#PL Lore

[s0f1kka]

PROFESSOR LAYTON LORE

or PL theme with 1 movie and 6 games (cutscenes only) in 1.

This video took ~ 1,5 hours. I made that yesterday and fixed today. I was bored.

Last Specter, Miracle Mask and Azran Legacy HD cutscenes by DearestHershel.

[enderpawu]

walking through the city and dying inside ! (hes so real for that)

this time wanted to make more of a comic cus i am silly like that :3 also for anyone who doesnt know, this is for my hc au! its called "time magic" and if u like this then consider checking out my page, still a work in progress but arent we all.

[g1deonthen1nth]

[blee-bleep]

the two most capable people of saving ur friends are morons

[beescake]

back in the day we had pantskat

now we have sagg sollux

[cumcov3redangel]

I love being slutty and vulnerable

[deerspherestudios]

Is mychael comitting cannibalism by eating mushrooms

But is he a mushroom??? 🤨 Much to thinks about,,, 🤔🤔

[alivepossibly]

Dinner time with the Pathologic family

[chaerimoon]

n0th1ng t0 w0rry 4b0ut

[cloffmoff]

someone has totally already said this but I've been thinking about it nonstop so here I go,,,

so it's a popular aphmau fandom theory that the characters are predisposed to have similar things happen to them in most lifetimes/universes (aph getting into intense relationship drama, zane and garroth - plus vylad - being troubled brothers, travis getting possessed by a demon)

and if you think about it, dante's 'thing' is getting left behind while everyone goes on a big adventure and they come back different. in mcd, obviously, aph tells him to stay and watch over the village, and Dante waits for 15 years while aph's group is in the irene dimension. When they come back, they are scarred and dante is 15 years older. there is a rift between Dante and all his old friends.

but the thing I don't see many people talking about is how THIS REPEATS IN MYSTREET! everyone on the street (but laurance, however Dante ignores him) leaves to Starlight and tells him they'll be back in no time, just 3 weeks. And they end up getting locked down, hunted, controlled, everything. Dante sits on a deserted street just waiting for his friends to come home while he gets more and more stir-crazy.

That's just dante's fate, to be left behind, waiting, while his loved ones get themselves killed and changed.

In season 7, I would love for there to be Dante angst (FINALLY) around everyone leaving him and coming back different. Especially Travis, his best friend and roommate, coming back absolutely traumatized.

If you like this observation, I would recommend 'Meanwhile On Mystreet' which is a rly good ao3 fic about Dante, laurance and friends trying to keep themselves occupied while everyone is on Starlight during Season 6.

[jasonsbruce]

[demaparbat-hp]

Almost

[drenched-in-sunlight]

saying this as respectfully as possible but. Do not put fandom content creators on a pedestal. We are also just fans contributing to a community just as you are. We have boundary on our own work and that’s it. What I say is not and should not be considered sth the whole fandom should listen to. I’m just a normal ass person ranting about things on my blog. If it does not have a fandom tag for others to engage in, do not make it out to be me trying to start fights or addressing the whole community. Because it’s not.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again, my art, my lore talk, is biased. I’ve never tried to hide that I view Marika a certain way and will always develop my theory following that base assumption.

Aside from translation stuffs and pointing out in-game items, everything else I say you can look at it, agree or disagree, and move on to form your own opinions. Just because I draw stuffs doesn’t mean you get to saddle me with responsibilities about managing fandom expectations. What the hell? I’m a fan artist, I’m the last person who you should look at for “leaderism” (?) WHAT?

I can and will be a hater in my own space, like I know sometimes other artists will just post their stuffs and not engage too heavily with fandom, and for a while I did try to do that here (because I’m already a dramatic ass on twitter), that’s just not me though.

You will get art and you will get my opinions as well.

[clownpalette]

Inka <333

[silkjade]

jadetham as king deshret & nabu malikata .ﾟ𑁍

“ In a bygone time of which only the Jinn sing, the Lord of Flowers once met the King of the Red Sands...And in their earthly paradise, delight rippled through the oases, until even the tasteless spring water, was intoxicating. If only these wonderful days, as lovely as a shimmering mirage, could last for eternity, and that they should never have to taste the bitterness of parting. ”

[trulyumai]

His Little Wife

Synopsis: Messmer is away, fending off the shadows of the land; for weeks, months, his wife awaits his return until finally, she's by her husbands side once more.

Pairing: Messmer x Reader (Pre-Fallen Messmer)

Warnings: None

A/N: Finals are kicking my ass. RIP to my GPA. Also, so anxious for the drop of the DLC, this man has invaded my thoughts. Because of no release yet, I can only go off of so much information/lore, some things I just had to fabricate.

Enjoy!

