#the silver lake chorus

[pisoprano]

Music recs? Music recs.

These are a sampling of albums I’ve come across in recent years that I’ve spent far too much time listening to. To limit myself, I’m not including soundtracks or other things that are part of pop culture. This is strictly for music from artists I’d never heard of before stumbling across these albums and deciding to keep them because of the music's own merits.

In order of most recently discovered to longest kept:

El Club del BGI 3 by Marcel Casellas i La Principal de la Nit

Catalan dance club music that is very catchy and also makes me feel like I’m actually in a club listening to this being performed live (side note: I have never been inside a club so do not take this assessment as gospel).

Honeysuckle Weeks by The Submarines

I don't usually gravitate to love songs, but this American indie rock duo are so earnest about their love and they express it in a musically interesting way I really vibe with.

Mambo! by Yma Sumac

Yma Sumac had incredible range and was an absolute force to be reckoned with and I wish I'd heard of this Peruvian icon sooner.

Tiger Run by Sally Nyolo

This Cameroonian-born singer incorporates a bunch of international influences into an album that I don't know how to properly categorize, but I just have so much fun listening to her.

TSLC by The Silver Lake Chorus

Californian choir that mostly sings about life being kinda a mess while sounding amazing. (the final song on this album can be pretty depressing, though, so keep that in mind if you listen to the other songs on this album)

Musiche per Spiritus-Aqua-Vita by Progetto Arcana

The least Easter-sounding Easter music you’ve ever heard.

Sugungga by Leenalchi

This South Korean alternative rock group keeps throwing down banger after banger.

Kawaipunahele by Keali’i Reichel

Hawaiian music (with some covers of pop songs) that feels like getting a warm hug from someone who loves you.

Mayumi Kato Piano Works by Paul Barton

Japanese composer Mayumi Kato wrote these evocative and lovely pieces for the piano, which are performed by her friend Paul Barton. I think these CDs might be out of stock at the moment, but the music is all on YouTube (and they usually have the sheet music downloadable for free for all you pianists out there).

Ascendit Deus by Choir of Clare College, Cambridge, the Dmitri Ensemble, Graham Ross

Choir and organ performing religious-ish music that is truly epic and will probably intimidate all the peasants.

[wackus-bonkus-maximus]

I've kinda been hesitant to share this particular song with anyone since I recognize in it something I shouldn't listen to while I'm depressed, but it gives me intense odnlb!Adrien vibes and you don't tend to shy away from angsty music, so, if you're up for it... "Easy to Die" by The Silver Lake Chorus. (if you need the lyrics, the easiest place to find them seems to be the comments section of the YouTube video "The Silver Lake Chorus- Easy to Die (Hammock Remix)")

okay. this song was beautiful. it's so soft and soothing and there's even something comforting about it! but yes i'm going to advise the same thing, listener discretion advised.

for a long time odnlb adrien did feel like this. i think it's integral to his character actually, that his solution to many issues is self-denial and self-sacrifice. in his darkest moments, odnlb adrien has felt like this ^ like he would be better off dead simply because he didn't want to suffer anymore. but then nobody would even let him do that (thank goodness).

ty for the rec i added it to my odnlb playlist ❤️💔

[snicketstrange]

The Little Snicket Lad Mystery

I'm rereading Lemony Snicket: The Unauthorized Autobiography. Some interesting details are coming to mind. 'The Little Snicket Lad' is a song that tells a story which, according to Lemony Snicket, is inconsistent with reality.

Lyrics Verse One:

On a charming little cattle farm Near a pretty deadly lake, Was a very pregnant woman, And her husband, known as Jake. Though they lived in a big mansion, Down Robber Road a tad, It was at the farm the lady Bore the little Snicket lad.

Chorus:

And then they took him, yea they took him, They took him far away, They took him in the dead of night Beneath a moon of gray. They took him from the kitchen Like you'd take a midnight snack, The V.F.D. they took him, And they never brought him back.

Verse Two:

He was lively, and intelligent, And drank a lot of milk, His crib was made of silver, And his diapers sewn from silk. Both his siblings watched him And his mother, and his dad, But someone else was watching O'er the little Snicket lad.

Chorus:

And then they took him, yea they took him, They took him far away, They took him in the dead of night Beneath a moon of gray. They took him from the kitchen Like you'd take a midnight snack, The V.F.D. they took him, And they never brought him back.

Verse Three:

One evening Jake was chopping wood, And his wife was at the mill, The siblings two were drinking tea, And the house was very still. They came in through the windows, Not the door, which was the fad, A long black car was parked outside For the little Snicket lad. Chorus:

And then they took him, yea they took him, They took him far away, They took him in the dead of night Beneath a moon of gray. They took him from the kitchen Like you'd take a midnight snack, The V.F.D. they took him, And they never brought him back. Coda:

"When we grab you by the ankles, Where our mark is to be made, You'll soon be doing noble work, Although you won't be paid. When we drive away in secret, You'll be a volunteer, So don't scream when we take you: The world is quiet here."

Alternate version

The Second Half of the Chorus, as sung in the North, is as follows:

They took him from the kitchen, And dropped him on the way, He fell upon the darkened ground, And tried to crawl away.

Regarding the alternative version, Lemony Snicket himself later wrote by handwriting that the note at the end should be observed. The note includes a picture of a baby crawling. This is strange because Lemony wrote to Dr. Patton that he was not a baby when he was captured, yet he later seemingly included a picture of an actual baby with the transcription of the alternative version. It’s as if he discovered something real within the lyrics of the song, something that contradicted his own memories.

For a while, I thought Lemony had been kidnapped twice and that the tattoo was done when he was still a baby, which would explain why the baby in the photo is hiding his ankle. However, Dante pointed out the flaws in this theory. In R's letter to Lemony in chapter 2, she seems to indicate that the tattoos were given when both she and Lemony were young children, not babies.

Now, I present another theory: the "Snicket" referred to in the song is not Lemony Snicket but an older member of the Snicket family, someone Lemony never met and who isn’t even shown in the family tree. After all, a nursery rhyme about Lemony Snicket, created by society and known in the North of the country before he even got married? That doesn’t make sense. It's quite likely that the song's origin is much older and describes a time when VFD literally kidnapped babies who never returned home.

It is interesting that the song implies the Snicket in question was born with a silver spoon in their mouth, which does not seem to be true for Lemony Snicket. Other passages indicate that there was indeed a Snicket fortune at some point, but that must have been during the time described in the song. While there are similarities between the song and Lemony’s life, there are also significant differences.

What Lemony discovered later in life, and what he decided to attach to the file containing the letter he would send to Dr. Patton, was a photo that portrayed a shocking truth to him: VFD had indeed kidnapped babies in the past, against their parents' will.

