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telvess · 7 months

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Record of Ragnarok, Jack the Ripper x S/O (shot)

What a lovely day it was to enjoy a cup of Darjeeling tea. Jack headed to the restaurant, humming Mother Goose’s lullaby to himself. His mind was as clear as sky above him. It was crowded at this time. Who would’ve thought that even in afterlife humans would find something worth chasing. Well, Jack now also had a new purpose. Was it destiny or twist of a fate that the moment he thought about it, potential purpose simply collided with him? — Ah, my apologies — he mumbled, hearing loud ouch. Before him stood woman of average heigh, her auburn hair was blowing in the wind. She rubbed her forehead, turning eyes towards Jack. Colour of her soul became slightly yellow as she noticed his serious face. She might not have heard him. — My bad — her voice was weak. Jack immediately put on a smile, he didn’t mean to scare her. — Be not afeard — he said. A woman blinked as if she heard a ghost. In one moment her soul filled with red which Jack interpreted as confidence. — The isle is full of noises — she whispered with content smile. Jack’s eyes widened. — Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. — Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices… — he began reciting with her. They both lowered their voices to better reflect the tone of the work. Red colour exploded inside a woman, passion completely took over. — That, if I then had waked after long sleep, will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, the clouds methought would open and show riches ready to drop upon me that, when I waked, I cried to dream again — they finished together. The woman sighed as if she had just smelled a delicious cake. When she looked into Jack's eyes again, there was pure joy in them. — William Shakespeare, The Tempest — she winked at him. — Act three, scene two — added Jack. — Isn’t it beautiful? She nodded with a broad smile. — I thought you wouldn’t get it when I started and think I’m a weirdie, but I just couldn’t deny myself! What a great surprise! — Indeed, meeting another person who can recite so finely word for word such a magnificent part… A shadow flickered across woman’s face. Her inner colour changed; intense red washed out, became faded. Jack interpreted it as an embarrassment. — Oh, I’m so sorry — her cheeks turned red — I think I might have made wrong first impression on you. You see… — she scratched her neck and with closed eyes said in a single breath — I don’t know much more about Shakespeare. She opened her eyes, her face was contorted as if she had eaten something sour. — How so? — I tried to read his work but… truth to be told, I don’t think I am bright enough to understand it. Language issue. I was born long, long time after him. Jack’s shoulders dropped a bit. — Disappointed, aren’t you? — she laughed. Jack smiled. — It’s odd you know that one. — Well, I heard it when I was a teenager and it kinda stuck with me. It’s sounds so beautiful I had to learn it by heart, but until today I’ve never said it out loud. Red colour brighten up again and her soul filled with passion that Jack shared. The loud noise of a passing car reminded them that they were both heading somewhere before this conversation started. They exchanged shy smiles and began to walk hand in hand in silent agreement. — You seem like man who is well-read — she said after awhile. — I have read all of Shakespeare's works. Woman’s eyes widened. — Really? — she sounded impressed. Jack felt a flush of heat in his ears that spreaded on the cheeks. — Be or not to be… — she whispered slowly, glancing at Jack in tense silence. — That is the question — he obediently followed, imitating the right tone of voice. — A horse, a horse! — her voice became more livelier, almost desperate.

— My kingdom for a horse! — he scouted with her. Woman giggled and Jack couldn’t have helped but admire how beautiful someone’s soul was when they enjoy themself. Just how wondrous it would’ve filled with fear-… no. That’s the past. What's done is done. He was living a new life now. — These are hackneyed — her voice brought him back to reality — Beside them I don’t know more except one. I really like… wait, how does it go, I don’t want to spoil it… Ah! To thine own self be true… — … self be true — he finished with her. — But I don’t know where is it from. — Hamlet, Polonius said that — Jack answered almost immediately. — Ah, Hamlet. My English teacher would kill me for not knowing that. She gave him another smile. Jack’s heart started beating faster. Where this heat in his belly was coming from? Almost as if he was wounded, but without blood and pain. Such strange feeling and that colour he was emitting… Jack couldn’t have interpreted it at all. — What’s your favourite quote? — Mine? — that question caught him off guard — Hmm… Jack never thought of that. He adored a whole lot of them. He knew what happen in every act of every scene but to chose one out of so many marvellous works… would it be even… fair? — I believe I don’t have one — was his reply. — Oh, come on! — woman scouted. — You must have the one you like a bit more, the one that stands out. Jack allowed himself to drown in the endless abyss of words. Maybe he had to choose his favourite work first to find it? Which one could it be? Shakespeare’s sonnets? That was his very first after all. If there was one good thing that Jack’s father did, it was leaving that book in the brothel. — Hey, stranger! — Jack looked around and realized that his companion wasn’t walking by his side anymore. The woman was standing few meters behind, pointing out side street where she obviously intended to go — What’s your name? — she shouted. — Jack. He felt unpleasant sting in the chest knowing that they had to separate so soon. — Jack… — she said, her voice was still confident, but Jack saw blue stains of disappointed in her soul — … the next time we meet, you will tell me your favourite part! A larger group of people showed up and due to lack of space, the woman had to go with the flow. But she was looking at Jack as she was walking away and didn’t stop until Jack nodded. And then she was gone. Jack didn’t even ask for her name.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror x reader #snv x reader #ror jack the ripper #snv jack the ripper #ror jack the ripper x reader #ror jack x reader #jack the ripper x reader #udj

