#°༺ glacial song! :: my works

[dutybcrne]

HSR verse Kaeya ideas:

Path of Nihility, Element Ice

Fell in stride with that path due to his depression after his conflict with Diluc and belief his fate due to his family's ties to the Abyss Order may be to bring his new homeworld's doom ( in part because of his Father's final words to him ), maintained in growing to find amusement in the impossible and working towards it regardless of the fact

Has every intention to try and defy his so-called fate even still, even knowing all that effort may be for naught in the end. But at least he would like to say he tried

Tends to help people on a whim, without desiring credit for his actions or if it may help them in the long run

His abilities sap the vitality of his enemies, but consume his own when he uses his strongest ability

Due to his family's contract with the Abyss Order, his lifespan is longer than most humanoids, spanning centuries. Though not quite that of a Xianzhou native, like them, his people do still face a terrible curse to become monsters after a time, like many of the Abyss Order.

He is glad his loved ones will never live to see him succumb to it. One way or another.

Though he also secretly harbors the strongest desire to force the Abyss's immortality on them to ensure they can stay with him, and face the same fate. He has to wonder if the slumbering monster in him is to blame for that, or his own attachments

[yandere-wishes]

༄｡° Ice on Ice ༄｡°

𐙚 Yandere!Capitano Drabble

𐙚 Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, gore, manipulation

𝄞 Song: Kill V. Maim by Grimes

⋆˙❅ He's molded you into his perfect darling. His perfect weapon ❅⋆˙

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚‧͙̩̩͙

It's always snowing in Snezhnaya .

Even in the dead of summer.

Capintano glides across the castle like a shadow. Shying away from the moonlight gleaming through the towering windows.

Ice slithers up his arm, forging into the hilt of his glacial sword.

He can smell your bloodlust in the air, good, you've already commenced the integration.

The lower levels of Zapolyarny castle speak only of terrors.

It's where the faithless come to die.

Traitors to Her Majesty.

It was where he'd kept you upon your initiation, where he burned you down and fabricated you anew.

His pretty little deadly thing.

So eager to please.

So loyal

The salty tang of blood permeating the air has his heart racing, furious war drum hammering in his chest. He follows the embers of your rage, standing by the threshold watching as you dig your knife deeper into the traitor's shoulder. Capitano basks in your raw fury. Your anger sweet on his tongue.

"Darling"

His voice is low, a whisper among the screams. Snowflake on ice and yet you still jump to attention. Run up to him with a sweet smile that doesn't quite suit the crimson specks adorning your cheeks.

His eyes glide across your taut body, spine straight, fingers up in salute. Your pyro delusion glowing gently at your waist. Ready to engrave his commands upon your bones.

"Master, the prisoner has confessed to carrying out treason against the crown. But he's yet to disclose the whereabouts of his fellow rebels."

"He will."

Capitano hands you his coat, relishing the delicate way you clench the heavy thing. Cradling it in your chest as if it's more precious than all the constatations above Tyvat. He pulls his helmet up, ever so slightly, enough to press his frigid lips against your cheek and lick the specks of blood. You freeze, fingers grasping the fuzzy pelt.

"Come watch, my darling"

He stalks towards the bloodied man, twirling his sword, letting the tiny ice splinters impale the traitor at random. The man cries, voice hoarse and weak. The slim glaciers replacing blood with frost.

You trail after him, lovesick and devotion in every step, his coat hanging from your shoulders.

Heavy burden upon frail shoulders, such a perplexing thing you are...

Capitano can't help but smile in satisfaction. He's molded you into perfection, sculpted you from the purest ice. He studies your work rigorously. Pain painted across the vile canvas. The traitor's right eye is missing, the socket scorched, torrid flesh pealing from his arms. His shirt ripped, rude stab wounds still fresh, still dripping ruby.

He's trained you well.

Trained you to make nation topple and archons bow. To bend the stars and flames with your fealty.

Maim and kill.

Because this world is too cruel for righteous little boys and naive little girls.

Kill and maim or else it will be done to you.

You pull the informer's hair back as Capitano lands a metal-clad punch to his face, blood sprays unceremoniously, spoiling Capintao's black-silver armor, followed by the familiar clatter of a tooth hitting the thinly iced floor.

Capintano steps back, braces himself for a moment then thrusts his sword into the rebel's thigh. Marring the sturdy hoar a rotten red. Frost blisters skin ripping the soft tissue underneath.

Ice chips bone

Meat falls to the cold ground.

The man screams, crying out locations and names in jetted tongue. His eyes slowly grow darker.

The blood continues to pool.

You clap your hands cheerfully. Letting the man's head fall forward "Well done master."

For a fleeting second, as you skip towards your master, you catch the traitor's picture in the odd light. You gulp, the creature staring back wears your face, your body, your skin. You see yourself in the dead stranger. Stubborn face and blank eyes. You blink and it's gone, a trick of the dark, one you're too eager to forget. Those days have passed, left to decay in snow-covered tombs. You are someone else now, more importantly, you are Capitano's lover, his most devoted soldier. No longer a gullible thing chasing after empty ideals.

Capitano towers over you. A stone pillar etched of ivory paragons. His iron fingers wrap around your smaller wrist as he pulls you forward. Your fingers lace through his ebony main, while your other hand pulls up the helmet, desperate for his kiss. Biting his lips and letting the blood from his armor stain your uniform. He pushes pain and loyalty down your throat with metallic spiced kisses. Replaces the pearls of your spine with molten lava and brimstone. His touches are frostbite running rampant across your body. Peeling away skin and inscribing mortality and ethereal strength into the soft tissue of your organs. Leaving your lungs corked with icy doctrines.

He has sculpted his style of blade work into your blood. Your veins pump explosions through your body.

Capitano's lips trace the expansion of your neck, savoring your essence between harsh kisses and harsher lovebites. You feel like a sword in his hands, meticulously forged with the finest steel. He has killed many apostates with you. Used you to serve the Tsaritsa without fail

Weapon of war, built from the corpse of a little lost girl.

The frenzy in your eyes, the cosmic thumb of your heart, the way your fingers claw, and the silver of skin of his neck.

Deadly deadly deadly.

He plays the role of the virtuous knight.

Only he's come to learn that many mistake virtue for pacifism.

No.

Love and loyalty are delicate threads entwined with massacre and pain.

You must kill to protect loyalty.

You must kill to protect love.

And how better to express both than in love letters penned with fresh scarlet and decay?

"Get rid of the body, we have much work to do." He raises his sword up to the thin ray of moonlight. For a second your reflection flashes across his icy sword, broken and damaged and perfect in every way. He gives you a final kiss on your templet. Before retrieving his coat and turning away. Disappearing in the dark.

You sigh, breath observable in the chill. Your fingers ignite, warmer and warmer. Preparing for another cremation.