This situation is similar to the secret message in Zombies in the Snow, where there are enough similarities to make some believe the secret message is about Klaus, Sunny, and Violet, when in reality, it refers to an older problem involving different children.

[mooncello]

hello friends. I've got some writing to share today! way more than six sentences, but it's 18°F outside right now, and I'm layered under blankets and drinking cup after cup of tea. **Baz vibes**

so here's a couple sections from lost boys. thank you to @shrekgogurt @you-remind-me-of-the-babe and @iamamythologicalcreature for the tags the past couple weeks.

Simon is next to me, devouring a thick slice of bread. He’s still wearing the scarlet jacket, brass buttons glinting in the firelight, and his silver sword stands tall in the sand beside him. The crown sits at a lazy angle upon his head, gold against bronze. He knocks his foot against mine. “This happened ‘cuz of you.” An undignified snort escapes through my nose. “You’re the one who cut through a cavernous labyrinth from memory.” “Yeah, but, I would've jumped into that lake without thinking twice.” “You really would have,” I agree, which startles a laugh out of him. “Idiot.” “Oi.” He throws a chunk of bread at me, and it smacks the center of my forehead. “No, wait.” He reaches over to retrieve the bread from where it’s fallen on my pajama top and pops it into his mouth. “Can’t let perfectly good food go to waste.” I’m staring at him again. Mostly captivated, a little bemused. Without meaning to, I say out loud, “I’ve never met anyone like you.” “Who doesn’t like a walnut loaf?” he asks around the wad of mashed-up bread. I want to arch an eyebrow at him, but my mouth is betraying me again. I feel it curl upward. “That’s not what I meant.” He grins. Impishly. “I know.”

One more passage (feat. Captain Hook), tags & hellos under the cut!

“You want the treasure, Hook?” Simon twirls the sword in a small circle. A hungry gleam has entered his eyes. “You have to fight me for it.” A pleased smile takes over Hook’s face. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Pan.” “It’s Snow,” he says. It’s both a warning and a taunt. “No, don’t,” I say. My brain is struggling to keep up. The scenes shift so fast in these dreams. I want to return to firelight and banter. The pirates had to go and ruin that. Stupid bloody pirates. I glance over at Simon, and a bolt of panic crackles down my center. I don’t like the look in his eyes. Like he’s itching to fight. Like he’s found an excuse to brawl and break open skin. And what’s more, he needs to.

@thewholelemon @supercutedinosaurs @hushed-chorus @rimeswithpurple @facewithoutheart @iamamythologicalcreature @shrekgogurt @larkral @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bookish-bogwitch @fatalfangirl @raenestee @best--dress @nightimedreamersworld @artsyunderstudy @cutestkilla

[thegreeks]

A Heart All Their Own

Warnings: pregnancy, child birth (not descriptive), child

Synopsis: due to encouragements from friends and family, you and your husband realize it's time to expand your family

The sun dipped low over the verdant hills of Derbyshire, casting a golden hue across Pemberley’s expansive grounds. Lush gardens bloomed vibrantly, and the silver-blue of the lake glimmered like a polished jewel. Inside the grand estate, the air buzzed with the laughter of friends, the gentle clinking of china, and the warm murmur of affection between husband and wife.

It had been a full delightful year since you had wed Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, that brooding gentleman whose presence could command the attention of a room with just a simple glance. The lingering heat of his dark eyes still sent a thrilling blush across your cheeks, and every day, you found new ways to fall deeper in love with him. His quiet strength, magnetic intelligence, and fierce loyalty made him the most enchanting companion.

Yet, amid this serene existence, the subtle whispers of family and friends resonated between the walls of Pemberley. “When will you have a child?” they would ask, their voices mingling with the rustle of the leaves, beckoning for the pitter-patter of little feet to fill the hallways. Even Jane and Mr. Bingley had joined in the chorus of encouragement, their eyes twinkling with shared mischief whenever the subject turned to heirlooms and future generations.

At first, the conversations felt distant, like echoes reverberating through the stone walls. You both had enjoyed being newlyweds, exploring the depths of your love and establishing a blissful partnership. Yet, as the months wore on, you could not ignore the longing that welled up in your heart. Could you, too, bask in the joy of nurturing a life, of nurturing an heir to grace Pemberley?

One evening, as the sun slid behind the hills, casting soft shadows that danced upon the grand drawing room, you found Mr. Darcy perusing a collection of books. He looked especially handsome that night, with his collar slightly open and the soft light caressing his features. You approached him, heart pounding as you considered broaching the subject.

“Mr. Darcy,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “what do you think of our future?”

He turned to gaze at you, his expression thoughtful as the shadows shifted across the room. “I believe our future is full of possibilities, my love. With every day that passes, I find more joy in your company.”

You smiled, warmth flooding your cheeks. “But what of children? Do you not think it would be… fulfilling to bring a child into this world?”

Darcy’s brow furrowed slightly, and he set the book aside, stepping closer. “I must admit, I have thought of it, though not without consideration. The responsibility of parenthood is a weighty one. Our life is already shared in such a profound way; perhaps I fear changing it.”

You took a breath, feeling emboldened by his presence. “Yet love is a force that only multiplies. A child would be a testament to our bond, a reflection of our love. I fear the whispers of our friends may echo true.”

Darcy's lips curved into a soft smile as he heard your words. “And is that all it takes? Mere whispers?”

You chuckled, the tension easing. “Perhaps not, but the thought of building a family with you sends tingles of excitement through me.”

He reached out, taking your hands in his. “Then let us explore this future together, my dear. Though it frightens me, I cannot help but desire the joy you envision.”

As the weeks unfolded, you found yourselves amidst the early stages of preparation. Friends and family visited often, their opinions swirling like autumn leaves. Jane would come with sweet, knowing smiles, her laughter ringing like music as she shared stories of her own child. “You will adore every moment!” she would exclaim, her eyes bright. “And Mr. Darcy will be a wonderful father, I promise you.”

With every passing day, the notion of children blossomed into something tangible, a dream woven into the very fabric of your life. You and Mr. Darcy spent endless evenings discussing names, dreamt of stories you would tell, and of the traditions you would create together.

One evening, under the canopy of stars, you wandered the gardens of Pemberley with Darcy. The air was cool, and the world was hushed in reverence to the night. He pulled you close, the warmth of his body enveloping you. “I can see it now, us with a small child, running through these gardens—”

You interrupted him with a light laugh, “Or perhaps a child tugging at your coattails, demanding your attention while you try to read.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and rich. “How can I resist?” He tilted your chin up, meeting your gaze with a blend of mischief and earnestness. “It seems my heart is completely yours, but my mind is not yet settled.”

