#how about a husband who At Best views you with pity. in his rare moments of being emotionally open enough to even do that

[softwaluigi]

god I'm thinking about bing and debbie again. girl I'm so sorry

[mariacallous]

Almost every day, new videos encouraging Russians to join the military appear on “I’ve Been Mobilized,” a public page on the social media site VKontakte. Most of the clips depict poor and debt-ridden villagers whose lives are radically transformed for the better after stints in the Russian army. Journalists from the independent news outlet iStories contacted some of the actors from these videos and asked them why they agreed to the roles, whether they support the ads’ mission, and how they feel about Russia’s war against Ukraine.

Sergey used to spend every waking hour struggling to make ends meet; in his rare free evenings, he would get drunk with his best friends, but the booze couldn’t quiet his sense that he was wasting his life. Then he decided to fight in Russia’s war against Ukraine as a volunteer. Now, he has a new car and a new apartment and is the envy of his friends.

Dmitry used to be skinny and shy. He and his girlfriend talked about getting married, but in the end, she didn’t appreciate him enough and wasn’t ready to make his dreams of having two children come true. Then he went to war in Ukraine. Now, his ex-girlfriend is ready to leave her husband and son to be with him, but with his newfound confidence as a military man, he doesn’t need her anymore.

Alina was saving up for an iPhone. But when her pitiful father’s meager paycheck was delayed yet again, he had no choice but to ask her to pitch in, crushing her dreams of purchasing the iconic American device. Then he spent six months helping his country wage aggressive war in Ukraine. When he returned, he was greeted as a hero by his neighbors and the local media and was finally able to buy an iPhone for his daughter.

None of these people are real, of course; all of them are characters from propaganda videos that have appeared on the pro-war social media page I’ve Been Mobilized. Journalists from the independent Russian outlet iStories reached out to some of the actors that took part in clips like these ones to find out why they did it.

Like several of the actors, Alexey Zheleznyak told iStories his decision to be in a pro-war ad was strictly mercenary: he couldn't say no to the 8,000-ruble ($115) fee the producers were offering. He played the best friend of a character who decided to go to war because his city offered “two life options: either you drink yourself to death or you go to prison.”

When asked whether he supports the premise of these videos — that more people should sign up to go to war against Ukraine — Alexey Zheleznyak paused for a moment before saying yes and ending the conversation.

In another clip, ex-TikToker Denis Dekhan played a young man who works in a factory and is unable to make ends meet. After reminiscing with his friends about experiencing “real life” in the army, they decide to enlist to fight in Ukraine.

In a phone conversation with iStories, Dekhan said that he “doesn’t care” whether people volunteer to go to the front, and that he doesn’t like the war because it led TikTok to ban Russian users from uploading new content. “Of course [I have a] negative [view of the war]. I wish it hadn’t happened. It’s caused me a lot of problems. They shut down TikTok,” he said. “[…] But I support my country and my president. In my view, whatever he chooses — that’s the right choice. I don’t support the fact that people are being killed there, but I support the fact that our enemies are being confronted.”

“And who are our enemies?” iStories’s correspondent asked.

 “America,” Dekhan said. “What do you want from me? What are you bothering me for? These are unpleasant questions, if I’m being honest. What are you asking me for? Ask the people fighting the war or ask Putin.” The actor then swore before hanging up the phone.

Oleg Kosyanenko, who played a character in the same video, was also short-spoken: “I don’t want to express my position officially, but I participated in this, which means I’m not against [this video],” he said.

Another actor played a man living in a small village who decides to sign a military contract because he’s sick of earning only 10,000 rubles ($155) per month and waking up at 4:00 a.m. Requesting anonymity, the actor told iStories that he didn’t learn what kind of video he would be acting in until he was already on set. He was also paid 8,000 rubles ($115).

“I don’t share the position that people should sign up to serve as volunteers in Ukraine,” he admitted. “The majority of actors [in the video] were already on set by the time they learned what was happening. Plus, we were told that this video was for some company’s internal use. They deceived us somewhat. I didn’t learn I would end up in a military uniform until I was on set, and I didn’t process it until afterwards. It was mostly just a job.”

Still, the man said he doesn’t believe videos like the one he acted in will convince anybody to go to war: “I don’t think anyone takes these clips seriously. These videos are very poorly made, of course. This one was terribly made, which is why I thought they were [for internal use]; I didn’t think this crap would ever actually be released. They could have been done better. Next time, I won’t act in these kinds of [propaganda videos].”

In another video, actor Alexander Knyazyev played a factory manager whose employee resigns with the words, “I’ve been driving a tractor for 15 years; I raised my son [in that time], and the tractor hasn’t changed. [But] I’ve signed a contract at the military commissariat, and now I’ll be driving a new armored personnel carrier.”

Knyazyev told iStories he only agreed to act in the clip for the money, and that he didn’t read the script ahead of time: “I was only interested in the fee. Not because I’m greedy, but because I need to live — you can’t survive on a pension.”

Knyazyev said the video’s message is at odds with his own beliefs. “I’m not such a bad guy, not completely. I signed a contract, but I didn’t even read the script. During the shoot, the director or his assistant told me that this guy was joining the army as a contract fighter. But I’d already signed the contract. I should have looked ahead of time and read the script, [or at least enough of it to know] what this was about, but I didn’t. [It was] a minor sin, I think. But in general, it’s important to figure out what shit you’re acting in. It was a lesson for me,” he said.

At the same time, Alexander said he doesn’t think these videos will cause significant harm, unlike the aggressive military propaganda shown on Russian television. “My role in this small clip was so meager, so tiny, that you can’t compare it to the propaganda playing on all of the television channels in our country. It’s a drop in the sea. I don’t even know who’s going to see this video. I have some regrets [about the video], of course. But I hope it won’t influence viewers. And viewers, of course, should use their brains. [...] Decide for yourself whether to get on this armored personnel carrier or not. It’s people’s own fault that they’re going to die, not mine. We have a lot of idiots. A lot of idiots who are going voluntarily and who are being drafted without asking any questions,” said Knyazyev.

[charlotte-headcanons]

I wonder if some of siblings with twins, triplets, and others get along well. We know the monster triplet seems close to each other, decuplets get along well, just some silly siblings fights, sometimes, Smoothie with Citron and Cinnamon, they just argue when she used her devil fruit power on their subordinates to take the energy to her attacks, Chiffon still loves Lola even after leaving the family. But I wonder how is Cracker with Custard and Angel, Brulee with Broye, and Opera in his group of quintuplets.

Thank you for this ask, anon, that one was super fun to figure out! 💕 We decided to go through all the twin/triplet/etc. groups in the Charlotte family and describe their relations quickly. Naturally, then ❗long post ahead❗

Enjoy! ✨

Group 1: Katakuri/Daifuku/Oven

This three get along great and are indeed, very close to each other. Despite their personality differences, they spent a lot of time together already in childhood and even now they make sure that they find moments to cherish in each other's presence often. Katakuri feels more comfortable around these two than around most, especially since they both know his secret and never judged him for his mouth. Oven and Daifuku find him amazing, sure, but they also still treat him as their brother, not an unattainable ideal, and that allows Katakuri to somewhat relax.

Group 2: Mondee/Amande/Hachee/Effilee

Although Mondee is unstoppable in her efforts to bring these four closer together, being a bit jealous of some other twin/triplet/quadruplet sets, Amande, Hachee, and Effilee are all individualists and quite distinct personalities. Therefore, they might have a bit of a soft spot for each other, but these quadruplets only properly hang out once every three months or so; always from Mondee's initiative.

Group 3: Opera/Counter/Cadenza/Cabaletta/Gala

This group definitely likes to hang out together! They aren't super close and they don't know a lot about each other's personal problems or private life, but they do enjoy regular activities that they can do together: like brawl fights or going out for a few drinks. However, Opera is always a bit out of place in the group. Since he doesn't so much enjoy the same things the others like, they sometimes don't even bother inviting him, and they might be kind of jealous that out of all of them, he was the one who received a Devil Fruit. Gala always brings attention to it, trying not to exclude Opera, but sometimes, unfortunately, he still gets left out.

Group 4: Cracker/Custard/Angel

In their childhood, Custard and Angel got along well, but Cracker was always annoyed by the two and their constant attempts to play with his hair, put flower crowns on him, and more of that girly shit he loathed. Now, Angel changed quite a bit, toughened up, and became known as a kind of feral gal, who loves her triplets, but might sometimes scare/disgust while trying to make them tougher. In effect, Custard and Cracker grew ever so slightly closer. It helps that the girls stopped trying to girlify him, too.

Group 5: Brulee/Broye

Personality-wise, these two are polar opposites. Generally, Broye pities Brulee for not having found a husband yet, as well as for how her lifestyle usually looks like: rather than cooking and gardening she prefers partying and flirting, rather than living in an unpretentious hut, she prefers glamour. Brulee, on the other hand, is always nice to Broye and likes her, however, their relationship grew a bit awkward ever since Broye caught her staring at a wedding dress and bought her one, claiming that 'she's never going to get married anyway, so she may as well just wear it now'. Brulee knows that her twin meant well and thus wears the dress to this day (was it just us or did Brulee's first dress really look like a wedding dress); still she can't help but feel slightly hurt.

Group 6: Nusstorte/Basskarte/Dosmarche

These three see each other mostly as rivals, plain and simple. Basskarte is especially salty that the other two received Minister positions while he didn't, but even between Nusstorte and Dosmarche you can expect only constant attempts to one the other up rather than any sibling closeness.

Group 7: Moscato/Mash/Cornstarch

Moscato and Cornstarch adore each other! They're both idealists and wholesome people, so they can talk with each other for hours and feel very comfortable with each other's presence. Now, Mash is slightly excluded from this: they still like her and are always nice to her, but don't hang out with her half as often. She doesn't mind, though; she prefers Broye to those softies anyway.

Group 8: Compo/Laurin

Compo is very protective of Laurin. Despite only being minutes older than him and despite his short height, he always makes sure no one makes fun of his twin, and has a sixth sense for when the latter is uncomfortable. In return, Laurin is very grateful, and if he could ever return all the favors, he would.

Group 9: Mozart/Marnier

These two are your like, most typical ✨twinsies✨ sisters. They like to wear matching outfits sometimes, they gossip with each other lots, and generally they get along great; although, unlike some other twins on this list, they do have their own, separate lives.

Group 10: High Fat/Tablet

High Fat and Tablet probably have the worst relationship from all the siblings on this list. Even more opposite than Brulee and Broye, they disliked each other since early childhood, when Tablet relentlessly picked on High Fat, and the latter interpreted what Tablet thought was merely playful as outright cruel. As a result of their different perception on things, their antipathy only grew, and they prefer not to talk these days if it can be avoided.

Group 11: Smoothie/Citron/Cinnamon

Smoothie, Citron, and Cinnamon are each other's favorite people, full stop. They all have similar views on life, know each other's secrets, and they love their dynamic; in this dynamic, Smoothie normally takes on a role of the leader, with Cinnamon and Citron often looking for her approval and even mimicking her sometimes, but all this happens without them ever feeling consciously like there is any clear hierarchy.

Group 12: Saint-Marc/Basans

In their childhood, Saint-Marc and Basans were often confused due to their similar facial features. This experience left them bitter, so now, despite not hating each other, they both really try to stand out from the other. For Saint-Marc, the armor was a method; Basans went so far as to wear fake horns, being quite happy whenever it was assumed that Melise was his real sister.

Group 13: Galette/Poire

Poire likes Galette, even with the latter's anxiety and all. Galette, in return, is always kind to Poire, however, she cannot help but be overly stressed out by her sister's often dangerous ways of life. While Mont d'Or is a calming presence for Galette, Poire heightens her worries, so she'd rather hang out with the older brother, all things considered.

Group 14: Snack/Bavarois

Similarly to the first set of quintuplets, Snack and Bavarois like to share fast food or a few drinks, but don't necessarily tell each other much about their life, or their hopes and fears. Their hang out sessions are a bit rarer than for the quintuplets, though, even if they became more frequent when Snack lost his Sweet Commander post.

Group 15: Prim/Praline

Prim always looked at Praline from above, being both smarter and stronger than her. Still, their relations were somewhat amicable until Praline's betrayal. They used to enjoy at least shopping for clothes together, but now, Prim is pissed that Praline left, without telling her, taking with her a large portion of Totto's underwater population, and leaving her behind for Mama to take out her rage on her. If they meet again, Prim will not hold back and will definitely attack Praline just like the rest of her family, if not even more viciously.

Group 16: Kanten/Kato/Montb

Those three are completely neutral in their relations. They have distinct goals in life and personalities, and don't really think of each other as 'their kind of person' but can definitely have a friendly small talk when they meet; which happens rather rarely, considering they don't really seek these meetings out.

Group 17: Chiffon/Lola

As we all know, Chiffon and Lola love each other lots! Chiffon was always very protective of her younger sister and supported her fully in pursuing her dreams; little Lola, on the other hand, would beat up anyone who even looked at her twin wrongly. Since Lola left, they missed each other plenty, but Chiffon never blamed her for leaving and was just very happy to be reunited with her eventually.

Group 18: Mobile/Marble/Myukuru/Maple

These quadruplets get along in pairs. Mobile and Maple like each other lots and hang out with each other plenty, and so do Marble and Myukuru; however, between these two groups, there's little care and more of a neutral outlook.

Group 19: Mascarpone/Joscarpone

Mascarpone and Joscarpone are essentially inseparable. They know everything each other, finish each other's sentences, share literally everything (including clothes), and could be easily confused if not for their different gender. If you tried to keep them apart even for a few days, they'd probably be very uncomfortable and feel lonelier than ever.

Group 20: Newichi/Newji/Newsan/Newshi/Newgo/Nutmeg/Akimeg/Allmeg/Harumeg/Fuyumeg

The decuplets generally all tolerate each other, but hate to be confused. Overall, the boys get along, and so do the girls, but they don't mingle beyond these groups so much, with the exception of Newshi and Harumeg, who are best friends. There is just quite a bit of rivalry between the boys and the girls; they can cooperate great in fives, but as a whole 10-person group they might struggle to communicate all that well.

Group 21: Dolce/Dragee

Basically Mascarpone and Joscarpone on steroids. These two literally speak in unison at times, have their own secret communication system, sometimes switch their clothes which makes everyone confuse them, and get completely miserable and shy whenever separated. We'll see if they grow out of it ever or not!

Aaaaand there you have it! Congrats to everyone who got through the entire post, here's your supreme Charlotte family fan medal 🎖️ hope you enjoyed! 💕

[theredsuzuran]

Douma x reader - Innocence

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Took me a long time to upload a new content am so sorry for the delay I was really busy with school assignments therefore I cannot manage the time to write. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors on my behalf, I hope you enjoy.

Warning : Dark themes like gore, blood and violence, degradation and swearing, mature content.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moon shone brightly above the sky as it's light leak through the branches illuminating the famous building of the eternal paradise cult. A new set of followers rushed into the dwelling in hopes of fulfilling their selfish desires, diminishing their agonies and enriching their possessions. However a particular human with her tattered kimono seem not to be interested to convey anything although the people around her would die to witness even a glimpse of the charismatic leader as for now she was busy running along the wide long corridors

The sound of thumping footsteps echoed throughout the building as a herd of followers attempted on catching the miscreant who disrupted the peaceful atmosphere prevailing over the supreme cult. The already annoyed and frustrated people were all worked up to catch the energetic human who on the other hand have thoughts of escaping this place they called paradise. If only she was careful enough to notice her mother's strange behavior soon as they entered the place but how can you possibly blame an innocent little girl like her, or so she thought. Afraid she might lose sight of her treacherous mother who abandoned her just moments ago she desparety stumbled her way out although that didn't concerned her simple thinking process but that's exactly how complicated the situation was.

Turning one last time to look behind if those weird people were still following her or not when suddenly she bumped into a Tall muscular figure standing infront of her soft delicate frame she must have missed him approaching while focusing on looking behind. "Please just leave me alone!" The girl fumed coherently still overwhelmed by the amount of people rushing towards her like waves something that she was not accustomed with as for eighteen years she lived indoors interacting rarely with anyone and playing with dolls most of the time.

"Watch your tongue brat" one of the men standing beside the tall man spoke with disgust hinted in his voice. "Crouch down you insolent woman, where's your gratitude it's because of lord Douma's benevolence that you are still here or you'd be rotting in the street thanks to your mother", the people around her started whispering and murmuring behind her back but she was not bother since her senses were filled with newfound wrath how dare they insult your angel like mother? No longer able to contain your anger you shouted with tears "Then take me to my mother, I don't want to stay here alone".

"Your mother abandoned you here so shut up and deal with it, now move your way for master" the man grunted irritatedly motioning the other followers to grab her and take her away.

"No don't touch me" she wiggled under their grip rushing towards douma blocking him from entering the room by grabbing his arm tightly "I am not going anywhere until I know where my mother is" she cried loudly making the demon flinch with surprise, how pitiful the creature looked in his polychromatic eyes. He have seen many humans crying before him for obvious reasons which honestly have become his monotonous routine but somehow this girl acted quite weird being her age, interesting him enough to investigate. As he was about to speak the man beside him pushed the girl hashly making her lose her balance and fall on the wooden floor.

"How dare you touch master with your filthy hands bitch" he lift his hand to slap her tight in the face but someone grabbed his wrist just in time to save the girl from further humiliation.

"Silence" all the questioning glances, judging looks and whispering stopped at once as douma spoke nonchalantly making the latter shiver in regret.

"I am sorry douma sama" the man uttered in pure horror having no intentions to displease his beloved lord. "I was-"

"I don't want to see that happen again, understood?" He replied coldly still maintaining his wide smile as the previous chaos shifted into complete hush. The man lowered his head down with shame nodding silently. Douma averted his attention and glanced at the figure underneath making the girl jolt a bit but his once frightening demeanor changed into a cheerful and optimistic one in matter of second upon seeing her.

"Please take her to my chamber and treat her wounds" the man clapped with a wide grin plastered on his face. A group of female servants came rushing to help picking her up. The girl being too bewildered did not protested and simply follow his tone as if she was hypnotized by his neatly decorated persona.

The girl was immediately taken away without delay and as per douma he needed to attend his cult duties. First of all she was washed and changed into a beautiful kimono as soon as she stepped inside, then she was escorted into a room filled with antiques and lavish items which she have never seen. Her face lit up with fascination as she began venturing those decorative pieces.

"Looks like you have ease down a bit, good good" A familiar tone struck in her ears startling her a bit only to turn back and view the handsome cult leader although it was a bit strange because she did not heard anyone approaching.

"Aww did I scared you?" He laughed covering his face with golden fans.

"No I was just- you came in without a warning, I was taken aback" she explained blushing trying her best not to act immature to which douma laughed uncontrollably as he found this human's expression adorable say entertaining in his words.

"D-dont laugh at me" she pouted crossing her arms in the attempt.

"I am sorry (y/n), you really amuse me" he replied still grinning. However there was a moment of awkward silence between them as he uttered her name abruptly.

"I didn't tell you my name.." after a long pause she replied to him with a confuse look in her face.

"I know everyone's name who are living under my supervision including yours besides what kind of cult leader I am if I don't have basic information about my fellow followers. Oh look I have been talking to you without giving the chance to let you talk my bad" he laughed again waving his fans creating another awkward situation. Causing you to sweatdrop on his remark.

"Say (y/n) how old are you?" to which she replied enthusiastically "I am 8 years old and will turn 9 soon"

"Ah you don't look like one" douma grinned closing his eyes in the process.

"Yeah I get that a lot" she remarked shyly.

"Your mother is one of my followers" he continued

"Really?" her eyes sparked with hope as she approached douma with anticipation grabbing his arms for the second time starling him, she really like holding hands eh? he have experiences like that but somehow this girl made him feel different so he allowed her but then she stopped halfway through her words "I really miss her it's been a week since she left me here" her voice dropped with sadness.

Douma felt no sympathy for humans or anything as such, he have learned to fake his emotions from a very tender age eversince he was born to the extent that even seeing his mother killing her husband mercilessly failed to evoke feelings within. He clearly did not understand what she was feeling he just stared at her with a blank expression only to replace it quickly with a grim look even faking few tears. "(Y/n) chan you know its okay you will still have me" he patted the girl in an attempt to comfort her.

"Friends?" (Y/n) replied between her tears.

"If that's how you want us to be" douma smiled at her gently shocking himself for a second because he didn't think of smiling?

Things escalated soon after that incident, (y/n) was a kind and compassionate person from inside and out and in not time the cult followers started loving her presence. As often douma would let her accompany him and most of the time she stayed by his side following him everywhere and he didn't mind that at all moreover he appreciated her company. (Y/n) was like a fresh bud to him who depicted innocence and purity he loved spoiling her with expensive gifts yet she never showed signs of greediness and genuinely appreciated his thoughtfulness slowly forgetting the past life she was in and cherishing her friendship with douma. At first she was reluctant and didn't like getting so much attention but in the course of time she bonded better with everyone and was quite content with the life she was leading. As for douma he began to depend on (y/n) to the point that not seeing her face for even one day would make him go insane and he didn't understand why not like he want to because all he cared about was how she made him feel so many varieties of pleasant emotions he wish he could feel. Eating her was out of context.

However all good things must come to an end for he is someone to not rest in peace after the sin he have committed for centuries. Seeing douma paying her more attention, spoiling her with a ravish lifestyle and even letting her stay by his side all the time made some of his cult members terribly envious they wanted to punish her for taking their chances of stealing the spotlight. There was this one room that he forbade his followers to enter for obvious reasons and specifically for (y/n) because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake. This was exactly what they wanted (y/n) to do break the rules and Douma's trust. Like that there would be no more favouritism on her with others.

"Ah (y/n), there you are" one of the female member approached her one fine morning.

"Yes how may I help you?" She asked cheerfully

"Lord douma have asked for your presence in the forbidden room tonight and he said its urgent"

"Aren't we all prohibited to go inside"

"Oh (y/n) it's true master have arrived today and he wants your presence"

Upon hearing that news her heart elated with happiness, it has been two weeks since he last saw douma around and she missed him but something felt off about the whole situation douma always sees (y/n) first before tending his followers then why did he not come meet her did he not miss her like she did?

She was lost in her thoughts until she found two hands waving and snapping infort of her face.

"Don't be late, okay?" With that said the female hurried back into other room leaving (y/n) behind even though the situation seem kinda odd maybe douma was busy afterall.

At night (y/n) went into the restricted area. She stood infront of the shoji door in absolute dilemma debating whether or not to enter the room or go back. There was her desire of meeting douma on one hand and not breaking his trust by entering the room on the other. In the end she decided not to but as she was turning back she heard someone grunting in pain behind the closed doors being a compassionate person, she decided to open the door and enter into the darkness adjusting her eyes in the process, a pungent smell hit her nostrils making her cover her mouth and to her absolute terror the scene infront of her made her puke in disgust.

A pile of Mutilated bodies, mostly women laid around lifelessly on the blood stained tatami mattress. Many having no limbs, some headless and organs missing from their body as if someone had ate all of that. The whole room was a mess full of unfortunate people. She felt sick and began crawling down her way back from the corpses. However she felt a tight grip on her left foot upon looking down she witness the sight of a woman her intestines oozing out of her stomach begging for help. (Y/n) stood there perplexed unable to say anything chocking through tears.

"I told you not to come here, why?" (Y/n) turned her head violently to see douma standing in a distance his countenance cold and sinister evident that he was highly displeased upon seeing his innocent flower disobeying his instructions.

"It's not... like... what you see" (y/n) cried fearfully but douma didn't seem to buy it well in a blink of an eye she found herself in Douma's arms as he aggressively dragged her out of the room.

"What's going on douma" no word came out from the usual lively douma.

"It's hurting me your grip" no reply again to which she forcefully tried to stand still with all her strength. This time douma stopped his features hidden under his bangs making her unable to figure the expression he was carrying.

"Is this why douma forbade us to enter the room" no reply

"Are you responsible for murdering those innocent people?" No reply

"DOUMA" she shouted

"Why you want to join them?" Douma finally looked at her his eyes glowing dangerously proving his existence to be something unnatural. (Y/n's) eyes widen at his remarks as tears rolled down her visage.

"I hate you.." she murmured

"What?" He tilted his head letting his guard down a bit at her hurtful comments.

