#is so foreboding in what the sages are doing

[reginrokkr]

◟༺✧༻◞ Collected Miscellanies #6

Even as I speak, strange events that I cannot comprehend are unfolding in Sumeru City. Fortunately to Tighnari, though he lacks knowledge of the full situation, his intuition has saved him from becoming entangled in it. In Tighnari’s opinion, however profound and esoteric knowledge may be, it does not equal virtue. Elitism and deceit can lead to no good. Ironically, the Akademiya sages who manage knowledge neither comprehend the true meaning of knowledge nor understand the yearnings of human heart. Though Tighnari has rejected them several times still their pleas come, time after time, to his door. Let’s see where exactly the path of stubbornness and ignorance will lead them in the future.                                                                                                                  —Tighnari miscellany.

[...] Good things come to those who are willing to work toward their dreams. [...] Growth means different things to different people. Some simply wish to grow up in peace while others pursue loftier goals. As for Collei, she believes that overcoming the past is a necessary step on the long journey to the future she pursues. This is wise. For to overcome is to move forward, not to wallow endlessly in the past. …Pity that my former travel companion, for all their years of rumination, lacks Collei’s clarity on this. …Or perhaps some situations are simply too complex to be resolved by good intentions and honest effort alone…                                                                                                                 —Collei miscellany.

In my travels across Teyvat, I’ve heard people say that “curiosity was mankind’s original sin”. Perhaps everyone has the impulse to explore the deep secrets of the world, but only scholars can truly fulfill such ambitions. Cyno can relate to some degree. Placing the mysteries of the universe before scholars with a burning desire for knowledge would be like placing a dragon-themed deck from Genius Invokation TCG in front of him... Both are irresistible temptations. Perhaps the Akademiya established the Matra not principally to punish wayward scholars. But rather, to protect them... because the gravest crimes committed in the name of wisdom may be beyond the matra’s ability to punish.                                                                                                                 —Cyno miscellany.

People who have lost their guardian deity often display the greatest interest in the gods. But having never seen a god with their own eyes, the far-fetched products of their naïve imaginations are poor substitutes for reality.                                                                                                                 —Candace miscellany.

I must stress that I am a warrior and in no way versed in the disciples of song and dance. If anyone was expecting my philosophical musings on these topics, I’m sorry to disappoint. But while I am no connoisseur, even I find myself moved once in a while by the sight of an extraordinary performance. Even for the Nation of Wisdom, citing the pursuit of rationality as a justification for refusing to acknowledge the comfort that an audience can find in the arts is sheer arrogance. When groups clash or human ideals conflict with the rules of the world around them… disputes of this nature most often arise from the inability to tolerate the existence of that which is different from oneself.                                                                                                                —Nilou miscellany.

[clangenrising]

Month 19 - Leaffall

Sagetooth gasped sharply and lurched upright as a cold touch to her forehead pulled her up from a thick, inky blackness. She looked around at the bed of hastily gathered wildflowers and the cats clustered nearby and wondered aloud, “How long have I been out?” 

None of the cats even acknowledged her. Close by, Branchbark and Ospreymask loafed side by side, completely unaware she had spoken. Ospreymask leaned weakly on Branchbark, a patchwork of cobwebs plastered over her dark pelt and Branchbark’s eyes were raw and red. More cats sat nearby, all of them somber and quiet in the pre-dawn light. They looked miserable and something foreboding stirred inside Sagetooth at the sight. 

“About an hour, I think,” said a familiar voice. Sagetooth turned her head to see Poppyblaze standing nearby. At her feet lay Lakepaw, stiff and cold and decorated with morning glory and goldenrod flowers. 

“Oh,” Sagetooth said simply. 

“Yeah,” Poppyblaze grimaced. “I’m sorry old friend. I wasn’t expecting to come for you for a while.” 

Sagetooth’s gaze drifted down to the apprentice laying beside her own body, over which she now stood. “She died to protect me,” she said. “Poor kit.” 

“She gave quite the fight for her age,” hummed Poppyblaze. “Are you alright if I wake her now? We really should be going.” 

“Of course,” Sagetooth said, then inhaled sharply with memory. “Wait, I have to check on something!” She quickly hopped over the flowers woven around her feet and headed for the healers’ den at a brisk pace. 

“Don’t go far!” Poppyblaze hissed worriedly. “It’s not safe!” Sagetooth twitched an ear dismissively and continued into the den. There was nothing that would hurt her here and she had important things to do. 

As she stepped into the den, the blood that covered the floor made her pause. Even though every scent felt like it was miles away, she could pick up on the pungent odor of blood and urine -- and not just the expected amount of urine that came with the dead. Stepping further in, she found the herb stores in disaster, every herb tossed to the floor, shredded, and sprayed by the rogues. She curled her lip in disgust.

“Honorless brutes,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. Turning away from that mess, she marched purposefully around the corner to Oddstripe’s empty nest and sighed in relief when she saw the small lump underneath the back corner. The horsetail and juniper she had hidden there was safe. She had no doubt Oddstripe would find it eventually. There wouldn’t be another death like Nightfrosts. 

Set at ease, she turned back and padded out into the clearing where Poppyblaze was standing with Lakepaw’s spirit in the middle of the circle of mourners. Poor Lakepaw was softly weeping into the guide’s starry fur. 

Sagetooth padded over and said, “There, there, Lakepaw. It’s going to be alright.” 

Lakepaw looked up at the sound of her voice and sniffled. “I’m so sorry, Sagetooth,” she whined. “I promise I tried my best.” 

“I know,” Sagetooth smiled. “You were a brave warrior.” Lakepaw sniffled again and rubbed a paw over her face, managing to return her smile, just a bit. 

“Alright, now, let’s be quick,” said Poppyblaze. “This place isn’t safe.”

“How so?” Sagetooth scowled. “I’ve never heard of anything dangerous in StarClan.” 

“We’re not in StarClan,” Poppyblaze explained, leading they over to the Stoneperch. “We’re in a place called the Parallel. It’s the place where the spirit and the physical meet, and right now, Razor’s ghost is prowling around it somewhere.” 

“What?” Sagetooth couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How is that possible?! Only Clan cats move on to the afterlife.” 

“Oh, Sage,” Poppyblaze shook her head. “There’s so much you don’t know about the universe.” Sagetooth bristled indignantly. If there was knowledge out there, why hadn’t StarClan shared it with her? Why hadn’t Poppyblaze told her about it before? 

With a flick of her tail, Poppyblaze sent a shower of stars into the sky, leading up in a series of platforms, and said, “This way! Let’s get climbing.” 

“Wowzers,” breathed Lakepaw and Poppyblaze chuckled. 

“I like you, kid,” she purred. “Now, come on.” She gave Lakepaw’s rump a nudge with her nose and the apprentice hopped up, easily leaping from platform to platform into the sky. Sagetooth hesitated, shifting her weight. 

“You can’t make a slope of some kind?” she asked. 

Poppyblaze laughed and said, “Just give me one jump, yeah?” 

Sagetooth sighed, grumbling under her breath, and bunched her legs beneath her. It had been a long time since she’d properly jumped and she was not looking forward to it. Still, if Razor was loose somewhere around here, she’d be much better suited to jumping than fighting him. She leapt and was amazed to find herself easily and painlessly landing on the first platform. Her eyes sparkled in wonder and she glanced down at Poppyblaze who laughed again.

“See? You don’t have a body anymore so no more joint pain! Pretty cool, huh?” 

“It’s very nice, yes,” Sagetooth purred to herself, stretching out each leg experimentally. 

“Great, now let's go, go, go,” urged Poppyblaze, hopping up beside her. Sagetooth nodded and started ascending. She was buzzing giddily at the freedom in her movements, in the way she could coordinate her limbs and move them without the aching resistance she had grown used to for the last few years. 

Over their heads, Lakepaw cried out, “Wowzers! Look at the world from up here!” 

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” grinned Poppyblaze. The higher they climbed, the more Sagetooth had to agree. The world was a stunning mess of mauves rustling in the breeze. A hint of orange had just started to peek over the eastern horizon and the contrast took Sagetooth’s breath away. 

“Hey, what’s that?” Lakepaw asked. 

“Hm?” Poppyblaze perked her ears. She and Sagetooth followed the apprentice’s gaze to the south. Standing in the grass, not too far from camp, several smudges of glowing red broke up the peaceful purple landscape. 

“Oh, that’s not good,” Poppyblaze swallowed. 

“Razor?” Sagetooth asked. 

“Yeah, I think so. I’m going to check it out. I need you to stay here, okay?” She looked at both of them sternly and said, “Don’t go up without me and don’t try to go down under any circumstances, understood?” 

“Yeah,” Lakepaw’s fur was standing on end as she nodded.

“Absolutely not,” Sagetooth huffed. “I’m coming with you.” 

“Oh, Sage, my stubborn, stubborn friend,” Poppyblaze’s expression was some mixture of distress and admiration. “Now really isn’t the time for this.” 

“If it isn’t safe for me to go along then you shouldn’t be going, you reckless fool,” Sagetooth stood her ground.

Poppyblaze sighed. “I guess that’s a fair point. Alright, fine. Stay here, Lakepaw, we’ll be back soon.” 

“Okay,” Lakepaw’s voice was shaky. “Please be safe.” 

“We will be,” Sagetooth assured her, then looked at Poppyblaze and gestured for her to lead the way. Poppyblaze took a careful step forward into the open air and when her paws moved away, there were starry platforms in their wake. Sagetooth fell into step behind her and they set out over the fields towards the red shapes. 

As they drew closer, Sagetooth started to make out the silhouettes of cats. A tall grey tabby stood in the center of the group, flanked by a cream tabby she-cat, a black-furred tom with white paws, and a pair of blue and white cats with notches in their ears. All five of them had the same shimmery pelts as StarClan but the stars were red tinged or dull and grey. 

“What are so many cats doing in the Parallel?” Poppyblaze whispered to herself, halting to observe them from a short distance behind and a tree’s length above. 

“That big one, is Razor, yes?” Sagetooth asked in the same hushed tone. She’d never seen the rogue’s body, too busy with healing the wounded, but she had heard the stories. She could see the gaping wound in his throat dripping ichor as he hunched over in the grass. He looked like stories of Dark Forest ghosts but that didn’t make any sense to her.

“Mhm,” nodded Poppyblaze. “He destroyed Darkmoon and EarthClan’s guide and tried to destroy me.” 

“What’s he doing?” asked Sagetooth. Both she and Poppyblaze squinted at Razor who was doing something with his paws over a space of fresh churned earth. He hooked his claws into something and pulled up dragging a new glowing red shape up from the dirt. In horror, Sagetooth watched the face of a cat burst from the ground, choking and gasping for air as Razor hoisted his spirit up by the scruff. The cat scrambled to his feet and stared around, eyes wide, chest heaving, and Razor smiled with a deep rumbling purr that Sagetooth could just barely hear. 

“Welcome to the land of the not quite living, Harry, ” he said, slapping the new cat on the back. 

“Oh, no,” Poppyblaze swallowed. “This is bad. This is very bad. Where’s Bakari?” 

“Who?” Sagetooth couldn’t help but ask. 

“What’s going on? Where are we?” the newly dead cat panted. “Who are they?” Sagetooth’s stomach dropped as he looked directly up at her and Poppyblaze. Razor cocked his head and turned in their direction. When he saw them, a terrible smile spread across his face, made all the more gruesome by the ichor seeping between his teeth. 

“Oh, look,” he purred and the whole group of cats turned to look at them, “It’s my little friend. I never did catch your name, sweetheart.” 

Poppyblaze bristled and twitched her tail against Sagetooth’s flank. “We’re leaving,” she whispered. “Now.” Sagetooth didn’t need any further prompting, quickly, she twisted on the starry platforms and started bounding back to where they had left Lakepaw waiting. Poppyblaze was close on her tail.

“Come now, don’t be like that!” Razor jeered after them and a couple of the other cats laughed. “Come on down so we can get friendly!” 

“This is very bad,” Poppyblaze hissed under her breath. “Worse than I thought.” 

