c4p7ch4

[c4p7ch4]

when dogs learn from the wolf - a quick Basta-short

"They look up to you, you know? You have to be careful what they learn from you"

Basta, who was leaning against the car and watching the boys she had brought with her playing with the guard dogs, turned to look at her. She kept her eyes on the boys, something clouding her gaze. Was it sadness? Or concern? Basta couldn't tell.

"Do you think Capricorn has a use for some homeless blokes who can't even shoot? I can't just let them live here without-"

"I'm not talking about the guns. Or the fires. Or the raids. I know that they have to pull their weight so they can stay here. I'm talking about the women. And those who are weaker, like Riccio, or Darius. The boys watch you, watch how you treat them, and they'll do the same as you. If we ever want to have a chance of a reasonably peaceful coexistence, the men must stop harassing the maids and treat them with respect and kindness. You have to set an example for them."

Basta didn’t answer right away. The boys jumped around the dogs in the glare of the headlights, their shadows leaping with them. The dogs barked once, then ran off into the darkness. 

The boys followed, hollering, sticks held high like swords. Basta’s jaw twitched. Maybe Zera was right. He had trained them to hold a blade, to set a fire, to fight—but not to think. Not to build, only to destroy. Maybe because he himself had forgotten how to.

He glanced sidelong at her. Even with the dirt smudging her cheek, the fraying apron, and the faint bruise that hadn’t quite faded under her eye, she stood like someone who remembered what dignity felt like. Someone who had chosen not to forget it.

"I guess I can see your point," he said after a while, "and what will you have me do? Do you expect me to pick flowers for the kitchen girls? Or Darius?"

"For the start, it will be enough if you stopped teasing them. And stop waving that knife around whenever you're bored or sour, it's making people nervous."

Basta scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned back against the car. His fingers toyed with the hilt of his knife out of habit, then—perhaps consciously—he slid it back into its sheath with a low snick.

“I’ll try,” he muttered, barely audible.

Zera raised an eyebrow. “You’ll try?”

He exhaled, long and low. “Fine. I won’t wave the knife around. And I won’t tease Darius, or kick Scipio's arse again.” He paused, smirking slightly. “Even if he deserves it.”

Zera didn’t smile, not quite. But the tension in her shoulders eased. She turned to leave, but stopped, glancing over her shoulder.

“If you really mean it,” she said, “then maybe tomorrow, you can help me in the garden. We need to remove the frost-bitten roots.”

Basta groaned. “First no stabbing, now gardening? What’s next, embroidery with Mortola?”

Zera grinned faintly, walking off into the night. “You might learn something.”

Basta stared after her. The dogs barked again in the distance. One of the boys screamed—not in pain, just the wild thrill of pretend danger. The kind of danger that hadn’t yet carved into bone.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “What am I becoming?”

But still, he didn’t draw his knife.

The morning came slow and grey, mist clinging low to the ground as if reluctant to let go of the night. Basta wasn't sure what had woken him—the dogs barking, maybe, or the cold seeping through the thin curtain in his room, or another nightmare he couldn't remember—but once he was up, there was no sense in staying in bed.

Zera was already in the garden, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, hands deep in the dirt. A basket sat beside her, half-filled with limp leaves and frost-burnt roots. Her breath fogged in the cold air, but she didn't look up when he approached.

"You came," she said simply.

Basta crouched beside her, squinting at the wilted plants like they were a puzzle he had no business solving. "I did."

Zera passed him a trowel without a word. He stared at it like it might bite, then took it. The dirt was hard, but not frozen yet. He loosened the soil a little and then reached for the dried up roots, but they broke when he tried to rip them out. Basta cursed under his breath and tried again, but the plant crumbled in his fist before he could get a hold of it. 

"Wait, let me show you." Zera said and came to crouch beside him. She loosened the soil with her bare hands, took hold of a root and pulled it out in a circling motion, all in one piece.

"Now you try" she said as she dug up another root. He grabbed at it and wanted to start pulling, but she stopped him and adjusted his hand. He flinched at her touch, but let her guide him. "Grab it here and pull it out gently." 

This time, Basta managed to pull out the whole root. He threw it on the pile to the others. 

"If that's how it's done, this is going to take forever."

"Probably, these things take time and care. All broken things do."

"Then why bother doing it? Why don't you just start planting somwhere else?"

"Because with some work and patience, it has the potential to turn into something wonderful. You can always start over, but working to turn something rough into something... else, it shows that there are still wonders in the world."

They worked in silence for a while.  Basta grunted every now and then, his movements awkward, but he didn’t complain. Not out loud, anyway.

Zera, for her part, pretended not to notice the way he kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye, as if waiting for praise or mockery—maybe both.

It was almost peaceful. Until the shouting started.