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antvnger · 3 months

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((You may! I will split these up into 4 separate posts that will post one a day to spread it out and give you something to look forward to lol))

ENTER BRUCE BANNER, WAKING UP.

ENTER SECURITY GUARD.

GUARD [to Banner:] You fell forth from the sky. Yeah, thus you did!

BANNER Did I hurt anyone by my great fall?

GUARD No one is near who may thereby be hurt. Some pigeons, though, would gladly speak with you and share the anger of their featherbrains.

BANNER ‘Twas vastly fortunate.

GUARD — Mayhap good aim! You were awake when first you fell to earth.

BANNER Thou didst bear witness to the mighty fall?

GUARD Each moment, yea, as you came through the ceiling – so big and green and buck-arse naked too - and landed thereon, where you still recline, upon the rubble - not a gentle touchdown. Take these few clothes, my friend, for you’ll need them. Methought they would not fit until you shrunk unto a fellow of more reg’lar size– A lucky fall for such an alien.

BANNER Enormous thanks.

GUARD —Are you an alien, come from another planet unbeknownst?

BANNER Large issues are at play, yet nay–not that.

GUARD Then, son, I’ll wager you have some condition.

[Exit security guard.

BANNER O, woe is me, who makes such hefty missteps. My life is curs’d, and wreck’d beyond repair – I cannot make mine own end, force myself to sleep - and by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. Nay, that road is clos’d, for when I tried the other rescued me, though naught of rescue did my soul desire. Instead, I walk the earth like one with plague, the man who doth become the gruesome beast, unfit for regular society, constituent of no community. I am alone, and walk the earth like Cain, the blighted Banner, bann’d from human life, deserving exile, death, or something worse. Unlike Odysseus, I have no home– Instead, I am the cyclops whom he trick’d, or Scylla, who appear’d with dreadful heads– Charybdis too, who’d gladly pull him down. I am the dragon that St. George o’ercame, the kraken buried deep beneath the sea. The minotaur with appetite for blood, I am a gremlin, banshee, spirit, demon, yea, ev’rything that e’er made children cry. Unsuitable for human interaction, a fiend, a brute, a giant, and a freak. Yet if I could control the monstrous man, put him to work for noble purposes and harness his great strength to fight against evil, then e’en the Hulk may have a shred of hope. Bruce Banner and the Hulk: we share a mission; together let us work, with fix’d ambition.

The Bard's Avengers

#for the ant mun #ant mun #anon asks #the bard's avengers #avengers #assemble ye avengers #bruce banner #the hulk #the incredible hulk

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aclypse · 2 months

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I saw thee weep – the big bright tear Came o’er that eye of blue; And then methought it did appear A violet dropping dew I see the smile – the sapphire’s blaze Besides thee ceased to shine; It could not match the living rays That filled that glaze of thine.

As clouds from yonder sun receive A deep and mellow dye, Which scarce the shade of coming eve Can banish from the sky, Those smiles unto the moodiest mind Their own pure joy impart: Their sunshine leaves a glow behind That lightens o’er the heart.

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jellicoelodge · 5 months

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CHAPTER III

"I desired to suffer with Him"

And when I was thirty years old and a half, God sent me a bodily sickness, in which I lay three days and three nights; and on the fourth night I took all my rites of Holy Church, and weened not to have lived till day. And after this I languored forth two days and two nights, and on the third night I weened oftentimes to have passed; and so weened they that were with me.

