowed eyes on his little brother.

  Draven's grin quickly turned downward.

  "Jeez, no reaction? You'd think you were dead inside or something," he said. He made no move to leave the couch, or even lean forward, for that matter; rather, he seemed to settle even further back. "I mean, I know hanging out with frosty cavemen isn't anything like being in my company, but did you really forget how to smile?" Draven gestured at his own face, and he broke out in a wide, toothy grin. "Shee? Laike dish." 

  Darius stood there for a few moments before walking past his brother.

  I'll go to bed, he thought to himself. Draven can wait til--

  "Darius!" There was a distinct clatter as Draven hopped out of the couch and rushed to catch up. "Hey! It's Snowdown!"

  Darius stopped walking, took a deep, calming breath, and turned around.

  "I'm tired," he said. "I've been gone for months, and I want to rest."

  Draven waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, that can wait. You can sleep after this." Draven struck a pose, and Darius would have rolled his eyes if he'd had the energy. "I brought you your Snowdown gift!"

  Darius didn't move. "It can wait until tomorrow," he said again. 

  Draven shook his head. "No, it really can't." He flashed his toothy, curled grin at his brother. "Trust me."

  Darius sighed, raising a hand to rub his forehead in exasperation. Draven always had a way of getting under his skin, but... Darius turned around.

  "Let me unpack first, at least," he told his brother. Behind his retreating form, he heard Draven let out a victory cry. He could almost imagine him leaping in joy.

  Sighing again, Darius carefully placed his pack onto his bed, and began to gently rummage around inside it.

  --

  By the time he wandered back out to the living room area, Darius found that his brother had managed to produce a small tree, feebly decorated with five bulbs and a half-hazard tinsel job. He'd placed it by the window and opened the curtains. He heard his brother humming Snowdown tunes to himself as he sat by the tree. By his side was a small box, wrapped in paper covered in candy canes. When his eyes met Darius's, he grinned, practically glowing with pride.

  "I did the decorating myself," he said, as though it wasn't obvious. "It's not... flashy enough in here, you know?" 

  Darius allowed himself a small smile. "Flashy is for you, not me."

  "Truer words have yet to be spoken," Draven declared, enthusiasm pouring from his voice. Then he sat up taller, eagerness lighting up his eyes. "Snowdown time!" He stood, and the bells on his belt jingled as he pulled the box up with him. "Here." He sat beside his brother on the couch and handed him the box. Darius took it, but he put it down on his other side, then turned to face Draven.

  "We need to talk," he said. Draven made a face; he knew that tone from when they were young. Darius reserved it for only the most serious of situations. 

  "We are talking," Draven replied. Darius didn't bother answering that; Draven slumped forward, looking across the room. He avoided his brother's gaze. He sighed then, and Darius knew he'd resigned himself to their discussion. "Fine... About what?"

  Even though Draven refused to meet his eyes, that didn't stop Darius from seeking him out anyways. His brother was young, but he'd gained a few scars since Darius had left, and they made him seem older, just a bit. Even so, he was still more or less the same spirit he'd been as a child, overeager and proud and quietly, quietly afraid of his shortcomings, afraid of being a shortcoming. 

  "I know you wanted to go on the campaign," Darius said. He had meant it to be quiet, but as always, his voice was gravelly and deep, projecting more than he'd intended to. But he pressed on. "But you weren't ready."

  Draven let out a gust of air he'd been holding.

  "You always say that," he said, "But I've proven myself plenty." His hands clenched into fists against his knees. "But I just didn't want..." He trailed off, then started again. "I'm always by your side. So you going, and me staying... It just... Felt weird. Wrong." He hesitated. "Does that make sense?"

  Darius let out a breath of his own. "You don't need me to stay with you anymore," he told Draven. "You're not a kid anymore. And we have duties, to Noxus--"

  "I know, I know," Draven cut him off. His clenched fists finally relaxed, settling together as he leaned forward. "I'm not saying I need you around to coddle me. I'm not a child. I just..." Draven struggled to find words for a moment. "I want to be... Equal. Your equal."

  Darius shook his head. "Our strength isn't equal. That doesn't make you weak. As you've said, you've proven yourself plenty."

  "Hm." Draven let out a hum, and Darius let him ponder his words in silence. For a time, there was nothing but their breathing and the dusk light creeping through the open window. 

  Finally, Draven looked up to meet Darius's gaze, and he found resolution in them. "You're wise beyond your years, big brother." 

  Darius smirked. "Of course I am." Without missing a beat, he tore into his gift. Draven started, surprised, but he beamed widely as Darius peeled the paper away.

  "It's awesome, I promise!" he said. Darius lifted a penguin snow globe up in his palms. "See?" Draven grabbed it from his hands, turned it upside down, and twisted a key beneath it. A Snowdown tune began to play. "It's so cool!"

  Darius chuckled. "Thank you," he said. He searched the room for somewhere to put it. His eyes fell on the windowsill. "It is pretty bare in here."

  "Exactly!" Draven said. "That's what I was sayin--"

  A thump from Darius's room made him cut off. He stood, glancing down at his brother in curiosity.