Basta’s head snapped up. Voices—young, angry and close.

"That's coming from the town square" Zera said, but Basta was already making his way, she limped after him.

The shouting grew louder as he reached the edge of the square. Basta’s boots crunched on the frosty cobblestones of the street, his hand brushing the hilt of his knife—but he didn’t draw it. Not yet.

In the square, a group of boys stood in a loose circle, fists clenched, faces red with the kind of fury that burns hot but short. In the center, one boy was on the ground, one arm raised to shield his head. Basta recognised the blonde, shaggy hair - Riccio. His lip bled, and his jacket had been torn at the sleeve.

Across from him stood Carlo, one of the older boys, taller and heavier, his chest heaving as if the effort of being angry took more out of him than the fight itself.

“I told you not to take it!” Carlo snarled. “That’s mine!”

“I didn’t!” Riccio spat back, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I was just looking!”

“You’re a liar,” one of the others said, stepping forward. “Always snooping around, never listening.” He raised his hand threatingly into a fist, ready to strike.

“Enough!” Basta’s voice cut through the chill air like a blade.

The boys froze. Even Carlo turned, pale now, like a boy who’d realized the game he was playing has gone too far.

"What's going on here?" Basta snapped and made his way over to the boys. Carlo started to stutter a sentenced, but Basta interrupted him before he could finish "You know what? I don't even care."

Zera appeared behind Basta, breathless, her leg aching, but calm. 

Basta stepped into the circle and offered Riccio a hand. The boy hesitated—then took it and scrambled to his feet, still scowling, but he stood straight. Basta turned to Carlo.

“You want to fight?” he asked.

Carlo blinked. “What?”

“You want to fight?” Basta repeated, stepping forward until he was nose to nose with the boy. "Then fight someone who knows how. Or you don’t fight at all.”

Carlo looked at the ground. “I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what you meant.” Basta’s voice was cold. “This—” he gestured around, at the other boys, “—isn’t how we keep order around here. You think you need to show how strong you are by beating up someone smaller than you? Someone from your own pack? You think Capricorn’s keeping you around because you’re good at beating up little boys when they’re down?”

He waited. No answer. The boys stood still, eyes downcast.

Basta turned to Riccio. “You touch something that isn’t yours again, and you answer to me. Got it?”

Riccio nodded quickly, eyes wide.

“Good.” Basta straightened. “Now get back to your tasks, all of you. And next time you think about starting a fight, you think about how fast I can make you wish you hadn’t.”

The crowd broke up slowly. Muttering. Shuffling. Avoiding eyecontact.

When the square was mostly empty, Basta turned to Zera.

“Is this what you meant? About being better?”

Zera looked at him a moment. Then, to his surprise, she smiled.

“It’s a start.”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bloody hell. If this keeps going, I'll go soft before I know it.”

"Maybe that's a good thing." Then Zera turned, walking back toward the garden. 

Basta watched her go.

He didn’t follow.

Not right away.

Maybe that's a good thing.

He replayed the words in his mind, like a song you couldn't get out of your head. He wasn’t sure he liked the tune.

The knife at his hip felt heavier than it used to. Not onerous—just... real, different. He thought about drawing it again, just to remind himself of who he was. To see the familiar reflection of his eyes in the steel, the very same steel that has drawn the blood of so many people, the same eyes that had watched houses and everyone in them burn to the ground. 

But instead his hands reached for the cigarettes in his pockets. He always hated the smell of smoke, especially when it clung to his clothes. But somehow, it helped him block out the bad memories that crept up his spine, into his heart and mind. It seemed to him as if the images vanished into thin air along with the smoke.

After a while he left the square, not to go back to his house, nor to join the men who were slowly gathering in the church to have breakfast. He walked toward the garden.

Zera was already on her knees again, cold hands moving through the soil like they belonged there. She didn’t look up.

“You didn’t have to come back,” she said. 

Basta didn't reply, he came to kneel beside her. His joints popped, a reminder that violence aged a man faster than the years ever could.

“Carlo’s trouble,” he muttered. “Always has been.”

“Then teach him,” Zera replied simply. “Or he’ll learn from someone worse.”

Basta picked at a clump of roots, frowning. “He’s not like the other boys. That one… he’s got venom in him.”

Zera didn’t answer immediately, nor did she look up, but Basta knew she was listening. She was just searching for the right words.

“That Venom - it's just anger that's being kept within,” she said at last. “And boys like him—if they don’t find something better to hold on to, they’ll hold on to their hate like it’s all they’ve got.”

Basta fingers dug into the cold soil, sending pain and shivers through his bones. It felt like penance.

“What if I mess it up?” he asked quietly. “What if I make it worse?”

Zera paused then. Her hand brushed his as she reached for the same root. She didn’t pull away.