Days turned into weeks, and soon the crisp mornings of autumn began to fade into the chill of winter. The festive season brought joy and laughter, and amid the holiday celebrations, you felt a gentle stirring within. You brushed it off at first—a product of the season’s cheer. But as weeks progressed, the realization blossomed within you like the first flowers of spring.

One wintry morning, as snowflakes danced silently outside your window, you clutched a small slip of paper with trembling hands. It was a letter from the apothecary, confirming the life that had begun to flourish within you. An array of emotions coursed through you—excitement, love, and a gentle fear of the unknown.

Heart racing, you sought Mr. Darcy, who was by the fire, deep in thought as he reviewed some documents. The flames flickered, reflecting the warmth of your love. You approached him, the note clutched tightly in your palm.

“Mr. Darcy?” you called gently, and he looked up, concern etching his features as he noticed the urgency in your tone.

“What is it, my love?” He stood, closing the distance between you, and you could see the care in his eyes.

With a deep breath, you unfurled the small note and handed it to him. His brow furrowed as he scanned the words, and as realization dawned upon him, his eyes widened in disbelief.

“You mean…?” he stammered, looking down at you with a mixture of awe and joy.

You nodded, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “We are to be parents, Mr. Darcy.”

He drew you into his arms, lifting you slightly off the ground, spinning you lightly as laughter spilled from your lips. “A child! Our child!” he exclaimed, disbelief melding with happiness. “This is the most wonderful news!”

As he set you down, his expression shifted to one of tender resolve. “We will care for them, nurture them, adore them. And I promise, I will do everything in my power to be the father they deserve.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the glow of your love, it felt as though the world had transformed. The whispers of friends turned into laughter, the echoes of joy reverberated throughout Pemberley, and the promise of a bright future lay ahead.

In the months that followed, the joyous anticipation of your child grew alongside your burgeoning love. Mr. Darcy was steadfast, attending to every whim you had with compassion and grace. Together, you cherished the miraculous changes your life underwent—hearing the first flutter of your child within, the soft glow of rosy cheeks, and the comforting weight of expectancy.

On a particularly brisk afternoon, as you sat in the drawing room, a familiar itch tugged at you. “Mr. Darcy,” you said softly, feeling your heartbeat harmonize with the soft rhythm of the house. “Do you think we are ready?”

His brow furrowed slightly, but the corners of his mouth shaped a smile. “We must trust in the strength of our love. It has brought us this far, and I believe it will guide us through whatever challenges await.”

You smiled back at him, reassurance settling like a warm blanket around your shoulders. “You’re right. Together, we can face anything.” The thought of your child’s impending arrival filled the air with a unique blend of excitement and apprehension.

As winter melted into spring, you embraced the changes—both in your home and within yourself. The gardens around Pemberley burst into life, mirroring the joy in your heart. You often found Mr. Darcy wandering among the flowers, plucking blooms to adorn your rooms, each flower a testament to the life you were nurturing together.

One evening, as you walked through the garden hand in hand, you stopped by the lake, where the water glimmered under the setting sun. “Look,” you said, gesturing to the vibrant colors reflected in the water. “Our child will know the beauty of this place.”

Darcy’s grip on your hand tightened. “And we will show them the wonder of the world, the joys of nature, and the strength of family.”

As the months progressed, your body changed, and so did the atmosphere of Pemberley. Friends visited often, their excitement palpable as they brought gifts and advice. Jane, now a seasoned mother, became a trusted confidante, sharing both the challenges and the delights of parenthood with an infectious enthusiasm.

On the eve of your expected arrival, the air inside Pemberley buzzed with anticipation. The fire crackled softly, illuminating the cozy drawing room where you and Mr. Darcy sat together. You nestled against him, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart.

“Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?” you mused, tracing the contours of your stomach.

Darcy chuckled softly, “I would be equally delighted with either. What matters most is that they are healthy and loved.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “And that they have your spirit and courage.”

A sudden pang rippled through you, surprising both of you. You gasped, clutching your belly. “Mr. Darcy, I believe… it is time.”

His eyes widened, a mix of excitement and concern flooding his features. “Very well. Let us prepare.”

The next hours passed in a whirlwind of activity. Darcy proved to be a steadfast pillar, guiding you through each wave of pain with gentle words and unwavering strength. You felt the power of your bond with him; every moment brought you closer together, deepening your connection.

As dawn broke over the horizon, the first rays of light illuminated the room, casting a soft glow on your faces. After a long, arduous night, you finally heard the sweetest sound—a baby’s cry echoed through the air, filling your hearts with overwhelming joy.

Darcy held your hand tightly, his eyes filled with wonder as the doctor placed your newborn in your arms. “It’s a girl,” he whispered, tears glistening in his eyes.

You gazed down at the tiny face, marveling at the delicate features that mirrored both of you. “She is perfect,” you breathed, feeling an indescribable love swell within you.

Darcy leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Welcome to the world, little one. We will cherish you always.”

In the days that followed, Pemberley transformed into a sanctuary of laughter and joy. Your daughter, whom you named Anne, became the center of your universe, filling your lives with a light that had always been present but now shone brighter than ever.

As you watched Darcy with Anne, the tenderness in his gaze and the softness of his touch filled your heart with gratitude. He was a devoted father, nurturing and protective, and you knew that together, you would weave a tapestry of love and memories that would last a lifetime.

One evening, as the three of you sat in the garden, Anne cooing contentedly in your arms, you turned to Darcy, who was watching the sunset with a smile. “We have created something beautiful,” you said softly, a sense of peace washing over you.

He nodded, his expression full of warmth. “Indeed we have. This is only the beginning, my love. Our family will grow, our love will deepen, and Pemberley will always be a haven for us.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the hills, you realized that your dreams had come true—not just in the laughter of your daughter, but in the profound connection you shared with Mr. Darcy, a love that would flourish with each passing day. In that moment, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together, as a family.

[fanfoolishness]

For the fic writer ask game - 8, 16, 23? For the fic you're most proud of!

I'm both happy you sent me questions and also dying because I apparently have 319 stories on AO3 to choose from 💀💀💀

I would say I'm proud of any of my multichapter fics because those are so much harder and come so much more rarely to me. So here's some answers for a few of those!

8. Did you cut something out of the outline or early draft? What was it and why did you decide to cut it?

In A Sickness of the Soul, Cal has to begin to confront the dark side within his heart, after trying to run from the trauma and grief after Jedi: Survivor. He goes to a planet rich in the Force and as usual in Star Wars he is confronted by what he carries with him. I was initially going to have a confrontation with a shadow!Cal, who would taunt him and goad him into fighting. But we'd already seen Inquisitor!Cal in JFO, and we've also seen this trope of fighting the self in Star Wars many times. It just wasn't flowing. So I scrapped that whole concept, and had him confront -- silence. Sitting with his emotions, instead of running from them. Accepting them. It was a quieter, less showy way to take it, but it felt much better for the story.

