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ohbother2 · 3 months

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OKAY SO-

Alastor lost his cool and flipped his shit immensely when Lucifer showed up - why would that be? and why wedge himself between Lucifer and Charlie? Why would he react so viscerally when his literal main-competitor for retaining his rank and respect is Vox, and Vox openly antagonises him first, trying to drag Alastor's reputation through the mud in his broadcasts

Alastor remains cool, calm, collected, and in doing so completely surpasses Vox's attempts

in many ways, Alastor is unflappable. Always smiling, always a step ahead, always the most powerful and domineering in a room

and then- Lucifer shows up. This short statured, rosy-cheeked, rather pathetic excuse of a man

he waltzes in to the hotel, a fumbling over-excited mess, the least threatening a person could possibly look in hell, barely reaching Alastor's waist

and yet, he outranks Alastor, he could over-power him easily, he is the predator

and Alastor simply cannot handle that

Alastor may be furious that such a week-minded, emotionally unguarded man ranks so far above him with no way for Alastor to even attempt to gain the same status

so what does Lucifer lack? what is the one thing Alastor can have that he can't?

a relationship with Charlie

his anger is calculated, he finds what hurts Lucifer, he finds his weakness, he grips onto it with both claws, and he drags it in front of him, mocking the fact that, yeah, sure Lucifer may outrank him, but in his daughters mind? one of the few things Lucifer can't control? Alastor has the power, has the lead - in all manners of 'power' and 'influence' that Lucifer cannot control, Alastor makes sure he knows he is on top - he is Charlie's favourite, he succeeds where Lucifer has failed her

regardless of his motives, he has been there for Charlie, and Lucifer hasn't, and that's all that matters

but why does he have this deep-rooted need to prove himself? why can he not accept that he is still the second most powerful in that hotel?

his need for power, for dominance, for control is shown again when Husk confronts him in the hallway

'big talk for someone who's also on a leash'

this time, Alastor doesn't even bother targeting Husker's, insecurities, his weaknesses

he drags him down the hallway chained at his neck, teeth gnashing and positively enraged

there's no typical Alastor intelligence or cunning behind this action - it is pure unadulterated rage, it's a: I can kill you, and I will

killing husk would be useless - Alastor obviously has a purpose for him, that's why he's been kept alive and the other overlords haven't, killing him would get rid of any leverage Alastor had, it would get rid of Husk full stop

Alastor has been gone for 7 years, and now he's back, supporting a cause he doesn't believe, forced to wander around the hotel halls and haunting its residents instead of freely roaming Hell

Lilith has also been gone 7 years - and she isn't yet back

Alastor just so happens to appear at the hotel mere moments after Charlie tries to talk to Lilith, marching into the foyer and wedging himself into the project with a showman's flair

he is chained, he is chained to that infernal hotel where he doesn't belong - he cannot be redeemed, he doesn't want to be redeemed

he is chained to Lilith, and by extension he is chained to Charlie

and in his eyes, he is powerless, so utterly and infuriatingly at the mercy of those above him, and that simply won't do

so what can he do? what can a man, whose greatest desire is power, who's biggest insecurity is the power and status he wields over others, do to reclaim some semblance of that power? how can he usurp Lilith? how can be make this soul-bond beneficial to him?

he can win Charlie over - he can replace her father in the process, he can mould her as he sees fit, he can play on her need to view the best in everyone, in the need to create friendships and her insatiable ability to care for those around her

he cannot get to Lilith, he cannot match Lucifer, but he can have Charlie

and he's nearly got her

and when he does? who's to say her naivety, her trust, the relationship he's intentionally crafted with her, leads her to strike a deal with him in a moment of need? when the angels attack, when the hotel begins to crumble, when heaven commands her to stop her efforts? why wouldn't she strike a deal, in her mind, he's as caring as a father figure, and a man who's been there since day one unlike either of her parents

she shakes his hand

he has her soul

he has Charlie, and he has Lilith, and he has Lucifer

there's nothing they can do, and isn't that really what power is? not raw-strength, not magic, not status, but the ability to control those who others may believe to be above your own station?

he's forced to the hotel, he's chained down and unable to grab for more power - if Lilith is preventing him from earning it himself, well, he can always just force her to give it to him

all it takes is one hand shake.

the cherry on top? he get's to show Lilith it's her own desire for him to be at the hotel that has allowed him to ensnare them all

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slytherinslut0 · 9 days

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Okay so like i’m very close to a certain follower milestone and i was thinking that maybe…perhaps…if anyone was like interested or even cared or whatever… i could possibly write that particular orgy fic that yall have been waiting for…you know to like, celebrate or something. 👀

#i’m speaking into the void here #let me know your thoughts #six men at once will not be easy #like that’s a challenge of a lifetime #which is why i’ve been putting it off #but i’d do it for yall #because fuck i love you

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0fantasma0 · 2 months

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Petals to Thorns

{Chapter One}

General Fic Warnings: NSFW, dubcon, stalking, manipulation, possessive behavior, canon typical violence.

Chapter Two:

The sun was up, but you saw no reason to move from your spot at the kitchen table. A beautiful orange glow streams through the white curtains of your dining room. The soft light gleams against the tiny metal-tipped tool you use to whittle the chunk of alder wood in your palm.

This was your routine.

Sleeping well into the early evening to spend your nights at the kitchen table carving. It keeps your mind focused and your hands busy. You’d never thought your hands being unoccupied would be a bad thing until you started picking your lips raw. A nasty habit you haven't been able to kick since your games.

The other positive of sleeping through your days was that you missed all the people who came to your door. It had been a little under a month since you returned, and people were still dropping by. Most came to leave flowers or bottles of booze; some even left a few cords of wood. Thoughtful, but it would be several more months before you could put your new fireplace to use.

Nobody ever knocked, but just knowing they were on the other side of the door was enough to make you want to disintegrate. You couldn’t imagine trying to greet any of them. The walk from the train station to your new home in Victor's Village proved to be challenging enough.

Seeing the faces of your fellow District 7 inhabitants was somehow worse than being goaded by Capitol cretins.

Some cheered, some cried, and some didn’t say anything at all.

They were disgusted by you.

You slam the tool on the mahogany table below. Rubbing your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger, you were in desperate need of background noise. Your old radio busted a week ago, and you hadn’t worked up the courage to buy a new one.

You really should go to the market.

It was only a half mile from the Village, and walking might be pleasant. You could perhaps trade some of your woodwork for goods like you always have. Though, you didn’t need to barter anymore. The Capitol’s generous compensation for your efforts ensured that you never had to worry about the usual obstacles of District life again.

