#but if you have any questions or just want to talk about art !!!!!!

[onelastkiss4you]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Just Went From A Good RPG To One Of BioWare’s Most Important Games

In light of BioWare scattering some of its most foundational veteran talent to the winds, Dragon Age: The Veilguard sure reads like something made by people who saw the writing on the wall. The RPG leaves off on a small cliffhanger that could launch players into a fifth game, but I’m skeptical that we’ll ever get it. The quickness with which publisher Electronic Arts gutted BioWare and masked it with talk of being more “agile” and “focused” shortly after it was revealed The Veilguard underperformed in the eyes of the power that be makes me wonder if BioWare was also unsure it would get to return to Thedas a fifth time. Looking back, I’m pretty convinced the team was working as if Rook’s adventure through the northern regions of this beloved fantasy world might be the last time anyone, BioWare or fan, stepped foot in it. But that may have only made me appreciate the game even more.

Yeah, I might be doomsaying, but there’s a lot of reasons to do so right now. The loss of talented people like lead writer Trick Weekes, who has been a staple in modern BioWare since the beginning of Mass Effect, or Mary Kirby who wrote characters like Varric, the biggest throughline through the Dragon Age series, doesn’t inspire confidence that EA understands the lifeblood of the studio it acquired in 2007. The Veilguard has been a divisive game for entirely legitimate reasons and the most bad-faith ones you can imagine on the internet in 2025, but my hope is that history will be kinder to it as time goes on. 

A Kotaku reader reached out to me after the news broke to ask if they should still play The Veilguard after everything that happened. My answer was that now we are probably in a better position to appreciate it for what it was: a (potentially) final word.

The Veilguard is just as much a send-off for a long-running story as it does a stepping stone for what (might) come. Its secret ending implies a new threat is lurking somewhere off in the distance but by and large, The Veilguard is about the end of an era. BioWare created an entire questline essentially writing Thedas’ history in stone, removing any ambiguity that gave life to over a decade of theory-crafting. As a long-time player, I’m glad The Veilguard solidifies the connective tissue between what sometimes felt like world of isolated cultures that lacked throughlines that made the world feel whole. But sitting your cast of weirdos down for a series of group therapy sessions unpacking the ramifications of some of the biggest lore dumps the studio has ever put to a Bluray disc isn’t the kind of narrative choice you make if you’re confident there’s still a future for the franchise. 

Unanswered questions are the foundation of sequels, and The Veilguard has an almost anxious need to stamp those out. Perhaps BioWare learned a hard lesson by leaving Dragon Age: Inquisition on a cliffhanger and didn’t want to repeat the same restriction. But The Veilguard doesn’t just wrap up its own story, it concludes several major threads dating back to Origins and feels calculated and deliberate. If BioWare’s goal with The Veilguard was to bring almost everything to a definitive end, the thematic note it leaves this world on acts as a closing graf summing up a thesis the series hopes to convey.

Pushing away the bigotry that has followed The Veilguard like a starving rat digging through trash, one of the most common criticisms I heard directed against the game was that it lacked a certain thorny disposition that was prevalent in the first three games. Everyone in the titular party generally seems to like each other, there aren’t real ethical and philosophical conflicts between the group, and the spats that do arise are more akin to the arguments you probably get into with your best friends. It’s a new dynamic for the series. The Veilguard doesn’t feel like coworkers as The Inquisition did or the disparate group who barely tolerated each other we followed in Dragon Age II. They are a friend group who, despite coming from different backgrounds, factions, and places, are pretty much on the same page about what the world should be. They’re united by a common goal, sure, but at the core of each of their lived experiences is a desire for the world to be better.

This rose-colored view of leftism doesn’t work for everyone. At its worst, The Veilguard can be saccharine to the point of giving you a cavity, which is far from what people have come to expect from a series in which Fenris and Anders didn’t care if the other lived or died. It also bleeds into a perceived softening of the universe. Factions like the Antivan Crows have essentially become the Bat Family with no mention of the whole child slavery thing that was our first introduction to them back in Origins. The Lords of Fortune, a new pirate faction, goes to great lengths to make sure you know that they’re not like the other pirates who steal from other cultures, among other things. I joked to a friend once that The Veilguard is a game terrified of getting canceled, and as such a lot of the grit and grime has been washed off for something shiny and polished. 

That is the more critical lens to view the way The Veilguard’s sanitation of Thedas. To an extent, I agree. We learned so much about how the enigmatic country of the Tevinter Imperium was a place built upon slavery and blood sacrifice, only for us to conveniently hang out in the common poverty-stricken areas that are affected by the corrupt politics we only hear about in sidequests and codex entries. But decisions like setting The Veilguard’s Tevinter stories in the slums of Dogtown gives the game and its writers a place to make a more definitive statement, rather than existing in the often frustrating centrism Dragon Age loved to tout for three games.

I have a lot of pain points I can shout out in the Dragon Age series, but I don’t think one has stuck in my craw the way the end of Anders rivalry relationship goes down in Dragon Age II. This is a tortured radical mage who is willing to give his life to fight for the freedom of those who have been born into a corrupt system led by the policing Templars. And yet, if you’ve followed his rivalry path, Anders will turn against the mages he, not five minutes ago, did some light terrorism trying to free. In Inquisition, this conflict of ideals and traditions comes to a head, but you’re able to essentially wipe it all under the rug as you absorb one faction or the other into your forces. So often Dragon Age treats its conflicts and worldviews as toys for the player to slam against one another, shaping the world as they see fit, and bending even the most fiercely devoted radical to your whims. And yes, there are some notable exceptions to this rule, but when it came to world-shifting moments of change, Dragon Age always seemed scared to assert that the player might be wrong. Mages and Templars, oppressed and oppressors, were the same in the eyes of the game, each worthy of the same level of scrutiny.

Before The Veilguard, I often felt Dragon Age didn’t actually believe in anything. Its characters did, but as a text, Dragon Age often felt so preoccupied with empowering the player’s decisions that it felt like Thedas would never actually get better, no matter how much you fought for it. While it may lack the same prickly dynamics and the grey morality that became synonymous with the series, The Veilguard’s doesn’t just believe that the world is full of greys and let you pick which shade you’re more comfortable with. It’s the most wholeheartedly the Dragon Age universe has declared that the world of Thedas can be better than it was before.

Essentially retconning the Antivan Crows to a family of superheroes is taking a hammer to the problem, whereas characters like Neve Gallus, a mage private eye with a duty-bound love for her city and its people, are the scalpel with which BioWare shifts its vision of how the world of Thedas can change. Taash explores their identity through the lens of Dragon Age’s longstanding Qunari culture, known for its rigidness in the face of an ever-changing world, and comes out the other end a new person, defined entirely by their own views and defying others. Harding finds out the truth behind how the dwarves were severed from magic and still remembers that she believes in the good in people. The heroes of The Veilguard have seen the corruption win out, and yet never stop believing that something greater is possible. It's not even an option in The Veilguard's eyes. The downtrodden will be protected, the oppressed will live proudly, and those who have been wronged will find new life.

That belief is what makes The Veilguard a frustrating RPG, to some. It’s so unyielding in its belief that Thedas and everyone who inhabits it can be better that it doesn’t really entertain you complicating the narrative. Rook can come from plenty of different backgrounds, make decisions that will affect thousands of people, but they can never really be an evil bastard. If they did, it would fundamentally undermine one of the game’s most pivotal moments. In the eleventh hour, Dragon Age mainstay Varric Tethras is revealed to have died in the opening hour, and essentially leaves all his hopes and dreams on the shoulders of Rook. After our hero is banished to the Fade and forced to confront their regrets in a mission gone south, Varric’s spirit sends Rook on their way to save the day one last time. He does so with a hearty chuckle, saying he doesn’t need to wish you good luck because “you already have everything you need.” He is, of course, referring to the friends you have calling to you from beyond the Fade. 

Varric, the narrator of Dragon Age, uses his final word to declare a belief that things will be okay. This isn’t because Rook is the chosen one destined to save the world, but because they have found people who are unified by one thing: a need to fight for a better world. But that’s what makes it compelling as a possibly final Dragon Age game. Reaching the end of a universe’s arc and being wholly uninterested in leaving it desecrated by hubris or prejudice is a bold claim on BioWare’s part. It takes some authorship away from the player, but in return, it leaves the world of Thedas in a better place than we found it.

The Veilguard is an idealistic game, but it’s one that BioWare has earned the right to make. Dragon Age’s legacy has been one of constantly shifting identity, at least two counts of development hell, and a desire to gives players a sandbox to roleplay in. Perhaps, as Dragon Age likely comes to a close, it’s better to leave Dragon Age with a game as optimistic as the people who made it. I can’t think of a more appropriate finale than one that represents the world its creators hope to see, even as the world we live in now gives us every reason to fall to despair.