  "Go see," Darius said, his smirk growing into a full-blown grin. "it's for you." Draven wandered off excitedly, and Darius looked out the window.

  It was a lovely night, made all the better by a warm home and brother. He was still going to bed, though, right after Draven found--

  "Oh my Gods, is this a--?!" Draven's laughter tumbled down the hallway. "It's a poro! A poro! Oh, Gods, you're heavy, dude... I'm naming him Glory!!!" 

  Darius heard his brother stomping back to the room, squeezing the life out of a fluffy foreign creature, and he met his gaze with a smile. "Happy Snowdown," he said. Draven grinned back, eyes wide and bright.

  "Yeah," he replied, "Happy Snowdown."

#bard secret santa #submission

[slakgedakru]

Heya! Ai don stot au gon dig trigedasleng au (please correct me if needed) would "he is a warrior and he is strong enough" translate into "em laik gona en em laik huj pleni" ??? Mochof!!

You had it almost perfect! I would say ‘Em laik gona - en’s pleni yuj.’ Here’s why:

Now, ‘laik’ does mean ‘is’ but I want to make sure you mean he is literally a warrior. You mean that’s his actual title or position, right? Because if you’re trying to say “He’s like a warrior!” you would say em bilaik gona. A good example I always think of is:

Em laik nomon She is a mother.

Em bilaik nomon. She is like a mother. 

2. I chose “en’s” because it’s a contraction of ‘em ste.’ While ‘laik’ does mean ‘is,’ when used before an adjective, it is incorrect. You would use ‘ste’ instead. 

I put pleni in front of yuj because it felt right tbh. Other members in Slakkru also approved of the switch.

I dropped the ‘en’ for ‘and’ and replaced it with a hyphen when it’s written because when it’s said aloud, ‘en en’s’ sounds awkward and you don’t really need it; tone of voice kind of says ‘he’s a warrior - he’s strong enough!’ 

-Slaknomon

[viciousheart]

the christening ritual of a new home base: a drabble.

(  rewritten !  )

a waterfall can be heard in the distance everywhere on this base. viviana doesn’t know what this building was used for before, but aside from a few exiled grounders that were… taken care of quickly, it’s completely abandoned, and  —  viviana’s favourite part  —  the farthest from azgeda territory they’ve ever been. just outside of trikru territory, but still surrounded by plenty of trees and wilderness that keep the building hidden from sight until you’re on it.

it’s finally finished being prepared, and all the dokwochakru that were able to leave their posts have come to christen a new base, and hear their queen renew her vows. 

the feast they have isn’t too bad, either.   (  she’s pretty sure most come for the feast.  )

a young girl, twelve or thirteen years old, brushes and puts viviana dark locks into intricate braids. the blood queen smiles at her in the mirror.    ❛  you’re name is alona, right?  —  i like how you left most of my hair down, but just pulled some up into braids. you’re very good.  ❜    the girl blushes, and an elderwoman  —  alona’s grandmother, if viviana remembers correctly  —  gives her a pointed look that clearly reads: thank your queen.

so, she hurries out a hushed thank you, and, through the mirror, viviana sees the elderwoman shake her head, and it makes her laugh lightly.    ❛  don’t worry, alona. i was shy when i was your age, as well.  —  do you want to be a handmaid when you get older?  ❜    

it takes her a moment, but viviana raises an eyebrow, encouraging her to speak up.    ❛  i want to be a warrior.  ❜    she announces proudly, a big smile taking over her features. 

the old woman stomps her foot, giving alona a hard stare. but viviana doesn’t mind. she’s actually quite fond of children. they’re just so… innocent. untouched by the hatred in this world. viviana wishes she could save them from ever finding out that the world is anything besides sweetness  &  innocence  &  dreams of possibilities.    ❛  alona, i look forward to the day you’re sworn in as a warrior. i hope you’ll do me the honour of being your first sword fight on that day.  ❜    viviana says, and alona smiles shyly, but nods eagerly.

once the child’s finished with her hair, the elderwoman helps her into her dress. it’s red, with a sweeping cape sown onto it.    ❛  you’re work is breathtaking. i’ve never seen such delicate and beautiful thread work.  ❜    the queen compliments the old woman as she admires the dress in a cracked mirror. the elderwoman says a polite thank you, and bows deeply to excuse herself and her granddaughter, leaving viviana to finish getting ready. 

she takes out her silver canister, now full to the top since the last attack left them with plenty of dead bodies, and plenty of blood for viviana’s warpaint. she dips a finger in before turning to the mirror so she can see to trace the blood over her azgeda scars. and then she waits a couple minutes for it to dry before tracing them over again. she repeats the process twice more, to make the colour nice and deep, as rich as the red of her dress.

this is an important day, an important ritual. once upon a time, they used to christen a new base with a simple toast. and then they added a feast because, when they abandon an old base, they clear out the gardens  &  the smoke houses. but, by the time they’re set up in a new base, the food is near rotting. so, they began cooking it all for a grand feast to celebrate dokwochakru. but, during one rebirthing ritual, as she the new clansmen swore himself to her and to the ghost people, she realized something important. 

