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hawkland · 3 years

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(Mostly) Destiel Fic Recs #5

This is a LONG recs post because it’s been a while since I did an update and I fell hard into reading one author’s work (DeanRH). In fact I could easily do a rec post just of their fics alone, but for this round I’m just going to pick out a handful of my absolute favorites so far, the ones I’d recommend to start out with, along with more other authors’ works I’ve especially enjoyed lately.

Absolution at the Five-and-Dime by DeanRH (125k) - this is perhaps THEE DeanRH fic to start with if you want a good, long read with a little bit of everything (Roadtrips! Intriguing casefic! Americana! Tasty Dean/Cas pining! Wing!kink and unique angel lore! Kinky soul fisting and tentacles!) It’s kind of two of parallel stories in one: the first, a flashback to Dean and Sam's first year hunting on their own (as well as trying to avoid hunting, and John in general); the second on how Dean and Cas finally get together during an unusual case and when Dean is able to really let go of his past trauma and accept himself/accept love from Cas.

What I love about DeanRH’s work is that they write from the unique point of view of a drifter, so they understand living on the road, traveling place to place, and the highs and lows of that life like no others I’ve encountered in SPN before. (The author’s notes are often as much fun to read as the stories themselves). They also write a kickass angel!Cas and never lose sight of his non-human traits and background. Their writing style is unique - almost poetic in nature, and I know some readers have found it difficult to get into. But it works really well for me in their SPN fic...gives it the flavor of oral story telling as might actually happen at a drifter’s camp (with one story written exactly as such). Be warned this particular fic does play up the idea of John Winchester being mentally abusive and Dean having to turn tricks when he was younger in order to support him and Sam, so there is some dark stuff. But as someone who grew up with mentally abusive parent, reading this was extremely cathartic to me and believably written (unlike some stories that go too over the top with abusive John, or just don't understand how that kind of abuse leaves lifetime psychological scars.)

The rest of this round’s recs below the cut.

Carnevale by DeanRH (18k) - Actually the first fic by this author I read, because I just couldn’t resist a story set in my favorite place in the world, Venice, Italy. Castiel is the Angel of Venice, banished there for so long he does not even know or remember the reasons why. But Carnevale season is the one time a year he can let his wings out - figuratively and literally. And during this particular Carnevale season, he meets an intriguing masked young American tourist there with his brother and their one night stand turns into something far more powerful than either expected. This one’s hot, romantic, and achingly sad at the end as it all ties together unexpectedly with canon-verse...though with a hint for the future so it’s definitely not totally sad. I loved how DeanRH clearly understands Venice as a fellow lover of the city, the side of it most tourists never see unless they spend a long time there. This story made me cry just from wanting to be back in Venice again.

Ice cream was sweeter, food more satisfying, everything was an epicurean delight. There was just something magical about Venice, and he had lived here in the city for hundreds of years, so the shine should have worn off by now.

But it didn't, and there was always something more, something wonderful to discover around the next corner. The painted eaves of a church. The beauty of two women dancing with flowers in their teeth across the Piazza San Marco one day, overcome by the sheer joy of just being there. The way the university students still created Venetian masks, like Castiel's extravagant volto mask and Dean's humble servetta muta, with crafts that had been handed down across the generations. The morning silence that lay against the stones.

Hard Landing by DeanRH (26.9k) - A bit similar in theme to Carnevale. A pre-series Dean and Sam are sight-seeing in Spain when an angel, struck by a babel-spell, crash lands right in front of Dean. A strange yet seriously hot encounter with the angel turns into something much more complicated when the brothers return home and realize something more serious is afoot and they are both trapped in the middle of it. This is another story where things are very much not as they seem at first (as fun as that is!) It features master strategist Cas at his best, with a side helping of delightful trickery care of Gabriel and Balthazar as they deal with Lucifer, Michael...and a few others along the way.

The Sacred Band of Thebes by DeanRH (14.5k) - The last DeanRH fic I’m gonna allow myself to include in this round up, because it’s just very soft and sweet and beautiful - for a story about Dean & Cas being magically transported back in time to ancient Sparta! This is another story infused with a great knowledge of place and history, with some wonderfully delightful original characters added in that make it all the more enjoyable to read.

And now on to some other authors, I promise!

IPAMIS OL OLPRIT by emmbrancsxx0 (56k). A really wonderful fic that take a different look at what might have happened with a temporarily resurrected John Winchester during Season 14. Dean & Cas are in an established relationship here, and John here isn’t too happy about it — though mostly because he sees Cas (and Jack) as monsters, the kind of monsters he spent his lifetime hunting. This is a great fic for the emotional complexity of how John, Dean and Cas are all handled. John isn’t a cardboard evil dad, Dean is struggling between his loyalty to his father and to Cas, and Cas is increasingly bitchy/frustrated at Dean still being so desperate for his father’s approval (and all the more complex for not just being a quietly suffering perfect supporting boyfriend.) There’s some great action sequences in this too along with the emotional angst and a delicious dose of hurt!Cas if that’s your thing (as it is for me :D)

Abrenuntio by Neonbat (51k). A very dark but compelling AU take on the/a apocalypse universe. Dean, Sam and John are all alive in this post-angel war-apocalyptic world. They are part of a group of human survivors fighting against the angel army when they manage to capture “Blue” — a particularly feared angel of death. Dean is tasked with bringing Blue in for interrogation and he becomes a prisoner in their camp after John is killed. As mentioned, this is a pretty dark/sad fic (with some rather gruesome torture scenes) but I still found it quite compelling as a look at how things could have gone in some other parallel universe. And somehow the author manages to make the Dean/Cas relationship come together despite them starting out as complete enemies. This is one of those AUs that works for me because the core of the characters really shine through despite the differences in the setting.

if it all fell to pieces tomorrow by spocklee (37k) - a gorgeous post-Empty rescue fic that takes an approach I haven’t really seen explored in detail before (despite being something I’ve actually thought about as something that could’ve happened.) What if Cas has spent so long denying himself happiness, and then trapped in regrets and false-rescue scenarios created by the Empty, that he can’t trust that his rescue is real? And so he runs off to be on his own - literally stealing the Impala because he can’t handle being in Dean’s presence one moment longer - and only slowly comes to terms with the idea that it’s over now and he can be happy with/around his friends and family. This one’s both deliciously angsty and at times funny/sweet, looking at Cas’s relationships not just with Dean but with Sam, Jack, Claire, even Eileen. It does some fun stuff with other returned angels and demons who now find themselves back on Earth (and human), and...I just really enjoyed this one a lot.

Both Saved and Lost by angelfishofthelord (13.7k) Gen Cas character study, absolutely gorgeous and sad and one of those fic I couldn’t stop thinking about the day after reading it. AU where Apocaverse!Cas isn’t immediately killed by our Cas during 13x22 but instead hitches a ride back to the main ‘verse. Dean and Sam want to keep him alive for information on Michael; Cas is torn and trying to figure out just how similar—or different—they really are. Some great angel stuff here (I also highly recommend this author’s Jack & Cas “dadstiel” fics, they’re equally lovely and heartbreaking at the same time.)

flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k) - THEE “What exactly did Dean eat in Purgatory, anyway?” fic you’ve probably already heard about. *cough* I’ve been trying to work up the courage to read this one for a while and finally gave in and OH MY CHUCK I’m so glad I did. It’s perversely disturbing and beautiful at the same time, Cas is wonderfully DERANGED and ALIEN in that way that I love it when fics managed to convey just how much angels are NOT human. Do heed the tags.

Full of Grace by ilovehowyouletmefall (11k) - Another one for the weird-as-fuck-angel!Cas lovers’ list. Heaven/canon-compliant fic where Dean knows he should feel happy and at peace but he just...isn’t, even with Cas and all of his friends and family there. He finally goes looking for Cas when he’s been absent for a time and, for the first time, gets to not just see but experience his true form. Another one that hits some kinks I knew I had and others I didn’t...until now. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

don't ask me where i've been by saltwound / @1x06 (8k) - I can never resist a good 09x06 fiction gap fic! What makes this one really stand out is how well it captures Cas’s internal voice - his struggles adapting to human senses, limitations and emotions versus what/how he experienced things as an angel. The longing and feelings between Dean & Cas here are so achingly beautiful and I just wanted to cry when Cas says he misses hearing Dean’s prayers, so Dean, he...oh, I’m not going to spoil it. *happy sigh* Just read it.

this room is wrong by DarkHeartInTheSky (12k) - Sometimes I like torturing myself with some good 15x03 divorce arc angst and this fic hit that button just so. It’s an alternative take on where Cas might have ended up after leaving the bunker and features some great Cas & Sam friendship feels, when Sam sets out to try to bring Cas home. It’s all the stuff you’d wish the writers would’ve let them talk out in canon.

Well that’s more than enough for this round! Go forth, read and give some great writers some kudos & comment love!

#fic recs #my fic recs #destiel recs #destiel #deancas recs #my destiel recs

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snarksandkisses · 5 years

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What I think about COVID-19 this morning - Malia Jones, PhD, MPH

What I think about COVID-19 this morning

March 5, 2020

Maybe I'm the closest thing you personally know to an infectious disease epidemiologist. Maybe not--I'm not an expert on this virus by any stretch, but I have general knowledge and training from studying epidemics that is applicable, so here are my thoughts.

First and foremost: we are going to see a tremendous increase in the number of US cases of COVID-19 in the next week. This is not because of some new pattern in the spread of the disease, but rather due to a major change in the requirements to be tested. Until yesterday, if you had flulike illness but had not recently traveled to China, Italy, South Korea, or Iran, you could not be tested. This is just the way healthcare works, you get tested if you meet the case definition and the case definition included travel.

As of yesterday, you can be tested if you are sick and have a doctor's order to be tested. So expect things to feel a lot more panicky all of a sudden. We will see hundreds or thousands of new cases as a result of testing increases.

Second: is that panic legitimate? Sort of. This is not the zombie apocalypse. The death rate of 30 deaths per 1000 cases is probably a wild overestimate. (The denominator is almost certainly wrong because it is confirmed cases--and we only confirm cases when we test for them). That said, even at 3 per 1000 cases, this would be a big deal. A very big deal. By way of comparison, the death rate for influenza is between 1 and 2 in 1000 cases. So, yeah. Roughly 0x to 30x worse than a huge global flu pandemic? That's a problem.

Unlike flu, COVID-19 is not *particularly* dangerous for children, so that’s some happy news. It is dangerous for older adults and those with lung conditions, so we need to be extra careful to protect those populations from exposure.

Also, for millions of Americans, getting any serious illness requiring a hospitalization is a major problem because they can't pay for it. And our health care system is probably going to struggle to keep up with it all. And with China basically closed, our global economy is going to take a huge hit and we'll feel the shockwaves for years. Those are real concerns.

What can we do? Our focus should be on *slowing down the spread* of this disease so that we have time to get caught up. Here is my advice:

1. Wash. Your. Hands. Wash them so much.

The current best guess is that coronavirus is transmitted via close contact and surface contamination. A very small study came out yesterday suggesting that the virus causing COVID-19 is *mostly* transmitted via contact with contaminated surfaces.

I have started washing my hands each time I enter a new building and after being in shared spaces (classrooms especially), in addition to the standard practice of washing after using the bathroom and before eating. Soap and water. Hand sanitizer also kills this virus, as does rubbing alcohol (the main ingredient in hand sanitizer).

There is no need to be obsessive about this. Just wash your hands. A little bit more effort here goes a long way.

2. Don’t pick your nose. Or put your fingers in your mouth, on your lips, or in your eyes. Surface contact works like this: you touch something dirty. Maybe it's an elevator button. Virus sticks to your hands. Then you rub your eye. Then you touch your sandwich, and put the sandwich in your mouth. Now there is virus in your eyes and mouth. See?

You may be thinking, but I don’t pick my nose because I am an adult! An observational study found that people sitting at a desk working touched their eyes, nose, or lips between 3 and 50 times per hour. Perfectly normal grown-ups, not lowlifes like my friends.

2a. There was one note that came out suggesting that face masks actually promote surface contamination because you're always adjusting them--i.e., touching your face. I don’t know if that’s true. But face masks should not be worn by the public right now, unless you are the person who is sick and you're on your way to or actually at the doctor's office. The mask’s function is to prevent spit from flying out of your mouth and landing on things when you cough or sneeze. It flies out of your mouth and is caught in the mask instead. If you are the person who is sick and not on the way to the doctor, go home. Let the people who really need them have the masks. Like doctors.

[ETA on 3/6/2020 honestly people I am getting so much push back on the mask recommendation!! The world is running low on masks. If everyone wants a mask so they can feel ok about keeping their Daytona Beach Spring Break plans and then hospitals in India can't buy them anymore, shame on us.]

Coronavirus does not appear to be airborne in the sense that doesn't remain floating around freely in the air for a long time, like measles does. You are probably not going to breathe it in, unless someone is coughing in front of you. If someone is coughing in your face, feel free to tell them to get their ass home and move 6 feet away from them. (Yeah I know, if you have a toddler, you're screwed.)

3. Sanitize the objects you and lots of other people touch, especially people outside your family--like door handles, shared keyboards at schools (brrr), salad bar tongs, etc. Best guesses are that the virus can live on surfaces for 2-48 hours, maybe even longer, depending on the surface, temperature, and humidity.

Many common household cleaning products will kill this virus. However, white vinegar solution does not. You can make your own inexpensive antimicrobial spray by mixing 1 part household bleach to 99 parts cold tap water. Spray this on surfaces and leave for 10-30 minutes. Note: this is bleach. It will ruin your sofa.

4. "Social distancing." You're going to get so sick of this phrase. This means keeping people apart from one another (preferably 6 feet apart, and sanitizing shared objects). This public health strategy is our next line of defense, and its implementation is what will lead to flights and events cancelled, borders closed, and schools closed.

For now, you could limit face-to-face meetings, especially large ones. Zoom is an excellent videoconferencing option. If you spend time in shared spaces, see #1. Ask your child's school about their hygiene plan, if they haven't already told you what it is. If I were in charge of a school setting, I'd be hand sanitizing the s*** out of the kids' hands, including in and out of each space, and taking temperatures at the door. I am planning to email our school nurse right after this to ask if they need my volunteer help cleaning surfaces.

If you can telecommute, do that a little more. If you are someone's boss and they could do their job remotely, encourage them to do that.

Avoid large gatherings of people if at all possible, especially if they are in an area with cases OR places that lots of people travel to. If you attend group events and start to feel even a little bit sick within 2 to 14 days, you need to self isolate immediately. Like for a tiny tickle in your throat.

5. All your travel plans are about to get screwed up. If you are considering booking flights right now, get refundable tickets. ETA: most trip insurance will not cover cancellations due to a pandemic. Look for "cancel for any reason" trip insurance.

Considerations for risks related to that trip you’re planning: how bad would it be if you got stuck where you are going for 3 to 6 weeks? How bad would it be to be isolated at home for 2-3 weeks upon your return? Do you have direct contact with people who are over 70 and/or have lung conditions? If those seem really bad to you, rethink your trip, especially if it is to a location where there are confirmed cases.

6. If you are sick, stay home. Please! For the love of all that is holy. Stay at home. Your contributions to the world are really just not that important.

7. There is a good chance some communities will see school cancelled and asked to limit non-essential movement. If someone in your family gets sick your family will almost certainly be isolated for 2-3 weeks (asked to stay at home). You could start stocking up with essentials for that scenario, but don't run out and buy a years' worth of toilet paper. Again, not the apocalypse. 2 weeks' worth of essential items. Refill any prescriptions, check your supply of coffee, kitty litter, and jigsaw puzzles.

8. I do want to remind everyone that when public health works, the result is the least newsworthy thing ever: nothing happens. If this all fizzles out and you start feeling like ‘Wah, all that fuss for nothing??’ Then send a thank-you note to your local department of public health for a job well done. Fingers crossed for that outcome.

9. Look, I think there are some positives here. All this handwashing could stop flu season in its tracks! We have an opportunity to reduce our global carbon footprint by telecommuting more, flying less, and understanding where our stuff comes from. We can use this to think about the problems with our healthcare system. We can use this to reflect on our positions of privilege and implicit biases. We can start greeting each other using jazz hands. I'm genuinely excited about those opportunities.

There is a lot we don't yet know about this virus. It didn't even exist 90 days ago. So stay tuned, it is an evolving situation. The WHO website has a decent FAQ. Free to email or text with questions, and you can forward this to others if you think it's useful.

May the force be with you.

Malia Jones, PhD, MPH

[email protected]

I’m an Assistant Scientist in Health Geography at the Applied Population Laboratory at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I study social contact of humans, and spatial patterns of infectious disease, among other things.

P.S. The number one question I am getting is, did you really write this? Yes. I wrote this.

I didn't write it for professional purposes, so I didn't put my work email on it. It was really just meant to be an email to my friends and family in advance of what I expect to be an escalation in the panic level. But it was apparently welcome information and went viral on FB. I've decided not to edit out the swears, even though I wrote this with a much smaller audience in mind.

Thanks for checking your facts! Go science!

#COVID-19 #coronavirus #wash your hands #Social distancing #don't panic #but maybe just a little panic

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snowflake-risotto · 3 years

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Eurovision 2021 Ranking w Comments

1. Denmark - Look this is god tier, idk what all the twitter ppl are talking about. Yeah it may be "dated", but by that logic, so is Finland.

2. Czech Republic - Again, god tier, but odds are also saying it won't qualify!!! Maybe I am out of touch.

3. Bulgaria - "No doubt you're worth saving, when getting up is all you've got" FUCK I CRIED.

4. Russia - Everything Toy wanted to be. Fave backing singer is the sweaty man.

5. Australia - We actually served this year and chances are we won't qualify. Yes, I am mad cause somehow our 2017 song qualified and it was shite.

6. Lithuania - The verses, the chorus, the yellow costumes, the hand thing. It's just too hard to pinpoint my favourite part of the whole package.

7. Georgia - LBR this will never qualify, but up until we get the MYYYY LOOOVVVEEEE its my favourite song. Idk it feels like such a waste that some mindless pop might qualify instead of this (*cough* *Moldova*).

8. Ukraine - I prefer the original version. This is still amazing tho.

9. Croatia - Love it. Suck shit 5g conspirator lady.

10. Cyprus - Some of the lyrics are so stupid (hotter than sriracha on the body), but goddamn that shit is catchy.

11. France - Everyone is raving about her performance style, but I'm not a fan tbh. Love the song tho and she does sing it so much better live than on the recording.

12. Italy - Out of the two rock offerings this year, this one is more timeless. Also, HELL YEAH! FEMALE BASSIST!

13. San Marino - Flo Rida or no Flo Rida it's a banger. Lmao @ Flo rida tho for judging a bikini competition instead of coming to a little insignificant song competition.

14. Poland - My guilty pleasure. It's just way too chaotic to hate (kinda like daddy Serhat in 2019) daddy Rafał hold me like one of your fish.

15. Serbia - Look I was annoyed at first listen, but a few rum-ba-ba-ba-bums later, it's a chaotic masterpiece, not a chaotic mess like #33.

16. UK - Massive improvement! Congrats, I guess. HOWEVER, I feel that this will still struggle to make top 20.

17. Belgium - Remember how they fired their singer that was supposed to represent them last year, it is for this reason that I think this song is a diss track about her. LUKA WORE THAT JOHNNY CASH T-SHIRT.

18. Ireland - Similar to last year, but unlike Azerbaijan, there are enough differences to make it a likeable entry. This of course is helped by the fact Ireland was a bit of a guilty pleasure last year.

19. Netherlands - Jeangu's voice is so rich and beautiful. I love the lyrics, but it is naïve of everybody to think that the commentators ( I'm looking at you UK) won't make a joke about that one lyric that sounds like a vegetable. I'm not gonna say what it is, google is free yanno.

