#pieces of the islanders souls scattered around

[chapinii]

Legend has it that after the devastating events of Purgatory away from Quesadilla Island, you may venture into the empty Gothic castle on the top of the hill - providing you get past the young man who fiercely guards its exterior with a scythe - and within one of its many rooms you will find a mirror with cracks forming around its frame.

Some say, when the moon is full and shining its brightest, that if you stare long enough into the mirror, a pair of empty, dull blue eyes will stare back at you. If you dare not to look away, it has also been reported that the form of a man, drenched in blood, will present itself behind you in the glass, a look of rage and despair scorned into his tired face. He will begin to mouth something as yet unintelligible (reported by many to start with a 'GA') before quickly fading away.

Witnesses have reported a light scent of smoke in the apparition's wake, with some even comparing it to a faint aroma of coffee...

#qsmp #q!cellbit #i love the idea of ghost like remnants appearing all over #pieces of the islanders souls scattered around #misplaced #ik theyre not dead ok let me be an angst fiend #this is written so badly i havent slept in 24 hrs

[dollfacefantasy]

I love your writing sm, it's just what I needed μ_μ Do you think you could write Leon being the father of reader's idiot ex who just broke up with her? Leon just wants to console her and the reader only thinks about all the sexual tension they had for a while and now they have nothing to stop them.

(sorry if my english is bad, luv ya)

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your ex boyfriend's dad comforts you after you and his son breakup

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, age gap

word count: 5.3k

a/n: dilf leon you KNOW i love that. thank you so much for your request. i hope you like it! i used death island for the picture, but imagine leon in his late forties for this. as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

Leon lets out a deep sigh as he yanks the keys out of the ignition and his car's engine fizzles out. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looks down at his lap. He takes another deep breath and shakes his head before looking out the window at your apartment building. He’d been told you lived on the fourth floor.

He opens the door next, stepping out into the cold air. The sun was nowhere to be found today, the sky completely masked by a collection of gray clouds. He walks around to the back of the car and pops the trunk open to collect the box of memories he’d been tasked with returning to you.

He didn’t understand how he’d ended up with this job. Despite his numerous daydreams he wished he could forget, you weren’t ever his girlfriend. He hadn’t been the one you’d come over to visit. You didn’t fall asleep in his room or wear his t-shirts or kiss him goodbye when you left. He hadn’t been the one to cheat on you or make you cry for days on end either. No. That’d been his son.

So why was he the one going out of his way to bring you this stuff? That was what he couldn’t comprehend.

Well that’s not exactly true. He comprehended just fine. His son planned on throwing out your stuff that’d been left at his house, remnants of your eight months together. Leon didn’t want that. He’d told his son to pack it up and take it to you like a man should. He had been the one in the wrong after all. But no, his son argued up and down, coming up with every reason under the sun as to why it was better to just throw it away. So Leon just gave up. He knew if he commanded it, his son would just shove your shit in a box and drive down the street to throw it from the window of his moving car. The car Leon paid for.

Truth be told, he always had a soft spot for you. A chamber of his heart that was coated in guilt, surrounded by denial, but internally the sweetest part of him. The one piece of his soul that saw some light in the world that had gone dark for him years ago. So just for you, Leon drove the thirty minutes to your complex to deliver your belongings.

He picks up the cardboard box and tucks it under his arm. The trunk slams with a loud thump, and he’s thinking of what he’s even going to say to you when you open the door. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know if you were home. He had a pretty good idea of your schedule from the time you’d spend on the phone with his son or at his house, but he didn’t even check to be sure.

In the midst of mentally scolding himself, the bottom of the box bursts, and your items go tumbling out onto the pavement. He tries to catch them, but his fingers just miss. Another sigh seeps from his lungs as he crouches down to scoop them up. He picks up a pink hoodie that’d been crumpled up at the foot of his son’s bed, a stuffed bear he saw him pull from the crack between the mattress and the wall, and a bracelet that laid abandoned on the nightstand. He collects other little pieces of you scattered across the damp concrete before managing to situate them in his arms and resume walking to you.

He tosses the broken box into the nearby trash before entering the building and going down the hall and to the elevator. From what he saw, the place was alright. You didn’t live in luxury, but he was relieved he wouldn’t be left worrying about your safety after he left.

The elevator glides up to your floor in total silence with him being the only one in the small space. The little ding that marks his arrival releases a burst of anxiety within him. He felt so dumb. He was nervous like he was your and his son’s age. He pushes those feelings away and gets himself to be normal, to act his age. All he had to do was knock, shove this shit in your arms, and leave.

On the way down the hall to your unit, he realizes this plan means this will probably be the last time he ever sees you. Spare some chance encounter at the grocery store, this would be the final time he’d feel your sweet eyes on him or see that timid smile when he complimented you. That made him sad to think about. He never thought you’d be a permanent fixture in his life. You and his son were young, and being the type of guy his son was, he doubted your relationship was destined to succeed. In honesty, he was shocked it lasted as long as it did. But now, the ending was real. Knowing the time with you in his life was coming to a close felt how the sky outside looked.

Once he reaches the door with your number on it, his fist taps the wood twice. He hears soft shuffling inside, followed by the sound of locks being undone a couple moments later. You crack the door open, standing there in your pajamas. Both your top and bottoms were plain gray. You looked worn down. He could tell you’d been crying. Poor baby.

Your tired eyes flicker with curiosity when they glance up at his face. 

“Mr. Kennedy?” you ask with confusion.

His mouth breaks into a charming grin upon hearing that. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Leon before it sticks?” he teases.

“Sorry…” you say. You didn’t smile at his teasing like normal. Given the circumstances, he supposed that made sense. “What are you doing here?”

“I have some of your stuff you left at my house. Can I come in?” he asks.

Now your eyes flash with a brief spout of anger, but you still open the door wider for him to enter.

“He couldn’t bring it to me?” you ask with clear bitterness in your tone.

He cringes at the sound. What was he supposed to say? In reality, he was on your side, but wouldn’t it be wrong to tell you that? He loved his son. He really did. Even with all the mistakes he made and the flaws he’d caused the boy, he loved him. He probably shouldn’t talk shit about him with his ex-girlfriend.

But at the same time, it was you. You weren’t just some random ex-girlfriend. He’d known you for the better half of a year. You were sweet, actually polite enough to say hello when you came over. You could hold a conversation. And sure, it didn’t hurt any that you were cute too. He felt something strong for you. He just struggled to articulate exactly what that something was. He was tempted to say you’d become part of the family. That’s probably what plenty of others in his situation would say. But the shameful thoughts that plagued his mind when he was alone late at night begged to differ with that assessment

Right now, it didn’t look like you were doing well. He sees the setup you have for yourself on the couch. A heap of blankets, pushed and twisted up around the spot you’d clearly been laying before he interrupted. The curtains were drawn, it was dark in here. You didn’t need him to run defense for the guy who cheated on you, relations aside.

“Guess not,” is how he finally answers your question to which he’s met with a roll of your eyes.

“Of course,” you mutter while walking over to meet him at the counter so you can inspect your items after he puts them down.

You rifle through the different things, scanning them haphazardly before returning your disinterested gaze to him. Your arms cross over your chest, and you shrug.

“Thanks, I guess.”

You’re clearly expecting him to leave now. And he knows that’s what he should do. Awkwardly shuffle out the door with a small wave goodbye. He can’t though. Something inside him won’t let him pull away just yet.

“How have you been?” he starts tentatively, “Haven’t seen you in a few weeks.” 

“Fine… I guess,” you answer.

You guess. Again. A nervous tick. An indicator of deflection. You clearly didn’t want to delve into the inner workings of your broken heart with the father of the man responsible. He should back off. But he doesn’t.

“Are you sure? I know you two are broken up now or whatever you want to call it, but I still care about you, you know? You’re a sweet girl,” he starts, hating how this was coming out, “I just… I know how it is to feel alone. I don’t want that for you. If you need someone to talk to…”

“I should come to you? Is that it?” you say, a bit harsher than he would like.

“Well… yeah?” he responds.

You turn away, cutting him off from seeing your reactions. “That’s nice, Leon. But… I don’t think you’re the one I should talk to about any of this,” you say.

He takes a step closer, laying a cautious hand on your shoulder. “I think I’m the perfect one for you to talk to about this,” he says.

His reasoning is brief, but he doesn’t feel the need for more. Despite your resistance, the gears in your head are turning, deciding whether or not to take the offer. “There’s nothing to even talk about. It is what it is,” you reply. He can hear that characteristic softness returning to your voice.

“I don’t think that’s true. You don’t have to lie to me,” he says, getting even closer. He gently guides you back to the couch and clears some space for the two of you to sit. He directs your eyes back to him before he finishes speaking. “It’ll stay between us.”

You look up at him, sweet glossy eyes threatening to spill your emotions down your cheeks. He can see your apprehension, but in the end, you still decide to go for it.

“I just… I feel so dumb,” you start, biting your lip.

“You shouldn’t,” he tells you.

“But I do,” you say, voice becoming strained, “People told me he would do something like this, and I actually defended him. I’m so stupid, and everyone knows it now.”

While he wasn’t too pleased to learn of his son’s reputation, his sympathy for you overwhelms that. His hand rubs up and down your back as your head falls to your hands.

“Sweetheart…” he sighs, the term rolling out before he can stop himself, “It’s not your fault. It’s not a bad thing to be trusting.”

He sees your face tense as you lose the battle to hold your tears in. His heart aches seeing you look so defeated.

“Yes it is,” you cry, “I hate it.”

“Hey, c’mere,” he says and pulls you closer. He drapes his arm over your shoulder and holds you to his side. “Don’t talk like that about yourself, ok? Being cheated on doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”

He felt slightly awkward considering the cheater in question is his own flesh and blood. The feeling of your soft body against him overrides that thought though. You’re still weeping into his chest, so he continues.

“Look, baby,” he says. Another pet name. His mind screams for him to get a grip. “I love my son, but… I know him too. He can be insensitive, and that’s not what a girl like you needs.”

You look up at him, interested in his potential point. In your eyes, he feels he can see his reflection glaring back at him with disapproval.

“You’re such a precious thing. Someone to be handled with care,” he whispers, stroking your jaw, “I don’t want this to take that from you.”

More tears roll down your cheeks while you take in his words. He swipes a couple away with his thumb as he talks to you.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. With my ex-wife, with my son, with my work. Christ, just with my life in general.” Why was he telling you this? “I look at you, and you remind me of who I was before those mistakes. I know stuff like this can make you bitter, and I just don’t want that to happen to you. You don’t need to blame yourself for what he did or try to keep how you feel inside. Once you get past this, you’re gonna move onto something better for you. I just don’t want you to forget that.”

He watches your lip quiver harder before the floodgates finally burst. Now that he’d given you permission, you don’t hold back. A sob tumbles from your lips. He immediately goes to pull you closer again, but this time you take it upon yourself. His eyes widen as you scoot into his lap.

It’s as if he acts on instinct though. As soon as you have your face buried against his throat, his arms loop around you in return. One hand rubs the expanse between your shoulder blades while the other simply supports the small of your back.

“Sweet baby…” he whispers.

“He told me he loved me,” you weep. He can feel your warm tears dripping down his skin now.

“I’m sure he did, honey,” he says and rocks back and forth with you a bit.

Now you really unload. You cry against him about basically every wrongdoing his son had committed in your time together. He compared you to other girls, told you that you were too needy, forgot your birthday. And Leon listens to it all, not playing devil’s advocate even once.

Guilt burns hot in his chest though. Nevertheless, he tries to convince himself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was just helping a poor, hurting girl in need. But that excuse crumbles when he simply thinks about what his son would say to the sight of his ex-girlfriend curled up on his father’s lap, clinging to him like he was her new man.

His mind continued trying to justify this anyways, putting forth the idea that this was out of his control. He was powerless when it came to situations like this. The life he led so far had wired a savior complex into his brain. He couldn’t resist you, another princess he could restore to her pedestal.

