#tw: strong language

[leportraitducadavre]

Why are the Uchiha considered a non-oppressed group? Naruto's fandom, specifically pro-Konoha readers, tend to claim that neither Sasuke nor his family was actually oppressed nor discriminated against prior to their killing; furthermore, some tend to state that it's for this supposed reason that the massacre was justified, as not only they perceived no injustice when presented with evidence of their treatment at the hands of those in positions of power (who should've had guaranteed their survival at the very minimum, as that was the reason for the village's creation), but also consider their plan to coup a consequence of their "traitorous" nature; a disservice after everything "Konoha did for them".

Some other fans, not much smarter than the first group, are willing to admit some of the discrimination they suffered; but they are reluctant to see such conduct as a learned animosity, labeling it as a "modern occurrence" (when speaking of Hiruzen's timeframe). According to them, the Uchiha had just begun to be discriminated against, so their reaction was disproportionate; apparently, it's mandatory to wait for such bigotry to be repeated for a few generations before considering it a systematic occurrence rather than an isolated event.

Genocide doesn't happen in a vacuum, it's not an option that is plausibly considered if not after years or decades of cultural and political repression and degradation. It's the growth of a slow but consistent process of dehumanization, to the point where those taught under such a regime of thought truly consider their life, rights, and opinions far more valuable and important than those they degrade.

Arresting or even killing the clan members that actually wanted to coup would've been far more understandable had those in power seen Uchiha humane enough for their lives to be considered, to matter; yet the elders quickly saw mass murder as an enticing option, sending one of the kin they wanted to exterminate to do their dirty job so they wouldn't lose "one of their own" and still look pristine.

They were able to do so and still see themselves as agents of peace because they were taught that they were on the right side of history, as the story was told from their perspective; the handwriting of their mentor shines dark and spotless on the parchments of their national library.

And, as for them, there were no real losses that day, their life continued. And those responsible for the death of dozens kept smiling, kept walking amongst the classmates of the children they sent to murder, telling them to fight for their memory, to give meaning to the pain by growing.

The fandom still believes that their death was requited, necessary, and fair; putting the blame of the genocide at most upon two sets of shoulders (Danzo, Hiruzen) instead of (at least) six (Tobirama, Danzo, Hiruzen, Koharu, Homura and Itachi), because they truly think that such an idea can be created out of thin air and it's not the consequence of an oppressive system that it's constantly demoting a specific group's value; because they truly think that the Council is acting on their own volition and isn't abiding the structure set by those before them. To them, four men and a woman created and taught themselves their own moral, social, and cultural parameters for this specific portion of the story before renouncing them and subscribing once again to their teachers (who somehow are painted as ~agents of peace~).

But alas, let's dissect some of their arguments, perhaps like this some of their brilliance shall illuminate us:

Their doujutsu and overall pride as a clan. The Sharingan is probably the most powerful doujutsu inside the Narutoverse (slightly less so than the Rinnegan but that needs the Sharingan as a base to develop), which for them translates into their clan having a “natural advantage” over others during a battle; thus, if they are so strong, how come they are oppressed? For them, that’s a contradiction because they can only phantom oppression if it’s visible, as in physical: literal submission through physical strength. Yet the Sharingan is canonically expressed to be a rare outcome inside the family, a rarity that just a few members of the clan possessed, so it’s a “natural advantage” that not many Uchiha have nor had at the time of their murder. But the tale hasn't finished, because there's a recurrent joke amongst these antis, for "how come the Sharingan is so powerful yet they were whipped by Itachi in just one night!", they shout, hyena laughter amidst their group; yet they don't talk further as not to attract detractors with quick wit, as they don't take into account (can't take into account) not only the prior point but also Obito’s participation -who was in charge of killing the strongest members of the clan but Fugaku (the later who decided not to fight), and without minding the context in itself as Itachi sneaked into clan members' homes and killed them when their back was turned, as he took advantage of the trust they bestowed upon him.

They were the ones who were “entrusted” by Tobirama to make Konoha’s citizens respect the law -summarizing, they were “given” the Police Force. In this specific regard, the police force inside the Narutoverse is directly compared (and therefore, read) to its real-life counterpart, yet: a- The Uchiha’s job was to be carried inside a military state, most of the citizens inside Konoha have tools at their disposal to either evade or fight back the Uchiha's "authority". It's difficult for them to read such phrases for it shatters their self-insertion; how come Naruto isn't about my self-perceived value inside the country I inhabit? b- The Police Force’s power, influence, and control were directly limited by the Hokage, they couldn’t arrest ANBU members (meaning those who were, one in charge of spying on them, and two a big portion of Konoha’s forces). c- Uchiha couldn’t aspire to be something else but members of the police. The only ones who could work outside that specific force were those individuals that abandoned their identities as clan members and swore allegiance to Konoha. Only Itachi (the perpetrator), Shisui, and Kagami (who were luckily dead before the events of the UCM transpired) were shown outside such a limited sphere. No other clan was shown to need such extreme measures to work in their chosen field. The fact that the prison was constructed to be inside their compound prior to them being moved to the outskirts of the city isn’t enough for them to understand that this specific job was forced upon Uchiha. "It's easier for them to keep an eye on the prisoners," they claim, clicking their tongues, yet won't see what it politically entails, for Uchiha members can never detach themselves from their duty, as it was physically adhered to their lands. "It's a duty they could thrive on," they vomit, and they did, yet no one sees -because it all happens inside their own compound. Not a single clan is shown to “have one specific job” inside Konoha but the Uchiha. d- Nevermind the very real and canonic impact that such work has amongst Konoha citizens, as the lesser members of Konoha's militia grow resentful of those that "control" them; in addition, such position also prevents the Uchiha from properly integrating amongst the general population, as they can't commune completely with those they need to keep tabs on. Was the Police Force ever rebuilt after the UCM? ANBU forces were quick to absorb their duties after the Kyuubi attack, decreasing at a much faster speed their position inside the place they built. The Police Force was dismantled and forgotten after the massacre, further proving the real irrelevance of such duty and the actual hidden purpose in its creation. e- How come the Uchiha "monopolized" a force that was literally and canonically given to them? How did they take over and denied anyone else's presence inside that structure when not only did they not create it but the prison was built by the government itself inside their compound? Someone with fewer brain cells than them will think that it's Konoha's government the one limiting the nature of the members that had to forcefully take care of that task, as clan compounds have restrictions on who can enter; but not them -oh no, ah, the wisdom of these people amazes me...