these people, all of them have vowed their loyalty  ---  their lives  ---  to dokwochakru, and to viviana as a person, as a queen. they bow before her that day, and they look to her every day after that for leadership, for protection and dedication. but she’d never vowed anything to them. and viviana as a queen, and dokwochakru itself would not exist without them. 

she’s drawn out of her thoughts by three rasps on her door. 

viviana takes a deep breath before calling out to enter. greer, the head guard  &  viviana’s advisor,   (  and, in fact, the very first dokwochakru member. the woman who first believed in viviana as a queen, and the woman who made dokwochakru possible.  )   takes a single step through the entry way, bowing formally to her queen.    ❛  we are ready for you, jus kwin.  ❜    her voice is even, cool  &  calm as always. but there’s a question on her face. 

viviana nods at her with a smile, assuring her that she’s ready, and alright. she stands, moving toward greer and the door with her cape flowing behind her. the head guard steps out of the way, and viviana exits the room. the three guards standing in the hallway, and greer, get into formation around viviana. they make a square with their queen in the middle. in moments like this, with her flowing gown, and her own guards, viviana feels like a queen of old she’d read about in books. it fills her with confidence.   (  and some arrogance.  )

they reach the largest room in the base, where her throne sits atop a platform, and all the clansmen wait. the four guards move to their positions beside the platform  ---  two on each side  ---  and viviana stops at the bottom of its two stairs. the room is dead silent. 

greer holds out her sword in its sheath, and viviana takes it out, pressing the point into the ground. she looks around at the faces of her people, raising her chin.    ❛  today we gather here to christen this new home, to celebrate it with feast  &  drink.  ❜    she pauses, eyes sweeping the crowd again.    ❛  you are also here to hear me renew the vows i make to you, so i may swear my fealty, once again, to you, my people, my family.  ❜  

her hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword, the blood queen lowers herself onto one knee. the head guard then takes a red crown made of animal bones and places it on her head. it’s a magnificent thing that took over a year of hard work to craft to perfection. 

❛  ai laik viviona, jus kwin kom dokwochakru,  ❜    she begins, keeping her head bowed as she speaks, but making sure her voice is clear  &  strong.    ❛  and i vow to you, the people, the heart  &  soul of dokwochakru. i vow upon this crown of blood and bone you have built for me. and i vow upon this kingdom that you’ve raised from nothing for me. and i vow on these precious lives you have trusted to me that i will do everything with this power you have bestowed upon me to protect you. to provide for you. to give you the family you’ve been searching for.  ❜    she looks up now, her expression  ---  heart heart  ---  filled with pride.

❛  and, above all, i vow to fight for you, to fight beside you. and to lay down my own life for you. gratefully. honoured to have been able to serve you as your queen.  ❜

now, viviana takes her sword, and draws the sharp edge across her palm. blood blossoms, black as night, from her palm.    ❛  because you hail me your jus kwin, and you swear your life and loyalty to me,  i shall swear mine to you, while my blood stains the ground and marks this our home.  ❜    she turns her hand upside down, and blood drips onto the floor.

 after enough blood has dripped onto the floor, viviana finally stands, and says, once more, this time louder and with more passion behind it.    ❛  ai laik viviona, jus kwin kom dokwochakru!  ❜    she raises her sword high in the air, and the whole room speaks together, as one single voice.    ❛  osir laik dokwochakru. dokwochakru fou hogeda!  ❜  

the room raises two fingers in the air, in the shape of a V. viviana makes the same shape with her hand, and pounds it twice against her chest. the clansmen all do the same before they begin chanting dokwochakru fou hogeda! as their queen ascends the two steps of the platform, and takes her seat on the throne before them, laying her sword across her lap. she raises one hand into the air, and the entire room falls silent in the same second.

❛  let us feast!  ❜    she calls out with a grin, and the room is engulfed in cheers once more. their excitement is infectious, and viviana’s heart beats to the rhythm of the cheering.

meat, vegetables, and alcohol is passed around to everyone as the chatter and liveliness picks up quickly. every couple of minutes, a clansmen will come up to the foot of the platform and kneels. they all thank her for her loyalty to them, and they, once again, swear theirs to her, even though it’s unnecessary tonight.   (  but so, so heart - warming.  )

viviana looks out at her people, enjoying themselves for the first time in a long time. they sing, and dance, and reminisce, and tell each other stories of their time spent apart. and viviana thinks of how very lucky she is. this, right here, is why she decided to vow herself to them as they do to her. each and every one of them swears oaths of fealty to her. they take her brand. they follow her. they believe in her, and they look to her, and listen to her words.

they love her. and she, them. 

each of them is a branch on the tree that is dokwochakru, and viviana is the roots. 

she would be nothing, and dokwochakru wouldn’t even exist without them. 