Maybe tomorrow.

Bracing yourself on the table as you stand from your chair. You drop your chin to your chest and stretch your achy limbs briefly before starting the long trek to the bathroom. This house was much bigger compared to the one-room shack you once called home. You weren’t sure who, but somebody had taken the liberty of moving all your belongings into your new home in the Village. They had even organized your clothes in the closet and hung your family pictures on the walls.

It had to have been Flora.

You fail to keep her son alive, and yet she still takes the time to make your transition easier. The mother of three was well known for her compassion and willingness to help others—traits very few people still possess.

What you did to still deserve her kindness, you were unsure.

Finally arriving at your destination, you nearly melt at the sight of the porcelain tub. Twisting the silver handle, you let the warm liquid slide down your hand before reaching its final destination.

A bath and then bed.

You had only just managed to fall into a dreamless sleep when the sound you had been dreading hearing echoed up the hall.

A knock.

Remaining still in your bed, perhaps whoever it was would think you weren’t home and go away.

Another knock.

Throwing the covers back, you grab the pair of trousers you left to rot on the floor. You tuck your white long-sleeve shirt into the waistband while searching for a belt or suspenders to hold your pants in place. Most of your pants and shirts once belonged to your father, and to say they were ill-fitting would be an understatement. Finally finding a pair of suspenders, you clip them on and shrug them over your shoulders as you walk down the stairs to your front door.

Hovering for a moment over the door knob, you take a deep breath. It was probably just a child or maybe even somebody you went to school with. You didn’t have a lot of friends per se, but you were friendly with almost everyone.

So why were you scared?

Turning the lock and twisting the handle, your eyes squint as the hot summer sun blinds you momentarily. Your vision slowly brings the figure in front of you into focus before a familiar, icey voice clues you into who your visitor is before you can finish fitting the pieces of their face together.

“Good morning.”

Coriolanus Snow.

He is as well put together as the last time you saw him. His hair combed back, and a perfectly tailored black vest hugged his torso and made the white of his dress shirt shine against the rest of his dark ensemble. Did he know it was a million degrees outside?

“Good morning,” You manage to choke out. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He smiles kindly, like you would greeting an old friend.

“That’s quite alright. May I come in?”

No, you can’t come in.

“Of course.” You move to the side and open the door a little wider.

Why was he here? Gamemakers never usually leave the safety of the Capitol. There was more hate for Gamemakers than for Peacekeepers; plenty of disgruntled family members of fallen tributes would gladly hang if it meant there was one less Gamemaker in this world.

He’s here to arrest you.

Coriolanus takes his time surveying the state of your home, stopping at a picture of your mother laughing as you dangle from the maple tree that once grew outside your childhood home.

He’s alone. You could take him.

“Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have much right now, but I do have coffee.” You ask as you move towards your kitchen, hoping to create a little distance between you.

“A glass of water if you could.” He calls back, seemingly still looking at the picture on the wall. It takes a few tries to find the cabinet with your cups in it; still unfamiliar with the layout. Bringing the glass over the sink, you stare out the window as it fills with water.

If he were here to arrest you, you would have already been dragged through the mud and on your way to a cell or the hanging tree by now. Any chance they could take to make a spectacle of a rebel’s torture or death, they would.

Is that what you are now? A rebel?

You didn’t feel like one, but the secret you harbored was undoubtedly an act of rebellion.

“Did you make these?”

You jump at the sound of Coriolanus’ voice behind you. Looking down, you see the cup has been overflowing for some time and has soaked your shirt sleeve. Shutting the water off, you quickly grab the washcloth next to the sink and wipe off the outside of the cup.

Turning around, you see the Gamemaker has one of your sculptures in his hand. A chickadee. It looked so much smaller in his hand. Coriolanus seems to consider the wooden bird before moving on to another sculpture. A rabbit whose ears you were still working on defining.

“These are lovely,” He muses, carefully returning the rabbit to its place in the ecosystem you have amassed at your kitchen table. “Do you only carve animals?”

Why do you care?

“No, I uh,” You hold out your hand, inviting him to sit across from you, placing the cold glass of water in front of him as you take your place at the head of the table. “I can make tools and cutlery, too; I was commissioned to make a jewelry box a while back. That was a unique challenge.”

There is a moment where you almost forget you're talking to a Gamaker—the very same man who boasted about his involvement in creating your prison cell.

Especially when he’s looking at you like that.

His expression is much softer than it was when you first met him. The threatening air that you felt before is nowhere to be found, and he seems content to let you continue talking if you so choose. His blue eyes don’t leave yours as he lets the quiet hang for a moment longer before straightening his back.

“I apologize for showing up unannounced. But I’m here on behalf of The Capitol.”

You’re fucked.

Like the young man could sense your immediate unease, he continues calmly.

“There have been reports of increased rebel activity in District 7. Now, this isn’t unusual. We’ve found there is a spike in this sort of conduct following a particularly emotional game like yours.”

You remain silent.

“I’m here to investigate these claims and ask a favor of you.”

A favor? That’s brave.

“The Capitol sends Gamemakers to deal with rebels?” You can’t help but scoff.

Coriolanus seems to find it funny as well. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I studied military theory in university and served as a Peacekeeper in District 12. They send whoever they believe best represents and upholds Panem’s values.”

Silence fills the room once more.

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shift as far back in the chair as possible. You catch a slight twitch in the Gamemaker’s cheek when he notices the albeit small but important change in your posture.

“We’ve found that Victors tend to be the best at dissuading these acts,” He intertwines his fingers in front of him on the table. “I’m not asking you to make a speech. Just to be an example to the others in your District.”

“An example of what exactly?” The weight of your exhaustion is starting to wear you down.

“An example of compliance, order, loyalty. Show them the truth. That we are better and safer united as one.”

He wants you to be a mouthpiece.

To have you whisper Capitol rhetoric into their ears under the guise that it’s coming from one of their own. Easier to swallow that way, perhaps. But there was no way you’d be able to convince anyone that their children weren’t worth fighting for.

Not that you ever would, for anybody, at any cost.

“I would love to help with your rebel problem.” You mutter. “Unfortunately, I hold very little weight in the minds of the people in this District.”

The Gamemaker’s brows bunch together like he couldn’t tell if you were facetious. He nods slowly before you watch his eyes wander back to the chickadee. The first time his gaze has left yours, this entire conversation.

Coriolanus slowly unlaces his fingers in front of the bird, lingering like he wished to hold the tiny wooden creature once more. It seems to be a fleeting thought, though, as he quickly tangles his fingers back together

Had this been a different conversation and him a different man, you might have even offered to let him take it.