Their members’ popularity. Specifically, Sasuke and Itachi. What they say while fidgeting in their seats is simple: "how come Itachi (prior to the massacre) and Sasuke (after) were so praised by non-Uchiha if they were discriminated against"? And, ah, we could've finally reached enlightenment; yet their worldview is irrevocably simplistic, as systematic oppression doesn’t always translate into direct discrimination at the hands of other citizens. The Uchiha clan was moved to the outskirts of the city without any other family raising any eyebrows, they don’t have to be spitted on by other shinobi for them to be oppressed, that’s limiting the notion of discrimination/oppression to a single factor -the physical one, without minding the others. To explain it in lesser terms, as we must crouch down to speak to them to be on their level, saying that the Uchiha weren’t discriminated against due to lack of physical aggression, and I guess a genocide isn’t enough aggression for some, it’s like saying a man is a misogynist only if he slaps a woman. That way, monetary, social, cultural, and political domination are left out of the discussion, therefore, it’s limiting sexism to individuals’ actions rather than seeing the system these men were raised on and that it built their resolve to, finally, physically attack a woman. Uchiha were the only ones whose value was tied to their biological nature -no other families inside Konoha found as many restrictions as they did (might I remind you that there was a clan that happily enslaved their members and no one seemed to care?), their biology was enough reason to keep them both away of positions of power (meaning that the laws/decisions that influenced their lifestyle were made for them without a single Uchiha consultant), and restricting their movements inside their village. And I know many of these antis will claim “oh, but name one of the other noble clans (but the Nara’s, of course) that are actually in a place inside the Council, none of them were!” And you see, they miss the point by a mile, because the issue isn’t only the Uchiha not having incidence nor right to (at least) vote inside a village they founded, but specifically them being denied such presence under the premise of a biological predisposition that they have no control of. No other clan, whether they are or not at this point in time inside the Council, is denied a future position under those premises, they either can’t achieve it due to their lack of connections (Minato Namikaze, member of a non-noble clan was made Hokage due to his relationship with Jiraiya) or having not enough rank to participate (Morino Ibiki, also from a clan not specifically important, is the Head of the T&I Department).

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

TW: Implied Abuse, Strong Language

Caretaker couldn’t find Whumpee anywhere. They'd been searching the seedy part of the city— this is where they lived?— all night after they had stormed out after an argument, and still nothing. Caretaker didn't like this place, all grimy and full of faces that smiled with too many fangs to be human. The bars clamored with the worst type of clientele, and though their coat did little to protect from the cold, and the warmth enticed them, they ignored it.

They heard some murmuring from a small crowd, and their stomach turned to lead. They pawed their way through the crowd, glaring up at the jostling gossipers. They parted through the sea of people, finally able to see.

Whumpee laid there, still dressed in the less-than-winter-appropriate outfit from earlier, blood matted into their hair, skin all scraped up and bruised. One of their eyes appeared swollen shut, blood dripping from their split lip as they trembled in their unconscious state.

Caretaker shoved the people around them back. "Get the fuck out of here! Don't you have places to be?!"

The crowd grumbled but dispersed upon seeing Caretaker's gun. They crouched before Whumpee, cautious not to touch them. They didn’t want to scare them, instead letting Whumpee see their hands.

"Whumpee?"

They let out what sounded like a whimper, eyelids fluttering but never fully opening. Caretaker had a million questions, but sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. They already knew have the answers, and besides, they weren't going to get much out of them like this anyway.

Caretaker stood up, shrugging off their coat, thankful for the thick top they had on underneath. They laid it over Whumpee, holding back a cry at how small they looked like that. They weren't supposed to be small.

"Whumpee, I'm going to pick you up now. I'm going to bring you home, alright?"

Their face scrunched up, voice too hoarse. "Whumper... No, please..."

Caretaker knelt back down, eyes burning as Whumpee's arm flailed, not hitting anything, just revealing more bruises and cigarette burns.

"I'm here now, Whumpee. Whumper won't hurt you while I'm here. I'm right here."

They gingerly scooped Whumpee up into their arms, wincing at how hollow they felt, like a strong breeze would blow them away. Whumpee's face nestled into Caretaker's shoulder, and as Caretaker carried them back home— their real home— they let that act as the smallest insurance that they might be okay.

[coffee-and-uhg]

@starwars_siths IG

in honor of @tarabyte3 celebrating Andy Serkis’ birthday today.

[justanerdwithatablet]

A lazy comic cause I couldn't get the idea out of my head.

[nena-96]

Dear Tom

HP Cruel Summer Fic Fest 2023, has given us a treat with the Microfic Mayhem With Us Era. I can't wait to see what I can do under 1000 words!