16. Talk about the fic's biggest moment and how you came up with it.

In Reverberations, funnily enough Din and Grogu visit the same planet I sent Cal to! I created the planet for Din and Grogu first as a place of peace and beauty, though in Cal's story, it's a world of trials because that is what he brings with him. Throughout Reverberations, Din and Grogu have encountered the dark side many times, using reflections of dark or unsettling places I've visited. It's honestly a horror anthology until the end.

But the final chapter sees Grogu leading Din to a place of light, light, light, based on Glendalough Forest in Ireland. As soon as I came up with the idea of Reverberations being a five things fic, I wanted it to be five times Din and Grogu faced the dark side, and once they didn't. I knew they would need a soft ending after their trials, and that I wanted Grogu to grow and start to have a greater awareness as both a child and a student of the Force. The biggest moment in my heart is the ending here, as Grogu understands that Din cannot control the Force, he can still reflect it like a tree, a stone, a lake.

and y'know, this whole section still makes me cry, so here it is.

Grogu knew the gray hair and the lines meant that Buir was getting older, that that meant something different for Buir than it did for him.  Humans shone for such a little time.  He understood that one day, both Buir and Master Luke would fade away, long before he did.  It made him sad.  But he knew that it was natural, and he knew that he was strong and brave. He also knew that he would not be alone, even when Buir and Master Luke were gone.  The Force was eternal.  It was so bright here, living breathing flowing free, a river in a silver-wood, a golden song, a promise.  It streamed through him, immense and ancient, luminous and new. The green moss on the guide-stones unfurled with bell-like flowers in blue and red and yellow, in snowy white and deep jet black, in colors he knew he would never have the words for.  The forest-song bloomed, filled with the voices of the chorus-crickets, the goldthrushes, the land itself.  The Force was here.  Light was here.  Grogu wondered if Buir could understand, at least a little; he gazed up at him hopefully, and studied his face.   Buir was happy.  Buir was crying.  Buir was here with Grogu.

23. How did you come up with the title?

I love A Sickness of the Soul because who doesn't like alliteration, and the title was nearly the first thing I came up with. It came from Merrin's description of her people's understanding of the dark side, and how it could take over a person. Being a Nightsister doesn't automatically consign you to the dark side in my book; it uses dark energy, but I see a way for Nightsisters to let it flow past them instead of through the heart of them. But when you welcome the dark into the heart and feed it with your own darkness, that is when it can overtake you. She tells this to Cal as a fable, of an an understanding of the dark side outside of the bounds of Jedi lore, but it also is an understanding of the depression Cal has sunk into, and has been running from. She tells him he is sick, and the confrontation forces him to finally admit that he needs help.

[modelartist-demri]

Mad Season - Long Gone Day, from “Above” album, released on March 14, 1995

[Verse 1: Mark Lanegan] So much blood I'm starting to drown Runs from cold to colder Time to time the sky's comin' down To help me lose my way Tears and lies for answers You and open veins, God knows I'm gone Girl I just want you to come on down Lord it's a storm in my head and I fall These sins are mine and I've done wrong, oh babe Come on down Come on down my babe, wrong time I know

[Chorus: Layne Staley & Mark Lanegan] Long gone day (Woah, woah-oh yeah) Who ever said we'd wash away with the rain?

[Verse 2: Layne Staley] See you all from time to time Isn't it so strange how far away we all are now? Am I the only one who remembers that summer? Oh-woah, I remember Everyday each time the place was saved The music that we made The wind has carried all of that away

[Chorus: Layne Staley] Long gone day Who ever said we'd wash away with the rain?

[Saxophone Solo]

[Verse 3: Mark Lanegan] So many tears I'm starting to drown The rain in heaven's all come down Silver spoons affix the crown The luckless ones are broken Fears and lies for answers You and open flames God knows I'm gone And I just want you to Come on down Lord it's a storm in my head and I fall These sins are mine and I've done wrong I want you to, oh, I just want you to Come on down

[Saxophone Solo]

[Outro: Layne Staley] I fear again, like then, I've lost my way And shout to God to bring my sunny day

–

💬 Fabiola Gonzalez: “This brought tears to my eyes remembering that summer of '89 when we were young and innocent and free. Layne and Demri and I walking through the long grasses on the trails of Magnuson Park, heading to meet up with El Steiner, Freedom James, Krisha, Jerry, Betzol, Demitri and others. Demri carrying her conga drum with a scarf wrapped around it, me a bottle and a stick. Layne's hair half in dreads and curls with his goatee braided and one of my beads dangling on the end of it. He wearing ripped up jean shorts and Dem and I in our bikinis. His and Demri's chests bare and golden from the sun, sparkles in our eyes and smiles, lots of smiles...we were going to worship, have a drum circle with our friends on the shores of Lake Washington and swim in it's waters on a hot summer day. That day Layne experienced the Soundgarden for the first time, when you could walk up to it and stand in the middle and listen to the the wind channel sound through the tubes, creating the most beautifully haunting, mystical music. Melancholy years later when he wrote the lyrics, he and Dem were on troubled waters and I in Eastern Washington pregnant with my twins. It was so strange how far away we all were then, and I remember, like Layne, that summer and to this day, like he, I SHOUT to God to bring back my sunny day. It still hurts and I treasure that he wrote those lyrics and mentioned me and friends on the album, for the inspiration of his words and the memory of such a special time. A Long Gone Day.” The music that we made / The wind has carried all of that away I fear again, like then I’ve lost my way / And shout to God to bring my sunny day

Memory from @World of Demri.

[cardentist]

you know how "the fall" and "the now now" were both written by 2d while damon was on tour for other albums? can I convince you guys idaho is About 2d processing his feelings from creating the fall While he was mirroring its creation process

Verse 1:

"I landed on the silver lake washed up and feeling blue" can be mapped out onto him waking up on plastic beach for the first time, while

"Looking for clear water I had to take control" Can be read as a general statement about his lack of control over his situation in phase three, Or it can be read as him specifically Seeking Out a sense of personal control through writing "the fall" without murdoc's knowledge. something I think he Would find empowering, having complete creative freedom over his own art.

which of course would be mirrored and Intensified with the creation process for "the now now"

"Out there in the wilderness another bullet hole" can just really straightforwardly be connected to all the times guns were handled and used in front of 2d during phase 3. whether that be from cyborg, the pirates, or bruce willis.

Chorus:

"There's a beauty on the road" I think speaks to 2d taking inspiration from his immediate surroundings on tour and turning that into art, a theme that's present in Both versions of the album. though "the fall" took inspiration on a much more intimate scale (taking inspiration from the small and mundane, plastic bags on the road and revolving doors to hotels), while "the now now" takes inspiration from the entire Experience of their travel locations (what he felt at the time).

