#some hans zimmer

[birlwrites]

for atfhv playlist can i suggest looking into star wars soundtracks and the orchestral arrangement of black mamba by aespa? they've got a dark dramatic vibe that could maybe work imo

my concern with much of the star wars soundtrack is that i'm going to associate it VERY STRONGLY with star wars and not be able to mentally divorce it from that context if that makes sense? like that's why i couldn't put the first part of beethoven's 5th in there - other associations are too strong

i just listened to that arrangement and YES that is the sort of thing i'm looking for!! thank you!!

[luccorvus]

Emmrich's theme is giving Danny Elfman and I can't help but

[teddybeartoji]

I GOT THE NEW HEADPHONES AND I CAN HEAR COLORS NOWWW OHH MY FUCKING GODDDD THIS IS SO EXCITINGG

[lucifer-kane]

im gonna be honest i really like the veilguard music :((. but granted im also like. not a fan of slower types of instrumentals and the stuff in veilguard is pretty intense and i like that way more

[noknowshame]

I laugh every time I think about the movie Gladiator (2000) because the first and only time I've watched it was with my family and when Marcus Aurelius appeared on screen I loudly yelled MARCUS AURELIUS???!!!! in pure unfiltered excitement, causing my dad to pause the TV and force me to explain my behavior

[jeonwon-wonwoo]

🎶 shuffle my On Repeat playlist and post the first 10 songs 🎶thank you for tagging me @qiankunnies!🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

ashes on the fire (AoT) - kohta yamamoto

7pm - bss (feat. peder elias)

imperfect love - seventeen

sesame syrup - cigarettes after sex

as it was - seungkwan

my enemy - hans zimmer

domino - seventeen

black eye - vernon

lion heart - girls’ generation

sweet - cigarettes after sex

tagging (no pressure!): @ayatou @mihgyu @seungkwan-s @goblinvern @sebongz @wnjunhui @woozification @honeycafes + anyone else who’d like to!

[portuguesedisaster]

Went to watch an orchestra play a bunch of Hans Zimmer, and like...I don't particularly enjoy Dune but the track they played from part II slaps.

[darlingseraa]

DUNE

Y'ALL. LISTEN.

So I went to the movies to see Dune part 2 last night. And holy shit it was AMAZING. I've been a fan of the book for a long time, and since the first movie came out in 2021, I have been dreaming of getting more of it in movie form. Denis Villeneuve did a fantastic job of adapting the story and universe into a cinematic masterpiece. It was just wonderful.

And there's so much I could say about it, about its aesthetic, its music, its ambiance, the sound design, the technical and artistic prowess its artists and technical artists have displayed to create this masterwork of a film. There's so much to say, and yet, I have no words to describe just how much its visuals and story inspire me to create.

I have the first movie's artbook as well as its OST saved in my Spotify playlists, and I'll admit, I haven't opened the book or listened to the music in a while. Seeing Dune part 2 yesterday has made me want to listen and look through it all again. It has inspired me to create something once more, something new, something that is of my own design.

And I'll forever be grateful to Denis Villeneuve and his team, as well as the actors, musicians and all types of artists involved in the creation of this film – because yes, all of them are creatives and artists at heart.

I'm grateful to all of you for reigniting the creative spark inside me that had nearly died out a while ago.

I may not know all of your names, and quite frankly will only ever see them in the credits of this film, or in other movies' credits as well. I may not know all of your faces either, and likely never will. But I still thank you.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

not to be too wild on main but i have plans TWICE this month

[ducktollers]

i dont even care abt superman but i cannot lie the man of steel soundtrack does make me feel like this

[beneaththedunes]

// on that note, Masked One seems to be a bit popular ! If anyone has any potential music recs for him let me know. Been trying to put together a playlist for him to help me get muse.

[vermillionwinter]

The y'allternative girl Playlist be like

Lets rip your soul apart and male you cry- Take Me Back to Eden- Sleep Token

To

Stomp your boots and demand respect from your man- Any Man of Mine- Shania Twain

[lieutenantselnia]

thanks for the tag @kyuoki! <3

I feel the need to explain that I'm the kind of person who rarely ever listens to music per album (unless maybe when a new one has just released), usually it's either "complete discography playlist" or "one to three particular songs on constant repeat", there's no in-between😂 That's why I also have a hard time deciding on a favourite album, because I tend to have some songs I really enjoy as well as some songs that don't interest me as much in almost all of them. But I think these are some that I especially like :)

No tags this time (partly bc I just straight up forgot them when clicking on "post"💀 and I'm not sure if the tagged people would be notified if I add them in later), but feel free to continue :)

[lifeofmarvvel]

