#it can be seen as separate artwork or as one for “Forgotten”

[nightydraws]

Madaparty theme 7: family

Extra trivia: remember the hoodie that Skipper had in my 1st artwork for madaparty?

. . .Now look at Private's one :b

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: peircer eren x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, kinda pervy eren

Good girl

“Hello?” Your soft voice rang over the chimes as you entered the tattoo parlor.

The shop was quiet, seemingly empty besides the softening chimes of the door and surprised cursing down the long hall.

“Shit- yeah. Just give me a minute. My apologies” The culprit of the cursing called.

In the meantime, you took a look around the lobby. The reviews didn't do the place justice. The largest wall contained a bright colorful mural, contrasting beautifully with the dark floors and connected black walls.

While admiring the piece of artwork, heavy thudding from the long hallway turned your attention to the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.

You never believed in love at first sight, up until now. You hadn't even known the man's name yet, but you craved him. The reviews warned you the entire staff was attractive but they clearly left out that this man was a god.

His long hair was pulled into a low bun, strands falling in his face, the color contrasting against his pale skin. He was tall, with a full sleeve on one of his muscular arms, and his green eyes had you drowning immediately. He couldn't be Onyankopon, they said he was a brother. Maybe Connie or, Levi-

“Hi, I'm Eren” He introduced himself after swallowing the large knot in his throat.

While in your own trance, you failed to notice how he froze the moment he saw you. The bright light you stood under showcased the sparkles of your pretty brown skin.

Your legs were on display as a result of the simmering heat outside, thick thighs causing them to roll up slightly. The fitted t-shirt you wore allowed the hardened buds of your nipples to peek through, despite the hot weather.

Eren never considered himself a pervert but the way his mind instantly thought about sucking on them till you begged him to fuck you had him thinking otherwise.

“Hi, I'm [☆]. Is this a bad time?” Oh, he could have come on the spot, your voice sounded even better without the numerous walls separating you and god your perfume had him wanting to devour you on the reception desk.

“No, no I just don't know how much I can do for you, the AC is out in all the rooms but mine and I don't even know how long that's gonna last so if you're looking for an hour long tat session you'll have to come back” He crossed his arms, muscles contracting against the white tee.

“Oh no, I'm just hoping to get a few piercings but I can definitely come back another time”

“No, I can do a couple of piercings. What were you thinking?” He grabbed the paperwork from under the counter, praying one of them would be your chest.

“Uh well, I want the other side of my nose, belly button, venus dimples, and my nipples but I understand if you can't do all of that or the last one I'll just come back”

“No, no I can do it,” He said too quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly before handing you the paperwork.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

“Good girl. You're doing such a good job for me, pretty. Just hold on for one second, lovey”

He was currently doing your last dimple piercing. The pain was unimaginable at first but as soon as the praises left his mouth all was forgotten besides the growing stickiness that rested between your thighs.

He praised you after every piercing a variation of “Good girl” “You're doing such a good job for me” “That's it, baby. You did so good” flowed from his pink lips. You could never decide which throbbing to focus on, the one from your new piercing or the throbbing of your clit.

With three new holes in your body and damp panties, it was now time for the piercing both of you were dreading yet excited for.

“Do I just take my shirt off here?”

“Wherever you're comfortable, baby. You can go in the bathroom or stay in here and I'll give you some privacy” He felt like a teenage boy again. His dick twitching at the thought of seeing you exposed.

“No, it's okay you can stay in here I don't mind”

“Oh. Okay,” He perked up. Giving you some privacy he turned his back, pretending to be busy when in reality he was trying to think of anything but you getting undressed behind him. Despite his concentration, all he could focus on was the sound of your necklaces and bracelets clanking at the movements you made.

He knew your nipples were still hard, especially since he took advantage of the working AC and he wondered what your moans would sound like if he flicked his tounge repeatedly over the bud, or if he pinched them in front of the mirror while you begged him to fuck you as you pressed your ass against his hard-

“I'm ready” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts.

If his self control was any less he'd have gotten on his knees to worship you. There you were. Looking everywhere but him, tits exposed. If it weren’t for the fact other men besides him would see, he'd tattoo this image of you on his bare forearm.

“Are you ready?” He suppressed a groan.

“Mhm”

“Okay stand up for me” He led you to the mirror where he prepped each bud. During the process, you felt as if you could crawl into yourself. The most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on had his hands on your breast. Despite the occasion being nonsexual, you were convinced your arousal would start running down your thigh at any second.

“Is this okay?” He stood behind you.

You gave a simple hum of approval, thoughts gone as he explained how the process would go. You convinced yourself you could handle it, that it would all be over soon.

That was until he rolled the bud in between his fingers, the whimper you'd been holding escaping you.

‘fuck’ ‘fuck’

“Shit, I'm so sorry I- I didn't mean to do that, please understand I had no malicious intentions I just” He stumbled over his words.

He was just explaining the step by step process of the piercing. He wasn't thinking, just craving. He wouldn't have realized his actions if it weren't for the sound you let out. The sound he knew he'd replay in his head the moment you left the shop, stroking his cock as he imagined it were you down on your knees in front of him.

“It's okay” You reassured him. Your big eyes staring up into his through the mirror.

“I didn't…I don't mind”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Before you knew it you were bouncing on his cock. His moans muffled as his mouth engulfed your breast. Tongue slightly grazing your nipple with the flickers of his tongue before sucking harshly.

He was stretching you out so good, leaky red tip repeatedly hitting your cervix as his frenum piercing brushed against your walls. The added pleasure contributing to the pace of your bounces as you chased your high.

“E-eren please” You whined, attempting to push his head away from the assault on your breast. His hair was everywhere, the ponytail holder long gone the moment your hands entangled in his hair. Your buds were so sensitive, every suck and swipe of his tongue had you squeezing around him, every clench releasing your cream that pooled at the base of his cock.

“Fuck” He groaned, reluctantly giving your boobs a break. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, groping the brown skin before placing a hard slap on your cheek.

“Talk to me, pretty. You like this? Like bouncing on daddy's cock hmm?” His arms wrapped around you tightly as he fucked up into you.

“Oh my- fuck” You gave him control. Your head resting on his shoulder as you let out pornographic moans into his ear.

“Answer me, mama” Another slap landed on your ass.

Before you had time to register the mix of pain and pleasure on your flesh, the gentle pressure of his finger rubbing circles on your puckering hole had you seeing stars.

“Fuck y-yes. I love it so much, daddy. Please don't stop” You whined. Tears of pleasure wetting the crook of his neck.

By no means was Eren a fast finisher but boy was he trying his best to hold on, you're pussy was just squeezing him so tight, the added tension on his scalp as you tugged on it every time he hit the spongy spot along your walls had his nails digging crescents into your skin.

“I'm so close, daddy, please”

“Let go mama” He pressed hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

In that moment you came, your pussy tightening around the large girth of his cock. Clear liquid squirting from you in streams as he continued his thrust. Your arousal splashing and dripping onto the chair.

With sweat dripping down his forehead, and stray hairs sticking to him, his thrust became sloppy and his breathing became heavier.

“S-shit” He whimpered, head thrown back as he came harder than ever. Repeatedly pushing his load back into your pussy.

“Lemme take you on a date. Please” He panted once you both came down, his hands roaming your body as he looked down at you, green irises peeking out behind his blown pupils.

“Okay, yea- oh” A broken moan escaped you as he moved your hips up and down his length once again.

“Eren” You whined

“Don't tell me you're wiped out after one round, pretty girl. I know you have more in you, mama. Be a good girl for daddy”

for my eren girlies. this is probably the fastest I've ever wrote bc i just needed peircer eren. oh also how do yall feel about pegging bc i feel peircer eren can be a bit subby sometimes ttm. mwah <3

pt.2 wit the pegging ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১

[golden--doodler]

Geneuary Day Eleven: Keyboard/Candy

Linda: Ohh, Bobby, it's perfect!! Our Geney Zucchini's going to love these gifts for Christmas. You did so well. ���

Bob: Thanks, Lin. But, uhh, was it a good idea to give him both a noisy keyboard and a bunch of chocolate for Christmas?? I don't think we'll remember quiet for at least two weeks.

This is it. We made it guys. It's officially the last day of Geneuary!! This might be the most emotional I've been posting a piece of artwork. For this last piece, it *gasp* doesn't have Gene!! 😱 Crazy, I know. I decided to draw Bob and Linda along with Gene's signature keyboard and favorite candy, just to show how he got a love of Chunky Blast-Offs and his keyboard in the first place.

What a wild ride this month has been. Geneuary could not have been possible without the incredible support of everyone involved. I'd like to shoutout @drawthethingdoppelganger for making that beautiful, gorgeous graphic of all of the prompts for this month. And also for making that amazing Gene as Dolly Parton art.

I'd also like to shoutout @babsvibes, because her huge document on how to run a Ship Week was crucial in helping me run this month. I don't think I would've been able to do it without her document guiding me along (the only thing I wasn't able to do was have a separate blog, but we all know how that went ☠️). Babs was also technically the one who came up with the concept for Geneuary in the first place (both the name and having eleven prompts because of Gene being eleven).

I also must shoutout @unclefathersantateddy for being an absolute boss and making an extended Geneuary by making an entire page of Genes!! The final product is gorgeous, and I'm just in awe of their talent.

@br1ghtestlight was able to make two of the cutest fics for this month that everyone should go read!! One of them was a (sort of) collab with me.

@ratguy-nico reblogged almost all of my art with the sweetest comments, and his art for this month has been insane and beautiful. My favorite might still be the one with the Hot Dog family.

@dianadeadwing has also produced some of my favorite art this month. One of my favorites was the ballerina Gene she just posted yesterday. And of course, the one where Gene is hugging Bob 🥺❣️

I might've forgotten a person or two, but these are all of the main people I wanted to mention!! Thank you all!!

[ID]: Digital fanart of Bob and Linda from Bob's Burgers. Only their heads can be seen, and Bob looks more nervous, whilst Linda looks happier, with a huge grin on her face, and a heart next to her. A rather large keyboard is above them, along with a brown box with a spaceship on it. It reads: "Chunky Blast-Offs! Out of this World!"

[thehorrortree]

Deadline: May 1st, 2024 Payment: Prose: 1¢ per word, Poetry: $10, Artwork: $25 (Cover art is $50.) Theme: Heredity NonBinary Review is open for submissions on the theme of "heredity." Maybe you have your mother's nose, or your father's eyes, or your grandmother's hair, or your uncle's earlobes. There are so many things that run in families - not just physical characteristics, but so many of our habits, tastes, and ways of thinking. The "nature vs. nurture" debate has been raging forever, although science is finding that a surprising amount of what we think of as learned behavior might actually be biological. But what else might we inherit from our families? Magic powers? A tail? ESP? We're looking for speculative takes on heredity - the unexpected, the impossible, the very furthest out there. We're NOT looking for stories about inheritance - things given to us by families or friends. We're not looking for werewolves or vampires (or any other well-known fictional monsters). We're looking for something new - something we've never seen before. Prose: All submissions must have a clear relationship to our theme, and be double-spaced in 12pt Times New Roman or they will be rejected. NonBinary Review  pays 1¢ per word for prose with a limit of 3000 words. Poetry: All submissions must have a clear relationship to our theme and be submitted in 12pt Times New Roman, or they will be rejected. Submitters may include up to THREE poems per submission, but each must be a separate file. NonBinary Review pays a $10 flat fee for poetry. Artwork: All submissions must have a clear relationship to our theme and be submitted as a jpg., .png., .tiff., or .psd file of 300dpi or greater (accepted pieces must be PRINT QUALITY). Submitters may include up to five pieces per submission, but each must be a separate file. NonBinary Review pays a $25 flat fee for visual art, or $50 for pieces chosen as cover art. Zoetic Press publishes the best in speculative lit - experimental, interstitial, luminous. We welcome submissions from EVERYONE. The only requirement is that they be in English, or translated into English (we love a translation). If your writing is outstanding, no matter who you are, we have a place for it. NonBinary Review, our award-winning themed lit journal is published quarterly. Each issue revolves around a specific theme, but we're asking contributors to go beyond the old familiar media tropes - we want speculative work that looks at our theme from unexpected angles. We're looking for work we can read with our whole body - work that gives us goosebumps, makes us see the world differently, has the tang of authenticity, makes us sit up and listen, and smells like....something. This analogy got out of hand. What we're saying is that we're not looking for re-hashes of images or stories we've read before. We want contributors to explore every facet of our themes, really getting in between the cracks, in the corners, all the forgotten places that no one ever thinks to explore. We want to read work that makes us think "I never would have thought of this, and yet, it's so fitting!" What we're NOT looking for is work that centers violence, rape, misogyny, racism, ableism, or degrading stereotypes of any kind. We know you're not that kind of writer, but we thought it should be said. NonBinary Review accepts reprints, but we do ask for previous publication details so they can be credited. Prose submissions (for which we pay 1¢ per word) should be 3000 words or fewer in length, double-spaced in 12pt Times New Roman font or similar. Poetry submissions (for which we pay a $10 flat fee) should include no more than 3 poems, each of which may be up to 3 pages in length. Please include each poem as a separate file. Art submissions (for which we pay a $25 flat fee) should include no more than 5 pieces. Each piece should be at least 300dpi, and at least 600 pixels on its smallest side. Any piece chosen for cover art will pay $50. We do not accept any submission that consists of links to an artist's website.

Please ensure that you are submitting to the correct category, as we have different editing teams for each. Submissions sent to the wrong category (e.g., poetry submissions sent to the prose category) will be declined. Dear Horace Greeley invites writers to ask questions about writing, submitting, publication, and any other aspect of the literary life that baffle them, and we'll answer them online. We don't promise that we have all the answers, but we do promise that we're here for you! Feedback for Poets of Color is just what it sounds like. People of color may submit ONE poem, up to 50 lines, for consideration. Two poets per month will be accepted, and the Poetry Editors will work with those two poets to edit, improve, and strengthen their work. Acceptances are done on the first of the month, although submissions are open year-round. Heartbeats: Visual Verse invites poets to push the boundaries of poetry. We're looking for poetry that combines narration, music, and visuals to create a complete experience. We're not looking for a static reading or words scrolling down a screen - we want interplay between visuals and audio that create something more than the sum of its parts. Poets may submit work of up to 140 seconds in length. We pay a flat fee of $25 per accepted video. Only those categories below are currently open for submissions. While there is a published close date for submissions, we have an acceptance cap for each issue, and submissions will be closed once we reach that cap, so don't wait until the last minute. Via: NonBinary Review.

[knightly-bastard]

ahhh i absolutely love all your artwork — i’m so happy that there are still people in the nexo knights fandom.

i was wondering though, if you could explain more about your dark heart of knighton au? it’s so cool from what i’ve seen so far! <3

Hi!! Thank you for the kind words! And of course I can! While I did explain the Dark Heart of Knighton au before, most things have changed since the official publication of the chapters. So I wouldn’t mind giving another explanation for the main events/ main premise:

Long ago, before Knighton was ever established as an official kingdom, there was an entity that infected the lands with pure dark magic. Like an Illness, it spread, kingdom to kingdom. It consumed them, shrouded them in darkness and wiped all remaining life within till it was nothing but a lifeless wasteland. This vile entity is known as Kingdom Eater, no one knows its origin of creation, no one knows its true goal. All they knew if it ever comes across your kingdom, there was no saving it. In the end, it will be left in rot and ruin, forgotten by the endless nature we call time. People became tired of this entity's cruel rain, so they advised a plan to finally stop it. They gathered wizards from nearby kingdoms, all gathering in the center of the valley. Using all their strength, they separated the creature's power into several shards. The creature fled, trying to escape the wizards, but it ended up becoming cornered at the edge of the valley. They trapped the entity in a pit, sealing it within, never allowing it to see the light of day again. Inevitably, it was forgotten, the area it lived died with its spirit, it's grave now dead like the kingdoms it took with it. 