"I HATE YOU" she pushed douma roughly and flew from the place running deep into the forest for she knew who he was and what he is capable of doing. Tearing down she constantly reminisce the moments she shared but she cannot allow herself to sympathize his heinous crimes. Why is it that the people I love are always taken away from me? She thought. Exhausted from running she halted in order to catch her breath while glancing back to see if he was following, there was no one indeed so a sudden feeling of relief gushed in her body. However turning her head back she saw him standing inches apart from her face which made her shiver and fall onto the knees.

"Why are you running away from me (y/n)" he said apatheticly his head lowered at her level. She did not reply and stayed quite.

"Is it true that you don't love me after all the things I did for you?" Covering his face with one hand his eyes glowing under the moonlight a look of dejection written on his face. There was complete silence in the forest except the sound of rustling trees.

"Answer me" holding her face now firmly he growled making her flinch under his breath. In one last desperate attempt (y/n) tried to stab douma with a tree branch she found laying on the ground but unfortunately douma was faster and easily dodged the attack and in a swift motion he hit her with immense strength causing her fragile little body to tremble in pain as she coughed mucus mixed with blood.

"How foolish of you" he crouched down her height staring intensely at the quivering figure of the miserable girl. As for (y/n) her body ached but more was the tightness in the chest that she was experiencing in the moment.

He pulled her by the hair roughly making her scream in pain although at this point all she could manage with her cracking voice were inaudible screams.

"Why did you disobey me? (Y/n)..." who knew beneath that friendly kind face was hiding a undeniably deadly and calculative demon and at this point it was clear for her that he was anything but human.

"Who are you?" these few words manage to escape from her shaky lips in between low grunts.

"I am the leader of the eternal paradise cult"

"Wrong" to which he tightened his grip making her shriek again.

"You humans are so dumb believing in the existence of primordial deities where in reality its just a myth, a fairytale, created for pleasuring the sufferings of mere human. Being superior than you mortals I wanted to make these pitiful existence happy and that's why I was born and what you saw there" his lips curved into a cheeky smile revealing his deadly fangs creeping the shit out of the already scared girl. "I eat them so that they can always be with me and attain salvation" a sinister laughter escape from his mouth as he covered it with his golden fans. (Y/n) unable to process the new sets of information knots formed in her stomach making her sick in the guts.

"I ate your mother too, oh she was ungrateful after all the things I did to her just like you" protruding her eyes with pure shock she felt her veins popping out and blood boiling in pure rage.

"You are a monster, you think your stupid morals would persuade people to think like you do, I despise you douma I thought we were friends and you took away the one I cherished the most?"

"You think your mother loved you?" Douma snapped. The duality of this was man was insane, all the things he does or says are plastic.

"She never cared for your life, you want to know why? I will tell you since you insist" douma dragged her out of forest holding a fistful of her hair tightly inflicting great discomfort to the girl while he continued with his harsh statements and deliberate insults.

"You were just a burden, behaving like a fucking child with the alluring body of yours"

"No my mother promised me..she would protect me.. you are lying"

"While you were crying everyday inside my shrine that lowly woman enjoyed her life indulging in adultery with various cult members leaving her sick husband and mentally retarded daughter in the dark" every word he uttered spread vemon into her ears.

"Still she wanted more and more and more, what a greedy whore" douma continued.

"Do you know how much difficult it was for me to control myself around you? While you sway your hips and act innocently making those hungry men lust over you, how much dumb can you be?"

"What do you mean I don't understand.. douma"

"I did everything I can for you yet you remain ungrateful, disrespectful? Well guess its runs in your blood and I thought you are innocent but it turns out that you are just like the rest of them, naive"

Her eyes widened with every hurtful remarks he made about her and she did not understand why she felt that way shouldn't she be resentful towards him for killing her beloved mother but here she is weeping constantly because douma was treating her like he never did before.

"But that's fine (y/n) I can not bring myself to hurt you I love you and we shall always be together whether you like it or not" nothing reached in her ears anymore as her body grew numb. Her eyes shut as she carried the unbearable pain in her heart slowly loosing consciousness and remaining sanity.

It would have been easier if she died but alas a mere human like her is doomed at his mercy.

[ddarker-dreams]

hiraeth (i).

hiraeth (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

yandere! don! giorno giovanna x f! reader. collab with @dear-yandere​. read part two here! do not re-upload or use our writing without permission. › warnings: isolation, detailed panic attack, emotional manipulation, and implied sexual relation. › word count: 10k. › art credit: spearthymint.

“You can come out, you know.” 

Giorno’s words are meant as a small but necessary push, but at the moment, his encouragements just come off as chiding and impatient. You know that’s far from the case, as he’s always been tolerant of your missteps and reluctancy when it came to anything involving him, but your nerves on edge right now. This goes against all you’ve been forced to learn, all you’ve been forced to adapt to during your time on this island. Time has always been at a standstill behind these walls, with countless doors you cannot cross and an expanse of ocean that reveals to you nothing for countless miles. In such a situation, most people wouldn’t be standing before their closets in dismay, scolding themselves over what outfit to wear for a date with their captor; but, you supposed you aren’t most people, considering the Don of Passione has taken such a liking to you as to keep you to himself. It’d become commonplace, and looking through the expansive closet almost felt normal, designer outfits tailored perfectly to your measurements, awaiting to be picked. Growing up in a country renowned for its exquisite tastes in fashions and its constant supply of talented designers, you’ve seen clothing like this in fashion magazines or in the windows of boutiques you could never hope to afford; but now, these pieces are entirely yours, free for your choosing whenever you so desire. Under different circumstances, you would’ve felt like a successful model, one that would make your younger self proud with your fine jewelry and expensive makeup.

What would she think of you now?

Giorno has reassured you that you’re welcome to help yourself to everything here, that it’s all meant for you anyways, that your happiness is his. You know he meant it as something romantic, more akin to saying that your happiness would make him happy by extension, but considering your unwillingness to be here in the first place, his sentiment made it seem as if your happiness is something to be taken, something you cannot control. His actions are no different, despite his solemn assertions that keeping you here is in your best interest.

You don’t bring that up to him. It’d… it’d break his heart, considering how far your ‘relationship’ has come. You used to hate him with every fibre of your being. Now, you feel almost giddy to have a rare moment alone with him. A morning date by the beach, something romantic, something personal. This is a first for you both. There was a time you’d dread being alone with him; that time is long past, it seems.

You’re not sure if it’s for the better.

Running your hands over extravagant fabric, you wonder if the day will come when you feel comfortable enough to try these outfits on. It’s a world that goes beyond your limited understanding, too luxurious to feel real. Out of everything in this walk-in closet, you’re drawn to the plain outfits, clothing entirely unbefitting a woman who lives on an island villa with her influential husband. Turtlenecks and long skirts or pants used to be your first choices whenever he’d visit, wanting nothing more than to keep his eyes off of you. You thought it’d make him want you less, view you as undesirable of his money and affections, but Giorno isn’t so easily swayed. He does love you, you can tell that much from everything he does, from the way he touches you like fine art to the way he puts your happiness and safety first, even at the expense of your freedom. Even still, the inclusion of such plain outfits in your wardrobe shows Giorno’s thoughtfulness towards you, considering the little things. While he wants nothing more than to shower you in expensive gifts, your comfort comes first. He loves that about you, how you can find happiness and comfort in the simpler things life has to offer.

But… will he be disappointed at your lackluster selection? You almost chuckle at your own worries, at how natural it all feels and at how foreign it feels at the same time. Choosing a proper outfit is what someone on their first date would be concerned about, not someone stolen from their life and thrown into lavish isolation. He hasn’t gotten under your skin that far, has he? And, do you even mind anymore? 

Shaking your head at the thought, you chastise yourself. Now’s not the time to be thinking about such hurtful things, you’ve had plenty of time to wallow in self pity. Too much time, when he isn’t here. It’s gotten to the point where his presence is enough to quell your lonely thoughts — you no longer dread being at his side. Not nearly as much as before, anyways. Because now, you want to move forward. One step at a time. It’s the only way to live right now, the only option he’s presented to you.

“Is everything alright, amore mio? Do you need help?” He calls out past the foyer, breaking you from your self-deprecating and conflicting thoughts. 

“Y-yeah, just a moment.” You clear your throat, heart racing at his concern. Even the way he speaks… the worry in his voice that shows even in the smallest of actions, you can tell he’s trying. He’s been trying to make your stay a comfortable one, even if it’s always been against your will. What frustrated you at the start now elicits fluttering within your heart, his care borderline touching. Every detail of your daily life has been considered, intended to make you feel at home, going so far as to be mindful of the way he conducts himself around you. He must think you haven’t noticed, but isolation has taught you to be observant. Observant of where he keeps the keys, observant of the pattern in which he visits, observant of what information he’ll let slip when you lower his guard just enough. These thoughts used to plague you day in and day out; they’d become your only hobby, at some point. And yet, beneath it all, he’d found a crack to seep through, someplace just wide enough to make himself at home.

His voice no longer brings dread.

“Sorry, I’m fine. I... I just don’t know.” You continue, aware of how much time has already passed. You’re still hidden in the closet of your chambers, so your voice is muffled, and he hums in response, perplexed by how long you’ve been taking to doll yourself up. You’ve never taken this long before, not with him; you’ve always been content to throw on whatever catches your fancy, even if it hardly matches, and leave your hair undone and your face natural. He never once minded, but the difference in your behavior is stark. It’d be concerning if you weren’t so easy to read, so he settles against the banister with a small, knowing smile. 

You choke back the spit that had been pooling under your tongue in your daze. You’re keeping him waiting. You’re keeping the Don of Passione waiting. You used to relish in the thought, but today, it feels wrong. He’s waiting for you as patiently as he always does, but today is something special, something special to you for once. Today is the first time you’ll go outside, past the doors of this villa. Today is the first time you’ll go outside with him, willingly. Today is the first time you’ll enjoy it. 

You clear your throat, pushing those shameful thoughts asid. The fabric of your tailored sundress feels foreign against your skin, featherlight and airy. The silken skirts feel too short all of a sudden, now that you were one step closer to being under his gaze. He’ll…. he’ll like it, right? It’s a silly question, considering he likes whatever you wear, but you can’t help but dwell on it. You almost want to cancel this date and throw up instead, the butterflies in your stomach feeling more like a swarm than a gentle fluttering. You lean against the closet door and ashamedly sigh. “Giorno, this… this feels embarrassing.”

He always knows exactly what to say to make your heart flutter, so his answer is quick.“Amore, I’m sure you look lovely. You always do.”

His tone is lighthearted, amused even. To anyone overhearing, they might think this is a conversation between infatuated lovers. A husband assuring his wife she’s just as beautiful as the day he met her, as lovers would. No one would be none the wiser. No one would know that this is the first time you’ve been past your chambers in weeks. No one would know that he’s kept you here for months. No one would know.

The ring on your finger feels heavier than usual.

Moving on is such a tricky thing. A minefield you’re forced to navigate, stumbling and failing at times. You wish it was as simple as offering forgiveness, but both of you know it isn’t that easy. He upended your life entirely, turned it on its head, and no amount of remorse or forgiveness can bring back what was lost. All those months spent away from your family, your friends, your job. And yet, today, he’s extending a loving hand to you, giving a second chance. A chance at true happiness, or the closest thing to it in this situation. After all the suffering you’ve endured, it’s only natural to seek some form of solace. You’ve denied yourself long enough, having shed enough tears to last a lifetime within the span of a few months. Forgiveness won’t return what you’ve lost, it won’t excuse what’s been taken. Forgiveness won’t change anything, but neither will hatred.

Now, more than ever, you want to feel normal again. You don’t think of it as giving up, at least… you try not to. Instead, you like to think you’re making good out of a dire situation. Anyone would do the same, right?

You step past the threshold, back into what’s rightfully yours.

“Ah, amore. There you are.” He looks up from his little reverie, a soft smile gracing his features upon spotting you. He chuckles and pushes himself from the railing, setting himself straight to properly greet you. “I was right. You’re even lovelier than the last time I saw you.” He says, laying a gentle kiss atop your hand.

You clear your throat awkwardly, trying to draw attention away from your blush. “You’re too much, Giorno. You saw me just moments ago.” You’re grateful there’s no stutter this time. You’ve grown used to his suave mannerisms, kissing your hand being one of the most common, but it still sends your heart into a slamming against your chest. He has a way with charming you, despite everything he’s done. “And surely, you say that to every woman you meet.” Your eyes flicker away from his, a brief moment of jealousy upon realizing how many beautiful and intelligent women he must meet during trips abroad. It’s a silly presumption, really, considering he’s only kept you on an isolated island, to your knowledge, but the brief bout of jealousy refuses to subside.

“My words hold no such lie. You are lovelier than the last time I saw you, as you always are. Your beauty knows no bounds, amore mio.” He cants his head to the side, his smile knowing, and tilts your chin upward. You’re forced to look into his eyes as he says such sweet words as easily as breathing. “And, I assure you, I only have eyes for you. There is no one I love more in this world, not even myself.” His lips travel downward to place a gentle kiss against the ring on your finger. “And there is no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life with, tesoro mio.”

The ring doesn’t feel nearly as heavy.

Gently, he places your hand back at your side and straightens himself. You give him a once over, secretly admiring his ethereal beauty. He’s well-dressed as usual, one of his many opulent and tailored suits hugging his figure in all the right places. The designs are immaculate and fine, grey pinstripes on darker grey fabric creating an elegant and put together look. It strikes you as odd to wear a suit for a beach date, but you don’t dwell on it. He’s a busy man, no doubt having had to clear his schedule just for a quick morning date with you. He’ll leave soon after, you’re sure, and for better or worse, the thought of being without him for another day hurts. You’re left without him for days at a time, and while you don’t always prefer his company, it’s been… comforting as of late. Nights spent by his side have become the norm, your head nestled against his chest as you sleep off the fine wine in your system. Pillow talk is something you never thought you’d indulge in with someone like him, but you’ve looked forward to it these past few weeks. At first, it was another tactic to gain information on him, but somewhere along the line, you began taking solace in his company. It’s all you have. He is all you have.

“That dress looks wonderful on you.” He compliments, enjoying the way the sunflower patterns on your sundress brighten your already-resplendent features. He extends his arm to you, which you accept without hesitation. The skin of your bare arms rubs against the coarse fabric of his suit, sending shivers down your spine. You must look like an odd couple, one dressed for an outing in the sun and the other dressed from a rendezvous at night; a reminder of how different your worlds truly are.

Once he feels you’re settled, Giorno begins leading you down long, empty halls decorated to the brim with tasteful vases, flowers, and paintings. You pay them no mind, their placements and features already burned into your mind from countless days wandering these very corridors, wishing for freedom. And now, what you’ve earned is starting to turn into a tangible reality. You’ve walked this path numerous times, having to stop when you reached a set of locked doors. Doors that lead to the outside world, doors you’ll finally walk past, hand in hand with someone you’re not quite sure you love just yet.

The pep in your step comes to a halt when you’re met with the familiar sight, the roadblock imposing. You almost forget that you’ll be walking past those double doors in a few moments, your body so accustomed to standing in this very spot and looking on in yearning. The shifting of fabric pulls you to reality as Giorno reaches into his suit, procuring a keycard and wordlessly unlocks the door. It’s a silent series of actions, the air growing heavy with tension. From how you tense, you assume he knows what you’re thinking, but doesn’t want to comment on it. If it’s for your sake or his own, you’re unsure.

Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you. The sunlight is blinding, your eyes squinting and arm rising to lessen the impact. It feels prickly against your skin now that there are no windows to block the bright rays. While your eyes adjust to the unfiltered light, Giorno patiently holds the door open. This has been the desire of your heart, coveting the freedom to experience nature as you used to. 

You look over at him, for once grateful for how well he can read you. Even if you had the words to ask what’s on your mind, your tongue would be unable to form them. He offers a slight nod, encouraging you to take your time as you anchor yourself, a bitter tug at his heart that he’s put you in a situation where you need to ask in the first place. Inhaling silently, you gingerly step out, the ground growing softer. When nothing happens, you take another step, as careful as the first. Testing. Praying that this is indeed real life and not a cruel dream that serves to taunt you. How often you’ve dreamt of leaving this place, and it’s become a reality within a few days… even if the path does not lead to your freedom.

Sensing your inner dilemma, he takes a hold of your hand. The touch is light, not meant to constrict you for his own purposes. Should you feel the need to pull away, as if you had been touched with fire, you’d be allowed to. Months ago, you would’ve done just that. To spite him, and for your own satisfaction. 

You intertwine your fingers with his. 

When your eyes flicker back to him, you notice how his soft lips part as if in shock. Did you manage to surprise him for once? He must have never once thought the day would come where you’d willingly touch him rather than flinch away from his touch. But any cracks in his composure are immediately melded, Giorno giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. Without thinking, you return his smile, your sincerity as clear as day. 

“If this is too much for you, then—” 

He cuts himself off when you shake your head firmly, lips set in a straight line. You’d never forgive yourself if you backed down now, not after all the effort it took to get here. Now it’s your turn to gently squeeze his hand back, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “Let’s continue, okay?” 

Giorno doesn’t press the matter further. You allow him to lead you to a spot he mentioned earlier, though you can already guess where he’s going. The hypnotizing sound of the ocean draws you in, growing louder with each passing step. The loud calls of seagulls fill your ears along with the crashing of the waves against the shore, a sight you’ve missed from your time in Naples. You’ve seen it from locked windows, but it’s not the same. The gentle sea breeze, the tantalizing draw of an ocean without horizon; it’s a beautiful sight, even more so in person. 

Childlike glee fills you, nostalgia of trips to Italy’s many beaches flooding back. It’s different compared to then, no families enjoying their time together under umbrellas or vendors selling their goods. It’s far more private, as if the two of you are the only people left in this world. In your sheltered world, that sentiment holds some truth. Instead of filling you with the loneliness it normally does, you feel connected to him. Closer than you ever allowed yourself to be before, as if this small part of the world was carved out specifically to let you two meet. To let you two fall in love, a handcrafted Eden sealed off from the rest of society. 

Giorno watches, admires the way the sunlight hits your skin for the first time in weeks. You’re beautiful, the wind tousling your perfectly-styled hair, but you don’t seem to care. Your eyes are bright. You’re glowing, the same way you glow when you’re truly happy, the same light he’s grown addicted to over these past few weeks. You’re happier these days, more often at least. He’d begun doubting himself at some point, wondering if your sudden change of heart was a ploy to gain his trust or lower his guard. Countless nights spent watching you sleep after a few hours of intimate touches, wondering if what you feel for him is true. He knows he deserves none of it, not in any sense of the word, but the thought of betrayal hurts far worse than never receiving your love in kind.

But watching you now, he can’t seem to let those thoughts fester. Your happiness is genuine.

While you soak in the carefree atmosphere, Giorno bends down and picks a seashell from the sand, an idea forming. Imbuing the fossil with life, the texture changes to a softer one, bright yellow petals forming into a hibiscus flower. Gently, he nudges you toward him and places it behind your ear, admiring how it compliments your beauty. You blush, but don’t shy away as you normally would. Your eyes are still bright, curious and gleeful, and your lips upturn into a smile that rivals the ones you’d wear before he’d stolen you away.

“You should make one for yourself.” You speak, free of worries and with a hint of amusement at the thought of a great mafia don wearing flowers at your behest. “So we match.” You add teasingly, knowing full well how much of a sappy romantic he is. Matching with you should be sending his heart fluttering right now. Or at least, you hope you can ever have that effect on him.

Giorno chuckles at your suggestion. “I wouldn’t hold a candle to how you look.” 

Your face flushes further at how easily compliments flow from him, always from a true place in his heart. Any and all attempts to catch him off guard end like this, redirecting to praising you in some way. Not one to accept defeat so easily, you absentmindedly place your hand against the newly formed flower, thumbing the petals. The fibers feel so real against your skin, as if this flower was pulled naturally from the earth itself. 

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to see you do this… what else can you make, exactly?” You inquire, tucking your hairs around the petals to keep the flower in place. Giorno has always been keen on giving you vague explanations of his ability, likely so it’d be easier for you to understand. From what you can tell, his ability — a stand, as he’s briefly explained — is one of beauty, able to create life at the slightest touch. Gold Experience brought out curiosity from within you, one of the few reasons you started talking to him again. He’d turn random items into different creatures, earning your attention when you’d ignore him. Your favorites have always been things you can’t naturally find on this island, not without importing it from the mainland. Things like hibiscus, such as the one in your hair, or animals such as fireflies. Things you miss.

Before he can answer, you propose an idea. “Why not make like, a bunch of dolphins? Or great white sharks? Ooh, maybe even a blue whale?” Your voice rises near the end, like a child asking their parent for a new toy, and you collect your chin in your hand for further contemplation.“What else, what else...” 

His hand covers his mouth, hiding how his smile widens at your pondering. Giorno doesn’t stop you from thinking out loud, letting you ramble to your heart’s content. He’s never seen you this talkative before, the sight alone is too cute. Any thoughts about his work scheduled later that day are replaced solely and wholly with you. He’s never seen this side of you, yet, and he’s careful to take note of and admire your little mannerisms. How you talk with your hands excitedly, how your eyes light up and your smile reaches your eyes. It’s the first time he’s noticed you have a dimple, even, as he’s yet to see you truly smile. It dawns on him that there is a side of you he has yet to truly see. A side of you where you’re happy. But, does he deserve that sort of joy? Does he deserve you?

“What? Too much?” You smile and tilt your head innocently. “How about something smaller, more manageable? A... frog, maybe?”

He has his answer; he doesn’t deserve you at all. You’re too precious, too innocent. “A frog? Really?” He sputters out an indignant laugh. “I could make something much more interesting, you know. What about a butterfly? Some birds? Or...” He trails off, noticing the pleading gleam in your eyes.

“Please?” You whine. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen one. They’re so cute…”

“Frogs aren’t even native to this island, amore. Where would he go?”

“He can be my pet.” Your answer is so quick it nearly makes him burst out in laughter. You… you do have a point, actually. It’s not like you have any other company besides him, the rare occasions he does get to visit.

“Fine, but I’ll make it later. Something tells me you’ll be too preoccupied with him if I do so now…”, he laughs at the thought of you gushing at a small animal rather than him. It’s to be expected at this point, but he wants to be a bit selfish today. Just for a few hours.

You puff your cheeks out but eventually relent. The topic of a pet has been on your mind before, now seeming like the best time to approach it. You’ll hold him to his promise later, choosing to occupy yourself with possible names for your promised companion. It’ll remedy the loneliness you feel when he’s not around.

As he’s grown skilled in doing, Giorno redirects you. “Do you enjoy the ocean, amore?” 

Humming lowly at the question, you walk closer to the inviting waves, Giorno following close behind. “I mostly like the atmosphere. It’s fun in the moment when you’re swimming, but then I have to spend hours getting all the sand out of my hair.” You say, and he takes note that you’re quite rambunctious when it comes to beaches. Most people wouldn’t get that much sand in their hair, not unless they were practically rolling in the shallow. It’s a cute thought, but he doubts he’ll get to see you do so anytime soon. Maybe… on the next date, but he can only hope. It’s a miracle you agreed to this one.

As you approach the ocean, the sand slows you down, your feet sinking into it. When the water draws too near, you kick your flip flops off, embracing the grainy sensation under your feet. The sand is calming, a natural exfoliant against the soles of your feet and between your toes, sticking to your skin like sweat. It’s been so long since you’ve gone the length to take care of your hygiene past the basics, and coupled with the relaxing sound of waves hitting rocks, it’s calming. You feel at peace, finally. Your eyes close — content, the moment serene, as if you’re in a little paradise. You realize now is an opportunity to learn more about him, with his guard being lowered. 

Turning your head around, you mirror his earlier question. “What about you, GioGio?” 

He blinks at the unexpected usage of his nickname. You must’ve overheard Fugo calling him it sometime, but even that couldn’t compare. The way it sounded in your voice was intoxicating, compelling him to tell you more if only to hear you say his name again. He hopes you’ll say it again, his pulse quickening at the domestic implications. He gives some thought to your question before answering, pushing away the adoring thoughts. 

“To be honest, I never visited the beach often.” 