Ship: Implied Hinny, but not focused on it.

Song: Dear John ( Speak Now)

Word Count: 997

Warnings: Overcoming trauma, remembering trauma

Summary: What happens to Ginny Weasley when she is gifted a diary from a Quidditch fan?

Read on A03

The only sound at Grimmauld Place is the ancient grandfather clock that was ticking in the drawing room. The pile of letters and parcels that were once stacked on top of the table are now thrown haphazardly all over the rug. With tears slowly trickling down her freckled face, Ginny glares from her crouched position in front of the clock, at the black leather-bound book that is mocking her with the word: “Diary” in gold letters. 

Ignoring the burning sensation that’s shooting up and down her leg. Courtesy of an injury that will keep her out of commission for the semifinals of this year’s Quidditch World Cup. Trying to bite back the pain, as she unfolds her legs from under her and pushes back into the mahogany wood of the grandfather clock. Trying to soothe the pain in her leg, Ginny digs her teeth into her bottom lip as the burning begins to fade away.

Trying to calm her shaking hands, Ginny wipes away her tears and closes her eyes as she tries to count to ten. A method that her former Mnd Healer taught her to do anytime her anxiety would try and take over. The ticking of the clock is the only thing that reminds the redhead that she is safe here and didn’t go back in time during her first year at Hogwarts. 

“...eight...nine…. ten.” Not wanting to open her eyes and stare back at the diary, Ginny reaches for her wand to send it away, preferably into the fireplace. Except when she places her hand against her waistband, she doesn’t feel the familiar yew wood peeking out. That’s when she realizes that she must have left the wand on the table when she was going through the fan mail a few minutes ago. Before opening a parcel that was sent to her by a little eleven-year-old girl named Allie, who is currently in St. Mungo’s battling a terminal illness. That beautifully adored dark green and gold parcel contained such a heartfelt letter: “wishing for a speedy recovery and kick arse in the next game”. 

That didn’t warrant the mental breakdown that caused the Holyhead Harpies chaser to have thrown everything in a panic from the table. Not at all, it wasn’t until she got to the end of the letter and realized that Allie had gifted her with a diary. In the little girl’s words, “writing helps me, I hope it helps you to.”

 That is what caused Ginny to mentally be transported back to the time when she was eleven years old. When she was possessed by none other than Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort. 

How was it possible that even after all this time, he still manages to get under her skin? There was a time when her long nights at Hogwarts would revolve around the diary, when in reality she was living in Tom Riddle’s twisted chess game. When she confided in that black diary she fell into an abyss of darkness. When she would count her footsteps as she roamed the halls of Hogwarts, hoping to fit in with the rest of the students. While the skies would be painted blue, little Ginny didn’t realize that Tom would go back and turn it into rain and slowly drain the life out of her. Maybe it was her and the blind optimism to blame, in believing she made a friend out of the diary. Or maybe it was his sick need to manipulate her into opening the Chamber of Secrets. Didn’t he think she was too young to be possessed, when she wrote about her insecurities within those pages? 

 Ginny promised herself that she’d never touch another diary again, after all the therapy she went through to overcome the trauma. Yet, now she is currently gasping for air while staring at a diary that has nothing to do with him. 

“Get it together Gin, he isn’t here anymore’, berating herself, after a few minutes Ginny opens her eyes and stares at the leatherbound book a few feet away from her. Having to remind herself that it isn’t the diary, rather than a gift from an adoring Quidditch fan. Running a hand through her fiery hair, Ginny pushes herself up from the floor, despite the pain in her leg. With clenched fists, Ginny takes tentative steps towards the book until her feet are touching the spine of the book. With a quick glance at the fireplace, she picks up the book, turning her attention back to the book. 

Opening the diary to the first page, expecting to see the familiar penmanship of the man that haunted her dreams. Instead, Ginny’s met with a drawing of her at the stadium holding up the Quidditch World Cup, attached to the page was a note that read, 

“Ginny, the best Chaser ever! Use this diary anytime, 

Your biggest fan Allie. <3

This moment Ginny realized what she would do in order to overcome the trauma of her girlhood. He’s no longer alive. He will no longer be the reason for her nightmares that would cause Harry to assure her that everything was okay and nothing like that will ever happen to her again. Harry would tell her that she was no longer a first-year student, but instead she’s one of the bravest witches he’s ever met. As he would gently pull her onto his lap and rock her gently, as he the top of her head.

With as much quickness that she could muster, she walks to the table as she searches for a quill with one hand while the other grips the diary. Once she finds a quill, she forcefully dips the nib into the ink bottle, not caring about the splatter of ink that gets on the table. Turning her attention back to the diary, she flips it open to the second page, taking the quill to the very center of the page, Ginny writes:

“Dear Tom Riddle, 

FUCK YOU!”

[acnelli]

Open the Door

@microficmay Day 14: Open the Door (Alt. 4) [Tonks/Remus, rating: T]

***

"Open the door," Remus pleaded, desperate and defeated, "please, Dora."

Never, not once in his life, had he screwed up like this before.

The door opened, and there she stood. Lips pressed together in a thin line, hair already turning into a fierce, dangerous red.

"Come in, you fucking bastard."