“How so?” Sagetooth tilted her ears backward in curiosity. 

“How to explain…” Poppyblaze hummed thoughtfully. “So, when a creature dies, their soul is trapped inside their body. If left there, it rots and disappears, just like the rest of them, but if someone disconnects them from their body, they can live for effectively eternity, given the right conditions.” 

“Right, as long as they’re remembered, they resist fading away,” Sagetooth nodded. 

“Not exactly,” Poppyblaze said, “but that’s not really important right now.” Sagetooth twitched an ear in irritation, wishing Poppyblaze would stop saying confusing and ambiguous new things, but held her tongue so the guide could continue. “Separating a soul from a body is a tricky process, one that guides have been teaching each other for countless millennia. It looks like, somehow, Razor has figured out how to do it, or how to brute force it at least.” 

“Alright,” Sagetooth frowned, trying to put the pieces together. “So now, instead of wasting away, the kittypets’ spirits will be stuck on the Parallel with Razor where they can harass spirits waiting to go to StarClan?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Poppyblaze said to Sagetooth’s frustration. “Usually, Bakari comes and collects the non-Clan cats in this area, but for some reason, he hasn’t been doing that.” 

“Who is this Bakari you keep talking about?” Sagetooth grumbled. 

“The guide for feline souls,” Poppyblaze’s tail began to twitch, “exempting Clan cats who have their own guides.” 

“But that’s not-” Sagetooth grit her teeth. “That doesn’t make any sense! Only Clan cats persist after death. That’s how it’s always been!” 

“Sorry, Sage, but that’s just not true,” Poppyblaze shook her head. “Everything has its own guide -- cats, dogs, mice, birds, beetles, twolegs. Everything! There’s even a guide who collects the plants! He’s a big ol’ thing with a prehensile nose and the shaggiest fur you’ve ever seen. Name’s Frost. Lovely guy, excellent conversationalist.” 

“Poppyblaze!” Sagetooth snapped, lashing her tail. They were almost back to Lakepaw now and she turned around to glare at the old spirit. “Enough about the plants! I still don’t understand what’s going on!” 

“It’s a lot to understand,” said Poppyblaze sympathetically, “but I’ll try to summarize.” She shifted her posture, collecting her thoughts, and said, “Alright, so Bakari usually collects the spirits of cats from outside the Clan. Every so often, a creature with a particularly strong will can separate themself on their own -- that’s how the first guides were created and it's what I assumed Razor had done. When I ran into him the first time, he said that he’d already destroyed two other cats and since EarthClan’s guide had never returned from gathering Darkmoon, I assumed they were the cats he’d destroyed.

“But this is so much worse. I think he destroyed Bakari when he tried to take Razor to the next life. He’s obsessed with getting back to his body like Goldenstar did and said he was going to keep killing cats until someone showed him how.”

“Oh,” Sagetooth swallowed. “That’s definitely not good.” 

“And that’s not all,” continued Poppyblaze. “If he’s only killed two cats and they were Bakari and Chestnutsprout, then Darkmoon is missing. He could be here on the parallel or he might be lost in the Clouds! Who knows!” 

“Then we need to get back to StarClan,” Sagetooth said. “They have to know.” 

“Agreed,” Poppyblaze chewed her lip. “Come on, let’s grab Lakepaw and get moving.” They padded quickly over the remaining distance to where Lakepaw was waiting dutifully for them. 

“Is everything okay?” she called as they approached. 

“Everything’s fine, dear,” said Sagetooth.

“Not really,” smiled Poppyblaze, “but we’re all safe for now. Let’s keep climbing, okay?” 

“Okay,” nodded Lakepaw and they all started up the platforms again. 

Sagetooth glared at Poppyblaze. “You didn’t have to worry the kit like that.” 

“She deserves to hear the truth,” Poppyblaze shrugged. “Or would you prefer I hide things from her like StarClan hid things from you?” Sagetooth’s anger fizzled immediately. 

“I suppose I’d rather not lie to her,” she sighed. After a moment she asked, “Why did StarClan keep the nature of things a secret? What harm is there in knowing other creatures have spirits that linger just like we do?” She trusted that there was some explanation, that StarClan had made the choice with good reason, but she couldn’t think of what it could be.

“A lot of them don’t know,” Poppyblaze admitted, “not any more at least. And the cats who do, well, you’d have to ask them, but I suspect they thought it would keep the Clans in line.” 

“In line?” Sagetooth sputtered. “What are you talking about?” 

“Well,” Poppyblaze hummed, “if you think that leaving the Clan means you lose your chance at the afterlife, you’re a lot more inclined to stay in the Clan, aren’t you?”

Sagetooth scowled. “I suppose.” This was very troubling. Wasn’t that for the best though? Leaving the Clan was tantamount to death. The poor young cats who were seduced by the lives of kittypets or rogue lovers were abandoning their homes, their traditions, their families. But still, even if their spirits existed after death, they didn’t get to hunt in StarClan’s forests so why lie? Wasn’t the outcome the same either way? The whole situation didn’t sit right with her at all. 

“Alright,” Poppyblaze said, as they neared the lower reaches of cloud cover. “We’re about to head into the Clouds, alright? It’s pretty maze-like in there and easy to get lost so make sure you stay where you can see me and let me know if you need to stop or slow down, got it?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Lakepaw said, eyes wide with awe. 

“Fine,” Sagetooth huffed, still deep in thought. This wasn’t what she had imagined her voyage to StarClan would be like. Still, she resolved to make the most of it and so set her shoulders and raised her head proudly. There would be time to get to the bottom of things and she was going to, that much was certain.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi! Have you seen the new Mickey Mouse Rebrushed trailer??? Twitter is goin crazy over it and how it’s related to twst 😭 just wanted to hear your thoughts on it

I did spot quite a few parallels with TWST from the Rebrushed trailer! I'm not familiar with Epic Mickey at all, so I'll just be commenting on what I noticed right away. You'll have to excuse my limited knowledge.

Firstly!! This design of Mickey is the exact same as the one we see in TWST. Most noticeable is his white face, which is a fleshy peach color in most modern iterations.

Mickey is reading Alice in Wonderland’s sequel, Through the Looking Glass. Of course, Twisted Wonderland has Wonderland in its title, and even opens with an Alice in Wonderland inspired dorm. Yuu and Mickey also connect via their dreams and through the mirror shared in their rooms.

The theme of dreams is very present and upfront here; Mickey wakes up from sleeping and then creeps to his mirror, which appears to be a portal into another world. Hmm... dreams, mirrors, and traveling to other worlds, now what does that remind you of? You'll also notice that Mickey's room is the exact same as Yuu's room in Ramshackle, right down to the "inverted" room that appears when Mickey passes through the mirror. Everything up until this point is very similar to what is depicted in the 1936 short, Thru the Mirror.

Next, Mickey spies on a wizard carefully using a magic paintbrush over what seems to be a diorama of a bunch of buildings on a plot of land. When the wizard leaves, Mickey fiddles with the paintbrush, causes a mess, and calls forth some kind of black ink monster with green light coming from within it. This seems to be a very close parallel to Overblots, particularly since the most recent OB has a signature neon green color. If we really are to connect Epic Mickey to TWST, this scene also seems to allude that Yuu, Mickey, and/or the "wizard" have parts to play in bringing these Overblots to life. And who do we know that is a powerful wizard that is aware of the corrupting power of blot and runs a large chunk of land... say, a campus? Crowley. This goes hand-in-hand with the theory that Crowley is intentionally allowing these OBs to happen or is even puppeteering his students into OBing.

I find this visual in particular to be very ominous; again, we have the colors that match a certain OB dragon fae but also the map itself reminds me of Twisted Wonderland's and the eerie visual of Malleus's thorns digging into Sage's Island and aiming to go way beyond it.

Anyway, the ink monster is temporarily contained while Mickey returns to his own world. We then get a montage of various Mickey media passing by, as well as a lot of imagery that would imply the passage of time (clocks, the date on the calendar changing, etc.). So... what? Is that implying not only parallel worlds, but also a time skip? Or maybe a time... loop? Like time loop theory???

The ink monster somehow eventually escapes and makes it to Mickey's world, with the blot dripping from the ceiling waking Mickey up from his sleep. It drags Mickey away into a hole drenched in ink. Kind of foreboding when you realize Yuu has also had prophetic dreams... Not of OBs, but of the events leading up to them. And being dragged away into an inky... opening? Like an... abyss? Like book 7, Ruler of the ABYSS?

That's how the trailer concludes!! Gotta say, there's definitely a lot of shared elements between this and TWST. If I recall correctly, Epic Mickey was a game that existed on the Wii waaay before TWST. It even has largely the same cinematic trailer (just with older graphics), so to me it feels like TWST probably took inspiration from Epic Mickey rather than the other way around. There are definitely too many parallels for it to be a coincidence. If that's the case, then we can probably pull some hints for what awaits us in the rest of book 7 from these cinematics. (This is a video comparing the two side-by-side if you think that might be of use!)

[randomfandomblabdom]

Fallen Order & Survivor Musical Themes

Has anyone done this yet? Here is a comprehensive list of all of the character themes/motifs found in the Jedi: Fallen Order and Survivor video games for anyone interested. I tried to give several examples of each and also included some of my own thoughts. You can listen to many or as few links as you want. If I missed anything please feel free to add on or let me know.

FALLEN ORDER CAL KESTIS - I'm giving Cal two separate sections because I'm pretty positive he now has two separate themes and in attempts to make it less confusing, I've decided to very creatively refer to them as Fallen Order Cal and Survivor Cal. I'm a genius, I know. Fallen Order Cal is consistently heard all over both games. It's his primary theme. It feels young and heroic and wide-eyed... Remember feeling like nothing could touch you when you were young? That's the sort of feeling I get from Fallen Order Cal. It's not happy per se but it's hope and optimism sprinkled with naive youthfulness and an undertone of solemnity. He's been through some serious shit but he's a kid, he's young. The grief and trauma are there for sure but they haven't encompassed him completely. There's still some hope behind those eyes, there's a healing journey to go on, and there's a chance to take on this Empire. It's only until Survivor that the theme starts feeling a little more grounded just like the transition from childhood to adulthood. Fallen Order Cal in Survivor feels a bit less magical, that youthful spirit has diminished, that hope has dwindled.

CAL KESTIS

THE PATH OF THE THREE SAGES

PEACEKEEPERS

A FRONTIER WELCOME

ABOVE THE CLOUDS

A STEP TOO FAR

SURVIVOR CAL KESTIS - So, I originally thought this was a minor key variation of a section of Cal's theme but I've since realized that it technically is a completely separate theme. That being said, thanks to @foxykatie425 in this insanely detailed reply to my frustrations regarding this theme that put what I was hearing into musical terms way out of my element in terms of explaining, I've realized that I may have been somewhat correct. I don't know if the two themes are actually connected, that would be a question for the composers but at the very least, it's definitely a secondary darker theme for Cal as it only ever plays in reference to him and I'd wager a guess that it's the main theme of Survivor as a whole. Compared to Fallen Order Cal, Survivor Cal feels drained, heavy, tired, burdened, and above all else, dark and foreboding. There is a genuine weight to this theme that just feels sinister. There is a hint of Fallen Order Cal there but as that post says, it almost feels like it's on the verge of falling apart. He's not the same man he was five years ago and the fact that this theme is the first thing you hear music-wise in the game and accompanies your very first view of him is an incredible way of subconsciously telling that to your audience right off the bat.

DARK TIMES

ABOVE THE CLOUDS - note: this theme and Fallen Order Cal switch back and forth constantly in this track and I find that so interesting.

NOVA GARON

NIGHTSISTER MERRIN - Merrin's theme is interesting to me because it doesn't sound anything like the type of music you might use to accompany a witch or magic user. It's not necessarily fantastical or whimsical or anything of the sort. In fact, it sounds more like something you might use for a superhero. It's a little bit timid or unsure or even afraid in Fallen Order but god damn has it built in confidence and strength once Survivor rolls around. The only time you hear that sort of timidness to it again is during the first kiss on Jedha which has such interesting implications for her being a nervous wreck in that moment. I also adore how it sounds as an action cue which you hear several times throughout Survivor. It sounds like it comes straight from the best MCU movies and yes, I do mean that as a compliment.