In my review for The Veilguard I signed off expressing hope for BioWare’s future that feels a bit naive in retrospect. Would a divisive but undeniably polished RPG that felt true to the studio’s history be enough when, after 10 years of development, rich suits were probably looking for a decisive cultural moment? That optimism was just about a video game. Having lived through the past 32 years, most of the optimism I’ve ever held feels naive to look back on. I think I’m losing hope that the world will get any better. But even if we haven’t reached The Veilguard’s idealized vision, I’ll take some comfort in knowing someone previously at BioWare still believes it’s possible. - ken shepard, shepardcdr.bsky.social

[cupboardgods]

Hi former grants person here again. Reblogging this so that my previous post above about US arts grants sits at the top the notes. Hopefully it helps some artists in these trying times.

Furthermore!!!!

The status quo has shifted. This week, the current administration just tried to put a freeze on all federal grants. Universities, healthcare, and welfare programs were all discussed in the aftermath as potential victims of the freeze--in the handful of articles I read, arts funding was not mentioned, but it's absolutely still at risk. IMO everyone should be concerned.

The National Endowment for the Arts, the largest funding entity for art in the US, gets barely 0.003% of the annual budget (about $200 million). 80% of that gets regranted out all over the country, including a significant portion in rural areas. It's not even close to being enough money and the annual increases are meager. Regardless, that funding has a huge amount of impact.

Conservative administrations have tried to get rid of the NEA for decades under the guise of "budget cuts" (again, it gets ONLY 0.003% of the annual budget). But really it's because an NEA grant has the potential to fund art that doesn't align with their ideologies.

The freedom to create art without restriction or subjugation is symptom of and important for maintaining a healthy populace and functioning society.

Post is still long...continues under the cut

Publicly funded art might not be higher priority than [insert program here], that doesn't mean it isn't important at all. It's closely tied to the wellbeing and values of the people in this country. Fascism and nationalism intentionally attack freedom of expression and aesthetics for this reason.

Alsoooo, Trump just reinstated his 2020 executive order demanding all new federal buildings must be designed in the neo-classical architecture style. That's straight up Nazi shit. And he reinstated this EO on his second day in office. Obviously they know the power in controlling aesthetics. This order was controversial when it first came about--it has a lot to do with enforcing regressive and "traditional values."

Grants programs still exist in this country at local, state, and national levels, for now*. Arts grants also often have DEIA missions attached to them, which should be an incentive for pretty much anyone to apply**. In my experience, until extremely recently, having DEIA criteria in your grants program was an almost necessary way to grow your regranting budget! It was one way to prove you were worthy of donations or taxpayer dollars. Grants also have the potential to fund more artists outside of the mainstream, particularly if there's no for-profit component.

So what can you do? (other than vote or talk to your representatives)

We want to demonstrate that artists of any discipline are plentiful, diverse, and deserve to be paid like any other worker. We want to prove that there is need for arts grants.

Artists/Dancers/Singers/etc.:

Make contact with your local arts councils and tell them what you need

Participate in the programs that might be available right now to you as an arts professional, like webinars and meet and greets

Participate in surveys that gather data about artists

Apply for shows, residencies, and open calls at arts organizations

Apply for grants! Make sure you go to information sessions if they have them! There's usually a friendly grants manager or associate who can answer your questions over phone/email too.

Follow grantmaking orgs on social media for job openings and application info. Sign up for their newsletters too.

Everyone:

Visit publicly funded cultural festivals, galleries, concerts, shows, etc. Especially if they're being offered for free.

Use your library. Go to parks. Enjoy the public art there.

Consider donating to grantmaking organizations or buying a membership to your arts council if they offer it

Follow arts orgs on social media

Go to small public events too, like community choir recitals or children's theater

*There are also nonprofits and foundations that will give grants that aren't entirely reliant on public money. But if the government starts cutting things, private/corporate sponsors will too.

**DEI initiatives put just as much emphasis on a person's gender or veteran status than it does on race/ethnicity. They might also consider other demographics like age, economic status, sexuality, professional background...it can be a long list. Read paperwork carefully and use it to your advantage when applying.

Tl;dr: The government will absolutely try to take away arts funding, but if you apply for grants and go to publicly funded arts venues/classes/events it will be much harder for them to make cuts.

[acmeangel]

♡ Levi hires you to work at his tea shop, and the two of you become close.

♡ SFW fluff! ♡ Postwar!Levi x Fem!Reader ♡ One shot, soft Levi, friends to lovers vibes ♡ Word count: 2416 ♡ Summary: Levi hired you years ago to work at his tea shop, back when it was brand new. Over the years, you became close friends, and recently developed into more. You're both a bit rough around the edges, but get each other in a way no one else can. You're like two black cats in love.

It was years ago that you'd walked by Levi's tea shop in Marley and noticed the piece of paper pinned to the door that simply said "Hiring." in bold, slightly messy, handwriting.

Your eyebrows raised despite yourself, slightly amused by the straightforwardness of the sign -- no frills, no details, no niceties.

Marley had only just started to get on its feet again after a full year of scraping by while rebuilding, trying to shake off the lingering fears and treat the deepest wounds. Everyone was on the precipice of healing, and you figured it was as good a time as any to bring back some normalcy into your life. Working at a tea shop seemed like a decent enough way to do that; quiet, peaceful, easy enough. You were never much of a people person, but you could handle basic customer interactions.

When you'd entered the tea shop, you were met with Levi, who was behind the counter, a focused -- but not harsh -- look on his face as he neatly stacked boxes of tea into an orderly pyramid, a small display of the tea flavors. The bell above the door jingled as you entered, and he looked up at you, his gaze narrowing slightly, his hands pausing their precise movements. You got a clear look at his face -- the cloudy white eye, the healing scars tracing patterns into his skin.

"Hiring?" You asked, simply, nodding toward the sign on the window.

His eyes darted toward the sign, as if he'd forgotten that he put it there, and then fell back onto you.

"Guess so," he answered, his voice lacking any sort of feeling about the matter. "You want to work here?"

Before answering, your gaze scanned along the interior of the tea shop -- it was small and sparsely decorated, but not in a cold way. It was simple, comforting. Small wooden tables dotted the perimeter, intricately painted ceramic tea cups were stacked behind the counter, a few plants sat in the windowsills, drinking in the hazy sunlight.

"Yeah." Your gaze found his again, and you nodded. "I do."

"'Kay." His focus returned to the pyramid of tea boxes, his hands continuing to organize the stack. "What makes you qualified?"

"It's making tea," you retorted, dryly, without thinking. "Not mechanical engineering." You regretted it the instant you said it, realizing you'd likely butchered your chances of getting hired and that you should've made something up about having a passion for serving the community.

Without moving his head, his eyes drifted toward you, and you could see the faintest look of amusement tugging on his lips.

"Fine." This was all he had said, and you waited for him to ask more questions to evaluate you further, but they never came.

You stood there, somewhat awkwardly, watching as he continued working on his little display of boxes. Once he was finished, he tossed an apron over the counter toward you, which you caught, the fabric balled up into your hands. You were hired.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long for you to get accustomed to working alongside Levi. Neither of you were particularly talkative, preferring to keep to yourselves as you did your individual tasks; but, even separately, you worked in perfect harmony together, a seamless fit.

Over the years, it became less that you worked for Levi, and more that you worked with him, the tea shop turning into something that belonged to the both of you. It was never something that was discussed, it was just understood.

You'd started adding your touches to the shop -- art hung on the walls, pillows on the chairs, little knickknacks here and there. The shop was undeniably warmer and more inviting, and even though Levi would narrow his gaze each time you added something new, he never stopped you.

One day, he'd even shown up and placed a small ceramic cat on the counter, adjusting its position just so, though he wouldn't tell you where he got it. You'd teased him, somewhat relentlessly, about it, to which he blushed despite himself and muttered that it was never going to happen again, that you were a horrible nuisance in his life; you called him "such a baby", but made him a cup of black tea and all was forgiven. He brought a new plant into the shop the following week.

You'd share knowing glances with each other whenever a customer was particularly talkative or bothersome, and after they'd leave, you'd gripe to each other about it.

During breaks or lulls in the day, you'd both hover over the same book on the counter, reading simultaneously, your shoulders brushed together just barely. You wouldn't say anything, or even share your thoughts or opinions -- you'd just read, together, settled into the quiet of the tea shop.

As the time passed on, you'd begun to care for Levi, in a way you hadn't expected, hadn't experienced before. When he'd occasionally burn his hand on the stove, you'd hold the ice to his hand. When he had a cold (which he'd never admit to), you'd bring him soup from the cafe down the street. When you could tell he hadn't been sleeping well, you'd tell him to go home early and you'd handle cleaning up and closing the shop.