"Everyday I look out on the bus; Silver linings getting lost" the Bus, in this reading, being the Tour Bus. with these lines coming together to describe 2d's sense of hopelessness catching up with him, that undercurrent of melancholy that permeates Both albums even as he'd written them to seek that sense of control and self fulfillment.

Verse 2:

"Ride on," said the king of cool, "You've got nothing to lose” “Tinseltown [Hollywood] is down the road, it's the bullet or the noose"

I think the "king of cool" here is pretty clearly supposed to be murdoc, the same way that murdoc is the one who introduced 2d to fame in the first place. and of course, by that same token if we were to read into the idea of 2d experiencing suicide ideation (like this line Very Much So seems to suggest), then murdoc would be most likely candidate to be at the center of those feelings.

I Also find it interesting that this is the Second major reference to hollywood within the album, with an entire song centered around it. the whole album feels like it's conversation with each other once you've broken the lyrics down.

I've seen people mention before that they're disappointed that phase 3 never had a proper emotional send off, a break down of what the characters Really felt in the aftermath. and that's very fair ! we never Did get a proper post-plastic beach arc. but I personally see "the now now," and this song Especially, as that look into 2d's emotions in that aftermath (and of course how it pertains to his relationship with murdoc) I made the lyric video linked above (and this post !) to illustrate that fact exactly ! to take that idea and enhance it in a way that I'm currently able to with skills and tools available to me.

if you like this interpretation then consider checking it out !

[wutheringmights]

CTB Scrap - Exploring Kakariko Village

This is from chapter 9, where the Chain arrives in Kakariko to talk to Impa's grandmother and gather information on the upcoming war.

Originally, the boys were going to have tea with Jakucho before getting to relax at Warriors's home. I ended up switching the order of events so that I could write the scene with the unfinished portrait of Warriors with the engineer sooner. While that pacing change didn't affect the plot by much, it did mean getting rid of this moment between the boys.

Honestly, this is a throw-away scene that doesn't add much beyond amusing me. Well, you could argue that I wrote it for world building purposes. But honestly, I just thought it would be funny.

Note: this is an unedited scrap, so the writing may not be up to snuff. Also, everything include was deleted for a reason, so please do not take it as canon to CTB.

---

Eventually, the roads were paved and the buildings started to shift in style. They were wooden, built into the sides of a brown mountains with narrow staircases leading upwards. The streets grew even more bustling, but still they were nowhere near downtown Kakariko.

“Hot damn,” Legend said, awe finding his way into his voice as he stared at the road ahead. “I didn’t even know Kakariko Village could be this big.”

Warriors grinned, remembering the small villages he had explored in everyone else’s eras. Ironically, he used to think his Kakariko was modest in size. “If you think this is big, then you should see Castle Town,” he said. “Now that’s a city.”

Downtown Kakariko was nestled in a cove between mountains, and the roads from the village’s north, east, and south sides flooded into it like a lake. Here, the iconic windmills stood proud over the wood buildings built in the traditional Sheikah style: sloped roofs and sliding doors made with paper.

The Miyashita estate was located right off the town square, gated off for privacy. Ayane unlocked the front gate with a key, saying, “Um, the wagon’s not gonna fit through. I’ll get my mom.” With that, she skated off onto the property.

That was their cue to disembark, stretching their legs as their boots returned to solid ground. Warriors stretched his back with a grunt, observing the town square. There were a lot of soldiers loitering around in their silver and blue uniforms. Some were obviously off-duty, bumming around the benchers and at the street corners for a way to waste their day off. Others strode across the square with purposes, going in and out of the ornate building that made the town hall.

He turned away, grateful once more that he had chosen to not wear his scarf. He remembered seeing that Kakariko had become a waystation for soldiers—a mini-base for managing the western fronts. Regiments passed through here too quickly to be of note, so Warriors had no idea if anyone here would recognize him. If he had his choice, he would pass these next two days without anyone noticing.

Keeping his back to the street, he turned his attention to the wonder on his friends’ faces. Even their Castle Towns, the most populated towns in their times, were not a large or grand as this simple Kakariko Village. It was cute how much joy they seemed to get from the sight of the elderly lounging on benches and mothers watching their children play around the park’s trees.

“This place is gorgeous,” Four said to a chorus of agreements.

“Seriously, only Castle Town is ever this busy,” Twilight said with a slight frown.

“It makes sense,” Time said, patting Twilight’s shoulder. “His Hyrule is much farther in the future than our own.”

“A lot of the houses here look like the ones in my Kakariko,” Wild said.

“Hey guys.” Hyrule had already wandered off a bit, and he came trotted back with a thumb pointing back over his shoulder. “Look.”

There, on the other side of a pond, was an old well. Compared to the rest of the town square, it was derelict, with a faded, shingle roof protecting its stone base. It was gated off, with a plaque explaining the history of the well, not that they were close enough to read it or new Warriors’s language.

Their joy extinguished, and the boys paled. Their brows furrowed like they were facing an enemy, and Warriors almost thought it was sweet. “Kakariko well isn’t an actual well anymore,” he said. They all jumped, instinctually going for their weapons until they remembered where they were. “It’s an expression.”

“It is a well in my time,” Time said.

Warriors stared at him. “What?”

A woman screamed. “Monster!” she shouted.

[witchkingslayer]

twice as many stars

a wolfstar one shot tags; light smut, poetry inspired a/n; this is 100% inspired by the poem 'the two-headed calf'. i hope you enjoy <3

The Two-Headed Calf

Tomorrow when the farm boys find this

freak of nature, they will wrap his body

in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north

field with his mother. It is a perfect

summer evening: the moon rising over

the orchard, the wind in the grass. And

as he stares into the sky, there are

twice as many stars as usual.

Laura Gilpin, 1977

Remus reads the muggle poem over again, the weathered paperback book dog-eared and well-loved, moulded to fit the shape of his palm. He’s careful not to flick cigarette ash between the spine, not to let the burning cherry kiss its pages. Beneath the inky sky, the moon new and blurred, he thinks of his friends, the boys who morphed themselves into beasts so the monster, the freak of nature within him, will never have to do it alone. His once sorrowful cries, bellowing some retched sound towards the milky moon now has a chorus. 'You never have to be alone again, Moony,' Sirius had promised him. 

Remus is nineteen, and the world believes he ought to be bound, ought to be put down and wrapped in newspaper, but not gently, not to be gawked at but to be lowered into dirt and forgotten. No wildflowers would grow over his crude grave. But Sirius has reminded him, his warm lips like gossamer against the column of his throat, 'You’re a star, too. We’re right beside the moon, right where we belong.'

