#and other such deranged sentiments

[glitterslag]

I literally shot up from my bed to make this

#literally being plagued by visions of them #they wont let me sleep #they're my cathy #haunt me then. take any form. drive me mad! #and other such deranged sentiments #sydcarmy #the bear #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu

[blackpilljesus]

I saw this from the female separatism subreddit & the responses are some of the biggest reasons for separatism et al (or extinction if I'm being candid here). Moids cant be reformed they are fully aware of the hell they force women to live in. MaIe achievement & happiness is rooted in female exploitation & life. Their glory days are based on our horrific days. No amount of love, kindness or facts will change maIes and we cannot happily or even neutrally coexist with them.

Main points across answers:

Many want to experiment but not permanently be women

They dont want to be in constant danger or lose their autonomy at the hands of maIes for merely existing

They dont want to deal with childbirth (& periods)

They dont want to have to share spaces with species much stronger than them with ulterior motives

It makes me go crazy seeing people give moids benefit of doubt for their evil like "maIes just dont understand", "we need to teach maIes", or claiming that maIe violence is a result of maIes struggling with (expressing) their feelings. I get that women love maIes and it can be hard to imagine that people can intentionally be so evil but it is what it is. MaIes have no problems expressing themselves, abusing women is what maIes choose to do because they enjoy & benefit from it - that is their expression.

MaIes see the same news of women being abused, raped, and killed like we do except rather than be disheartened or alarmed they're either apathetic or satisfied. It isn't aliens that's committing GBV it's maIes & maIes have no problem reminding women of this when women anger them (such as rape threats & threatening women they'll end up on the news/true crime). The victim blaming, denial, and derailment of misogyny is part of the game to keep the system alive, they know the events occured & are a systemic occurence they just dont care. Hell not only do they not care, they rejoice in it or get off on it.

MaIes set up environments that work in their favour which simultaneously ensures that women will lose. They know women are set up to live in damn near impossible conditions for us. It's normalised for women to defenselessly share personal & private spaces with beings much more stronger than them with ulterior motives for us, it's trap. It's interesting how these moids aren't saying that they'll just cover up and *poof* harrassment gone, or they'll just pick a nice guy & they'll be okay. MaIes know the net negative they are towards women.

MaIes know that childbirth is a painful process & what do they do? Demand it happens and make it even MORE painful for women. MaIes that impregnate women do not love or care for them. Pregnancy itself is dangerous & sometimes lethal, often comes with a range of health issues, to cause someone to be in that condition especially in a environment where abortions are illegal is reckless & unloving. Now imagine how sinister & full of hatred one has to be to impregnate someone and abuse them on top of that. Many women risk their health & lives to reproduce with a Y and they get abused by said Y instead of being taken care of. Deranged.

Realising that maIes are aware of the evil they inflict is one of the things that radicalised me. It isn't a miscommunication or ignorance issue, their violence is intended. They want control. The cruelty is the point. Instead of wasting time & energy trying to change maIes or hope that they "understand" one day, focus on yourself & other women (who prioritise women). Moids aren't oblivious to female pain they enjoy it. A lot of women treat maIe evil like it's a mistake on maIes part but it's calculated terrorism. I know that this will go over many womens heads as they refuse to hold strong negative sentiments about moids as a collective so if you're not a woman like that, take this post as a sanity check. You aren't crazy, it isn't all in your head.

#Will women listen to any of this? Nope. But I will still speak anyways. #I say all of this as an osawoman so attraction is not an excuse. The time for reconciliation & reform has long gone. #And stop fucking creating more maIes ffs #While many women are under the impression that moids are clueless about our oppression; some want to believe so bc they dont want to come #to terms with evil moids actually are. Because if you want to reproduce or have a positive relationship w/ moids theres no way you can #consciously do that bearing in mind what moids are so many women push it away. Anyways #blackpill feminism #blackpill feminist #female separatism #female separatist #males know what they're doing they just dont care #radical feminism #radical feminist #feminism #moids are terrorists #feminist

[emgod666]

I don’t think prime is unfeeling like we thought. he and rick are really sore. liiiike, here’s prime after evil morty wallops gutted rick in front of him

prime cares enough to put up a dirty fisticuffs fight with c137 (we don’t see him do this for any other rick). prime appears obsessed with teams, and having an upper-hand as to whether or not someone can join him. he laughs when he’s stood up. he kills hermit jerry much as he deflects his feelings of his past.

prime going, you’re so “sentimental” over your dead wife ; the guy is so obsessed over bringing diane up. it seems he expected c137 to make it through to him, enough to continue building these deranged diane terminator dolls. prime reduces diane to ideas of sex when he programs the diane head-a-majig. he used a personal bomb on c137’s diane and beth too, that I assume precedes the omega device. rick talks prime up for ages, even smiling when he calls prime "the big guy" in this episode. they both reinforce their trauma/last memories of each other. I think it’s crazy they reduced themselves to the single motive of their traumas, even though they were both intelligent enough to invent something as incredible as interdimensional travel.

#ew tho prime getting beaten was so grotesque #the animation is incredible. I love slowing it down to watch the tiny nuance. says 1000 words #rick and morty #rick sanchez #logging off again

[monimccoythings]

Human!Alastor x Daughter!Reader: Devotion

These are all part of the same AU, I suppose, or not. But I like to think they are all part of the same AU, sometimes I forget what I write. Now this are just some deranged feelings and thoughts of Alive!Alastor.

Reminder: Alastor is in hell for a reason.

Tw: obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, mentions of blood, implied murder, manipulation.

tags: @anonymousewrites, @nonetheartist, @littledolly2345, @sunnyx07, @ouroborostheunholy, @mo-0-o, @sydneyyyya @lbcreations-blog

Alastor had never been a sentimental man. Of course he loved his mama, she was a wonderful woman and her death had definitely caused him a great amount of grief.

And then you came along.

Your soft skin, your chubby hands that tried to grasp his larger fingers to no avail, your wide unfocused eyes that darted everywhere, taking notice of everything. How delicate you felt in his arms, you fit perfectly, like you were made to be there.

How easily he could break you, he ponders. One little snap and there would be no more of you. It would be so quick and simple. There was only one little thing.

He adored you.

Your quiet little coos, your incomprehensible babbling that sounded like you were trying to carry an adult conversation with him, the way you squealed with joy whenever one of your favorite songs started playing on the radio. You were delightful, and provided him with more enrichment than any of the bumbling fools he usually associated himself with could provide.

As years passed by, you started to get bigger, your world expanding, your knowledge growing. And with it, came the risk of having you slip away from him.

He had modeled you to be his perfect little angel, his little fawn. His obedient child. He would not allow anyone to take you away from him. He was your guardian, your protector. Some asshole looked at you the wrong way while you two were going on a walk? He was never heard of again. Some low-paid teacher was becoming some sort of role model to you? Ooops! Accidents happen!

He found that his reasoning for protecting you was also a good excuse to indulge in his darkest desires. A way to calm the itch that was always nagging at the back of his head.

Alastor did it for you. He was making the world a safer place for you. No matter how much fun and enjoyment he got out of it. None of those buffoons would ever taint your innocence with their dirty souls. Not even himself.

He would take his secrets to the grave, always hidden behind a wide smile. he would be the good father, the charming radio host, the modelic citizen. The blood in his hands, as delicious as it tasted, would never stain your clothes.

No one would keep you two apart, he would make sure of that. He was all that you could possibly ever need. Your world started and ended with him, as it should be. Let him be the barrier between your purity and the rotten society that lurked outside.

He suffered everytime you were forced to spend time apart of each other. Couldn't you see it? Did you feel it too? Whenever you were in school or he was working, it was complete suffering for him! His fingers drumming impatiently on the surface of the table, counting the seconds until he was back at home with you. Only the mental stimulation that took directing, writing and starrring in his own radio show for which he held great passion and the delightful hunt his side job provided were enough distraction to cope with his sorrow.

When did he become so emotional? He should be feeling embarrassed of himself or at least be very thankful that his mask of sanity wasn't cracking with all those feelings. Instead, he found himself embracing them. He embraced the painful worry about your wellbeing and his influence over you, the obssessive and twisted love he felt, the need for control, to ensure you remained his innocent and good child, and the bitter despair at your absence that sunk into his heart like a knife. Only his little baby could give him such a rush.

He was sure that not even death would be able to take you from his hands. He would personally fight God, the Devil, and anybody who got in his way. Alastor would tear the fabric of reality apart just to get to you.

You would never run away from him. There was no reason to, as he had made you as devoted of him as he was of you. Or at least he hoped so.

Having you leave him would surely break his heart, as it would mean to Alastor that you had chosen to do things the hard way. But maybe, after a very detailed and complex planification on his part and some casualties orchestrated by him, Alastor might be able to convince you to return back home, with a grim reminder about the dangers of the outside world.