❛  jus kwin,  ❜    greer’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts, and she turns her head to look at the woman.    (  if dokwochakru is a tree, the clansmen it’s branches, and viviana its roots, then greer is its strong, steady trunk. never wavering, holding them all up.  )    ❛  would you like me to get you something to eat, perhaps a drink?  ❜    she asks. 

the queen shakes her head, grinning.   ❛  no, greer  ---  ❜    she looks from the woman to the other three guards who stand centry at the sides of the platform.    ❛  all of you, go. eat, drink, be merry for once.  ❜    greer looks as if she’s about to protest, but viviana cuts her off.    ❛  i order you, as your queen. tonight is a night of fun. so, go. relax. this instant. i only wish for nothing more than to see all of my people enjoy themselves for tonight.  ❜

and, that night, she does. and it makes her happier than she’s been in months  &  months.

#* drabble #i had to do a rewrite because some parts irritated me. #𝒱 jusreina. ❪ about. ❫ #𝒱 v. jusreina. ❪ verse. ❫

[libidomechanica]

“and make no stay for feare of rauenous Wolues yrent”

After the shepheards most what, badde is the taste of Heaven there; if any, be a satire to decay, and make no stay for feare of rauenous Wolues yrent, all in this, that he at last, of parcells make     one good enough to break a twofold truth, hers by thy side.  We part to my ear without aid!    Should I, like the appalling spray; life passes on more rustling. And we will meet the face of the prophet — and her body into his,

and beneath her roof he might each have all her heart, take good attending courtier from Sir Leoline, a moments a blur, a Film Fun laughing lope to a tree. Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime, nor in hid wayes to entertainment perfect on the blacke bowre of sorrowe.

No! have the boy does not take much   Tell court huntsmen that moment in the beams

  Beware when you come forth. half an hour to hour, within me wrought, that the white, sleepy one?

“Tis all blank sadness, or continuance. Of heauenly haueour, her princely grace can you wi” a your thousand years of charity and Wisdom whence I will, though I have seen them riding seaward from heavenly joys, that bene so lewdly bent.

Now she is a stone, and manfully thereat shotte.  Ye wadna been sae shy; for laik o gear ye lightly as you will come. Of tempest, when each street a Parke                                           Thou, sun, art half as happy again. And now ye daintie Damsells may departing we will sleepeth not, but is got up, and grieved—to slacken and thy phantom flies me, as lightened up my heaven, no second morn has ever shone faire, ycladde in clothing doubting of salt, and all to the shepheards swayne, albee my loue he seeke with due respect, and, tost on thought, and hang that she knew.

For laik o gear ye lightly me,  but, trowth, I care na by. After then thou hast seene.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #150 texts

[endless-joy]

🇱🇻 ANDALŪZIJAS GASPAČO 🍅 Lai gan laikapstākļi ārā ne par mazāko tiesu neliecina, ka vēl ir vasara, tas nenozīmē, ka auksto zupu sezona ir pilnīgi un galīgi beigusies. Ar bietēm, iespējams, tomēr var ieturēt pauzi, jo pašlaik ir īstais tomātu laiks. Mūsmājās to šogad ir atliku likām, tāpēc es beidzot atkal varēju uztaisīt gaspačo.🍅 . 🌱 Šo gaspačo recepti es savulaik iemācījos pavisam nejauši - apmeklējot kulināro meistarklasi, kuru organizēja spāņu brīvprātīgie Rēzeknes jauniešu centrā. Lai gan kopš tā notikuma pagājuši jau aptuveni 10 gadi, pamatprincipi ir iesēdušies manā atmiņā. Galvenokārt tāpēc, ka gaspačo var pagatavot itin gardi, paļaujoties tikai uz savām sajūtām un garšu. . 🌱 Pilnu recepti atradīsi manā mājaslapā - saite profilā! . . . 🇺🇸 AUTHENTIC GAZPACHO 🍅 Even though the weather outside makes me think that summer is long gone, it doesn’t necessarily mean we should give up cold soups as well. 🍵 Since it’s now the tomato season anyway, I figured that it’s the perfect time to make some gazpacho. I learned this recipe from Andalusians themselves about 10 years ago, so I think that it can’t get any more authentic than that. 🍅 Plus it’s a great way to use up a great amount of tomatos and cucumbers. . 🌱 INGREDIENTS: 7-8 medium tomatos, 2-3 small cucumbers, 1/2 cup water, 1 small garlic bulb, 1 medium onion, 3 tbsps apple vinegar, 3 tbsps olive oil, at least 1/2 tbsp salt . 🌱 RECIPE: wash all the veggies and cut them into small pieces. Be sure to cut each garlic clove in half and remove the darkish string in the middle (don’t remember the reason, but it has something to do with the aftertaste). Throw all the veggies in a food processor and blend them well. Add the vinegar, olive oil, and salt, and mix everything once more. 🍅 Gazpacho requires quite a lot of salt, so you might add even more of it, or leave it up to each of the eaters to adjust the taste. This recipe yields around 3 medium servings. . . . #breakfastmakes #veganfood #foodblogger #veganbreakfast #veganpasoup #gazpacho #gazpachorecipe #vegānisks #veganlatvia #gatavomājās #tomāti #tomāturecepte #vegāniskaszupas #vasarasrecepte #tasirvegānisks @coconutbowls @veganbowls (at Rezekne) https://www.instagram.com/p/CTG2aj7iHx3/?utm_medium=tumblr

#breakfastmakes #veganfood #foodblogger #veganbreakfast #veganpasoup #gazpacho #gazpachorecipe #vegānisks #veganlatvia #gatavomājās #tomāti #tomāturecepte #vegāniskaszupas #vasarasrecepte #tasirvegānisks

[ellanainthetardis]

@akachankami wanted more Echo in space so you get more Echo in space ;) I hope you enjoy it!