“I think you will find that to be quite the contrary.” Coriolanus abruptly pushes himself away from the table. You flinch before mimicking his actions and stand. “In any case, I will be available to you should you encounter anything troubling.”

He pushes in his chair, taking extra care not to knock the table. You feel dizzy from getting up so fast but try not to let the heaviness in your head become apparent to the Gamemaker.

The last thing you needed was Coriolanus Snow, knowing you were barely put together.

“I have to meet with Commander Ward, but there are other things I would like to speak with you about.”

Of course there is.

“You know where to find me.” You give a practiced, polite smile, which he returns. For a second, the blonde looks as though he has more to say. His lips part, and you find yourself holding your breath.

“Thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.”

You wait until you hear the sound of the door opening and closing before you rush down the hall to lock it behind him. Steadying yourself on the wall, you gulp down some much-needed air. The late morning heat was starting to fill the house, but you felt cold and clammy. A symptom no doubt brought on by the Gamemaker.

Finding your way back to the kitchen, you stop in the door frame, your gaze settling on the untouched glass of water. Your chest burns with an emotion you can’t put a name to. It weighs heavy, and you feel the need to cry.

The promise of return made by Coriolanus only further fuels the flame growing beneath your sternum.

Next time you won’t open the fucking door.

Stomping over to the table, you snatch up the cup. Water spills over the edge as you raise your arm in the air. You aim at the empty hutch located behind the table and watch as it shatters into countless glistening pieces all over the floor.

It felt cathartic for a fraction of a second before your senses return as you realize the mess you’ve made.

A problem for later

On unsteady feet, you start for the stairs. White knuckling the railing as you climb your way up, perhaps your bed would grant you the relief you hoped you would find in the broken glass.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #tbosas #weee #gonna make a masterlist in da morning #hope you like #let me know your thoughts

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uriekukistan · 1 month

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now dont get me wrong i too am getting bored of the current cycle that’s been going on since jjk236 but some of yall are just. missing things i think. obviously gonna be some spoilers in this post.

1. gojo was not meant to be the one to defeat sukuna. his whole thing was about raising a new generation, and to not leave only one person to shoulder the burden of being the strongest. so it makes sense that he lost for that reason.

2. to add on to that, it’s the reason why so many people are needed to team up against sukuna to take him down, because, again the point is not to shoulder the burden of being strong on your own. everyone has to put in their piece to take down sukuna (this is also the reason i am hoping sukuna will be defeated, because he is also taking on the burden of being The Strongest).

3. the thing that makes me so frustrated above pretty much everything else, megumi is not weak for wanting to give up. i swear i will turn to physical violence to get this through the dense skulls of all megumi haters because i dare you to live just one day of his life BEFORE his body was possessed by sukuna. you would be acting the same way. not to mention what happened after. yeah.

these things aren’t the current problem with jjk. sukuna was obviously not going to go down easily, and if you thought that would be the case, i’m not sure why. there’s no inherent flaw in gojo’s demise, the amount of people it’s taking to go against sukuna, or the way megumi is feeling at this point. the issue comes from the recycled and predictable way these fights are happening, not the fact that they are happening in the first place.

#im scared to say stuff like this but here i am #let me know your thoughts #in a non confrontational way :)#jjk spoilers #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk 254

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walrus150915 · 8 months

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The most random out-of-order Nimona headcanons I've scrambled out of my mind and put in my notes as coherent as I could bc there's a LOTTTT

• I don't think Nimona uses specific names to label her sexuality/gender. Was she in love with Gloreth? Maybe she was. Maybe she was not. Does she like boys? Who knows, she sure doesn't. What's her gender? Nimona. That's it

• I think Ballister did try to be the cis ally™ and figure out the label Nimona would use but she'd just shrug her shoulders and say "I don't know, boss, it seems like you care about it more than I do"

• And even though she's NOT a girl, she uses she/her pronouns because 💥YOUR PRONOUNS DON'T DEFINE YOUR GENDER💥 you may use she/her and not be a girl, he/him and not be a boy, I even saw cis people use they/them simply bc they're comfortable. And that's okay!

• Although she's comfortable with people calling her he/they/neopronouns you name it. Just. Not it/its. You know the reasons😬

• Nimona is left-handed and it's CANON actually I am SO HAPPY as a left-handed person she's just like me fr💥💥

• Nimona isn't a big fan of domestic bliss Ambrosius and Ballister spend most of their time in (plus they're very sappy and very much disgustingly in love, Nimona's stoic organism can't handle their mushiness for the dear life), she's like an independent cat I think: comes to hang out, eats, spends time with her father-not-really figures and goes away for weeks only to come back again. She travels the world my dudes✨

• I think she has a bunch of photos from the places she'd been to and talks about her adventures a lot!

• Nimona also is the best cook of the fam I'm afraid. Ballister cooks, like, the bare minimum to serve himself as a functioning adult (rice, salad, pasta, some meat like you know the deal) but nothing too complicated. Ambrosius is a nepo baby who's probably lived in palaces and mansions with dozens of servants do you really think he's good at cooking😭 as he distanced himself from the Institute and moved in with Bal I think he learnt to cook, still not great at it.

• Nimona though? SHE CAN DO *ANYTHING* like she's madly good at cooking. It might look like she's burning the kitchen down only to reveal that she was putting Gordon Ramsay to shame!

Speaking of BallBros

• Ballister's experience is close to a second gen immigrant. Ambrosius's experience is close to a third gen immigrant. They can't be immigrants bc of the context of the story?? I DON'T CARE☺

• Ambrosius doesn't speak his mother tongue except for like a few words or phrases he's heard at home. His older relatives probably make fun of him for it on family gatherings. His parents didn't teach him because they didn't want him to stick out (totally not self projecting here - yeah I'm a third gen immigrant hiii)

• Ballister tho? I think Urdu was his first language but he learned English along the way

• And it kinda mixes in his head so he forgets the words from both languages sometimes and replaces them with the word from the other one (HA my experience again)

• When he's experiencing hard emotions, be it anger, happiness, sadness, or is overwhelmed, he drops English entirely and just starts bantering in Urdu

• Ambrosius didn't know Ballister was bilingual but when he learnt it? He was amazed and I think... Kinda jealous because he didn't get to learn Korean himself (self projection yeahhhhhh)

• "You know your mother tongue? Damn! I wish I did too!"

