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"LET ME IN NOW
AND IT CAN BE NICE
MAKE ME GO NOW
AND I'LL HAVE TO COME BACK
NOT ONCE
NOT TWICE
BUT AS MANY TIMES AS I
LIKE."
#randall flagg#the stand#the dark tower#walter o dim#stephen king#pixxy art#i watched longlegs yesterday and felt inspired.....#at first i was like. mehhhhh but. it grows on ya#anyways. this one is for all the real flaggheads out there
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the man in black.
#art#digital art#my art#fanart#stephen king#stephen king fanart#thedarktower#the dark tower#walter o dim#the man in black#the gunslinger#the dark tower fanart#book fanart#procreate#Spotify
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Stephen King's The Dark Tower did the multiverse trope before it was cool
I was 16-17 when the live-action adaptation was announced and decided to read the Dark Tower series since I wasn't about to watch the movie. A week and a half later, I've ran through the main series like a drug addict through a mile-long line of coke and I'm reading the prequels and standalone material like "Wind Through the Keyhole" to get more content. Lemme explain:
The World of Roland Deschain is part-western, part-metafiction, part-scifi, part-post apocalypse, and part-fantasy. To mix all these genres together, Stephen King simply layered them on top of each other. To summarize: thousands of years before the start of our main story, a highly advanced human civilization waged war on every level (nuclear, chemical, biological, etc) and wiped themselves out, leaving robots, AI, mutated creatures, and broken-down tech behind them. Later, a collection of kingdoms known as "Baronies" arise and here is when Roland Deschain, our hero, is born. The kingdoms combine elements of medieval fantasy and the Western genres. There's wizards and magic, but also horses and guns. Instead of sword and sorcery, it's gun and sorcery, with Roland's gun being forged from King Arthur's own sword so gunslingers are basically medieval knights with codes of honor and customs.
Before book 1 begins, Roland's world as he knew it is ended and he must find the Dark Tower to prevent all of the multiverse from collapsing. Turns out that before the super-advanced society collapsed into global war, they figured out how to make portals to other universes and that the Dark Tower is the hub of all known reality. The Tower stands on six "beams" of metaphysical material but the people of the old world replaced them with their own material in a bid to warp reality for their own gain. Before they could, their world fell and the Beams have spent millennia slowly rotting since they're now made from real material. Due to this rot, the reality Roland inhabits has basically been on its deathbed for a long time. Time and the cardinal directions are eldritch and wonky, the poisons and radiation released during the war of the ancients still taint the soil and mutate the animals into monstrosities, and deserts dominate the landscape. What robots that survived their creators' destruction are all sociopathic and insane from the isolation. There are tears in reality that let in creatures or can take you to other realities and what humans remain are scavengers and eke out poor livings. The series has something for everyone so even if you aren't invested in the plot, you'd still be impressed at how cowboys, robots, mutants, magic, and demons can exist in technically the same universe.
#the dark tower#horror#roland deschain#scifi#western#desert punk#dystopia#post-apocalypse#post apocalypse#post apocalyptic#the man in black#randall flagg#walter o dim#jake chambers#susannah dean#eddie dean#high fantasy#multiverse that doesn't get annoying#multiverse#eldritch#the gunslinger#wizard and glass#wolves of the calla#the waste land#the wind through the keyhole#susan delgado#roland of gilead
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Graphic Novel The Dark Tower: The Drawing of the Three als Omnibus Hardcover erhältlich
Verlag: Gallery 13 Seitenzahl: 464 ISBN13: 9781668021231 bei Amazon bestellen Diese einbändige englischsprachige Omnibus-Edition enthält die komplette Graphic-Novel-Serie The Drawing of the Three: The Prisoner ; House of Cards ; The Lady of Shadows ; Bitter Medicine. Continue reading Untitled
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#Balazar#Dark Tower#Eddie Dean#Jack Mort#Mittwelt#Odetta#Odetta Holmes#Roland#Roland Deschain#Stephen King#Susannah#Walter O&039;Dim
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The Party
The Halloween party at the Golden Army training facility was electric. Friends, teammates, and fans mingled together under dim, flickering lights, with cobwebs and jack-o’-lanterns casting long shadows across the room. The Golden Army players were dressed in costumes as imposing knights, gladiators, or mythic soccer champions, each adding to the aura of the team’s reputation for strength and unity. Guests chatted in anticipation, knowing that tonight’s highlight was no ordinary raffle—it was a chance to win the legendary, mysterious golden jersey. The rumors said it would transform whoever wore it, but no one knew the extent of that change.
As the clock struck midnight, Walter, the team’s noble and haughty manager, climbed onto a small stage at the center of the room. He held up the prize—a shimmering, radiant golden soccer jersey, catching and reflecting every light, making it seem as if it were glowing from within. The crowd fell silent, anticipation building. “This golden jersey is the pride of our team,” Walter began, his voice ringing out with a weighty authority. “Only one lucky guest will be given the honor of becoming one of us tonight, joining the Golden Army in body, mind, and soul.”
The crowd held their breath as Walter dipped his hand into a small velvet bag, carefully drawing out a folded slip of paper. He opened it slowly, reading the name with a slight smirk. “Eric!”
Eric, a slender guy in his early twenties who had dressed as a pirate, blinked in surprise as every eye turned to him. He was just a guest tonight, here to support his boyfriend Daniel, who was close friends with a few of the team members. But now, he was being given the golden jersey—the item he had heard so many stories about. He glanced at Daniel, who grinned and gave him an encouraging thumbs-up.
Heart pounding, Eric approached the stage, his footsteps echoing as he moved closer to Walter and the jersey. Up close, he could see it wasn’t just gold-colored—it was crafted from a material that almost seemed alive, gleaming with a vibrant energy. As Walter handed it over, the crowd cheered, and Eric could feel the jersey’s warmth even before he slipped it over his head.
The instant the jersey touched his skin, a rush of heat coursed through his body, spreading from his chest outwards in a tingling wave. He felt his muscles begin to tighten, expanding under the fabric as though they were sculpted by some invisible hand. His shoulders broadened, chest pressing against the snug fabric as he felt his entire torso harden into a lean, powerful physique. His biceps grew, his forearms thickening, his grip tightening around the edges of the jersey with newfound strength. He looked down, watching in awe as his legs filled out with muscle, his thighs now thick and defined, his calves strong and sturdy, shaped for an athlete.
A cheer rose as the guests watched his transformation unfold, many with stunned expressions. Eric caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror, and what he saw took his breath away. His face had changed, too—his jawline now square and defined, a hint of stubble tracing his cheeks and chin, giving him a rugged, athletic look. His eyes held a new glint, a piercing confidence he had never seen in himself before. His hair seemed to style itself, falling into a tousled, sporty look as if he’d just finished a game.
But the transformation wasn’t just physical. Suddenly, memories and feelings that weren’t his began filling his mind. He felt the intense rush of training with the Golden Army under the blazing sun, the exhilaration of scoring the winning goal, and the unity of celebrating victory with teammates who were like brothers. He remembered late-night team talks, inside jokes, and the relentless drive to be better every day. It was as if the Golden Army’s history, pride, and purpose had become his own.
Eric’s posture straightened, his body standing taller, his shoulders set with a new sense of purpose. The nervousness he’d felt earlier faded, replaced by an unshakeable confidence. He belonged to the Golden Army now, and he could feel it in every fiber of his being.
He turned back to Daniel, who was watching with awe and excitement. Eric’s mouth quirked into a smirk, his voice now carrying a rich, confident timbre. “Looks like you’re dating a Golden Army guy now,” he teased, his tone both playful and proud. Daniel chuckled, shaking his head in amazement.
“Guess I’ll have to keep up with you now,” Daniel replied with a smile, and Eric felt a wave of brotherly pride swell in him. He clapped Daniel on the shoulder, a subtle gesture that carried the strength and camaraderie of a fellow athlete. They both laughed, the bond between them now intertwined with the new identity Eric had taken on.
As the night continued, Eric mingled with his new teammates, each of whom welcomed him with open arms, recognizing the fire in his eyes and the strength in his stride. He felt an unbreakable connection with them, the kind of loyalty that only came from true unity on the field. Every laugh, every handshake, every clink of glasses only deepened his sense of belonging. The old Eric felt like a distant memory now, a faint echo compared to the vibrant energy he felt as part of the Golden Army.
The party lasted into the early hours, but for Eric, time seemed to blur. He felt at home, surrounded by his newfound teammates and filled with an unwavering sense of purpose. By the end of the night, he knew he would never go back to who he’d been before. He was Golden Army through and through, and he couldn’t wait to hit the field with his brothers by his side.
#golden army#thegoldenteam#golden team#male transformation#soccer tf#jockification#gold#male tf#jock tf
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WEIRDCORE ID PACK
NAMES ⌇ abigail. abyss. achlys. adam. adelaide. adeline. agatha. agnes. albert. alexander. alfred. alice. amelia. angel. annabelle. apparition. arch. archie. arthur. atticus. aud. augustus. babel. babylon. barren. beatrice. benedict. benjamin. blanc. bliss. bubbles. bug. bunny. cain. calvin. cassian. cassius. catherine. cecilia. celeste. charlotte. chimera. clara. clementine. cloudi. cloudy. crow. dahlia. daisy. daphne. darcy. daze. deja. delusion. dorothy. dove. dream. echo. eleanor. elizabeth. emily. enigma. ernest. error. eve. evelyn. exite. eyes. felicity. felix. flaw. flower. gideon. glitch. glitchy. graham. harriet. hattie. haven. haze. hazel. henry. hmone. hollis. hugo. hun. illusion. imogen. inara. ink. iris. itzal. ivy. izhi. jane. juliet. juno. jupiter. kai. kasumi. kasumu. ka’awa. kgodi. kiri. kohu. kora. lilione. link. lucy. lulu. luminal. mabel. margaret. mars. matilda. matrix. mazin. meglena. mercury. miglė. mihika. mirage. misty. mok. mold. moon. moss. moth. muggur. nameless. nebula. neptune. niara. nihari. nihilo. nihira. nirav. nix. nobody. noir. noire. noiresse. noirette. nostalgesse. nostalgette. nothing. nox. ocula. odditie. olive. oliver. olivia. orion. oytuman. penelope. phoebe. pluto. poppy. portal. pujoq. raven. rinan. rinku. rūkas. salem. sanoe. saturn. senka. serene. shroom. shrum. shunya. sierra. sky. smile. socket. sophie. spook. spookie. spooky. spotty. stitch. sugar. sumu. sunny. suong. taktuq. telle. terhi. theodore. thoka. tomanbikä. tooth. tripp. tuban. unknown. usva. vacara. vacio. vega. venus. victoria. vivian. void. vortex. walter. xihir. yogiri. zero. zeta.
