shini--chan

[shini--chan]

Yandere Concept: no matter how many times they tell you they love, you simply don't believe it. They kidnapped you, and that awakens all sorts of terrifying thoughts in you.

Perhaps you see them as a serial killer playing mind games with you - as soon as you would accept their "love" they would bring the whole burning house down on you and laugh at your agony. Or you view it as a way to gain your trust so that they can extract intelligence from you. You do know the one or the other piece of intell, after all. Or you think that you are just a pawn in a larger plan, and their spiel is just an attempt to hook you on strings and then make you jump around as they pull them. Could this be some social experiment, and there are scientists sitting behind monitors and analyising your behaviour?

Either way, you don't buy into their confessions and insist they have ulteriour motives. Sometimes you're audacious enough to give them a piece of your mind. It makes they so frustrated, and they in turn think it is a ploy to make them let you free.

[shini--chan]

I just read your yandere england story. I like the way you made y/n feel tormented by stockholm syndrom and their dilemma "how to escape arthur without escape from arthur". Plus i love the way you write a story just like a beautiful poem

Thank youuuuu. I put a lot of my heart and soul in that piece and I was worried how it would be recieved due to the heavy topics discussed (and by ppl who can't read the trigger warnings). Though, the sailing there has been smooth so far, and I'm happy about that.

[shini--chan]

hey shini what's up, hope ur doing well. i wanted to ask where ur from since u said u were not american 🤔 sry if its a personal question lol im just curios

The sky.

Jokes aside, I'm well and busy and actually have found time to write a lot. I'm surprised myself. If this goes on, I'll be posting a lot in December "knocks twice on wood".

I actually elaborated a bit more on where I'm from a while a go, as in two years, three years ago. Maybe. I'm Austrian. So now you tykes know where to go when you don't behave and I challenge you to a duel. 😸

[shini--chan]

Yandere England - Thrall

A/N: Only the first few hundred words are displayed here. Follow the link at the end of the post to read the rest of the story. Read the warnings! This is the darkest work I've written yet.

Trigger warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, suicidal ideation/attempt, descriptions of corpses, captivity, implied dub/non-con, self-harm

You first started to notice that not all was well when you no longer were bothered by the smell of his cologne. Usually, the artificial aroma of bergamot and amber makes your nose twitch and disgust curl beneath your lungs, given how much you associate it with him. One day, you feel comfort instead of revulsion when the aroma hits your receptors. 

How could you even imagine growing comfortable around him?! He is hideous in his nature, his baseline morality just as corrupt as the fey in the stories he so loves. To him, people are pawns or toys or vermin. Respect doesn't come naturally to him and he is so prideful it is a sin. And yet - the thought of his sharp features and crisp speech makes warm gather in your belly and it is revolting as it is comforting. 

The days continue to bleed into each other - you've long since stopped counting how long. Noting every further day you were subject to his mercies and not free would be gruelling in its own way. Memories of your past had become bittersweet. 

Arthur Kirkland was in no way a kind man; he was proud and patronising and full of rough edges that you wound yourself on all too often. When he had sealed you away from the rest of the world, you had promised yourself that you would stand steadfast and not bow down to his whims. So what was this? Why could you look him in the face and no longer feel your heart hardening? When had his words once again become so wounding? 

Once, you had liked Arthur, maybe even loved him and that was what you consider your greatest sin. Once, you had been naive enough to ignore all the warning signs, and so hopeful that you had brought in the facsimile of a gentleman that he had presented to you. That was before you had found out that he just considered morals as something fashionable to wear in public and impress the right people. Now you knew better, so why were you making all the same mistakes again? 

In the deep night, you laid awake and mulled over the disturbing developments. It robbed you of your sleep, and the overthinking blessed you with a pounding headache. You made sure not to move or to make a sound, despite how much you wanted to curse and thrash around. Your "lover" had punished you for less than you kicking him in your sleep. 

More than once had you heard the phrase of a person being their own worst critic. Perhaps the same applied to one's enemies; perhaps the jungian shadow side of your's was enacting a campaign against your very identity, putrefying what had been meticulously preserved. You finally managed to fall asleep by drowning yourself in your own self-loathing. 

Kirkland didn't show any outward signs of seeing your weakness, or perhaps he was waiting for the point of no return before delivering the killing blow. It didn't matter, because you were too busy monitoring your own actions. Each ebb of comfort you felt in his presence made your hair stand on end. 

Full story on ao3

Art and characters are not mine!

[shini--chan]

'tis in England:

Here is a small sneak-peak of what I'm writing at the moment. T'is still a long way from being finished so will probably only be published in November at the earliest. And the completed version will probably only be available on ao3 due to how dark it is turning out

Can who guess who the yandere is here?

[shini--chan]

Yandere England - Thrall

A/N: Only the first few hundred words are displayed here. Follow the link at the end of the post to read the rest of the story. Read the warnings! This is the darkest work I've written yet.

Trigger warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, suicidal ideation/attempt, descriptions of corpses, captivity, implied dub/non-con, self-harm

You first started to notice that not all was well when you no longer were bothered by the smell of his cologne. Usually, the artificial aroma of bergamot and amber makes your nose twitch and disgust curl beneath your lungs, given how much you associate it with him. One day, you feel comfort instead of revulsion when the aroma hits your receptors. 

How could you even imagine growing comfortable around him?! He is hideous in his nature, his baseline morality just as corrupt as the fey in the stories he so loves. To him, people are pawns or toys or vermin. Respect doesn't come naturally to him and he is so prideful it is a sin. And yet - the thought of his sharp features and crisp speech makes warm gather in your belly and it is revolting as it is comforting. 

The days continue to bleed into each other - you've long since stopped counting how long. Noting every further day you were subject to his mercies and not free would be gruelling in its own way. Memories of your past had become bittersweet. 

Arthur Kirkland was in no way a kind man; he was proud and patronising and full of rough edges that you wound yourself on all too often. When he had sealed you away from the rest of the world, you had promised yourself that you would stand steadfast and not bow down to his whims. So what was this? Why could you look him in the face and no longer feel your heart hardening? When had his words once again become so wounding? 

