#its always darkest before the soul. every soul has its dark

[dirt-str1der]

Fuckk mu fav part of the series was when kiryu said we are the yakuza 4

[canyegetyeflask]

Ye can get ye flask in Dark Souls (FromSoftware, 2011)

[goldstarknight]

Eastward Style OCs and John Darksoul (2023)

Some characters in the style of Eastward. The three on the left are my original designs and the other one is John Darksoul or just "Dark Soul", protagonist of the hit franchise Dark Souls (known for his famous quote: "Every soul has its dark.").

support me on ko-fi

[mailperson]

[yandere-romanticaa]

A warm smile etched onto the pink haired foxian's face as he watched his beloved eat the meal he had prepared meticulously, his fingers still twitching lightly from the constant chopping and grinding of meat but his hard work had paid off in the end. Jiaoqiu was blessed to hear all the little noises that came out of your mouth, the satisfied hums and light little hiccups were like gospel to him, irreparable, satisfactory, necessary.

He reaches for his own utensils, still monitoring you carefully from the corner of his eye, never once letting the mask of a carefree gentleman slip off.

His beloved was the personification of every dark and sinful desire Jiaoqiu had ever had. The broken heart which he was still mending started to beat once more in the presence of his beloved, as if it finally found its long lost voice and sprung back to life.

The feeling, my, it was exhilarating. For ages now his one true desire was to cure anyone he ever could, to rid people of all of their pain and suffering, to hold their hand in their darkest hour of need and tell them in his sweet voice that all will be well and that he will heal them -

However, time was a cruel mistress. And Jiaoqiu, was all too familiar with its icy cruelty. It wasn't fair, just how much was he going to suffer? Even if he was not aware of it at times, Jiaoqiu was still just a person. One single person in this wast cosmos, a flickering flame of a soul which was threatening to give into the darkness like the weakling that he always was....

And then, he met someone. Someone who became precious to him, someone who allowed him to just... Breathe. To let loose, every once in a while. Someone who he just loved to be fussy about, a person so singlehandedly tailor made for him that it was practically too good to be true. He loved being by his beloved's side, watching over them, taking care of them. It felt good having someone all for yourself, someone who you didn't need to share with anyone -

Much like a house of cards, everything crashed down once he found out that he was getting ahead of himself. He had not made you his quite yet, even if in his mind there would be no other who could fill the empty black void in his heart.

A sharp thorn in Jiaoqiu's side was this absolute pest of a Cloud Knight, a person so singlehandedly determined to take you away from him, a knight so caught up in his own valor and glory that he had failed to notice all the subtle changes around him.

The devil was always in the details. No one ever paid attention to those little details. And Jiaoqiu, the cunning fox, could be a truly terrifying devil if he felt threatened.

Jiaoqiu watched you bite into the meat, the lightly pink centre catching his eye as his smile turned slightly wicked. His gaze lowered down towards the fresh juices which dripped from the meat and onto the pristine white plate, a happy smile on your face.

You inquired about the source of the divine meat for the entirety of the afternoon but Jiaoqiu would always give you non answers or simply dodge the question.

Jiaoqiu loved you. He loved you like no one before. He loved you so much that his heart would stop beating if you ever broke it. His love was deep, dark and wast like space itself.

And you had indeed formed a little crack on his bleeding heart. Not enough for him to do something truly drastic but... It was enough for him to be angry. Angry at the thought that you had allowed this knight into your personal space. You don't need that fool, you already have Jiaoqiu. There's absolutely no need for that frivolous little knight to even be breathing the same air as you, Jiaoqiu was more than capable of taking care of you all on his own.

He had made it his mission to steal back the air the knight had taken from you. At the back of his head, Jiaoqiu could still hear the sickeningly loud crunches of the endless pile of bones, the messy table which reeked of blood and putrid, his snow white hands tainted with the sticky crimson liquid as he hacked and chopped and cooked.

In the end, he was going to teach you a lesson, even if you were not aware of it. Please, be gentle with him. Do not break his heart anymore than it already is. Jiaoqiu is a sensitive and sweet man, he has no desire to be rough with the object of his affections. And yet, even he knows that a small dosage of tough love, as he likes to put it, was more than necessary from time to time.

[pretzel-box]

Tags: Established Relationship, Angst, Arguments, mentions of blood and death, main character dies, Sebastian is sleep deprived, starved, dehydrated and delusional and imagines reader next to him.

Words: 3,3k

Sebastian Solace loves midnights.

There is a serenity in those silent hours, a quiet stillness that fills the blackside hallways like a slow, gentle tide and reaches even the darkest corners that even Sebastian never saw before. The only sound that his ears picked up is the slow dripping of murky water down the steel pipes—careful, deliberate, rushing in its own pace to follow gravity's lead.. Each droplet falls to the floor, breaking the surface of a small puddle in the corner of his shop, sending ripples outward in perfect symmetry. The water doesn't just drop and ripple but it reflects the faint glow of his lure, nestled among his raven hair, its light almost a match for the illuminating moon and stars that failed to reach the depths of the facility.

Every so often, the Saboteur would set aside his endless collection of files, neatly sorting them into stuffed drawers, his every movement unhurried, almost tender. It’s a rare thing, this softness, this willingness to let his guard down and move through his world without urgency or purpose. The rigid pride, the air of invincibility he wore like armor, it all faded away in these midnight hours. It was the only time he allowed himself to just be Sebastian.

Here, in the stillness of the night, he found a kind of solace. The world wouldn’t let him die—death was forbidden, death was wrong. But suffering? Suffering was fine, expected even. He was to endure it all, every fiber of his being unraveling under the weight of an uncertain eternity within this facility, a reflection of his own fractured mind.

“The plant,” you say softly, your voice cutting through the stillness, close enough to touch his thoughts but too distant to reach his skin. Your words echo in his mind, even as he remains still, listening more to the sound of you than the faint water droplets that had once filled the silence. They’ve become nothing more than a quiet, almost fading, background hum now, as if the world itself had quieted to hear you speak.

He doesn’t turn to look at you. His body refuses to move, frozen in place. Instead, he stares ahead at the cold, gray concrete wall, its familiar chill pressing against him like a long-held grief. That wall has always been there, a constant, an unyielding presence in his life. He hates it, hates the memories it holds—the times he was happier and more broken all at once. It’s hard to say if he’s ever been lower than he is now.

“The plant wasn’t watered,” you say again, your voice soft but insistent, like a gentle breeze. You sit on the floor, legs crossed, near the puddle where the water drips, your gaze fixed on it as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the entire world. As if Sebastian Solace, sitting next to you with his feigned smile, wasn’t the most captivating presence in the room.

He feels your presence beside him like a balm to his fractured soul, a quiet comfort in the chaos of his thoughts. He doesn’t need to look at you to know that you are there, sharing this quiet midnight with him. It is enough, this shared silence, this simple act of being. For now, it is enough.

In the dark, when the world lay down to rest, the blackest hour of the night became a battlefield for those still awake. It was in these quiet, relentless hours that the mind turned on itself, each thought a weapon—memories like fists, feelings like knives, tearing down the defenses carefully built up in the daylight. You knew Sebastian fought these battles too. You could see it in the way he carried himself, in the weight he bore in his shoulders. The way they slumped, as if the pressure of it all was dragging him down, daring to suffocate him.

But you didn’t speak of it. You knew there was no need to put words to something so deep and so painfully familiar, something so natural, when Sebastian already knew it himself. Words wouldn't help, they would only sharpen the edges of the wounds that had yet to heal.

The water droplets continued their steady descent, still rushing down the same rusty steel pipe, falling from a height into the same reflective puddle. The ripples spread out across the surface in perfect, mesmerizing circles, breaking the stillness, only to settle once more. It was still oddly captivating, even after all this time. In the darkness, it was easy to lose yourself in something so simple, so repetitive. It was one of the things you could watch over and over again without getting tired.

“The plant,” he repeated after a long, aching silence. His voice, naturally deep, was rough now, hoarse. It sounded like a painful scratch against your ears, the kind of sound that spoke of nights without sleep, of thoughts that gnawed at the edges of his mind. You watched him, watched as his expression furrowed, his eyes distant. He seemed to be trying to remember, trying to dig through the fog of his thoughts to find what you were talking about. Was there a plant before? Had it mattered at all?

His thoughts were murky, clouded by a haze of exhaustion and something else—something deeper, more insidious. Green.

Green was a color he hated, he realized with a sudden clarity that startled him. It was strange to think of hating a color, but he did, with every fiber of his being. It pierced his fluorescent eyes, clawed at his mind, triggered memories so violently that he wished he could erase it from existence. Green reminded him of too much, of things he wanted to forget but never could. It was the color of his suffering, the hue of his nightmares, the shade of his regrets.

He cursed under his breath, a low, frustrated sound. How could he hate something so simple, so inescapable? How could he want to tear apart a color? But he did. God, he did. And you, sitting beside him, felt the depth of that loathing, that anger, even if you didn’t know the exact reasons behind it. You could sense it in the way his hands clenched, in the way his jaw tightened.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you reached out, your hand moving slowly, hesitantly, until it hovered just above his. You didn’t touch him, not yet. Just the proximity of your hand, the closeness of your presence, was enough to let him know that you were there, that you understood or maybe pretending to.

“The plant,” he said again, softer this time, almost as if he were afraid of the word. He still didn’t look at you, his eyes fixed on the puddle now too, on the droplets that fell with a rhythm that was both maddening and comforting. “Why?”

Your lips curved into a small, all saying smile, flashing on your face and replaced the calmness with a familiar sight. “Because you forgot to water it, Sebastian. Because it’s still here to thirst.”

He closed his eyes, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. He wasn’t sure why, but your words, simple as they were, felt like a balm to his soul even when you didn't say anything comforting.