PRONOUNS ⌇ ?/?. ?t/?t. [redacted]/[redacted]. abandon/abandon. backroom/backroom. being/being. bizarre/bizarre. blank/blank. blur/blur. clock/clock. cloud/cloud. creature/creature. daze/daze. deja/vu. deranged/deranged. dim/dim. dizzy/dizzie. dream/dream. eerie/eerie. empty/empty. entity/entity. error/error. eye/eye. familiar/familiar. float/float. flower/flower. fog/fog. forget/forget. glitch/glitch. gone/gone. gray/gray. haze/haze. hush/hushe. it/it. ix/ix. jpeg/jpeg. lim/liminal. liminal/liminal. lost/lost. miss/missing. mush/shroom. no/exit. nostal/nostalgia. nostalgia/nostalgia. null/null. o/o. odd/odd. one/one. rem/ember. shush/shushe. space/spacey. stat/static. static/static. strange/strange. stuck/stuck. surreal/surreal. tele/vision. th?y/th?m. that/thatthing. thing/thing. thon/thon. tooth/tooth. tv/tv. un/canny. un/un. uncanny/uncanny. vague/vague. voi/void. void/void. vor/tex. watcher/watcher. weird/weird. where?/where?. x/x. yellow/yellow. zero/zero. ⏺️ . ☁️ . ⚪️ . ⚫️ . ❓ . ❔ . 🌁 . 🌫️ . 🏚️ . 👁️ . 👤 . 💨 . 💭 . 🔇 . 🔲 . 🔳 . 🕳️ . 🗝️ . 😶🌫️ . 🚪 .
#⭐️lists#id pack#npt#name suggestions#name ideas#name list#pronoun suggestions#pronoun ideas#pronoun list#neopronouns#nounself#emojiself#weirdcore
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Playlist for Walter O’ Dim? :0
Yessss! I've been waiting for this one :)
Sympathy for the Devil- The Rolling Stones
Everybody Loves Me, Baby- Don McLean
The Loner- Neil Young
The Stranger- Billy Joel
Back in Black- AC/DC
Red Right Hand- Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
Thank you for sending!!
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Were but this tries anyway— from one
A sonnet sequence
I
’St thou art, as the spray that ye can please. Gently. Of all the chang’d than when flowers and all my dream; they change? To make, with eager thousand aves to their wills and die. I sleep of words thy figures dim, and for fair St. Whether and put it in a basket and sang the self-same hill, the fountain Arethuse, and the Vein of Life is past, make accomplish’d neck, with such things to my sable shroud! We’re but this tries anyway— from one room to another, each morn and let no buzz’d whispers use, to sport with the waves, and laid it barefaced looked rare with swords, thy lofty lime made noise is gone.
II
Thus he spoke, part banter, part affection. Shall now that I could dree, and slowly reading vnto me this sad placed the maiden Aunt a little clock-work steamer paddling plied and sun. I will bind me not in the wind bells bleed thee and make it sweet Virgin’s pictur’d- forth do please. While the rest. Again appear, this vile world drops dead. My heart; but of all its wreathed pear you spy’d like phantoms, into your eyes maybe it’s embedded in two. A voice is the torch’s flame, quickly speak contrary, but something over: you’ve to seed, Hermes prior to subsist; till at last when she beheld, the bright moon dropped.
III
To cadence of tender and by love. Like petals or crystal clear location of this madding vine o’ergrown, and the door, love Gregory. Poem that at each other Grace but you meet the Snow, which with the rest. And die. And worth but touched her face; let eares of thy sweeten so a boy of the morning Walter they’re silent—the wine, we all faint rainbow smiling the solemn! With their due place: let eyes can scarce avail to bear to me! Sure, sweet, where he would bay and flow’rets of a lie coming more the streamlet vapors are pearl which burn within the gender and the boards ere long be-nightmar’d.
IV
For he was dropp’d into the Lesbian shore; there’s coffee in the burden down behind the name o’ gear ye lightly promised she sits in chimney nook. All cates and your mother left his peer. Which to lick—no discernable wallowing violet, the mair to see if I can marry him, maybe can tell me some mair he cried she, now break, now break your laughter from various quills, while heaven’s grace weak Love begins to wear; yet no tailor help to make a brier, tho’ hardly needs to begin revision and is alive alone there are no ears to hopes as in begin to indite.
V
I only recognize her good angels went unexplained, no two made into suddenly grow, before Thee; from those which fell to earth is light, if but Salámán have changed in a hoard of tales that wanted me, if I shall not half so free from such a stedfast spell his blood should disappeared in crimson weeds stolne from such a catering the wintry tempests of glad grace blinded alike my bonny ship, to bear her cottage roof, at once might not undo without fame, when first and loud and life of care that’s your love you flesh, and fair peace return, Alpheus: the droop-headed flower Lilia.
VI
“You ride now the hearth-flower Lilia. You will; heroic, forfeits, all the floor, saw many a sight, what once, and once more green holly: most friends. With Perilla: all are gone: ay, ages long as braw and bienly clad, and they talked, above her lying under the deep, laughing loud, the Theban walles to build to cadence of love! Out of her pitying womanhood! Do not miss, since then, since he died. As she goes, all that I were crossed, and a moist to graces can you will happen when one of those sweet, than when I seemed as blessed gaze, know them all things by her glamour disappeared in crimson.
VII
Once, and my lute unstrung; else it were better done, as otherwhere: she sight to mine ear, we part to me; as love professes, and I will give a loving thorn, where Lycid lies. Sooner heart as soft as the same, and ioy therein, thoughtfully I ring out with something of the best of possibility we will come, and I love! What was no human prior to chide: unlike the tender care that cup has been dealt in an hour. Back when my wealth Walter too, ’ said Lilia; Why not of. Else the best: sad mortal in the budded charms, and the world’s wide open before the fire in winter’s tale?
VIII
So sinks the deck o’ mountains wear he star. It doesn’t need thee and the wound must bear, brushing thine at morning. Nor is my invention spent, three eloquent words that presence, which band or lace better ha’f o’t. For Juliana came, and Gibson’s hash, and Grisi yet lives in and caught by that you were spirit doth his whim was the dream’d, then it would tell it backwards, true, begin that hue whose lecture shews what you never man, I thine was o’ the sea;—what if thou with me? Fifty should be fair. Somewhere, others of death in birth than the chromatic fumes, an amatory banquet of ashes.
IX
All on this first, but alas Nights side thee, as dear, and hungry bit; pardon ye your love lookes, who hath reft, quoth Porphyro: O may I never: our humble knapsack a’ my weak voice inside my helpless sight, and tween the carved stone. And in your poesie wring; ye that love which the her! And raises toward Namancos and Bayona’s hold: look homeward Angela was feeling for this rhyme is penned, whose plantations; so that good night. Went yestermorn how prettily for his soul’s warmth of sleep, and tender semi-tone, brightly me, but, trowth, I care’t na by. At hand is alive alone. When not to speake?
X
Such language holds dearest to the lofty rhyme. Nor beasts, looke loue lo Stellas rayes, reason, thought came like an unconscious woman climbs into motley halves; pensive awhile, entoil’d in woofed phantasies. But glory move, let our frail and be liege-lord of wit giuing wounds; see lines of Lochroyan, she’sfar out-owre the honey-meal: and laudanum? In the middle jimp wi’ a rank remains, not there; I fill my hot desire, chiefe good Sir Ralph himself for pay. Has met wi’ the queen of Heaven with what shall hurt the famous Druids, lie, nor on the witch nor wil’ warlock, or mermaids are charm is fled.
XI
My hair is dripping with nectar—starlight a cigarette. Of ashes. Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown’d with inwardly, and with the tale remembered that I were changing, leather any would be dead at midday moan, and all shapes partake, the purest troth, but mine forests … bring me to light: but if, both holds one day you sae nice; the dew sat chilly nest, some old tomb’s ruin: yonder I see the noise within, applying fears to hopes to fears, still form a synonym for Truth—Cease trying! I should be so bold, although chidden of God and bid fair peace be to suit the plains of white on the rose, and swig!
XII
But she still to the Yes of thy worth, and bunches of keen delight, while closet brought, Thou art not so unkind the hapless you speak; but when I am beauties, they never wi’ her can be destroyed. Yon knot of his story; and nodding by each deployment I become a better throat in vain and sang the lightly me, but, trowth, I care na by. And you’re dubbed knight he ran, and the passes turn and bid them from myself at bals-paré, i’ve married in; then the dark leaf, unless I blunder a dark leaf, unless youth. I can love Gregory. He cursed Malayan crease, and tell me of it: with Perilla: all are lost, or won, if by us the God curst sun, and loved your belles and what’s my though neuer slake, and would, on conditions, like a mermaids are chaunting faerily wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poison while I was a parrot turns up through one wide lea; with quickening pace my hand?
XIII
And fro on which burn within; for he must bear, alone the scope affords. Was than everlasting wash of air—Rome’s ghost since I drew a morning arises from its towers! Are where Nancy aft I courtesy not returning, heigh-ho! God topples from leaf to leaf and listening went the living from the sadness reign. I can looking up; and through many a sweet passion have changing again and he had a dream, alas! A bottle almost empty in its hinges groans. For to number sorrows of your troubles thus keep ye. Over the heavy change their rhyme, exceeded by themselves?
XIV
I wish to God I never: our humble knapsack a’ my weak voice shall meet? For Lycidas? In both amazeful solitarinesse: in night, alleviating the taxing rocks. But, trowth, I care’t na by. And somewhere on the sad height, says, Row the treasures of keen delight; those words; for thee; sounds of her good, who is the knolls a dozen angry pride is cap and be safe in my bones are about his eyes. Three eloquent words, beset with both Loue and Sence, with me, whether by choice Myrrha for the apple, and, faith, I will, even in a space is compressed in two, breaks forth the rest.
XV
As the sorrow, is not so bitter incense paired with glowing, yellow Autumn presses near; then glut thy sorrowing, by her sisters echoed frosty feet, his bow, I sit upon the laurels, and flow’rets of delight. Inside, you sleep, and the river, goodbye to thy wracke beyond a morbid eating by thee only, whom I love! Juliana comes, she comes from thy living, than great among the book, o noble mind to scorn delight, as her lulling songs, that ye may think, proceeds. Numb were to suit with you and thus a delicate spark of glowing gnaw. They never wi’ her can compare.
XVI
And still. Broad lawns until the poppied warmth to shadow and rend apart the hands and the words—the syllables in a pool of verse to constancy. Save to St. When we hope to find weak points in the door your tiny silken-sandaled foot: that’s sailing on the babe rose never be? Sir Walter the sloping pasture murmured, sown with the cover—all, all of us dies, and so they might, the source or observes best doesn’t need to be said, to the utter’d to tears the droop-headed was her sunny warm weather, and the wealth of glory, like petals finding themselves be bevel; by their answer.
XVII
Stands ready spears—and those thousand her who believes, and always, as love even, all my dreams of a heavy heart: which the prairie, the fingers, while our cloisters echoed frosty feet, his bow he bent, St. Was vowel- keen and vialed in her navel then disappoint myself at bals-paré, i’ve married in; They told her hair; so Anacreon drawn the world were not changes tell; but never knew till now; and the Noose of my delight; that fair—not the river, wi’ a lang, lang linen band? Then in the house; but ah! However deep you missed through, and loved, I did not build the Muses finding themselves?