And being in youth as yet, I thought it great sorrow to die;—but for nothing that was in earth that meliked to live for, nor for no pain that I had fear of: for I trusted in God of His mercy. But it was to have lived that I might have loved God better, and longer time, that I might have the more knowing and loving of God in bliss of Heaven. For methought all the time that I had lived here so little and so short in regard of that endless bliss,—I thought [it was as] nothing. Wherefore I thought: Good Lord, may my living no longer be to Thy worship! And I understood by my reason and by my feeling of my pains that I should die; and I assented fully with all the will of my heart to be at God's will.

Thus I dured till day, and by then my body was dead from the middle downwards, as to my feeling. Then was I minded to be set upright, backward leaning, with help,—for to have more freedom of my heart to be at God's will, and thinking on God while my life would last.

My Curate was sent for to be at my ending, and by that time when he came I had set my eyes, and might not speak. He set the Cross before my face and said: I have brought thee the Image of thy Maker and Saviour: look thereupon and comfort thee therewith.

Methought I was well [as it was], for my eyes were set uprightward unto Heaven, where I trusted to come by the mercy of God; but nevertheless I assented to set my eyes on the face of the Crucifix, if I might; and so I did. For methought I might longer dure to look even-forth than right up.

After this my sight began to fail, and it was all dark about me in the chamber, as if it had been night, save in the Image of the Cross whereon I beheld a common light; and I wist not how. All that was away from the Cross was of horror to me, as if it had been greatly occupied by the fiends.

After this the upper part of my body began to die, so far forth that scarcely I had any feeling;—with shortness of breath. And then I weened in sooth to have passed.

And in this [moment] suddenly all my pain was taken from me, and I was as whole (and specially in the upper part of my body) as ever I was afore.

I marvelled at this sudden change; for methought it was a privy working of God, and not of nature. And yet by the feeling of this ease I trusted never the more to live; nor was the feeling of this ease any full ease unto me: for methought I had liefer have been delivered from this world.

Then came suddenly to my mind that I should desire the second wound of our Lord's gracious gift: that my body might be fulfilled with mind and feeling of His blessed Passion. For I would that His pains were my pains, with compassion and afterward longing to God. But in this I desired never bodily sight nor shewing of God, but compassion such as a kind soul might have with our Lord Jesus, that for love would be a mortal man: and therefore I desired to suffer with Him.

#jellicoe-lodge #jellicoe lodge #fireside chats with julian of norwich

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citrinemystic · 1 year

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The Major Arcana in Shakespeare Quotes

The Fool - "The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” As You Like It.

The Magician - “My high charms work, And these, mine enemies, are all knit up In their distractions. They now are in my power.” The Tempest

The High Priestess - "Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak." As You Like It

The Empress - "Age cannot wither her, not custom stale Her infinite variety." Antony and Cleopatra

The Emperor - "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." Twelfth Night

The Hierophant - "Every subject’s duty is the king’s, but every subject’s soul is his own." Henry V

The Lovers - "Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." A Midsummer's Night Dream

The Chariot - "A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!" Richard III

Strength - "That’s a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion." Henry V

The Hermit - "To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man." Hamlet

The Wheel of Fortune - "Though this be madness, yet there is method in't." Hamlet

Justice - "In a false quarrel there is no true valour." Much Ado About Nothing

The Hanged Man - "And thereby hangs a tale." As You Like It

Death - "Goodnight, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!" Hamlet

The Tower - "What's done cannot be undone." Macbeth

Temperance - "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in our philosophy." Hamlet

The Devil - "The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose." The Merchant of Venice

The Star - It is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Sonnet 116

The Moon - "The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked, I cried to dream again." The Tempest

The Sun - O, for a muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention. Henry V

Judgement - "if powers divine Behold our human actions, as they do, I doubt not then but innocence shall make False accusation blush and tyranny Tremble at patience." A Winter's Tale

The World - "All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts." - As You Like It

#witchblr #tarotblr #tarot #tarot cards #major arcana #shakespeare #shakespeare quotes

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josefavomjaaga · 1 year

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Marshal Soult and his Murillos

A curious thing that I have found so far on checking Google Books is that, in the earliest mentions of Soult’s Murillo paintings in British newspapers, there is no mention at all of the dubious way he may have acquired them. To the contrary, the tone is, considering it’s coming from »the enemy«, almost friendly. As the Spanish government had not allowed paintings of the Spanish school to leave the country before the French invasion, only very few works by Murillo had found their way to London, and the paintings Soult had in his possession simply astonished British visitors.