That was definitely part of why he didn’t put you back on the couch and slowly begin to make an exit. The other part was less honorable. Despite his mind’s ideas of noble motivations, deep down he knew part of this was selfishness. Being human, he wasn’t gonna complain about a pretty young girl warming his lap. And being himself, he certainly wasn’t going to complain because that girl happened to be you. The guilt he felt faded instantly with one look at your doe face or one word from your tender voice.

“None of that is your fault,” he comforts you once you finish your list and breaks away from his thoughts, “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I know…” you whimper before another sob comes from you, “I hate him so much. But it’s even worse cause I still miss him.”

That shoots a sharp pang of jealousy through his heart to which he mentally slaps himself. God, you made him feel pathetic, but in a way he didn’t want to admit, that was part of the appeal. He holds you tighter and nuzzles the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“That’s ok. It’s only natural,” he coos and continues soothing you.

“Why do I miss him? How do I make it stop?” you cry, your voice cracking.

Fuck. You really did remind him of himself which only made this more twisted. He knew what you were feeling so well. That longing ache that festers inside until you feel like clawing your skin off and prying your ribs apart to purge yourself of the infection. He sighs and shifts you on his thigh, pulling you closer to him.

“You can’t make it go away. You know that. It’s a time-heals-all-wounds situation, sweetheart. Just gotta wait it out, but it’ll get better,” he says.

Then he must have truly gone over the edge because he leans in and presses a faint kiss to your hairline. Luckily for him, you don’t protest. Instead, it draws more tears from you. Your arms lock around him and pull the rest of your body closer

“I just feel empty, and I don’t know why. He wasn’t that great… no offense,” you sniffle.

“None taken,” he says softly, a small smile rising on his lips. He keeps rubbing your back, resting his head on top of yours. “Most breakups hurt, even when you’ve run the course of the relationship. It’s not fun losing someone.”

It wouldn’t be fun losing you. That was for fucking sure. He was only making it worse for himself by doing all this. At this point, he wasn’t sure how he’d manage to tear himself away once you stopped crying.

“I guess,” you whimper, lip puffing out into a sweet pout he’d only ever seen as a joke before.

“You’re such a sensitive girl, honey. So delicate,” he murmurs against your hair. He knows he should stop. He’s toeing the borderline, but it’s all he can do to keep himself from hurdling over it at full force.

“I’m overdramatic,” you correct.

He scoffs, dismissing your claim. “Did someone tell you that? Because they don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re precious,” he whispers with another kiss to your head.

That word seems to strike something in you. Your crying that had been dwindling seems to soften down to an occasional ragged breath. You look up at him with your watery eyes. He continues to push away remaining tears on your cheeks before running his knuckles down your jaw.

As he looks into your eyes, the temptation becomes irresistible. He needs you.

“Sweet thing like you… you need someone who can understand you, protect those feelings of yours, not make you feel bad about ‘em,” he says, his thumb dragging over your chin.

“You think so?” you ask.

“Oh yeah. There’s nothing wrong with wearing your heart on your sleeve,” he says teasingly, “All it means is that you care. Plus, this may be just me, but I think it’s pretty cute.”

Your teary eyes widen just the slightest amount, and your hips squirm a bit on his lap. You look down at your fingers fidgeting with one another.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly.

“I do. You’re so pretty when you cry, baby,” he mutters and lifts your chin to get you to look at him again, “You have puppy eyes, just begging for some love.”

A shy smile starts spreading on your face. Your eyes cast down, and he knows he’s got you hooked. Now he just has to reel you in.

“Yeah, you know it’s true,” he whispers and leans in to kiss your cheeks, “Bet you have a lot of fun using ‘em on people.”

“No,” you say timidly, eyes glancing back up at him.

“Oh, of course not. A little angel like you would never take advantage,” he teases. He kisses across your cheek bone to your temple, and then moves his lips down to where your jaw meets your neck. He can hear your breath hitching. His hands pull you closer to his body, feeling your warmth up against him. One slides to your side, rubbing up and down slowly.

“That’s why you need to be taken care of,” he breathes against your skin, “Let me take care of you, baby.”

You nod with no hesitation on your part. He can tell from the breath you let out that you're giving into some temptations of your own. Your head leans in and he ducks down to connect your lips, nearly groaning as he feels the plush flesh press against him. The kisses start off tender, just little pecks as you explore the feeling of each other. But they soon grow in passion. Your mouths open against each other. Your tongues meet, and spit coats one another's lips. You’re both breathing heavier.

He pulls back to look at you, those eyes he had been going on about now clouded with lust. Moving in for a few more, he cups your face. “You like that?” he murmurs.

“Mhm,” you hum, reciprocating the affection. 

He chuckles as you move in even closer, the swell of your breasts pushing up against his chest. His hands squeeze your waist and turn you around so your back is to his front, your head tilted on his shoulder.

“Pretty baby, so eager for me,” he coos as his hands smooth up your stomach to your chest. He fondles your tits through your top, feeling their entirety since you weren’t wearing a bra.

The softest noise of satisfaction leaves you, and you nip at his lips. He deepens the kiss in response, groping you a bit harder. Your hands travel South to his belt, attempting to undo behind your back, but his hand drops and grabs your wrists.

“Not yet,” he corrects with a kiss to your temple, “There’s no rush. I want to take my time with you. Warm you up like you deserve.”

His mouth envelopes yours again while his hand releases your wrists and returns to your breast. He can feel your nipples perking up in anticipation. His cock starts to do the same beneath you. As you feel it, you roll your ass back against him, providing some friction. He smiles against your lips, the prior reservations he had about this leaving his mind one by one.

Maneuvering his palms between your thighs, his fingers coast up and down the sensitive skin. His mouth trails down to your neck to kiss you there, sucking soft love bites onto your throat. You’re single now. It’s not like you’d have to hide them.

He parts your legs a bit more before cupping them underneath and pulling you down so that you’re at an angle where he can remove the fluffy pajama pants that kept him from his target. You watch the soft fabric fall away and crumple up on the floor. You’re a little jittery as he exposes your skin now. This is real, no longer a far-fetched fantasy.

His hand is on your pussy in seconds, stroking you through the thin cotton that covers it. The kisses to your throat don’t stop, and his free hand keeps you in place on his lap.

“Those college boys you’ve been running around with are too busy thinking with their dicks. They don’t know what to do with a prize like you,” he murmurs and drags his nose up the curve of your face.

He chooses to forget the fact that the boy you had been running around with was his son. That didn’t need to matter right now. All that mattered was the whimper that fell from you, the way your hair felt against the crook of his neck. His fingers play with you a little more before sliding into your panties.

“Aw, you’re already getting wet, hm?” he purrs, “Precious girl. Probably so pent up. Never been properly fucked the way you shoulda been.”

You nod and turn your head to look into his eyes. He takes the chance to kiss you again, working his mouth with yours while his fingers coasted through your folds.

“Need you to make it better,” you mumble against his lips.

You feel his smirk and how he kisses with increased fervor. The pads of his fingers swirl around your clit, eliciting a tiny gasp from you.

“Not a problem, baby. You’re not leaving my lap till you can’t remember why you were crying in the first place,” he whispers.

You sigh with content and resume languidly making out. His fingertips are rough on the smooth skin of your center, dragging over your sweet spots with the best friction you’d ever felt. Your body arches into his touch. You actually want more. A refreshing feeling for you.

He continues focusing on your sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking over it, pressing small circles into it, swiping down across it. Occasionally, he’d massage lower, teasing your entrance and feeling the arousal pooling from his actions.

“You like how I’m playing with you? Feel good having that clit touched? It’s so sensitive, just like the rest of you,” he breathes.

You nod again,  a desperate whine unraveling out of you. He chuckles and speeds up his fingers.

“I knew you would. You’re beyond the little boys who thrust a few times and leave you wanting for more. Think it’s pretty obvious you need a real man,” he says.

He didn’t even know where half this stuff was coming from, but he wasn’t gonna launch an investigation into it. It worked for you, so it was working for him.

Your hips buck as he maintains a steady pace and even amount of pressure. He rubbed you just the way you liked, as if he knew your body on an instinctual level.

“You’re gonna cum just from my fingers. You can do it. Have you gushing already before I slip my cock in you,” he murmurs against your skin.

His fingers have started making wet noises as they slide up and down on your cunt. You mewl and tense up, relishing the pleasure he brought you. You whimper out his name quietly, over and over. Leon. Specifically him.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Who’s the one making you feel so good? Who’s the one you’ve needed all along?”

You gasp it again for him. Leon.

“Good girl,” he growls.

He moves his fingers with more precision and dedication, taking you right to the blissful edge and letting you crash over it. Watching how your body writhes on his lap, he holds you through it. He makes sure to keep you up right.

You feel lightning strike within you, the storm of euphoria swirling in the pit of your stomach. You let go all over his fingers, and thoroughly coat his hand with your release. He goes in for more, sliding his fingers down as if they’re going to dip inside you, but you whine in protest.

“Leon… don’t wanna wait anymore,” you whimper.

He chuckles at your impatience and shakes his head.

“You talk about it like you’ve been waiting forever when it’s only been a couple minutes,” he teases.

“Feels like forever,” you pout.

He kisses your frown and pulls your underwear off completely. He then turns you around on his lap to face him.

“You ready for the real thing then?” he breathes, smirking at your quick confirmation.

He boosts his hips off the couch and shoves his pants down enough so that his cock can spring free. It bobs up in anticipation. His hand grasps it, sliding it against your entrance. 

After a few teasing swipes, he sinks you down on it, savoring every small change in your expression. Your eyes flutter, your mouth lolls open slightly, your brows furrow.

“Oh, I can tell that’s what you’ve been needing,” he whispers, guiding your hips into a rhythm.

You bounce up and down on him, breathy moans escaping you with each rise and fall.

“Mhm, wanted it for so long,” you whine.

His eyebrow raises at that. “Yeah?” he grunts, sharply inhaling as you squeeze around him, “How long? How bad did you want it?”

“So bad. Wanted it for months,” you confess as your head falls back, “Wanted to be yours instead.”

He knows he’s going to hell for the rush of satisfaction that floods his veins. He doesn’t falter though, just pulls you closer and starts thrusting up into you.

“Oh, did you? Dirty secret, baby, but I can’t say I didn’t feel the same way,” he moans before reconnecting his mouth with yours, “Sweet baby like you, wanted you to be all mine.”

A quick moan leaves you, and you keep riding. Your hips roll up and down, working him as deep into you as he can go. Your arousal drips down his heavy balls, making a mess where the two of you connect.

“Dreamed about you sometimes,” you gasp, letting it all out.

His eyes droop with more desire. They shouldn’t, but your revelations only spurred him on. He thrusts up harder and digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips.

“Yeah? Bet you felt so guilty waking up soaked between your legs for someone you couldn’t have,” he says, vision trained on you, “I felt the same way. Hard as a rock for you and no relief.”

“Now there is,” you whimper as you lean down and nuzzle your face against his.

With hot breaths in each other's face, you both feel the cords of release being pulled taut. You bite your lip, and he cages you in against his body, keeping you flush against him.

“Even with that dirty little secret, you’re still such a good girl. Need you to be my good girl,” he mumbles in your ear before moaning, hips tensing as he feels the sweeping sense of euphoria.

You nod dumbly as your own high creeps up on you. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum,” you whine before burying your face into his shoulder. Your hands clutch at his biceps, digging little crescents into the muscle.

He fucks you through it, making you see stars and keeping them suspended in your sights. You cling to him and clamp around him. His thrusts get sloppy, but he won’t stop until you’re coming down. That’s when he finally pulls out and gives himself a few strokes to completion, finishing on your ass. He figured you were on the pill, but he wasn’t going to make a riskier chance an even bigger risk.

You feel the warm liquid dripping down the curve of your ass. You’re too fucked out to be concerned with clean up right now though. He smiles down at you and gives you some kisses as a way to cool you off.