Read on AO3

[syazam-whazam]

this is a vent, y'all can ignore this

you are a fucking idiot you know that? i don't know how the hell you wake up everyday thinking it's gonna be great but you get fucked over by the slightest inconvenience, STOP FUCKING CRYING, STOP FUCKING CRYING BEFORE I GET A SPOON AND SCOOP THOSE EYEBALLS MYSELF, you're too emotional to be with anyone you nasty bitch, you should've stayed in your ROOM AND ROT LIKE YOU'RE IN HELL, FUCK OFF ALREADY, WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE, you're hurting me so bad, you know that? OF COURSE YOU DON'T, YOU DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ANYTHING, you're deaf AS FUCK

[sandeewithtwoe]

CW STRONG LANGUAGE (like… a lot)

Seconds before Geno becomes Fatal

Dialogue stolen from this video (warning: there’s cartoon blood and loud voices)

Geno and Error belongs to loverofpiggies

Transcription:

Error: Do you really think I have the PATIENCE to deal with your SHIT?

Geno: Shut the fuck up lol

Error: WHAT did you just say to me, you BASTARD?! Do you want me to take your soul and-

Geno: How ‘bout you “take” some bitches?

Error: OH REALLY- The one eye motherfucker is gonna lecture ME about getting bitches??

Geno: Yeah, you fucking high hobo looking ass with smelly yellow teeth and your goddamn pixelated four foot forehead is gonna lecture ME about getting BITCHES

Error: YOU MOTHER-

[mesmir-ized]

some kind words from doc

[kyacchan-comics]

Whatever your hobby and your passion is, it’s important to keep improving yourself , but remember: being really good in something we love is an objective, not the point. Be nice to yourselves and have fun.

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Dialogue Prompt:

Tw: Strong Language

"Whumpee."

"Hmm?"

"That’s your fourth cup of coffee today."

"So?"

"You hate coffee. You mostly drink water and soda. Maybe tea when you need to get some rest or feel sick. You've always hated coffee."

"Maybe I've changed my mind."

"Since you're not gonna stop being a smartass, I'll just ask. When's the last time you slept, Whumpee?"

"Why does it matter?"

"You have eyebags darker than the coffee you're guzzling. Your hand won't stop shaking. And you keep looking past my shoulder as if there's anything there."

"OK, I haven't been getting a goodnight's rest. And you're one to talk, A."

"B's worried, C's voiced their concern to me about it, Caretaker bought melatonin for you. Hell, even D's noticed. What's wrong?"

"..."

"Is it nightmares? It's okay; anyone who had been with Whumper for even a fraction of the time you spent with them would be having them too."

"...I don't want to talk about it, A."

"I think you should talk to someone about it. Maybe it'd help-"

"I don't want to talk about it! If every single time you closed your eyes, you were back there, you wouldn't want to sleep either! If you woke every night screaming because you can't stop thinking about the literal *torture* you were put through just because some God decided you should clean up their mess, you would be staying awake no matter what too!"

"..."

"..."

"Whumpee, I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't. Just don't."

*crash*

"Shit, Whumpee!"

[xdraonarts]

I’ve been sick for at LEAST two weeks now so for financial compensation I’m making my blorbo suffer as I do.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 9)

Tw: monty being a fuckin creep, vomiting, the girls are fightingggg, so blood and violence, yves being a dick and elitist, using the word queer in a derogatory manner

DAMN i was expecting the votes to be like to go to the uni cause Yves is hottest choice rn

anyways if u guys read the original series where Monty was from, u would know he's like a sub but his behavior depends on the reader, he's actually a switch

tanks for reading, pls send in anon asks, reblog or comments i love 2 hear yalls thoughts and it keeps me going PLSPLSPLS I AM DESPERATEEE

Part 10

The mall it is. You've been visiting the university too much to escape your home and to take your dreaded exams, despite having air conditioning, you're going to feel miserable there. You barely have friends in the university aside from Yves. A change of scenery would be nice, to note down the things you wanted for yourself.

You tried to decide how you feel about Yves. The urge to run away from him and hide is there, but it's not as strong anymore. Because he already saw it all. The mold, your room, your tears, your puke... you can't possibly embarrass yourself again to that degree, right? The worst should be over.

And, he did say it himself; he is interested in you too. So... it should be safe to proceed with this weird relationship. You think. He's already doing way more than what a lover typically does, let alone someone who you barely went on a first date with.

You shouldn't be afraid of bumping into him. He's not going to bite your head off, you hope.

And speak of the devil, you received a text from him.

"(Name), this is Yves. I hope you slept well. Please reply to me as soon as you wake up."

You bit the inside of your cheek, you held onto your bag tightly as the bus drove over a hump.

It's not like he could see that you read it. You don't know what he is going to say next, once you respond.

But it's rude to just leave him hanging like that. He's probably going to find out you're ignoring him anyways.

Might as well text him back. You told him that you're now awake. He must be a fast typer because you received a message a few seconds later.

"Good afternoon, how are you feeling?"

You replied that you're feeling fine.

"I assume you are currently resting at home?"

You don't know if you should lie. But then he could easily find out the truth by asking your housemates. So you let out a defeated sigh and told him the half-truth. You said no. That was it, you didn't elaborate further.

"Where are you? Did you at least apply sunscreen?"

You replied that you're now getting off the bus. You're going to text him back later. After that, you put your phone into your pocket.

You walked away from the bus stand and looked at the billboards littered all over the area. It takes a six-minute walk to get to the Mall, maybe a bit longer because your usual path is blocked by a construction job. The workers gave the pedestrians an alternative pathway to travel.

As you start walking, you wonder why was the bus stop never built directly in front of its entrance. It's such a nuisance to get there if you don't own a car.