20. Switzerland - It's one of those songs that I needed to listen to several times to appreciate.

21. Iceland - I love his message and his wholesomeness. Overall I like it, but I feel like the eurofan choir was only thought of to please the public in the short-term.

22. Malta - I love Destiny. I love her voice, her personality and the fact that she grew so much as a singer in front of our very eyes. However, they could have given her something that does not sound like a Melfest reject.

23. Norway - Radiohead 'Creep,' but make it g rated with design inspiration from Azerbaijan 2008 and and Croatia 2019.

24. Sweden - It's Sweden. It's safe, good and polished, but far too safe, good and polished.

25. Austria - On one hand, I can see through it as a jurybait wannabe. On the other hand, I do get (a good) emotional listening to it.

26. Greece - Its a vast improvement. This song suits Stefania better, unlike the "hello fellow kidzzz" rubbish of last year.

27. Finland - Welcome to 2004.

28. Slovenia - Excellent voice. That's it.

29. Spain - When I listened to it for the first time, I liked it, but I haven't really listened to it since.

30. Estonia - Pretty standard song, nothing special. Everyone calling Uku "daddy" on twitter is kinda funny tho.

31. Romania - I prefer Bulgarian Billie Eilish.

32. Portugal - The song is alright, his voice however is a bit too nasal for my liking.

33. Azerbaijan - You literally sent the same song. No effort! Boo! However, I do like the 20 second shaky camera disaster at the end of the music video.

34. Albania - I feel bad putting this so low, but when you have a national final so early, I often just forget it exists come contest time.

35. Latvia - Since I didn't like Samanta's offer last year or Tamara's song from 2019, it's probably the blonde bob haircut that I don't like.

36. Is**el - Out of all the pop songs this year, I am the most indifferent to this one.

37. North Macedonia - Better luck next year.

38. Moldova - The bit where Natalia dances with ice cream cones is unsettling because it reminds me of the music video for les succettes where dancing lollipops/penises are in the vicinity of France Gall.

39. Germany - The one guy that insists on playing his ukulele in any given situation. If you thought that was bad, just wait for the beat to drop.

#eurovision #eurovision 2021 #esc #eurovision song contest #esc 2021

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drowning-in-dennor · 4 years

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Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love

It is a terrible thing to be in love with someone who you will outlive. [Recommended listening: A reading of W.H. Auden’s Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love or, for those who like music more, a musical cover by Madeline Peyroux.]

Henrik is so young.

Perhaps not to some, as they may consider fifty to be plenty old enough. Fifty years, after all, is five whole decades, one half of a century. People tend to think that that is quite a long time.

But Norway has lived for a thousand years, watched millions upon millions of humans be born and be snatched away from life, either by the hands of others or by the silent killers that are age and illness. Fifty years is a drop in the ocean to him.

Despite his age, Henrik’s beauty is timeless. It is hard to believe that he, too, is not a nation. His wild mane of golden hair is like the Netherlands’, his piercing blue eyes those of Sweden, his seemingly boundless energy resembling America’s. He seems better suited to be the personification of the Kingdom of Denmark than the current one. The day Norway saw him in Copenhagen, resplendent and radiant in the Royal Theatre, he nearly thought that Denmark himself had a makeover.

But not now. His untamed hair is splayed across the pillow, tickling Norway’s arm whenever he shifts. His sapphire eyes are glazed over with fever. He has never been so weak.

He is beautiful anyways.

Whatever illness is plaguing Henrik has no cure. It will snatch him away soon, stop his heart when he should’ve had twenty, thirty more years. Norway will lose him forever.

The two of them are curled up in Norway’s bedroom, in a tiny cottage far, far away from the city. He has taken each and every one of his lovers here at least once. On this bed, love has been made before, but today it will be lost. Henrik is clinging on to his arm, trembling with cold despite the heavy quilt over him. From the floor-to-ceiling window on the other side of the room, all is black. The only light comes from a candle, its wick holding a flame as flickering as Henrik’s life.

They have laid like this before, lazy and love-drunk in each other’s arms. This might be the last time they share a bed.

Henrik coughs. His chest spasms. Norway holds him closer and rubs his back soothingly, lips pressed tight to the crown of his head as he shakes. “Easy now,” he murmurs, “take deep breaths.”

His breath is rattling. Henrik curls into the warmth of his chest. “Water,” he rasps. His loud, robust voice has been reduced to this.

Norway hands him a glass and holds him steady as he sips from it. “Do you need anything else?”

“No.” He smiles feebly. Even when weak, he is utterly charming. “Just need you.”

He settles back in bed, his head resting on Norway’s arm. His eyes flutter closed. His breathing slows. Norway’s mind is left to wander again.

He has never had a human die beside him - at least, not one of his lovers. They left him far before it was their time, always choosing another mortal partner over one that stayed eerily, eternally young. Henrik is the only one who was loyal - or would “foolish” be a better word? - enough to stay for thirty whole years.

Some people may speak when they see this middle-aged man holding hands with one who looks not a day over twenty. But the words mortals say are nothing compared to the nations’ silent scrutiny. He isn’t like France, with the lovers he wears through half a decade at a time, but they stare all the same. I’m sorry, England’s eyes say. What a pity, Finland’s sigh. They all know how a relationship with a human will end.

That is still nothing compared to the heavy, defeated acknowledgement that weighs down on Henrik when he is sad. No, no glare from the nations could hurt Norway as much as seeing Henrik reflect on the fact that yes, after he is gone from this world, not a century will pass before Norway will have forgotten him and found someone else. He is not special.

And perhaps that will be the case one day, though he can never be sure; not even a nation like him can see the future. But now, all he can focus on is Henrik, trembling beside him.

Henrik’s eyes flutter open again. That beautiful blue gaze is dulling. Perhaps he will not last the night. But his grin is very much filled with life. Norway brushes his hair away from his clammy forehead, asking “how do you feel?”

“Tired. But I’m always tired now.”

“Does anything hurt?”

He shakes his head slightly, exhaling with a puff. Even the tiniest movements exhaust him now. “Nothing. I want a kiss, though.”

Norway obliges him, pressing his lips to Henrik’s and pretending they are just having another night together despite the air of illness and near-death that constantly lingers now. Outside the window, the sun is just beginning to rise. Day will come soon. Henrik nuzzles his neck. “Wish this could last forever,” he mumbles.

“Hmm?”

“Just you and me. In bed together. Forever and ever.” He has to stop to catch his breath. The fingers that have been clinging to Norway’s nightshirt since last evening grow weak.

For him, it may well be eternal. He kisses Henrik again, square on the lips. To Hell if he catches whatever disease his lover has; he can survive it. His mortality means nothing.

Birds are calling. Henrik groans in his half-sleeping state.

While the night slips away, Norway takes hold of his hand, running his fingers over the thin skin of his hand that is just starting to wrinkle. If only he were not dying.

The only way to save Henrik from the inevitable grasp of death is to rid him of his humanity entirely. A couple decades ago, during the Second World War, Norway heard tales of England refusing to let a boy he thought his son depart from him, and in a fit of desperation christened him the Principality of Sealand so that he would live.

He could do that, make Henrik the personification of Narvik, maybe, or Ålesund, or another small place so he could live forever without the stress of the rest of the personified world. But would Henrik want that?

Sealand, or Peter as he calls himself, hated England after being immortalised, after being doomed to be a child forever. He cursed England for making it so that he’d never grow up, never know how it’d feel to be an adult. What if Henrik hated him the same way?

They have never once talked about that possibility. Now that Henrik is barely clinging on to life, it might be a good time to. Norway runs his fingers through his hair, waiting for the next time he is coherent.

Once again, his eyes flutter open. The light in them is almost extinguished.

“Does anything hurt?” Norway asks again.

“No.”

He sighs. “I wish I could magically cure you.”

“It’s all right.” Henrik’s hand grows limper, fingers barely brushing his nightshirt. “Even if I - if I die, I’ll be happy.”

“I could change you.” He can hear the desperation in his own voice. “I could let you personify a village, a small town, something like that. You could stay alive.”

“No,” Henrik whispers.

“Why not?”

“Y-You deserve better.” He coughs, curling up in a ball. “Better... than me.”

Tears, hot and shameful, blur Norway’s vision for a brief moment. “I’ll never find anyone better than you.”

The smile that Henrik gives him is feeble, fleeting. It is so unlike his smiles from when he was healthy, grins radiant enough to light up the night sky. “You will.”

He lets the tears fall. “But - “

“You make me happy.” His other hand, clutched in Norway��s, twitches. He gently traces his hand with his thumb. “I won’t be happy if - “ he coughs again - “if I change.”

He finally lets himself cry, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Henrik’s weak hand stretches out to catch some of his teardrops. “Don’t cry,” he pleads. “Not... not over me.”

The slowly-brightening sky is almost blinding to him. He wipes his eyes, feeling a cold, hollow emptiness take over him. How idiotic he must look, crying when he is the powerful, undying one.

Henrik closes his eyes again. Norway forces himself to calm down. If only he were Belarus - harsh, hostile Belarus who despises humankind and refuses to befriend any, let alone love one. If he were like her, he would never have subjected himself to this sorrow over and over again.

He rests a hand on Henrik’s chest. His heart is beating sluggishly, so weak that Norway can hardly hear it. In a few hours, it will stop altogether.

How could he have taken those thirty years for granted? How could he have called his greatest love a fool, teased him for his many whims, when every second they spent should’ve been treasured? Are human lovers like this, too, in which they never care for the times they spend with their partners until it is all over? Or are they the logical ones here? Maybe they live every loving moment to the fullest.

As Henrik lies quivering beside him, Norway thinks of lovers from the times before - Hans and Harald, Oscar and Alfred, Gilbert and Gordon. How easy their love was, in comparison to his! How easy it is to be a man who can only love other men, compared to an immortal cursed to love a human. Better die together than to outlive one’s many loves. Yes, humans with their mayfly years have it easy.

“Nor?” Henrik is awake again, despite having closed his eyes no more than fifteen minutes ago.

“Yes, dear?”

“You should sleep.”

“No, no.” Norway bends down to press a kiss to his cheek, breathing in his scent beneath the stench of illness. “I have to take care of you.”

He shifts slightly, laying his head in the crook of his elbow. His fingers entwine with Norway’s. “You have work.” Henrik gasps, choking on his own breath. Once he can breathe again, he continues, “so you need rest. And I want to cuddle you.” He tries to wink.

He has never been able to deny Henrik anything for long. He slides so that he’s lying down next to his lover and bundles him to his chest. It has always been the other way around, with Henrik squeezing him tight with steady arms. But he will have to be the strong one tonight.

What did Henrik ever see in him? He does not have Italy’s charisma nor China’s beauty, nor Switzerland’s riches. He is a wisp of a man, awkward at best. He never thought he would attract humans.

But he did. And the latest one, about to be stolen away like all the others, is in his arms. Norway kisses his forehead, hums a song they both know and love. Henrik laughs, a pained wheezing sound that sounds like he’s choking. He might be.

The sun is about to breach the horizon. Henrik’s heart, pumping laboriously against his arm, will not last much longer. His breaths have grown shallower, too. He will die before the day comes.

Fighting back tears, he kisses him again. The blanket settles warm and heavy over them. The mattress is soft. Aflame with fever, Henrik is almost too warm in his embrace. His head is buried in Norway’s shoulder; their fingers are still laced together. “Good morning and goodnight, Nor,” he mumbles.

For Henrik’s sake, he forces himself to smile. “Good morning and goodnight, Henrik.”

“I love you.”

I adore you, Norway wants to say. I worship you, I would die for you, I would do anything to see you in good health once more. I live for you and you only. I love you even if I will forget you one day.

But pretty words are worthless now. He kisses Henrik a third time, right on his chapped lips, and whispers, “I love you too.”

He closes his eyes, afraid to open them again, for he knows what he will see.

When Norway awakens, it is noon. The sun is high in the sky, blessing all the world with its golden light.

Henrik is still snuggled into his shoulder. The fingers lacing his are cold.

Norway sits up, slowly easing Henrik down onto the pillows. He brushes his blond locks aside to take a look at him.

Henrik’s eyes are closed. He is smiling softly. He looks so young.

#aph dennor #APH Denmark #APH Norway #aph fanfiction #my writing #aph suffering #hahahahhahahaha #hope y'all enjoyed the p a i n #no happy endings in my house oh no #only pain

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littlewitty · 4 years

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Waking Up Is Hardest

This is a fic of my OC for ikevamp Lorenzo da Vinci (one of Leonardo’s brother historically)

This fic contains Comte’s real name so read at your own risk.

Ship: N/A

Warnings: None

Genre: none really...

“Lorenzo…. Move over.”

“Lorenzo… haha stop nuzzling me.”

A sharp pat to my shoulder guided me back to the tainted reality. Forcing my eyes open, flashes of blue and yellow exploded in my sight. The bright morning sun warmed my skin most pleasantly. The best way to wake up, in the arms of the person you loved the most. Just waking up and seeing their face there makes everything, every living minute worth it.

"Come on sleepyhead, time to get up," he said as he slid out of my arms. After that, comes the cold. The ice-cold blow of utter loss. Frantically, I tried to reach him. Clawing my way into the darkness to find him. I needed him near. I wasn't ready to let him go!...

A sharp breath. That's all it took for my everything to deplete into nothing. It's been about four centuries and even now, I am not ready to let Agnolo go. Life carries on, whether you chose to stay in the past or force yourself to move on. Sometimes you just have to swallow the lump in your throat and carry on to do the next right thing. But even now, I still can't do that.

Agnolo Ricci. The carpenter I spent my first few years away from the family home with. The best time of my life. Leo ran away from the family when he was young, leaving me on my own. Being forced under my families iron grip on how a 'da Vinci' pureblood life should be for so many years, finally moving out and living for myself was the best thing for me. I would never admit it out loud, but he was so much more than just a friend to me. He was everything you could think of. Of course, in Italia, I could never tell him I love him every day, only when it was night and we knew that none could hear us. Now I'm granted the royalty of regretting that decision my entire life.

"Ciao idiota, how are you this morning?" Leo asked me as I strayed into Comte's dining room. It's strange how comfortable Leo is. He spends his whole life around humans and seamlessly moves on when they pass. I couldn't do that, maybe that's the reason why after Agnolo's passing I ran back to my familia and stayed away from humans, so I would have to feel that pain again. Leonardo da Vinci, my biggest brother, was the strongest person I knew.

"Bonjour Lorenzo, sleep well?" the man clad in all things golden asked me. I somehow managed to swallow my inner turmoil and force a relatively believable reply.

"Si, grazie ....'Comte'.." I replied, smiling at the distinguished Frenchman.

"Oi, speak in french idiota." Snarled Leo. That's easy for him to say, he has been living in other countries all his life, he's used to not speaking Italian. I've only ever lived in Italy until a few months ago. Besides, it's awkward speaking to a Frenchman in french when your accent is lamentable.

" Thank you, Comte, for letting me stay here whilst I find some other accomod-" I spoke with very broken up french.

"Lorenzo, you don't need to thank me every day, I'm only glad to help a friend out." he smiled with the most reassuring voice. Sitting down at the table stacked with food reminded me of home in a weird way. In Italia, we would all eat at the same time in silence. Leo always described it as suffocating, but I liked it as unlike him, I actually love our familia. Well, I did before a few months ago when they tried to force my hand into some old marriage. All I did was send a letter to Leo about it, and it seems like the very next day I was travelling out of Italy with Abel to France as a means to escape. Of course, Abel being the prestigious noble he is claimed that he needed an experienced carpenter like me for some business back in France. It being 'Le Comte de Saint Germain', one of the most well-known purebloods in society, always in the spotlight, my familia said 'si' and let me go.

"Goedemorgen Lorenzo, have some of the pancakes, they are delicious!" said the angel next to me. In Abel's mansion lived some of the most well-known names in the history of the world. Social reformers all reincarnated as lesser vampires. Haha, if our familia knew what type of people we are staying with Leo and I would be dead meat!

"I'm good,grazie, Vincent. I'm fine with my spaghetti," Vincent van Gogh. The famous expressionist painter, and an actual angel. Then next to him sat Theodorus van Gogh, a famous art dealer, a devil but someone I have seemed to take as my chess partner.

"Master Lorenzo, would you like some more spaghetti?" asked the butler of the whole mansion, Sebastian. Even though he is very stoic, I can tell him and I would make good friends, he is just my type.

"I don't think you have any more room for more spaghetti, non?" asked Napoleon Bonaparte. Yes, the napoleon Bonaparte, the 'Nightmare of Europe'.

"You'll be surprised Napoleone, never estimate how much spaghetti I can eat," I quipped at him cheekily. Even though he did change his name to sound more French, saying the Corsican version was much easier and so I use it, so far he hasn't seemed to mind. Looking across the table, I see Comte eating a plain baguette. How can he do that without his mouth drying up?

"Abe-"

Abel looked at me sternly and coughed before I could finish the word, "It's 'Comte' Lorenzo."

I mean maybe it is now... but I have called you by your true name for nearly fifty years now, so of course I going to trip up. I can see Leo in the corner trying to suppress laughter looking in my direction.

".... okay... 'Comte', how can you eat nothing but baguettes?" He simply laughed a bit, eyes not leaving the newspaper before replying to me:

"you sound the exact same like another resident Italian. Leo asks me that all the time." No answer, really Abel? How annoying. It seems even after fifty years he's still as deflective as ever.

"hey, that spaghetti is pretty good.." Smirked Leo as he slowly ate MY spaghetti...

"OI IDIOTA, PRENDI I TUOI SPAGHETTI!" I yelled before he gave me a sharp smack on the head.

"Don't get mad, and speak in French you are in FRANCE!"

#Ikemen Vampire #IkeVamp #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp comte #IkeVamp Leo #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp theo #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp oc #ikevamp fic

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totaldramafan-lauri · 3 years

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Eurovision 2021 final thoughts

Well.....it’s over.

It feels great, but also kinda weird to be done with it. I mean, it took an extra year to get here! But I’d say it was worth the wait....

Holy CRAP this year was good. Oh my god, this was SO much fun to watch! The presentation, voting, and especially the songs were unbelievably strong! It made me so happy that my bad luck in the semifinals didn’t even let me down all that much, so that’s a good sign. XD

I haven’t shared this before, cuz I didn’t wanna be a downer, but.....there was a part of me that was worried. Even after listening to and loving the majority of the entries, I was still worried that, when the show started, there’d be some kind of big tell that....this wasn’t a “normal” Eurovision. Something that would bring my enjoyment of the show down to a level where....I-I’d only be able to say “at least it took place, but it wasn’t as strong as usual”. That small, pessimistic part of me that was so hurt by last year that it’d become cynical, and scared of getting hopes up.....but I hid it. I love this contest so much that....bringing down the mood for my fellow fans wouldn’t be cool at all.

And thankfully.....I came out of this with a big smile on my face like normal. I enjoyed this year just as much as previous years! In terms of the songs alone, I’d seriously call this one of my favorite years, probably just behind 2016 (my favorite year). The fact that I don’t just agree with the winner, but I LOVE the winner, was definitely the icing on the cake! But the presentation was also outstanding! It really feels like everything was put into this contest to make it as enjoyable as possible with the limitations they were given. The interval acts were great, especially getting to see so many of the winners again! The rooftop concerts in the final were a lot of fun. But, as good as everything in the final was.....When the first semifinal started, and I saw that there was a crowd, coupled with the song that Duncan sang, I legit thought I was gonna cry. That’s definitely gonna stick with me in the future when I think of the most memorable moments of watching Eurovision. I could seriously go on and on about how much I enjoyed watching this....so I will!

Oh god the voting. OH GOD THE VOTING. Tense as always, and I loved it! No clear favorite, the juries making decisions the televoters didn’t agree with, a plethora of different countries getting twelves, and an ending that proved my predictions wrong in the best way possible. It was the BEST way to end the contest, and a very good example of why I’m really loving having the jury vote and televote separated....cuz you never know what’ll happen until the very! Last! Moment!