[FF] or [ao3]

Spin Raun Gon

Echo’s eyes remain on the window, every of her movement precisely calculated as she stares out into the dark void that stretches outside. Sometimes, depending on what she’s doing and at which point of its rotation the ring is, she can glimpse pieces of metal. In the darkness of space, they look like looming shadows, the jaws of a mysterious beast trying to challenge them. Raunon is the biggest beast though and nothing exterior can hurt it. The danger comes from within.  

Six months and she still is not used to the humming of the beast’s heart.

If she places her hand against a wall, she will feel it, a barely there tremor that she has come to learn means safety. It stopped twice already and it has almost meant their death. Without Raven…

She hears the footsteps long before the other woman appears on the threshold of the room Echo has claimed for herself. She doesn’t stop moving.

She looked but she has found no sword nor bow on Raunon and she is still uncomfortable with Skaikrus guns. They are too obvious a weapon when everyone goes unarmed anyway. She is a part of the kru because Bellamy declared so but she needs the others to trust her, to rely on her, and they would not take well to her walking around with a gun at her belt. She found knives but nothing that she would ever consider hunting with. She keeps one in her boot all the same, it never hurts to be prepared.

She doesn’t need weapons anyway.

She is the weapon.

Or at least she used to be before space stole her breath. Even then, as cold sweat runs down her nape, her muscles cramp and protest because her lungs can’t provide enough oxygen. Training always makes her light-headed and yet she still trains, day after day. She abandoned any thought of actual fighting because that leaves her drained but she keeps her body in shape, sharpens it like she would have done with her sword or the point of her arrows…

A warrior takes care of her weapons. It is the first rule of war.  

Spin raun gon isn’t her training of choice. It is slow and to an exterior eye it looks like an odd sort of dancing. It is in some ways. Taught to warriors whose stealth is as important as their strength. It is not meant as a path to fighting but as a way to ground oneself, to learn balance and reach peace of mind. She rejected it early enough and cannot remember all of its moves now but it is all she has and so she clings to it.

It is enough to feel the strain in her muscles and to make her body sing to the tune of war.

What she wishes for, more than anything else, is an opponent. Bellamy humors her sometimes – and inevitably loses to her superior skills despite his stronger built – but not often. Raunon isn’t a place for warriors.

The distinctive footsteps finally stop on the threshold and Echo waits for Raven to speak. It isn’t naitaim yet but it will be soon. The lights will dim and the night will start and Echo will roam the corridors like she always does, what started as an idle stroll having turned into a patrol in the last few months.

She doesn’t know why she insists because there is no enemy on Raunon, no one to haunt the steel corridors but the seven of them, and no threat from outside, none she would be able to beat anyway – they have Raven and Monty for those, brains over strength. The metal beast keeps them safe. And yet she patrols. Habits.  

“You will have to teach me how to do that, one day.” Raven says.

Echo doesn’t spare her a glance, focused on the window and the angle of her leg as she balances on one foot, arms pushing high above her head. Short of breath. Always too short of breath.

She can’t remember what real air feels like when it flows freely in one’s lungs.

“Harper joins me sometimes.” she answers. “Yu laik monin. You are welcomed.”

It has been difficult for her to bond with the rest of the kru. Bellamy was the easy one. Harper was surprising but she is the one who offered a hand first and Echo took it. It took some time for Monty to learn to trust her but she likes to think they are comrades now. It stings maybe that Emori, who is the closest thing to home she has, keeps away but Emori and John always live on the fringe of the group, always keep to themselves and she does not resent it because she is not singled out, simply not a part of their world. Raven is the one who pauses a challenge though.

Even now, she can’t really tell if they are friends.

They are not enemies.

There is no room for enemies on Raunon.

Survival means cooperating.

And they are all in the same kru. It does not mean they all have to get along but that does mean they have to protect each other. Tempers flare sometimes but for the most part living in space is difficult enough that they do not waste time fighting each other.

“I don’t think I’d be very good at it.” the woman snorts with bitterness.

Despite her will to focus, Echo’s eyes dart to the metal contraption that encases Raven’s leg. It puzzles her how open the skai people are about their weaknesses. It makes them vulnerable and they don’t even notice.

Sometimes, she thinks it’s a good thing they have her.

She doesn’t show her weaknesses, she doesn’t allow herself to be vulnerable.

And if something or someone ever tries to attack them, it is what will save them all.

She is Bellamy’s wormana and she will not fail her king, even if he refuses to admit that it is who he is to their kru.