• That said, Ballister has no idea how to shorten Ambrosius's name (WHAT THE HECK IS THIS NAME BRO WHAT ARE YOU, GOD'S FOOD???), so he sticks to Urdu endearments, "luv" (in the most British accent possible) and "darling"

People who say French/Spanish are the romantic languages are wrong LISTEN TO URDU OR INDIAN LANGUAGES OR ARABIC. THAT'S WHERE LOVE IS DUDE

• Ambrosius has learnt like a few words in Urdu and tries to rizz up Ballister by saying some basic words like "jaan", "mohabbat" and just😭😭😭 fails😭😭😭 because he's a cringefail man😭😭😭

I remember trying to ask out my (NOW EX😔) gf who's Italian by writing "will you be my girlfriend?" in Italian and I used GOOGLE TRANSLATION🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ SHE UNDERSTOOD THAT I USED GOOGLE AND POINTED IT OUT AS A JOKE BUT I CRINGED AT MYSELF SO HARD..... Ambrosius would totally do that too and Ballister would chuckle and pull him in a kiss bc he loves this cringefail man so much

• Ambrosius also serenades like I KNOW DAMN WELL HE DOES. He goes "this one's for you, Bal" with a wink and sings like the sappiest most disgusting love ballad ever and Ballister tries his best not to laugh because that's his beloved boyfriend but also like.... So cringe. So embarrassing😭😭 Nimona has more balls than her boss so she would outright say that it's cringe

• Also. I don't agree with people saying Ambrosius's a jock because have you seen this man?? He's a theatre kid. The worst kind of theatre kid. Even after not being a kid anymore he's still a theatre kid. BRO IS A HAMILTON FAN UNIRONICALLY, OF COURSE HE IS. He makes weirdass references to musicals and giggles like an idiot

• Can we agree that Ambrosius was an awakening for many teenagers because OOOOH BOY he sure would be mine. Some pop news youtube channel probably has a video of him reading the kingdom's equivalent of "thirst tweets", like yknow this type of vids😭😭

While we're on the topic of thirst tweets

• Diego the squire runs a fan page account with edits of Ballister like he's some pop celebrity

• He also may or may not write self-indulgent "Ballister x reader" fanfiction in his off duty time

• Also hc that when Ballister was on the run he saw some "WANTED" poster of him and hang up on the wall like yeah boy's crush is EMBARRASSING (can we blame him? I'm the same with Riz Ahmed)

• Todd would be on the "straight" side of their equivalent to TikTok. You know the ones with shirtless men with the same haircuts who think they're hot when in reality they're not?? That's what Todd and his friends are up to in their free time *throws up*

To wrap it all up NOT with Todd, some super random ones:

• Ballister and Ambrosius force Nimona to take her shoes off ("DO NOT bring your European nonsense in this ethnic household") in their house even though she doesn't even have boots on😭😭 it's just her skin😭😭😭 so she morphs her form to simply be shoeless😭😭😭😭

• Ambrosius knows how to tap dance. Idk don't question it I just think he does

• Nimona plays piano YEAH SHE DOES she's lived for 1000+ years man she can do anything

• Ballister's hair routine is "genetics, coconut oil n some prayers"

Yeah that's it I'll probably make a part 2 because it's not all... These characters have occupied my mind and won't let it go🧍‍♂️

#nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #thoddeus sureblade #diego the squire #nimona headcanons #i should make a part where i discuss social media of the realm because ITS SO FUN #let me know your thoughts #yeah #also i have school tomorrow and its 4am...#i should go to sleep

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glitterp0prhaps0dy · 15 days

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Rebel redesign!

i decided to redesign rebels adult design!!! lemme know your thoughts!

#trolls art #trolls #trolls au #trolls fanart #dreamworks trolls #trolls world tour #trolls movie #art #trolls oc #trolls with tails #trolls rock oc #rock troll oc #glam rock #let me know your thoughts #please ask me questions #comment

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undermine-the-instinct · 3 months

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[ IF NO ONE HAS EVER TOLD YOU ABOUT YOUR FATE, I WILL BE THE FIRST | pathologic ]

This is my entry in the Seraphiism '23 event! By of course, the lovely @seraphiism . I'm trying out a new format/writing style, so lemme know what you think <3

WARNINGS: A little blood, nothing graphic WORD COUNT: 3.2K (This got away from me)

{ I.THE BOUGH KEEPER IS SACRIFICE FIRST, SOLDIER SECOND, AND LAST OF ALL MAN}

And least of all, yours. The weight of eternity weighs heavily on his shoulders, but he presses on, and you mourn him for it. He pays the price of honor enacted by a far lesser man of his past, takes up arms and spills blood in the scorn of the divine. Because of Destiny’s decree.

You try to imagine it–eternal penance for a crime you could hardly remember. You imagine bearing a sword and a curse, one and the same, for hundreds of years, and your heart recoils at the misery that wraps around it. You can hardly believe that that is to be his fate-you refuse to. It cannot truly be his choice, not one made in any good faith at least. Or perhaps any faith at all.

You suspect he lost it ages ago.

“Do you ever think…” You begin hesitantly. “That you could leave it behind? All of it?”

Dainsleif, your lover, sets down his book. It's one of the ones you’ve kept around, and it seems he finally has time to peruse them, however borrowed that time it is.

“All of it?”

“...Yeah.”

“No. No.” He reiterates. And he smiles for you, because he knows how much it makes your heart warm.

“I can't abandon my duty, neither can I abandon you. They are one and the same. You are…woven into me. Cutting you off from my life would be cutting away the fabric of my soul. I could never.”

“...Why do you feel they’re one and the same?” A weight on his heart. Perhaps.

He fingers the worn pages of the book, his eyes dark in thought.

“I have a responsibility to the world, and you are a part of the world.”

“Those two sound so very far removed. I'm just one person, but if I could decide, my sole desire would be just to rest with you.”

He chuckles, good naturedly, like always. “If the world was ruled by our desires, I'd have been forever and solely yours already. And there would be no gods, but you.” For a man who rages and detests the divine, you’re not sure how to feel about that.

“But alas, the world often ignores our most fervent desires, unless we force it to acknowledge us that is.” A weight tugs his brow down, and his features buckle under it. Something like grief. “And that…is a very hard thing to do.”

“Alas.”

You nod, and return to your wayward gaze out the window. You imagine a life where he lives for you, and nothing else. You try to deny in your mind that he would want anything else. What could he find out in the world that he cannot find in your arms? A cursed man, believing himself content in penance and self flagellation, of service to the world at large.

But he is yours. You deny the world in his place.

{II.THERE IS A ROT THAT REPLACES THE MARROW OF HIS BONES}

It is woven into him, and he cannot escape it. He has long stopped trying.