“I pretended it wasn’t important,” Sebastian murmured, his eyes falling shut, as though by closing them he could erase the gray concrete walls around him, the murky puddle of water on the floor, the relentless green that seemed to taunt him, to mock his every thought. And perhaps, too, he could erase the sensation of you sitting so close, the divinity of your presence beside him. It was a sensation he could neither fully embrace nor escape from, as if the very act of being near you was both a comfort and a curse. He tried so desperately to shut it all out, to suffocate the feelings that clawed at his insides, but even as he spoke, he choked on the impossibility of his own escape. “But it pierced me from the inside.”

“The plant?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, like the soft brush of wind against water. The droplets continued their slow descent from the rusted pipe, splashing into the puddle below with a steady, unyielding rhythm. The wall remained as it was, tall and indifferent, and you stayed seated beside him, unmoving, as if the two of you were carved from the same stone. You didn’t turn to look at him; there was no need. He was still the same man—burdened, lost. Nothing had changed, and you wondered if it ever would.

Once, there had been a plant—small, fragile—perched on the edge of the metallic table in his shop. It had been a source of contention between the two of you, its very existence a catalyst for your frequent arguments. You would tend to it with a tenderness that seemed almost out of place in such a harsh, unforgiving environment, your fingers brushing gently against its delicate leaves, your eyes soft with care. “You can't just run off,” Sebastian had snarled during one such argument, his voice raw with frustration, his claw-like hands cutting through the air in a gesture of anger. The veins in his neck had stood out sharply, and his eyes had burned with a fury so intense it was almost palpable. There were moments when you could see the depth of his suffering, buried beneath the rage, a tempest of pain and fear and longing. His need to protect, to control, was born out of that suffering, and in those moments, you could almost feel sorry for him.

You remembered that day vividly—the way he’d stood over you, trembling with a barely restrained urge to strike, his face contorted with a mix of anger and something else, something darker, more desperate. He had spat the words at you, his voice breaking with the effort to contain himself. And you, stubborn and unyielding, had met his gaze head-on, your hands still cradling the fragile plant as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Now, in the stillness of the night, with only the soft sound of the water droplets and the echo of your past selves hanging between you, you felt a strange sense of calm. The memory of that argument, like so many others, was a testament to the fragile balance you maintained—a balance between what was said and unsaid, between your conflicting desires and the reality of your circumstances.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” you said softly, breaking the silence, your eyes still focused on the puddle, watching as the droplets created ripples that spread outwards, fading into the stillness. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was listening, to feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy with unspoken words. “You don’t have to hold it all in. Not here. Not now.”

He didn’t respond, not at first. But you could sense the shift in him, the way his shoulders sagged just a little, the way his breath seemed to hitch in his throat. The green haunted him, you knew that much. It was a color tied to his memories, to his pain. To things he couldn’t—wouldn’t—speak of. But you also knew that there was a part of him that wanted to, that needed to. A part that longed for release, for the kind of understanding that could only come from another soul.

“Maybe one day…” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “Maybe one day, it won’t hurt so much.”

You turned then, just slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of him in your peripheral vision. He looked small, sitting there, almost like a child lost in a world that had moved on without him. And in that moment, you just let your mind take over and replay the memories you both tried to swallow down so badly.

The dim light of the shop flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the room. The air was thick with tension, a suffocating weight that pressed down on everything. You stood at the edge of the metallic table, your hands tenderly cradling the small, fragile plant you’d been nurturing. Its green leaves were vibrant against the dull gray of the shop—a small, defiant burst of life in a place that seemed to reject it.

Sebastian stood across from you on that day, his tall frame tense with anger. His eyes, usually so guarded, were blazing with a fury once more that made your heart pound. You knew what this was about; it was the same argument you’d been having for days now. But tonight, something felt different. There was a sharp edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a desperation that cut deeper than his usual annoyance.

"You can't just keep doing this," he snapped, his voice rough and jagged, like gravel scraping against metal. "You can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine, that you can just…carry on like this. It’s reckless!"

His words hung in the air between you, a challenge. You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “What’s reckless is you thinking you can control everything, that you can control me! I’m not some soldier you can just order around, Sebastian.”

He flinched at that, a flash of something like pain crossing his face. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a hardened, almost cruel expression. “You think you’re so much better than everyone else, don’t you?” he hissed. “That just because you care about a fucking plant, you’re somehow above all this. Above us.”

His words stung, cutting deep. You felt your chest tighten, your breath catching in your throat. “That’s not—”

“You’re delusional if you think this is going to change anything,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “That plant, your stupid idealism—it’s all pointless. Just like you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. For a moment, you just stood there, stunned. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not when he was looking at you with that cold, unyielding stare.

“Fine,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “If that’s how you feel, then I’m done.”

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the shop, the door slamming shut behind you. The cool facility air hit your face, but it did little to soothe the burning in your chest. Your footsteps echoed in the empty corridors as you walked away, each step, despite the heavy feelings, taking you further from him, from his cruel words.

You weren’t sure where you were going—anywhere but here. The walls of the facility seemed to close in around you, suffocating, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You just needed to get away, to clear your head.

But then, as you turned a corner, you saw them—a group of Urbanshade soldiers. Their dark green uniforms were almost invisible in the dim light, their faces hidden behind masks and their shiny gear reflected the gentle light that surrounded you all. You froze, the limbs you were trusting all your life started to paralyze, your heart racing. You’d heard stories about them—about what they did to those who crossed them, or worse, those they decided to take in. You knew what they did to Sebastian, to the others, and what they will do to you with their mighty authority and the loaded guns that rested in their gloved hands.

One of them spotted you, and you saw a flash of recognition in their eyes. “Hey, you! Stop right there!”

Panic surged through you. You didn’t wait to hear the rest, you couldn't when your limbs started to ease and your body switched into the flight modus, running. You turned and ran as fast as your legs could carry you, your heart pounding loudly in your ears, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You could hear them close behind you, their heavy boots pounding against the floor like drums, their shouts echoing through the corridor.

You turned another corner, your mind racing. But there was nowhere to go—the corridor was a dead end. You stopped, your back against the gray concrete wall, your chest heaving in a state of pure panic. They were getting closer. You could hear them, feel the vibrations of their steps.

And then, out of nowhere, a figure appeared. Sebastian. He was slithering towards you, his face a mask of determination. He held himself with pride and strength despite looking like a mirror image of your thoughts, softly illuminated by the golden light of the lamps. At that specific moment, you were too shocked to move. What was he doing here? He’d followed you?

“Get behind me,” he said, his voice low and urgent.

You didn’t have time to think. You moved behind him, pressing your back against the cold, concrete wall. The soldiers rounded the corner, their eyes locking onto Sebastian. There was a tense silence, a moment of stillness before the storm.

One of the soldiers stepped forward, his hand on his weapon. “This doesn’t concern you, Saboteur,” he said, his voice cold. “Move aside.”

Sebastian didn’t flinch, he lost the ability to be scared of those soldiers a long time ago, refusing to feel anything but pure hatred. “You’re not taking them,” he said, his voice calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it, a warning that was clear as crystal.

The soldier’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to ask again.”

Sebastian’s response was swift. He lunged forward, his movements a blur, striking the soldier with a force that sent him sprawling to the ground. The others reacted immediately, drawing their weapons, but Sebastian was faster. He moved with a deadly grace, his strikes precise and powerful.

You watched, your heart in your throat, as he fought them off. He was outnumbered, but he fought with a fierceness that was almost terrifying. You wanted to help, to do something, but you were frozen in place, fear and shock holding you captive.

The corridor was filled with the sounds of the struggle—the grunts of pain, the clang of metal against metal. You could see the determination in Sebastian’s eyes, the sheer will to protect you, to keep you safe.

But there were too many of them. And as you watched, you realized with a sinking feeling that he couldn’t hold them off forever.

You had to do something. You couldn’t just stand there and watch him fight alone. You took a deep breath, your hands trembling, and stepped forward, ready to—

Blood. Fine droplets of red liquid that hit the gray wall like a firework, the iron-like smell creeping up his nose and Sebastian took a minute. He blinked, first once, then twice. Blood. On his claws, sticking in between them like watered paint, running down the large form of his rough hands, further into his sleeves.

Then there was your face, it wasn't visible to his bright eyes, but you didn't move. Your delicate body was squished in between loose body parts of what must have been humans in expensive gear. Your hair covered your eyes, your hands covered the wound and the blood covered your body. It seeped into the clothes that you wore and dripped down your skin that started to lose its warmth.

“Did you always hated me that much?”

He finally moved his head, his face was blank. No faux smile. No depressed frown. No pride, anger or guilt. It was flat and empty like a canvas. The he stretched out his arm, his eyes looking at his own claws, the memories of blood were gone, his hands were clean. And his clean hands would seek out your touch, hovering above your cheek. He missed the warmth, the softness, the tender smile. And when he tried to close the gasp, his hand moved through you.

He blinked.

You were gone.

Sebastian Solace loved midnights. Hated the color green and bathed in the blood of a divinity.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Mortal Kombat 1 Intro Dialogues

a/n: some slightly flirty dialogues for suggested characters from Mortal Kombat 1 (and 11), reader is a blood mage, adjacent to "Unpunishable"

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Obscure References, Poor Attempts at Comedy

Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung: Liu Kang is squandering your potential.

Reader: I trust his judgement completely.

Shang Tsung: You were made for so much more.

...

Reader: You want me to make a deal with the Devil.

Shang Tsung: All I ask in return, is your soul.

Reader: It's too high a price!

...

Shang Tsung: I lay before you my eternal heart...

Reader: There is no love with you, only ownership.

Shang Tsung: I dearly love all of my possessions.

...

Reader: I must believe there's good even in the darkest corners of the world

Shang Tsung: Finding it in me might turn out to be a futile fight

Reader: I don't give up easily, Shang Tsung

...