Once, you had liked Arthur, maybe even loved him and that was what you consider your greatest sin. Once, you had been naive enough to ignore all the warning signs, and so hopeful that you had brought in the facsimile of a gentleman that he had presented to you. That was before you had found out that he just considered morals as something fashionable to wear in public and impress the right people. Now you knew better, so why were you making all the same mistakes again? 

In the deep night, you laid awake and mulled over the disturbing developments. It robbed you of your sleep, and the overthinking blessed you with a pounding headache. You made sure not to move or to make a sound, despite how much you wanted to curse and thrash around. Your "lover" had punished you for less than you kicking him in your sleep. 

More than once had you heard the phrase of a person being their own worst critic. Perhaps the same applied to one's enemies; perhaps the jungian shadow side of your's was enacting a campaign against your very identity, putrefying what had been meticulously preserved. You finally managed to fall asleep by drowning yourself in your own self-loathing. 

Kirkland didn't show any outward signs of seeing your weakness, or perhaps he was waiting for the point of no return before delivering the killing blow. It didn't matter, because you were too busy monitoring your own actions. Each ebb of comfort you felt in his presence made your hair stand on end. 

Full story on ao3

Art and characters are not mine!

[shini--chan]

Dark! Rome x Reader | Spectacle |

Trigger warnings: death, coercion, threats of abuse, discussion of execution methods, gore

The crowd roared as a pair of lions tore into another prisoner, blood wetting the sand and turning it a black-crimson. The enthusiasm upon witnessing another heretic being eaten was unmitigated, even ecstatic, from what you could judge. It made you even sicker than you had been before. The pulse of the crowd matched the pounding of blood in your veins and another throb of dull ache behind your eyes.

By now, your breaths came short and fast and the coppery taste of your own blood clung to your palate and the back of your mouth. Despite the warm weather, a layer of cold sweat stuck to your nape and your arms. He was pressed against your back, one arm wound tightly around your waist. From what you could gauge, he was amusing himself greatly.

Julius lowered his head, and his hot breath fanned over the shell of your ear as he told you: "Relax, my beloved - the fun hasn’t even really gotten started yet.” He then pressed a light kiss against the side of your head and retreated again.

Fun. That was what he regarded this whole affair as - simple entertainment. The thought of that made you burn with rage and shiver with revulsion. You'd voiced your thoughts and feelings on the subject matter to him before and he had just laughed. A weak-willed foreigner, in need of being taught the merits and virtues of civilization - that was what he viewed you as.

He always impressed upon you that you should be grateful for having come so far. Once, you had been praying to false idols and wallowing in backwards ways. Now, you could "enjoy" his tender affections and sit in the emperor's box. Of course, you were situated a bit further in the back of the cool lounge area, away from the prying eyes of common Romans. You weren't ready for that yet, not in his eyes anyway.

The luxuries you enjoyed were still far more than any plebeian could dream of. Still, they were all just a weak consolation in relation to the horror you had to endure. Even while they sat in the blistering sun in course tunics and you in fine linen in the shade, fanned by an attendant, they enjoyed more freedoms. To speak of the comforts and benefits of your position would be misleading.

The air here was stifling, filled with obnoxious perfumes that couldn't fully cover the stench of char and blood and sweat. Every now and then, somebody would cast a look at you, either pitying or curious or envious. It just showcased that they didn't know him.

A hand appeared in front of your face and you flinched. One of those sweet strawberry grapes was pushed against your lips, the calloused tip of an index finger pressing up against your mouth at the same time.

"Eat. You barely eat anything in the morning, and won't do for you to faint in public", your captor told you. You could feel the low vibrations of his voice from where your back was plastered against his chest. Numbly you opened your mouth and you forced yourself to dissociate further so that you wouldn't gag when his fingers brushed over your gums and tongue. Hands that had been washed in the blood of countless men, that had held swords eagerly and conduct troops readily. It is a wonder that he isn't performing the execution himself.

The fruit would be tangy sweet to you if you were actually and fully in the here and now. Dully you noted that the beasts below had made short work of their victim. Blood stuck to the fur of their chins and they circled restlessly around the bones and spleen of their late meal. They still hungered for flesh.

You obediently swallowed. It was no use acting up now - you would only dig yourself a deeper grave. With how bad the situation at hand was, Julius was already sanguine and on the brink of acting on his more violent impulses. There was no need to break the camel's back.

This spectacle was to be a triumph that would sate him, and a defeat that would break you. The thought about what would soon happen made your throat constrict and your heart ache. Skin from the grape was stuck between your teeth, adding irritation to the maelstrom of emotions.

Humming lowly, he rested a hand on the wing of your hip and rubbed circles. Scandalous behaviour, especially for a cultured Roman patrician. At this point, it wasn't hard to tell that he didn't care. Anger married with happiness is always a dangerous combination, even more so when it comes to Julius.

Some of the noble ladies close by tittered in disapproval.

"Don't you dare think that throwing a tantrum will save him. I could be much crueller, mind you, and if you keep making such a scene then I will be", he warned you and squeezed your hip tightly.

You didn't want it to be worse than it already was, so you forced yourself to breathe evenly and steadily. The tears that had formed in the corners of your eyes were quickly dried with the seam of a pillow. To show that you weren't ignoring him, you nodded and pressed a "Yes Julius." out.

It was his fault, largely. Open displays of affection were frowned upon in this large and mighty civilization. Yet the both of you were lying on your sides, huddled together on a plush divan that was meant for one. He was far too present - calloused hands that shamelessly touched you and hair that tickled your neck. The scent of copper and sweat and bitter herbs that was his baseline smell and the sound of his steady inhales and exhales and the occasional chuckle.

He was Rome, he was more than a mere man and unlike regular mortals he could afford to be shameless. The laws of men and animals don't apply to the gods and their favoured, as he had once explained to you. Those that questioned his strength tended to find themselves on the receiving end of imperial might. It was why this was happening.