Seriously, that moment of Finland’s televoting result making them in the lead for a brief period was AWESOME. And then it was Ukraine, and then it was Italy, and I was thinking “oh god slow down, my poor heart-” And yeah, there were SO many great songs and great performances that it really did feel like a close race!

Even rewatching it was exhilarating! Rewatching it also made me appreciate things that I didn’t before (due to being, well....too caught up in the moment). Like, the wide range of music genres in the top five! I hope this inspires more diversity in future years! I mean, you got Italy bringing us rock (which, by the way, never dies), you got France bringing us a classic waltz, you got Switzerland bringing us a powerful modern ballad, you got Iceland bringing us disco, and you got Ukraine bringing us.....well, a friend of mine called it “folktronica”, and yeah, I don’t think there’s a word that describes them better. XD

Not only that, but there’s one more interesting thing about this top five! Can you guess what it is?

......

......Yeah, only one of them’s in English! Imagine that, entries that DON’T have to be in English to become big hits! Seriously, I’m American and even I know that having understandable lyrics is really more of a nice bonus in Eurovision. What’s most important is having a song that sounds good. And if a song sounds best in another language, you don’t have to translate it for the contest! (Especially if it results in obvious ESL that loses the song’s original meaning, but that thankfully hasn’t happened often) Don’t be afraid to send songs in your native language! I hope people learn from this...

(But then again, this has happened before.....In 2007, the winning song wasn’t in English, runner-up was in multiple languages and third place was also not in English, so....I’m probably putting too much emphasis on this, s-sorry >.<)

But enough about the top five, let’s look at the full results:

I’ll say it again.....this is my favorite winner since “Heroes”. I love the Italian entry, and I’m very happy that they proved me wrong. I didn’t think they could do it. Not only is it a rock song, which isn’t to everyone’s tastes....but it’s from Italy, who seemed to be cursed to never win even while sending fan-favorites year after year. Two second places (oneofwhichwasunserved*cough*2011*cough*butIdigress), one third place that also won the televote that year, and one very, very robbed sixth place. I thought this was gonna be another one of those cases where Italy get screwed somehow by other, more popular songs. But I still absolutely loved the song and rooted for it anyway, and......lo and behold, here we are. A rock song won Eurovision. A rock song in Italian. And it’s awesome, and I couldn’t be happier! To be specific, they were my fourth favorite in the final, but they were my favorite of the possible winners, so it still feels like the best case scenario! Woo!

Having the runner-up also from the Big Five is kinda surreal, since save for Italy they’re usually all underrated due to not having to pass through a semifinal (with exceptions like Germany 2018 and Spain 2012 and 2014). That’s a cool way of looking at this, since.....I’m sorry, but I never got the hype behind France’s song.....It was well-performed, but.....I just find it kinda boring, save for the ending. I-I feel bad that I couldn’t make myself love it, cuz I wanted to, but I just....couldn’t. I guess it’s a case of me being too stupid to get it, pffffff. But I don’t dislike it, so I’m fine with it being the runner-up.

Switzerland won the jury vote and achieved their highest placement since.....*looks it up*....1993, geez.....AKA, their highest placement since I started watching. XD This is FAR from my favorite entry of theirs, but I still like it fine and I’m happy to see Switzerland do well. It was a powerful song. And, unlike other jury-pleasers like the Austrian entry in 2018 and the Macedonian entry in 2019, they actually got a triple-digit score from the televote! They were loved all around! The same goes for France, so....that makes the most obvious “jury bait”, uh....Portugal, I guess. XD

Iceland came fourth, and.....can I just say how bad I feel for those guys? From having a potential win snatched from under them by last year’s cancellation, to one of them getting Covid the day before their semifinal, making them the only act that couldn’t perform live, it felt like Iceland couldn’t catch a break. But thankfully, due to their very strong rehearsals, they were able to rise above it and come fourth PURELY based on the strength of their song. Heck YEAH, what a beautiful ending to this story. They weren’t one of my personal favorites, but it was still a very cute song, and it DESERVES its placing just so much.

Ukraine’s song was one that only got better and better for me over time, and it was also the favorite song of a friend of mine, so seeing them in the top five makes me happy too! That’s a FUN song, and it’s near universally loved, so I wasn’t too surprised. I did guess that it had a chance at pulling off the win, but the competition was too strong. In a weaker year, they probably would’ve done it.

I’m really happy to say this next one: Finland came sixth! WOOOOOO! Their first top ten result since Lordi’s win and awwwww MAN do they deserve it. Such an awesome, intense song! It was my favorite song in the final, and I wasn’t alone! They brought the roof off the place, and for good dang reason! Seeing Finland do so well after being so underrated for so long.....it makes me very happy to see that happen. Especially with a song as amazing as “Dark Side”. It’s now a permanent part of my playlist, and I love it. <3 Empire of the freaks, all drinks on ME!

(I stand by the fact that Finland should just keep sending rock songs to Eurovision. They’re clearly very good at making those)

Now, Malta coming seventh.....hmmm....I have some problems with this? I mean, pre-contest favorites not doing as well as predicted HAS happened before (oh, hello 2017), but that doesn’t mean I’m not a little surprised? I really do think they deserved to do a bit better.....I thought that was a top five-worthy song and performance.....I’m happy with the top five we got, but I didn’t think Iceland and Ukraine would place over Malta! Destiny had one of the best voices of the show! If I had to guess, it was because they performed so early? Or maybe people just overhyped the heck out of it and it got old. I dunno. Seventh is still good for Malta. So yeah, it’s not bad, just a bit surprising.

Lithuania in eighth, I pretty much called. I knew that was a top ten song. Still couldn’t beat LT United’s record though, pfffffff.....Guess Lithuania have to try even harder to do that. XD Russia was another one I knew would be in the top ten. Their song had a very strong message that sticks with you. Lithuania and Russia may not have been favorites of mine, but I can’t complain with their results at all.

And finally, rounding out the top ten is my second-favorite, Greece, tied with Bulgaria! I’m more than happy with this result for Greece - I would’ve liked to see them do a BIT better, but a top ten finish is a top ten finish, and the competition was really strong. Their entry was still fantastic! A powerful song I can’t get enough of AND the best staging of the year. You can’t say Greece didn’t try their hardest!

As for Bulgaria....not complaining. It was a fan-favorite for a while, but for me, it was a song that I loved the lyrics to, but not much else. I did think it’d do a bit better purely because of how relatable the lyrics were, but with this competition? This was the best they were gonna get. XD A slow song in a sea of high energy-performances. Makes it stand out, but not necessarily be what people wanna hear.

The same is true for Portugal, who had the other slower song. THIS was the “jury bait”. XD Seeing how many points the jury gave them compared to the televote....wasn’t all that surprising. It’s not a bad song at all. It’s actually pretty good. And twelfth is a good result for Portugal. I think they can be happy with that. “Jury bait” isn’t a bad thing at all, cuz I’ve liked plenty of songs that’ve had similar results (I’ve even loved a couple of them)

Moldova were a surprise for me. I honestly expected them to place toward the bottom. Their entry was fun, sure, but I didn’t think it....stood out all that much? I feel like it was missing something staging-wise. Moldova’s entries usually have really creative staging, so yeah, maybe I just felt a bit let down. But the song’s good. It just....was a party song in a sea of them. XD

Now Sweden, on the other hand.....I’m actually not surprised THAT much. Yeah, I did at first predict that it’d finish in the top ten, cuz....well, it’s Sweden, and the song was good and seemed to be popular. But after the first semifinal, reading comments and posts from fans really made me realize just how many people....don’t like “Voices”? It’s been called generic a lot, and.....well, I don’t agree. I think it’s a very good song. But I’m just one person and yeah, seeing the popular opinion of it just drop like that made me change my mind on calling it a top ten song. XD Not gonna act like seeing Sweden on the right side of the board (even at the top of it) isn’t still a bit weird, though....

Serbia, I thought would do better. I thought they’d be higher than Moldova at least. That was a big crowd-pleaser and a great hype song. I didn’t think it’d be a front-runner or anything, but I did think it’d be on the left side of the board. I can’t even say that it being in Serbian held it back, cuz this year proves that non-English songs can and will be fan-favorites. So.....I dunno what happened there.

After Serbia are two other party songs, Cyprus and Israel. I have nothing really to say about Israel. I thought they’d do about this well. And Cyprus, I’m kinda bummed didn’t do better, since it was a GREAT performance - it was enough to win me over, when it was a very hit-and-miss song for me before the contest - but going first when already there were a lot of party songs to compete with probably did them in. Oh, and the people who think parts of the song are annoying, like......I did for a while.....ahem. >__>

Then we come to Norway.....who were my third-favorite. At first, I was kinda....OK, very surprised at how they did, especially when it came to the juries. But after learning that they were only five points away from not qualifying for the final.....I’m just happy they were there. I’m happy I got to hear that song in the final. It’s obviously not to everyone’s tastes, so I shouldn’t have expected it to do well. I was just a bit hopeful. As it is, I love the song, and it’s currently one of my go-to songs to sing to myself. XD (Also, TIX is an icon)

Belgium getting only three points from the televote was painful, since I did like their entry a lot......but I can’t act like I didn’t at least kinda see it coming. Even though I liked them, I was still surprised they even made it to the final. XD With such strong competition, a band just standing there and singing a downbeat song? Yeah, this was as good as they were gonna do. Still a very cool song, but standing out was always gonna be an issue for them. They also performed really early on, so that probably didn’t help.

Azerbaijan....oh Azerbaijan.....how did they do you like that. Seriously, down in twentieth? What are they doing in twentieth!? They were one of the best of the upbeat songs! They stood out! I’d put them above Cyprus and Israel easily! I don’t understand that.....I do understand Albania though. They were pretty much doomed. Barely qualified for the final, and then stuck in second position. Ouch. Kinda unfortunate, since I actually like Albania’s song a bit more now after hearing it live....

I really, really, REALLY wanted San Marino to do better. I was HOPING they’d do better. They were clearly trying really hard this year. The little country that could, pffff....And if you ask me, “Adrenalina” is probably the most solid song they’ve ever sent (I say this as someone who loves “Spirit Of The Night”, for the record), so I thought it deserved to give them their best result ever. But....nah. It did worse than “Say Na Na Na” because....I dunno.....Serhat funny? That’s all I got....seriously, it’s unfortunate. The dream should’ve done better than the meme. XD

And we finally come to the flops.....the four countries that got nul from the televote, all automatic qualifiers. Seriously, why did FOUR countries get nul? At least three were saved by the juries, but if you ask me, it was still unfair.....

The Netherlands are the one I easily have the hardest time understanding. Germany, while I found their song funny, I can easily see why people would find it annoying (I DID think the televote would like them MORE than the juries though?), and I was not expecting them to do well, because it didn’t seem like they were trying to do well. They were just having fun. Spain, well.....a good singer does not a good entry make. It’s the Eurovision SONG Contest, not Singer Contest. If the song fails to stand out, you’re doomed. I was impressed by their performance, but it’s still just a ballad. It’s sad when you know the story behind it, though....And with the UK, it was a party song in a sea of party songs. It had TOUGH competition.

But....the Netherlands? Why the CRAP didn’t they get points from the televote? While not one of my absolute favorites, that was a darn good song and a great live performance. What happened? I don’t understand! There was nothing else that sounded like that! It was unique and sounded great, wh- my brain hurts....

On the UK getting nul overall though, I do have some complaints. Sure, it failed to stand out, but to score nothing? A bit unfair, isn’t it? I mean, there was nothing wrong with the song or the performance at all! It was the most fun song the UK have sent in years! I liked hearing a fun song from them! And c’mon, they’ve sent a lot worse before and still got points. “Still In Love With You” got points. That was debatably a joke song. “Love Will Set You Free” got points. That was a boring ballad. Heck, even flipping “That Sounds Good To Me” - it came last, but it at least got SOME points! And that song was CRAP.

Now, thankfully, I didn’t love this song nearly as much as I loved “Bigger Than Us”, so I’m not super salty about it or anything. I’m not gonna rant about the UK coming last again. I’m just.....a bit baffled by the nul. Geez, UK, who did you piss off? Eh, it’s not the end of the world or anything.....and I’ve been through good songs getting nul before (....”Black Smoke”....forever confused TT__TT)

It does make me a bit....hesitant....to track down the BBC commentary for this show. I usually love watching it that way, and it’s my preferred way to rewatch Eurovisions. And usually, Graham is a really good sport about the UK’s poor results (even when coming in last like 2010), but....how’d he handle a nul? XD I hope he didn’t overly praise the song....

So......yeah, that’s about it! I’ve missed rambling about Eurovision, and now.....it’s over! It was a good year, and I had a great time. It truly was a ride. Here’s hoping next year in Italy will be just as fun.

Until next year!

#eurovision #opinions

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historical-babes · 5 years

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Maria Theresa (1717-1780).

Ruler of the Habsburg dominions and the last of the House of Habsburg.

She was the only female ruler of the Habsburg dominions and the last of the House of Habsburg. She was the sovereign of Austria, Hungary, Croatia, Bohemia, Transylvania, Mantua, Milan, Lodomeria and Galicia, the Austrian Netherlands, and Parma. By marriage, she was Duchess of Lorraine, Grand Duchess of Tuscany and Holy Roman Empress.

She started her 40-year reign when her father, Emperor Charles VI, died in October 1740. Charles VI paved the way for her accession with the Pragmatic Sanction of 1713 and spent his entire reign securing it. He neglected the advice of Prince Eugene of Savoy, who averred that a strong military and a rich treasury were more important than mere signatures. Eventually, he left behind a weakened and impoverished state, particularly due to the War of the Polish Succession and the Russo-Turkish War (1735–1739). Moreover, upon his death, Saxony, Prussia, Bavaria, and France all repudiated the sanction they had recognised during his lifetime. Frederick II of Prussia (who became Maria Theresa's greatest rival for most of her reign) promptly invaded and took the affluent Habsburg province of Silesia in the seven-year conflict known as the War of the Austrian Succession. In defiance of the grave situation, she managed to secure the vital support of the Hungarians for the war effort. Over the course of the war, despite the loss of Silesia and a few minor territories in Italy, Maria Theresa successfully defended her rule over most of the Habsburg empire. Maria Theresa later unsuccessfully tried to reconquer Silesia during the Seven Years' War.

Maria Theresa and her husband, Francis I, Holy Roman Emperor, had eleven daughters, including the Queen of France, the Queen of Naples and Sicily, the Duchess of Parma, and five sons, including two Holy Roman Emperors, Joseph II and Leopold II. Of the sixteen children, ten survived to adulthood. Though she was expected to cede power to Francis and Joseph, both of whom were officially her co-rulers in Austria and Bohemia, Maria Theresa was the absolute sovereign who ruled with the counsel of her advisers.

Maria Theresa promulgated institutional, financial and educational reforms, with the assistance of Wenzel Anton of Kaunitz-Rietberg, Friedrich Wilhelm von Haugwitz and Gerard van Swieten. She also promoted commerce and the development of agriculture, and reorganised Austria's ramshackle military, all of which strengthened Austria's international standing. However, she despised the Jews and the Protestants, and on certain occasions she ordered their expulsion to remote parts of the realm. She also advocated for the state church and refused to allow religious pluralism. Consequently, her regime was criticized as intolerant by some contemporaries.

It is unlikely that Maria Theresa ever completely recovered from the smallpox attack in 1767. She suffered from shortness of breath, fatigue, cough, distress, necrophobia and insomnia. She later developed edema.

[Submission]

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sicklyscribe · 4 years

Note

Weren’t the Mikaelsons in Italy in the eleventh century? What if they ran into pre-crusades Nicky or smthn

BLESS you you BEAUTIFUL ANONYMOUS ANGEL

(this week has been exceedingly awful and I can’t sleep but I can talk Mikaelsons twelve ways to Sunday)

According to Nicolo’s fanlore page, he was first killed in 1099 only to awaken to immortality, wowza! According to the lovely movie timeline compilation here, Joe and Nicky are unaccounted for during the 1110′s (only ten to twenty years after their first deaths!) but for crossover purposes we could hilariously assume that they had some confusing run-ins with five angry mortal meatheads who seemed too buff to be human and possibly a Viking Dracula with a Cronus Complex.

Let’s assume, shall we! that through intentional tracking or blind fate, they are traveling the Italian countryside off the road, looking for a place to camp or bathe (or bone~ idk~~~).

Let’s assume that this happens sometime between a very upsetting evening in 1115 and 52 years, 4 months, 9 days later.

😏

minor spoilers ahead yeah i’m going there

*****

They had followed the low ground and the lush green for a long time before they began to hear the sound of water. Yusuf nodded towards it, reaching for the familiar brush of Nicolo’s shoulder as he changed course.

“NIK!” a woman’s voice screamed through the wood, and startled birds took wing. Nicolo tensed under Yusuf’s hand, and with a short locked glance Yusuf knew this person was a stranger and that this stranger would not be ignored. “NIK! Do-”

They ran when the voice choked into silence.

The horror had been so close, but they were still too late.

Weapons drawn, Yusuf and Nicolo found a man with black-gold eyes snarling over a woman’s dead body. Her blood still flowed freely from the gore at her neck, but her eyes were sightless. The ground was too stained beneath her. The two immortals closed in on the demon with the twinned, brutal grace they had built blow by blow from rivalhood.

The thing was not human.

Too fast, too strong; unarmed, he charged at Nicolo. Yusuf’s blade struck deep in his side but still he advanced. “HUNTER” he spat in a dialect not unlike Nicolo’s own, and it was the last thing Nicolo heard before his vision went black.

“NICOLO!” “NIK!”

It all happened very, very quickly. The beast collapsed, wailing, foreign words on his tongue and Yusuf took his chance. Before his sword tested the creature’s reaction to beheading, a gold and bloody flash in the corner of his vision suddenly became a woman -- dead woman -- crushing his sword-arm with hands like iron hammers. “DO NOT fighting him!” she shrieked, accented so heavily he almost could not recognize the words Nicolo had been teaching him.

Tears welled at his eyes at the pain. He knelt where he stood and gripped his lover’s ankle with his good hand to say Wake up. I need you. Be careful.

The dead woman, whole and healed and alive, had black-red pooling in the corners of her own eyes. Her fine dress was dirty and blotted with colors he knew well. Old blood. Dry blood. Fresh blood. He forced himself to breathe as his bones cracked back into place.

The man with the glowing eyes and the fatal wound in his side was screaming, now, clawing at his own skin and babbling hunter within ravings of his own language. In some moments it seemed as though his skin would not contain him.

“We mean n-”

She cut him off with a hiss and a renewal of the darkness in her eyes. Yusuf’s mind slowly began to recall the campfire tales he’d been told in Europa, the way the people here already had an idea of what unkillable would entail.

With soft murmurs and gentle “Nik”s, the foreign woman crept behind the raving beast, and placed a hand on his torn collar. He stilled for a fraction of a breath, peace in his eyes turning them a striking human blue, but Yusuf saw a flash of fangs in the next instant, and in the instant following, the woman snapped his neck.

It was at that moment Nicolo began to stir. Yusuf wanted to laugh, it was like they were taking turns.

“Many sorries,” the woman whispered, desperate and sincere, “I am so hungry.”

She was biting his neck. Nicolo was awake and tackling her. “Wait!” Yusuf coughed, having guessed a good amount of what was about to happen, but Nicolo’s dagger was already in her heart.

She laughed.

Yusuf took Nicolo by the waist and pulled him away from the monsters and did not let go. She followed them with her eyes as a new blood stain decorated her shift. “What are you?” Nicolo gasped, touching the chain at his neck that bore his crucifix.

She pulled the dagger from her chest with a grimace, then cocked her head to the side as if straining to hear something. “Wait for good speaker, handsomes.”