“Then you try again.”

He looked at her, at the dirt under her fingernails, the quiet steadiness in her face. Not softness—but strength of another kind. The kind that didn’t need a blade to prove it existed.

They worked until the frost began to melt. Until the sun crept low and golden over the rooftops, turning broken windows into fire. Basta didn’t say much after that, but he didn’t leave either.

And when one of the younger boys—was it Dante? or Elio? Basta couldn't remember the lad, he hasn't been around for long—crept to the garden’s edge with a sheepish look and asked if they needed help, Basta didn’t bark or snarl or wave a knife. He handed the boy a trowel.

Later, when Zera rose to wash her hands, she watched Basta guiding the boy how to dig, awkward but determined and patient.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Because something was changing.

Not fast. Not all at once. But like roots under the earth, it was there.

And for once, it seemed that Basta didn’t run from it.

[c4p7ch4]

haha, they did him dirtyy

So i got the German ‚Study aid‘ for kids who read Inkheart in school and have problems understanding the characters. Theres a task where you gotta match different descriptions to Basta and Capricorn

- ‚Chews peppermint leaves to mask his bad breath‘

Basta bad breath confirmed???

- Superstitious, wears amulets around his neck to ward off evil spirits (rabbit‘s foot, A CHILD‘S FINGER??? UM I DONT THINK SO)

- has burned arms (and fear of fire)

they just HAD to add that

- low self-esteem, initially held the keys and authority in the village, but lost this power to Mortola - gradual loss of status and influence (‚No one listens to me anymore!‘)

[c4p7ch4]

your drawings awaken emotions in me, you cannot imagine T_T

*clears throat* a few doodles I did for artfight. extremely self-indulgent but here you go enjoy

[c4p7ch4]

<<< wet cat basta

Sooo I cant stop thinking about your basta drawings they are so good🥹 And i had a sudden flash of an idea… Remember the scene where Basta and Flatnose found Meggie in the coastal village and arrive at Fenoglios door, completely soaked from the rain? I cant stop thinking about a wet basta in your art style lmao😭 Youre such a great artist thank u for your work<33

ask and you shall receive

[c4p7ch4]

Basta - Headcanons

he enjoys training the young boys the blackjackets pick up on the streets to add to their little mafia-army - unlike the adults, who only respect him out of fear, the boys somewhat look up to him for his skills in knife-combat and his macho-demeanor (of course they still dread his anger and short temper and their adoration fades as they grow older - but one or two of them keep their attachement to Basta, maybe because he reminds them of their own fathers or because their understanding of a healthy mentor-mentee-relationship is so twisted they can't detach themselves properly - who knows?)

he reeaaally craves to have a family on his own - he would never admit it or tell anyone, but he often lays awake at night, imagining a different life, one where Roxane chose him instead of Dustfinger, where he didn't reach for the knife but for the hand of the women he loved and took her with him, somewhere far away where neither the fire raisers nor the adderhead could reach them and where they'd start a little family on their own little farm

at the same time he has really conflicting and binding feelings towards Capricorn - he's like his father, his saviour, he gives him purpose and power and a home and I think during inkheart he's too far gone that he'd still consider running away with the woman he loved - he'd rather stay in the position he is, as Capricorns first in command - but preferably with someone who loved and cherished and supported and believed in him, someone who'd wait for him when he got home after a long day of tormenting people, someone who'd keep him company - who'd ENJOY his company, who'd bring him meals and coffee when he had bridge duty at night, someone he could show off to the other men and who wouldn't withdraw when he throws his tantrums, but someone who'd stay and bandage his bruised hand when he'd hit the wall in his rage, someone who'd kiss him goodnight and goodmorning

that someone would have to be tough, patient and restrained - because putting up with Basta is NOT easy, he's short tempered, easily jealous, distrustful, desensitized to violence, nasty, unsocial, impulsive, sadistic and a HAND FULL of work

but he's also immensly loyal, and cunning, and resourceful, and courageous, and relentless, and dedicated, and intense and passionate, and confident (at least he acts like he is), and aware to details, and protective of the ones he loves

he's the kind of guy who would stay with you no matter what - I don't think Basta would be capable to leave his partner for another (not only because there wouldn't be anyone else who would put up with him, but also because once you're his, he only has eyes for you, you're his and he's yours, and that's it)

he'd remember every little detail he noticed about you - the gum you liked, the songs you hummed while working, the soft way you'd say 'okay' when you didn't want to argue but were still hurting, how you'd lit up for the tiniest joys like spring rain or a lovely flower he picked up for you, the way you'd tuck your hair behind your ear when you were about to read something to him you loved

he would think of all these little details when he was away from you, running errands or looking for copies of Inkheart, and his heart would ache for you - he'd give you the longest and tightest hugs when he got back to you, taking in your scent, enjoying the familiar and comforting feeling of your body against his

he'd also grow terribly anxious that someone else would hit on you while he was gone, or that you got hurt or something else happened that would take you away from him (he'd always have one of his boys back in the village to keep an eye out for you and let you talk to him on the phone)

yes, he's a cruel, hateful and violent (fictional) man, but he's also human (even if only imagined) and he's craving the same as everyone else: love and acceptance