TO DATHOMIR

PEACEKEEPERS

MERRIN

THE WILL OF THE FORCE

TRIDENT

FLIGHT

CAL & MERRIN'S LOVE THEME - Look, I genuinely did not think they would actually go through with making Cal and Merrin canon, I honestly thought they'd chicken-shit out and I was certainly not expecting them to get any sort of love theme if they did but here we are... and we somehow got both. Cal and Merrin are canon and they got a love theme. Holy fucking shit. It just has all that warmth and sweetness of a friend-to-lovers romance too.

FIELDS OF DUSK - ORCHESTRAL VERSION

CAMPFIRE

A STEP TOO FAR

THE ABYSS

BD-1 - I said in my post regarding my thoughts on the Survivor score that these two video game scores are quite possibly the closest we've ever gotten to a John Williams sound from a composer(s) who is in fact, not John Williams. Not that every piece of Star Wars music has to sound like the big man himself, part of the reason The Mandalorian theme was so positively received was that it was such a different sound for Star Wars but I stand by what I said: this is the closest a composer has gotten to a John Williams sound and they have clearly done their research. Some people might not know this but R2 and 3PO have a very small motif heard throughout the films. It's not played very often and is sometimes not very noticeable but it's there and BD-1's motif is not only similar but definitely sounds like it exists within the same universe. I also love that droids are so often musically presented as very childlike, innocent, and mischievous. BD in particular has a very playful energy.

BD-1 AND THE BOGLINGS

MERRIN

THE WILL OF THE FORCE

TRILLA SUNDURI/SECOND SISTER - Trilla's theme legitimately activates my fight or flight response and when I say that, I mean mostly my flight response cause you won't find me messing with this shit. It's very much in lieu of the famous Psycho violins which were written to heighten your senses by emulating screams. I wish we got more of it cause it's intimidating as fuck and a piece of dark side art.

FIGHT AND FLIGHT

TRILLA

THE WILL OF THE FORCE

CERE JUNDA - Don't hate me but I haven't quite fallen in love with Cere's theme yet. That's not to say it's bad by any means, it's absolutely beautiful. It has such a deep melancholy vibe to it, like an inescapable sadness. It almost has a feeling of failure to me weirdly enough.

THE PATH OF THE THREE SAGES

DESERT RUINS

SIEGE

THE VISITOR

ENO CORDOVA - I've mentioned this before but again, for people who might not know: the music that is widely considered to be the main theme of Fallen Order - so much so it was primarily used during the recap at the beginning of Survivor - is Cordova's theme. It's such an interesting artistic choice because I think many people would've made it either Cal's theme or given the entire game its own theme in general. I listen to this one a lot honestly. It's so calming and safe feeling.

THE PATH OF THE THREE SAGES

FAILURE IS NOT THE END

ENO CORDOVA'S THEME

THE NARKIS ANCHORITES

BODE AKUNA - Yes, Bode does have a theme and you know what? It slaps. I really like it. It's very adventurous and feels quite friendly which is ironic as hell. It does get some heart-wrenching renditions nearer to the end of the game. It's the music that swells when he force-pushes Cal and everyone collectively shits themselves. Oh, it also has some dark renditions as well.

ABOVE THE CLOUDS

A STEP TOO FAR

BROTHERS

THROUGH DARKNESS

RAYVIS - As far as I can tell, Rayvis does not have a set theme but he is usually accompanied by high-playing strings and his boss fight music is the best example of that. I actually don't think a lot of Rayvis moments ended up on the score soundtrack which... how dare they.

WARRIORS CODE

DAGAN GERA - I thought Dagan didn't have a theme for the longest time but it turns out he actually does have a tiny motif that I do wish had been more thoroughly realized in the score because it's so menacing and I absolutely love it. It's most prominently heard during his last confrontation with Cal. He is also usually accompanied by low-playing horns. Not always but usually.

RELEASE ME

TO THE RESCUE

GRAND OCULUS

KATA AKUNA - I'm going to rant about this one for a second, okay? I have spent the last few weeks wondering what the hell the melody that plays throughout the track Through Darkness is. I was sitting here plucking out melodies on a piano app (cause I don't own a keyboard) and was like, "Okay, it's not Cal's theme, it's not Bode's theme, it's not Merrin's theme... what the hell is that series of notes??" Yes, I'm aware that not every note has to mean something but these just felt like they did. It's played at such an emotional point in the game and for two scores that already work heavily around themes and motifs and musical ideas, it didn't make sense to me that this little series of notes would mean nothing, especially at such a poignant moment. Funnily enough, it only just occurred to me while making this post that it's fucking Kata's theme. At least I think it is. Well, motif. It's not a fully developed theme but it definitely has the makings of one. That's not even me making a wild guess either, these notes appear in other places in the story that feature Kata.

NOVA GARON

THE ABYSS

THROUGH DARKNESS

GHOST STAR - I'm adding this for fun because I think it's gorgeous and I love it but it leads me to ask: why has there been no official release of Ghost Star? With or without vocals? This is a genuine question. It does not appear on the Cantina album nor is there even a snippet of its melody on the score album. It makes me wonder if the song was maybe added later into production? Trust me, I love the orchestral cover that has been going around and people are obviously seeking it out cause the track has gained thousands of streams in the months since the game was released. It was at 10k the last time I looked on Spotify and it's currently at 24k as of writing this. I'm just genuinely surprised EA/Respawn or hell, even Lucasfilm hasn't capitalized off that.

GHOST STAR

GHOST STAR W/ VOCALS

Thank you most sincerely if you made it all the way here :)

I liked this. I should do this for more scores lol.

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

Floyd swimming next to them: Sharky, you gotta stop swimming like a human.

Sage struggling: Wow. That helps SO much.

-🦑

Jade: Floyd, did you tell Professor Crewel that you were doing this?

Floyd: I had to tell him?

Jade, can already feel the foreboding air: Then I'm just going to let what happens next be a surprise.

[aotearoa20]

Foresight Third.

//1//2//3//4//5//6//7//

There was a stranger in the nursery.

Fëanáro stood in the doorway hands clenched at his sides. He couldn’t see much of him, save that he was tall and dressed in a worn dark cloak that hung down to the floor. He smelt like blood. Every part of his being screamed danger, an inconvenient affliction that left little room to bring to mind what else to do. Little Nelya cried out and his heart went to leap from his chest. He surged forward ready to raise hell.

“Don’t.”

The stranger’s voice came out like a growl as he turned. Fëanáro had never been not one to be told what to do but his voice caught in his throat. There was a stranger in the nursery and he had his son in his arms. The baby looked tiny against his chest. He babbled softly grabbing at the intruder’s thin graying hair.

“He’s so small,” he said,not softly, “Such a beautiful baby.”

“I know. He’s mine.” Fëanáro glared, he dared not do anything else.

“You should appreciate it while it lasts,” when he smiled and the scar on his lip twisted strangely, “He’ll not be either for long.”

Fëanáro could see him properly now. He thought he might be an elf, “Who sent you? What do they want?”

He could think of any number of people who’d had reason to come after his own. He could think of none who would sink such treachery. His mind brushed quickly upon the thought of Nolofinwë before dismissing it out of hand. He was too dull for blackmail and far too enamoured with Maitimo to threaten him.

The stranger merely hummed in response, rocking the child gently. He steps towards the window. The light of the trees brushed the shadows off his cheeks and he grimaced. It was as though the air itself was burning. Fëanáro is so aware of the distance between his boy and the window. He inched forward again.

“Please,” he winced, not intending to sound so desperate, “Give him to me.”

The stranger was still staring out at the glowing streets of Tirion. Fëanáro took another step and he sighed. There is a look on his face, tired, like those of the Journey.

“Who are you, what - what do you want?”

The figure turned, leaning against the sill, and regarded him a moment. He opened his mouth as if to reply but Maitimo started babbling up at him, catching them both off guard. He chuckled, electing to ignore the Prince and focus entirely on the nonsense sounds the child was happily spewing.

“Indeed, is that so little one,” He smiled and nods sagely, as the child continued to babble, “Uh huh, of course. Well aren’t you your father’s child. So many words, so little time. You must be careful, you know, people will listen to them.”

He looked up then at Fëanáro. Grave eyes staring right past his fëa and for a moment Fëanáro cannot think to breathe. He is pinned down like a butterfly under glass. Silver eyes like his father’s in shape as well. There is recognition there and… pain, such pain.

“Who are you?” He asked again, terrified of the answer.

When the stranger laughed, it sounded like a foxes scream. With a clumsy movement, for he holds the child in one arm only, he offers him to him and Fëanaro snatches him into his arms. Tears blur his vision as he buries his son’s face against his chest. The baby squeaks that the sudden movement though settles quite happily a moment later.

“I wouldn’t hurt him.” There is a poorly veiled hurt in his voice. Suddenly the great presence that shrouded the elf seemed far less foreboding and mighty.

“I know,” he reaches his free hand out. The elf froze as his fingers brush the edges of his cheek. He saw it now, clearer and clearer. Echoes of Nerdanel, echoes of himself in his face. He reaches up to pull Fëanáro’s hand away, but the prince grabs his wrist and lets out a frail breath. There were scars that ran like pale webbing all across his face, but the burns on the palm of his hand looked agonising and red. They must cause him great torment and yet he had been holding the child the whole time.

“Maitimo,” he said softly and the boy shuddered, “it is you, isn’t it?”

Maedhros stares down at his scarred hand, “Not really. Not anymore.”

Fëanáro felt the air rush out of his lungs. Not even at sight the wraith that was his child but the mirthless smile that adorned his face. There was no life in his eyes, no hope. Everything in him wanted rush forward and wrap the boy in his embrace but fear he could not put into words kept him back.

“What happened?”

Fëanáro watches a million thoughts flicker over his face. He doesn’t answer and familiar, irrational thoughts creeped into his mind as they always do. This was you, they say, as he stares at his son. He shakes his head, he waited for Nelya to deny it but he still says nothing. Why isn’t he saying anything?

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, his hand twitched at his side but he didn’t reach over, “I tried.”

The baby in his arms squealed. Fëanor looked down on his little face for but a moment when he turned back he was gone. Maitimo is mumbling again. Outside the sounds of the courtyard, filtered back into the bedroom. Light shone from the trees and few stars still visible so close to them. But a shadow fell over his heart that did not leave him even as he convinced himself the phantom to be nothing more than a dream.

[ihatesocialmedia45]

Chapter 7: For Better or Worse (In Sickness...)

06/06/2020:

Journal,

I saved for months to get front-row tickets to his V51 event; I'd planned to finally say something to him, though I don't know what. I just wanted... to see him. To feel the brush of his cape as he turned to go. He'd been staring into the cameras, though, never looked at the audience - but as much as that hurt, I understood. I hadn't wanted to look at the audience, either; the way they clamored for photos, begged for autographs when it was nearing midnight, and he must be busy tomorrow. He couldn't have known that somewhere in that crowd, was someone who at least tries to see. Tries to understand. Someone who also comes home to a lonely house - one that, for all my decorating, I can't seem to make less empty. 

I read up on his time with  Maeve, just to see, to imagine what it might be like to date him... it was hours of work; someone had wanted to keep it hidden. But I finally found an article, where Maeve had discussed it herself. The interviewer had asked her to summarize her relationship with Homelander in one word. She'd said "overwhelming".

I was angry. I was so, so, unbelievably angry - because I would do anything to be smothered, anything to be overwhelmed. To be loved so totally that there isn't room for anything else. I thought to myself - how could she appreciate that kind of love, when she had no idea what it took for someone to offer it? I love like I want to devour, to be devoured. And that day, I knew that he felt the same. 

Homelander... I want that kind of love. It's not too much for me. I want you to wrap me in it, subsume me. Hold me by the waist, kiss me, then drag me into your abyss. 

Hold me close, until I can't tell which heartbeat is mine, and which is yours.