You frown because the sun is beating against your head, you're among a group of people being funneled into this other path and you're starting to overheat. You remembered Yves packed a UV ray-blocking umbrella, so you went ahead and took it out. You opened it and shielded yourself from the rays, sighing in relief as you felt coolness instantly wash over you.

You were minding your own business and fighting your own inner demons until suddenly a large hand clamped itself onto your shoulder. You let out a surprised yelp and a jolt at the unexpected contact, this cannot be Yves's because it's too calloused and careless, mildly hurting you in the process.

"Joe?"

Who?

You turned whipped your head to the back and saw the person who paid for your poisoned meal. He took your umbrella off your hands, making you hiss at the sun.

"It really is you!" His eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth curled up into a wide, happy grin. "How ya' been? I didn't see you yesterday. Where were ya?"

You eyed him up and down, he's in uniform.

"I'm on my break right now." His hand guided your back. "C'mon, let me treat you lunch."

You said that you had food poisoning from the place you ate with him. And you asked what he meant by "Didn't see you yesterday".

His jaw dropped in shock at your words.

"It really sucks to hear that, so that's why you look a lil' too thin today. I guess you're just not used to their cookin'. I was fine and dandy." You and him seem to move along with the crowd aimlessly.

You repeated your question about what he meant by not seeing you yesterday.

"I came by your school 'cause I got you some Chinese. I couldn't find ya' and no one seems to know who the hell was I talkin' about. Why didn't ya' call me? I was waitin' all night for your voice."

Luckily you gave him the fake name of "Joe M." on your first meeting with him. But it's not like he would have gotten any information on you anyway, you're invisible in your university. Unless he happened to come across Yves, which you doubt he will divulge him about you.

You just said 'oh'.

"Hope you're feelin' better though. Hey, I know a great place to get some hearty chicken soup. It's gotta be good for your belly, it sure helped me when I'm sick as a dog." You took notice of his deepening southern accent.

You're starting to feel uncomfortable around this man, he's wrapping his arm around your shoulder like he's your boyfriend.

You said that you were full, you had something to eat earlier.

"Aw shucks. That's fine, I'll just hang out with you till my break's over." He ruffled your hair affectionately, laughing as you tried to smoothen it out.

You don't like him. Who does he think he is? You're barely even acquaintances with him. But you think it's safer to play along until you find an opportunity to escape, there is no way you could fight off a 6'5 man who lifts steel pillars for a living.

"You got any plans this weekend? I wanna take you out to have fun, you must've spent all your time studyin', and that's good! Education is important. But you gotta loosen up a little 'cause life is short!" Montgomery is either oblivious to or disregards your uncomfortable body language.

You said you made plans already. He momentarily looked dejected, but he reverted back to his cheerful self when he thought of something.

"What about next week? I heard there is a festival goin' on by the pier. There's going to be a Ferris wheel, cotton candy, funnel cakes--"

You decided to rip the bandaid off and straight up tell him that you're not interested in pursuing a relationship with him. Since there were witnesses, you wriggled out of his hold and waited to see what he would do to you. Hoping that he would just respectfully leave you alone but expecting to be angrily punched right in front of everyone.

He was stunned, speechless for a moment until there was a strange glimmer in his eyes that was concealed by his shaggy, brown hair.

"...You're playing hard to get."

A horrified, incredulous look crossed your face. Absolutely not! What makes him think of you that way? You took a couple steps backward as he tried to get closer.

"I see how it is, sweetheart. You want me to chase you, don't ya'?" He playfully pinched both of your cheeks. You wince, struggling to pull his hands off.

You genuinely do not understand why he has this impression of you. As anyone would do, you vehemently denied it.

"Aww, look at you. Red-faced and all." He giggled, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you away from the main foot traffic so he could toy with you in private. "If you weren't into me, you would have left me to die that night. I may not be the richest or the most handsome..." his smile faltered when it came to the topic of his looks. "...but I know you saw something in me! I'm gonna make sure you don't regret saving me!" You're already regretting being born.

You called him crazy, anyone would have helped him! You're no one special, he teasingly rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, beautiful. Anything to help you sleep at night."

You were adamant that you're not interested and you already have a boyfriend! But this doesn't seem to faze him, he just bent down to your level and placed his hands behind his back.

"Oh yeah? Where is he then? Get outta here, you don't have one. At least, not yet." He winked at you.

Yeah. He is impossible to reason with.

You argued that you do. In fact, he is right behind Montgomery!

He's definitely not believing you, but he turns around anyway to see... no one, as expected.

"I don't see him, do you-- huh?" He was momentarily dumbfounded when all there was in front of him was air.

You managed to blend in with the crowd and successfully entered the mall. You ran into the nearest retail store and hid behind one of the shelves. Everyone was too busy shopping to care what someone shaking like a leaf was doing crouching in the baby and maternal department.

Your hand trembled as you pulled your phone out to see Yves sent you another text.

"Take care. Send me a text message as soon as possible. I will give you a call fifteen minutes later if I do not hear from you by then."

It's been 12 minutes since he sent that text. The next reasonable course of action is to seek comfort and safety from Yves. You thought Montgomery was unhinged and delusional, he thinks you're his just because you saved him that night. You cared as much as everyone else, no one wanted to see another person die if they could help it! But he took it as some ultimate love confession for him.

Then you realize that you should have run as soon as you first rejected him. You hit yourself on the head, he must have thought all the attention you gave him trying to explain yourself was a green light for him to go forward!

You called yourself stupid for not catching this earlier. There's not much you could do now except tell Yves you don't feel safe.

You texted Yves your exact location, even down to the aisle and section. Your texts are a series of panic-induced typos begging him to pick you up because you're scared.