Yusuf said the same basic question in as many languages as he could manage, to varying degrees of accuracy. Nicolo’s then added the Frankish version, and she interrupted him before he could try another.

“Ah! I am better with this one,” she was distracted, hauling the likely-not-dead-for-long killer’s body into her lap and gripping his arms behind his back. “So is Elijah.”

Another blur joined them, becoming a dark-haired man with manacles in his arms. His gaze was hawkish and cold as he caught sight of Yusuf and Nicolo, and Yusuf could not help but be reminded of Nicolo’s own way of glaring.

Yusuf told Nicolo what had happened while he was dead in Greek, while the woman spoke rapidly in her own tongue to the newcomer. The latter pair secured the manacles at the wrists and ankles of the dead man with grim and practiced tenderness. He woke, screaming, and with an animal howl he fought against them. The man who had brought the manacles embraced him, much like the woman had, and snapped his neck.

He then brushed the bracken from his hands and clothes, and stood to face Yusuf and Nicolo. “Hello, messieurs. My sister and I have many questions, and must return before he wakes. Please, join us.”

The blonde carried the chained man as if he weighed no more than an infant against her shoulder, and the strange siblings began to walk quickly -- slowly, for them -- through the trees.

When Yusuf and Nicolo did not follow, the woman scoffed. Her brother turned again, with a dangerous smile. “Are you afraid that we will kill you?”

Yusuf could not help it, the blood still roaring in his ears and the absurdity of it all bubbling laughter at his throat that he could not contain. Nicolo sighed. They were both terrified. They were both curious. They followed the three monsters to their lair.

*****

AND THEN I GUESS NICOLO TRIES TO DO AN EXORCISM ON KLAUS OR SOMETHING AND THE SIBS ARE SUPER JEALOUS THAT THESE TWO DON’T HAVE TO DRINK HUMAN BLOOD AND MAYBE KOL IS DRUNK SOMEWHERE IN THE BACKGROUND/COFFINATED WITH HIS BROTHER/LIVING IT UP IN CHINA IDK.

I am allowed to write Hunter’s Curse fic in this case because 1) it’s crossover so the inherent levity of the AU grants me certain diplomatic immunities 2) it’s not from a Mikaelson perspective who would do that I mean who would DO THAT @hairzier and 3) Take pity on me for anything not covered by the previous two because real life has been f*cking me over and this was delicious fun to write.

#my writing #asks #IT'S AN ORIGINALS FIC FROM YOURS TRULY *TWICE IN ONE YEAR* YOU GUYS #happy fluff angst birthday to YOU #Anonymous

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astxlphe-fics · 4 years

Text

Let me live (let me die)

Noé and Astolfo arrive in Florence and talk about the next steps. (They’re going to warm up to each other at some point, I promise)

Chapter 2/?

Content warning : mentioned character death

< Chapter 1 || Chapter 3 >

“What kind of lead do you have in Florence?”

Astolfo sends the Archiviste an annoyed look over his shoulder and goes back to watching the world fly by underneath.

His lead isn’t a fresh one. It’s several months old, and it’s not the first time he goes to Florence for it. But you must do with what you have, and since almost everything he collected during his time as a chasseur was lost with the Paris Headquarters, he has no other choice.

A year ago, the part of the catacombs housing the Paris chasseurs’ HQ collapsed. In Astolfo’s memories, the dust falls, and when he tries to breath he coughs — it’s getting in his nose, his mouth, his eyes, he can’t breathe right. He frantically searches for someone in the crowd, trying to distinguish people from each other, looking through faces after faces, men and women in uniforms but he can’t find him.

“Where is Marco?”

“Astolfo?”

“Where is he, Roland?!”

His heart pounds as he spots more uniforms sticking from under the rubbles and suddenly, he realizes he just lost everything all over again.

A hand on his shoulder. Astolfo jumps and his surroundings change. He’s in the airship, flying high above the French countryside, and the vampire looks at him, his eyebrows drawn together in worry.

“Are you okay? You look pale—”

“I’m fine,” he snaps, and waves him off. “Why do you want to know about my lead?”

The vampire’s face goes a little red. “I was curious and, maybe I could help—”

“I do not want your help,” Astolfo cuts. “I am unsure of how many times I will have to say it for you to understand, but I don’t need your help.”

“Don’t want or don’t need?”

Astolfo falls silent, and his side aches where a months old injury still feels recent.

It’s not the first time he follows this lead, and it has made him realize how weak he truly is, how little he is without the chasseurs. The man he is looking for was seen in Italy a year ago - and was still there six months ago when Astolfo went to check if the information was still accurate.

If he isn't still in Italy, at least he knows someone who can tell him where he went. He knows a chasseur — another blow to his pride, having to rely on them after being unceremoniously kicked out, after never being wanted in the first place.

He doesn’t answer the vampire's question. He doesn’t want to answer, because he doesn’t want to admit the vampire is right, that no matter how many times he refuses help he’ll always need it.

Anger — at himself, mostly, and at the Archiviste — courses through him, as he thinks about his own weakness.

“I said what I said,” he snaps. “Leave me alone, I’m skilled enough to get by on my own.”

The vampire goes quiet, but glances at him when he thinks Astolfo doesn't notice like he can see through his every pretences and Astolfo hates him for it.

They land in Florence about a day later and Noé knows, in the way Astolfo keeps pushing him away, that he is in need of help. Vanitas used to be like this, too. It’s when people like them, who try to be fiercely independent, who want to deal with everything on their own, start pulling away that you know they will need you the most.

He wasn’t planning on sticking around once they arrived in Florence, but he doesn’t like the idea of Astolfo on his own, flirting with danger without backup.

Vanitas would call him a bleeding heart. Maybe he is, but it doesn't bother him. He is not ashamed of doing his best to help people, even if they pretend they don’t need it. Especially, if they pretend they don’t need it.

Not to mention, he owes it to Astolfo. They may not have parted on the best terms, but Noé still owes him large debt, and he intends to see it repaid, one day.

(He can still feel, on the skin of his flesh arm, the pressure of Astolfo’s fingers clamped tightly around his wrist.)

Maybe it’s now the occasion. Besides, what else is he going to do? Go back to travelling alone, sitting in trains and airships with no one but himself and followed by the ghosts of his friends ?

“Why are you still following me?”

“I don’t know the city at all,” Noé remarks innocently, smiling brightly. “Do you know a good hotel I could stay for a few days?”

He asks, because since they arrived Astolfo’s steps are lighter, he moves through the streets with more confidence. The younger man tries not to let the change show, but it’s like he has an easier time breathing.

“Fine,” he relents, with much less hostility than what Noé is used to. “I’ll take you to one.”

As he leads him through this city he seems to know by heart, they pass by a plaza. Noé stops there, admiring the cathedral, and Astolfo’s good moods seem to make him a little more talkative than usual.

"This is the cathedral Santa Maria del Fiore,” Astolfo explains when they walk past it. He stops, gazing up at the facade and its rose window. “The sturdiest building in Italy. It took over two centuries to build, and it survived Babel and served as a shelter for survivors.” He gazes at the building like it holds some sentimental value, and though the urge to ask is there, Noé stays quiet, afraid Astolfo will go silent if he speaks up. “It’s the very first chasseur headquarters in the world, older even than the Vatican.”

They reach a small hotel, not so far off the cathedral. It’s so unlike what Noé thought Astolfo would choose that he makes a double take — but, to be perfectly honest, everything Astolfo has done since they set foot in Italy is so strange that he can't bring it up.

Immediately, Astolfo launches into a conversation with the receptionist, in Italian so quick Noé’s basic knowledge of the language doesn’t allow him to understand a single word of it. He’s unfailingly polite, smiling at him warmly even as he points at Noé and seems to ask if they need only one room — at least, that’s what Noé catches of the conversation. Still, it seems to work out, because he hands Astolfo a pair of keys.

One of those makes its way into Noé’s hand. “Here is yours,” Astolfo tells him shortly, reverting to French, before shoving something else in his hands. “And a city map. Now, will you leave me alone?”

Noé isn’t sure he wants to — both for Astolfo and for himself. Some matters are best not left alone. “Thank you,” he says, not putting his concerns into words. If Astolfo suspects Noé isn’t about to leave him on his own, he’ll try his best to escape and he doesn’t want to take the risk of losing him so quick.

Besides, he seems to be in good moods, and he wouldn’t want to ruin it. “Why this hotel?” he adds, trying to take advantage of said moods, since they make him more likely to answer questions. If anything, he'll get more details about what exactly he's looking for.

“It’s only a few minutes walk to the Cathedral,” Astolfo explains quickly. “I’ll be meeting with the chasseurs.”

It makes sense — if there are people monitoring vampire activity in the human world, it's the chasseur. If Astolfo needs any kind of information, he'll probably be able to get it through them. On the other hand...

"If you aren't a chasseur anymore, how are you so sure they'll meet with you?"

Astolfo grimaces, and crosses his arms, clamming up. It’s the question Noé shouldn’t have asked. “It doesn’t mean I don’t have friends,” he hisses. “Are you done with the interrogation?” When Noé doesn’t answer, he nods briskly. “Very well. Goodbye.”

Noé still follows him up the stairs, because their rooms are on the same floor, but Astolfo ignores him all the way up.

When he’s alone, Murr glares at him like he’s at fault, and settles near the window. Noé follows him here, staring out at the unfamiliar city skyline. He wonders how many secrets it holds, and how many of them Astolfo knows about.

Later in the evening, he and Murrs go to the restaurant area to get something to eat, starting to feel hungry. He orders a simple meal, and is just finished with it when he spots Astolfo crossing the lobby towards the exit.

He doesn’t see him, but Murr is staring intently, and Noé quickly pays for his meal to follow Astolfo out of the hotel.

If it was only a matter of travelling alone or in company, Noé could easily leave Astolfo to his own device and wait for him to be done here, but he can’t deny he’s worried.

Noé sure remembers how skilled Astolfo was in a fight, but the young man isn’t a chasseur any longer, and had to give up his weapon and the drug allowing him to reinforce himself when he lost the title. What if he gets hurt? Or worse? The local chasseurs may have been his friends, but considering the circumstances of Astolfo's departure from the chasseurs, would they allow him to fight by their side?

So many things can go wrong. Noé doesn't like Astolfo, he doubts he could ever truly like him, but he isn't about to leave him to die with no second thoughts. He's seen enough people killed because of him, because he could do nothing, and he's not allowing this to happen again. As long as he follows Astolfo around, Noé won't let him die, not like Louis, not like Vanitas, personal feelings be damned.

“Once again, why are you still following me?”

He blinks. Astolfo is staring at him in affront, eyes angry and jaw tense, hands set firmly on his hips. That he barely reaches Noé's shoulders would make it cute if Noé hadn’t seen him commit numerous murders.

“Are you an idiot? What part of goodbye did you not understand?”

“How are you so sure the chasseurs here will help you?” He asks again, maybe because he needs to reassure himself, in a way, that Astolfo isn't walking straight into a death trap on his own. But instead of answering, Astolfo stiffens, pointedly not looking at him, and Noé understands. “You don’t really know, do you?”

“The man I’m meeting is an old family friend. Since the Chevalier Ténèbre was last seen in Italy, he should be able to give me more details.”

“The Chevalier Ténèbre?” Noé takes in chin between his fingers at the name, thinking. He is sure he has he heard it before, but he can't quite place it yet. Was Chevalier a moniker or an actual title. “This name sounds familiar—”

“They were originally a pair of vampire brothers and thieves. Now there is only one of them left, thanks to yours truly.” He tilts his chin up, face twisting into a grim smile, and he tucks his hair behind his ear. The fanged earring sways and glints. “And Antonio can tell me where he is now.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

Nowadays, human and vampire relations are slightly better than what they used to be, and Noé is fairly positive that he can walk into chasseur territory without being murdered on the spot, especially if he's with a human — as long as he doesn't cause too much trouble.

“We are not in Paris, remember?" He shakes his head. “Roland isn’t here to vouch for you.” He wrinkles his nose at the name, though it's only half-hearted.

“If I didn’t know you any better, I would say you’re worried."

Astolfo’s mouth opens, and clicks shut, no words coming out of it. Then, he huffs. “Do as you like,” he snaps. “I don't care. Get yourself killed if you wish it, but do not get in my way.”

#vnc #vanitas no carte #astolfoé #astonoé #Astolfo Granatum #noe archiviste #astolfo of garnet #story: let me live (let me die)#My writing

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undermounts · 4 years

Text

Bound―Chapter 6: Nightmares

Summary: The past does not want to stay in the past.

AO3 | Masterlist

Pairing: Gaius Augustine/Diana Leigh (BB MC)

Warnings: blood and graphic depictions of violence.

Somewhere, sometime in Italy

The world is on fire.

Smoke fills his nostrils, burning his sinuses. Bodies litter the field he prowls upon, some burned, some bleeding, some mangled beyond recognition. Everywhere he turns, survivors are screaming in pain and anguish. They wouldn’t be for long.

Golden breastplates gleam in the moonlight, scattered amongst the dead. Their losses had been insignificant in comparison to the devastation they inflicted. This was the might of Octavian. The might of the Empire.

He wonders how many of his own kind had fought tonight. How many of his progeny fought within his century, within this legion, with not swords but fangs.

He hears someone moan, long and drawn, out to his left. He follows the sound of despair and finds a cavalryman―not one he recognizes―pinned beneath his horse, gasping for breath. He is badly burned, all the way from the fingertips of his right hand to the right side of his face.

The man turns his gaze upon him, eyes a muddy brown and hazy with pain. He stretches out a bloody hand, just barely grazing his ankle. “H-Help…”

The cavalryman will not survive. His injuries are too severe. He can feel the man’s life force slipping away, like water between cupped hands. When he looks inward, searching for some ounce of sympathy, he feels nothing. Only hatred and rage, distant on the horizon now that he is sated, but always there nevertheless.

He cannot muster an ounce of compassion. They had fought on the same side, yes. But in the end, the man is just a man. Nothing more. Unlike him.

The only thing he can offer is a swift death.

He unsheathes his sword, holding the tip between the gaps of the cavalryman's armor.

“Please…”

He slides the blade home, its lethal edge gliding between ribs. The man splutters, blood gurgling from his lips, and he hears his heart stop.

He takes no joy in killing this man. He takes no joy in anything at all.

“Raghhhhh!”

He stands and turns, freeing his blade with a wet squelch. Another soldier runs towards him with a sword raised, this one dressed in ornate armor of ebony and gold. Not on the same side then.

He can sense the bloodlust in the air. The desperation. Such fire, he muses, for a human. But ultimately pointless.

He has not known joy in a long time. Not since he had been so deeply betrayed. Not since the one he loved most was erased from the earth. He does not know joy. But he will take pleasure in this. In killing this man.

He smiles, cold and hollow, like the glint of a knife in the dark.

When the man is close enough, he grabs his wrist, squeezing hard enough to fracture bone as he uses the soldier’s momentum to swing him around, shatter his arm, and drive his own sword up into his stomach, all the way up to the hilt.

It is too easy.

“Fucking… monster,” the man wheezes, coughing up blood. He feels flecks of it, warm and tacky on his cheek.

If the man wants a monster, he will show him a monster.

He smiles as his fangs descend, delighting in the fear that alights in the man’s wide eyes. “No―”

He sinks his teeth into the soldier’s neck and drinks deeply despite not needing to. In war, there is more than enough blood to go around.

When the man begins to scream, he simply tears out his throat.

A drum begins to pound in the distance and he turns in the direction from whence he came, letting the man’s lifeless body slump to the ground. It is time to go. His legion is moving on, onto the next battle.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and begins the trek back. Any survivors that are still on the killing field will be left behind, allies and enemies alike.

“I never should have forgotten who you are.”

He freezes. That voice… It is so familiar. It… does not belong here.

He turns, lips parting. “Kamilah.”

She looks just as she did the day he first met her in her war tent. Her long white dress falls to her feet where the hem is stained with blood, stark against the fabric. “You are a killer. You always have been. You always will be.”

No, this was not the way he remembers it. This is not the way it went―

“How?” he rasps, shaking his head. “I―we haven’t met yet.”

“If only that were the case,” Kamilah replies coldly, eyes glinting with cold fire. “I wish I had never met you.”

“I know,” he whispers, trembling despite himself. “I’m sorry.”

“You are a monster, Gaius.”

Yes. Gaius. That is him. He has not heard that name… in years. Gaius.

“I know.” His voice breaks.

“The Undying Centurion…” Kamilah says to herself, her tone thoughtful but her face a mask of stone. She glances down, weighing one of her ornate daggers in her hand. It gleams like quicksilver in the moonlight. When she meets his gaze again, her eyes are full of hatred. And resolve. “I wish you had killed me. I should have let you kill me.”

Gaius realizes what she is about to do a moment too late. He lunges, a cry on his lips as Kamilah plunges her own dagger into her stomach, burying it up to the hilt. Her eyes widen and she stumbles back, collapsing to her knees.

“No!” Gaius falls to the ground with her, hands shaking as he brushes her long, dark hair away. His fingers flutter over the hilt of her dagger, unable to stop the blood that keeps seeping out, staining the front of her dress crimson. This cannot be happening. This isn’t real, it cannot be. “My Queen, I…”

A tear slides down his cheek, crystalline as it falls and lands on her smooth chest. He watches in horror as it mixes with her blood and her body begins to feel heavy in his arms.

“How could you?”

When Gaius looks up, it is not Kamilah who watches him with wide eyes, but Rheya.

He startles, about to scramble away when her hand closes around his wrist like a vice. She pulls him in, pressing his palm against her stuttering chest. Her blood stains their hands together. Gaius fights down the bile that rises in his throat, repulsed by the woman in his arms. She had warped him, lied to him, used him―

“You betrayed me,” Rheya hisses, face contorting into an ugly mask of fury.

“Yes.” Gaius snarls, reaching for his own dagger at his belt. “You lived too long Rheya. Caused too much pain.”

“And you haven’t?” she spits and he winces.

He lifts his hand, the dagger poised above her heart. He will finish this. For good.

Gaius feels her gaze on him, burning. Despite everything, he has to close his eyes. He takes a deep breath―

“Gaius?”

His eyes flutter open and he drops the blade in the grass. Something inside him fractures. “Diana.”

The Bloodkeeper gazes up at him, skin deathly pale and bleeding from the same wound. He feels her pain as if it was his own. Another effect of their bond, he knows. But it is fraying. Whatever links their minds together, it is starting to break. He can feel it tear him apart, mind and soul.

“No,” he whispers. He hefts her body closer to him, shaking his head. “Not you too.”

“Why?” Diana croaks and he feels her fingertips brush over the back of his hand. When he looks down, he finds his hand, wrapped around the dagger embedded in her gut.

“No.” He jerks his hand back, flinching. Her blood is on his hands. “Diana, I didn’t…”

She grabs his hand, although her touch is soft. Not just because her strength is waning, but because she means to be gentle. It hurts to meet her gaze, but Gaius forces himself to as she places his palm against her cheek. It is so cold. Gently, he takes her other hand, the one she holds over her stomach, and holds it against his cheek. Her blood is warm against his skin.

“I don’t know how…” He tries and fails to speak. The bond is growing taut, ready to snap. He tries to cling to it, to keep her here, but he doesn’t know how.

“I’ve died before, Gaius,” she whispers, thumb brushing over his skin. “I’m not afraid to do it again. Not anymore.”

Gaius swallows, hand slipping from her face. His fingers curl around the hilt of his dagger, lifting it from the grass. “Neither am I. Will you help me?”

He holds the knife, poised over his own chest, full of resolve. Diana’s hand slips from his cheek, leaving a bloody handprint behind, and covers his over the hilt. She nods.

“Of course.”

Rome, Italy, 2042

Diana jolted awake, breathing hard. Her hand fluttered over her stomach, then her chest. Her heart pounded beneath her palm. She glanced around. She was still on the couch in the living room, a blanket tucked around her. There was no light behind the curtains, so night must have fallen.