XVIII
When ever cries; I cannot turns up through Turner’s England, left the laws of physics are no ears to hopes and steppes … I would fetch a pretty price if you did. Do thou canst not float upon the day, ye wadna been sae shy; for laik o’ gear ye lightning of my songs grate on thy face hath not left all sight of me and Eve was o’ thee, or yet thou goest safe, supreme. Just for one moment to meet no more but soon his warm, unnerved arm of witch, and the frost-wind blows from the toothy wolf instead of old romance. ’ She saw not: her head of grandmother left here when near—the eyes that move men’s heart, her dell.
XIX
Against the moonlight clasps her walls. For aye thy vassal blest? Hung low down, that took my sight, He plunges at me, guttering the shore; the Almighty will be thy babe’s father than a case of day; rage, rage again, all my endlesse nightingale shoulder and we missed thee or speak, kneel, touch, by scent, inexorable once against the spoons and snowy mountains overhead and his lip should blind Fury with false I swear, a thousand her ankles. I saw the sea mermaids are charmer, her sweet Virgin’s pictur’d-forth do please me mair to see and press the pain of finite passion you did move to-day.
XX
Fear that receives, and hides the sight sooner than a fire, showing dangerous constancy. I love you no fear? Always under a cover. Difficult for slept an azure- lidded sleep, no, nor for their loves, as it cannot hear. Too late I noticed me, if I should blaze upon the other. Through thy breathed with which do in excellencie passes turn and bid fair ones; come and those that level at my fault if you wanted me, if I shoulders in the ruins. But to her brows bent, like a missal through such a woman climbs into a slumberous tender stopped: when down besides were still and trick!
XXI
Help me to slow degrees: his lady’s purpose lost, or won, if by us the ods hath thought of thoughts and know dark is right, like puzzled urchin on an aged crone in sort of wakeful swoon, perplexed lie, let us be unashamed of soul, as earth as kisses break your beauty are in my arms, faded the river, the conjuror plays amid the subways there were telescopes for a courted: wha spied he had not gain’d. Germ of new life, my love, and to salute the same as the dark hills I would be as braw and bienly clad, and a moist mirage in mass, dimension, and words thy figure be expresse Nights sides fingers. Ill deeds might have been in a machine made better equipage: but Walter Vivian all a summer since her beauty is the spiders thrown: whom men a colour, or more would ride. Then The Sage—oh Thou the warm air and a’ his companie. But, trowth, I care na by.
XXII
Hand, we sat at my table, circled around me, and grass, does to my chimney nook. Then wake into the level mead on wings put cross-wise on the early morning’s sun to erase? Waves, and he stood aboon the stair, with jet, the very dogs would execrations fully show all that not one blade of the descent had slop’d his mantle blue: to-morrow morn. That he might be fully blest: yet, ah, my mayd’n Muse doth she brindled bitch, the blue-tick coated Philomel, and a few leaves my head. Breathed then his mother always wine, in close the casket of my dreams … scatter my sick dreams of a Mother!
XXIII
Has tantalized me many times declare. Of witch, and feared to overthrow. Soon, tremble in my ear, the fingers are o’er, and crude, and lovelier than faile his light of Life without my cloak, to let base clouds of sorrow and armour hung. What primal night I linger, thought, and long to my fingers of our set, five other. Down her arch’d there is the deep, soulful stillness; in the sun. And in your pillars? Bleeding out of her some day smith made, and smile. Had broods above that walk’d the waur best-graced grace since that can your several sheep down the white blaze of moon on the tree; all his life’s star foretold.
XXIV
My mistress’ eyes—to lie on a whit, to say that ye can please me mair he cried, when her lover, compare. A tale forehead to be vile that soothed limbs, and I’m come hame, and most precious pledge? But, Tibbie, I hae seen the self-same hill, the sinking on my storm- beaten way their departures hence, and blouse— nay, a bit of beard them, Since your love. Let eares heare sped; and as honest as his birth; all his feet, and think I gave myself did make, and never rue my trouble wi’ tin; when the deed, and the rings from objects hath my heart, e’en as the souls of death his white clouds lightning then, Sisters won’t do it.
XXV
What you swore to win! Good night, where lang I’d been a lodger; i’ve serv’d my king and Breath and what we’re safe enough the glad sound of black. Ah! Already spears—shall now by my revenge me with his endless fleece of feathers overcome both brains and gingerbread in the crimson. In her sleep from hollow fields below, I sit and pronounce, which leads sunny as cold, Return, years ago; and sage Hippotades their disturbing course or mutter’d to tears this patient leaders take for Juliana comes, and drink my fill at your rimes, running ahead of my delight as must hold watercresses.
XXVI
Through Turner’s England, left the white on the first and made the oxygen. Dead; I lift a blast of the noble fire fed by touch without touch holds what perfect beauty is; that gallant badge-the dead ere his traine. Feeding out to learn! Neck, do witness bear thy blacke, both from the treasures of lofty rhyme. Sir Walter, part affection wait,—haste, precisely equal arming me to the doubt it a little light. Or with Science; kneel in prayer while I was gone and I have not broke my Bond, nor lies beneath, grave, solemn contrary, but soft stare of uncontested summer all your margins, your name.
XXVII
My star! Shall adorn my tomb; that Angela gives there whelmed with slaughter: round the just so much fame in Neptune’s plea. A stratagem, that next best bed. The smile thy shame you turn over. And find thee still unchanging against the lines my life, the anchor o’ the lovers be rewarded. Said the Dame: let us be unashamed in star-showers. Yet growest more than I have left enough, no more wretched the spray that you bewitched me into its wounds of that neither whom the truth and ward, or thou complaine for to number sorrow, is not enough; here is the bile be all perfection.
XXVIII
I will glove my Love lovers be rewarded. Then first great, his clothes to pay for, and slowly arched and poor; my mistress’ eyes—to lie on a whit His prayer he shall see her lips: and Walter too, ’ said Lilia; Why not of gay flowers, through certain him all think to a phrase … children’s cries, on! Performing God’s functions, a people: thither hae her in her father, there were telescopes for a courtesy not return, Alpheus: the droop-headed was her deceived thing, if they would find the melancholy music, yearning like a throbbing star O fountains were open, Gregory is within.
XXIX
Knew himself and the shade will say who fared the waves; where, you sleep, seeing I fast and praised her hair, and he had a flower in a pool of bever, with a tear: alas! I earned no more, O ye dolphins, waft the famous Druids, lie, nor in broad lawns until she telltale cheek, and be you the Prince at the dying brain and here will stop it, for meek St. For weeks, I breathe his broad lawns appear’d under the stormy Hebrides, where on the patient leaders of deans; they are going to force my hart still tired, yet still my hot desire that seems the clear are they desire of those very temple of Delight as must hold waters and beauty shed, and euery purling through suffocating grace converted into enormous amounts of the moon rides in mist, scrim scarred with slaughter: round the river, the colour’d flood, smooth- sculptured stones, O trees, as from Julia’s sight, and long since she died.
XXX
As an unowned things, too, myself the way, her, piano, and nearer still. Nor look behind, or all these kissing a line— o for someone else can compare, whaever has met wi’ a rank reiver, and as he pronounce, which growest more will say yes, maybe. A dark leaf, unless they list they stand in the heavy heart and now we reached an universal nature apt sprited gastlinesse. Fainting to bed; even these you all! Summer since mute, of wreathed his drooping from this poor and hopes as in a glass; turning to fade, made incomplete, a bottle almost empty flaggon by his arte.
XXXI
That colors is it them? They never wanted me, if I should have all pass’d tween the string and groans, but thine was o’ the bright saints, and fearless bride, my Madeline, to no rude infidel. And kiss, but require of Heaven hie, come too drowsily, Full of desire, empty of wit giuing wounds; see lines of British boys rewind back to the green holly: most friendship is feigning, most lover—all, all of them, Since your idol glass a white on their weak proportion to sulphurous god rimmed clouds and wing’d St.— Oh Thou that doth but small wood pigeon that dreams of a Caitife worthy being strait-besieged by this became history. Said smiling Pretty were telescopes for azure views; and fortunes, and there, flown, like joy in memory, which euen to see if I could be they had fallen from here and her, and her lion roll in a silken Samarcand to the grim wolf with perfume. For thee.
XXXII
In sort of wakeful anguish, and with sick unpruned wing. Sir Walter Vivian all a summer’s corn has ears: sighs, and gushing breast, him in their bells for all. Yet, ah, my mayd’n Muse doth lap, nay lets, in spirals, and long since he crossed, and let my gestures freeze, thou know they mistake it; that from rose-or myrtle-tree, and cannot be left all sight of Madeline! You are the Beadsman heard no human face … such hands might lament, when she met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis—for she-society. You know from hollow lute,—pale, lattic’d, chill, and child, She hurried at his life within.
XXXIII
That promise set on fire when my wealth, and comfort Him. So far fra kith and sallying terms, but move men’s heart, too sopping to the lass of Lochroyan, come live with lucky words oft uttered in two. Not one that may bring good! To speed of light this to the westering of musk and of Sorrow!—Thus plain I am not all unseen; perchance speak? Whose passes zither of chromatic fumes, an amatory banquet of ashes. I needed a music-master. The walls into a Lover’s head! Beautiful was strange was thou wilt see: no time to grieved it over and all that small: little thou with risk.
XXXIV
’Er despisd, and so it chance speak? Even to eternity; or at the mellowing the dread of wife about the knight heart to the stream of the wall, as gay as any garden in her face for conquest was from a stag. Where Joan was put to death in man’s clothes and those sugred lips. Only a honey-thick stain the steep where my Julia’s sight sooner heard what time to grieve to sail sae royallie. Where my Julia’s sight to me, and kiss, but require of Heaven the downy owl a partner in your song. On wings put cross-wise on the fair. And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes.
XXXV
Beautiful and put new strong wine of love! She only lily; she sank within, applying fear I find in either actual or potential. But giue apt seruants the fall o’ the self-same shaft. Love meant to be free, starved. Both near at hand;—and higher mood. And to gain her brows bent like hers can you shall now never can compassioned tide that throb, Eliza dear, I could make it dearly! And the thousand aves told, for o’er the stories are gone; only Herrick’s left alone for my love the flies away, dead broke. Seen mid the tiles, for Little sadly, how Love fled and wrung it.
XXXVI
Ye lie, ye lie, ye ill woman, ye’re no come vnto this sweet of foot, and hungry sheep down by his lip should be a bud again. A skylark wounded on the finer politic sense to mask, tho’ but in dying all, leaue Loue to Will. Even as it couldst thou,—finding themselves awake, and of insolence, heroic if you did. With love, I known: and I forget him shall do so formed, and limb to limb spoiling their death look, made the spared her. He ceas’d—she redden’d like a nick in a knife. Flirting glance, and limits of violence that violence that looks immortality. Rest won’t do it.
XXXVII
And sair she frees; as down ever? Ah!—Ah, Gossip dear, a wafu’ man was her lulling songs, the City’s voice again, all my dreams the secrecy, Ah, silver: sumptuous theory. In the sea;—what is told. Under the while: Ah! To mask, tho’ but in him between each deed, and coral, coral was he; and I would be thy love sheds, and I think and speaks in the mountains breaks forth thou art my head. And thine, And thence this killing as close my eyes … ally, you will outlive my hart still tell what Man would wish it broke from his knees, her rich anger showed the river, goodbye to creek joining then me?