Reaching over to the end table, he grabs a few tissues and swipes away the small mess on your backside. After some more soothing affection, the two of you briefly readjust your clothing and get comfy with each other again. He figured this probably wasn’t the best thing he could be doing in this situation. He just fucked his son’s ex and now he was going to cuddle her too? But he does it anyway because it was what you needed, and that was his mind’s priority at the moment.

He thinks about leaving though, reverting to the original plan. He could let you doze off and just slip away. But he doesn’t. You’re too sweet, and you’re hurting. He didn’t want to pile on, but the idea that this shouldn’t develop into more than a passionate fuck still lingers in his mind..

That is until he hears your voice.

“Are you gonna leave?” you ask softly.

He looks down, heart aching at the sight of you.

“Not yet,” he answers.

“Ok good,” you say and sink into him again, “I might need you again later. In case I get sad again.”

He rolls his eyes at your attempt to play innocent. “Guess I’m stuck here then. Can’t have you crying all alone,” he says.

“Mhm,” you hum, leaning up to give him a kiss. One of the sweetest kisses he’d ever had. And just like that, you’re luring him back in.

“You know… maybe I should be proactive, make sure you don’t get the chance to be sad again today…” he murmurs, shifting to lay down on the couch and give you some kisses of his own. “Think you need some more distracting.”

He was done for.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #smut

[starrylothcat]

Quiet Love

Crosshair x Gender Neutral!Reader One-Shot

Summary: Crosshair pops the question 💍

Warnings: None? Feelings, some angst, sappiness. Softy soft Crosshair. Some kissy. Reader not described. AU Crosshair is on Pabu and wants to marry you. He deserves it. In the context of my fic a cycle = a year. 1200 words

Author’s Note: Idk I just have Crosshair feels. Song inspo when I was writing this: Eric’s Song by Vienna Teng 🫶

Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Also we need happier Crosshair gifs 😭😂

Strange how I fit into you // There's a distance erased with the greatest of ease // Strange how you fit into me // A gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs

The sun was sinking below the horizon, scattering magnificent hues of purples, pinks, and reds over the ocean. A slight breeze carried the smell of salty air and distant rain. Puffy thunderheads were forming high in the atmosphere, promising tropical showers.

You and Crosshair were sitting quietly, watching the sun disappear as stars blinked into existence above.

You were good at this, embracing stillness, savoring one another’s quiet presence.

After so long being at war, living in a Galaxy that was torn apart and was still being pieced back together, quiet is now calm.

Quiet is peace.

Quiet is love.

Four cycles have passed since you first saw Crosshair on the island.

Four cycles of being drawn to one another by an invisible force, filling the holes in your hearts that you never thought would close. Finding solace in one another’s company, finding forgiveness where you thought there was none.

He was afraid at first, when he realized his feelings for you. Frightened if he let you get close, his darkness and fears would spread like a disease and corrupt you. He was a broken man, his past still weighing heavy on his soul, even after the forgiveness of his family.

Slowly, the gracious and patient light that radiated from you burned through his shadows and he let you in. You both tread carefully at first, but as time went on, and more of his walls came down, the more he let himself fall for you.

Your love was a quiet one, but it was strong. It didn’t need to be loud.

Whether it was his hand on the small of your back when you were in public, or having a cup of caf ready for you in the morning exactly how you liked. How he’d worship your body behind closed doors, confessing his desires and need for you, quiet admissions from his heart, trusting you with his most vulnerable self.

Crosshair felt at his pocket as you sat, you not noticing as you watched the sunset. A ring was hidden in his pocket, something that he’s had for some time.

You held his heart and entire being in your hands. He knew you didn’t need a ring from him to realize his devotion to you. He didn’t either.

But you were willing to accept and help heal the heavy burden that was his heart and his love.

It was all he could do to let you know that you were his forever.

If you said yes.

A dark part of him wondered if this was all a dream, too good to be true. How could someone want to be with him, after all that he’s done? He wasn’t the best with words, but he was trying. He hoped it was enough.

You felt Crosshair’s arm snake around your shoulder, pulling you closer into him. He usually saved acts of affection like this when you were truly alone, but the veranda you had found was tucked away. You wouldn’t be bothered any time soon.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, your shoulders pressed together, the sun slowly fading in the distance. You looked at him, giving him a soft smile.

“It’s beautiful.” You uttered, bringing your hand over his that was draped over your shoulder.

“Hm.” Crosshair grunted in agreement, glancing down at you, the dimming sunlight casting a warm glow over your skin. You brushed your lips against his, content in this moment. Crosshair accepted your kiss, deepening it by leaning more toward you.

His hand that was free secretly slipped down to his side to his pocket. You didn’t notice what he was doing, too lost in his kiss. Crosshair pulled away from you, knowing it was now or never. His arm left your shoulder, leaning away from you slightly. That’s when you noticed he was holding something out to you in his hand.

You stared, taking a moment to realize what he was holding. It was small and shiny. You focused your eyes and realized it was a ring.

You gawked, trying to process what he was offering to you, and why.

The gears turned in your head, your mouth opening and closing, at a loss for words.

Was he…was this?

“C-Crosshair?” You whispered, your voice shaking, looking between him and the ring. “What…what is this?”

He didn’t say anything as you continued to gaze at the ring, not wanting to misinterpret the gesture.

“I’m not getting down on one knee if that’s what you’re expecting.” He grumbled, shifting in his seated position, waiting for your answer.

Tears filled the sides of your eyes, his words solidifying exactly what he was asking you.

And he was doing it in the most Crosshair way possible.

“Crosshair, are you asking me to marry you?” Your voice was hoarse, your heart pounding in your chest.

Crosshair rolled his eyes, yet his expression was soft.

“Yes, why else would I be giving this to you?”

He held the ring out further, gesturing for you to take it.

You gently took the ring from his hands, turning it in your fingers.

Embedded in the band was a jewel in your favorite color, catching the light of the setting sun.

“How long have you…?”

“Are you saying yes or not?”

You looked at him, seeing him intensely waiting, his eyes locked on yours. Was there a hint of nervousness deep in his eyes?

You gripped the ring in your hand, knowing your answer without a second thought. You slung your arms around his neck, pulling him into a flaming kiss.

“Yes! Crosshair, yes!” You gasped against his lips as his moved just as passionately against yours. You could swear you felt a weight lift off his shoulders, his body relaxing.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you kissed, his arms wrapping around you. Begrudgingly, you pulled away after what seemed like hours, realizing you were still grasping the ring in your hand.

“I love you.” You whispered as your lips left his. He squeezed you tighter. “I know.” You released him from your embrace, looking at the ring again in your hand, and looking back at him. You couldn’t help the wide smile on your face, though tears were still wetting your cheeks.

“Don’t get sappy on me.” He whispered, bringing a hand to wipe the tears from your face.

You huffed, grinning. “You’re calling me sappy?”

Crosshair chuckled, a rare small smile gracing his face, his sharp features softening momentarily.

“Well, are you going to put it on me properly?” You asked. Crosshair’s smile turned signature sly smirk as he took the ring from you.

With a gentleness only he could show you, Crosshair took your hand, sliding the ring on your finger.

It fit perfectly.

“Does anyone know?” You wondered, admiring how it looked, happiness flooding your entire being.

“Wrecker knows. Which means everyone does since he can’t keep a secret.”

You laughed as you leaned against him, both of you looking back at the sky, the sun now almost completely set. You placed your newly ringed hand on his thigh, his own hand covering yours.

You continued to sit silently, the last rays of light fading beyond the horizon. Nothing more needed to be said.

Quiet is peace.

Quiet is love.

@wanderer-six @pb-jellybeans

#Crosshair #crosshair tbb #crosshair x reader #crosshair tbb x reader #crosshair x you #starrycatwrites #the bad batch #The bad batch x reader #The bad batch fanfiction

[fioreofthemarch]

kin

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link/Zelda Words: 1270 [✨this is a companion piece to repast and yearnings]

When at last Zelda was returned to the present, it was all she could do not to dwell on the past.

The memories of her time as a dragon were gone, but the subconscious remained. She felt unsteady on her feet, disliked being cooped up without a view of the sky, and often dreamt of flying, always waking with a lingering sense of loss. 

It was a guilty feeling. She had gotten everything she’d wanted. The Demon King was gone, Hyrule was saved, and Link - Link! - he was alive and they were finally free to go about their lives in long-awaited peace.  

And yet?

“You look as though you’ve forgotten something,” Purah had said to her when they’d last spoken in Lookout Landing. Zelda agreed, but couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. 

An answer came to her in Hateno, while she and Link were visiting their house by the river. Link had built them a new home in Akkala, and was sure that Zelda would enjoy rearranging it to her liking, if she didn’t mind moving house. So there in Hateno, while Zelda was sorting through her things and trying to decide what to take, something bright and blue caught her eye – a dragon! A spirit of cool, calm wisdom, passing silently overhead. 

At that moment, what was forgotten became clear. She burst from the house, arms waving, crying – “Sister!”

But the dragon never slowed, only kept on as sure as the wind. Then she was rounding north, slipping down towards the horizon, and then she was gone. 

Zelda sank down onto the grass, hands clasped tight and catching tears she didn’t know were falling. Naydra no longer knew her; they’d shared the skies for millenia, and yet! 

“Maybe she just doesn’t recognise you,” Link said upon finding her like this, his voice a steadying presence, as were his sure hands leading her back inside. “You’ve changed since she saw you last.” 

“For the better, right?”

He grinned, “I loved you just as much either way.”

After this Zelda tried, earnestly, to let life go on. The Akkala house was perfect, and only needed some nicer furnishings, maybe a painting or two, or a bigger garden. When not working on that, Zelda found her thoughts returning to the dragons – she charted Dinraal’s path over Akkala, drawing it on a map she kept in her study. Then, when the need arose to travel to Hateno, she did the same for Naydra, and later Farosh too, when she and Link travelled south to visit the Gerudo. Once the map was complete, it occurred to her that the three dragons formed a distinct triangle, each guarding their own corner of Hyrule. And that’s when knew what to do. 

“I was here for longer than I can even say,” she explained to Link, after convincing him to take her to the Great Sky Island. “The three dragons visited me here every day, at the centre of the Kingdom.” 

They stood on the roof of the Temple of Time, where Link had landed the ballooncraft he had made them. The skies were clear, and all of Hyrule could be seen below. He asked Zelda what exactly she planned to do, and she admitted she didn’t really know. She just had to try something. Link gave her an understanding nod, and stepped back to let her proceed. 

Zelda clasped her hands at her chest. She focused, felt all the yearning and regret, all the nostalgia for younger days, and let them flow from her like a lighthouse beacon – a single wish that cascaded from her very soul. Her secret stone, still worn around her neck, began to glow hot against her skin, in concert with the ancient royal mark on her right hand. I am here. Come to me!

How long she stood like that she did not know, but eventually she felt the air grow hot and cold all at once. 

The sight when she opened her eyes was all but beyond words; three great and immortal dragons, servants of the very Goddess herself, gathered together before the Temple. Their bodies flowed like rivers, irridescent scales scattering light, long horns shimmering with diffuse elemental power. Summoned here, the dragons hovered in place; Dinraal to the left, Farosh to the right and Naydra in the middle. 

Zelda bowed. She shook from nerves. Did the dragons hear her call? What was their answer? There was silence, except the wind, until at last Zelda heard a voice.

Sister, the dragon Naydra said, you are changed. 

You have become small and fragile, said the dragon Dinraal. 

You have joined the swordsman as a mortal, said the dragon Farosh. 

“You know me?” Zelda said, barely able to breathe. Behind her, Link stood tall and firm, though his body was tense. It was no small thing to treat with the gods. 

You were not easy to spot, Naydra said. Your light however was very familiar.

A great power summoned us here, sister. We are impressed, Dinraal said. 

As are we curious, Farosh added. Speak your command. 

Still Zelda did not know why exactly she had called them. There had to be something that she had wanted to say…

“Zelda… are you okay?” Link said, with a hint of fear in his voice. It was enough to steel her. She couldn’t tarry here. Immortal though her sisters were, she did not want to waste their time. 