[c4p7ch4]

he looks beautiful <3 and angwy >:( keep up the good work! this is bringing joy to so many underfed basta-stans :)

whatever. have some more of him

[c4p7ch4]

back on my bullshit again. there you go, more Basta sketches thank you

[c4p7ch4]

hoping this'll reach its target audience (the Inkheart fandom, if there's any)

first attempt at drawing Basta, from Inkheart. because unfortunately im reviving the crush i used to have in this garbage of a man

anyway, Him

[c4p7ch4]

One-shot: Basta (Inkheart) x OC (Zera)

I've got no excuse for this except I was bored

Warnings: english is not my first language, also: might be out of character, it's late and I can't think straight; also also: fluff and vulnerability (that shit hurts)

"I feel terrible"

"Well, you look terrible, too." Zera said jokingly to Basta, who had just woken up from his feverish slumber. But Basta was in no mood to joke around.

He caught a cold two weeks ago that got pretty bad due to his poor immune system, and he's been bedridden for five days now. The symptoms slowly subsided, but since Basta hardly slept the entire time he was sick, he was incredibly exhausted.

Especially the last two days he could hardly rest, his thoughts were constantly circling around that night and he was unimaginably nervous whenever Zera was around. Neither of them spoke about the kiss, Zera didn't know that Basta was wide awake when she fulfilled his birthday wish and Basta didn't dare to bring it up.

"Come on, stop whinig around and sit up. Breakfast's ready." Zera said and put down a tray with bread and eggs on Basta's lap. When Zera left for the kitchen and came back with a cup of hot coffee, he still hadn't touched any of the food.

"Why aren't you eating?" asked Zera, confused. Basta didn't look up as he mumbled: "I'm not hungry." even though his stomach was gurgling with emptiness, as if it wanted to digest itself.

He didn't feel like eating. He felt awful, not only because he was hungry and tired and sore from lying around in bed so much without getting any rest, but also because he felt dirty. He couldn't remember the last time he had taken a proper bath and he hasn't been able to shave in the last few days, so his face was covered in stubble. He felt disgusting. And ashamed, especially because Zera had to see him like this.

"Of course you're hungry, you've barely eaten anything in two days. Your body's just sending you mixed signals because you're exhausted. I could fetch you something else, if you don't feel like eggs-"

"I said I'm not hungry!" Basta snapped at her and threw the tray off his lap, sending the plate of food flying onto the floor. He regretted his outburst immidiately and finally looked up to meet Zeras eyes, expecting an anxious or maybe even furious expression on her face. But instead, she looked neutral, almost indifferent. She looked Basta straight in the eyes and stared at him, he felt more and more uneasy until he realized that she was contemplating.

After what felt like an eternity, she said, "You should shave. And you should go outside, you didn't have any fresh air since you got here.". Then she took the chair which was standing next to Basta's bed and left for the bathroom. Basta heard her rummaging around at the sink but didn't know what to do, so he just stayed seated on his bed, staring at the mess he created, cursing at himself. He clawed at the blanket beneath him, he wanted to kick himself, angry as he was. His rising fury fizzled out when Zera stepped out of the bathroom, standing in front of Basta, startling him.

"'Think you can walk?"

Basta nodded puzzled and got up without asking any questions. Zera led him to the bathroom and gestured him to sit down at the chair she put in front of the sink. Basta couldn't surpress the brief look of shock when he saw himself in the mirror. He really did look terrible.

"You know, it could be worse," Zera started when she caught Basta's look, "you could look like Cockerell."

Basta huffed at that, but he had to smile at the joke. Then he went solemn again "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

Zera turned away to get the materials she prepared. "No I'm not. I'm not that nice."

She came back with a make-shift shaving set. There wasn't any shaving cream, but she managed to mix something up out of the soap she had at hand. She put a towel over Bastas' shoulders, startling him with the sudden movement, and placed the shaving set on the sink. Basta hadn't yet processed what was happening when Zera came to stand between his legs, leaning against the sink, soap in one hand, Bastas' chin in the other, spreading the soap on his face.

His face felt rough beneath her fingers, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, she almost enjoyed tracing the sharp edges of his face. The enjoyment faded when she noticed Bastas wide eyed look, like a deer staring at the headlights of a car, not knowing wether they meant danger or not. There was something else to his gaze she couldn't name. She stopped her movements and stepped aside to make room for Basta to shave himself.