With an unholy whine one of the gates opened and the thousand man audience fell silent, save for quiet whispers. All eyes were drawn to the battered wooden gate and what lies beyond. There is some comotion, shouts and cracks of a whip and then a bedraggled man was shoved out into the arena. A wall of spears prevented him from fleeing back the way he came. The gate was lowered once more and the man heaved himself to his feet. Even from where you lay, you could make out how he was shaking.

This was all your fault and you just couldn't watch. Your guilt made you turn your head away and stare at the gaps between the floor tiling. At the very end, your flesh as well as your will is weak and you're ashamed of yourself because of that.

It is still better than the alternative, you told yourself as you suppressed your more impulsive desires. You could be trying to break yourself out of his grasp and clamour to the railing. You could be trying to get as close to him as possible and flaunt your despair like the noble ladies liked to flaunt their gold. Your hope would die down below you, and you would cry because you would know him and you would know that you're his damnation.

Julius would seeth and snap. "Don't you dare stand up for that yelp", he would likely warn you. "Tears are wasted on rubbish like him", he would tell you. Begging for the life you had condemned to be spared would be met with derision and spite.

However, that wasn't here nor there; that reality wasn't occurring. Instead, he grasped your chin in a vice grip and forced you to watch how a lion and leopard entered the open through another gate. The crowd oohed and ahed and you scratched at his wrists.

"Hush, my little nightingale. You are the cause of this, so you should enjoy the fruits of your labour. Aren't you proud of being another man's downfall?", he whispered in your ear and the hurt his words caused nearly made you cry openly.

It was horrible to focus on him. Your would-be saviour was gaunt and injured. He moved sluggishly and breathed heavily. As the big cats approached him, he stumbled backwards towards the wall of the arena. Given his status, he hadn’t been afforded a weapon and as it was, there was little he could do against the predators with his unbound hands.

The announcer screamed the supposed crimes of the man down below, announcing for what transgressions he was being executed via Damnatio ad bestias. You could barely hear him over the pounding of your own heart, yet the words fanned the near-dormant embers of your rage.

“He isn’t Christian! Why execute him for hearsay?”, you hissed at your warden in a rare moment of bravado. It caused to bury his face in your hair and chuckled deeply.

“An affront to me is on the same level as blasphemy against the gods. Trying to steal you from me, or help you escape, not they are very different, could either be considered high treason or blasphemy. I decided to go with blasphemy this time around."

Earlier in your captivity you would have tried to slap him for his grating arrogance. Over the course of months however, you had learned that his pride wasn't hollow. What he was displaying wasn't mere petty narcissism, it was the power and confidence that came with being an empire incarnate. As Rome, he was as close to a god as a man could come without having ichor flowing in his veins. He was the personification of that, what people here lived and died for, what they pledged their loyalty and in what interests they acted.

Just like the Olympians, he was flawed and still beyond earnest reproach, for who wanted to incur the wrath of power made manifest? It was why there was nobody here that would help, and it was why it was all the more surprising when you found somebody that did.

Down below, the leopard approached the former soldier with graceful movements, and when it was close enough, it swiped at its prey. Missed, and it was enough to tear the human from his paralysis. He ran, feet kicking up the sands, and he stumbled every now and then.

“Look at him run. Not so high and mighty now that he has been treated like a dog. I can’t help but wonder what you saw in him. When push comes to shove, he is utterly pathetic”, the man behind you remarked. Rough fingers drifted upwards, and came to rest by your floating ribs. His thumb drew circles and pressed your skin to those bones.

A humourless laugh escaped you. The tiger and the lion were running after their wayward meal, bones and muscles moving smoothly under gold and black fur. He wouldn’t last long now. Even if Julius were no longer keeping your head in place, you still wouldn’t be able to look away at this point. It was gruesome and heart-stopping and you were transfixed.

“I was never in love with him!”, you retorted, and your voice sounded pathetic even to your own ears. “He took pity on me and tried to help me. Can’t you be more merciful in face of such a human mistake?”

This time, he scoffed and bent down to nip at your neck. You hushed any cries that formed in your throat.

“There is nothing about you to pity!”, he snarled, and so echoed a sentiment that many who knew about this little relationship held. Women would look at you with envy, because in their eyes, you had conquered the most eligible bachelor in the empire for yourself. Wealth and power unparalleled, and not to mention that he was easy on the eye, the lot of them had vied for Julius. Only they had been cast aside in favour of you, and they would never forgive you for it.

What they would do to swap with you! You had even made that offer to a senator’s wife at a party once, much to Julius’ indignation.

“And of course he had ulterior motives for trying to help you escape. You caught my interest, so naturally many other men desire you as well”, he continued after he had calmed himself a bit.

That was the problem with Julius - since you had been dashing enough to capture his interest, he couldn't comprehend that the majority of the male population wouldn't feel the same. Such a rare and fabulous treasure as yourself would surely be coveted by many. It didn't help that he loved to show you off. As such, it was a given to him that any aid that you'd be given would come out of a place of desire. Why else would a man choose to wrong a god?

Even those that weren’t aware of his divine nature could sense that he was larger than life. He wore power like a second skin, and his smiles were all too often sharp. There commonly was a gravitas to his actions that drew people’s attention.

The lion pounced and tore him down. The crowd roared.

“I could have been much more ruthless”, he mused. His hand eased its grip and he trailed his fingers down your neck. Shivers run down your whole body from how his blunt nails scraped over your skin. “My blood boiled when I saw his hand on your arm. I yearned to slice his flesh and skin from his body bit by bit, until he either died from pain or blood loss. I even had to hold myself back from doing it then and there, in front of the gate and all the guards.”

The leopard wouldn't let itself be outdone of the other predator and lashed out at the lion. The latter met the former readily with growls and roars of its own. This allowed the prey to crawl away. There were long claw marks down his back, and he was wheezing. Red marks littered his neck from when the lion had set out to asphyxiate him.

“This is barbaric”, you muttered.

“This is humane”, came the counter. “Animals can be far more wicked than that.”