To Remus, the dark meant solitude, no other light allowed except that glowing celestial body that has become his master. Now, it’s a time to roam, to nip and lap at the black dog’s heels, to let their hands roam beneath the soft sheets in their dorm, to let stars explode between them; not so unlike their namesakes, scattered on their skin in the language of lovers. Sirius drags his tongue over the planes of his bones, not caring that they protrude and are marked with silver and pink scars. 

Remus was meant to keep his head down; meant for the cold, hard ground. Crouched as the wolf, downtrodden as a boy. Sirius props him lovingly onto a pedestal, threatening to drag the night sky a little closer to the crown of his head, if he has to. “Men can be monsters, too, you know,” Sirius points out, his tone protective, his fingers kneading Remus’ tired joints with reverence. The Black heir, meant for a life of riches and secrets, of violence and opulence, of prejudice and hate, has chosen courage and only the most wild and rash ideas, coming to fruition before the moon can usher in the morning sun. Sirius has chosen to put out his hand as a sanguine offering. ‘See?’ he cajoles before the wolf, the skinny, precocious boy, letting him sniff his knuckles. ‘You’d never hurt me.’ And Remus tries and chooses to trust, to allow himself to be touched and adored, letting the clever Sirius Black show him that he never needed to be tamed, only loved. No one so young, so broken by others, deserves a cage, and Sirius picked the locks of Remus’ himself, deft, tricky digits prying it apart. 

It’s spring, and a war spreads like something sick among them, but for now, Sirius sits at Remus’ side. The Great Lake is as still as a mirror, and of course Sirius is tossing pebbles, if only to see the glassy surface of it ripple. Sirius is gentle and soft with nothing but Remus, not unkindly, but curiously; it’s what Remus loves so much about the black haired boy. Without the moon to upstage them, the stars beam from their places. They are alone, the two boys, their companions tucked away in their beds. They’ve casted the same charms around them, their love private and clandestine, for now, the stars their only audience. Remus has made himself too careful, too guarded, but Sirius deserves to feel coveted, so he throws his caution to the wind and fumbles buttons, tugs at sleeves, revels in the click of buckles unfastening. He lets his gnarled hand reach between their bodies, between Sirius’ legs, and grips him enough so that maybe Sirius will see stars behind his closed eyes. Remus presses his hips into his, their lips like a lock and key, desperate and firm and so soft, Sirius can’t help the deep whimpers that claw from his throat. Sirius’ fingers card through Remus’ ashen hair, drawing him in closer. Sirius digs his fingernails into Remus’ back, anchoring onto him as he chases his release, not unlike two dogs shaking the grass in pursuit of prey. Remus kisses him through his panting, his trembling breath, pulling him back down from the sky. He will find his climax later, in bed, among the softness Sirius deserves.

They are alone, for now, where no one will find them. It may be dark but they have one another. Together, they see twice as many stars as usual.

[rosavulpes]

Slipping on multiple layers of clothing in preparation for the harsh wintry conditions that awaited him outside of his cabin home , unlike most others that would be staying indoors for the day , the prospect of the biting cold against his skin was more enticing than it was dissuading . 

Besides , regardless of what it was like outside there was always work that needed to be done no matter what . If he was the only one in the village that could tolerate this kind of cold ? Then it simply meant that most of the work that needed to be done today would fall on his shoulders to do . As was his responsibility to his village and neighbors .  

As he stepped outside , he couldn’t help but smile as dozen of furry , happy faces leapt upwards to greet him . Licking at his face affectionately as he knelt downwards to greet all of his huskies . 

While they might’ve been fine to accompany him out in this type of cold due to their nature , he’d rather not risk their health which was why today he’d be walking on most of his journey . His sled , and most of his tools would be staying behind in his workshop . He didn’t intend to go fishing , hunting , or anything else too cumbersome anyways . Just some harvesting to make sure everyone else in town would have enough to weather out the cold front . 

  “  давай успокойся сейчас “ - ( C’mon , settle down now ) 

After a few moments , he’d walk to his nearby storage shed , pulling out and then propping up a bag of relatively frozen food’s he kept around as their feed . 

He’d read up before that raw food was just as effective in dog’s as processed ... that and due to his current location , processed food was hard to come by in the frozen northern lands of Siberia . 

Walking over to his kennel , he sorted out some generous chunks of raw meat , fish , berries , and an eggs for each empty bowl . Thanks to the kennel being relatively warm compared to the outside , they had drinking water available to them as well . 

With a loud whistle , soon enough the kennel was soon full of hungry huskies that each ran to their individual bowls . The sounds of happy eating filling the air as he watched to make sure they ate well , drank well , and soon laid down to digest their meal . 

With his first errand of the day done , he’d be back later on in the day to feed them once more , and maybe do a bit of brushing to clean their coats . Not that excess fur wasn’t helpful to them this time of the year but he liked knowing that they were as groomed as they could be . 

With plenty of space for them to run around as well once they did get settled in , he knew that he could leave home without having to worry for them . 

Setting out from this gated cabin with an axe , and a few coils of rope hanging off his shoulders he began his trek out into the frost covered wilderness . 

Reaching his destination before long , a lake whose surface had long since frozen over well before the start of the winter season , a place where he intended to harvest fresh water ... by breaking off chunks of ice that could later be melted down into the water of course . 

Setting down his axe into the snow , his gloves would soon follow next . Hands balling into fists as he walked out past the shoreline . Kneeling down , hands wiping away snow , glazing over the cold surface of the ice as he exhaled softly . 

Warm breath leaving his lips like a shroud of mist as he closed his eyes . 

A shroud of silver aura soon enveloping him , sparkling akin to the flakes of snow swirling around him . Fist raised above his head slowly , before he swiftly embedded it into the ice . 

The resulting boom akin to thunder , the small quake that followed afterwards negligible compared to the chorus of splintering , and cracking sounds that came after . 

Shards of ice thrown upwards into the air as great pieces of ice were freed from the surface of the waters . 

With a light smile , the Cygnus Saint retrieved his axe , and began his work of chopping down the great chunks into smaller blocks . Blocks that were easier to manage , easier to melt , and easier for him to carry once all was said and done . 

He didn’t need to do all of this of course , his neighbors were all keen enough to have ice blocks of their own stored away on their properties for use when water was needed but it was a courtesy that was instilled within him by his former master . 

I’ll look out for you in your time of need , and you’ll look out for me in my time . 