Shang Tsung: Have you ever thought to say "stop"? "If you love me, you would stop?"

Reader: Not in a thousand years.

Shang Tsung: I see now, why we're destined for each other

...

Reader: The things you've been doing in your laboratories are vile

Shang Tsung: I've used the same magic, as the one coursing through your veins

Reader: Liar!

Liu Kang

Liu Kang: Empress Sindel has approved your application to study Outworld's medicine.

Reader: I'm honored by her trust.

Liu Kang: You'll do a splendid job as Earthrealm's ambassador.

...

Reader: I fear the pull of darkness overpowering me.

Liu Kang: I will guide you, until your mind is at peace.

Reader: What if it never ends?

...

Liu Kang: In the previous timeline, you were my close friend and adversary.

Reader: And in this timeline?

Liu Kang: I'm inclined to say the same.

...

Reader: Doesn't it get lonely, being a God?

Liu Kang: I'm devoted to protecting Earthrealm and its people.

Reader: You didn't answer my question.

...

Liu Kang: Beware Shang Tsung's honeyed words.

Reader: You've said we were destined for each other in all timelines.

Liu Kang: And your union always leads to your suffering.

...

Reader: You knew I'd reject Shang Tsung's offer? Fight him every step of the way?

Liu Kang: I had faith, you would make the right choice

Reader: Honestly, do you have music playing in your head when you say garbage like that

Johnny Cage

Johnny: Let me just say, there's no other place I would rather be, than right here with you right now.

Reader: I can change that very easily.

Johnny: Why so serious, sweet cheeks?

...

Reader: No, Johnny, I won't be playing in any of your movies, ever.

Johnny: Can I ask why?

Reader: Why I don't want the job that makes your brain explode?

...

Johnny: You might wanna reconsider your rendezvous with the Sorcerer.

Reader: Which one?

Johnny: Oh, you are a bad woman.

...

Reader: Don't be such a baby, it's just a scrap.

Johnny: And I need a hot nurse to patch it up.

Reader: Why do I even… You're impossible.

...

Johnny: You have experience with emotionally fragile men, right?

Reader: You're self-aware today.

Johnny: I was talking about Kung Lao...

...

Reader: Okay, Ninja Priest was actually kinda good.

Johnny: YES! I knew you had a thing for the clergy.

Reader: That's not what I... You're such an ass!

Kung Lao

Reader: Do you think Liu Kang has destined us to become friends?

Kung Lao: Obviously, I'd never choose this for myself.

Reader: He could've made you less of twat...

...

Kung Lao: It's way too dangerous for you to travel Outworld alone.

Reader: I don't need a babysitter, Kung Lao.

Kung Lao: Prove it, then.

...

Reader: If you buy me dinner at Madame Bo's, I'll heal your arm.

Kung Lao: I see your time with Shang Tsung is rubbing off on you.

Reader: See, now I gotta hurt ya.

...

Kung Lao: How does it feel, being in the center of the Snake's attention.

Reader: Fuck you man, I didn't ask for this.

Kung Lao: Not good then.

...

Reader: Come on, I paid for dinner last time.

Kung Lao: I'll be happy to pay... Once you beat me.

Reader: You can be an ass sometimes, you know that?

...

Kung Lao: You know I only meant it as a joke, right?

Reader: Let me show you just how funny I think you are

Kung Lao: Bring it on, Nurse.

Bi-Han

Reader: You betrayed everything your clan stood for.

Bi-Han: You have no moral high-ground here, Healer.

Reader: I don't need it.

...

Bi-Han: Join the Lin Kuei, and unleash your true power.

Reader: Not while they're under your command, traitor.

Bi-Han: Your pride will be your downfall.

...

Reader: I can feel your blood run cold through your body...

Bi-Han: It will boil while I destroy you.

Reader: You'll freeze to death, then.

...

Bi-Han: Your aversion to power is your greatest flaw.

Reader: Should I follow your lead, then, and betray all I love for a promise of greatness?

Bi-Han: Is it wrong to want more?

...

Reader: Maybe I can beat some sense into you…

Bi-Han: I will crush you, little girl.

Reader: Great, a quip about my height, so original.

...

Bi-Han: We meet again, Blood Mage.

Reader: I knew you couldn't stay away, Bi-Han.

Bi-Han: Let's see if your training has progressed.

Erron Black

(am i the only one devastated he wasn't included in mk1?)

Erron: What's a pretty lookin' thing like you doin' in a place like this?

Reader: Holy shit, you even talk like a cowboy!

Erron: …Nevermind.

...

Reader: If I win, I get to wear the hat.

Erron: You'd look mighty fine in it, I'd wager.

Reader: Don't you pull your punches on me now, Black.

...

Erron: There's quite the price on your head, sweetheart.

Reader: And you'll do everything to collect it, right?

Erron: I could be persuaded against it, with the right motivation...

...

Reader: Do you flirt with all your targets?

Erron: Only pretty little ones, like you, girlie.

Reader: Well then, let's dance, Cowboy.

...

Erron: I wouldn't mind giving you a ride around town, little lady.

Reader: I'd rather beat you where you stand.

Erron: Be still, my beating heart.

...

Reader: I know who sent you.

Erron: Someone who's eager to get their hands back on you.

Reader: You can both keep them to yourself.

[creepy-friday]

Creepypasta x Fem!Proxy

I got a notification via E-Mail that someone left kudos on a fanfiction I forgot about on AO3.I deleted it and decided to rewrite it here.It's not my best work.

Their chatter and the crunching of leaves around the fresh murder in front of you didn't hold the resonating sound of the pen scribbling on your notebook to not fully grasp your attention.

Each word is perfectly put in its right place and with each glance at either the mutilated corpse not too far from you or on the policemen's observations you get closer to the calligraphic and professional sentence you always end every report. Thinking that's enough for today, you placed the notebook back in the backpack you firmly held on your shoulder, the right strap being loose to the mid of your back.

You fade away in their chatter, adding to the crunching of the leaves back in the direction you came from-the woods. You weren't in a particular hurry as today's 'true work' only beggings after two more hours when the manor will 'welcome' a new resident in. The Master dutied you to "welcome them in" as you do to every unfortunate newcomer.

Passing the same route you memorized as the back of your palm, you place your hand on a few oak trees as you pass them, some having so vaguely craved his symbol on them. The oak trees remind you of him as well, his tall and demanding figure only adding to his ghostly white, eerie presence. You were in no place to doubt his wishes, and neither were any of your colleagues-but out of his reach, if that's even possible, you can be curious about his ways of resolve.

The mere thought of a new resident sends shivers down your spine and a pounding headache. To have to deal with another mentally unstable rapist or murderer only adds to the stress of living in his manor.

The crunching on the leaves stops as you grab your bag one more time, ruffling a bit inside of it before pulling your mask out and adjusting it on your face. Not wasting any time you get the notebook out and enter the end point of your destination-an old-fashioned manor that was housing about 15 people. A single push of the enormous marble doors gets them opened, letting the remaining light of the day shine on the dark red material. Closing them back makes you think they're heavier, a deep thud resonating through the silence of the manor before it was accompanied by a pair of footsteps that faded as quickly as they came.

You decided to pay them no mind and to finish your task before the sun could set, ignoring the pair of glowing green eyes that thought they could stalk you from the darkest corner of the room.

"Home so early?" BEN asked with a grin on his face.

The manor has three main floors and many other pairs of stairs, each leading to different parts of the building,but now you were heading to the very last floor, on the very top of it where a room stood out in particular from the others. The last floor was made of a set of 10 inhabitable rooms, in the center of them being one room made out of various shades of red that gave an expensive yet eerie feeling around it. As soon as someone enters the last step and makes their way on the floor, low static begins as the walls start to become suffocating. Each window is shut and hasn't been opened since the day you came here. As you approach the habitated room, the 11th one, the static only grows, but you learned how to combat it, even if the air becomes thicker with each passing secound.

There you stood,in front of The Master of this manor,your rescuer and provider,even with closed doors you felt his gaze piercing your soul,shattering it apart. A different static sound could be heard-the signal that you were free to enter. The room looked as clean as ever, the window behind the tall figure holding no dust particle despite not anyone cleaning it,not even the books on either side of the room had any sign of age on them.

Taking your mask off you reglated your voice and started your statement."I've bought the very few details of Jeffrey's victims."

Silence. Placing the open notebook on the counter you waited for his response,but he didn't even looked at it. Even if his face held no expression,you could feel the tension that beared it.

He finally gave attention to the notebook in front of him for a bare second before returning his head to the clipboard in front of him. A few moments had passed,yet the only thing that was heard was your thumping heart inside your chest.

"Dissmised." you gently bowed your head before you took your notebook back and walked straight out of his office.The familliar creature in front of you turned into something darker as time progressed.

The silence of the manor was disturbed by the chatter of two masculine voices. "Piece of shit Rogers.." a faint click was heard accompanied by some heavy coughs. The man's comment was responded with a few shakes of a pill bottle.

  "You still had some?" you could recognize this raspy voice in any nightmare,Masky's or Tim's bickering being present even in your sleep. Most residents prefer to not use their real name if they can avoid it,mostly to show the lack of empathy and to amplify the need to show that we're strangers to each other.

  "I gotta look out for myself." his partner and friend that lead him to this manor 3 years ago stated. "We're murderers,Brian." Masky replied,half annoyed that his friend isn't understanding of his stress regarding his 'work'. You decided to ignore your partners,making yourself as small and as silent as possible to ride up the stairs to the silence of your room,appealing to your proxy skills,but to not much succes.

 "Where you've been, bitch?" the white masked man barked. "Ditching work for a few notes isn't some lead shit,isn't it?" he continued as he dragged a long puff from his cigar. "Respond motherfucker." he flicked the cigarette down and as he was about to make his way to you Hoodie shaked again his bottle of pills. "You're tired. Get some rest." Masky snatched the pill bottle and walked the other way,adjusting his mask back on. 