It wears and tears at his soul, and marks his skin in scars, and he continues on. Fate has decreed that he will do so forevermore, until the day the abyss drags him down into its depths, its spindly fingers already grasping at him in twisting, molted blues. But he tries, because when you kiss the expanse of cursed flesh, a blissful smile on your face, a sudden rush of heat makes his skin prickle. It’s not love, though he loves you. It's rage.

Its disgust, and sick vitriol. You deserve better, you deserve more. You don't need this broken tapestry of pieces clinging onto some semblance of humanity. You don't need your nights interrupted by his nightmares, or his form clinging to your doorway, bloodied and offering the only tribute he knows to your altar.

He does not worship the Gods, but he knows something more divine, having long since slipped into the pews of your chapel.

“...I’m sorry.” You rush towards him, and he leans into the shoulder you offer him, letting you pull him into your bathroom where he stains the white porcelain.

“If you were sorry–” you huff as you set him down. “You wouldn’t get hurt so often.”

You pull out the first aid kit, and set to patching him up, removing layers of clothing to see the hurt beneath. He hardly winces, but his heart tugs.

“...You know I can't help myself.”

“You’re just one man, Dainsleif, there's too much for you to do on your own. And we both know this is about more than just your honor, or duty.”

“...Yet I am beginning to wonder,” he mumbles as you wipe away the blood. “Whether it has always been my fate to deny Fate.”

“What do you mean.”

You sound too upset for it to sound anything like a question. A demand, perhaps. He sighs. He is tired. So tired. He’s always been.

“Whether Fate is truly something we can overcome, or whether my rage is just a by-product of providence. If it was all preordained.” He shuts his eyes.

“The Gods that cursed us, the people and the nation I failed, my curse, my duty and obligation; I wonder if you too are foredoomed, just another predilection.”

“Is that why you do all this? To prove, what? Fate wrong?”

He doesn't answer, but he does open his eyes to see your mouth flatten. You continue patching him up, taking care of him, but he sees the way your eyes tremble.

“...Or perhaps just self-actualization?”

“...I have an obligation to the world, and to you��”

“Don’t say that, don’t pretend that this is for me, this is not for me. You’ve been doing this long before I was a thought on the breeze.” Centuries wear down his memory, but the tug of your mouth and brow pulls at him like a drawn bow, piercing through the fog of his fatigue.

Your shoulders shake next. “So if I asked you to stop, would you?”

He doesn't answer, even when the tears spill from your eyes.

“I don't care for fate, destiny or whatever. I care about you. Keep your honor, keep your anger, but stay with me. Is that not enough?”

“....It’s for you, too.”

“...I don't appreciate being your excuse, Bough Keeper.”

Celestia always watches, but even he cannot help but utter a prayer to some unknown god, that their eyes do not fall on this wayward moment.

He is fine with cursing the stars, his fate, with breaking body; he is fine with letting the heavens bear witness to his rage.

But not his grief.

It settles, thick and cloying on his tongue. The sour tang drowns out everything else.

{III.HE WILL NOT CHOOSE YOU. WHEN DESTINY TUGS AT HIS CLOAK AND BIDS HIM LOOK, HE WILL TURN FROM YOU}

You know he wishes he never met you. That he never fell in love with you. You try to take it as a compliment.

You would give anything to remove the burden on his shoulders, if only he were not so adamant on carrying it. You do not see the reason why–you would rather love a coward than mourn a legend. You would rather he stays home with you, in your arms, than leave and come back, over and over and over and over again.

You know he wishes he never knew you.

Dainsleif, he holds you, works in the garden with you, bathes with you, loves you–but his hands are tense, and his eyes stray to the world outside your window. You at least know that when he is gone, that he leaves because he is thinking of you, that he cannot handle being perceived by you for too long; It renders him asunder.

“Like a predator, staring at the open carcass of my soul,” he once said. “You just make me feel so…”

‘So what?’ You had wanted to ask, but you had known better, didn't he just tell you? So you acquiesce, but on the inside you ache. You plead and you beg, and you don't let the words spill past your lips; You hold them in your chest and your eyes and watch him leave.

You trade chaste kisses for letters in your mailbox, blissful sighs for dandelion fluff on the wind. Your love is like a hot air balloon, you cannot keep him close but you can keep him tethered even as the rope frays and tears at your hands.

Welcome him back with them open, and settle for apologetic kisses on your knuckles, from your knight, for a ring on your finger. No god would hold your marriage sacred, anyways, despite your tears.

“And what knowledge have you gleaned from your travels this time, my love?” You smile. Please don’t leave me again.

“Nothing that I don’t already know dearest.” I’ll do anything. Just give me the word. Just give me the knife.

“Which is?” Why don't you ever ask me? You know I'll do it.

His eyes, so deep and somber. They know, but they don't answer. “Fate has foretold that I will return here, as always.”

“Of course.” And he will always leave.

{IV. WHAT IS IT LIKE TO LOVE SOMEONE WHO IS ALWAYS RUNNING, ONE FOOT OUT THE DOOR? TIME DOES NOT SIT STILL, FOR NO ONE.}

Celestia is always watching.

Even here in this quiet moment, where the night holds vigil to the stars' homily, as they drag their forms past that pale corpse of a moon.

It's a still moment. He has removed you from his arms and you continue to sleep peacefully, your chest rising and falling, your heart the drum that starts off all his nights and days.

He is going to lose you, but before that he will lose himself.

Even now, he could feel the curse, like an ever burrowing parasIte, slowly consuming him. It replaces him. Eats away at him, fills him with rot, and he has the audacity to find solace in your garden. You dig out the rot and replace it with something far kinder, but that doesn't stop the curse from growing.

He is like an inteyvat flower. Hardened and unable to wilt unless placed back in the soil of his home. You’ve decided to love a dying man, and stand vigil, always, at his never ending wake.

Sunshine from a past life. Peers who trusted him and stood at his side and back, carrying the weight of honor. He doesn't remember them, but he remembers the sunshine. He remembers how he failed them. He remembers only what he can and only knows what he should. And he knows this tale like the back of his hand, the curve of your cheek.

This was fated to end in tragedy.

You move in your sleep and he startles. You roll over, and Dainsleif waits until you settle, to breathe easy again.

He can not reconcile who he is with the man he was before he met you. He doesn’t wish to go back, but he muses on how much easier it would be. He could deny the Gods, defy Celestia, the Archons, even Heavenly principles, even Destiny. But he cannot choose to remain alongside you as well.