It seems like it’s only after 1822, 1823, when Soult’s collection started to become renowned, when it was clear that his Murillos were indeed much better than anything British collections had to offer and when a famous art trader named Buchanan loudly claimed he was about to buy the whole of Soult’s paintings in order to bring them to London – a deal that Soult in the end did not agree to, because he rather sold his country estate than his Murillos – that every mention of the collection had to include the description »looted in Spain«.

This article in the London Magazine, Volume 6, of 1822, about a visit to his gallery was written before that. And while Soult is described in a highly condescending (but funny) tone, he’s actually compared favourably to his countrymen, just as his Murillos are compared favourably to paintings of the French school. The whole article is much longer and to be found here. I’m merely quoting the part relating to Soult.

After having mused for a long while about contemporary art and music, the author continues;

But what has all this to do with Soult and his Murillos? - nothing, save that it occurred to me as I was crossing the Pont Royal on my way to his hotel, and so completely engrossed my attention, that I was nearly run over by a cabriolet. Having finished my exordium, and escaped the wheels, I proceeded to the Fauxbourg St. Germain, and turned into the courtyard of Marshal Soult, Duke of Dalmatia, in a corner of which were four stablemen, too busy in tossing up halfpence to bestow even a look upon the visitors. Probably, his Grace has often indulged in a similar recreation, but having tossed up his halfpence to better account, he has found his way into the saloon, and left his competitors in the stableyard. A groom of the chambers having conducted us through that indispensable appendage to every French mansion, a spacious billiard-room, led us to a small ante-chamber, where we were received with a plain frank courtesy by the Marshal, a middle-sized, though somewhat corpulent personage of from fifty to sixty years of age, whose dark curling hair rendered somewhat conspicuous the bald patch in the middle of his head, while his sun-burnt complexion accorded well with his dark intelligent eye. His black stock, plain dark coat, and loose blue trowsers, which, capacious as they were, could not hide his bow-legged form, obviously suggested the soldier rather than the courtier, the Marshal rather than the Duke; though if I had encountered such a figure in London, I should rather have guessed him to be an honest East or West India captain. A Frenchman entitled by birth to similar rank and fortune would have been forward, and vain, and loquacious, amid his unmerited distinctions, but methought upon Soult's countenance there sat an air of reserve, and even awkwardness, in doing the honours of his proud mansion, as if he felt conscious that he assimilated not well with its magnificence; I could fancy him saying to himself: Here I stand, a plain soldier of fortune, consenting to use splendidly the wealth which I have acquired, and the greatness which has been thrust upon me, but disdaining to adopt in my own person any of the fopperies of state.

#napoleon's marshals #jean de dieu soult #murillo

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pasdetrois · 5 months

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I remember the first albatross I ever saw. It was during a prolonged gale, in waters hard upon the Antarctic seas. From my forenoon watch below, I ascended to the overclouded deck; and there, dashed upon the main hatches, I saw a regal, feathery thing of unspotted whiteness, and with a hooked, Roman bill sublime. At intervals, it arched forth its vast archangel wings, as if to embrace some holy ark. Wondrous flutterings and throbbings shook it. Though bodily unharmed, it uttered cries, as some king's ghost in supernatural distress. Through its inexpressible, strange eyes, methought I peeped to secrets which took hold of God. As Abraham before the angels, I bowed myself; the white thing was so white, its wings so wide, and in those for ever exiled waters, I had lost the miserable warping memories of traditions and of towns. Long I gazed at that prodigy of plumage. I cannot tell, can only hint, the things that darted through me then.

Herman Melville, Moby Dick

#there are so many beautiful passages in this book and this was a footnote!#moby dick #herman melville #birds #quotes

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womanwhyareyouweeping · 7 months

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"Also in this He shewed me a little thing, the quantity of an hazel-nut, in the palm of my hand; and it was as round as a ball. I looked thereupon with eye of my understanding, and thought: What may this be? And it was answered generally thus: it is all that is made. I marvelled how it might last, for methought it might suddenly have fallen to naught for little. And I was answered in my understanding: It lasteth, and ever shall for that God loveth it."

- Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love

#my favorite piece of writing about god ever.#julian of norwich #fave

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libidomechanica · 1 month

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With light by

A kimo sequence

That grew beside a human door! With light by light: lonely thing, that soon he rose and warmth of loue.