"I will be there in 15 minutes. Is it safe for me to call you?"

You disregarded that text and just dialed his number.

"(name)?" It was so good to hear his smooth, calm voice. Your blood pressure momentarily dropped but rose back again after remembering why you called him in the first place.

You frantically explained what had happened, even your first meeting with Montgomery and the takeaway that gave you food poisoning. Spilling everything even though you didn't mean to, but you're just scared and trapped in a store. You felt upset that he had the umbrella, you apologized and-

"Raise your hand above your head for me, please." He cut you off. You did exactly what he asked, now distracted from your ranting.

"Inhale, following my count." He counted up to four.

"Hold." He counted to seven.

"Exhale." You breathed out for eight seconds. He repeated the cycle a few more times until he could tell you calmed down. Montgomery wouldn't find you from where you're hiding.

"Very good." He praised. "You may put your hand down."

You forgot about that, so you quickly retract your arm to your side.

"I will stay on the line with you until I arrive. Do you understand, (name)?" You gulped and said a shaky yes.

"Stay where you are. You're safe there." He continued. Yves sounded so confident in his answers that you can't help but trust him fully.

You wished you had friends. You wouldn't need to solely rely on him if you did.

"What did you think of the breakfast I made for you?" He asked, in a tone and cadence as if he was casually chatting up with his partner about their day. But you can tell he's speeding through the highways by the intense humming of his car engine.

You said that it's nice. You thanked him for taking care of you.

"I'm happy you enjoyed it. I will be making chicken soup for you tonight, did you apply sunscreen before leaving the house?"

You paused for a while, trying to remember what you did. You eventually tell him no.

"It is important for you to protect your skin. Remember to do so next ti--"

The call suddenly dropped. Your heart started beating wildly again, what happened? You pulled your phone away from your ear and looked at the screen.

You let out a visceral scream that caught everyone's attention, your phone battery is dead.

Seeing that you caused a scene, you flee the store out of embarrassment, forgetting about Yves telling you your original spot is the safest place for you to be in. Now with no means of contacting your savior and being out in the open like this, your brain starts to short-circuit. You begin running aimlessly in no particular direction.

All this stress and explosive physical exertion on you right after a bout of illness is making you queasy again.

But you kept going, just... roaming around while periodically looking over your shoulders. Customers and staff alike were staring at you, thinking that you were suffering from some sort of inner turmoil or drug abuse issues. However, they knew better than to intercept.

However, you focused too much on your back, and not too much on the front.

You slammed into a sturdy pillar, lost your balance, and fell back onto your rear.

"Whoa! You alright?" Except that pillar can speak. And it was the last person you want to see right now. Concern riddled his face as he crouched down to help you up. "This is fun and all, but you gotta watch where you're goin-"

At that moment, your stomach decided to empty itself onto Montgomery's chest. He grimaced as you continued to spew and release more vomit from your mouth.

--

Yves knows where you are. He knew your phone battery died, Yves is just mildly annoyed he didn't catch the fact that one of your room outlets was faulty. It so happened to be the one you used to charge your phone.

Yves pushed the door of the mall's clinic open, glaring daggers at Montgomery as he spotted him waiting on the bench, covered in your puke; noting his filthy fingers wrapping the handle of your bag. He was taken aback by this sudden hostility from an apparent stranger, he looked at Yves confused, what did he ever do to him? Was he offended that he happened to be covered in someone else's throw-up? What a stuck-up bitch!

Yves took his wallet out of his handbag and walked up to the receptionist. He shared a few hushed words with her and spared a couple of unkind glances for Montgomery. The woman behind the counter had both eyebrows raised momentarily before she nodded and picked up a phone. While speaking to someone unknown on the other side of the line, she accepted Yves's credit card.

Soon after, she handed him a clipboard and a pen. He had to sign something before receiving a receipt.

Montgomery looked him up and down with equal animosity, his eyes trailing behind Yves as he took the seat opposite of him.

The dark-haired male elegantly crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knee. Now a blank expression took over his beautiful face. Montgomery took note of his feminine demeanor including his usage of makeup. He somehow deluded himself that he was better than Yves even though he was hunched over, resting his forearms on his thighs while spreading his legs.

Montgomery tried to look away and ignore this stranger. But he couldn't, because Yves was burning holes through his head with his constant stare.

This really ruffled Montgomery's feathers. He's clearly trying to start something.

"What the hell is your problem?"

All eyes landed on Montgomery. Young or old, they're now invested in this sudden outburst.

"What do you mean?" Replied Yves calmly as he tilted his head to the side to feign ignorance.

"You're lookin' at me like you wanted to fight!" Montgomery finally sat up straight while accusing Yves. Meanwhile, the graceful man placed a hand on his chest to express disbelief.

"I do not understand this explosive reaction from you, I have done nothing wrong." Yves's long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, already winning the hearts of the public. It ticked Montgomery off so bad. For some reason, this androgynous person is making him angrier than usual. Maybe it's because Yves's old money aura reminded him of every city girl and boy who fucked him over emotionally, socially, financially, or physically.

It was quite unusual, Montgomery would usually just not engage with these citizens. But today, Yves is exceptionally infuriating while doing the least. He even smelled the same as those rich bastards, they all must be using the same cologne.

A mere five minutes had elapsed since they first met, yet Montgomery despised him with every fiber of his being.

Yves knows his own effect on the construction worker.

"Don't play with me! You had that stupid look on your face, what have I done to you, huh!?" He rose from his seat.