He adjusted his grip on you and pulled you close. The next words were whispered, as if he was sharing some delightful gossip with you:

“In the lands beyond Persia, they train elephants to perform executions. Whatever sadistic tendencies the creatures may display are encouraged. So you have an animal purposely torturing the criminal before the killing blow is inflicted. They toss the human around, beat him, kick him, and step on him. I simply wish I could see such a spectacle myself, instead of having to make do with retelling. Perhaps for the next fool that tries to whisk you away, hm?”

You could barely breathe. The two cats down below had settled their fight and were now tearing at their prey's flesh. They hadn't even bothered with ending the man's life, and ripping his legs and sides up, even as he tried to claw himself forward. Whatever sounds he was making were drowned out by the cheering and clapping of the crowd.

A squeeze at your arm brought you back to the man that held you in his arms.

“Answer me, darling. I'm now in a good enough mood. Don't ruin it and make me punish you.”

His tone was lighter and he was obviously pleased with the bloodbath that was playing out in front of everybody's eyes. As disturbed and horrified as you were, you still had enough presence of mind to force some words up.

“Please, don't”, you croaked. Your throat was constricting more with every passing second. Nightmares couldn't compare to this gruesome reality.

Sinews and organs were visible as the felines rolled him on his back and started to devour his torso. Now he was dead, and part of you perished alongside him.

[shini--chan]

Masterlist - Other Fandoms

Yandere Assassination Classroom

Karma Akabane – Headcanons

Tadaomi Karasuma - Normie

Yandere Attack on Titan

Levi Ackerman - Character Sheet I

Levi Ackerman – Headcanons

Yandere Black Butler

Ciel Phantomhive - Male! Reader

Charles Grey – Headcanons

Claude Faustus – Headcanons

Prince Soma – Headcanons

Ronald Knox – Headcanons

Sebastian Michaelis – First Encounters

Sebastian Michaelis – Headcanons

Sebastian – Rejection

Undertaker – Headcanons

Yandere Deathnote

Mello – Headcanons

L, Mello, Near – An Examination of Justice  #yandere alphabet

Light Yagami - Tree of Insight

Yandere My Hero Academia

Overhaul - Kai Chisaki (Yandere Character Sheet)

Yandere Seraph of the End

Shinya Hiigari - Sfw & N.sfw

Yandere Tokyo Ghoul

Juuzou Suzuya – Headcanons

Touka – Headcanons

[Art is not mine. Credit goes to the artists. DM for art removal.]

[shini--chan]

Update Schedule - November 2024

05.11.2024: Dark! Rome x Reader | Spectacle |

09.11.2024: Yandere England - Thrall (First 500 words will be available on Tumblr, the whole will be available on ao3)

[shini--chan]

Hey Shini! :) Hope you’re doing well and enjoying life (with all of its ups and downs). What’s in the works? 👀

Hi there nonnie!

Surprisingly, life has way more ups than downs at the moment. It is simply that fencing has been taking up more of time than expected (a side effect of a large part of my social circle sharing the hobby as well). That being said, there will be an update list for November that will come out next week.

I'll also update my WIP list here sometime this weekend. Though, since I want to go in the direction of writing darker content, I'll be posting more on ao3 and then posting links of those works here. Tumblr does bring the hammer down on darker yandere stuff readily, because some people cannot seperate fiction from reality, hence that choice.

Currently, I'm slowly writtling away on a few longfics - Hetalia characters, Levi and Erwin. Maybe I'll get around to posting those next year. I want to have a few chapters finished and polished before I let those out into the wild

[shini--chan]

who's your favourite character to write for? if you have any :)

That is actually a more difficult question to answer than thought. I'd say it is a tie between Russia and England when it comes to Hetalia. If other fandoms are included, then it becomes even more difficult since my interests shift a lot. Perhaps Levi and Overhaul?

[shini--chan]

Here is a small sneak-peak of what I'm writing at the moment. T'is still a long way from being finished so will probably only be published in November at the earliest. And the completed version will probably only be available on ao3 due to how dark it is turning out

Can who guess who the yandere is here?

[shini--chan]

Just wanted to say I LOVE EVERYTIME YOU WRITE SOMETHING!!!! I ROCK MY FEET BACK AND FORWARD AND GIGGLE LIKE A YOUNG LOVER OMG!!!

I ‼️ will read all of your posts after my exams and give a long review. bet 🗣🔥😭🙏 just gotta ace these exams first fr

Glad to be of service :P

Best of luck with those exams, will be looking forward to that review

[shini--chan]

Yandere Character Sheet II - 1p England / Arthur Kirkland

My depiction of Arthur here is harsh. I'll freely admit that it is due to a bias I have against the British due growing up in one of the Empire's late colonies and family history. Blazes, some of my relatives refuse to speak English because they regard it as "the language of the Antichrist".

Trigger warnings: colonialism, controlling behaviour, manipulation, mental break, trauma, physical torture, emotional/verbal abuse, victim blaming

Blend in - Are the red flags obvious? Are they even aware that their behaviour is wrong? Do they even care? 

Arthur is generally a cantankerous, cynical and proud man, so it would be more difficult to tell which of his actions are relationship red flags as opposed to personality red flags. Of course, this is also a gross oversimplification of the situation since he is complicated. When he wants to be, he can be genuinely kind, polite and caring. It is simply that the closer you are to him emotionally, the higher his expectations are of you. With you being the apple of his eye, you'd have the honour of finding out that being the subject of his affections is worse than having to bear his apathy or even ire. 

One of the reasons for this is that he'd have a fixed ideal of what constitutes as good and proper, and he would require you to conform to that image. Depending on your character and disposition, this could be painful for you. But surely you'll embrace your cruel fate, for isn't love the sweetest form of suffering. Pragmatic and cynical as he would be and would claim to be, Arthur would still be a romantic at heart. To him, meeting you would be fate, and you would do well to likewise recognise that your fate lies with him. Generally he wouldn't accept any words or actions that would go against this perceived destiny - he wouldn't take them seriously. 