He'd always frown slightly and say something about how you shouldn't go through the trouble, that he can take care of himself, but you could tell that he appreciated it, that he might have even begun to count on it. You'd usually just tell him to shut up. He'd laugh, barely.

You knew, somehow, that you were the only person he let treat him this way -- gentle, caring.

You two had developed a quiet sort of friendship. You didn't talk all that much, you never saw each other outside of the shop, and you were both a bit rough around the edges. But, you fit together. Understood each other. It was as simple as that.

That was how it had been for years, which is why it took you by surprise when, on one particularly cold winter night, Levi insisted on walking you home after closing. You'd hesitated for a moment to answer, recalling all of the rainy, snowy, cold late nights that you'd walked home alone before, but the expression on his face told you that any protesting would be pointless. So, you let him.

Once you'd arrived at your front door, the two of you lingered silently on your porch, the only sound the soft creaking of the wood below and the brisk wind shuffling through the trees.

"Thanks for walking me home, Levi," you'd said, pulling your key out of your coat pocket and beginning to reach for the door. "Goodni-"

His hand clasped around your wrist, halting your movement. Your eyes snapped up to his face, his gaze secured onto his grip on your wrist. A stretched moment of quiet passed between you two, as you waited for him to say something, but he didn't.

"Okay," you said, drawing the word out, raising an eyebrow slightly as you look at him. "Are you holding me hostage because you think it'd be funny to see me freeze to death out here, or...?"

The tension in his expression dissipated slightly, your dry, teasing tone eased his frayed nerves with a comforting familiarity. He'd gotten used to you, to the way you spoke; it became one of the few, small things he'd ever allowed himself to rely on.

"Y/N," he said, his tone taking on a softness, a somewhat pleading vulnerability that you'd never heard before, as his eyes finally drifted up to meet your gaze. The cloudy grayness in his eye faded into a pale, ethereal blue under the moonlight, the features of his face illuminated, exposed.

He didn't have to say another word. You knew exactly what he meant. That was just the way you two worked.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, knowingly, the word pillowing into the cold air.

His hand slid down your wrist to your hand, his rough, calloused fingers gripping around yours with a sense of uncertainty and newness, like he was learning a new language. He tugged gently, drawing you in, close enough that when both of you breathed, the visible clouds mixed together.

His free hand rose to your face, slowly grasping around your jaw. His teeth clenched slightly, a hint of self-consciousness in his gaze as he looked at the gap his missing fingers left on your cheek; feeling unable to hold you completely.

"Don't," you whispered, somewhat sternly, urging the self-doubt out of his gaze. Your hand flew up to cover his, holding it against your face, the missing fingers not even a thought in your mind.

"You always do that." The words came out as a rough, tumbling statement.

Your lips curled into a faint smile, your head tilted into his palm. "Do what?"

"Protect me," he whispered, his eyes searching yours, "from myself, mostly."

"Can't help it," you whispered back, the words softening his gaze even further.

Before he could think about it more, before he could stop himself, he pulled you in closer, only a sliver of cold air between your lips. He paused for a beat, drawing in a shallow breath, before closing the space. His lips trembled against yours for a fleeting second, before melting against yours. A perfect fit.

His grip on your cheek tightened slightly, his lips moved against yours with a quiet desperation, as if communicating all the words he'd been wanting to say.

He broke the kiss just as suddenly as it started, his lips remaining parted, soft and glistening.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispered, before leaning in to press a kiss on your cheek by your ear, his thumb brushing against your jaw one last time. He took one last look at you, his expression somewhat unreadable, before turning and walking away, leaving you at your doorstep.

That night was not too long ago, only a few weeks had passed since. Your relationship was like a delicate melody -- starting slow and gentle, then blooming into a perfectly synchronized symphony.

He'd started walking you home every night, and he'd come inside for a while, sitting on your couch with you, talking more than he ever had (which still wasn't much, by most people's standards). You'd make dinner for the two of you, drape a blanket on his lap on the couch, gently tend to the scars on his face when they'd occasionally get irritated.

You'd lean your head on his shoulder, intertwine your fingers with his. Sometimes, he'd lean into your touch, slinging an arm around you and letting his head settle into the curve of your neck. Your fingers would stroke his hair softly or trace patterns up and down his back.

He'd always thank you at the end of the night and kiss you as if you were about to disappear into thin air. While he never specified what he was thanking you for, you knew he was thanking you for taking care of him.

That's all you really wanted to do -- care for him. You knew that his scars ran deeper than the visible ones, and the more he shared bits of his past with you, you could tell that he never had it easy. His life, until now, was one of fighting, survival, and loss. All you wanted was to alleviate some of the pain, some of the weight that had built up within him for so long.

So, you did these little things to dote on him, to show him what true affection felt like, in hopes that someday, he'd realize how deserving he is of it. That over time, the little things would grow into bigger things, that affection wouldn't be so foreign and unsettling to him. You were willing to wait.

He was standing by your front door now, slinging his jacket onto his shoulders, preparing to head home after another night spent together. You'd sat on the couch, his head on your shoulder, and he'd just finished telling you a simple story about Furlan and Isabel, who you'd learned about recently.

"Levi," you begin, your eyes shifting toward the window, at the powdery snow flurrying through the air. "It's freezing outside, you need more than a jacket."

His gaze follows yours out the window, his expression remaining unfazed. "It's just snow, Y/N."

You ignore him, and grab a knit, brightly colored scarf from the coat rack and hand it to him, your expression stern, but gentle. "Wear this."

"What? You can't be serious. I'll look ridiculous," he looks at you and the scarf dubiously, his brows pressed together with distaste. "I'll be fine."

"Would you just shut up and take it?" You roll your eyes, but you smile, affectionately. Before he can object further, you wrap the scarf around him, earning a groan from the back of his throat.

His nose scrunches slightly in disapproval, and the corners of his lips curve downward, but he lets you finish placing the scarf around his neck.

"Thanks, Y/N," he mumbles, leaning in to kiss your cheek, the touch soft and fleeting.

Mhm, you hum softly, satisfied with your little victory. You think he's about to turn and leave, but he doesn't -- he stands there, still, looking at you for a long moment.

"What, hoping to get a matching beanie?" You tease, warmly, a laugh escaping your lips.

He shakes his head.

"I told you a while ago that I never felt like I had a home before. Not a real one, anyway. But..." he says, his voice taking on a softened introspection, a gentleness to his face that you've discovered he reserves only for you. "I think this is it."

"Marley? Yeah, it's not so bad. Told you you'd get used to it," you say, a gentle, affectionate teasing in your voice, your fingers adjusting the scarf around his neck.

"No, Y/N. Not Marley," he corrects, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze remaining intently fixated on yours. "You. You're my home."

Your expression melts, a faint pink blush rising to your cheeks. Your hand drifts up from the scarf to cradle his cheek, your thumb tracing his cheekbone.

He turns his head, his eyes remaining on you, and he presses a soft kiss into your palm. The kiss feels like he's making a promise to always be yours, and for you to always be his.

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN!

Requested by @beautiful-is-boring

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ The Art of Combat ⭑ (Chapter Three, Domina Mea)

Masterlist

A/N: This is a bit of a crazy one, lots of screaming-

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla & Geta x Noble!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of death, mentions of neglect, lowkey reader having daddy issues, Acacius has PTSD, confrontations, arguments, macrinus being a snake and touchy emperors.

Summary: The banquet of the Emperors could not have gone worse as they try to win you over.

Word count: 4.5k

It had been two days since your near death experience, but it felt like a blessing almost. Even though your father didn’t want you to progress in your ‘relationship’ with the Emperors, you did. And it felt good, their attention filled a hole you had left empty for so long. Lucilla tried her best to fill it, to bring you and your father closer. Perhaps out of motherly love, perhaps out of guilt. 

It was now you who was avoiding him, it felt useless to explain to him why you didn’t see the harm of socialising with the Emperors. But he saw it very differently, you knew that but that didn’t change how his behaviour seemed almost hypocritical to you. To you it seemed best to avoid him for now and let things cool off. 

You were on your way to Athena’s temple, in previous situations when you weren’t sure what to do, you would try and talk to her, hoping she would pour some of her wisdom into your mind. But alas, your questions and pleas would often be left unanswered. However, now that you were closer to her temple, you felt the need to try again, maybe- just maybe she would answer you in her place of worship. 

Arriving at her temple, an immediate feeling of relief and calm washed over you. Ordering the guards your father had insisted come with you, to stay outside, you entered the holy place. You found few people there, most of them were working women, upon passing them they glanced away. You continued your way to her statue and when you stood in front of it, you could taste her righteousness in the air you breathed. So you knelt, and prayed.

It hadn’t been long before you decided to head back to your fathers estate. You definitely felt more at ease and confident about your actions, even though the goddess did not speak to you. The guards were still in the exact same spot you left them. The day was warm and bright, causing your eyes to squint the whole way back. You were certainly grateful for the carriage that brought you back home.