Should you thank Hoodie? No,what he did wasn't for your sake,but for this manor's moments of silence before the storm. There were a set of unspoken rules,each one of us knowing them the moment we set foot inside this haunting place. Fights were not allowed inside public rooms,all conflict is either in one's intimacy or outside the manor's quarters. Masky's temper almost made this rule impossible to follow but Hoodie's calm demeanor complimented his fiery personality perfectly. Maybe that's why they came together here in the first place.. "How long now?" Hoodie's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "One month until the police said they will have a lead." after a few moments of silence his silvery voice responded "Son of a bitch." he got up and walked after his partner,no other word being exchanged in return.

  We were in a sticky situation at the moment,you were only the voice mail of it. Every now and then you are tasked to go out in town to find out if there is any evidence that could lead to the murderous activity of this manor. Every source of evidence is destroyed by any means,the digital evidence is handled by BEN and the human one is handled by the occupats of this manor. Proxies,such as you and the other three men are put to tougher missions,including getting rid of the bodies from the other's killings.

   Recently, Jeff was tasked to get rid of papers in a detective's house but his careless attitude didn't calculate that his wife was home, resulting in his need to get rid of her.

    She managed to run but not too far off as she was killed in the place you just attended. Since his job wasn't to get rid of the body,he called in a proxy,not even bothering to hide the evidence. From what you managed to hear,Toby was the only proxy available at the moment and his arrival was late because of the encounter of a creature on his way out the woods,resulting in others finding the body. You only massaged your temples to the tought of him anxiously walking around his room,waiting for The Master's punishment.

   A few knocks got your attention, making you open the doors in an instant after giving your clipboard one more look. It held the information of the new resident of this manor, its name being on the very top in bold letters, your thumb holding the clipboard on 'Cody's' family name.

[ghuleh-recs]

It was our beloved Bee's (@da-rulah) birthday yesterday! To celebrate I've made us all a mixtape of some of her greatest hits... which ended up being almost everything she's written. Whoops. The only reason I left anything out was to save some for next year! Bee is such a kind, lovely, generous, TALENTED soul and I'm so very lucky to have befriended her. So go forth and read some top tier papa (and Mary!) smut. Leave Bee some comments while you're at it—as a lil' bday gift. ♡

recs under the cut.

Rituale Septem - Terzo (and everyone else) x Reader - 74k

Your faith is shaking; 16 years at the Ministry, and what did you have to show for it? You'd never even heard the Dark One's voice like your Siblings… But what could you do? Well, you could ask the advice of the one person chosen to guide his flock through adversity; Papa Emeritus III. And he has an idea that might work…

Rubenesque - Secondo x Plus Size!Reader - 7.8k

Retirement had its perks. For Secondo, one of those was being able to spend much more time on the things he enjoyed. And there were only two things he truly enjoyed these days; art, and you. Although if you asked him, he’d insist that they were one and the same. So how would he react when he learns that your peers are mocking your sinfully gorgeous body, and you're struggling to love yourself?

A Personal Ritual - Copia x Reader - 2.1k

"With an expert flick of his wrist, it unfolded, a glinting silver blade unsheathing itself from the brilliant red of the marbled handle. When he leaned forward, he stretched his neck with a lean to one side, lining the blade up against his skin and in one quick, clean motion he’d swiped a stripe up to the sharp edge of his jawline. The blade was wiped off on a cloth draped over the sink, then brought to do the same thing again next to the already created strip of clean, smooth skin.   You'd never seen him do this before, but you were enraptured – privileged, even… It was you and you alone that had the honour bestowed upon them to watch the man you loved in his most humble and domestic of moments, to see the parts of him that nobody else in the world got to see just because they were usually saved for him, and him alone. While you’d spent many an intimate night in his bed, sharing your bodies and souls in every way a lover can, these were the moments that felt truly intimate."

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x Reader - 72k (WIP)

Mary knew the entire town hated him; the metalhead with the freaky make up and fake blood dripping down his face. He was the local menace, the town vandal, the cliché trouble maker. He played up to that image, enjoyed the havoc and the chaos, revelled in it. He loved pissing people off. And so, what better revenge to get on his beloved town, than to fuck around with the Mayor's daughter…

In Cold Blood - Terzo x Reader - 19.4k

Solitude had always appealed. Perhaps that’s why you took on this project… The thought of transforming a dilapidated old Victorian farmhouse into a sanctuary of your own, to live in peace and the romanticisms of a gothic home you fell in love with. After the structural integrity of the house is replenished, you fill your days with DIY and decorating, bringing to life a house that had been frozen in time and left to rot for decades. You could enjoy the solitude of the land already, a few miles outside of a town plagued by disappearances and a fear of the dark. But you couldn’t escape the news of more missing people, nor the strange occurrences happening around your new home. Were you imagining things? Or was there indeed a shadow haunting your sanctuary?

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x Reader - 22k

As a sister of sin, it was your duty to confess at least once a month, to have your sins praised by a higher up member of the clergy. But you only ever chose Thursday nights, when you knew he was on duty. And tonight, you were working up the courage to confess your darkest sin - the dreams you had been having…

Learn the Ropes - Secondo x Reader - 2.4k

Secondo likes to be in charge. He likes to be in control. But you'd always wondered what he might do if one day, you decided to flip the script, and take charge for him…

Copia gets Bullied - Copia x Reader - 2.2k

"I know this trope for Cardinal Copia is over done but I would love, love your take on it. I would like a sister of sin who Copia have had a crush on, come and comfort him after witnessing him getting bullied and embarrassed. But the poor Cardinal is an emotional crying wreck that the sister decide the only way to comfort him is by being sexual with him for the first time🙈"

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[violettduchess]

Because your writings always leave me sighing because they're so amazing; can I request an afterglow with my gorgeous crimson-eyed fox prince?? 🦊 Please??? And thank you in advance love! ❤

A/N: Here you are @nightfoxqueen 💜 Thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy it!

Nokto Klein x reader

Spice level: one 🌶

WC:468

He doesn’t let you go. 

Despite the heat of your bodies and the slick sweat brought on by the ceaseless pounding of your heart, the winding and explosive unwinding of your muscles. 

Despite the fluttering of your breath as you chase the air you need to steady the bucking stallion that is your heart. 

Despite the clenching and unclenching of your fingers in the soft ends of his silvery hair. 

Despite it all, Nokto continues to hold you close against him, clinging to the ghost of your lovemaking, as if keeping you wrapped within the shelter of his arms might prolong that sphere of intimacy that has become so very precious to him. After all, it was you who expanded his knowledge beyond the carnal, into a realm where the emotional rules alongside the physical. A place where his heart is as essential as any other part of him.

And oh, does he love loving you. He wanders the garden of your body joyfully, tasting all it has to offer, his hands leaving no dip or curve, no mountain or valley untouched. 

He loves the physicality of you. Your weight when you’re above him, hands braced against his strong shoulders, your thighs bracketing his, the heat of you rolling through him like thunder. The soft brush of your hair when you bend down like a reed in the wind and press your lips to his neck, his jaw. The bite of your eager fingernails. The warm sensation of your tongue on his skin. Your scent surrounds him like the cool twilight of a summer night. Vaguely floral, mysterious, promising. Yes, he loves all this about you. 

But he also loves this moment, right now, when the earth is done quaking, when he can simply hold you, soft and spent and boneless with happiness, glowing with satisfaction. Because when he holds you close like this, your head resting on his chest, he knows you can feel his heart beating under your ear, calling out to you, singing a song of absolute devotion. The depth of his love for you astounds him. It wraps itself around his bones, flushes his pale skin pink, seeps its way into every crevice of his soul and brightens its darkest corners. 

He has so many dark corners.

His fingers slide over your bare back, passing over the vertebrae of your spine like a believer counting the rosary. All the divinity he ever needs is here, in his arms. Loving you has brought him grace. Peace. Clarity.

You shift, sliding your leg along his, your hand echoing the motion down his side and all thoughts of heaven vanish. The intent of your movements is anything but angelic......and his slow smile positively simmers with seduction.

He rolls over, bringing you with him, his body arching above yours so that he may get a final glimpse of you, your starry eyes alight with siren intent, your lips parted in a suggestive smile, before diving headfirst into the bacchanalian pleasure you offer so freely.

This, he thinks as he lowers his head, falling into the heady depths of your enticing kiss….this is another reason to keep you so close. 

The instant return to pleasure.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

[voraciouskingdom]

Shame Unbound

"The shackles release their rusted grip."

For too long, you have carried the weight of shame upon your shoulders, a soul-shackle forged from the fires of judgment and self-loathing. But today, step into the liberating light of radical self-acceptance.

Shame is an ancient specter, a haunting presence that has stalked the paths of human consciousness since the dawn of civilization. It is the whisper that tells you you are unworthy, the veil that obscures your radiant truth. But you need not battle this aspect of yourself, for it is a teacher in disguise, beckoning you to shed the chains that bind you.

Visualize the chains of shame that have bound your heart, your creativity, your sensual essence. See the rust of eons encrusting the links, each flake a story of pain and rejection you've carried far too long. As you breathe deeply into this vision, feel the shackles begin to loosen, their grip upon you weakening with every exhale.

You are not the stories of shame that have echoed through the ages. You are a cosmic dancer, a radiant expression of the universe's infinite creativity. The masks you've worn, the roles you've played - these were mere costumes, no longer serving the truth you embody. Let them fall away, revealing the sovereign essence that has been patiently awaiting its unveiling.

Invoke the spirit guides who walk beside you, their luminous presence a beacon in the shadows. Call upon the ancestors who have traversed this terrain before you, their wisdom echoing through the ages. You are not alone on this quest for liberation; the cosmos conspires to midwife your rebirth.