Overall, he would see you as lesser than him, and therefore not as deserving of respect and regard. Much of the politeness and charm he would display to you wouldn't stem from seeing you as an equal or from thinking highly of your thoughts and emotions, but rather from the sort of charity given to the invalid and the naive. 

This flows nicely into the next red flag, in that he can be unbelievably paternalistic and conceited. You acting out, trying to defend your boundaries, or even just not fitting into what he deems appropriate would be deemed as you being unreasonable or having a phase. All in all, it would be very difficult to criticise him since he would first have to view you as a person worth listening to, and that wouldn't be a given. Even if your relationship has reached that level of respect, he would be quick to deliver some sharp retorts. Also, he would simply not care that some of the things he does are reprehensible. Either the end would justify the means, or the other people are inferior and conventional morals can't be applied to them. 

Additionally, he would be prone to making decisions for you, without your input. Mind you, he would allow you to place your orders by yourself when you go out to wine and dine. Though, he would decide what you wear, when you go to sleep, what you eat and drink at home, and the media you consume. This would start way before he would manage to fully isolate/kidnap you. Arthur regards himself as more apt when it comes to making choices about your life than you are. 

Related to that above, he would manage to make you go along with all that (at least in the beginning) by acclimating you to his controlling nature. He wouldn't dominate your life all at once and the more he'd enter your life, the more he'd determine how you'd live your own life. He'd demand that you tell him of all your movements and errands, make you let him look through your letters and bills and have you give him the passwords to all your accounts. On top of that, he would micromanage you at times. 

Another warning sign would be how unpredictable he would be. When it comes to social interactions, what happens is very dependent on Arthur's. He is far from emotionless, and is very passionate indeed. However, he isn't one to wear his heart on his sleeve or display his emotions openly, which would make it difficult to assess the situation at times. A bad time on the way home from work can decide if you receive affection or are pushed away with sharp remarks. Additionally, it would be the little things that would set him off the most, while he would remain stoic and calm in the face of large calamities.

Compatriot - Who aids them? Who condemns them? Are there ways you can convince their friends/colleges/underlings to help you? 

Part of Arthur's magic is convincing others of his superiority. There would be many that would aid him simply because they'd falsely believe he is all-powerful and that moving against him is futile. These sorts would be the worst - you'd have their sympathy and pity and they would likely believe you fully if you'd recount the lived horror and they'd still resolutely refuse to help you. On the contrary, they would even encourage you to give in to him, to simply weather the storm instead of fighting against it. These people would also be the hardest to persuade and the fastest to betray you, since they would fully buy into the illusion of Arthur's invulnerability and seek to gain small favours from their "Lord and Saviour". 

Then there would be those that would be on his side because they'd agree with his world views and morality. Best not to bank on their support, because Arthur would always be grander in their minds than you. Unless … there is nothing more feverant than a disillusioned devotee, eh? There, you could get their support, you would just have to teach them successfully that their angel is a demon. 

Naturally, England would also have many enemies. So some of them, all that would matter would be to land a blow on Arthur, so they would have no qualms or second thoughts of helping you. They might even "be on your side" before you'd catch on to Kirkland's true colours. Perhaps they would even be the ones to shine light on his less appealing traits. One thing that you should keep in mind though, that they wouldn't care about what would happen to you, as long as they could hurt Arthur. 

Aside from the obvious category of people that hate Arthur and who would also be sympathetic to your cause, there would also be the normal people that just want to go about their day-to-day lives. Those that might work for Arthur; they might trip you up if they like him, they might ignore your forged documents and stolen money if they hate him. Generally, many people downplay the power and the influence of the ordinary, working man. Arthur would be no exception to this rule, and could use this against him. 

Dominion - What actions are especially pleasing to them?

Above all else - you defer to him. He wants to be your guiding light in the darkness. He is supposed to be your teacher and protector and provider, and he wouldn't settle for anything less. For you to recognise and accept your role in the dynamic between the two of you would be a boon. It would be a relief that he wouldn't have to chastise and punish you like a wayward child. It would give him a bit of hope.

Interestingly enough, he would still desire for you to be resolute. Silk hiding steel comes to mind and if you're the sort to faint at the slightest sign of trouble, he would deem you a product of bad breeding. You are to be a rose, and your thorns should be sharp. Of course, this shouldn't come at his expense, for he doesn't want somebody that would constantly stand against him. You should be the sort that is a fun conquest, and a steadfast companion that doesn't cause more trouble than you solve. The deep irony here is that he wishes that you aren't a child, all while being continuously paternalistic. 

Appeal to his finer sensibilities - have etiquette down pat, be educated in that you know the classics and poetry and the BBC nature documentaries. Be easy on the eye and balm for the soul to him, make him feel respected and allow him to rant about god and the world without always throwing in your two cents. Be attentive to his needs, whether it be a shoulder massage, a bottle of port or tickets for the nearest rugby match. Communication without many words necessary would be prefered. On your side, such a skill would even be needed if you want to survive him. 

Tied into that - he would want the little things taken care of by you. Have a meal ready when he comes home, and the bathroom scrubbed and the washing done. Still he would require the dichotomy of a homebody and an adventurer, at least to some extent (and you thought he was going to leave you alone at home). Everywhere though, you'd be expected to put his well being above your own. After all, if he is out cold, then who will take care of you. No matter how strong and capable you are, he will forever regard himself as your superior. 

Conform to the values of the time. If there is something that irks Arthur beyond measure, it would be not understanding something. He wouldn't understand you if your mind runs on models of the world he is not familiar with. Of course, if you don't see things his way yet then it is no issue - diamonds commonly need polishing and cutting before they are perfect. It would be a re-edition of the white man's burden. 

Flight - What do you have to do in order to escape them?

It would be easier than you'd expect. Arthur's main spiel to make you stay by him would be to make you think that escape is futile, and that he is all-powerful and all-knowing when it comes to you. He would aim at "demonstrating" this by stalking you or also letting you escape only to capture you again. This wouldn't be his only failsafe. Perhaps he'll socially isolate you, so that you believe he is the only person in the world that you can trust, or he'll convince you that you're a horrible person, and he is only doing on to you what you deserve (he might even believe the latter himself). So what you have to do, is break the mental fetters, and then matters already become easier. 