Almost instantly upon setting foot back at the estate, you felt like something was wrong. Servant seemed anxious and rushed and guards were shifting on their feet. You knew your tranquil spirit was about to vanish into thin air. Lucilla paced around in the inner courtyard, pinching the bridge of her nose while doing so.

Upon hearing new footsteps, she looked up. You only gave her one questionable look while approaching her before she clarified why the whole of the estate was in distress. 

“We received an invitation today, yet again, from the Emperors.” She huffed, fiddling with her rings in the process. Your face lit up but dimmed just as soon as it lit when Lucilla seemed to grow even more frustrated. “Listen to me, this is not good.” Lucilla looked around before continuing, “If they are fully set on you there is no telling what they will do with you, I fear for your safety but who fears even more for your safety is your father.” 

You rolled your eyes at her words. “And where was this ‘fear’ when he left me alone, out of his grasp?” You fired back. Anger started to simmer beneath your skin, you liked Lucilla but felt that she was not in any place to tell you about your father. She has a different relationship with him than you. Lucilla sighed and rubbed her forehead, before taking a seat at one of the stone benches decorating the courtyard.

“It is the truth, as hard as it may be for you to hear. He is afraid of losing you, please, for your sake and his, at this banquet, do not act overly… ‘friendly’ with them.” Lucilla’s voice sounded low and worn. And you couldn’t help but wonder where your father was and what had occurred between them.You simply nodded before heading to your own quarters. 

It seemed an eternity had passed until you were pulled out of focus by a knock on the door. You left the scripture on your table and got to your feet. A familiar man’s eyes met yours, Edas lowered his head respectfully. “My lady, we are ready to depart.” Edas stated with a small smile. You felt like he was your true friend, when you were upset as a child he would levitate you in the air until you laughed and even now he was there when things got tense again.

“Thank you for fetching me, are you coming with us today?” You asked him, slipping by him while doing so. “I’m afraid not my lady, I was informed to stay here.” He said with thin lips. “Oh, alright. I will see you when we get back.” You answered kindly, before strolling through the estate towards the entrance. And like every time, a carriage waited for you. As soon as the door of the carriage closed behind you, you could feel your father's eyes on you.

“Did Lucilla tell you?” Acacius warned. He wore dark circles under his eyes and his nails were short from how he nipped at them. “Yes, she did.” You responded, even as you tried to hide the annoyance laced in your words, he seemed to tense up a bit. Neither of you said much more during the ride there, Lucilla staring mindlessly out the window. Even you felt a bit of dread rather than excitement upon seeing Palatine Hill come into view. 

It was not Macrinus greeting you this time, but about four Praetorian guards instead. You still did not know the reason for the banquet, but you were glad to soon be close to the mighty Emperors again. More noble ladies and lords appeared and even senators were in attendance today. But one certain presence or about six of them did not go unnoticed by you. 

You saw them as soon as you arrived at the entertainment hall, six concubines lingering around the Caesars. They sat, or more lounged, on a shared settee, similar to when you last visited. Both Geta and Caracalla sat up straighter when you came into their view. You approached them behind Acacius and Lucilla, lowering your gaze as one of the concubine's tits were almost fully exposed.

Your usual smile and bright eyes around the emperors were gone, feelings of jealousy and annoyance crawling up your spine instead. “Your majesties.” Acacius bowed, one hand around Lucilla and one balled upon his chest. “General.” Only Geta acknowledged him, Caracalla peering behind them instead, as something much more interesting was hiding there. Lucilla bowed to them before letting you pay your respects. 

“My Caesars.” You curtseyed, eyes avoiding them. A dark haired concubine’s hand made her way down Caracalla’s chest, giggling quietly in his ear. “My Lady, you look divine, as always. How good of you to grace us with your presence.” Geta mused, a grin on his lips as his eyes made their way down your frame. You couldn’t help the tiny smile escaping you at his jest. “Of course Caesar, I could never ignore your invitation.” Your tone remained flat and ever so respectful, they did not like that.

It was then Caracalla glared at your father, before his eyes flicked back to you. “Sit with us tonight, I command it.” Caracalla said in an unusual tone of voice. Your eyes met your fathers and he gave you a stern look. How could you ignore an Emperor’s command? This was not life or death, but more like your father’s wrath or death. “Of course, your majesty, I only wish to please you.” Caracalla still seemed a bit disappointed by your reaction. 

“General, I hope you amuse yourself tonight. I heard some of the senators wish to talk with you, you might go to them, with your wife.” Geta enunciated with irritation, his face gave away that there was no bargaining to be done. You were afraid they had caught up with the situation between you and their General. “I will your majesty. Let us seek out the senators my love.” Acacius dismissed himself, and Lucilla with him. 

You knew what you were in for tonight, yet you didn’t care anymore about how your father felt. He didn’t understand the amazing, freeing and extraordinary ‘relationship’, if you could call it that, you had with the Emperors. Geta and Caracalla did not let you stand for long, and gestured for the whores to leave, much to your relief. They made room for you between them and you sat in your favorite spot once more, and got handed a cup of wine.

Caracalla leaned towards you while biting his bottom lip, releasing it before speaking. “We have arranged something for you tonight, something we’ll think you’ll enjoy.” He almost giggled and gave himself away. “Brother. Do not ruin her surprise.” Geta stressed, before giving you a smile. A smile which you happily returned. They finally got the reaction they wanted and would do about anything to keep you happy tonight. Geta gave a curt nod towards a senator you knew to be Thraex.

“My Emperors! Ladies and Lords, tonight I present…the art of combat!” The second Thraex had spoken a thunderous applause could be heard. You glanced at both Geta and Caracalla with curiosity. As Macrinus entered the room, your curiosity grew. “From Macrinus’ stables, the already well liked gladiator...Hanno! And from my own stables...the mighty Vicheck!” Thraex roared. Once more, applause filled the room.

Your eyes scanned for your father and Lucilla but you could not see them in the crowd, at least not from where you were seated. Both fighters entered the room, Vicheck looked mighty indeed, with his large stature and tall frame. Caracalla leaned closer to you again, “After that man is done with him, we might see his end.” He almost reassured you, clearly their plan was to have Hanno killed in combat, to punish him. You smiled at Caracalla and he rubbed his hands together in excitement. You took a swig of the dark red liquid to ease your wariness.

Geta leaned forward, eager to see this ‘Hannos’ end, all because the man nearly killed you. Maybe you were in too deep now... The people made sure to give the men enough space as their chains were being removed and each was given a sword. You could only hope Hanno wouldn’t try anything again, but when he noticed you, it almost seemed as if he hid some guilt in his eyes. You averted your gaze to the other man, ‘Vicheck’ and kept your eyes on him instead.

Hanno tried to negotiate with his opponent but Vicheck had something completely different in mind, as he aggressively swung his sword, their bodies met, both fought for dominance. Due to both of their strength they pushed each other around, causing men and women to jump out of their way. Hanno moved Vicheck around until he could reach for a vase and crashed it on his head, making the mighty Vicheck almost crumble to the ground.

Except, Vicheck was not so easily defeated and cut Hanno across his back, before trying to push him to the ground. Both stumbled around once more, trying to gain dominance over the other. Vicheck then successfully managed to push Hanno on his back, which made Hanno drop his sword. He was met with the hard stone floor, he grunted out and rolled to avoid the pointy end of his opponent's sword. 

Vicheck was then sadly slow to realize Hanno’s moves, when Hanno found his own sword again and plunged it right into his chest. Almost a similar strategy he had used in the arena, cheers could be heard and hands clapped as Hanno rolled Vichecks lifeless body off of him. Geta had now gained a visible vein on his forehead and Caracalla’s face was red, their plan did not work. Right as Geta was about to unleash his anger, Macrinus stepped forward. While Hanno was chained again and led out of the room.

“How unfortunate for Thraex, it seems that I have gained a home.” He smiled, before bowing to the Emperors. “It is- unfortunate.” Geta seethed. “Would you have liked a different outcome? Your majesty?” Macrinus asked, pursing his lips. Geta now just ignored him and it almost became embarrassing if Macrinus didn’t turn his attention to you. “My lady, how good to see you in our presence again.” He beamed, sickeningly fake but almost convincing.

Caracalla’s mood turned around upon hearing that. “Isn’t it!” He giggled. Geta’s smile returned at his brother's words before settling his eyes upon you. “Quite.” Geta mused. “You do a fine job at pleasing our great Emperor’s my lady, never cease.” Macrinus expressed with a smile. Now that was an offence, however the Emperors thought differently. “We are both sure she won’t.” Geta agreed, his eyes never leaving you. To keep up appearances, you did not respond, simply giving them a curt nod.