What was that? It was like… a memory. Or at least part of it was. A dream then. But not her’s. She’d seen herself. Had been someone else.

“Gaius,” she whispered, lunging to her feet. Diana stumbled across the suite, tripping over her own feet in her haste as she rushed to his room. She yanked the door open, finding him tangled in his sheets.

“I’m sorry,” he was muttering over and over, near frantic. Diana could feel his panic, his anguish through the bond. He was having a nightmare.

Hesitantly, Diana crossed to the side of his bed. Gaius was turned away from her, the muscles in his back and shoulders tense. Gently, Diana laid her hand against his arm. “Gaius.”

He flinched away from her, jolting awake. “No, I―” Gaius froze, looking around him, eyes hazy. He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut for a second and shaking his head. He took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat. Then he opened his eyes. “Diana…”

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, letting her hand fall back to her side. She had never seen him so rattled before.

“Yes. I…” he trailed off, noticing her own troubled expression. “Are you okay?”

Diana glanced away, suddenly feeling like an intruder, both in his room and his mind. “I saw your dream.”

“Oh.”

Diana couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Dreams were an incredibly private thing, and it appeared as if she had just sat in on one of the worst ones of his.

“...I’m sorry about that.”

Diana raised her brows, incredulous. “You’re sorry? How could any of that have been your fault? You didn’t want me to see that.”

“No, I didn’t,” he agreed, running his hands through his hair. He glared at his sheets for a moment, then sighed, frustration ebbing away. “But I must have projected it to you somehow. Down the…” Gaius frowned.

“Down the bond,” Diana finished and he nodded. Diana bit her lip, glancing between the door and Gaius. Then she stepped forward, glancing down at the edge of the bed.

As if sensing her question, Gaius shifted over on the bed, making space for her to sit. Odd, Diana noted, how they could read each other so well without even speaking. Although she supposed they had even odder methods of communication to wonder about.

Diana sat beside him with her back against the headboard, knees tucked to her chest as if she could make herself as small and unobtrusive as possible. “What is this? Why are we connected?” She glanced over at him. “Have you ever heard of something like this?”

Gaius opened his mouth and closed it as if in hesitation. He dragged himself up against the headboard as well, keeping a respectful distance between them. “Yes, actually. Only a few times before. From my knowledge, it’s incredibly rare.”

Of course, Diana thought bitterly. As if being the first Bloodkeeper vampire and having the powers of the First weren’t enough rare things on her plate.

Gaius’s lip quirked.

“What is it?” Diana asked, gesturing between them. “Why did it form?”

“I don’t know the true nature of it,” he admitted, looking troubled. “I’ve never actually met any two vampires with this sort of bond. Or even if I had, I imagine they wouldn’t have told me about it.”

“Why?”

“It’s a very… vulnerable thing to have, from what I understand,” Gaius said, looking more and more disturbed as he went on. “It’s a very deep connection. Severing it would be―”

“Nearly unbearable?” Diana guessed, remembering the way it had felt to be Gaius in his dream, to see herself bleeding out in his arms.

“Yes,” he murmured, wincing as if it pained him to know that she had seen that.

“Is it just our minds that are connected?” she questioned, wondering if it would just be nearly unbearable to live if the other died, or impossible.

“For our sakes, I hope so.”

Diana sighed. Wonderful.

“...Why did it form between us?”

Gaius shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know that either. I’ve heard many stories. Some say that vampires can become connected through some sort of trauma.”

“Like killing each other?” Diana supplied and Gaius huffed a laugh.

“I would certainly consider that to be traumatic enough.” Gaius looked down at his hands. They clenched, gripping the sheets tightly in his fists. “Some people say… it’s fate.”

Diana let out a long, slow breath. “Fate.”

“Mm.”

“And what makes two people… fit? Why does fate connect them?” Diana grimaced. This was perhaps one of the weirdest conversations she’d ever had. Right next to being told that she was the Bloodkeeper. In both situations, she was faced with some truth about herself that changed the foundation beneath her feet.

Gaius’s eyes flicked towards her. “They’re equals. Perfect complements to each other.”

Diana stiffened. Her and Gaius. Equals. And she had a feeling he wasn’t talking about in power. And perfect complements? She didn’t want to think about that. “And what typically… becomes of these bonded vampires? What does any of this mean?”

Gaius looked away, staring at the opposite wall. “I don’t know, Diana. None of this is for certain.”

Diana sensed he was telling the truth, although she couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t telling her all of it. Or at least all that he suspected. But she didn’t push for more information. She wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to learn more.

They sat in silence for a while, processing this new information. Diana wondered, not for the first time, why everything between them had to be so complicated.

Diana’s thoughts drifted back to his dream, the reason she had woken up and come here tonight. “Gaius?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have those...nightmares often?”

Gaius frowned. It seemed he was always frowning. “That particular one was new. I think perhaps being in Rome again for so long is starting to get to me. But yes. These nightmares…”

He didn’t have to finish. Diana knew what he was going to say. They were common.

“What are they usually about?” Diana knew she was prodding but… She couldn’t imagine seeing something like what she saw tonight on a regular basis. How could he manage something like that?

To her surprise, Gaius answered without brushing her off. “Mostly memories. Or versions of them. You asked me once if I could feel the weight of what I’ve done. Well, the answer is yes. Almost every night since you removed Rheya’s influence, I see it. I see the lives I ended, I feel the terror they felt. I remember how I felt then, how much I enjoyed it. And that’s the worse part. But no matter what I do, the dreams don’t stop.”

Diana pursed her lips. She didn’t want to feel sympathy for him. But to see memories like that, nearly every day for over two decades… Hadn’t she told him that perhaps he had suffered enough? It was one thing to atone, another to be constantly punished.

“I think I know a way to make them stop,” she said after a few moments. She felt Gaius’s gaze on her, eyes intent. “But it won’t be easy. It will take a lot of courage on your part.”

Gaius narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

Diana looked over at him. “It might help you if you confront these memories. Face them head-on.”

Gaius scoffed. “And how do I do that? I already see them all the time.”

“I can help you. Think of it as… dream therapy,” Diana shrugged. “I could help you see them, just like I would if you wanted to show me your memories of those parties. You’d have to see those memories, make peace with them, and hopefully, they’ll stop surfacing in your dreams.”

Gaius stared at her, thinking it over. His brows furrowed, a crease forming between them. “And you… you would see them too?”

Diana smiled sadly and nodded. “I would. It can’t be helped. If I were to induce a memory and leave you there unmonitored, you could get stuck.”

“That’s comforting,” he grumbled, eyes going to his hands once again. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “And you would be okay with that. Seeing those memories.”

“Yes,” she replied without a second thought, even though her stomach roiled. “It’ll help get some peace of mind in the long run. For both of us,” she added. “Seeing as we’re bonded and all.”

Gaius nodded slowly. “But if it’s too much for you―”

“I’ll pull us out.”

“Okay. If you think this will help, then alright. We’ll do this.”

Diana nodded in confirmation, taking this as her cue to leave. But as she began to clamber off of his bed, she couldn’t help but how troubled he seemed, how averse to any mind tricks he was.

She paused, settling back down, her legs folded beneath her. “Would you… like to see how it’s done? With my memories?”

Gaius’s eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“You aren’t asking,” Diana said, resting her hands on her knees, palms up. “I’m offering. I don’t mind. This way, you know what it will be like and there are no surprises when we go into your memories.”

“What are you going to show me?” he questioned, gaze skeptical, as if expecting some sort of trap.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she shrugged, sweeping her hair back over her shoulder. “Nothing too serious. And nothing about you, either. I promise.”

Gaius stared at her, intently searching her eyes. For what, she didn’t know. Confirmation, perhaps. Or maybe even deception. Either way, whatever he saw, he must have decided it was enough. He nodded. “Alright, then. I’ll follow your lead.”

“Okay,” Diana agreed, taking a moment to sort through her memories for something mild. Something happy. She figured that they could both use something good right about now. “Okay,” she repeated, holding out both of her hands, one in the air between them and one hovering by his temple. “Give me your hand. It’s easier if we establish contact. It will be less jarring for both of us.”

Gaius wordlessly placed his hand in hers, fitting their palms together, fingers brushing over each other’s wrists. Diana could feel his pulse beneath her fingertips, fluttering like a rabbit’s heart. Then, slowly so as not to startle him as she so often did, he touched the fingers of her other hand to his temple.

“Close your eyes,” she instructed him as she did the same. Diana focused, locating Gaius’s presence in the dark, and wrapped herself around him, pulling him with her as she drew them both into her mind palace.

Across from her, Gaius gasped softly. “Incredible…”

It was. Nebula of electric blue woven with gleaming silver strands whirled around them, contracting and dispersing like mist, only to reform with other clusters of matter.

“I spend a lot of time here,” Diana admitted, glancing over at Gaius’s manifestation beside her. “It’s where I go when I need to think. Meditating actually strengthens it. A healthy mind makes for a more responsive mind palace.”

“What do you mean ‘more responsive’?” Gaius asked, still staring at their surroundings in wonder. Diana took a moment to simply watch him. The way he was looking around, at this most sacred place of hers, with naked admiration and awe… it made something in her chest feel warm.

Diana tore her eyes away from him, focusing instead on one of the nearby clouds of mind matter. She concentrated, willing it to bend to her will, to make what she desired a reality. The ability to manifest here came easily now, after years of practice. When she opened her eyes again, a small silver charm bracelet floated before her. Diana plucked it out of the air and smiled down at the familiar bracelet, turning over the sparkling charms. A dolphin, an otter, a jellyfish, and a seahorse. She turned, lifting Gaius’s arm by his sleeve, and set the charm bracelet in his hand.

Gaius blinked in amazement, torn between looking at the bracelet she conjured from psychic matter and his own hands, as if noticing them for the first time. “Is this—are we real?”

“Yes and no,” Diana replied, calling on the memory she planned to explore. God, she was starting to sound like Kano. Vague and confusing.

“These bodies aren’t real. But we can still feel things, like pain,” she explained, remembering the first time she had entered a mind palace and fought a werewolf, a minotaur, and two Ferals and felt first hand what it was like to take damage. Diana pinched the back of Gaius’s arm and scowled, batting her hand away. “I haven’t tested it, but I think if we were to die in here―”

“We would die out there,” Gaius finished, grimacing, the charm bracelet still clenched in his fist.

“Exactly. My mind isn’t a dangerous place, but…” Diana shrugged. “Try not to get killed, I guess?”

“Reassuring, Diana. Truly.”

She smiled, and beckoned him forward, just as she pinched the air with her fingers and pulled on an invisible thread. Before Gaius could ask any questions, a portal appeared before them, wisps of silver light whisking off its edges.

Gaius glanced between the portal and Diana, a single brow raised. “Am I supposed to be able to do that?”

“No. Your memories seem to be surfacing on their own, so they won’t be hard to find. This one’s old, so I had to actively search for it,” Diana placed one foot in the portal, half in the memory and half in her mind palace. She held her hand out. “Come on.”

Gaius looked at her hand, then deliberately stepped around it, following her through the portal. Diana rolled her eyes and closed the portal behind them.

Diana is six years old.

She hangs on to her father’s hand, swinging his arm as they wander through the aquarium enveloped in rippling blue light. She skips up to a large exhibit, pressing her nose up to the glass, enraptured by the giant Manta rays and schools of glittering fish within.

“Diana, what did we say about putting your face on the glass?” her father says gently, herding her back from the display. She clings to his arm, pointing as a sea turtle glides by, casting a shadow on her small frame.

“But I can see the fishes better!” She clings to his arm, pointing as a sea turtle glides by, casting a shadow on her small frame.

“Oh, you can see the fishes better, huh?” Before Diana can respond, he scoops her up, one arm around her legs, the other around her shoulders as he dips her, holding her upside down. “How about now?”

Peals of laughter fill the air as Diana squeals in delight, squirming in her father’s arms. “No! Everything’s upside down!”

Her father chuckles, swinging her right-side up again before kneeling down. “Come on, bubbles. I’ll show you a better view.”

Grinning, Diana clambers onto her father’s shoulders, squeezing his hands tightly as he stands, walking up to the exhibit so she can see better. “Look at those, Dad!”

Diana continues to point out all sorts of fish, recalling all of the facts she had learned about in her small collection of books about the ocean. In her excitement, she grips her father’s hair, directing his line of sight for him. Her father winces, but lets her do it anyway, his large hand covering hers.

“That is you, isn’t it?” Gaius asked softly beside her. “The little girl.”

Diana nodded, coming back to herself. She’d almost forgotten she was here with Gaius, too wrapped up in the memory to pay him any attention.

“Yeah,” she whispered, overwhelmed with nostalgia and longing. “That’s me and my dad. We went to the aquarium for my sixth birthday. I… didn’t have a lot of friends then.”

“This is a happy memory, then?” Gaius questioned.

“Yeah,” Diana answered breathily, confused by his question. Didn’t it look happy? “One of my happiest.”

“Then… why are you crying?”

Diana startled, brushing her fingers across her cheeks. They were wet. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying.

“Diana?” Gaius’s voice was soft, gentle, as if he were speaking to a cornered animal.

“I’m okay,” she reassured him, watching as her father began to jog alongside the aquarium tank with her younger self on his shoulders, chasing a giant ray, both of them laughing in glee. “I just haven’t seen him in while. That’s all.”

She could feel Gaius’s eyes on her, but he didn’t say anything more.

“Come on,” Diana nudged his shoulder with her own. “There’s more to see.”

They walked deeper into the aquarium, following Diana’s younger self and her father as they wandered through the winding halls of the Open Ocean exhibit.

“Let’s go find Mom, Di,” Diana’s father says, once again setting her on the ground.

“No! There’s still more fish to see in this area!” she protests, tugging on his fingers. “I haven’t even shown you the bluefin tuna!”

“The bluefin tuna, huh?” Her father grins, ruffling her hair. “Hey, speaking of tuna, what do you think about getting sushi tonight? If we tell the restaurant it’s your birthday, they’ll give you free mochi!!”

“DAD!” Diana gasps, clearly scandalized. “You can’t say that in here!”

“I’m just kidding, bubbles,” he chuckles, ducking to flick her chin with his finger. “The bluefin tuna will still be there after we find your mom. Besides, don’t you want to see what she got you from the gift shop?”

Diana’s mouth forms a perfect “O” and her eyes go wide. “Mom went to the gift shop?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it? You know your mom can’t go anywhere without finding something for you.” Her father barely finishes his sentence before Diana tightens her hold on him, heaving with all of her strength to pull him in the direction of the gift shop. He laughs, holding his ground for a few moments, before giving in, letting her guide the way.

“You were a handful, even then,” Gaius observed and Diana spared him a quick smile.

“Growing up as an only child, I was used to having all of the attention,” she chuckled, glancing over at him. He looked… softer in this light, awash in shades of blue. Peaceful even. No frowns and harsh edges.

“You turned out alright, I suppose,” Gaius teased and Diana rolled her eyes, although the smile still lingered on her lips.

“Yeah. I suppose I did.”

“Mom!” Diana yells, releasing her father’s hand and taking off at full speed across the aquarium’s atrium to where she spots her mother, emerging from the gift shop.

“Woah, there, slow down, Diana!” her mother laughs, squatting so her daughter can run into her arms. “You’ll wake the sleeping sharks.”

“Oh, right,” Diana nods, lowering her voice to a whisper. “So.”

“So?” Her mother grins, raising an eyebrow.

“Dad said,” Diana leans in, speaking into her mother’s ear. “Dad said you got me something from the gift store.”

“Did he now?” Her mother says, smoothing back Diana’s hair, shooting her husband a look of mock disapproval. “Well, your father never quite learned to keep a secret.”

“It slipped out. It was the only way to convince her you were more important than a tuna fish,” her father shrugs at the same time Diana says, “So you did get something?”

“Of course I did,” her mother smiles, pulling out a small box wrapped with ribbon from her pocket. “For you. Happy birthday, my love.”

Diana tears the ribbon off with a fervor that makes both of her parents laugh. When Diana takes off the lid of the box, she gasps. “Oh, Mom. It’s so pretty!”

She pulls out a silver charm bracelet, decorated with sparkling charms. A dolphin, an otter, a jellyfish, and a seahorse.

Diana glanced over at Gaius. He was staring at the memory with an odd expression on his face, the same charm bracelet clutched tightly in his hand, just by his chest, as if he had been inspecting it moments before. Diana gently unfurled his fingers, capturing his attention as she pulled the bracelet from his hand and gently released it into the air. They watched as it hung there, suspended for a moment in the watery light, then dispersed into flecks of silver and blue.

“Ready to go?” Diana asked, holding out her hand, palm facing upwards.

Gaius hesitated, glancing back once at the family huddled by the gift shop entrance. Then he nodded and lay his hand over hers.

Diana opened her eyes.

They were back in the hotel room. Gaius gasped beside her as he came back to himself, hands reaching out to steady himself. He gripped the bed sheets, looking around, blinking rapidly. Diana withdrew her hands and set them calmly in her lap.

When Gaius settled, he released the sheets and stared at the hand that had been holding the bracelet in wonder. Then his eyes traveled to meet Diana’s, still slightly awed. Without warning, he leaned forward, fingers outstretched.

Diana went still, breath caught in her throat as his fingertips brushed across her cheek. When he withdrew, she saw that they were wet.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, neither knowing what to say and neither wanting to say anything at all. The silence that had lapsed was comfortable. Diana knew that when it broke, this moment of peacefulness between them would be over.

But nevertheless, as all fragile things must do, it broke.

“Thank you,” Gaius said at last, a sort of warmth in his gaze that Diana didn’t know how to interpret. “For showing me that.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, swallowing. It was time for her to go. There was nothing left for her to do. That was enough memory explanation for tonight. And if she was being honest, in light of recent revelations, acknowledgment of this bond between them, she was a little afraid to see what would happen if she stayed. “So, now you know what it will be like.”

She slid off the bed, feeling his gaze on her as she went. Even as she began to pace away, she got this aching feeling in her bones, as if even they wanted her to stay.

Diana was nearly to the door when she remembered. “I almost forgot to mention that we should probably leave Rome.”

“Why?” Gaius tilted his head, the movement purely feline. “Did you get a new lead?”

“No, nothing like that,” Diana amended. “If we’re going to do this memory stuff, it might also help if we go somewhere you don’t have a lot of attachment to. If your memories are stronger in places that meant something to you in the past, it can be overwhelming. We want to make sure that when we aren’t going through your memories, they stay out of the way.”

“That makes sense,” Gaius supposed, nodding slowly. He studied her, lip quirked. “Why do I get the feeling you’re hoping we get to go somewhere nice so you can travel?”

Diana couldn’t stop the soft laugh that bubbled up as she leaned against the door frame. “You’re absolutely right, but that doesn’t make my logic any less true. Plus, after all of this, I could use a place to relax until I get any more ideas about the other artifacts I saw.”

“In that case,” Gaius said, sliding back into his usual cool demeanor as he lounged back on the bed. “Why don’t you just tell me where you want to go, and I’ll tell you if I’ve been there.”

As he stretched out, Diana realized for the first time, that he was shirtless. She stiffened, fighting down the blush that crept up her neck and decided to focus on his face. Diana swallowed the lump in her throat.

“How about Norway?”

Tagging: @bigmemesplz, @somin-yin, @bachelorettebound14, @mkamra2355 , @mindlesschicca, @xbobbatea, @mikewawazoski, @vesselsynths, @dorkylittleweirdo

#gaius augustine #gaius x mc #my writing #bloodbound #choices #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #lily spencer #jax matsuo #rheya apostolous

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flowesona · 5 years

Text

Miasma

Setting: Renaissance Venice (1630-31)

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

TW: Graphic Descriptions, obsessive/ yandere behaviour

A/N: I’m so happy to have had to opportunity to work with the wonderful @jooniescupcakes on this fic in anticipation of our amazing leader Namjoon’s birthday! Please check out the version of this fic posted on her blog which has an exciting alternate ending!