Listen and read with my Messmer playlist ! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Lv2RUNKH2voR45QP07ryd?si=WjtWV47iSiywnT7JhADyUg&pi=u-iz0Wfu53T36-

The crackling of fire danced across her pupils, illuminating the worried expression delicately held upon her face.

Glancing upon the door repeatedly, thoughts incessantly pushed and shoved into her mind. Fears, doubts, all involving one man.

Messmer; he was to return today. 

After a long voyage and incessant errands for his mother, he could finally retire home to his little cottage: his little wife.

With her index and thumb, she twirled the silver and gold inscribed ring placed upon her finger, circling it on and off as troubled worries paraded around with ease. 

Not being able to bear it once more she bolted up, needing something- anything to occupy the heavy mind she bore. 

Picking up the nearest broom, she heard a small, frail creaking of a door being unlatched. 

Her front door was inches open, the iron latch swung to and fro as the material of the door grinded against the floor. 

Pulling her shawl close, she skirted across the room before eyeing the garden entrance. It was pouring; the rain was coming sideways, she noticed, repeatedly making the woman blink the wet, unwanted drops from her lashes.  

The light shine from the Erdleaf flowers littered the stone clad walkway, making a perfect path to the cozy home the younger lady made home merely months prior. . 

Grabbing the door, she stubbornly tried to latch it closed once more, the wind fought with the action, pushing against it with a rebelling strength. 

Letting out a huff the girl placed herself entirely on the frame, letting the door shut with a loud slam. 

Reaching up and fiddling with the lock her hands were wet; slippery from the invaded droplets of rain. 

Finally having it closed her figure slouched against the wood, lightly out of breath and now soaked, the smell of petrichor invaded her senses, shoving past the natural wood and honey scent that usually parades around the cabin. 

It was then she noticed the figure standing just beside the fireplace, warming their limbs like they announced their being in the humble home. 

The tiny gasp that emitted through the air caught the gangly man's attention, slowly he tipped his head to the side to look at the woman. 

His darling wife. 

“Messmer,” shaky steps bounded towards the red-headed knight, to which he smiled at. Turning to meet her grasp he wrapped the length of his arms around her body and with ease lifted her so their gazes could meet, noses merely inches from one another. 

She laughed sweetly, touching the tip of her nose to his before descending down to place her plush lips onto his cracked and weathered ones. 

He was so tired, exhaustion seeped through his bones like a newfound plague and if he concentrated enough, little black dots would enter the spaces between his vision, signaling for the man to rest.

He ignored the blackened shapes, blinked them away as his little wife littered his battered face with small, sickly sweet kisses. 

“My Lady,” Oh, by the gods she missed the deep timber of his voice, how it resonated just right with her ears, nestled safely between her heart and mind, and echoed between the cavities of her chest. 

“I've missed you, Darling!” Tears sprung from the woman's face and he could do nothing but coax them away. His hands were massive, engulfing the whole side of her face before swooping under her eyes, dismissing the flowing liquid entirely. 

“And I, you. I apologize for the delay, my sweet, there were more filthy curses laying about than usual.” 

Ah, curses. It was his job to protect the golden order; lay waste to any ill fit redeemers that defied the natural rule. 

With Godwyn holding dominion over the Golden Order, he was soon to be King of Leyndell. Now, his mother stepped in, ordered more protection, and more soldiers to be present in the East and West ends of the capital. 

This meant that everyone had to be present and in support of his newfound excellency. Even Messmer. 

“They don't deserve you,” she mumbled against his neck, tracing her fingertips up and down the column of his throat. 

“Perhaps not, but mother does not seem to understand my devotion just yet.” 

He walked, not bothering to hold onto her as each of the woman's legs was tightly wrapped around his torso, with her arms looping around the muscles of his shoulders. 

Messmer reached out, grabbing the oak railing around the stairs before ascending up, trying but failing to ignore the sloppy kisses below his jaw. 

Noticing the kept bed he softly growled, grabbing the woman's legs with a newfound strength and lightly shoved her on the soft furs. 

“Thou hasn’t been sleeping?” 

It was then he took in her state; the darkened bags, messy hair and wrinkled clothing. 

Smiling sheepishly up at the man no words needed to be said, the answer was clear.

Blowing air from her mouth she moved the strands of hair that littered her face, they blew with the pressure, lightly tickling the man that stared down at the woman. 

Too tired to argue he sighed instead, shrugging off his armor and worn down boots.  

Not bothering to fall as gracefully as his wife he allowed his legs to give out, toppling onto the woman even as she let out a desperate squeak. 

Before entirely crushing her with his weight, he places his elbows on either side, digging his nose into the side of her face. 

He dreamed of this moment for weeks. 

The rain slammed against the wood of their home and usually, he would be worried of its pressure. 

But today, he would clear his mind. 

He would simply cease to be, with his darling little wife sleeping soundly under him. 

Yes, the order could wait. 

For how could he spread such a message of hope when his wife missed him so?