Noir hung upside down from the rope in the center of his room, feeling the blood pool in his skull. He couldn't take off the mask to smoke, or drink - not that he'd cared for such vices - and so, in light of a particularly stressful meeting, he'd found his own alternative. Everyone in the Seven had a vice, he supposed. Everyone had their demons.

As he closed the woman's journal Stan had given him, he took a deep inhale, exhaling slowly. This... was worse than he'd thought. When he'd first been tasked to investigate the woman, he'd set off earnestly, hearing Sage and Maeve's plans of tailing Homelander and realizing that this developing romance had gotten out of hand. It was good that all of them were aware to the danger this union could bring. It almost felt like teamwork.

But as he'd spied, creeping into her apartment at night, he'd gotten a horrible feeling. Immediately, upon entering, he was struck with the force of the temperature. The entire place was sweltering, the very air shimmering with the heat. He'd actually had to pull off his mask for a moment, and rinse his face, before carrying on.  The way the apartment was decorated, firstly, filled him with a deep sense of foreboding, of unease. It was saccharine in its sweetness - an armoire full of porcelain figurines, flanked by two antique-looking lamps. A pastel floral wallpaper with vintage-looking teddy bears, pasted in the living room. A large glass table which held more figurines, old cards, a stack of magazines that all featured Homelander, another framed photo of him on the wall. A bearskin rug lay underneath the table, the eyes vacant and unseeing. Noir had sniffed, recoiling in disgust. It had been real. And the couch... that couch... Noir remembered looking at it, feeling an inescapable pull to rest in its embrace -  and, upon doing so, feeling like it was pulling him into its downy recesses, never to return. He gave a rare shudder.

What really interested him, though, was the small space behind the bookshelf in her bedroom. He'd been looking for more articles to take to Vought, possibly something with her DNA, when he'd moved the shelf, expecting a lip gloss - and finding a hollowed out space in the wall, where she'd set up a shrine.

Candles, articles - even a piece of old, hardened gum in a jar labelled "His", in deliberate print. And, of course, the pictures. So, so, many pictures. He looked through them, a vague sense of horror crawling under his skin, trying to piece together who she was, really - when he'd seen the most disturbing piece of her collection: a candid photo of Homelander, poised for flight, his cape billowing, and his head pointed high.

But he wasn't truly worried. Homelander and this girl... it would all be a disaster. But that was because she and Homelander were disasters, and there was no way for them to be anything else. Maybe, he considered dryly, it was fate that they met. Noir remembered watching John grow, from that spindly boy in the hospital gown, into the creature he was now. It had been like watching a supernovae; one bright flash, the hurling of all that molten rock and gas through space... and then the settling in of biting, unrelenting cold. If he never met her... Noir couldn't imagine things going any differently.

Sliding quickly into an upright position, he wobbled on his feet, watching the room around him warp and swirl, the hint of nausea in his gut making him hold a hand to his mouth. He waited for a moment, then uncapped the water bottle he'd placed on the desk nearby, pulling the water through the straw and his mask, taking a deep swig. Finally, he let out an inaudible sigh. 

Today would be a long day.

Homelander raced down the halls, his feet pointed to add a boost of speed as he flew, zipping past Vought personnel and ducking around groups of people. He had plans to meet her today, and he would not be late. She was going to cook him dinner, she'd said, the thought making him zoom faster. His mouth watered; he hadn't eaten since she'd given him the news, but he liked the way the hunger sharpened his focus, turned him into an icy dagger.

Breaking free of the doors of Vought, he skidded to a stop, landing lightly on his feet, considering the past few days with a smile that was almost serene. He'd been so ready to give up on them during their coffee date, he chastised himself, shaking his head. But she'd shown him, hadn't she? Shown that she was honest, that she understood. At least... he thought she might. He could never be too sure. Madelyn had seemed to understand, too. 

Pushing the thought of her from his mind, Homelander stepped into the florist's shop, a grin blooming on his face. He'd indulge her, for now, though he expected - no, deserved - some further proof soon, that she was exactly who she professed to be.

The woman stirred the white sauce she was making with a soft look in her eye, bringing the spoon to her lips to taste. Oldies music played smoothly in the background, and she hummed along, imagining the feel of Homelander behind her, turning to offer him the spoon. One day, it really might be like that - him, coming home to her, sweeping her into his arms, the tail of his cape enveloping her. She thought back to the kiss they'd shared, a grin lighting up her face. The way he'd held her... 

Too many times, other people had told her that her love was too much, that she was too much. They couldn't bear the weight of her embrace, and so they'd pushed her away each time she'd offered. She was on the verge of believing that there was no-one alive that matched her intensity, wanted that same intensity given back to them. He hadn't been interested in the façade she offered to everyone else, she considered. But was it really true? She wanted so badly to believe that it was, that she could present to him that dream of subsumption, and he'd accept - no, reciprocate.

"Oh, Homelander... I've just been hurt so many times," she sighed, taking the ground beef out of the oven and the sauce into the meat. She seasoned liberally, adding a dollop more of cream, before tasting again, a soft, satisfied sigh leaving her. The dinner was hearty, and cozy - solid; everything she'd wanted, everything she hoped to give him. She hoped he'd understand.

A knock on the door startled her, and she leapt for the door, a grin splitting her face. She checked her makeup in the mirror quickly, and looked around to make sure everything was just right; she'd switched out a few of the bulbs in her lamps for soft pink ones, and dropped a few leather and vanilla melts into her wax warmer, filling the air with a thick, rich scent. She'd adorned herself with a hint of perfume - the Yves Saint Laurent she saved for special occasions - on her neck, her breasts, her inner thighs. Tonight was the night, she'd decided when she'd told him about her plans. 

Taking a deep breath, she swept open the door, looking up into what should have been Homelander's face - but instead, she stared into a bouquet of roses so large they blocked out the outside. She gasped, pulling him in. "Oh, my goodness! Homelander!" She gently took the roses from him, inhaling deeply, satisfied to find a trace of his scent among the petals. She placed them into the vase on the table. "These are beautiful," she murmured, looking up at him, and taking him into a gentle kiss.

He pulled her in immediately, lifting her off her feet and pressing into her, the shift of their bodies guiding them to the couch. She relaxed onto its pillowy surface, pulling him on top of her and gasping when he pressed his lips to the shelf of her jaw. Lips parted, she sighed out contentedly as his hands roamed her body, squeezing, pulling her. Needing her. She explored his body in turn, drawing him closer with her arms, the brush of her thighs against his waist making him shudder.

Finally, they pulled apart, a dopey smile on each of their faces. "Hi," Homelander greeted her, the tip of his nose glowing a faint pink. She kissed the spot, her answering greeting just as shy. "Hi," she breathed, ending in a soft laugh.

Reluctantly, they moved off of the couch, though a spark of hunger still lingered in the air; Homelander raked his eyes over her, the feline curve of her spine, the shelf of her collarbone. She breezed over to the kitchen, ladling their dinner into bowls, a large mixing bowl for Homelander, a smaller one for herself. "I hope you're hungry!" she called. Homelander grinned.

You have no clue, he thought, rising to meet her.

Joining the woman in the kitchen was like stepping into another world, Homelander marveled. She'd carried that same warmth from the living room here, the frilly decorative towels and fluffy coasters making him feel... fuzzy. He'd gotten better about being angry at her for inspiring these feelings as of late; he still felt the unease, that this was somehow a cruel trick - like she might be some Vought honeypot cooked up by Stan to get him to comply. But he'd found out everything about her; she'd never set foot in Vought until he brought her. She worked at the office downtown. Despite the violent churning in his brain that told him not to trust her, not to grow weak... he couldn't help but feed the belief that she just might care. 

But had she made him weak? It certainly had felt like it, in the beginning. But now... that the thought that this wasn't like the other times clung to him fiercely, like a sticky wrapper on a piece of candy. She really might just... want him.

She looked up at him then, brandishing a spoon, offering him a taste - and his body immediately lit up with an intensity that set his nerves singing, vibrating. Dinner, just as she'd promised him.

He opened his mouth, letting her guide the spoon to him, closing his eyes as the flavors danced on his tongue. 

Savory. Hearty. Indulgent. Rich.

Homelander moaned, the sound shocking his eyes open - but when he looked down at the woman, she was staring into him with a voracity that made his stomach seize. She caught her lip in between her teeth, before subtly licking her lips, eyes half drawn in a hypnotic gaze. "That good, huh?" she asked him softly. He nodded, flexing his hands. 

But they'd have to eat; Homelander's stomach grumbled, and she laughed in response, patting his stomach gently. "Alright, alright! I'll get on it," she told it teasingly, setting their plates on the living room table with Homelander close behind. They sunk into the couch, letting a show run in the background as they ate.

"What did you do today?" she asked him. Homelander thought, brow furrowed as he finished his bite. "You know what? I think was actually on autopilot until I came here," he said. "I feel the same way," she said, scooping a bite into her mouth. "I woke up, got the ingredients for our dinner, then went to work... and I couldn't tell you a single thing I did." They laughed together.

"This is delicious, by the way," Homelander mumbled around a bite of pasta and ground beef. "Family recipe?" 

A tinge of pain flitted across her eyes - nearly too quick for him to notice. "No," she said, "I made this one myself, actually! I'd been experimenting with recipes I already liked, then I added truffle one day, and it finally clicked."

Tell me why that made you sad, Homelander urged. Tell me who hurt you.

"My little chef," he said instead, pressing a kiss to her forehead, purring when she melted against him.

It was too perfect, the both of them eating this cozy meal, in this dollhouse replica. Things were easy, Homelander thought, as long as they kept the mask on. But then, what was he doing here, if he was only going to pretend, and let her pretend? Pretend that they weren't lonely, pretend that there wasn't a darkness festering - at least, within him. Maybe she did share that darkness... but as long as she played the perfect girl, he'd never know. This couldn't go on. Homelander sat up straight, his eyes now sharper as he looked at her.

"I lied. Just now. I do remember what I did today." he faced her, daring (begging) her to meet his gaze. She did, and did not waver.

"I flew to China... and set fire to a rival company's manufacturing plant. I burned it to the ground. There were a total of 200 casualties."

A beat of silence passed as she looked into him, her gaze unflinching. Any moment now, he thought, would come the rejection, the horror. He'd torn them to pieces, just as he'd tear her apart for rejecting him after promising so much...

She cocked her head. "Why?" she asked simply, confusion coloring her tone. Homelander started. "What?" "Why... do it? Is Vought struggling? Were you under orders?"

Homelander struggled to process her question, so abruptly had it brought him up short. She was asking him why. Not running in fear, or begging for her life - but asking why he'd done it, as if she were asking if he'd like to go out for dinner. Homelander opened his mouth, then closed it.

"I..." Why had he done it? Some need to prove his godhood, his usefulness to Stan? Homelander grit his teeth. Even if it were true, he wouldn't tell her that. But the question bared answering; that was only fair. He'd confronted her with it - and she'd called his bluff.

"Because it needed to be done," he'd answered finally. There. That was true enough, he thought, a little irritated by the way she'd put him on the spot... but secretly relieved all the same. She resumed her dinner, a curious hint of amusement in her eyes.

You big silly, she thought, wanting to kiss him. You don't scare me.

"Then... I guess it was a good day for Vought," she said cheekily. Homelander narrowed his eyes.

"That doesn't bother you? I razed a building to the ground, with innocent people inside... and you're joking?" She set down her bowl and looked him fully in the face now, levity gone from her eyes. 

"Everyone has to die sometime," she murmured. Homelander gave a low growl.

"But - not like that! That... why are you okay with this?! Why are you okay with..." with me?

She leaned in, as though she'd heard the unfinished plea, and pressed a kiss, achingly slow, to the tip of his nose, looking back at him with that impossibly warm expression.

"Because... you'd said... it needed to be done. I believe you."

 A moment of disbelief, the Sword of Damocles hanging sharp in the air above them - and then he was kissing her, pulling her by the hips again, pulling her on top of him and pressing enough that he could feel the faint twinge of her heart against him. She felt it, too, moaned loud in his ear, kissing him breathless and coming up ragged for air. She kissed him like she wanted to make her home in between his ribs, merge into him completely; she wrapped her arms around him, gasping in the scent of him, feeling that perfect blanketing of her body when he flipped her onto her back, wrapped her in the cocoon of his cape. 