[rubykgrant]

rvb pokemon ??? do you have any more posts from for this au👀👀

I had a couple! Some of them were a little bit different from each other... the AU with the Rotom AI Basically went like this; Project Freelancer was essentially Team Plasma, with the Director having the same backstory as the scientist who wanted to experiment with cloning to bring back a loved one, but also had to focus on Pokemon experiments (to get funding and what-not). They seemed legit and helpful on the surface, but those in charge actually have insidious intentions. During the Mewtwo experiments, the Director would try to use information from his own mind to control the Psychic Type Pokemon, which gave life to new Pokemon, which made what they call the Alpha Rotom! This Rotom then made MORE Rotom Fragments, that were unfortunately taken away for other experiments and uses. The physical body of the Mewtwo is still stuck in the lab (and later, freeing it is also how they activate the Epsilon Rotom). Charon Industries is the Aether Foundation, which also has a "nice public face", while actually causing all sorts of problems.

As I mentioned, the AI Rotom could Evolve in different and unique ways with specific qualifications... at some point, the Alpha Rotom got "stuck" in something similar to a Golurk; an old relic from ancient days, when people made statues for Pokemon to bring to life. So, "Church" just thinks he's a guy. He certainly LOOKS like a regular dude, and nothing seems too odd until he "dies" a few times and discovers he can possess various inanimate objects or relics. He winds up getting pulled into a group of Team Aqua rejects who are stuck fighting some Team Magma losers. Thus, Red VS Blue begins! The rest of the guys are (mostly) normal humans, except for Sheila who is an Aggron (the Aquas stole a baby Aaron egg from some Magmas, and now that's their big bad tank Pokemon), and Lopez who is a Golurk that LOOKS like a Golurk. Sarge is initially adamant that everybody on his team can ONLY have Magma-approved Pokemon, but as time goes on, he finally admits that having a diverse set of different types comes in handy. Doc has a few healer-Pokemon that are given to anybody that want to be a medic of sorts, but he somehow keeps on collecting Poison Types (just because it is ironic and funny).

Elements of the siege on Silph Co would be used for the downfall of Freelancer/Team Plasma, with Carolina then hunting down the Director much like the Rival of Gold/Silver/Crystal does in Johto regarding Giovanni. Tucker is a Legendary Pokemon magnet, but he doesn't always keep them for himself (I'd like to imagine everybody gets one Legendary each, and Sarge DEFINITELY lives the dream by getting a Groudon. He ABSOLUTELY has a Red Gyarados, too!). Carolina is also a former Champion in several regions, but had to step away from League Tournaments/Gym Battles to keep a low profile. When the plot of Chorus happens, two groups are tricked into fighting each other by the ACTUAL villains, Team Rocket! For these purposes, Felix and Locus are Jessie and James, while Sharkface is Meowth- that's right!

Temple's group ticks-off the Time and Space Legendary Pokemon all Team Galactic style, while the eventual time-travel stuff is more like Wormholes in Sun/Moon, with the AI Gods being Ultra Beasts (though, Chrovos takes on a "false form" to appear as a Celebi in an effort to seem more legit. Donut finds a REAL one for himself, and it is Shiny and PINK). The Aqua and Magma group would wind up moving all through different Regions, basically either living out certain plots of the games, or going through plots points from RVB but now Pokemon themed. The Meta would have some similarities with Genesect, and the strange audio message that the Rockets used at Lake of Rage

Thanks for asking~

[lyrics365]

Read & Make Out (Demo)

[Verse 1] I thought I felt the mega-quake In Silver Lake Grabbed a woman’s hand by mistake I wanna read and make out And learn magic tricks I might disappear just for kicks [Pre-Chorus] And I I’m the country hick that’s making you feel it Swear my eyes fell off from batting my lashes, I I shove my love back down in my pocket And I [Chorus] Can we stay in my fantasy? In my jewelry box, where I…

[harutostablet]

((Either by scouring Youtube or searching for a club called"The Gauntlet" a video may pop up. On paper, the club is called a high end Karaoke club that lets people experience what it is like to be a popstar for a song. It is also known to be frequented as a stepping stone for Asian pop idols that want to break out across countries.

Song:

When clicked it opens to show a series of circular stages around a large main room. Connecting the stages several feet off of the ground, three feet wide. The video appears to be shot with either a high quality cell phone or a small portable camera. Behind the main stage is a sign made out of bright lights that read "Gauntlet."))

The MC stands in the middle of the stage in a flashy suit addressing the audience. "Next up," he says into the microphone. "This guy is a college student all the way from Nagoya, Japan. Show him some love, this… is…. Haruto!" The host steps off stage. Stage lights dim as a spotlight hones in on a solo figure.

A sexy cool aura emanates from the young man as he fluidly steps closer to the edge. His short hair is hidden under a black baseball cap with the word "HARUTO" stitched in large white letters. Peeking at the bottom of the cap nearly hidden through tufts of dark hair When he looks up, his eyes are a bold exotic blue. They hold enough mischief to pool down into a smirk on his lips. He wears a black tank top under a navy blue open button-down that rocks a paisley print. Around his waist he wears a black leather belt, a silver lion head is his belt buckle. The belt holds up dark denim jeans that tuck into the top of his black leather high tops.

Gone was the socially awkward college student, navigating his way through daily life, standing on that stage was something to be worshiped and adored.

With Haruto's first step the shoes light up, alternating colors with each step. The spot light dims so the shoes made it look like he was walking on a lake of color. Each step he takes is slow and sensual.

The music track begin soft and low, luring the listener in to Haruto's sweet, mellow voice. He jumps up as he get closer to the edge of the stage, just in time for the bass to drop. The young pop star's movements go from crisp to fluid, popping and locking with the beat. As if his body was physically connected to the music.

Floating on feet that would make Justin Timberlake jealous, Haruto starts the gauntlet when there is a break in the song. His feet leap off the platform to the second stage, dropping into a deep bounce. His pale fingers of his right hand ghosted down his chest to his belt buckle. It leads the viewer to watch his hips in with an exotic rhythm.

Once again he waits for the chorus to start before moving. The audience follows him like the pied piper as he dances to the next platform. Some even reached out to touch the singer's jeans and sneakers. As if, by catching him, they would be the winner of an amazing prize.

The tugs pull the dark denim down enough to reveal the word "Papi on the top band of Haruto's boxer briefs. Haruto stands in the center of the platform taking a strong stance so he can make a display of slowly pulling up his jeans. Even giving a cocky wink to one of the girls who caused his issue before moving to the next stage.

By the time he made it to the third platform the audience was all his. They screamed and cheered for pop star in training. In that moment, he was the perfect fantasy for the viewer. Still moving with the music, waited for the perfect time to move to the last perform.

A few of the girls even tugged at his jeans as he made his way to the next platform trying to get another peek inside. Haruto graced his fans with hand shakes and sly smirks. For a select few he would look them in the eye and give them a cheeky wink.