He took the blade with a shaking hand. At first she thought he was shaking out of nervousness, then she realized it was probably because of his weak condition. She stopped his hand and took the knife from him before it touched his cheek.

"Wait, let me do it." she said, shaking her head.

But Basta recoiled from the knife, first anxious, then furious.

"The hell you are doing! You really think I'd let you get that close to my neck with a knife?" he shouted at her, standing up to make himself bigger. He couldn't let her realize how weak he really was. Unfortunately, Zera wasn't intimidated by Basta, especially not when he looked like a rabid dog, with all the foam on his face. She would have laughed at the sight if she hadn't been ireful herself.

"And you really think I'd kill you or watch as you kill yourself, shaky as you are? You know damn well that Capricorn will have me killed if his second in command dies on my watch! Either you let me help you or you can go back to bed." Zera shot back, arms crossed.

Basta stared her down angrily, but he knew she'd stand her ground no matter what, and he didn't feel like fightning, right know he wasn't strong enough for that. Exasperated he yielded, sitting down, arms crossed, tilting his head away from her. Zera came to stand between his legs again and he squirmed, when she took ahold of his face. His breath quickened along with his heartbeat and he had to fight the urge to draw away.

"Relax, I'll be careful." Zera whispered and began to draw the blade gently across his face.

Basta hated to admit it, but he found pleasure in her caresses. Of course he couldn't let her know that.

He hated how weak she made him at times, and if she knew, she'd use it to her advantage, undoubtly. That is, if she didn't know already. She had to know, why else would she be so caring towards him? She's manipulating you already, idiot! On the other hand, she was caring towards everyone. That's something he hated and admired about her. She was tough and fierce, but also caring and attentive, even to those that did her harm. Even to those stupid brats, that were intentionally clumsy just to have an excuse to come see her and be babied by her. Even to him. Of course she takes care of you, that's her job! She's got no other choice! Yet... her ministrations still felt good to Basta, even if they were forced.

He struggled to keep a stern expression, but secretly he was in heaven. His hard stance gave way for a second as the gentle touches made his body tired and his head heavy, so he leaned into her touch. Zera surpressed a soft giggle and used her hold on his face to tilt his head the other way and shave the other side of his face.

She felt that this form of self-care was good for him, despite his stiffness and tough demeanor, and that he desperately needed it. She didn't take it personally that he lashed out at her. Apart from the fact that he was very temperemental in general, he was also very weary at the moment, which made his fight or flight instincts kick in early on. He was on constant survival mode, that's something she noticed about him early on. She supposed that's bound to happen when you live in a hostile environment such as Capricorns community, and as far as she could tell, no one had Basta's back. He was cross with everyone, most likely even with himself. That drains a person, isolation and loneliness, and even though he would never admit it: he longed for company. That's probably the only thing both of them shared.

Basta's cheeks and mouth area were shaved smooth, now only his neck was left.

"Tilt your head backwards" Zera said as she cleaned the blade.

Basta blinked rapidly, as if waking up from a dream and taking in his surrounding again. He eyed Zera for a moment before he did as she bid. Zera took hold of his shoulder and shaved his neck. She saw him swallow hard, he brought his hands down to his legs and clawed into his trousers. It must have been really hard for him to be in such a vulnerable position. Zera decided to try to lighten up the mood.

"Have you heard what happened to Scipio yesterday? He and some other boys did some arm wrestling and he managed to break his arm. I didn't even think that was possible, but yet here we are. Sometimes I wonder how some of them made it this far down the road. They seem like the kind of people who would cut off their ears to find out if they could still hear when they did."

It made Zera smile to hear a low chuckle from him.

"And the other day Amario wanted to give a flower to one of the kitchen maids, but he picked something poisonous, both his hands were red and swollen and then somehow he got it in his eyes too, he looked like a blown up tomato."

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The mood did lighten up a little and soon Zera was finished with the shave. Basta dried his face with the towel and looked into the mirror with satisfaction.

"There, all nice and smooth." Zera commented, leaning against his shoulder, content with her work, "I kind of miss it, a little stubble suits you." Zera gestured Basta to leave the bathroom and started cleaning up. Her last comment upset him a little and he almost regretted letting her shave him, but he felt better than before none the less. He stood in the doorway for a moment and looked back, contemplating what to say. He rarely ever thanked people, but he felt this was the right time to do so. Still, he couldn't bring the words out, he just stood there, mouth open but no words coming out.

Zera beat him to it and said "You're welcome. And now clean up the mess you made outside."

[c4p7ch4]

Okay, so upon researching StPD, I think Basta might have that.

@kyra7 @c4p7ch4 @tintenherzundseele @hearts4capricorn

[c4p7ch4]

Hi 👋🏻

I’m going to use you as a fic suggestion box/idea dumping ground.