But unbeknownst to its capturers, the creature still holds a bit of its power. All this time it waits, waiting for the day it can be set free. Every lunar eclipse, its power is at its highest, allowing it to seep through the barrier which holds it. Every night like those ones, it called for help, trying to get anyone stupid enough to listen. And so one did…a distant member of the Richmond dynasty heard its plea, succumbing to its magic. In turn of riches and power, the Richmond sold his bloodline's soul. Ever since then, the creature finally had a voice. It became the Richmond family curse, once hitting a certain age (which usually falls on graduation day), they become one with the creature. With a life full of luxury, they promised to find a new vessel in which will grant the creatures freedom, one who is powerful enough to break the dying barrier. Every Richmond fell to this fate, all except one…Lance Due to use of nexo powers (due to, at least in this au, being a form of light magic) he never fell victim to the curse, rather he became immune. He lived in blissful ignorance of the truth behind his family that he never fell suspicious of his family's misdeeds. Though that all changed after season 4, once it was revealed to the kingdom that Clay was in fact, a wizard. The cult immediately knew that THIS would the person to free Kingdom Eater, fact in the member that is actually close to Clay in some way is…immune, so you know what they did? They poisoned him with a fragment of Kingdom Eaters' power. This made Lance fall into a trance-like state, doing anything that the cult told him to do. Trusting the nature of Clay’s suspicion and wreckless savior complex, he lured him to where the creature was prisoned. There they fought it out, resulting in one of the scars that is in Lance’s eye. In a desperate attempt, Clay used magic to free Lance from the spell his own parents put him in. Though this burst of energy broke the barrier, allowing Kingdom Eater to take possession of Clay. Then Kingdom Eater gave Lance another scar just for the fuck of it before tossing him down the sacrificial hole. That's really the basis of it. I don’t wanna rant too much about it to avoid spoilers. Just know that this would act like a continuation of Nexo Knights in a way, as while Lance would be the main focus, the other characters do have planned arks. All t r u a m a! Any other parts of it would be mostly answered either when I update the chapter on it on a03 (I’ll leave the link below), people asking certain lore questions, or I get the desperate attempt to do a shitpost about it. So yeah! Thanks for being interested in this au!

[redpandarambles]

So league lore isn't one linear thing. It condratics itself all over the place and doesn't always make sense. Also I think that picture you have is just a cross section to show the relative levels and not necessarily how those levels are stacked in 3D.

From what I've been able to piece together, the cities were at a similar height at one point. Then Piltover dug that straight canal you can see on the map to increase trade across the continent, and the explosives and disruption caused by digging the canal caused Zaun to sink. Part of it even sank into the sea. Its described as a huge environmental disaster in league lore, Piltover's progress coming at Zaun's expense.

Now if I was going to play hard and fast with geology, you could argue that the canal building reactivated faults (what became the fissures). These faults give you a set of stepped levels separated by rocky walls all the way down into the base of Zaun (imagine a set of stairs essentially). If you ignore most geophysical rules you can make a sort of half rift approximation of it that allows the top of Zaun to be the same level as Piltover (where the bridge connects them) and then have various levels connected by lifts all the way to the bottom. The higher the level the richer more prosperous it is. Then towards the base level you have the mines, the smog and the forgotten in society. You could argue that some parts of Zaun do have tall towers like the one in the image that stretch from the sumps to the surface, some of the artwork I've seen suggests they do exist or did exist at some point in league lore.

Basically there is no real world explanation for it but thats the best mix of fantasy based upon our world I could come up with.

as an arcane fan who never played league, the geography of piltover/zaun makes no fucking sense to me like,, at first i thought zaun was like. under piltover? right? bc its cavernous and shadowy n everything, but the bridge (which is a majorly significant element of the story) wouldnt really? make sense in that context? then i thought that they were neighbouring cities under one singular government divided by a river and that the “undercity” thing was just like. figurative yk? but then i saw maps like this

which does seem to present a more literal above/below divide but then?? what the fuck is the bridge?????? this isnt a rhetorical question, someone please actually tell me how the fuck the bridge works /gen

[smellss]

after all these years - zuko x reader

gif credit: @forgotten-or-unknown-truestories​

a/n

I love the concept of the gaang interacting with all there children and i haven’t seen to many oneshots about it. I hope you enjoy this one because i think it’s my favourite one yet. keep requesting

- smells x 

the laugh of children could be heard echoing through the hallways of the palace, the patter of feet coming closer and closer to banquet hall were y/n was helping organize decorations for the banquet this evening 

uh oh here we go

“your highness the children are here to speak with you” the guard explained, trying to suppress his grin

“thank you enzo, let them in please” y/n smiled kindly to the guard, knowing what was coming next

the children all came in dressed in there best clothes for the feast they all huddled into a group,all whisper shouting until lin and kya pushed tenzin forward to speak

“um hello auntie y/n, we were wondering if we could ask you something?” little tenzin asked very shyly, looking down towards the ground trying not to make eye contact with y/n

“of course what can i help you all with?” y/n smiled to the children

“well um-m see we where...” tenzin stuttered his face becoming redder by the second, the children beginning to giggle behind him except for lin who scowled at all of them for teasing tenzin 

instead izumi took over instead pushing tenzin back to the group

“well mum, you know how we are all supposed to sleep in our separate rooms after the feast tonight. we were wondering if instead we could bring all our sleeping mats into one room and stay together?” the young girl spoke very quickly to her mother drawing out the last part, looking at y/n with pleading eyes

“like a sleepover” bumi added stepping forward to stand with izumi

“we promise to be extra, extra good aunt y/n don’t we guys?” kya said turning around to the kids, all of them nodding their heads and giving cheesy smiles

spirits how am i supposed to say no

“well if all of your parents say it’s alright, then i don’t see why you can’t” y/n exclaimed making eye contact with each of them giving them a warm smile

a wave of cheers erupted from the group, all of them running to y/n to wrapping there little arms around her legs yelling thank you over and over again

“now all of you run along the feast will start soon” y/n smiled to the children as they ran off happily discussing who was going to sleep next to who

izumi ran back one last time throwing her arms around y/n’s waist and squeezing it tightly

“you’re the coolest mum ever!” izumi exclaimed smiling widely, before running back to her friends

y/n smiled to herself, before walking over to help one of the guards hang up a picture frame

after hours of hanging up artwork, lighting candles and setting the table the feast was ready to begin. the children all sat at there table while all the gaang sat together, the people of the fire nation began to enter as zuko gave the opening speech to allow the feast to commence.

“it is not true” y/n exclaimed crossing her arms and pouting at her friends all teasing her

“love it’s true, they asked you because you can’t say no to them” zuko chuckled amused, placing a arm on his wife’s chair smilingly at his wife 

“no it is not!” y/n exclaimed flabbergasted at her husbands comment, throwing her hands in the air

“sure it isn’t buttercup, i’m sure that if they you asked you something you could say no” toph teased the woman, taking a sip of her drink looking staring at y/n knowing she would crack under her hard stare 

“there just so many of them and they always make tenzin talk for them and he has these little pleading eyes so i can’t say no” y/n rambled out before, snuggling her head into the crook of zuko’s neck out of embarrassment

the group laughed loudly at y/n, katara and aang nodding agreeing with knowing of there son’s bargaining capabilities 

the rest of the feast was a roaring success, everyone leaving with full stomach’s and droopy eye’s. the children all ran to the large room filled with sleeping mats, cushions and blankets the adult’s followed behind laughing at the children’s antics. the children all changed into there sleeping wear and began to settle for bed, y/n volunteered to stay with the children until they fell asleep. 

“be good for aunt y/n okay guys” aang said nodding at kya,bumi and tenzin all lying on there sleeping mats 

“we love you” katara whispered placing a kiss on each of there heads before walking out of the door arm wrapped around aang’s waist smiling 

“be good you two, okay?” toph exclaimed to lin and su, the girls smiled giving toph a quick hug before running back to there sleeping mat, sokka also winked at the beifong sisters from the door making both the girls giggle before walking out with toph

“izumi, i’ll see you in the morning okay?” zuko whispered into the girls ear giving her a tickle before walking over to y/n

“i’ll see you later love” zuko exclaimed kissing y/n on the head before walking out waving to all the kids before shutting the door 

the children erupted with loud voices and shuffling of mats now moving them around after there parents had gone lin and tenzin sheepishly moving there mats next to one another, kya and izumi moved so they would be next to su and bumi.

y/n shook her head and smiled at the children, lin and tenzin reminding her of herself and zuko when they were travelling with the rest of the gaang 

“okay, now that you have moved and gotten all of your talking out it’s time for sleep” y/n exclaimed to the children, resulting in a wave of groans and sighs 

“but mum we aren’t tired yet!” izumi whined flopping dramatically back onto her sleeping mat, y/n rolling her eyes at her daughters antics 

she really is so much like zuko  

“could you tell us a story please?” lin asked hesitantly a chorus of yes and pleases following lin’s question

“well i suppose so, what story would you like?” y/n questioned to the children

they all turned to each other and huddled little snippets of conversation could be heard like “no that’s boring” or “weird”, finally su and kya turned around with a squeal

“could you tell us the story of how you and uncle zuko met please?” the girls giggled and the boys groaned

“it’s going to be all gross and romantic” tenzin sighed in annoyance placing his chin in his hand

“what’s wrong with romance tenzin?” lin raised her brow at young air bender with a smirk plastering her face

tenzin let out a muffled nothing blush dusting his cheeks as he looked away from the young beifong girl

“well zuko and i didn’t get a long at first actually, we met at the northern water tribe when we fought against each other.” y/n began to explain to the children

“stop, leave him alone” y/n yelled as she jumped in front of aang and sent water crystals flying at zuko’s head, the fire prince shielding himself with a wall of fire

“i don’t think we have met yet, prince zuko soon to be capture of the avatar” zuko mocked the girl, sending back a ball of fire which y/n gracefully dodged

“i wish i could say it was a pleasure to meet you but it isn’t” y/n yelled sending a wave of water over freezing zuko in a block of ice

“by the way the names y/n” y/n smiled running over to help katara with aang

“woah you trapped dad in ice” izumi gasped looking at her mother with wide eyes

“yes well he was trying to capture aang” y/n explained to her daughter, making the other kids giggled at the thought of the two men trying to capture each other

“i met zuko again when he joined our group at the northern air temple, i didn’t trust him at first i was still convinced he was trying to capture aang. so he tried to convince me that he wasn’t.” y/n smiled at the memory

“spirits y/n what is it going to take to get you to trust me” zuko yelled at the girl throwing his hands in the air out of frustration

“i don’t know zuko, all this time we have been running from you and i’m not sure if i can trust you” y/n yelled back tears beginning to form in her eyes

“please y/n just give me a second chance” zuko pleaded, showing y/n a side of himself that she had never seen before

“okay i will give you a second chance,if you hug me” y/n said smirking at the boy

“what why would you want that” zuko exclaimed stepping away from the girl exasperated at the idea

“come on zuko one hug and i’ll give you a second chance” y/n teased opening her arms and wrapping them around zuko

the fire bender turned a bright shade of red as the girl squeezed him tightly, zuko reluctently wrapped his arms around the girl

y/n smiled contently, quickly placed a kiss on his cheek and skipped away yelling a “thanks zuko” over her shoulder

zuko stood there in shock placing a hand on his cheek were y/n has kissed him

“auntie y/n why did you hug him” kya asked tilting her head

“yes why did you hug me?” zuko questioned leaning against the door smirking at his wife before walking over to her, scary all the kids and y/n

“zuko spirits, how many times have i told you not to sneak up on me” y/n scolded the man whacking him on the chest causing him and the children to chuckle

“sorry love but i wanted to see what was talking you so long but now i want to know why did you hug me” zuko questioned his wife

“well i know how much you hated being hugged or anything involving another person touching you ,it made you feel like you were trusting them which weren’t really open too. so i knew that if you let me hug you and you accepted it that then you truly trusted me and i could trust you.” y/n explained to her husband smiling at him as the kids awed at the couple

“also i had a bit of a crush on you then” y/n laughed before zuko hugged her tightly and whispered in her ear “i love you”

“now i think that is enough stories for tonight so goodnight everyone” y/n exclaimed waving to all the kids blowing out all of the candles, before walking out the door

“thanks for that zuko i don’t think i-mph” y/n was silenced by zuko’s lips pressing against her, still after all these years it sent fire works through her body

“thank you for trusting me love” zuko whispered tucking a stray piece of y/n’s hair behind her ear earning a loving smile from his wife.

“i would do again it a thousand times” y/n gleamed embracing zuko tightly just like she did all those years ago. 



[my-makeshift-masquerade]

Riva Remembers

(A cheesy title for a fic I wrote while in the midst of an emotional breakdown, haha… I figured I’d post it on here because people seem to like my artwork of this OC so far. This is my first time writing these characters. Also I am on mobile and super duper tired from the aforementioned breakdown, so please pardon the long post. I have no idea how to put the read more thing on this… Regardless I hope someone enjoys this, I guess.)

“Agent Cruller, it’s me! Raz! I need to talk to you—“

“Sorry, senior staff only!” The old man in the mailroom office replied coldly, turning back to sorting the piles of letters with telekinesis.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” Nick’s voice came from farther into the mailroom, “I’m telling my dad!”

Razputin suddenly got an idea�� He raced down to find his mentor standing there, eyes looking off in two separate directions. Another figure he recognized was on the verge of a nervous breakdown right next to him… Actually she looked like she had already been through multiple breakdowns before he even got here.

“Mr. Johnsmith?! Come on! It’s me! N-nick?!” The teen ran pale hands through her short brown hair, “Th-this is terrible! I am dead for sure!”

“Postage stamps…are scratch and sniff…” The pot-bellied man mumbled nonsensically beside her.

“Whoa, whoa, Riva…” The ten year old’s expression softened, “I was the one who found his brainless body… What do you mean you’re dead?”

“N-norma…she… t-told everyone I…”

“She thinks YOU’RE the mole?!” The child was taken aback, slightly angered even, “Why?!”

“I-I don’t know…M-maybe it’s because I didn’t notice the body before you…?” Riva sniffled, “It doesn’t matter… Agent Foresythe is going to have me detained…o-once she hears about this…”

“What?! No way!” He looked at her with determined eyes, “Don’t worry! I have a plan! I am going to get a new brain for Nick’s body, so he can let me into the mailroom office! Once I get there, I will be one step closer to proving you’re innocent!”

“Y-you really think… I-I’m innocent…?” Her tear filled blue eyes looked at him as if confused by his faith in her.

“I know you are!” He nodded, “Hey! Can you watch Ford for me until I get back? Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere!”

“F-ford…?” The other intern’s eyes narrowed at that name, as if she were squinting to see through a thick fog, “Ford…why does… Oh! Ford Cruller, right… He’s one of the psychic 6…” She shook her head, “Sorry, I am just…all over the place… These panic attacks take a lot out of me…”

“It’s all going to be okay.” The younger of the two gently took the other’s hand, waving to Nick before walking up to the office room, “Agent Cruller! This is my friend! She works in the mailroom—!”

“If she isn’t senior staff, that door ain’t openin’!” Ford declared before the boy could finish.

“Oh, I know!” Raz nodded, “This is Riva. She is having a hard time right now, and I don’t want to leave her alone. Maybe you two could talk or something?”

“Eh?! Oh, sure…sure thing…” The senior sounded slightly jostled for a moment, before returning to his distant demeanor, “Chit chat makes the sortin go faster…”

“Great!” The boy smiled at Riva before racing up to the exit of the mailroom, “I’ll be back as soon as possible!”

Soon after the sound of footsteps and levitation bubbles faded, the remaining intern heard the door creak open.

“Riva…” Cruller’s voice sounded slightly shaken, “I… Is it really you…?”

“S-sir…?” She frowned, “I-I don’t think we’ve met before…”

“Ah… I shoulda known you would’ve repressed it all…” He looked at the floor grimly, “They feared what you could become if you knew…”

“…W-what…?” The teen stepped away as the agent stepped closer, reaching a hand out to her. Eventually, she was against a wall.

“You…really were damaged by the feedback…weren’t you, kid…?” His bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern, “Back at Whisperin Rock… you remember that place, right…?”

Oh, that summer camp she got kicked out of only mere days in because she wasn’t even a real psychic?

“Yes, that’s the one.” Cruller answered her thoughts telepathically, “Except… you are psychic, Riva… Always have been… They just wanted you to believe you weren’t…so they could let you go back to society…”

Go…back…? Why wouldn’t she have been allowed to be in society if she was psychic? Isn’t that what the psychonauts are all about?

“You had potential, unlike what Nein Vodello and myself had ever seen from such a young mind… until Raz showed up, of course, but he was slightly older than you were…” He finally grabbed both of her hands, encasing them in his own, “You had such a gift with clairvoyance… it was beyond what the psychonauts ever thought was possible…”

“W-Wait…” She blinked, “You know Raz then? Why didn’t you just let him in the office…?”

“He’s not ready to learn the dark truths I’ve got tucked away in this old noggin…” The old man sighed, “I-I’m not ready for em, either… but… you are. You need to know the truth about yourself… You need to stop disregarding me when I say this: You ARE psychic…”

“B-BUT I’M NOT!” Riva tried to pull her hands away from him, to which he gently released them from their hold, “T-THAT CAMP WAS THE WORST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME! I THOUGHT I WOULD FIND SOMEWHERE I BELONGED, THAT I WAS GOOD FOR SOMETHING! B-but… I wasn’t… I-I was so full of myself to think I was special! M-My brains just BROKEN—“

“Stop it right there.” His voice became firmer, “Listen to me, before someone comes! Your potent clairvoyance meant we didn’t need any altering technology to convince you of a lie… You are so in tune with other people’s viewpoints and perspectives… you don’t even know what your reality is anymore… Other people tell you who you are, what you do, where you go. No more playin pretend, Riva.”