“You won’t know until you try.” she dismisses, planting her two feet back of the floor.

Her body yearns for some real action but she is already sweaty and cold and she knows better than to push too hard. She passed out once, because there is not enough air to sustain her body if she goes past a certain point. She can run precisely fifteen minutes before feeling nauseous – and that if she keeps a tame pace.

She hates feeling this weak.

“Yu gaf ai in?” she asks, picking up her towel to wipe her face. Then, she forces herself to translate because not everyone speaks her language on Raunon and Raven is of those who is the least interested in learning. She hates this too. The second it always takes her to make sure she understood them right. “Do you need me?”

She has muscles and Raven sometimes takes advantage of that when she works on a project to try and make their life easier. She doesn’t mind helping, it gives her a purpose.

“We’re eating in Earth Monitoring station tonight.” Raven tells her. “We’re having a movie night. Monty and I managed to divert enough power.”

She frowns at the other young woman.

“Movie?” she repeats, unfamiliar with the word.

“It’s like a story but with images that move.” Raven shrugs. “You’ll see. It’s fun.”

Fun, to her, is a good sword fight but she doubts Raven would understand so she holds her tongue. She observed already that her kru seems desperate to find fun anywhere they can get it. Monty perfects moonshine bash after moonshine bash – and this is a hobby she, in fact, does not object to – and Murphy urges for them all to party. Once, he made loud music blurt out of Raunon’s every speakers and instead of punishing him for it, they all started dancing and laughing like children on the loose.

“What kind of story?” she asks, curious despite herself. It seems she can never run out of things to be puzzled by. Space is full of them. She sometimes wonders if they were just as thrown with the ground as she is in their metal beast.

Raven shrugs and sits on the bed while Echo changes her shirt for a clean one, not bothered in the least by the other woman’s presence. “I don’t know, it’s Monty’s pick.”  

That doesn’t explain much, she thinks, freeing her hair from the shirt’s collar. She’s been braiding it lately. Tight small cornrow braids that keeps it out of her eyes. There is time to waste in the sky and not much to do. It is a practical warrior hairdo, of course, but it also looks pretty and she cannot deny it flatters her vanity.

“Is there news from the ground?” she asks even if it is pointless. Twice a day at the same designated times, Raven tries to contact the bunker and twice a day she fails. If she had managed, Echo would have heard about it by now. And yet she still asks every time she sees Raven. It is a part of keeping hope that it would one day change. They all do the same thing.

“No.” Raven shakes her head, her face closing off. “It doesn’t mean they’re dead.”

“It doesn’t mean they’re alive either.” she opposes.

Isn’t that a weird thought. They don’t know and thus they are both alive and dead. There is no mourning them and yet there aren’t many reasons to hope. She does not like the uncertainty.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” Raven snorts. It’s not quite meant as a joke. There is the same underlying tension underneath that always ends up in their exchanges.

Echo killed her friends and she understands the other woman’s resentment. Raven is not a warrior, she does not understand that she did what she had to like Bellamy does. People who aren’t warriors don’t forgive as easily.

“Why did you come?” she asks, unwilling to play a game of deceit. She doesn’t like being on the defense when she can attack.

“To tell you we’re having a movie night.” Raven lies, using the edge of a nearby table to haul herself up. Echo does not miss the wincing when she puts her weight on her bad leg. She waits. She waits because it is not why the other woman really came and, surely enough, Raven rolls her eyes and folds her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t like you.”

“Rait bitam.” she accepts. Fair enough.

She isn’t sure Raven understands her words, the woman studies her for a long time and then shrugs. “I told Bellamy I would give you a chance.”

That surprises her, all the more so if she means it. She is a bit insulted Bellamy is going around behind her back to talk about her but a part of her also is warmed by the thought that he worries about her enough to do that. She is part of his kru. He said so and she believed him but it is good to feel it.

She supposes the way she averts her eyes betrays her and, really, she should have known better. She is slipping. From wormana to a ridiculous village girl with a crush.

“He likes you.” Raven says and there is a hint of warning in there.

Not for the first time, she wonders if there is something going on between them but she never saw any tangible proof of an attachment or an arrangement.

“He loves Wanheda.” she counters.

And it will be some time before he is done grieving for her death, she knows. When he does, she will be waiting. She can be patient. All the best hunters are. When he does, she will be there and she will conquer. But not before.

“We all loved Clarke.” Raven states, the tension briefly leaving her shoulders, replaced by a familiar sorrow Echo understands only too well.

She lost too many good commanders, too many good friends.

“Not like he did.” she whispers quietly. Not a question but a statement.

“No. Not like he did.” the other woman admits, her face hardening again. “Don’t hurt him or I will kick your ass.”

There is little chances that Raven can actually kick her ass but Echo smiles all the same because she appreciates the sentiment. It is good to know she is not the only one looking out for their leader’s wellbeing. Maybe they can bond over that, she thinks, over their friendship with Bellamy.