Capitano smiles, ridged, grotesque. As a putrid sickly saccharine scent wafts through the castle's dungeon.

He's raised the perfect lover.

Devoted to a fault and stronger than any weapon.

He's looking forward to unleashing you upon the rebel's nest.

Looking forward to the dance of savage carnage.

It's summertime in Snezhnaya 

Although you couldn't tell from the snowy blizzard outside...

When is Varka coming out? I want to be caged between the two of them so badly 😭😭

Also, guys, what if Capintano is Rustam or Arundolyn?? 🤔 I feel like I'm onto something

°����° @choueries @animelover6000 @viannasthings

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 45

part 1 | part 44 | ao3

Nancy, Jonathan, and some guy with the longest hair Steve's ever seen are standing in a loose circle with Eddie and his bandmates, talking and sort of dance-nodding along to The Power of Love by Huey Lewis (a fact that Steve absolutely intends to mock his boyfriend for the second he gets the chance), and Steve, like, mentally girds his loins.

He and Jon are cool with each other, and he and Eddie are obviously, uh, plenty warmed up to one another by now, but the rest of them...

One's a stranger, one's an ex who seems drunk as shit and is currently so invested in spinning around to the music that she hasn't opened her eyes to notice him, and the other three are thawing to him at a truly glacial pace. Steve hasn't so much as been invited to watch a rehearsal yet because Eddie's 'still working on them' and needs 'a bit more time, but don't worry, they'll come around.'

They don't openly scowl when he and Robin approach, though, so Steve takes that as a win.

"Harrington!" Eddie calls, bowing deeply to add, "Lady Buckley."

Steve would feel stung by the surname if not for how downright giddy Eddie sounds. God, he loves tipsy Eddie; fucking Disney cartoon boy.

"Munson," he plays along, giving him a sly grin and a shoulder bump as he sidles up next to him. "Didn't know you were allowed to leave the basement at these things."

Jeff interrupts his air-guitaring to glare at Steve, bur Eddie holds out a hand and assures him that Steve's just fucking around. Before Steve can apologize or defend himself, Long Hair Guy leans in across the circle, his eyes wide and intense and bloodshot to hell.

"Dude," he greets. "You have. Such beautiful hair."

Steve barks a laugh. Robin rolls her eyes. Jonathan also rolls his eyes, but it seems more fond and less annoyed. "Can't take you anywhere," he mutters to the guy, then asks them, "You guys met Argyle yet?"

Steve holds out a hand. Confusion washes over him as he processes what Jonathan just said. "Uh." Argyle. "Like the sweater?"

"Yeah, man," Argyle smiles, dopey and slow. Sure. The guy in head-to-toe tie-dye and a neon green fanny pack is named Argyle. Why not? "My parents wanted a sheep, but they got me, instead."

Jonathan laughs like it's the funniest joke he's ever heard. Steve's pretty sure he's too sober for this conversation.

They exchange handshakes, and Robin asks if she can touch the guy's hair, and they all slip into easy, friendly conversation, naturally splintering into smaller groups of twos and threes. Steve's just getting the rundown on all the 'sick new gear' the band got for Christmas when the song changes, and god, this night just could not get better.

"Oh, fuck off!" Eddie groans in the DJ's direction.

Steve has to practically swallow his lips to keep himself from cackling, and then he gives up and does it, anyway, because Eddie looks like he just sucked a lemon while watching a dog die as his bandmates all start sing-shouting along. "We're talking away..."

"No." Eddie wheels around and points a finger at Steve, because Steve's singing, too.

Steve just sings louder. "I don't know what, I'm to say!"

"Oh, my god." He scrubs a hand down his face, dragging the skin down until Steve can see the pale pink of his inner eyelid. "Nobody I know has any goddamn taste!"

"Maybe you don't have any taste!" Robin teases, bouncing around and swinging her arms haphazardly to the music.

Nancy backs her up with a mumbled "Yeah!" but she's still spinning around in such tight circles that Steve doubts she has a single clue what's happening in the argument right now. Which is kind of endearing, actually. He likes how willing she is to stick up for people.

The chorus kicks in; Gareth air-drums the switch to half time just before Frank does an honestly super impressive falsetto of 'in a day or twoooooo', and Eddie despairs while Steve laughs his fucking head off.

—

part 46

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[huramuna]

selkie's song - chapter 1.

night's watch aemond x wildling shapeshifter ofc work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

this is wholly inspired by @lonelymagpies depiction of Night's Watch Aemond. please go check out their beautiful work here!

i am also partial to selkies bc irish 🤭 i'm going to take some liberties with wildling lore since we don't know too too much about them and mix some of my own heritage into it (indigenous american and irish) , which i feel would meld really well.

previous | next chapter

word count: 2.2k

content: smut (eventually, specifics will be under the cut of chapters with it), enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, ofc is a menace to Aemond and he kind of likes it

who is she? - I MONSTER • dead! - my chemical romance

The blood of the dragon runs hot and thick, pulsing through Targaryen veins like molten lava. His mother always snuggled him as a child, citing him as her own personal furnace. 

If only that would come in handy now. Aemond thought he knew cold, way up in the skies, skimming the clouds upon Vhagar’s back, feeling the chill away from the heat of the earth. A frigid autumn breeze going through his window, causing him to bundle up in two blankets— although he usually kicked them off sometime during the night. 

But this— this was cold. Ball freezing, bone chilling, blue lipped cold. He was stuck up in the ass of the North, stationed at the wall, dressed all in black. He puffed up the collar of his cloak, trying to find some respite from the gales of glacial air. 

“Saddle up, Targaryen,” the lord commander grunted. He was a broad man, some disgraced Northman who rose his way up the ranks of the Night’s watch. Aemond could hardly remember his name, “We’re goin’ beyond the wall. Scouts said wildlings gettin’ too close.” 

“Mm.” Aemond grumbled in response, not wanting to waste his energy talking to the ogre of a man when it could be better used for warmth.

The stable boy, no older than nine name days, tugged his palfrey to him, “I’ve got ‘em all tacked  up for ya, prince.” 

“Oy, Ryam,” the lord commander snapped. Lord Ennard Fir, that was the commander’s name, “He ain’t no prince anymore, so stop callin’ him as such. He’s just one of us now, eh? A man in black.” 

Ryam nodded slowly, handing the reins to Aemond. The boy’s face was tinged red as he puffed air into his cupped hands, trying to keep warm. He was a boy from the south, just like Aemond— a butcher’s bastard boy, Ryam Waters. He had accompanied the now scorned prince on his ride up the Kingsroad. He reminded Aemond greatly of Daeron.

“Stay warm, boy,” Aemond said, giving the youngster a stiff nod of his head, “Take the fur from my bed, it’ll help.” 