For there is no safer place on Earth than in your father's embrace.

#hazbin hotel #x reader #reader #alastor x reader #alastor #tw: obsessive behavior #tw: possessive behavior #tw: controlling behavior #hazbin hotel x reader

[wannaeatramyeon]

Thinking a lil too hard abt Gun, Goo, and Samuel who's gf broke up w them but they just can't throw out all the stuff she left behind at their placess

Man, you want pain huh. Maybe even... OOC pain?!

Your box of belongings: Gun, Goo, Samuel

The men with no heart, no place for sentiment, cannot let go. The final piece of the jigsaw that signals the end.

A box of your things, of happier memories sit in a corner. Barely out of sight, never out of mind.

.

.

Gun Park

Gun sends you a text, once. Curt and to the point, asking you to pick up your things.

You don't respond.

He waits until the date he has mentioned. Seated alone in his oversized penthouse, waiting for the buzz of the door from sun up to sun down.

You never come.

He waits a few more days; it stretches into a week.

And finally, he gives up hope.

He takes your things down to the trash, ready to be collected. A box full of happier times. When he still had you by his side every night. Your laugh gracing his evenings, and your full attention on him.

Gun wants to move on, he needs to move on.

The universe has other plans when the box isn't collected that day, or the next. Every time he leaves his penthouse, it sits in his eyeline, mocking and taunting. Parts of a former life poking out.

He gives in to a little indulgence the day that it finally disappears. Retrieves all the polaroids sat under the punishing sun for days. Had never understood why you preferred the sentimentality of impractical instant photos when a superior phone camera exists.

But as Gun sits and continues to wait night after night, listening for the sound of your footsteps and the buzzer of his front door, he examines the photos. The way you smiled at him, the way he looked at you, over and over and over.

.

.

Goo Kim

Goo is mean.

Meaner than he ever has been. Barely concealed with a deranged smile and an unhinged laugh. The barbs are sharper than ever before. Even his saccharine demeanour is not enough to offset his deliberate cruelty.

Gun is on the receiving end more often than not.

He's used to his blonde partner and all his eccentricities and he blocks it out most of the time. Gives him a warning look when he pushes it too far, continues to push it, and it ends in blows.

Crystal and Kouji are less used to him. Not sure if this is a Goo Kim licking his wounds or whether he's just in a more vicious mood than usual.

But when the night is quiet, his brain overthinks. Goo is left with no defence, no armour, for his own vulnerabilities.

He faces your forgotten box of things in the corner, the empty space in his bed, alone.

Finds that there are no distractions for the constant ache that has settled in the pit of his stomach since the day you left.

Takes your favourite t-shirt; one of his that you commandeered in the early days, that still smells faintly of you and holds it in his grip.

Pathetic and pitiful, sighing and wallowing, and imagines he's holding you instead.

.

.

Samuel Seo

Samuel works later and later.

Avoids the box of your things, his apartment tainted with your touch. Sends a closed eyes, closed lip smile to anyone that comments on his work ethic. How he almost lives in his office, the bags under his eyes growing by the day.

Eugene offers corporate niceties and faux concerns. But Samuel can read between the lines. What Eugene actually means is "get a grip."

Understands that he only cares about the bottom line, and Samuel's job has no room for mistakes due to personal issues.

The days blur into one. His work is impeccable as always. He keeps up appearances.

But even his simpering colleagues with their admiring glances does nothing to pick up his mood or ego.

He thinks of the box haunting him. Sitting in his apartment. A tangible symbol of another failure in his life, of how he wasn't enough.

Yet he can't bring himself to remove it, to remove the final traces of you in his life.

So Samuel avoids it. Avoids his apartment, what was once your home too. Prays the reports and meetings and calls and the corporate humdrum will bring him peace once more.

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism fic #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #gun park #kim joongoo x reader #goo kim x reader #goo kim #samuel seo x reader #seo seongeun x reader #samuel seo #wannaeatramyeon #yeah this seems pretty OOC

[meanbossart]

Just gotta say that the way you draw facial expressions is soooo dynamic, and your art makes me grin with equal feral glee when I see it. 🥰

I love your spooky smiley deranged durge, will you tell me more facts about them?

Thank you so much! And YES i certainly can uuhhh lets see

-In my personal canon he has no name, having first assumed to have forgotten it along with everything else and later being told/figuring out that he renounced any in favor of being called Bhaalspawn, Slayer, Death Bringer, Bhaaling, and any number of edgy titles we hear throughout the game lol he did this pre-tadpole to emphasize his birth-right and deny himself any personal identity. He never picked a name for himself post-tadpole and everyone just refers to him as The Drow, Astarion also calls him his usual pet names.

-He's not necessarily one for luxuries but still likes pretty, ostentatious things, especially jewelry. Pre-tadpole DU drow wore them generously, post-tadpole doesn't understand his own fascination, but he likes wearing rings and holds some sentimentality for specific pieces. (he never threw away the "magic" ring he stole from the tiefling child in act 1)

-Every expression of love and affection he had pre-tadpole came out pretty twisted, but with this in mind he very much adored Orin, though you would never guess it from seeing how they interacted with each other.

-The patterned scars on his chest, face and neck were mostly self inflicted (the rest he had Orin's help for). The one's on his arms were an "accident" kinda but he still put them there willingly (and gleefully lol)

-He has a borderline irrational hatred for drow women. He hates drows in general, though mostly because they're uptight and snobby and less so because of, yknow, all the slavery and child killing etc.

-Despite looking evil as hell he's very much morally neutral post-tadpole. He's pretty much a "do what you have to do to survive" kind of guy - and sometimes a "because i want to" kind of guy lol.

-He thinks very highly of himself which makes him overly bold. This got him through the whole campaign and destroying the brain but it also makes him a huge liability LOL its also a source of conflict in his and Astarion's relationship because he lowkey doesn't think Astarion can make it without him - he continuously and completely fails to realize how this is an issue.

-The only other people he has respect for and trusts are Shadowheart, Astarion and Jaheira. Ironically these are all people he didn't get along with well at all at the start.

-He's kind of a hopeless romantic, he's just weird about it. He's pretty much picked Astarion as his person and kind of devotes his life to him now, sometimes to a troubling extent.

-I'm writing a whole story that takes place post-game here where you can gleam a lot more about his character and learn things that i can't share yet because it would be a spoiler hint hint nudge nudge

#ask #DU drow #bg3

[ifishouldvanish]

Some Olrox Analysis & Headcanons

Have you seen this man? Now you have! 🥰

I have a lot of thoughts about Olrox Castlevania Nocturne and I'm dumping them here.

DISCLAIMER: We know so little about Olrox's past and I am but a humble stan looking at an expressionist painting and projecting my own deranged nonsense onto it. I'm fully prepared for 90% of this to get jossed in season 2, but for now I'm just letting the worms in my brain wiggle and send me beautiful visions of what could be 🥹

1. Olrox Was a Commoner and Does Not Respect Hierarchies

I've seen people point to his manner of speech and dress as evidence that he must come from a privileged background, but I think he displays too much contempt for the wealthy/nobility to have been one himself. I think these things are just symbols of power he has learned to use to his advantage.

Of course, there's everyone's favorite quote: "I prefer my blood blue." But he also demonstrates virtually no respect for authority or symbols/institutions of power in general:

He refuses the escort sent by the marquis when he arrives in France and insists on staying at the inn because he likes to "keep his ear to the ground". He would rather be around 'the people' than accept anything from the wealthy.

When Drolta is reminiscing about her glory days as a priestess, there's really not any nostalgia or sentimentality when he interrupts and says "and now those temples are half-buried in dust."

For as good as he is at presenting himself as a Gentleman of Status, he cannot bring himself to even pretend to enjoy himself at Erzsebet's lil debutante ball at the chateau.

When Erzsebet insists she is a goddess, his response is "Of course you are, sweetie 🙂"

His whole speech to Mizrak in the morning-after scene is basically a deconstruction of what power means, and how it is only a perceived vs tangible thing, a temporary position vs an immutable one:

"There are petty demon princelings you can haggle with and cheat. There are demon charlatans whose faces you can laugh in, spit in. There are demons who once were gods... And those who still are."

Foucault? In MY anime adaptation of a vampire video game?? It's more likely than u think 🤔

(continued under the cut bc this got long as hell)

2. Olrox was an Adult when Cortés Arrived

(I don't have a relevant screenshot for this point, so here's Olrox being pretty for no reason)

I've seen it float around some places that if we adhere to historical timelines to a 'T', it would make most sense for him to have been a child, but I'm of the opinion that it's more useful to take what the text itself gives us and fill the gaps with bits and pieces of the actual history where it's convenient. At the end of the day, this is a work of fiction/fantasy. So what does the text tell us?