He left his followers behind when he took the main stage. There, he once again became a magical creature at one with the music. Every move was magic. Even his sweat seemed to sparkle under the stage lights.

He sings out the track, movement and voice halting at the same time. A thunderous applause filled the void left behind from the music fading out.

The video ends with Haruto looking up at the camera. His winning smile falters for just a moment before he looks back at the audience full of charm.))

[gobboguy]

**Chapter 15: Shadows of the Mountain**

A month had passed since the fall of Fiuglia, and the chase for Gelbeg's marauding Orcs had become a relentless pursuit, a dance of shadows and steel in the vast wilderness. Alden and Elara found themselves marching in a determined column, part of the intricate plan devised by All-Saint to encircle the cunning enemy.

The Orcs, masters of guerrilla warfare, had eluded Farfield's forces, striking from the shadows and disappearing before they could retaliate. All-Saint had devised a bold strategy, splitting their army into three contingents to surround the Orcs, with All-Saint himself leading one column, Bunny the other, and a seasoned satyr named Fall-Staff commanding the contingent where Alden and Elara stood.

They followed the winding mountain road, sandwiched between the shimmering surface of a lake and the silent sentinel hills cloaked in ancient forests. Alden, wary of the Orcs' guile, warned Fall-Staff, his voice laced with caution. "The Orcs are cunning, Fall-Staff. We must remain vigilant. They have a way of surprising even the most seasoned of warriors."

Fall-Staff, however, was dismissive, his hooves clattering against the rocky path. "Aye, Forest Protector, but we have the advantage of numbers and strategy. These Orcs will find no quarter in these mountains."

As night fell, they made camp at the mouth of the narrow road, the jagged peaks casting long shadows that seemed to stretch infinitely into the darkening night. The air was thick with anticipation and tension, every soldier acutely aware of the battle that loomed on the horizon.

Alden glanced at Elara, her eyes reflecting the flickering light of the campfire. They exchanged a silent understanding, bound by the shared knowledge that the next day would bring them face to face with the ruthless Orcs. In the quiet of the night, surrounded by the looming mountains and the secrets hidden within their depths, they found solace in each other's presence, a glimmer of warmth in the encroaching darkness.

As the night deepened, the moonlight painting the world in shades of silver, they braced themselves for the challenges that awaited them with the rising sun. The shadows of the mountain whispered secrets of ancient battles and untold mysteries, their voices mingling with the distant howls of wolves, painting a haunting melody in the night air. In the heart of the wilderness, the dance between light and darkness continued, and Alden and Elara stood at the center of the storm, ready to face the shadows with unwavering determination.

The dawn arrived veiled in a thick mist that hung low over the lake, its tendrils snaking their way toward the mountain road where Farfield's army stood. The mist clung to the ground like a spectral shroud, obscuring vision and transforming the world into a ghostly realm. Tension hung in the air, the soldiers silent and watchful, their breaths forming ephemeral clouds in the chill morning air.

Amidst the dense fog, Elara and Alden rode side by side in the heart of the column, flanked by the apprehensive satyr, Fall-Staff. The mist clung to them, dampening their clothes and chilling their bones as they strained to discern the Orcs' position ahead.

Suddenly, shouts pierced the silence as the vanguard of the column collided with the Orcs. The enemy had formed an impenetrable shield wall, their massive forms casting imposing silhouettes through the mist. The clash was fierce and unforgiving, human soldiers slamming against the unyielding shields of the Orcs. Fall-Staff barked commands, but the narrow road offered no room for maneuver, trapping the army in a deadly dance of steel and sweat.

Alden's frustration boiled over, his voice cutting through the fog as he berated Fall-Staff for his lack of foresight. "This road was a death trap, and you led us straight into it!" he shouted, his words carrying the weight of his anger and disappointment.

But just as the exchange reached its peak, a deafening chorus of Orcish battle cries echoed through the mist-shrouded hills. The vegetation-covered slopes came alive with movement as Orcs, concealed by the thick fog and natural cover, descended upon the unsuspecting army.

Chaos erupted as the Orcs charged, their savage fervor cutting through the mist like a storm unleashed. The battle became a frenzied melee, the air filled with the clash of steel, the cries of the wounded, and the roar of the Orcs. Fall-Staff's attempts to rally the troops were drowned out by the cacophony of war, and Elara and Alden found themselves fighting side by side, their backs against the misty veil that concealed their relentless foes.

In the heart of the fog-choked battleground, where sight and sound melded into a disorienting symphony of war, the struggle for survival began anew, the mist serving as both shield and specter, veiling the horrors of the battlefield in an eerie dance of shadows and steel.

The misty battlefield turned into a nightmare. Farfield's army found themselves trapped between the imposing hills and the dark waters of the lake, an inescapable fate closing in on them. The deafening clash of steel reverberated through the fog, mingling with the anguished screams of humans and the victorious roars of the Orcs, a cacophony of despair and bloodlust.

The Orcs, massive and muscled, cut through the human ranks like a scythe through wheat. Their brutal onslaught left no room for hope, only the bitter taste of fear. Human soldiers, once brave and resolute, now fell under the savage blows of the Orcish warriors, their cries of pain merging with the ruthless shouts of victory from the Orcs.

Retreat became a distant dream, an illusion shattered by the grim reality of the battle. Attempts to fall back were thwarted as a group of cunning Orcs circled around, cutting off any hope of escape. Fall-Staff, desperate to regain control, shouted commands that were drowned out by the chaos. But his voice was silenced abruptly, a cruel arrow finding its mark and ending his life in an instant.

In the midst of the onslaught, Elara found herself wounded, a searing pain lancing through her arm as an Orc's blade cut a deep gash. Alden, fueled by adrenaline and protectiveness, swung his staff with unyielding determination, bashing the Orc aside before it could deliver a fatal blow to his friend.

The once proud army was now in shambles, the remnants of Farfield's forces frantically seeking an escape. Some tried to retreat into the lake, hoping the waters would offer sanctuary, but the Orcs pursued mercilessly, slaughtering those who dared to flee.

Alden, carrying the injured Elara in his arms, defied the shadows of despair. With a fierce determination, he summoned his magic, commanding giant lily pads to spring forth from the depths of the lake. The enormous, floating leaves provided a fleeting sanctuary, offering a precarious bridge to the other side. Alden, fueled by desperation and a determination to survive, guided the few remaining soldiers and Elara across the makeshift path to safety.

Amidst the chaos and carnage, a handful of survivors emerged, the bitter taste of loss mingling with the relief of escape. They stood on the opposite shore, their faces etched with the horror of what they had witnessed, their souls scarred by the merciless brutality of the Orcish onslaught. The misty veil that had concealed the battlefield now hung heavy with the weight of the fallen, a haunting reminder of the price paid in blood and bravery.