Even with all his mysteries, you were expecting an answer like that. In the time you’ve known Giorno, he doesn’t take time to relax. His mind is full of burdens and expectations, jobs that need to be done and the best way to complete them. From what you gather, it’s paid off. You overheard him talking to one of his men before, someone you noticed to be close to him. The nickname “GioGio” rolling off the man’s tongue felt almost laughable in the moment had it not been coupled with reserved praise for how far Giorno had extended Passione’s reach in only six months. Still, you don’t know if pity is what you feel, but it’s an emotion close to that. The only time he’s taken for himself is when he’s with you, and even then, you’ve always given him a hard time. It must be a difficult path, but it’s one he chose nonetheless. 

“We’ll have to change that then,” you assert with a smile, appreciating how the breeze kisses your skin. “I’d… I’d like to come out here with you more often.” 

The confidence you were hoping would accompany the words wavers, unsure if you’re pushing your luck. It’s a miracle that Giorno saw it fitting to bestow this freedom upon you even a single time — asking for more might be too greedy. But your fears melt away when his turquoise eyes soften, not interpreting your plea in a negative light. It could have been your imagination, but you sense a hint of guilt in them. Perhaps, regretting how often he has to leave you alone to tend to his own matters.

“I’d love nothing more than to do that, if you’ll have me.” He slightly bows his head, as if in meek shame.

You eagerly nod your head, accepting the extended invitation. Anything is better than being cooped up for ages, like you’ve grown used to, and if you’re being honest, his company isn’t nearly as bad as you once thought it to be. In fact, it’s almost calming. You used to fear how much power and influence he holds, as if the world itself is in grasp; but now, you seek it out. His presence no longer incites paralyzing, but rather feels like a warm embrace, beneath the composed mask he dons. And even then, you’d hate to give up this newfound freedom, however minute it may be. The ocean feels divine against your warming skin, Italian summers renowned for their heat. Venturing further into the water, now up to your ankles, you look around for any pretty seashells. Giorno lets you do as you please, watching over you with a content air from the shore. 

Crouching down, your hand runs across the sand to continue your search. You hum to yourself as the cold waters splash against your ankles and up your thighs, the sensation welcoming in this heat. The waters are bright and crystal clear, a benefit to your search as you gingerly pick up the shells that stand out to you the most. Maybe you’ll ask him to make one of these into your future pet, the thought an exciting one. The best seashell will be the one you hand to him. Or maybe, you can convince him to turn all of these into frogs… 

You look over your shoulder to find him standing just nigh of the incoming waves. It’s a sweet sight, how he draws as close as his outfit allows him, just shy of the waves touching his expensive loafers. He really is an uptight fashionista at heart. At that, a mischievous idea pops into your mind, a plan rapidly forming to enact your vision. Acting as you normally do, your hands continue to brush against the ground, and you let a dramatic gasp leave your lips. Feigning hurt, you draw your hand close to your chest, a muffled whine pushing past your lips almost unnaturally. Your acting has never been the best, but you hope it’ll do...

Giorno’s eyebrows furrow at the pained noise, and he steps forward without care for his outfit. He’s by your side in record time, bending down and reaching to inspect your supposedly injured hand. “[First], are you—” 

You can’t help but snicker, your free hand brushing against the top of the water and splashing it towards him. It takes a moment for him to process the unfolding events, suit dripping from your playful assault. More giggles leave your lips at his miffed expression, having never seen him look like this before. Not towards you, at least. It feels far more human than how he normally acts around you, that stoic and knowing mask gone for once. You’ve caught him off guard — a feat in and of itself. Not even his enemies can accomplish that much. Then again, you have the advantage of never being on his bad side even when you do things like this.

Giorno lets out a long sigh, muttering quietly to himself as the uncomfortable sensation of salty seawater settles into his otherwise expensive suit. “Sei fortunato sei così carina.” (You’re lucky you’re so cute).

“Hm? What was that, GioGio?” You inquire, too preoccupied with snickering at his expense to notice his words. He can’t allow himself to be upset with you, not when he gets to hear the angelic sound of your laughter. When was the last time he heard it…? It must’ve been a time before, a time long past. Maybe when you were interacting with your friends, or looking at something entertaining on your phone. Not even his little flirtations and tricks using Gold Experience have elicited such a carefree response. If this suit going to the dry cleaners is the cost to pay for hearing it again, it will always be worth it. 

He shakes his head, freeing himself from the heavy burden these thoughts bring. “Nothing. You’re not hurt, are you?” He already knows the answer, at this point, but it’s become a habit to ensure your utmost safety and happiness.

You don’t respond immediately, instead looking over his shoulder in a dreamlike stupor. Giorno is about to repeat his question before it clicks what it is you’re looking at with raw wonder. In the heat of the moment, believing you were in danger, Gold Experience Requiem had been summoned subconsciously. The Stand represents himself, his care for you that seeps into every aspect of who he is. It makes sense why he’d summon his Stand, even if he didn’t realize it in the moment. 

That’s not the problem here though. You’re staring at the exact spot Gold Experience is, it’s no coincidence. 

You look at the Stand with wide eyes, lips parting as you stand up to inspect him closer. He’d be a horrifying sight if Giorno hadn’t told you about his power beforehand. So this is... the personification of his soul? He’s never summoned his Stand in its entirety around you, only using its ability to imbue things with life. The realization that you can actually see it makes him purse his lips, uncertain of what to make of the new information. That means that you’re...

“W-woah,” you stutter out, reaching out towards the floating creature in pure awe. Your hand goes through it, like fog in the air. The Stand looks at you, perplexed despite its lack of proper facial features or musculature, its eyes glued to you as if in similar awe. “What is this, Giorno?” 

Giorno clears his throat, suppressing his worries as to what this could potentially mean for later. A question he’ll have to pose to Jotaro or Polnareff, he’s sure…. 

“It’s what allows me to create life.” He explains carefully, still unsure about how much information to reveal. Gold Experience looks down at you with similar curiosity, inspecting your person thoroughly. You’d be lying if you said it isn’t intimidating, eyes wide blown and seemingly staring through your soul. For some reason, you feel like it wouldn’t dare harm you. 

It draws close to you, gathering some stray pebbles from the sea. Wordlessly, the lifeless rocks turn into an array of colorful flowers, a circular vine holding them together. The Stand places it atop your head almost gleefully, careful to not hurt a single hair on your head. You hear Giorno draw a sharp breath at the display, perhaps not realizing his stand was capable of acting on its own like this. Gold Experience’s gesture is meant to be an act of kindness, a display of love. There’s no denying the pure intentions, even despite how terrifying he looks. Now knowing you’re capable of seeing it, the Stand looks at you almost expectantly, like a child waiting to be praised. Still beside yourself at the unfolding events, you gather yourself enough to offer it a beaming smile and soft ‘thank you’. He seems content enough with your reaction, returning to its user. Its eyes never once leave you, looking at you as if you’re the center of the universe, before it disappears completely from sight.

“I think he likes you,” Giorno clears his throat and hums, calling his Stand back to him. It’s a pleasant display, if not a tad embarrassing. What takes priority now is answering the numerous questions this brings to the table. “Do you feel anything… out of the ordinary, [First]?” 

His inquiry feels out of place, like you’re missing a vital piece of the puzzle. He knows something you don’t. It’s not often he uses your first name either, preferring to praise you with affectionate nicknames. Assuming he must mean your hands, you hold them up for him to inspect, showing all sides are without injury. When his expression stays the same, you wonder if he meant something else. Any other possibilities escape you, so you make do with what little you know.

“Not really, no. I’m just hungry.” you answer in honesty, squirming under his unflinching gaze. Your answer feels out of place, hanging from the air like loose threads, unwoven from its source. Giorno takes a few more moments to consider you, looking for dishonesty and finding nothing but confusion. You swallow thickly at the tense atmosphere, hoping you didn’t mess up in some way. Anxiety captures your hammering heart, and you shrink under his piercing stare. Giorno, quickly sensing your concern, returns to his typical expression, a soft gaze with an equally soft smile, only ever reserved entirely for you. 

“Ah, of course. You haven’t had anything to eat today. Come, I have food prepared.” 

Grateful at the change in conversation, you rush over to his side, warm sea water sticking to your skin in droplets. You don’t know what he’s hiding from you, and at the moment, you don’t care to find out. Nothing could be a worse fate than being locked up again for a transgression you didn’t even mean to commit. As long as that’s not the case, it’ll be okay. Lower lip trembling, you subconsciously take a tight grip of his hand. He looks down at the desperate touch, seeing how your smaller hands fit perfectly into his. Sensing the nervous air in your actions, he gives your hand a light squeeze, calming your nerves ever so slightly. Smitten by your actions, how willingly you still choose to touch him, he lifts your hand up and places a chaste kiss to your knuckles. You’re relying on him. He’s not sure what spurred the sudden change, but he’s going to enjoy it. It’s a modest showing that soothes your distressed mind. 

He’s not upset with you. You won’t be left all alone again. You won’t have to go days without human contact, sobbing and pleading for anyone to save you, to talk to you, to notice you’re gone—

“[First]?”

You don’t notice the tears that sting your eyes until it’s too late. The force makes you choke on thin air, searching for breaths that won’t come. The walls of your lungs are constricting into itself, your heart hammering so hard against its rib cage that you fear it’ll break through the skin and bone. Giorno watches with wide eyes as you unravel in front of him, your hand shooting up to muffle your mouth, the other latching onto his chest like a desperate prayer, begging him to make it stop, to make the thoughts stop, to make your heart still for once. You try to call out for him, to call for help, but the words lodge in your throat like bile and vomit. You choke on each syllable.

The weight of the world is crushing atop your shoulders, its jaws closed around your heart. Something is wrong — this is wrong. Your fingers tighten against his chest, wanting to beat against it, to hurt him, to make him feel the pain you’ve felt. You’re so close. He’s let you get close to him, close to his walls — let you tear them down. Weeks ago, you would have rejoiced in this. Would’ve used his weakness against him, would’ve fought back. If you were stronger, if you just weren’t so weak, you would have been happier. You wouldn’t be in this situation, clinging to a man who took you from life, clinging to a man who makes you question your own sanity. Everything — he took everything from you, and he still can. No matter how slowly you forgive him, no matter how slowly you give into him, he will always have control over your life. There will always be a disparity, a power dynamic — you will always be weak. 

You will always be trapped here, always wondering if you’ve taken a wrong step. If you’ve angered or bothered him. If you’ll see your family again.

Will it always end like this? Whenever something goes wrong, something trivial, something most people wouldn’t dwell on for more than a few seconds… will this keep happening? Will you break down each time? Will you always be this fragile, like glass?

Will it always be like this?

“[F-First],” he nearly chokes, gripping your waist to keep you upright. His heart breaks at the pitiful sight of you, like the air is knocked from his lungs just watching you suffer. He doesn’t understand what caused this, and his stomach sinks at the realization that this must be the norm for you. An underlying fear that things will fall apart with the slightest misstep, an underlying paranoia that incites the bitter bite of anxiety — because of him. Is this how easy it was to break you? Have you always been this fragile? How… how many nights were spent buried against tear-ridden pillows, crying until you doze off and wake up to another day with him? The guilt is overwhelming, the thought of you curled in your bed, surrounded by material things and yet nothing at the same time.

“You’re not alone. Not anymore. Let me help you.”

For all the times he couldn’t before, he comforts you, holds you like a lost child, soothes you in a way only a monster can soothe its prey. And you let him, desperately clinging onto the validation that you haven’t messed up in some way.

His arms close around the small of your waist, holding your trembling form tightly, scared you’ll fall if he takes one wrong step, scared you’ll shatter if he doesn't hold you together. Your sobs are choked, muffled against his chest, but the time of silence lets you regain yourself, the ringing in your ears dying down only to be replaced by the gentle lull of the ocean you adore. Your head is resting against him, those atrocious and lonely thoughts dying down for the time being, lulled into a sense of dubious security. They will plague you again, as they always do, but for now… for now, you’re grateful. He’s the source of your pain, and yet, he’s become the only remedy. It’s only when you pull back, hesitantly, that he releases you, his hand cupping your face. The pads of his thumb wipe away your glistening tears, worry etched into his face.

“Are you okay?”

“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur with a pathetic sniffle, eyes avoiding his own. “I didn’t mean to ruin our outing. I’m not sure what came over me… I just, the thought of—” 

He shushes your self deprecating tandem, lips ghosting over your forehead in a gentle, brief kiss, stalling there with momentary doubt that he of all people shouldn’t be comforting you. He’s always had the patience of a saint with you, now is no different. Even when you cursed and belittled him, throwing crashing objects at him, he remained unshaken. This unshakable composure is a part of who he is, and, as much as he hates watching you fall apart for his sake, he is meant to comfort you. To console you, to make this new life he’s given you something you’ll come to enjoy. Your mind has been full of thoughts, self-deprecating and hateful, no matter how close he gets to you. It’s to be expected….

“You’ll feel better once you eat.” He suggests, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

You’re grateful that he doesn’t press the sensitive subject, whether it be out of shame for his actions or pity for your current state. Slowly, he leads you to a shaded area surrounded by hand-crafted flora, set up the earlier in the morning by his own hands. On the ground is a blanket, a picnic basket set in the middle. He helps you sit down, and takes his place next to you. This serves as a welcome distraction from the embarrassing display earlier. 

Giorno opens the basket, pulling out sandwiches that look different than what you’ve had before. They’re put together with care, ingredients dribbling out over the edge. A rather simple selection compared to most of the gourmet food you have here. When asked about it once, Giorno told you that your food is prepared by fine chefs. The quality of the food you had on a daily basis confirmed the fact. This looks different, more intimate somehow. 

He picks up on how you eye it. “I’m not the best cook, but I wanted to try it. If it’s not to your tastes, I’ll have something else brought out.” 

Your fingers brush over his as you gratefully accept it, a quiet thank you leaving your lips. His tone can almost be described as sheepish, and you swear his face looks a tad flushed. Waiting to see your impression of his food, he gazes at you with expectant eyes, trying to play it cool. 

Biting into the sandwich, you’re met with the taste of tarte jelly and savory peanut butter intertwining on your tongue. In a few seconds, you finish it in its entirety, much to Giorno’s internal satisfaction. His shoulders relax at your acceptance, not realizing how much your opinion truly means to him. He had to take care of himself growing up, learning the basics of food preparation for that reason. Much of it had been forgotten now that it was no longer required from him. 

You can’t help but giggle at his serious expression, instantly earning his attention. To hear such a divine sound so many times on the same day, was God smiling down upon him? It’s the only plausible explanation at how well this outing has been going. It’s more than he ever allowed himself to hope for, more than he deserved. 

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he tries to get to the heart of your sudden carefree attitude. “Is something wrong?” 

“N-no, it’s not that,” you hold the back of your hand to your mouth, attempting to stifle the incoming bout of laughter. “It’s just… I was picturing you making this, looking all professional, with a chef’s hat and apron. Heh.” 

Another bout of faint giggles, your earlier panic slowly dying away with each laugh. Giorno’s never given much thought to such things, it falls more into the territory or something Mista would point out. He doesn’t mind being the object of your amusement, not when he gets to see you radiating joy like this. Is it too much to ask for this moment to never end? Duty will call him away eventually, the thought enough to threaten his moral. He knows he’s in deep when he starts debating whether or not the meetings today really require his presence. Unfortunately, they do, as much as he’d prefer your company over greedy and corrupt men.

There’s a lull in the conversation. Unlike him, your thoughts are much less hurried, your thoughts full of thoughts of him who sits beside you, content to stare at the sky and admire the shape of fluffy clouds. Pointing out the ones that remind you of animals or other silly things, explaining to Giorno how they might somehow be connected. A story of your own in the making. Every last drop of your arbitrary rambling, he soaks in as if it held the secrets to humanity’s existence. His intensity in stark contrast to your lackadaisical approach, hands intertwined by your side. A connection between light and darkness. Your head rests on his shoulder, the scent of his cologne mixed in with the ocean air intoxicating. 

Perhaps… perhaps this is what Heaven is like. No. This is better. Sitting here with you, the early morning sun shining down on you both, lifeless and still in the sky — he never wants this moment to end.

“I’m actually a pretty decent cook,” you pipe up, your thoughts still touched by the tasty picnic he’d put together himself. Your sentiment interrupts his thoughts, a proud gleam in your eyes as you toy with the plastic covering that used to hold your sandwich. “Or at least, I never gave myself food poisoning. That must mean something, right?” You giggle, brushing it off. 

The thought of you cooking sends his mind spiralling. Flour smeared against your cheek, hands messy with the remnants of eggs and spices, a cute apron tied around your torso… since when did he become so sappy? It’s unfitting of someone in his position, not that he cares all that much. His enemies don’t know that you’re his greatest weakness as much as you’re his greatest strength, and hopefully, they’ll never know. He’s always thought highly of you, your recent lack of resistance serving to amplify the feelings; he wants to know more, to learn more, naturally, without the need to check in on you through the countless cameras scattered around the estate.

“I’d offer to cook for you, but I think whoever already makes the food is better than me.” You blush and play it off, noticing how intently he’s looking at you. Biting your lip, you begin to wonder if divulging this information to him was for the best. He seems awfully curious now. “Surely you’d prefer meals made by a professional.”

Giorno doesn’t think before responding with unfiltered thoughts. “You’ve made me curious now, amore. I’d love to try your cooking.” 

You look down at the ground, playing with the frays on the edge of the blanket. The difficulties that would accompany cooking didn’t come to mind until he gave credence to your words.This feels too domestic, like a loving wife cooking for her husband after he returns from a long day at work. Would he enjoy your meals? What kind of dinners and breakfasts would he prefer? What kind of treats? Does he want you to make meals each time he visits? Does he have a favorite, something he’d prefer above all else? You said you were decent at cooking, but you don’t have many recipes under your arsenal, at least not from memory. Surely he’d get you some cookbooks at your soonest behest, but with the way he’s looking at you now, you’re certain he’s expecting something much more homemade, something made entirely on your own. He’s never tasted your cooking, after all…. and with how long it’s been since you’ve cooked for yourself, you’ve forgotten if it tastes as good as you remember.

Not to mention, how many tools would you be allowed to use? Giorno’s taking care in proofing the estate of anything you could use to harm him, like knives and forks, which are only provided to you during meals. All the complications alone give you a headache. It serves to showcase how impossible it can be to fully relax in Giorno’s presence, your mind always in fight or flight. A survival instinct to preserve yourself under extreme circumstances. You’d like to think those restrictions would be lessened considering how close you’ve gotten with him recently, but you know him better than that. Always calculating, always prepared, always composed...

Absorbed in your flurry of thoughts, you fail to notice Giorno is closer to you. He’s always given you appropriate distance, stuffing down his own desires in favor of keeping you comfortable. You must have made for a pitiful sight if he’s approaching you like this, brows knitting together in worry over your darkening expression. By the time you notice the stark lack of distance, you welp and nearly back away in fright, startled to find that he’s only an arm’s length away.

“I’m not… really that good, y’know.” you let out a humorless laugh, gnawing on your lower lip soon after. The words can be interpreted in a myriad of ways, far extending past the context of this situation. Your hands ball into tight fists by your side, self-deprecating emotions overflowing. Yet again, you’re on the brink of tears, in what should be a lighthearted outing. 

He doesn’t look down on you, offering nothing but an overflowing well of understanding. Giorno’s touch is light, so light you wonder if you’re imagining it in the first place. His pointer finger goes underneath your chin, the pad of his thumb rubbing soft circles as he lifts your face up. His face is so close to your own, you feel his warm breath fan against you. Loose golden hair tickles your face, which flushes at his close proximity. His other hand cups your cheek, and you lean into the touch. Accepting any form of solace is your internal justification, but even that feels like a weak excuse now.

What this is… is starting to go beyond that. And it frightens you. 

“You speak so lowly of yourself,” he frowns, not chastising you but pointing it out nonetheless. “To me… I see all your potential, your strengths. You have weaknesses, yes, as do we all. Where others fall short in this regard, you excel. Bettering yourself.” His smile grows weaker by the moment as he recalls more bitter memories. “Even in a situation like this, you have the courage to smile and laugh, to see the beauty in things.” — to see the beauty in him.

He doesn’t mention that.

He takes a deep breath, not having intended to ramble this much. You’re in awe, having never heard words pour from his lips this fast. Giorno’s always given diligent thought and calculating into every aspect of his persona around you, actions and words alike. Everything was meant to higher your opinion on him or to lull you into a false sense of ease. This confession feels authentic, without ulterior motive. Like the confession a boy would stumble through toward his crush, not the love declaration of a man with power beyond your wildest imagination.

He speaks of what he believes, unfiltered or obscured by a hidden agenda. And, despite yourself, you accept it. You embrace it, having never been spoken to in such a way, not by someone who loves you so wholeheartedly. While you might not believe his sentiments on a fundamental level, it’s enough to still your weeping heart. The ache dulls under his words, pacifying you enough to steady your erratic breathing.

His lips hesitantly brush against yours, emerald eyes asking for your permission through golden lashes. When you don’t retaliate or relent, he closes the small gap between your bodies, lips fully pressed against yours. Despite allowing it, your eyes widen at the sudden contact as his flutter closed. Quickly, you melt into the gesture, tempted to bury your hands in his loose golden locks like you have time and time before. The feeling of your lips against his is still foreign despite having spent countless nights in each other’s arms. Those kisses have always been born from passion crafted by the heat of the moment, but this was genuine. This kiss is filled with love, with adoration, and with a sense of longing and belonging he’s never felt before. His composure unravels like loose threads, his hands tangled in your hair, urging your lips impossibly closer to his. 

You lose sight of yourself. Giorno is all that exists to you at this moment. His soft lips, delicate touch, and reassuring words. When your head starts to spin, lack of oxygen becoming apparent in the thralls of passion, you attempt to pull back. He seems hesitant at first, as if not wanting this sweet moment to ever end, but gives into your qualms. You always come first to him. 

Everything feels so warm and tingly. Subconsciously, the tips of your fingers touch your parted lips, in slight disbelief at the whirlwind of events. He kissed you so gently, so passionately, but your lips are reddened and throbbing with excitement and… trepidation. What… what is this feeling? What does this mean? The look in his eyes just now, the gentleness in his touch, the passion in that kiss… it was unlike the rest. Long, sweet nights spent in each other's arms had never been this serendipitous, this loving. Not… not on your end at least. Is that what changed? He looks at you the same way he always does, but has the way you look at him changed? And… to what?

Your head is spinning with the implication of it all. You know the answer; you know you know the answer, but you shoot up from the blanket, unraveling yourself from the embrace of his arms, and dig your feet into the sand. You need time to think.

“[First]? Is everything alright?” He pipes up from the ground. “I didn’t do anything, did I?”

“N-no!” The words lodge in your throat again. Did he do something? To make you feel this way… did he trick you somehow? Is this all a lie? It has to be. There’s no way you could be… “I just… i-it was sudden. I’m sorry, I just need time to think….”, you trail off, breathless. You see his eyebrows knit with worry, and a brief lapse of regret passes over his features, but you don’t stay long enough to dwell on it.

He watches as you start to pace the beach, never once throwing a glance in his direction. He knows better than to assume the worst, always having been patient with your frequent withdrawals whenever things get too… much. Today is a day of fresh starts, and it’s wishful thinking to believe months of trauma could be fixed in the span of a few hours. He’s willing to wait, as he always has, but the sensation of your lips against his is mind-numbing. He wants more, truthfully. He wants to feel that way again, to feel your lips melded against his, like they belong there. Like you belong here, with him. Seeing you react like this is jarring, a cacophonous jolt to the doubt he’d banished to the far shores of his mind. The betrayal and worry on your face is hard to miss despite your attempts to hide it behind a curtain of hair. You’re biting your lip, and even though he can’t hear it, you’re muttering to yourself, unquestionably reprimanding your actions and everything that led up to that moment. You shouldn’t have kissed him, you shouldn’t have let your guard down, you shouldn’t have given into him like that — sentiments you’re no doubt thinking.

And yet, he is happy. It’s a start… but he hasn’t the right to rush you into something you may never truly want. You have no options — to push or guilt you into a relationship, no matter how desperately he may want to, is unfair. So, he exhales inaudibly, stuffing those selfish thoughts to the back of his mind as he always does. Avarice has no place here, not when he’s already taken so much. Keeping his desires to himself, while never a simple task, has grown more difficult. Now that he’s indulged in you once, he wants to come back for more. To experience love as he’s heard described to him countless times. The kind where two souls grow old together, their love never once wavering; a concept he was never keen on believing, considering his childhood which left bitter feelings that tainted his views on love time and time again. All of that changed when he met you.