Affirmation: "I release the shackles of shame and embrace the truth of my wholeness. I am enough, I have always been enough."

Ritual: Gather a length of chain or rope, representing the bonds of shame. Holding it in your hands, speak aloud the stories and judgments that have kept you bound. As you give voice to each one, envision it dissolving into the ether. When you have released them all, burn the chain/rope as an act of symbolic unbinding. From the ashes, collect a small portion and blend it with salt to create a cleansing ritual bath. As you immerse yourself, feel the last remnants of shame dissolve away, rebirthing you into radical self-acceptance.

With this ritual of fire, salt, and living waters, you unbind yourself from the legacy of shame. The rusted chains turn to ash as you claim your sovereignty. You are not defined by the judgments cast upon you, beloved one, but a cosmic artist ever re-creating yourself through the choices you make in this present moment.

Let this be your rebirth into wholeness. Step forward unshackled, embracing your humanity with all its messy complexities and infinite potential. For it is in the alchemy of self-acceptance that your true power is unleashed.

The path will not always be easy, for the echoes of shame have been insistent companions. But now you recognize them for what they are - frightened aspects begging to be loved and integrated into your radiant becoming. Embrace all that you are, radiant light and shadowed depths intertwined. You are the ever-evolving cosmic dancer, and the darkness you once fled from are merely shadows cast by your own brilliant luminosity.

Call on the guides and ancestors who have danced these steps before you. They will illuminate the way through your darkest nights and thickest veils of self-judgment. For you are never alone on this journey, but woven into the great web of a universe conspiring towards your wholeness. Blessed Becoming. The path of radical self-love awaits your unbounded step.

🔥❤️‍🔥

[dc-and-arfrona]

Losing You - Headcannons - Batboys

BatBoys! x GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k+

Masterlist

Summary:How do they deal after losing you?

—

Bruce Wayne / Batman - 

Bruce’s POV

Gotham City was still and somber, mirroring the shadows that draped over my heart. The night's silence amplified the cacophony of emotions that threatened to consume me. They had left – the one person who had dared to venture beyond the cape and cowl, penetrating the fortress I had built around my true self. [Y/N], whose presence illuminated even the darkest corners of my soul.

Memories of our shared moments danced before my eyes as I brooded in the dimly lit Batcave. How we met at a charity gala, where I found solace in their laughter amidst the superficial conversations. The way their eyes sparkled when I revealed my true self as Bruce Wayne, not the vigilante they called Batman. How we fought side by side against the criminals, not only as allies but as kindred spirits.

But darkness can never fully coexist with light. The battles I faced as Batman scarred my soul, and I couldn't ignore the toll it took on our relationship. I saw the worry etched in their eyes, the fear that I might never come back one night. They deserved a life unburdened by my relentless crusade.

Now, in the aftermath of our break-up, I find myself lost in a maze of emotions, grappling with the void they left behind. It's not just the love I miss but also the human connection, the sense of belonging they granted me. Gotham's protector could never afford such luxuries – I had a city to save, a legacy to protect.

[Y/N]’s absence gnaws at me, a constant reminder of the fragile balance between Bruce Wayne and Batman. I wander the empty halls of Wayne Manor, haunted by the memories of our laughter, our secrets, and our stolen moments of happiness. Every shadow whispers their name, a painful reminder of what I let slip through my fingers.

I still cherish the letter they left, the words etched onto paper with grace and understanding. They wished for me to find peace and to heal the wounds that I had ignored for far too long. But could I ever mend my fractured heart without them by my side? Could I be Bruce Wayne without the [Y/N]’s light to guide me?

As the nights pass, I continue to patrol the city's grim streets, relentlessly pursuing justice. But there's a hollowness to it all, an emptiness that echoes within the confines of the Batcave. My silent ally, confidant, and lover has vanished, leaving me to grapple with my emotions in solitude.

In the stillness of the night, I yearn for their presence, their touch, their warmth. And yet, I understand their decision. They deserve a life filled with light, love, and unencumbered joy – a life that my alter ego, Batman, can never truly provide.

I take a deep breath, resigning myself to the painful truth that love doesn't always conquer all. [Y/N] has become a beacon of hope not only for the people of Gotham but for me as well. They showed me that love could bloom amidst darkness, but it also has the strength to walk away when necessary.

So, I will keep [Y/N]'s memory alive in my heart as I carry on the never-ending fight against crime. Maybe one day, the shadows will lift, and I will find a way to honor their sacrifice by finding my own peace within the storm. Until then, I'll remain the Dark Knight, haunted by the absence of [Y/N], forever chasing after elusive happiness.

------

Dick Grayson / Nightwing - 

Dick’s POV

The nights in Blüdhaven were always alive with a chaotic energy that mirrored my own restless soul. As Nightwing, I soared through the city, the rhythmic flapping of my cape the only constant in a world full of uncertainty. But tonight, something felt different, as if the very essence of my being was shifting.

I couldn't shake the memory of their face – that special someone whose enchanting presence had woven its way into every corner of my heart. We had shared laughter, secrets, and stolen glances that spoke volumes in the silence of the night. They were my confidant, my partner, and my inspiration, illuminating my path even in the darkest moments.

But like an ethereal mist, they had slipped through my fingers. We had parted ways, the painful decision to let them go still etched into my soul. I couldn't bear to see them caught in the crossfire of my dangerous life as Nightwing. They deserved a chance at a life free from the perils of my world.

Now, as I leaped from rooftop to rooftop, my mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Their absence left a void that I couldn't fill, no matter how fast or far I ran. The laughter that used to echo in my ears was now replaced with the haunting silence of regret.

In the cover of night, I found myself at our favorite spot – the old clock tower where we had shared countless memories. Its towering presence seemed to echo the towering weight of my heart. I gazed out into the city, the twinkling lights mirroring the stars in the sky, and I couldn't help but wonder if they were looking at the same stars too.

Every crime I thwarted, every life I saved, it all felt hollow without them by my side. They had brought warmth to my nights, and now, their absence left me with nothing but aching loneliness. It was as if a part of me was missing, and I feared I would never feel whole again.

As I stood there, engulfed by my thoughts, a soft breeze brushed against my cheek, and I closed my eyes. And in that moment, it was as if I could feel them beside me – their presence lingering in the very air I breathed. The memories flooded back, and I realized that no matter how far apart we were, they would forever be a part of me.

They had taught me the beauty of vulnerability, of letting someone in even when it meant exposing my deepest fears. And as Nightwing, I had to be brave, but it was in their arms that I found solace, knowing that it was okay to be human, to feel pain, and to love.

With resolve in my heart, I knew what I had to do. I had to find them, to tell them that they were my anchor in the storm, that they were the light in my darkest nights. Even if we couldn't be together in the same way, I wanted them to know that they had forever changed me, that they were my north star guiding me through life's chaos.

As the city below continued to buzz with life, I took flight once more, my heart now infused with hope. I would find them, and together, we would navigate the uncertainties of life. For in their eyes, I had found a love that transcended the boundaries of time and distance – a love that whispered of forever in the depths of my soul.

----

Jason Todd / Red Hood - 

Jason’s POV

The weight of the Red Hood's choices bore down on him heavily, leaving scars both visible and unseen. Gotham's nights were filled with darkness, but within Jason Todd's heart, the darkness was unyielding. As he patrolled the city's shadows, he couldn't escape the memories that haunted him, memories that connected him to the one person he thought he had lost forever – the one who held a special place in his heart.

They had once been his guiding light, the one soul who could see through the jagged edges of the Red Hood's armor and into the wounded heart of Jason Todd. But circumstances had pulled them apart, leaving him adrift in a sea of turmoil.

On this particular night, the weight became too much to bear. Seeking solace and understanding, Jason found himself at Roy Harper's doorstep. Roy, a friend and fellow vigilante, had always been a source of comfort, someone who understood the struggle between darkness and redemption.

Roy welcomed Jason with a knowing nod, and they settled in a dimly lit corner of his apartment. The air was heavy with unspoken words as they exchanged glances filled with shared history.

"I've been carrying so much pain, Roy," Jason finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I miss them, you know? The one who meant so much to me. I miss who I was when they were with me."

Roy listened attentively, his eyes reflecting compassion. "I know, man. Sometimes the pain can feel unbearable, but that doesn't mean you have to carry it alone."

Jason took a deep breath, struggling to find the words to convey the torment in his heart. "Being the Red Hood is all I know now. It's like there's this void inside me, and I thought I could fill it with vengeance. But it's just made everything worse."

Roy placed a hand on Jason's shoulder, offering silent support. "You're not beyond redemption, Jason. None of us are. The path you're on might be dark, but you still have a choice. You can choose to heal, to find a different way."

Tears welled up in Jason's eyes, and for a moment, he allowed himself to be vulnerable in the presence of a friend who understood. "I want to be whole again, Roy, but I don't know where to start."

Roy smiled softly, recognizing the flicker of hope in Jason's admission. "You start by forgiving yourself, by accepting that mistakes are a part of being human. And then, you take one step at a time. Reach out to those who care about you, let them in. It won't be easy, but healing rarely is."

Jason nodded, the weight on his shoulders feeling a little lighter as he released some of the pain he had been carrying. "I'll try, Roy. I'll try to find my way back."

"You don't have to do it alone, brother," Roy reassured him. "I'll be here for you, and so will others who care about you. We all stumble, but it's how we pick ourselves up that defines us."

As the night wore on, Jason and Roy shared stories of the past, of battles won and lost, but most importantly, of hope. In the quiet moments between their words, Jason felt a glimmer of healing, knowing that he wasn't alone in his journey toward redemption.

And in the depths of his heart, he realized that the one who held a special place in his heart had never truly left him. They had left an indelible mark on his soul, one that reminded him that love and hope could still bloom amidst the darkness. With Roy's guidance, Jason understood that there was a chance for healing, for a second chance at life – a chance he was determined to seize, one step at a time.

