#cw leaks

[silvermahogany]

YESYESYESYES HOLY SHIT ONE SHOT AT REDEMPTION!!! PLEASSEEEE GIVE HIM HIS RATTY UGLY BASTARD ENERGY BACK IM B EGGING ON MY KNEES I WANT HIM TO BE MY HORRIBLE BABYGIRL AGAIN,,,, WEBTORRE HAS A CHANCE,,,,,,,,,,,

Also him being a claymore is the funniest weapon they couldve picked bro he cant lift that. He lifts it in his teeth

[bluexiao]

cw leaks

am i the only person who thinks the animation burst is lackluster? 🥲🥲 like THE STOMPING IS OKAY but can it be in an animation better ?????? idkkk probs just me but like I EXPECTED MORE since he’s like the most awaited character at this moment

wish they tweak it to make it look more “powerful” or maybe it’s just me being nitpicky and comparing it to nahida, yae and raiden or maybe it’s the lack of the actual voice line?? but still!!! when i saw yae’s burst for the first time before i was sO INLOVE WITH HER EVEN IF I WASN’T THE FIRST TIME AROUND and with scara idk mannnnn i wish it was better

idk man he just looks like a kid having a tantrum for me kdkskskxksk so sorry scara i still love u but it’s bc i love u that im being very nitpicky :))

[anxiefics]

: ̗̀➛ cw leaks!

HE ACTUALLY STICKS HIS TONGUE OUT OMG HE'S SO CUTE

[shiraishi-kanade]

// pjsk leaks

No opinion on the event cards but the fes cards? Beautiful. Show-stopping. Gorgeous. Life-changing. Revolutionary even.

[lotussart]

happy tummy hurt monday

[wild0moon]

go white boy go

[catcze]

Spoilers for Wriothesley's backstory !! References to leaks of his backstory !!

When Wriothesley was younger and homeless on the streets of Fontaine, an orphan who ran from his foster home to fend for himself, there was no one for him to rely on. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and putting your trust in the wrong person could result in lying facedown in a ditch, just another casualty of the city.

Wriothesley was prepared to fight for himself for the rest of his life. Was prepared to sleep with one eye open, and ready to get stabbed in the back at any second. Everyone around him wouldn't cast him a second glance and wouldn't offer him a shred of help.

No one, maybe, except for you.

You were around his age— that much was evident from the first day he met you, when you found him crouched in an alleyway half-starved and soaked through by the rain. You were kind, if the umbrella you covered his head with was any indication. You had gotten soaked yourself, but you still smiled at him and told him to keep it, that he needed it more.

And lastly: you were born into good, good money. He found that out the next day when you bought him a packaged meal of warm meats and bread. Although he was hesitant to accept your kindness, cautious of what price you would attach to such a thing, the grumbling of his stomach won out and he finished the whole meal in less than five minutes. It was one of the best things he had ever tasted.

You said nothing as you sat beside him, uncaring of how the dirt of the sidewalk stained your clothes. When he was finished, you offered him a bottle of water. As he chugged it down, you gave him your first name, and when he hesitated to tell you his, you smiled and shook your head.

"It's fine, you don't have to tell me," you told him with a slight smile. And that was that.

From then on, you find him every few days at the same spot. He doesn't talk much, you discover, but he's always willing to listen to you talk. Anything under the sun— your lessons, your absent parents, the droves of socialites who try to butter you up with hollow words and false admiration— you can ramble about it for hours and hours and he'll sit beside you, interjecting on occasion, but generally letting you take the lead in conversation.

Once, you brought him a canister filled with tea, and watched as his eyes lit up at his first taste.

"This is some really good stuff," he told you, awe in his voice, already going for a second sip. You smile, seeing him so pleased.

"I'll bring you more next time. I'll try to make a different brew, too, to see if you'd like that even more."