He pressed into her, insistent and hot, desire drawn all over his face, and she licked a slow stripe up his neck before taking him into another, slower kiss, melting into his touch, pressing herself into him at every point.

Homelander was murmuring into her skin, reverent snatches of words she felt rather than heard, each one binding something that had been broken inside her. He stitched her together on that couch - and suddenly, she knew what she had to do, to stitch him up in turn.

Lightly, she pushed him off of her, gathering her breath, her heart suddenly jittery in her chest. She hadn't wanted to do this - wanted to keep kissing, doing more - but he'd been honest with her tonight, done his part; now it was her turn.

"I want to show you something," she whispered, fear coloring her tone. Homelander's brow furrowed. 

This was it, then. She'd go into the other room, reveal that she'd been recording all along, that all the news stations would be reporting of his overseas massacre - and he'd have nothing left to lose. A vision of him, soaring through the sky and raining hell down on the city, flashed through his mind... and Homelander felt at peace. This was inevitable, he thought, letting her lead him away from the couch, and into her bedroom. It had been nice while it lasted.

He leaned down, to press one last kiss to her lips, as she opened the door. "Sorry for the mess," she apologized weakly. Homelander looked up, and gasped.

The room... was impossibly cozy. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting a rosy glow over the room, and pink and cream candles adorned the bookshelf and sewing desk. A dramatic coral canopy hung above her bed, and he flexed his fingers at the sight of the sheets, the duvet. Even from here, he could tell - it was real silk. A framed print hung above her desk, a zoomed in segment of the Creation of Adam, focused solely on their hands. She had painted over it; instead of empty space, the fingers now touched.

"This... is beautiful," Homelander murmured despite himself. The woman flushed. "Thank you! I've been decorating for years, it seems." Her face turned somber, a note of apprehension in her eyes.

"But... that's not what all I wanted to show you," she whispered. Homelander flicked his gaze over to her at the sound of unshed tears in her voice, and he suddenly felt the sense that this revelation would be something not even he had expected.

"Homelander..." she breathed. He took a step closer, eyes searching. "What is it?" he murmured, drawing her face to meet his with the tip of his finger. She took a deep inhale.

"All my life... people have called me... intense. Overwhelming. Suffocating. And for so long, I felt like there was nobody who would accept me, as I am. But that changed... when I met you. Oh, Homelander..." he kissed her, quickly, pulling away with an urgency in his eyes that froze her.

"What are you saying?" he whispered. Tears brimmed in her eyes. "If you're disgusted... if you... if you want to pull away from me..." she choked back a sob, "I'll understand."

The couple stared at each other, hearts racing. She looked up at him again, fear and resignation draining the color of her face. In the flickering candlelight, she looked like a tragic painting, all shiny eyes and swollen lips. Homelander fought the urge to kiss her tears away.

"I want you... to move the bookshelf." she said it like she wished she hadn't, wished she could snatch the words back... but it was too late, the air tinged with their weight.

Homelander shifted his gaze to the oak shelf, curled ornately at the top, a frilly doily draped across it. He peered inside at the miniature figurines inside, these more sensual than the idyllic ones in the living room. Two figures lay on their side, tangled in a heated embrace. Another set depicted a couple, engaged in the act of undressing each other. A book stood proudly on the top shelf, clearly thumbed through, a leather Kamasutra. Homelander raised a brow, but moved on, lifting the shelf, listening to the anxious racket of her heart as she watched him, eyes wide.

Leaning down, Homelander felt all the air escape his body in a sharp exhale as he took in the scene before him, kneeling to peer at eye level. Behind him, the woman tried to muffle the sound of her tears.

She'd built a shrine to him.

Homelander looked closely, plucking the small booklet of articles she'd handbound imperfectly, feeling the ripples of the leather cover. He thought back to their coffee date, and his heart seized. She'd wanted to tell him, all along. 

Flipping through, his heart racing, he saw every gesture, every kiss, every moment she'd professed her devotion... all proven to be true. The first article was dated to 2012. He'd been 24, young, lost. Alone, with Mirror John as his only confidant. He'd left the Bad Room behind, left Vogelbaum behind... but the emptiness still lingered. Vought had just proposed the idea of a league of heroes, and he'd been excited - only to have it all dashed upon meeting them. His lip curled at the memory.

But she'd been watching... saving these moments, revisiting them, this whole time. He looked up, saw the jar of what could only be gum that he'd chewed, and felt a sense of wholeness so complete that it nearly rocked him. He rose to his feet, resolute, and turned to face her.

Tears rolled down her face, the apples of her cheeks hot as she tried her best to keep from crying out. Homelander closed the distance between them, and held her in his arms, lifted them off the ground, and onto the bed, the duvet whispering against her back. He looked down at her, the coldness that had lurked before cracking open, revealing the breaking of dawn in his eyes.

 "You don't ever... have to hide from me," he whispered. "You will never... be too much for me." And leaning down again, he took her into a kiss, melding into her once more.

In the haze of their tearful union the couple kissed, the salt of her tears lingering on his tongue, the shuddering of his breaths rocking her body. Above them, Vought's hidden camera watched on, nestled securely in the corner of her ceiling, beneath the drywall.

[mamichigo]

⚠️(reincarnation theory)

--

There was a void in his memory. From the moment Cyno had been listening to the Matra's report, until he stormed into Alhaitham's office, there was nothing but a loud ringing in his ears. 

All he could think of were the Matra's words: "The Divine Knowledge capsule is with the Acting Grand Sage."

If his sense of foreboding had been overpowering before, it grew into full blown panic when he saw said capsule in Alhaitham's hand. Cyno forced his lungs to work, though he couldn't bring himself to do much more.

"Do you need anything, Cyno?" Alhaitham asked, calm and unbothered, as if he hadn't been fiddling with that thing.

"What are you doing with that?" Cyno managed to hiss out after a second.

"Examining it." Alhaitham tilted his head to the side. "If you're suspecting foul play, I asked the Matra to allow me to personally study it, and they allowed me to take it. It wasn't stolen."

'It wasn't stolen'. Cyno laughed despite himself.

"You have full authority to handle those now. I'm not so stupid I'd come here to accuse you of stealing."

He breathed in, slow and deliberate, until his heart crawled to a more normal pace. It provided him with some clarity as well, as Cyno finally remembered their positions. He kneeled on one knee and lowered his head.

"Acting Grand Sage, may ask what you intend to do with the Divine Knowledge capsule?"

"Did Azar make you kneel for him every time you spoke?" Alhaitham asked tepidly. "I don't need that sort of formality—"

"—raise your head," they finished together, Cyno's words a faint, whispered echo.

The familiarity of it hurt. For a moment, he was a priest kneeling before the taciturn King, the sound of a sandstorm outside filling the world with white noise.

Cyno pressed his lips together as he rose to his feet. "Please, answer my question."

"I'm a scholar, aren't I? What else would I be doing with  it  other than studying it?" Alhaitham pressed a finger to the capsule, tipping it over. "I want to know what sort of secrets it holds."

"For what purpose?"

"None in particular, just my own satisfaction. Though, depending on what sort of knowledge it holds, it could be used for developing new technology."

This man truly never changed, did he?

Ever ambitious, even after a lifetime of mistakes, even after sacrificing himself... Only to return here and be seduced by the very same thing that led to his demise in his previous life.

"You know this is dangerous," Cyno reasoned quietly.

"Of course, which is why I'm investigating if it's possible to extract its contents without damaging the user."

Cyno sighed. In his mind's eyes, he could see the man with a severe gaze and a desire for far too much. The man that only made his soul tremble with eons heartache.

Cyno hated him.

"I'm warning you," he growled, stalking forward, spear firmly in hand. "Alhaitham, give up on seeking knowledge not meant for you."

He laid a hand on the capsule, but Alhaitham did the same.

Their fingers entangled in a way such that neither of them could claim the capsule for themselves. Cyno narrowed his eyes and pointed his spear at Alhaitham.

"Are we understood?"

Alhaitham, his chin raised under the spear, looked at the blade, then at Cyno.

"You know this is grounds to accuse you of high treason," he commented darkly.

"Call the guards, then."

He didn't. Instead, Alhaitham narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing every little twitch of Cyno's expression. Once satisfied, he stepped back.

"I'm not sure why you're so upset over something irrelevant, so," Alhaitham gestured at him, "speak."

"'Irrelevant'...? Are you as insane as people claim you are?" Cyno gripped his spear tightly enough his fingers went numb.

"You've seen what that can do to foolish, greedy scholars like you. You were there in the desert, you saw the records of what it did to an entire civilization. I've seen what it did to—"

To you.

Cyno had watched a different but similar man end his life in a thankless sacrifice.

He swallowed thickly. "I won't allow you to go down that path for something as trivial as curiosity."

Alhaitham studied him again, a frown between his brows.

"Cyno," he started, the hesitance strange on him. "There's something you're not telling me."

Cyno didn't have every single memory of his predecessor, but he knew enough. He knew desolation, and he knew a well of grief that haunted him through two lifetimes. He looked into Alhaitham's eyes, shivering at the familiarity, and shook his head.

"Just— Promise me. Promise you won't tamper with this sort of knowledge."

He was ready for rejection. Predicted his words to go unheard, much like the priest's supplications were. Instead, Alhaitham let go of the capsule, pushed it into Cyno's hand and nodded.

"I promise."

Cyno held onto the capsule tightly, choking on an emotion he couldn't name. He doubted this conversation was over—surely, Alhaitham would want answers, eventually. But for now…

"Thank you," he muttered as he left the room, heart beating wildly in his throat.

Alhaitham was not King Deshret. Cyno would not let him become that man.

For now, his beloved was safe.

[frizz22]

Behind the Scenes ch.2

Read full fic on AO3

Mistakes were made and Josh was panicking.

They’d know.

Of course they would. Who else could possibly create those discs and leave them on the desks except them?

This hadn’t been thought through. Well, of course Jenn hadn’t, she was too caught up in the matchmaking. But Josh, he should’ve thought of this.

It was too late to grab the discs back though.

Fuck him.

Shoulders hunched as he walked in the next morning after the disc delivery, Josh chanced a glance at Melissa, who was already at her usual table.

The second grade teacher gave him a once over, her eyes flashing and expression foreboding as she ran her tongue over her teeth as she nodded, as though finally understanding something.

He gulped.

Barbara, when she arrived, didn’t even look at him. Normally she would at least acknowledge Jenn and him first thing, ask about them and their lives before allowing them to film without interruption.

Today it was a stony silent treatment. And she and Melissa barely even acknowledged one another beyond a clipped good morning and furtive glances.

“We fucked up.” He said to Jenn as soon as they were alone. “We have to apologize.”

Unruffled, Jenn huffed. “No we didn’t. And no we don’t.”

Hands spearing through his hair and leaving them there, Josh gaped at her. “Yes. We. Did. Have you seen how they’re acting?! I feel like I should check my breaks before I leave today from the looks Melissa was giving me and Barbara has the most impressive, shame inducing silent treatment I ever received. They’re not even talking to each other! They’re mortified and overcorrecting because of what we did. They don’t know the other got a disc too, they just think we’re messing with them.”

A small frown tugging her lips, Jenn furrowed her brow. “Okay, you may have a point. But it’s an easy fix… because I mayyyy have gotten their reactions on tape.” Jenn offered, only slightly abashed as she held up her camera. At his incredulous look, Jenn held up her other hand in surrender. “I couldn’t help it, I wanted, needed, to see. And I document everything, I couldn’t not. So now, all we have to do is show them the reaction video and that’ll clear—”

“Noooo!” Josh cut in, voice higher pitched than he liked. “You swore, swore we wouldn’t interfere any further. Jenn…” he finally pulled his hands from his hair, leaving it sticking in all directions. “Please. We just need to fix what we messed up—”

Sagely nodding, Jenn loaded new batteries into her camera. “By giving them the other videos.”