A ghost of a smile graced Yves's otherwise serious face. That simpleton took the bait.

"Please calm down. You're causing a scene out of nothing." Yves continued provoking him. Mothers began to leave the room with their children, and other patients quietly changed their seats to be further away from the two men.

"Why you-" Something distracted him from his rage.

Yves turned his head and saw you slowly dragging yourself out of the hallway, carrying a prescription slip in one hand and cradling your stomach in the other. You look pale and exhausted as you limp towards the waiting room.

"Joe!" Montgomery called out for you. "Are you alright? What did ya' doctor say?"

You were spooked, you froze in your tracks. Not noticing that Yves is a few steps away from you.

"Dear." You snapped your neck to the source of the quiet but assuring voice. Yves is now standing tall, his arms open for you to run into.

And so, you did. You buried your face in his chest, refusing to see the other man. Yves had a pleased smile as he picked your prescription script from your hands, he slid it into his handbag. Right after, he wrapped his arms around you.

The room was eerily quiet. Everyone was holding their breaths, wondering what was going to happen.

You felt Yves stroke your hair. But you couldn't see or hear anything. So you lift your head a little to see what was going on, he rested his palm on your shoulder.

Montgomery has his eyes open so wide staring at your boyfriend. His mouth is open but soundless. The veins on his forehead and arm were throbbing while he trembled uncontrollably.

"Do you know him, my love? He seems dangerous. You know you shouldn't mingle around men like him, they're usually raised by dysfunctional families- sometimes, they don't even have one." Yves asked you, soft enough for no one else to hear, but loud enough that his pathetic excuse of a rival absorbed every word. This was the last straw for Montgomery.

Finally, he dropped your bag to the ground before launching himself against Yves. Your boyfriend pushed you out of harm's way as he allowed himself to get tackled by the unstable male.

Yves closed his eyes as he took a devastating punch to the face, he was flung to the side from the force and it left a reddish mark on his once pristine face.

"Fuck you! The fuck you mean that's 'your love', you don't mean shit to them!" Montgomery yelled in Yves's ear, and a struggle ensued between them.

Screams and shouts filled the clinic, and the patients present all ran out of the room. Those who stayed tried to film the tussle. Some doctors and customers poked their heads out of the consultation rooms to see what the commotion was all about.

Whereas you grabbed your bag and went outside, securing your safety behind the tempered glass walls.

"You think you better than me?! I'll teach you a fucking lesson to be humble!" Montgomery swung at him again, but Yves dodged in time and utilized his long, slender legs to trip him. Now that he has gotten what he wanted out of this scenario, Yves allows himself to defend his own body.

He got up fairly quickly and tried to land another punch, but Yves grabbed his wrist on time and used minimal force to twist his arm against his back. Montgomery cried out in pain as his limb was contorted to an unnatural position. Being an opportunist, Yves took his chance to strike his broken rib using the side of his hand.

This made Montgomery's legs buckle on itself. You silently cheered for Yves as he subdued the creep on the cold hard tiles.

He pressed a heel against his chest, right behind on fractured bone. So Montgomery was powerless against him.

Yves reached for his handbag and pulled his phone out. He dialed emergency services and reported Montgomery as being aggressive, being a danger to the general public.

"Bullcrap! Fuck you asshole! I will kill you!" Screeched the man currently being stepped on and humiliated in front of his object of obsession. Unfortunately for him, the operator heard his threat towards Yves, increasing your boyfriend's credibility.

He tried to grab his leg, but Yves only drove his sharp heel deeper into his ribs, knocking the air out of him and making stars appear in his vision.

At the same time, the mall security arrives with their batons.

They took over from there, it took more than ten of them to try and get Montgomery under control. He was like a bull seeing red, only goal was to try and disfigure the pretty boy's face as much as possible.

He was forcefully expelled from the premises while kicking, howling, and straining. You saw the tears of anguish in his eyes as he cussed everyone out for treating him as subhuman, he wished horrible fates on all who witnessed but stood by. He was shouting incoherently about having everything stolen from him by the rich, he had one thing good going on but a billionaire had to come along and take you away from him.

He vowed to take what was rightfully his and punish the bad, especially Yves who he referred to as "That fucking queer freak".

Eventually, though, his yelling became inaudible as he got further and further away. The others returned to their day, dispersing as nothing else interesting was going on.

You walked up to Yves, who is now gently dabbing his bleeding nostrils with a folded piece of tissue. He smiled at you, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

"Well done." He praised. Disposing of the soiled napkin into a trashcan nearby.

You said you didn't contribute to anything good. In fact, you're the one who caused all this.

"Don't think too lowly of yourself." He picked up a hairbrush from his bag and started fixing your hair. You looked at his face.

The patch around his nose and under his left eye is already starting to bruise, swelling to a degree that he can only see out of his right. Red dripped down his chin and onto the floor, splattering into many dots.

You look around and see the broken pot, flipped chair, and scattered magazines.

You shudder, asking Yves if you could go home.

"Not yet, (name). The police should be here soon, they have to take my statement." He invited you into his arms, and you snuggled into him as his blood dripped onto you too.

"I packed you something to eat." He softly pried you off him. Reaching for his handbag once again, he retrieved a square container before handing it to you.

You opened it to see a sandwich. It's intentionally bland to accommodate your current weak stomach. As if on cue, your belly growled. However, Yves stopped you from devouring it.

"Always sanitize your hands before eating." He squeezed a good amount of hand sanitizer on your palms. Yves only handed the meal back to you after he was satisfied with your application.