------

Tim Drake / Red Robin -

Tim’s POV

The city lights shimmered below as I stood on the rooftop, my cape fluttering in the cool night breeze. Restlessness gripped me tonight, and memories of [Y/N], the one who had once held my heart, haunted my thoughts. As Red Robin, I dedicated myself to fighting crime, but this evening, I needed something more – a way to find peace amidst the chaos.

An idea struck me, and I decided to revisit the places where we had shared some of our most cherished moments. Each location held memories of laughter, intimacy, and genuine connection. I hoped that revisiting those places would help mend the pieces of my heart that felt fractured.

The first stop was the cozy café where we had shared our first cup of coffee together. Sitting at our old table, I sipped my coffee, reminiscing about how we had spent hours talking, sharing our dreams and fears. The warmth of the café and the memories it held brought both comfort and a pang of longing. It reminded me of a time when everything felt so much simpler.

Next, I strolled through the park where we often sought refuge. The trees had grown taller, but the bench we used to occupy remained, untouched by time. Sitting there, I gazed at the stars overhead, recalling the nights we spent stargazing together, finding constellations in the vast night sky. It felt like those moments were just yesterday.

The nearby arcade was my next destination. Surrendering to playful nostalgia, I immersed myself in the flashing lights and sounds of the games. Memories flooded back of the times we playfully challenged each other, laughter echoing in our ears as we vied for high scores.

My final stop was a quaint bookstore where we had lost ourselves in countless stories. I picked up a book they had recommended, feeling a connection to them through the words on the pages.

With each place I revisited, a sense of peace settled over me. These memories weren't just reminders of what was lost, but a testament to the love we once shared. Amidst the bustling city, I found moments of stillness, a chance to remember who I was before the pain and burdens of my vigilante life consumed me.

As I walked through the dimly lit streets, I realized that while I couldn't change the past, I could honor the memories we created together. Instead of dwelling on what had slipped away, I chose to cherish what we once had and find a way to carry that love with me into the future.

Revisiting those old date places allowed me to find peace – not by forgetting or letting go, but by acknowledging the significance of what we meant to each other. As Red Robin, I would continue to protect the city, but now, I knew that amid the chaos, there would always be a place where I could find a moment of tranquility – a place where our love still lingered.

------

Damian Wayne / Robin -

Damian’s POV

The weight of our recent breakup hung heavy on my shoulders as I sought refuge in the quiet solitude of my room. The emptiness seemed almost suffocating, a reminder of the void you had left in my life. I tried to distract myself with training and missions, but no matter how fast I moved or how fiercely I fought, I couldn't escape the pain in my heart.

It was then that I noticed Ace, my loyal Great Dane, gazing at me with his big, understanding eyes. He had been a constant companion throughout my life, a loyal friend who never judged me and offered comfort in his own special way. I had never thought to seek solace in him, but at that moment, the idea seemed like the only respite from the anguish.

With a heavy sigh, I plopped down onto my bed, and without any prompting, Ace hopped up beside me, nudging my hand gently with his snout. The warmth of his presence offered a sense of comfort that I hadn't realized I needed.

I buried my face into Ace's fur, taking in his familiar scent, and wrapped my arms around him. His steady heartbeat echoed in my ears, and for the first time since our breakup, I felt a flicker of tranquility. Ace didn't judge me or offer advice – he simply offered the warmth of his body and the steadiness of his presence.

It was as if he knew the turmoil in my heart and understood that sometimes words weren't enough. As I held him close, my mind drifted back to the moments you and I had spent together, the laughter, the shared secrets, and the happiness that seemed so distant now.

In the past, I might have scorned the idea of finding comfort in a pet, but with Ace by my side, I realized that his loyalty was just as valuable as any human connection. He didn't expect me to be anything other than myself, and his affection was unconditional.

As I lay there, wrapped in the warmth of Ace's embrace, I found myself slowly finding peace. The pain didn't vanish entirely, but it felt less suffocating, as if I had a friend who understood my grief and was willing to bear it with me.

Ace and I stayed like that for what seemed like hours, finding solace in each other's company. I couldn't help but feel grateful for his presence, a gentle reminder that even in the midst of heartache, there was love and comfort to be found in unexpected places.

As the night wore on, I drifted off to sleep with Ace by my side, his warmth and loyalty providing a balm to my wounded heart. In the embrace of my furry friend, I found a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, with time, the pain would ease, and life would regain some semblance of normalcy. Until then, I knew that I could count on Ace to be there, offering his unwavering comfort and companionship.

[dollypartonswig]

My top 10 books of the year!

1 ) The Nothing Man - Catherine Ryan Howard -

At the age of twelve, Eve Black was the only member of her family to survive an encounter with serial attacker the Nothing Man. Now an adult, she is obsessed with identifying the man who destroyed her life. Supermarket security guard Jim Doyle has just started reading The Nothing Man--the true-crime memoir Eve has written about her efforts to track down her family's killer. As he turns each page, his rage grows. Because Jim's not just interested in reading about the Nothing Man. He is the Nothing Man. Jim soon beings to realize how dangerously close Eve is getting to the truth. He knows she won't give up until she finds him. He has no choice but to stop her first.

2 ) The Night Ship - Jess Kidd -

1629: A newly orphaned young girl named Mayken is bound for the Dutch East Indies on the Batavia , one of the greatest ships of the Dutch Golden Age. Curious and mischievous, Mayken spends the long journey going on misadventures above and below the deck, searching for a mythical monster. But the true monsters might be closer than she thinks. 1989: A lonely boy named Gil is sent to live off the coast of Western Australia among the seasonal fishing community where his late mother once resided. There, on the tiny reef-shrouded island, he discovers the story of an infamous shipwreck…

3) The Reading List - Sara Nisha Adams -

Widower Mukesh lives a quiet life in the London Borough of Ealing after losing his beloved wife. He shops every Wednesday, goes to Temple, and worries about his granddaughter, Priya, who hides in her room reading while he spends his evenings watching nature documentaries. Aleisha is a bright but anxious teenager working at the local library for the summer when she discovers a crumpled-up piece of paper in the back of To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s a list of novels that she’s never heard of before. Intrigued, and a little bored with her slow job at the checkout desk, she impulsively decides to read every book on the list, one after the other. As each story gives up its magic, the books transport Aleisha from the painful realities she’s facing at home. When Mukesh arrives at the library, desperate to forge a connection with his bookworm granddaughter, Aleisha passes along the reading list… hoping that it will be a lifeline for him too. Slowly, the shared books create a connection between two lonely souls, as fiction helps them escape their grief and everyday troubles and find joy again.

4) Midnight Is The Darkest Hour - Ashley Winstead -

Ruth Collier has always felt like an outsider, even as her father rains fire and brimstone from the church pulpit. In Bottom Springs, his word is as good as law. But there are things the townspeople fear more than God, like the Low Man, a vampiric figure said to kill sinners in their beds on moonless nights. When a skull is found deep in the swamp, a hunt for the Low Man begins. Suspicion turns to Everett – Ruth's oldest friend, with a dark past. As Ruth and Everett grow closer, Ruth begins to unearth the town's secrets, determined to discover the truth. But as the line between good and evil grows ever thin, how far will Ruth go to save the person she loves most?

5) The Appeal - Janice Hallett -

The Fairway Players, a local theatre group, is in the midst of rehearsals when tragedy strikes the family of director Martin Hayward and his wife Helen, the play’s star. Their young granddaughter has been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, and with an experimental treatment costing a tremendous sum, their castmates rally to raise the money to give her a chance at survival. But not everybody is convinced of the experimental treatment’s efficacy—or of the good intentions of those involved. As tension grows within the community, things come to a shocking head at the explosive dress rehearsal. The next day, a dead body is found, and soon, an arrest is made. In the run-up to the trial, two young lawyers sift through the material—emails, messages, letters—with a growing suspicion that the killer may be hiding in plain sight. The evidence is all there, between the lines, waiting to be uncovered.

6) My Sister, The Serial Killer - Oyinkan Braithwaite -

When Korede's dinner is interrupted one night by a distress call from her sister, Ayoola, she knows what's expected of her: bleach, rubber gloves, nerves of steel and a strong stomach. This'll be the third boyfriend Ayoola's dispatched in, quote, self-defence and the third mess that her lethal little sibling has left Korede to clear away. She should probably go to the police for the good of the menfolk of Nigeria, but she loves her sister and, as they say, family always comes first. Until, that is, Ayoola starts dating the doctor where Korede works as a nurse. Korede's long been in love with him, and isn't prepared to see him wind up with a knife in his back: but to save one would mean sacrificing the other...

7) Outlawed - Anna North -

The day of her wedding, 17 year old Ada's life looks good; she loves her husband, and she loves working as an apprentice to her mother, a respected midwife. But after a year of marriage and no pregnancy, in a town where barren women are routinely hanged as witches, her survival depends on leaving behind everything she knows. She joins up with the notorious Hole in the Wall Gang, a band of outlaws led by a preacher-turned-robber known to all as the Kid. Charismatic, grandiose, and mercurial, the Kid is determined to create a safe haven for outcast women. But to make this dream a reality, the Gang hatches a treacherous plan that may get them all killed. And Ada must decide whether she's willing to risk her life for the possibility of a new kind of future for them all.

8) Madhouse At The End Of The Earth - Julian Sancton -

The harrowing true survival story of an early polar expedition that went terribly awry--with the ship frozen in ice and the crew trapped inside for the entire sunless, Antarctic winter. Drawing on firsthand accounts of the Belgica's voyage and exclusive access to the ship's logbook, Sancton tells the tale of its long, isolated imprisonment on the ice--a story that NASA studies today in its research on isolation for missions to Mars. In vivid, hair-raising prose, Sancton recounts the myriad forces that drove these men right up to and over the brink of madness.