You are worth the wait.

[peppymint1986]

My entry for the @madatobigiftexchange

for @Chrysanthemum9484

Prompt: Soulmates where there are people who can tell whether two people are matched except for themselves

The Divided Line

Madara resisted the urge to cheer aloud as the edge of the river finally came into view. It would be even better if there was some food left for him. However, between his brother and his best friend he found that doubtful. Looking back on things, Madara was forced to admit he had spoiled Izuna growing up. But there was nothing to be done for that now.

Stripping off his outer robe, Madara sank to the ground in a move that from a lesser man would have only been described as a flop. He then sidled closer to Tobirama, shamelessly taking advantage of the younger man’s ridiculously strong water nature in order to ward off the heat of the day.

In spite of his strident protests to anyone and everyone that he had given up on what his Father had called childhood foolishness; Madara had in fact spent a good portion of his free dreaming of his and Hashirama’s village. He still found it somewhat shocking to look around and realize that their dreams were becoming a reality. Though the one thing he never would have expected was the easy companionship he had fallen into with Senju Tobirama, a man many still referred to as the White Demon.

Turning his head, Tobirama peered at the man now sprawled against him. “Bad day?” He asked.

“I just wanted some cherries,” Madara moaned. It should not have taken him all morning just because he was out of uniform and thus open to interruptions, in theory.

The Uchiha Clan had always been blessed with a percentage of Soul Seers far beyond the norm. Usually at least one per generation. It was in fact considered to be one of the signs of a stronger than average Sharigan. Consequently, none of his kin had been surprised when he manifested the mangekyo just shy of his fifteenth birthday.

The Uchiha took soulmates very seriously. And Madara had been taught, since his ability to see the strings had first manifested as a young child, that it was nothing less than his duty to help his clanmates find their destined partners.

There had even been times in the past that outside parties had tried to hire an Uchiha Soul Seer. Some of these requests had even been answered to an extent. The clan had accumulated enough knowledge over the generations to be able to tell at a glance the relative distance between a person and their soulmate. More than one mile and the cord lost its glow. Five miles and the cord became a string, more than twenty and the string became a thread. More than a hundred miles and the thread lost its color entirely to become a translucent white.

While it was true that the connection never truly disappeared, it was far too dangerous to risk any member of the clan, much less a Soul Seer for more than a twenty mile journey through unknown obstacles, no matter how much money was offered. No matter who asked.

However, Madara had taken missions to confirm a connection before. Said missions had been few and far between, but he had taken them. It had never even occurred to him, when the village was formed, to hide the fact that he was a Soul Seer. In retrospect, Madara thought to himself. That had been a mistake.

Next to him Tobirama groaned, reaching up to knead at his forehead. “This is really getting out of hand.” Just yesterday he had almost been late for a meeting with the Heads of the Trinity Clans because a thirteen year old girl could not accept that the boy she had a crush on was not her soulmate. She had even demanded he check again, as though the connection would magically reset itself.

“At least we can turn it off,” the albino consoled the other. If they couldn’t they would never get any peace. The world would just be a massive spiderweb of threads twenty-four seven. It would be impossible to function. Inwardly Tobirama shuddered at the idea of being shut up in a cave blindfolded for the rest of his life, like in those stories about those who could divine the future.

“Still,” Tobirama’s lips turned downward into a frown. “We are going to have to do something.” Idly his fingers rapped the ground. “Regulations about when and how citizens can make an appointment with a Soul Seer perhaps.” Those close enough to their destined partners would have to pay for follow up missions.

Madara groaned again, hiding his face in Tobirama’s collar. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending time stuck in a room staring at people, but it would be worth it if he could get his life back. As a Clan Head, he had little enough free time as it was.

A commotion off to one side caused the Uchiha to frown. Lifting his head, Madara looked to the left where Hashirama seemed to be having some kind of fit. “What’s with him?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to Madara.”

The Uchiha’s lips quirked. “That’s an odd sentiment coming from you.”

“Nevertheless,” the albino shrugged his shoulders. “In this case I see nothing, I hear nothing, I know . . .” His voice trailed off before Tobirama bolted upright. “Anija!” he snapped. “Have you been gambling again?”

A vaguely guilty look crossed Hashirama’s face from where he was counting coins onto Izuna’s outstretched hand. “Only a little,” he protested. “And not at the bars.”

By the twitching of Tobirama’s brow the younger shinobi was not appeased in the least. “And what,” you could almost hear the albino’s teeth grinding. “Have you been betting on this time?”

“Er,” if possible Hashirama looked even more guilty as he tugged on his sleeves. “It’s just,” he stuttered. “I mean. Um.” The so-called god of shinobi was practically squirming where he sat, looking more like a child who was about to be scolded than the leader of a village of ninja. Why had he thought this was a good idea again?

He threw a somewhat desperate look over at his wife, who promptly ignored him in favor of taking another sip of her chilled tea. Mito had told him back at the beginning she had no intention of getting involved with this, and she had no desire to change her mind, no matter how pitiful her husband looked.

“For the sake of Amatasaru,” Izuna interrupted, rolling his eyes heavenward. This had been fun at the beginning, but now it was just sad. “We were betting about how long it would take you to realize you found your soulmate.”

Madara jerked, feeling like he had been doused in a bucket of ice water. “Izuna,” he hissed. “If you're a Soul Seer and you haven’t told anyone. . .” The notion was almost unthinkable.

“Don’t be ridiculous Aniki,” Izuna waved off his brother’s anger. “I don’t need to see the strings for this. It’s obvious.” He had witnessed enough soulmates pair off growing up to see what was happening. “The two of you can check if you don’t believe me.”

By now Madara’s lips had formed a tight, thin line. “You know a Soul Seer cannot see their own string Izuna.” Something he had always found as cruel, even as he understood why the kami had made it so. If he had been able to see his connection to his soulmate, nothing would have stopped him from following wherever it led, no matter how long it took.

Izuna’s gaze softened. True, he had thrown a fit when he had first realized. Ultimately though, what he most wanted was for his brother to be happy. “I know,” he said gently. “But can you see Tobirama’s?”

Madara stared at his brother in shock for a moment. In all honesty, he had almost given up on finding his soulmate a long time ago. Soul Seers were so rare. Barely daring to breathe, he took Tobirama’s hands in his, raising them to eye level before activating his Sight. And he saw nothing, no string leading off into the distance, no snapped black thread indicating the other’s partner had left this life. Nothing.

For a moment, all the Uchiha could do was stare at their entwined hands in stunned shock. Then, he lifted his gaze to meet equally stunned Ruby eyes. Eyes that like his own, glowed with a Soul Seer’s power. He also admired the pink flush that spread across Tobirama’s porcelain features.

Unfortunately the moment could not last. “Awe,” Hashirama clapped his hands together. “How romantic.” As Madara turned to glare at him the Hokage could not help but try and defend himself. “Well it is.”

“Hashirama.”

“Yes.”

“Fuck off.” Then Madara leaned forward to give his soulmate a soft kiss which quickly deepened. The first of what he fully intended to be many.

Finis

Was almost tempted to label this one and they lived happily ever after

Hope everyone enjoyed and as usual feel free to write your own stories if something has inspired you

[banditthewriter]

Trust Is Earned - Charles Vane - 1

For someone who is taking a break from writing, I sure wrote a lot in a short time frame.

This is a 34.4k word fic broken into 10 parts. It is what I consider to be a “fuck canon” kinda fic so there’s that to enjoy. 

Warning: Slow burn. I’m sorry.

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

One of the largest draws of Nassau was the freedom. There was still poverty and strife, people who fought every day to survive, but the freedom was something that couldn’t be ignored. Women free of societal views that required them to be the property of either their father or their husband. Men free of the shackles of polite society, free to sail the seas and create chaos. 

Freedom did come with a price though. The pirates ruled the seas and demanded respect with a fist of violence, but that was nothing compared to the rule of the Guthries. They ruled the island with their commerce, able to make and break not only the pirate crews but also the merchants on the island. 

For you, freedom was many things. Your store, though small and off the beaten track, was lucrative and gave to you a life of comfort if not leisure. Your parents were gone but their love still resided in you. They had left behind a gaggle of friends that loved and protected you as you asserted your independence. 

Freedom was also the choice of who you took to bed. There had been a few men over the years, but none you considered special. The closest to a meaningful relationship you got was the continued dalliance with one of the pirates from The Walrus, the boatswain Billy Bones. 

The sex was more than enough to please you, but the man was simply easy to spend time with. The two of you laughed and talked about a myriad of things. He was a learned man and the two of you had plenty in common.

It wasn’t love though. That was one thing you weren’t sure you would find in Nassau, but that didn’t stop you from hoping. 

You wanted connection, intimacy, passion. You wanted a commitment, a love that consumed and freed you. As much as you enjoyed Billy’s presence, he wasn’t that for you.

If you never had a love like your parents had, at least you had your store. Affectionately called the General, it was a place where most of the people on the island started their search for things. If you didn’t carry it, you had the means to find it for them. For a price, of course.

Plus you made the best candles on the island. You were sure that not one ship left the bay without candles from the General.

The life you had in Nassau was a good one, a comfortable one. If only you’d known that that was all about to change.

------

There was a man and women in the store, both of them speaking low as they looked over the shelves against the far wall. Normally you wouldn’t have paid them any mind, but you had seen the look on their faces when they first walked in.

Good things rarely followed Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny when they looked like that.

You focused on the pages in hand, orders from various people on the island. You needed to find more mouse traps for the madam of the brothel, Mrs. Mapleton. One of the cooks from one of the ships needed better utensils. The butcher needed—

“Y/N. We have our order ready.”

You put the papers down and held a hand out to accept the piece of paper that was in Rackham’s hand. He held onto it for a long beat while staring at you before he released it. He turned his body towards Anne who was purposefully cleaning her nails with a long knife from her boot.

“Let’s see what I can do for you,” you said as you looked over the order. “Most of this is here in the store, but there are a few items I’ll need to get for you.”

As you gathered the items that you had on hand, you tried to ignore the two of them. Candles of various sizes, an inkwell with an extra pot of ink, a few quills, a thing of chalk, charcoal, paper… 

Every item you grabbed from your shelves or cabinets and placed into the canvas bag for the two of them, some wrapped to keep from being damaged. Some butcher paper was packed into the bag for extra security.

As you went about marking the items you still needed to get for them, you noticed that they had approached you once more.

“Is there something else I can help you with Mr. Rackham?” you asked in a polite voice as you scribbled a few notes regarding price, adding up how much you’d need to charge The Ranger crew.

“Oh, nothing in particular. Although now that you mention it,” he said as he tapped his fingers on the counter that separated the two of you, “I believe I heard through the grapevine that you were together with the boatswain of The Walrus.”

“Is that what you’ve heard? How intriguing.” You tore off the half of the page with the amount due and handed it over. “Here’s what’s owed. As always you just pay for what’s being taken today..”

He narrowed his eyes at you before he accepted the paper. You watched as he handed it to Anne Bonny who tugged out a pouch with some coin in it.

“Should I take you avoiding the question as an affirmative?” 

You glanced away from Anne and back over to Jack at that. As you were one of the best stores in Nassau and The Ranger was one of the biggest crews, definitely one of the best crews, you had dealt with the quartermaster and his quiet companion often enough. In your time dealing with them, however, you’d never been interrogated before. Your conversations were usually limited to the sale and maybe some idle chit chat.

This was a change you weren’t sure you appreciated.

“There wasn’t a question posed to me. You simply reiterated something that had been observed. However if it had been a question,” you amended because you didn’t want to piss these two off, “I would tell you that no, we’re not together. We simply enjoy each other’s company.”

“Is that right?” He cast a glance at Anne and gave an almost imperceptible nod. 

The woman handed over the correct amount of coin as well as a tip which wasn’t required but definitely helped. You thanked them both as you pushed the bag towards them.

With the bundle in his arms, the two left your store without another word. You weighed the coin in hand before you put it in the hidden compartment where you stored the rest. 

It was a strange interaction with the pirate pair, but you shook it off. There were more important things to focus on. Like a stack of orders you needed to work on.

------

With the door to the store locked, you headed to the hidden door that led to your rooms. It was made to look like part of the wall so no one knew where it was. You had just touched the handle when what sounded like an entire army began banging on the door to the shop.

At this hour it probably wasn’t an irate shopper or townsfolk. This had to be an emergency. That in mind, you made your way over to the door and pressed your ear to it.

“Y/N? Open the door. It’s me, Billy.”

This was highly unusual, but it was Billy. You trusted him.

You undid the locks and lifted the wooden slat that barred the door. Then you quickly opened it. Billy rushed in with someone behind him, a shorter man with curly black hair. He gave a charming smile that seemed at odds with the look of concern on Billy’s face.

The two of them shut and locked the door and then went about herding you towards the back room. Billy then opened the hidden door that led to your rooms, earning an interesting look from the other man.

“Do I want to know what’s going on? Or who this is?”

The man turned to offer you his hand, that charming smile back on his lips.

“I’m John Silver, a newly acquired… cook on The Walrus.”

You looked between John Silver and Billy who kept shooting glances at the door that led to the shop as if it was going to blow open at any second.

“I don’t have any cookbooks on hand if that’s your reason for coming by after I’ve already closed up shop, but I can find some. Other than that, I think I better demand an explanation.”

Billy came forward, his hands raised as if he was trying to calm down an enraged wild animal.

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” he began, flinching when you crossed your arms over your chest. “The Ranger crew was getting ready to set sail and uh, it seems they aren’t able to at the moment. Things got a little heated on the beach and we thought it’d be a good idea to find somewhere to lie low until the heat died down.”

You let that sit for a moment as you looked between the two of them. Besides the fact that John Silver didn’t look like he’d spent a second cooking in his life, Billy looked much like he had the first time you’d caught him with one of the whores in the brothel.

You explained that you didn’t mind, preferred it really. While you cared for Billy, you knew that you’d never fall in love with him. You didn’t particularly want to fall in love with a pirate. Since then both of you were comfortable enough to find companionship where it came without guilt.

It worked for the two of you. But that first time he’d looked so guilty.

Just as he did now.

“Bullshit. Now I’ll say this again just in case you didn’t hear me the first time. I demand a fucking explanation.”

Billy winced again.

“Y/N–” but you didn’t let him get out whatever pitiful excuse he had prepared.

“You’re a pirate, Billy Bones, and I’ve never known you to run from a fight. If things were heated on the beach, you wouldn’t be up here hiding. You’d be down there with a sword in hand and your brothers at your back. So whatever is going on, I want to know right now, or you and your cook can go fuck yourselves and leave.”

You watched as Silver opened his mouth, obviously about to tell Billy that they should leave, but you knew that that wouldn’t be happening. Billy had brought the two of them to you for a reason. He might be stubborn—he was a pirate after all—but he was far from stupid.

And he knew that you were right.

“It’s a map,” he said over Silver’s objections, “a map that they had that leads to some potentially big prizes. Silver stole it.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose before you looked at the other man.

“You stole… a treasure map… from a pirate? Not just any pirate, but Captain Vane?” You let out a little laugh and then looked over at Billy. “Where did you find this one? The bottom of the ocean?”

“I think you’re missing the point,” Silver tried to explain as a way to divert attention from his folly. “I am currently in possession of something that The Ranger crew desperately want to get back. My plan is to… give it to Captain Flint but he’s not here. Therefore we’re not as protected as I originally thought we’d be.”

The way he said that he was going to give the map to Flint made you think that had originally not been his plan. If the map was for some large prizes, it was likely he had originally meant to sell it to the highest bidder. 

Maybe he was a pirate after all.

“And so you thought to bring him to me. Did you think I could hide him under the pit where I make the candles?” 

“We just need to keep our heads down until Flint is back from the interior. It should be tomorrow sometime.”

As you started to say that they could stay there, you remembered something from earlier that morning. At the time Jack Rackham’s questions had seemed harmless if a little strange. Now you had to wonder if there had been a reason to them after all.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. This morning I had some of The Ranger crew in here for an order. An order that came with the extra benefit of questions regarding my relationship with the boatswain of The Walrus.”

While Billy usually tried to be civil and polite around you, he didn’t seem to have that issue just then. 

“Fuck. Fucking… fuck.”

“Eloquent,” Silver remarked and then nodded when Billy gave him a glare. “I know that this is my fault, but I think you’re forgetting how important this map could be. And that Captain Vane and the rest of The Ranger crew would gladly cut off our heads to get it back.”

You rubbed your temples, urging back the headache that started to grow there. The day had started with such promise and had only gone downhill. 

“There’s a door in the back that leads to the woods. If you walk about ten minutes you’ll come to a split where you can either go back to town or to the interior. You’ll need to find a different place to hide.”

Silver shook his head.

“The door to this part of the building was hidden. We could stay here.”

You fixed Silver with a glare that made him step back.

“This store is my livelihood. If the pirates even suspect that you might be here, they’ll tear this building down to the very last nail. I won’t have that happen over your stupid decision, do you understand me? If you are in this building when The Ranger crew gets here, I’ll happily direct them to the very crevice you’ve hidden yourself in.”

You turned to Billy, still fuming over the turn of events.

“I’m sorry Billy. You know in other circumstances I’d do anything to help you, but this isn’t something I’m willing to risk. Not for you, not for some man I’ve never met. I can’t be part of that.”

Billy nodded that he understood. He stepped forward and placed a hand on your shoulder to calm you down. 

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that. We’ll take the passage out and head back to the beach. If the crew comes, just tell them we were headed to the interior to look for a Mr. Blackwell. That’ll get them off your case.”

You peered up at him cautiously.

“Is there a Mr. Blackwell in the interior?” You didn’t want to send a bunch of angry pirates after an innocent man.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he admitted with a grin. 

He leaned in to kiss your forehead. When he pulled back, he grabbed Silver’s shoulder and yanked him in the direction of the back door you had told him about.

Once the door was shut and you were left alone once more, you took a deep breath. If the questioning was due to the map, you wanted to be prepared. If Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny came back to your store, you were going to be prepared for them.

After this, Billy would have a lot to make up for.

------

The sun had barely started to rise in the sky when the pounding began. You looked up from where you had been preparing tea. It sounded like the door of the shop was going to cave in any moment and you wouldn’t stand for that. You slipped into the shop and shut the hidden door quietly. You made sure everything was in position before you went to the door to let in whoever was out there.

It turned out to be Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny, as you had assumed, but they weren’t alone. In front of them was a man you’d never formally been introduced to, but everyone in Nassau knew who Captain Charles Vane was.

And as he stormed past you and into the shop, you were impressed that for once the stories seemed to be true. He was silent as he directed the other two to start to search your shop, a passiveness on his face that you were sure was faked.

As the other two pirates made their way around the shop, you simply folded your arms over your chest.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about or am I to guess?”

The captain didn’t even glance in your direction but Rackham did.

“Surely you don’t think playing dumb will help you. You admitted to me that you were close to Billy Bones, he stole something from our crew, ergo…” With that he ducked into the backroom to search for Billy, a sword drawn.

“Billy Bones is twelve feet tall, where do you think I’ve hidden him? He wouldn’t exactly fit in the cabinet.”

This time it was Bonny that spoke. 

“You live here, don’t ya? Maybe you have him stashed in your bed.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I won’t qualify that with a response.” You looked past the redhead and over at the captain who was still ignoring your presence. Or pretending to at least. “If Billy had come by here, what makes you think I would’ve let him stay?”

“You’d turn away someone you’re bedding in their time of need?” That was called to you from your own backroom. Jack’s voice was muffled, but still clear enough to be heard.

“If I sheltered every man that I’ve fucked when he’s pissed off some pirate crew or other, I’d be running a halfway house. This is my place of business and as I am supposed to be a neutral entity, yes, I would’ve turned him away.”

That drew the captain’s attention. He stared at you for a long moment before he spoke.

“Jack.” It was just one word but the tone made you stand up a little straighter. 

That wasn’t him calling Jack back into the room. That was him letting Jack off the leash.

Suddenly a loud crash came from the backroom. It was followed by more. It took only seconds to realize what was happening. 

He was destroying your merchandise.

“You fucking bastard,” you yelled as you tried to launch yourself in that direction but an arm around your middle stilled you. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see the brown hair that hung nearby telling you that the culprit was the captain rather than Bonny. You had half a mind to try to land a fist in his face but you figured they wouldn’t be inclined to let you go if you did that.

“Billy, the cook, and my map. Tell us where they are and this stops.”

Now it was Bonny’s turn to start wrecking your shop. While Rackham wreaked havoc on your backroom, Bonny tore reams of paper and broke quills.

“Make them stop and I’ll tell you, but damaging my store won’t exactly make me inclined to tell you the truth otherwise.”

The arm around your middle squeezed as if in warning before he barked out an order for the two of them to stop. You waited for Rackham to join the rest of you before you tried to pull away from the captain. He didn’t seem inclined to let you go just yet so you stopped fighting it and just slumped a bit.

“There’s a path around the back of the shop. Ten minute walk and you’ll see a sign that points towards the interior. They said they were going to a Mr. Blackwell for help.” You said the name as if you were remembering it rather than just relaying it in hopes that it would help your act. “They left just after dark last night so you might want to hurry.”

A knife was swung out and pointed at your throat, courtesy of Anne Bonny. She pressed it tight enough that it probably drew blood.

“Why should we trust you? You could be lying to us.”

Of course you were but you weren’t about to tell her that.

“What part of neutral entity do you not understand? I sell to everyone on this island so having favorites wouldn’t get me anywhere, would it?”

You finally were able to pull out of the captain’s grasp. You marched towards the backroom and scowled at the mess. Then you went around to your counter where you pretended to look over the damage that Bonny had caused.

“If you are lying to us, we’ll be back,” the captain promised in a deep voice that told you this would just be the beginning.

You shrugged a shoulder as you grabbed the pistol you’d left under the counter. You raised it level at the three of them. You might only have one shot, but you’d make it count. Rackham reached for his sword but Vane shook his head and stopped him.

“I’ve given you the information you need, now get the fuck out of my shop so that I can try to repair the damage that’s been done.”

Vane jerked his head towards the front door that they had stormed through. As the three of them slipped out into the morning air, aimed for the back of the store so that they could try to hunt down Billy and Silver, you watched as Vane looked over his shoulder at you for a long moment before he shut the door behind him.

Once you were sure that the three of them had gone, you slumped against the wall and put the pistol on a shelf. 

“Really hope that map is worth it Billy,” you mumbled to yourself.

Then you went about fixing your shop.

X

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[kythed]

when we were young

oikawa tooru x reader

author’s note: this is pretty angsty! Read at your own risk :’)

--

You looked just as he remembered you, but more… vivid, if that made any sense. Your hair was more lustrous, your eyes glimmered brightly under the ballroom lights. Had your lips always been so soft and pink? Had you always looked so good in white? Had you always been this beautiful?

As he stared at you from across the floor, loosely cradling a stemmed glass of prosecco in one hand and wiping the sweat on the palm of the other, you laughed. He couldn’t hear you over the chatter of the crowd, but nonetheless your giggle resounded in his mind as if it were being projected by a sound system. You used to laugh at his jokes that way. You used to smile at him the way you smiled at someone else now. He had an old picture of you grinning like that back in his apartment in Argentina, tucked in between the books on his shelf-- he couldn’t bear to have it out in the open, reminding him of what he let go, but he also couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.

God, he wished he could take a picture of you now. He hadn’t seen you that happy in ages. You were still laughing, playfully gripping someone’s arm and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. In the last days of his relationship with you, you had been so… gray. So lifeless. So different from the girl he’d fallen in love with as a second year high school student.

He’d come to realize it was his fault, of course. He hadn’t been treating you like you deserved. If he could turn back time, though… he would never have let you leave his side. He would never have let any of your tears go unwiped, never let you struggle on your own while he wrapped himself in his own problems and refused to face the reality of your unhappiness. He would have treasured you.

