(no subject)
Day: 25 (backlogged)
Characters: Hidan doesnotbitch, Voldemort dr_youknowwho, Harry Potter boy_whoscored, Jessica/Niki Sanders sanityoptional
Summary: Therapy for the boy who lived.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: Day, afternoon
Status: Closed|Incomplete
Another shitty day at St. Edelweiss, another shitty therapy to run - same old, same old.
Well, Hidan had to admit that he hadn't really done all that much here. It was something that he should probably think about working on, what with all the potential sacrifices and converts milling around in the cells, but he had to admit: the no-kill 'rule' theoretically in existence had really dampened his usual fervor. The point of Jashinism was complete and total destruction - of the psyche, of the body, and then of the life itself. Not being able to enact that destruction really wore on him, if he was honest.
The simple truth of the matter was he missed the faces of his enemies stretched and distorted with agony as they breathed their last. He missed the black-red sheen of blood on his skin. He missed his Akatsuki ring. Hell, he even kind of missed his grouchy partner. At least Kakuzu had been consistent, and Hidan knew that he wasn't; knew that he couldn't plan for shit. Deidara was an okay substitute, but he was more of an act-first think-later kind of guy too, and it woulda been helpful if at least one of them was more of the puppetmaster type. Less fun, but maybe a little more on the fast track to getting the fuck out of St. Edelweiss.
In the meantime, Hidan went with the same old routine. Finding the cell and throwing open the door, glaring at the scrawny kid imprisoned within. "On your feet, shithead," he snarled, corners of his mouth curling up with a dawning wicked glee. "You got a therapy to attend."
Characters: Hidan doesnotbitch, Voldemort dr_youknowwho, Harry Potter boy_whoscored, Jessica/Niki Sanders sanityoptional
Summary: Therapy for the boy who lived.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: Day, afternoon
Status: Closed|Incomplete
Another shitty day at St. Edelweiss, another shitty therapy to run - same old, same old.
Well, Hidan had to admit that he hadn't really done all that much here. It was something that he should probably think about working on, what with all the potential sacrifices and converts milling around in the cells, but he had to admit: the no-kill 'rule' theoretically in existence had really dampened his usual fervor. The point of Jashinism was complete and total destruction - of the psyche, of the body, and then of the life itself. Not being able to enact that destruction really wore on him, if he was honest.
The simple truth of the matter was he missed the faces of his enemies stretched and distorted with agony as they breathed their last. He missed the black-red sheen of blood on his skin. He missed his Akatsuki ring. Hell, he even kind of missed his grouchy partner. At least Kakuzu had been consistent, and Hidan knew that he wasn't; knew that he couldn't plan for shit. Deidara was an okay substitute, but he was more of an act-first think-later kind of guy too, and it woulda been helpful if at least one of them was more of the puppetmaster type. Less fun, but maybe a little more on the fast track to getting the fuck out of St. Edelweiss.
In the meantime, Hidan went with the same old routine. Finding the cell and throwing open the door, glaring at the scrawny kid imprisoned within. "On your feet, shithead," he snarled, corners of his mouth curling up with a dawning wicked glee. "You got a therapy to attend."