I think Basta is terrified mirrors— related to his superstitions. He frequently sees illusions of shadows standing behind him when he’s getting ready in the mornings. He believes the mirror is a portal of some sort and will typically avoid looking at them longer than necessary.

Basta once broke a mirror during a rage and started having a panic attack. It wasn’t his first, but he still couldn’t breathe. One of the maids (your OC maybe) found him after he fainted right into the middle of the glass shards. When he woke up in the infirmary, he wouldn’t do anything but ramble vaguely about how he “broke the gate”.

 welp, notes are at the end of the post

One-Shot: Basta (Inkheart) x OC (Zera)

Warning: english is not my first language; also, mayybe a little infodump on paramedical protocol or whatever to call it (I can’t help it, I’m obsessed with my job) 

“I admire scars. I like to watch them heal, they add character to a person. And they always tell a story.” Basta remembers Zera’s words from today, when she nursed to one of the boys who got a nasty cut on his cheek. The boy got hurt when he and some others were being trained in knife throwing by Basta. The poor fellow was dared by his mates to stand target - and he was stupid enough to follow the request. He wasn’t badly injured, but he became miserable the second he saw blood flow down his face. Basta practically had to drag him to the infirmerie. Before they entered, he hissed into the boys ear: “Not a word on how you got that cut. If she hears that I let you do somethig stupid like that, she’ll take her anger out on me instead of you.”

The boy was white as a sheet when he sat down and Zera did her best to calm him down. The stupid boy was more concerned about having an ugly scar than about the fact that he almost lost an eye, Zera soothed his worries. Her kind words were like honey to Basta, even though they weren’t directed at him. He couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy inside.

But now, that he was standing in front of his bathroom mirror, lights out, shirt stripped, arms bare, all that warmth was gone.

I doubt that you’d like this story, he thought to himself. 

Pictures flashed before his eyes, memories of another life. A family, kneeling in front of their house, begging for their lives. A father offering his daughter to save his own head. Capricorn ordering to lock the girl inside the house and set it on fire. Basta following order, reluctantly, lighting the thatched roof with a torch. Flames taking over the house rapidly. The girl screeching inside as the fire consumed her. The sound of her voice was so horrifying that Basta froze in place, too near to the flames. It was too late for him to realize that he stood too close, his shirt already caught fire, eating into his flesh. 

Basta looked at the horrendous scars, which will remind him of his deeds for the rest of his life. An intense anger overcame him. He felt anger and rage and hate. Hate for these horrific scars. Hate for himself. He knew he deserved to look like this. Like the deformed, evil monster he was. 

In his fury, he threw up his hands into fists and banged them against the mirror. The glass broke and shattered down on him like hot, stinging rain.

It took him a moment to calm down. Stunned, numb, he looked down at his bleeding hands, they had splinters. He followed the streaming blood with his eyes and watched as it flew onto the broken glass on the floor. 

He stooped headlong to start gathering up the shards to clean up the mess when suddenly he saw a flash of light reflecting off one of the pieces of glass.

No, this can’t be.

 He froze immediately as images of that fire flashed before his eyes again. Unable to stop the memories, he panicked, his breath caught, tears spilled, his heart pounded.

He tried to steady himself on the sink but he could barely breathe and before he knew it the fire in his head consumed him and everything went black.

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“And that…” The boy aimed his flashlight at the only house on the street that didn't look like it might fall apart at any moment, “is Basta's house.”

"Fascinating. Are you done with your tour now, can we go back to the kitchen now? I'd appreciate it if Mortola wouldn't beat me up for taking too long. Again." Zera stated annoyed. 

Zera had to be accompanied by one of Capricorns men because she wasn't allowed to walk around alone after dark, so she took the boy she'd helped earlier that day with her. She realized that might have been a mistake when he insisted on giving her a tour of the village after the ordeal - in thanks, he said, for her services. He didn't seem to be listening when she told him she'd been around longer than he had.

She had to do a home visit to one of the black jackets because his girlfriend was heavily pregnant and Zera wanted to check on her daily to make sure, she’d take notice of any complications early on. Capricorn sure as hell wouldn’t allow her to be taken to the hospital if anything went wrong. 

The boy looked droopy when he finally noticed Zeras disinterest.

“You didn’t like the walk? I’ve thought you’d like to see the village since you’re cooped up in the kitchen all day otherwise...”

“I’m sure I’d like the area if it wasn’t occupied by my murderous captors. Anyways, I know the surrounding already, I’ve been at Basta’s several times before, because I had to-” the sound of shattering glass interrupted Zera. It sounded as if it came from inside Basta’s house. 

“Basta?” Zera called out.

“I don’t think he’s home, all the lights are out.”