Ryam puffed out his chest, “Uh huh, your grace,” he giggled, speaking the title in secret. 

It almost made a smile come to Aemond’s lips. Almost. He tried to remember the last time he smiled– it was on that fateful day near Storm’s End, over Shipbreaker’s bay. He was taunting Lucerys, finally being the stronger one, the one who had control. He laughed and smiled like a madman, chasing his nephew on his puny hatchling of a dragon. He felt like a god.

Then Vhagar snapped her jaws, ignoring Aemond’s commands. The sickening crunch of Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon still lived in his mind. It played in his dreams, making them into nightmares. He constantly woke up in a cold sweat, muttering, “It was an accident, it was an accident, I didn’t mean it.”

His eye began to ache and he clenched his jaw as he mounted his horse. Glancing around, he saw that five other men were joining him. He tugged his hood up slightly before his hand rested on his blade. He donned two weapons; a standard issue castle-steel short sword, and the Catspaw blade. He had watched his father carry it for years, he watched his mother brandish it in his name and cut Rhaenyra— and now it was his. 

Not by precedent or bestowment, he actually stole it. When he was being sent to take the black, he pilfered it from Daemon’s chambers. The old fucker already had one ancestral blade, he didn’t need two. It was the only thing he had left of home, besides the sapphire in his socket and his eyepatch. It was gorgeous crafted Valyrian steel and he always kept it on his person. 

His thumb grazed over the ruby gem on the hilt of the dagger absentmindedly as they descended on their journey, spurring their horses further across the threshold of the wall. Lord Fir was at the front, with Aemond holding up the back in their procession of ingrates and outcasts. 

If he told his younger self that he was to be lumped in with bastards, thieves, rapers and ne’er-do-wells, he would’ve laughed in his own face. It was a ridiculous notion for a Targaryen prince to be even entertaining the idea. And yet, here he was. Living it out. 

He wondered what his mother was doing currently. Had she taken Helaena and Aegon to Oldtown with the children? Did she stay in the Red Keep to be squashed under Rhaenyra’s heel? 

“Aemond Targaryen, you stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, protector of the realm,” Ser Westerling had shouted, “You stand accused of treason, conspiracy to commit usurpation, and nepoticide. You murdered Lucerys Velaryon in cold blood above the skies of Shipbreaker Bay.” 

Aemond had been in chains, his face haggard and stubbled from not being able to shave. They stripped him of his eyepatch and sapphire at the hearing, sending him down to his knees with his barren eye socket to behold. 

“How do you plead to these charges?” Ser Harrold asked. 

Aemond said nothing. 

Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne, tapping her finger incessantly against the metal, “Brother. I’ve granted you the courtesy of allowing a hearing to your… crimes, rather than simply sending you to the block. Mayhaps I was too lenient on my decision to let you say your piece.” 

Aemond still said nothing, looking down at the ground. He heard his mother shuffling near him, off to the side in the throne room, murmuring something hurriedly to someone. 

“I have nothing to say. Lucerys is dead— nothing I can say will bring him back or undo what’s been done.” he finally grit out, his voice hoarse from disuse. 

“So, you have no objection to being punished for your crimes? The crime of Kinslaying is the most cursed,” Rhaenyra said, leaning forward, “Mayhaps I will grant you a death by dragon— I would honor you the same way you so graciously honored Lucerys, hm? Mayhaps have Syrax and Caraxes rip you limb from limb and scatter your parts over Blackwater Bay.” 

Aemond didn’t respond.

“Y-your grace,” Alicent spoke up, walking to Aemond and standing in front of him, “Please, have mercy upon him. Your son wouldn’t have wanted this—“

“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT MY SON WOULD’VE WANTED,” Rhaenyra bellowed, standing up from her seat, “Your son took away his ability to want anything, and for that there should be repercussions! A son for a son.” 

“Rhaenyra, please,” Alicent murmured, “Please, I can’t lose him— it… it was an accident. Aemond, tell her it was an accident!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to admit their family’s greatest fear was true; they did not have complete control over their dragons. 

Rhaenyra gazed at Aemond’s pained expression, then at Alicent, “He will be punished. But I would not become a Kinslayer— I do not wish to be as accursed as you, brother,” she strode back to the throne, twisting the rings on her fingers, “He will take the black and be sent to the wall. He will have no titles, no land, no wife or children. He will have nothing for the rest of his life except for the Night’s Watch.” 

Alicent was stunned, as was Aemond. He wondered if he would’ve preferred death. 

“In addition,” Rhaenyra continued, “His claim to his dragon, Vhagar, will be severed. He will undergo the Valyrian ceremony for it.” 

“You can’t,” Aemond growled, “You can’t!” he panicked— Vhagar had been the only thing he ever achieved in his life, truly. He lost his eye for her. 

“Take him back to his cell and prepare him for the ride up the Kingsroad.” she said with finality, looking down at her hand as she sat back on the throne. 

Aemond saw— she had been pricked by the throne, blood beading at the tip of her finger. 

Mayhaps there are still small mercies in this world. 

A particularly strong gust of cold air snapped him back to reality, his hand still itching over his dagger. They reached the thick treeline that stretched out for miles, their horses trudging through the snow. 

They were at least ten miles out from the wall now, the Seven Kingdoms left truly well behind them. A small river trickled near them and Aemond saw the shadows of fish— large ones at that. 

He had been in the Night’s Watch for at least seven moons now, and this was his first expedition outside of the wall. It felt like a whole different world— a world without laws, without political duty, without fights of succession over a throne made of swords— there was something freeing about being here. It was only a remnant of what he felt soaring the skies on Vhagar, but it would have to do. 

The wind whistled through the branches of the trees, fresh snow beginning to fall. He heard a fly buzzing near his ear. No, that couldn’t be right. Surely there weren’t flies in the cold? 

It wasn’t right— another fly whizzed past him, sticking into the man in front of him. Those were the arrows. 

“Ambush! Wildlings!” Lord Fir shouted, reeling in his horse. 

Aemond went to unsheathe his sword when his horse went haywire, rearing up on its hind legs. “Lykiri, lykiri!” Be calm, be calm. He shouted at the horse, tugging at the reins as the wildlings descended upon them. He felt like he was above Storm’s End once more, screaming for Vhagar to heed his commands—

His horse bucked him off, sending him tumbling into a deep snow drift. He dropped his sword somewhere aside— his hand immediately went to his waist, gripping around the Catspaw dagger. 

A breath of relief washed over him as he rolled and hid behind a tree, unsheathing the dagger. He twirled it around, waiting for someone, anyone to cross his path. 

He then felt the cool pressure of a blade against his throat. 

“Don’t move, crow,” a voice said. It was almost diminutive, soft in tone— but it was threatening all the same, “I don’t need to paint the snow red with your blood just yet. Drop the dagger.” 