“I am okay,” she answered, and she knew why.

Turning to Naydra, Dinraal and Farosh, Zelda bowed again, long and low. Rising, she said, “I was no one, adrift in an open sky, until I awoke in your company. I had done something terrible and forbidden, but you accepted me as one of your own, and stayed with me until my task was complete. And even now that I have left you, you remember me. This kindness…” she brushed tears from her cheeks, composing herself. “I must thank you. I wish there was a way to repay your generosity.” 

The dragons hovered, eyes bright and piercing. Zelda felt foolish; sentimental words probably meant little to them. But then, together, they bowed their heads in return. After a long moment, they broke formation and began to move through the air once more, silently circling the Temple of Time in a spiral of ice, flame and static.  

“Was that ‘offer accepted’?” Link asked with a nervous laugh. 

Dinraal departed first, heading north for Akkala. Then Farosh followed, turning south for Gerudo. Only Naydra remained. She flew down towards the roof of the temple, and landed on its parapets gentler than a feather. Placing her head down so that her and Zelda’s eyes were level, she blinked slow and calm. 

Beloved sister, she said, things done for kin need never be repaid.  

Then, a single tear falling from her eye, the dragon Naydra ascended from the roof, and flew east. Zelda watched until she disappeared from view, her own tears falling free. Not all memories were lost, she realised, but the past would always be the past, and that was its own kind of loss. 

Still, the future was calling. It came in the form of a warm and gentle hand – Link, threading his fingers into hers. “Home?” he said. Zelda nodded, knowing what he meant, but feeling that she was already there as he wrapped his arms around her. 

“Good, I’ve got an apple pie in the oven that you might like.”

With a laugh she returned his radiance, fresh but happy tears falling. “I think I might,” she said. And so they went, leaving the sky behind. 

#totk #tears of the kingdom #zelink #link #zelda #light dragon #totk spoilers #this is definitely not a multichapter fanfic masquerading as three oneshots #i just really like naydra #shes neat #marble skies

[villainessprefect]

~Tell It to My Heart~

title: A Hero's Welcome is Waiting for Me

dialogue #1: “You mean a lot to me and I didn’t want to sit there and watch you get hurt.”

Idia x fem!reader

note: ch.6 spoilers!

Read on AO3

The moment you spot those beautiful blue flames, your eyes light up. Their absence isn't new knowing that Idia dislikes leaving his room, but after what happened on the Island of Woe, you feared that you may never see him again.

It takes everything in you to not shout his name. The last thing you want to do is scare him off. This is such a lucky encounter that you can't lose your chance now.

As you make your approach, his eyes meet with yours. Those golden eyes go wide and he visibly shrinks, yet his hair makes it seem like he hadn't with how it flickers. His gaze darts from yours to anything else, probably looking for an escape.

Did he not want to see you again? The thought hurt, but you wouldn't let it show.

"Hey, Idia!" You chirp. Despite the slight pain in your chest that he caused, he manages to heal it in an instant without doing a single thing. "Welcome back."

"H-Hey..." He mumbles out. "It's not like I wanted to be back...I'm only here cuz I have to be otherwise I'd be, you know...not here."

"I know. Are you heading back to your room? Mind if I come with you?"

Idia hesitates. A hand reaches for a stray strand of fire. He fiddles with the flame in between his fingers. The sight of flames being played with like nothing is fascinating. It makes you recall the few times you managed to touch the harmless flames without him knowing and longed to run your fingers through it.

"S-Sure...if you want. I won't stop you."

You flash him a smile and step to his side. There are so many things you want to ask him. If he's okay, if Ortho is okay, if things back home are okay. You want to ask about his games and if you can team up for the event coming up and if you could watch a new series together. It's just too much that you find yourself at a loss of what to say.

The trip to Ignihyde is silent, but neither of you mind. Although, you can't help but feel like something is off. Maybe it's the way he's avoiding your gaze, avoiding looking directly at you. He's a nervous guy, yes, but you thought that he was comfortable around you.

You'd manage to see that rare, fiery, passionate side that only ever comes up behind literal closed doors. His flames would flicker with life whenever it was just you two. His excitement was infectious and you mimicked his energy, hyping him up and holding your own with him. Yet, the fires seem so dull today.

"Ladies first," he says as he opens the door to his room. It lacks the usual teasing tone. With a silent thank you, you enter.

Nothing has changed here. His room was still a mess, miscellaneous pieces of technology scattered on the floor, blankets drooping from his bed and covering some of the mess. A fallen plush catches your eye, one of a pair that had separated. You reach to pick up the stuffed purple creature. Instead of returning it to its position, you keep it in your lap once you've taken your seat on his bed.

"So, what do you wana do?" You ask.

You wait for an answer that doesn't come. Idia still avoids looking at you. It makes you squeeze the plush against your chest.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"N-No!" He's quick to answer. Finally, his gaze settles on you, if only for a moment. It leaves as soon as your eyes meet. He grips onto his arm, squeezing it for support. The man bites down on his lips as he shuts his eyes.

"S-Sorry, I just...there's kind of a lot of things I should say, I think..."

You blink and tilt your head. Your heart races as a mixture of curiosity and fear settle into your soul. It's rare for either of you to share a serious conversation. It's almost unsettling to even think about it.

"What do you wana say?" You ask as you pat the bed. Idia glances over and takes the invitation. He sits beside you, careful to avoid your touch. His hands intertwine with each other, giving them a deathly squeeze. "We can talk later if you want...?"

Idia shakes his head. He's thankful you are patient and willing to give him an escape route. Part of him regrets not taking it.

"I promised Ortho I'd talk to you," he finally says. "I just wanted to know...why?" He glances at you and does his best not to stare. His flames help conceal his gaze, if only temporarily. "Why did you risk your life to fight a final boss? You know you're magicless, right? That makes you below under leveled for a fight. It's like fighting a god with a rat. It's beyond a noob mistake, especially in a game that you can't restart."

Oh. This is what he wanted to talk about. You didn't think that guilt might be eating at him for what he did. These events feel so common to you that you hardly register something like this happening. Then again, you were never close to those that Overblotted. Sure, you knew them beforehand but friendship never blossomed until afterwards.

It's different with Idia. You managed to strike up a friendship with the shut-in before getting swept up in that whole STYX mess. And you didn't expect him to end up in that state either.

Your heart aches just thinking about how that inky substance took a hold of him. You doubt there was anything you could have done to stop it from happening, but you like to think you could have. If you could have gotten him to open up more, to see the world, to help him-

No. Nothing would have changed.

You're a magicless being in a foreign world. You can't change his past nor any mistakes he makes. But you can make changes to the present.

It's hard to find the right words. You can tell him that you've done this before. Overblots are, unfortunately, nothing new to you. Although this one involved so much more than just one life. There were two. Then there was the fact the whole world was in danger.

Damn. It finally hits just how dangerous that situation had been. You really could have died then and there, consumed by a Phantom or worse. Your game would be over in an instant if you had to face him alone.

You take in a breath and release your death grip on the poor plush.

"I wanted to save you." You admit, voice barely above a whisper. "You mean a lot to me, Idia. I didn't want to just sit there and watch you get hurt."

It's almost funny to say that considering your side was the one doing the hurting. But he should know what you mean. He knows more about blot than you do, he's the one who let it consume him. And while you may not be an expert like him, you had experience in dealing with it. The euphoric power is only temporary and that can't keep the pain at bay forever.

"I don't have magic and I'm not the strongest person, but how could I just watch what happens? They told me it would be safer to wait in the room. I'd be protected there. It's obviously the smarter option, but it would mean leaving you alone. And...I wouldn't know what to do if I lost you."

While Idia stays silent, his hair speaks volumes. Those bold statements caught him off guard, his hair lighting up with an intense spark of pink. He can feel his heart pounding against his chest. Such sweet words were never meant for a character like him. Especially not after his villain arc!

He doesn't know how to deal with the fact that you truly cared for him, enough that you'd be willing to throw your life away for him despite your magicless disadvantage. How could you risk something so precious for someone so pathetic?! He doesn't get it. He never will.

"D-Do you mean all of that?" His voice comes out terribly shaky. "Y-You can't, can you? Like no one would ever care that much for someone like me. I bet you're just saying that to not let me feel guilty about-"

"Idia," you cut him off and he yelps. You look at him, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "If it meant being able to stay with you, I would dive into the underworld and drag you out of it."

Some type of squeal escapes from his lips. His hair turns into a mess, blue and pink swirling as he straightens and fidgets with his hands. That declaration has his mind beyond fried. It's a miracle that he hasn't fainted.

Your touch brings him back to reality, although not after sending a shock throughout his entire body. A delicate hand placed upon his is a blessing he doesn't deserve, especially coming from you.

Idia tries to process your feelings. Could any of it be true? You did come over of your free will and did so continuously. Whether it be for fun or schoolwork, you made his darkened school days a little brighter. It was hard to admit that he came to look forward to your visits and actually enjoyed your presence. And you made him do the one thing he never wanted to do.

Hope.

Tears begin to well up in his eyes. He really doesn't deserve someone like you.

"I-I almost k-killed you..." He breathes out before taking in a sharp breath. "H-How could you say that to me...?"

Your grip over his hand tightens. The sight of tears makes your chest ache, yet calls you to action. If words wouldn't work, then you would just have to show him. So, you move your body towards him, the plush that once sat on your lap returns to the floor. With your free hand, you raise it to his cheek to keep him still. You place your lips against his. They're cold and you catch the taste of that cheap ramen you two share. It's nothing romantic like you envisioned your first kiss to be. Honestly, you weren't sure how it would be, definitely nothing like this. But those worries are gone now. You enjoy the way your lips meet and the closeness of your bodies. You hope and pray that this is enough to get him to understand your feelings.

Parting is painful. You've already stolen his lips for longer than expected. Idia's face is painted red and his hair has gone full on pink. He seems frozen in place as if your kiss had done the final blow to his remaining HP.

When his system is back online, his body moves before he even realizes it. He's quick to embrace you and bury his face in the nook of your neck. He craves your touch more than he wants to admit. Like this, he can hide his blushing face and indulge a little.

"I don't deserve you..."

"You do. I think you do."

You carefully wrap your arms around him. You don't give him your death grip like you did with the plush, but you hold him against your body. You hear him sniffle and begin to rub his back. You know he needs his time to gather his thoughts and feelings. You don't mind waiting for him.

"If you ever need the reminder, I'll say it as many times as needed."

#twisted wonderland #idia shroud #twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud x reader #female reader #twst x reader #twst #idia shroud x you #ignihyde #request #tell it to my heart event

[miscellaneoussmp]

I haven't written Deathduo yet? Gotta change that. Anyways, here's Missa telling Phil about his scattered soul (cw/tw: death/violence mentions throughout):

There was something relaxing about sitting at the edge of the wall, letting the breeze blow through his hair. It's been a while since Missa let his hood down. He almost felt alive, almost. He's been dead for longer than he was alive. He died young, and that hurts more than it probably should. He had a whole life ahead of him. Missa knows he is lucky, though. He was given a second chance that very few ever get.

Missa didn't even notice when Philza sat next to him. He jumped when he noticed the other, getting a small laugh in response. Phil asked what was bothering him. Apparently, it was pretty obvious that he was lost in thought. Missa sighs, wondering for a moment if he should even tell the story. Phil, being as understanding as ever, says he doesn't have to say anything if he doesn't want to. Missa wants to. He really does. He just isn't sure how to start.

Missa starts with the last thing he can remember from being alive. He was running. He can't remember what or who he was running from, or even why. An arrow shot straight through his back, piercing straight through his heart. He remembers falling to his knees. Missa had watched, straddling the line of life and death, as his soul shattered like glass at the tip of the arrow through his chest. The pieces scattered like dandelion fluff. Then, he remembers the void. That was the first time he heard her voice. She spoke with such softness as she apologized, saying it wasn't meant to be his time yet. She promised him a second chance in exchange for ferrying souls to whatever awaited them in the world beyond. Missa didn't want to die without his soul. He's been traveling around trying to find parts his soul ever since. The only reason he got on the train in the first place was to look for the pieces of his soul.