He lived a long time as human and vampire

As of 1783, he'd been a vampire for approximately 250 years

Now, if we want to take this 250 figure literally, that would put the year of his turning at 1533. But I think we can give ourselves +/-15 years leeway because 250 is just the kind of rounded, even number one would use in natural speech in place of "267" or some shit like that. It's just how believable dialogue is written. So what lies in this +/-15 year window? The invasion by the Spanish, 1519-1521.

Now, he tells Mizrak: "Long ago, when I was still human, I watched men wade ashore from ships..."

I think this is another case of how important dialogue is. Because if he was a boy at the time, this line would likely have been written as "Long ago, when I was just a boy..." or something like "One of my earliest memories is of..." instead. "Still human" implies not only was he a human, but that he had been human for quite some time already. That the events he's describing fall in the stretch of time leading up to "still human" no longer being true.

tl;dr: the Spanish arrival and him becoming a vampire happened within a few years of each other, and if turned vampires stop aging, then he would have had to have been an adult at the time.

3. Olrox Became A Vampire Willingly

I assume that vampirism is something that was introduced to the Mexica by the Spanish in the same way it was introduced to Haiti by the French, in Annette's case.

However, rather than vampires creating spawn left and right, the persistent lore (in the show at least) is that to be turned is to be accepted into the sort of elite in-group of vampire society. (Carmilla questioning why Lisa was never turned, the Count never turning slaves, etc). Vampires feed on humans, they don't view them as potential spawn to have in thrall or whatever.

The Spanish weren't going around giving natives The Bite, because vampirism is power. So what I think, is that Olrox recognized that power, and decided to take it for himself. Rather than being the passive 'recipient' of the 'gift' of vampirism, he pried it from some Spanish vampire's cold, undead hands. (i.e., he drank their blood)

Do I have any proof of this? No. It's just what the worms in my brain are telling me 🤷 But!!

Do I think it would be a sexy little inversion of the way Erzsebet drank a god's blood to obtain her power? Yes.

Do I think it would be thematically very appropriate for a morally grey character who seems to have a very... Interesting relationship with power (individual power vs institutional powers, the subverting of power, the weaponization of symbols of power, etc)?? Oh absolutely fuck yes!!1!

[sickos.jpg]

4. Olrox Was a Priest, But Not Like That.

Priesthood in the Mexica empire was largely dominated by the nobility, whose children would be sent to the calmecec to learn how to read and write, speak the noble dialect, perform rituals, etc. But if the circumstances were right, the children of commoners could also get in!

Olrox says he's never been much of a believer, but he's highly intelligent and incredibly good at reading people. Even if he was never a man of faith, the priesthood was still a powerful institution where one could climb the ranks and earn influence over the nobility. No doubt someone as sharp and charismatic as Olrox would be able to take advantage of the opportunity to get a good education and maybe try to undermine the system from within/play a bit of political games while he was at it.

Also... Olrox's weapon of choice is the dagger. Obviously a dagger is an appropriate weapon for a character who's kind of rogue-ish, but also consider: Aztec warriors used a lot of weapons in combat: clubs, spears, arrows, axes—but an obsidian dagger? That's something that would have been used by a priest during rituals.

5. Olrox is a Bitch™ Who Knows Just What to Say to Get Under People's Skin

A common myth is that the Mexica welcomed Cortés at first because they thought he was Quetzalcoatl. But this is a misreading of the way Mexica social conventions/the noble dialect worked, which was kinda ~passive aggressive in a way, such that the more loftily and overly politely you spoke with someone, the more you were actually telling them to go eat shit and die. I think Olrox's dialogue demonstrates this beautifully in the scene where he meets Erzsebet:

"Taker of Souls, Vampire Lioness, She Who Mauls, The Messiah of--" / "Yes, charmed to meet you 😒"

"Her magnificence has heard much about you." / "Flattered. For a god to have heard of me. 🥱"

"I am a goddess!" / "...Of course 🙂"

His words are receptive, respectful, docile, even... but his tone and delivery are completely the opposite. Compare this with the way he speaks with Richter and (in later interactions) Mizrak—which is more informal, open, confrontational. He's more direct with them because he actually respects them.

As far as reading and getting under people's skin with pinpoint precision, I present the following interactions:

When he catches the marquis' severed head in the catacombs, he reads him (and potentially also Drolta) like a book: "This one? He was just an opportunist, following the messiah because she's powerful. But there are those who love her [looks to Drolta]. So I'm told."

When Drolta gives him a verbal slap on the wrist for feeding on the wealthy, he says "mY Ap0LoGiEs, I didn't realize how invested you are in keeping the mortals happy." - To which Drolta goes on to grumble about how their alliance with some of the mortals disgusts her.

When Erzsebet is waxing poetic about how everyone will see her beauty and worship her, he has the balls to—without missing a beat—say "PaRd0n mEe, but you mean to do this through an alliance with a man who will never worship you? 🫢" right to her fcuuckin face mgod I love him so much (this is the point where she whips out the big guns and yells "I am a goddess!!" while threateningly flashing her orb of darkness btw. Like she did NOT like that)

6. Olrox Has an 'Eye for an Eye' View of Justice

A prevalent theme in Aztec religion is the idea that like... ain't nothin' in this world for free. Sacrifices to the gods weren't symbolic gestures of devotion, but an act of paying the gods back for providing humanity with the means to survive.

The idea that everything has a price pervades the dialogue he has with Mizrak in the morning-after scene:

"What was the cost? Who pays it? Just him? Or all of you? Will you? Which demon will claim his price when all this is done?"

And it's also present in the very first scene where we are introduced to Olrox:

"You see, your mama took someone from me I loved, just as much as you loved her. So, she had to die."

What's interesting about this scene is also how... calm he is the whole time—before the fight, after the fight. Yes, he's motivated by the murder of the man he loved, but he brings zero of that passion to this confrontation. It's just an execution, something inevitable that must be done.

That he's fine with confronting a terrified Richter immediately afterwards to explain what just happened (and is completely unapologetic about it) is also telling. It suggests that Olrox views this kind of thing as just 'the way of the world'—a hard truth that Richter will be better off for having learned sooner rather than later.

I think this also helps explain why, years later, Olrox seems to treat Richter with a little more.... Familiarity than we might consider appropriate. He approaches Richter in the catacombs like he's just an old acquaintance, as though Richter should have no reason to be terrified of him. When Drolta mentions the incident later, he seems kind of lightly amused by it. Then, when he drops off the book, he's visibly/audibly frustrated that Richter starts gearing up for a fight. To Olrox, the whole "killed your mom" thing is water under the bridge, nothing personal.

7. Olrox is a Vampire of Prominence in The New World

Obviously, he has to be kind of a big deal to give a Belmont a run for their money. But let's go deeper into the IMPLICATIONS!!

"In 250 years, do you know how many vampire hunters have promised to slice me in two?"

"Her magnificence has heard much about you."

"You will be her guide into America."

He's enough of a big deal that countless hunters have promised to kill him. Enough of a big deal that Erzsebet has not only heard of him, but sees him as a valuable ally who knows enough about America to guide her as she builds her empire across it.

Olrox wasn't just a powerful vampire who got entangled with the politics of colonial Massachusetts and happened to cross paths with a Belmont. He's presumably had a hand in matters across the continent. Erzsebet refers to the colonists as "American upstarts" but for her, this is a conflict between humans vs vampires. The American colonists aren't allies or even rivals to her—because they're not vampires. They're just more pesky humans to be dealt with. (Also??? 'Protestant Vampires' as a concept is just hilarious to me, I'm so sorry)

So.

What the worms in my brain are telling me is—And this is Big!! This is a Steaming Hot Take!!!

(...seriously, tin foil hat tier headcanon incoming)

Olrox has established a network of indigenous vampires who are resisting the colonial threat. He's been turning them (or at least select individuals who are into it), and thereby redistributing the power he took from the Spanish colonizers to wield against the British colonizers.

(Look I have 0.01% faith in this actually being canon or anything. I just think it would be cool as fuck.)

Anyway.

Thanks for coming 2 my Ted talk or whatever. 😘

#Olrox #castlevania #castlevania nocturne

[denimbex1986]

'...when it comes to a truly memorable performance over all this time in the MCU, Tom Hiddleston has everyone beat.

Hiddleston scored big with his role as Loki in 2011’s Thor. Since then he’s appeared in six additional films, two animated shorts, and two Disney+ shows, including, of course, Loki, which is in the midst of its second season. Loki the character is alive and well, even if the show’s latest episodes are convoluted. It’s getting increasingly difficult to keep up with Loki’s time travel, timelines, variants, and other complications. In a way, that issue is emblematic of the MCU’s current state. Now in its 15th year, it’s struggling to retain the same level of enthusiasm in a post-Avengers: Endgame world. Loki was a potential bright spot after an engaging, fresh first season in 2021. But now it’s in something of a sophomore slump. Thankfully, the series has two saving graces: stunning visuals and outstanding performances, none of which are more impressive than its lead’s...