He recalled one evening back in high school. The two of you were deeply in love, as in love as one can be at eighteen years old. The night air was cold and biting, but seeing you wrapped up in his coat made him feel so warm inside. April in Miyagi was always lovely, but he thought it had never been as lovely as it had been that night, with you dancing in between the streetlamps and tugging on his sleeve to dance with you. There was no music but your laughter and no dance floor but the gravel road. You danced until you were breathless, and he smiled softly at your flushed cheeks and mussed hair and kissed you under a flurry of sakura petals. It was as close to movie magic as he could have ever possibly imagined. You were better than perfect, sweeter than fiction. So why, why had he let you go?

He had been so selfish. You had invested so constantly into him, supported him unconditionally, accepted his shortcomings and failures, and in return, he had gotten bored. At least, that’s what he had told you. He cringed as he remembered that last day. You’d looked up into his face, unshed tears glimmering on your lower lash line, nervously chewing on your inner cheek.

“Tooru,” you whispered. “You’ve been so distant. I… am I doing something wrong?”

He’d looked down at you coldly, and it felt like a shard of metal lodged itself in his chest but he let the words fall from his lips anyways: “I’m just bored of you.”

You flinched as if you’d been slapped, and the last thing he’d heard from you was “Goodbye, Oikawa” as you grabbed your book bag and left.

He hadn’t really been bored of you. You’d remained as spontaneous as the day he first met you, fresh as a daisy and enthusiastic as a puppy the entire year and a half he dated you. But you were always so honest, always so straightforward… it forced him to confront himself, to own up to his actions, and that’s what he began to hate. He began to hate himself. He couldn’t stand you continuing to look up to him when he couldn’t see himself as anything but a failure. You would never let him wallow in his self pity and spoil him like all the other girls did. You would try to pick him up, clean his face and help him improve. And he knew that’s what he really needed. He knew he didn’t need someone to stroke his ego and carry him when he was weak, he needed someone to teach him to save himself.

Seeing his weaknesses so plainly bothered him. So he pushed you away… he just never imagined you would stay away. Half of him was still waiting for you to come back, to knock on his door and shove a new book you thought he would enjoy into his hand, or to go rifle through his fridge for a snack. And even now, five years after graduation, after he joined Club Atletico San Juan and moved across the globe, a tiny part of his heart still belonged to you.

He had been surprised, to say the least, when he found the invitation in his mail. To Oikawa Tooru. You have been invited to celebrate the union of (L/N) (F/N) and Iwaizumi Hajime. Please RSVP to secure a seat. At the bottom of the invitation, you’d drawn a little smiley face. He could tell it was you who had drawn it because you’d doodled the same one in the margins of his homework countless times before during study dates. That little face taunted him, laughed at his regret. He deserved it.

Now, he watched you slow dance with his best friend in the middle of the floor, staring lovingly into your new husband’s eyes while he murmured into your ear. Had you ever looked at Oikawa that tenderly? Had you ever cupped the back of his neck so gently? He wasn’t sure. Probably not. It had been Iwaizumi who comforted you after Oikawa had cast you aside so cruelly, and it had been Iwaizumi you’d sworn loyalty to thenceforth. Oikawa had known you and Iwaizumi were together, but he hadn’t known it was so serious. Briefly, he imagined what it would be like to be in Iwa’s place right now, holding your body flush against his, inhaling the scent of your hair.

God, he needed to dance with you. Just once more, he needed to dance with you like he did that night under the sakura tree.

The song segued into another, and you and Iwaizumi stepped off the dance floor as another couple took your place. Oikawa placed his glass on the table, stood up, and moved across the room swiftly until he stood just feet behind you and Iwaizumi.

He cleared his throat. “Congratulations to the happy couple.”

You turned and Oikawa swore he saw a breath catch in your throat as you gazed at him unblinkingly, lips slightly parted. Suddenly, your face broke into a broad smile.

“Tooru!” You leaned forward and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Oikawa froze briefly before wrapping his arms around you lightly-- you hadn’t called him by his first name in ages and you hadn’t hugged him for even longer. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Glad I could come,” he said with a terse smile. He turned to Iwaizumi and clapped him on the back goodnaturedly. “Iwa-chan! Look at you! A married man, finally. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Iwaizumi gave a rare smile. “Nice to see you too, Shittykawa.”

“Still gotta bully me after all these years, huh?” joked Oikawa, even though he felt his heart breaking to pieces. He turned back to you, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Hey, listen, I know it’s your wedding and all, but I was wondering… could I have this dance?”

Your eyes widened just barely and you turned to Iwaizumi, who nodded.

“Go ahead, darling,” he said. “I have to go greet some of my relatives anyways. Just find me when you’re done.”

He gave Oikawa one last pat on the back before slipping into the crowd.

Gently, Oikawa took your hand and led you onto the floor, resting his hands on your waist. You rested yours on his shoulders, and he felt his muscles relax at your touch. The two of you swayed slowly to the music, a song he didn’t know.

Everybody loves the things you do

From the way you talk, to the way you move

“You look lovely, (L/N),” he said quietly. “Or should I say Iwaizumi-san?”

“Oh, call me (F/N),” you said, smiling. “I think we owe each other at least that.”

Oikawa smiled back sadly. He spun you around and caught you in his arms. “Yeah, at least.”

Everybody here is watching you

‘Cause you feel like home, you’re like a dream come true

You laughed that beautiful, beautiful laugh of yours. To him, it sounded like all his favorite songs wrapped up in one. God, he’d missed you.

But if by chance you’re here alone

Can I have a moment before I go

“This reminds me of when we were young,” you said softly, as you returned to swaying to the beat. “That night--”

“Under the sakura tree,” Oikawa finished. “Yeah, I remember.” I dream about it every other night.

“Yeah, that night,” you said, smiling fondly at the memory. “I had a lot of fun. I think we had just gotten out of a late night viewing of some silly romantic movie. You said you hated it, but I noticed you wiping tears away during that one kiss scene.”

Cause I’ve been by myself all night long

Hoping you’re someone I used to know

“Ah, I’d forgotten we’d even watched a movie that night.” Oikawa pulled you a little closer. “I only remember how cute you looked in my jacket.”

“It was two sizes too large,” you said, leaning into him. “But it was certainly warm.”

Let me photograph you in this light

In case this is the last time that we might

Be exactly like we were before we realized

“You’ve changed your perfume,” he said, suddenly. “I like this one better.”

“You still remember the perfume I used to wear?” You raised an eyebrow. “You creep.”

We were sad of getting old, it made us restless

Oikawa laughed-- a real laugh, not a fake one. “How could I not? You sprayed it on all the sweatshirts you borrowed.”

“I needed to give you something to remember me by,” you teased. Oikawa mumbled something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“I said,” Oikawa breathed. “I could never forget you, (F/N).”

You still look like a movie

You still sound like a song

You swallowed thickly, heat crawling up your cheeks and old wounds throbbing. “Tooru…”

“I know, I know,” he said with a small smile. “It’s your wedding. I’m not here to win you back, and I’m glad you’re happy with Iwa-chan. Just… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

My God, this reminds me

“I forgive you, Tooru,” you said, burying your face in his chest before the tears spilled over. “I forgive you.”

Of when we were young

The song ended, fading into some generic jazzy tune. You and Oikawa stopped dancing, but you still stood there in the middle of the floor, staring at one another.

“You should tend to the rest of your guests,” Oikawa said finally, and you nodded. “Thanks for the dance.”

You squeezed his hand one last time, and turned to leave, but he didn’t let go. You looked back over your shoulder. “Tooru?”

“(F/N)...” Oikawa took out his phone. “Can we take a picture?”

You laughed. “Always so sentimental. Of course we can.”

The two of you posed for the selfie, and for once, Oikawa didn’t make some stupid face or stick out his tongue. He smiled and snapped the picture before tucking his phone away again. “Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Tooru,” you said. It was the same thing you said all those years ago, but this time it was warmer, kinder.

“Goodbye, (F/N).”

---

When he got back to Argentina, Oikawa took out the picture of you he had stowed in his bookshelf. He looked at it one last time, drinking in your youthful beauty. Then he threw it away. He didn’t need that one anymore.

[awakened-harmony]

Realized i should probably make a other Universes chart for how vita is in the off chance people are interested in her non-main UT verse (Underfell) so i’m not just scrambling! SO here is the other variations of vita.

Undertale tag: In the world below (Undertale verse ~ Vita) - Used to be her UF tag but i changed it

I don’t actually have much to add about Undertale since all her elements remain about the same, Perhaps the only true difference is that she’s while still disliking of living underground, She’s content with how asgore has done to keep monsterkind happy despite their circumstances and happily. Openly shows affection to anyone who requests. it

Under the read more is Horrortale and Underswap because they BOTH got longer then i intended them to. I may explore other AU’s if asked but these three will be the main ones :D

----

Horrortale tag: Pray for your time and i’ll bring it so (Horrortale verse ~ Vita)

She like most of the monsters had grieved for the death of the king at the hands of a human who despite her own fear at the death of their ruler knew had only been scared, She like most of the monsters had Panicked when the news of the core’s failure came to light, But she had hoped that they’d get it fixed. That even as the food became scarcer, The air in the dark caverns grew musty and the lights soon turned off completely. She could only hope that it would be fixed, It was only when the first monsters started to die that her hope begun to crumble, Slowly and carefully being chipped away, It was a sensation that helped her ignore the rumble of pain in her belly because all of her rations went to her son. She had to keep him safe, Fed as best she could, She had to be there for him. Help him even if she could help no other soul then her child, He. Her last true piece of her mate, A symbol of their love.

....She failed.

In the end, Maybe it was because of how young he was still, Maybe something in the air had become poisonous that he couldn’t withstand while she could due to her age. To this day, What ifs and maybe’s run through her head about what she could have done differently, like a mantra of pain and grieve. The only thing clear in her head was the resolution in her soul as she put her son out of his misery, The looping memory as she took the light of her life, The joy of her world’s soul out of his chest and could only whisper a prayer of safe travels and a ‘i love you’ before she crushed that beautiful soul in her hands. Forcing it to shatter into hundreds of little pieces as his body turned to dust, She knows she had to do it, but she still can’t forgive herself for it and she’s certain hell awaits her when she dies. If she dies.

Because even as her son had faded, Vita maybe not have thrived, But she survived. Even as she starved and once strong limbs atrophied, She still took it upon herself each day to stand, To get up, To find food if she could...and give it to others. She’s not sure why she doesn’t die, But her best running theory is that her healing magic has turned inward on itself and heals her soul even as her body withers around it. It heals and heals and heals, She is sure that if not for her starved body, She would have been dead of a hundred different cancers by now.

Instead her house, What was her house has essentially become a church. Waterfall had always been the last monsters they thought about because what did they have to offer to the rest of the underground? Snowdin held the way all humans entered the underground, Hotland held the core, The capital held the largest of the undergrounds population and it held the queen. But waterfall? They’d been seen as obsolete and though not sealed off from the rest of the population, They weren’t welcome anymore. So just as snowdin eventually got sans, As corrupt as he was as a protector, Waterfall got Vita. Her continued survival despite starving, Her hope that things will improve one day, Her gracious giving of all but the clothes off her back. She protects the monsters of waterfall and many of the remaining population, the weak, the sick, even the dying come to her. Some if only to spend their last moments to feel as if someone still cared about them, To have their final fate given to them in kindness and not suffering, She who would deliver their souls to Asgore.

Things to take note of in her Horrortale verse: - Vita’s son is dead and she killed him, Killed him to end his suffering as he’d started to decline like some of the other monsters.

- She’s rail thin and looks as though even the lightest wind could blow her over and while she can no longer defend herself, Her followers who praise and follow her lead will kill for her lest they lose their chosen spot of hope in the hell that had become of their home. So while waterfall IS a safe passage, it’s only if you respect she who guards it.

- Vita has leaned heavily into her old beliefs, She’s become incredibly soft spoken and seems to murmur her prayers in a haunting whisper alongside her followers, Asking for help, For hope, For forgiveness for the sins she has committed, To allow her to bear the sins of her followers because they only do as she asks and while she does talk to monsters sometimes without this inflection, It is rare and often only resurfaces with monsters she knew personally whether it be before or after the war.

- Her LV is higher because she mercy kills monsters who are dying of starvation, Of lack of magic, In the words of her followers. She’s sending them to asgore. She brings them comfort in a painless death, She is viewed as a Messiah and in some messed up way, She has more family then she’s ever known in this verse.

----

Underswap tag: Oh maiden with your soul of stone (Underswap verse ~ Vita)

In underswap, Vita despite her soul of Pacifism and her once gentle demeanor turns a full 180 upon the learned death of her mate drusil while protecting the queen in an assasination attempt in the exploits of the war decides to take up the mantle that her mate had left vacant, Abandoning her duties as a healer, Her soul corrupts and becomes one of a Warmonger. She once known for her overwhelming amount of kindness becomes a symbol to fear, Nicknamed by the humans as ‘the siren’ and takes the place of her previous mate by the queen’s side as one of her guards, She personally ensures that the humans lost some ground in the war and for a time. Gave hope in her own way that monster kind would once more be able to thrive as they once did.

But even with her furiosity, That doesn’t happen, They still get sent underground. Not that it truly stops vita, Urging the queen that retreat isn’t an option, That while monsters might be trapped, There would one day be a time they return and they had to be ready. Despite that, the queen initially refuses and while vita still served as her guard, Anger does brew under the surface at her refusal. Another blow is struck when a human does fall underground and instead of rightfully being slaughtered. She and her Meek husband adopt the pitiful creature.

She’s not sure whether she felt vindicated or distraught when the news broke out that both the human AND the young prince were dead, That they’d tried to cross the barrier, that if only they’d come back with a few more souls. They’d have already been free, But instead the dust of both of them was scattered on a small plush toy of the prince’s. It was in this moment even as her coward of a husband flee’s with the humans true body, the queen finally saw the right path to take, At the cost of her entire family and she declared that any further humans to fall into the underground were to die, Harvested for their souls so she may become a goddess among monsters and break the barrier.

And she carries on this duty for her queen with what some see as a sense of pride, She is well known for collecting three of the human souls currently in the queen’s possession, She does eventually step down as the captain of the royal guard and allows Alphys to take the position. But she still co-leads and her advice is taken very seriously, She trains new recruits, following the old army ways of breaking their recruits, they either walk or become something worth her while.

Things to take note of in her Underswap verse: - She’s not downright cruel to monsters but compared to other monsters in US, She comes off as harsh and rough, hard to get close to though she has a fondness for monster children, Recruits she see’s potential in and her fellow comrades whether they be retired from the guard or not because they served well.

- She doesn’t have a son, She was pregnant at one point after they were sealed in the underground but...she doesn’t talk about what happened and nobody has dared to ask.

- Her soul is corrupted and has been since her mate’s death, Maybe with the right people and enough work, it could be restored but there’s no saying she’d be the same after all she did under her corrupted soul’s influence.

- She still lives in waterfall but her house is smaller and only has the bare minimum on the inside, It doesn’t feel very homely so to speak.

- US vita is fucking buff as hell and could snap your spine like a kit kat bar

[whitewitchdani]

Laters, Baby: Chapter 9

Read Chapter 8 Here

Word Count: 2222

Pairing: Winchester!Sister x Lucifer

Warnings: language, angst

A/N: Chapter 9! Enjoy :) let me know what you think and if you’d like to be tagged!

Laters, Baby Masterlist

“Bobby’s gonna be pissed, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, when is he not pissed at most of the things we do? Once we explain everything he should be, less pissed.”

You had fallen asleep on the long ride to Sioux Falls, and the bumpy road into the scrapyard had woken you up. The small sense of calm you had from sleep was abruptly ripped away as you realized you were still handcuffed to the car.

“Dammit Dean let me go!”

Your older brother just sighed, “Will you stop yelling? I’m right here.”

As the Impala rolled to a stop, you watched as both of your brothers exited the car. You waited expectantly for Dean to come around and let you out. He did not.

“Dean what the hell?! Let me-”

Your protests were cut off as he slammed his door shut, marching his way up to the porch. Sam shot you a sympathetic look and followed.

Sam reached the door right as Bobby pulled it open. The old hunter looked at the two boys, “What’d you two idjit’s get into this time? And where’s your sister?”

Dean pushed past him into the house, “Funnily enough it wasn’t us this time. Little sister out there is in deep.” He made his way to the kitchen, pulling a beer from the fridge before plopping down at the table. 

“Dean,” Sam sighed at his brother as he moved past and stood near the entrance to the study. “Y/N didn’t do anything Bobby. You know how we thought she wasn’t involved in this apocalypse crap? Well, we were wrong.” 

“Balls.” Bobby moved and grabbed his own beer from the fridge, sitting across from Dean at the table, “What the hell is her role in this crap?”

“Oh, you know, bride of Frankenstein,” Dean said sarcastically as he took a long pull from his bottle.

Bobby gave him a funny look before turning to Sam, “What’s stuck in his shorts?” 

“Well, before that,” he said pointing to you outside, “Y/N and Dean were arguing over the fact that she’s… Lucifer’s soulmate.”

“SHE’S WHAT??” Bobby bellowed shooting up from his seat.

“Yeah, Cas confirmed it. They think that if she goes along with it, Lucifer may give up his apocalypse plans. If he learns to love Y/N, he can learn to love the rest of humanity as well. Dean doesn’t agree.”

Bobby turned to the window, “Why is she still in the car?”

Sam scoffed, “That would be Dean too. He was sick of arguing with her about it so he tossed her over his shoulder, threw her in the backseat, and then handcuffed her to the car.”

“Oh don’t act like I’m some kind of villain Sam. Y/N spent time with Lucifer and started the connection, which means she doesn’t think straight when it comes to him. She wasn’t going to come here and to the panic room willingly so I made transportation a little easier.”

Bobby glared at the eldest Winchester, “Just because you’re sick’a arguin’ with your sister, doesn’t give you the right to handcuff her to the car. I’m not gonna let you force her into the panic room neither. Now I’m gonna talk to her about this cup o’crazy, and then we can decide what to do next.” He turned to Sam, “Go get your sister.”

Sam walked over to his brother, hand held out expectantly. Dean rolled his eyes but stood, digging in his pocket before dropping the handcuff key into Sam’s waiting hand.

Dean turned back to Bobby to argue but was cut off, “She’s gonna kill you when she gets in here boy, and I might just let her. What the hell were you thinking?”

“All I was doing was protecting my family. There’s no way Lucifer is just going to stop looking for her. The best way to keep her safe was to bring her here to the panic room.”

“You had no right to handcuff her to the car, Dean.”

Dean went to argue but was interrupted as the front door flew open, an irate Y/N plowing through with Sam scrambling on her heels.

“YOU BASTARD!”

“Y/N I-”

“Shut up! I don’t even want to hear you speak right now. I’m so pissed I can’t even see straight. What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I was just trying to keep you safe, Y/N. You’re my little sister, it’s my job.”

Bobby sauntered over to where Sam was standing by the fridge, “Please tell me you took all her weapons?”

“Are you kidding? I did that before I even uncuffed her from the car,” Sam whispered back.

He apparently wasn’t quiet enough, “You better be happy he did Dean Winchester because I’ve spent hours HANDCUFFED TO THE FUCKING CAR thinking of all the ways I could kill you. What the hell gave you that right to do that?”

“The panic room is the safest place for you right now. Along with the scribbles on your ribs, you wouldn’t be able to be found by anything or anyone. I just want you safe Y/N/N.”

“And you thought that was the way to go about it? If you just would’ve suggested we go to Bobby’s and weren’t hellbent on locking me in the panic room, I would’ve just gone! No argument! But no, Dean’s way is the only way and you essentially kidnapped me instead.”

“I’m sorry, okay? It was the best idea I had at the time.”

You scoffed, “Oh like you thought not telling me about Dad for over 25 years was a good idea?”

The color drained from Dean’s face, “That’s not fair.”

“Yeah, well, none of this is fair to me.”

Bobby made his way between you and your older brother, “Alright, ya idjits, back to your corners. We have enough to deal with without you two killin’ each other.” He turned to you, “What were you talkin’ about? What about John?”

You scoffed and stomped into the study, “Oh come on Bobby, like you didn’t know. You were Dad’s best friend for a while, there’s no way he didn’t tell you!”

Bobby followed you looking completely confused, “Y/N/N, I got no idea what you’re talking about. But I’d be appreciative if you filled me in.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek and you sighed, not wanting to relive the worst moment of your life. But Bobby deserved to know. “I’m not a Winchester. I’m not John’s daughter or Sam and Dean’s sister. I’m just a kid who was ditched on a motel doorstep.”

Bobby plopped down in his desk chair in stunned silence, “That’s… that’s not possible. Look at you two, you’re twins! Anyone can see that!”

“She’s telling the truth Bobby. Don’t feel too bad though, we didn’t know til a couple days ago. Dad and Dean decided that was a fact Y/N and I didn’t need to know. Dad saved Y/N’s biological mom on a hunt where her husband was killed. She didn’t want to raise a baby alone so she left her on Dad’s doorstep. He decided to keep her and, since her birthday was only a few days off, went with the story of us being twins,” Sam said sadly as he sat on the couch in the study.

“I’d say it’s impossible but, nothing is impossible when it comes to Winchesters.” 

“Tell me about it,” you huffed.

“I ain’t tryin’ to rain on your pity parade Y/N, but we need to talk about what the hell is going on.”

You sighed and sat next to Sam, “I really don’t even know where to start anymore Bobby. So much has happened in the past few days.”

“Well kid, just start at the beginning.”

So you did, you told him about your first run in with Lucifer, Cas confirming he was your soulmate, but when you got to the part about your time in Hell Bobby stopped you. “Were none of you idjits gonna call me and tell me that she had been kidnapped and taken to Hell?”

“We had it taken care of Bobby, we got her out.” Dean answered.

“How exactly did you manage that?”

Dean was quiet and Sam looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. Obviously, they were reluctant to tell Bobby how they had rescued you from Hell. 

“They sent Crowley for me. He was the only one who could get in and out without too much fanfare.”

Bobby rolled his eyes, “You know, I’m a little offended a crossroads demon knew Lucifer was your soulmate before I did. All Sam said when he called was to get everything I could on soulmates. What I got was that the connection was extremely rare, nothing talked about the fact that angels could have one.”

“That’s because Y/N is the first. According to Cas they don’t, but God must think she can give Lucifer a new view on humanity and prevent the apocalypse,” Sam explained.

Bobby gave you a thoughtful look, “Boys will you run upstairs and get one of the rooms ready for her? I know they’re gonna need new sheets and after everything she’s gonna sleep like the dead.” Your brothers gave Bobby a strange look but nodded and left the room. 

You gave him a similarly strange look, “Alright ya old coot, why’d you send them away?”

He sighed, “What happened in Hell? What is your relationship with Lucifer like now? Because I know something about you is different.”

You dropped your head into your hands and rubbed over your eyes as you dragged them down and sighed, “I don’t know Bobby, nothing really significant if you think about it. I mean we talked a little, and then he left. But after he saved me, something changed. He helped me to the bed and I asked him to tell me everything. He just laughed and said in due time. And then he pushed a piece of hair behind my ear, kissed my forehead and left. When he left the room is when I realized something had changed because, I didn’t want him to go. And to be completely honest? I miss him. I miss being in Hell with him. It feels like a piece of me is missing, like something isn’t quite right ya know? God what’s happening to me, Bobby?” You pressed the heels of your hands to your temples; unsuccessfully hiding the tears that had begun to stream down your face.

Bobby moved to sit next to you on the couch and pulled you into his arms, “It’s gonna be okay, kid. I know you’re scared and that your idjit brothers ain’t exactly been helpful. We’ll figure out what our best option is and go from there. Now why don’t ya go upstairs and get some rest. Even if you don’t sleep just try to relax, give an old man some peace of mind would ya?” 

You gave him a small smile and kissed him on the cheek, “Anything for you, Bobby. I’ll see you later.” You stood and headed up the stairs, passing Sam and Dean on their way back down. 

“And don’t you do no research neither!” Bobby hollered after you, returning to his chair behind the desk.

“Yeah, yeah!” You tossed over your shoulder as you disappeared upstairs.

The boys moved from the base of the stairs and returned to their respective spots in the study, “Well?” Sam asked.

“If your face is any indication Bobby things are not good.” Dean moved to sit next to his brother and waited for Bobby to answer him.

“Well, they aren’t exactly bad neither.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“Well, Dean, what do you want? Your sister finally talked to me and, while I’m not exactly happy with this situation, it sure could be a hell of a lot worse.”

“How?! How exactly could this be worse?”