Now what Geta said did not surprise you nor unsettle you, it was how Macrinus said it. There was some hidden meaning behind it, it was then you knew, he was in fact not the man he made himself out to be. You understood there was something going on, you were not sure what or who exactly were involved in it but there must be a plot or scheme, whatever it could be, it was not good. People were now helping themselves to food and conversation.

Only when Macrinus excused himself to check on Hanno, did you feel your shoulders relax. “Does he annoy you?” Caracalla asked, hand moving up and down your arm. Like he had mere days ago. And without a doubt, it gave the desired effect, making you forget all about Macrinus and his facade. “Who, Caesar?” You shuddered. “Macrinus.” He giggled, his brother moving closer now as well. “I would not lie, perhaps he does a bit.” You smiled. 

Geta laughed at that and placed his hand on your shoulder, before giving the tense flesh a squeeze, you jerked at the muted pain. “You are so tense tonight, is it because of your father?” Geta spoke softly in your ear. “Yes, Caesar, though he means well.” You responded softly in return. Caracalla’s hand still grazed the skin of your arm, keeping his eyes on you. You noticed how Geta’s tongue darted out ever so slightly to wet his lips. “Perhaps someone should-” he took a sharp breath before he finished his sentence, “have someone loosen up your shoulders.” 

“Perhaps, your majesty.” You blushed, not just your cheeks reddened but your entire body felt hot as the twins ‘caressed’ you. They did a good job at keeping it somewhat innocent but their intent was clear for all to see. It could be the wine but you wanted nothing more than to be alone with them right now, just to see how far they would take it. Would they have their way with you or keep it somewhat respectful?

You almost unwillingly leaned into their touch. Caracalla’s face coming closer to your neck, his restraint was close to breaking. You were right next to him, looking the way you looked and smelling the way you smelt. Geta too, was growing impatient and thought about commanding everyone to leave so they could finally take you. But he kept himself from doing so, his hand moving from your shoulder to your leg.

These new sensations you felt and these new boundaries being crossed did unnerve you a bit, but this feeling that drew you to them overpowered it and when you took another sip of your wine, you felt that you needed to relieve yourself. “I apologise, your majesties. But could I have a Praetorian show me to the lavatory? I had a bit too much wine, I promise I will be right back. I wouldn’t miss out on our...fun.” You smiled, empty cup in hand.

“Of course my lady, no need to apologise.” Geta said as he took hold of your hand and kissed it. “Guards! Show my Lady to the private lavatory. If she comes to harm, I will have your heads.” Geta sneered, to which two Praetorians stepped forward and bowed. You stood from your seat and Caracalla took your empty wine cup to hand to a servant. Before you made your way out of the room, you curtseyed, now with a smile. 

When you reached the private lavatory, a few halls away from the entertainment room, you went about your business before emerging again. However the guards were gone and you were met with your fathers furious gaze. “I thought we had agreed on something.” He spat out. “There is no reason for you to blame me for this- I had no choice! They commanded me, what was I supposed to do? Refuse them? I couldn’t!” You didn’t even realise you were shouting with how rapidly your fury rose. 

“You could! That is the point! They like you and you have that power! You know my- my concern about this, I am losing control over you!” Acacius just as loudly yelled back, he too was long his composure and patience. “Of course! Now you care! But why would you?! You go off to war for years leaving me alone after my mother just died and then you decide to remarry and not even take me with you! But of course now that I visit you and finally have fun and feel happy, now you care?!” Your screams echoed through the marble halls.

“I kept you there for your own safety as I have explained countless times! You won’t listen and now you meddle with the most dangerous men because I didn’t pay enough attention to you! A-” He got cut off for but a moment. “How!-” You screamed, but Acacius stopped you quickly. “No! You listen to me! You are the one thing! The one thing I have left of your mother! I will not lose you because of your recklessness!” 

That shut you up but your anger did not subside one bit. Acacius turned red when he realised how loud the two of you had been, his voice now lower, “When you have calmed down, you return and we will leave, you’ve had enough wine. You’re just a girl, start acting like one.” He did not leave room for any more argument and headed back to the banquet. 

Fury clouded your mind and you felt the wine mess with your common sense. Just as you were about to head back towards the entertainment hall, you spotted him. Macrinus. With alcohol flowing through your veins you made a decision, whether or not it was good, you would decide later. But you had to act now, if you wanted to find out who Macrinus really was. And so you quietly followed him as he was clearly not returning to the entertainment hall himself.

After every corner he turned you casually ‘hid’ behind it so as to not grow suspicion among the littered guards. Luckily they did not know who you were. You followed Macrinus until he disappeared behind a smaller door, you felt a moment of regret and dread but curiosity took over once more and you made your decision. When you opened the door, Macrinus seemed to have disappeared outside, the door was apparently a servant's entrance into and out of the palace. 

You hurriedly moved among the crowd, until you spotted his blue robes again and set after it. Making sure to somewhat blend in, you successfully followed Macrinus to his estate. It wasn’t something to be proud of, but you still felt pride swell in your chest. Using the same door he used, unguarded, you made your way inside his estate until he entered a different room, fortunately for you, with no closed doors. 

You stayed right outside and could hear another man arrive through a different entrance to what seemed to be a lounging room. “Macrinus, you’re already here!” The man exclaimed, he seemed to have his fill of wine already. “Yes, yes, I know all I need to know.” Macrinus laughed, it sent a shiver up your spine. “Oh? Well do tell me!” The man sputtered. “Now now, I can’t go around telling my secrets now can I?” Macrinus responded, you heard how their cups collided in familiarity.

“So I heard you spoke with Lucilla?” The man asked. “I did. And I do have to say, I need some clarification.” Macrinus replied. “What about?” The man grunted, seeming to now have sat down. You decided one little peek around the corner couldn’t hurt, but when you did, you quickly turned back, almost getting caught in the process. “She had a child?” Macrinus asked the man. 

“Hm. It's common knowledge. When Commodus was killed, the boy disappeared. But who would care?” The man laughed, sipping on wine, his slurps filling the room. “Lucilla would care!” Macrinus exclaimed. “He was of the royal bloodline after all. And his father?” Macrinus continued. “Ostensibly, Lucius Verus. See, it was an arranged marriage, she was fourteen. Females were not his taste.” The man explained. Your face contorted in disgust.

“Nor mine some days!” Macrinus laughed. “Nor yours!” The man joined. “What about General Acacius’ daughter, she seems well liked by the Emperors?” The man then asked Macrinus. “Yes quite, which is perfect. She can keep them nice and distracted.” Macrinus responded. That’s when you almost lost your composure, having to keep as quiet as possible. 

“That’s good, perhaps I will see you on the throne some day!” The man laughed. You heard enough, his plot was now clear. He fed into your ‘meetings’ with the Emperors to prepare some sort of bigger plan. But now, you had to get away. And so you turned on your heel, the wine still on your tongue. You also had to remember where you came from, which proved to be difficult when you were slightly inebriated and it was dark. 

You turned corners and explored hallways until you stumbled into the wrong one, three guards straightened up at the sight of you. “Who are you?” One of them asked with caution. You had only two choices, to lie or to run and you knew you could not run in sandals. “I apologise for the late hour, I am here to see Macrinus, it’s quite- personal. He knows who I am but he doesn’t know I’m here. Could you- bring me to him?” You asked as innocently as possible.

Now you didn’t know if it was your way of words or expensive robes but the guards complied and led you to the same room you were spying on Macrinus mere moments earlier. Was it stupid to have to come up in a short amount of time with a lie as to why you were here, all alone, in the darkness? Yes absolutely, but you had no choice, so you picked the first thing that came to mind. The Emperors.  

“My lord, this Lady is here to see you.” The shortest guard announced before leaving you alone with him. Macrinus turned around, the man had left already. “Well what a surprise! Come in child, come in.” Macrinus gestured for you to sit beside him, it made you uneasy but you pushed your feelings aside. You could tell he was confused and a bit suspicious but he clearly chose to keep quiet. “I know that it is late, and I apologise but- I feel like you are the only one who I can talk to about this.” You said as sweetly as possible.

That piqued his interest. “Oh? How so?” Macrinus asked. “Any time I- talk to my father about- well- the Emperors, he gets uncomfortable. And I just wanted to ask someone who knows them well. This might be silly but I feel like I can trust you.” His face lit up at your words. “I understand, what can I help you with, my Lady?” Macrinus’ brows furrowed. “I merely wish to know, would- would the Emperors or rather- one of them, perhaps marry one day?” Macrinus’ smile grew and he seemed to relax more.

“Of course my Lady, why do you ask?” Macrinus replied. “No specific reason, I should probably- not further speak about this, I’m so sorry for disturbing you.” You apologised kindly. “It’s quite alright, however- does anyone know you’re here?” Your face fell at his words, no they did not, not at all.