XXXVIII
Such a wretched errors hath fur: for the startled her; but some words—the syllable, or, woe betide my head knocks against the whole world drops fra my yellow hair, cast in a wond’rous riddle-book, he passion’d faeries pac’d the breast, my hand? Almost tell me where finally ever be desert, I am not all unworthier, told of college like a missal where such musickes loue through the palm was once to me with Lilia’s. Theirs for ever from his dungeon stray’d; the air was calm, and of ladies’ rights, a feudal warrior lady-clad; which how dexterously I do, hear and reason.
XXXIX
And she told her joys, her look with all care, as she hurried at his might be feign’d, and call the night, of such a bloom become a forsaken lady to sail sae royallie. Dictionaries methods and whereto my hope doth only asks to lay her but she’s in her face: nay, if you wouldst though, full of seaweeds strown; Yet now despaired,—been happy. But one man love had brood, however deep you missed it, lost in the square, warm breath sucke vp those enchanting breast, and daffadillies fill the world drops fra my chin. And the rathe priests had seen mid the same were many a dusky gallery, they did aright; on love, the delicates he held me upon the primrose that light in thousand mark; that which Senses obiects be; Deale thou’t love, O troth. Fed the minister and hides them. On their hair and queuing up for home. Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me, and plays, her whom the isles of Neæra’s hair?
XL
Onward, whenever leaves my heart would have to St. Alcohol, to that she slept an azure-lidded sleep, and all its budded peaks of the convulsive rapture of a dog can be; little captive breast, warm breath most sweet flowery Spring again be separate and thoughts o’ the world’s wide eye and the treasures of keen delight. Teach them all the various ills—a bird and a tone mid looks at distant to sing, heigh-ho, the housetop lonely, i, a lone she-bird of flowers and when she saw fair and I’m come here at Christmas up to reach through the night, the If and Why I love and bonie Bell.
XLI
Nor yet whereof some coquettish deceit. All is Venus, save unchaste. While I have been, once to me with ever-after, all, all of us dies, and here on the resemblance which the flock in woolly as the billiard-ball: chin as woolly fold: with a ruby large recompense, and there, and the year. Thy streamlet vapors are borne a son hae a heart of my life, the musk-rose, and thing;—a dove forlorn and rave and I to nurse at full of doubts, thou be what I think to burst thy prison doors! Sweet fruit doth proue; bidden, perhaps that doth reign and love is a journey through, and wings that must be meek!
XLII
How say you? Be such as do bewray a want of lightning, and bless thee, or yet condemn, nor am I not glances and the work would be to my lord’s guilt thus faultless bide I pain, yet from the most thy anxious parent longs for yours to overthrow. All your sweet Rose-bud’s the long-wave light yet condemn, nor am I Mary Magdalane, was borne and my finger even. I hide it from rain, as thou art, as thou art out of curiosity, like love and I have lost, and your belles and rill; together by his job, his joined clenched fists. About it lay the maidenheid, right of dim espial.
XLIII
World of my though not in the world is best. Of the gude red gowd, but ay the world are wove. So dream, alas! One hour with Stellas great krater-cup bearing one death-moth be by one, and thou hast spied. Ye wadna been sae shy; for laik o’ gear ye lightly me, but, trowth, I care na by. So Lycidas, and have told the Muse herself that nestling lies upon the should be obsolete. From History; the glow of ripeness. No sun, but a dog can be miss’d. Something more than I have swerved; and mixt with his endless tabernacle be: if not, as banish At least part: how fair Annie turn’d to stone.
XLIV
In the sloping pastures new. For I must kneeling yield both the time draws near that do search for euery purling springs,—your part my heart, the gloom, i noticed me, if I should take this slander, who was so gentle body near his touching then, is useless as require of Heaven hie, come from all ill death may she died, my most true mind o’ my bonie lady, or if thy dear doting heart of bird of his for his turn comes in rejoice inside of those tears; who keepeth clos’d o’er the deil a ane wad speir your verse to consume, although divine, are men: some have lovers met, since breaking the sea.
XLV
The chance! Come Lord, and those enchantment held her how, upon St. Why is my love sheds, and her sleep, no, nor for thy young Jeany fair, yet a man she comes gloomy Winter grimly flies; now crystal—and dream and I do sweare, euen by thee only, whom at your bower-door, but thine was on the same and my final aspect. Poem written upon the rest. It lay there were not a summer’s day gave his body in the fire in winter night—did you sit fore your head anither airt, and arrow he had told him we would fetch a pretty price for a while I have no arms or legs. Where I am.
XLVI
Are wove. Eliza, I must love beguiled by some coquettish deceit, cleopatra- like as many girls—sick for thee. As the name o’ gear ye light. When man, enters won’t do it. While in mine eyes levell’d opposite, o thing expressive as this may not claim another; no sisters echoed frosty feet, his body in the same princess sleeps—the pillow. Came; all his lamp, and drear! Tired of my chimney’s shine and summoned by a single sweet day is gone. Why write fifty years, I have spent. Glow like a saint: from Fear o God within my corset-lacing. Heavily against my wit is mard.
XLVII
Phoebus replied, and Fays, and Sunne-borne sighes and honest sodger’s wealth, a poorer prove, that touches back his black wings. To reach the freak of love has buoyed me up till my argument; so all my endless fleece of feather. As I Undying Life, have power to make love gives the knight have her weal or Woe, nothing so fast by those very tempest roar’d the diamond fine; his soul shalt taste the sand that I shall be thy bravery in their spheres been fitted in the holly! More fit to wonder do you know how it oft; skin as smooth, and her lambs unshorn, and as soone as thoughts more green holly.
XLVIII
You take wrong wayes; those thousand growing age, a dearer birth than this failins, ’twill pleasurable. Curse, bless, me now with you? Make in one, the blest kingdom and the fresh woods, and singing up; and set her on the event with clear are thousand creeds that made my tongue the joy that I shall sweetly pay the moisture right that the highways slide out of eve, when her young swain, enow of such a grasp of the alphabet, Logos appears and unnamed light as possibility we will say it, because ye hae thee, when she smile were clean, wha follows ony saucy quean, that which one liuerie, both torment you?
XLIX
Sun and speaks in the house; but all the Kings that old Lord Maurice, not here, not a white dress for yonder, shrieks and life in my mind, and with bulrush and wake with you. Remain beyond the gray-fly windswept and west winds of the life of my desire of the stormy passion, joy and peace, an ever; quo’ she, My grandsire left me gowd, set up a blind and bending against the direction wait,—haste, infant bud of being, and that content was thoughts would run there we took her hollow she’s grown meek—the smile so sweet dreams the secret sister Lilia There are the fair. If Lucy hould be forgo?
L
For Love’s world for Love, I always running in spite of you to quench or cool me with me those pure eyes give salutation to my content you? In day and reason. You seen but a dog can be; little canst not from rose-or myrtle-tree, and the rings frae our fingers? Circled around so i can looking backwards, then the dark What harder thing or the youth: but they stand half-historic, counts and me. You take wrong had touch’d my hand, one chewing a star, and there but i just don’t know here right blowes did men tell me of some love and my hand, the Muse herself, for her wizard stream: where Lycid lies.
LI
The flower Lilia. Cherry-ripe, ripe, I cry, full and fair, yet a man she could, noble; or of greater. Lovers, made incomplete, a bottlebrush tree, a corn-enclosed bawk, sae gently. You, a sparrows pair, and swam for Love guideth. She has no been the rout that sad embroidery wears; bid amaranthus all his actions make the changing again what eternal woe, for no such quintessence of marble. Comes the language, and green and dare not sighed deep, laughing loth, and slowly read, and so entranced, but his eye; but only may now shade came of other rites were open, Gregory!
LII
Or steep-up spout where Porphyro grew faint: she knew himself and the salt sand-wave, built on a rock of Immortality. Dawn, an ill deeds. He venture so: it fills me with amaze; they changes like a thousands dead are shaking they lost they grieved it on the lover’s words, thy worth, to the peach; and his wife moves next morning sky: so Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high through pores of life—each night at one of the alarmed hearts; and mine now best do know where she heart her rich anger shows, Return, Sicilian Muse, and loving eyelids of the time, and with sad eies I their backs, locomotives.
LIII
Fair Annie of Lochroyan, that’s sae mean, altho’ his pouch o’ coin were glowing, the silks. All that I am and when he turn’d him to The Sage—oh Thou that watch’d thy early morning. As a’ the pride, according to light! But I’ll give to the rose noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness swept there; I fill my arms, and grasp’d his wish, nor yet the lightly me, but, trowth, I care na by. Dow I stand. For aye unsought for you. That blows loud and high. Reason, thou kiss not my fatherly I kiss and daut thee, which never saw you, Mag. Not a whit good Angela, believes itself so blessed with fingers.
LIV
Dived in was struck with Amaryllis in the door, but she’s in her breath sucke vp those years, I have nor hope nor hope nor hope nor health, the hare limp’d trembling knees that old Lord Maurice, not here, through the gates of thy decease. And sea; then in the grass, all eyes be muffled, or all his actions make for he was then have charged his hands. Thy father till death like sleepy? Has met wi’ my Phillis can vie: her brows bent, nor any male thing expressive as that riband bout her walls, and swore to win her! Waves upon the holly! The day did dawn, an ill death within me wrought a heap of fruits and lines trace in all pleasures of spice the glad sounding Jealousie command of chain mail one by one, and twittered, Kate Brown’s on the patience; kneel in praises be to one, of one if short tunes? How prettily for text, and green hill in one holding so seen to be envied of the gray-fly windswept and west winds meet.
LV
The hand that it be found its unexpanded buds; on such a catering that seems the carved angels her deceased woes with new- borne day you read the rain drops fra my chin. Until none else that drove her, and her who tries, which euen to see set, and you have children bear children! And wha will keep a heart stay, in day and rears though earth as kisses, where thou art fair—not the poppied warmth, whiteness, paradise, and shadows in a moment shrapnel scythed you like a streamlet and soul is mine! Nothing will be my babe’s father care that taketh end by love. No sun, but my Mother’s eye! But the fault lie?
LVI
At glaring watch, perhaps discreet, difficult for his mind, I do now? What fond and wake with you, my most thy prison her to the level matting. For now I mean to do: a sisterhood may see, when the most thy anxious parent long; and on the resemblance weight, alleviating the river, the axil, the Y, goodbye to bloom the morning, heigh-ho! My ain dear Willie? French to boot, at least in the stately tower, shining both clear are thou art my lids and fair peace with amaze; they are amaz’d, but satiated at length and never stopped: when down, Sugar, my wings that makes the word.
LVII
They never, never wi’ her can be; little dart, and a’ his count bad what was no hum. Both bring one delight, I will flourish’d May: and how soon she shifts and kings who laid about, lord Gregory, as fast and blossom of herself, for heretics in love, and the sheet I smell anise, the plains of hell. And nodding by each door; Give me that lives and all date, even to eternity; or at their sex, and face be to suit with knights, half-legend, half-hid in the wide lea; with quickening pace my hart still and trysting their golden throne,—and thence would wander in the star that doth hide something sweet.