“I-I…b-but…”

“You were a psychic of high potential even at age 7, with budding specialities in clairvoyance, and hydrokinesis….” He smiled, “You… you made friends with every single piece of me, kid… I took you under my wing to teach you what I knew… but hydrokinesis… was a feared ability due to…well… another incident... When that secret spilled…”

“N-no… I-I can’t be… I-I don’t remember any of this!“

“Nein feared that your age, your diagnosis of autism, both combined with your psychic potential could result in you developing powerful abilities beyond even your own control…” Ford shook his head, “Headquarters wanted to lock ya up for observation in a psychoisolation facility for life… but, Sasha found a loophole. By having someone tell you that their biased perspective was reality, your brain would doubt its own perception, and start to believe them. That’s how we managed to let you leave that campsite with your family…”

By this point Riva was speechless, as countless memories she thought she had selfishly dreamed about returned to her. She fell to her knees, staring at nothing as she was flooded with all that she had forgotten. The ruthless bullying at camp, and their sabotaging of her efforts to learn to use her powers… That time they tried to drown her in the lake and she washed them all ashore on accident… the horror on everyone’s faces… It all actually happened?!

There were some happy things hidden in the mess, though… The time she’d spend drawing the wildlife out there, the cool places to explore… and the single friend she made at camp… That’s right, the cook was always there to comfort her after the other kids picked on her… No, wait, it was the ranger… But then why’d she remember a janitor, and a man watching over the canoes…? Why did they all look the same, identical even…? Then there was one more in a psychonauts uniform…

“There ya go. Now you’re getting it…” His frail hand grabbed one of hers, helping her up with a chuckle. “I should look more familiar to ya now, eh?”

She made eye contact again, and felt so stupid for not noticing this before. Riva always had an interest in the psychonauts, because they seemed like they could tolerate different minds. If her family could afford it, she would even read True Psychic Tales, mainly because she admired the illustrations. How could she not realize she knew Ford “The Founder Of This Whole Place” Cruller until now?!

Yet, at the same time, she felt her eyes water. It was nice to know she had a friend back then, even if he was old enough to be her grandpa. She didn’t say a word, and extended her free arm as an invitation…for something she definitely needed and wouldn’t want to get from Nick. The agent understood, and they hugged for a brief moment. She felt like this had happened before.

“I-I… I’m glad to see you, Mr. Cruller, b-but…” She quickly shifted back to worrying, “I-I am not in the best situation to do much of anything regarding the truth right now… I know Norma is telling Hollis I am the spy in the psychonauts… I-I am going to get locked up in the end anyway… T-they didn’t believe me before… Why would they believe me now—?”

He was gone.

The intercom sounded, with Hollis’ sharp voice ringing out, “Would Riva Beckons please come to the main area IMMEDIATELY!”

[1oserjk]

— full stop | 04 

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a series.

a messy divorce, unrequited feelings, and a five year old.

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+ this isn’t a big update, it wasn’t even supposed to be a main part since i wrote this today n it’s literally 2k n i was going to put this in memories n moments but since this an event that had just happened a day later .. sry i’m putting it with the chronological list bc smthg happens at the end.

this is also the jk i talk about bc i cant get him out of my head, frankly

03 ⇋ 05

x full stop masterlist | x masterlist

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full stop | 04: over the fence

Shutting the car door after helping Yeona out, you skeptically glance at her before asking, “Do you need any help?”

Her head stubbornly shakes in between the colored plastic wrap of the flowers and the wide poster she holds close to her chest and a determined pout set on her lips. “No Mommy! I’m okay,” she says, even when she stumbles slightly on the sidewalk’s pavement. 

Your fingers ghost against her back just in case, observing her nervously before you both reach the entrance of the studio. “Alright. Just be careful, okay?”

The plastic and paper rustle and it simply tells you she’s nodding back. 

You reach for the door and nudge her in the right direction, finally setting your eyes forward and at the front desk where Seol is sat at. “Hi, miss!” Yeona greets, voice muffled and fully unaware of who exactly the person was behind the desk. She’s seen her a few times when you both visited through the years, but not enough to be introduced as Jungkook’s new girlfriend — which has only happened recently. 

And as if that was even a thing to her yet. 

Seol’s eyes widen before timidly waving at your daughter.

You offer a curt smile and a short greeting before asking, “Is Jungkook busy?” 

She doesn’t seem as surprised by your sudden visit, clearly aware of the date on the calendar set out and taped down in front of her as she offers a polite smile back. “I can check for you.”

Her pointer lands on a specific paper, dragging down towards the time slots until it reaches a point. She looks back up. “He’s free for the next thirty minutes before his lunch break.”

Gently patting your hands on Yeona’s shoulder, you begin walking forward, pushing at the small gate that separates the employees from the clients and out of Yeona’s way when she walks through it. 

“Thank you, miss!” She throws out, rushing towards his office without even waiting for a reply back. 

“Careful, baby,” you remind, wincing at some of the reflective glitter that falls onto the black flooring. 

She simply ignores it, greedy hands reaching for the doorknob, unfortunately too short and weak to properly turn it. With her struggling like this, you’re a hundred percent sure Jungkook can hear the wiggling and disruptive noises from the opposite side of the door. 

It only reminds you to work on her patience some more when you get back home. 

Finally reaching her, you’re the one to open the door and allow her to rush in with the abundance of gifts she’s been too excited to get the past few weeks. 

“Daddy!” Yeona squeals, finding him already standing up, most likely preparing to confront the ruckus that was happening behind the door a few moments ago. 

With wide eyes behind the lenses he wears today, he immediately crouches down and accepts the ecstatic little girl that sprints towards him. 

You stay close by the door after gently closing it. 

“Yeonie,” he chuckles after the embrace, fingers supporting the back of her head as he envelopes her further into his chest. 

Yeona gasps, wiggling away all of a sudden. “Your gifts — You’re crushing them!” 

“Ah,” he sheepishly replies then apologises soon after. “You got me something?”

Yeona eagerly nods. “It’s Daddy’s Day, remember?” 

He holds a blank expression and you’re already assuming he has forgotten all about today and that it was just another work day with his schedule full as it always was. “Oh,” he realizes. “It is, huh.”

At this point, it doesn’t even come as a surprise with how little Jungkook truly thought about himself. It reads well when you take a solid look around at the place, his corner lamp turned on and dozens of notebooks stacked up on the table beside his tiny sofa in the corner. 

Thankfully, most of his clients don’t go through this way and only reserve the open space in the minimalistic studio, where the divided black curtains are the only thing that separates them from the rest of the shop. This was just a place to plan and clutter most of Jungkook’s things before the next person would show up again, maybe even squeeze in a nap when it was needed. 

His eyes finally meet yours and his lips quirk up with a certain gratefulness that fills up his eyes, and you send him a small nod. 

Though, your short interaction suddenly gets disrupted when flowers get shoved at his face. 

It’s too difficult to hold back a small laugh when he flinches, an eye squeezed shut as the thin veil of plastic comes dangerously close. “We got you flowers!”

“O-Oh,” he coughs out when he drowns in the scent of them, “Thank you, sweetheart.” When he can finally make a grab at them, he takes a look at the kind and softens at the sight. “Tiger Lily’s.” 

“Mommy said they’re your favorite,” Yeona enthusiastically explains before pausing to double-check, “They are, aren’t they?” Her doe eyes search for his, head coming closer to observe the flowers with him. 

He nods and pecks her cheek to reassure. “They are and I love them. I think I’ll draw some of them later.” He directs his eyes at you when he says, “Thank you.” 

You quickly turn away, eyeing the sketches to the left of you, exactly where his messy desk is. 

“And this is my card for you!” 

She holds it up and even more glitter falls to the floor, but he doesn’t even seem fazed by it, eyes brightening at his little girl’s artwork. 

She impatiently hops and the writing seems to be hard to read when he squints through his glasses. You slowly walk over to the both of them and hold onto Yeona’s shoulders again to make her stay still. “Baby,” you warn. “He can’t even read it with you shaking like this.” 

She sheepishly smiles and giggles, looking up at you. “Sorry Mommy. Too excited.”

You hum and find Jungkook silent through all of this, eyes glassy from her small fingertips that are seen all throughout the poster. Knees bending, you hold her close as you both watch over him silently. He’s touched, and it shows when he chokes up a little and hides it with a lame cough. 

Yeona eyes him worriedly, whirling towards you unsurely before you shush her with a small nod, silently letting her know that it was all okay. “Happy tears,” you whisper to her, your own eyes glossing over slightly. “He’s okay.”

“Daddy,” she timidly calls, “Do you like it?”

He looks up and nods with a smile, arms stretching out so that she can fall back into them, “I do, baby. I love it — I always love the stuff you make for me.”

She giggles into his neck and grapples on tighter. 

They exchange kisses and hugs for a few more minutes and you’ve luckily snapped a few photos to send to Jungkook’s mother when you would get home. 

When your knees give in eventually, you stand up, mindlessly folding a few of the blankets that were messily sprawled out onto his daybed just to keep your hands busy. 

Jungkook notices. 

“Uncle Jimin and Tae have been saving up some candy for the next time you would come over,” he whispers and offers to Yeona, “Want to go visit them for a minute?”

She eagerly nods, already squirming out of his arms and rushing out of the room. You barely even have the opportunity to yell at her to knock before going into any of their offices and not to disrupt if they had a client over. 

“_____.”

Your head tips at your name only to find Jungkook with a fond smile. He scratches at the back of his head before standing up and thanking you again.

You nod with an awkward smile of your own and explain further, “Yeona had been keen on visiting. Sorry if you had other plans.” 

He shakes his head rapidly to decline. “N-No, I didn’t.” Holding up the poster, he glances at it again. “I really needed this..” 

You nod thoughtfully. “I’m glad we came by at the right time then.” 

He nods and it continues to stay silent for a while. “What are you doing after this?” He suddenly asks, “M-My lunch.. It’s—“ 

“I’m probably going back home to call up my dad,” you quickly turn down and excuse, fingers playing with themselves. 

“Oh.” 

“But you’re welcome to take Yeona out,” you offer. “It’s your day after all.” But you grow weary at the thought of Seol tagging along for it. It’s why your fingers suddenly stop and land by your sides to curl against the material of your jeans. 

“I would,” he starts, “But I have one last client visiting right after and I’m not sure Yeona would be patient to stay here for it. It’ll take a few hours..” 

“Oh.”

“But I can visit when I’m done here?” He rushes. 

You rub your arms at the brisk air that suddenly travels downwards and you blame the air conditioning he always puts at too much of a low temperature. You’ve scolded him so many times for it, completely sure he’d get a cold one of these days for being so careless. If you were to call for it, the discourse would go on and on as if it was only a few years back and you were suddenly married again. He would reason he sweats too much and you would go on to say that it was from his heavy and bulky clothes he refuses to switch up every other season. 

“That’s—yeah, that’s great,” you weakly smile, completely erasing the foreboding thought before it would turn into a reminiscent den full of memories just like it. 

You would have turned him down. You should have, but it would hurt you even more if he would be left alone for the rest of the day, which is why you offer something Hyejin would smack you for the next playdate you planned for the kids, “I can cook dinner.”

His head shakes. “You don’t have to..”

“No, it’s okay. Just come by when you’re finished, okay? That way you can spend time with her properly.”

He doesn’t decline. “Thank you..” 

You step away before turning back and grabbing your belongings. “Happy Father’s Day, Jungkook. You should call up your dad and tell him the same,” you can’t help but add, but when you lift your head towards him, he seems thankful for the reminder. 

“I will,” he affirms, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cargo bottoms. You notice for a short while how good he looks like this. Hair washed without styling as if he just rolled around before waking up from a nap and the specks he wears every now and then like he had just thrown them on before getting up. And knowing Jungkook well — that’s probably the case. “I’ll see you later?” 

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “Yeah.”

The door opens and you bite at your tongue, though it fails when you can’t help but call for him again with a small laugh weighing at the tip of your tongue, eyes pinned down at his bottom half. 

“Hm?”

“Your shirt.. There’s glitter all over it.”

Looking down, he immediately notices and curses, beginning to brush off the stubborn flakes that reflect all over his black short-sleeve. 

You shut the door before he can really say anything, and you quickly search for your daughter and her chocolate-smeared mouth you can already predict. 

-

Seol hums from her seat beside Jungkook and smiles at him. “Lunch was fun.”

Jungkook’s too focused on the sketch below him, a few of the lilies taken and laid out. He thinks he’ll be able to finish tonight and give it to Yeona after dinner. “It was,” he agrees. 

Her hand snakes onto his shoulder and rubs comfortingly before asking, “What are you planning to do tonight?” She’s already getting too excited at the offer she has ready, sitting at the tip of her tongue and ready to unravel. 

“Ah, I’m having dinner with Yeona.” 

Faltering slightly, she turns back to the same grin a second later. She should have known. It was Father’s Day after all. He has a daughter. He has a family — more or less. “Oh.” 

“Yeah.” He smiles. And it’s wide and genuine, not at all directed towards her but at the paper he carefully shades at. 

She nods carefully and slowly. “You seem excited.” 

He finally looks up at her and he smiles again. “Yeah,” he hums thoughtfully before agreeing, “I guess I am.” 

“_____ invited?” She pokes, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“Kind’ve? I asked to visit after work and she said she would cook dinner.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” He returns back to his sketching all too quickly. 

Seol bites her lip, hand going up to support her jaw and head as she observes closely, the man she’s been dating for over two months and pining for way longer — the glint in his eye and all. 

She only wonders if it was the aspect from spending time with his daughter, or having his ex-wife present in all of it too. 

Either way, from the short time in dating him, she’s only seen this particular look on him once. 

And that was only when he was married. 

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[tchallasbabymama]

The Temple- Chapter 3

Taglist: @nahimjustfeelingit-writes, @quietstorm-73, @ladymac82

Read Chapter 2 if you haven’t already, and let me know if you want to be tagged. Don’t forget to check out my Masterlist!

CW: smut

Word count: 4231 “Hello, my prince. I am Aisha.”

The words sounded like a prayer on her lips. Aisha.

“N’Jadaka.” The prince gingerly grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it, causing her to giggle at the tickling feeling. 

“I am aware. This is your first visit?”

“That obvious, huh?”

Aisha full on laughed this time, a melodious siren call. He wanted nothing more than to let her drag him into her waters and keep him for eternity.

“Painfully so. No worries, I’ll ease you into it.”

N’Jadaka’s ears perked up at her forwardness.

“‘It’ being…?

“The reason we were called to each other.”

He leaned in to whisper into her ear, just loud enough for her to hear him over the crowd.

“And what reason is that, beautiful?”

The prince’s arm went around her waist, and he felt her place a kiss just under his collarbone. N’Jadaka just about melted right then and there, so Aisha grabbed his hand and led him through the crowd in the opposite direction from the entrance. Instead of another large door, this part of the temple was only separated from the rest by an ornate purple curtain, and when she drew back the curtain his eyes travelled to the winding staircase before them. Vibranium lit the halls as his eyes took in the artwork on the wall, some different stories of Bast and others scenes of sexual pleasure featuring the oldest Daughters of Bast from thousands of years ago. After staring in awe at his surroundings, the prince’s eyes fell to Aisha’s ass. It was by no means the biggest ass he had ever seen, but it was the perfect size and shape for his hormones to go crazy.

“How much farther?” He asked, pulling her back towards him and placing his nose in the crook of her neck, taking in her sweet natural scent. 

“Not much farther, my prince. I promise.”

“I like when you say that shit.”

“My prince?”

N’Jadaka grinded his erection into her lower back and she reached back to grab him by the balls, making him release a whimpering sound in her ear. 

“Not yet...my prince. There is much we must do before I let you experience Bast’s blessings.”

He pulled back and tilted her face towards him, staring into her light brown eyes.

“What else is there?”

Aisha chuckled darkly and pulled him along once more, hand never moving from her warm cradle between his legs. He followed with his bottom lip wedged perfectly between his teeth, trying not to bite down as hard as he wanted to.

__________

He swore the temple was bigger on the inside, or maybe it was just his raging hormones making the walk seem impossibly long. Once they arrived at what N’Jadaka assumed was her door he felt like they had been walking for forever. She opened it and motioned for him to enter.

“After you, your highness.”

N’Jadaka stepped in and took in his surroundings once more. The room was dimly lit and the lingering smell of incense greeted him before anything else. The only window was stained glass with a large kaleidoscope pattern that N’Jadaka was sure would look amazing in the sunlight. He took note of the massage table in the middle of the room, and then he noticed a bed as well as a chair over to the side. He could barely hear faint instrumental music playing in the background.

“So you’re a masseuse, too?” N’Jadaka asked Aisha.

“We are all well-versed in many physical arts, including massage.”

“So you’re good with your hands?” he asked with a devilish smirk.