When he gets scuffed from street fights, you're there to patch him up. Clumsily at first, with a furrowed brow and tangled strips of bandages, but you get better and better at it over time. He doesn't reject the help, and you don't scold him for getting hurt. It is times like these where your hands —only calloused by the grip of a pen and nothing more, unlike his that are so scarred and rough— make you both remember how different your worlds are.

One day, you go to the place you two had been meeting for nearly a year now, and it's empty. That's not particularly unusual— it's happened once or twice before where your friend couldn't make it, so it's no cause for concern. You merely leave the food and water in a little nook he had shown you before, and make your way home, hoping that he's alright and not too banged up.

When you get home, the maids and the butler all tell you of a recent incident that happened not too far away in the city— of an assault and a mangled body, of the perpetrator on death's door himself, barely rushed to the hospital in time. While you have dinner alone, they urge you to exercise caution if you go out tomorrow.

So you take heed of their words, bringing a new platter of food and hide small knife in your pocket as you head back to the same place yesterday. The food and water from before is still there, hidden in the little nook only the two of you know of.

Anxiety grips you, but you try to shake it off. You return the next day. And the next. And the next. Each day, the food you leave remains untouched every time.

You fear the worst after a week is up— you fear for his safety, for his health. You fear for the only genuine friend you had ever made, who had seen you as more than just your parents' only child. You don't leave your room for a week, poring over the newspaper and anything else you can get your hands on. The househelp thinks you're ill— and you are. You're sick with worry, sick with the late nights spent up as you stretch yourself thin trying to find something, anything about him. But when your parents learn of your seclusion, you're forced to give up your search. In the end, you're the only one left to remember the nameless boy with the soft smile and a love for tea.

It is years and years down the line. Wriothesley had been doing well as the administrator of the fortress— so much so that he had been invited to the Palais Mermonia to receive the title of Duke. He had barely managed to sidestep a grand investiture ceremony, instead opting to sign, take the relevant certificates, and be done with it.

When he enters the office of the Iudex, he's met with the man himself and a surprisingly familiar face. One that he had never forgotten, even on days where the ground threatened to crumble underneath him and the walls of his prison cell felt like they were closing in.

Your eyes blow wide, your grip on the documents threatening to rip the papers, and he doesn't miss the slight wobble in your lip as you gaze at him.

"Good afternoon, I'm pleased that you could join us," says the Iudex. He sweeps one hand in your direction. "This is one of our top attorneys,assigned to assist with the processing of your documents and certificates."

Wriothesley smiles, wider than he has in a long, long time, and reaches a hand out for you to grasp.

"Hi," he says, never taking his eyes on your face. He squeezes your hand and feels you tremble in his hold. "My name is Wriothesley. It's nice to meet you."

[rabdoidal]

i cant believe ive seen all this queer discourse about the goncharov script leak but nothing about this deleted scene???? like it sets up so much for the conflict in the second half of the movie....

[attackondrawing]

[moonsun2010]

our uni held an art jam, so i got to try my hand at painting! quite fun even if half the time was spent panicking over the values

[bluexiao]

cw leaks

fuck anemo scara doesn’t really make sense to me his boss form even has an electro on its chest like his own outfit like…. it’s just too weird idk doesnt even feel like scara istg

[ratblazer]

Big fan of weed cat’s evolution

[toweringclam]

If the leaks turn out to be true (which I'm skeptical on), it would pretty much upend most lore theories about certain characters. However, it actually fits in pretty well with my own theories.

Spoilers below the break.

So Radahn was meant to be Miquella's consort. Probably.

This... actually works.

First off, my theory has always been that the Empyreans all had designated consorts. It's the best way to explain the connection between Malenia and Rykard, as shown by the Shaded Castle. Probably not a very good relationship, given all the abductor virgins he gave her are broken and stuck in a cave guarded by her soldiers, but a relationship nonetheless.

I had previously assumed that Miquella and Godwyn were betrothed, as they are the two favored children, but I realize that doesn't make much sense in hindsight. Ranni came about long before Miquella, so it only makes sense that the favored son of the Sun and the favored daughter of the Moon would be wed.