“She is taking quite long isn’t she?” Caracalla asked his brother. It had been some time now and you had not returned. “Let me inquire the guards.” Geta responded flatly. Caracalla slumped back into the settee, the music was boring to listen to without you by his side. But  the whole room quieted down as screaming echoed through the halls. “HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! YOU HAD ONE JOB! NOW SHE'S GONE?!” Geta’s screaming voice came closer, Acacius now stepping towards the other Emperor. 

“YOU ARE ALL DEAD!” Geta screamed as he returned to the entertainment hall, the guards following behind him. Caracalla shot up from his seat as Geta approached him. “They fucking lost her! They lost her and now she is missing!” Geta yelled, spitting out as he threw his cup of wine against the wall. “What do you mean your majesty?” Acacius asked, his voice just as pale as his face.

“Your daughter is missing! That is what he means!” Caracalla was now screaming too, panic clearly taking over. Acacius’ eyes widened and Lucilla joined his side. “How is this possible?” She tried to calmly ask. “I- I fought with her, just before she was to return here. I dismissed the guards so I could talk to her privately which resulted in the fight. I- I told her to calm down before coming back- but she did not return, I hadn’t realised.” Acacius’ voice almost trembled.

“HOW COULD YOU LEAVE HER?! HOW?!” Caracalla screamed, getting in the guards’ faces, everyone around them lowered their gaze. “I want a thousand Praetorians now! March them through Rome! Search every house! She cannot be far!” Geta shrieked. Acacius followed Geta as he marched out of the room, Caracalla following behind.

“Oh no- I didn’t even realise. I’m going to be in so much trouble.” Your realisation however was very much real and so was the panic that surged through you. “Do not worry, I will take you back and all will be well.” Macrinus exclaimed. “Come, let us not make them worry more.” He said as he rose from his seat. You followed behind him as he ordered a handful of guards to accompany the two of you.

The streets of Rome were now quiet as you and Macrinus made your way back to the palace, it was not far from his estate. But when you got closer, Praetorians on horses as well as on foot marched through the street, shouting orders at civilians who stood sleepily in their doorway. “I am going to guess that’s for you.” Macrinus mused. You dreaded what was to come. Macrinus and you approached the hoard of guards. “I am assuming you are looking for General Acacius’ daughter?” Macrinus asked. “We found her!”

[mistermalaprop]

finished au crosshairs art & talking about the stranded au

continuing from this post! want to start reading? here!

w/ the text and then-

no text! finally, he's all colored and pretty!

anyway, i know this idea is a bit niche and weird but i’ll talk about it here:

the fuck is this idea, mal!?

you don’t have to shout :(

but in summary: the stranded crosshairs au takes place after an alternate timeline in age of extinction (2014) where lockdown + cemetery wind was successful in nerfing almost all decepticons and autobots on earth. lockdown does not get defeated and humans are still assholes, yippie! crosshairs, being crosshairs, nopes the fuck out when optimus prime gets captured and executed— and drift comes with, because literally everyone else is dead… including the yeagers :( i’m sorry, but the government would kill them all.

the two are on the run in space for a couple months or years, but they get inevitably captured by lockdown and— oop! that’s all i’ll say about that.

this incident ends up with crosshairs’ spark being transported via a tear in the well of allsparks and he wakes up in the rid 2015 universe!

ohh okay okay.. but what about crosshairs himself?

crosshairs, in the live action movies, is a fucking jerkwad arse lmao and i know it. due to story reasons, his behavior is mellowed out and he’s not as obnoxious (we still need rid15 sideswipe to be that #1 nuisance) or violent. he hung out with drift for years alone in the middle of space, he picked up a few things!

well, not as violent towards other bots i mean. after cemetery wind back in his own world, he is distrusting of humans to a lethal degree (rip danny and russell) and hates being touched. i wont get into too many specifics, but just know he’s a tired, blunt bastard that just wants to sleep all day (it’s the depression and chronic attachment issues).

he starts off alone in the story but gets picked up into the bee team (against his will).

other info!

i’m happy to answer any questions about anything in this au (characters, relationships, story, etc) via the ask box. i like answering questions <3 other comments and concerns are also not minded :)

also! design wise— because i love designing things and talking about design choices— below is how i’d imagine the parachutes to work. i wanted to keep the paratrooper aspect of his original character since i liked how unique it was!

i hope it makes sense, because it was funny to draw.

i had fun drawing that, it’s silly.

and that’s all i got for now! here is my current poster for this au— in color and black/white! since i’m planning on it being a little comic thing with some writing (maybe).

[eri-pl]

Lots of super interesting thoughts!!! I'll probably keep rotating them in my head for some time.BTW sorry for replying to you like in an old-school email, but it's the most convenient here.

There seems to be some in-world mythological confusion about what "the end of the world" even means, similarly how "the Void" can be either the interstellar void or the void outside of Existence

Oh, yes. The void is also confusing. And think this is not wholly unrelated. Limits of time; limits of space. [Reminds me of how @eloquentsisyphianturmoil said that the Door of Night is related to the Halls of Mandos, those two discussions have the same vibe for me — oh wait, they are related!

Because if end of Ea = Morgoth jumps in = it destroys the Halls somehow (I still don't quite like it but not for factual reasons)… OK, are the Halls of Mandos Arda-specific? This feels like a moot question, because only on Arda there are Men and Elves— or are we certain about it?

There's a whole bag of worms here.

We know that Elves are bound to Arda for as long as it lasts, but the Ainur are instead bound to Ëa.

Yes, but it's a scale issue. There is still the question of what do they do when Ea ends. But yes, you are right that this may be read as separate question from the Second Music.

Also, Athrabeth is late writings, adjacent to the round-Arda-from-the-start and generally, more scientific vibe, so I guess here we're talking a bit more like "the sun dies out" end of Arda... maybe.

Also also, I need to check what are the Valar bound to, I think it may have been "various Ainur for various planets, bound to them".

OK, my Silm says "World", so… I'm not sure. BoLT is even more vague. Also I only now realized that the part where I've drawn a smiley face on my Silm and on my BoLT are probably evolutions of the same point in text. :) <3 [yes I do underline and comment on some books. In pencil! Or eraseable ballpoint pen. I did it with non-eraseable pen when I was a kid, and staying in the thematic area of this post, iirc my copy of CSL's "the last battle" had a certain sentence or couple of them underlined back in the time when I thought they were cool and not "you should have taken some lessons from John and learn what to omit"… I'm not even sure what is my opinion now tbh. anyway back to the post.]

The First Music created the whole universe, but apparently the Second Music is not played after the end of that universe, only the end of Arda

This may be a version incompatibility issue, and I think it is, because myy intuition for what Tolkien wanted says "Second Music after/at the end of Ea".

Though just like with some other ideas, I could probably make it work, as long as we throw away the "Arda is our mythic prehistory" I think I could roll with this… But not n any particularly canon way… Hmm. Needs more thought. You people keep saying very interesting things recently! <3 (Even more interesting than usual)

Which makes me think that the Second Music is not a separate thing (as in, another work of art), but an extension of the First.

I've always assumed it's more like a reprise than an unrelated work.

neither is it limited to the Timeless Halls (which would exclude not only the Elves

I think this is based on an assumption that the Silmarillion does not confirm or deny.

I generally treat the term "Music" as quite abstract, the closes thing to what actually happened that the Incarnates could comprehend. I imagine the Second Music for people living in Time to be just that - living. The whole life makes the Music.

Oh, I love the last sentence!

Not necessarily the whole construct of Arda ends → Second Music → Ea ends much later. On the other hand, I have no idea on what version Tolkien settled or would settle, and I can see where this would be coming from, also, funnily—

OK, a short summary of a large interpretational idea, which can probably be detalized in many various ways— Arda as our mythical past, but as in "our actual world [is/is made of/whatever] the Second Music".

Or, you know, like in an album (I'm not thinking about Les Mis, you're thinking about Les Mis) where you have song1, song2,… many songs and then a reprise that is like a medley of all those and, like, closes all of them.

I didn't have enough sleep, so excuse me if that's too chaotic to read. Also I'm bad at thinking about Silm canon without making a lot of assumptions. I hope other people, who are better at it, will add their thoughts about what you wrote too.

Hmm sometime later I should look at all the replies I got on this (I love them) and write a summary of our thoughts. This would be nice to have.

Let's discuss:

What do you think: what happens to the Valar after Arda breaks (or whatever it does, anyway it ends somehow)?

(Or should I say "what will happen"? But for fictional end-of-the-world present tense feels more natural to me. I'm not sure why.)

Both in the terms of "what Tolkien intended at various points of his career" and of "what makes the most sense with the Legendarium". With whatever version.

