#dire straits???

[yukkuriyakumo]

I checked out my local record store a few days ago, they had some fun stuff. Even some prog, multiple Jethro Tull records and some Frank Zappa.

Then I managed to find something Yes-related, two Jon and Vangelis records. I went back today to pick up The Friends of Mr Cairo.

I also bought a Paul Simon record I really like, I'll share it in another post.

The disc ended up in a Dire Straits sleeve...

Here's what the actual sleeve should look like

I'm really happy I found it, such a great collaboration. Beautiful composition and a beautiful voice. Have you guys seen the clip of Jon talking about how he met Vangelis? I'll reblog it after this lol

[its-where-the-wild-things-are]

[gr33rdraws]

tfw we gotta install microwave ovens

[duffsvelvet]

my favourite genre of music is songs that make u feel like ur actually living in the 80s

[jt1674]

[2000s-music-tourney]

[loquaciousquark]

when will eppie hawke and fenris meet tavish and astarion? (:

"And anyway, it won't be that bad. One last little Fade rift. We'll barricade it up as best we can, send a message to Skyhold, go home, and—"

One of the craggy footholds crumbles away beneath Hawke's foot, and it's only Fenris's quick hand that saves her from a plummet back down the side of the barren mountain. "Hawke, please."

"Please yourself. I said you didn't have to come."

Fenris throws her a longsuffering look, the flickering green lightning of the rift casting weird shadows over his eyes, but he doesn't let go of her arm until she's got both feet on solid ground again. "Just seal it and let this be done."

"My heart's only desire, lover," Hawke says, smiling, just as another pair of voices rises from the other side of the rift.

"Careful—careful! It shocks like the entire Hells are in there. Where's Gale?"

"Wherever Karlach dropped him, I suppose, with that little sprained ankle of his. No, I see them, they're almost here. Come away, darling. No need to get so dramatically close."

"This, from you?" says the woman, just as she and her fellow voice round the far edge of the rift. "Oh!"

"Well!" Hawke says almost at the same moment. Two of them after all: a short, slim woman with auburn hair pulled back in a low tail, and a tall, lithe man with hair as white as Fenris's and eyes that gleam like rubies. The man has a dagger drawn already, a thin smile playing over his face; the woman's fingers rest on her sheathed rapier, but her gaze is open, friendly. Hawke plants her staff on the rocky ground in as welcoming a gesture as she can manage. "Fancy running into someone like you up here of all places."

"I could say the same," the woman says. The green rift, still hanging between them and stretching a good twenty feet into the sky, gives an ominous rumble. "Our wizard's been fretting about magical disturbances along the city's borders for weeks. He finally traces the source to this location, and here you are at the heart of it. I'd like to believe it's coincidence."

"Alas," Hawke says, "one of my greatest faults is a terrible habit of being around when things begin. Fenris can attest to that better than most." She lays a hand on Fenris's shoulder, but he's stiff as iron, eyes glued to the man's dagger, and he's reached back for the hilt of his greatsword. "I'm Hawke, by the way."

"Call me Tav."

"And I'm Astarion," the man says grandly, accompanied by a wholly unnecessary flourish of his dagger. "We're here to steal the world."

"Save it," Tav says sharply.

"Of course, my dear. Save the world. What did I say?"

Fenris makes a short, disgusted noise, but Hawke's pleased to see he's let go of his own sword. She doesn't think this Astarion is going to kill them—not easily, anyway—and she likes the look of Tav despite herself. Both of them quick on their feet, she thinks, both moving gracefully with an innate, self-assured balance. As Tav steps around the rift Astarion moves with her like water, without even needing to see where she's gone. It reminds her a great deal of Fenris and herself, actually, though Hawke would give an arm to trust her own feet that much.

Fenris, it seems, has come to similar conclusions, and he rolls his shoulders as he releases their tension. Even his voice has lost its nascent fury, which for Fenris is practically friendly in situations like this. "The rift is dangerous. We will guard it until the Inquisitor can seal it permanently. Be on your way."

"Inquisitor?" drawls Astarion with that same, thin-lipped smile. "Sounds like someone from dear Shadowheart's former enclave, don't you think?"

"I don't think they're Sharran," Tav says. "Are you?"

"What a speculative look you've put on," Hawke says, delighted. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. Unless you'd like me to be Sharran, in which case, I most certainly am and in fact have always been."

Both Fenris and Astarion roll their eyes—hilarious in its own right, but heightened by the clear antipathy still remaining between them. Fenris sighs. "Hawke—"

The rift explodes.

Green lightning shatters over the rocky cliff. The rumble bursts into a deafening roar; the faint breeze that had been dancing around them sweeps up into a hurricane. The air cracks and snaps with a sudden smell of ozone.

Hawke throws her hand over her eyes. She can't see—the wind tears her hair from its bindings and she can't see past the brilliant flashes of blazing green and she can't hear— "Fenris!"

Someone's fingers wrap around hers. She wrenches up her staff, calls for fire—for ice—for anything—but the rift has become a maelstrom and every scrap of magic sucks into the raging whirl before she can shape it. Her boots skid on the stone as she tries to brace against the inexorable pull, pebbles and rocks rattling along every step. She can't—the hand wrapped around hers has seized tight as a vise, but she's slipping anyway, and Maker, she can't—

A man's echoing voice, stripped bare of all artifice, wild with fear: "Tav!"