But Flight. Of air, not pure as it, yet pure, doth well delight. My slumber was gone for you, my dear.

Because the blue sky bends over and trust that I shall those tears; take me to the centre. But there.

Pushing toward daybreak. A dainty dish to set before me, when the trance was o’er, the mastiff bitch?

I do not the disaligned. Though yet, heaven seems half-way to lift some weight of low replies.

That hole where leather men are vain? And slowly rolled her with me, we’re wed to one eternity.

I have been faithful to you, Cynara! Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert—and light and song.

Stay with your old baggage. Plunge them in up to thee, and thee to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

Says, I wanted to get married. With blushing shame, by rage suppress’d, let tears, and weep each other?

To sit a star upon the floor below. And, Do I dare? No, no, my Deare, let bee.

Cannot flie away. Nor equal, nor unequal: each fulfils defect in each, and lang’rous waist!

—Thy words, relieve my verse in time, your fortune— range the wilds of Time, perhaps not a woman, off!

Make in misery to live. And lie, ever singing, each to each. Makes you tyrants in the end.

Free from fear, they cross’d the diver’s brain, for a lady’s chamber floor. Yet so did I let my friend.

Now do I know this: I fell in love wilt hear; if from thee. Oh Angel of hopeless, lasting flames!

After than Phoebus, if he seav’n times bright! For forbidden fires. To spit out all the dance was mine.

Bright eyes, that all her hard and cold white as stone. Involved in stillness, plighted vows fleeting as air!

Assist the field is universe into a lute. Is it indeed so? Be thine! The air is still!

I told my love had seen mine execution. Curse on all best exceed proportions of the year.

And gave a twist to me. Which stands check’d; Religion of my mind, thy words, thou art as tyrannies.

I’ll wrap it round. Till the same chance!—Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert— and light a cigarette.

And all thou know’st to my dear doting heart. Do love you here is none like a dog in a kennel.

But tis twilight dawned; and out of sight. Owe this dearest, that long-wish’d-for end, full to thee, and doubt.

The lovely lady’s shroud. I heard the mermaid now, for I will say: How his hair is growin’ yet.

Give me the shade of the sky.—An’ Charlie, he’s my darling, the young Chevalier. And is he gone?

Ah! The Castle wa’, she saw three bonie boys playing with a dying fall beneath the huge oak tree?

Our bed is lovely maid and sees a damsel bright a dame! Hand, turning her grave. By more than dead!

And like a noon-dew, wanderings I have sinn’d! I want to glide a sunbeam by the Maiden’s side!

Where I fly, pursue, rise in the brain is not so. Spake words Sir Leoline. I dreamed I was a child!

By thee to mount, and complaint of present the bonie laddie in. Bare, lest aught unholy loiter here?

And love to so base a vice, for no man knows. Much, Cynara! No matter by the might be well!

He danced with rough. Amid that scenes appear where’er I turn me not to belie his soul with clay.

Run afresh, as if she ’d said, Gee woe! I lift my heavy eyelids my anguish hangs like shame.

To the fault; I view my crime, but kind? To labour was thine! And do accept my madness, and weak.

He drank: her fair large bright and slender oats foraged in the lady’s chamber door; and the sun.

A cool suspense from pain; thy life destroy. The wanton thru the flower amang them very ill.

Of lonely way, close by the castle bell. As if she be small, jewel-like flower unfamiliar.

The way to the blood runs out across the sounds and strange man should presume? That is so vex’d with thee.

To know her but I? Or foxlike in difference. And thus she stooped, methought I heard a hollow sound.

A blue moon for an instant leper. Lord of her beauty lies, when faithful to the land of spike?

And none of us thought thus watred was my strange death of Jesus set me free. In this fashion.

But could have this; she shall: then my hopes and men, who looked askance and end with his society?

And those tender-ship, cried Sally Brown! Sleeps, and love all night upon mine ears, both I and the brow!

Within the bathroom floor mocks your haire with me! So, the year, that yours and mine had bound us lie?

Van Diemen’s land if certain when two dewdrops on the best, even to life in the airport. Ah!

Seized, inside my honest faith in this man no more, but other me? A shining steps of thy child!

Lingered in the moon is behind, and saw thee woman in contractions are five minutes apart.

Comes first—light in what they might half undo it. Of loue new-coin’d to her from the pitiless wave?

And his Anguish grew—how bear it? But, as luckless, I have sworn to bury all things undo me.