Two pathways are recommended: Either do something completely haywire that he wouldn't expect. Send yourself abroad per post, join a travelling circus troupe or become a nun. There are only so many avenues of escape that he can close down, and the most obvious would be the first to go. Or you could elect to hide in plain sight and slip away. Lose him in a shopping mall or in a crowded street. A concert would be even better. Afterwards, it would be advisable to act normal - because he would be looking for a harried person. 

And have some tranquillisers/sleeping pills at hand. You'll need them to cope with the fallout. 

Hospitality - What is your life like with them? How much does it deviate from your former life?

You'd basically have to adopt an Arthur-approved lifestyle and discard everything that came for. He would dictate the tempo and direction, with you having precious little say in the matter. You'd only have your way if your interests coincide with England's or you plant the ideas in his head and let him think it was his idea in the first place. 

You'd become another fixture in his environment and thus everything that is his would become yours as well. The living space would be his and he would share it with you. Whether you like it or not, you would start orienting yourself around his routines and ideas. A side effect of this would be that he would control what you would read, watch and listen to. When locked up and subject to his tender mercies, you would be powerless to obtain any information other than what he allows. 

Aside from that, there are too many restrictions and rules to count, and you would only be able to have some comfort once you learn to navigate the minefield. In total, your life would be more akin to life in an old girls boarding school, or even a prison. The food would be just as bland, unless you'd take matters into your own hands. 

With him, your opinion would matter very little and his would be everything. Every criticism of your person would have to be acted on immediately, and every wish treated as an order. Of course, he would detest it if you'd simply allow him to walk all over you, but he would equally loath it if you would stubbornly resist it. It would be a balancing act that you would have to learn to master.

 In the beginning you might be inclined to point out how his treatment of you would contradict his own morals. Arthur wouldn't care - this is a point that can't be stressed enough. Conventional morals wouldn't apply to you, in his eyes. Besides, you would be his plaything, something with which he can engage in all his base desires and dark urges without any repercussions. Somebody at his station would have to punish him for him to genuinely become better towards you. 

There are few holds barred for him when it comes to you, and that makes him all the more dangerous. Should the mood strike him due to your bad behaviour, then he would bring out the thumb screws and the brands and the water torture. He probably wouldn't want to mar you, or at least not too much. You should still be prepared for burns of all sorts and being twisted into various uncomfortable positions and restrained. Here, the menu would be a lengthy one. 

Of course, there would be the social aspect. One of the first things Arthur would do would be to chip away at your social circle. This could be either through slander and manipulation, or more criminal methods like framing, drugging and murder. Eitherway, soon he'll be the only one you'll have, and since he is a jealous man, you would either only be able to interact with a carefully curated group of people, or not at all. 

Order - What are the rules you have to adhere to?

There are too many rules to count when it comes to Arthur Kirkland. He wouldn't spell out all of them for you anyway, since a lot of them are self-evident in his eyes. Besides, he'd want you to live according to the spirit of the rules, rather than him having to lay out an exact wording only for you to engage in loophole abuse. Regardless, here are some of mentioned rules:

If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all. Mind you, this is only towards him - other people are fair game. Although, you'd have to be smart about it and avoid causing second hand embarrassment. This would be easier said than done when you're in company, since your actions would automatically reflect on Arthur, once a certain point in your relationship has been reached. If you'd curse and chew out the world with him, he would be delighted. If you would turn your insults on him, he would burn with rage at the insolence and the impertinence. How dare you undermine his authority! Verbal sparring would be occasionally welcomed, though you'd have to have the sensitivity to tell when the ice is too thin to stand on. 

Behave yourself when we are in mixed company. Even when we are in company in general. To him, you are a pet project, living evidence that he can fashion perfection out of flesh and bone and a willful spirit. Totting you out to other people would come with the expectation that you be a living exhibit of his talents. As such, he wouldn't take it well if you misbehave. Mind you, he wouldn't be above humiliating you in mixed company just to save his own reputation. 

Keep up with the etiquette, will you? Belonging to him would mean you'd have to comply with a whole host of rules and rituals and mannerisms. This can vary depending on his social standing and the time period. The main point would be that you wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb. The irony here is that he would desire you to have the skills and aptitude to get along well with your peers all while wanting you all to himself.

Don't make me repeat myself, pet. There are some phrases Arthur would repeat around you over and over again, like an especially devout priest. He would want you to internalise some truths after all. On the flip side, he would loathe to have to repeat himself when he talks with you, or to have to lay out his instructions a second time. Should he be peeved, and then be forced to repeat himself just because you weren't paying attention, then you would have a punishment awaiting you. Above all, don't talk back when he orders or chastises you - he wouldn't hold back with the yelling and the insults and the condensation if you do. 

 Be honest with me, savvy? I can't smell what you are thinking, after all. For somebody as cunning and devious as Arthur Kirkland, he gets extraordinarily upset when he is given a taste of his own medicine. He would demand you be forthright and honest with him, something that would be very difficult if you don't want to be with him and don't want to anger him at the same time. The reason behind this would be that he would want to trust you, and he wouldn't be able to trust you if he'd have to cut through your lies and half truths and word games. Or if he would only receive your complaints from around five corners, or something of the sort. Asides, if you're the sort to voice your displeasure and be open about your thoughts and feelings (to him, it should be said) then he wouldn't be in for any nasty surprises. 

Rehabilitation - How much will they change you? Will they break you? How much therapy would you need in the event that you get rid of them? 

Arthur Kirkland is the sort of man that would leave scars. He'd want you to be unable to live without him and he'd strive to condition you to dissolve into hysterics should you be separated from him. In the case he should succeed, you'd be fine for a few days and then descend into such emotional turmoil. This would be because he'd have your behavioural structures tailored to him, and without him to act as your focal point, you would grow anxious. Be careful not to go crawling back to him then - each escape would be more mentally challenging then the one before. 