Eyes blowing wide, Josh paced the length of their room. “No!”

“We’re in this too deep already Josh, we can’t take back what we did, what they saw, the only way forward is through.” Jenn’s eyes narrowed when she looked up at him. “Don’t back out in me now!” Clearly mustering all of her height, Jenn pointed at him.

Josh’s head fell forward in defeat. “We’re never going to get food from Melissa again.” He lamented, thinking of the baked ziti she shared with them when they discreetly edited out how they got the new rugs.

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

INTERVIEWS ETC 2023

I sometimes talk to people! Going back over the last year, I had some nice conversations with some very cool people. I like doing interviews, but they definitely stress me out a little bit. I suppose it's good to get out of your comfort zone from time to time, though ... So yeah, here are a few of those interviews, in case you missed 'em the first time around.

HEAD VOICE (James Jackson Toth, Ben Chasny, Donovan Quinn)

Donovan Quinn: There’s one aspect of process which is like a user manual. You know, turning on a machine, how you control the bass or whatever. But then there’s a part of process which is more of our terrain, where it’s kind of a story. An artist or a group of artists is interacting with all these elements — each other, gear, inspiration. With each of our pieces in Head Voice, we’re getting little bits of that story.

ILYAS AHMED

With my record, I’ve seen people reference Loren Connors, which is great — I’m a huge fan of Loren Connors. But I’m always comparing it to something like Bill Fay, maybe in an emotional sense. Or like, Neil Young — how do I make “Cortez The Killer” … but not just copy it. One of my favorite Coltrane tunes is “Alabama.” Those eternal favorites you always come back to. How can I make something that feels like that without just doing that, right? I’m not interested in copying it, I’m interested in transmuting it, making it fit into my weird perspective of the world. 

WILL HERMES

As an artist, [Lou] was a “transformer,” and everybody has their own version of who he was. What they want him to be, what aspect of his character they wanted to take in. I tried to show them all. I don’t know if they all morph into a single, intelligible human being. But maybe that is part of what was endlessly fascinating about him. He was all of these things simultaneously and they didn’t all necessarily add up.

M. SAGE

I think it’s radical to have fun. And to be silly. It’s not meant as escapism or denial, but the world is dark and weird. And it keeps getting darker and weirder. It’s radical for an artist to afford an audience joy or pleasure. I mean, I love a lot of that solemn, serious, foreboding electro-acoustic music. There’s incredible stuff, obviously. But I wanted to make something that felt fun. And accessible! That’s radical, too, I think.

HORSE LORDS

Andrew Bernstein: We’re trying to make things that sound interesting to us, first and foremost. But we’re also hoping that the music and the way we operate spurs the listener to think differently. Every act is political, and our decisions might make someone reconsider how they make music or how they go about their lives.

BRENDA SAUTER

“The Obedient Atom” at White Eagle Hall was really special. That was one of the original Willies songs and it never got recorded. It was one of those songs that was always left behind for one reason or another. To finally play it out just felt incredible … and then the fire alarm went off and everyone had to evacuate [laughter]. There’s something about that song! Surreal. The atom wasn’t so obedient that night.

Further reading: Bill Million on the Feelies' live tribute to an Underground legend

GUIDING LIGHT: A TOM VERLAINE APPRECIATION

Alasdair MacLean: I also think of some of Stephan Mallarme’s phrases – “the musician of empty nothingness.” Verlaine seemed to be working in parallel: “Watching the corners turn corners;” “Lightning struck itself.” The language turns in on itself, like the guitar solos. He obviously knew those poets back to front. I imagine lots of other people have tried to do this since, but all of them have made fools of themselves. Verlaine never did.

Further reading: Tom Verlaine - 20 Great Tracks

SPIRAL STAIRS

When we first started talking about rehearsing, I was like, “We’re probably going to be playing the same 20 songs. Let’s just pick another 15 songs that we know we can bust out.” Eventually, we finally came to that point…but then in rehearsals we ended up playing probably like 60 songs [laughs]. I’m like, “Oh my god!” That was just for the two Primavera shows, so it was like “Come on!” It took a while to re-learn all of that stuff. 

[phoebelovingcare]

I like you calling him AbsMag (I assume cus Absolute Radiance) cus I often call the Pantheon of Hallownest "the arena" cus its the same concept and equally as painful lol

i wholeheartedly believe that That Thing should NOT be just called "Magolor Soul" because that is DECEPTIVE AS HELL, which is somewhat fitting, because Magolor, but that is NOT magolor anymore, that is a demon, a serpent designed to lure you in with the promise of a fight you can do hitless and then utterly fucks you up with laser bullshit and Pain. that thing needs the Hollow Knight Naming Convention of "this is functionally the same boss, but it's Much Harder, so we gave it a more foreboding name." THK to PV, Radi to AbsRad, TMG to NKG, Failed Champion, Lost Kin, Soul Tyrant, what have you.

That boss ain't right! That ain't my good friend Magolor Soul, whom I always start the fight by saying "the word hamburger is banned from this session," to which my brother nods sagely. That is NOT the fight that I always joke about having memorized due to sheer hyperfixation. That is a twist. Of a knife in my back.

AbsMag can eat shit I did it solo like a fucking gamer

[thegeminisage]

back at it with zelda. i GOT THE FREAKY KOROK SEED!!! thank u always to cathy 4 bailing me out <3

i'm almost thru with this little pocket next to the mountain...it'll be sooo nice to have it checked off

i tried making a "better" bike i saw on a youtube tutorial, one perfectly aligned. mine lists a bit so i thought it would be good. but idk...firstly idk if i did it right but seciondly the steering is more sensitive but almost TOO sensitive. ive gotten very used to the other one!! so im keeping both in my favs for now.

YOOOO its dinraal...oh god i wanna chase her soo bad but i have my path marked so perfectly and idw give up my bike.......

is there NOTHING inside the eldin great skeleton? not even monsters?? that's so lame

...

hold on a second.

okay i checked and no gloom hands either. so wtf??

like a whole korok seed. great.

the new bike also like. struggles more carrying koroks. it's more sensitive to everything, including the weight imbalance. i do like the turning! but.

THERE'S ZELDA.......damn it all i'm too close to quit even for this..........

LMAOOOOO i found some of those zonai guys training in their underpants. inCREDible. i almost flew right past it but i saw the tent and doubled back

and then i was like well no one's here guess i'll keep going...and then i heard them and found them. this is so FUNNYYYY

right side of the map IS DONE! except for kakariko lol. look how beautiful:

kakariko, a little quest stuff, a few stray bosses, but overall clear. i'm happy. fuck having to go back to that labyrinth tho.

what now...? i guess i could at least report back to purah. i have to sleep soon but a little bit as a treat. i don't need to go to kakariko or anywhere underground yet

oh shit no more cheerful music!!

i was looking forward to seeing how it all changed but there's doom and gloom (not literal) in the air

everyone is staring at the castle and saying zelda is there. yikes. maybe i don't wanna be here after all LMAO

well, it's probably just a cutscene. despite a strong sense of foreboding i will look into the telescope

DAYTIME BLOOD MOON???? GIRL HELP

AAAAAA ITS THE FAKE.........

oh she looks sad :( it wouldve fooled me......

oh man the botw hyrule castle theme coming in...

wtf wtf the lookout landing music changed to minor key and there's strings in the back?! this rules. i can hear the hyrule castle music in this too..........

i wish link could just EXPLAIN that he knows zelda is a dragon. everyone all worried about her and looking for her but he and i both know exactly where she is, we should be researching dedraconification!! sigh this game sometimes

i don't get it...she wants me to just go to the castle...what about the fifth sage...

i mean if this is how you do it, fine, but if i need to be heading to kakariko instead...but i cant look it up without spoilers...AUGH

ok, this is a problem for tomorrow me. i could listen to this new lookout landing song forEVER tho. wow <3

[atwas-meme-ing]

A Non-Technical Analysis of the Kronos Island Theme

Disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing about music theory. I can't even play an instrument. But the overworld music in Frontiers was so incredible, I wanted to give my own thoughts and opinions on it. This is not meant to be a proper music theory analysis or what-not, it's just my own impressions. Don't take it too seriously, and I admit in advance that I'll probably get most of this wrong.

1st Movement

Begins with a very slow, sad, and lonely, droning synth. Sounds empty. Piano comes in, equally sad and lonely. Wind-like synths come in around 1:37, sounds like a cold breeze getting caught up in the cliffs. At 2:26, the wind changes to a sound almost like voices ("can you hear the spirits sing?"). Drone disappears at 3:14. By this point, we've probably explored just enough to find enemies, maybe a couple of kocos, so it doesn't feel as dead and foreboding. 3:59, a squealing like rail-grinding, then the drone returns as the music loops back to the beginning.

2nd Movement

The piano is faintly reminiscent of the title screen music/I'm Here (to me, anyway). Sad chords give way to descending arpeggios (first one at 1:10), seeming to hint at some unknown threat. By this point, we've gotten the first emerald and we see Asura off in the distance (that's one big bot, makes you wonder how many more are skulking around, and how are we gonna get past this one, anyway?). With these gargantuan bots being the only signs of intelligent life on the island, we get the feeling that something is very wrong. We also probably find Amy somewhere in here, and not only are we worried about her, we're worried about what the cyber energy might do to Sonic.

2:18, a bass is being plucked, accompanying brighter, happier chords- happier because a hero has arrived?

Then the... bridge of the song, I guess? beginning at 3:07 feels neutral, just notes rising and falling like the gently rolling hills of Kronos. TBH, it makes me think of the GHZ theme.

Beginning at 3:58 is a definite melody that feels even more like GHZ. Of every melody in the overworld, this is the one that feels the most like a traditional Sonic melody. Gives me a similar feeling, at any rate. Then we're back to the descending arpeggios as we continue exploring.

3rd Movement

Giganto has just thrown Sonic across the island. Sage probably thinks Sonic is dead (which, sorry to sound morbid but, he should be- ooh ooh ouchie mama!). So we can understand why the descending arpeggios dominate the opening of this movement. We now know some of the danger, but we have only a vague idea of how to confront it.

Then the brighter chords come back as Sonic picks himself up and gets back to the task at hand. No time to wonder about "what if I can't", he has to try, anyway.

4th Movement

Begins with a rising arpeggio, accompanied by hopeful, heroic strings. By this point, we've helped the mother koco and obtained a few of the Chaos Emeralds. Sonic may just have a chance. The synth comes in, pumping or pounding like a quickening heartbeat as the strings continue to grow in the heroic sound. Another synth comes in around 2:18, creating a sort of echoing hissing or whooshing sound, like the rush of wind, or a boost. The strings and piano disappear for a moment to give the pumping synth a solo. Percussion comes in, sounding very much like running footsteps. Piano and strings return, still lonely, but hopeful. The pumping increases, and another, percussive synth comes in around 3:20, adding to the running sound of the percussion instruments. All instruments continue to grow in intensity, the piano notes climbing higher and happier. Synths fade out as the music loops back to the beginning.

5th Movement

Strings and piano begin with descending chords, and the pumping starts in earlier. We're getting closer to capturing this island, and the adrenaline is flowing. The sad yet hopeful strings almost drown out the rising and falling piano notes. The pumping synth gets another solo, the piano returns in full forces, accompanied by strings, and the rest of the movement is much the same as the 4th.

6th Movement

Starts out with rising arpeggios and loud booms as we draw closer to the time when we will face the first Titan. By this point, we've already heard Amy's analysis of the damage done to the land, so we know something very bad happened here, and we don't know if the threat may still be around. The pumping synth is replaced by an echoing staccato synth at 1:30, which seems to hint at the digital nature of just about everything in this world. The drums start pounding hard at 2:09, and I imagine this being a point where Sonic clenches his fists and grits his teeth and strengthens his resolve to push on to save his friends. The synth and percussion fade away to the echoing piano arpeggio for a rather abrupt end- Sonic pulling up short as he is again assaulted by the memory of that thing throwing him across the island, feeling doubt of whether he can defeat it?