Begrudgingly, he dropped the Valyrian steel into the snow. 

“Now turn around, slowly. Keep your hands out.” 

He turned around, expecting to see an ugly wildling in his gaze. He had only heard the tales of them, that they were more ugly than not. 

His breath caught in his throat as he looked upon her— she was small, much smaller than he, her skin somewhat pale and cool toned, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. It was her eyes that caught him— one was a deep, rich brown, and the other was a light blue, with fragments and shards of brown in it, like a mountain against a clear sky. Her hair, dark chocolate brown with one streak of white in it, was tied into a haphazard braid. She wore earrings made of the lower jaw of some small mammal, inlaid with opals. She was holding a dragonglass dagger to his throat, the hilt of it carved from a deer’s antler, encrusted with a matching moonstone. 

She wore a long, white coat— it looked to be the skin of some animal, but Aemond couldn’t tell which. It was spotted and fluffed. 

His brow narrowed as he noticed that she was soaking wet, dripping water from her nose and hair, the sheen of moisture shining from her skin.

He could only imagine how astonished he looked staring at her— but she stared back at him in the same manner, her eyes wide. She had huge eyes, Gods be good. 

“Fucking hell, you’ve got a purple eye.” she murmured. 

“You should see my other eye.”

A harsh crack across his face— she had slapped him, “Don’t be a pig.” 

Aemond blinked profusely, “By the Seven— I meant my actual other eye,” he grunted, “May I?” he gestured to his eyepatch. 

“… better be worth it, crow.” she murmured, nodding slowly. 

He lifted his eyepatch off, revealing the sapphire underneath. 

Her lips were slightly agape as she ogled at him, “You’re a fancy crow, aren’t you?”

“Hm.” he grumbled. 

She retrieved the Catspaw dagger from the ground, stowing it at her hip, “I’ll be keepin’ this for right now.” 

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” he asked, perplexed as to why he wasn’t dead yet. 

“Not yet— you got interesting eyes, I wanna show my papa,” she retrieved a leather cord from her belt and wrapped it keenly around his wrists, “Caught myself a crow.” she hummed, seemingly entertained with herself. 

Aemond rolled his eye, letting her hoist him up into a standing position. He towered over her, to which she didn’t seem too bothered about. 

She led him past the battle, which was now over. He saw three of his Night’s Watch brothers slain, and it looks like two others had run off like cravens, including Lord Commander Fir. 

“Where are you taking me?” 

“My tribe,” she replied, stringing him along. 

“Your… tribe,” he repeated, “And what is your name?”

“Euna. And you, crow?” 

“Aemond.”

[supershot73199]

Hey everyone here is chapter 4 of my Dawn's Big Daddy story. This is the actual Gala from a few different characters perspectives.

I'll also put it under the read more

Jason Todd usually hated going to galas but tonight might just be the best he's ever been too, and it's all thanks to his baby sisters new paramour. This man who made his sister so happy was attending the Gala in a dress, especially since he looked better in that dress than many of the rich bitches that would try to cause trouble for his sister.

Honestly the two were sickeningly sweet, almost like gomez and morticia and it was hilarious how mad it made the high society stiffs. Jason stifled s laugh as Danny clearly said something that the socialites were offended by and he smiled like the cat who caught the canary.

This continued with the socialites getting more visibly upset and Cass getting more amused until a cheerful laugh came from across the ballroom.

Damian had Dawn standing on his feet while they "Danced" together. Seeing Damian interact with the little girl definitely showed that he was Bruce's kid more than any declaration of being "The Blood Son" ever could.

There was a sudden chill that had Jason turning back towards Cass and Danny their posture had changed from dopey in love to glacial wrath, from the rapidly paling face of one of the more racist leech that exist in Gotham high society they must have said something about Dawn and Damian.

The rich prick quickly rushed off dropping a hastily written check into one of the staffs waiting hands. Cass and Danny watched them go before returning to their Addams family act as they went to the dance floor though Jason could see the icy rage still in their eyes.

Tim was used to galas having been in high society all his life though he doubts he would ever enjoy them. He and Bernard were schmoozing with some of the investors for Wayne Techs newest project when his sister and her boyfriend start dancing.

Tim narrowed his eyes no matter how much he looked he couldn't find any history on Danny or any of his family, it's like he's a ghost. He didn't like his sister being so close with an unknown no matter how nice he seems.

"Stop glaring at your future brother in law. You're being overprotective." Bernard said as he bumped shoulders with Tim.

"I'm not overprotective I just don't like that we don't know anything about him." Tim defended.

"Look babe, we both know that is just an excuse because you don't want to admit you are worried about someone breaking Cass' heart. But look at them he adores her." Bernard gestures to the couple who have their eyes locked on their dance partner adoration clear to see.

"Just because he seems like he adores her doesn't mean he can't hurt her. Besides there are plenty of people with mind control abilities in the world who says he hasn't been brainwashed. That's why I won't give up until i find what he's hiding." Tim responded as Bernard sighed.

"Have you tried asking him?" Tim snorted at that.

"Oh please like that would work."

The night was coming to an end and Barbara was about to hit Dick.

He was moaning and groaning about how "that harlot is corrupting my poor innocent baby sister look at him in that dress hanging off of her" all damn night.

"If you don't stop whining about Cass falling in love I swear to God I won't be the only one who needs a wheelchair!"

She finally snapped.

"I'm sorry Babs but she's my baby sister."

Barbara sighed "I know but look how happy they are. Doesn't Cass deserve someone who makes her smile?"

The two watched the dancing couple for a few more minutes until the song ends. With the songs ending this one particularly annoying trust fund baby approached the couple and asked to cut in. Dick was about to jump up as this particular brat has harassed Cass before. However before he could take more than a step Danny had said of course before taking the man's hand and pulling him into a dance while he had a look of bafflement on his face.

Cass made her way towards the two vigilantes with humor clear on her face.

"I don't think he will bother me again." She said as she reached the table.

"What do you think Danny will do?" Barbara asked.

Cass looked at the two before responding. "He's unnerving him triggering his fear responses without doing anything else. Rich will be paranoid but otherwise will be left alone.

Barbara and Dick looked at each other before looking back to where Danny and Rich were dancing and it seemed like Cass was right about Danny somehow freaking him out if the way his eyes were darting around were any indication.

As the song ended Danny clearly gave an expected farewell while Rich all but ran away looking over his shoulder as he did. Danny after walking over to the table pressed a soft kiss to Cass cheek.

Barbara couldn't help the warm feelings bubbling up in her chest as she struck up a conversation with the pair of lovebirds.

Duke Thomas was many things, the only Meta on the team, the only dayshift hero, Hal Jordan's self proclaimed worst nightmare, etc, but one of his own personal favorites was Cass least likely to be beat up brother if only because he knew how to mind his own damn business. Despite that he couldn't help but be intrigued by the newest additions too her life.