Aisha smiled knowingly.

“Yes your highness, I am.”

“Well let's get to it then.” He rubbed his hands together and walked towards the massage bed, He stopped when he noticed the hole near the middle.

“Wait, is that for my dick?”

Aisha giggled.

“Yes, my prince. Some find it uncomfortable to lay on an erect penis during a back massage, and others enjoy it as part of a kink. We will see which one you are. Either way, you will be receiving a full-body massage in every sense of the word. Would you care to lay down?”

“Yes ma’am.”

N’Jadaka laid on his stomach, awkwardly placing his dick through the opening.

“Feels weird just hanging like this…”

“It always does at first, but if you wish you do not have to utilize it.”

“Nah I’m curious.”

“Are you ready to begin, my prince?”

“Uh yeah, let's do this” He said, trying to mask his nerves. He was instantly calmed down when she placed her hands lightly on his head to feel his energy and slowly trailed them to his feet, touching everything in between and acquainting herself with his body. 

“Lavender or eucalyptus oil?” Aisha asked the prince. He pointed to the lavender bottle and she pumped some into her hands before rubbing them together.

When her hands came up to knead at his tense shoulders, her strength surprised him. He had never felt anything like that before. Her thumbs beat the shit out of his tension and the heels of her palms ran it out of town. 

Aisha’s hands moved to his lower back and he let out a moan that he wasn’t expecting, before clearing his throat.

“It’s ok, you know? Moaning, expressing yourself in that way. If it feels good it feels good.”she told him. 

N’Jadaka nodded slowly, not trusting his voice at the moment.  

Her strong hands made their way to his backside and he giggled.

“Sorry, I guess I’m ticklish.”

“Plenty of people are, it’s a very sensitive area.”

She continued to knead his glutes and he tried to speak through his giggles.

“So- aha, how long have you be-been doing thi-sss?”

“Just two years. I got the call young so I started studying anatomy, massage therapy, reiki, and acupressure. When I hit adulthood I began my training to be a Daughter of Bast, and after three years I was able to officially call myself a Daughter.”

Her hands moved to the backs of his thighs, which was no better for him sensitivity-wise and he felt a stirring in his loins. He could feel his dick hardening and being pulled down by gravity herself the more it grew. 

“Three years? That’s a long time.”

Aisha smiled at his attempt to make conversation.

“Yes, but it flew by. It takes time to learn the physical arts, even with my background.”

“I like that y’all call sex ‘physical arts’”

“Not just sex, my prince, but intimacy. What we are doing now is intimate, yes?”

“Hell yeah it is,” he said with a smile.

“Everybody comes here for different reasons,” She began as her hands moved down to his calves. “Some require sex, some just need us to lend an ear, some need the relaxing environment, some need to be held...it varies from person to person.”

“Makes sense. So what do I need?”

“Everything I just mentioned. Life was not kind to you, and that much loneliness doesn’t just disappear with talk therapy. Humans require intimacy not just for survival, but for our mental state as well. And I don't mean just in terms of sex. No, I mean familial relationships, romantic and platonic relationships. Even the intimacy that comes from community. That love and support and closeness can come from anywhere, you just have to be open to it. But it is difficult if you’ve never been given that chance before. After all, a child not embraced by their village will burn it down to feel it’s warmth.”

A lump formed in the prince’s throat as he thought back to the scorched Garden of the Heart-Shaped Herb.  

“I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

“I’m sure, it is a very old proverb.”

Aisha massaged his feet and he felt his body respond to her touching the corresponding pressure points. He felt a rush of blood and his dick immediately jumped. 

“How are you feeling,” Aisha asked, already knowing the answer.

“Relaxed and horny. Yo this upside down glory hole is kinda nice though, I might have to get a bed like this...”

“May I pleasure you like this or would you prefer a different position?” 

N’Jadaka froze as if he had forgotten why he came here.

“Uh yeah, this is good…”

Aisha crawled under the massage table and sat on a pillow, cross-legged under his raging erection. 

“If it pleases you, I will start with my hands.”

“Oh, it pleases me…”

She pumped some unscented oil into her hands before bringing them up to his dick. It was sensitive to her touch and he winced as she grabbed the base with one hand and massaged the tip with her other hand.

“My prince, there is no pride or ego here. When you feel the need to release you do so. Do you understand?” “Yes.”

“I did not hear you.” She said as she squeezed a little tighter around the base.

“Y-yes!”

“Good.” Aisha smirked and her focus returned to the task at hand. She used her fingertips to tease the underside of his dripping dick, watching with joy as it tried to twitch out of her grasp only to be pulled back in by her soft hand sliding up and down his shaft. His foreskin pulled back more and more as his dick grew in size and thickness the more she worked it. When she reached for his balls again he nearly lost it, letting out a loud guttural moan.

“Looks like I found it,” she giggled to herself.

She added more oil to her hands and coated his sack with one hand while working just under his head with the other, causing the vein under his dick to throb more and more until he released on her face with a growl. Each time his hips jerked, more spilled out and Aisha couldn’t help but get a taste. She swiped her finger across her face, gathering his cum, and brought it to her lips to sample the salty goodness. She brought the flat of her tongue to the underside of his already sensitive dick and ran it along the length to the tip, pressing her tongue into the still-leaking opening of his urethra hoping to catch every last drop. When she took him into her mouth, the prince stopped her.

“Hold on babygirl, I want to watch you suck my dick.”

Aisha crawled out from under the table and he stared at her cumstained face in awe. She looked even more beautiful than before. He slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table before looking around the room.

“We doing this here, or…”

“Where do you want me, your highness?”

Aisha watched his dick twitch at her words and smirked at her power over him. 

N’Jadaka motioned to the high-back leather chair near the stained glass window and she grabbed his hand to lead him over to it. He sat down and she stood between his legs. They stared into each other's eyes before he pulled her in for a sloppy kiss, not caring that her face was dripping with his essence. Their arms snaked around each other and she caressed the back of his neck while he gripped her ass tight. He pulled back to admire her body, taking in her deep brown areolas, and bringing his tongue out to taste the sweet saltiness of her skin.

His tongue worked one nipple while his fingers kept the other company. He alternated between the two, lazily tonguing and sucking and nibbling her erect buds causing Aisha to let out a moan that was more music to the prince’s ears. It was one of those deep, low moans that starts in the gut and travels up the spine before loudly breaking free. Her nipples were extremely sensitive to his touch and as she came down from her high he peppered light kisses around her chest.

“My prince…” Aisha said between breaths. 

“Yeah, beautiful?”

“It’s your turn again.”Aisha said while sinking down to her knees before him. She began to drool at the sight of his already hard and leaking dick, throbbing because of her. She stuck out her tongue and opened wide before taking him inside her mouth to the hilt, tongue swirling around the bottom of his ever-thickening dick. 

“Fuck! Girl y-you better suck the fuck out this dick.”

Aisha swallowed and sucked his dick like her life depended on it, cheeks hollowing and spit dripping down her chin.

She removed herself from him with a loud pop, and a thick string of saliva connected her lips to his bulbous head. She traced her tongue along the underside of his dick from his frenulum to his ballsack. She brought his balls into her mouth one at a time and worked them on her tongue while lightly suckling on them. Her hand never left his dick, pulling back his foreskin and stroking along his shaft. 

“Babygirl, if you keep that up I’m gonna come.”

“No holding back, remember?” She took his balls out her mouth and looked at him with a devilish smirk before placing her lips around his head, and hollowing her cheeks to suck him hard and sloppy. Her tongue came out to massage his dick and he let out a stuttered moan before he burst inside her mouth.

Aisha made sure to clean her plate, sucking him dry and licking up anything left behind. He grabbed her by the chin and pulled her closer, smacking a kiss on her juicy, cum-covered lips. He loved how he tasted on her. 

“Do you have one more for me, your highness?”

“Of course babygirl, how do you want me?”

She didn't answer verbally, choosing to push him back and straddle him instead. 

“Oh so it’s like that?” He secretly loved her brief flashes of dominance.

Aisha lowered herself onto him, sliding all the way down until they were connected pelvis-to-pelvis. 

“M-my prince, you are v-very big.” She struggled to get the words out, distracted by the way his dick stretched her out.

“Yeah and you got that tight, pretty pussy babygirl. Lean back, lemme watch your pussy swallow my shit.”

Aisha did as she was told and planted her hands on his thighs before leaning back and allowing him a view of her treasure trove. 

“Ooh, fuck. That’s right, take my shit deep.” N’Jadaka.

“Your highness, it’s so deep.”

“You like that shit?”

“Mmm, yes sir.”

“Bounce on it then” He said as his fingers dug into her ass.

Aisha used her thighs to lift her body, then gracefully slid back down his pole with her hips circling like wind in a tornado. He was caught up in her storm, eyes intensely glued to hers. Her hand came up to grab his chin and hold him in place while her other hand sneaked into his messy dreads. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned down to kiss him and lightly snuck her tongue in his mouth. The kiss was soft and sweet as she grinded her hips slowly into his. They moaned into each other's mouths and climbed towards their peaks together.

“Mmm you feel so good your highness. How do I make you feel?”

“Like I’m on cloud nine babygirl. You got some strong juju in this pussy, I can feel it.”

Their foreheads leaned against each other and she picked up her pace, slamming her ass down on his lap.

“Keep that up and Im cumming in that pussy”

“Please, my prince. Cum inside me.” 

At her command, his body convulsed and he released his seed deep inside her. She pulled up and only rode the tip of his dick, making him release a whine-like moan into the crook of her neck while his dick throbbed once more, pushing out the very last bit of semen his body could provide. Aisha’s pussy clenched and she let loose a deluge of her juices onto the prince before sinking back down and relaxing onto him. Their bodies still connected, they stared into each others eyes and took deep breaths in and out until they calmed their heart rates down.

“How do you feel now, my prince?”

“Call me N’Jadaka.”

“Alright, then. How do you feel, N’Jadaka?”

He paused to think about it, leaving them in silence for a minute. Still inside her, his fingers aimlessly traced patterns into her hips while her fingers lightly ran through his hair. She laid her head against his chest and he placed his chin on top of her head. He had never been held like this before. So calm, so close.

“Lighter. Open. Tired.”

They both laughed at that last one.

“Lighter and open how?”

“I don't know how to explain it, I just- don't feel as heavy and closed off in my spirit.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Yeah, I just-,” N’Jadaka began to tear up and Aisha brought her hand up to wipe them away as they fell. She gave him the time to let it all out. When he was able to talk again, he cleared his throat. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

“How what could, N’Jadaka?”

“Living.”

She pressed a kiss to his forehead and they continued to talk for a few more minutes before they finally parted. Aisha walked N’Jadaka back though the temple to retrieve his clothes and when they said goodbye neither wanted the other to leave. 

“I am sure I will see you again, my prince?”

“Come on with that ‘my prince’ shit.” he said with a smile, causing her to send him one right back. He pulled her in for a hug and they both took in each other's scent.

“Be safe getting back, N’Jadaka.”

“I’ll see you around.” He kissed her cheek and turned to leave, nearly tripping over a black ball of fuzz.

“Isa? Hey lil mama, what’s good?”

The cat purred and rubbed on his legs.

“It looks like she likes you. You know what that means?” Aisha leaned down to pet Isabis, too. 

“Nah, what?”

“You’re pure of heart-”

He looked at her and his eyes got misty before he noticed a smaller black fuzz ball making it’s way over to him.

“-and she finds you worthy enough to care for one of her babies.” Aisha answered with a smile.

“Aww, Isa.” He said as the cat moved to lick the kitten on it’s head before turning back to the prince. He reached out to greet his new friend but was beat to it by the kitten jumping into his large hand.

“It looks like she’s happy with her mama’s decision.” Aisha looked on with pride. This man had transformed right before her eyes and she couldn't be happier for him and his progress. “Do you have a name for her?”

He looked at the little black kitten intently.

“Nah, she’ll tell me what it is eventually.”

The two smiled at each other and exchanged kisses on the cheek once more before the prince was off to the palace with his new fur baby.

____________

“Someone seems to be in a good mood,” Shuri teased the moment he walked in the door.

“Hello to you too, beanstalk.” N’Jadaka threw it right back at her, and fully expected her to make some jab at his scars but the kitten distracted her.

“Bast, she’s adorable! Where did you find her?”

“The temple.”

“Ohhhhh, I’ve heard they have kittens everywhere!”

“Yeah you still got a couple more years before you get to visit all these cute little guys. Isn’t that right….” N’Jadaka paused, thinking a name would come to him. “Damn, nothing.”

“What's the problem?”

“I can’t think of a name. I don't want to just be like ‘hey cat come here’, you know?”

“I get it, but once she shows you her personality it’ll be easier to name her.”

“Name who?!” Nakia rounded the corner with a scowl on her face.

Without a word, the prince held up his new kitten and her face softened. She immediately grabbed the kitten and sat down with her on the couch.

“She’s the cutest! Did you get her from the temple?”

N’Jadaka cleared his throat, not necessarily wanting to go into details with these two. Especially with Shuri’s young ears around.

“I did. There’s a cat that fosters the kittens-”

“Isa? Oh how is she?”

He chuckled at Isabis’ popularity.

“She’s fine, she pushed this one on me and now here we are.”

“I understand, T’Challa and I have two that run our lives. Once this baby gets here I fear we will be outnumbered.”

“What’s T up to anyway? I want him to meet his new little cousin.”

“He’s in his office getting some work done”

“Bet. Can I have my child back please?”

Nakia kissed the kitten’s head and reluctantly handed her back to N’Jadaka.

“Thank you!” He waved goodbye as the kitten climbed up his arm to lay on his broad shoulders. Neither of the three of them could contain their ‘awww’s.

The prince made it to T’Challa’s office on the business side of the palace. The guards saluted him and after he saluted back he noticed their ear to ear smiles. He felt a tug and realized they were smiling at his kitten trying to play with his hair.

He walked in, interrupting what appeared to be a meeting on the screens in front of him. He recognized several of the faces as Avengers. 

“My bad…”

He tried to slip back out the doors, but T’Challa stopped him.

“Nonsense, you should join-” The king paused at the adorable sight before him. “Actually, meeting adjourned. We can pick this up tomorrow.”

As the Avengers screens went black, N’Jadaka sat in the chair across from his cousin. As soon as he got close, the kitten leapt from his shoulder to the king’s desk.

“So I take it your time at the Temple was fruitful, umzala.”

“Fruitful? Nigga I almost fell in love and I came home with a child.”

“Love?”

“I mean, I know it's nothing because they do this all the time but damn she was something else.”

The kitten had taken to T’Challa, naturally, and began to climb up onto his shoulder.

“You’re correct that they are professionals, but that doesn’t mean a spark wasn’t felt. Our grandmother was a Daughter of Bast. She chose to leave the temple when she married our grandfather, but that was how they met.” The king explained while play-fighting with the kitten on his shoulder. 

“I didn’t think that was possible...so they're not married to Bast or something like that?”

“No, they are free agents. Some of them stay Daughters after marriage or children. Several leave and come back. Bast is the goddess of pleasure, and how unpleasurable would it be to force everyone into the same box?”

N’Jadaka nodded slowly, trying to wrap his brain around the new information.

“So have you named her yet?”

“Nah, I figure it’ll come to me. I can already tell she’s a handful.” He said as they watched the kitten jump down and begin chasing her tail, falling over in the process.

“So back to the temple. Who did you see?”

“Aisha.”

“I can’t say I know of an Aisha, I haven’t been in so long. Every time I go, Isa tries to push more kittens on me, and I hate denying her.”

N’Jadaka chuckled at the thought of Isabis and the king’s interactions.

“So this Aisha, are you planning on seeing her again?”

“Hell yes. How soon is too soon to go back?”

“You can go back whenever, but I would suggest waiting until you feel it is the right time.”

The prince thought over it for a moment before responding.

“I saw her before I met her. In a daydream. Then when I saw her in person I felt this warm pulling in my stomach like-”

“Like a chain pulling you towards her. Yes, I am familiar.” A goofy smile appeared on T’Challa’s face as he thought of his wife.

“So you get it?”

“I do, but does she?”

_______________

On the other side of Wakanda, Aisha lowered herself into a fragrant bath and thought over her day. She had told herself it would be an off-day, but then when she saw the prince she felt something in her gut tell her to go to him. When he kissed her hand ‘hello’ she nearly melted at the touch of his skin on hers. She wasn’t used to experiencing those feelings from patrons. 

When she caressed and massaged his body, she could feel the pain melt away. When she rode him she could feel his soul opening up and she gladly stepped through the door. She could feel his emotions and she opened herself to him, allowing him to feel hers. When they came together, she saw constellations in his chestnut eyes. 

She stayed in the bath, daydreaming about Prince N’Jadaka until the water ran cold. When she emerged from the water, she air dried her body and covered herself in cocoa butter before lowering herself to the floor for her nightly prayers to the goddess. 