9) Morbidly Yours - Ivy Fairbanks -

Callum Flannelly would rather dive into an open grave than take a stranger to dinner and a movie. But he can only inherit the family undertaking business and carry on their legacy under one condition: He must marry before his 35th birthday. So it’s out of the mortuary and into the dating scene. Lark Thompson would rather get crushed by a falling anvil than stay next to a funeral home during her stay in Galway, Ireland. The vivacious American cartoon creator and animator came here to embrace life, not be reminded of losing her husband. When Lark learns of Callum’s dilemma and aversion to marrying out of necessity rather than love, she agrees to help the introverted mortician. Although sworn off love herself, she is optimistic that Callum can find The One and secure his inheritance. But as the dating project progresses and their friendship grows, so does a mutual attraction. The more time she spends with serious, sarcastic Callum, the more she dreads finding him a match. And the more disastrous dates he endures, the more he dreads Lark’s imminent return to the states. If they think it’s possible to ignore their connection, they’re dead wrong.

10) Bunny - Mona Awad -

Samantha Heather Mackey couldn't be more of an outsider in her small, highly selective MFA program at New England's Warren University. A scholarship student who prefers the company of her dark imagination to that of most people, she is utterly repelled by the rest of her fiction writing cohort--a clique of unbearably twee rich girls who call each other Bunny, and seem to move and speak as one. But everything changes when Samantha receives an invitation to the Bunnies' fabled Smut Salon, and finds herself inexplicably drawn to their front door--ditching her only friend, Ava, in the process. As Samantha plunges deeper and deeper into the Bunnies' sinister yet saccharine world, beginning to take part in the ritualistic off-campus Workshop where they conjure their monstrous creations, the edges of reality begin to blur. Soon, her friendships with Ava and the Bunnies will be brought into deadly collision.

[kurosakijane-blog]

It seemed as if these deserted streets were always so quiet. The clouds were thickening, and a light breeze caused trembling in the body.

Shiver? In June?

Grinning, V stopped. His health is deteriorating every minute and this is the least of his troubles. If this continues, he simply won’t have time. It was not enough to fall when the goal was just a stone's throw away!

"It seems the path is clear, V." Griffon made a circle and landed on a telephone booth, a couple of meters from the next alley, "take a three-minute break and move on, you look paler than usual."

“Let’s go further…” the dark-haired man wanted to object, but a sudden pain in his legs made him stumble. Fortunately, he was not destined to fall - thanks to the cane and the suddenly flying bird.

"Damn you, V! Three minutes!"

Leaning his shoulder on the cool door of the booth, the guy exhaled noisily. The rustling of leaves and the quiet growl of the Shadow calmed, the eyelids filled with lead. How long has he been awake?

Weakness takes its toll, V's eyes close, allowing him to relax a little. One thought is replaced by another, the memory draws landscapes, images, and if the streets are filled with silence, the noise in the head does not subside for a second. Suddenly, amidst this chaos, the guy hears soft laughter. Quickly opening his eyes, V sharply turns around and peers into the empty houses and alleys.

No one.

"What's the matter?" Griffon grunts dissatisfied, following the owner’s gaze. But he ignored any questions. “Hey, V!”

The door of the telephone booth gives in under the pressure of the man's weakened fingers and opens with a barely audible creak. A small bell rings quietly, echoing in the middle of a deserted street. The coin falls into the slot with a clink, and his fingers quickly type in the numbers.

The beeps last forever for him.

"Hello?" sounds at the other end of the line and the guy’s heart starts beating faster. His lips spread into a gentle smile. Your laughter has always been a song for him, helping him to walk towards the light at the end of the darkest tunnel in his life. Your voice was the medicine for his crumbling body and broken soul. Was everything to him.

The world ceased to exist for him at that moment, leaving only this small telephone booth, whose peeling paint once again reminded him that nothing lasts forever. V exhales into the phone with relief, gently whispering your name. But he couldn’t squeeze out another word, and he had something to say. Your last meeting left a very big wound on your hearts, and your tear-stained face still flashes before his eyes.

To some extent, he was glad that everything turned out this way. “Everything that isn’t done is for the better,” right? The situation with Urizen helped V understand his mistakes, rethink his actions and decide for himself what would be the right thing to do. You…didn't share his opinion. You were angry. His life was much more important to you than the whole world. However…V left.

"V?" - you whisper in hope, but there is no answer. You sniffle quietly and exhale raggedly. “She’s crying,” the man thinks, closing his eyes with regret.

“Anger is a normal feeling,” you once said, “The main thing is to be able to forgive and remember that you are not alone. Now I am with you.”

Your words echo in his ears. Only now, in addition to warmth, the man felt something prickly and burning in his soul.

Guilt.

The Griffon taps his claws on the glass, reminding him of his presence. Time to go.

“Promise that you’ll come back to me, please…” you beg, pressing the phone harder to your cheek.

Long fingers squeeze the cane tighter, your gentle touches emerge in his memory. God, he would give anything for you to touch his cheeks with both hands one more time, to run your fingertips over them. He would give anything for this now…

"I promise." he blurts out in anger and immediately hangs up. He really wants to come back. To hold you close to him again, breathe in the alluring scent of your hair and reject the world that once rejected him.

The man's heart sank painfully. Not only from the realization that he will never feel your love again. He lied to you and it was destroying him, it seemed, much more than his curse.

The safety of the world, YOUR safety, depends on the outcome of this day.

The phone booth bell rang again, sobering V’s consciousness, cutting him off from the past. The cane hit the stone path with a dull thud, and a quiet growl was heard very close by. Shadow touched its owner's hand with its wet nose, lightly rubbed its muzzle against his palm, and then gently pushed its head into his back, urging him to move on. Your smiling face stood before V’s eyes so clearly that any doubts in his head immediately dissipated. Despite his illness, his steps became more confident. Now he is ready to go to the end.

His choice was made.

[farewell-superiors]

I’m having so many thoughts about @ammstify’s persona 6 idea for it being about nature and being based on Arthurian legend but as more of a spin-off but I’m in the “pacing while brainstorming” phase which means that I have too much energy to sit down and actually write down my ideas so I may as well start a post that’s like… just a bunch of ramblings about ideas. Have so at least it’s WRITTEN DOWN and I won’t forget anything. If I think enough I might even make a fanfic in the style of steal the truth (which you should absolutely read btw it’s genuinely one of the best video game adaptations with how well it integrates persona’s calendar mechanic and social links into its story structure) but that would require a lot of foresight and planning (hence why u want to WRITE SHIT DOWN)

Anyway here goes. Spoilers for something that I just made up but might make into an actual thing in the future I guess lol

The themes are about growth (there's LOTS of plant imagery), moving on, and how it gets better (the sun will always rise, darkest before dawn, etc. (there's a lot of day/night imagery as well)), and it looks at the relationship between humans and the environment.

The setting will probably be Kyoto, or at least some city, but I'm undecided about whether the characters are high school or uni students. Both have their pros and cons and I just have to figure them out. I'm leaning towards Uni?

The actual persona elements take place in the sea of souls, although it's more accurate to say the field of souls, as it's an undending field of grass, flowers, and the odd tree/hill, with every bit of flora representing a life. Select people will travel to the sea of souls in their sleep, but sleeping in the sea of souls won't get you out, so if someone is there without a way out, it looks like they're in a coma. If they happen to die in there (haven't completely figured out shadow mechanics yet, don't know if day/night cycles in the sos would be over a few weeks (to represent the collective unconscious) or over a characters journey (because it's cool imagery)) the body will start growing vines and leaves as their pulse slowly fades.

One way to get out is through the velvet room: In the sea of souls there is a battlefield, with velvet blue warbanners rising amongst the bloodstained foliage, and in the centre is a familiar long nosed man sitting on a particularly comfy looking rock, with a warrior clad in a deep blue leather armour brandishing a spear and shield. As neither protagonist is a wild card (whoops spoiler) Igor doesn't act as the guy who fuses your personas, he's like a guide both through your journey and on your way back to the real world. Maybe belladonna and nameless are also there, who knows.

Persona users have a body part wrapped in foliage, vines, flowers, and the like (the location can be thematic, it’s as if wrapped in chains), and when summoned the foliage chains break and rapidly grow into the summoned persona.

Protag A (who I shall refer to as Sun because that’s their arcana) is a kind young man who was diagnosed with cancer. This diagnosis comes shortly after moving to a new city to start university, so he rightly is in a lot of turmoil and feeling alone. One of the way he copes is by having a fairly dark cynical sense of humour, contrasting with his kind and caring personality. I’m not set on a subject he does, I’m thinking natural sciences, it’s got a wide range of topics and, most importantly, MATHS (this isn’t a joke). His starting persona is Arthur, his second awakening is Arturus Rex, both of the sun arcana, and his ultimate persona is Excalibur, of the world arcana.

Protag B (who I shall refer to as Moon) is a standoffish young woman in the year above sun. An abuse survivor, her father (her only living relative) recently was jailed for what he did, but she still holds a deep contempt for humanity who she thinks has failed her. Initially forced to interact with sun because of a scheme where second years help first years, she stays with him because of a shared goal once they enter the sea of souls. Her story arc is about growing to care for others, learning to see the good in people, and stopping seeking revenge. Her starting persona is Lancelot, who evolves into white knight, both of the moon arcana, and her ultimate persona is Galahad of the world arcana (I’m intentionally hiding some things but oh well lol. The personas are thought out, I’ll tell you that).

I’ve not settled on social links or party members, I’ve got a few ideas, like Sun’s maths professor (who would either be magician or hierophant) and the Lovers arcana, but nothing concrete.