Across three Thor and three Avengers movies over 12 years, Loki Laufeyson isn’t the same God of Mischief we were introduced to way back when. Still, Hiddleston ensures, either with a deranged smirk or sly dialogue delivery, that remnants of the original character are still in there. But now, Loki is open to the possibility of redemption because he’s fighting to save the world, not to eliminate it entirely, as was his mission in The Avengers.

Loki has received the kind of nuanced and believable character development that’s rarely seen in the MCU (or any major superhero franchise, for that matter). Hiddleston deploys an impressive physical and emotional range, evolving Loki from a maniacal killer in The Avengers to an anti-hero in Thor: Ragnarok (where he’s aided by a comical partnership with co-star Chris Hemsworth) to a full-fledged sentimental hero in the new episodes of Loki. (Thankfully, his spiky hair and costumes have also made headway, although we do miss the Asgardian horned mask.)...

Hiddleston capitalizes on the space he’s given over two seasons to transform Loki in a way the movies simply don’t allow. In every Thor film, he’s the supporting character. But in the show, Loki’s imprisonment at the Time Variance Authority and his partnership with Mobius (Owen Wilson) accomplish what even Loki’s own brother couldn’t: Revealing that the character does, in fact, have a heart. This becomes more pronounced when Loki falls for another Loki, played by Sophia DiMartino. At least we know narcissism—in some form or another—is imbued in all Loki variants.

The show’s gloss has faded in its second season because, ultimately, Marvel is going to Marvel. Loki has become less of a TV show in and of itself and more of a springboard for the MCU’s next big phase. That’s evident by episode three’s focus on Jonathan Majors’ Victor Timely, who will go on to become Kang the Conqueror, touted as the Big Bad of MCU Phases 5 and 6. But, despite the choppy storytelling, Loki is thriving in its own messy way on Hiddleston’s talented shoulders. And perhaps we should just take that win from the MCU.'

#Loki #Marvel #Thor #Tom Hiddleston #Kang the Conqueror #Mobius #Owen Wilson #Sylvie #Sophie di Martino #Chris Hemsworth #Disney+

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Horcruxes as Seven Deadly Sins

This has been jabbing at my brain for a while, I need to get it out. Idk if someone has already done this.

This will only mention Christian, because I don't think I have enough knowledge about Greek, Roman or any other interpretation of the seven deadly sins.

So, Tom Riddle created seven horcruxes. (actually eight)

It is no secret that Tom Riddle was obsessed with power, because he never had anything of value and thought power was the remedy for his misfortune and a very depressing life. Splitting one's soul is already a sin itself because it's done by murdering someone. Tom Riddle Jr. (I think it's hilarious to call him that so what) created seven of them during various stages of his life. Without further ado, let's review his misdeeds chronologically.

The Diary

The first horcrux he created was by murdering Myrtle, an innocent Muggleborn Ravenclaw student. The basilisk did Tom's bidding. The diary becoming a horcrux is very interesing considering the timeline. He was in fifth or sixth year. By that time he figured out he was the descendant of Salazar Slytherin, but he did not yet know of the tragedy that brought him to life. He thought he was doing noble work by getting rid of the muggleborns and finishing what Salazar intended from the start. Years later, diary Tom talks to Harry about abandoning his filthy muggle father's name, but had Tom already visited his uncle by that time and found out about his parents? Or did Tom murder Myrtle earlier and then was told about his heritage as a diary by the actual corporal Tom? Because when he visited his uncle and found out his father was a muggle, he knocked his uncle out, went to the Riddle manor and killed his father and his grandparents. And stole the Gaunt family ring, which would also become a horcrux. Officially, the diary is considered the first horcrux, so we'll follow that. I will assign the diary the sin of wrath. Tom was angry at his muggle father, weak mother, deranged relatives who destroyed an ancient house and his childhood. However, he still holds his heritage in somewhat of a high regard because, frankly, what else he has left. He took out his wrath on regular bystanders who had no effect on his life. Teenage boy bottles his anger in his diary and holds petty grudges.

Marvolo Gaunt's Ring

Created after Tom spoke to Slughorn about splitting a soul in more than two pieces. A gaudy ring, not even a famous artifact, the last family heirloom of Gaunts. Even though his mother's side of the family was no less pathetic than his father's, Tom did not forsake it completely. He still hid his connection to them, but at least they provided him with the gift of parseltongue and magical talent. I think he was silently...grateful, for the lack of a better term. He felt no sympathy towards his mother even before he found out who she was, but he was grateful for her the way you can be grateful for someone who brought you to this world and gave you gift of magic and did nothing else for you. The ring represents the sin of pride because Tom was not honoring his family, he clung to his terrible ancestry. The word pride is not used as a bad thing in the modern context as much. You can be proud of something. That's not a bad thing, right? Well, in this case, it is. Tom was not ashamed of the things Gaunts did, he was ashamed how they ended up. If he was met with Gaunts who looked and lived like Malfoys but where ten times worse, he wouldn't hide his connection to them and would display his pride. Why else would he keep the ring if he didn't plan to use it. Sentimental reasons.

Salazar Slytherin's Locket

Envy. Tom tracked down the current owner of the locket, killed her and stole it from her. He was envious in a way of Hepzibah Smith, who lived luxuriously, was in touch of her pureblood ancestry, a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff. Meanwhile, Tom, who, in his opinion, should've been born with the same privileges, had to scramble for scraps his whole life and smile politely at others and be of service, instead of the other way around. A prince mistaken for a beggar, forced to live his life, found the crown jewel of his. And some old lady displayed it like it was her own. Technically, it was.

Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem

Now, what business did Tommy have messing around with other founders' sacred artifacts? He had acquired "his own" ones. He could stop at three horcruxes. Surely, there were risks, consequences of such extreme magic, just take the locket and leave the cup, don't even bother with the lost diadem...Greed. He sniffed around and inquired about it while he was still in Hogwarts, charmed the Grey Lady Helena Ravenclaw to find out its whereabouts and went to bloody Albania to get it.

Why shouldn't Tom take the diadem and the cup as well? Why shouldn't he take other heirlooms and make it his? He's the greatest wizard of all time in the making. What can possibly rival his power? You get the point.

Helga Hufflepuff's Cup

Gluttony. Are we even surprised at this point? He went through all that trouble to get other items, the cup was literally lying right there next to the locket at Hepzibah Smith's house. I'm getting tired, I'm sorry.

Nagini

Sloth. The snake was already unnaturally loyal to him, he was actually acting affectionate towards it. Making a horcrux out of a living being was an unheard concept, but he'd done much weirder things already. The parselmouth and a snake, very original. His easiest and laziest horcrux, one more testament to his power and "pure" blood.

Harry Potter

Lust. Harry was a horcrux he never meant to create. On a fateful night when Voldemort nearly died of his own spell (the first time around), a small piece of his soul attached itself to the only living thing it could find, a baby. All of it, really, began with lust. An ambition gone bitter. Lust for power, immortality, desire to be remembered and stand out. Driven to insanity, orchestrated his own downfall. The lust for power, the only thing he could approximate with love.

#harry potter #tom riddle #slytherin #harry potter analysis #voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #lord voldemort

[triptych-of-voids]

i dont know how to put this in any other way but. the way you draw medic is very biteable i want to bite him (positive and deranged way) (not the killing way)

bad things keep happening to the anons that bite him, but thank you!! i appreciate the sentiment :]

#the doc is in #replies from the void

[throwaway-yandere]

A Myriad of Fallen Leaves (Yandere!Ayato/Reader)

Unreliable synopsis: Reader chills around in a villa and decided to get some fresh air. A wacky continuation of Blind Obedience

Afab reader

Cw: Yandere themes. Drugging. Violence. Non-consensual touching. Please avoid this fic if you are sensitive to these subjects. Your mental health matters more than a deranged fanfic posted on the internet (This is probably not even as bad as other things posted out there, but better to be safe than sorry right?)

A/n: it's just a shorter sequel for those who asked lol. Shoutout to my friend for beta-reading this fic and thank you guys @venus-loving @lunnaeclipse @livingmyfantasy for requesting (i saw it dw your words mean a lot to me!!!). Sorry it’s late, life and college applications are messing with me lol.

-------------------------

Young Kamisato Ayato and (L/n) (Y/n) strolled down Ritou in the basking sunlight. It used to be a common occasion for the both of you to relax once in a while to distract the new Yashiro commissioner off his workload and undeniable pressure. You were supposed to master the basics of one of the Futsu School's signature arts but none of you had been able to master even a single slash of the sword work you were supposed to be so engrossed with. Every time you both tried to cross blades, the next slash cuts weaker than the last. There was no room for debate, and you both left to clear your heads. 