“Well if you’d shut your trap for two seconds, I’d tell ya.” Dean huffed but crossed his arms and stayed quiet. “Now nothing happened while she was in Hell, Lucifer didn’t do anything to her. But that connection you were telling me about? It’s definitely started.”

Sam sat forward, “How can you tell?”

“Uh, cuz she told me? She felt a shift in his behavior and her feelings toward him, less Satan and more archangel Lucifer. He kissed her forehead when she was in Hell; I think that physical contact is what caused it to start. But them being apart is definitely a tangible feeling for her, she said like a part of her is missing or that something just isn’t quite right. And well, she straight up misses him. Close your mouth Dean, I ain’t finished. Before you freak out, she ain’t a flight risk. She understands that something is happening to her and is keepin’ a level head about this. You boys need to be supportive and help her stay that way. The last thing she needs is more stress.”

Both brothers sighed and it was quiet for a few moments. Sam was the first to break the silence, “You’re right, but what are we going to do? If this is how Y/N is feeling, Lucifer can’t be feeling great. He’s going to come after her.” 

Dean stood, “We’re gonna do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Lucifer is not going to get to her again.”

Read Chapter 10 Here

Tag List:

@lovesamwinchester​ @tomhiddleston-is-mischief​ @loco-latte​ @stuckinsaudi1​ @sugar-nico​ @potato-extra-pot​ @humbledarkness​

[vminity21]

Reparation | kth [Sneak Peek]

Pairing: PoliceOfficer!Taehyung x PrivateConsultant!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k (currently)

Genre: suspense/thriller/angst/smut/fluff

Inspired by: the book The Twin by Natasha Preston, basically a fanfiction of a fiction except with different scenarios

Warning(s): language use, mention of crime/death, mention of mental institution, angst, smut, mention of infidelity, stalking

Summary: As a Private Investigator with the rarity of consulting with the police force, you strive to sleuth any possible situation you can in order to find healing for your clients; and, with the help of your best friend, Kim Taehyung, the pair of you are a force to be reckoned with. When Jaehyun, the son of the chief of police, calls in desperation to save his girlfriend he claims has been wrongfully accused of strange incidents, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right. Little do you know, you are about to uncover the scariest crime you have ever encountered in your entire career, .... well, if the one truly guilty will let you get away with it first.

The slap of a manila folder hits the black table that sits daintily outside of a coffee shop before the sound of a skidding chair accepts the brisk flop of you taking a seat. The immediate arrival of the folder created a tiny gust of wind causing the nervous woman before you to jump slightly before her shoulders relax at the realization that it is you.

“Couldn’t be a bit more inconspicuous? God, you scared me,”

“I apologize, Mrs. Gwan,” Lifting your sunglasses to rest upon the top of your head, the wind picks up enough to cause the slight curls of your hair to tickle your cheeks. Mrs. Gwan waves a hand to dismiss your apology,

“Did you confirm my suspicions or not?” She hardly is wanting to make eye contact, but you know she is itching enough to know what information you have uncovered, even though the news, unfortunately, isn’t good. Swiping your tongue over your lips, you inhale quickly,

“I have. Now Mrs. Gwan I must warn you-”

“I don’t care. I’m ready to see that filthy bastard.”

Reluctantly, with pressed lips, you spin the folder closer to Mrs. Gwan, opening the first page to reveal the first out of many pictures you were able to snag of her unfaithful husband with his arm curled around the waist of a young brunette wearing a tight red dress heading into the building of a well-known bar centered in the city of Daegu. Her fingertips spread over the photo, mouth ajar as she stares at it, flipping through each one, anger welling in her focused gaze.

“Mrs.-” Her hand stops you- shaking her head as if to rid of any words she is wanting to say, but refrains, rather, she turns to dig into her purse for the check she now gestures in your direction, “Here’s the money I owe you,” hesitant, though pity resonates from your umber irises, you take it,

“Mrs. Gwan, I am so sorry,”

“You’re not the one who needs to be sorry.” Her sad eyes watch you for a minute as she tries to collect her words, but nothing forms. Holding up an index finger, you swiftly pull a card from your clutch, sliding it face up to her as her eyebrows scrunch.

“Monnie Min is the finest divorce lawyer I know,” you confidently pin the card with your finger until Mrs. Gwan flickers her gape between the card and your gentle grin in mere surprise. “And, you bet she’s going to make sure your husband is buried alive for his infidelity,”

One thing that you will say about being a private investigator is sometimes seeing that glimmer of hope in your client’s eyes despite having to be the bearer of bad news is the reason you know this was your calling from the beginning. “Thank you,” she murmurs, gripping the card in determination before giving a quick bow in goodbye. You watch until her frame blurs into the distance before compiling the contents back into the folder; you sigh in relief, squeezing your eyes shut before sliding your sunglasses back over your vision. “Another day, another success,” you proudly state, turning on a heel to trek to your car.

The next destination set in your path involves a place where your face is highly familiar amongst the officers of the law, but most definitely not in a negative way. Igniting the engine of your vehicle, you carefully back out of the parking spot and turn in the direction of the police station. Though some find it strange, you always keep it silent within your car due to the swarm of thoughts you have muddled across your brain which is what your best friends like to tease you about regarding your musical boundaries. Apparently, you have to ‘quiet’ the music in order to see while driving, though you swear up and down that you enjoy music in your downtime. Other cases are still in the process of being solved, though the main conflict you deal with are affairs, hence why your best friend Monnie comes into view because she handles the end of it all with fighting for the person who has been wronged in their marriage. The pair of you make the perfect team, and if clients aren’t completely healed from their situation, that’s when you and Monnie recommend your other mutual friend, LenLen Lee, who is a psychologist that works at a local high school but also takes sessions on weekends to work with other patients not related to the younger generation. As complex as each of your job fields can be, it is always nice to try different things to keep the routine from being completely the same.

Another reason why the police force is a huge fan of yours, or at least, your long-time friend, Kim Taehyung though you will never admit it or draw attention, but as many times as your friends have said it, you are the number one recommended in your field, yet you try to keep your identity on the down-low for safety precautions. Assisting criminal investigations have been rare, but something you agree to help with when they are stuck finding evidence to deem a culprit guilty. Reading people is your specialty which ignites how you proceed with any investigation, but sometimes people in all different work environments make mistakes even if it is something they can’t afford.

“Ah, miss [Y/N], welcome back! Couldn’t get enough of us, huh,” Jung Hoseok, the officer behind the front desk muses while you flash him a silly grin once entering the building.

“If I heard correctly from the whispers on the street, you bafoons can’t seem to get enough of me. Is Taehyung in?”

Hoseok lazily points toward the sea of desks hiding up the same hallway you cross when you visit, “Where you always find him,”

“Don’t know what I’d do without you, Officer! Thanks!” You turn enough to salute at Hoseok, him shaking his head at you playfully before you disappear to the immense number of testosterone either deeply concentrated on the screens of their electronics or throwing crumpled straw wrappers at each other when boredom strikes. And, what do you know, boredom strikes- Officer Park Jimin, hops to sit on a desk whilst attempting to throw what looks to be a wrapper to a mini chocolate bar at a fellow co-worker, grinning ear to ear before your gaze travels to the fluffy dark hair hunched in front of a computer screen. Files are sprawled with slews of colorful sticky notes to the point the top of his desk doesn’t look as if it exists leading you to raise an amused eyebrow.

Leaning against the doorway, you study the view before you, mumbled conversations are taking place, but attention is diverted enough to not notice your arrival. The faint smell of coffee wafts past your nostrils though your dear friend, who is dazed at whatever information he is scrolling through can only tolerate the liquid he deems as poison. The black uniform tugs nicely to his figure, the scuff of his shoe slides as he leans back in his seat, tapping his slim fingers in rhythm to a gallop on an extremely thick folder off to his right.

Clearing your throat, Taehyung jolts in his chair, whipping his head around with widened eyes that are partially shaded by the thick curls spread upon his forehead. “Scaring people must be my specialty today,” you ploy, hearing the gentle snickers of Officer Jimin who happened to witness the moment. Arms that were previously crossed, loosen to your sides while you walk closer to where Taehyung’s desk resides, your clutch still grasped in your hand.

“You have quite the tendency to sneak up on people, have you not heard the gossip?” Taehyung immediately stands to his feet to offer his swiveling chair that has comfortable cushioning compared to the wooden chairs set off to the side. Poking his ribcage, you collapse into the seat, eyes watching Taehyung as he slides his hands into his pockets, looking behind him briskly before leaning against his desk.

“No, I am not aware of how often I become a meddling kid, but if the town must talk, let them talk,”

“I’m pretty sure the talk of the town is for you to join our team,” voice belonging to Jimin, he rounds to stand beside Taehyung, popping a jolly rancher into his mouth while flattery blooms to your expression.

“By the talk of the town, you mean here where I am currently located,” you gesture around you, Jimin flashing you an incredulous look while the sound of the hard candy hits against his teeth.

“Do you not know how many stations want to take you on? Some of our best private detectives even want you to assist them. C’mon [Y/N], you know you’re meant for this,”

 “The honor is hard to reject, but I told you guys, it’s not a good idea,” your elbows dig into the armrests, posing your fingertips together before interlacing them.

“Do I need to remind you of the cases you’ve helped us break? Do you not recall the young girl whose uncle we were able to convict because you got him to confess?”

“Ah,” Taehyung nods once, “She was a missing persons- scene alluded that she may have known her kidnapper, being her car door was wide open, not to mention the items she left behind that were important to her,”

Moving your fingers to press to your lips, your eyes are zoned, “Or, the shoe,” you murmur, “her shoe she left behind indicated she lost it while running,” Or, from fighting the person she thought she could trust.

“It was only two years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday,” Jimin folds his arms across his chest, his lips dimming down at the memory.

“I just remember he said something that others would have brushed off, but for me, it just didn’t settle,” there was a Search team, you being one of the many volunteers, scoping the forest behind the parents’ country home, and when the uncle appeared to be nauseous on top of the statement he muttered, you paused in sheer horror at the realization of what you overwhelmingly pieced together.

“Settle is an understatement. You nearly punched the guy!” Jimin raises his eyebrows, rocking on his heels with how impressed he still is.

Shaking your head, a breathy laugh escapes your grin, “I would have done much worse if Taehyung hadn’t held me back,” you share a look with him as his petal lips grow into a smile, “All I know, is I am glad we brought her home to her parents. Alive,” LenLen was able to coach the girl through some rough times, recommending coping mechanisms to help her get past the traumatic experience she had as much as she could. Now, the girl and her mother are a part of a group who helps individuals who have gone through something similar- making a change in the world somehow, also talking about safety and that if anyone is hurting you in any way to reach out to someone who can help get you out of the situation.

“You mean you brought her home to her parents alive,” the gentle nature warmed in the eyes of both Jimin and Taehyung moves your heart, and you turn your head to avoid it. Deep down, solving crime and bringing down the bad guys is your passion, but a year ago something changed, and only Taehyung and your best friends outside of the police station know exactly what happened no matter how much you outwardly deny it.

“Well,” you slap the arms of the chair with your palms before grabbing your clutch from your lap to then hoisting yourself to your feet, shimmying the wrinkles from your pantsuit, “tracking down the disloyal is more of my cup of tea,” it’s a partial lie, but you wince when you can tell both men see right through you, yet you flash them a pointed look, “So, word of advice, don’t ever cheat on your significant other while I’m around because I will catch you in the act,” giving Jimin a quick boop to his nose, he scrunches his smiling face in reaction.

“Your confidence is astounding,”

“And may it always be,” you wink, effortlessly twirling on your boot heel to almost slam into a very broad chest. Eyes expanding mingled with the slight leap of your heartbeat, your gaze trails to the face of Kim Namjoon, Chief of Police, a face you always try to dodge when visiting your favorite male specimens. Panic courses through your veins in hopes that he didn’t hear the statement you just said, your eyes darting anywhere but Namjoon’s gaze as he awkwardly clears his throat. Yeah, he heard what you said.

“Hello, [Y/N]. Heard you were potentially considering taking the position we offered you here?” Namjoon’s demeanor as a leader is the utmost professional in ways you’ve never been able to equate. Especially when there was a time you knew him as the Namjoon who loved you at home, zipping from his leadership role and letting loose, finally letting the uptightness funnel down into peace. Sometimes, you miss Namjoon, but then you remind yourself-

“Potentially,” you say rather quickly, quite breathless which is not what you wanted to go for but here you are, and there he is, and there is Jimin and Taehyung, watching the uncomfortably tense scene without any popcorn to enjoy.

With a curt nod and a taut grin revealing his dimples, Namjoon places his hands behind his back and bows, “Well, we all really hope you have a decision soon. There are many opportunities awaiting.” His eyes shift from you to the men paused behind you, “Gentlemen.” And with that, Namjoon walks away, burying himself in the piles of papers he has pining for him in his office. Though your grin doesn’t reach your eyes, you look over your shoulder a fraction enough to see your friends who have yet to scatter, prompting you to throw a quick wave before scurrying out of the building.

Heels clicking onto the sidewalk, the bright sun gives your vision a moment to adjust, and you could kick yourself for leaving your sunglasses in your car. When a large hand lightly touches your back, you nearly squeal.

“Relax! Relax, it’s just me,” Taehyung holds his free hand out as if to steady you.

“Oh, I guess you’re out to take my specialty away from me, huh,” it’s the small, short laugh he does that makes you happy to hear especially when unwanted memories tend to overpower anything else you’d rather think about. “Chief is letting you escape?”

“It’s my lunchbreak,” Taehyung shrugs, “Figured that’s what you were doing as of right now,”

Eyeing him suspiciously with your mouth slightly ajar, you retort, “And what if I have more important matters to attend to?”

“Ouch,” he pats his large hand roughly to his chest, “Honestly, not sure what or who could be more important than me, but I guess,” he looks at his watch, “I can make my time more efficient without being your designated chauffer.”

“Wah!” You scoff, smacking his arm lightly, only to snatch the eyes of an elderly woman who is nearly appalled in thinking you were about to get arrested for ‘assaulting’ an officer as Hoseok would have referred it to. Smiling inelegantly at her, the lady scampers off leaving a chuckling Taehyung. “Oh, don’t get too amused, I’ll make you regret that statement.”

“You started it,” he leans in place a sweet kiss to your temple, your heart skipping immediately at the feel of the gesture, “Now c’mon, I could hear your stomach growling all the way in the office.”

Perks of having a close relationship with the police force is getting to ride in the passenger seat of their cars. Namjoon gave permission for you to be allowed inside them unless they were called to something serious. Otherwise, he wanted you in your own personal vehicle for your protection away from anyone they may have to arrest. Watching the pedestrians zoom past the car window, Taehyung leaves the music thudding just enough to fill the silence. You wonder what he could be thinking about, especially with the run in with Namjoon earlier. A buzz from your cellphone distracts you momentarily, unbuckling your clutch to retrieve the device, you peer at the screen to see it’s from Monnie.

Mo [12:30pm]: Just got off the phone with another one of your clients! I swear I want to take all the credit for my business, but surely, I have you to thank. Bringing me all the coins like you do, I might have to reconsider my marriage with Yoongi, and marry you instead ;P

Smiling to yourself, you notice Taehyung glancing at you curiously, yet keeping a steady focus on the road.

You [12:32pm]: …typing Oh please, he is the top detective at his station, more like the entire country, I’m sure his coins are as deep as the ocean compared to my holey pockets. Send.

“Let me guess. Another accomplishment you can add to the already numerous notches on your belt,” Taehyung’s deep voice serenades your ears enough to snap your gaze from your phone to take in the sight of his boxy smile.

“An accomplishment that I can share amongst my pals,” you confess, shifting slightly in the seat to ease your muscles. “I know you fuss at me about not giving myself enough credit, but you know you do the same thing.” Taehyung licks his lips as he always does- a prominent habit you noticed from day one when he entered your life. “You’ve solved so many cases just from your insane discoveries on evidence that has been overlooked. I may be a good people reader, but you tune into little details in the surroundings that I wouldn’t have even seen.”

“Hence why me and some of the rookies butt heads sometimes. There’s just some cases they rule out so fast, yet I’m doubting everything about the scene in general.” Tae runs a quick hand through his hair, “Especially deaths that appear to be accidents or even, suicides. I just-” he pauses, turning carefully into the parking lot of you and his most favorite restaurant, “I always have to be sure.”

“Hence why you deserve to be chief,” you mutter, though the tinge of bitterness causes you to flinch at yourself.

“And, you deserve to be a part of our station,” Taehyung parks the car, letting the air condition run, “Your faith in me is quite strong I’ll give you that. But, don’t pretend like I don’t know why you won’t accept the job the Chief offered you.”

You rub at your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut to try and block out an unwanted memory, “It was- it was a year ago. He only offered me the job of a lifetime to make me forgive him faster.”

Sadness clouds Taehyung’s eyes, because it bothers him that you’re still hurt, “[Y/N], it still doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve-”

“I couldn’t read him,” you swallow at the lump in your throat, “He was who I thought I was meant to be with and then…” You trail off, humiliation budding in red over your chest. “I caught him in bed with another woman. And, if I couldn’t read him then what’s the risk of me reading someone else incorrectly?”

“You couldn’t have known, sometimes shit happens,”

“Not to us,” you want to believe that everything happens for a reason, and inwardly within the deep crevices of your heart, you do. Gentle fingertips reach for the back of your hand in comfort.

“I also know that’s why you’re so determined on catching cheaters. You’re still angry,”

“I am,” you exhale softly, “But, mostly at myself.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I know beef bulgogi will make you feel better.”

Though bravery can sometimes be your strong suit, when it comes to Taehyung, those nervous jitters that soar through your limbs like to try and get the best of you, “Or, you,” you whisper, him already out of the police car with no knowledge of what you just said. Once seated inside the restaurant, the bustle of many voices mingled with clinking silverware perk your eardrums enough to distract you, rattling off your drink order as well as your typical entrée, not giving Taehyung time to speak.

Smirking at his attempt of a playful glare, you almost miss the vibration of your cellphone signaling a call, “Oh, sorry I probably should-” Confusion shows in the immediate scrunch of your eyebrows prompting Taehyung to freeze in evident concern.

“[Y/N]? You alright? Is it another case?”

The name glowing on your screen is one you would have never expected not since… the breakup.

Before Taehyung can repeat your name, concern obvious in his expression, you meet his stare,

“It’s Jaehyun,” you whisper, “Namjoon’s son.”

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Only Fun If You Get A Scar Out Of It

Summary: Post-THW. (but diverges before the ending) "Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it." Astrid vaguely remembered making this statement years ago as a response to something the Thorston twins once said. Watching her husband struggle with the loss of his leg eight years after his amputation, she feels like a fool.

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 1 644

Author’s Notes: For the whump prompt "Chronic pain" from the Httyd whump Discord, a prompt I was very excited to do. I like to headcanon that Hiccup's amputation lead to him suffering from chronic pain as a result.

Constructive criticism is appreciated and I do not own How to Train Your Dragon.

Enjoy!

Also, I still don't know how to properly use the word "had".

AO3

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It is late in the afternoon when Hiccup and Astrid return home after a flight taken over New Berk together.

Pushing the door open, Astrid helped Hiccup inside. His arm rested on her shoulder and he leaned on her as he limped.

"Easy," Astrid told him, keeping him steady. Toothless warbled something behind them as he followed them inside while Stormfly remained outside, too big to fit through the door.

Hiccup gasped and cringed as a particularly bad pain ran up from his stump and through his hip. Astrid paused to allow him to breathe through it, giving him a moment.

"Chair or bed?" She asked when the pain seemed to subside enough for him to move again and Hiccup needed to think for a moment.

Would he take the easy way and sit only to possibly be in more pain later when he needed to get back up? Or would he take the extra time and energy required to walk all the way to bed in a different room?

Ah well, at least he didn't need to do stairs. Their house was built in a way to have everything on the same floor and it was built that way just for him. So he might as well go directly to bed.

"Bed." He decided and Astrid nodded before supporting him all the way there. Toothless already shoved things aside to clear a path for them. Hiccup didn't need to maneuver around or over the furniture or the mess they hadn't had the time to clean yet.

"Thanks, Bud." Hiccup told him and patted him on the nose on the way to their bedroom. Toothless purred as his Rider passed him by and then left for the kitchen.

Astrid helped him inside and lowered him onto the furs. Hiccup groaned out loud as he moved to sit down and Astrid kneeled to help him remove his prosthetic. It was an action that caused him great discomfort, but would help relieve him in time.

Standing and walking brought him nothing besides pain, but sitting down somehow made it even worse with the pressure no longer on his stump. Hiccup once again needed to breathe through the hurt. Astrid fumbling with his prosthetic to remove it didn't help much either. She tried to be careful, but her efforts amounted to very little.

Once it was off, Hiccup sucked air in through his teeth and lied down on his side, arms crossing and head on his pillow. He was plagued by the chill and that was partially due to how exhausted he was.

"Not planning on removing your vest?" Astrid asked as she stood and he shook his head with a no.

"Okay." She whispered and, while still holding onto his metal replacement leg, decided to take a seat on the edge of their bed and gaze at him.

Hiccup lied facing away from her, his eyes already closed. If his pain allowed him to sleep, he would've dozed right off.

But if the rummaging in the kitchen was any indication, Toothless was searching the place for willow bark.

In their shared bedroom, it stayed quiet for a couple of moments as Astrid kept her gaze on her husband. If it wasn't for his deep frown, she would've thought him asleep already. Knowing this, she decided to speak up.

"That wasn't one of my best ideas, was it?" She spoke, referring to the afternoon flight they had taken with just the two of them and their dragons.

Hiccup opened his eyes again to look up at her. He didn't answer her, which said enough.

Hiccup had told her his leg was especially bad that morning and still she had insisted on taking to the sky. He let her convince him, albeit because of the assumption he wouldn't need to worry for about half an hour or so. He missed being in the air for hours.

They got to taste the freedom of the sky for not even ten minutes when his leg started hurting so bad he feared he and Toothless would crash.

Flying back and landing had each been a horrendous experience for his burning leg, but getting the prosthetic loose from its stirrup had been a completely different kind of nightmare. The pain in his stump had traveled up to his knee before it continued to his hip. He would've cried if his pride hadn't kept him from doing so.

Astrid would've carried him inside, but with worried and pitying gazes already on him, Hiccup had stubbornly decided to walk inside himself.

He looked back in front of him again and Astrid released a quiet sigh, feeling guilty.

"I thought it'd be nice." She admitted, speaking of her idea to go flying.

"Well, it wasn't. What would've actually been nice would be a day without pain." Hiccup replied, perhaps a bit angrier than he meant it to be. Astrid stared at him in sympathy, she could hear his frustration.

Briefly glancing at her, Hiccup quickly apologized.

"I didn't mean to snap." He added, but Astrid was already running her fingers through his hair reassuringly.

"You call that snapping, Babe? You've "snapped" worse." She told him, remembering a particularly bad moment in their lives when the late Stoick the Vast lied on his death bed and Hiccup blamed himself for putting him there.

She wished he wasn't hurting so much.

This wasn't phantom limb pain, though he had plenty of those days, too, here in the far North. This was a pain he has felt nearly every single day for the past eight years, ever since the day he lost his leg.

He had good days, the very rare pain-free days, and then there were days like these. When he woke up hurting and went to sleep still hurting.

It was draining. On days like these, Hiccup would be exhausted by the time midday arrived and it seemed to be getting worse with each passing year and he was only twenty-three years of age.

In the three years after his amputation, it had been fairly easy for him to hide his discomforts and simply shrug them away. The Dragon Riders only knew of them when that year spent on the Edge forced Hiccup to come clean when he collapsed because his leg refused to cooperate after a battle with Viggo Grimborn and his men.

He'd hated every minute of it, but this sentiment was shared with the Riders. Hearing that your best friend suffered on a near-daily basis behind that mask of smiles, high energy, and sass had been hard on all of them. That the only reason Hiccup came clean was because he wasn't given any other choice and not because he wanted to had made his confession more difficult to bear.

Two years earlier than that, Stoick made Hiccup go for a visit with Gothi after Gobber happened to mention that this kind of pain was quiet unusual and Gothi diagnosed his pain as being chronic.

Chronic and growing worse.

As Chief, he wasn't exactly allowed to just sit his days out either. Not that someone as fidgety as Hiccup could ever sit still for long.