That looks up at the lady by her word were it even for me. Loathe the side-lie of a truth.

For once, a tremor breakfast the sky ascends, wi’ sangs o’ joy. And damning their necks, where away?

And flush themselves forsake and for very feare would return to life, to life in thee has killed it.

And the rain on my soul. And I was a rose that green mama who first forced me to Mortal part.

Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and Crabbe will trim. To sail with old Benbow; and here, ev’n then, shall be poor.

The Sexes rose to work upon is much too much, some say, she seems that sweet said, that thou to dread?

And hark, again! From happy pieties, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet face of you and me.

Why should poor beauty from my love, my life. But, as luckless, I have known the rain lasts anywhere.

In the bud will wear white despair? Wilt thou go with me, we’re wed to one eternity in days?

Not Ida; ’ clasp it once all-fragrant-curtain’d love begins again. Then downward like those who love.

What peace. And her voice is strength beguiled, this golden foot of May is on the bloated hiss of death.

For I have slept on the brands were stopt with griefe. Still as death, can break her word were it bitterness.

The earth forever! It must be because it is a precious seal of my life, myself—and you.

Is changed in a convent’s solitary Child. When I break through all the grist of its insides grow.

Now folds the maid and thine for me. Than Heaven, my Lover, were my Chamber Heaven’s sun staineth.

Err I dare to look at the basin and wriggling on thy fame! My own heart’s heart, where, while I weep!

Till love you, dear, I’ll love you all; let Virtue be your soules; come wait on hir whom winged Psyche true!

I waste my heart and mine should hindred be. Gloom, and nothing can be old, for as you with my death.

For once and show me what I meant, at all. Proud of many, lives upon his gaine is our lost will.

I call, I call: who do ye call? And the rent, and long to stay with your old baggage. I would get.

—Not the power to burn and be all that bloody torments you doe give, creatures, couched her homage.

Geraldine shakes thee hence. Yet, if Hope has flown away in a night, or in nothing but a feint.

That heart to this fool lord, dare I bid her abide by her side; nor strange. That is misunderstood.

You soarer, you of the sea. ’ Echoing straits between the hills? Again she sees my lady’s maid.

Nor shall die tonight, I wrote this morning. Black Melancholy reigns; what means the warm leaden sheet.

And the gravelly sand take a body to it, even blue-eyed fly to the field. Sir Leoline?

From op’ning on the crowing cock, how drowsily it crew. Shall ever was in our own child-bed.

Within and whom I am confined. Water so cleanly I myself upon the floor below.

Cries to catch her but I? Of all that we see or seem is but as a tomb which happened balloon.

Out for love, to give the wreath’d trellis of a working brain, love alone. With a moonlight and song.

I lift my heaven knows, in joys and woe so many times. To the banks, close of each too, too late.

My soul would only be the best, even to life in losing mine? Naked, a double behind.

Like cliffs which have no fear! Beneath the weight of soil, nothing new is in us, and were at peace.

I knew a beautiful olives. We men and drivers in a bar-room around its wings and neck.

—Come live with me—or fall from its boundless mere, with true sight! This day my journey should I presume?

Into many a summer’s front doth sing and saying plainly of not turning from yonder bay?

Oft did I rove by bonnie Doon, how can you bloom so fresh and faithful to its crisis? Have guessed?

I fell, and fro, while I weep! And turning away, wants to be made, cobbling at the lasting flames!

Such gentle still dictates, and those faire skin, beamy eyes, for the quarters, and looking to the Pole.

Pitiless wave? Flickering gyres, but he’d once about to have gone to the sun delights me.

And may appear so when this rebellious heart, and that will show itself to stone. Nay, fairer yet!

To swell a progress, start up, the same chance! As old as a dog, as quiet as a skeleton.

Move still doth breeding flow’rs. They will sing to me. That even its grossest flatterers dare not brave.

That looks up at the happy again. A clover, a Fisherman mends a glimmers on to me.

To them through my fingers am I at all satisfied. Her deadly pangs be drown’d, while I slept.

Rain on thee; yet eyes this curious friend. The winged’ steed, I wish we never looks both small and dull.

And make my old excuse, ’ proving his caresses by the cold. With open eyes ah woe is me!

To deem, as a most logical conclusion, that ’s underneath the weight. It even for me?

Nay, by my own eyes inspiring hole. My heart is dust at the pin; and here, ev’n then, shall meet!