This was something Ayato was tremendously grateful for, after all, you’re a lot more casual when you’re beat.

At first, you were incredibly wary of him. There were little kind sentiments thrown around and his mysteries were more engaging. He stated that he is more than capable when asked about his expertise. When asked about his campaigns, he admitted to producing more than he was supposed to. There was only one thing you could be assured about, and that was his fondness for dogs. Which you first rejected as meaningless trivia until you promised to become his dog if he chose you over the other sword-master vying for the role.

Since then, he must have thought of you as an amusing individual; otherwise, you wouldn't be going around Ritou's square with your hands brushing against each other as you strolled side-by-side. With a flower Ayato tucked behind your ear, on top of that.

Ayato pursed his lips.

“Do you believe in true love?”

Ayato wasn't quite on the same scale as the rest of humanity in terms of receiving affection. In private, he had always voiced out endearingly naive questions about romantic relationships and thought it was a waste of time, effort, and an unfortunate cause of expenses. But he never once asked if love existed. You thought he was simply a lonely man who's jealous of what those without his status can afford easily. The possibility that he simply didn't know the wonders of love baffled you.

You snorted and covered your mouth with your spare hand. Ayato immediately fell into a small trance. It was the cutest thing he had ever heard, and he knew that the smile you covered was equally enchanting.

“Of course! Only sad folks think it ain’t real.” You added some distance between the two of you and squinted. A mischievous lilt of your voice set him straight. “Where’d this question even come from? Finally caught the love fever, My Lord?”

Ayato closed his eyes irritably. “Nonsense.”

“Hmm, hmm!” You hummed, unconvinced. You figured that Ayato wouldn’t ask such a suspicious question had he not experienced the emotion firsthand. “Why’d you ask, My Lord?”

“I...” Ayato coughed. “Was just curious. Nothing more to it.”

“Suuure.” You tried to sound indifferent as possible but Ayato still sensed your skepticism.

“Going forward...”

“Yes, My Lord?”

“Do... Do you think it’s possible for me to find true love?”

“W-What?!”

Your gaze was drawn to the maple tree that stood behind Ayato to avoid the almost predestined awkward eye contact with your boss. Ayato was the Kamisato Clan's figurehead and a member of the Tri-Commission. It hardly needs to be stated that obtaining that title can be detrimental to some romantic and platonic relationships. Frankly, you thought that a work-focused man like him wouldn’t complain about arranged marriages.

And you were wrong.

“Where...” You gulped. 

“Where there is true love... I think nothing should be allowed to stand in its way.”

“Oh?”

You didn't say anything after that, giving Ayato time to digest what you said. It was a non-answer, but it was the most appropriate response for someone in his position.

Ayato caught your implications, and in the most simplest way to articulate his emotions: he felt terrible. He cannot put his emotions into words, and even if he could Ayato wouldn’t say it out loud. He’s aware that he built a reputation for being the untouchable shadow puppeteering the Yashiro commission. He knows that doing so is necessary, but if he knew taking the role would inevitably strain his relationship with you hurts more than he initially estimated. Ayato would've hesitated.

And he has yet to experience a realization as to why he felt so awful about this.

“I’ll keep that in mind... thank you for your insight.”

You nodded sheepishly.

Ayato continued. “What do you do when you’re in love?”

 “E-excuse me?”

“Oh, was that too forward? My apologies.”

“N-No, not at all My Lord. I was just surprised.”

Ayato huffed. “I don’t know why you’d react so vehemently. The question was not a major logic leap from the previous one.”

“True, but you don’t normally ask these questions consecutively, you know? It’s kinda like hearing Kuki Shinobu inquire on how to become a shrine maiden.”

“So you think I’m a miserable fool who hates the idea of falling in love?”

Sort of.

You lightly smacked his shoulder. “Gah! My Lord stop asking questions that will get me fired!”

Ayato chuckled. “Sorry, I couldn’t refrain from teasing you.”

You pouted. 

“To answer your question, I guess when I’m in love I’ll often help them out as much as I can. I would cook and clean for them— I’d probably protect them and act domestic and loveable. Or something.”

“You perform the same actions at the Kamisato Estate regularly.” Ayato gasped and feigned fear. “Could it be that you view me in a romantic light, (Y/n)?”

Ayato joked, but he desperately wished that was the case.

Needless to say, it only added more salt to the wound when he saw you laugh uncontrollably over the idea.

“When Ushi flies, My Lord.” 

You tried your best to compose yourself in fear that you would offend him even more. “When Itto’s bull-cow-exorcist-creature flies, then maybe you have a shot in marrying me.”

Ayato faked a large scowl, but he was genuine for the most part.

“What a bold statement for someone who is meant to become my official retainer by the following week.”

“Hey! Occupations do not matter when it comes to true love!” You mused. “Love is patient, love is blind, and it will not care less about whose paperwork I’m organizing.”

‘Occupations do not matter’, yet you cannot even bring yourself to think the same in Ayato’s shoes. Was that not discriminatory on your part? He silently judged you. Ayato couldn’t accept the reality of how you hold yourself to a different standard simply because he held executive power. It was unfair.

Shouldn't he have the same chance as a homeless wanderer in finding true love?

“Plus, I have my standards, Ayato. You’re not exactly my type, not-that-there’s-anything-wrong-with-you-of-course.” You were a bit too quick to add the last part.

He breathed between his teeth, successfully hiding his bitterness. “And your preference is?”

 “The quiet starving artist.” You grinned, unaware of your effect on him. “The type who trusts their craft more than anything. The type who is also in tune with nature, his emotions, and those around him. The type who doesn’t expect anything in return and is just so thoughtful! A man like that could forget our wedding anniversary and I would still be so hopelessly in love.”

His heart was crushed like the maple leaf under his heel. Your ideal man sounded nothing like Ayato.

He shrugged, but make no mistake, he is in an unfathomable denial of the facts. Ayato’s throat was dry as he continued to banter lifelessly. “I also forget anniversaries.”

 “And you shouldn’t!” You resisted the urge to smack his head with the hilt of your sword. “You’re the commissioner now, ‘Lord Kamisato’! You could at least spare me the trouble of informing you that old man Kujou’s birthday is tomorrow, right?”

“Of course.” Ayato waved dismissively. “I cannot forget such a date.”

 “Looks like there’s some hope for you after all. Long live our beloved Yashiro commissioner.” You said sardonically.

“Whatever.” He shook his head with a candid smile. 

“If you believe true love is real, then I’ll take my beloved soon-to-be-retainer’s word for it.”

-----------

It had been a week since Ayato came back from his business trip.

Ayaka silently poured herself and her brother a cup of tea. It is not as if Ayaka doesn't mind Ayato's absence, but it is something she is too used to. However, even when he did return, she sensed that the estate remains hollow. She initially thought it was because Thoma scurried to help Ritou burn ‘a myriad of leaves’ loitered on the streets, but she still felt that some part was devoid of a sprightful presence. It took Ayaka a few moments to realize that what made the place a little less full than usual was another missing figure.

(L/n) (Y/n).

Around this time of day, you would've made yourself busy by "helping" Thoma out with washing the dishes. In all honesty, you help more with your mouth with a slew of emotional support, than your hands. You were a pleasant company to be around, and Ayaka knows that you are a valuable asset to her brother. More than Ayato dared to admit.

So, she simply assumed you still had some work to do outside.

"How was your business trip, Ayato?"

"It was alright. The deal got signed without a hitch. Lord Takayuki gave us a go signal on restoring the bridge." He gently grabbed his cup, but not without looking at its contents. It was not red; it was safe.

Ayato continued. "Say, Ayaka, have you done what I asked of you?"

She nodded.

"Yes, I made several readjustments to the stall order for the fest–"

"No, not that." Ayato chuckled. "I am pertaining to the teas we have in storage."

"Oh, you meant the teabags." Ayaka pondered. "Yes, I had them delivered at Watatsumi Island's post under Ogura Mio's name."

Ayato smiled. 

"Good, good."

"What is it for?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Why did you order so many red ginseng teabags?" She frowned. "Is the tea here not up to your liking? I could ask the head maid for other recipes if you'd like. If I'm being honest, brother, the tea you ordered smells rather off. I'm not sure if it's healthy for you to consume."

"I'm aware that I am lacking expertise in cooking but you needn't be harsh about such criticism."

The two went silent as Ayaka processed his words. She gasped behind her fan, blushing slightly over the awkward situation.

"O-Oh! I wasn't aware that you made those teabags. I'm sorry. I wasn't teasing you–"

"Don't mention it. And besides, you're not wrong. It truly isn't healthy for human consumption."