Aisha pulled back her sheets and slid in naked. She laid there for an hour, mind racing over all the possibilities, before sleep finally took her in for the night. 

Next Chapter

[virlath]

Hidden Trespasser mosaics

So I was researching some lore for a theory surrounding the environmental artwork in DAI, and happened to stumble upon this twitter post regarding unused mosaics for Trespasser. 

Coincidentally, I’ve been so deep in statues and elven god symbolism the past few days that I thought I’d chime in with some of my own thoughts.

From left to right in these artworks, I think we’re looking at four different gods involved in Solas’ slave rebellion.

Fen’Harel, Dirthamen/Falon’Din, Andruil, Mythal

===

If this hidden game file is anything to go by, it seems to confirm one theory I’ve had for a while- that Solas had help from some of the evanuris with his slave rebellion.

Because when you think about it, it’s kinda hard to believe he could have started a slave rebellion at all with his high profile and attachment to Mythal, especially when slaves seems to have been a big economy in ancient Elvhenan.

===

The gods in these mosaics

From left to right in the image

(Note: I actually posted some hi-res shots of the masks from DAO yesterday if you’re interested in seeing unedited screenshots, but I’ll break down my guesses here anyway.)  

1. Fen’Harel is obviously the wolf.

2. Dirthamen’s mask is easiest to spot because it matches the shape of his statues in DAO. Note that Dirthamen and Falon’Din have very similar statues and masks.

Falon’Din is the statue with the spear (recognised by Tamlen as “friend of the dead”) while I believe Dirthamen is the statue with four arms (this also strongly implies the envy demon in DAI is his corrupted raven, Deceit)

I believe Falon’Din and Dirthamen are two aspects of the same being, but how that actually works remains to be seen. Some people have suggested Falon’Din walks the fade while Dirthamen walks the physical realm and perhaps that explains their togetherness and separateness. 

Regardless, it does seem like both Falon’Din and Dirthamen were involved in Solas’ uprising due to the fact that both their mosaics are found inside the elven sanctuary before we see Solas’ mural removing vallaslin.

3. Andruil’s mask seems to fit most similarly to the third mosaic.

The overall curved shape mirrors Andruil’s bow in her mosaic, and the dotted indentation at the top totally looks like an arrow shaft. The eye placement in both the mosaic and the mask hints to me that this is very likely Andruil.

The big question- why would Andruil be helping Solas?

Perhaps because Mythal turned her to their side after she “sapped Andruil's strength, and stole her knowledge of how to find the Void.”

Or, perhaps Andruil isn’t as “evil” as people think she is.

Sure, she may have brought on the blight (although even this is conjecture, personally I feel like this could very well could be misdirection) and may have hunted “mortal men and beasts”, but who’s to say these beasts and men didn’t deserve what they got? Who’s to say she wasn’t corrupted by the void before she became the “goddess of sacrifice”?

One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking The Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss.

This implies to me she could have simply been hunting beings that had given her cause to hunt them. Remember, she was the only god that responded to Ghilan’nain’s cries for help, and at this time Ghilan’nain was one of the People, implying she wasn’t totally evil.

Andruil also has strong links to Falon’Din, because she and Falon’Din share the same symbol of the owl. What if Mythal meted out judgement, Falon’Din brought her judgement to them in the form of the owl (thus fulfilling the role of Andruil’s messenger as well as “friend of the dead”), and Andruil hunted them in turn to render Mythal’s judgement?

“Always keep an eye out for the noble owl. You never know: Andruil might have a message for you.”

It is interesting to see that the owl statue is always carrying what looks like a mirror or even dimension to another world (another prison perhaps?), possibly intended as a way to reflect the viewer’s own self and actions back on to them. 

Anyway, to me there are a number of possibilities why Andruil would work with Solas and co. Perhaps she wasn’t as corrupted as they thought. Perhaps Mythal made her forget so much so she agreed to help them. Or perhaps Andruil was the mole in the rebellion - the person who began the events that led to Mythal’s death.

4. I think the last god represents Mythal, due to the fact the shape is similar to the bronze statues found in the crossroads and deep roads.

There are in fact two versions of this statue - the sun, in the crossroads, and the moon in the deep roads. (brightened and contrast boosted for clarity)

The moon statue is strongly implied to represent Mythal, because a note is found near this statue:

These statues are old. Better shape than anything I've seen on the surface. Many of them are for Mythal, though. And Fen'Harel. Not in a spot of honor, but guarding, attending.

Question is, why would the sun also represent Mythal when Elgar’nan is known as the Eldest of the sun? 

Well, not only does the sun statue look very much the yin to the yang of the moon statue in the deep roads, the sun could refer to Mythal being both the sun and moon to the dwarves. 

These statues are notably different to other elven statues we’ve seen- notable for the fact they have a large base of rock, and they are carved in smooth bronze.  As these bronze statues are only found in this particular section of the deep roads where she controlled a lyrium wellspring, perhaps the dwarves carved these as a representation of her.

In the third note you find in the deep roads, a poem reads:

I am empty, filled with nothing(?), Mythal gives you dreams. It fills you, within you(?), Making our leaders proud. My little stones, Never yours the sun. Forever, forever.

It sure seems to me like Mythal was protecting these dwarves from something. Either that, or she was using these dwarves as slaves or minions in her operation and for some reason, they revered her enough to carve their own representations of her.

Morrigan says this of Mythal at the Temple of Mythal:

Let fly your voice to Mythal, deliverer of justice, protector of sun and earth alike.’

Similarly, Solas further says:

She was the mother,  protective and fierce. 

Regardless, I think there’s more evidence indicating Mythal was working with Solas over Elgar’nan. You do need Mythal’s passphrase after all to enter the elven sanctuary safely.

And if you want to take this one step further, check out the crown “Andraste” is wearing in DAO. Look familiar??? Maybe reminscent of the moon statue we see in the deep roads?

I don’t want to say Mythal was Andraste but...there are many signs that are hard to ignore.

===

More theory drabble

I realise a lot of the gods’ motives I’ve come up with above are based on conjecture and tbh, the writing for DA4 could go so many ways simply because of the fact that there are so many wide open threads that could be expanded upon.

These unused mosaics does indicate to me at least that the writers have a plan for how Solas’ rebellion actually functioned however, and that to me is exciting in itself.

One thing we can assume with high certainty is that Solas started the slave rebellion before Mythal’s death, because you need her passphrase to enter his sanctuary. Furthermore, even without these unused mosaics there are in-game mosaics of Dirthamen and Falon’Din in the sanctuary before we see the vallaslin mural.

This strongly implies to me that at the very least, even without this hidden game file, that Dirthamen, Falon’Din and Mythal aided and abetted Solas’ slave rebellion.

Further adding to this theory are the the rather compelling links to Dirthamen throughout DAI. For example, the gilded Fen’Harel statues in Dirthamen’s temple’s inner sanctum, Dirthamen’s bleeding statue in the Fade, Dirthamen, Falon’Din, Mythal and Fen’Harel imagery in the Knight’s Tomb, as well as Dirthamen’s statue at Calenhad’s foothold (where it’s implied he had a thing with Ghilan’nain). Not to mention- dual raven standards found underneath Fen’Harel’s sanctuary, as well as archer statues next to the eluvian as you exit (who I believe represent Dirthamen & Falon’Din).

Something clearly happened that led to Mythal’s death, and I’m leaning towards the fact that there was a leak somewhere within Solas’ trusted circle. Dirthamen seems to have been betrayed by someone close to him before the veil was created, because his statue in the fade is stabbed in the back and his eyes are weeping waterfalls of blood. 

As Solas says “...an enemy can attack, but only an ally can betray you. Betrayal is always worse.” 

And, when you tell him you trust your friends? He responds “I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory” 

It is assumed he is talking about Mythal’s own betrayal when he says this, but he could also be referring to the person/people who betrayed him and his trust. Personally, I think Falon’Din and Ghilan’nain could be key players in Mythal’s death at this point. We don’t know enough about the other gods to also make assumptions on their motives unfortunately. 

All in all, it seems to me like every one of the false gods were out to get one another, and Solas never even saw Mythal’s death coming because he was too arrogant/preoccupied with his rebellion.

If Solas really was Mythal’s oldest friend and guardian, his pride would have been absolutely crushed when she was betrayed and killed. The veil was likely a knee-jerk reaction due to his pride and “hot-headedness” more than anything- if he could be outplayed and have his own power and role as “guardian” outright questioned, then of course he would retaliate and raise the stakes even higher. It’s his MO- he has a means to an ends “you didn’t invent war” mentality, disregarding the collateral damage as long as he comes out on top.

This does make me wonder what intentions he has for the false gods once they’re freed though. Obviously Mythal wants her vengeance. But what of Solas? These false gods were his kin after all and the only ones who can truly relate to him on a level no mortal can understand. After all these years of stewing and realising his knee-jerk reaction cost him the entire elven empire, it makes sense he would want to restore what he effectively destroyed when his pride was hurt. 

To me it does seem like he truly hates the evanuris...but could he still be in leagues with some of them? Something I may not put past him, considering I don’t think he worked alone during his rebellion. 

[doshmanziari]

Musical Offerings for the New Year || What is “Radical Music” in 2021?

Near the end of 2020, a bunch of musicians populating a chatroom, including myself, each submitted ten minutes’ worth of our work to another musician, Chimeratio, who generously compiled it all into a set totaling nearly ten hours.¹ The work didn’t need to be new; just what we thought might best represent our abilities/style(s) and/or perhaps what we were especially pleased with. The set premiered in late January. Since I have some tentative plans for reorienting Brick By Brick this year, while not overriding its emphases, I wanted to share that music with anyone who’s interested.

I compiled the four videos into a playlist, although you can also access them individually: here (1), here (2), here (3), and here (4). If you care to, and are on a computer, you can also view the accompanying chatlog and read people’s responses from when they were listening to the live broadcast.

The compulsion for this project was sparked by excited discussions over and usage of the term “digital fusion”, most helpfully propagated by Aivi Tran, designating a computer-based body of work that for years lacked the rooftop of a commonly agreed upon genre-name. While describing my music has never been a big concern, even if it’s usually felt impossible (what, for example, is this? or this? I dunno!), I’ve appreciated how the spread and application of this term has brought together people who may have felt isolated.²

As “digital fusion” gained designative traction, I witnessed the activity in the aforementioned chatroom explode over the course of a few days. Before, a day’s discussion might’ve been a few dozen messages; now, there were dozens of messages every half-minute. This had positive and negative ramifications, the negative being that conversations often proceeded at a pace of rapidity which precluded concentrated thought. Eventually, I bowed out because the rapidity exceeded my threshold for meaningful interaction; but I was glad that significant invigoration was going on.

I wanted to share this music also because it intersects with thoughts and talks I’ve been having stemming from the question, “What is ‘radical music’ in 2021?” This was stimulated by a 2014 talk given by the writer Mark Fisher, wherein he contends that, were we to play prominent “cutting edge” music from now to people twenty years ago, very nearly none of it would be aesthetically shocking, bizarre, or revelatory (think of playing house music to an audience in the early 1960s!). Fisher also observes a trend of returning to music which once was seen as the future -- as if, deprived of a shared prograde vision, imaginations turn hazily retrograde; ergo, genres such as synthwave or albums like Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories.

It isn’t my goal here to argue about the “end of history.” Fisher’s time-travel hypothetical, however, rings loud and true to me. Visible musical radicalism has, for at least a decade, been strictly extra-musical, in the sense of songs like “This is America” or “WAP”, where one’s response is primarily to the spectacle of the music video, the performer’s identistic markers, and/or the manner in which the lyrics intersect with (mostly US-centric) ideological hotspots. Musically, there is really nothing radical here. Any vociferous condemnations or defenses of a song like “WAP” deal in moralizing reactions to semantics or imagery: how progressive or regressive is the political aspect? how propelled or repelled are we by the word “pussy”?

It would be a mistake, and simply wrong, to assert that the only music one can enjoy escapes the parameters outlined above; and my inability to coherently categorize some of my own music hardly raises that portion to the status of radicality. But the question here pertains to what is being made, and I think that if we’re going to seriously consider the nature of truly radical music today, we do need to question if such a quality can prominently exist when our hyper-fast consumerist cycle seems to forbid not just sustained, lifelong relationships to artwork but also the local, unhurried nourishment of creative gestation. Now, in my opinion, there are good, even great, examples of radical music still being made in deep Internet-burrows, and for evidence of that I would offer some of the material contained in the linked playlists. Moreover, I’d say that this quality can exist in part because these little artistic communities are so buried.

Let me share a quote that another person shared with me recently:

For culture to shift, you need pockets of isolated humanity. Since all pockets of humanity (outside of the perpetually isolated indigenous people in remote wilderness) are connected in instantaneous fashion, independent ideas aren’t allowed to ferment on their own. When you cook a meal, you have to bring ingredients together that have had time to grow, ferment, or decompose separately. A cucumber starts out as a seed, then you mix it with the soil, water and sunlight. You can’t bring the seed, soil, water and sunlight to the kitchen from the get-go. When you throw those things in to the mixture without letting them mature, the flavor cannot stand out on its own. Same thing with art and fashion. A kid in Russia can come up with a new way to dance, gets filmed on a phone, it goes viral quickly but gets lost in the morass of all of the other multitudinous forms of dance. Sure it spread far and wide, but it gets forgotten in a week. In the past, his new art form would have been confined locally, nurtured, honed, then spread geographically, creating a distinct new cultural idiosyncrasy with a strong support base. By the time it was big enough to be presented globally, it was already a cultural phenomenon locally. This isn’t possible anymore. We’re consuming too many unripened fruits.

The main impression I have here is that radical music today will, and must be, folk music. Our common idea of folkiness might be the scrappy singer strumming a guitar, but my interpretive reference rather has to do with the idea of a music being written, first of all, for one’s self, and then shared with a small-scale community, which in turn helps the artist grow at their own pace. This transcends a dependence upon image, the primacy of acoustic instrumentation, or the signaling of sincerity versus insincerity. It is a return to the valuation of outsider art, so rare nowadays. As someone who I was recently in dialogue with wrote, “Where can you find new genuine folk music? Pretty much just with your friends, imo. Even then, the global world is so influential and seeps into any crack it can find. I think vaporwave was radical and folk for a while. Grant Forbes made that music way before the world knew about it.”

Sometimes, a lot of fuss is made over what’s seen as “gatekeeping” within certain communities. It can be, depending on the context, justifiable to question and critique this behavior. At other times, the effort of maintaining a level of exclusivity, of retaining an idiosyncratic shapeliness to the communal organism, can be a legitimate attempt to protect the personal, interpersonal, and cultural aspects from the flattening effect of monoculture. Hypothetically, I welcome the Castlevania TV series and Super Smash Bros. Ultimate having introduced new and younger demographics to Castlevania. In actuality, stuff like “wholesome sad gay himbo Alucard”, image macros, and neurotic “stan” fanfiction being what’s now first associated with the series makes me want to put as much distance as possible between my interests and those latecoming impositions.

The group-terminology David Chapman uses in his essay “Geeks, MOPs, and Sociopaths in Subculture Evolution” is kinda cringey, but some of the cultural/behavioral patterns he lays out are relevant to the topic. Give it a look. If we cross his belief that “[subcultures] are no longer the primary drivers of cultural development” with our contemporary consume-and-dispose customs, we’re left with the predicament of it’s even worth attempting to bring radical/outsider art beyond its rhizomatic habitat. This is troubling, because it would mean that artistic radicality no longer might not only refuse to but cannot encompass cultural upheaval. It would be like if dance music were invented and -- instead of progressively permeating nightlife, stimulating countercultural trends, and ultimately being adapted as the basis for pop music globally -- only were listened to via headphones by a few thousand people on their own, stimulated a group meeting once a year or two, and never affected music beyond a niche-within-a-niche. That’s a very sad picture to me.

⁂

¹ Chimeratio has also maintained an excellent blog on here dedicated to looking at videogame music written in irregular time signatures, far preceding higher-profile examinations like 8-bit Music Theory’s video on the same topic.

² For myself, creative isolation has had its uses, because it has led me down routes that are highly personalized. The isolation can be dispiriting too. Although a lot of my music is videogame-music-adjacent, almost none of it uses “authentic” technology, such as PSG synthesizers or FM synthesis; and the identification of those sounds is fairly important for recognition.

[meetthetank]

Beast Code Chapter 1: The Twilit City

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationship: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), Original YoRHa Characters (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Transformation, gothic horror, Android Lycanthropy...sort of, Inspired by Bloodborne (Video Game), Everyday i get closer to just writing a Bloodborne AU

Summary:  Break the vicious cycle with tooth and claw. Unleash the beast within and destroy your chains. But the strength to defy fate comes at a grave cost. Will it be enough, little doll? Or will you succumb to despair once more?