“But that sound came from inside his house, didn’t it?”

“I believe so, but I don’t want to investigate that mysterious and alarming noise, especially since it’s Basta’s house, of all houses.”

Zera huffed annoyed. “Fine, then I’ll take a look.” 

“You want to break into Basta’s home?! Are you off your mind?” the boy whispered anxiously.

“Shut up and wait outside, I’ll be back in a minute.” Zera hissed, took the torch out of his hand and climbed over the wall into Basta’s backyard before the boy could protest.

She entered through Basta’s porch and looked around the house. She realized that Basta had to be at home when she noticed his black jacket hanging next to the front door. He always put it there when he came home.

Suddenly, she heard a thud from upstairs. Zera tensed and walked towards the stairs.

“Basta? You’re home?” she called out. No answer. She went up the stairs with careful steps and turned on the upstairs light. No one in sight.

She turned to the first door, the bedroom, and knocked. When there was no answer, she entered cautiously, but Basta wasn’t inside.

She turned to the last door on the floor but hesitated to knock.

Do I really want to interrupt Basta while he’s taking a shit? she tought to herself. Instead she put her ear to the door and heared... panting? Irregular panting.

“Basta? Are you all right?”

Zera discarded all her worries when she received no answer and cautiously opened the door when she sensed something right in front of it. She squeezed her head inside and turned on the lights. She almost dropped the flashlight on Basta’s head  when she saw him sprawled on the floor, bloody, covered in glass shards. 

She entered quickly, careful not to trip on his body, and checked his airways. They were all clear but he had an abnormal breathing pattern and he was unconscious, even though she tried her hardest to wake him. She noticed the scars immidiately but decided, that they weren’t of importance right now as they were older. She laid him on his side and ran to the window in his bedroom, it faced the street and Zera shouted down at the boy who was still waiting: “Run back to the house and grab the red backpack.”

She turned to run back to Basta when she heard the boy shout: “What? Why, what’s wrong?”

“Just do it!” Zera screamed back impatietly and went back to the bathroom.

By the time she reached Basta, she heard him whimper incomprehensible words. And his eyes were slightly open, but they were clouded and he didn’t respond to any stimuli. Zera was able to heave him partly on her shoulder and dragged him to his bedroom. He was gone again by the time she laid him down. 

She checked his vitals and waited for the boy to come with her materials. What’s taking him so long? she wondered nervously and took the time to calm down and reevaluate the situation. She thought through every possible scenario that could have led to this. circulatory collapse. seizure. hypoglycemia. But none of it matched with the injurys on Basta’s hands. Did he smash the mirror?

It was now that she realized, that she shouldn’t let the boy see Basta’s scars if she wanted to spare him of Basta’s wrath upon him. Or herself. 

She always wondered why he was so obsessed with keeping long sleeves, even on hot days or when suffering a fever. She suspected he hid them out of shame. As much as she dispised this man, she couldn’t let him be exposed like this. It didn’t match her work ethics. Also, she wanted to live for a little bit longer. She scrambled out a shirt of Basta’s drawer and put it on him, which wasn’t an easy task considering he was limp as a bag of potatoes, but she managed just in time for the boy to return and knocking on the front door downstairs.

She let him in and took her emergency backpack. 

“Mortola saw me and asked what all the fuzz was about.”

“What did you tell her?” Zera asked as he was following her upstairs.

“That there was an emergency at Basta’s house. She said she’ll send over some of the men.”

“I don’t need any help from those brutes.”

“I don’t think she meant to send help but someone to guard you.”

“Sounds more likely. Go back downstairs and don’t let anyone come inside. I need peace and quiet if I don’t want to do any mistakes.”

“Is Basta alright?” the boy asked usure.

“Not yet. He will be once I’ve found out what happened to him in the first place. Now go, will you? Let me work in peace.”

The boy seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation and went downstairs without any more questions or protests.

When Zera entered the bedroom, Basta was back at whimpering. He was shaking too, but not like he was having a seizure. It was as if he was cold. Or scared.

Zera started to work, followed emergency protocol, took his vitals, checked his consciousness, but nothing indicated a bodily dysfunction. 

Could it be, that he was having a mental crisis? There was no way of finding out until he was able to talk to her, so she put him on an IV and gave him some medication to stabilize him.

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I know, I’m evil for leaving a cliffhanger, but I didn’t know whether it was worth the effort to finish the story, so let’s see how this is being receicved, if you guys somewhat enjoyed this silly story (honestly, I didn’t put much thought into it, I just wrote down what came to mind, I won’t even proof read it so there might be some mistakes, sorry for that but I planned on returning to study for uni like, 2 hours ago, soo...