He mourns this indecisive fool you turned him into. He will not survive without you, but that is alright because it has to be. Not every story has a happy ending, but every story needs a narrator. He'll re-read your scripture and memorize your chapters for as long as you remain, and even after.

And he will remain long after you are gone.

{V. IF NO ONE HAS EVER TOLD YOU ABOUT YOUR FATE, I WILL BE THE FIRST}

The sunlight paints the fields honey and gold, and soon it will be time to return to your little cottage. There will be cherry wine waiting on the table, and some mending you still need to finish, but beyond that you take in this moment, drink it down greedily; an open bud unfurling like a fist to an open palm, demanding the world its due.

Your lover on the other hand does not share the same attitude. His head rests in your lap, but you feel the restless energy in him, and stay still in the hopes of encouraging him to do the same. It doesn’t work.

“Settle down, Dain.”

“I am calm.”

“No you’re not. You’re fidgeting.”

“...I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave soon.” Ah. As always.

“Then all the more reason to relax now, while we have the time.” He scoffs at that word, time. He rises to meet your eyes, and you smile at his mussed hair.

“I might be away longer than I usually am. I’m not sure how long I'll be away for.”

You crack a knuckle in anxiety. “But you’ll be back, of course?”

He only pauses for the slightest of breaths. “Of course. Will you still want me back?” Your face takes on an exasperated look, but he waves it away.

“Do you not get tired of waiting, always? Are you not tired of constantly grieving, of having to love this broken piece of tapestry?” You are shaking your head before he's finished.

“No. If you are torn I will mend you. If you’re just a piece of tapestry then I’ll stitch you onto something better.”

“Leave behind these metaphors and poetry. I would rather believe you pity me rather than actually love me.”

The words hit a chord deep inside you. It carves a gorge, and anger rushes in to fill it.

“So what? You would rather me love a stranger? Someone who would understand me less than you do?“ You stare him down.

“..If I must–”

“‘Must’? Well you don’t. And by whose order? Whose words? Is that truly something you would allow, or what you tell yourself you should let happen?” His face doesnt twist, but you know the tint of misery that spreads under his skin. It's blue-black, like a bruise, like the stretch of his right arm.

“No. You will truly be damned thrice over if you allow that. You are so content to let the world, to let fate, decide how things are and should be–I don't believe in that. My fate will be what I say it is, and I say you will be with me forevermore. If you must leave, then leave, but come back to me, don’t let go of me!”

“I am ruined,” A wave rustles the grass, like a crowd gone silent. “I am ruined, cursed, damned as you say. You do not want this. You should not want this.”

“I don't believe that, and you shouldn’t either. Who has told you this, has Celestia personally decreed your fate? Or do you continue to let tragedy be the narrator of your life?” You grasp his face, pull him closer to your eyes.

“I have you. I want you. And it is reciprocated, As long as that is, things will not change. I refuse anything else.”

His eyes go back and forth between yours, and he sighs.

“As long as I breathe, I will return to you. But that does not change the fact that this was never supposed to be. If not by destiny’s nature than my own; It is only a matter of time before this too, ends.”

“Then forget what fate or destiny has told you. I am your fate, I am both your penance and redemption. If no one has ever told you about your fate then I shall be the first.”

Ans he is drawn, he listens like your words are rapture, like the first believer in the front pew of a sermon. So you smooth back his hair, and speak a prophecy.

“We will go home, and pick the tomatoes in the garden. They’re ripe now, and we’ll use them in our dinner. We’ll wash the dishes, unwind. Bathe. I’ll wash your hair and you’ll scrub my back. The sun should have set by then, so we can go to bed. As it gets darker I could read to you by candlelight, or, we could make love.”

“We’d need another bath, and to change the sheets then,” he mumbles, the slight pink hue high over his cheekbones.

“So would you rather we make love earlier? Or in the bath to save time?” You grin, and it draws soft breaths of laughter from your lover. You go on with your spiel.

“We’ll go to sleep together as always, and in the morning you’ll be baptised by the morning dew and the fresh brewed coffee. Much like today, you’ll laze in the fields with me, and when the time comes for you to leave, I'll give you my blessing, and my hopes as always, for you to come back to me.”

“So forget duty, when you are with me. If you are cursed I will be your balm. If there is rot in you I will scrape it out, and use it as fertilizer for my garden.“ He scoffs under his breath.

“You think this is a burden easy to unlade.”

“Yes, if you would only just let it. For by my decree, the Twilight sword shall be laid to rest in my presence, for I will be it's sheathe.” You only half jest and he looks at you quizzically.

“Did you just make an innuendo–”

“--And your words shall always be sweet, for my kisses shall honey your breath.” You kiss him to emphasize, or to quiet him, and he leans into you with a shudder, like a cat seeking affection, only something more desperate.

“If you care not for starlight, I will fasten you a crown of dandelions,” you continue. “And garb you in silks and sighs.”

“Fanciful daydreams,” He mutters, eyes closed. You trace the faint veins on his eyelids , violet blue in the dappled sunlight. 'Like crocuses.'

“Not when I’m with you,” you shake your head. “I’ll make them a reality, I swear. On all the love I have for you.”

He shakes his head in answer, a denial ready on his lips.

“The Twilight sword––”

“As I said– Shall be laid to rest in my presence.” You look at him as if to dare him to refute. He doesn’t.

You turn tender. You scot closer, practically in his lap now, if only to see his lashes flutter, pupils dilating.

“If you do not worship a god you may worship me, as I do you. That is your fate.”

“...Alright.” He sighs then, shakes his head, as to rid himself of the trance you put him under. He stands, and offers a hand to you.

“Alright then. Let your words be what I live by–I am yours, if you so say.”

You take his hand and head home.

#Seraphiism '23 #seraphiism '23 #events - seraphiism '23 #writing event #omg this is so late #but its here!#my stuff #my writing #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact dainsleif #genshin impact dainsleif x reader #dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif genshin impact #dainsleif x you #I'm trying out a new writing style and format #let me know your thoughts

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sky-neverending · 8 months

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my taste in ships for Stranger Things is so fun because for some people there’s multiple options i ship them with, for example Robin. I prefer Ronance, but I don’t mind Robin and Vicky or Robin and Chrissy. it’s like yeah just let the girl do whatever fits best for the story.

But then I look at Steve and I’m like “yeah there is now only one person I ship you with, and it’s Eddie.” Like i’m just not a fan of Stancy or Harringrove. Steddie is the only one that really appeals to me personally. (it’s fine if you do ship one of those though!! more power to ya!!)