Danny and Dawn looked rather unique to his power granted sight. Dawn was the easiest of the two to figure out her aura strengthening her body and vice versa, while not confirmed he assumes that she's a Meta with some unique energy manipulation power. (Duke would later look back at this and decide it was a pretty close guess.)

Her father though? While initially very similar to Dawn, Danny's power seemed too radiate out of him often covering people around him, if it wasn't for the fact that the energy very clearly does not actually enter anyone Duke would have been worried there might have been mind control involved.

As he watched the happy couple he enjoyed the way Danny's aura seemed to dance around Cass coating her almost like her cape does in her suit. He also looked at the energy that seemed to coat his daughter, resting on her like a warm hug or beloved blanket.

It was then Duke finally realized what the aura was seemingly doing. It was radiating safety in a unique way to each person it touched. The aura around Damian looked almost like what Duke would describe as respectful armor.

Duke gleefully watched and cataloged the way it interacted with people. When he noticed one of the more drunk guests started trying to cop a feel on a waitress. But before he could do more than take a few steps he saw a tendril of aura reach out and cover the girl right as Danny called the drunk out.

Duke only listened to the ensuing verbal smackdown with half an ear much more interested in the way the aura was behaving. It was honestly giving off what Duke could only describe as brotherly protection keeping the bulk of its energy on the side of the waitress that was nearest to any patron.

Duke really hopes Danny comes around more often, this aura show might just be Dukes new favorite use if his power. (OK second favorite cause fucking with Hal Jordan will always come first.

[byuntrash101]

ok but hear me out... hongjoong... showing mc a track he's been working on in his studio (probably late at night, we all know this man doesn't have time for sleep)... but!! things escalate :>

you could probably add mingi into the studio too since he also does some of the producing (pinkgi for bonus points)

ok i've had this ask forever and normally i dont do requests but this ?????? like i couldn't pass it up. here's a sneak peak.

preview under the cut tell me if u wanna be tagged

“What do you think?” Hongjoong asked him as you were still singing through the speakers. 

Right there Mingi realized he hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on around him. His mind was poisoned by the images he was so vividly picturing: you slipping off the flimsy tank top and taking his hands to lay over the bra, asking him to play with your tits, begging him to take off the lace that was keeping you from feeling his hands on your body. Or you spread out onto the mixing table and Mingi’s face buried between your thighs, getting to finally taste you and hear you as he made you feel good, feeling your pussy throb under his tongue smearing your wetness all over his face. That was what Mingi was paying attention to, not the song. Definitely not the song.

But he needed to find something to say before he looked suspicious so he went another route. A route that wasn’t directly about the song but still close enough to pass.

“I think she’s a good addition to the team. Look at how far we’ve come with this song already? Of course we still have to run it by Eden but I mean it’s pretty much done.” 

“No” Hongjoong started. And Mingi bit his lips thinking his friend was going to ask him to be more specific about the voice samples he wasn’t listening to but how wrong he was...

“I mean physically what do you think?” Hongjoong’s tone was as glacial as could be as he did his best to dissimulate the burning rage that was hiding behind the biting cold tone.

The words didn’t make any sense in Mingi’s mind. So he turned to his friend trying to find on his face a hint that could help him make the sentence he just heard make sense. But he only found his friend looking right at him dead serious, a darkness about his aura.

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded and utterly confused.

“You wanna fuck my girlfriend?"

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Bro, I am not gonna sugarcoat it... Throughout the entire debate whenever they asked Trump a question pre-packaged from the propaganda machine or Biden said literally everything he said, I would play that song "Why the fuck you lying?" in my head, it was the only way I could maintain sanity hearing those absolutely GLACIAL takes. You are truly the GOAT for hearing the thing without having to resort to mental detox, I commend you.

Ha, I actually have a life so I didn't watch the whole thing live. I caught bits and pieces and then watched more when I got home. It's a fascinating look at what happens when people buy into obvious lies. CNN actually believed the "Biden is great behind close doors" thing and seeing them experience the truth firsthand and having to recognize, live, that their hopes to beat the evil Orange Man lie in the hands of a man who can barely answer easy questions was glorious. They tried so hard to stack the deck against Trump and everything they did just ended up working in his favor.

I'm a natural pessimist. I expect the worst when it comes to politics. But, every once in a while, the universe provides.

[ifideliadaworld-blog]

Dragon Hunters: GLACIER OF MADNESS

(PART 9, FINALE)

Main characters & setting by: © Arthur Qwak, Valérie Hadida, Guillaume Ivernel © Futurikon Screenplay and artwork: Fideliada

Part1--Part2--Part3--Part4--Part5--Part6--Part7--Part8--Part9(end)

(Rumble of ice and rocks)

(Gwizdo) Wah! Lian-Chu, what are you doing?! (Lian-Chu) I just make a warm cabin for you...

(A huge fibramorio ancestor with an impressive wingspan formed out of the membrane for a moment to ring out an otherworldly echo in these endless skies... and be relieved to disembody like the other former prisoners of the Glacial Oasis — so Soulcatcher forever came to an end)

(Crunching of the ice crust in time with the hoarse and plaintive howl of Fibramorio right behind)

(Gwizdo) Buddy, we're already getting seasick! (Lian-Chu) We need to hold OUT LONGER THAN HIM!

(They were traveling at the speed of a young neglur, even though it seemed like an eternity... yes, and Gwizdo's ears are blocked!)

(Gwizdo) Zoe, this is crazy! At least he should let us anything to see!(Zoria) Look away, I sacrifice my dress so I don't scratch anyone!!!

(The roar of the snow-and-ice crumb and the strained grunts of Lian-Chu showed only one thing: the big guy had come up with something, but he just didn't want to talk about it out loud!)

(In general, he was looking out for the snow at the edge of the ridges, so the anchor made of his friends would work, and as for the rock, it was waiting for the inevitable "bang-bang" on the island of incredibly hard ice!)

(Zoria) Pull tight, it's almost rags, EYES OFF!!! (Hector, carefully turning away.) YEP-YEP! (Gwizdo) You smashed my nose so the wind glued my eyes together!(Zoria) Well, I'm sorry!..

(Everyone is pulled back by a chilling reminder that someone has left something very important unsaid to everyone...)

(Gwizdo) Almost here!.. (Zoria) Nowhere to run. My sword, Hector... HURRY UP! (Hector) Hic!..

(Lian-Chu raised his head to the others and wanted to say something out loud, but he didn't say anything. Apparently, he was surprised beyond measure by the dragon's behavior, which did not hurry to crawl into warmth and safety at the behest of instincts and instead slowly, unsteadily, absently hobbled towards the hunters-fugitives, towards the dawn of the polar suns. Bewilderment and shock possessed all four for a long seven seconds...)