Ranni clearly took exception to this.

And that leaves Radahn x Miquella. Now, some people think that there was a conflict between Miquella and Radahn, but that's not the case. It's kind of a thing that Miquella got along with everybody. Why would Radahn be the one exception?

Instead, it's likely that Malenia found he was missing and her twin sense pinged in Caelid. She made some very reasonable conclusions about what had happened and demanded answers from Radahn. Radahn didn't know wtf she was talking about, but instead of sorting this out like a reasonable person, he felt insulted by the question and demanded an apology. One thing led to another, neither one could back down without losing face, and soon you have the last and most devastating battle of the Shattering.

It makes sense.

It's probably wrong because the leaks are pretty dubious.

But it makes sense.

[coffeebanana]

Today's warm-up ficlet brought to you by me wanting to experiment with writing broken ribs. And it's complete enough to share as a tumblr snippet, so...enjoy!

“We’re almost there,” Marinette said, gently squeezing his arm. As if Adrien didn’t recognize the staircase up to his own apartment. Then again, nothing in his life really seemed the same anymore. Even this trip upstairs was more than he could handle. Each step jostled his broken ribs, and every breath was a fiery spike in his chest. The pillow he clutched to his chest did little to help. And not even his mind offered any distraction; his father’s betrayal was a whole other kind of pain.  If it weren’t for his friends—Marinette at his side, Nino following behind, and Alya waiting for all of them at the top—Adrien was sure he wouldn’t have made it. He would have given up halfway up the first flight of stairs. Or he’d still be at the hospital, struggling to put on his shoes. “You’re doing great, mec,” Nino encouraged, like a broken record. Adrien didn’t think he’d heard his friend say anything else all day.  You’re doing great—when Adrien could barely stand up on his own. You’re doing great—when he was seconds from bursting into tears. You’re doing great—after he almost snapped at Marinette for fluffing his pillow one too many times, and was tempted to do snap at Nino for daring to repeat the same lie over and over. Now, at least he was grateful for the words—how had Nino had the patience to put up with him all day? Tears sprang to the corners of his eyes, but he couldn’t let them fall. If he started crying, he wouldn’t know how to stop, and crying was another thing that hurt too much. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself.  He’d forgotten that breathing to deeply was the worst pain of all. Adrien gasped midway up the next step, clutching the pillow closer to his chest. It was no use; the damage was done. The pain ripped out like a stone dropping into a pond—each wave was a little weaker than the last, but there was nothing he could do to hurry it along. “Let’s rest here for a minute,” Marinette suggested. Adrien wanted to argue—they were three steps from the top. What was the point?—but he couldn’t manage to speak. Instead, he succumbed to the tears slipping down his cheeks, doing damage control by means of taking shallow, steady breaths, trying not to feel anything that would spur the tears on. That became near impossible when gentle fingers wiped away his tears and delicate lips pressed against his cheek. Marinette too had been ridiculously patient. Impossibly tender. And she was Ladybug—that truth hadn’t had a chance to sank in, but it barely needed one. It just felt right. “Come on,” Alya said. Her words weren’t impatient, but they didn’t coddle him either. And that felt right too. It felt good—to know that at least one person wasn’t treating him like he’d break. “Three more steps,” she encouraged. “Then you can rest as much as you want.” That wasn’t really true. The pain didn’t go away even when he was sitting, and he doubted he’d be able to get much sleep. Plus, there were a hundred things he knew he’d have to deal with in the coming days—cops, lawyers, and the weight of Paris’ opinion, to name a few. But when he opened his eyes, Alya met his gaze with a friendly challenge. Marinette rubbed his arm, and Nino squeezed his shoulder. Three more steps.  He’d take one for each of them.

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me (part four)

Part one, part two, part three

The end of Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren yayyyy I'm sooo excited to have the rest of my brain back!!! IT'S FINALLY OVER (mostly).