Goin' nuts over a soundtrack and how good it is yet again

[mad-hunts]

things had gotten quiet again and in all honestly, jack thought that maybe giving his father some space might be best. he didn't know the full story behind how barton and nico had met in the first place... but there was a tension there that was hard to explain. so, even though jack wanted to learn more about nico, a thought had come to mind that they could probably use some private time to talk. being deprived of touch for so long and suddenly getting it, too, by having barton hug him back? it felt nice to the point where all jack wanted to do that day was stay like that. for, the touch itself might've shocked him, but that soon faded into a feeling like he was real again.

albeit for only as long as the hug lasted. jack found himself pulling down his left sleeve, then, because he was now afforded a moment alone. though unlike barton who seemed to simultaneously revel and loathe being left to his own devices by others; jack, like a true extrovert, drew energy from interacting with others. and although he didn't mind being alone sometimes, being quote unquote 'good company to yourself' wasn't always easy. the long and jagged scar on the inside of his left arm was not something he liked to look at, as a rule. but jack had been thinking about julien a lot lately since he died in september.

as he let out a soft puff of air, he approached a cabinet on the wall that held all sorts of things within it. jack was looking for one thing in particular though. he let out a soft 'yes' in victory as he found what he wanted (a pack of tarot cards) and smiled for a moment. at least, up until jack heard the faint sound of someone tossing and turning. it turned out to be jervis which concerned him. maybe instead of waking him up, jack could make him some of that yuzu cha tea he'd brought along with him. he'd purchased it back when his boyfriend was sick a little shy of a month ago and it seemed to help him a lot. thus, jack reasoned that maybe it could do the same for his father.

quietly, he set down the deck of cards on the table before trudging to the kitchen. jack was about to proceed into the main room of the warehouse but halted at the corner when he heard barton and nico were talking to each other. now, he didn't necessarily mean to be nosy, but the instant he heard something like, 'you know that i expect for things between us to be settled after this, right?' from nico's side? jack couldn't help but want to listen. he just barely peeked over the corner of the kitchen, to try to hear them better. barton seemed to go completely silent at that before raising an eyebrow. ❝ uhh, yeah, why wouldn't i know that? and i'd say that you preventing me from a possible death is the perfect recompense for what i did for you. ❞

recompense. didn't that mean to pay off a debt? jack knitted his eyebrows in confusion at this, wondering what the hell his father could be referring to. but it seemed he just needed to wait to get his answer, ❝ yeah, well, its not like i wanted to kill mikhail. it was an accident. i just wanted to spook him into leaving my sister alone. he was an insane stalker who she broke up with for a reason. and yet, the damn cops wouldn't do anything about him, so i had to do something before he killed her. or worse. ❞ barton held both his hands up at this and let out a mix between an incredulous scoff as well as chuckle.

❝ ahh, i mean, i get it. you don't need to defend yourself to me. your sister has been your guardian for years and she's also your best friend — right? though i, personally, would've been happy to kill this guy if he was stalking my daughter or something. i suppose that's one of the many ways in which we differ. ❞ barton wiggled both of his eyebrows once before raising both of his arms up in a shrug-like gesture. ❝ but your uncle is still someone i consider a friend, so when i got the call about how you contacted him in a panic about accidentally killing someone... and that he called me because i was the only person he could trust to get rid of all the evidence? i have to admit, my ego was stroked. ❞

barton smirked around the water he lifted up to his lips before he took a quick swig of it, ❝ and i never like to pass up an opportunity to have someone owe me a favor. ❞ jack quickly moved back to the corner of the kitchen right when he saw that his father's eyes were moving towards him. so, nico wasn't really here of his own free will, but because he owed barton a favor? his eyes darted across the floor as jack tried to plaster on his best smile and crept out of the kitchen. his father rose both of his eyebrows at his sudden appearance, ❝ oh, hi, son. how is jervis doing? ❞ jack nearly stumbled as he picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulders. ❝ ahh, he's fine. the guy is still dead to the world though. ❞

he took out the jar of yuzu cha he had in his backpack, before looking at barton, who simply nodded. nico looked up from the floor then, ❝ mm. just to let you know, if your father is still okay by the morning, then i'm out of here. ❞ jack saluted at this before sauntering into the kitchen. but once he reached it, he let out a deep breath and just stood there to try to calm his nerves. it seemed he was right on time to catch jervis waking up. placing the yuzu down on the table near the bed, jack only rose a hand in a wave towards the other before speaking just above a whisper. ❝ hey. ahh, you're awake... that's awesome. how are you feeling? ❞

Blackness. Cold, frigid blackness, swallowing him whole. No bottom, no edges. Time bends, stretches, snaps, like threads pulled too taut. Memories flicker, stutter, unravel like reels of old film catching fire mid-playback. Jervis floats somewhere in it, the void pressing in, pulling him under, as his body remains slumped against the cold floor. But in his mind, he's somewhere else. Everywhere else.