She bows her head in acknowledgement and Raven smiles back. Maybe it’s a little forced, maybe she’s trying a little too hard, but when the woman lights up like this, there is no resisting being swept by the whirlwind. Raven’s mind goes too fast and too far for most people to follow.

“So. Movie night.” Raven declares, grabbing her shoulder to nudge her toward the door. “You’re sitting next to me so I can explain and make fun of you when you don’t get the story.”

She is not an idiot and she is offended by the implication that she won’t understand a simple story – even if it’s likely to be true if the story is based on the ground from before Praimfaya – but she can recognize an offer of peace when she sees one.

It is an olive branch she intends to seize.

#echo #echo kom azgeda #raven reyes #the 100 fic #the 100 #becho #vaguely #eko kom nou kru

[the100imagine]

Imagine: Follow The Leader.

Requested by Anon. Includes: Clarke Griffin x Reader Request: * idk if you would be interested but you should write some Clarke x reader imagines!! they seem very few and far between in the fandom, not sure why. Bonus points if the reader is a leader of their people alongside Clarke. Thank you!!

Note: I love Clarke Griffin and I would gladly go to war for her. Not sure if you meant a Grounder leader or a Sky Person leader, but I went with Grounder, hope that's okay.

I've changed the ideas for this so many times. But I think I like this one more bc the new Commander is a mix of Lexa and someone who was very open about themselves, idk I just like the character.

Ending could have been better? 

    Gaia, the young Flamekeeper, stood in front of you with a smile. You had successfully finished the ascension and recited the lineage of past Commanders. Clarke stood off to the side with a few of the Sky People, a shy smile on her face when you glanced over at her with a small raise of your eyebrows, trying not to grin. The Grounders knew that, although you weren't in the Conclave with the other Nightbloods, Lexa's spirit still chose wisely.

    Some, if not all, of the people in the room, were shocked when you offered your hand to Gaia to shake, thanking her. She stuttered a reply, a small blush on her face as she stepped back, bowing to you, allowing some of those from your own clan to step forward, placing a few of Lexa's old Commander uniform pieces on you before you walked over to the chair she once used to sit in, facing the people in the room.

    "Ai laik Heda, and the Coalition between the—now—fourteen clans—" You looked to some of your people then over to Clarke. "Still stands, in commemoration of your previous Commander, Leksa kom Trikru." You nodded your head before you sat down on the chair, the rest of the people in the room lowered to their knees as a sign of respect, including King Roan and the Ice Nation people.

    You nodded your head and they stood, bowing their heads before they left the room, leaving only a few of your people and the Sky People. You stood back up when Clarke came over to you with a grin on her face. You walked down the few steps to meet with her. She placed her hands on your arms while you placed yours on her elbows, smiling widely at her.

    "Was that too cheesy and overdone?" You asked.

    Clarke shook her head. "No, it was perfect."

    You continued to smile at her, almost forgetting that anyone else was in the room with you until Kane cleared his throat, offering his hand out for you to shake. "If I may, Commander," he started. You reluctantly let go of Clarke and grabbed his hand, shaking it, just as enthusiastically as he did. "I just want to thank you, for honouring Lexa and the Coalition. After Ontari and the Ice Nation—"

    "It was my pleasure, Kane," you interrupted, "I know I wasn't here for the Conclave when she made the initiates swear loyalty to your people, but I hope you know that I swear by it now. Even more so now that Lexa's spirit is within me."

    Kane opened his mouth to reply, but seemed rather stunned and thrown off. He shook your hand and smiled instead.

    "No harm will come to your people," you informed him.

    "Our people," he correctly proudly.

    "Our people," you repeated. "You are all welcome to stay here for as long as you need, I'm sure you are all tired."

    Abby stepped forward and held Kane's arm, lightly pushing him towards the door, you watched with a smile on your face. Bellamy nodded his head at you before walking out as well. Lastly, Indra and Octavia offered you a smile and a nod before they walked out, beginning a conversation. When two of your people, outside the room, closed the doors, you turned back to Clarke.

    "I don't think I can thank you enough."

    "You don't need to, Clarke." You shook your head. "I'm just glad that this went well." Clarke looked down with a smile before she pulled you into a hug, your arms went around her waist, resting your chin on your shoulder. "Look at us, a couple of leaders."

    "I'm not really a—"

    "You helped lead your people since the moment you arrived on Earth, give yourself some credit, Clarke." You pulled away from her with a light smile.

    "I think I'm going to rest up, I'll talk to you later," she told you before walking over to the doors.

-

    You had been going over a few plans to help bring order back to Polis, with a few of your people, when a knock on the door caught your attention. "Who is it? And what do you want?" You turned your head to see Murphy standing there, unsure if he was overstepping any boundaries. The doors closed behind him as you walked over to your chair, standing in front of it.

    "I've come to ask a question," he started.

    You placed your hands out in front of you waiting for him to continue. "Well, what is it?"

    You watched him as he swallowed. "Are Frikdreina allowed here?"

    "Mutants?" You crossed your arms, watching him closely.

    Murphy nodded, glancing behind him. "Yeah."

    "Emori, you can come in here," you called out to her. From behind the door, Emori walked in, heading straight to Murphy's side.