Getting into real endgame spoilers now, the premise is that two gods, Pendragon and Morgan le Fay, are arguing over whether humanity should suffer or not. Pendragon thinks they're a stain on the world and should be wiped out, while Morgan le Fay thinks they should live in eternal bliss. Given that the themes are about moving on and growing, neither is very good, or rather, life is a combination of the two. They're represented by the moon and the sun in the sea of souls, when Pendragon is "winning" it's night, when Morgan is "winning" it's day. towards the end of the story the party beats Pendragon without realising that now Morgan le Fay is able to act unchecked and so the regular course of life grinds to a halt. During the course of the story each protagonist holds one in themself, Moon with her contempt for humanity holds pendragon, and Sun with his wish to live with his friends forever holds Morgan, but once Moon starts to see the good in humanity her mind boots out pendragon (hence why they fight him), and once Sun accepts that a life in stagnation isn't a life living at all, his mind boots out Morgan (hence why they fight her). Basically, I really really really like the ideas of third semester and am doing something similar lol.

At the start Sun and Moon are visited by a Doctor informing him of his cancer diagnosis and a chief prosecutor "congratulating" her about her father's loss in court respectively. Both talk about their fascination with/contempt of humanity, and end with "do you agree?", a cloaked agreement to a contract that makes them their champion, for these are Morgan le Fay and Pendragon in human forms. A side effect of tricking them into agreeing to a contract, however, is letting them into the velvet room, a mistake that would lead to both of the gods' downfall.

Ah shit I haven't even tackled how dungeons and stuff work. I know at least the last one is gonna be called Avalon.

I think I'm just gonna go ahead and post this for now, I might edit it later so uhhh stay tuned I guess

[balladofthewhitehorse]

7, 14, 18, 22, 38 + d & g for Scotland, i love the way you write him :D (I know that’s so many I’m so sorry for being greedy don’t feel like you have to answer them all! <3)

Don’t apologise at all! I’m glad you love the way I write him. I took a lot of inspiration from your HCs as well as Stirringwinds, Oumaheroes and Fumblingmusings too! Thanks for sending in so many good asks >:)c I absolutely love talking to others about these characters. 7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Going fishing - a peaceful brisk morning for it too, with not a soul around to disturb him, on the banks of a sluggish river. It’s something he does every so often, and usually it gets him in a nostalgic mood. Things were easier once. Things were simple once, back when immortality was something that riveted Scotland’s spirit rather than left him brooding for hours on end. However, this puts Scotland into a miserable mood for the rest of the day - it’s frustrating, given that he genuinely enjoys fishing, but it reminds him too much of how easy it was to be a family - how easy it was to simply be able to view England, Wales and Ireland as his family without any of the politics and history to muddy it. Sure, he may be able to fish with England today - but the past hangs like a lantern, illuminating the darkest corners. 

It reminds him, too, of how easy it was to spend time with France - to kiss and hold them without being reminded of the contractual nature of their relationship, of the obligations and politics and the dreadful feeling that he was only ever stoking England’s fury and resentment towards France. It reminds him too, of their relationship with its ups and downs. Fishing is something of a gentle, peaceful past-time. It is one of his most mundane, most human moments and Scotland wishes, wishes with all his heart, that he could go back to being that young boy fishing by the river. 

14. What animal do they fear most?

I will approach this from a metaphorical angle first, and then put down some animals that he generally does not want to fuck around with in a literal sense. Sorry, I love animal symbolism too much not to approach it from a metaphorical sense - even though I think this question is intended rather literally; Firstly, Scotland is afraid of wolves and dogs - particularly big, black ones with white teeth and copper eyes. Collared ones are perfectly fine, Scotland loves a faithful pet, but the sight of a lone, shaggy dark stray is something that awakens an instinctual dread in him. Wolves too, set something primal and wary inside him - and reminds him all too much of his brother, red-eyed and hostile, barghest, black shuck, snarlyow…

He cannot help, but wonder if the plethora of black dogs south of the border are all England’s doing. After-all, humans talk and make stories and are fearful of the dark, and there is nobody quite like his brother who wears the night like a second coat. If Scotland considers himself a stag - noble, free and just - then England is the wolf, wily and furious. It is hard for Scotland to look into a wolf’s eyes for long - and he remembers hunting them down in the forests a long, long time ago and holding their skulls, their broad jaws in his hand and imagining that England was bleeding before him. Maybe that’s just daft of him, Scotland admits. But nevertheless…

Now in a more literal sense, because I think that’s the intention of the question: Scotland isn’t fearful of any animal. He’s wary of some, but Scotland is always quick to point out that caution is not cowardice - and he has quite a lot of disdain for those who are quick to mix up the two. Cows can flatten you if given the chance and while they’re usually docile, Scotland has seen far too many idiots get trampled by cows, and big cats are simply off the table - too stealthy, too agile and powerful. He doesn’t care for sharks either, and makes sure to avoid the sea. Can’t get him on dry land, can they now? All the same, Scotland is not fearful so much as wary most of the time.

18. What embarrasses them?

On a mundane level: Idiocy, Raised Voices, Being Emotional On a much more personal level, there is nothing that Scotland finds more embarrassing than when his siblings lose their wits or their temper. He’s someone who prides himself on being able to keep control of himself, of being level-headed and calm. He’s someone who’s always told himself that he needs to be in charge - needs to act like a leader while everyone else is freaking out. In that sense, one could argue Scotland is not unlike England (who harbours the need to be in control - but by contrast, England does it out of a sense of wariness, of paranoia while Scotland has a sense of duty). When he snaps or when he raises his voice - or perhaps makes a mistake - the embarrassment sticks with Scotland to the very end. It clings to him like ink to paper, like blood to carpet, like sins to a guilty conscience. Out, Damned Spot; Out, I say! - as Lady Macbeth once said. 

‘’You should just forgive him.’’ Scotland replied icily, jaw tense as he watched his sister pace the length of his sitting room - she was erratic, a little like a wasp, Scotland mused to himself. It had been unfair, that much Scotland understood, but then what else was new? ‘’I know him-’’ Wales whirled around, fury in her eyes (so much like her little brother). ‘’-He just…ah, fumbled his words?’’ He shrugged, feeling the tips of his ears going red - the same hue whenever his siblings argued, which was frequently. ‘’It’s not worth the embarrassment.’’ ‘’And what-’’ Wales spat. ‘’-is the embarrassment?’’ 

Scotland stared steadily back, taking a deep breath as he slowly rose to his feet. Wales was doing it again. Wales was twisting his words - and a feeling of frustration seeped into the core of his bones as he watched his sister cross her arms, tapping her foot expectantly. ‘’He will just blame you. And then you’ll get angry and then-’’ Scotland’s lip curled. ‘’-And then everyone loses their shit!’’ It always happened, and Scotland was always there to pick up the pieces (Why me? Why is it always me-!?) ‘’You wouldn’t understand, Wales, I’m just say-’’ ‘’You’re just saying to pick the easy way out, like a coward.’’ Wales scoffed, an icy veneer crossing her eyes as she jabbed a finger at Scotland. ‘’You’ve shoved yourself well up his arse, Scotland.’’

‘’I’m just being smart!’’ Scotland snapped. ‘’England will…will just use this as proof of your immaturity.’’ He sniffed, shaking his head as he leaned in towards Wales (Green eyes ran in the family, and they bore into his soul). ‘’Keep your cool and play your cards right. Just forgive him. It can be as empty or as meaningful as you want, just try not to fucking lose it.’’ Wales’ lips went thin, her back going rigid as she glared at Scotland. ‘’You don’t know how long I’ve been doing that. You fucking don’t know how long I’ve been doing that for already.’’ 

Scotland’s fists clenched. ‘’I do.’’ Whirlwinds of fire and clashing swords, Scotland took a deep breath (as if he were about to dive, to immerse himself in a cold sea - and never return). ‘’So pull yourself together, Wales. Suck it up.’’ Scotland winced as he said these words, face going pale as he watched his sister withdraw (coiled as a spring, wound up - he didn’t try to dodge, squeezing his eyes shut as Wales slammed the door shut). ‘’...Fuck.’’

22. How does jealousy manifest itself in them?

Deep-rooted and quietly seething, Scotland is the figure in the back of the room brooding angrily. Crossed-arms and stiff shoulders, features like stone, he is quiet and icy; A chilly lake in the darkest winter, contemplating what he wants and why he wants it, and most crucially how to get it. Really, Scotland does not think he’s being jealous - only protective, after-all it’s something that he has his sights on and that makes it his, no? Some people might consider England to be rather prickly and sharp - the most jealous out of the siblings, but where England spits fire - Scotland is ice. More specifically, the ice beneath your feet that is threatening to crack, echoing with promise - with threat, the water below to plunge you into his grasp. 

38. What memory do they revisit the most often? 

D. Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

I think I always kept Scotland’s design fairly consistent! When developing his character (I did this before I realised that Hetalia has a canon Scotland already, LOL!), I had a sort of typical body-shape and design in mind to go with his personality - and Scotland has always given me sort of rugged, outdoorsy vibes (stereotyping aside!) He’s always been broad-shouldered and strong, although I have recently started to toy with the concept of giving him some specific scarring or some leg issue, just because he’s been through a lot. For the most part, his design has been fairly consistent - with a few small changes (such as his height, originally I was going to make their heights consistent with the actual size of the country, so England would be taller than Scotland, but somewhere at some point, I changed my mind). 

G. What trait of theirs bothers you the most? Oooh, this is a good question. I think the trait that bothers me the most is - and I’m answering in terms of how easy it is to write - the fact I think Scotland can be quite self righteous. The issue is that I don’t know how to portray his self-righteousness - because he’s quite well within his rights usually, LOL! I guess I’m gonna try and consider how he can be a little cunning himself from time to time, but  I need to work on my Scottish history. Maybe some grave-robbing fic in the future, hmm? I always do think he’d be a bit of a surgeon back then and well…we all know about Burke and Hare, no? (but without the murder. Unless?)