7th Movement

Begins with a boom, then a rising and falling arpeggio, then rising and falling bass chords, then the violins pick it up, before the music gives way to a theme mostly like the 6th Movement, if a little more intense.

All in all, we sense impending doom. We've only found 6 Emeralds. Shortly after the 6th, we see the flashback of the girl koco and her soldier. We see what the Ancients looked like and we know there's a mystery here connected with everything we already know about Sonic's world. And we see their doom. At this point, we wonder if Sage and the Titans were a part of it. At any rate, it's time to face the first Titan.

[rainbowgothdisaster]

important note: this could all be very assumptionous, but botw i fell in love with right away. it broke away from typical zelda games which was fun bcuz i only played the 3ds remake of ocarina of time and never finished it. totk feels like it tried to be more zelda game in the worst ways. so the disappointment is hitting hard and since my brother didnt finish botw i cant discuss it with him.

so glad i didnt buy totk

im borrowing my brothers. its............... fine. i guess. not

the music is worse, the story is too intrusive, switching some controls is irritating for someone who played botw at least 5 times in the last 2-3 years, i forget about these abilities more than i forgot about cyonis, idk why but travelling feels more irritating? why would i need my horse or walk when its just. idk. is it slower than before?, i feel like im losing health and stamina more but maybe im just too used to knowing how to manage it, i feel like i dont naturally make rupees and pick up materials as much as before like i have to go out of my way doing that, i dont find the zonai archetecture interesting in anyway its so bland, i feel like basic things that i used my eyes and brain for are being explained which. shut up., im not as sticky as i used to be im so demotivated from climbing

if it can import my horses why cant it know i know how to do stuff in the previous game? or why not have an option to turn off like parry and archery tutorials? if theres one way to make me put down a game its treat me like an idiot.

maybe im not far enough but i do not care for the new characters ive seen so far, theyre endearing in the basic way of "this is a child and has a cute design" but not very much in actual personality. its a cluttered cast, before i was here for zelda and made friends along the way and reconnected with old ones. this time i already have friends that would be fun to work with more closely but instead they pointed me to who im working with.

i dont feel as strong a connection with these sages as i did the champions. the champions i was heart broken bcuz imagine your friends all die you fail your mission and then you fucking die and wake up 100yrs later everyone youve ever known dead (and tbh anyone you cared about died just before you, except for The Person and you were fighting the odds with a tooth pick and white girl in a nightdress there is no way he actually thought hed get away), a faint memory in history, and you can barely remember them but are one of less than a handful of ppl that know them as a person instead of an ancient hero. 100 years is just 1-3 generations and yet its all so distant. i had reason to care for them from the get go. ive met the sage of wind and was just kinda. bored. these ppl are ancient and not mine and my connection is on a new person who i cant actually make memories with to make boss fights more dramatic.

maybe im just salty bcuz i thought teba and his friend was hot (i spent so much time in rito village guys, everyone liked sidon i was on teba (and the champions i thirsted for them so so much esp daruk and revali)) and they just pointed at tulin like "take this, it could help you on your adventure"

the puzzels are more intuitive and interesting, theres more characterization for previous characters and voice acting, everyone is so much hotter, uh zonai are sexy as hell???, zelda. babygirl. what are you trying to do to me with this makeup?, ive only come across two but i like taking the koroks to where they need to go :3 he go camping wit fwiend :3, i love the foreboding shadow child, fun boss fight, im not motion sick during the dungeons

[bunnimew]

Too Much, My Love

Fandom: Rise of the Guardians Pairing: Jack Frost/Pitch Black, Nicholas St. North/Krampus Tags: Humor, Fluff, The Talk, Embarrassment, Anxiety, Mild Angst, Krampus has better things to do than this, But North asked nicely so Rating: T Words: 2,545 Summary: North has some tips for Jack on how to date the enemy.

The thing is, Jack hadn't meant for anyone to know.

For @rotgbingo 2021: Dating The Boss On AO3 Here.

For @cynical-bonehead, who gave me the original idea to do this <3

“Jack.”

North’s warm, heavy hand settled on Jack’s shoulder and instantly filled the Guardian with dread. Normally his touch was a comfort, but combined with the tone of his voice and just that one word, his name… Jack pressed his lips together and fought the urge to run.

Whatever it was, North would be kind.

“Yes?”

“We must talk,” North said, sliding his hand down Jack’s back and steering him up the stairs toward the workshop. “It is time.”

This did not bode well. ...Actually, this bode perfectly neutral. Every time North took Jack to the workshop, it was for some serious topic of conversation delivered in North’s particular brand of intense, but it usually worked out okay for Jack. It would just be, you know, intense.

Jack took a breath and reminded himself that he hadn’t done anything to annoy North in at least a month and the man’s patience was near infinite so Jack had no reason to be concerned now.

Jack’s entire self pep-talk flew right out the window, along with his sense of how the world worked, when North opened the door to reveal who would be with them for today’s lecture.

He was tall. So tall. Distinctly reddish in hue, with a standing posture that filled Jack with foreboding just from the shape of it. North’s workshop was the absolute last place Jack expected to find Krampus.

How did he even get in here with horns that big?

North calmly closed the door behind them, and it never occured to Jack that Krampus might not have been invited. The only spirit, to Jack’s knowledge, to make it past the yetis was Pitch, and although Jack didn’t doubt Krampus could get in if he tried, the idea that he would choose to do it stealthily and wait patiently for them to discover him was not on brand.

Also, North didn’t immediately start yelling. That was a huge hint.

Krampus smiled and Jack took a step back. It was only half-voluntary.

“Hello Jackson.”

Wait. Jack’s brows came together and he took his step forward again. “That’s not my name”

Krampus’s whole face tilted, and Jack regretted his step all over again. “Are you sure?”

“...I was two seconds ago.”

“Jack!” North’s voice caught his attention and the tone was so relaxed and friendly that despite the horror in the corner, he felt his muscles loosen out of the knots they’d worked themselves into. “This is what we must talk about.”

Jack was so confused. “Is Krampus joining the Guardians?”

That was definitely a no, because both North and Krampus burst into laughter and Jack felt really stupid for the whole minute it took them to catch their breath.

“Then what?” he asked, irritation creeping up his shoulders at the fact he had to ask at all. Why was North leaving him to guess? More importantly, if North was bringing him here for a talk, why did it feel like Jack was being left out of a big joke?

“No no no,” North said with a shake of his head. His hand landed on Jack’s shoulder again, and this time it felt comforting and inclusive and instantly lowered Jack’s hackles down from high alert. “Is a good joke, Jack. Krampus is not Guardian. He is husband!”

Jack stared up at North, his brain refusing to comprehend. The room sort of darkened at the edges and Jack heard but didn’t really feel the crack in his voice when he asked, “What?”

North moved away from Jack and stood next to Krampus on the other side of the room. It helped—Jack suddenly felt like he could breathe again—but also hurt—what was North doing with a terrifying Anti-Santa spirit all the way over there?—and left Jack more uncertain than he’d been even when he outright rejected the words coming out of North’s mouth.

“We are husbands!” North said again, and at least Jack felt like he heard him this time. “This is how I know, and why I must be who talks to you.”

Jack… just did not understand. “About what?”

North looked at him with concerned eyes in a determinedly jovial face. Great, now they were both confused. “Pitch Black of course!”

Jack was always cold, so he was usually numb to it. Now, the unnatural chill of shock and fear dropped hard over his shoulders and settled heavily in his stomach. "What?"

North reached for Jack with one large hand, but they were standing too far away for him to reach. His smile dimmed as concern took a stronger hold of his features. "Jack? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, of course," he said on instinct. Why wouldn't he be alright? He couldn't feel his hands or feet right now and the workshop was looking a little gray around the edges, but Jack was fine.

North came closer still. He obviously didn't believe Jack. Jack wasn't sure Jack believed Jack. "You look pale."

"That's normal," Jack insisted. Which, it was, so… "Why do we need to talk about Pitch?"

North nodded, back bent in the sort of crouch one assumed when trying to convince a wild animal that you weren't dangerous. "You and him are dating, no?"

The chill flashed to heat in a bare second. Jack's entire head felt hot. "What? No. What?"

"It is okay," North assured, lips pulling into a tentative, calming smile. "I understand. You see? Because I am dating malicious spirit, too!"

Jack needed to sit down. There was a tabletop behind him. Jack sat on that.

He felt it when his hand knocked over a prototype toy plane on its way to his staff, and Jack considered that a good sign even if he didn't react to pick it up again. He leaned on his staff instead, and focused on breathing.

How did North know? They had been so careful, only meeting in deserted places or enclosed spaces. There should have been no way to find out. If North knew, did that mean…

Jack's head shot up. "Who else knows?"

"No one!" North said too quickly. Then, "probably Sandy."

Jack felt betrayal for all of two seconds before he realized Sandy could read dreams and… okay, yeah, that checked out.

"Who knows about you?" It felt fair to ask.

North nodded shortly. "Sandy."

Seemed legit.

Jack felt himself calming now that the initial shock had passed. North wasn't accusing him of anything. He really did seem to want nothing more than to talk about it.

"Okay…" The problem was, Jack still didn't know what there was to talk about. "So?"

"So!" North said with a flourish. Clearly he'd gotten his confidence back. "I want you to know you can talk to me!"

"About?"

"Pitch!" North leaned forward like he was telling Jack a secret, but the volume of his voice made secrets impossible. "Bad guys can be frustrating."

"Tell me about it," Jack deadpanned.

"Is that what I am?" Krampus said, instantly reminding Jack that he was actually going to be here for this whole conversation. "A bad guy?"

North grinned at him. Krampus might as well have been the only person in the room, by the way North was looking at him. Jack got the impression this was a running joke between them. "The baddest."

This was a side of North Jack hadn’t seen before. But why would he? This was North’s private life, and although Jack knew he was important to North, he wasn’t this kind of important to him.

Wait a second.

Jack’s hand landed hard on the tabletop in indignation. “I thought I was top of the naughty list?”

Krampus snorted a laugh and it was the most unsettling sound Jack had heard in a long time, but North’s eyes were back on Jack and his hand was waving dismissively in the air. “Different kind of naughty, Jack.”

“Augh!” Jack pressed both hands to his ears, then his eyes (which did nothing), then his ears again. “Is this how every kid feels when they think about their parents having sex?!”

Instead of the exhausted sort of patience Jack expected from such a display of childishness, North’s eyes grew large and wet with adoration. “You think of me like parent?”

Jack paused his dramatics to really look at North. Did the big guy really not know? Jack’s hands fell away from his ears as he said, “Yeah. Of course.”

The next thing he knew, North had Jack in a tight hug that was all warmth and excitement, with no room in between for things like doubt or air to breathe. Jack’s staff was somewhere on the floorboards behind him, but Jack’s feet weren’t on the ground to help him find it. Jack focused on holding onto North instead, and on the fact that North apparently hadn’t known the role Jack imagined for him in Jack’s life.

“I did not think you wanted parent, Jack,” North said without putting him down. His arms loosened a little, but that was as far away as North was letting him get for now. “Three hundred years is a little old for coddling,” he teased.

Jack laughed. He could admit the situation was a little strange, but they were spirits. They couldn’t help that. “You’ve still been around longer,” he pointed out.

North nodded in that sagely way he did and set Jack down on his perch. “Even better that I be the one to talk to you, then.”

Jack was going to wholly ignore that for as long as he could, because parental talks with their children about dating were never not horribly embarrassing for the kids. He leaned around North’s bulk to look Krampus dead in the eyes.

“I’m calling you Krampapa now.”

It was only fair. He was married to Jack’s dad, right? That’s how that worked.

Krampus didn’t look even mildly upset, which sort of mildly upset Jack, actually. He lifted his horned head in a regal yet foreboding way and simply said, “Acceptable.”

...Man really knew how to take the fun out of things, didn’t he? Jack was going to have to try harder.

After all, they were like family now.

North was beaming at the pair of them, and that made Jack feel better about everything instantly.

“About Pitch—”

Well, there went that.

A sudden cold wind in the workshop shut them up, and while Jack looked around to find the source, he noticed Krampus staring at a very specific spot, like he already knew what was coming. He probably did.