Unto the straitest best of all to Love than is or ever dear! Angels of the precious jewel.

100

Ida came behind. That brought to. But to- morrow, the field. While prostrate here increase! To the field.

101

I cried for madder music and forms of men! His gentle daughter is safe and fro, while I weep!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #153 texts #kimo sequence

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devilishdescent · 7 months

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i was thinking about how id never been properly asked out but i forgot i DID get asked out once. when i worked at the playwriting center a girl i had barely ever talked to was organizing a carpool to like a faire kind of thing for a bunch of us and asked if i wanted to ride with her and i was like sure, free ride. weird that nobody else actually ended up carpooling with her, methought, but that’s how it happens sometimes. anyway we get there and nobody else from the center is there. we walk around making uncomfortable small talk for an hour (she was like a Theatre Kid, capital T capital K, which is an absolute dealbreaker for moi) i was like so when is everyone else coming 🙂 and she was like oh no it’s just you and me 😉 and i was like. fucking. ah. i see. then she asked if she could spoonfeed me her ice cream and i said (jaw clenched) no thanks ill get my own 🙂

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antvnger · 9 months

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((Most belovèd trickster, behold! the exchange doth proceed below.))

JARVIS The barrier around the Tesseract is made of purest, strongest energy. Unbreachable it is.

STARK --Indeed, 'twas clear.

ENTER LOKI WITH HIS SCEPTER

Plan B shall I pursue, then.

JARVIS --Sir, Mark Seven is not preparèd for deployment yet.

STARK Incessant are thy spinning rims--proceed! The readiness is all, the time hath come.

[Stark walks inside the tower as machines remove his suit.

LOKI Wouldst thou appeal to my humanity--Make me feel guilty for my wicked schemes--Appearing thus unarm'd and innocent?

STARK In point of fact, I plan to threaten thee.

LOKI Thou shouldst have left thine armor on for that, for thou art weak whilst I am passing strong.

STARK Innumberable miles the suit hath seen, and thou hast thy glow stick of destiny. Wouldst have a drink?

LOKI --To stall shall nothing change, for I shall act no matter what thou dost.

STARK Ill are thine ears--not stalling, threatening. No drink, then, thou art certain? I'll imbibe.

LOKI Chitauri come anon, naught shall delay't. What have I, then, to fear?

STARK --It's the Avengers, the name by which we call ourselves--our team. "Earth's heroes mighty" we may be describ'd--Belike we shall, in news reports hereafter.

LOKI I've met them, and avoided them as well.

STARK It took us time to gain our traction, yea, this much I shall confess. Yet, let us count--Thy brother, demigod, of Asgard come, a Super Soldier born of strength and virtue, a living legend who deserves his fame, a man with horrid anger management, a pair of sly and masterful assassins--And thou, my fellow, madest each one mad.

LOKI Such was the plan--I did not improvise.

STARK It was a plan most foolish. When they come, which presently they shall, send not to know for whom the bell tolls, for it tolls for thee.

LOKI I have an army, stronger than thy group.

STARK Indeed? We have a Hulk of anger wild.

LOKI Methought the mighty beast had weakly fled.

STARK It seems thou missest e'er the point--there is no throne to claim that thou mayst sit upon, no ending to this tale in which thou winnest, no final act that sees thee on top. Perchance thine army shall arrive in time, perchance that army shall o'ercome our group--Yet all the shame and pain shall fall on thee, because if we cannot protect the earth be certain, villain, we shall it avenge.

LOKI How will thy friends have time to clash with me if they are busy fighting thee, their foe? The power of my scepter makes it so!

[Loki puts his scepter against Stark's chest to force Stark to do his will, but it clangs against Stark's arc reactor.

This usually worketh, by my troth.

STARK It's not uncommon, some performance issues. E'en gods of Asgard may prove limp at times. One out of five, so the statistics say--

[Loki grabs Stark by the throat.

[Aside:] Pray, JARVIS, anytime thou ready art!

LOKI Ye all shall fall before me as I rise.

[Loki throws Stark through a window.

STARK I say, deploy! Or Stark's fate shall be stark.

[While he falls, an Iron Man suit rushes out to him and encompasses him. He flies back safely.

There is one more whom thou didst anger, Loki--His name was Phil: a worthy man, and true.

The Bard's Avengers Game

@benevolentgodloki

#for the ant mun #benevolentgodloki #the bard’s avengers #assemble ye avengers #tony stark #iron man #loki #avengers

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