Missa didn't even realize he was crying until he felt Phil wipe the tears from his cheeks that flowed from under his mask. He laughs at himself. It's stupid to cry about it now, he thinks. It's over. He can't even remember what the pain actually felt like. He got his second chance. He's existed for hundreds and hundreds of years, longer than he ever would have lived for, and he only has a barely put-together soul to show for it. Phil says that Missa is one of the most determined people he's ever met. Most would have stopped looking after a hundred years or so. Missa doesn't feel too special. How many people have their souls shattered anyway? Philza has this way of speaking that seems to make everything seem okay though. Missa thinks he's the luckiest person in the world to have somebody like Phil around. Phil promises to help Missa look when, not if, they get off this island.

#qsmp #qsmp drabble #qsmp fanfiction (sorta) #qsmp missa #qsmp philza #qsmp death duo #i cant believe it took me this long to write death duo #feel free to interpret their relationship here however yall please in my mind it's platonic/queerplatonic

[sorenphelps]

PIRATE AU! Marauders

I decided to revisit and expand my take on the magical pirate au concept I had for last year's @siriusblackfest. This will be an unreasonably long description of my ideas, so if you don't feel like reading it, I absolutely understand. (I'm an artist first anyway.) I’d really really appreciate if you further expand or actually write these ideas into a proper fic, I mean, YES PLEASE!

I will definitely do more art for this concept, so stay tuned! My other pirate au works are here, here and here, or refer to my pirate au tag.

🌊🏴‍☠️⚓pirate AU concept ideas⚓🏴‍☠️🌊

About the lore:

Wizards and witches are all descendants of the lost empires Atlantis, Lemuria and Mu:

The Atlantean mages were once the world's most powerful leaders, who could predict the future with their magical stones, created great underground palaces, conquered the entire world with their gilded ships, commanded sea monsters such as the Kraken, the Leviathan, sirens, hydras and other sea demons. They possessed an extremely high level of technical and spiritual knowledge, which they could use to rule over life and death.

The Lemurians were tall, noble wizards, who were able to turn invisible or into an animal whenever they wanted. They were talented in alchemy, they knew a lot about the magical properties of precious stones and metals, which was the basis of their magic. They were very friendly with non-magical people, who often took advantage of their hospitality and stole their treasure which got scattered all around the world.

According to their belief, the wizards of Mu are the direct descendants of god-like creatures coming from the Sirius constellation. In Mu, wizards were excellent architects and sailors who lived in luxurious homes. Their magic was based on starlight and they had exceptional knowledge of astronomy. With the help of their advanced magical rituals, they could achieve anything. Hence the exact way of performing such rituals was kept as a secret, which was passed down from generation to generation only to those who were deemed worthy of it.

As the power of the "sea wizards" was feared among ordinary people, the wizarding world was forced into hiding, and the islands were swallowed up by the sea, seemingly forever… until a powerful dark wizard named Voldemort began searching for hidden treasures (horcruxes) to bring Atlantis and their superior magical capabilities back to the surface.

According to the legends, each of the Four Founders and the Peverell brothers created a horcrux (seven in total) to perform the most powerful magic known to wizardkind, which managed to sink and forever hide the Islands. They had poured all their power into their respective horcrux, giving up their magic forever. To release the power from a horcrux, a dark, forbidden ritual must be performed: the one who performs it will gather their power in exchange of a piece of their soul. Each horcrux is unique in shape and nature, and the rituals to release their binding requires immerse energy which is the easiest sourced by slaying mythical creatures and sacrificing innocent lives. The one who gathers and releases all seven horcruxes, will break the magic sealing the Islands to the bottom of the oceans and ascend to become a new immortal being with infinite power. However, their soul will be lost forever, never to be repaired, stuck in limbo for all eternity.

The horcruxes made by the Founders are Gryffindor’s Sword, Slytherin’s locket, Hufflepuff’s Cup and Ravenclaw’s Diadem. The Peverell Brother's horcruxes are:

Antioch’s Astrolabe: made from metals as shiny as the stars, could predict the future. If used incorrectly, it could give its user a false sense of assurance of potential events happening, making them too reckless. Most users died young as the results were misinterpreted easily. It belongs to Mu.

Cadmus’ Coat of Arms: a gold ring inset with the Resurrection Stone, engraved with the power to recall people from death. It belongs to Atlantis.

Ignotus’ Crown of Invisibility, an invisible crown-like object resembling peryton antlers. It belongs to Lemuria.

About the characters:

James - The Captain. He is a fun, mischievous and charismatic wizard of Lemurian origins. He is always up to no good but has the necessary natural leadership skills to make the most critical decisions quickly even in the tensest situations. He owns the ship ‘The Marauder’, which can turn invisible upon his command. His ancestors had a strong connection to perytons (large stag-bird hybrids), could call them at will, and because these beasts had the shadow of a man, people thought they were shapeshifters. The antlers can be forged to the strongest of metals possessing great power and their fur and wings are said to be the key to achieve true invisibility able to conceal its wearers so absolutely that even death itself could not find them. As perytons were prophesied to lead to the downfall of Atlantis, they were hunted to extinction supposedly. According to legends, a wizard of James’ lineage will be able to summon them again. He originally started his journey to find and secure these mythical creatures. When conveying his magic, his aura slightly changes to resemble antler motifs, prompting his nickname as “Prongs”.

Sirius - The Navigator. He is the firstborn son of an ancient wizarding family from Mu, therefore he has very powerful magical abilities, expertise in the art of combat and superior astronomical knowledge. Even though he is James’ closest and most trusted mate, who clearly possesses the necessary skills to be Quartermaster or Master Gunner, the Crew voted him unfit for those positions because of his rebellious nature, recklessness, and short temper. (Before they started sailing together as a Crew, during a full moon he decided to settle his personal disagreement with Snape by locking him in the underwater cabin they prepared for Remus. James intervened, earning him his position as the Captain.) He is very skilled in map reading and excellent at calculating the exact latitude of the ship just by observing the stars, making him the perfect Sailing Master responsible for navigating and sailing the ship flawlessly. He also has several magical tattoos to further enhance his navigation prowess. He enjoys music and pranking his fellow crew members, who like him nevertheless as he is fiercely loyal and protective of them.

Remus - The Quartermaster. He is not a wizard, but a sea monster. His mother was a selkie, who gave up her sea life willingly for her lover. Fenrir Greyback, an evil maniac obsessed with sea monsters and driven mad by siren songs, attacked and stole the seal-skin of Remus’ mother. Remus’ father, in a desperate attempt at helping his lover, offered her the skin of their son. The ritual backfired, and Remus became a selkie himself, who transforms into a sea monster every full moon. His mother never recovered and eventually disappeared. Remus has joined James’ pirate crew to find his mother and seal-skin to reunite his family, but ended up finding a new one. He’s elected as the Quartermaster of ‘The Marauder’, responsible for coordinating the ship’s day-to-day operations and discipline, dividing the shares fairly, settling disputes and acting as a representative for the Crew members when presenting their wishes to the Captain. He is very intelligent and practical, enjoys researching and is quite skilled in map reading/drawing. He is fascinated by Sirius’ expertise in navigation.

Peter - The Cook & Cooper. He is a seemingly weak and clumsy man with no magical talent. He claims he lost his right hand in an accident; others suspect it was cut off because he was caught stealing, but the truth is that he willingly sacrificed it during a ritual to gain the ability to turn into a rat. He is very resourceful, always listening to whispers and gathering all information. He serves as the Cook and the Cooper on ‘The Marauder’, spending most of his time onboard in the kitchen and food chambers, taking care of the provisions, preparing meals and making and maintaining barrels. He never fights, even when teased with being a coward. He knows every secret on the ship, making him possibly one of the most dangerous crew members, yet he maintains his helpless façade so perfectly, no one really suspects anything about him.

Lily - The Surgeon. She is a curious young lady with a passion for medical science, which she could develop while observing her father during work. Her father was a doctor, who often visited an orphanage nearby to help the monks. She met and befriended Severus there, they collected herbs and other ingredients for fun. She discovered she had magical abilities when the potions she had brewed all somehow possessed healing properties. (Severus’ potions on the other hand usually turned out to be poisonous.) Lily joined ‘The Marauder’ as the Surgeon, after James’ multiple unsuccessful attempts at recruiting her. (He made his crew to stage very elaborate emergency scenarios, which theoretically required immediate medical assistance... until one time it was not theoretical anymore.)

Severus - The Boatswain. He is an intelligent and perceptive young man, with an extraordinary talent for alchemy. His father married his mother hoping the woman could make him the richest man alive as she was the descendant of known Alchemists. However, Severus’ mother only held the Book of Magick Moste Evile as a family heirloom which couldn’t turn anything to gold. Severus was sent to an orphanage after his father killed his mother, where he met with Lily. He had learned every bit of potion making and dark magic from his mother’s book in an attempt at impressing the girl, but the better he became, the more she estranged from him. He eventually ran away from the orphanage, and lived by his wits and magic. He served as a Powder Monkey and a Cabin Boy of famous pirate captains, where he gathered remarkable sailing experience too. On ‘The Marauder’, he was appointed as the Boatswain, responsible for the general maintenance of the ship and making sure all the supplies (including gunpowder, medicine, magical ingredients) were in order. The Crew somewhat respects his abilities but dislikes him as he has a grumpy and unpleasant personality and is scarily skilled in dark magic.

Marlene - The Master Gunner. She is a no-nonsense witch of Lemurian descent, in charge of the cannons, the gunpowder, the shots and weapons of ‘The Marauder’. She is the foremost expert in the art of combat and war strategy onboard. Her family was tasked to guard the Sword of Gryffindor for centuries, unaware that it was a horcrux. The sword was forged from pure silver and is inset with rubies, said to ignite great courage in the hearts of everyone wielding it and capable to defeat all enemies. Marlene wears a necklace decorated with a large and shiny ruby, representing her brave and combative personality. The stone also enhances her fighting abilities.

Dorcas - The Carpenter. She is an easygoing girl with ancestors from Mu. Despite being loosely related to Sirius, her magic differs a lot from his. She is a fortune teller (uses cards and not the stars to predict the possibility of events), and has a natural affinity for working with wood. (A magical tree is the symbol of the eastern side of Mu, which is also tattooed on Sirius’ neck.) She works as the Carpenter, responsible for the ship's maintenance and damage control, even during battle. Her job is to reconstruct entire sections of the ship and the sails. She designed and built the underwater cabin for Remus’ transformations. She also enjoys music and is in a relationship with Marlene.

#sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #lily evans #peter pettigrew #severus snape #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #marauders #pirate au #fanart #art by lau #lau draws with a tablet #lau doesn't write because of reasons #fetchalgernon

[faintingheroine]

Nihal: “Finally, she was gaining her victory, her justice; by dying, by giving up her life, but finally it would be known! She would run laughing to her father, show him the piece of paper.

‘Here,’ she would say, ‘do you see? Behlül cannot be a husband to your daughter, because he is the lover of the woman who came in place of my mother. This will kill your itty bitty Nihal a little, but what’s the harm in that? Since you have possessed the choicest woman in Istanbul…’

How she would laugh as she spoke, and then, as she laughed, fall at this father’s feet, and still laughing, glad to die, how happily she would give up her life. Yes, that was why she had wanted to escape the Island, to return home. It was necessary for her to die, in order for her vengeance on her father to be complete. With the comforting lightness of this thought, she stood up.”