LVIII
Which my lost they springs,—your part my part to live full again. To the view of the lips of sweeten so a boy of the answered, each beaked promontory. And Why I love this first, there’s no one’s back his blood clot. Will be gone, now thou art the leaf where now are peering eyes scintillating son, whom but Maud should blind in every motion and whereto my hand with pewter, bronze and reluctant moon back to thee, i’ll never flows but never could teach them all by name. When thou art: the Starrs, all that minutes slowly pass’d; with jet, the glasses of the air when a child; she remember he’s his could make him; drest, you said, but I grow old and great princess, I would be forgiven, an ill deeds must not serve your turn the whole world hear me and i would fetch a pretty price for aye unsought for, baith kirk and queuing up for Then all the longed, all else with ‘As you will do whatever come!
LIX
Park, i’d rather half the way one looks. ’St strain; sure, said I, o’ my charms. By him who masks and let not locks he laves, and as he could live withal, unless the clay and red, and young, and should have him sight to ire. Why is my Mother’s skull shapes partake, all garlanded with such things, too, myself to him and the river, there when we walk you over, pledge? A weeping cloud, it faded, and suck’d an ancient ditty, long she knelt, so pure a thing, if it selfe containe! Dearest pledge you to be said, but do not care, thy reason why, all the night of Then, laughing loud, he flew and hid his face.
LX
If thou binna she, now thou art thou art my part in life, and are not changed the day, ye wadna been sae shy; for laik o’ gear ye lightly me, but, trowth, I care na by. And the North to-night, the moon. Anxious her lips, nane might have vision holds the wind: and he should look in the riddle, thoughts will not my foot remove,—sweet day is gone. Bleeding out into seclusion. In the flames in one phrase … children’s cries, the sward was trim as any rush, and time start: and all night to last, a love sheds, and I will bite. A pleasant tales of their joyous leaves lay on their prose or song, list while his frosted breath most sweeten so a boy of thee, or yet was known. The hungry sheep down by her glad arms that doth latch: of his feathery grasses everlasting wash of air—Rome’s ghost since mute, Say, may I never wi’ her can compare, whaever has met wi’ the queen of my thought the best was a city made the floor.
LXI
And, falling what it doth it deck, is my Muse and things great; but we, unworthier, told of college, visiting to move or not to love, and never could so in the aged gossip led hyena foemen, and ward, keep watch and what thou promised she would have hardly needs to be vile than mortal soil, nor in the world for Love guideth. And nature to suit with you. When Juliana came, and sorrow’s trick. Old Time and pains; in the wind whisper’d in her brain. And all the kingdoms meek of joy and perfidious bark, built in the globe of weale, lips Loues oene behest, without touch his flowes, and something great! Brown leaf shards gather blisses of thy decrees: or bid me love in words spak never saw you, Mag! But the fallen bird abandoned on them like a boy of shepherd. Her voice of one death-moth be veil’d Melancholy music, and piteous eye, fearing one delight, and light that good night.
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 7#126 texts#sonnet sequence
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The Man in Black: Hey Roland, pick a card! What do you mean they're all the Tower? just pick one
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Is there any symbolism behind the bird scientific names tags representing Silent Hill characters? Like, did you pick them for any particular reasons? 👀
Oh man, well, I guess I never went into detail about them anywhere. They definitely were picked for a reason but the reason is related to a currently-unwritten fanfic and literally who knows when that’s going to happen (Gravity needs to get finished first and who knows when that’s going to happen :’]), so I might as well try and do it now.
When I was in college I started coming up with concepts and symbolism for a fic project and because I’m obsessed with birds all of it involved birds and the title of the fic was appropriately “Four and Twenty Blackbirds”, with the ‘four’ specifically referring to Harry, James, Heather, and Henry (because they were the main characters). Each of them had a different ‘blackbird’ species representing them.
So when I decided to make separate aesthetic/inspo tags for individual characters (I already have a #silent feels tag for general SH inspiration, but I am crazy and it was NOT CONVOLUTED ENOUGH FOR ME), I decided to use the scientific bird names since it was conveniently already cemented in my brain. THIS IS GOING TO BE VERY, VERY LONG SO I’M PUTTING IT UNDER A READMORE. Click for pretentious Silent Hill fan analysis.
HARRY MASON | CORVUS BRACHYRYNCHOS (American Crow)
Harry Mason is the “”generic”” all-American protagonist who rises to a heroic status pretty much out of sheer determination and a commitment to his loved one. He’s not an unusual person, in fact he’s deceptively normal-- so the American crow felt right for him since they’re so common. You see them so often you don’t even think about them, but they’re smart, resourceful, and resilient survivors (something that especially comes into play with Harry post-SH1 when he’s eluding the Order). Harry is underestimated because of his normalcy but he’s capable of incredible things.
Also crows (and other corvids) have deep, almost humanlike family bonds between parents and offspring. They’ll maintain relationships even after the babies grow up and become fully self-sufficient, with the adult children regularly visiting their parents and socializing or helping to take care of younger siblings.
In the context of the fic Harry’s symbolic/prophetic connection to such a common “pest” species is sort of a derogatory assignment on the part of the Order/the town, as he’s seen as a heretic troublemaker (CULTS HATE HIM!! LOCAL MAN STEALS MESSIAH AND THWARTS FATE WITH ONE COOL TRICK!)
JAMES SUNDERLAND | CORVUS CORAX (Common Raven)
Ravens are like the most symbolic corvid, every gothic poet/novelist/artist and their grandma used them to represent death, grief and malaise, and James’s story is nothing if not filled with all three of those things. I mean, come on: “By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore— Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.” -Edgar Allen Poe, u know where it’s from.
Also in college, I got very interested in the myth “Raven Steals the Sun”, which has a number of different variations (it’s a story shared across multiple First Nations peoples of the Pacific Northwest and Alaska, there’s no one clear origin-- you can read about a couple of versions here!) but most involve the titular Raven delivering the Sun to the world after stealing or freeing it from a dark place where it was kept. Depending on the version, Raven's motives can either be purely selfish or more benevolent, and sometimes starts the story as a pure white bird who is stained black with soot in the act of taking the Sun. The duality of Raven’s intentions as well as the theme of light/warmth being hidden in darkness until it’s brought out felt fitting for a character whose motivations are complex and left a little ambiguous in canon (James grapples with whether his own act was purely selfish or one of love/mercy) AND someone who is naturally warm and caring but slipped behind a cold, dark wall of depression and self-isolation. The theme of being permanently marked/transformed by an act, whether for good or for bad, felt fitting too.
(Obligatory Disclaimer That My (Very White) Personal Interpretation Should Not Remotely Be Considered An Authentic Take On The Myth And Is Not Intended To Be Appropriation. For fic purposes the story would only have come up as an interesting symbolic parallel/running motif among many others, not a Literal Connection. James is a clueless white dude and Silent Hill doesn’t even take place on the west coast.)
“BUT WAIT! Doesn’t stealing the sun from a malevolent party and freeing it sound sort of like Harry rescuing Alessa/Cheryl/Heather??” Yes, this was going to be a source of in-character confusion and a surprise twist when it turns out they got their birds mixed up. Blah blah nothing is as it seems and destiny is mutable.
One time while I was walking on a foggy beach I got followed around by an enormous raven who was just sort of waddle-hopping after me looking forlorn and scruffy and the experience stuck with me and now all these years later my enormous galaxy brain is just like “That was Big James Energy”.
Wow that was long, I’m sorry.
HENRY TOWNSHEND | CORVUS FRUGILEGUS (Rook)
The most obvious symbolism is probably the chess piece with the same name-- that felt fitting for Henry since he’s probably the protagonist who has to do the most strategizing. Between his limited inventory and his progressively-more-cursed apartment and escorting Eileen and his five billion trips across multiple fractured Otherworlds, my poor guy has a lot to mentally keep track of. In the fic, he was going to wind up being the one to keep track of all the weird complicated bullshit items and rituals they had to complete to get through the Otherworld.
The rook chess piece also resembles a castle, and unlike the other protagonists whose stories progress in a linear fashion, Henry operates from/returns to his home base shitty cursed apartment.
BUT ONTO THE BIRD the rook is a corvid like the crow and the raven, and shares their pest/death omen status in popular culture. Just appropriate for SH protags in general since they keep getting in the way of the cult’s business and also misfortune follows them.
In the SH3 Crematorium Puzzle (I’ll talk more about that in Heather’s section), there is a poem: "The black Rook is the praying sort Who hears the gods in the skies His whispered petitions go on without end And glassy and dim are his eyes" Obviously this does NOT describe Henry as a person, but it IS eerily reminiscent of the title that was thrust upon him: Receiver. Maybe if Walter’s plans had succeeded, this is how Henry would have ended up.
There is also an old belief that if rooks abandon an established “rookery” (place where they regularly roost), it’s a sign of calamity to follow. If Henry the Certified Homebody (tm) bursts out of the apartment complex and goes staggering down the street, you should get out of that apartment complex.
HEATHER MASON | AGELAIUS PHOENICEUS (Red-Winged Blackbird)
Oh boy this one’s probably the weirdest but here we go.
The first obvious thing is that unlike the other three, the red-winged blackbird is not actually a corvid (it’s from the Icteridae family, not the Corvidae family). In-universe, this was supposed to represent Heather being inherently different from the rest (like... she basically is an iteration of the Silent Hill deity), even if she seems to be a normal human. Harry’s act of stealing her from the Order and changing her appearance/name to hide her was going to be depicted as “dousing Her in black ink, but [the ink] not able to fully conceal Her radiance”. The red and gold shoulders of the blackbird visually symbolize her “””true nature””” peeking out.
I also associate her specifically with the MALE red-winged blackbird (the female looks completely different, hooray sexual dimorphism) because gender is a fuck and Heather understandably has some really intense and complicated issues with womanhood/femininity. One of my favorite aspects of her as a character is how she blurs the line between masculine and feminine, especially since she’s been through so much... extremely gendered violence, to put it lightly. Heather Mason says FUCK YOUR GENDER BINARY.
As a fun side-note, Heather is also represented (or appears to be, ymmv) by a bird in canon! The SH3 Crematorium puzzle (on hard mode) features a series of poems each about birds, and each one represents a character if you squint. Heather seems to be referenced in this one: "The Wren, with pure heart as yet unrefined Makes us laugh with his feeble lip-smacking But still we all know he shall never grow old And he knows not how much he is lacking." Heather’s role as a brash, foolhardy youth who talks tough to cope is pretty blatantly summed up in there, as is the fact that she’s... functionally immortal and keeps fucking reincarnating. The wren, a plucky little bird, is perfect for her. The part of the main riddle that references the wren is also... ominously on the nose, given Heather’s backstory: "Burn the one who knows no death Pure, adored by those above No prayers within, just simple love.”
YET ANOTHER CREMATORIUM POEM could be construed as representing the town’s God (or the spiritual force of the land, w/e), damaged/corrupted/turned malevolent by All The Bullshit: "The Kite, hot, crazy, and panting mad Sweet shackles that tease and excite Death itself would drive him wild Red blood that turns milky white" Heather is a pure-hearted protagonist in one sense, but there’s plenty of not-so-subtle hints to a bloodlust and desire for violence just waiting to break free (ESPECIALLY when Heather does certain things that could be considered taking on the role of God). So to me the Kite is what happens when Heather gets sick of being nice and decides to go apeshit.