Let's ignore Morgoth (and Sauron etc), assume they've been dealt with in some way that works (if you prefer this including "Sauron is good now", ok, why not) and that no other Ainur got depressed because of it.

Whatever happened, we're discussing just the good guys now. Because it is a mess anyway so let's try to narrow it down for now. It's still a very difficult question, I think.

So, the Second Music. Where is it sung and is it material? (well as much as music is material anyway, but I think you know what I mean)

On one hand, the Music of the Ainur was clearly not material (because matter did not exist), and its being a music feels somewhat like an approximation. And took place (it's not a place but whatever) in the Timeless Halls.

On the other hand, Men are said to sing in the Second Music (and maybe the Elves too, unclear), so… will it be material? Or does this mean "the spirits of Men"? Will it be more of a literal music than the first one, or not? Where will it be sung?

(If we simply copy and paste a solution from outside the Legendarium, it still leaves a lot of questions, depending on how much do we copy)

(Also, Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth is not an answer. It is a question (and no, I don't mean a "the answer is yes" question (though this too), but an open question. It's a discussion of two characters, not anyt sort of explanations, and it leaves more questions than it answers. but if you want to elaborate starting from this text, you're welcome.)

But yes, even with those disclaimers, "the Second Music immaterial; spirits; it reboots Arda into Arda Healed" seems like the most fitting solution. Especially if we ignore the whole "and then Feanor reboots the Trees" thing which… for me the important part of that is "Fefe gets over his issues", and that we can keep.

And generally, what do the Valar do afterwards?

On one hand, in Ainulindale chapter (or was it in Valaquenta? nvm) it seems like their being on Arda is temporary. On the other, with Arda Healed… It's still Arda, in a way.

So do the Valar still govern it (I need to remind myself that Manwë having a burnout is not canon), or… what? Do they live there, or in the Timeless Halls, or are they free to move between those (and somehow the Elves and Men don't get jealous about it).

And if the answer is "the Timeless Halls effectively get moved to Arda" – ok, this solves some questions, but why? why. All the other Ainur were not interested in material existence. Why would this be a thing? It seems quite out-of-the-blue and random.

I'd love to see your thoughts (plural "you", though I'm sure some will have more intense thoughts than others :) )

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

rough art tips to learn and then break at your leisure.

the distance between your eyes is roughly one eye. the corners of your mouth dont extend past the middle of each eye. ears are roughly in the middle of the tip of the nose and the eyebrow. the eyes are in the very centre of the head. the neck is just a Little slimmer than the width of the head (varies with fat distribution, but fat tends to build up under the chin). hair is easier to draw when you plot out the hairline and then where it parts. leaving appropriate distance on the side of the face (cheekbone area and back to ear) contributes to making characters look more realistic/hot as hell. i dont know specific tips for that so use reference. an amazing reference/study site is lineofaction.com . if you think of the face in planes it makes it easier to construct (look up tutorials). if you draw a spiral like a tornado it can help you figure out awkward perspective for extended limbs (look up foreshortening coil technique). tangent lines are when two lines intersect and cause visual confusion (when it looks like a line that defines an arm is part of the line that defines a building, for example) and avoiding them makes your art way easier to comprehend. quick trick to good composition: choose a focal point (where you want your viewer to focus), detail that area the most, and make sure various elements of the piece are pointing to that focal point. you can use colours to contrast hue, saturation, and brightness and make certain elements of your drawing stand out. drawing in greyscale can help you figure out values. using black in a piece isn't illegal but you should know what you're doing when you do use it- it desaturates a piece and if used as a shading colour can desaturate and dull whatever youre shading too. if you use almost-black lineart and then add black to darken the very darkest areas it will do a lot to add some nice depth. the tip of your thumb ends just above the start of your index finger- your thumb also has two knuckles and all your other fingers have three. if you see an artist doing something you like (the way they draw noses or eyes or hair or anything else) you can try to copy that and see if you want to incorporate it in your style <- this is ENCOURAGED and how a lot of us learned and developed our styles. there are ways to add wrinkles to faces and bodies without making the character look a million years old, you just have to keep experimenting with it. The smile wrinkles around your muzzle dont connect to your mouth or to your nose; there should be a small space in between smile or nose and the wrinkle line. eyes when viewed in profile are like < aka a little triangle shape. think of the pupil like a disk and apply foreshortening to it (it looks like a line when seen from the side instead of a full round dot). subtle gradients can add a LOT to a piece. texture can also add a LOT. look up Tommy Arnold's work (his murderbot pieces are some of my FAVOURITE) and zoom in. find those random little circles he added and try to figure out why he added them there. light bounces. there's lots of way light bounces. sometimes it even spreads through the skin. i do not know these light tricks yet but i want you to know that they exist. draw a circle to indicate hand placement, draw a straight line between that circle and the shoulder, and then (normally at a right angle) draw a straight line on top of that line to find the placement of the elbow. elbows are normally placed Just above the hip when standing and your arm is at rest. there are no bad colour combos if you're brave enough about it, just fuck with the saturation and brightness until it works. keep playing. try new things. add your own tips to this post if you want or even expand on some ive mentioned here. good luck go ham etc

[myokk]

I filmed a timelapse of my process for this quick one💓

Honestly not really happy with how this turned out & I’ll probably redo it😆 but I always love making process videos!!

I REALLY HAVE TO TRUST MY PROCESS🙏🙏🙏 these paintings always look AWFUL😳 until the very end but luckily I’ve painted enough of them to keep pushing through and not give up in tears bahahahahahah

1) I start out just painting the base colors. I have a dirty paint palette I NEVER clean😤 but tbh I like it bc every color I want is basically already mixed from a previous painting, and I like having all of the colors kind of blend together. If I need a different color though I’ve never had problems mixing to get exactly what I’m looking for💓

2) WAIT FOR IT TO DRY (I didn’t…you can see at one point I check the back of the page to make sure I didn’t destroy it completely). This paint dries SUPER fast…I am just impatient bc the next step is when it all starts to come together🥰:

3) COLORED PENCIL ON TOP!! I always make sure the paint covers almost all of the page except the parts I want to keep really white, because the colored pencil looks awful if it isn’t drawn on top of paint. I just sharpen them and go in with the small details, but I also love going crazy with the colors and using them to shade, add highlights, add extra pops of color etc. For example, on Bea’s shirt I used gold, dark blue, dark brown, normal brown, mauve, tan, olive green…I just like to experiment and have fun choosing the colors (esp ones that I think SHOULDN’T work but they DO🥰)

Sometimes I switch between the paint and the colored pencil bc the paint can be used to kind of “erase” any mistakes, but I can’t go too crazy or add a lot of water to it because I use the cheapest paper known to man and it gets destroyed SO EASILY 😫 all of the fanart I’ve drawn is in €1 notebooks

[deiaiko]

#19.3 Unravel

It had been some time since Agni felt this nervous. Not even talking with Jinsung Ha recently had made him feel like this. He fiddled with the mask on his hand as he waited for Grace to come back. He had thought hard on how to deliver the news, but he knew that no matter how he phrased it, Grace would be upset. Velt nuzzled under his palm and Agni gave her a few pats, before deciding that she would be better inside her bowl in his lighthouse, just in case the shinsu acted up around Grace after he received the news.

Grace came back wearing the comfiest shirt and shorts Agni knew Grace liked to wear on lazy days. He joined him on the floor, and they ate dinner together. Agni always finished last, so while waiting for him to finish his meal, Grace told him about his day with Bam. Grace was intrigued by how much his way of thinking had changed, and how glad he was to be able to be by Bam's side when he was having a bad day. It reminded Agni of the hidden floor, when Grace faced his sworn enemy.

They left the used bowls on the coffee table and went to brush their teeth. Afterwards, they turned off the light and went upstairs to sit on their bed. Grace's curious gaze never left him, and Agni curled his feet nervously.

Grace was the one who broke the silence. "So…what is it?"

Agni's breath hitched. This was the part he dreaded most. "I talked with the crocodile earlier. Did you know that he could manipulate stone already?"

"Huh." Grace needed a few seconds to let the information sink in. "Didn't Rak learn it on the Hell train? How does he know it?"

"Turns out our crocodile also traveled back to the past like us. He found the young crocodile and taught him."

"What?!" Grace gasped, wide eyed. "That means our Rak is–!!"

"He's dead." Agni quickly snuffed out that hope. They had been in delusion for long enough; it was time that they faced the bitter truth. "He suffered a fatal injury from the explosion. He couldn't have lasted long without proper help." Agni omitted the actual cause for Rak's death, but still kept his words true. "I'm sorry."

"…Oh." Grace looked lost, just like Agni was. His lips parted a little, but they closed before any sound escaped.

Agni gently squeezed Grace's hand, encouraging and comforting as he let the silence stretch on, giving Grace some time to process the information.

