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isidore d'armentieres

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i'm stressed and i have a shitton of assignments to do. obviously there is no better time than to do this.

so i've got isidore d'armentieres here, who is my oc from a site that i left but i am still very fond of. (to disclaimer i will be talking about him in present tense.) so basically he's a 25 y/o who just got his position as head of the entire legal system in the country because his predecessor who was grooming him to take over the position kicked the bucket (under suspicious circumstances), and he was like, well OK i guess i make the decisions now. he's got a pushover-like personality, is seriously a gentle + kind type, is allergic to standing up for himself, and is shady as all hell. 

i wrote this personality blurb for him so i'll just slap it down here. please see attached:

the name isidore d'armentieres is one that comes with quite the storied reputation for a man so young: recently promoted less than a year ago to the venerated position of bishop of the supreme tribunal, isidore obtained his position via a stroke of suspicious luck when his predecessor suddenly resigned and subsequently passed away. the circumstances surrounding his rise to power have been the topic of much speculation in farnessa, but none of the accusations seem to hold merit at the moment, and as the days pass, isidore continues to gain and scrape together the goodwill of people in positions of power...

and yet, despite the rumors surrounding him, he appears to be a gentle, mild-mannered man, if a bit of a stickler for propriety and his idea of what constitutes as proper conduct. his more eccentric behaviors and moral struggles are carefully concealed from the public eye to maintain a controlled, composed image, and while his work keeps him occupied, you may find him during his off-hours in the library, struggling to reach the books on the top shelf, playing card games, volunteering at churches, traveling farnessa in search of monsters, and quietly dozing in any corner that looks like it could fit him.

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last edit on Apr 6, 2021 5:50:35 GMT by Deleted
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quote time. hell yeah.



EURYDICE, hilda dolittle.

At least I have the flowers of myself,
and my thoughts, no god
can take that;
I have the fervour of myself for a presence
and my own spirit for light;

and my spirit with its loss
knows this;
though small against the black,
small against the formless rocks,
hell must break before I am lost;

before I am lost,
hell must open like a red rose
for the dead to pass.



YOU WILL FEEL A FLASH OF ORANGE, liv walton.

You will outgrow something that was once a comfort; you will replace it with a song you hum in the soft parts of yourself.



I LIVED THE BELOVED NAME, odysseus elytis.

Deathless sea, tell me what you are whispering.



THE OAK AND THE REED, jean de la fontanie.

I bend, indeed, but never break.



TREACHERY DEVICES, gosta agren.

One can betray only
what one loves.



MARK 13:13.

He who endures to the end will be saved.



LUKE 12:31.

Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.



J28, phoebe bridgers.

I am burdened by love because it compels me to go on living,
coerces me into a survival I do not want.



TRIONFO DELLA MORTE, lisa marie basile.

After a long night, after a discord of self. After silence, and all that is carried inside of it, there is a kingdom in your name. That it does not exist when you arrive but is always there. It is not waiting for you, but it waits. It is not of you; you are of it. It is you. After a bath of ocean locks you in and old kings come to hold you to their chest, this place will be a living thing. It is not made for you, but made by you. It is made up of you. It is the blood of the long way home. It is the peacock & grotto. What wound it wants. What wound it fills. It is the white bird. It is the awayness of long nights, too long, too dead, too held, too sick. It is the hereness of some peace; the proximity to the grotesque, the longitudes of the divine. What silt, what silt. That you have straddled the cusp.



METAMORPHOSES IN THE URN OF THE SAINT, salvatore quasimodo.

The dead mature;
my heart with them.



VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES, robert lowell.

Why do we hunger so for vicious things?
Our wishes bend the statues of the gods.



value: 11 points
grand total: 13 points
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quote time. hell yeah.



GOBLIN: THE GREAT AND LONELY GOD, kim shin.

If the Almighty only hands you hardships that you can handle, then I think he thought too highly of me.



ALGERNON SIDNEY.

God helps those who help themselves.



CARRION COMFORT, gerard manley hopkins.

Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man
In me or, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruised bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?

Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, cheer.
Cheer whom though? The hero whose heaven-handling flung me, foot trod
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.



FRANKENSTEIN, mary shelley.

“I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty ambition; but how am I sunk! Oh! My friend, if you had known me as I once was, you would not recognise me in this state of degradation. Despondency rarely visited my heart; a high destiny seemed to bear me on, until I fell, never, never again to rise.”



TWO-HEADED POEMS, margaret atwood.

How can I teach her
some way of being human
that won’t destroy her?



THE DHARMA BUMS, jack kerouac.

One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.



BOB DYLAN.

"People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent."



NOTEBOOK E, f. scott fitzgerald.

Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy.



JANE AUSTEN.

There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves; it is not my nature. My attachments are always excessively strong.



SOREN KIERKEGAARD.

What labels me, negates me.



THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY, oscar wilde.

The reason we all like to think so well of others is that we are all afraid for ourselves. The basis of optimism is sheer terror.



value: 11 points
grand total: 30 points

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