A very long and nonsensical string of writing thoughts and notes on it will be posted much later. Also if anyone wants to ask questions I can answer them in the infodump or on discord if you want a more immediate response... I hope you enjoy da finale 👉👈 sorry this is my baby i really love talking about it but it was impossible til now fjdslkjflks

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

That mundane, quiet night had taken a turn for the better. You could barely move a muscle after trying to settle your curious desires for your devilish companion, though they still remained. The books and red string were put back where they belonged before you found yourself cradled in strong arms and curled under silken sheets.

Ren had brought you to rest in bed, arms keeping you securely nestled at their side. His bare chest felt incredibly warm against your cheek. The sound of their heart beat steadily, and you moved your head to hear it better. Mesmerizing, and comforting. 

“I'm… tired? Fatigued?” you muttered aloud. It was so hard to stay awake, your eyes kept fluttering. You’d never been quite so drained before.

He gently held your chin to look at you, smiling all the while. “Why do you think? You’re an absolutely ravenous angel. Were it not for that fatigue, you’d surely still have me pinned on the floor with your head thrown back in—”

“Hey!” you interrupted him. The casual way they said it had you suddenly embarrassed. Being aware of your newfound… ‘ravenous’ side was something else entirely.

“It was a wonderful sight, my love, little angel,” he sang your praises with adoration, ending at a word. That word. The one you didn’t know.

An odd little pet name you were all the more curious about.

“What's that word you keep saying?” you asked and his eyes suddenly widened. “I love all the endearing things you call me, but that one—I can't place it.”

“...Oh, love,” he whispered, muffled as they leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I’m so sorry. I won't use it anymore.”

“Huh? Is it something bad?” You weren't sure what he meant by that, but you knew well and good they'd never say something cruel to you, let alone call you by a cruel word. Nonsensical as the question was, no other reason came to mind.

“Not at all. It's my favorite word,” his voice was soft, almost heartbroken. “I didn't think you'd forget it so soon… I'll tell you when you're ready, I promise. For now, you only need to rest.”

A simple nod in response on your part. You accepted the answer so easily. There was nothing to worry about anymore. With how exhausted you were from the act, sleep was a natural decision. You could talk in the morning. Or any morning after, you no longer minded. Eventually you'd leave, so what was another few days or weeks?

You settled in and closed your eyes, lulled to sleep by their heartbeat in your ear.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Cold. You woke up cold. Jolted awake from your own nightmare of falling, drowning in the endless clouds that you once walked upon with ease, only to land in the depths of the freezing ocean below you. With a hushed gasp, you sat up in bed.

The devil was asleep right beside you. Pink hair stained with eerie grays from the moon’s glow through the open window, horns so dark they almost blended into the shadows, ghastly inked patterns that crawled from their shoulders down to their hands. 

One of his was laced tightly with yours. 

You trembled as you slowly pried his fingers away, crawled backwards on the bed until you felt nothing under you and almost fell like that cursed dream.

But the same hands you struggled to get away from caught you. You found instant comfort in his touch, despite the disgust that climbed up your back when you woke—where did it come from? Why were you even trying to get away? 

“I've got you, it's alright,” Ren murmured softly. He guided you to stand, wrapping a wrinkled shirt over your naked shoulders along with his arms. You held on as tight as you could. Your fingers were shaking. 

“I need to—I need to go, Ren. Now,” you gasped into his chest. Your entire body was unsteady, vision blurred from tears you weren't capable of shedding. Whatever you were saying didn't make sense in your head. You needed to go… somewhere. You could picture the place—it had sunkissed clouds as far as the eye could see—but did it have a name?

He read your mind, gently offered the word you couldn't think of, “Heaven?”

There. Home. You nodded. 

“You'll only get hurt.”

“I already know I'll have to repent before my god,” you muttered sheepishly and pulled away, clutching the shirt like a cloak. His knowledge was vast as ever, but what did a demon know of heaven’s affairs? 