You sit on a chair as you take bites off it. Yves sat next to you too, this time he was tidying his luscious black hair with the same brush and compact mirror.

You continued munching on as you heard distant sirens growing louder.

[ravenzeppeli]

Stained Red Prequel - Before The Pain |Yandere DIO x Reader Fluff|

Warning: strong language, threats. MA.

      Your red high heels clicked against the hardwood floor gently as you carried two empty wine glasses in one hand, the other hand gripping a wine bottle. You wore a tiny little black dress, the dress hugging all of your curves perfectly.

       You entered Dio's room without knocking - it was now the room that the two of you shared together. "Master?" You called out, closing the door behind you. You sat the wine down next to his bed. It was dark in the room. Only a faint light glowed next to the bed from the single white candle. "Are you in here?"

      You let a gasp escape your lips as you felt cool hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into the familiar large form of your lover.

      "You've kept me waiting for a long time, and that greatly displeases me," his velvet voice called out as he dropped his lips to your ear. "That's very naughty of you, and I also saw that secret conversation you had with dear old Hol Horse. Asking about who the Joestars are." He squeezed your hips tighter.

       You let a low gasp escape your lips, shocked that he found out. Dio never informed you of much. He liked to keep you as clueless as possible in case you had some moral compass. He didn't want to lead you away from his arms. Despite the power he had, he still wanted to keep your feelings towards him true.

      "I keep having to be upset with you, and I don't want to keep getting upset with you. I've been too lenient with you; I suppose that this is all my fault." He let his arms drop from your waist, but he kept his body pressed up against you. You could feel his dark yellow irises on you as his hot breath tickled your ear lightly. "What do you want me to tell you?"

      "Who... who are the Joestars? Where did you get that scar on your neck?" You asked him, trembling softly as you waited for a reply. You hoped not to upset him, for him to keep calm.

      Dio spun you around, gently pushing you to sit on the edge of his bed. "How can I trust you not to leave me? What if the truth casts your love away from me?" He asked, standing in front of you as he placed his palm on top of your head, carefully rubbing your head. "I'll never let you leave me."

      "I know that you are an evil guy, but I don't mind. I love you, and my feelings are true. Until the end, I am by your side," you told him. Though deep down you were a little uncertain but you pushed that feeling aside, casting it away.

      "I wouldn't call it evil, just misunderstood." He removed his hand, sitting next to you as he wrapped his strong arm around you. "I am about to tell you a very long story, buckle up."

                              🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

        "Do you still love me?" Questioned Dio as he stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with you. He had told you everything from start to finish without leaving a single detail out.

      You were honestly both shocked and terrified, but you shook that feeling away. You loved him, and he loved you - he would protect you from all harm, and you should be thankful. Right? "Yes, I still love you. Thank you for telling me everything."

       "Now that all of this is over, I do believe that you are due for a punishment. You went behind my back, and worst of all, you spoke to Hol Horse. I'm upset," he spoke softly as he stood up. "But I don't know how I should punish you.. do you have any ideas?"

"I don't want to be punished, I was simply just curious and too afraid to personally ask you." You hardly asked Dio anything personal, always being much too terrified to ever ask him anything.

       He shrugged his massive bare shoulders, walking over to you as he wrapped his fingers around your neck, pressing his smooth lips against yours. As he pulled away, he smirked down at you. "I never thought that I- Dio would have such a soft spot for a mere human, but here you are, proving me wrong for the first time in my 122 years of existence."

You let a gentle blush appear on your cheeks as you looked into his cat-like gold eyes. His smirk shifted into a soft smile as he pulled away from you, reaching in his black pants pocket as he kept eye contact with you. He pulled out a shiny diamond ring, holding it up to you. "Y/N.. be my fiancé. When I defeat the Joestars, we will then marry, and on our wedding night, I will turn you into a vampire."

      "Okay," you whispered, tears filling your eyes as he slipped the ring delicately on your finger. This was.. it was so beautiful. The fact that he planned to turn you into a vampire the first night that you lay husband and wife slipped your mind as you stared at the ring with soft eyes, clearly touched that he proposed to you.

       This was a rare moment when you got to see the more softer side of Dio Brando, the side that he so desperately tried to hide as if he was ashamed of loving someone other than himself. "You are my fiancé now.. you don't have to call me master anymore. You can just call me any nickname you can think of."

      "Kitten," you quickly spoke, a smile appearing on your lips as you giggled lightly. You haven't laughed in so long.. you don't remember the last time that you actually laughed at something.

       Dio rolled his golden eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Do I look like a kitten to you? If anything, you are the kitten," he spoke softly, wrapping his massive arms around you, pulling you into his freezing bare chest. "Just.. I'll ask you again in 24 hours. How about we drink some wine and celebrate our engagement a little? I can run us a hot bath." He combed his sharp nails gently through your soft hair, chin resting on that top of your head.

       "That sounds good," you softly replied back, burying your head in his cool chest as you wrapped your arms around him. "My love."

      "I like that.. you may call me that in private," he whispered in your ear, lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. "Let's get in that bath.. I can wash your hair for you."

     You blushed fiercely as a giggle yet again escaped your lips. "That sounds perfect." You loved him like this.. loved him when he wasn't so sadistic towards you. Was he changing into a different person right before you very eyes? You truly didn't know, but over time, you hoped to know the truth.. for now, you were just simply just going to enjoy this precious night, pushing every worry that you had to the side.

[minniethefoxie]

(CW strong language)

SOMEONE TAKE AWAY MY PHONE-

[lengthofropes]

a Man “every single thing you say is SO gross” of his Era