Ayato is a master at omitting and misrepresenting information. His wording led her to believe that the teabags she sent were to dispose of her brother's brewing disasters. Perhaps General Gorou requested such culinary disasters so they might use them as fertilizers-- Celestia knows how much the island needs more crops. Ayaka had made another erroneous assumption from that alone.

Whatever the case, she dropped the subject.

Ayato grinned as he sipped his tea. He's not wrong, it isn't safe to consume, but it was meant to be that way. 

Who's to say that fact will stop him from feeding (Y/n) the very same poison every week?

"How is (Y/n) fairing?"

He set his cup on the table. The sound was louder than usual from his demeanor, and far from elegant. After she voiced the innocent question, Ayaka noticed her brother's brief and peculiar reaction. In that short second, her brother expressed a wide range of emotions. Before he gave her his trademark politician smile, he expressed astonishment, anxiety, and what appeared to be contempt.

Ayaka's eyebrows creased. Something is certainly off.

"She's faring well, as usual."

What a drab response. Whenever (Y/n) was in charge of a mission, he would often wax poetic about her eccentricities. Ayaka's ear would be ripped out over trivial matters such as (Y/n)'s muddied shoes scuffing the pavement or her endearing snorts and cackles. It's not like him to be concise when it comes to (Y/n) as a topic. 

"Is she on vacation?"

Ayato cannot lie and affirm that. If he did, Ayaka would try to visit her because she is also on her self-imposed social 'leave.'

"No. She's continuing her work."

"Where?"

Ayato took a deep breath. His eyes were piercing, and she had no idea what it meant. Nobody could ever be assured of what Ayato is thinking. Ayaka wanted to pull back from the conversation immediately. But she refused. She recognized her brother's tactics. Absolute silence is how he unnerves his petty enemies.

"Where is she?"

"Why do you ask?"

He started readjusting his gloves. Ayato's eyes trailed over his cuffs as if this was the least interesting conversation he had in a while. Yet again, Ayaka is wholly aware of what Ayato was doing. When he refuses to reveal the truth, he'll answer her questions with a question until it circles back to a conversation about her. If Ayato felt nice, it would be about her well-being, if not, well...

Let's just say this game of interrogation had always left Ayaka feeling drained.

"Is it so strange for me to be curious about her well-being? Brother I would like to remind you that it is no secret that I think (Y/n) is a very talented individual. It is to no one's surprise that I'm very interested in her."

"Ayaka do you find the lack of assistants troublesome? Should I order Thoma to look for suitable applicants? There are some notable talents suitable for the work in the Shuumatsu--" 

"Big brother, please stop trying to digress. You and I both know how your mind works-- more so than others. Please tell me where she is."

"I'm afraid I cannot indulge you at the moment, but please have faith that she is in good hands," Ayato said. "Bear in mind, she is under MY supervision."

He emphasized his power– his possession once more. It was the same way he claimed possession of (Y/n) in Kaedehara Kazuha's temporary residence days before.

"And you seem obsessed about ensuring that it stays that way."

The room turned silent.

She addressed the real elephant in the room. Even Ayaka didn't realize what she had done until she saw the look of genuinely pure shock and anger on her brother's face. That alone is concerning. Especially when the last time she had the misfortune of seeing it was when someone attempted to ultimately dishonor their parents' names.

"Ayaka."

"Yes, Ayato?"

"There are some things you cannot obtain from me. And there are things I will never let go."

By now, Ayaka caught on that there is something foreign and questionable lurking around the back of her brother's mind. The gears turned ever so slightly. When she threw away the unfit gears and looked past her initial presumptions, everything had fallen into place.  

Ayaka smiled. It wasn't the smile their mother trained her to have.

It was a disappointed smile.

"Ayato."

"Yes?"

"Where did you take her?"

"Stop pressing. I already told you, it's confidential–"

Her smile dropped. "Our villa's address in Watatsumi is also confidential."

Ayato chewed his bottom lip.

Bullseye.

The same blood courses through their veins. If there is a man that can withstand his attacks, it will be her reflection that waves back. This is the woman that helped build the Kamisato Clan of today; the delicate and elegant woman Ayato severely underestimated. The truth is out in the open, clear but far from loud. 

This is the wit of the Shirasagi Himegimi. And all of Inazuma will soon discover that it will be her words that can turn the tides of their oppressive decree.

"Ayaka..." Ayato started, his voice is controlled but not his mind. "I love her."

"I know." She answered weakly.

There is no way out of this. If he spoke more, he feared that his dwindling control of the situation will slip away. It was because of you that Kamisato Ayato believed in true love. It was you who told him that nothing— and he firmly believes that absolutely NOTHING should get in the way of true love.

Can you blame him for practicing what you preached?

His heart ached at how hollow his sister sounded. And he trembled just as violently when her eyes met his.

It was like looking through their mother's eyes.

"... What now?" 

‘This was unusual’. Those were the three words that came to Ayaka's mind. It's unusual for the illustrious Kamisato Ayato, the young man who brought his clan back to life through endless diplomatic conversations, to remain speechless. Her brother is certainly intelligent, particularly as a schemer. Ayaka should be there to help him. She was supposed to be his rock when things got too difficult. She was supposed to be his sole sister to support him.

Ayaka, on the other hand, was the one who dragged him here. 

"I do not approve of your fixation," Ayaka started. “I’ll say it now: I always found the way your eyes lingered on places it should not be a bit dishonorable to our clan.”

Ayato had expected those phrases to be more foul, disgusting, and succinct. He had dreams in which he heard his sister lash out at him for his selfish actions, and they always made him wake up in cold sweat.

Reality is way worse, Ayato decided. He would rather feel Ayaka punch his shoulders and scream into his ear to hammer home how immorally wrong he is. This silence is painful.

“...How long have you known?”

“I had my suspicions,” she said. Ayaka stammered slightly and hoped that Ayato didn’t notice. “But it was you who confirmed everything moments ago.”

“What...” 

Ayato closed his eyes and cupped his face with both hands. 

“What do you want me to do?”

There is a long pause between them once more. 

She cleared her throat. In her eyes, there is only one thing he could only do for her.

“Do what you do best.”

The only choice Ayato has left is to coerce her into giving her blessings.

He looked up.

Ayaka turned her gaze to the open windows. She closed her eyes and recalled Kaedehara Kazuha’s musings regarding nature. The outside world truly was tranquil. Both siblings envied the carefree nature of the outdoors. 

So Ayaka offered him a door to exit through.

“Lie to me that you will have everything under control.”

-----

For once, you wished that you took the time to visit your family. Maybe if you did, they would've been worried about your whereabouts. You can only hope that they would at least think about you once a month. 

Your Lord, on the other hand, was more than happy about your fading relationship with your family. Ironic, considering how most of his actions are born out of familial love.

Most, but not all. If he gave his all to his family, to Ayaka, then maybe you wouldn’t be in the dilemma you are in now.

“I owe you a life worth living in these walls, and it appears that I had not provided enough services to fulfill those needs. Allow me to extend my utmost humble apologies, dearest wife, for I had been a lacking husband.” Ayato whispered to you a morning after you relocated. He forcefully tucked you in a stiff embrace. There was no doubt that he enjoyed how your skin touched his, especially when his eyes exhibited nothing but an unadulterated desire to take you wholly. Your shallow breaths tickled his arm in response. And he was content with just that.

Despite uttering a “sincere” speech, you spared no visible reaction. You didn’t speak a word as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulders. Your skill in speaking evades you.

It was as if a snake had sunken its pointy teeth into your flesh. There was no hope for your escape. Each touch was more foreign and uncomfortable than the last.

It’s funny, but all you thought of at that moment was how your Lord was pathetic and touch starved.

“(Y/n)...” His voice bordered on a whine. “If only you understand at least half of the way you make me feel.”

How would that be possible when you cannot comprehend a sliver of what goes through Ayato’s mind? You no longer had the common sense to grasp why Kamisato Ayato would touch the flesh below your waist. You didn’t even realize that the touch prodding under your garments were his fingers until his nails were carved unto your skin. His whines entered your ear. There was no pain or pleasure, but you knew he was only interested in taking.

Kamisato Ayato is a depraved man.

And this, to him, was true love.

“I suddenly gained the urge to confess my love for you all over again. If I repeat myself once more, my mouth will get tired.” He kissed your neck. “And I would rather squander that energy somewhere else...

... Won’t you follow me upstairs, my beloved?”

Your memories cut you off after that.

Minutes felt like hours. Everything felt like a huge effort. Partner those two statements together and what you'll get is hell on Earth for a woman who can't sit still like yourself. At least, that was what you were supposed to feel. You felt like a lapdog. 

When you first got to the isolated villa, you woke up with a killer headache. But what made it worse is your Lord's enthusiasm to play as the loving and tender "spouse". Ayato’s villa came from old money. Using funds to spoil a retainer is incredibly hypocritical for a man who admonished fellow commissioners who had more money than sense. You would've teased Ayato for acting so out of character months prior, but the circumstances differ dramatically. 