The humid air of the mid-evening provided a somewhat pleasant stroll. It would have been serene, if not for the desperate cries of people fighting against soldiers. Their screams of mercy at Namjoon were ill-received, as he instead chose to avert his gaze, to see how the Venetian water rippled. He couldn’t bear to face these people, to answer as to why they weren’t going to survive. Prayers, smoking, even infecting oneself with Syphilis. Every cure people had dreamt up were based on fallacious dreams. And Namjoon hated to associate himself with such disparity, hated to see those at the lowest in society doomed to a horrific fate.

No one had thought so many would be lost once again when the plague that had last reared its ugly head centuries returned once again to Italy, causing mass panic in Milan the previous year before reaching Venice and letting Namjoon bear witness to the curse.

Yet instead of facing the hopeless souls, Namjoon tried to distract himself with the more optimistic side of things. The patients that he was about to visit had reportedly not experienced any major symptoms of the plague. Yet as he reached the entrance of the quaint ‘house’ crammed into the rest of the neighbourhood and simply reeking of poverty, there was still a feeling of dread in his stomach, that he wouldn’t be able to cure them.

Brushing all pessimistic thoughts aside he reached out and rapped on the door twice, his greeting being met with a cough and the scurrying of feet.

“Oh! Dottore! Please, come in.” A worn-out voice accompanied the face of a woman that was anything but.

“Buona sera. What seems to be the problem?” Namjoon ducked under the entrance of the shabby accommodation as he spoke, surveying the surroundings with an ever-keen eye.

“It’s… papa was spitting blood today. I was worried something was wrong.” The woman explained, leading the doctor through the cramped room into an adjacent room, occupied by a middle-aged woman dabbing at the forehead of a bed-ridden man with a filthy towel. A sight of great pity, an illustration of suffering.

“Has he experienced any other symptoms?” Namjoon went to place his surgical bag on the floor but had second thoughts upon seeing the blood and spit dotted around, instead cautiously placing it on the stained sheets with a grimace. There was no doubt this family’s living conditions were integral to the patriarch’s illness, but alas Namjoon was a doctor, not a charity.

“He’s got an awful fever, dottore.” The woman sat by the bed replied, still stroking her husband’s face to no avail.

“I see. May you two please leave the room, I need to examine him.” Both women observing the scene left the room, not before glancing back at their sick patriarch and the masked stranger ready to decide their fate.

“Can you stand up? I need to examine for any other symptoms.” The wheezes and grunts of the pauper sitting up in his bed were not a good sign. But what was far worse was the sight of a buboe on his neck, previously hidden by the tattered blanket but now in plain sight for Namjoon to see. And it was not a pretty sight.

Even as Namjoon approached and used his gloved hands to tilt the chin up so he had a better view, the truth was clear. He’d caught the plague, and he was going to die in a matter of days.

“For now, rest and some herbal incense is the best road to recovery.” was all advice the doctor could give. He’d never seen such things curing the victims, but it was the most relief he could give. A placebo, blaming the bad air for the disease when there was most definitely something more to it.

He left the room with a horrible feeling in his stomach, the truth a heavyweight on his tongue.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, the older woman instantly standing up and letting her chair fall onto the floor as she rushed to attend to her husband.

Namjoon took the opportunity to seat himself at the table.

“I have some bad news about your father, Signorina...?” He trailed off, realising that in his drowsy arrival he’d never learnt his patient’s name.

“Y/N. What’s a wrong doctor? Please tell me it’s just the flu or-”

“I’m afraid it’s a lot worse.” Namjoon pulled the rubber mask away from his face, letting himself breathe for a second without such construction on his face. He hated the sick feeling in his stomach from having to break the news, of already knowing this young woman’s fate.

“Your father has… there’s no easy way to say this, but he has the plague, blue sickness, whatever you wish to call it.” The doctor couldn’t even look at her face in shame. “The best you can do is pray that God has a place for you in heaven.”

“Wait, What?” All at once, the barriers broke and tears started falling from (Y/N)’s eyes.

“I’m very sorry. I must be on my way.” Scraping back the chair, Namjoon stood up to take his leave, to report the case and to find some devil’s drink to cure his mind of guilt but was held back as Y/N desperately took ahold of one of his hands.

“I’ve heard the screams of the people, dottore. Being trapped like rats or burnt alive isn’t fair. Please, you can’t do this to us!” The young woman searched for sympathy in any inch of his exposed face, finding his deep expresso-coloured eyes and giving him a pleading stare.

Namjoon felt like at that moment, refusing to do something would kill him. With how Y/N hung onto him like a lifeline, as she begged for him to save her from death, he found himself opening his mouth once again.

“It would… I don’t know if I can do that. If I don’t report it, you could spread the plague through your entire neighbourhood. We have to quarantine, it’s only what’s right for the people.”

“Since when did you rich people ever give a damn about ‘the people’?” There was a strange sense of familiarity in seeing Y/N sniffing as she spoke and the emotion behind her words, something that the doctor couldn’t quite place his finger on. Regardless of his strange nostalgia, he felt some strong feeling stir in his chest for change. He truly felt that he couldn’t just sit back and let this poor girl die.

“I… I know this is unorthodox but I could get you out of here. I’ll pay for a carriage and you can go to a better place in the country.” There was still some gnawing part of his conscience begging him to do more, but he pushed it down.

“And my family? Will there be help for papa in another city?” It was as if a light had been lit inside Y/N’s eyes and the strange feeling of nostalgia crept up on Namjoon, almost like deja vu.

But her hope was not long-lasting.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. He’d die on the journey, and there’s a high chance he’d die on the journey. The only way for you to guarantee your survival is leaving, and letting fate take its course.”

“But there must be something you can do! Some cure, some treatment you must have heard of, we’ll do anything. If you’re worried about the money...I’ll find a way to get it. Please, please help him.” Namjoon quietly watched the female plead, wondering how to appease her.

“I’ll see what I can do. There’s no guarantee for his life, I won’t promise you anything.” With a short and tense farewell, he slips on his mask and leaves the shaky house.

Namjoon looked up at the dark night sky, the twinkling stars laughing down at him at them, at all the people of Venice. Who else was looking at the same sky? How many were crying under the black blanket, which provided no warmth or comfort, as yet another loved one fell? The world saw this sight, but only Venice suffered so much under it.

If he kept staring at the warm glow of the full moon, maybe the cries would stop echoing. How long were they to suffer?

Then, his mind wandered to other things. The young woman, whose father he had just visited. It was understandable as to why she wanted him to keep quiet, but was it foolish of him to have surrendered? He had been hit with a wave of something, depressing but familiar, as he watched her pretty eyes. He struggled, even with all his knowledge, to put a name for it, and diagnose it.

He could, no, he should tell the authorities about her father, as it would prevent the spread of the plague. But this secret arrangement could also benefit him, it could be a way for him to experiment and possibly find some cure for this devastating problem.

He noticed his mansion on the horizon and picked up his pace, secretly eager to get home. The tiring job of trying to help people, only to watch them die, exhausted him and upset him. What was the point of being a doctor that could only give empty promises and bring news of death?

Unlike the streets he had just left, he lived in a cleaner and more quiet part of the city. Everyone here was swimming in money, but that didn’t make them any less of a target to the fatal and consuming plague. Many of the children stare from their windows, his large and strange mask attracting curious gazes and hushed whispers.

He had watched many people die, captured by the officials and burnt alive or, if they were too slow, the plague finished them off first. Namjoon had gotten used to the feeling of sadness, anger and disappointment, at this point, after all the deaths he had supervised, it was numb, part of a mundane routine. The thought of the young girl, looking at him like he owned the world like he could change fate, brought back these long-buried feelings in an unprecedented crashing wave, along with something else, unidentified.

———————————————————————

It was another messy evening, the blank sky ignorant to the screams and cries below. All the days blended together with the same sight, the same words, the same end. Namjoon was walking down the familiar path he took just a day ago, equipped with a new idea and a stronger determination. However, there was no certainty for success.

He walked up to the run-down house, glancing over the cracks he had missed in his rush during his last visit. He eyes the cracking paint and dirty windows, the tattered curtains not doing much to shield the inside. He slowly stepped up to the old, wooden door, sharply rapping at it thrice. He waited for a second, and the door swings open, the delicate female mumbling a small welcome with worry evident in her face.

“I...thought of something...to help with the buboes,” he glanced over to see her perked up, watching him intently, “it might not work, and it will surely hurt like hell, but its the best I have"

He curiously observed her changing emotions, happiness at first, hope glimmering in those twinkling eyes, mouth trembling, then disappointment, gravity tugging at the corners of her lush lips, eyes downcast. Finally, the last shine of determination, stronger than the soldiers lining up on the streets, brighter than the shine of the glaring sun.

It was that burning determination that made him remember.

Remember when he first fell in love with the sweet, pretty girl from his childhood.

The sharp jab of the nostalgia, the sudden waves of memories crashing against his confused mind, it was all confirmed when he caught sight of a small toy. It was old, blue and green patches on it, once bright, vibrant coats of fresh paint. It was a small dollhouse, although not in good condition, he noticed the shiny symbol, a logo of the best carpenter in the country. The door to the expensive creation was slightly open allowing little light and peeping eyes through, though it was not furnished. Maybe the fragile pieces had gotten lost over time, but the overall image was still obvious.

He bought that dollhouse, he gifted it to someone, his first love. It was a one-of-its-kind house, unique as every individual star. And it was expensive. Far too expensive for a family like this to even dream about. When he looked back at the female, lost in her own thoughts, he found himself observing her features; the familiar curve of her nose, the shape of her eyes, the plush lips.

Everything came back to him.

Those memories from years ago, when they were both ignorant, young and in bliss. Nothing mattered except themselves. He never knew how much her family struggled to put food on the table, and he never understood why she kept trying to return the gift. When he offered to get her a different house, she refused frustratedly, breaking into tears.

His parents had to explain to him what she was too embarrassed to say; that she wasn't as rich as them. She was poor, living at the bottom of the city's trash, and that was why she always wore the same dresses, and why she never had any toys.

Her family couldn't afford any luxuries. In short; they were completely and extremely different to everyone but themselves. He was born into a prestigious family, money raining down on him, and she had to crawl past scraps to survive.

Namjoon was appalled at the truth. He was angry that he couldn't figure it out by the subtle words and the obvious visuals. He didn't realize how much money, or the lack of it, affected them and their relationship. No matter what, society, with its cruel and cold hands, ripped them apart and forced them to stay away, each succumbing to their fate, only having the memories to hold on to.

"Y/N?" Namjoon forces out.

The female looks confused. Why did he suddenly call her name? And why did he look so shocked?

Inside, a cry of pain shatters the moment, and once again, Namjoon is forced to remember what he is here for. The patient, her father.

“I- maybe you should see my papa first,” she mumbles, gesturing towards the door, “thank you for coming again, dottore.”

Namjoon is once again escorted into the bleak, cramped room, a pungent odour drifting in the room. The closed window indicated that it came from within the room itself, though the doctor didn’t want to find its origin. The condition in which the patient, whose health was as fragile as a thin piece of thread, was terrible. He carefully navigated through the cluttered room, placing his bag with care onto the sheets, stained with yet another unknown symptom.

“I have come with a possible solution,” he spoke slowly, watching the way the older man coughed, scrambling to sit up, “but it will hurt, and it will not be a pleasant sight. If you wish to be cured, then sit quietly and bear the pain.”

“Y/N,” the man calls, waiting for the young woman to come running, “hold his legs tight, and do not let him go. I fear that in his painful struggle, he might strike me.”

She nods, holding onto her father’s scrawny limbs tightly. They watched silently as the doctor reached into his bag to pull out a needle, and a matchstick. He lit the small stick with a swift tug of his large hand. He carefully held the needle’s sharp point, letting the hot flames lick it hungrily. After a few moments had passed, he brought it towards the sick man, carefully aiming towards one of the large, nasty buboes, and shooting towards it with impeccable speed. His patient let out a silent cry in pain, tensing his arms more as hs daughter winced at the disgusting splatter of discoloured pus. This action was repeated again a few more times at all the bulging, taunting buboes on his thighs before moving on to the ones on his neck and groin.

The tiring and painful process took a couple of hours, and when it was done, Namjoon felt a sense of rushing relief. He left the room, reminding the patient to have a good rest. Back in the living room, he met Y/N, who was still curious about the earlier incident.

“You...don’t remember?” he asked.

The girl shook her head before offering him a drink in a cup, chipped away at the edges, “what am I supposed to remember?”

“I gave this to you...many years ago,” he carefully picked up the old toy, feeling the layer of dust that had settled on it.

“Namjoon?” Her eyes were wide open, gaping at him as he calmly smiled back, dimples showing.

“I admit, I didn’t think our reunion would be in such an uncanny situation, much less one so drastic. Have you been well?” He wonders what she was thinking about.

“I-things haven’t really changed much,” she says, eyes focused on stirring her drink, “but I see you’ve reached the stars.” her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

Reached the stars. He knows what she was trying to imply by the line, but he also knew what he wanted to tell her. I reached the stars for you. The words are left unsaid, but the thought of it lingers. After finding out her distraught financial situation, Namjoon had pledged to earn a lot of money and save her from the horrible life she had grown up in, he worked hard to be able to provide for her, and spoil her. However, cruel circumstances had them torn apart.

“I suppose that’s one way to put it. Look, tesoro, I missed you, really, I didn’t think I would ever see you again after what my parents did.” He reached forward to grab her cold hands in his, enveloping the smaller fingers in warmth.

“But you understand why they did it,” she whispers, tugging her hands out of his grasp, “there’s no wa-”

“Who cares what everyone else thinks? There’s always a way. I haven’t forgiven them for what they did, but they certainly paid for it.” A gleam of something flashes in his eyes. Insanity, the female recalls. She remembered Namjoon’s streaks during their childhood. The same look would be in his eyes, and after, a moment of unfiltered feelings, terrifying, maddening actions. Although she couldn’t remember all of it, she did remember a time where he found sickening, sadistic satisfaction in dissecting a live animal. A small, pure creature, he had ripped apart.

“Can we just talk about something else? How long have you been a doctor?” She quickly changes the subject and they go on chatting for hours.

As night falls, the full moon peeks out playfully at the sombre city. Namjoon is walking down the streets, a giddy smile playing on his lips. He’s ecstatic after reconciling with his love. He’s even happier to know she hasn’t changed much, and still possess the same little quirks. The way her eyes light up when talking about something she enjoys, or her nose scrunching in disgust, her animated chatter had sent him to Cloud 9. He knew, that she was still so perfect, just for him. All that was left was to cure his father-in-law and impress him, winning his daughter’s hand in law.

Another joyous chuckle escaped his lips, slowly turning into maddening laughter.

On the streets of Venice, there was not a more terrifying sound.

Namjoon worked tediously all night to make a cure for his newest patient. Although he had nothing to rely on, he had a theory that cleansing the buboes with a salve would help stop the plague spreading at the least. His salve was made of fresh honey and garlic, pounded and mixed well until it made a smooth paste. The smell was strong and sharp, but it was worth a try.

After packing the salve and putting it in his bag, he once again set off on the familiar path towards the house he had been visiting for the past few days. Seeing the girl greet him at the door made him more inspired to cure the man. He once again warned the man that the paste might sting or burn, before getting Y/N to hold him down again. Slowly, with steady hands, he applied the salve to where the buboes previously used to be.

It was a tiring process, the only sound coming from the whimpers escaping the older man’s mouth. A thin layer of sweat had formed on Namjoon’s forehead, as well as the two other occupants of the room, but with no proper ventilation, it was expected. At the end, he was more than happy to leave the congested room and into the less cluttered living room, where once again, a hot drink was waiting for him.

“Dottore, will he be alright?” the voice came from Y/N’s mother, anxious for his reply, “I can’t promise you anything. The results may take a day to fully show. I will see you then. Buona Sera,” he nodded to both ladies, his gaze lingering on the younger female.

———————————————————————

“Ciao, Namjoon.” The greeting from Y/N’s mother was a heartwarming one. She looked positively uplifted by his presence, hope shining in those starlit eyes that he loved in her daughter.

“Ciao, how are things?” The small abode had started to feel like home once again, as it had in those precious childhood years. Most would call the temperature stifling, made worse by derelict wooden walls, yet there was something comforting and cosy about the house. Maybe it was just knowing that Y/N was in the other room that made him feel so content even in such a bleak setting. Yet simply being there was not enough.

“My husband is well on the road to recovery thanks to you! I don’t know how we could possibly repay you, but rest assured we will find a way.” Namjoon hummed in response as he removed the protective rubber mask, the essential part of his uniform that he hated greatly, from the sickening scent of the herbs hidden in the ‘beak’ to the way it stifled him with heat.

“That’s what I actually came here to discuss. Is he awake?”

“Oh! Yes, yes, he should be.” The matriarch stuttered, feeling some intensity to his words that subconsciously brought shivers down her spine.

The doctor simply turned on his heel and entered the smaller room, immediately catching sight of Y/N by her father’s side. A smile worked itself onto his face seeing how everything was laid out perfectly for his plan to work.

“Signore L/N, I’ve been told you’re making a speedy recovery.” The two occupants of the room finally noticed their visitor, and with the way Y/N looked at him with a smile of joy plastered across her angelic features he was hook, line and sinker.

“Yes, yes.” The patriarch nodded to the best of his ability, giving Namjoon ample view of his neck to see the neatly dressed wounds were still in perfect condition.

“So, would it be possible for us to discuss the payment?” Seeing the discussion unfold, Y/N excused herself to assist her mother with the cooking of a hearty celebratory meal for the family.

Namjoon seated himself on the derelict stool previously occupied by Y/N, clasping his hands together nervously yet also in an intimidating move.

“I am in love with your daughter, signore. She is my everything, my anima gemella. I have loved her for the many years that we were apart, and I will love her for many more.”

“Well? Spit it out cucciollo, what is it you want?” His patient asked some gruffness to his voice.

“I want your daughter’s hand in marriage.” There was silence in the small room. “Living in this part of town is not right for her. If she’s my wife then I will be able to provide anything that she needs to live in luxury. Naturally, I can make sure you as her parents are-”

“No.”

Namjoon’s fist curled in anger as he persisted.

“I can give this family everything. I already have. Marriage is such a little thing to ask for when I’ve saved your life and asked for nothing else in return!”

“But I’m not going to sell my daughter off to be some noble’s plaything.” (Y/N)’s father snarled, using one weak arm to push his back straighter so he could be a more intimidating force against the doctor. “We have more pride than letting you run our lives like a puppet show, cucciollo.”

“You’ll regret this.” Namjoon left these last words hanging in the air as he stormed out, signing a death warrant for the family in his head.

As he snatched his mask up from the table, the two women in the kitchen exchanged nervous glances. The aura their doctor was exerting was simply deadly.

“Did you agree on the-”

“We’ll talk about this soon.” Namjoon’s deep voice almost sounded raspy, worn with emotion. “He isn’t able to cough up right now, but you’ll all pay soon enough.”

The slam of the door behind him was a signal of his rage. The doctor would certainly keep to his words, perhaps in a more literal sense that one would think.

———————————————————————

The loud banging on the door was a terrifying sound for the (L/N) family to hear, and soon the entrance to their fragile abode was burst open with a swarm of officers were in the home in a matter of seconds. The family of three sat up, confused and disoriented by the sudden intrusion, but this quickly morphed into horror as the patriarch was snatched up from his bed by two of the officers.

“What is happening? Unhand me, I haven’t done anything wrong!” He cried out, only to be interrupted by a deep chuckle.

“Yes you have.” The voice was familiar, and it didn’t take long for Kim Namjoon to emerge from the shadows. “You stole something from me.”