He blinks, and he’s suddenly younger, much younger. The world around him smells of damp wood and copper, the air heavy with salt. His parents are there, their faces blurry and featureless, standing by the shore. A storm looms in the distance, its howl drowning out his calls to them. He can taste the brine, feel the cold slap of rain on his cheeks. “Mum! Dad!” But his voice comes out small; swallowed by the wind. His hands — so small now — reach out, fingers straining to touch, but they slip through like smoke. And then they're gone, swept away by the tide…

The blackness recedes into cold, sterile light. Arkham's damp walls closing in. White coats loomed over him, their faces shadowed. The cold metal of the restraints bit into his wrists, sweat trickling down his temples. Tick-tick-tick went the clock, just above his head. The tick-tick-tick became the rattle of pills in a small, plastic bottle. White pills. Green pills. Pink pills.

The needles dig deep. Medication floods his veins—no, not medication, poison. The kind that silences the mind, dulls the edge, but never quite kills the thoughts. They still buzz, frantic, scratching at the walls of his brain. Reality and memory bleed together in front of him, like ink on wet paper, smearing and distorting. He could barely tell which was which.

The room was spinning. Everything. Spinning.

Fifteen minutes. Enough time for billions of cells to generate. But not enough to save her. Sylvie's face appeared, pale and lifeless, framed by dark hair like a broken doll. The hospital room swam in and out of focus. The beeping of machines, the cold, sterile air. Where was Alice? The baby. Where was she?

His hands flailed, desperate to touch something solid, anything real. He found nothing but empty space. And then—wet streets of Gotham under dim streetlights. He was running, slipping on the rain-slicked pavement. Chasing someone. Or was he running from something?

“…and have you fret, picking your cuticles bloody…” Now it was his uncle’s voice cutting through the haze, thick with the smell of tobacco and vanilla. Once comforting, now suffocating. “I warned you, didn’t I?” Stephen’s hazel eyes glinted, hard and cold behind his glasses. “Walls, kit. You built them so high you can’t even see over them.”

Walls. Brick, steel, iron bars. Arkham, again. He laughed, or maybe he tried to. The sound splintered, jagged, snapping like bones.

Sylvie. Alice. Gone.

“You forgot.” Sylvie’s voice now, silk-soft, brushing past his ear. “You forgot to take your meds.”

STOP IT!

Light exploded into his vision, searing, blinding. His pulse pounded, his breath ragged. The Bat-symbol loomed before him, casting a long, jagged shadow.

“You belong in Arkham.” It wasn’t Sylvie’s voice. Not Stephen’s. Not even his own. But it echoed, reverberating inside him. His chest seized, breath caught in a cold vice. Was it fear? Or the shadow gripping tighter, squeezing out the last of the air? The Bat-symbol grew larger, swallowing the world whole.

Flicker. Jump. Alice’s laughter, bright and clear, breaks through the fog. She’s laughing because she doesn’t know—doesn’t know what the world is, what it does to people like him. She trusts him. How can she trust him? He can’t even trust himself.

No. Not laughter. Crying. No. Screaming. Her face warped, twisted, blurred.

The iron scent of blood. Flashes of hands—his hands—shaking, slick with red. His? Someone else’s? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t want to remember. He’s tumbling now, spiraling through the dark, limbs heavy, body collapsing on itself. Everything bends. Folds. Chess pieces scatter across a board, his fingers trembling, knocking them over one by one. He tries to pick them up but they slip through his grasp, the board tilting, falling away.

Another hospital room? No. Too still, too silent. No warmth. Not a hospital. Pitch-black. Arkham, yet again. The isolation tank. 10 inches of lukewarm water that matches his skin temperature. Sylvie’s body was rigid, waxen, chestnut hair tangled and tickling his skin as she floated next to him. “Jervis, love,” her voice drifted from somewhere far off, behind the static hum of his mind, “you never did know when to let go, did you?” A chuckle followed, soft and cold. Not hers. Not really. Sylvie was gone, gone, gone.

Jervis' heart thundered in his ears, loud, uneven. His hands twitched, searching for something to ground him. A surface, a texture, anything. His fingers closed around... nothing. Then, the tank vanished. He was weightless. Falling again. The voice—his voice—screamed something incoherent, something desperate.

“Jervis. Jervis, wake up.”

It was Stephen again, calling to him from somewhere far away, his voice low and warm, a lifeline thrown into the swirling abyss. Jervis clung to it, his mind thrashing in the dark, his body heavy and limp on the cold warehouse floor. But Stephen wasn’t here.

He knew it, even as the voice grew louder.

The darkness peeled back like tar, choking him, wrapping tight around his throat. The warehouse floor beneath him — solid, cool, gritty — replaced by a somewhat lumpy mattress. He wasn’t swimming. Jervis' eyes fluttered open. His joints were like jelly, his lungs burned, heart still racing. Barton. Matilda. His body felt detached, a stranger’s. But slowly, awareness crept in. The dream, the memories, they all slipped away like ash seeping through his fingers. He wasn’t falling anymore. But the past—the blood, the voices, the walls—they hadn’t left him. Not really.

Somewhere deep, a whisper curled into his mind: You’re still running.