(also, sorry for not having replied to any of your other messages yet, initially, I didn’t want to think too much about Basta until I passed all my exams at university because that man occupies my head too much and prevents me from thinking straight BUT when I read that headcanon, I couldn’t stop the imagine from flowing, so I had to write it down -_-)

[c4p7ch4]

the maladaptive daydreaming sounds valid, maybe he's also imagining/fantasizing about what (romantic gestures) he could do, to make his current crush like him (and when being rejected: what would be the most cruel way to take revenge, but not on his crush but on the person his crush chose instead, just like with Dustfinger and Roxane; I kind of have the feeling, that he couldn't do any real harm to a person he once liked, even when being rejected, he'd rather keep trying to make them like him, just not on main, more as in: still trying to look good in case they changed their mind)

but I also imagine him doing some at-home-training (push-ups or smth, I dunno)- he wants to stay in shape for the gurlz and kind of wants to make up for his height (manlet Basta is real, I tell ya, not just because I'm simping, but I could very well imagine it to be canon), maybe he also trains with his knife (in my imagination, he has a small garden behind his house with an old tree he uses as a target)

also: crying, he cries on a regular basis, but I suppose it's more of a habit than a hobby T_T

Basta doesn’t have any friends. He doesn’t really spend time with the other black jackets. He has a house, implying he gets enough time off from Capricorn. He admitted himself that he doesn’t find it fun to torture animals. He’s too jumpy and paranoid to enjoy walks or sitting in nature. He can’t read. He probably can’t sleep. There’s no way cleaning his house and polishing his knives takes up all that free time (especially if he’s an insomniac who doesn’t let things get messy to begin with). So what does he do when he’s not serving?

I think Basta must have a secret hobby.

Either that or he’s a maladaptive daydreamer who passes time by staring at a wall, thinking about everything he wants and creating scenarios that crush his own feelings. No wonder he’s such a hurt man.

Whatever Basta does when he’s not working, it’s definitely something deep and personal.

Anyone have any ideas? What pass-time seems the most Basta to you?

[c4p7ch4]

Hey, do you have an ao3 or fanfic site where you post your Basta x OC stuff? I’d love to check it out if you do!

nah, I usally don't write fics, I've just had a creative spurt and had to compensate it somehow

if I happen to enter a creative phase again, I'll post any content I produce on here (but thanks for asking!)

[c4p7ch4]

Oi! I LOVE IT🙊🙊🙌🙌🙌

Basta and a birthday cake.

Little doodle inspired by @c4p7ch4 's fic.

[c4p7ch4]

YES!!🙌! he'd feel so wrong about so many things, like normal, positive interaction or any form of kindness, sympathy or even just human decency , because that's not what he's learned what the world is like when he grew up

the standards in his world are distrust and rudeness and uncaring, etc., and even if kindness feels nice - that's not what it's supposed to be like, right? this is no normal behaviour, so they have to have something in mind (like an evil plot) with the way they're acting towards me (that's the way Bastas mind would work and it would lead him into sabotaging any form of kindness to conform to his worldview- they're being nice? they're trying to gain something. they are doing a kind gesture? I have to be careful, they've got something harmful in mind.)

I’m so caught up in imagining Basta’s reactions to a healthy relationship. Like this man has never known peace and love. It’s so heartbreaking to think about how many things he would be confused and even frightened by in a positive environment.

Someone saves a seat for him: immediately puzzled. Why would they do that? For me? No way. Nobody has ever saved a seat for me. Refuses to sit in it.

Somebody acts normal about him crying: Shame, confusion, frustration, embarrassment. I’m not allowed to cry. I’m not allowed to cry. Why aren’t they shaming me for it? I’m pathetic. They should be hitting me right now. Are they TRYING TO COMFORT ME??? DON’T DO THAT! HURT ME! PUNISH ME! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO CARE! Refuses to accept comfort— or even lashes out in response.

Somebody please give this guy some unconditional love and support. He needs to be proven that it’s possible to have friends who genuinely care about his needs, and aren’t just there on a transactional basis.

[c4p7ch4]

What do you think would happen if someone just went and told Basta why he behaves the way he does? Like if they just took out a book and started reading about OCD and cluster b personality disorders? The man needs DBT and catharsis.

[c4p7ch4]

oof, dark, but it fits 👌 (I'd love a playlist :) )

can't relate to the capricorn-stans though (that pig makes me sick to the stomach, I just can't ovesee any mental health issues he might have, he seems so inherently evil, he goes after his goals for the sole reason of having power and taking pleasure in it, he only takes joy in causing pain and suffering in other people, like-? I dunno, he just seems unredeemable)

So I was writing this song about my stepmother and realized halfway through that this song works amazingly well for Basta and Capricorn…

@c4p7ch4 @hearts4capricorn What do you think? Should I make a Spotify playlist for Basta?