“If this is about-” The patriarch seethed, only to be stopped as the doctor held up his hand to signify silence.

“Right there officers. That dollhouse.” It was as if someone had set Y/N’s veins of fire. She couldn’t help but protest against the injustice.

“That was a present from him, from a long time ago! It isn’t stolen!” Namjoon cast his eyes on the young woman, and she once again felt the malicious power that this noble had as he smirked, shaking his head.

“You think I would gift a peasant family something so valuable? There’s no need to lie to protect your father, tesoro.”

As he spoke, his fingers traced over the faded design of the ornament, following every crack of paint until he withdrew his hand, instead beckoning another officer to take it away for him. And with that, Y/N’s father was dragged away simultaneously, his loud protests of innocence and begging of mercy becoming quieter yet still haunting the small Venetian streets.

“And what are you going to do now, tesoro?” With the emptiness of the house being quickly abandoned by the authorities, Namjoon’s voice cutting through the silence was an unwelcome shock.

“With your father in prison, there’s no way for you to earn any money to keep a roof over your head. Lest one of you get sick and you should need medicine.”

The women exchanged a look of fear. There was no doubt to the truth in his words, and knowing this only made the disparity of their situation worse. And seeing the revelation fall upon only made Namjoon prouder.

“It’s lucky I have a solution then.”

———————————————————————

Grime coated the walls of the jail cell, and rats scurried about the place as if they were the sole occupants. Yet their home was shared by a defeated older man leaning against the wall, eyes closed as if he could block out all other stimuli and just pray to god.

“See, this is no place for you tesoro.” Hearing a voice in the distance, the patriarch of the L/N family let out a moan of agony.

“Papa!” He opened his eyes to see his daughter clutching the bars of his cell, eyes wide with horror.

“Don’t touch those.” The presence of Y/N was marred by seeing the man who had put him in the awful cell in the first place. The man who, by the glimmering band on the young woman’s finger, was going to be his son-in-law.

“Papa, I’m so sorry that this happened to you. W-We’re going to see if we can get you in better living conditions, or maybe they’ll set you free. I swear, everything will be alright.” Y/N said, releasing her grip on the bars but not stepping away from the cage for a second.

“I can issue a pardon.” The L/N’s attention was diverted to the smug doctor standing behind Y/N. “But I’m not sure I’m quite ready to forgive you.”

Namjoon pulled Y/N away from her father, into his arms that trapped her in a paradoxically romantic gesture, as he pressed a kiss onto her pristine neck.

“Maybe your daughter will change my mind. But for now, we must be going.”

It was a bitter feeling to see his daughter be resigned as a mere object of the monstrous Doctor’s obsession, but the older man became distracted as his chest was captured in a wheezing fit, as when he drew his hand away from his mouth, he found spots of blood decorating it.

———————————————————————

Translations to Italian phrases used:

Buona Sera - Good evening

Ciao - Hi/Bye (a causal greeting)

Tesoro - Treasure

Cucciollo - Puppy (used usually by parents or to denote a rookie)

Signorina - Miss

Signore - Mister, Sir

dottore - Doctor

anima gemella - twin soul

#yandere bts #yandere kpop #yandere x reader #yandere bts au #bts #bts AU #yandere namjoon #yandere namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #yandere collab #bts RM #Kim Namjoon #yandere

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zestycompress · 4 years

Text

Ultimate Duo! Ch. 3

sorry for forgetting to post </3 i dont do it on purpose

AO3 Link

Giorno has never gotten his face licked before. Surprisingly, Bruno was right. He was lying about Luca’s death. But now that he thought about it, how did he realize that he had little talent? Did he practice? How many people has he licked before? When did he realize it was sweat that revealed the truth? Actually, maybe it was best that he didn’t know. Some questions are better left unanswered.

If only he was given the chance to wipe the now-dry trail of saliva off his face. Bruno summoned his Stand, it was blue and white with golden spikes and zippers. Its ability was to create zippers, which was not that much of a surprise. However, it had proven to be quite useful. Having a part of your body unzipped was a bizarre feeling. The unzipped area felt a bit numb. When Giorno stuck his hand into the opening, it felt strange. Words could not properly describe what the inside of the zipper felt like. (Would it be considered the inside of his body or the inside of the zipper?) It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but his current situation didn’t make it nice either.

Despite it being Giorno’s first time using his Stand to fight another human being, it didn’t go so bad.

But things started going downhill once Bruno escaped the funicular by using his Stand to create an opening. If he told his associates that Giorno was the one who killed Leaky-Eye Luca, he’d be in deep trouble, perhaps Kars would become a target as well. It would be unnecessary for them to go after him since he wasn’t involved with Luca’s death, but that doesn’t mean that they wouldn’t try keeping him hostage in order to bring out Giorno.

If Bruno was a Stand user, chances are that he knows others who are Stand users as well. Giorno didn’t know much about Kars, but he hoped he had some kind of way to defend himself from something he can’t see. The only ability Giorno’s aware of is that Kars can transform a part of his body into a plant, possibly other things as well, he wasn’t sure. Maybe if Giorno actually asked about Kars’s abilities, he would know what he’s capable of. Instead, he just gave him all that he knows about Gold Experience. Not a smart move.

Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about Kars, Giorno should be focusing on the present. He couldn’t let Bruno get away. If he catches him, he wouldn’t have to worry about any gangsters trying to avenge Luca by killing him.

...Too bad he managed to disappear in one of the civilians he crashed into.

Creating zippers is an unique ability, Bruno was lucky to have a Stand able to do that. There were plenty of things he could do with the power. However, Giorno didn’t want to know what kinds of things he’d do, especially to an enemy.

Giorno held a small tooth between his fingers as the civilians scattered. Using Gold Experience, he turned it into a common house fly. The little insect should lead him straight to Bruno Bucciarati.

And that it did.

The small fly landed on a civilian's shoulder. They swatted it, but the small insect seemed to refuse to leave them alone. The person smacked it with the back of their hand, soon feeling the pain reflected right back at him. Bruno was forced to reveal himself, coughing up blood as the fly transformed back into its original form, a tooth.

Giorno walked towards him, more than ready to end the fight. He was a bit disappointed to have involved innocent people in his fight, but he did what had to be done.

~~~

“It’s because you have a good soul.” Bruno stared dumbly at the blond teenager. “You’re in the mafia, but you’re decent.”

Giorno had noticed his hesitation when he saw the arm covered in scars, no doubt caused by drug use. Bruno was clearly disturbed by it, maybe even disgusted. He couldn’t blame him. There were people in this world willing to sell drugs to children without any sort of guilt. They’re causing people so young to become addicted to drugs and it sickens him. They don’t care because they’re only interested in making money. What a terrible world. Even worse, nobody makes an effort to stop it, but Giorno is going to change that.

He was going to become a mafioso, climb to the top, and overthrow the boss. He’ll take back Italy and change everything for the best, and Bruno will be joining him.

A nearby group of children played football, accidentally kicking the ball over to Bruno and hitting him with it. He turned around, not upset in the slightest, and returned their ball by kicking it back. The kids shouted thanks and resumed their game.

“Fine, I’ll report that I was unable to locate Luca’s attacker, then I’ll introduce you to begin the initiation process, but you should know,” Bruno walked closer. “If it ever gets out that you’re attempting to take down the boss, I’ll be forced to cut ties with you. A traitor stands alone on an island of isolation. Your failure will be yours and yours alone.”

Giorno thought about Kars, then turned to face Bruno. “What if I want to bring someone along? For the initiation process, I mean.”

“I suppose you could,” He responded. “I’m assuming that they have the same goals as you, right?”

He was silent, allowing a certain memory to come back to him.

“Signore Kars.”

“Hmm?”

“I want to become a Gang-Star.”

“...Don’t let anybody get in your way.”

Even if it was a small interaction, Kars seemed to be supportive - well, based on his tone of voice, it was more like he was saying “just do it already.” Closest thing to supportive - but that’s besides the point, Kars didn’t seem to care at all. He was most likely going to say no if Giorno asked if he wanted to join the mafia with him. However, if Giorno mentions how there might be other Stand users, he’d agree to it.

“...Not exactly,” The blond teen finally answered. “By the way, could we make a quick stop?”

“If you need to go pick up your friend, go. I have a few things I need to attend to. There’s this place we’re going to meet up at, don’t be late.”

~~~

Giorno could recognize Kars from anywhere, his height and long hair makes him stick out like a sore thumb. The Pillar Man turned around when he heard the young boy call out his name, quickly jogging up to him.

“Signore Kars, I must ask you something very important!” Giorno said.

He seemed a bit disinterested, but that’s just his usual expression.

“What is it?” He replied, silently taking note of how much shorter the teen is compared to him.

“I am going to be joining Passione, it’s uh, it’s a gang, basically,” It felt a bit weird speaking to Kars. Perhaps it’s the amount of pressure he feels just by making eye contact with him. His bright crimson eyes made Giorno feel weak, afraid almost. He hated staring into them, but he wasn’t going to let Kars know about his opinion on his eyes. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to join me. I believe there’ll be other Stand users there.”

The mention of Stand users sparked interest, a grin appeared on Kars’s face. “Stand users, you say? I suppose I could…”

“Well, I’ll be leading the way.”

~~~

Bruno had to use all his strength to not gawk at Kars. To be honest, he was expecting another teen, not a whole adult! Was this someone Giorno was related to? He couldn’t see any sort of similarities so it was unlikely. Maybe he was his step-father? No, Giorno would’ve probably mentioned that already.

Whether they were family or not, it wasn’t any of Bruno’s business. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“The capo who will decide both of your futures in the famiglia is a man named Polpo. By the way,” His gaze turned to Kars. “What’s your name?”

The Pillar Man glanced at Giorno, then returned his focus to Bruno. “Kars,” He said then added. “The ultimate lifeform.”

“Right…” Bruno eyed Kars as if he didn’t believe him. He pointed at the building with his thumb. “Go on now. He resides here in this building.”

“But.. but this is…” Giorno murmured. “It’s a prison.”

“That’s right, Polpo was convicted and sentenced to fifteen years in prison. He still issues orders and manages the famiglia, but he does it all within those walls. He can leave his confinement whenever the desire strikes him, but he chooses not to.” Bruno explained. He pointed at the duo. “Listen, in a matter of minutes, he’ll conduct both of your interviews. It’s imperative you pass. It’s no different from an ordinary interview. His mood will dictate its content, and remember… he cannot find out.”:

Kars had a puzzled expression, Giorno never told him about his reason for joining.

“I understand.” The blond teen replied. He gave Kars a “follow me” gesture and walked inside the prison.

~~~

“Before you head in, I’m going to need your watch and everything in your pockets on this tray. After that, you can move onto the pat-down.”

Giorno placed his bag on the tray and checked his pockets. Kars did the same, but had nothing in them. The young Stand user noticed the guards weapons, staring at them for a moment then returned to what he was doing. The gates opened and the two were allowed to pass. Kars awkwardly ducked underneath the entrance to avoid hitting his head.

“Please stand over there, hands above your head,” A guard told Giorno before turning to Kars. “It’ll be your turn in a moment, signore.”

As he goes through the body check, she gives them both directions to Polpo’s cell. The guard repeats the process with Kars and allows the two to pass. The corridor was dark and when the lights in the cell flickered on, it revealed that it was empty. Kars frowned, expecting to see a person inside. Sighing, he turned to Giorno, about to complain that he wasted his time until a voice echoed in the cell.

“It’s injured, isn’t it? Your left arm.”

What was believed to be a bed was actually a man. Not so surprisingly, it caught the duo off guard.

“I spy a faint yet distinct red marking on the fingers of your right hand that signifies you were gripping something. I’d say to the markings left behind by a bag and based on that fact, you’ve been carrying the bag exclusively in your right hand.” Polpo sat up, examining Giorno’s hand. Kars hummed, now focused on the teenager’s fingers as well. The capo had a good eye. “Now why would that be?”

“Well first of all, you’re correct. I carried my bag with my right hand, also I did injure my left arm earlier.” He replied.

Polpo laughed and opened a refrigerator next to him. “Oh, I envy your youthful body and reckless spirit. And you there,” He turned to Kars. “Your eyes, they reveal a lot about you. Despite your young appearance, it seems like you’ve been around for a long time. I wonder, do you travel?” The man grabbed a wine bottle and a glass as he spoke. Curiously, Giorno glanced up at Kars. He was tense and his eyebrows were furrowed.

“By the by, do either of you drink wine? This chianti classico is molto buono,” He popped the cork off. “And when paired with a few crackers, scamorza, and the right amount of caviar, it’s perfection.”

“We’re not allowed to give you anything,” Giorno said as Polpo poured himself a glass of wine.

“Nor can we accept things from you.” Kars finished, almost sounding harsh.

“Puh! That’s just a silly formality. What people say when watched and what they do when no one’s around,” He clicked a button on a remote which revealed his hidden items. “Are two entirely different things! Therein lies the beauty and ugliness of this fickle thing we call humanity.”

A quiet laugh almost escaped Kars when the capo mentioned “humanity.”

“I suppose the only real tragedy to being holed up in this cell is, well,” He continued to speak as Giorno began to ponder the reason why he stays in his cell.

“Bucciarati already told me all about you,” Polpo said. “So you two desire to be a part of our famiglia, do you? It was Giorno Giovanna, wasn’t it? And he never gave me a name for you…”

“I am Kars,” He responded, the man cocked an eyebrow.

“...Just Kars? Hmm, alright. Well then, if you two are ready to begin, let’s commence with the interview,” He began to bite the tips of his fingers which disturbed Giorno. He got distracted by a cuckoo clock and once he turned back, Polpo was holding a lighter.

“When you're separating the wheat from the chaff, what do you think the most important factor for one to consider? Think carefully Kars & Giovanna,”

“What a person can do, correct?” Giorno answered.

“Oh, well what can you ragazzi do?”

The teen dropped the wallet and cash he stole from one of the guards, the one who patted him down to be exact.

Polpo laughed. “Is that all you brought to impress me, Giovanna?”

“Well besides that, I have this other little trick I can do.” Giorno folded his ear into his head, making the man laugh once more. The two turned to Kars, waiting for him to do something.

He raised his arm, a blade suddenly appeared, it gleamed brightly. Giorno squinted, the light hurt his eyes a bit, but he still admired it. The blade shone beautifully. Though, it didn’t seem that impressive to Polpo.

“Hmm, but you see, there’s something very important we haven’t discussed yet…” Polpo said. “...and that is the delicate subject of trust!”

Giorno mentally sighed, expecting to go through the same conversation Leaky-Eye Luca gave him. Kars didn’t bother listening. He was a little grossed out by the fact that the man was using his pinky finger to remove some food in between his teeth. He even flicked it at Giorno who surprisingly didn’t flinch. Not even a little.

“My test will tell me exactly how trustworthy you two are,” Polpo lifted a lighter in front of them. “Concerning flame of this lighter reveals all!” Giorno moved to grab the lighter from a small opening. “Now take it in hand and go, you both are not to let the flame expire. This could be a little teamwork practice for you two.”

The flame wavered, causing Giorno to move his hand back. “Aspetta! I warn you, exercise extreme caution. The 17th century theologian Fuller once said he’s my friend that speaks well of me behind my back, you’d do well to remember those words.”

Kars rolled his eyes, not caring about a word the capo said. He walked towards the lighter as he spoke. Carefully, he grabbed the lighter, holding it as if it was a delicate flower. The Pillar Man allowed Giorno to hold onto it. The expression on his face clearly said “Don’t you dare mess this up!”

“You have twenty-four hours, I look forward to our second meeting tomorrow, 3:00 PM. Don’t be late.”

Giorno could feel himself sweating a bit. He was starting to get rather anxious. This was the only chance he has and he couldn’t mess it up.

“ALL VISITORS MUST PROCEED THROUGH THE GATE FOR A FINAL PAT-DOWN.”