Moving, Astrid gently pulled on his pant leg to reveal his stump to her. The scarring there wasn't irritated at least, one worry less.

"How do you feel?" She asked, her gaze still trained on his leg.

"Like it would be really nice if Toothless found that willow bark." In response, the Night Fury could be heard grumbling in the kitchen. He was big and the space he searched was quite small in comparison.

"I'll go help him search and after that, you can get some sleep. I'll wake you for dinner. It's Fishlegs' turn tonight." Astrid got up from the bed. When Hiccup nodded and closed his eyes again, she decided to take her leave.

As she closed the door to their bedroom, one last glance at Hiccup before he vanished from view, she couldn't help but think of a certain claim she'd made so many years ago as she stood there.

"Only fun if you get a scar out of it, huh?" She asked herself, as if the old fifteen-year-old girl she used to be could hear her. They were foolish words spoken by a child who wanted to sound tough in a world where being soft was seen as a weakness and a detriment.

She had to admit, though her scars were exciting tales she would proudly tell their future children and Berk's, Hiccup's was one that has brought him pain and misery for years and would do so for many more.

It was required of him as a Chief, and her as a Chieftess, to have heirs. With the pain he was in so often, Hiccup wasn't even sure he wanted them, afraid his disability would affect them somehow.

At least his lightning scar simply looked cool and gave him no further troubles, though it was quite sensitive to the touch.

Astrid wondered if her fifteen-year-old self could see the kind of suffering her future husband was to go through for saving Berk and ending a near four-hundred-year-old war, if she would still see having scars as fun as it once did.

She remembered witnessing his amputation. Hiccup hadn't been conscious for that, fortunately, but she had wanted to help her new, and already dear, friend. It was a memory that stayed with her still. At least ever since that event, scars weren't as much the ultimate achievement every warrior strived to reach as they once appeared to be.

No use fretting over it now. She promised Hiccup to help Toothless find and prepare that willow bark. His one way to soothe his pain, if it worked. Turning away from the bedroom door, she made her way over to join Toothless in the kitchen.

[lasttimeonthenegaverse]

The Life and Times of the Negaverse- part one

Back to Bright

Negaduck screamed as he was pulled down the universal drain. His hands gripped tightly the sloping sides of eternity and he struggled to escape the cake before it collapsed in on itself. He’d dealt with the multiverse collapsing in on itself before. Not a pretty picture. There was no way to note how much time was passing in non-existence before everything fixed itself and you woke up in your propper reality. ….. Yeah. He’d lied to Darkwing Dunce. Shocker. But the fact of the matter still remained that his beautiful Saint Canard was ruined . And now he had to deal with an actually competent team of super zeros. He managed to scramble out of the cake and jumped off. He hadn’t been launched out, which was a testament to how far gone it was. Pity. The slight concussion was always a nice warm welcome that said ‘hey honey, you’re home’. But for now….. Negaduck growled under his breath, standing back and watching as the cake twisted, turned, and finally folded into crimson light. Shit. He’d need to make another one of those soon. He left the back room to see. …. His beak curled back in disgust. Those preppy do gooders had cleaned the BAKERY! The absolute NERVE of some jokers. And there was no sign of LaunchPad or the Muddlefoots…...more importantly, Gos. When he found her he was gonna make her…..He blinked, trying to figure out what was wrong with his eyes as he left the building. But….the sun. How had they gotten rid of his precious smog clouds so quickly? He frowned, sensing the hand of someone much smarter than the ‘Featherbrained Four’ at work. Ugh. Grounded . That brat was GROUNDED the second he got his hands on her! Granted, Gos wasn’t the main problem here, but the main problem was a literal world away and right now he was tired and sore and didn’t feel like dealing with clawing his way back across interdimensional lines. They’d all show back up sooner or later. The heroes were too moronic to keep them for long. Instead of worrying he plotted as he stalked through the city.  The plants were flourishing thanks to that Buffon BushRoot. Liquidator the Lousy had made all the nice black water clean again. And worst of all MeekVolt had started the power everywhere. That’s probably what made the smog go. Uggghhhh, and the power being up meant that the disgusting dog was clearing all of the slime via the water filtration plant he’d never gotten around to blowing up. Time got a little weird with traveling through the fourth, fith, and sixth plane of existence. Let alone at the same time. It was kept stabilized by the cake, however that worked. It had been a ‘I’m too good for this world so notice me’ gift from Morgana. And it was probably the only spell she’d ever done right. But he was sure he could replicate it with science….and the right greased palm. Since the cake had gone funky near the end he could have been gone an hour, or a year.  He shouldn’t have been gone a year, but this looked like more damage than an hour. Then again, what had they called themselves ‘Darkwings Ducks’. Urgh. One was bad enough….and crepilly efficient. Four was going to be the ‘Pests of the night’. Joy. Just what he always wanted, bedbugs. The trip back home was mostly uneventful, and that was the most irritating thing he had to deal with. Rather than cower and hide, people looked at him on the street. Like they had any right to. Like they had any rights at all. He’d have to stop by the mayor’s office and put some good old fashioned fear back into the city. Annoying. All thanks to the four flies that had ripped apart his magnificent chaos. Luckily the people weren’t too far gone. He must not have been missing too long. No nimrods tried to stand up to him or evil forbid follow him. But they watched him, only scattering away when he sneered. He didn’t want them to scatter with a sneer. He WANTED the streets clear in terror of him ever WALKING them.  Fucking annoying . The door had been kicked open some time ago, and he’d know that bootprint anywhere. A wilted Rosebush was in pieces on the ground, along with a bag of toys. Hmmmm…..it had gotten ripped up and slashed so it hadn’t had water, but the flowers weren't so withered that he couldn’t tell what they’d been. He was gonna eyeball and say he’d been gone a week or two. Maybe a month. Not a year by the trepidation he was still treated to. No one had settled into foolish hope to snuff out. He checked the toybag for the amount of dust on it. Yeah, two weeks, at most a month. But hey, the kitchen was nice and filthy. She’d done a good job on that at least. He looked at the fridge but decided against it. Anything in there after this long wouldn’t be edible. He’d order something later. Not for the first time was he glad to have abandoned The lair on top of the bridge. It was nice and intimidating, but it didn’t have the space for a battered and overstuffed couch, which was where he flung himself. He didn’t have to worry. No one he trusted was stupid enough to end up seriously hurt by the idiots known as the Feable Four. But he on the other hand, was bruised. And not in the good way. Venomous green eyes slipped shut as he slipped into rest.

DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD

Negaduck wasn’t sure how much time had passed between when his eyes had closed and when he woke up. He didn’t know how much time he’d had an atual restful sleep, but he had gotten some actual rest. He registered the sounds of screams before his eyes slid open. With a deep breath he took a moment just to relish in them. Ohhhh, that was nice. A particularly pitchy scream of agony still had the sound of a cracking bone to accompany it.

“That eyebrow wiggle thing means you’re awake boss” Nega scowled slightly at his husband’s tone. Playful, but not ‘lets go cause some chaos’ playful, more ‘affectionate but still going to lecture you’. Hmmmm, maybe if he curled up further into the bed he found himself occupying? A heavy weight settled on the mattress. “You know the longer ya take before making me happy, the worse I’ll complain about it later.” Negaduck scowled and threw off the covers, sitting up abruptly to glare right into the amused smirk of one LaunchPad.

“How long?” The question had to fight through grit teeth.

“Did ya sleep? I got home about two hours ago so...longer than that. Were ya missing? A little over three weeks.” the larger duck let his hands tap absentmindedly on his own knees. “I held down tha fort fer ya, no worry on that ND, but….” And he made a sound. A sharp, short laugh forced through teeth grit with bitterness. “Little over three weeks.” Shit. Negaduck groaned.

“Ya know. If I’d known ya’d fuckin NAG me about her, I’da never picked up the fuckin brat.” That was a lie and both men knew it. The simple fact of the matter was that LaunchPad had been vocally against the twerp at first, but she’d been captured for almost a month of a far too quiet house and he was horribly worried, whereas NegaDuck had seen her less than an hour ago and so was significantly less worried. The stupid city was still standing….for now . Better calm down his husband. “Ya tracked her or do I have to do everything around here?” He snarled.  “Didn’t need to. They’re holded up in the Mayor’s office giving hopeful speeches near round the clock.” And to prove it, the Television was turned on. The Liquid Lunatic was warbling his way through a speech about the importance of clean water and how he was working together with BushRoot to make the air clearer. The redheaded ten year old sat just in view of the camera, kicking her legs slightly and smiling at everything. “Wonder how any of em have time to do anything.” Nega nodded with the information, absentmindedly thinking. Hmmm, she was kept on camera, which made things a bit more difficult. But those goody goodies probably had her on a bedtime. Night break in then. Or…..well, depending on what she was thinking they may be able to get a mole in. LaunchPad knew better than to storm their hideout without his husband, even for their daughter, but the big softy was anxious without her. Probably watched the news like crazy to make sure she was alright. “Alright. I’m gonna go grab that lil bitch and see if I’m better off letting her rot with hero scum, you get her room set up for if I let the little turncoat’s sorry ass back in here. LaunchPad rose, grateful for the order. By the set in his jaw that poor girl’s room had been cleaned and rearranged at least fifty times. He always got like this when she went missing. After a while, Nega just stopped letting her out of the house. This was the ‘nightmare scenario’. One of many. The longest she’d been missing before was two weeks. He grabbed LaunchPad by the wrist before he could leave the room, and pulled him backwards. The taller man understood and lowered his head so that Nega could grant one of his rare kisses to his temple. “Relax. You’re going to stress yourself out and die. Then I’ll have to marry Herb and neither of us wants that.” It works and the old and odd joke causes LaunchPad’s eyes to soften as a grin slits across his beak. Then he’s gone. Into Gosolyn’s room to arrange everything just so for her return. Negaduck pays full attention to the T.V. watching to see when they switch off or put her to bed. He can’t run in blind, not with them being smarter this time around.  He couldn’t let the Dimwit’s ducks know he was back yet, not till he had her back. Hopefully he’d been vicious enough to the idiots that had seen him on the way home that they didn’t go BLABBING.

See, Unlike the Morons. he could count . He had more people to work with, and he alone was smarter than them putting their heads together. They lose automatically. It was stupid of them to try, but even this single lucky victory grated on his NERVES.

Watching the news he’d noticed that only one of them was ever on at a time. And that they responded to disasters based on who specifically was best to solve them if the way Liquidator had runoff like a swimmer upon hearing about a fire. Gos was alone for almost a minute before QuackerJack had raced onto the scene. Some dead air time where she’d just read a book with a soft smile. Idiots the lot of them. Who freaked out if a ten year old was left alone for two minutes? While the WHOLE CITY was watching her? It was ridiculous and stupid, but it did give him a plan by the creeping light of dawn. Said plan was recorded in a notebook once LP came back in the room to settle into a restless sleep beside him. It was frustrating. Nega was tired. He had his favorite sound playlist of breaking bones and anguished screams, LaunchPad’s arm was heavy on his chest, almost crushing him. He had a great plan that only required the bareest amount of intelligence from his next door neighbours. AND he didn't have to deal with his BRAINLESS allies anymore. That being said, he felt the missing warmth from the spot where Gos usually would have fluttered her eyelashes to squirm into. He could feel LaunchPad’s erratic pulse every time the other man had a night terror about her. At the end of the day, his family was broken . This couldn’t happen again. He needed a way for LaunchPad to live AND for him to have fun while not letting her get taken. What kind of ‘princess of malice’ got STOLEN once a week!? The hints of a plan nudged at his brain, but he was too tired to fully acknowledge them.

ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND

“Excuse me?” BushRoot looked up at the studious looking boy at the gates. “Hello. I don’t know if you recognize or remember me.” “Of course I do!” BushRoot smiled brightly and the boy took a step backwards. “You’re Gos’ little friend . Oh I’d know you anywhere. You know come to think of it, we should’ve taken you too! Your family was awful. Are you here to see her?” Tank nodded with a slight smile.

“Yes actually. If that wouldn’t be too terribly horrid a thing to request?” He asked. BushRoot smiled down at the boy and ruffled his hair.

“Oh no it’s absolutely fine! We were just about to switch out her guard in fact. Megavolt was just going to run to do patrols.” Tank smiled happily as he was led through the hallways and to the center office, where the mayor had been before they vacated and left the city in the less than capable hands of NegaDuck. “That’s my report Dear Lovely Citizens” Megavolt smiled happily. “Please enjoy your new freedom as we continue to fix this town from the misery and suffering perpetrated by the evil known as NegaDuck.” He turned as the two came in, Bushroot waving at him. “TANK!!!!” Gosalyn jumped out of her chair and ran to her best friend as Quacker Jack took over the programming. The boy hugged her tightly for a moment before they both turned to BushRoot. 

“Um….Mister BushRoot sir. Would it be possible to get a different room? I mean. I haven’t spoken to Tank in sooooo long and we really shouldn’t do anything that interferes with the oh so necessary hope building Programs.” BushRoot smiled at her and thought about it. “Well….we didn’t want to leave you alone in case the awful LaunchPad came to try and capture you. But you’re absolutely right sweetheart! You and your friend should have some time time to talk to each other alone.” He paused to think again, before snapping his leaves. “we’ll just hide you someplace you won’t be found. And I know just the spot . Common kids.” Tank and Gosalyn followed as Tank checked the time. 3:50. Away from the cameras BushRoot spoke a bit more freely. “I’m going to put you in QuackerJack’s lab. He’s our leader! And his lab needs a secret code to get in so you’ll be extra safe there. Tank’s eyes sparkled. “A Whole Lab? Boy oh Boy, does Tank like those” Gosalyn volunteered. “He just loves science.” Tank blushed, but nodded as they were led down to a bunker. BushRoot typed in a code, uncaring if the two little sweethearts saw. After all, they were good kids. “Thanks So MUCH Mr. BushRoot” The Redhead smiled brightly as she and her best friend went to examine the lab, heavy steel door closing behind them. The kids looked at the playground or mechanical wonder before looking at each other and grinning. “Cool Beans. This place is perfect ”

DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD

At exactly 4:02 pm Honker and Binkie stood underneath the powerlines that connected the main grid to the city proper. At 4:00 every day-both morning and night, Megavolt had to recharge his batteries. Information gotten not from the few hours of programing, but from the alternate dimension. NegaDuck had only checked to make sure that the mouse was still as annoyingly predictable as he ever was. And Honker in particular had a bone to pick, having gotten shocked into oblivion on his birthday.  Mother and Son looked at each other to smile. Then the handy dandy bazukas they had were put to good use, blowing up the poles, and their attached wires. See, had Megavolt been inside the main grid. He wouldn’t have noticed the shut down. And if he was outside of the building, wherever he’d been sucking power from was now gone. The two stood side by side waiting to see if he’d come either from being called or to get juice. If he was already in. Well, normally they wore leather jackets and leather pants. Said articles of clothing had been replaced with rubber, so he wasn’t going to cause too many issues .

Outside as it turned out. Great guess on Lord Negaduck’s part, that as a ‘hero’ he would be too moral to use public property for private use or something like that. After ten minutes he arrived, stepping out of his car. He glared at Binkie, whom was waving her gun around and shooting in the air while laughing maniacally. “Stop right there vile Villain!” Surprisingly, she stopped and waved at the hero.  “Oh hello there!” She smiled. Megavolt, though confused, was polite. He waved back and nodded to her in greeting. “Do you remember me?” Binkie asked brightly. It caused the mouse to think for a bit before. “Um….no…..sorry. When did we meet?” She giggled. “Oh. I’m Binkie. We met at the bakery. It was my Baby Boy’s birthday! Remember! That whole thing with Darkwing? You shocked him so bad you sent him flying!” She giggled again. “He just wanted to say hi, same as me. Say ‘Hi’ Honker!” Well, evil had to have a few screws loose, but other than that she seemed fine. He turned with a smile to greet the villain he’d thwarted.

“Hi Hon-” That was as far as he got before a baseball bat of weighted glass was very violently introduced to his skull. He flailed and fell and that was all she wrote because Honker jumped off the car to follow him, swings as wild and crazy as his cackling.

ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND

QuakerJack looked at the alarm, dragging his eyes away from the camera, where he was giving the kiddos an informative after school message with the help of his trusty clown. Two alerts. One at the Water Processing Plant and another at the Botanical Gardens. It was only 4:30 but the frequency of the alerts was what was getting to him. He shook it off as he pressed the hidden buttons on the back of the clown, smiling brightly to the kids. Bud and Bushie would easily handle their areas and rush back to the other’s side. He didn’t like all of them being gone at once, but Mega had been recharging when the power cut. Luckily, the broadcast was still going on due to a generator, but the second someone else came in, he was going himself to check out what happened and how far the extent of the blackout went. The Liquidator didn’t know what he’d find at the scene of the crime, all he knew was that suddenly the alert had gone off for high amounts of Pollution entering the drinkable water supply. Quacks had sounded the blinking alarm- be careful . Approaching the building, everything seemed normal. No signs of a breakin. He opted for stealth, going back around the building to sink into one of the waterways that was being admitted for cleaning. As he slunk around he definitely sensed….a presence whatever it was, it was big. Liquidator peeked his head up to see……..a man. He blinked twice to see if it was in his internal catalogue of villains that had been showing up to try and take NegaDuck’s place. …..No. Just….a rather large ordinary man. He appeared to be grilling in a Water Filtration plant which was odd enough to ring an alarm bell. …..shame, he just, couldn’t figure it out more than that it was undoubtedly odd . The man opened one of his many coolers and tossed out something slimy and with a sickly greenish yellow color. Just…..just upended the WHOLE COOLER while he hummed lightly. He’d also been at this for a while from both being able to jam the system and the fact that there were only four coolers left.

“EXCUSE ME!” The man started as he turned around and as if the color and smell wern’t indicators of something foul going in, the man himself was wearing rubber gloves.

“Oh Hi there Neghberino!” He waved. “Fine day ta get ridda somma the stuff around da house init it?” A warm smile. Was this man…... evil or just very stupid? “Yeah I’ve had this hangin around since last year. That’s a thing wit rotten fish bait. After a while, ya just don’ know what ta do wit it.” He shook out the cooler, poisoning the water as he placed it back down. “But when da wife says it’s gotta go. Well ol Herb aint stupid now ishe? Nosirie bob. My Binkie says it goes I says, ‘whatever’ll make you happy honey bun’ ‘s how Ah keep a happy marriage ya know?” Stupid he decided. Very VERY stupid. “Sir.” The superhero crossed his arms. “You can’t stay or dump here. This is a water treatment plant. It holds about forty percent of the water for the Reservoir of this fine city!” The man blinked a few times, flabbergasted. “Oh?” He got up and went to his grill “And here I thought the place what was cleaning was da bes fer tossin. After all, Water’s gotta get dirty afore it’s clean don’t ya know. Oh well. I’ll just empty mah coals n leave ya to yer lonesome sir.”

“Absolutely not!” And to save the water, the Luididator left it, going to grab the grill before  ‘Herb’ could empty the coals. Poor Hero. He didn’t stop to wonder why one needed rubber gloves and as he touched the metal of the grill, the electricity surged through him, dissolving his form. Herb grinned as he looked down at the puddle and went for another cooler. Water absorbing powder solution. “Looks like you and me, we’s gonna be real good neighborinos. That is if anything’s lefta yous by tommara” He gave a slightly whistling ‘maniacal laugh’ as he cleaned up the Crimefighter.

DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD

BushRoot was aware that there was a problem when he got too close to the Botanical Garden. He could hear his children screaming in agony before their lives were cruelly snuffed out. He just didn’t know what they were screaming about. As he went inside he saw that the door had been kicked off its hinges. There was no sign of any of the scientists that worked there, and what’s more- there was enraged screaming coming from the same direction of the screams of his children. Scariest, it was the Rare plants division.He sniffed at the air. Whatever the odd smell, it was causing them discomfort. He needed to fix that first. He looked carefully at the lab portion of the garden as he raced over. It struck him how odd it was that there were a few open flames, but he dismissed it as the scientist having been scared away before they could extinguish.  He tried to keep to the sidelines so that he could see the problem as he entered where the cries for help were coming from.  He needed to evaluate,  figure out how best to handle the sit-

“YOU!!!!” BushRoot froze, feeling his stems shake. Upon entering the room it was just his luck that the problem was staring him down. And it was none other than a LIVID LaunchPad armed with a flamethrower. He had a weed killer in his hand and a shovel on his belt but the flamethrower was what really got him. All of the precious plants in here could be gone in an instant thanks to that Mad Man. A sinister smile crawled over the beak of the larger man. “You’re gonna tell me where Gos is. Else, all o ya kids….well. Longer I aint got mine. Worse off yours are gonna get. Capisce?”

“You are never going to harm that sweet little angel ever again!” BushRoot raised an arm and a tree near where the man stood swung down a heavy branch to club at him. LaunchPad barrel rolled away from the hit, but the tree picked up it’s roots and followed him. BushRoot got closer to his kids to better hear what they were screaming, but the smell was unbearable. He took a handy dandy water bottle as he let Susan handle the interloper. LaunchPad wasn’t as scary without his fearless leader. A little bit of water should handle the shiny looking nasty chemical on the leaves of his babies. As he gave a spritz he noticed that….it wasn’t coming off, almost arguing with the water. But the chemical was also by their precious roots. “HEY!” BushRoot looked up. He was on the second floor, by the roof. LaunchPad had a slightly manic grin. “Last chance freak. Tell me where Gos is, or alla ya kids are  mulch.”

“As far as I can see, You’re running away. And I’m NEVER letting that poor girl near the likes of your EVIL ever again. She’s MY new Eco warrior of justice!” LaunchPad let out a snort and lit the flamethrower. BushRoot scoffed at seeing the sprinklers activate. “What’d ya THINK that’d do right under the….” His words caught in his throat. While the first few seconds had been water, that nasty smelling chemical had hit the fire and ignited “GAS!!!!!! EVERYONE OUT!!!!!” How had he not recognised the smell . He grabbed the plants he could as he ran for the exit but…..

BushRoot shook as he saw it. It wasn’t just the room he’d been in. All the fire sprinklers had been filled with Gas. All of the plants. All of the research….. He took the few samples he could and sprinted for it, feeling his own legs becoming dried out from the intense and rising heat before he got out. He did manage to make it out...though he didn’t know how. His mind had been filled with fear and adrenaline as he desperately ran for safety. But he crawled away from the inferno. Him and the Children in his hands. Crawling until the point of collapse. And He collapsed right in front of a combat boot. “Did I say Mulch?” LaunchPad started Conversationally. “I meant Firewood. Opps, slip o the tongue. Coulda happened to anyone . Now. I turned the daycare into a crematorium, where’s Gos?” BushRoot shuddered. This wasn’t a man in front of him, smiling brightly and still holding unto the flamethrower.

“She….she’s at the Mayor’s office. C-City Hall” Right now all he wanted to do was cuddle up with Bud. He felt like literal crap turning the girl over to the likes of…. this. But….But he was the weakest link…..yeah…..yeah. The others would forgive him for what he was doing. He was scared. They…..They could get her back. NegaDuck was Gone. Darkwing had seen to that. They couldn’t give up after one little hiccup! “ WHERE ” And that Flamethrower was right in face as he scrambled away from the maniac and towards the conflagration. “ EXACTLY is she” BushRoot trembled. He was kneeling on the ground and begging for his life here. They could get the girl back later.

ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND

NegaDuck chanced a look at his cell. LaunchPad, Binkie and Herb had all called that their targets were neutralized. He let out a pleasant sigh. It was so nice dealing with people that were only mostly morons instead of COMPLETE Morons. Why didn’t he spend more time in his St. Canard? He pulled down the brim of his Fedora, closing his trenchcoat more tightly around himself as he walked up the stairs. Of course nothing could go right. At the top of the stairs the doors opened and two figures walked out, causing him to hide before he was spotted. “So He probably got them all already?” He knew that voice. That was her pouting voice. “And he’s just waiting at home. I know he’s grumpy, but that’s oh so very rude . He couldn’t even stage a kidnapping himself after I was gone almost a month!”