“Now,” a voice echoed hollowly off the wooden walls at the same moment that the lights dimmed in the workshop, and Jack knew instantly who it was. How could he not? “Why did you ask me here, Krampu—”

Pitch Black stopped short barely a second after materializing and stared with wide eyes at his audience full of Guardians.

He whirled on Krampus. “Is this a trap?!”

Unfortunately, Jack’s tone dead, “Yes,” coincided exactly with North’s empathic, “No!”

Pitch sized them up. Krampus wasn’t giving anything away, so Pitch had to make due with the easier targets in the room. Jack figured his defensive posture, curled half-behind North on the worktop, probably gave everything away.

He turned back to Krampus. “What is the meaning of this?”

“That I love my husband very much,” Krampus answered without missing a beat. His voice carried the boredom of a thousand years and the experience of just as long. “And that I would do anything for him, including subject myself to this.”

North was beaming again.

Pitch met Jack’s gaze.

“Explain.”

Jack pressed his lips together. Pitch wasn’t going to like this. “North is giving me The Talk.”

Pitch visibly winced and glared at Krampus. “And you brought me here for this?”

“Of course!” North boomed, arms thrown wide in the air in celebration. “It cannot be just one! Dating good guys can be frustrating, too!”

Krampus was nodding, but it looked like he was nodding to himself. “Some days.”

Pitch’s lip was pulling up into a snarl. The last thing Jack wanted was for him to lash out and make his relationship with the other Guardians even worse, so he slid down from the table and held his hands out placatingly. “Look, it’s okay. They mean well. Alright?”

Pitch didn’t look convinced, but the way North set a comforting and supportive hand on Jack’s shoulder and Krampus outright stared him down seemed to keep his behavior in check for now. He was going to be so grumpy later.

If Pitch managed to behave for this whole thing, Jack would owe him so many cuddles.

North seemed to take Pitch’s lack of retort as consent, because he slapped Jack on the back and loudly proclaimed, “First things first!”

He turned to face Jack and held his shoulders with both hands. “I have noticed in meetings. You react when Pitch Black is said. You should not.”

The hot feeling was returning to Jack’s face. His ears felt particularly on fire this time. “Am I really that obvious?”

North shrugged one shoulder, swaying his head back and forth as if to say ‘not really.’ However, Krampus behind him nodded resolutely. “Yes.”

North gave his husband a look. “Only if you know what to look for.” He smiled reassuringly at Jack and patted his shoulder. “I think Tooth and Bunny think it is to do with Tooth Palace and Easter Incident.”

Jack didn’t feel reassured at all.

“And you!” North said, spinning dramatically toward Pitch. “Work stays at work! You must let Jack be Guardian.” With a theatrical whirl, North turned on Jack. “And you must let him be Boogeyman!”

Pitch was taken aback. It was written all over his face. “But all you ever do is try to stop me.”

North’s hands came up in a very cut and dry sort of gesture, one hand slicing into the other with every word. “Work stays at work!” Then he pointed at Pitch. “When Jack is Guardian, he stops you. When Jack is boyfriend,” North lowered his hand and shrugged, “he does what he wants.”

“What about when I’m both?” Jack couldn’t help but ask.

North’s gaze softened immediately. “Dangerous to think, Jack. You want him to be happy, yes? Then you must let him be who he is.”

That was incredibly profound and Jack honestly hadn’t even considered it before. The shock he was feeling was written all over Pitch’s face when Jack locked eyes with him across the room. Jack did want him to be happy, and they had been working on compromises, but… overall, yeah. North’s words made sense.

"And now about making love!"

"Nope," Pitch said. The assembled group almost hadn't heard him though, because he’d dropped through the floor so fast.

That was his cue. Jack turned on his heel and took the opportunity to yeet himself through the open workshop window. "I'm out."

Left behind, North stared in stunned silence at the place where Jack had been. He eventually turned to Krampus, clearly confused. "Did I say something?"

Krampus took his own time to stare at his partner. North could be dangerously oblivious. It would be annoying if it were not so adorable. He patted North's hair comfortingly.

"Too much, My Love. Too much."

[whatifidontwanttobethesavior]

Bonded

Cadmine slept fitfully the first night in her new home, her brow furrowed and face streaked with dried tears that had fallen from her eyes for a good while before she had finally given in to her body’s exhaustion. She had ached in more ways than one as her new husband had kissed her hand and instead of lying with her in the manner of which a man did with his wife, Vidmir had left her. He had told her she was tired, and that they had all of eternity for such things, but Cadmine hadn’t been able to help feeling a bit… disappointed? She knew that she should have been relieved, that most women would have been glad for the chance to rest properly after such a long day but before Cadmine knew it, she had broken down in tears. Her heart had ached inside of her chest, though whether it was from the beginnings of the change slowing it down or the fact that her husband had decided not to stay the night with her Cadmine couldn’t tell. It could also have easily been homesickness, having to sleep in a new place that she had never been to before or a yearning for her parents who had always bid her a good night before she’d gone to bed. She had stained the satin cover of the pillow beneath her head, the crimson material darkening even further beneath the wetness of her sadness. Eventually she had grown cold without Vidmir’s presence beside her and shifted on top of the covers, fighting with them until she had been able to squirm her way beneath them. It was warmer under the blankets and Cadmine had fallen asleep at last, her hair sticking to one cheek, her hand brought close to her face. She nuzzled against the flannel of  her husband’s pajama sleeve, breathing in the scent of him and causing a fresh flood of crying to be released from her eyes as she felt a sudden yearning for his presence. She wasn’t sure why he had chosen to go elsewhere for the night. Even if he had decided that being with her physically wasn’t something they needed to do right away, she still would have felt better to have him lie beside her. The red room felt much larger, more empty, and a lot more foreboding without him there.

When Cadmine woke it was to the swish of curtains sliding across a rod and the smell of food. She stirred, rolling and rubbing at her eyes, her hair an absolute mess on her head she blinked, trying to take in her surroundings. She was confused momentarily, the place unfamiliar at first until she remembered. She had been married last night. This was the home of her husband, her home now, and this was the room he had given to her. The handmaiden, Gunhilde, had just opened the large velvet curtains, letting in the light of the moon, brightening up the dim settings. Cadmine knew that with the change her eyes would adjust in time so that she would be able to see much better with limited light but at the moment, she welcomed the addition. She was able to more clearly see the room now but even so, she could have done with a few more candles. Or some electric lighting but an old castle like this simply didn’t have such a thing.

“Good morning, my Lady.” Gunhilde greeted in Cadmine’s native tongue, the sound of her words reassuring to the young wife. Cadmine managed a small smile as she began to press back the blankets a bit, but Gunhilde rushed forward holding a bed tray to place over her lap instead. Fine china sat on the gleaming wooden surface, plain white pieces with simple golden rims. Cadmine stared down at her favorite breakfast, a simple piece of sourdough toast with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese and topped with thin apple slices. There were also scrambled eggs and some bacon off to one side, as well as a cup of what smelt like her favorite morning tea. “The Lord said you might be quite tired this morning and to not put you through any unneeded strain. I do hope your night went well, Lady Nezhdanov.”

Cadmine blinked, surprised for a moment as she registered her new name. She had heard it the night before of course, but it hadn’t quite clicked until now that her name was no longer the same as it had once been. She was a married woman and thus, had taken her husband’s surname as her own. How did one even go about spelling something like Nezhdanov? Cadmine would have to learn. Looking up from the tray across her lap, Cadmine’s eyes fell upon Gunhilde, looking all the world like almost every other handmaiden Cadmine had ever had. She wore the usual uniform of a dress and apron, stockings and good shoes made for working in, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. In a way, it was comforting for Cadmine and she felt her nerves easing a little bit, though her eyes flitted towards the door, wondering if her husband was awake yet.

“It was fine.” Cadmine stated simply, turning her attention back to Gunhilde. “Have you eaten? I’m not very partial to eggs if you’d like them.”

“Ah yes. Your parents said that, but the Lord wanted to make sure you got enough of your energy back. Neither of you will be able to partake in any blood except one another’s until after the change is complete, as is the tradition.”

“Oh, right...” Cadmine sighed, looking down at her tray again and noticing the severe lack of her usual blood slushie. It pale in comparison when she remembered the absolute ambrosia that was Vidmir’s blood though. She didn’t know if a slushie would satiate her ever again in the same manner of which it once had now that she knew what it was like to drink fresh from the vein of her husband. “Is he awake, do you know?”

“I’m afraid not. Master Lucero said he was not to be disturbed but you are welcome to do as you wish throughout the castle until you are ready to retire back to bed for the night.”

“Oh.” Cadmine felt a wave of disappointment wash over her, the realization that she probably wouldn’t be seeing Vidmir again until it was time for him to return to this bed. They would drink from one another again and then… what? Was he going to take her as his? Or perhaps he would decide upon that first so they still had enough energy for feeding left. The memory of his lips upon her neck the night before, the way his teeth had sunken into her flesh and then the pleasure that had forced away the pain of his venom. Just the thought of it had Cadmine’s cheeks heating with color, her thighs tightening beneath the red blankets. She had desired him and even now, as she pondered the idea of becoming one with her husband, Cadmine was both nervous and excited. Surely tonight. He had probably just been too exhausted from yesterday’s busyness to continue. And afterwards, he would stay with her. They could lie together, close in that way couples were supposed to. For now, she would simply have to be patient until he came for her.

“After you’ve eaten, I can help you dress and we can do whatever you please, my Lady.”

“Alright then.” Cadmine agreed. She lifted the toast and bit into it, relishing the familiar taste of her usual breakfast. She ate it down heartily, wanting to have plenty of strength for tonight, sipping at her tea. When she was finished, Gunhilde removed the tray and set it off to one side. She moved to the large wardrobe and tugged it open, revealing Cadmine’s usual assortment of dresses. They were pretty things, but very old fashioned if she was to be honest. However, she was still happy to see them at the moment. “May I have the green please? The light one. I do believe that is my favorite.”

Gunhilde appeased her, pulling the sage colored dress from the wardrobe on its hanger, lying it down on the bed. It took time and effort for Gunhilde to figure out how to help Cadmine dress and get into her wheelchair. Cadmine could do most of it on her own, though the many buttons down the back of her dress made things more difficult than they had to be. At least she didn’t have to deal with a rotten corset and back brace today. That had been demolished by her husband in the limo the night before. Her leg braces, however, were more familiar and easy to put on, not making her feel so confined and helping her stay upright easier when she stood up to get her dress down and then, sit in her chair. She leaned back into it with a sigh, letting Gunhilde do up her hair in it’s usual tight bun with a cover. When asked what she would like to do, Cadmine frowned and then shrugged, suggesting maybe they could go exploring a bit. The handmaiden agreed and rolled her out of her chambers, heading down a long hallway that was still more dimly lit than Cadmine would have liked. It was a good hall though and the thin wheels on her old chair moved easily along it, not catching like they tended to on most things.

“Gunhilde, may I go fast?” Cadmine asked after a moment, reaching down to grab at her wheels’ handrails. Gunhilde laughed.

“It’s your house, my Lady. Master Lucero said the Lord was very clear. You can do whatever you desire.”

Cadmine smiled at that and then pushed herself forward, using her arms to get herself going much more rapidly than before. She’d never been allowed to race about back home but it was something she did enjoy. Going slow had never been fun for Cadmine but there was always the worry that she’d fall out of her chair if she raced about. She couldn’t run, so it was the closest she could get. She released a bit of a laugh as she reached the end of the hallway and found herself in the main entrance hall full of paintings from last night. Gunhilde had picked up her own pace to keep up, holding her bun a bit to keep it in place but she had a smile on as well. She wasn’t all too much older than Cadmine to be honest, only in her early twenties. They ended up racing circles around the entrance hall for a bit, Cadmine only getting caught on a rug every now and then when she wasn’t careful and nearly sending herself toppling because her chair couldn’t handle  it. Soon after though, they picked another hallway and started down it, intent on getting the lay of the land for now. Cadmine wanted to figure out where all the main rooms were so she wouldn’t get lost.