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31546982

The assignment to the Twilight Belt comes as a shock to 2B and 9S. Rarely, if ever, are YorHa units sent to this border of perpetual daylight and eternal night. Conditions are always reported as unstable by the infrequent scans by one of the other satellite bases that orbit earth, too dangerous to deploy scanners by themselves, and too depleted of resources for the Council to care about. The mystery surrounding the strip of permanent twilight goads curious operators and scanners alike to comb through files searching for nuggets of data, image or video files, anything they can get their hands on. All but a few pieces of data reveal tantalizing scraps and clues to the puzzle of the Sunset Belt. Photographs of dead machines with toothy, gaping maws that split their spherical heads in two and minerals warped in peculiar shapes. According to one of the situation reports from a scanner that had been sent there, there was an eerie, foreboding feeling about the place; that strange and frightening sounds would echo across the landscape and that he felt close to a forbidden barrier that separated this world from another. Though the file and its contents are now treated as a human “ghost story”, many androids, including 2B and 9S, believe at least some portion of the tale.

9S relays this story to 2B as they descend to Earth’s surface, his chattering easing some of 2B’s trepidation. The pair had fallen into an easy rhythm over the course of several assignments to Earth, most of which involved retrieving data from lost servers buried in rubble or clearing out an area of machine lifeforms. Despite her outwardly cold demeanor, 9S wormed his way past all of her defenses, forming a strong, solid relationship with the battler android. His voice is a centering point for her and assists in ignoring the gut churning possibilities of what could be waiting for them below.

“...What do you think, 2B?” his voice crackles from the comms system inside her flight unit.

“Hm?” she shifts her head to the side, glancing at his jet black flight unit cruising beside hers.

“What do you think made the target go rogue?”

She bites her lower lip. There are a thousand possible answers as to why a normally punctual, efficient YorHa Battle unit would suddenly stop responding to command and not checking in at required times. Only a few of those options were machine lifeform related complications.

“We’ll find out when we arrive, 9S.” she says curtly, eager to shut down the conversation, “Focus on landing protocol.”

He sighs, a sound of annoyance and frustration, “Yeah, yeah.”

“One affirmation will-”

“Fiiiiiiiine.”

The final phase of their descent is spent in silence. They pass through the Earth’s atmosphere in streaks of fire and light towards the border of day and night, and a continent that humans called Europe. Even as they descend, the outlines of ancient, massive structures come into view. Both androids are used to the thick vegetation eating away at the remains of human structures, but here the trees are gnarled, twisted, and void of leaves or blossoms. Their branches reach to the crimson sky and permanently setting sun like bony hands in prayer or a stag’s antlers. As 2B and 9S set their flight units down a few miles away from the outskirts of a sprawling, ancient city. It amazes 9S, as he exits his own unit, that the buildings are in such good condition considering the millenia that have passed it by. Great spires of countless cathedrals pierce the heavens, casting an ominous, looming shadow over the otherwise barren landscape. A well worn cobblestone road, lined with rusted iron lighting fixtures long since burnt out, leads into the city proper. 

2B and 9S stand at the precipice of this ancient beast of stone and metal in awe of its size, and terrified of what might lurk within. A hoarse bird’s caw, jolts the androids back into awareness, 2B drawing her katana and prepares for battle.

“Heh,” 9S laughs, trying to calm them both down, “Just a raven, 2B.”

“What?”

“A large black bird. Harmless to us.” He doesn’t tell her about the chill he gets down his spine as he watches the corvid gaze down at them with beady black eyes, or how humans saw these birds as ill omens or prophets of death.

They begin the trek into the forgotten city. 2B doesn’t put Virtuous Contract away.

Pod 042 alerts 2B to the presence of an unidentifiable android signal, marking the location on both hers and 9S’ map. Since the area has yet to be properly mapped out by satellite imagery (as inaccurate as that process is) only a vague street layout is available through a very low power scan. They have no way of judging what might block their path to the target beyond featureless grey masses depicting buildings, rubble, large trees, or whatever else may lie in wait. Their target, represented by a small orange dot on the map, appears to be near the city’s main gate and inside one of the larger buildings. 2B refuses to admit it to herself, but she’s relieved to not have to delve too far into this labyrinthine city.

“I’ve never seen the sky this color…” 9S muses as he stares up, transfixed by the blood red sky and orange sun hanging low.

Though hauntingly beautiful, she won’t deny, 2B keeps her gaze fixed on the wrought iron gate ahead of them. The heavens disturb her; they are the color of death. Of war. And the sun is… wrong. 

She snaps at 9S to keep focused as they approach the gate to the city. Though scans indicate there are no machine lifeforms, or any lifeforms beyond their target, she’s learned from countless combat assignments to not rely totally on what the support unit reports. She’s encountered and seen machines that mask themselves from scans or camouflage themselves in the environment, and in a place like this anything could be hiding in the shadows just outside of view. 

The iron gate lies ajar, worn from millennia of neglect. Clouds of rust particles burst from the hinges as 2B shoves it open further, the metal grinding against itself with a horrible grating shriek. The sound makes them both wince, and they slip through the partially opened gate as soon as they can.

Standing inside the city gates, 9S can’t shake the uneasy feeling that claws at the back of his mind. The great ancient human structures loom above them, and though he knows that the buildings themselves aren’t alive, he can’t shake the notion that he’s being watched by them. The windows are dark, but when he passes by the light of the setting sun reflects off of them, giving them the illusion of intelligence. Suddenly, 9S feels as if he’s inside a cave, or locked in a room with no exit. Suddenly… He finds it hard to breathe. 9S tugs at the collar of his jacket as if it's tightening around his throat. His synthetic lungs fill with air as much as he can take, then he releases it moments later. It calms him, if only a little.

2B’s gaze is fixed ahead on the building Pod 042 marked as the rogue android’s hiding place. It’s a much smaller structure than the others that choke the sky, but its reach stretches across the streets like a tree’s roots. Judging by the well preserved signs that hang from crumbled doors it looked to have multiple uses. 9S commands his own Pod to run scans on the words and symbols for later analysis. 

“The target’s in here…” 2B murmurs, holding her free hand up in a tight fist, signaling 9S to stop behind her.

This portion of the sprawling building is similar in structure to the massive spires above. It has the same pointed section on the roof, but much smaller in scale, and similar symbols decorate the exterior. A cross, winged humans, various flowering plants, and a number of human figures bowing their heads or supplicating themselves to the winged humans.

“This must have been a place of worship,” 9S muses aloud.

“Focus.”

He nods. Typically 9S argues with his partner about the necessity for recording data like this, or excuse his wandering attention to his designation as a scanner, but he knows the danger within the house of worship, or rather, he doesn’t know. Neither one of them knows what this rouge android is capable of. 

2B presses her hand against the wooden doors to the chapel and pushes it open as slowly as possible. It groans in protest, dust falls from its hinges and frame, but it swings inward. A rush of warm air washes over them carrying the scent of stale incense and dead machines. Clouds of smoke billow out of the doorway, rising into the red sky like twisted fingers. 2B enters first, sliding in sword arm first. She motions for 9S to wait for a moment, then commands Pod 042 to switch on its flashlight. 

9S peeks his head around the door, keeping a few paces behind his partner. He switches on his own Pod’s flashlight to illuminate more of the pitch black interior. Long wooden benches are pushed up against the walls, opening up the center space. Ornate candle holders, rotting books, charred incense burners, and pieces of artwork among other things 9S has no name for are scattered across the ground, each one a priceless human artifact that could fuel hours of study. Yet it’s not these that hold 9S’ attention, but the statue at the far back of the chapel, and the figure kneeling in front of it.

It looks to be made of some kind of marble, a pristine white stone that has been sheltered from time and the elements. The subject is another winged human, this one wearing splendid armor and wielding a great spear. Beneath them, a grotesque, writhing beast bares its teeth and claws at the warrior as the blade pierces its throat. 9S has never seen anything like it in person, and very few records of these kinds of sculptures remain at all. It’s both horrific and beautiful at once. He wonders what the human who made this saw that inspired it. Did creatures like these roam the world during their time?

2B steps in front of him, Virtuous Contract at the ready. The figure in front of the statue rises to their feet as the Pod’s flashlights center on them. A cloak made of feathers conceals most of their form but they appear to be a female android, perhaps a YorHa model. Though, if that were the case it would have been in the mission briefing. That is, unless... 

The android turns her head to the side, glaring at the pair over her shoulder.

“So, Command sent the wolves, did they?” She asks, a distinct rumble in her voice.

2B raises her blade and keeps her gaze steady. She hears 9S also ready his weapon, the golden katana Cruel Oath. 

Lazily, the android turns her body to face them. Her clothes confirm her origins; there’s no mistaking the sharp white embellishments and black velvet of a YorHa uniform; however each piece is ripped, tattered, and stitched together with other scraps of clothing or… animal hide. 

The rouge android drags the blade of a bloodied top heavy sword between her fingers, cleaning the gore from it. “It doesn’t matter, dog.” Her eyes shine with a strange, purplish light that refracts around her collapsed, twisted pupils. “You will fall like the rest.”

It isn’t until the rogue android rushes forward, sword raised, that 2B sees the corpses of YorHa units piled in front of the statue, and the blood that soaks it.

She dashes backward and shoves the bewildered 9S out of harm's way. The android’s bloodied sword crashes into the stonework floor, sending thousands of years of dust into the air. 2B lunges, her katana poised to take advantage of the enemy’s opening, but she sidesteps much quicker than anticipated. The rogue’s fist slams into 2B’s chest, distorting her internal sensors and throwing her off balance. 2B watches in horror as the rogue drives her sword towards her, but a golden flash knocks the blade away. 

“2B!” 9S shouts, brandishing Cruel Oath. “Are you okay?!”

She shakes her head as if it would clear the internal errors from her vision, but she assumes her battle stance next to her partner. “Fine.”

Both androids launch into an assault on the rogue, attacking in tandem. Despite 2B’s scrambled sensors, she and 9S have an undeniable synergy that comes with countless missions. 2B forces the rogue back with singular, powerful blows, while 9S jabs at any opening he can reach from the sides. However, even with their combined might the rogue deflects and maneuvers out of the way of each attack as casually as one would flick away an insect or step around a puddle. She looks to be expending no effort at all as she dances around the two YorHa. Anger and frustration rises in 2B, culminating in a harsh growl. She mimics the rogue’s tactic from earlier, rushing forward and feinting with a crushing overhead strike that is easily dodged but allows no time for recovery. She slams her fist into the rogue android’s face, sending her stumbling backwards. Before 9S can dive in with a horizontal slash the rogue dashes backward, putting crucial distance between her and her hunters.

The rogue android lowers her gaze at the pair, sizing them up, taking stock of their abilities and assessing their weaknesses. 2B watches her eyes dart back and forth between her and 9S, then linger on 9S. Sensing the rogue’s motive and deciding at that moment that the outcome is unacceptable, 2B dives in front of the strike meant for 9S. The rogue’s sword slices cleanly through her chest, coating the rogue’s clothes in splatters of fresh blood. The battler falls to her knees, clutching the wound with one hand while supporting herself on her sword. 

“No!!” 9S screams and lunges at their target. “2B!!”

“Hm. Interesting.” The rogue murmurs, easily deflecting the scanner’s wild strikes.

2B watches through blurred, error obscured vision as 9S drives the rogue back. If she didn’t know any better it’d seem that he has the upper hand, but the rogue’s eyes glint in a way 2B recognizes all too well. She’s baiting him. 

9S slams his blade against the rogue’s, pressing all of his power and weight into the strike. It’s the moment she had been waiting for. Suddenly she pulls back, letting 9S’ weight fall forward and forcing him off balance. She kicks his legs out from under him then shoves him into the floor. 9S lets out a startled, choked gasp as his weight and the force of the rogue’s attack cracks the stone floor, sending up more clouds of dust into the air. 

Clutching her chest, 2B roars and charges at the target with blinding speed. When she sees the smirk twisting the rogue’s lips and the pointed iron rod in her grip, it’s too late. With a flash of her crowfeather cape, the android meets 2B’s charge with her own, the skewer aimed at her wounded chest. 2B tries to divert her body away, but the momentum is too strong. It’s just enough to roll her body to the side so that the spike pierces clean through her shoulder, clear of critical systems. 

The pain, however, is agonizing. 

It’s different from the injuries 2B has suffered in the past. Countless machine swords, spears, and axes have torn through her body and of course all of those injuries hurt, but they were manageable. When the iron bar rips through layers of cloth, skin, carbon plating and frame, and synthetic muscle fibers it's as if her shoulder has been set on fire. She clenches her teeth, muffling a scream to a low growl. Her hand wraps around the skewer, close to the wound itself. Instinct tells her to tear it out immediately, but she knows that without treatment doing so would only worsen her condition. 2B doesn’t get to make that decision, unfortunately. The rogue grabs hold of the end of the iron rod and twists it side to side, driving it further into 2B’s shoulder. 

2B sinks to her knees and tries to hold back the cries of agony. Her injured arm stops responding to commands and lies limp and useless against her side. She swats at the rogue android with her weakening other arm, desperate to escape from this torment. Her strength fades along with her vision; it becomes impossible to even hold herself upright.

She must not fall, she must not… she must stay strong, she must stay alive.

She will not allow him to die… 

Not for the sake of a monster like her….

9S leaps into the fight as the rogue android prepares a killing blow. A flurry of Pod fire, sword strikes, and furious movement all blur together into a white, gold, and black haze. She fights to stay awake, she fights to stand, but her body begins to shut down non-vital systems and conserve as much energy as she can. First her tactile sensors switch off, leaving her in a numbing cold. Then her hearing, quickly followed by sight. A warning flashes across the last vestiges of her vision that she is entering a forced shutdown state, and despite her audio sensors being deactivated, she swears she hears 9S cry out for her.

….

….

…….

………

……….

……..

….

2B opens her eyes to the blinding, sterile white of hacking space. This itself is not shocking. Oftentimes she would run diagnostics on her critical systems when in a forced shutdown, both to manage critical systems and to keep herself busy. 

But now, in the distance, there is an anomaly.

A single figure, black as night, approaches her. It’s shape is human up till its head, which sports pointed ears and a long snout like that of a dog or wolf. It looms over her and leaves a black, fragmented mist in its wake. But most troubling of all in this world of stark monochrome is its eye…. or what 2B believes is an eye. In the center of its lupine face is a strange geometric sigil that emits a highly saturated purple light. It feels… malicious. The thought itself is insane to 2B. Light cannot possess intent or emotions, and yet… 

“This is an unacceptable outcome.” A voice booms in her head. Somehow she knows it is the entity speaking. 

2B opens her mouth to respond, but instead of words, thick crimson fluid leaks from her throat.

“You will die. He will die. You cannot abide by this.”

She shakes her head. Droplets of blood fall to the pristine floor. The entity is right. If she has any strength left, 9S will live.

“Stand, little doll,” the entity commands, “Stand and unleash y-...Be——…..d.”

The entity’s voice becomes warped and distorted with audio glitches, yet 2B understands its words with frightening clarity.

“Take-......l-...s within.” 

It holds a hand out to her, offering her something she can’t quite make out. The shape in its palm is amorphous, colorless, and flickers with lines of jumbled code. Somehow, she knows this piece of herself in intimate detail, yet cannot remember what this does or what its relation to the entity is. 

But it promises strength enough to save 9S.

2B reaches out and takes the code in her hand… 

….

………….

…………………………

………………………………………………………..

Her eyes snap open. A current of raw energy runs through her body, electrifying every nerve and sensor within her. She shakes with each pulse of her circulatory apparatus as a new, terrifying strength takes hold. 2B rises to her feet, flexing her hands, legs, arms. One arm’s movement is restricted by the iron bar still stuck in her shoulder. She tears it out with little effort, casting it to the floor. The rattling, hollow sound echoes against the stone chapel. 

The rogue’s head snaps up from her combat with 9S, who is barely able to hold his sword. Something in her expression changes. She kicks 9S and points her sword at 2B, her arms shaking in a way they had not before. 

2B lunges forward, her sword raised high. The rogue raises her own sword to deflect, but 2B’s newfound strength breaks her guard with one mighty strike. With blinding speed 2B slices through the rogue android’s body. Her crowfeather cape flutters to the floor, soon followed by her arm. The rouge android staggers back, an expression of shock and horror twisting her face. 2B drives her sword through the rogue’s chest, forcing her back further. Instead of drawing her sword back for another strike, a terrifying feeling takes over 2B. She leaves the sword inside the rogue’s chest and tackles her to the ground. With her bare hands and horrible strength, 2B delivers blow after blow to the android’s chest, shoulder, arms, head, and abdomen. Each piece is reduced to a pulp of flesh and metal one after the next until nothing remains but scrap. 