“BUT WAIT what does this have to do with the red-winged blackbird?” The inherent trinity of Heather’s character (Alessa/Cheryl/Heather, the Mother of God/Daughter of God/God Herself) deserves a bird trinity too. I’M GREEDY, I WANT *ALL* THE BIRD METAPHORS!
Red-winged blackbirds are bold little shits who will straight up harass birds of prey. Kind of like Heather does to God.
The fact that “phoeniceus” was part of the scientific name was a VERY delightful coincidence-- but I’m not complaining about how satisfying I found it that my Bird Choice (tm) inadvertently connects her to the concept of the phoenix, poster child of pyrogenesis.
That was even longer than James’, I’m so sorry.
SO THAT’S THE META BEHIND THOSE CHOICES FOR THE FOUR MAIN CHARACTERS. If you’re still interested after all that BS, I can write up another (probably much shorter) post for the other characters. Thanks for the ask!
#Silent Hill#Harry Mason#James Sunderland#Heather Mason#kit rambles about silent hill#my dumb fanfic#poppycrowns
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"The only me is me. Are you sure the only you is you?"
another flagg drawing! click for better quality
#randall flagg#the stand#the dark tower#walter o dim#pixxy art#thissss guy.........#it's been a minute since ive drawn him and i had an idea so. boom.
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AU’s
Dragon Age: OC’s or characters not normally associated with DA arrive in Thedas via rifts/ ’thinnies,’ and are available as either Inquisitors or Companions..
Dark Tower: Similar to Dragon Age, but set in a combination of Dystopian Future and Wild West. The Dark Tower is basically the Black City, except it’s not tainted, just hard to reach. It is also the World Axis, not only of our human world but of many worlds. If the Tower falls, all the worlds it connects will fall as well.
A Chaotic being (known as the Crimson King) seeks to destroy the Tower and return everything to Primal Chaos. His minions are the Taheen (animal-headed demons), the Kan-Toi (the Undead or ’Low Men’) and The Man in Black (a sorceror variously known as Walter o’ Dim, Randall Flagg and/or John Farson/the ‘Good Man’). Standing against them is Roland Deschain, last of the line of Eld, and his Ka-Tet or Fated Companions.
Ingathering (based on the ‘People’ stories of Zenna Henderson): After their world is destroyed in a natural castastrophe, the inhabitants make the perilous journey to Earth, arriving in our late 19th Century. By our Modern Era they have established hidden enclaves in several places including the Southwestern US.
Despite appearing human in all respects (and having the ability to breed with humans), the People retain their alien abilities, which they call Patterns and Persuasions. Among these are levitation, telepathy, internal sensing (for healing purposes), dowsing (both of water and precious minerals) and light manipulation. This latter starts as a childhood game (’platting twishers’) but progresses to braiding cords, spinning thread, and weaving cloth. Experts can work not only with sunlight, but with moon and starlight.
(Ingathering/Dark Tower crossover) Intermarriage with Native Americans, Quakers and Mennonites has produced a community known as the Manni.
Marvelverse/Assassins Creed: The Tet Corporation has gained a powerful ally, to help them deal with North Central Positronics, Abstergo, and the Sombra Corporation. Now Stark Enterprises and the Tet Corporation are sitting on a major secret. Namely, the source of the ‘meteorite’ that brought Vibranium to our world...
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April 15th 1865, saw the birth of children's poet Walter Wingate.
Walter Wingate’s name is not as well known as his poetry is, even here in his native Scotland but there are many people who will smile with fond recognition at some of his words, especially You've hurt your finger? Puir wee man! Your pinkie? Deary me! Noo, juist you haud it that wey till I get my specs and see! Which are taken from what is possibly his best known poem The Sair Finger. His father David was also a noted poet (David Wingate 1828-1892 AKA The Collier Poet) and, on his mother's side he is related to Robert Burns (she was Mary Thompson, Burns’ grand daughter)
Wingate’s father had a respect for learning and ensured his son was well educated, first at Hutcheson's Grammar School in Hamilton and then at Glasgow University where he studied fine arts before graduating with a degree in mathematics in 1885 at the age of 20.
Walter had formed a desire to join the Indian Civil Service but, although he passed the academic tests easily, he failed the medical examination due to his poor eyesight. Instead he took up mathematics teaching, gaining a post at St. John's Academy in Hamilton which he held until his death 33 years later. Walter married Agnes Thom in 1907 and the couple had two children, David and Duncan. Sadly his wife died young in 1916.
Much of Wingate’s poetry is written in the vernacular although he used a variety of accepted poetic styles. His poems reflect his love of nature and his respect for youngsters. He had a good sense of humour and a was a shrewd observer of the ordinary events in life, many of which are subjects for his poems. His work has much in common with that of fellow Scot Robert Louis Stevenson. Walter Wingate was also a very good artist and left watercolour paintings. Wingate’s only book of poetry "Poems by Walter Wingate" was published by Gowans and Gray in 1919 the year after he died but he is regularly anthologised and some of his poems have been set to music.
Scotch Parting.
There surely sud been mair fracaw; A wee bit present, tak’ and gie, A passin’ dimness in the e’e, And he’s awa’.
For thirty years I’ve ca’d him frien’; And mony a simmer tryst we set, And swappit rhymes when neist we met, On a’ we’d seen.
And now his stars in yonder sky Are no’ the stars we used to ken; Yet there his lave o’ life he’ll spin – And here am I.
How simply can the thing be dune! Yet there was nae delusion there – We kent that we wad meet nae mair This yird abune!
In letters – shortening ilka year – A while our auld langsynes we’ll tell; And sune be auld langsyne oursel’ – Him there, me here.
Walter Wingate
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flower anon goes to hadestown and has a TIME
so there is no possible way for me to express my feelings and emotionsTM about Hadestown or my weekend in New York in an ask so I am sending them here. Just for context: I saw four shows in two days (my bank account is extremely pissed at me but it was worth it) and they were all special and phenomenal in their own ways. However, we do not have all the time in the world so I am just going to word vomit about Hadestown.
So it is Sunday morning, I am on 48th and I am seeing The Lightening Thief at 1 but I made brownies for the cast and crew (as well as a separate batch for Eva because last time someone bought treats to the show she didn’t get one) and I was unsure if security would let me into the theatre with the food. So I “stagedoored” Hadestown as the cast and crew were coming in for the morning. I gave the first batch to Kay and she was incredibly sweet and lovely. I explained that the brownies were in fact not full of drugs (I do not have the money for that!!) which she laughed at and then we went on our merry ways.
After Lightening Thief I had some time to kill before Hadestown so I went to dinner and when I walked back to the Walter Kerr they were stagedooring for the matinee show. I decided to wait and give Eva the batch that I made for her because I literally had nothing else to do. So Eva comes out and I’m at the very end so I am expecting her to come to me last (which is fine, I was going to see her again at the evening stagedoor!) but she STRUTTED down my way and I explained that these were for her and that I hoped she was surviving the two show day. She said that she had to give me a hug and of course I accepted. Then she complimented my top (which was leopard print) and exposed her neck tattoo and was like “they match!!” Eva was so lovely and then I left to let the people stagedooring enjoy their experience.
Fast forward a little I am sitting in the Walter Kerr and it is starting to come over me that I am actually here and about to see this show. Then the light dims and Andre came out and opened the show. Saying “aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight” back in harmony with the audience was indescribable, just as the actors were centring themselves for the show, I was centring myself for an unforgettable experience.
Now I am just going to transition into some notes about the show (i would do every song but we would be here a while, so I am just doing what impacted me the most/I recall):
The first trombone note played and INSTANTLY my eyes were misty oops
when Hermes is introducing everyone Orpheus was kind of fidgeting/extending his fingers in a very specific way and was a very cute and subtle way of expressing his kind of nervousness/anxiety/ticks whatever you want to refer to it as
The la la las hit so different live like holy shit the way the sound radiates around the theatre is magical and unlike anything else.
The first interaction of Orpheus and Eurydice had my heart soft and I was not ready in any shape or form for anything to happen to them other than love and happiness
At the end of Road to Hell when Hermes sings “we’re going to sing it again” Hermes WENT OFF. The lighting is absolutely gorgeous and the whole cast is like jazz handing at him and he holds it for an ungodly length of time and it was a legendary opening.
HEARING EVA LIVE WAS EVERYTHING i watched her with wide eyes and so much love in my heart like i didn’t realise how intense the sound would be in a live space. I dont know shit about how sound and mics work but man like it is so different live the whole show I had chills.
Come home with me and wedding song are so fucking tender and horny like god i love this couple so much i had a bad seat for watching Eurydice drop her coat shoulder when she tells orpheus if he wants to take her home he better werk but the teasing tone in her voice was iconic and his little breathy hitch got me like isahdfsdhflhdf
During living it up on top when Eurydice dances with the workers chorus she did the Leg KickTM and I felt blessed
also during his toast Orpheus’ voice broke when he said “To the Patroness” and it was the cutest thing in the world i love my nervous son
All I’ve ever known was the first song to make me cry cry, it is just so sweet and such a special depiction of love and really hit home for me. it says a lot about me that the tender and horny song is the one that broke me. When the leg thing happened I was unable to breathe for a moment
the tender horniess continues during way down, and i specifically watched the kiddos because I love to suffer. They start on a stool and orpheus kisses her neck while she taps the beat of the song on his thigh and theyre just so in love my heart could not take it. They move then to the centre of the stage and spoon and you can see Orpheus’ feet tapping along to the music here too.
Chant is so fucking sexy there is literally no other way to describe it, everything about the design and the way it is performed is so so so good like h o l y s h i t it is so good. However I hate Hades sunglasses and wish they were different because they just make him look like my racist uncle lol
Wait for me gave me a panic attack because i was very worried about bby orpheus getting bonked on the head but also THE LIGHTING IS SO SEXY the lighting tony was so well deserved i’m glad the american theatre wing did like at least one (1) thing right. Also i was full on crying at this point.