“No, little angel. If you even make it that far,” they cursed the realms under their breath and followed as you left the room in a sudden hurry. “They'll take whatever is left of your halo and wings.”

You didn't waste any time throwing open the cabin’s door and walking out into the cool night air. Forced to pause at the sight in front of you, you stared; the breathtaking field of flowers was fully blooming. They were finally as high as Ren promised, the tallest with their golden petals proudly on display in the hallowed shape of a halo.

The beauty only helped his words to sink in. Whatever is left of your halo and wings? You turned around, fully expecting him to be right behind you.

You were face to face as you questioned him, a bite of anger held in. “What do you mean?”

Blue eyes that only seemed paler in the night, once full of hatred for heaven, pooled with long lost grief. “You've fallen from their grace,” he said quietly.

“That doesn't happen.” You denied it quickly. Such a thing had never happened in all the histories of heaven, you at least knew that without ever reading those records. If what he said was true, it’d be common knowledge. A warning that all angels would heed.

“It does, because I—”

A bell rang in the darkened night sky above. Ren froze with unknown fear for a split second and hurriedly reached towards you, shouting something. Another bell obscured their voice, then another and another until the number grew to so many your thoughts drowned in their thunder. Someone was calling you home.

Before you even realized it your wings sprouted forth and threw the unbuttoned shirt he'd given you to the wind, bringing a burning anguish so suddenly intense to bloom in the middle of your back that you fell to your knees. Ren immediately kneeled in front of you. The pain and desperation in his voice pulled at your very core, except you couldn't understand a thing. The bells were so loud. You cried out sharply. It may as well have been silence from what little else you could hear. 

A cracking noise managed to cut through the clamor of the bells above. Translucent shards of stained glass dropped from your head and piled themselves in the dirt at your knees. There was so little of it but you recognized the golden shade, illuminated by the fire licking at your shoulders.

The halo that you'd gained once the library's doors had beckoned you. The few pieces that remained of it, anyway.

Your heart stopped, then started anew. A feeling worse than the holy fire that was turning your beloved wings from feathered grace to ash. He was right; you'd fallen long before this night.

A thousand bells began to still, one by one. You could start to hear Ren again, though only a few words were clear.

“...At night… Forgive… Happen… …Never wanted this for you.”

The last feather fell away into nothing, and the burning in your back, along with the bells, died with it. All the heat you could feel was the demon only inches away, his desolate gaze fixed to you.

You blinked, tear stained cheeks now icy from the salted wind blowing across the ocean. Bits and pieces came back as memories.

The simple, towering clouds that decorated the heavens far as the eye could see. A sun that shined brightly, an everlasting sunrise that greeted you no matter the day. The library that once seemed like paradise you were destined to guard for the rest of time. All echoes of the being that was no longer you.

Something was missing. 

“My… that word,” you whispered. He'd told you it was his favorite word. One that you’d forgotten. “... It was mine?”

He smiled as best he could. It didn't reach his eyes. “You remember it.”

“A little.”

“Then... let me say it for you?” he asked and you nodded. They leaned close, the word slowly leaving their lips with reverence, sadness, unwavering love.

Nothing about it sparked as familiar on the surface. But the word once belonged to you, that empty part inside understood it. Fresh tears welled in the corners of your vision. “When did they take it from me?”

Ren gently wiped your cheek as the tears overflowed again. “I don't know.”

“How—it was mine,” you repeated with a sob. You felt the cold seeping through you and huddled into his embrace. Their body felt more warm and inviting than anything around you. There was nothing—no one else you could ever reach out to anymore.

“I’m sorry. We only have eternity together, my love,” he breathed, tucking your head below his chin with a strangled noise. “I'll say it each and every day so you'll never forget it. I don't want to lose your name, either.”

[sockhopbuns]

// "Cure for Me", Aurora

Donnie from The Lemonade Leak by @turtleinsoup !

To go with my previous Leo fanart

Flat colors under the cut o7