2B throws her head back as she straddles her victim, a horrible, twisted grin plastered across her face and arms outstretched. Her body feels wrong… horribly wrong, yet for the first time since she can remember, her chest is light. She gazes up at the morbid sculpture with an emotion she can’t quite describe. It isn’t the same as a combat high, she is intimately familiar with that heady rush. This is something akin to… euphoria. A laugh begins to bubble up in her throat-

“2B?”

She’s forced back to reality by the 9S’ voice, right beside her ear. Suddenly, the terrible strength from moments before fades from her body. Her arms go limp by her sides, and it becomes hard to sit upright. Even breathing is laborious. 9S wraps his arms around her shoulders and tugs her gently, laying her head and shoulders against his chest.

“I’ve got you. We… I think we’re safe.” His breathing is uneven and ragged, much like 2B’s. He swivels his head back and forth, searching for any lingering threats as quickly as possible. “Pod, run a scan for machine lifeform or android signals in the immediate area,” he commands.

Pod 153 is silent for a moment, then emits a grating, hideous garbled noise. Words try to break through the audio distortions but neither 2B or 9S is confident it isn’t simply what they wish to hear. 

“Alert:” Pod 042 begins, “Interference from unknown source is preventing accurate scans of the surrounding area. Proposal: Relocate to an elevated aaaaaaa…..a-r-....rrr……”

The same audio distortions come from 042, mingling with 153’s until they both cut off, leaving the androids in silence. “Pod?” 9S calls to the floating support unit. “Pod, respond. ... Pod?”

2B mutters weakly to her own Pod, but it's the same as 9S’. No response at all.

9S pulls up a small data screen, map data, from what 2B can tell. Or… where map data would be. Instead, there’s a blank, grey screen and a little message box that reads No Data. 

“What the-...” 9S whispers, flipping through different screens at a frantic pace. “Where-... There’s… all the data is gone!” he shouts, “No map, no signal scans… I can’t even connect to the Bunker…”

“We’re stranded…” 2B muses aloud.

Silence passes between them. Only the ominous wind passing through ancient wood and stone reminds them that the world hasn’t stopped moving around them. 

“We should move to a higher area, like your Pod said.” 9S suggests, rising to his feet. “Can you stand?”

When 9S offers a hand out to her, 2B takes it without thinking. His touch, even through his thick gloves, calms the beast pacing inside her. 

Beast? 

…..What does that mean?

2B rises to her feet, her hands lingering in 9S’ for a moment longer than she normally would. There’s a fog in her head that distorts her equilibrium. She leans on 9S for support, to which he wraps his arm around her waist and positions himself under her shoulder.

“I got you.” He says with a small smile.

2B feels just a bit lighter.

They exit the chapel and make for higher ground. 9S rationalizes that if they simply continue up stairs or inclines they would find a space clear of whatever is interfering with the Pod’s satellite connections. Perhaps it’s the fog that creeps across the cobblestone streets or the odd angle of the sun (not that it makes sense to 9S or 2B but they have to consider all possibilities), or perhaps it’s something beyond that. There’s a strange, eerie feeling about this city that neither can explain, and neither want to talk about. As if there’s a presence constantly watching over them.

They climb the stairs of one of the massive sprawling religious buildings. From what 9S assesses, it seems to have one of the tallest spires in the city. Only a larger time-keeping building looming in the distance is larger. If he could reach the top he should be far enough above whatever is interfering with the Pods. When he relays his plan to 2B who only nods, her eyes unfocused and breathing shallow, worry starts to lace its icy fingers through his chest. Something is wrong with her. 

9S’ first instinct is to prepare a data backup with the bunker, but the Pods are both out of commission for the time being. His next is to contact command and ask how they should proceed, to the same conclusion. Climbing the spire is the only course of action he can take, but first, he has to make sure 2B is safe.

He leads her through the castle of worship, now supporting most of her weight. That… frightening show of strength must have exhausted her power supply. There are plenty of well preserved wooden benches that stretch across half of the main worship chambers, at least it would be more comfortable than the stone floors. Under watch by the countless grotesque statues that sit in the rafters, 9S helps 2B onto a long bench, laying her on her back. She hisses and grinds her teeth as she moves. She must have sustained internal damage from that fight… 

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, “I’m going to go to the roof to get a clear signal.”

All 2B gives in response is a slow nod. He lingers by her side before leaving, a moment longer than needed.

Now alone in this spacious, hollow, human structure, 2B takes stock of her condition. There’s pain in her shoulders, particularly her right arm. Her legs are tight, most locking up from the strain of the previous battle and trekking up to her current location. Her back, as well, is tense beyond discomfort. It spasms and jolts if she breathes too hard. At least these are injury related, explainable. The black wolfman with purple eyes lingering in the corners of her vision, is not. 

She sees the entity in the shadows, lurking just out of view. 9S walks right past it, not even sparing a glance at the tall, gangly creature. It doesn’t respond to 9S either, instead focusing on 2B and only 2B. 

The sight of it makes her stomach turn. She tries to close her eyes, but the glowing, purple sigil is burned into her vision. With a groan she digs her knuckles into her eyelids as if she could carve the hallucination out of the air. Defeated, 2B lets her arms down once more. One hand touches the cool stone floor, decorated with elegant mosaics, and she suddenly realizes how warm she is. According to the warning messages displayed in her vision her body temperature is ten degrees above normal levels. 

“Pod,” she groans, forcing herself to sit up, “retrieve water from storage-”

“Report: Mail notification received from Command.”

The monotone voice of her support unit shocks her. Pod 042 had been silent up until now due to whatever interference was in the area, and now it’s getting messages from Command? 9S must have established a connection from the roof.

Her heart sinks. If that’s the case he would contact her. The first thing she’d hear would be his voice.

She opens the message, dreading its contents.

Subject has accessed confidential records. Eliminate the Target.

At the top of the spire 9S takes in the view of the entire city, the wind rushing through his hair. It’s breathtaking. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. The sky dyes the entire urban sprawl red, as well as the mountains on the horizon. His pulse races as he drinks in the terrifying awe of what the ancient humans were capable of, hoping to remember every last detail of the buildings, the streets, and the magnificent sculptures that litter the city. It’s all so well preserved that he feels as though a human might appear, walking down the cobblestone streets as if nothing were wrong. As if they didn’t go extinct. 

Reluctantly he draws his attention away from the splendor of humanity’s ruins, and shakes away the creeping emptiness that comes with that line of thought. He can’t think about that now. He and 2B are stranded. 9S produces a holographic terminal that mirrors Pod 153’s settings menu. Pod’s diagnostics on his end show buildup of foreign material in and around certain receivers, something that 9S expects, but that is only part of the problem. It seems that the atmosphere in this place is clogged with various chemicals and particles that make satellite transmissions more difficult. Considering all of the decaying metal and stone it’s no wonder that there’s so much particulate in the air. Once Pod’s receivers are clear 9S has Pod 153 hover just above the spire’s tip. It stays suspended in the air, the small light on the top of its body turning on and off at regular intervals.

“Connection established.” Pod 153 announces moments later. “Proposal: Contact the Bunker for support.”

“Great! Set up a relay connection for Pod 042 as well.”

“Affirmative.”

9S opens a data screen laden with information and begins composing his message to Operator 21O. With an unreliable connection a live call would be too risky, a simple text based message won’t be distorted or cut out. He records a brief message, attaches a transcription of his words, and sends it to the Bunker. Hopefully 21O would send something quickly-

A flash of movement in the streets below catches his eye. Something running on all fours... “Pod… run a scan for machine lifeforms…” He says, a chill creeping up his spine.

Pod 153 floats down to his side. “Alert: Multiple machine lifeforms detected. Proposal: Regroup with Unit 2B.”

“But-” 

That thing didn’t look like a machine…

“Alert: Anomalous signal detect-”

Pod 153’s words are drowned by a horrific, mournful howl that reverberates through the entire building. 9S clings to the ornate decorations on the spire and covers his ears with his free hand. His body runs cold. He’s never heard a sound like that before. Nothing the machines make comes close to that. The pain and sorrow in that noise is something that no animal could produce either. That left only one possibility…

Another roar wracks the building from within… 

2B clutches the sides of her head, the data screen long dismissed.

No…

Her chest strains under her panicked breaths. 

No.

She hadn’t been watching him. She hadn’t been keeping track of his questions and behavior…

No… No.

And now she…

No no no no no .

She has to…

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

NO.

She will not do this. Not again. 

Her skin feels… tight. 

She will fight off every single goddamn android Command sends until there are none left but her and him. She will not be a part of this cycle again. Her hands curl into fists as a surge rushes through her body, alighting her nerves with energy. With power.

A shadow moves across the stone floor of the castle of worship. The entity, its form inky black, its sigil emitting a baleful purple light, glides towards her. It bathes her in the highly saturated light, a light not even shielding her eyes can diffuse. It bores into her core, it peers into her mind. It speaks into her mind.

“You will not allow this to happen.” Its voice echoes off the hollow shell of where humans once sought God. “But strength comes at a price, little doll.”

The entity plunges its claws into her chest. Heat explodes throughout her body to the point where she fears she might self-destruct. The boiling tendrils of this ethereal monster sink into her artificial heart and her Black Box. Something activates, or… unlocks, and suddenly she feels… confined. Her body… it’s too small….

“Time to pay the toll…”

It rips its claws, now writhing shadow-like whips, out of her chest, then vanishes. 2B’s vision is obscured, but not by warnings and error messages, by blood. Red veins pulse on the edges of her sight in time with her heart. Each beat sends waves of heat, electricity, and agony through her body.

“Stand, little doll. Stand, and unleash your beasthood.”

A scream forms in 2B’s throat, but it cannot break through her swelling throat and gritted teeth. She takes frantic, shallow breaths. Her limbs shake, her fingernails dig into the stonework floor. It’s so hot… 

2B rolls onto the floor and rips away her tight uniform. Far too tight. Parts of her dress were already beginning to tear as her muscles swell. Blood trickles from various wounds where her skin has split, revealing the thick, synthetic muscle cords that lie beneath. Her blindfold is next, but removing it does not help her vision. One eye is unfocused, blurring all of her vision.

She drags her fingernails across her body and lets out a deep, animal snarl when she tears into her own flesh. Looking down at her hands, she recoils at the sight of long, black claws that split her fingers down the center. Skin falls from them in long strips to the point where the mechanical joints of her hands are exposed.

Something snaps inside her, somewhere in her upper back. She howls in agony, in sorrow, as her spine lengthens, twists, and grows too fast for her body to maintain. Her insides are compacted and grind against each other, sending sickening vibrations throughout her. Her throat finally opens up, allowing her to breathe. She watches as puffs of steam escape her mouth into the warm twilight air. 

Another crack and something explodes out of her lower back. Her balance is thrown off and she falls forward, smashing her face into stone. Another snarl, this one combined with the gnashing of fangs. Her mouth warps, splitting out of her face into a muzzle. Eyes follow, one swelling to fit its now spacious socket while the other stunts and refuses to change. She claws at the peeling skin of whatever she can reach, spilling more of her blood in the process. Everything hurts, everything itches, but oh god the power feels so good.

A growth springs from above her unchanged eye, weighing her head down and hunching her body over. She supports herself with one enormous hand, the other scooping the wires and tubing that spills out of her torn stomach and forcing them back inside her abdominal cavity. The twisting extension of her spine, a tail, thuds against the floor and counters the weight of her head. 

2B shakes the mane of bloodied, white hair from her functioning eye, turns her head to the sky, and roars.

[taglegend]

Tag Fact #3 -  I’ve come to realize I’ve always been a fan artist more than I thought. so here is a timeline of influences that shaped my childhood to now. from nostalgic times, to sad changes, to great loss, to strange rises to fame and phases, to stepping stones and finally a laughing place. all the things that make up your favorite fan artist Tag.

1. Rayman (bumped into this in the year of 1999) was actually the first fandom (with crossovers) I bumped into when I was 9. although the internet wasn’t available at the time it was still fun to dwell in home amusements. I remember the storylines and the OC’s I made but they’re kind of embarrassing and it’s probably a good thing there was no internet. I’ve done fanart and comic crossovers of Rayman with Calvin and Hobbs and Nights Into Dreams, spinoffs of Sonic the Hedgehog OC’s, Yoshi with Pikachu, and the Pokemon/Digimon craze with OC’s and other Nintendo comic shorts. but the drawings and comics are long gone and disappeared in the garage in a backpack due to suspecting my sister’s dad accidentally throwing them away. years later towards the year 2018 (now 28), we decided to move to North Carolina and it was my chance to find them again. unfortunately the backpack was gone just like I suspected (my main stuff), but for some reason I found my Pokemon/Digimon fanart, a good batch of Super Mario drawings (vaguely remember doing these), my sister’s drawings and some other neighborhood kids’ drawings in a dirty box. I was partially happy I found something at least but it was the backpack I wanted the most. sometimes I regret not looking for the backpack (’cause I was too busy being a kid) but it’s alright, noone needs to see that shit anyway, ha ha. anyways, I recall being a fan of Rayman from 1999 ‘til 2002.

2. Sonic Adventure 2 Battle (bumped into this in the year of 2003) my second fandom I bumped into when I was 12 going on 13. at the time, my sister and I both liked the Sonic The Hedgehog Franchise based on the Battle remake and ended up making our own secret fanart club that consisted of only us two members. she liked Sonic (and that was her boyfriend, ha ha) and I liked Knuckles (and he was my boyfriend, ha ha) and we were crazy in love about Shadow’s backstory. we listened to the game’s soundtracks as we drew fanart and comics after school and man, those were good times. however, as we grew older towards the year of 2005, we ended up having separate rooms and I believe it played a part in disconnecting on the same interest. then one day, I asked her why she wasn’t into Sonic anymore and she replied, “Because I grew up.” I was sad after that and slowly observed that she was influenced by the emo culture and the new friends she’s made. I was the only member of our little club for a little longer...but eventually I moved on too. I still have some surviving fanart we did together but it doesn’t mean shit anymore since she turned out to be an abusive mother from the last I’ve heard of her. 

3. Gorillaz (bumped into this in the year of 2006). as the Sonic years were at its end, I first heard the song “Feel Good Inc” on Music Choice and seeing the first image of them as displayed on this post (except the fan-made background doesn’t count since I can’t find the original artwork). this was my third fandom and later had proper access to the internet to the website I still currently use called DeviantArt. at first I liked 2D but eventually fell for Murdoc and developed a spiritual connection towards the character as obviously seen in my old fanart and rare photos of my devotion shrines on Valentine’s Day and his birthday every year. for the longest time since being a permanent fan from 2006-2017 (11 1/2 years) I had no knowledge that it was a political propaganda band and other realizations I don’t want to talk about. I only followed them because it was a cartoon and not the bullshit behind the musical project. the world I’ve built and support for them for all those 11 1/2 years shattered the fuck out of me and I just wanted to be left alone to find myself again, somehow. activity stopped on all my profiles, the flow of fanart stopped since I now cringe from the fan service and felt I was used for my talent. I didn’t want to be reminded of it all so I took down all my Gorillaz fanart and archived them for old followers’ nostalgia but also in the hopes they’ll be forgotten in my timeline. I ceased to exist in the fandom for huge personal reasons but it’s best to not say why. I know for sure that the fandom wonders what happened but it’s none of their business. THE END.

4. Waluigi (although I knew he’s been around since 2000 during childhood, I took deep interest once I revisited the character again in the year of December 2013). as silly as this sounds, when I revisited him again, the character was so bizarre that I ended up staying up 3 nights and 3 days in a row just looking all over the internet on everything about him and the questionable “hush-hush” absence of a backstory. despite there being no backstory he slowly gained a cult following and in many ways it’s a good thing. however, since the early 2010′s tension has been building up between Nintendo and its fans about him starring in a main game but everyone hasn’t fully gotten it in their heads that it’s not gonna happen. as long as Nintendo is in control of that, the fandom will not win, I’m sorry to say. on the other hand, if it’s going to be this way, then that’s what fanart and comic projects are for. as for me, I am doing my very best to get my comic project “Waluigi Land” going. again, I apologize if it’s taking very long to get Chapter 2 going if you’ve been keeping track but aha moments need to develop before I start permanent drawing (since concepts, character design and storyline needed improvement badly). as of right now I am still a Waluigi fan and I will not quit on him.

5. Turbo from Wreck-It-Ralph (although it debuted in 2012, I watched the movie two years later into the year 2014). for some bizarro reason, I had an unhealthy obsession with this character to the point where I dressed up as him for Halloween 2014. only 2 fanarts of him and the Turbo Twins exist on my profiles, mainly because my mind was more focused on just ‘thinking about him’ or ‘being him’ rather than drawing physical drawings. luckily, this supposed alleged fandom didn’t last long a little after Halloween so I chalk it up as a very short phase. to this day I don’t know what has gotten over me about him. the only thing I can think of now is that I think it’s because the character had yellow eyes and teeth but I don’t know. now that I think of it, that little fucker was ugly as hell and I STILL don’t know what had gotten over me. one day, my brother mentioned what that was about, and I said to him, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

6. Undertale (although it debuted in 2015, I later took interest in it in 2016). It was all about Sans and Papyrus. I couldn’t get enough of the skeleton bros. eventually Toriel and Mettaton EX became my favorites but it took a long time to draw more of all 4 of them because I had other important things to do in my life plus I was still waiting for the next Gorillaz album to revive my imaginative juices (or so I thought). I really want to have this as one of my frequent fandoms but I just don’t have time for it anymore. it’s still in the back of my head to want to draw them but at this point I still have other better interests to be in. and besides, I’m lazy just like Sans.