(Chapter 20) (italics mine)

Bihter: “The recounting between mother and daughter was brusque and harsh. Beginning with her final meeting with Behlül, when this love — for some time a means of amusement, but now grown wearisome — was flung in her face with an insulting slap, like something dirty that was being returned, there had lived on in this woman only one emotion: revenge… To take revenge on him, on all of them! This emotion united Behlül and Nihal; she wanted to throttle them both in the same vice of wrath and enmity.” (…)

“But in the jest about marrying Nihal, she had felt a danger that threatened her love, deep down in her soul, and had rebelled against it. This marriage would not be. Behlül would be hers alone. This woman, who until then had acted only out of concern for her love, had quickly understood that this love could not survive, and had made her decision: yes, this love would perish, but not without scattering calamity all around it…

She did not pity Nihal. She had stored up many grudges against her; all the things she had tolerated had each become an excuse for enmity towards this girl, each bearing the weight of due vengeance. But beyond all this enmity was that in Nihal, who had been a child only yesterday, had emerged a rival. It was this more than anything that she could not forgive Nihal.”

(Chapter 21) (italics mine)

Both Nihal and Bihter turn vengeful at the end of the novel. Nihal’s aggression is mostly directed at herself whereas Bihter has more vengeful fantasies. But ultimately both want to achieve their revenge through harming themselves; Bihter will try to get her revenge by telling everything to Adnan which will ultimately harm her far more than it will harm Behlül or Nihal.

They are so powerless that they can’t get revenge on others without harming themselves, not even in their fantasies.

#aşk ı memnu #aşk-ı memnu #bihter #nihal #revenge #quotes #parallels

[askfallenroyalty]

It occurs to me that we never saw kris or suzy in the epilogue (though I think the latter was mentioned once? Idk). Did uh… are they doing decently?

// the darkworld arc had been abandoned/retconned. while there IS a UT-universe version of Kris and Susie (assuming Frisk isn't Kris in UT, tho Kris is still very much their own person regardless) in AFR, we will only know Susie in the redraw. (again... assuming UT Susie is Suzy and not a sister like the catty and catti situation.)

x-x we just know too little about DR we don't even know how the universes mirror each other and the timelines are all WHACK. its a nightmare to write for or even theorize about. i esp dont wanna think about how they'd change in the time skips of AFR.

anyway in the redraw we'll see a LOT more of Susie as Frisk's whole journey is about befriending her. i didn't add her and MK into the epilogue because we need a proper foundation that the redraw will provide. at that point, my Susie would diverge from canon Suzy heavily as her story would be quite different.

uh. speaking of that arc...

So. My original plan for the rewrite was for Gaster and Riverperson to have worked together in the prime timeline. then gaster got yeeted from time, leaving his work behind. Then, Chara would run away to the underground looking for a purpose and an escape from Asriel's BS and the island. (though, thinking on it, logically Mt.Ebott wouldn't be on monsterland... as that's exiled from humanity. so idk about that anyway)

Anyway exploring true lab Chara accidently uncovers an artificial darkworld and gets stuck as a ghostly narrator again, this time as a cherub with Feylow. Frisk, Susie and MK would be the party and they'd have to make their way home together. I've heavily considered this portion being a fangame-only material, for better play-value.

but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

ughhhhhhhh.

ugghghh.... gaster.

The story itself can keep gaster to a bare minimum. The guy is scattered across time. he's not directly involved at all. at most we know he did SOMETHING to chara in the prime timeline with their soul and now things are on the fritz (what caused this AU) up until fake DW, where they're possessed again.

(˘･_･˘)

I just don't want to play with DR canon at all anymore. darkworlds are inherently going to tie into that. and granted, in UT canon there's entry #17 that implies a growing darkness... it's not a stretch that Gaster could of done this. And he DID have a DT extractor, and the timeline is vague but the similar wording (and how old the core is) could imply he was around Chara's time. None of this is a stretch

buuuut working with Darkworld, even if it's a fake one, is too close to DR canon and we just don't know much yet. when i first did the darkworld, i thought it'd be a fun excursion into the same chapter 1 area... but i got too into the improv and imagination side of things without understanding the original at all. (and bad improv) it didn't really hit me that DR was it's own game and lore until Chapter 2, and I realized just how early on we are into that game's story.

I just... I can work with what I've got, I can avoid DR canon as much as I can but ultimately, I'm working with 2/7ths worth of puzzle pieces.

I don't wanna do any of this. Gaster used to be a "free for all" in the fandom to do whatever timeline/lore thing you wanted to pull of cause he was free real-estate. but now DR is treating him more and more as a character and I don't wanna touch the guy as he's going to be jossing the story.

idk what to do in all honesty. The darkworld portion IS important, Chara goes through major character development that the Continue Arc is built on. But I've been struggling with Feylow as a concept, and well, this. what the hell am I going to do.

#ooc #tbd #not art #pain and suffering

[rockislandadultreads]

New in Horror: Oct 2022 Releases

It Rides a Pale Horse by Andy Marino

The Larkin siblings are known around the small town of Wofford Falls. Both are artists, but Peter Larkin, Lark to his friends, is the hometown hero. The one who went to the big city and got famous, then came back and settled down. He’s the kind of guy who becomes fast friends with almost anyone. His sister Betsy on the other hand is more… eccentric. She keeps to herself. When Lark goes to deliver one of his latest pieces to a fabulously rich buyer, it seems like a regular transaction. Even being met at the gate of the sprawling, secluded estate by an intimidating security guard seems normal. Until the guard plays him a live feed: Betsy being abducted in real time. Lark is informed that she’s safe for now, but her well‑being is entirely in his hands. He's given a book. Do what the book says, and Betsy will go free. It seems simple enough. But as Lark begins to read he realizes: the book might be demonic. Its writer may be unhinged. His sister's captors are almost certainly not what they seem. And his town and those within it are... changing. And the only way out is through.

The Hollow Kind by Andy Davidson

Nellie Gardner is looking for a way out of an abusive marriage when she learns that her long-lost grandfather, August Redfern, has willed her his turpentine estate. She throws everything she can think of in a bag and flees to Georgia with her eleven-year-old son, Max, in tow. It turns out that the estate is a decrepit farmhouse on a thousand acres of old pine forest, but Nellie is thrilled about the chance for a fresh start for her and Max, and a chance for the happy home she never had. So it takes her a while to notice the strange scratching in the walls, the faint whispering at night, how the forest is eerily quiet. But Max sees what his mother can't: They're no safer here than they had been in South Carolina. In fact, things might even be worse. There's something wrong with Redfern Hill. Something lurks beneath the soil, ancient and hungry, with the power to corrupt hearts and destroy souls. It is the true legacy of Redfern Hill: a kingdom of grief and death, to which Nellie's own blood has granted her the key.

The House at Phantom Park by Graham Masterton

n this abandoned hospital, pain lives on... and it wants revenge. St Philomena's military hospital has been abandoned for over three years. Now Lilian Chesterfield, who works for one of the most successful building companies in England, is in charge of developing it into a luxury housing complex. But as soon as she and her colleagues start work in the Jacobean-style mansion, their dream turns into a nightmare. They hear screaming from wards full of empty beds. They hear doors slamming and find cutlery scattered over the kitchen floor. Then they see faces peering at them from the mullioned windows. Lilian is pragmatic – she doesn't believe in the supernatural. But just when she's put her mind at rest by scouring the mansion from top to bottom and finding nothing, a former patient of St Philomena's arrives with a warning. The hospital is haunted. And it is haunted by something a thousand times more terrifying than ghosts...

Lute by Jennifer Marie Thorne

On the idyllic island of Lute, every seventh summer, seven people die. No more, no less.

Lute and its inhabitants are blessed, year after year, with good weather, good health, and good fortune. They live a happy, superior life, untouched by the war that rages all around them. So it’s only fair that every seven years, on the day of the tithe, the island’s gift is honored.

Nina Treadway is new to The Day. A Florida girl by birth, she became a Lady through her marriage to Lord Treadway, whose family has long protected the island. Nina’s heard about The Day, of course. Heard about the horrific tragedies, the lives lost, but she doesn’t believe in it. It's all superstitious nonsense. Stories told to keep newcomers at bay and youngsters in line.

Then The Day begins. And it's a day of nightmares, of grief, of reckoning. But it is also a day of community. Of survival and strength. Of love, at its most pure and untamed. When The Day ends, Nina―and Lute―will never be the same.

#Horror #Gothic #Gothic Fiction #Paranormal #scary #scary stories #ghosts #supernatural #gothic horror #thrilling #thriller #book recs #Book Recommendations #reading recommendations #booktok #horror stories #new books #new releases #booklr #book tumblr #library books #tbr #books to read

[arduousfanfare]

Thesis Statement: Blizzard wrote itself into a corner with Diablo 4 and are now trying to reconnect the dots to past games/lore.

Spoilers For: Diablo, Daiblo 2, Diablo 3, Diablo Immortal, Diablo 4. Pedantically discussing the larger pieces.

On a personal level what isn't considered spoilers, to me, is facts that are instantly found on any wiki, general lore in the basic of searches. Including game information, art, etc.

For Context: In Diablo 4: Season 3, Season of the Construct is led by Zoltun Kulle. Diablo 4 takes place 50 years after the DLC of Diablo 3: Reaper of Souls. Diablo Immortal is supposed to put the gap between Diablo 2 and Diablo 3. Between Diablo 2 and Diablo 3 it's 20 years. Between Diablo 1 and Diablo 2 it's 2 years.

The Focus: Game World Maps, expanding the world created in December 1996 with every iteration except Diablo 4 can be both good and bad.

The Problem: How each game ends, tying into the world "transformation" but poorly in the sense as with each iteration creates more disconnect.

And now without further ado...

In the beginning there was a town. It was cursed. The NPCS are few and far between but all serve specific purposes as you descend down into the darkness of the blighted church.

The roots heavily inspired by a table top game, Dungeons & Dragons. A lone hero fighitng to defeat the evil that has poisoned them. As the years go on this basic format warps significantly. There is no world map at this point. There is 3 character classes without limitations on what items and skills they can develop. The player can choose what points to invest in their basic stats and skills to invest in as well as some items will provide their own skills.

In Diablo 2 you are in a hodgepodge camp with other survivors. Two look familiar but not exactly. If you do look it up from Diablo 1 the Warrior, Rogue, Sorcerer are Prince Aiden [Becomes the Dark Wonderer and brings the blight of Diablo to the rest of the world], Jazreth [Becomes Diablo 2 Villain the Summoner], and Moreina [Becomes Blood Raven formerly of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye]. The town of Tristram has fallen a second time and a familiar face joins the journey through the lands through an ACT structure. That is the only way to orient the world. The world if Procedurally Generated while the Camps is what orient and grounds the player.

The player can choose between multiple classes this go around with more unique basses, skill trees, basic backstories. All NPCs proceed to comment on whatever you choose. Continuing to give purpose in every step as to why the player is here.

Each ACT has a completely different Tileset, with different color enemies of similar statures mixed with new ones to continue to test your mettle against. As you progress it does feel like you are traveling the world.

Lore Point:

The End of Diablo 2: The World Stone is destroyed and exposes Sanctuary more to Heaven and Hell. Wrapping up key stories like the Barbarian Tribes being scattered without purpose after losing the stone.

Everything serves a significant purpose and is extremely detailed.

These trappings are what forms a style that people continue to enjoy today in other games based on this format of using a town to ground the player in the world. Path of Exile taking advantage of this format.

In Diablo 3 you choose your class, you are a traveler who make their way to New Tristram, talk to a Familiar NPC, meet the real Protagonist of the game, retread old enemies and plot points. You do Travel the World, you do have an ACT structure tied to the World Map. You see Sanctuary for what it is. A super continent.

You do get to visit Islands and Heaven/Hell through portals. It all comes together in an established thing.

Lore Point:

Diablo Immortal: Uses the same map and locations as Diablo 3. Continuing to bridge the game between 2 and 3.

The End of Diablo 3: You kill Diablo, trapping him with the other Evils into the Black Soulstone.

The End of Diablo 3; Reaper of Souls: Malthael shatters the Black Soulstone, the 7 Evils are released into the world, the final prophecy of Adria comes true.

Your Player Character is now a retconned child of the Nephalem, you do have a background but again it doesn't play into any significant story beat as you are not the Hero of this story. You are more of a witness.

With all that being said, laid out, established...