Even when you'd be away from him, his rules would be so ingrained in you that you'd follow them on a subconscious level. You'd find yourself fixing your posture all the time, and weighing each word up against gold before uttering it. Out of reflex you'd discreetly check your surroundings to see where Arthur is and no matter how much you'd police your thoughts, his cynical attitude towards other human beings would have rubbed off on you and infected your mental processes. Arthur would continue to accompany you as the devil on your shoulder, as the voice of your inner critic, as a demon that would haunt your dreams, even if he would no longer be physically present. You'd have to be self-aware and self-conscious to rid yourself of those fetters. 

Aside from that, he wouldn't hesitate to break you to achieve his goals. There would be regrets on his behalf, yes. However, he'd never regret breaking you to the point that he would strive to make amends and see the errors of his ways. Instead, he would blame you for being too rebellious, for having such a brittle character that you broke instead of bending to his will, for being of ill stock and bad breeding. Admitting wrongdoing would be akin to weakness for him, something he would never allow himself to display in front of you.

Perhaps you would retain enough sanity and energy even when broken to flee him, perhaps you would develop a secondary or even tertiary personality to deal with the trauma. Either way, a life without Arthur would be even more cumbersome and hard than when you'd have been whole. It would take years until you'd be able to function normally again, and that is only if the best case scenario of you having a stable life without Arthur hunting you, occurs. 

Zeal - Do they fall fast or slow? What is their reaction to their own feelings?

Ever the romantic at heart, passion would grip him quickly, yet he would be very slow to act on it. It wouldn't be the first case of limerence on his side, and he would want to be sure of his feelings and their longevity before committing to you. Ironically, the more he'd try to wrestle his emotions into control and bottle them, the more potent and out of control they would become. Finally, they would overwhelm him and he would find himself rationalising the most heinous actions. 

The same justifications he would use towards himself would be applied towards other people, maybe even towards you. As time passes, the self-justifications and such would come ever easier, and also more extreme. It would finally reach a point where morality would be flung out the window. Why should he heed boundaries, if there is no punishment for overstepping? Maybe you find some countermeasure within your power that you can exercise to keep him in line. Just don't harbour the illusion that it'll work forever. 

Art doesn't belong to me, nor does the character!

[shini--chan]

So I be seen you hint at Japan's rage, and I'm so curious, as I am similar when it comes to my anger. Would it be possible to have a piece of what it looks like?

Hope this will satisfy your curiosity. This turned out longer than expected

Trigger warnings: violence

Yandere Japan - The Dying of the Light

It was late when Kiku finally unlocked the door to your shared apartment and entered. It was dark, which was surprising to him, but he quickly consoled himself with the notion that you were asleep. It wouldn't be surprising - you were going through a difficult phase and thus had very irregular sleeping patterns.

The shoes came off quickly and were set on the lower area of the gekan, and the coat was hung up. He tiptoed across the living room to your shared bedroom with the intention of checking on you. While the toes of you weren't as affectionate as usual couples, excluding some flights of fancy on his behalf, he was still very attached to you. Even just seeing you was soothing to him.

However, there was nothing soothing about looking in the bedroom this time.

The tatami mats were bare, the futons rolled up in the closet and everything else carefully tucked away in the closets. Kiku hadn't seen you on the coach when he had passed through the living room. It was disquieting, and the anxiety made his fingers prickle.

Heart palpitating and with his breathing quickened, he had his way over to the bathroom on the off chance that you had fallen asleep in the tub. He ripped the door open, only to be greeted by a dark and dry room. Feeling the reality of the situation sink in, he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. You had left him.

His intuition told him there was no use looking for you further in the apartment, and his best option was tracing a route you could have taken. Now that he considered what you had down, he felt the edges of anger creeping up on him. Just when matters had started looking up, when you no longer shied away from him, when you started to accept and comprehend his suggestions - you ruined everything.

Passing through the rooms did nothing to decrease his budding ire. He switched on all the lights on the way to his office; an off-kilter coping mechanism in his case, a tick he couldn't get rid of. Switching on his computer, and sitting down in front of it, he tapped his fingers against the wood impatiently. Here time was essential - you had a head start and he was determined to close the gap.

The inside of the airport was far too cool and far too busy for your tastes. Though, that could just be an effect of having been subject to his whims for so long. A full body shudder rocked through you and you screwed your eyes close as his image popped up in your mind. Having had to play the doting lover for so long to a man like him filled you with self-disgust and even now you could still feel the phantom press of his hands against your hips, against your waist and your neck.

Absent-mindedly, you scratched your arms and pressed yourself against the thin cushioning of the seat. It helped ground you in the here and now. The stereotypical discomfort of airports was proving to be useful in these circumstances. Aside from that, in less than a day, you would be far, far away from Kiku - that fact helped to soothe your nerves a bit.

Yes, in less than a day you would be in London and you'd finally be able to wash yourself from him. You planned to check yourself in a hotel as soon as you landed, and scrub yourself raw during an hour long bath. Every skin cell that had come into contact with him would be washed away. The other places of your body he had come into contact with wouldn't be so quickly cleansened of him, much to your chargin.

Your thoughts were interrupted by an announcement - the gate was opening. With soaring thoughts and light feet, you joined the line, and with how joyous you were, time seemed to pass much faster. It was wonderful how little time it took for you to get through the final stages of bureaucracy and settle down on your seat in the plane. From the moment you made yourself comfortable, you took to staring out the window, and observing the going-ons on the asphalt below.

Meanwhile, you considered what you were going to do once you were in England. Buying new clothes and getting a decent place to stay was on the top of your priority list. Due to the circumstances, you had had no option but to travel light and thus only had clothes for a few days with you. Getting a job wouldn't hurt either - while had money on you and the jewellery you took along for the ride would keep you afloat for a while, it wouldn't last forever.

What you needed was a job that was out of the way. Public positions were too visible, with a high likelihood of him or one of his agents happening upon you. Working for a large company was equally ill advised for similar reasons. It had to be something low profile and out of the way.