7. Cuphead (June 28th, 2017 was the official day I called quits on the British-based band Gorillaz due to the bullshit behind it. since that date I was lost, had no inspiration to look forward to and no cartoon guy to make me smile...but lo and behold of the same year, I took an interest in playing the game Cuphead and man...that shit was a frightening exaggerated metaphor for being on that one drug (forgot the name though) and having sex at the same time but man that was the best fun I’ve had in years. I mean, it’s like, enemies are just so happy to murder you and that scared the shit outta me. and the facial exaggeration?....I think I should stop, ha ha. anyways, the Moldenhauers saved my ass from spiraling down, they have no clue. anyways, eventually I became a permanent fan of their work so to ease the hurt and erase my past from the G-fandom I had to re-wire my brain into a different cartoon category that’s a rather more American, so anything Toon related like Roger Rabbit, Felix the Cat or another favorite that’s a western-based cartoon makes me feel better, especially my new man .......King Dice <3 <3<3<3. however, there was something about this new fandom category I still didn’t quite understand until the date March 14th, 2020. I finally understood what it was but I feel I shouldn’t bring it up. anyways, Cuphead and anything western or rubber hose is my last stop in inspiration for the remaining years of my life. many say never say never but I believe I’ve found my laughing place and that’s all that matters.

[kyuuppi]

YOU WRITE FOR DEIDARA ONGONEOE OMGGG YEEESSSSSSSSSSS I LOVE YOU KYUU 🥺🥺 can I request some fluffy cuddling and making out with him 👁👅👁 - flea toddler

A/N: ...tbh Dei is the last person from my list I expected to ever have to write for LOL. He was one of my first anime crushes tho, nothing but respect for the OG explod-y man. 

I ended up doing a general summary, a few headcanons, and a short blurb.

Thank you very much for your request, I hope this is sufficient. 💛

Pairing: Deidara x Reader (gn)

Genre: fluff, suggestive

⚠️WARNING⚠️ nsfw mentions; slightly suggestive

WC: 1.5k

As an S-ranked missing-nin in the Akatsuki, Deidara is not familiar with romance and affection does not come naturally to him. However, when he finally finds someone he truly cares about and wants to be with for a long time, he is willing to try some new things if it will make that person happy.

Early into your relationship Deidara didn’t really understand the concept of cuddling. He was used to physical contact meaning only one of two things: killing or fucking 

Like the first few times you tried to initiate it he was just like ‘oh, you’re horny hm? 😏’ LOL

Eventually, over the course of your relationship, he started to understand that you just wanted to be close and hold him in your arms.

He doesn’t dislike it but he’s not exactly into it either; he’ll usually allow it without complaint if he’s not busy cause he knows it makes you happy and once in a while he might even get the urge himself to pull you close.

But he’s still not used to being still for that long and gets fidgety pretty quickly, antsy to go work on his art or train.

A particularly strong breeze sends a small shiver down your spine in as you sit on the grassy bank lining the river. Your hands idly play with the grass, fingers softly pulling at the slippery blades, but your eyes remain trained on the broad back less than two meters in front of you. 

It has been like this for hours, it seems. 

You, silently watching, losing yourself to your own thoughts while Deidara works at moulding the clay for his latest self-proclaimed masterpiece.

Your boyfriend is an artist, in every sense of the word, so it is not unusual for him to become hyper-fixated on a project, blocking out you and the rest of the world until he is satisfied with his results. That usually doesn’t bother you—you love him and support the things he loves in return. But, usually his projects last a few days, a week at most. He is skilled with his craft to the point moulding clay into any shape he desires is second nature, as easy as breathing for him. Plus, he prefers simple shapes over complex, detailed structures. It was all about the explosion at the end, after all.

This time, though, it is nearing three weeks of nonstop work with no end in sight. Based on appearance, the sculpture he is creating doesn’t look like much. The several times you’ve glanced at it, in between staring at the artist himself for hours on end, you just saw what appeared to be an amorphous collection of countless small clay birds, not unlike the basic ones he uses for his usual C2 explosives in battle. 

Generally, you don’t mind watching Deidara work; the rare serious and concentrated expression on his face as he works is almost its own form of art. But now his back is towards you and the sun is nearly fully set, painting the sky soft shades of purple and dark blue. You think you’ve earned a little attention at this point. 

“Dei,” you tentatively call. 

Your voice is too soft and is swept away with the light wind. 

You try again, slightly louder this time. 

“Deidara?”

“Hmm,” he finally mumbles back noncommittally.

His movements do not pause at all, the mouths on his hands still furiously handing small lumps of clay until they are shaped like perfect little birds only to be meticulously connected to each other into the mass now nearing the size of a small child. 

It is clear Deidara will not be entertaining you anytime soon and when your empty stomach rumbles in protest you fall back into the grass with a defeated sigh. 

Maybe you should just go out for dinner with Tobi again…

“Finished!”

You startle at Deidara’s sudden yell. By the time you pull your body to sit up, your boyfriend has already made the signs to summon a large clay bird, slightly smaller than the one he usually flies with, that he gingerly places his newly completed artwork on the back of. At Deidara’s wave, the bird takes off, flapping its wings to climb straight upwards towards the sky rather than forward. 

Your wide eyes shift to Deidara as he bounds towards you, wordlessly plopping down right beside you and pulling you into him with his left arm around your shoulders. He is grinning like a madman when he meets your gaze and, at the quizzical expression on your face, he points to the bird he had just sent into the air, now hovering high above the river in front of you two. 

“Watch,” he simply says. 

Still confused by the rapid turn of events, you can only follow his command and watch as the large bird purposefully dips its head forward, allowing the sculpture on its back to slide off as the bird itself disperses into a simple cloud of smoke. The heavy mass of clay falls steadily towards the river, accelerating with gravity until it reaches a terminal velocity and you briefly wonder if something went wrong and all of Deidara’s hard work is about to fall into the water and be wasted just like that. 

But instead, several meters above the calm blue waters, the clay suddenly breaks apart into a few large chunks, each falling from a different height before they finally explode all at once. 

You have seen this a thousand times over the two years you have been dating Deidara, but it still leaves you gaping and mesmerized as if it were the first time as you watch the fireworks show. Starbursts of various colors pop in familiar shades of reds, yellows, and oranges. 

This time, however, something is slightly different from usual. 

As you watch the bright colors blend together you recognize the positions of the individual explosions are not random but actually in a very specific shape…

A heart. 

Your own chest swells at the realization and your eyes are watering before you can even fully process it. You tear your eyes from the display to face Deidara, only to find him already staring at you with his usual arrogant smirk. Only the tenderness you see in his solely visible blue eye as the lights from the display reflect upon your faces give away his true affections.

Without a moment’s hesitation you throw yourself into his arms, face buried into the crook of his neck while your body is shaken from his laughter. He wraps his arms firmly around your waist as you softly cry.

“Of course my beautiful art would have such a profound effect on you, hm,” he teases, cocky. 

Naturally, you lightly punch him in the chest as you pull away. 

“You’re so stupid,” you insult as you aggressively wipe at your teary eyes.

He only laughs again, using his hands on your back to pull you back towards him until his slightly chapped lips connect with your own. 

He moves against you uncharacteristically gently, a contrast from his usual eager roughness and another giveaway that he is also feeling more affected than he lets on. You return his affections in earnest, pressing against him firmly until he reciprocates with more passion and before long the two of you are moving against each other almost desperately. Distantly you can hear the cracking of lingering explosions still going off but all you can focus on is the hot breath fanning against your cheeks every time the two of you pull away for air before reconnecting again immediately, as if neither of you can stand the thought of being separated for more than a moment. The coolness of the night is long forgotten when his touch burns your body even through the layers of clothing separating you two. Your teeth lightly nip at his bottom lip, teasing him, before you suddenly find yourself on your back, Deidara hovering over you. 

His blond hair is loose, the tips of his fringe just lightly grazing your right cheek, allowing you to see both of his light blue eyes. The dark look in them makes your insides feel molten. 

Three small words escape your lips just as naturally as a breath. 

“I love you.” 

Instantly, his face is lit with a wide, boyish grin, his eyes crinkled against his cheeks. 

“I love you, too,” he replies easily, dipping down to claim your lips once more.

[dpanuncialwriter]

Librarians, Start New Game

November-December 2019, American Libraries Magazine

For librarians at universities with videogame design programs, maintaining a large, accessible gaming collection isn’t a Final Fantasy. It’s a Call of Duty. Beginning a collection may be as easy as pressing start to play, but storing and preserving complex materials is a tough battle—and academic librarians want to level up.

The University of Michigan’s (UM) Computer Video and Game Archive (CVGA) in Ann Arbor boasts more than 8,000 videogames and 60 consoles dating back to the 1970s. “Because we have such a large collection, there are many examples from which to pull and get inspiration, things [students] would never be able to afford on their own,” says David Carter, videogame archivist at UM. “Almost nobody has a collection this big, especially a college student.”

“[People] don’t think of libraries as a destination for digital scholarship,” says Anne Morrow, associate librarian and head of digital scholarship services at the University of Utah’s J. Willard Marriott Library, which has more than 500 videogames and serves almost 400 game design students. “There’s an incentive to see what the obstacles are for bringing these types of original work into the collection.”

Objective: playability

As the owner of more than 2,000 commercial games, 300 student games, and 40 consoles (some as old as the 1985 Nintendo Entertainment System), the University of California, Santa Cruz’s (UCSC) Science and Engineering Library prioritizes authentic playability. Its goal is to provide students with not only a game but also the console it was made for, a compatible controller, and an era-appropriate TV to play it on.

With so many moving pieces, says Christy Caldwell, science and engineering librarian at UCSC, “providing usage of increasingly ‘antique’ [materials] is an ongoing challenge.”

UM has the same goal. “We don’t have to do a lot of tracking down, thankfully,” says Valerie Waldron, UM computer and videogame archive manager. About half of its collection is donated, and as with other academic libraries that own game collections, staffers turn to eBay if they need to repair or buy a missing item. Or they get creative.

“Something broke on our Atari 7800, and we actually 3D-printed a replacement part,” Carter says.

Why is maintaining playability of older games important? Students are mainly studying design and software. “What does the game look like, and what does the controller feel like?” Caldwell says. “Are you seeing something similar to what someone who played the game earlier would have seen and experienced?”

Students are also looking at artwork, game mechanics, subjects, and even source code as inspiration for their own games. “They’re using [archives] for competitive intelligence, and looking at what’s been done already,” says Tallie Casucci, assistant librarian at Marriott Library.

Space is another issue. At Marriott Library, students must go to different floors to pick up a videogame, grab a console and matching controllers, and actually play, since the stations are separated and require checkouts for loss prevention. “It’d be nice to have everything all in one place,” Casucci says.

In Ann Arbor, the CVGA houses both the collection and spaces to play the games on consoles, since the collection doesn’t leave the library. “It’s a very crammed room,” Carter says.

Save game?

UM staffers say they have two missions: to serve the teaching and research needs of faculty and students in order to promote usage of the games, and to preserve those games. “There’s an inherent tension. Usage is the enemy of preservation,” Carter says. “Academic usage trumps preservation. We don’t want to have something just to have it and not let people use it.”

After students from the Entertainment Arts and Engineering program at Utah lost all the materials for Erie, a popular student-made game from 2012, Casucci and Morrow investigated their options. With help from an Institute of Museum and Library Services grant, they published an ebook this fall on how to best archive, preserve, and disseminate student videogames.

“People have been looking at digital preservation seriously, [but] we haven’t made progress with objects that are really complex, like videogames, that have many interactions between files,” Morrow says. “We thought about the existing services in a library and how games might be supported by those services.”

“In our case, it would be the sheer number of analog games to process and store that would be difficult, especially year after year,” Caldwell says. “You’re asking people in cataloging who have never even played a game to suddenly start cataloging media. You need to support them.” The best way to do that, she says, is to develop accurate metadata and consistent, detailed cataloging practices.

But academic libraries still need to strategize.

At Marriott Library, Casucci and Morrow created a tiered retention system for archiving student games, through which students can choose the process that best suits their needs. In earlier tiers, students can contribute visuals such as screenshots or game trailers. As they go further into the system, students can contribute their games in their entirety, allowing future students complete access to its features.

Commercial games have not been forgotten. Carter and Waldron are finding ways to preserve legacy formats of videogames like floppy disks and cartridges. “We’re trying to discover ways of taking the game off its original format and creating an image for it,” Waldron says. “There are still a lot of things to work out, like how to store it properly, retrieve it, or put it back in its original format.” As for regular discs, UM keeps multiple copies and stores them in archival-quality sleeves behind the circulation desk.

According to Heather Maxwell Chandler’s Game Production Handbook, after producing a videogame, developers organize the game’s source assets and archive them in a closing kit—a common practice in the industry to help developers install updates or patches to their games. UCSC would like to implement closing kits down the line.

“The faculty wants to have a record of what students have created,” Caldwell says. “They want students to be inspired by what other students have done and build on that work.”

Carter and Waldron say that videogame preserving and archiving has been underdeveloped in libraries because it is still an emerging format. “Until recently, the history of the videogame industry has been left in the hands of private collectors,” Carter says. “Not to discount the work that private collectors have done—that’s one portion of preservation, but you need academic libraries in the mix.”

“For a long time, [game companies] weren’t really interested in preserving their games, either,” Waldron says. According to Kotaku, this is due to legal gray areas, lack of industry support, and turnover of games. “I think that’s slowly starting to change.”

Conquering copyright issues

Potential copyright problems exist in every layer of videogame collecting, especially regarding older materials with expired copyrights. In October 2018, a decision from the Library of Congress and US Copyright Office allowed institutions to lawfully own copies of older videogames if they were acquired from the original companies in order to make preservation copies—a separate challenge for librarians and archivists as many companies are no longer in business or have discontinued server support.

“Assuming that all videogames are governed by terms of use, it’s likely that any exceptions one would expect in the copyright law are not allowed,” says Carrie Russell, senior program officer and copyright specialist at the American Library Association. “If students are doing close analysis of the games or something similar, it’s likely that license terms don’t forbid just studying and researching the game unless the research involves the need to circumvent digital rights management (DRM) that may be employed by the rights holder.”

DRM is a form of copyright protection licensing for digital media implemented by embedding code that prevents copying, specifying a time period in which content can be accessed, or limiting the number of devices content can be installed on. For example, games with expired or maxed-out licenses may not be library friendly.

Another consideration is that certain PC games come with keys—a string of unique characters—that a user must input in order to play. “But then that [game] is registered, and it’s only good for one use,” Carter says. “If someone donates a PC game to us, if they’ve used the key, we can’t use that game. We have to somehow get another key.”

Currently, libraries’ and archives’ rights to preserve videogames are allowed under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. “That exemption, however, will expire in 2021 and need to be requested again,” Russell says.

Student-made videogames are easier to preserve since students get to decide what university libraries can keep. The student work that libraries archive mostly consists of digital files. They can either archive the entire game or different elements of it, like an abstract, artwork, or gameplay footage.

“We never make the students put up everything,” Caldwell says. “They could say, ‘I don’t want to upload my actual code. I’ll upload my abstract.’”

Students can claim complete copyright of their games or use a Creative Commons license, which allows others to share, use, and build on their work. They can even decide if they want their work to be available to university affiliates or the public.

Librarians, too, try to educate students about the importance of archiving their work at the library, studying other games, and how copyright plays into both. “You have to believe that [students] are going to use [the collection] responsibly,” Caldwell says.

Next-level libraries

Librarians agree they’re just beginning to assimilate game scholarship into academic libraries; progress will continue as the industry and programs evolve.

Caldwell says librarians should be working collaboratively to keep games accessible by lobbying for copyright law exceptions, partnering with game companies, and improving metadata and catalog descriptions.

“Games are to the 21st century what films were to the 20th,” she says. “How long did it take libraries to start collecting film? I think what we can do is start working together sooner, because we’ve already lost so many games.”

UM also wants to encourage students who may not be game design majors to help normalize videogames in the library. “In humanities or social science classes, instead of writing a paper, students are creating games,” Carter says. “We’ve been working with the design lab [at UM] to figure out ways to support the lighter-weight aspect of game creation.”

“[Games are] a part of society,” Waldron says. “It speaks to what our culture is in any given era, like any other format.”