"Agni…" Grace whispered, "do you think Hatz and Isu…?"

Agni bit his lip and avoided his gaze, as the nightmare of that day replayed in his mind. He witnessed Hatz get his arm ripped off when trying to protect him. He could still recall the clang of a sword hitting the floor, and Hatz's suppressed scream that gnawed deep at his guilt. He witnessed Isu get beheaded after being taken hostage, the memory of warm blood painting them both still vivid like it happened yesterday. 

Agni refused to acknowledge their possible deaths, because it felt like a nightmare that one day he could hopefully wake up from. He avoided the topic when Grace brought it up, so he wouldn't have to say it aloud and make it real. He had been so hard on himself, because he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he had failed Grace and everyone else involved.

Agni knew this had to change if he wanted to live better, now that they had gotten a second chance. So he swallowed down the lump in his throat that had built up over the years and asked mostly to himself; "What are the odds of their survival?"

"There's always a chance–"

"Grace." Agni looked him straight in the eye. "They were already severely injured before the explosion hit."

Grace fell silent and went still.

Agni felt a pang of guilt upon witnessing Grace's reaction. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap." Agni fiddled with his hands. He realized that he didn't know how much Grace knew of what happened. "My scar…do you know how I got it?"

"I…was told it was from the family heads' battle." Grace looked thoughtful. Agni knew he was trying to be careful with his words. "A stray attack?"

"It could have been worse." The memory of the scorching heat on his skin felt like it had only happened yesterday. He passed out right when he was about to heal Isu, and only found out later that he also lost sweetfish at that time. The days he spent recovering from the burn, to withstand the excruciating pain every second he was conscious, and finally coming to terms that it'd be a permanent scar, was one of the turning points that had changed him forever. Were Grace not there to care for him, he might have ended up destroying himself even more.

Agni hadn't realized he had his left hand clawing on his cheek until Grace pried his hand off and frowned, "You're doing it again."

"Maybe I should wear the mask…" Agni muttered to himself. After all, Grace gave it to him less so he could hide the scar but more to prevent him from unconsciously hurting himself. The only time he could safely take it off was when Grace was around.

Agni bit his lip nervously when Grace didn't reply. He no longer had the courage to look Grace in the eye that spoke so much concern, so he leaned close and rested his head on Grace's chest. "Rak, Isu, Hatz and Hwaryun were trying to get me out of that damned place. But we were caught while escaping, and…it was a bloodbath. I was…too occupied to react to the incoming heat. Rak shielded us from the explosion. And when I woke up…"

"They weren’t with you," Grace finished it for him after Agni trailed off a moment too long.

Agni nodded dazedly, "I've been telling myself that they're still alive, after a blow that could kill rankers. But…who am I kidding? I was lucky enough to survive with just this little–" Agni vaguely pointed to himself– "inconvenience."

Agni felt a hand gripping his arm, and he pulled away to see Grace looking at him with a pained expression. His eyes were glossy and his lips were pulled into a thin line. Trusting his instinct, Agni reached out to gently trace and cup Grace's cheek with his free hand.

"I'm sorry," Agni muttered. "I'm sorry, for not telling you sooner."

Agni silently witnessed tears that streamed down on his love's face. It was a bitter sight that Agni wished he'd never have to see again, that he had tried to avoid for so long by not telling him. He pulled Grace in and held him close to his chest, as if Agni was trying to gather his own crumbled heart back together.

Grace mumbled their late best friends' names as he held onto him tighter, shaking from each breath he took between sniffles.

Agni felt his own eyes sting with unshed tears. He remembered the years he spent climbing the tower together with his old team. Despite their banter being his source of headaches, Agni knew he too had come to acknowledge them as his cherished friends. Only when they were gone did Agni realize how much he'd miss having them around. Seeing the younger them didn't exactly close the gaping hole in his heart, but at least the emptiness was more filled.

Agni squeezed Grace tighter. "We have their younger selves with us now. We will protect them better this time."

Grace only nodded and sank further into his embrace. And Agni planted kisses on his hair, relishing the thought that after everything he had gone through, Grace was still a constant in his life. As long as he had him, everything would be okay.

When Grace started shaking again, Agni caressed his hair and hummed a comfort song they had known by heart. Still, it didn't make falling asleep any easier for Agni, especially not after admitting that his nightmare was very much real. However, as he had been through grief…this, too, would pass.

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[lesbiansplaining]

not to bring tiktok drama on tumblr but like every time a ‘scandal’ comes out with one of these ‘production companies’ that make fan films i always hope we’re finally gonna discuss how they professionalize something that should be an hobbyist endeavor… and yet every single time i’m disappointed.

[musical-chick-13]

I hate when something looks like it would be RIGHT up your alley and the cast is pretty stacked, but there's one person in said cast who is just. Genuinely a horrible human being.

[seawing-vibes]

Finally finished up some oc basefills!! These are surprisingly hard pfh, but fun !! In order this is Noctilu, Acacia, and General Hail! The latter two are v old ocs of mine that have been redesigned <3

Okay heres some bonus stuff!! I really liked how some of the lineart was done so here is the raw lineart for anyone interested + a speedpaint (?) of General Hail’s design process ! These guys were really fun to work on despite it taking me so long for no good reason ,,, heres some design notes on them all <3

Noctilu has a Lancier attached to the leather holster as he is the main fisher aboard the pirate ship he is part of

Noct’s line-wing patterns arent always visible, but some nightwing seers claim that the lines help them trace future timelines. Since Noct is a Nightwing Hybrid he wonders if those claims hold any truth

Acacia is a botanist out of the Scorpion Den ! Her bag is filled with journals, loose note paper, and writing supplies.

General Hail was hard as fuck to design guh . He is purple because I want him to be <3

Although he was part of the War of Sandwing Succession, he was born without his back leg and has had a prosthetic forever! Plus he was a very skilled fighter so most of his scars were inflicted by those he let harm him for whatever reason he had in the moment

Astrolabe I gave up on trying to redesign I’m so sorry bud. Hes Married to Noctilu (they have matching earring) and is the ships cartographer / navigator, so his quiver is actually filled with maps and scrolls. He keeps his actual astrolabe and sextant in his bags.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

[woolmasterleel]

LOVE WINS!! The incomprehensible entity above godhood and her incomprehensible wife have become one to kill Mirror 💖

SHE'S HERE!!! Finally I can talk about who and what Love Story is!! All her info + the transparent versions are below the cut! I'm so excited about her o(*°▽°*)o

An entity known as Love Story- a collective consisting of Pandora and Galvarium!

If Galvarium wasn't enough before, Love Story is her everything but tenfold, maybe more... Love Story is highly dangerous, standing at 1500 m, 200 m more than Truth of His World.

She (or they, given that it is both Pandora and Galvarium) is formed during the final fight with Mirror Kagami.

It seems like she is acting as her own entity, however her movements are the two moving in sync.

When she speaks, it sounds like Galvarium and Pandora speaking at once.

An extreme amount of trust is required to form a fusion, which those two obviously have.

Love Story is the one to finally put down Romirr/Mirror/Truth of His World. In a way, it is like a dance between the two.

The only observable hazard she has is hysteria, but that has only been displayed by Mirror, so it isn't likely the result of her presence.

Love Story is unbelievably happy to be herself! Of course, Galvarium and Pandora are just very happy and comfortable with one another!

She has the most fun getting rid of Truth of His World (❁´◡`❁)

She doesn't stick around too much after Mirror is put down- but is around long enough for the others to behold her presence.

Oddly, Love Story is able to be understood and seen by humans. This is most likely due to her existence being a manifestation of Galvarium's and Pandora's emotions.

While Galvarium is never depicted in words (legends/stories etc), Love Story is written about by a lot of people- those who saw her and those who heard stories of her presence.

Here's a few design notes!

She isn't wearing clothes. Much like the LAE, her "skin" mimics clothing.

Her veil, dress, and gloves are very soft, but are very veiny. The veins don't supply any blood, it's purely for looks.

Like Pandora's, the tendrils can deal a lethal amount of poison.

The pink crystal-like structure of her torso and the white of her chest are her insides.

Her veil comes out from the back of her horns.

She does have legs/feet, though they aren't often visible.

The inside of the ring says "This is Your Story" (only the last bit is visible).

The small heart in her horns, above her head, rotates constantly. It spins faster the more she is moving.

Here's the transparent bg versions+one without the veil!

I am so so happy with her!! Love Story has been a concept for a really long time and I'm really excited to show her off!! I hope you enjoy beholding her ╰(*°▽°*)╯

[iholli]

Rat King occasionally just having the Worst Fucking Time mentally because she's "Rat Prime" and essentially binds all the Rats together and has to deal with everything that comes with it. is she the real one and why does she have to carry All That and she can't turn it off anymore and it's so much weight all the time and

[13eyond13]

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