[On one hand, this could've been the reset that this franchise needed. This could've been a great leap forward with deepening every piece in a new but familiar space. This could've been Diablo's WoW moment. It hasn't been. This is Diablo Casual.]

In Diablo 4 you are a lost person who tries to weather the storm only to stumble into the cult of Lilith and start the journey to understand her reawakening. Only to find out you're not the Hero of this Story either and you can skip the campaign by making 1 character, get past the cutscene and forget about it. You don't have to play it at all. Which means you can get right into killing demons and getting that sweet loot.

Arguably the actual Campaign is so poorly written and with how it "ends" on a cliffhanger of the real Main Character sailing away... Its mind numbing when the entire game world has been this one significant space and islands dotting around it. Heaven/Hell accessed by Portals but Heaven is silent. Hell is developed a little more interestingly but its not enough.

The Main Antagonist of the game Lilith is devolved into a cartoon villain. There was an opportunity to present these legendary characters into a more moral grey light, possibly adding real rpg components and pushing the story forward in a significant way. None of this happens.

The map is a super continent. Each significant town is a main hub with smaller places spread out. None of the previous locations are mentioned. The character classes are back to basics with only 5 without a knight type. There are distinct tile sets but the enemies are reused/recolored like Diablo 2. There are some enemies who represent classes from Diablo 3, like cultish Zakarum and the monks. But there is no grounding. There is no roots. There is no reason.

Overall the disconnect is surreal. Even more so with "story themes" [in the clinical loosest meaning] being put into Seasons and Zoltun Kulle being hunted for in season 3. It feels out of left field. It could've been tied in better with previous game mentioned Horadrim, deepening how this continent has deep dark roots to previous games. That just like trying to renovate an old house the bones will remember what was lurking there. People have in ancient times rebuilt cities on top of the same points like the city of Troy. Each iteration pancaked on top the next to do in theory better. Building its history.

I understand this is a new game in an established franchise. I understand they wanted to go back to darker, gritty roots that feel more reminiscent of Diablo 1. I understand they took almost every axed feature of Diablo 3 and put it into Diablo 4. Dedicated PvP areas, Paragon Boards, deeper but simpler character creation with builds. Wanting to provide an easier point of entry into this. I understand not everyone really cares about Lore. I understand the first two games were made by essentially the same people/team and then the next two/three games by different people. I understand that even if the original creators had stayed on it wouldn't have made any difference and its just mental conjecture.

I don't understand the why. I can't even figure out if its the execution of these ideas that's bothering me the most or whoever is allowed to write it hasn't put in the work about it. I'm not saying we need the original team back on this because that's a boring argument. I'm saying there is no cohesive structure. No one seemingly at the wheel making these decisions in a significant way that would further the story of this particular game.

It all feels out of left field. Not disappointment. Just disconnected.

Is asking more from a Billion Dollar AAA company too much? Some would say yes. I wouldn't say so. Expectations is a loaded word. Everyone has their own biases and I wouldn't mind a Diablo MMO. But perhaps Blizzard has been clouded too long with WoW. There is so much potential but it continues to feel wasted.

#diablo #games #microsoft #video games #diablo 3 #diablo 2 #diablo immortal #diablo 4 #blizzard entertainment #blizzard #activision blizzard #disconnect #pc games #arpg #AAA #video game parity is a joke #fan #fandom #fandom culture #fandom things #story #lore

[memory-of-deross]

Can Hollow or any of the orphys cook?

✦ Under the cut due to length!

The land of Paradise was nothing short of a blessing, and the folk who would walk amongst the unburdened soils with grace in their steps felt it thrum deep under their mortal flesh and within the flowing bloods; for the Divine had hand in every way of their lives, the shed sanctified pieces of themselves laying in the heart of everyone. Before the world was unleashed upon with the ill and of curses from the scorned testing hands, only gifts laid before humanity within Paradise— a gift of life. And to the blessed, their gratitude was worn in their breaths alone, not a hint of that ugly pestilence known as greed lingering in the air.

In a place so holy, it was only natural that customs developed from the more collectively innovative and faithful minds, planted seeds of concept that sprouted so as long as their care would linger. It was always a breathtaking sight when they did so— even from a young age and nothing more than a naive boy who would lay by the shores or reach for the thriving vines, Orpheus found himself musing about such more than he would concern himself with the faults of such life. Anything more than Paradise remained myth to his ears when his thoughts blurred with the crashing tides of fantasy but that was only because, he’d justify, there was nothing more and nothing greater. The thought brought bouts of laughter from anyone within Paradise you would ask such; it was easily perceivable as malice by many in nature, mocking a question that’s answer was so obvious, but to someone like him— it only carried such joy that it made him smile, because It was all he knew. As he’d grown, little changed.

(Maybe cruelty always was quite in his nature, ignoring plight in favor of a lightened soul. Maybe she thought so?)

Joy. There was a particular tradition that island held that bore much of it, it was one of Orpheus’s favorites. The daylight was spent running through the forests, ducking under the bark and rummaging through the woven leaves of the bushes to carefully pick and collect ingredients, dedicatedly scattered all around the island before it was spent walking back with idle chatter, baskets full and ready to be prepared into meals. A young child stumbled after her father often back to their home, clinging onto his arm and a look of wonder that made the man hum and brush his hand along her hair in reminiscence of the past, he was no different when he was her age, after all, and not much more so when she would help him with the dishes of the night, the warmth of the food paling in comparison to their own happiness in those moments. Brief, but who was Orpheus if not desperate to hold onto mere sentiments, the experience of her smile?

(It was not quite memory then.)

Their warmth would come to join the masses eventually. As the moon rested high in the sky, the trace of the Gods’ eyes peering down with a curiosity that made them feel so strangely human in that time, Orpheus would often be the one to hold the bulk of their meals in his arms as they strode off to the center, their eyes and many else’s were greeted with glory in its truest form of friends and family gathered around long tables clothed with woven coverings, the only illumination aside from the bright moon being the candles spanning across the gathering as with foods of their own that the rest of the islanders had brought, dishes ranging from small to big. With his free hand, he lead his daughter to their own chairs and sat patiently for the event to begin, exchanging anecdotes and tales with the vibrant company of the rest, the buzzing cicadas drowned out by the shared laughter or conversations.

The banquet of Creation, celebrating the gifts of the gods through the meals that they would make with their own hands, morphed and sculpted from holiness, as their hunger remains sated; ensuring eons more of their thriving. It was something Orpheus couldn’t help but delight in from the concept of it all, but there was nothing more than he’d revel in than the simple excitement of his daughter— if he was truthful, the stars that gathered as the nights faithful companions, it was dim when he would shift his gaze over after talking to whomever was close to him and be fortunate enough to bare witness to the look of his daughter. Innocent and gleeful and bright, it was surely enough to make even the coldest of gods crumple before her.

He would make it known. Once upon a time, a father leaned in close, and whispered something to his daughter.

“My daughter, do you want to know a secret?”

“Huh? A secret, Father?”

“Yes, yes, but you mustn’t say it out loud… the gods, they are generous to us, no?”

“Mhm.. I do!”

“We gather here under the moon and they bring about us blessing and salvation once more, with the food we make, they are appeased, but.. I think, honestly? It is all because of you, my Butterfly. Your wings flutter with nothing but hope, and against the night sky, when I behold you, I only see your glow leading me once more amongst the darkness. Do not ever forget this, okay? Promise me.”

Orpheus had many last words in the end. It was a shame that this was not one of them.

Many things from the remains and ashes of Paradise was hardly salvageable, being able to reborn anew even when flames consumed it all so, but what was the right of a God, if not to instead take? Ice had come to claim the charred lands as its own domain, seeping into the barren grounds littered with rubble and into the skeletons that lay, their fate nothing but their own fault for holding a torch they never knew how to bear. They didn’t know more, none of them did, than a fragile life built upon a church of wood, and that was precisely why they were so… foolish, especially that man.

From the frozen over corpse of Orpheus, Hollow reaped the parts of humanity that only mortal could bear, their hubris and ignorant joy in all of its glory; the memory of it, better days. Whilst one could not nurse plants long withered and dead back to life, they could only make start anew with what is left— the last remainders of Paradise would live on so as long as his revered words would be spoken. The seeds of tradition would be furthered until the grounds had roots and growth would be present once more. And as tradition of the dinners was, a God was to not partake in such activities themselves; their body the light casted amongst the mortals, never to be touched or grasped in their hands fully. Often, his own seat remained high, further from the rest of his followers as a window reflecting the moons own light made him don an almost surreal halo of light around his figure. They did not speak to him from where they remained, he hardly saw the need to. Voices only bounced back against frost. With such principles, he was satisfied.

Not always, though.

Before the first one after everything had been held, before he was fed with worship that it was the sole thing that left him whole, he had tried. He had managed to stumble into the kitchens to assist with the dishes, but his hands— his left one was yet to be fully frozen over at the time, but it was nothing less than severe that it only deterred him, and the discontent that grew the boreal in the room did nothing to help. He simply couldn’t, those days and moments of simple cooking gone. His daughter found him at the helpful word of a few passersby, the area left a frozen mess as he laid hopelessly, muttering— why.

Though, it was befitting, he took only what a mortal could have, after all, their desperation to cling onto anything of the past and that false hope. That was why, a God had the answers that mortals would never. Hollow simply had sworn anyone who dare to see such a moment to silence, he would not allow his name to be used in anything but prayers for the bettering of the future of all and especially more so not tedious slander.

Orpheus was a dead man and he was damned, if what lead to the destruction of Paradise was not enough to deem it so, Hollow would make sure of it, that he be cast far into an abyss as he stole away his light.

Hollow paused as his gaze bore into the dark hue of the wine he’d taken with him with the rest of his food. The hall remained quiet with nothing more than his thoughts echoing for himself only, it’d yet to start at all, remaining a pause until his word was given. But it couldn’t, not without…

“Where is my daughter? Bring her to me. Do you believe I would dare start without her?” The God narrowed his eyes at the poor soul who had lingered by, a slight huff was enough to send them running off to find his daughter, who should’ve present here half an hour ago. For anyone else, he would not hesitate to be less forgiving, for everything he’s done, this was the minimum, but it was his daughter at the end of it all— if he was the moon now, she would be the stars by that accompanied him. It was only right. It was only fair.

Fortunately, it hardly took long, a young girl donning an outfit reminiscent of a lamb’s entered the halls, and for a few minutes, her head remained ducked as the clicking of her shoes was the only thing that staged off utter silence otherwise, the eyes of his follower trailing after. From the more higher ranked few, a woman dressed in dark had a look of pity— but there was none else she could do, as Source of Evil stumbled onto the steps that lead to where Hollow sat, the man in question looking more than pleased with himself. “Greetings,” he hummed as she sat by him, slumped forward with the misfortune of it all; it made his face drop and the God furrowed his brows, before he shook his head.

There could be no further delay. He could ease whatever her troubles later.

That man from then was not so wrong in one thing, the Butterfly appeasing the Gods and bringing the blessings themselves. For as long as she remained, even in a cage of ice, the promise of Paradise looked so bright as creation was present once more.

Raising the wine glass high, Hollow spoke at last with nothing of wavering tone:

“Let the banquet begin!”

#✦ (the pen lifts yet again. ask answered) #❄️ (borealis of eden. hollow) #( sorry anon thsi really wasn’t meant to be That serious but uhm I. I got a bit too silly ) #( for context on why ‘orpheus’ is mentioned! him and hollow are the same person orphy is hollow in the past/pre paradise fall) #( however hollow is extremely detached to his time as orpheus and is Dramatic abt it. ufnrotunatelu ) #( read more because it got. long )

[adventurousblur]

@smileimi ✰ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ a scoff from the much smaller hedgehog. ❝look, i don't care who you say you are, that's no reason to go around stealing what isn't yours! ❞ an accusatory finger points at the gem craned in the blue blur's hand. ❝that belongs here.❞ it was this pinkette's truth. for all she knew, this chaos emerald, as the other called it, was stationed in this building. and it was her turn to look after it, per her boss.