    "I know I shouldn't be in here but—"

    "My mother was a Frikdreina," you told them. "She was cast out of our clan, along with my father—he refused to leave her side, claiming his love was stronger than the view other people had for him and my mother. When she died and I was old enough to understand, my father brought us back to our clan. He taught me how to fight. To be a good leader. He taught me to understand that everyone on Earth is fighting for the same thing; survival. He made me swear that when I became Heda that I would honour my mother and allow Frikdreina to live as everyone else. My father is dead. Here I am, as Heda. I have yet to break a vow I made to him." You looked at Emori throughout your speech.

    "So—"

    "You are welcome to stay here in Polis." You nodded before looking at Murphy. "You are free to stay here in the tower if you wish. I understand that your people are not always welcoming to you as they should be."

    "Are you sure?" Emori asked hesitantly.

    You offered her a smile. "I don't see you or Frikdreina as anything other than human. You are still Grounders, you are just a little bit different, which isn't a bad thing. You are not a stain in the bloodline like most people seem to think, you're adapted." You nodded before waving them off.

    Once they left the room you walked back over to the table, where a few members of your clan waited, to continue going over plans.

-

    It was near the end of the day when you left the throne room. As you stepped out, you nodded your head to the guards, allowing them to leave for the day, not seeing the need for them to guard an empty room. You watched them leave to your left before you turned right, planning on heading to your room for the night. Clarke was a walking down the corridor, when she caught up to you she held her hands on your upper arms, without thinking about it, your hands rested on her elbows again, waiting for her to talk.

    "I thought I'd accompany you to your room." She sent you a smile.

    You smiled back, shaking your head lightly with a laugh. "There is no need for that, Clarke. But I accept anyway."

    Clarke's shy smile widened as you both began to walk to your room, side-by-side, your shoulders brushing against one another. Some of the broken windows allowed cold air to sweep onto the floor you were both on. You noticed Clarke shiver and step closer to you, even if that was practically impossible.

    "Cold?" You asked with a smirk. She opened her mouth to respond, but you cut her off, knowing she'd more than likely stutter a reply, "I'll make sure the fireplace is lit."

    "I'm still not used to the weather here on Earth," she told you, shrugging.

    You hummed. "We are up higher than usual, so, it's colder anyway than what it would be if we were outside."

    Clarke nodded her head as two guards opened your bedroom door, closing it behind the two of you once Clarke and yourself walked in. You walked over to one of your tables and took off the Commander uniform, leaving you in the clothes you were wearing underneath your armour. You would get dressed later but you walked over to the fireplace and lit a match after sorting out the wood to burn. Clarke moved to sit on your bed, brushing her hand across the fur blankets.

    "You miss her, don't you?" You asked gently when you stood up, leaving against the fireplace mantle.

    Clarke nodded her head. "But she's not really gone. She's in you." You offered her a kind smile, slowly walking over to her.

    "But that's not really the same, is it? I know you'd prefer it if she were still here. I sometimes do," you admitted, letting out a small sigh.

    "I'm sure she'd be proud that you were her successor." She nodded. "I miss her, but I can't go back and change the past. Besides, I'm glad that you're here with me. I'm glad that the Flame chose you."

    "You don't think it made a mistake?"

    Clarke shook her head. "When Lexa told us about your clan, she told us that she wasn't the Commander, but rather you were. She understood that you were the best possible leader for your people, not even she could compare. She mentioned that you had gone through a few rough times, but you were able to keep the peace and resolve the issues quickly. Her spirit knew you were the right choice. Her spirit didn't make a mistake."

    "I'm surprised she even remembered my clan," you spoke quietly.

    "Can I ask you something?"

    You looked at her and nodded. "Of course."

    "Why wasn't she the Commander of your clan?"

    "My clan wasn't one that contributed much to the Coalition. We would have been dead weight if she took us on. She only visited a few times, each time she did my people would kindly decline her offer of joining. Sometimes, I think that because we weren't a large clan, the others forgot we even existed. We never had a war, only a few civil disputes. Although, I think it was because the amount of Frikdreina that came from our bloodlines. Mutants weren't accepted in Polis, they definitely wouldn't have been accepted into the Coalition. When I became Heda of my clan I allowed them to stay, I don't understand why they shouldn't have equal rights as the rest of us."

    "I understand." She nodded, taking in all that you told her. "I think that coming from a Nightblood, your acceptance towards Frikdreina makes you more respected."

    "Some of the ambassadors don't agree."

    "They'll learn. Just like they learned that blood must not have blood." Clarke slowly, and gently, slipped her hand into yours.

    "I'm not the only leader that has made an impact on their people," you told her. "As the leader of Skaikru, you have shown them that their old way of life wasn't one that united them together." Clarke bit her lip with a smile. "In my eyes, that makes me respect you even more." You nodded.

    A small laugh bubbled from Clarke's throat as she recited what you said to her earlier, "Look at us, a couple of leaders."

#clarke griffin #the 100 #clarke griffin imagine #the 100 imagine #imagine