The wind dies. Not slowly, not gradually; it falls off like someone's upturned a glass over the rocky cliff, and Hawke's ears roar in the sudden silence. The wind is gone, and the rift is gone with it as if it had never been, the thunderous clouds that had been swirling above it already dissipating to glimpses of blue morning sky.

"Andraste preserve me," Hawke says, loud in the quiet, and she looks over to see Tav still crouched against the face of the mountain. One of Tav's hands clutches a dagger she'd wedged deep into a stony crevice; the other is still wrapped tight around Hawke's wrist where she'd pulled her away from the tempest.

No sign of Fenris. No sign of the other one—Astarion. A long white scrape in the stone marks where Fenris's sword had sought and failed to find purchase, disappearing at the precise place where the rift had torn itself open.

Gone. Gone, gone. Her heart hammers in her throat, and she indulges in thirty seconds of agonizing grief before she sets it aside, turns, and pulls Tav to her feet.

"Well," Hawke says at last. "Looks like it's just you and me, then. Ready for an adventure?"

"Yes," Tav says, her grip on Hawke's hand like steel, and her eyes blaze. "You and me. Let's get them back."

—

Everything hurts. Everything godsdamned hurts, and Astarion lets out a pained groan as he rolls to his back and drops his arm over his face. His ears ring like bells, and something twinges painfully in his left hip, and the inconvenient sun has decided to blaze right in his face and gods damn it, he'd known they ought to wait for Gale. Wretched wizard and his weak ankles. Wretched Tav and her complete inability—

"Tav," Astarion says, and sits bolt upright.

No Tav. Not even the dark-haired sorcerer with the wide smile. Just that taciturn warrior in leather and half-plate seated on a rock a few feet away, watching Astarion get his bearings, his greatsword slung across his knees and a deeply sour look on his tattooed face. The skies above them are clear and blue as a song.

No Tav. No Hawke. No rift. No plan, and no company besides an irascible stranger with the same sudden look of dawning horror.

"Venhedis."

"Shit."

[coolthingsguyslike]

[dustykneed]

Hello! Random whipper snipper! Share a WIP of your work!

ooh, with pleasure. six the musical araleyn fanart? in the year 2k24? more likely than you think xDD

i realize this looks finished, but technically i'm still deciding whether to add a background or not lol. still, for the sake of sharing a proper WIP, here's a line or two from an araleyn brainworm WIP that i started reworking yesterday (mild tw for religious guilt and period-typical internalized homophobia from aragon's pov):

She remembers sharing her bed with Anne at Henry's behest, remembers the nights of tossing and turning and trying not to think about Anne asleep next to her-- remembers waking up to dark hair spilling across her pillow and the press of blood-warm bosoms against her own, softer than sin, as hot as the Devil, remembers lying still as death, mouthing prayers into the heat of Anne's neck like an act of penance.

[drylite]

hi here’s john and gale doing deeply depressed armpit stuff in the stalag, thanks

Just a sliver of Buck’s smile. Small, a twitch of a thing. Like no one’s meant to see it.

It has the curious effect of not making John feel any less insane. “Hey,” he says. “Lemme get your back.”

—

John and Gale clean up post-fight.

[wickedcriminal]

What kind of dragons are Furious are Wodensfang and Little Tooth in the Half-Brothers AU? Are they still Seadragonus Giganticus Maximuses (Maximi?) or are they changed to DreamWorks species like Merciless and Horrorcow?

Or are the Red and Green Deaths just how SGMs look in this AU?

They're all Seadragonus Giganticus Maximuses! What I did for the AU is that I made SGM an umbrella classification for multiple different species of giant seadragon. Kind of like how wolves, dogs, and foxes are all canines.

For HBAU specifically, what I did is made all the Death dragons one species. Thus, the Red, Green and Purple Death would all look very similar. I really like how distinctive the movie design for the Red Death was, so that's what I went with!

Their DreamWorks design seems to have been built as Boulder Class, so I made some changes to suit the seadragon label. Since the Red Death lived in a volcano, I made it so that this dragon is typically at home in lava and other extreme temperatures, mainly underwater, hence the seadragon classification. (The Green Death would have resided in an underwater volcano until it woke up and decided to Have Berk For Supper!) The crown and tail emulate coral and can change color to decieve fish and smaller dragons. They're built like elephants and hippos with devastating jaw strength and can swim very well despite their size.

As for Furious, the Wodensfang, and Toothless, they're all one undefined species of SGM that are born very small, grow incredibly massive, and then get very small again in their old age. In the context of HBAU, this specific species of seadragon is so incredibly rare that they dont even have a name, and are just referred to as their umbrella class, Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus. (Since these dragons have a habit of being connected to Hiccups throughout the ages, perhaps that could inspire their official name?)

For some other members of the SGM family, I added Doomfangs and Leviathorgens! Considering how huge they are and them being seadragons, it just felt right to me!

[best-fictional-band-poll]

The top FOUR bands from this poll will go through! Good luck!

[holiday-road]

guys there's a very slim chance that I'm obsessed with this show (watch to the end TRUST) (highly recommend watching its very goofee!!!!)

[whoevrwhatevr]

I can’t do everything but I’ll do anything for you

I can’t do anything except be in love with you

& all I do is miss you and the way we used to be

[dadrockconfessions]

[jt1674]