                          » » »                          NOW LOADING…

THE PROMISE OF A CHAOS EMERALD was too sweet to pass up; after all, he knew they had immediately scattered after their usage on the islands. Eager to stretch his rested legs and gift said item to Tails, Sonic wasted no time in following the chaos energy murmuring beneath peach skin, finally stumbling upon a large structure in the nearby forest of Central City. It seemed as if this strange building was [ thankfully ] left unguarded; absent of any souls even as the hedgehog snapped up the gem.

. . . Until a high-pitched voice suddenly began to yell.

❝ Huh? ❞ What was Amy doing here, out of all places? He thought she'd gone out for her own adventures just after their group PARTED. Ear twitched once, twice as Sonic listened to her speak; he waited until the hedgehog was finished to shout his piece. Reasoning was out of the question [ why was she acting like they didn't know each other? ], so the hero tucked his prize away before shouting at the pink outline-

❝ LOOK- ❞ A mirror to her first word, chosen on purpose of course. ❝ I don't know who you are, but you're definitely not my Ames. Wait a sec . . . did Eggman do this? ❞ Don't tell him this was gonna be another Shadow situation . . .

#this blue hedgehog shows up at ur doorstep at 12 in the afternoon wyd?? #sorry I didn't include ur icon btw :c #I like to answer asks on their own posts for thread tracking #answered ✰ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 ࿐ྂ #ic ✰ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ࿐ྂ #main ✰ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐆𝐔𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 ࿐ྂ #smileimi

[elenariseventide]

When Penance is to Burn

The ever dreary atmosphere of the estate at Ravenhill had been shrouded deeper into darkness having mostly fallen to ruins after the current generation of Duskhollows sought refuge to the north in Quel’Danas. It had been by decree of the Raven Lord himself that the household be emptied and relocated to the far sunnier island that set as home for the other half of their Houses. There had been the occasional guard dispatched to the spanning estate to inspect the damages though it had been at least two years since anyone truly inhabited the home. Far be it time since the two elder noble Houses of Silvermoon conjoined their families and soon after the Horde’s aid in Argus had come to an end did the Lord and Lady resign themselves to a retirement of sorts. Their daughter had been born and despite the occasional call to action that Cineas took in his own regard, the two found themselves… domesticated and settled. 

However, this did not stop the missives from arriving, calling for their numbers, gold, and power to stand against whatever enemy loomed over Azeroth at any given moment. More often than not, they were ignored. It was only with the news of the fallen Banshee queen did Elenaris find herself somewhat intrigued but also disappointed. Although, it had been the defeat of N’zoth that had garnered the Duskhollow’s attention the most from their little piece of paradise on the Isle. The whispers which once guided them, haunted them in the best and worst of ways had become still and quiet. They had delivered the souls needed to procure their child’s life and as Maevyn had been born, their connection fell distant like a far off memory floating in the cosmos. 

While this offered the darkened pair some peace they had not ever expected to feel since their devotion had been offered to the shadows and yet at the same time, they felt lost without it. 

It had been months since Ravenhill had seen life when they decided to return to the estate and while they knew there had been damages to the manor itself, the Duskhollows were unprepared for the sight beholden to them upon their arrival. The gates were barely hanging to their hinges, the gardens that led to the grand entrance were littered with flowers crisp with lifeliness and the colorless hue of death becoming the petals scattered about the paths. There were parts of the towers which crumbled and what they were to see upon opening the doors of the manor was what broke her heart the most having seen its effect on Cineas. It was at this moment she had realized making the decision to leave their daughter behind in Quel’Danas had been the proper one. A slender and delicate hand raised to rest upon her husband’s arm, offering a nod in silent reassurance that they would restore his home, their home.

They had stood just a step outside large doors to peer inside, unknowing to what truly awaited their entry inside. A feeling had overwhelmed Elenaris as the neverending darkness loomed within the near empty walls of the estate and perhaps years ago she would have had the consciousness to foresee what was to come, the wherewithal to allow her perception to be greater than her comfort in normality. 

But as time passed them by, they had not prepared for the darkness to consume them in the way in which it took hold of Cineas Duskhollow the instant his being crossed the threshold. It was as if the universe and void beyond converged all on him all at once, attacking not only his body but his mind and rendering him powerless. In a flash of black feathers and purple mists, Elenaris found herself bound behind an invisible barrier which she attacked with all her force in attempts to get to him. No matter her efforts, she could not break through and thus fell helpless to watch the horror before her. The shadows swirled around him, contorting his body in unfathomable ways causing the release of painful screams to echo into the desolate mansion. She wouldn’t simply sit and watch as he  suffered, as he was tortured to death but as Elenaris lifted her hands to once again slam on the barrier, they would not move. Her entire being was frozen in place, only able to lift her head to catch the sight of Cineas’ pale amethyst hues locking onto hers before widening as the sound of his screams were cut off by the undeniable sound of breaking bones. The soft glow of his eyes faded, his lids not having the chance to fall to allow him a peaceful gaze upon his face while his crumpled body slumped to the ground. 

Her breath caught in her chest as she felt a piece of her fade away, unable to believe what had transpired before her and as his body hit the floor, so did hers as the barrier gave way. The pale blonde Sin’dorei scrambled for her soulmate’s lifeless body, hands shakily moving over him unsure of which thought to follow as thousands raced through her mind. The silence had become deafening, those that had traveled with them from the Isle standing huddled just outside the doorway just watching…waiting, for what? Who was to say. Each and every one of them felt the pain and horror as a guttural scream ripped through that silence as Elenaris fell over Cineas, not only a sadness but an anger overcoming her entire being. 

It had returned for them, allowing them just a brief view of what life without the Void would or could be like had they chosen a different path. However, the Void gave them life within their daughter and they asked for much in return. Despite their every effort to appease them, it would seem the shadows made their own rules. As her knuckles bore white with the tightened grip to the cloth of his shirt, she heard a soft voice beckoning her. It was familiar in tone, soothing in melody and with the choice to acknowledge this voice, Elenaris lifted her lids and standing there had been Maevyn, their little raven haired child beaming in all her glory with eyes like her father’s. 

“Mama, you were crying…” The soft voice cooed, a tiny hand caressing her mother’s face but Elenaris had noticed that not all was right with her daughter either. “I had a bad dream too, mama… something’s wrong with papa.”

[ @cineas-duskhollow​ ]

#inspired #the lady and the raven #Duskhollows #eventide

[akumanoken]

The gift that came from Ivy & Tiffanie for the princess was a simple one. A snowglobe, housed within said globe was a sakura tree. Shaken up, both white & pink would fall together. Across the front, the globe’s stand held a few words. ’GUARD With you all the way’ Like a soft vow. The Warriors were like Sakura’s siblings, of course, as too were they his protectors, & his supporters. Such is what makes a Family.Though, the gift didn’t stop there, it came with a key, attached to the bottom. And at said bottom of the snowglobe was a hole for that key. It opened a small part of the stand of the globe & out of it fell a little piece of paper, rolled up neatly. If unfolded & read, it told a little tale:

The Anagénnisi Tree

A large tree that born blossoms on it branches, which reflected a bright pink against sunlight & a vivid purple against moonlight. A floral creation by the one know as Azem, for her beloved sworn sister, Styx.In a time long before our star, Styx was known to be the Bringer of Death, the being known as the Grim Reaper. Hers was a tireless work, always tending to the souls of the aethereal sea, where no flora or funa could thrive. Despite her duty, she was wonderfully beholded to life & the beauty by which nature could grow.Azem, the Lover of Life & Traveler of the Stars, saw her sworn sister adoreion for life’s bounty, & endeavored to create a flora that survive being near the gates to the aetherial sea, blossoms that could regrow no matter how many times the reaper placed her hands, laced with death, upon them & only returned brighter.Thus was the Anagénnisi Tree brought into creation.Such a tree has sense been lost to creation, like much of the ancients, however, a small fragment of such a tree believes to remain upon the star.The Sakura. Ever still standing between Life & Death as Rebirth. Next to it’s siblings evermore.

Happy Birthday Souji Sakura!! @vixlenxe​

Sakura was still in his night dress when he was told of the incredible influx of presents awaiting him in the lounge.  It seemed most if not all of Makoto had sent something to the princess, as well as a few dignitaries from other countries.  It was... a lot to take in, but it did fill his heart with a sense of warmth.  

He would miss the star festival on this day, but it seemed he still remained in the hearts of the people of his island... so he could simply close his eyes and imagine the heat and the sea air, the bamboo branches and the wishes written upon the colorful papers.

But before he went to change and get ready to accept them, he found a snow globe on his vanity.  A lone sakura tree, pink and white petals whirling around, scattering around it.  Beautiful.  

“GUARD. With you all the way... oh you two...” he smiled, letting fingers glide along the glass, admiring such a beautiful bauble-- but the key drew his attention.  it was attached to the bottom, and at the base of the globe was a keyhole.  “A secret compartment? There couldn't possibly be more!!”

A small scroll fell out, and Sakura blinked, hurriedly unfurling it.  “...The Anagennisi Tree...”  A story....

A beautiful tale of a tree that could stand being so close to the aetherial sea, that was touched by death and only grew more beautiful.  A symbol of rebirth, and the beautiful bond between the bringer of death and lover of life....

The ancestor of the Sakura...a symbol of rebirth, sitting between light and darkness, next to its siblings... next to his sisters.

They wouldn’t stop, tears and hiccups falling unbidden from his eyes, his lips.  He held the paper to his chest, shivering.  The urge was already too great, and he tore away from the vanity, searching for the sisters.  He must tell them how much it meant to him.  How much he loves them.  How happy he is to finally have his family after so long.

#submission #vixlenxe #Ivy #tiffanie #Sakura is a mess

[the-real-lyra-vale]

💗🗣️🤬 for the wip asks?

💗Is there a scene you can't wait to write for a WIP?

There is a WIP that I wrote the outline for, but never started drafting. It doesn't even have a working title, but it's about a found family pirate crew, and one of them is a decommissioned robot who was originally created to show movies in rich people's mansions, and record whatever the owners wanted them to as well. Their name is PETRA, and that stands for Personal Entertainment/Theater Recording Automata.

The scene I can't wait to write is PETRA's backstory.

The crew finds them shipwrecked on a deserted island, barely running. You slowly get pieces of their backstory over the book because PETRA's memory is missing, and they and the rest of the crew go on quests to find the scattered drives that hold all of their memories so that they can piece together what happened to them. They visit local shops and towns that are rumored to have people that can repair bots, because it's a very rare trade for anyone except the incredibly wealthy to get into.

Without spoiling too much, PETRA has a human soul, by which I mean they are basically a ghost possessing a robot.

🗣️Talk about your favorite WIP.

It's actually a WIP I've never talked about. This is a new blog, but I had another one before and this never saw the light of day. Really, it's just an idea at this point, but I adore it so much.

The basics of it is that it's a gothic epistolary (Why, yes. Thank you for asking, I am a dracula fan.) but that's really where the dracula similarities end. It's set in the midwest United States in fairly modern times. Probably around 1990- 2010 actually. I know that's a big range, but I'm not sure about it yet.

The main characters are a plucky young adult cryptozoologist, a mischievous psychic witch, and the ghost who's haunting them. The cryptozoologist and the witch are seeking proof of the existence of cryptids. The theme kind of centers around acceptance, which I think is a bit weird for a gothic novel, but it feels right.

Thank you so much for asking me this, because this idea felt much more nebulous before I wrote it down.

🤬Is there a WIP that you hate?

Yes, unfortunately. The WIP I hate is actually my current project, which also doesn't have a working title yet (I need to get on that. Maybe I'll make a page on my blog for WIPs). I don't want to hate it, and it's so frustrating to me that I'm going in that direction, because I loved the idea before I fleshed it out. Maybe that means I just need to go back to the drawing board about the basics of the story.

I've also considered putting it on the back burner for now and going back to a WIP that I'm farther along on.

Thank you so much for sending me an ask! I really appreciate it and I hope you have a lovely day.

#writeblr #creative writing #writers of tumblr #writing wip