Or like with Max. I can go down the Elmax route, or I can go down the Lucas x Max route and in that case I make El some form of aro/ace. But I can’t ship El with Mike.

It’s just something that I thought of recently is that it’s so funny how my brain accepts some ships but not others, like where the line is drawn at the flexibility of the matter.

share your ships in the comments or in your reblog! are you a multishipper, or are you one and done? i would love to know!

#stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #robin buckley #ronance #nancy wheeler #chrissy cunningham #max mayfield #elmax #lucas sinclair #eleven stranger things #eleven #stranger things ships #my personal opinion #sky’s stardust #let me know your thoughts #!!!

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uhbasicallyjustmilex · 3 months

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so one of my friends used to work as professional handwriting analyst, and this evening she finally indulged me and looked over alex and miles’s handwriting and oh my god it's SO interesting.

#it's pretty detailed so it'll take me a while to type them up but i'm more than happy to if people are interested!#also they do feel pretty personal and in depth so idk i'm almost on the fence about whether it feels appropriate to share it??#but also it is obviously subjective and just one person's opinion so it shouldn't be read as definitive fact or anything #idk #let me know your thoughts #i'm kind of torn #but i SO want to be able to talk about it with people here because i suspect a lot of you will find it as fascinating as i do!#alex turner #miles kane #lulu posts

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2manythoughtz · 3 months

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Is Barbie A Joke To Critics?

Just a week ago I wrote an article about the Barbie movie and how it was not only misunderstood but also overlooked when it comes to its deep meaning. We’ve had people like Jo Koy mocking the movie and comparing it to Oppenheimer which is a movie inspired by real events of our past, not only that but the winning song was I’m Just Ken, that alone should show just how little critics care to take what the movie teaches us and use it in the real world.

And we’re back at it. As you know, the nominations for the Oscars have been released. You’d be surprised to see that neither Margot Robbie (the main actress who interpreted Barbie) nor Greta Gerwig (the director of Barbie) got nominated in their categories. Speaking of the directors’ category, Greta is not new to being snubbed by the Oscars, it had already happened with Little Women. The only difference is that in 2020 there were no women nominated as best director, this year we have a female director who’s been nominated and that’s Justine Triet with Anatomy of a Fall, which is not bad. What’s laughable is the fact that Barbie has won the Golden Globes Award for Cinematic and Box Office Achievement and yet its director is not taken seriously.

And we’re not even talking about any film, to this day Barbie has made 1.45 billion U.S. dollars worldwide which makes it the best movie debut for a female director.

Margot Robbie didn’t get nominated as best actress although her performance as Barbie was absolutely iconic, she really brought Barbie to life in a unique way that not many actresses could’ve achieved. If you thought it couldn’t get any worse, let me tell you that Ryan Gosling (the actor who interpreted Ken) got nominated as Best Supporting Actor. That is fair, Ryan did an amazing job at portraying Ken, he really made his character funny and entertaining, he earned his nomination and I’m sure everyone is happy that he was one of the two nominees for Barbie.

But fans were not the only ones who were disappointed, Ryan Gosling himself commented on the matter and showed his displeasure. Here are his words:

“I am extremely honored to be nominated by my colleagues alongside such remarkable artists in a year of so many great films. And I never thought l’d being saying this, but I’m also incredibly honored and proud that it’s for portraying a plastic doll named Ken.

But there is no Ken without Barbie, and there is no Barbie movie without Greta Gerwig and Margot Robbie, the two people most responsible for this history-making, globally-celebrated film.

No recognition would be possible for anyone on the film without their talent, grit and genius.

To say that I’m disappointed that they are not nominated in their respective categories would be an understatement.

Against all odds with nothing but a couple of soulless, scantily clad, and thankfully crotchless dolls, they made us laugh, they broke our hearts, they pushed the culture and they made history. Their work should be recognized along with the other very deserving nominees.

Having said that, I am so happy for America Ferrera and the other incredible artists who contributed their talents to making this such a groundbreaking film.”

As Ryan said, the only woman who got nominated is America Ferrera who had an impactful role in the movie, her monologue about women and every hardship that they have to face because of society has become viral. Her character represents women, any women, and she did an outstanding job that earned her the nomination for Best Supporting Actress. The only shame is that she’s the only woman who got the privilege of being nominated for a movie that talks about feminism and how women don’t have the same treatment as men.

The Oscars proved Barbie right once again.

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mamayan · 8 months

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Warning: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat•NSFW•Yandere•Dark Themes•BNHA/HxH

Just a short list of yanderes you’d be better off dead than getting taken by, ranked least to worst in my opinion. This is VERY dark, and will describe ways these yanderes may accidentally or intentionally kill you. I keep it theoretical because I don’t like it too much either but you won’t see me willingly write these characters as yanderes much because they are SCARY.

Let me know if you want a part 2, and feel free to throw in comments of those you think would make the “better dead than alive with them” list!

First up on this list is Izuku Midoriya, a delusional yandere with a wildly deranged way of treating you.

He first and foremost, does not care if you love him or not, he’s going to make you act like you do though (which is torture itself). Izuku is a caretaker sort of yandere, but he’s abusive in going about it. Not being good in the bath? He’s dislocated your shoulder so you settle down. Wanna be mouthy and not eat the dinner he’s trying to feed you? He’s dislocated your jaw/slapping you so hard you spit blood/ gut punching you.

He’s also very much into your tears, but it’s up to you how you cry in the first place. Whether it’s from pain, fear, sadness, happiness, or overwhelming pleasure, Izuku loves your tears. He loves any reactions he can draw from you that makes you cute and vulnerable for him. He will absolutely break bones and even make you watch him harm your loved ones to make you comply. He won’t kill you, no never, he loves you, but if you make any sort of mistake… he’ll make you wish he didn’t love you so much.

When you do become compliant and obedient, because he will make you, it’s hell then too. He goes crazy with a power trip when you willingly (not really) submit to him. He will humiliate and degrade you (without ever cursing at your or even using words like slut/whore/worthless/etc.) “You look so cute on your knees like that, and look! You did it all by yourself this time, such a good pet, I’m so proud. You didn’t even wet yourself or make a mess this time!” He’ll remind you of the time he knocked the literal air from your lungs to drop you to your knees, which caused you to be unable to control your bladder.

He’s damn creepy too and won’t let you use the bathroom alone, sometimes won’t even let you wipe. And no, this isn’t just reserved for urine. The first time you held it so long and accidentally pissed yourself out of retaliation, he forced you to wear a diaper for a month until you were “potty trained” again.