Now you know that he drugged you. Twice. And he's willing to do it again if you crossed the line. Whatever the hell that "line" is supposed to be. 

This fever was endearing two months ago when you didn’t know any better. When it was just Ayato inviting himself into your room because he’s ‘worried’. When he insisted on taking care of you because he felt ‘responsible’ for making you work overtime. When you started to question your stamina because of it. When you thought being taken care of by someone other than your best friend Thoma felt nice.

Nowadays you can’t recall whatever happens to you after the sun sets. You didn’t reply to Ayato’s comments about dinner because you no longer have the ability to remember the things he shoves down your throat.

Except for the bittersweet red tea.

This total apathy works better for you, in a sense. It prevented you from having your thoughts row back into the dark crevices of your psyche. It’s established that you often lost sleep deliberating your competence in being Kamisato Ayato’s retainer, but not without a good reason.

No one noticed, but you were deprived of sleep almost every night thinking about your fallen friends in the Shuumatsuban. Every night you wondered if their sacrifices were worth the exchange if it only resulted in one lone survivor weeping. This was something you and Kaedehara Kazuha bonded with when Ayaka was away. Grief. 

You cannot even force yourself to mourn after he took you away. You are now a survivor relentlessly spoiled by Lord Kamisato himself.

Someone was talking from afar, and even when the sound approached you a lot quicker than you assumed, you didn't make any sudden movements to imply surprise.

Ayato, you assume it's him, doesn't seem to think there's anything wrong with your lack of stimuli. Something mussed your hair, which was probably his fingers.

"I'm going out for a bit, do wait for me, understood?"

His voice was warm and a bit husky, but commanding at the same time. Was he talking to you? Something pecked your cheek, and then you heard the door close. 

He exited the room. You're not sure if anyone was left besides yourself. The handpicked servants Ayato assigned to the villa often wore felted footwear and did their chores like they were not there at all. They may have been members of the Shuumatsuban, but a cunning bunny burrows twice, and it's not beyond the realm of possibility for Ayato to especially train an orphanage to master serving special domestic tasks alone. Thinking too much about it made your head hurt.

Everything was a blur. 

Time moves slowly. But you didn't feel nervous when parts of you are slowly disappearing.

You heard a tune. It was short-lived, but it's near. You continued peeking outside the window but cared not about the noise. 

"Pssst! Miss (L/n). He isn't here anymore."

You looked down. 

There's a white-haired man gently waving his hand. He's holding a red leaf over his mouth.

You simply stared back.

"I-It's me. Can I climb up?" He yell-whispered.

You blinked. 

He didn't bother waiting for you to reply-- he waited long enough. He leaped to your location. His sleeve fluttered slightly but no sound was made. His clothes, unlike Kamisato Ayato's elegant silk, were similar in color to that of rancid milk. The discoloration was enough to sign that whoever wore those clothes travel often, if you ignored the mud on the windowsill was his shoe size.

So, this must be Kaedehara Kazuha. 

A part of you expected happiness from this reveal, but not a single spark ignited.

"Are you hurt? How have you been– I caught wind that you had been missing in action for quite some time."

Kazuha's hands were scarred and singed, and touching his palms was similar to picking apart the skin of a roasted fowl. His wide-eyed glare directed towards your neck doused you with a sliver of self-awareness as he clutched your naked shoulders. His crimson pupils shrank. Was there a problem? 

"We have to get you out of here," Kazuha said strongly.

But why? There's no danger to be sensed. You failed to connect with his urgency.

Next thing you knew, he had carried you in his arms and left the room. You watched your body be carried bridal style, almost in third person, and observed how your hair touched Kazuha's arm. His grip on your form was tight, and his back was slouched as if preparing to shield you from an attack.

You couldn't tell, but he's beginning to fret over you barely reacting at all. What he had cradled didn't appear human, but more of a machine on autopilot. The scenery is vibrant in sloshed shades of pink and other pastels, yet your eyes reflected no light despite the iridescent surroundings.

You don't think you're real, that you’re no longer in control of your own body anymore, and Kazuha started to think the same.

When he placed you down a tree trunk, Kazuha's gaze lingered at your stray hair, reluctant to fix it for you. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't, but he'll act like he won’t for a little while.

He poked your neck.

You winced.

"Did he do this...?" 

The bruises on your neck and thighs offered enough answers.

"(L/n)?"

He looked sad.

"You haven't talked for the last hour. Are you okay?"

You've been with him for an hour? Kazuha didn't need anyone to point out that your time and spatial awareness were slowly deteriorating. His heart weighed a fraction of the sorrows you should've expressed.

Kazuha cupped your face.

"You're burning up..." He said. Your faces are only an inch apart. "Did you drink anything suspicious?"

You said you drank something red.

"(L/n), did you really not drink anything? Anything bitter? He didn’t make you eat something strange, did he?"

You emphasized that you regularly drank a bittersweet beverage.

"(L/n)... Why aren't you talking?"

But you did talk... Can he not hear you?

"N-nevermind. Our priority is to move you to somewhere safe. Captain Beidou is eager to help you sail outside Inazuma, but only if you'll allow it."

You tilted your head. How exactly? Before you got here, the Almighty Shogun closed off all borders.

His hand extended invitingly. 

“Won’t you come with me, (L/n)?”

You reached for his hand—

“That’s far enough.”

In one swift motion, a slash too fast for even a sword-master like you to comprehend under a second, you watched Kazuha’s knees hit the ground. His bandaged hand slowly soaked in the blood from his abdomen. He inhaled sharply while the invoker evaporated his makeshift water vessels. It was impossible to look away.

His crimson eyes never left you. You watched in mild horror as the soul inside slowly slipped away.

It was a pathetic way to die.

“Be still.” A foreign hand grabbed your shoulder harshly as Kazuha’s body landed on a loud thud. “You’re trembling too much, my beloved.”

Were you?

Normally, people will cry and bawl. Others would remain assured that the deceased had finally taken their well-deserved rest. Before, you were the same. You grieved over your Shuumatsuban comrades when they were given orders to prioritize your life over theirs. To maintain a level of albeit strained sanity, you tried to live with death as if it wasn't real and close at hand. As if it couldn't impact you. To the point where you couldn't discern if it was your work experiences that made you apathetic or the drugs the murderer before you forced you to take in this situation.

Did time move slow, or too fast?

This was tragic in the sense that you couldn’t even react to the corpse. A corpse who asked you out on a date. A corpse whose cheeks once blushed pink as it fantasized about the things you'd both share. A corpse who made you feel emotions you rarely had the opportunity to indulge in.

You felt almost nothing. 

The man kindly wiped the tears you didn’t notice for you. You tilted your head up to seek refuge in his lilac eyes.

A bright red leaf rested on the ground, only to be washed away by the crashing stream unnoticed.

--------------

Ayato's lips curled up into his signature smirk.

“Hmph, lie to you, you say? But what is there to lie about?”

His attention was drawn back to the present. The direction of his gaze was the same as his sister's, towards the window. Instead of being occupied by the silhouette of chirping birds, his eyes were trained on the sky behind them.

"Ayaka, do you remember the last time we volunteered to help clean up the fallen maple leaves and flowers from the last festival?"

Ayaka's brows furrowed. She was taken aback by how quickly her brother regained his usual self-assurance after hearing him sound so defeated. "Yes, I do. Why do you ask?"

"The searing heat infuses them with one final spark of vitality, and for a brief moment, they radiate a more glorious glow than the flames themselves..."

Ayaka returned her gaze to the window and saw what Ayato was staring at. He did not indulge himself with the splotched sky, rather, it was the smoke from the Ritou furnace that Ayato eyed.

It was strange. 

It was utilized yesterday after the residents swept the streets clean of trash and humps of leaves, so it would not be needed again. She also recalled that Thoma had been oddly assigned to Ritou's cleanup job today. He carried a large pile of trash too, which didn’t make sense since there were no falling leaves to be cleaned up.

There were no fallen maple leaves in the area...

Ayaka's heart dropped.

"It was a short life they lived, but I can't help but wonder if it was a wasted one."

#yandere ayato #yandere fanfiction #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #yandere genshin #yandere #my mind was playing Running Away is Easy It's The Living That's Hard on repeat while writing this lol #sorry guys its my fault his rerun got delayed my bad homie #tag: blind obedience - ayato #ansy-writes

[lokisasylum]

I need u guys to take this as serious as possible...

I dunno if ya'll remember a few days ago we were fighting and mass reporting Korean JK solos, because they were spewing false claims against Jimin (and jikook as a whole) being "Hybe's gay performance". And a great lot of them were tagging big entities like Ministry of Defense and one of the big offices from the Military.