(Gwizdo) You've decided to fight him when you're almost naked?!(Zoria) This wind is MUCH worse for him than for us! What is he? (Hector) Waaaah, the creeping horror!

(It seemed that the steam clouds generated by Fibramorio's hiss would engulf everyone and hang there for years!)

(Gwizdo's anxious voice) Why are you standing there, Lian-Chu?!  (Lian-Chu) His mustache has a strange shape...

(Hector) HIC! (Gwizdo, freezing in terror) I can no longer contemplate THIS MESS! Should I? I MUST, RIGHT?! For the sake of the Map!.. (Zoria) Why? Why me? Why are you using up your last strength?.. (the girl's voice becomes more and more sad and strangled as the pseudo-lotus of psionic fibers grows stiff in the cold.)

(The fading trill of Fibramorio rang through the air... more like a final plea than anything else...)

(Zoria) Yes. I see… (Fibramorio) ^|—|^.~|.^~|.^~|—:—|~^.|~^.|~.^|—|^… (Zoria) Happy to remember what the REAL SUN looks like? Really?

(It wasn't so much the strange slowing down of time that was puzzling at the time, but rather Zoria's continued ability to squeal like a girl in the freezing cold... And on a tone that could have shattered a glass window. Well, the guys should admit: this is her talent from childhood!)

(The echoes of the battle screech are replaced by the sound of shrapnel flying in all directions!)

(Hector) Ahhhh-ahhhh! (Gwizdo) And how can you believe your eyes?..

(Lian-Chu) From what my own eyes tell me, we don't need to get cold in the icy wind anymore, Gwizdo...

(Today the squad truly did something right: the melting Chorus sings about it its most calm and bright wordless song...)

(It wasn't hard to find "St. George". Even funnier was the fact that the southern furry animal was in no hurry to attack anyone, even when the "St. George" flew above the ground. Still, there was something elusively odd about its behavior... It was devouring a purple thing that it had pulled out of the back of its head!)

(Propeller noise)

(Lian-Chu) Zoria, how's your injection? Is Noble Kayo's serum painf... (Zoria) Hey! I feel not bad. Lucky, I didn't have time to get infected! (Gwizdo) Remember for the rest of your long days, you, princess Solar Head: you can't make smart decisions based on emotions! (Lian-Chu) So let your immunity increase. And trust Gwizdo: he has a rich experience of confirming these his words… (Gwizdo) Chu, Buddy, your jokes still aren't too witty. (Cheerful Lian-Chu) I wasn't joking!

(The noise of the propeller and the nasal whine of pedaling Hector)

(Zoria) Just think! All that's left of our adventure is now stored in these sheets... Gwizdo, have you come up with a title for your precious book yet? (Gwizdo, thoughtfully) The one that the Science Guild would probably consider a grotesque mockery of Highest Archaeology?

(Gwizdo) NECRODRAGONOMICON! The shorter the title, the more excited readers and buyers are: I believe that!

THE END

Part1--Part2--Part3--Part4--Part5--Part6--Part7--Part8--Part9(end)

THANKS FOR WATCHING AND READING THE SECRET "DRAGON HUNTERS" EPISODE "GLACIER OF MADNESS"!

**** Fideliada ****

[randomnon911stuff]

tag 9 people you want to get to know better

tagged by @buckitup (as @mattoidmeerkat) 😍

favorite color: green

currently reading: Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir

last song: Brave by Sara Bareilles

last series: rewatching 911 and The Good Place (looking forward to the new season of Futurama)

last movie: Meet the Browns (2008), slowly watching my way through Angela Bassett's filmography with my best friend 😅

sweet/savory/spicy: all of the above

currently working on: preparing for my first international business trip in years (exciting and terrifying) and adding screenshots to my 911 locations map (glacial pace)

no pressure tagging: @mellaithwen, @zahlibeth, @lesbiankarolinanovotney, @taffee23, @lavoixhumaine, @themccord, @starrybouquet, @lucydonato, @moghraidhs

[halfpintpeach]

My Masterpost

Hi hello welcome! Here's a masterpost of my AO3 works and Tumblr Tags :)

Current Ongoing:

Glacial - (Andriel, Rate T) Apocalyptic AU set in an ice age. Lots of cuddling (just for the warmth and shared body heat of course)

Faerie - (Andriel, Rated M) Fantasy AU, Andrew's best friend is a sentient plant

Game of Survival - (Kevin POV, Rated T) established secret relationship Andreil, aged up Andreil, big brother Neil (but he's also a dick)

New Beginnings - (Andreil, Rated G) stardew valley AU based off of my twitter thread!

All my series and one shots and tumblr tags are below the cut!

Professor Neil series:

An AU series where pre Palmetto, Neil was caught by his father and ended up loosing a leg. He is now a Math and Linguistic Professor and just so happens to be married to professional exy player Andrew Minyard.

Necessary Losses - (Andreil, Rated T, 9.7k) Neil bullys Kevin, Neil and his grad students go to an Exy game, Neil's mobility support dog is named Duke and she's everything to me thank youuuu

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - (Andriel, Rated G, 3.6k) Neil has a rough day at work, loving husband Andrew stops by

It's Alright, It's Okay series:

A collection of post canon fluff pieces

Soft Mornings (Gray Skies) - (Andreil, Rated M, 1.4k) lazy mornings, cuddles, implied smut at the end

My Home Will Never Be A Place - (Andreil, Rated G, 3k) Andrew POV, soft boys

Take This Heart, Put Yourself In It - (Andreil, Rated T, 2.9k) Andrew's birthday, Neil surprises him, Matt and Andrew are roommates

Petrichor - (Andreil, Rated G, 1.8k) rainy days, Neil loves the rain

Arlo Minyard-Josten series:

In collaboration with @prince-peachie, Arlo is Andrew and Neil's adopted son.

Can You Hold Me - (Andreil, Rated G, 1.1k) Toddlers are heavy, idiots in love, Andreil are the best parents

Arlo and the Baseball Surprise - (Andreil, Rated G, 1.4k) Arlo is a prankster, Andrew has no sympathy

One Shots (updated with most recent at the top):

Sports, Balls - (Andreil, Rated E, 9.4k) Absolute filth. Background Minyard-Josten Rivalry.

Rough Draft - (Andriel, Rated M, 12k) 5+1 of the professional years Andrew and Neil aren't on the same team and the one time they finally make it

To Run - (Andriel, Rated T, 1.5k) vent fic about anxiety and panic attacks, Neil runs but always calls Andrew

Hey, Pumpkin - (Andreil, Rated G, 4.3k) Andrew gets arrested when fans spot him driving around known rival Neil's car. Nevermind that they live together and are dating

Aquascape - (Andreil, Rated G, 2k) Mermay 2023, Andrew and Neil are the size of clown fish.