Sex with him is not mild either nor does he care if it’s consensual, he makes you beg for your release or risk being edged until you go insane. He won’t let up. He’s also a big man as an adult, and he’s not inclined to be gentle in bed with you.

His treatment is a disgusting combination of infantilization and straight brutality. He will simultaneously make you act/feel like a helpless infant, and if you don’t comply with that treatment or lash out in any way, he’s fucking you up. If you put up a fight long enough, it could enrage him and cause him to accidentally snap your neck in his attempt to force you to calm down.

10/10 a yandere I personally would rather die than have. He’s awful. Delusional and thinks he’s doing nothing wrong, he’s the #1 Hero! He can’t do anything wrong! A literal monster. Comfort yourself inside though that you as a darling to Izuku would act as a barrier preventing him from unleashing his unhinged sadism on the world. Instead it’s you that gets that burden. In your own way, you’re a hero too. Tread with caution.

Next on this list is Shizuku Murasaki, don’t let her cute looks fool you, she is an absolute nightmare to have as a yandere for two very specific reasons.

She’s forgetful and forceful.

Shizuku will kidnap you, lock you away from the world, and then forget about how long she’s been gone from home. In her mind, it’s only been a few days, you should have plenty to eat. What she fails to remember is how impossible it is for you to escape or call her or anyone for help, as all the food disappears and the water shuts off due to her not paying the bill. Starvation and dehydration have nearly killed you multiple times. To the point you cry and beg, have severe panic attacks, when she leaves you for even a moment. Shizuku will also mistake this behavior for love, and while so cruelly cooing and soothing you, tell you she’s only going for a few hours a few weeks.

When you aren’t worried for your next meal and survival, she’s also terrible at providing you with even basic necessities like tooth paste, soap, laundry detergent. Her forgetfulness in paying water/electricity/sewage is also a major downfall in your comfort. You’ll freeze in the winter and possibly die of heat in the summer. She forgot to give you extra blankets.

Oops.

Trash has piled up and grown moldy?

Oops.

No water to shower or drink in days so you’re forced to get water from the toilet and use a bucket for your waste?

Oops.

Passed out from lack of food or nutrition?

Oops.

She’s downright a menace when it comes to taking care of you, but somehow extremely good in keeping you locked up. You have permanent damage to your nail beds from trying to claw your way through the wood of the front door. You might be saved from punishments because she’s lazy in that regard, and while she doesn’t hit or yell at you no matter how nasty your behavior, there is no denying she takes what she wants. You’re hungry and dehydrated? That needs to wait, she wants to cum and she wants to do it on your face. You feel disgusting and caked in your own sweat and grim from a week with no shower? She wants to use her new strap she picked up, so it needs to wait.

You’ll live in constant fear of dying due to her neglect and it will be a painful, lonely, and sadistic end.

11/10 sadistic without even meaning to be. The severe neglect will kill you eventually, it’s a slow and agonizing end you can’t help fighting whether you like it or not. You’ll die in your own filth, maybe from a combination of air toxicity, infection, starvation, and dehydration. Better to off yourself early if I’m being honest. She might even forget you died in her grief when she finds you, so don’t expect a proper burial, she’ll let you rot in the bed until another Troupe Member (sadly likely Phinks) has to remove your corpse and clean up.

Next we have, Overhaul, or Kai Chisaki on this list. Don’t let his handsome appearance fool you, while he may be beautiful, inside he is mentally ill to the extreme. You think he’s a bad man for abusing and torturing a little girl?

Kai is just as strict of a yandere as Izuku, but combined with his warped view of you and his OCD, it turns downright terrifying. He kills everyone you love before he takes you, because in his eyes they are literal vermin that only wish to taint and ruin you. He will calmly explain in detail who he killed and how he did it to you. If that isn’t enough, any pets you have? Dead. Immediately. They’re filthy animals that will taint you. Human contact? Forget about it. You will never feel skin on skin contact again in his care, not even his. I see a lot of depictions of Kai being a sex god as yandere, but as a real one? Even in his own eyes, he’s not worthy of touching you. He exults you to such a degree that you aren’t even really human in his eyes. Of course, you’ll be treated like the finest glass porcelain doll ever crafted, but aside from sitting on a shelf to rot for the rest of your life, then nothing else is happening. You’ll likely go insane in his care, because of the stark white room he’ll keep you in, so devoid of germs or bacteria it’ll be nauseatingly clean. The lights will go off for you to sleep for only 8 hours, but after that it’s fluorescent lights glaring at you for the remaining 16 hours of the day. Your bathroom won’t be any reprieve. You’ll have absolutely no personal comforts. Food will be the SAME THING for every meal, breakfast, lunch, dinner, and so bland and boring you’ll struggle to accept your new life.

Kai, like Shizuku, is also a yandere that wont hit you… but he’ll use his quirk on you. He’s not above taking you apart violently and putting you back together over and over and over.

Eventually you may even try to anger him just for him to take you apart. To feel something. He provides no entertainment. None at all. Have fun with your own mind and solitude in that white room.

Kai is also the most likely to have a mental break, so if you cross a certain line, he may kill you accidentally. Things like trying to seduce one of his men (for escape purposes), trying to harm yourself, trying to harm him, being filthy (you might cringe at the thought of wiping your own feces on the walls, but eventually shame and embarrassment will leave you).

He’s most likely to snap and try and clean you himself, your act of rebellion by dirtying/hurting him/harming yourself will likely leave you in a situation of…

a). He accidentally drowns you in his panicked state of washing you.

b). He uses some type of chemical (bleach) which leaves you severely injured/burned and you succumb to your wounds before medical attention can save you.

Kai is out of his damn mind, thinks of you as if you are a God/Goddess, and if you break that delusion, he will snap. I also think he’d preserve your body somehow, and you’d end up in a Snow White case so he can always look at you.

12/10 batshit crazy and very scary. No human autonomy. I just can’t help but think he’d 100% use bleach to try and “clean” his darling and that’s not a fun way to die at all. Also, his form of worship is so skewed and warped it leaves nothing but a bad taste in my mouth. He’s the idolize and stick on a shelf type, a very lonely and isolated way to live. At least Shizuku let’s you watch TV when the cable/electrical bills get paid. Kai won’t even let you have a book. Prisoner of war PTSD which will eventually lead to real insanity from that white room and isolation if Kai doesn’t kill you first.

#dead dove do not eat #DARK THEMES #YANDERE #MDNI #MENTION OF DEATH #shizuku murasaki #Kai chisaki #overhaul #bnha #hxh #hunter x hunter #let me know your thoughts #i definitely fear yanderes like this #Izuku Midoriya

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