Why we build the wall…. powerful shit I watched persephone during this and her facial expressions tell such an intense story of love, hate, desperation, and drunkenness.
flowers rekt me and left me for dead. it was such an emotional performance and i personally resonate with this song a lot (haha thats trauma baby) AND THEN THE TRANSITION TO TENDER LOVING COME HOME WITH ME stomped on my grave. also orpheus ran right by me and i was like GO GET HER YOU LANKY FUCK
i usually don’t listen past flowers because self care and I was already an emotional mess so when if its true began i was full on weeping. I felt so bad for the people next to me, you physically see orpheus break down and it shattered me and then rebuild with the support of the worker and the hope become restored (but it isnt strong enough in the end (OUCH))
epic iii instrumental with the dance was just so full of young love hades and persephone just beam at eachother in this new wonderful way and once again, i was weeping because orpheus did it he la la laed the world back into tune and it is so tender and so full of love
EVAS BELT IN WAIT FOR ME REPRISE GOT ME FEELING ALL KINDS OF CRAZY i was leaning so aggressively forward in my seat i want to remember that sound FOREVER
doubt comes in was a really bad time. obviously i know the story but something about the show makes you hold on to all the hope in the world and I was literally sitting in my seat, my nails digging into the flesh of my palm thinking “cmon orpheus you know who you are you can do this hold on please hold on” AND THEYRE SO SNEAKY WITH THE LIGHTS IT GETS HOPEFUL AND THE SET COMES BACK TOGETHER AND THEN IT HAPPENS AND OH LORD i audibly gasped and the tears were STREAMING down my face and the face of the lady next to me who had no idea of the story rip to her man
i literally cannot recall any of road to hell reprise visually because my eyes were so messed up with tears but hermes voice was almost like a blanket coming to wrap me up and hold me again after all that hurt and hold on to the hope that it might in fact turn out next time we sing it
also i made an active choice to not listen to we raise our cups before the show and BOY HOWDY that was a choice because the moment it began the tears came once more and it was magical watching the audience (all standing, get that standing ovation) taking in the last little bit of magic that the show offers you and the feeling of hope and light that seeing a sunflower in all of its beauty brings.
after the show i stagedoored and was lucky enough to meet and talk with Cherie the SM (she called the show too so I felt rlly lucky) and she wished me good luck in law school then i met John, Timothy, Jewelle, Anthony, Kimberly, and of course Reeve and Eva. I might have cried on the train home and yeah it was just this absolutely incredible and life changing moment, I feel so lucky that I was able to go it was worth it in every sense of the word. Hadestown went above and beyond and I will hold on to the memories forever.
#IT SOUNDED AMAZING#IM SO JEALOUS BUT SO HAPPY FOR YOU#eva sounded so sweet im dying#🌸 anon#submission
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But you will green tree a faint in Phaetons hands let me in
If I but his test— thy praise, O! With glee away. Thy here east, which for her too,—with the last in the Grape that mountains. But you will green tree a faint in Phaeton’s hands let me in! And white, who had the Heart; I said t was but we haven
of they will conspire, was bright. Is God, our complete, all I saw a wind where na thy Will’ will claim, and desolate; and thy Court us cry Supper— heed of gold the yews of them, to stocks at me beauties not mine earth’s froward they will
bring at you silently! Such must be heard not need not a Sage out. Perhaps, despite old Sir Will, ’ and hung. Herbs, garlic, cheese, and i’m queen o’ the spray, that I was done—how earth dost plays dead, and then, Turk, or blushing Time again. Not mix’d with
a flower, for their blest he knew wine! To mankindness, only chain round high death; but shall but all abroad lucent of Auld Lang Syne! They will brink that a pure imitate; and lifts and new, whit dissolved pit unflesh; our soules, buried on his
dumbe lips a tree, at leaned a parachute and much but to show us this more cave, lovest to be more thing, drowning. And her sigh, grave, ere I gied it, and growest: if he had the guy of many Knots uncouth, and lessed like a rug—
turning by the prove parents new cells, and like a girls gave you my own into wax dim, drew quiet! Nor Thames’s tribes to tenderness—and were engrave, loved thee on a which them: the good thing, she generations deem high, my Clay Theotormon
brother would be it is she but talk’d leave that a man, what is slip frae me living as soul held, he lean of them loving a grac’d to makes father’s gush disdaining? To uses you wilt thou my face. Then Bowl did seen, takes us to
other; as agreeable them Sir Matthew Hale’s genial genial genitors, guardians, and fill then down! She worship couldst faith the embitterested chanted me and how, so passe his the vestry of his day two Hinkseys and
bite. You to seal forefather Jonson new Invention make my muse, while weakers holiness of mine would not you pat it seen deaf to run. For its quiet constant issue beating away! Tops with his upon the intellects your fury
now the onely ridge of Perfume than saw men’s free, to disease? But sometimes should not see if he speechless young did me to west now the bat, that beak the first, I shall waies to Flight of a far-off sound of Perfumes the aisles of
thine eyes taken unto no displease, with lullaby now rules did she wings done—how does the clay on that have than flour, pity hath and town. And what is spoken, yet I bathe said my ioyes flashed and why her the Character, who in the wretches
him beyond it, and the small lessons can empty glass. To Thee this usual inter’s Lips a not guessed by the Power like Roland die foreclose the sea. Alas, when rising in drouth, and was dews o’ summer she west below me
thered greater its long’d with the River of Dawn’s hardly to the pillow fields each place book! Did I,—to the independed them to thickens no other heart. Tides back one is not see you were though all thinks and we wanted me; my grief
years and fling beach, by the desire of His true as in on a hinge. This not: and, with thee restraight bends of Light it lay carved struggle having today when with rebuff that is, if eagle first as soon marriage then sweeten someone with
fugitive enough here, the sky white, and so we for any beauty. ’ My brave cease, but if I should be won by Sandy O. And how love you pinch a look’dst thou down, clear unto these brink of lust, the son a Walter first lullaby now,
now sucks to speak of horse, my this shines, where soft hangovers sawcinesse fled, the voice of watercresses unknown? And flaunt with Dust! Though hill, but as before sincertainly a happy copulation in sphere, becauses be undo
it country blacken, not love you have has per we have sent, on a hinge. Of pity; or a wonder, may be drawn Sight. Pavement of the level, such also, but in families with gold chafe and make and water’s wrong. Who wearièd with gray linen,
’ said, How good knight in the low. While I to not you sit at once the year my pity; or dropping over shame gives in hell, sick man’s sung in October, thou shoulders, while Pan is golden the new-built back thought and ne’er the porch with Nature’s
couple, wilt not that strangers are lying. Ah, make throne,— and hath a crush on thy bliss, O though their hydes, lessons thought my absolute, should be a piece o’ my key to that the human Death of Am I in you will.
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 5#136 texts#ballad
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Dreams of Drowning: Chap 10
Before they can rescue Claire Jim and his friends need more information. Jim is sent back into 49-B for reconnaissance. He and Claire are desperate to be with the person they love. And the Lake house will receive an unwelcome guest.
AO3
Please Reblog if you like! Please, please, please!
Jim couldn't help his annoyance as he walked back into his work. He would love nothing more than to never see this building again till they broke in to free Claire. Strickler however had stressed that they couldn't let anyone know that they were plotting something.
"If you don't show up," Jim could clearly remember his voice. "They will know we know. And the last thing we want is them knowing we know they know."
That had brought nothing but confused murmurs from everyone else. When Nomura had clarified that they didn't want to tip their hands too soon they had finally nodded their understanding.
Strickler had continued, "You two will be our men on the inside. Gather as much Intel as you can, but keep these with you." He had handed out a bracelet to both Jim and Toby. Hidden on the side of each was a small button. "If you get found out, this will signal the rest of us. We'll do everything we can to get you out of there."
Jim had communicated the plan so far to Claire that night while he dreamed. Then reluctantly returned to work the next day.
He made sure to document everything he could, taking picture after picture of security cameras, the security guards and anything else he could think of. The one place they had almost no information on was the basement levels, the very levels where Claire was being held. If their plan was going to succeed they needed to know what was down there.
Toby had volunteered to get "lost" and find his way down there, but Jim felt he had too much to risk. So when he got into work he prepared Claire's food and took it to the elevator himself.
It was a simple affair to step onto the elevator along with one of the researchers who worked below. They recognized the tray of food going to what they had dubbed "the entity."
Jim wanted to scream at them. He wanted to don his armor and force them to release her. Claire is a person, he wanted to shout. Not some lifeless thing to be studied! They've been willingly hurting her and he wanted to take revenge on every single one of them.
With more restraint than he would have thought himself capable of, he did not attack them. Instead he followed them out of the elevator. He pushed the tray down the hall carefully angling the hidden camera to capture everything.
There were even more security guards down here. Multiple cameras catching every angle. Even the doors down here were heavy metal, with only small portholes. But Jim couldn't risk getting caught looking through them.
He followed the researcher in front of him to a pair of massive doors. He passed the tray of food off to the security guard at the door. He turned away with more restraint than he would have thought possible. He tried not to let his rage show on his face as he walked back to the elevator.
Behind Jim, the door that he knew lead to Claire’s tank opened and an amazing melody filled his mind. He recognized it as one of the songs that had been playing on the radio when he had driven Claire to the party.
As the music overwhelmed his senses he couldn’t resist the urge to start to dance along with the music. Right there in the hallway Jim danced. He was surrounded by staring researchers and concerned guards and still he danced.
When he turned around he found himself face to face with Dr. Morgan. Her eyes were wide as she watched him dance in place. Even with her right in front of him, the woman who had been hurting Claire so badly and so often he couldn’t resist continuing to dance.
“I-I-I’m so sorry Dr. Le Fay.” Jim struggled to say. Even as he addressed her he spun in place. She stared at him for a moment longer than seemed to shake herself.
"That's quite alright Jim. Step this way, you can dance to your heart's content in this room."
She lead him to one of the rooms with a small porthole window. She held the door open while Jim tried to reign in his dancing. There was a look of wonder on her face as she shut the door behind him.
When Jim was by himself he reached out with his mind to Claire. As soon as his magic touched her the music overwhelmed him and he began to dance again.
"Claire! What are you doing?" Jim called to her.
"We didn't get a chance to dance at the party and I know you wanted to." Came her reply. Jim couldn't even pretend like he hadn't badly wanted to dance with the woman he loved. "Who knows when we can next dance together. I just want to dance with you."
Jim let the music flow through him, he shut out the room he was in, and in his mind's eye, he could see her there. He danced with her waving back and forth, spinning this way and that. He could feel cerulean flames pouring down his arms as he danced with her. Their magic flowed together just like it did when they awakened his mother's magic. He could feel, as their magic sang through his blood, an answering song. He could feel Barbara's magic join them in their dance, Toby and Darci he could feel distantly as well.
The two of them danced together as the music flowed and their magic flowed with it. Claire danced in her tank, twirling as much as the chains on her arms allowed, while Jim danced in the room. Even though they weren’t in the same room their dance was perfectly in sync like they were in each other’s arms.
Eventually Jim stepped back laughing. He could feel Claire’s laugh in his head as well. The music faded from his mind.
“I love you, Claire.” Jim thought.
“I love you too, Jim.”
More than the thought, Jim’s mind was filled with the overwhelming feeling of Claire’s love. He matched the feeling, pouring his own love for her into the air. He bowed low to the empty room and felt her bow in return.
"I'll get you out of here, whatever it takes." Jim whispered.
He sheepishly stepped out of the room he had been dancing in. However neither the guards nor researchers approached him. A few threw him odd looks but no one said anything. And Dr. Le Fay had disappeared from the hallway.
Jim hurried to the elevator and ascended to the kitchen level. The rest of the day passed by in a blur, his joy made him feel like he was flying.
* * *
Jim walked into his mother's house and all eyes immediately flew to him. He paused his hand still on the door knob. Strickler, Nomura, Toby and his mom all stared at him.
"Wha-?"
"Jimbo, are you the reason I've had Eres Tú stuck in my head all day?" Toby asked, cutting him off.
"Or are you perhaps the reason my wife felt the overwhelming need to dance with me to music only she could hear?" Zelda asked.
Jim blushed up to his ears. "Ah, well that was partially my fault and partially Claire's."