Think With Your Head - (Andreil, Rated E, 9.6k) Andrew has a wet dream missing Neil

Cruel Summer - (Andreil, Rated T, 3k) AFTG Mixtape 2023, based on a Taylor Swift song, sneaking out, secret relationships

Fireside - (Andreil, Rated G, 4.7k) The Foxes take a winter vacation

Gorgeous - (Andreil, Rated M, 6.7k) 5+1 of others finding out Neil's pet name for Andrew, implied sexual content, POV alternates

Tearing My Seams, Lucid Reality - (Andreil, Rated E, 7.4k) SMUT, bottom Andrew, use of pet names, let Andrew be worshipped

Memento Mori - (pre-Andreil, Rated T, 4.2k) Neil is a grim reaper and Andrew accidenly stumbles upon him taking a soul

Covenant - (Andrew & Aaron, Rated G, 1.4k) Aaron is the first to reach out, and Andrew is the last to let go

What A Feeling - (Kevin & Andrew, Rated G, 900) Andrew and Kevin talk post Kevin's graduation

WIP Wednesday Tags:

ALL AFTG WIP Wednesday asks - what it says on the tin

ALL wips - I am so so sorry if you click this, it's a mess

Dragons AU - Andrew is a dragon shifter and Neil is a witch

Rivalry Same Team - Andreil secretly together and percieved as rivals, Andrew joins Neil's team

ASSassins - that one post about assassins trying to bone and just pulling more and more conealed weapons off of themselves

Snow White AU - vaguely Snow White inspired, no dwarves though I'm sorry

Arranged Marriage - historical fantasy AU, falling in love

Tattoo Shop/Flower Shop AU (Renison) - Tattoo Artist Allison and florist Renee

Ice Age - A glacial period apocalypse where everyone is living in another ice age

Hades and Persephone AU - exactly what it sounds like!

MerNeil - Andrew is a painter who falls into the ocean and is saved by a merman

Tutor Neil - Professor Neil prequel :) Math tutor Neil, getting together, pining, service dogs!

The Tunnel - AFTG supernatural beings AU with some provate school aspects

Teacher/Actor - Andrew is an English teacher and Neil is an A-List actor

[sivavakkiyar]

Satie recs? trying gymnopedies & gnosienes rn. first thing that came up on yt

Yup! Those are I think the undeniable big ones. I’m in love w/ Satie so I’ll just starting listing all his pieces, and no one needs that, but I’ll make some recording recs. For me there are really two pianists who are best w/ Satie: Aldo Ciccolini and Reinbert De Leeuw.

Ciccolini is my personal biased favorite, and from him you get the widest range of Satie’s material probably performed something like how Satie imagined it. de Leeuw is phenomenally beautiful, but he tends to play only the earlier pieces at such glacial tempos that they sound almost more like Feldman than Satie (I don’t think Satie ever actually imagined the Gnossienne’s would take 30 minutes to get through). They’re absolutely beautiful and worth hearing though.

This is the only recording of Satie’s ballets and orchestral work I’ve come back to a lot. It doesn’t have all of it, but all the major work is here and it’s beautiful colorful fun.

For Satie’s vocal music (and the rest of his smaller orchestra music) these two are incredible. The Hannigan performance of Socrate is one of my favorite recordings period. The one on the right is the one I first heard and includes some of Satie’s most famous songs—-Je Te Veux, Tendrement—-that unfortunately Hannigan doesn’t.

Sorry I know that was a little long

[patchodraws]

Chapters: 8/12 Fandom: RWBY Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long Characters: Blake Belladonna, Yang Xiao Long, Sun Wukong (RWBY), Ruby Rose (RWBY), Weiss Schnee, Pyrrha Nikos, Nora Valkyrie, Jaune Arc, Lie Ren, Neptune Vasilias, Adam Taurus, Ilia Amitola, Velvet Scarlatina, Coco Adel Additional Tags: Musicians, Alternate Universe - Music, musician au, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, in which Blake is a piano major with synesthesia, and Yang is the rock guitarist whose sound she falls in love with, Synesthesia, Alternate Universe - College/University, Based Very Heavily on My Own Experiences Both In Music School and With Synesthesia/Perfect Pitch, Self-Indulgent, Past Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism

Preview below:

Of course, she knows she shouldn’t be getting distracted, yet the bassy crimson that often invites itself into her practices and reprimands her for these private moments of musical reflection has made itself scarce today. Maybe it’s had its fill on all the mistakes she’s made practising already for Festival, or maybe it can tell she’s been doing her best to ignore it in the weeks since unveiling that pain of hers to Yang.

Blake isn’t complaining; she finally gets a moment of solace without his influence, and it’s a peace she savours. Every note she plays twines between each falling flake in a sparse, delicate dance of sound, illustrating an unfinished, undreamt of piece of music that slowly sets an ease in her chest and a warmth in her belly.

There are no wrong notes to mask or grimace at, no tempo to militantly maintain, no image to illustrate to suit an audience that can’t see what she sees.

Nothing to mutilate. Nothing to pervert.

Nothing to reel from. Nothing to crave silence over.

It’s been a long time since Blake’s allowed herself to be enveloped in sound like this. Her sound. It almost warms her heart when she realises it, but just as she does it feels incomplete. There is an audience she would like to share this music — this moment — with, but she’s still on her way with no ETA, thanks in no small part to the icy roads slowing down the already slow buses to an absolutely glacial pace.

Glacial. Yang would have celebrated that pun.

[livwritesstuff]

get to know me tag game :)

tagged by the lovely @augustjustice 💜

Favorite color -> i truly love all colors so deeply. i’ve been really into a nice fire truck red recently tho

Last song -> Not Your Way by Misterwives, if Spotify is to be believed. i’m seeing them live in a month and SO excited

Currently reading -> Remarkably Bright Creatures at an absolutely glacial pace because i love it so much and don’t want it to end

Currently watching -> I’ve been plugging my way through Bobs Burgers the last several months and loving it. I also just finished Kaos which i also very much enjoyed.

Currently craving -> i’ve been on an ice cream kick recently which is rare for me

Coffee or tea -> neither tbh. i don’t like coffee at all and hot drinks really aren’t for me. if you really twisted my arm about it i’d say tea but only if it’s iced tea.