...That voice didn’t help.

~~~

A guard pointed his gun at Giorno as the young boy racked his brain for ideas that could get him out of this situation. Kars leaned down and whispered, “We could kill them and leave, can’t we? You just got the damn lighter, there’s no way that we’re failing this early…”

Giorno shook his head. “No, I think I got this.”

He lifted his arms above his head, feeling the flame burn his skin. Kars could see and smell the smoke, it wasn’t pleasant. The female guard patted him down, telling him he was free to go before grabbing his wrist. She reminded him that accepting anything from Polpo was prohibited. Kars frowned, preparing himself to slice her head off with his brilliant bone blade once she found the lighter.

A flower.

Instead of a lighter, it was a flower.

It caught Kars a bit off guard, but that’s something he wouldn’t admit out loud. The guard wasn’t expecting that either, but she allowed Giorno to keep it. The blond teen looked back at the Pillar Man. He could’ve sworn he saw a small smile on his lips. The woman urged him to keep moving. Giorno collected all his things and left, waiting for Kars outside the prison. The flower transformed back into a lighter.

Walking back to his room with Kars following behind him was… sort of weird. It was clear he was an adult and students stared at him. With just one glare, they turn away and move faster. Kars could be so effortlessly intimidating. A gust of wind almost blew the flame out. The Pillar Man transformed his right arm into a wing, using it to shield the flame.

“Here, give it to me,” Giorno handed the lighter over to Kars, making it easier for the man to protect the flame. The two ignored a group of students who called out to them to take some photo for them. Soon, Kars’s arm returned to normal as they entered the building.

The blond teen carefully held the lighter once Kars returned it to him. He grabbed a piece of bread, took a bite out of it, and shoved the object into it. He felt the Pillar Man’s eyes boring into him, definitely judging him for his action. Giorno rearranged the objects on his desk to protect the flame.

“I think it should be fine, a little draft shouldn’t be enough to blow it out,” He moved to lock the window. “By the way, signore Kars-”

Before he could finish speaking, he noticed someone opening his door, he quickly mouths “hide” to Kars. Giorno hides outside his window as Kars shapeshifts his body to hide in the cupboards. It was pretty bizarre to watch.

The Japanese tourist, Koichi Hirose, entered the room. He was searching for his passport. Giorno watched helplessly as he looked through his closet and opened his drawers. Using Gold Experience, Giorno transforms a lamp cord into a snake. The animal bit the bread, moving it up and out of Koichi’s reach. Unfortunately, the flame burned its skin and forced it to drop the bread. Now it's been noticed.

Luckily, Koichi was focused on his passport which gave Giorno time to get back the lighter. The distraction also gave Kars time to get out of the cabinets.

To be honest, Giorno wanted to question Kars ability. He has the ability to shapeshift. He could turn his arm into a bird’s wing and flatten his body to get through the small spaces in his cabinet.

“Just missed you there, sorry about that!” The old janitor began rambling about something silly. Giorno stared down at his wet hands… and the wet lighter. The flame was extinguished.

Despite being behind him, the teen could feel the ungodly amount of rage radiating off of Kars. The Pillar Man was making low, almost demonic growling. He muttered curses and glared at the old man. It took a whole lot of willpower not to kill him right then and there.The janitor reignites the lighter and hands it back to Giorno.

Both Giorno and Kars could tell something was off, but neither of them knew what it was.

Suddenly, the blond teen sees something walking by and disappearing behind a column.

“Kars… I think I saw…”

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO REIGNITED THE FLAME!”

Giorno was able to hear the voice, but Kars couldn’t.

“I OFFER TWO PATHS, BUT YOU MUST PICK THE ONE THAT WILL LEAD TO SALVATION!” Turning around, Giorno sees the Stand grabbing onto the poor janitor’s soul. “TIME TO CHOOSE, DO YOU LIVE ON AND BECOME ONE OF THE CHOSEN OR DO YOU PROCEED ALONG THE PATH OF DEATH?”

An arrow appeared from its mouth which Kars was able to see. Giorno felt pain when he saw the man's soul, his expression showed how terrified he was. He wanted to do something, but there wasn’t a thing he could do. The arrow went through his head. When nothing happened, the Stand threw his body back and Giorno caught it.

The first thing noticed is how there was no wound, yet he was only a corpse. He moved back while Kars stayed in place. The Pillar Man glanced at Giorno, silently asking if the Stand had moved yet.

Before he could make any response, the Stand dashed towards him, probably to pull out his soul and pierce him with the arrow as well.

Looks like someone has gotten into another unwanted Stand battle.

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⁂ Trapped (China/Yao Wang)

Genre: Angst, Mystery, AU ☁

Word Count: 1,766 ☁

Pairing: Reader, China ☁

World: Axis Powers Hetalia ☁

Author’s Note: I wrote this a while ago and I honestly don’t know where I was going with this lol I think it was supposed to be a series? But now it’s a one shot. If enough people like it, I might make a part two.

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“A-A-Achoo!” you groaned in pain at the pressure in your nose and temples. Your head felt so fuzzy. You’re not sure when or how it started, you just happened to wake up feeling like death was creeping at your door. You tried to ignore it at first and just went about your day, but fifteen minutes later, you were crawling back into bed where you remained for the rest of the day.

Your stomach grumbled loudly and you groaned. ‘How the hell can I feel like I’m starving and want to throw up at the same time?’

Loud voices slipped past the paper-thin walls and you wondered if your neighbor was throwing a party. That seemed unlikely since the apartment opposite yours was owned by a retired older woman and the one beside you belonged to a couple with a one-year-old child. The apartment opposite them was vacant.

Knock, knock, knock.

Your brow furrowed. ‘Was that at my door?’ Your eyes slid to the digital clock on the bedside table – ten-thirty at night. The only people that visited you were your mom, younger brother, or your friend, Kyousuke, but why would they be visiting so late at night? There were no missed calls on your phone, either.

Bang, bang, bang!

‘What the hell…’ your heart picked up speed, but you didn’t freak out like you normally would and, instead of trying to figure out if it was an intruder or an emergency, you slowly pulled yourself out from under the covers. Your brain was far too cloudy to think clearly, your bare feet shuffling across the wooden floor because it was far too much effort to lift them.

Knock, bang, knock!

“Geez, keep your thong on,” you muttered under your breath, sniffling loudly as you reached for the doorknob. The second you turned it, the door swung open and two bodies rammed into you. Your back hit the floor and you wheezed as an elbow stabbed into your ribs, sending you into a coughing fit. You shoved the bodies off you with a strength you didn’t know you possessed so you could roll onto your side and cough up a lung.

A warm hand came to rest upon your back, followed by a male voice thick with an accent you couldn’t place at that moment. “Aiyah~ Are you okay?”

“Look what you did, idiot!”

“Hey, Italy fell on top of them, too, bro!”

“Ne, ne, do you think they have pasta?”

“This is very unpleasant.”

“Shut up, you nimrods!”

The hand on your back rubbed gentle circles against your shirt, while the other rested on your forehead. “They’re burning up, aru!”

You glanced over your shoulder as your coughing died down, your vision moving in and out of focus. Six men stood in your doorway, arguing amongst one another with accents you couldn’t place. ‘Mama, I think I might die tonight…’

And then your world went dark.

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You woke with a start, shooting up in your bed, unsure of what had pulled you so violently from your sleep. The red digits of the clock showed two in the morning. ‘Damn it, I gotta pee but I don’t wanna get out of bed.’

You rubbed at your eyes with a groan before throwing the covers off and pulling yourself from the bed. The bathroom was directly across the hall from your bedroom and, in your half-asleep sick state, you failed to notice the steam coming up from the crack under the door. You turned the knob and stepped inside, only to freeze in terror as you came face to face with a tall, sandy-haired man standing stark naked in front of the shower.

He turned his head to look at you, eyes closed and lips tilted up in an amused smirk. As soon as his lips parted, you scrambled from the room, slamming the door shut and leaning against it as if that would somehow fix the problem. ‘I… I think I’m hallucinating… Maybe I should visit the doctor tomorrow.’

“You’re awake! How are you feeling, aru?”

Your head snapped to the end of the hall where another man stood. Shorter than the first, he had medium brown hair tied in a loose ponytail, his eyes a warm chocolate color. You swallowed hard as your heart picked up speed. ‘What the hell is happening?’

Pain shot through your skull and you slid down the door, groaning as you clutched at your head. The man was at your side in seconds, his arm around your shoulders and face filled with worry.

“Easy now,” he scolded softly, rubbing your upper arm. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,”

“Who the hell are you?” you muttered under your breath. “And what are you doing in my apartment?”

“My name is Chi -” He stopped abruptly, clearing his throat as he helped you back to your feet. “I’m Wang Yao. Now, you need to get back in bed, we can talk when you wake up, aru.”

You pushed him away with what little bit of strength you had left, only to stumble back into the naked man who now stood in the doorway. His arms wrapped around you tightly, binding your arms to your sides, and he easily lifted you off the ground, your back firmly against his toned, naked chest.

“Russia! Put them down this instant!” Yao demanded, putting his hand on his hips.

“Hm?” He tilted his head to the side, violet eyes shining. “They attacked you, da?”

“Of course, they’re scared.”

The door to the apartment suddenly opened and slammed closed after two more men entered the apartment, bickering loudly. When they noticed the scene in the hallway, they stopped abruptly.

“What’s going on, dudes?” asked the blue-eyed blonde.

“Bloody hell, why are you naked?” Demanded the green-eyed blonde with a disgusted expression.

The door to the spare bedroom popped open and yet another blonde entered the hallway. “Stop being so loud, you idiots! You’re going to wake up -” his words were cut short when his blue eyes landed on you.

As badly as you wanted to struggle in the man’s grip, you simply had no energy left and he was clearly stronger than you on a bad day.

“What are you doing? Put them down!”

The tall man frowned but finally released you. Your feet hit the ground and your legs gave way, body crumbling to the wooden floor. Yao reached out to you, hugging you gently to his chest as he rubbed the top of your head.

Tears filled your eyes as your body started to shake within his grasp, your voice hoarse. “Please… just kill me and get it over with!”

The third blonde frowned as he stepped forward. “We’re not going to harm you, dear.”

Yao helped you to your feet again, bringing you into the kitchen where he pulled out a chair for you to sit at the small, square table. “I will make you some tea,”

As he got to work, the third blonde settled into the wooden chair across from you. You glanced at him and his stern expression softened, bright blue eyes calm like the waves of the ocean.

“What is your name?” He questioned, words laced with a thick accent you recognized to be German.

You chewed on your lip for a moment, wondering if you should cooperate with them. Finally, you answered. “Y/N…”

“Y/N,” he repeated with a smile. “I am Ludwig,”

The rest of the men introduced themselves in turn. The green-eyed blonde called himself Arthur, while the blue-eyed blonde was called Alfred. Finally, the naked man, now dressed in a heavy tan coat, called himself Ivan.

You glanced at him with a frown, voice barely above a whisper. “Russia…” Low as it was, the man easily picked up the word, his violet eyes staring into your own. You swallowed your nerves, hand clenching around your cloth pants. “Why… did they call you Russia?”

The room tensed up, Yao pausing in the middle of pouring the tea into a cup. Ivan, however, just smiled brightly. “Because I am mother Russia, da.”

His answer unsettled you more than you already were. ‘He… thinks he’s a country?’

Arthur’s eye twitched in annoyance as he glared at the taller male. “We weren’t supposed to tell them that, you bloody buffoon!”

He only giggled in response, tilting his head to the side. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Who the hell are you people?” You demanded weakly. “Why are you in my apartment? You said… you said you weren’t going to hurt me so what do you want?” Tears threatened to build up again, but you did your best to hold them at bay, not wanting to show more weakness to these men than you already had.

“Please calm down,” Yao spoke softly as he set a cup of steaming tea on the table in front of you. He offered you a kind smile before addressing the other men. “I think we should tell them. We owe them that much, aru.”

“Are you crazy?” Arthur cried in disbelief. “They will never believe us!”

“You don’t know that!” Yao argued with a huff, his hand on his hip. “They deserve to know the truth!��

As they argued back and forth, voices raising in volume, you moaned in pain, taking your head between your hands. Was this what they called a fever dream? It felt like you were on drugs and you hated it.

Ludwig frowned as he leaned across the table, gently pulling your hands from your head, but he didn’t release them. His hands were large, easily engulfing your own. It was oddly comforting. “I am Germany,”

The arguing stopped dead, everyone snapping their attention to the German.

Yao sent you a warm smile as he placed his hand on your shoulder. “I’m China, aru~”

“I’m America, dude!” Alfred grinned proudly, puffing out his chest. “And I’m the hero of this story!”

Defeated, Arthur folded his arms across his chest and grumbled under his breath. “England,”

Your eyes darted between the men surrounding you. You wanted to call them nuts, to believe that this was just a dream concocted by your high temperature, but with Yao’s warm hand on your shoulder and Ludwig’s warm hands cradling your own, you knew deep down that it was not a dream. These men were real and, if their sincere faces were anything to go by, the story they told was very real.

‘Mom, I think I just found myself in a really weird situation…’ you groaned, letting your head drop to the table.

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juliussneezerfics · 5 years

Text

Blood Red Lilies and Baby Blue Cornflowers: Chapter 10 - Weird

After the confrontation between him and Italy, Germany must attend a meeting where Italy will be present.

Ao3

*******

Germany sighed into the mirror. He was in a navy suit, a white button up shirt, and a matching navy tie. He knew that if Italy were here, he would try to convince him to perhaps add a little more color to his ensemble. Maybe wear a patterned tie. He felt a pang in his heart. So today was the day. Germany coughed into his elbow, turning away from the mirror. He double checked that his suitcase was on the desk. He knew everything was in there. He’d already checked twice. Once last night, once this morning. He usually just checked once the day that he left. He was organized enough to know where everything was. But he was one to fidget around and complete tasks that didn’t need to be done when he was nervous.

And this was the most nervous he’d been in a long time.

He buttoned up the navy-blue suit jacket, pulling his suitcase off the desk. His feet fell heavily down the stairs as he paced down to the ground floor. There he found his older brother, waiting expectantly for him.

“What took you so long?” Prussia asked. Despite the teasing lilt to his voice, his face betrayed anxiety.

Germany peered over at Prussia. He knew his brother’s anxiety was on his behalf. "Sorry.”

“You ready for the meeting?” He asked, pushing open the front door.

Germany stepped out, peering up at the cloudy sky. “Probably.”

“Whatever happens happens.” Prussia said nonchalantly, unlocking the doors to his car.

“Easy for you to say.”

“Perhaps.” Prussia opened the driver’s side door. “Either way, I’m going to have to put up with your complaining whenever we get home, so… who’s really having the worse time here?”

Germany buckled his seat belt, staring at Prussia with a harrowing glare.

“Too soon?”

“You could say that.” Germany grunted.

“Right. I’ll give it a couple months.”

Germany remained silent as Prussia backed out of the driveway.

“Several?”

Germany didn’t dignify Prussia with a response.

“A year?”

“Gilbert?”

“Yes?” Prussia started his car down the road.

"Stop talking.”

Prussia shrugged as his car gained speed. “That’s fair.”

The two remained silent as Prussia leaned forward, taking immediate control of the aux chord. Germany was not surprised in the slightest as the first thing to come up was some pop song from the early nineties that he barely recognized. Prussia’s playlist was a terrible mix of fast classic, 80’s and 90’s pop, some of his favorite soundtracks, rock and roll and, surprisingly, a hint of Celine Dion. Somehow, for his disaster of a brother, it was like the perfect soundtrack to describe him as a person.

They pulled up to the building that was supposed to house the international conference. It was at Sweden’s place this year. Germany liked Sweden okay, he supposed. It wasn’t like he knew him too well, but he supposed the two got along. At social gatherings, they often found peace with each other as they stood by the punch bowl, not talking, relaxing in their mutual silence.

“You have any presentations you’re supposed to do, West?” Prussia asked, unbuckling his seat belt. He looked in the rearview mirror, preening.

“Not today.” Germany sighed, also unbuckling. He reached down at his feet and grabbed his laptop bag. “Just keeping things in order as usual, I suppose.”

The two walked silently side-by-side, ignoring the attention that Germany was getting. Germany supposed that the attention Prussia got was similar to how the siblings of many celebrities got attention. There wasn’t much going on in the news cycles about them usually, but occasionally something would pop up. The teens of the world, however, were quite enamored with Prussia. His Instagram had almost as many followers as Germany’s, and he was still often stopped in the streets for pictures.

Prussia pretended to act annoyed, but Germany knew that he was relieved to have a following. Besides. However much he tried to hide it, Germany knew Prussia loved his fans as much as they loved him.

They stepped into the conference room, setting their stuff down in front of their seats. Everybody else was standing in small groups, chatting idly as they waited for the meeting to finally begin. Surprisingly, Italy, Spain, Romano, and Belgium were already grouped together.

Italy glanced up with an unreadable expression, caught Germany’s eye, and turned back to the debate Spain and Belgium seemed to be having.

Germany frowned to himself, reaching down and unzipping the pocket in his bag where he kept his notebook.

“He’ll come around.” Prussia muttered as he passed Germany to the section of the table where the micronations usually sat. “Don’t worry about it.”

Germany just grunted. He set his notebook on the table as Prussia walked away, lining up three pens beside each other. Well, there was no excuse anymore. He had to talk to people. Like a lone child in a cafeteria, he looked around at the various groups for someone to talk to. He underestimated just how much her relied on Italy dragging him around to socialize. He caught Japan’s eye as he was beginning to lose hope. Japan’s small smile beckoned him over to where he stood with America, England, France, and Canada.

“Hi, Germany! It’s good to see you here.” Canada greeted pleasantly. His left hand was wrapped around a red Tim Horton’s cup, the other deep in his pocket.

“Good to be here.” Germany responded as he stopped.

“How are your dogs doing?” Canada asked.

Germany smiled slightly. “As well as ever."

What had originally started as part of a punishment led to an unlikely friendship between Germany and Canada. It was a slightly distant one, with Canada sending Germany funny dog-related jokes and memes he happened to find on Instagram. They didn’t exchange many words outside of the subject of dogs and pets, but they found a common ground.

“We’re going to need to schedule a visit or something, soon.” Canada grinned. “Kuma’s missed them a lot.”

France shook his head distastefully. “I could never understand dog people. Cats are superior.”

“Really?” England asked, an eyebrow raised. “At least dogs actually care about you. You could just keel over dead one day and your cat likely would only notice when his food finally ran out.”

“You’re similar to a cat in that regard, England. Distant.” France said dryly. “Perhaps if you would accept my dinner invitation sometime, that would change.”

“Nice try, Frog.”

America shook his head, rolling his eyes. “You guys are so weird. England, you two are literally engaged. Like, to be married. Little late to turn down that date.”

Germany blinked. “What?” Wait, were the two even dating?

France raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t know?”

Germany was unsure how to respond.

“We’re engaged.” England raised his left hand with a slight smile, displaying a plain silver band. “Recently, albeit, but I thought you knew!”

Germany let out a rare smile. “Congratulations!” Germany reached forward and shook their hands. “Since when?”

“About a month ago.” France said with a smile. “Dinner with candlelight, roses on the table… didn’t know he had it in him.”

“Physically pained me.” England grimaced. “It was all so… so… French.”

“Oh, stop it, England.” France smiled at his fiancé. “We were walking in the moonlight on a bridge… the breeze was blowing… and he got down on one knee, and he said-”

“Okay, that’s enough detail, there.” England said. “So, yes. We’re engaged now.”

Germany nodded, still processing. “I’ve got to confess, this seems sudden.”

“Really?” America asked with a raised brow. He traded a glance with Canada.

“Well I mean…” Germany cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Were you two in a relationship?”

France and England looked at each other, each with slight smiles on their faces.

France sighed. “That’s so you, Germany. Yes, we are in a relationship. We have been since the 1960’s!”

Germany blinked stupidly. “Wait, wait, wait. Did anyone else know?”

“Well, I mean, we never made it official…” England shrugged.

America scoffed. “You two made it official that time you got drunk, pulled France into your lap, and kissed the hell out of him.”

“That’s enough out of you!” England chastised, beet red.

Again, Germany blinked. That was about the last thing he could imagine prim, proper England doing. Regardless, he didn’t let his disbelief show. “Congratulations. Forgive me, but I’m surprised your governments even allowed it.”

“About that…” France sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“They… don’t know?”

Canada grimaced. “No. Technically, no.”

England shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a little rebellion, I say. When it is the proper time.”

“Oh, now there’s nothing wrong with rebellion.” America deadpanned.

Germany, glancing at a clock on the wall, noticed the time. “It’s about time to start the meeting.”

“Thank goodness.” Canada muttered. “It was about to get pretty darn awkward in here.”

Germany turned away from the group. “Everyone, please grab a seat. It’s time to begin.”

The nations all returned to their usual seats at the table, Germany determinedly avoiding Italy’s gaze as he sat beside him. It was clear to him that Italy was not interested in talking to him. He fought the urge to confront his friend, reminding himself that Hungary had said it was best to give him some space. He suddenly wished that rather than sitting at America’s side, Japan was sitting with them. He cleared his throat after everyone had grabbed their seats at the table, all of them looking expectantly at him.

Everyone except for Italy, who seemed to be very interested in his cuticles.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming. I’m sure everyone will join me in thanking Sweden for generously hosting the meeting this year.”

There were general mutterings of gratitude around the table, Sweden nodding stoically in recognition.

“I emailed everyone the itinerary last week. I trust you all printed it out and brought it with you.”

There was a collective rustling as a few people pulled their itinerary’s out of whatever bag they kept it in. A few, like Japan, Canada, and Prussia already had theirs out. Germany couldn’t help but notice that Italy, too, bent at the waist to retrieve his. It would usually be at this point that Italy would ask if he could share Germany’s itinerary because he forgot to print his. Germany ignored the pang in his chest as he opened the cover page.

“As everyone can see, the-” His sentence was interrupted as he coughed into his hand. Everyone in the former allied powers lifted their heads, watching Germany warily.

Japan glanced up.

Italy, on the other hand, focused so hard on his itinerary that he could probably burn holes into the paper with his vision.

Germany stopped coughing. “Pardon me.” And he finally began the meeting.

Following the meeting, no one was really in a rush to part from each other. Given how busy the nations were in their day-to-day lives, many of them didn’t end up seeing each other that often. It took determination to get together with a fellow nation. So when Denmark brought up the idea of everyone going out to a bar afterword to spend more time together, many of the nations accepted the idea with fervor.

Germany glanced over at Italy. Italy’s face was already turned to him, an unreadable expression on his face. As Italy saw Germany saw him, he immediately turned away back to whatever current conversation was going between his friends. Germany deflated slightly, packing up his things to go.

“Hey, bro, do you want to go with me and the boys tonight?” Prussia asked. “Spain and France would love the company!”

Germany avoided eye contact, shoving his notebook in his bag with far more concentration than what was required. “No, I’m feeling a little tired. I may just head home.”

Prussia nodded, his gaze turning to Italy on the other side of the room. “Come to think of it, I’m a little tired too. Wanna’ just head back?”

“You really don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Prussia smirked. “It’s what makes me such an awesome older brother.”

“Somehow, your gloating takes away from the sincerity of your offer.”

“Is that a ‘yes’, then?” Prussia asked with a raised brow.

Germany furrowed his brow. “If you truly want to go back. If you’re doing this out of pity…”

“I’ll say goodbye to the boys and we can head out.” Prussia offered, turning to leave before Germany could protest any longer.

When they left, Germany didn’t bother to turn around. He thought he knew what he would see. But had he taken the chance, perhaps he would have seen the longing glance that followed him out the door. Perhaps he would have seen Italy take a hesitant step forward before he was able to control himself and stand back where he was.

Perhaps he would have decided to stay after all.

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