“Ah-Hem!” NegaDuck stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed. Gosolyn’s face brightened upon seeing him but he stopped her in his tracks with a single finger. “You are grounded. How grounded you are depends on your reasoning for this” He gestured around the still clean and bright once home. “DISGUSTING Mess.” “First, we haveta get away from City Hall. Too many nosy naughty cameras lurking around to spyie why.” As she spoke she hurried up, Nega falling into step behind her. “COMMEON  HURRY!!!” He groaned, but followed his charge as she raced to his hidden ‘civie’ car. …..WHAT it was fine and good being the Evil Overlord, but it came with Do gooders and sometimes he was just getting groceries! …… or kidnapping people to cook said groceries! Either way. “We gotta get home by five! Tanky, what time is it?” Tank showed her his watch. 4:45 And she gasped. “FUCK! We gotta get everyone home and in front of the TV! I’ll explain there.” NegaDuck scowled but aquissed to her crazy request, sending out a mass text and FLOORING it to get back home with his charges. She scrambled to get out the generator so that the T.V. would work. Excitedly plugging it in she started the crank. LaunchPad came down the stairs as he heard the enthusiastic pitter patter of malicious feet. Seeing her at the Generator he cracked a grin. “Shoo” The word was soft as he lightly tossed her away from the generator. He was bigger and stronger and so better at cranking the damn thing. Unfortunately, once QuackerJack went out to get his little boyfriend he’d undoubtedly fix all their hard work. But more importantly. His daughter was back for him to yell at. And possibly kill. He hadn't decided yet what he was going to do to her. “Well!” She started when the TV was up, playing the same old 24/7 Newscast of Hope.  “I had this plan for awhile. Just not any real way to put it into action until Darkwing Duck somehow showed up here! Luckily” And her voice went sing song, as it always did when she was particularly pleased about something. “I’m fucking fabulous!” Nega rolled his eyes, shooing Herb off of his coved space on the couch with just a glare. The large father of two relocated to the floor to his happy wife as she gave Honker another wep nap to clean his bat with. “But this, undoubtedly the BEST PLAN EVER is not truly my plan. I mean….I did all the thinking and hard shit. But a TRUE plot is always for the benefit of yourself. And this plan was created only half for me.” She shrugged as QuackerJack continued talking on screen. A cold smile grew on her face as the Jester themed Super got visibly nervous, checking his watch for the alerts to be handled. “The other half was for my dear Papa” “Me?” LaunchPad blinked uncertainty. With Gos there were only two options when she planned something catered exactly to you. Either she HATED you with every fiber of her being, or she was being nice in her own way. You’d know by weather or not you continued with your meaningless existence. “Oh yes. And it worked even BETTER than I thought.” She hopped up on the couch, snuggling into NegaDuck and patted the cushion next to her. LauchPad did a mental tally of who owed whom a near death attempt. He was pretty sure cyanide in the cake evened out livewires on the ground, so he took the chance to sit next to her. “I knew that there were Nasty lil wanna-be Heros trying to muck up Daddies city.” Herb and Binkie both flinched at the ‘sweet lil angel’ casually calling LORD NEGADUCK by such a title. Something so bright and sweet and cute and filthy. But she continued irregardless of their discomfort. Or perhaps, spurred by it. “I also know Daddy kept leaving to that other St.Canard. With their Other heroes to fight and their other Papa and their other GOSALYN” They weren't allowed to have nice things in the house, Gos ripping apart the seat cushion as she got angry.  Binkie flinched at such wondrous ferocity coming from well, a ‘sweet little girl’. Gos took a deep breath and a smile spread across her beak. “Darkwing taught them to be better Heros and in Daddie’s absence, they made St. Canard a better place. One of laughter, of light, overflowing with seeds of new hope!” Tank’s watch went off and the little girl pointed to the Television with unrestrained glee. “What’s that noise?” QuackerJack spoke from the TV. And then they heard it…..the recording-Gosalyn screaming for dear life. “Gos? Sweetie? Pumkin?” And as he ran to try and rescue her, the room started shaking. The camera fell to the floor, then there was an ENORMOUS multicolored explosion. Screams from an unseen QuakerJack and his pained face before an even LOUDER BOOM. Then the camera was destroyed and the broadcast finally stopped. “They think they can win now! Their own hope will keep them trying….and trying…..and stupidly trying.” A giggle. “Even more fun than going to some other world and ripping their hopes away? Snatching the faint hope that tries to grow like a revolting rosebush!” Another giggle ripped from her system. “They’ll see that broken dream of theirs and despair. Then the heroes will try to regroup because surely if they did it once they can do it again. And YOU” She snarled at NegaDuck. “Can play right here with Papa and ME!!!!” It was vicious and evil and well thought out and…..

“Awwweeeee. My sweet little MONSTER ”

[nxtherold]

𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐗  :  𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂  𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

A compilation of what the Nightmare says to each muse in the Fade, what their tombstones say, and what their Fears appear as.

𝐀𝐕𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐄

What her fears appear as:           Her fears appear as the people she cares for, both alive and dead, corrupted by red lyrium. Templars and Mages from her time in Kirkwall are among these faces as well.

What her tombstone says:           Not Being Good Enough

What Nightmare says to her in the Fade:           “Nothing you did mattered, Hawke. All you ever did was make things worse. Carver and your mother both died because you were too weak to save them, you foolish girl. Bethany, (Fenris / other love interest), and whoever else you have left will all die. Knowing your history, it will certainly be your fault when the time comes, and you’ll have to watch the life leave their eyes. A familiar view, isn’t it, Hawke? So familiar that I imagine you’re seeing it in your head at this very moment. Ah, yes, what an accurate depiction of the fate awaiting anyone who dares care for a girl as cursed as you."

𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐒

What her fears appear as:           Vaughan and his henchmen as well as slavers from Tevinter

What her tombstone says:           Oppression

What Nightmare says to her in the Fade:          "Why are you even here, elf? All your efforts to elevate your people have been for nought. When will you grow tired of being an accessory to heroes far greater than you could ever pretend to be? You were born from nothing, just like your mother, and you will die just as she did: as nothing. No title, no status could change that.”

𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐀

What her fears appear as:           Herself, given wholly to the qun. Also the Arishok, Rasaan, her mother, and Luis. Quite frankly, there’s a lot of faces from her past that Nightmare can use against her.

What her tombstone says:          Losing Herself

What Nightmare says to her in the Fade:         "You think I could ignore your presence, pirate? A most curious return to the Fade indeed. I’m just waiting to see when you’ll plunge your dagger into the Inquisitor’s back, just like you did to Hawke years ago. But she didn’t tell anyone about that, did she? What a good friend. Too good for you. And even after all the times you betrayed her you still had the nerve to cling to her coattails and leech off of whatever glory might fall your way. You see yourself as the captain of the ship, Isabela, but you belong on the bottom of the boat, not in the captain’s cabin. You are truly, and irredeemably, scum. The day will come when all of your so-called friends wipe you from their boots as they should have rightfully done years ago.”

𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

What her fears appear as:          Various people she killed during the Blight.

What her tombstone says:         Despair

What Nightmare says to her in the Fade:        "The great Hero of Ferelden. Ah, look at you now, little Cousland. Bryce’s darling pup. You never had a choice, did you? They shoved that rot down your throat, clad you in silver, and told you to be a hero. And you’ve hated what you are every day since then. You can still feel it, the taint, as hot and fresh in your veins as the first day. How long till you become a shell? How long until the voices call to you, before dark hands drag you down into the abyss? Oh, my dear, what a pitiful existence. You saved the world, yet your life is unfulfilled, and it will never be. No amount of glory can make you content, because you’re too empty to ever feel whole again. But such is the tale of many heroes. I wonder, will you find your end at your Calling? Or will you become like Loghain first, too blind to see that you’ve torn down your own house. You are ruined either way. You will always, even after your last breath, be ruined.”

𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐀 𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓

What her fears appear as:           a ghostly apparition of the Shame of Serault

What her tombstone says:         Inability

What Nightmare says to her in the Fade:         "Yet another noble lady playing the part of a caged bird. But you're not caged, and you haven't been for a while. You know you could have done something about your brother before he got himself in such a sorry state. Instead you chose to smile and pretend everything was okay and then retreat into the woods whenever his anger turned in your direction. You stopped the people from overthrowing him. You let him continue down his dark path because you were either too incapable or too unwilling to confront him. Caspien may be cruel, Octavia, but you're effete, and Serault will be in far worse hands when you are eventually forced to step up and do what you should have done long ago. I truly pity the mortals who have so long been at the mercy of your family and will continue to suffer at your cursed hands for one more generation: the worst generation, surpassing even the horrors of the Shame's reign."

𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄

What her fears appear as:          Herself.

What her tombstone says:         Weakness

What Nightmare says to her in the Fade:         "Ah, the Bane of the Wicked. That is what you were once called, yes? How ironic it is that you are the most wicked of all. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were one of us."

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀

What her fears appear as:          A vanguard of Tevinter slaves, turned against her by their masters.

What her tombstone says:         Silence

What Nightmare says to her in the Fade:        "You were never free, Calpernia, and you never will be. You simply keep hopping from one master to the next. It won’t be long before there is no one willing to take your side. No one to stand for you. We all know that you cannot make it on your own. You’re a girl playing a revolutionary, but make no mistake that it is make-believe. You’re merely a puppet, and your existence only matters when there is someone to pull your strings."

𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄

What her fears appear as:         Tevinter slave-hunters.

What her tombstone says:         Loss of Identity

What Nightmare says to her in the Fade:        "How does it feel to be a pet, Arsine? Spending your days dancing away for the nobles in their plays? Sure, you get to come to court and play the Game, but you'll never be more than a useful tool at best. You're a novelty. A pretty face with strange ears to tickle the exotic tastes of the bored nobility. You'll never be one of them, but you're barely even an elf anymore, either. You're so tainted that the Dalish wouldn't even welcome you back at this point. The moment the nobles grow tired of you, you'll go back to being a nobody with an existance so inconsequential that neither the humans nor the elves will care that they've lost you."

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍

What her fears appear as:        Smaller versions of Nightmare himself.

What her tombstone says:        Loss

What Nightmare says to her in the Fade:       "Ah, Honora, you look well for someone who dabbles in all manners of filthy magic. I bet your heart has remained the same since our last meeting as well; cold and stagnant, like the dead husband who rarely shared your bed. The man you're always compared to. You once thought yourself a stronger mage than him. A better chief, too. But your people question that assertion, and now you have started to question it as well. I am the one who took Angof's life, by the way, not those agents of the king. And if you insist on crossing me, dear Honora, I'll take yours too."

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐈 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄

What her fears appear as:          Herself, possessed by demons.

What her tombstone says:          Corruption

What Nightmare says to her in the Fade:          "You have such faith in your precious Maker, little snake. So much that you cannot seem to accept the fact that you are nothing but a heretic. The Maker doesn't speak to you. Auriel wasn't written out of Chantry history because she was a threat to their control; she was written out of Chantry history because she was a cowardly, self-important witch who became the same zealous monster that you yourself have become. The only justice you will ever bring forth is your own death in pursuit of your worthless cause. And just like Auriel, history will forget you, too."

[nitrateglow]

Time for me to complain about THE IMMORTAL COUNT

You know a biography is bad when it says more about its author than it does its chosen subject. 

Arthur Lenning lets you know he is a cradle Lugosi fan, even having met the man several times as a youngster in the 1940s. sometimes, fannish enthusiasm can enrich a critical study or biography. Other times, it comes off not unlike a Jack Chick tract: obnoxious, ugly, and unable to tolerate any view that so much as nudges its accepted ideology. Unfortunately, Lenning’s book is very much the latter.

Some positives first: the first chapters are very good, going into Lugosi’s childhood, his time on the Hungarian stage, his sad first marriage, his political entanglements, and his struggles to make it in Hollywood, where American xenophobia prevented him from being seen as anything but a heavy. These chapters are rich with biographical information, tend to be more objective, and gave me insight into Lugosi’s views on acting as a profession. In essence, it was actually a biography for the first hundred pages of this five hundred page book.

The moment Lugosi becomes a horror icon with the Dracula play, the book transforms from a biography to a fanboyish catechism. I understand the book’s full title is The Immortal Count: The Films and Life of Bela Lugosi, so I did anticipate some film analysis, likely observing what made Lugosi’s style unique and which films made the biggest impression on the popular culture. I did not expect 50% of the book to be plot summaries combined with the kind of fanboy commentary you can find on IMDB’s user reviews pages. Sometimes, Lenning is insightful, such as when he discusses the fairy tale motifs of White Zombie or explains how a movie is made “cinematic” through editing rather than camera movement when discussing the oft-praised Spanish Dracula. Other times, he indulges in trying to “improve” movies he doesn’t like, either by coming up with fix-it fanfiction rewrites of cheap 1940s filler features that make Lugosi more prominent or informing us that Lugosi should have played this or that role that Boris Karloff or Lon Chaney Jr. made famous because Lugosi is God and should not have been denied anything!

The hatred Lenning appears to bear Boris Karloff floored me because it seemed more based in jealousy for Lugosi’s sake than anything else. Karloff made more money than Lugosi, was more supported by the studio, and had a better career on the whole (even though he too ended up in some dire crap towards the end, but this does not suit Lenning’s narrative, so he never observes that). Any positive anecdote about Karloff is dismissed because Lugosi once referred to Karloff as “a cold fish” and who’s going to distrust Lugosi (even though Lenning himself admits Lugosi was envious of Karloff and often made things up about his own background make himself seem more interesting)?

Every story or remark that painted Karloff as an aloof snob is taken at face value. Lenning even claims Karloff’s politeness was a façade for a prima donna nature, hiding an arrogant man who reveled in being more successful than Lugosi. It’s absolutely childish how he chooses to make Karloff a cartoon villain in this, even mocking Karloff’s looks in comparison to Lugosi’s “attractiveness” and “sexual appeal.”

Now, I don’t believe Karloff was a saint whatsoever, and I’m sure he and Lugosi had an awkward working relationship at best, but the many interviews and anecdotes I have perused about Karloff over the years do not match up with how Lenning paints him here.

(Needless to say, when Lenning praises Karloff’s performance in The Body Snatcher, I was actually floored—was this the same author or had someone else typed that??)

However, I was most annoyed with his treatment of Lillian Lugosi by the end. For much of the book, he seems sympathetic to her: Lugosi was extremely controlling in their relationship, forbidding her from wearing make-up or curling her hair, buying all her clothes, growing easily jealous anytime she so much as went shopping on a whim for fear she was really seeing another man. Lenning, the veritable pope of the One True Church of Lugosi, even claims Lugosi seemed to have more regard for his dogs than he did his wife! Yet at the end of the book, when he cites her calling her second husband the love of her life, he snidely remarks that the guy was a drunk and really no better than Lugosi—because how dare she prefer anyone to Lugosi even after twenty years of putting up with his crap!

It’s hard for me to share Lenning’s disdain for Lugosi Jr either. Lenning paints him as a cold son and money-grubber only interested in Lugosi’s image for lucrative purposes, though to be honest, I rarely blamed Jr. for not being so close to his father. Lugosi was constantly traveling to do stage work, the two of them did not share common interests (more than likely due to Lugosi being such an older father), and Jr. was bullied at school for having Dracula as his dad, making their bond all the more awkward. I’m not saying he was totally in the right and as far as I know he could be some Snidely Whiplash money-grubber, but considering how biased Lenning shows himself to be when dealing with everyone else in this book, I have a hard time trusting anything he says about anybody. Either you’re a true believer or you’re a “cold fish,” I guess.

The most cringeworthy thing about this book is that Lenning makes himself a character in Lugosi’s life drama. He chronicles in detail the times he met the actor at performances of Dracula in the 1940s. This would normally be charming. Lenning instead casts himself as a holy figure, a sign to the saddened Lugosi that there is at least one “Lugosi-ite” out there adoring his films! He almost seems to suggest he is the son Lugosi should have had, unlike the unappreciative Jr. Why, Jr. didn’t even read the first edition of Lenning’s Lugosi biography! How awful!

(No, I’m not even kidding. He does complain about this! After claiming that Jr. attempted to control a conversation Lenning had with Lillian Lugosi, poor, poor Lenning says, “Once again he said that he had not read my book! (Perhaps he will spare himself from reading this update as well.)” I don’t know about Jr., but I wish I had spared myself the effort!)

This self-pitying, dare I say self-righteous, attitude permeates the book, making it unbearable and exhausting to read. Lenning makes snide remarks about those who don’t like Lugosi’s style or who dare to interpret events and anecdotes in ways that make Lugosi seem like the bad guy. He even calls some of his detractors “smart-ass critics.” I get being frustrated when critics are being smart-asses about things you like—I really do. I still haven’t fully forgiven Roger Ebert for his review of John Carpenter’s The Thing*… but when you’re writing a biography, is it really the time to settle personal vendettas? Is it really time to call people names like you’re still in middle school? Why not be the bigger person and show some class instead of making smart-ass comments yourself?

Ugh, Lugosi really needs a new biography. He deserves better than this fanboyish diarrhea. It’s sad, because it’s well-researched… but the author taints every event with his own rose-tinted view of Lugosi and his sheer disdain for everyone else save for fellow zealots.

Anyway, I’m done. Holy crap…

* This is a joke. Kind of.

[nerdsinatree]

The Swan

He was insane he told himself. He had to be. That could be the only explanation for the illusion he had stumbled across the night before. And even more so, his desire to seek after said vision. True he was no where even near being old enough to fall victim to senility, (which rarely plagued active magic users anyway). But perhaps years of bachelorhood had caused him to grow desperate. Imagining up some fanciful fairy tale of beautiful, shapeshifting nymphs...

But then again, stranger things had happened before where magic was concerned...

The sorcerer descended from his workshop and stepped out into the cool air. He had often left his tower in the middle of the night to pick night-jasmine under the light of the full moon, when the flowers magical properties would be at their peak. So he knew the guards would think nothing of him venturing out into the castle gardens at this hour.

However, he had no intention of harvesting any potion ingredients tonight. No, this time he had a different goal in mind. In a place he had accidentally stumbled upon last night. Where he had seen her...

He had told himself he was crazy. Rationalizing it must be some sort of delusion brought on by fatigue. And he would have continued with that explanation had it not been for the tangible proof he held in his hands.

His fingers caressed the long feather. Nearly completely white, save for the tip which was colored a light lavender. It's unique appearance was strange enough as it was. But he honestly wouldn't have put too much stock into it, had he not come across the exact same kind of feather many times before.

Within the past few years his rather abysmal life had suddenly taken a turn for the better. So much so that he had actually managed to earn the long coveted respect of King Roland II and the rest of Enchancia. As such, he had even given up his long held dream of taking over the kingdom in order to gain such approbation.

However, he had come to notice over this time period, that whenever a particularly fortunate event occured. He would find a feather. Which he had begun collecting from the second or third time he had seen them. And they all bore a striking resemblance to the one he had found lying on the ground where she had once been. Just moments after he thought he saw her transform and disappear into the sky...

It took him a while, but he eventually found the most elusive part of the garden. A secert area, hidden behind some inconspicuos branches. He pulled back the plants and bent down slighty, entering in through the small opening.

Straightening himself back up, he gazed out into the large lake. Where he could see a single solitary figure swimming under the moonlight.

Stepping closer to the water allowed him a better view of the creature. A swan. It's body completely snow white and almost shining in the moonlight. Save for small amount of lavender, which colored the ends of it's wings and tail. Upon it's long graceful neck was a silver collar of sorts, decorated with a small tear shaped pink jewel.

An amused smile came to his lips as he observed how the creature swam closer to him, whilst still trying to keep her distance.

"It's alright." he assured her. "I know what you are. You don't have to hide from me." doing his best to sound confident. Though inwardly he was squirming a bit at how foolish he would sound if this did indeed turn out to be just a regular water fowl. At least no one else would be around to witness his blunder.

He was then pleasantly surprised, when the swan suddenly began to glow in the moonlight. After a flash of light, and swirl of rising water that completely covered her form, a young woman now stood upon the water where the swan had once been.

Cedric's mouth gaped in awe at the sight before him. She was young looking (though he was aware that was not always a proper indicator of age when it came to magical creatures), with large blue eyes and auburn hair which was tied into a simple ponytail a top her head. She wore a small white sleeveless dress. The length of it barely covering her thighs, allowing him a good view of her long graceful legs and dainty bare feet. The silver choker having transformed into a silver chained necklace, the pink gem hanging from it much bigger than before.

What really caught him off guard though were her arms, which were covered in the same long, white, lavender tipped feathers he had been finding over the years.

He flinched, falling to the ground as she suddenly disappeared from the top of the water. Plunging gracefully into the lake, before emerging once more and swimming towards him. Leaning up on the bank to present him with a big smile.

Cedric leaned back, and gulped. A little unnerved by how close she was to him. He was about to say such, but was prevented when she spoke first.

"It's so nice to see you again, Cedric."

"I..I..What?" he stuttered, trying to find his voice. "Who are you? How do you know me?"

"It's me, Sofia." she answered simply. As though he should already know.

"Sofia?..."

She nodded eagerly, "That was the name you gave to me after you saved me. When I was still just a little cygnet."

"What?...I never!..." he ceased his protest however when suddenly an old memory from his boyhood returned to of his mind. Of him rescuing a baby bird that was being tormented by some of the other students at Hexley Hall.

He didn't really know why he had reached out to the little cygnet at the time. After all, he wasn't exactly an animal lover. Perhaps he took pity on the creature because he saw himself in her. Both of them outcasts and ugly ducklings in their own right. But with her destined to eventually grow into a magnificent swan. And he hoped to be able to follow the same path as well.

So he cared for the little bird. Nursing her back to health, and calling her Sofia. A name he had heard at random once before and decided he liked. His mother was especially supportive of his decision to care for her, and had even consoled him when he awoke distraught one morning to find his that little charge had mysteriously vanished. Assuring him that his kindness to the creature would prove to be a great blessing in his future.

Now, looking at the beautiful nymph before him. It seemed his mother had known far more about the identity of the animal he had rescued than she had let on...

"Yes...yes I do think I remember you..." he said softly.

Her already radiant face seemed to light up even more at his remembrance. Before her eyes took on a rather wistful look "I'm sorry I never got to say good bye to you. But my mother found me and brought me back home, and I was only deemed old enough to make contact with humans a few years ago. Or, I would have tried to find you sooner."

He cleared his throat, blushing a bit before turning his attention back to the feather he still held in his hand.

"So...you're the reason my life has gotten so much better these last few years..." he observed aloud. Gently stroking the edges of the plume, and savoring the soft texture upon his fingertips.

"Only a little..." she admitted, "I can help bring good fortune, but my influence is only so powerful. You did the rest of it yourself."

He smiled to hear that. Feeling a little relieved to know that he was at least partly responsible for his new, better, lot in life. But at the same time grateful for her hand in it.

"I wanted to help you. Just like you helped me all those years ago." she said,

He pocketed the feather in his sleeve before holding her gaze with his own. A smile on his face. "Thank you, Sofia" he said sincerely.

She blushed lightly, before doing something that completely caught him off guard. She leaned up, and planted a sweet kiss on his lips before looking up at him with adoring eyes, "I love you Cedric. Will you be my husband?"

Cedric started to sputtering. Totally unprepared to receive a kiss, confession, and proposal all at the same time.

"I wanted to ask you sooner." she continued, apparently unfazed by his response. "I've loved you for so long... But I only became old enough to leave my mother's nest a few weeks ago."

The sorcerer was at a loss. On one hand her confession seemed so sincere, and her sweetness was certainly tempting. But on the other, the fact remained that they still barely knew each other. And he wouldn't feel right bringing her so swiftly into a relationship a part of him feared she may come to regret someday. Plus, it was clearly evident that she aged much slower than himself. Considering that she was still a maiden, despite them having both been children at the same time. And that was sure to pose some difficulties in their relationship.

But perhaps, things would work out. If they took the chance...

He cleared his throat, "Well, I'm not sure marriage would be the right course of action to take at the moment."

Her face fell a bit as, as she cocked her head in confusion. Clearly upset by his seeming rejection. The sight of which nearly broke his heart, and he swiftly acted to correct her misunderstanding.

"What...What I mean is! I think it would be better if we got to know each other a bit more first!" he added, "That is to say. I'd like to court you."

Sofia's features lightened in relief as she considered his offer. She wasn't completely naive as to the customs of humans, who often preferred a longer courtship than her fellow nymphs. And if this is what made him most comfortable, she would be happy to oblige.

"Sure" she smiled, "I'd like that."