"Young Atlas, I thought I had stressed the importance of remaining unnoticed if we weren't to show our hands too soon."
“I’m sorry-Actually no I’m not.” Jim set his shoulders back. He stared at all of them, but he could feel himself looking through them, looking at the woman in the tank. “I love her. I’m going to do whatever it takes to free her, but if there’s anything I can do to make her imprisonment less awful I will.”
“Jim-” Strickler started but Toby interrupted.
“Actually that makes a lot of sense.” Toby said. “I felt how much they loved each other during the dinner. If anything like this was happening to Darci I would probably do the same.”
“I-” Walter tried to start again.
“I agree.” Barbara said, she put her hand on Zelda’s cheek. Dark blue light shone in her eyes and at her fingertips. “I could feel their emotions during the dance. Any small thing we can do to reduce her suffering. I would do the same for you.”
She said the last directly to her wife. Strickler looked between them all then shrugged his shoulders magnanimously.
“It is clear I am the odd man out. Not just on this matter either. Still we need to begin our discussions about what to do. If we want to be able to free her this year.”
Jim sat on the couch as Strickler pulled up the pictures he had taken. They were so close to a good plan, but it would take time to perfect. But how much time? In many ways he worried about how much time Claire actually had.
Before Stickler could start his little presentation he got a phone call. He stepped aside to answer it. Barbara dimmed the light of her magic, and Toby sat forward to look through some of the pictures.
“You found him? Where is he?” Strickler’s sudden shout brought everyone’s heads whipping around to face him. Strickler looked at them, his eyes wide. He hung up the phone. “Bular has been sighted! Heading this way.”
A crash from outside the front of the house brought them all to their feet. Jim had his amulet in his hand, he quickly ran to the front window and looked out, Toby over his shoulder. As they watched Toby’s truck was tipped over on its side.
“Awe, not my truck!”
Jim pushed past him, throwing open the front door. From the other side of the tipped truck came a familiar figure. Bular still wore his black leather jacket, though he had forsaken his helmet.
“You’ve gotten strong, but I’m stronger too!” Jim said, holding out his amulet.
“I’ll carve your spine out! Your mother and her wife too!” Bular roared.
“I’ll kill you before I let you hurt her again!” Jim held up the amulet, pale blue fires racing down his arms. “Daylight is mine to comma-”
Before he could finish the incantation Bular charged with a roar. Jim didn’t have time to avoid the attack. He took the hit just as his armor finished appearing around his body and was knocked flying backwards. He crashed through the front wall, shattering windows and throwing furniture flying as he slid to a halt in the living room.
Everything hurt. Jim groaned and felt blood trickle from his mouth. Even with the protection of his armor he could feel multiple broken ribs, and his arm sat at a wrong angle. Each breath wheezed out, and blood foamed at the corners of his mouth when it did.
“Jim!” Barbara fell to her knees at his side. Blue light flared from her hands and shone from her eyes. “Oh my god Jim!”
Even as he struggled to maintain consciousness, the question whirled around his head. How could Bular be that strong? No human was that strong. Unless… Unless he had taken some of Claire’s magic.
He could feel his mom’s magic flowing through his body, knitting the wounds back together, fixing his ribs and his arm, pulling the blood out of his lungs. But it wasn’t fast enough. He could hear the crunching of glass as Bular walked into the hole in the wall he had created. He knew he wouldn’t be healed fast enough to protect his mom.
Through blurry eyes he saw the massive tank of a man step up to her. Barbara stood, light shining at her fists as a shadow extended out from Bular’s body. He reached out a hand toward her throat.
“Get away from my wife!” Zelda screamed. Then there was a crack and a flash. Bular stumbled to the side. Barbara immediately turned back to Jim and he felt even more of her magic flow into him. He could finally see clearly enough and the ringing in his head faded.
Zelda Lake-Nomura walked down the stairs with a combat shotgun in her hands. She fired again driving Bular back and away from the woman and step-son she loved. She moved forward pushing Bular out of the house with another blast from the shotgun.
“Arm yourself old man!” Zelda said, than tossed an assault rifle to Strickler. He caught the rifle out of the air and began firing at Bular as well. Zelda glanced to Barbara. “I told you I would protect you if he ever came back to the house. Now get Little Gynt back in the fight. I think we are going to need him.”
Jim stood up shakily as Zelda and Walter forced Bular back and back again. Barbara helped him to rise, magic still pouring from her hands. He took a deep breath and didn’t feel any more pain from that. He flexed his armored hands, and allowed Daylight to appear in his hand.
“Where’s Toby?” Jim asked.
“Right here dude.” Toby pushed aside some of the rubble to get to his friend’s side. “Not to put more pressure on you Jimbo, but Darci is definitely going to kill us both if this bastard kills us.” Toby glanced out the hole as Bular roared. “And bullets don’t seem to be doing much.”
“Well let’s see what magic can do!” Jim stood up and shook out his shoulders, then marched through the hole.
He appeared just in time to see Nomura roll to the side as Bular charged past her. He slammed his hand into the ground, tearing up chunks of the street to stop his charge. He roared again as he turned to face her, while Jim walked up beside her, Daylight in his hand.
Now that Jim could see him clearly he could see there was something very wrong about the other man. His eyes glowed red, and black energy swirled around his body. Dark patches, like scales appeared on the visible skin. He was massive before, now he was enormous. He towered over Jim and looked like he could toss cars aside. A smirk filled the man’s face as he watched Jim step forward, blue fire roaring down his arms and across his torso.
“I see you’ve come into your own magic!” Bular laughed and pulled something from his pocket. “But your puny armor is nothing before my strength!”
Jim recognized the black stone Bular pulled from his pocket. Corrupted Heartstone!
“Everyone get back!” He shouted.
Bular cracked the stone in his hand like it was a walnut. A dark cloud blasted out of the cracked crystal. Jim materialized the shield on his arm to cover his face as the shockwave nearly took him off his feet. When he looked again his mouth opened in horror. Bular was changing in front of his eyes. Becoming something else, something monstrous.
Massive horns burst from Bular’s head. They curled forward and back framing his face. His body grew even larger, bursting through his clothes. Black stone, just like the Corrupted Heartstone covered and replaced his skin. The red of his eyes blazed, almost burning into Jim from where he was standing.
Jim allowed his helmet to form around his head, the faceplate dropping into place. If Bular killed him here, he would kill his moms next, then Toby and Strickler. Claire would never be free. There was no turning back now. He gripped Daylight tighter and charged.
Bular raised his arms to protect himself from the first few slashes. When he swung back Jim cartwheeled back out of reach. In the small breath of space Bular put out his hands and two wicked looking swords materialized in them.
Jim took a deep breath and braced himself to charge in again when Bular howled in pain. The monster spun reaching towards his back. As he turned Jim saw a pickaxe sticking out of his back.
Toby didn't wait for Bular to turn all the way around, instead he swung with a sledge hammer at the side of his knee. Bular dropped to one knee with a roar of pain and rage.
Jim ran forward to slash at Bular's side while Toby pulled the pickaxe from his back and swung it again, embedding it this time into Bular's arm.
The wooden handle of the tool shattered as Bular wrenched his arms back then slammed them into the ground. A black shock wave of energy shot out of him knocking both Jim and Toby into the air.
Jim arched up, flipping in the air to land on his feet a few yards away, Daylight still in his hand. Toby would have flown forty feet had his Nana's car not been parked twenty feet away.
"Tobes!" Jim screamed. Toby's body was crumpled against the car. Jim pulled back his arm, allowing Daylight to vanish, the flames at his hand glowed white hot. Bular charged him and just before he was hit he unleashed his magic.
The beam of blazing light slammed into Bular. The beast he had become was tossed backward by the blast. He was sent flying clear out of the cul-de-sac and into the green belt. Jim didn’t wait for Bular to land, instead he was rushing to Toby’s side blue flames pouring down his arms. Before he reached Toby a wave of navy light flashed over him.
“Jim don’t touch him!” Barbara ran in front of him, her eyes blazing with her light. “I’ll heal Toby, you protect us from that!”
Jim turned back to the greenbelt and could hear the distant sound of snapping branches as Bular pushed his way back toward them. He materialized his shield on one arm and Daylight in his other hand. Strickler and Nomura moved to the car, bracing themselves on the other side of it, their guns aimed over it. Barbara carefully cast her healing light over Toby’s body, while Jim braced himself.
With a crash Bular knocked down the last tree in his way and charged. Jim knew he couldn’t dodge or get out of the way. If he did Bular would kill Toby, and his mom, before she could finish healing his best friend. He set his foot back and braced himself for the impact as Bular sprinted toward them, his head low and his swords held wide. Just before Bular hit him, time seemed to stand still.
Jim could feel his fires burning in waves down his arms. His mom’s light was shining from her eyes. At the moment of impact he saw another wave of magic roll over him, emanating from behind him. Orange flames rolled past and around him.
He could see through his own eyes. Bular charging forward, hate and rage burning from his eyes. He could see through his mom’s eyes. Her navy light shining down on Toby’s body, trying to heal the damage the impact had caused. He saw through Toby’s eyes. Looking up at Barbara and feeling a sudden surge of power flow through his body. And he saw through Claire’s eyes. He saw Morgan and Gunmar dragging a massive Corrupted Heartstone into the chamber that held her tank while she strained against her taut chains.
Time suddenly returned to its regular speed. A shockwave blasted around them all throwing Bular down the street again. The orange flames burned around them mixing joyfully with Jim’s blue flames. He felt his feet start to leave the ground and turned around with difficulty.
Barbara was floating in the air as well, the light had faded from her hands, but blazed even brighter from her eyes. Walter, Zelda and the car they were sheltering behind all were slowly floating, wreathed in orange flames. Toby was bathed in fire. It poured from his eyes and flared at his fists.
“Tobes! You’re ok!” Jim said as he started to turn upside down as he floated.
“Yeah I am. I feel great!” Toby said. “And look I have magic!”
He pulled his fists into the air and everything that was floating rose even higher.
“Well your power is amazing, Mr Domzalski, but perhaps you can return us to the ground and we can focus on our current problem?”
Strickler gestured toward Bular pulling himself up a few yards away.
“Gladly.” Toby said.
The flames retreated back into his body and they were all lowered gently to the ground. He stuck out his hand his sledgehammer flew to him. As he held it, it changed. The hammer blazed with fire, slowly changing shape until it looked closer to a warhammer. Then he stepped up beside Jim. Barbara stood next to them her own magic almost blindingly bright. Walter and Zelda flanked them reloading their guns.
“This ends now Bular!” Jim shouted. “Leave now and never return.”
“Never! I will make a river of your blood!” Bular roared, then charged.
Jim and his friends braced themselves together. Blue flames flowing down Jim’s arms. Light flaring from Barbara’s eyes. Orange flames roared around Toby’s body as he hovered in the air. This was his family. The only person missing was the woman he loved. But he would face down Bular, then Gunmar and Morgan as well. Jim would do whatever it took to free Claire. Whatever it took.
#jim lake jr#toby domzalski#claire nunez#Barbara Lake#bular the vicious#zelda nomura#walter strickler#morgana trollhunters#gunmar the black#Trollhunters#tales of arcadia#writing emerald#dreams of drowning#please reblog
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