Chapter Text
“Let me see that.”
Ripper Rabbit whined in apprehension, but they knew Doctor Doom’s words weren’t a request. So they didn’t hold on for much longer when Doom grabbed the diary out of their hands.
Doom inspected the cover. Somewhat gothic in aesthetic, but still adorned by a few childish stickers. Doom knew that was the Ripper classic — a level of intimidation, backseated by whimsy. It amused Doom to no end, but he showed no external reaction in this instance.
He opened the cover to inspect its first page. “A diary…” Doom mused inquisitively. He looked back down at Ripper, whose glance he could feel despite their eyes being hidden from view under their bangs. “I trust you’re keeping no secrets from me, yes?”
Ripper nodded. The gesture was meek, but it was honest. Doom gave a small nod back in acknowledgment. Ever since he took them in, they’ve been nothing but honest with him. Even when they felt deeply ashamed, all that brought about was hesitation. It made Doom have to peel back layers in order to gain the truth from them, but that mattered not so much to Doom as the truth itself. So when Ripper gave him that answer, even nonverbal, he knew he wasn’t mistaken to place his trust into it.
But that only made him ever the more curious. If no secrets were being kept from him, what contents does this diary hold? Logs of experiences, perhaps? One of their defining traits is poor memory, after all.
Only one way to find out.
Ripper watched in silent anxiety as Doom skimmed their diary entrees. As he flipped through the pages and drifted his eyes over the handwritten words, he realized his initial presumption was correct. Most of it was Ripper’s recounts of events both positive and negative.
And then he reached the more recent entries.
Doom saw his own name and paused, to make his reading a bit more dedicated.
First, one entry. Then two. It ceased at three, and Doom realized there was no more after it. Their last entry was from yesterday, and the last three entries chronicled deep feelings of Ripper’s, spanning the previous month entirely, somehow condensed in three handwritten pages.
Doom’s amused demeanor had faded into something less whimsical.
“Do you really think this of me?”
His metallic voice rang out like a bell. Especially to Ripper.
“Think- think what, sir?”
Doom knew that Ripper’s obliviousness was authentic. It seems they had already forgotten what they had written just the night before.
“Think me… unloving?”
Ripper gulped nervously. They realized what he was talking about now.
For the past month, something was haunting Ripper. Plaguing them. It was the thought that they were unworthy — unworthy of being a citizen of Latveria, unworthy of Doom’s attention. Doom was not very outward, especially in matters of positive affection, not to mention that Ripper isn’t great at reading people’s emotions in general, even if they are somewhat outward or obvious. So to Ripper, it was a very real and deep-seated fear that Doom did not care for them, thought poorly of them.
“Well, I- It’s hard for me to read you, Doctor Doom. Forgive me…”
Doom’s thought was, ‘Already expecting an insult, this one.’
What he spoke aloud was, “That is not a statement to need ask forgiveness for. You may speak freely.”
Doom took a breath. “Look around you.”
Ripper stopped to observe their surroundings. It was a beautiful castle, Doom’s was. Ripper was used to living within its walls, but was never used to how mystical it was to behold, to walk through, to be in.
Doom continued. “You preside within these walls, correct?”
“…yes?”
“Is that, alone, not a show of my love? Of my fondness towards you?”
Ripper Rabbit froze. “……uh…”
“Perhaps I’ll have to take a more direct approach. You should have told me you needed verbal reassurance, Ripper.”
“Well I- I didn’t think you’d give it to me! And besides, I… felt I’d look stupid if I asked?”
Doom scoffed. “I house you. I feed you. It’s true my physical presence is less than often, but… has that minimal time apart made you forget my stance on you?”
“…maybe…” Ripper looked to the floor in shame.
“Look at me.” Doom commanded.
Ripper’s head turned back to the ruler. He didn’t need proof of their gaze. He could feel it.
“Let me say this to you directly. And I will accommodate your poor memory by allowing you to ask me to repeat this sentiment to you, lest you forget it. Understand?”
“…yes sir.”
“Good. I will make this very clear to you now. You. Are. Worthy. I took you in because I saw potential in you, Ripper. I saw you at what you deem to be your ‘worst’ — sniveling, trembling, and heavily volatile. And I took you in. That should be proof alone that you are worthy. If you were not worthy of this country, you would not be living in it, and if you were not worthy of my love, you would not be surrounded by it.”
Doom took a deep breath before continuing.
“I do not view you as lesser for your so-called faults. For I was correct in my vision of potential in you — as I am correct in all things. Where you see cowardice, I see resilience. Where you see instability, I see authenticity. And where you see sensitivity, I see empathy. Ripper, your heart defines you, and I could feel its beating before we even exchanged words. Your presence brings love, and hope into Latveria. You are loved. By Doom.”
“…really?”
Doom couldn’t help but chuckle. Such a simple response. “Yes, really.”
Ripper felt… a little braver. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Ask.”
“…can you say it again? That last bit.”
“Ah.” Doom smiled beneath his mask. He was so proud. They were coming out of their shell, with his aid. “Of course.”
He cleared his throat.
“You are loved. By Doom.”