Despite our efforts to snuff out the fire before ot could get more serious, K-PJMS have received calls from the Ministry of Defense office about the issue, to which they have explained as best as possible that those sentiments did not represent the whole fandom. That it was false claims by a small group of deranged fans upset at not getting their way.

However, Kpjms were told that regardless of why and who made these statements and because they tagged their main office, they need to have an internal meeting to decide how to handle the situation and therefore an official statement could come out soon.

So we have no idea whats gonna happen now, but its quite clear that whatever happens will leave the fandom in shame. And we don't know if this will affect the boys or just the ones who dared to play with their safety (since they are Korean).

This is why we keep insisting to CALL OUT people by name when they start shit in the fandom. Its not "all solos are vile" and call it a day. Fucking actually call out the ones doing the wrong deeds instead of generalizing.

And the shippers NEED TO STOP shoving ur narratives in the boys faces or on to other people. PLEASE accept once and for all that NO ship is real, its fandom made and should stay WITHIN THE FANDOM as part of the "fun".

Yesterday these same fans were calling RM a r*pist over a photo with Supreme Boi and some other dude.

Please understand how grave this situation is and only the boys will take the hardest hit...

#bts #bantansonyeondan #bangtan #bts jimin #park jimin #jimin #jiminie #pjm #jhope #Jin #v #Rm #Suga #JK #Jikook #Kookmin

[some-greatreward]

it's sunday evening here so i get to go on a deranged little marrissey rant as a treat.

anyway i was just thinking like i genuinely don't know what the most devastating "last smiths song" is.

like y'all well aware that IWSY is my top played song of all time, and the last track of the last smiths studio album ending with "i'll see you somewhere, i'll see you sometime, darling..." is a REAL gutpinch, like it fucking hurts. moreso in hindsight when we know that the smiths never did end up reforming, so this mythical "somewhere, sometime" is just that - an abstract, mythical idea to hold onto. and not to mention this is a track that even in the studio raised a few eyebrows around johnny's then-recent collaborations with other artists.

the other two, i keep mine hidden/work is a four-letter word, are pretty goofy when you first listen to them ngl. they don't really sound like smiths tunes (obviously one of them is a cover), they feel brighter, more upbeat than you'd expect, but BOY oh boy is that deceptive.

i've found I Keep Mine Hidden absolutely devastating ever since it suddenly clicked for me a couple months ago. And I think, if I actually tried to pull it apart, it's because it's a song about someone who KNOWS they're a lot to deal with, but can't really do anything about it because that's who they are. it's a very defeated, resigned song set to a cheerful beat. it's moz saying "i know im not easy to be around, but it's hard for me too, bc that's who i am." Knowing what we do about their relationship at that stage, you can pretty much see where this is going, especially paired with the other song:

"work is a four-letter word" featuring the very on-the-nose lyrics of "if you stay / i'll stay right beside you / and my love might help to remind you / to forget that work is a four-letter word". Like let's not kid ourselves. Being in a band is a job. It certainly started to feel like an unpleasant job for johnny at that point, and moz would've been the most sensitive to that. so you can kind of see through these 3 songs that there's an overall message here. he's saying, essentially, "i get that im not easy to deal with. I get that you don't enjoy being in the band anymore. But i want you to stay, for me, and i'll make it good for you again."

so we have to assume that johnny either didn't get the message (hah), or that he understood but wasn't able to follow through with what moz wanted. either way, it does hurt a little when you think that they attribute the cilla black cover as what broke the smiths up, when it is so obviously a sentiment wrapped in a little musical box.

#holy shit this got LONG #WOW this was REALLY deranged #um. please don't perceive me sometimes my brain goes in really weird directions #im not laying fault to anyone by the way this is just for fun #hex.txt #smiths

[mariacallous]

A decade ago, when foreign fighters were flowing into Syria, the Islamic State’s capital, Raqqa, became a sort of Epcot of global jihad: New arrivals from different nations clustered together in their national groups. If you were a recent arrival from France or just wanted to know where to get a croissant, you could visit a café full of French people and ask. Tens of thousands of foreign fighters came from places as distant as Chile and Japan. Russia alone contributed as many as 4,000, according to President Vladimir Putin, and by all accounts, their cluster focused not on pastry but on warfare. The only countries that put up numbers to rival Russia’s were Tunisia and Turkey.

Yesterday, terrorists murdered at least 133 concertgoers in suburban Moscow. The Islamic State’s news agency, Amaq, posted the group’s claim of responsibility, as usual in language balanced between wire-service precision and rabid derangement. The claim described an attack “against a large gathering of Christians”—an odd way to describe a nonreligious prog-rock concert. Videos from the scene show gunmen firing into piles of huddled civilians and stalking others. The style resembles the Bataclan massacre, which ISIS perpetrated in Paris in 2015, and the October 7 attack, the handiwork of ISIS’s enemy Hamas. The Amaq report says the killers “withdrew to their bases,” which suggested that they remained at large and capable of attacking again, and that they had more than one base. By Saturday, Russia claimed to have arrested all four perpetrators and several accomplices. Putin suggested the killers had been on a run for the Ukrainian border.

In Russia, as in many authoritarian states, rumors proliferate fast after shocking events like this. Many repeated the crazy theory that ISIS was deliberately invented by America. The exiled chess master and dissident Garry Kasparov suggested that Russia had attacked itself to drum up ethnonationalist sentiment. Putin’s intimation of Ukrainian involvement makes little sense to me. It beggars belief that the most hunted men in Russia would immediately drive in a white Renault toward the most heavily militarized and monitored zone in the entire region when they could drive in any other direction and be alone in a birch forest somewhere. But Putin’s version is consistent with the theory that he will use the attack to demonize Ukraine.

Everything we know about Russia and its history with ISIS supports the theory that ISIS perpetrated the attack. ISIS has been reviving its capacity, particularly in its Khorasan affiliate, the one identified by U.S. intelligence as responsible for the attack. Islamic State Khorasan Province “has taken on a more central role in planning attacks abroad,” Tore Hamming, a jihadism researcher at the risk-management consultancy Refslund Analytics, told me by text. He said a number of recent events, such as the arrests of suspected members in Turkey, suggest that the group is planning attacks outside its usual area of operations.

ISIS had a huge Russian and Central Asian contingent in its heyday. And the fault lines in Russian politics and society have foretold this kind of atrocity for literally centuries. It would be a surprise if four guys piled into a car and sped toward Ukraine after committing mass murder. Nothing could be less surprising than an ISIS attack in a region susceptible to just such an attack.

About one out of every five Russian citizens is Muslim, but that population is not evenly distributed either geographically or socioeconomically. In cities, a lot of taxi drivers and hard-luck laborers have names like Magomedov and Ismailov, indicative of Muslim ancestry. Many have roots in majority-Muslim Central Asian countries and have come to Russia in search of jobs. A very large proportion of the ISIS fighters from those countries came through Russia and developed violent tendencies there, away from the moderating influence of friends and family. The four alleged perpetrators arrested by Russia are reportedly from Tajikistan, a Central Asian republic bordering Afghanistan.

The center of geographic gravity of Islam in Russia is the Northern Caucasus, the site of domestic strife and bloodshed in a series of episodes going back centuries. In lieu of perfecting croissants, some groups around Dagestan and Chechnya have become proficient guerrilla warriors, and Putin perfected his own harsh methods on them during the Chechen Wars of the 1990s and 2000s. Those wars ended with a decisive Russian victory and the installation of micro-Putins, such as Ramzan Kadyrov, so that Moscow could rule Chechnya indirectly. These figures’ loyalty is such that two years ago, in the early days after the invasion of Ukraine, Kadyrov’s Chechen fighters were among the first deployed to fight on Putin’s side.

The problem is that decisive victories are never as decisive as they seem. Most residents of formerly restive regions in the Caucasus enjoy peace as much as anyone. But discontent is easy to detect. On my last visit to Dagestan, a taxi driver sheepishly turned down his music player when a jihadist song came on. Some people remain eager to fight.

The rise of ISIS was useful for Russia, which could imagine no better destination for its domestic jihadists than a faraway conflict with a conveniently high mortality rate. Anyone so inclined could go to Iraq or Syria with Moscow’s tacit blessing. That is one reason the number of ISIS members coming from Russia was so high: They were more or less permitted to go, so that they would self-detonate or run into machine-gun fire there, rather than make trouble within Russia’s borders. Many of those who went are now dead, as hoped. Some are not, and many of those have not lost their fervor. They just need a new object for it.

The connection between Russia and ISIS is, in other words, overdetermined. The cruelty of the killing and even the choice of venue—a concert hall—are all awfully familiar to anyone acquainted with jihadism in Russia. What comes next will be familiar too. The horrific videos and claims of responsibility have already arrived. Next will be a brutal reply from the Russian state. Whether that reply will be addressed to the attack’s actual authors is an open question.