A hobby you’d like to try -> Pinterest keeps showing me the cutest beaded necklaces and now i want to try beading 🤷🏼‍♀️

An AU you’re working on/thought of -> reeeeallly trying to make progress on my co-stars au. so so excited to share that with y’all

[harmonicabisexuals]

10 people i’d like to get to know better! tagged by @scullysflannel :)

last song: "all things must pass" by george harrison

last book: finished all fours by miranda july a few days ago which was surprisingly kind of meh but now i'm reading never let me go by kazuo ishiguro which i like a lot better

last movie: crimson peak (2015)

last tv show: hannibal (nbc), going through it at a glacial pace bc i currently don't have wifi in my apartment but i'm loving it for the most part

sweet/spicy/savory: all of the above, preferably in combination

relationship status: currently married to work but not in a fun way

last thing googled: victoria and albert museum tickets (cause i'm planning a trip to london)

current obsession: gothic horror stories. toxic age gap relationships. pomegranate and peanut butter toast for breakfast.

looking forward to: christmas and moving back to [redacted] to be closer to family

tagging: @riverlarking @stewy @tabiheel @sallycinnamons @elena-ferrante @menlove @pennyserenade @madsmikkelsenss @appleisms @northcountrymaid + whoever else!

[dollarbin]

Mitchell Mondays #2:

Eastern Rain

My famous brother spent much of the last week bragging about how he'd taken in all 27 hours of Bob Dylan's latest archival release. I'd love to follow in his audio footsteps and listen to all of Bobby's 74 live recordings but I'm afraid there'd be some serious repercussions:

To begin, my work computer would give up the ghost. The machine is over a dozen years old and already on its last legs, laboring under the weight of some 30,000 MP3 files and 20 years of work documents. Every time I download another Neil Young bootleg compliments of my brother's fantastic blog the thing shudders, buckles and wavers somewhere between life and death. If that box could talk it would have nothing but curse words to hurl in my direction.

My trusty old IPod would beg for mercy. Forever addled with 22,000+ songs, it no longer holds a charge for more than 10 seconds and crashes every time I transfer antique docking stations. I'm so practiced at resuscitating it that it's a shame I wasn't on hand when Steven Jobs croaked. Plus the thing often insists boy genius is playing when I'm listening to Miles Davis. There are currently just 23 MBTs or GPTs or whatever of space left on it. Attempting to sneak 27 more hours of Dylan into its guts would be like entering me and my bald spot mid-school year and in-between shaves in a beauty pageant: things would get real ugly real fast.

Plus I'd be broke! The thing is retailing for $130 and I don't have 130 cents. Frankly, I find it incomprehensible that, given my track record of getting drunk and blogging while listening to Dylan's 70's live albums, Dylan's people have yet to send me a complimentary copy. Get to work all you Dylan-people: supply the Dollar Bin with free stuff already!

Finally, if I started in on 27 hours of Dylan and the Band in our kitchen my family would all rise up, don war-shirts and take to the streets against me. I once attempted to listen to every pass Dylan took on Idiot Wind in a row on a family car trip. In my defense I thought they'd all fall asleep or not notice what I was doing. But after just two and half glacial versions I was forced to abandon my attempt. It was either that or abandon my marriage.

Happily, my famous brother shouldered these risks for me and you and emerged unscathed, though one wonders whether his big deal wife made like a desperate farmer in a Dylan song and fingered the familial hatchet with menace once Bob and the Boys struck up their 64th rip roaring version of Hollis Brown.

Good bananas, this version, in which my brother astutely hears the rhythmic foundations of Shakey's Revolution Blues, truly cooks. Seven new people were probably born right there in the theater while Bob, Richard and everybody else pounded the hell outta this thing. Robbie Robertson: wow.

But the new Dylan collection's crown jewel, again according to the only human being on earth who has actually listened to the whole thing, is a song Dylan apparently couldn't find any room for on any of his 70's records. Apparently he thought New Pony was better than this greatness.

Imagine shrugging off and then forgetting altogether a song this dense and fruitful. Dylan, of course, built up a good deal of his cult following on equally stupid decisions: Union Sundown instead of Blind Willie McTell? Sure. Joey over Abandoned Love? Why not! Disease of Conceit when he had Series of Dreams? Definitely. Stupid apparently leads to genius if you're Bob Dylan.

But dare we say the same thing about Joni Mitchell? Once RBG died, Brandi Carlile forcefully placed Joni on our throne of liberal untouchability: criticize her and you'll suffer the progressive culture's wrath.

I'm as thrilled as you are to see Mitchell alive and well, but I think treating her like a Ming vase sucks. This is the Dollar Bin, not the Louvre, and we like our artists brilliant and flawed.

Consider: Mitchell routinely showed up to parties in the late 70's in blackface, then she memorialized the whole act on an album cover. Plus she once hired Billy Idol to accompany her on a song called Dancing Clown. Joni's not precious nor perfect; she's flawed, and she's awesome.

And she too was capable of Dylan-level dumbness.

Which brings us to Eastern Rain. When her Archives project was announced a few years back I couldn't wait to finally hear a studio take of her complex and rich song which was made famous by Fairport Convention.

But apparently Mitchell never even attempted the song for an album. All we've got after three archive collections are two live versions. They're both great, even if they include a twice repeated bridge which Fairport were wise to jettison.

Just imagine if she'd cut this song for Hissing of Summer Lawns. Lyrically it would interfere - I get that - but can't you just imagine the record's swooping bass laid over lush vibes and rich vocals? Eastern Rain could have served as yet another cornerstone of that incomparable record.

Then again, maybe the song is just cursed in some way; after all even Fairport Convention were dumb with it. Just listen to how much better everything sounds on this outtake version when Ian Matthews gets outta Sandy's way:

[whisperthatruns]

Work

I wanted to be a rain salesman, because rain makes the flowers grow, but because of certain diversions and exhaustions, certain limitations and refusals and runnings low, because of chills and pressures, shaky prisms, big blows, and apes climbing down from banana trees, and dinosaurs weeping openly by glacial shores, and sunlight warming the backsides of Adam and Eve in Eden... I am paid to make the screen of my computer glow, radioactive leakage bearing the song of the smart money muse: this little bleep went to market, this little clunk has none. The woman who works the cubicle beside me has pretty knees and smells of wild blossoms, but I am paid to work my fingers up and down the keys, an almost sexy rhythm, king of the chimpanzees picking fleas from his beloved. I wanted to be a rain salesman, but that's a memory. I keep returning to my childhood for minor repairs: the green sky cracking, then rain, and after, those flowers growing faster than I can name them, those flowers that fix me and make me stare. I wanted to be a rain salesman, carrying my satchel full of rain from door to door, selling thunder, selling the way the air feels after a downpour, but there were no openings in the rain department, and so they left me dying behind this desk--adding bleeps, subtracting clunks--and I would give a bowl of wild blossoms, some rain, and two shakes of my fist at the sky to be living. Above my desk, lovingly in a bed of brushstroke flowers, a woman beckons from my cheap Modigliani print, and I know by the way she gazes that she sees something beautiful in me. She has green eyes. I am paid to ignore her.

John Engman, Temporary Help (1998)