You were so engrossed in your musings and observations, that you only registered the person when they tapped your shoulder the second time. Your heart jumped as you whipped around. It was just a stewardess. Red painted lips pulled to a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Uneasiness coiled in your stomach and made breathing harder.

"I'm sorry to disturb you but I must ask you to come with me. There seems to be a mix-up with your booking. We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience", she told you. Plastic smile and hollow words - it made the hair on your neck stand on end.

Still, you got up after a short word of affirmation and collected your hand luggage. Her statement had been specific enough to not require answers or prompting, but too vague to not make you worry. As it was, you couldn't resist without seeming unreasonable or make a scene without getting thrown out. You really needed this flight, so all you could do was follow her and hope for the best.

The bridge and the adjacent hallways seemed all the more sterile now that there weren't bustling with people. The carpeted floor only muffled sounds so much and the distant din of activity was like a tinnitus. Eventually, she opened a door in the wall, one that you had overlooked when you had passed it before. Could you be blamed when a large fresco was directly next to it, and naturally diverted and concentrated attention?

She bade you inside and then left you alone in the spartan room. Shakily, you set your bag down next to the table and made yourself as comfortable as you could on the black plastic chair.

The request of the flight attendant still seemed plausible, given that this was a makeshift office. Not one used all too frequently, judging by the thin layer of dust on the computer set up, and the lack of personal touch to the space. There was even a fingerprint scanning device, so it wasn't like it was an old, forgotten office.

In your nervousness, you wrung your hands and got up from your chair. As you paced back and forth, thoughts and scenarios raced through your head.

What exactly had gone wrong? Would you still make it in time for the flight? If not, would they at least be decent enough to offer an alternative? One that would bring out of here as fast as possible? You needed to leave Japan, and staying a minute longer than was possible meant endangering yourself.

Questions upon questions upon questions, and the lack of meaningful activity was doing nothing to quiet them. Nervousness only made them all the louder, so loud that you couldn’t hear your race heart anymore.

What you did hear, however, was the door opening once again. And in entered the last person you wanted to see now. Kiku regarded you with a passive expression, as if this was just a normal encounter, and he hadn’t caught you running away red-handed. A scream lodged itself in your throat and your hands started to tremble and sweat profusely.

“My darling, you look so out of sorts. So lost without me”, he mused. While the words that were spoken were soft on their own, his tone was cold. It made your heart plunge. He took a step forwards, you took a step backwards. The edge of the table dug into the small of your back, grounding you and showing you that all this was painfully real.

Thin lips tugged upwards in a mockery of a smile - it was more a sneer than anything else - and your alleged lover grasped your chin. He was being rougher than usual, and your skin and muscles were compressed to your jawbone. In an attempt to mitigate the pain, you raised your hands to claw his fingers away.

Before you could do that however, he caught your hands with his free one and pushed them away. The grip on your face loosened, and he shushed you. Fingers brushed your hair back and cupped your face and he whispered in a low voice:

“Why are you so scared and afraid? I’m here, I’ll always be here and I’ll never let you go.”

From somebody else, such gestures would have been romantic and soothing. From him, it was just condescending and made your skin crawl. Tears welled up in your eyes and your nose burned. You forced each breath in and out in an effort not to start sobbing in front of him - he would just relish in that, and it would wound your pride.

He released you and took a step back, eyes trailing up and down your body, eyed your bag. The muscles in his jaw twitched and he stared at you coldly.

In a spur of the moment choice, you threw yourself to the side and rounded him, checking him in the shoulder while you did so. You even managed to get past him. Adrenaline made your perception of time slow down as you reached for the door handle. Which was why it was also so disorientating when the situation abruptly changed.

Just as your fingers brushed over the cool aluminium, you were yanked back. Your tormentor stemmed you up and used the resulting momentum to throw you over his hip. Your breath was knocked out of your lungs when you were slammed down on the cold concrete, and sharp pain shot up and down your spin.

For a few moments you could just lie there, winded and in anguish. Spots swam in your vision and you were in too much discomfort to even attempt to get up. When Kiku spoke, it sounded like you were underwater:

“Did you really think that you would get far like that? It was the airport staff that pulled you from that plane on my order. So who would have helped you? The people that would have counted would have returned you to me, and those that don’t would have just looked away.”

Hands dug into the front of your jacket and yanked you into a sitting position. You groaned as fingers dug in your hair and forced you to look at him. By now, you were beginning to feel nauseous from the pain and the manhandling.

"You lied to me. You played me for a fool and betrayed me. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

At that, you giggled; you just couldn't help yourself. Time and time again you had imagined yourself confronting him, of highlighting his misdemeanours and evoking either guilt or rage in him. Generally, he was difficult to irritate, forget about anger, so seeing him wrathful was a surreal experience.

"No", you stated simply. After all, you had done nothing wrong. "I only regret not leaving sooner."

It was the wrong thing to say, but you were tired of constantly having to say the right thing. Balancing on the tightrope on a daily basis. Though judging from Kiku's expression, he was gaining an appetite for punishing you.

[shini--chan]

Hello space monkeys - the last items on the latest update schedule haven't been published yet due to sickness and some other private matters (preparing for a medival fair). However, they should be published sometime this month or next month.

Have a nice day,

Shini

[shini--chan]

If this ask is something you'd rather not do, I totally understand, but it's something I genuinely have wondered about. How would the Allies react to someone they kidnapped threatening to commit suicide if not released?

Combining the asks over here, since the answer to all of these is more or less the same.

Depending on what time periode and which person we are talking about, your opinion wouldn't matter either way. If they see the situation as spiraling out of control, they'll take meassures to regain control and stabilise all matters at hand. They might mull over your words for a bit, and reflect on what your actions could be.

Neverless, much of the time they would put their wants and needs over yours, so threatening suicide or saying you're going to get an abortion would only make them angry and clamp down harder on you.

If possible, they would seek to put you in a situation where you have as little power as possible, so they might just even laugh at you if you'd say such things to them