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cocogum · 1 day

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I feel like every single primordial eliatrope has a curse they have to deal with whether they realize it or not.

It was obvious with Qilby’s case, but with the other primordials, not so much. Maybe it’s because Qilby’s curse outshines them all which is why we don’t really realize what the others might be dealing with.

Glip’s gift: Gifted with the will and dedication to teaching the history of the eliatropes to the next generation.

Glip’s curse: His copious source of knowledge for the Eliatrope children has to be studied and memorized and repeated over and over again so he can transfer it again and again, essentially teaching the same thing for eternity.

Mina’s gift: Gifted with the wisdom to solve all the quarrels that could divide their people.

Mina’s curse: Has to constantly solve the problems of others no matter how small it may be in her eyes.

Yugo’s gift: Gifted with the heroic passion to adventure, travel, and protect his people.

Yugo’s curse: Constantly lives in danger. He can never rest from it all because his warrior spirit cannot allow it.

Nora’s gift: Gifted with innocence and being free-spirited. To preserve these feelings and spread them to the people.

Nora’s curse: Innocence easily gets ruined.

Chibi’s gift: Gifted with the brilliant mind to invent.

Chibi’s curse: All inventions made for his people rest on his shoulders. One fatal mistake and everything crumbles. He has to be careful if the invention properly works.

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elryuse · 2 days

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Can you make a Yandere Mina? But I want the Male Reader/OC to be a yandere too or he is a yandere lover (I hope you get what I mean).

Our Perfectly Normal Lovely Relationship

YANDERE MINA X YANDERE MALE READER

The spotlight bathed Mina in a blinding white glow. Her porcelain skin seemed to shimmer as she delivered the final note of her hit song, the screams of her adoring fans echoing through the stadium. But behind the perfectly sculpted facade, a storm brewed within her. Her eyes, usually sparkling with manufactured charm, scanned the audience, searching for a single face – Y/n's.

There he was, lost in the sea of glowing lightsticks, his face etched with a devotion that sent a familiar thrill through her. Months ago, a single DM on Instagram, a simple message praising her latest song, had ignited a spark. Yet, it wasn't just the adoration that captivated her; it was the raw passion in his words, an undercurrent of obsession that mirrored her own.

Weeks of meticulously crafted online interactions later, Y/n was hers. Their dates were filled with whispered secrets and stolen glances, a whirlwind romance fueled by a shared intensity that bordered on madness. He'd confessed his unwavering love for her music, but Mina saw a hunger in his eyes that went far beyond mere fandom.

Their love deepened, a possessive, suffocating embrace that felt strangely comforting. Mina used her influence to eliminate any perceived threats – a journalist who dared to write a critical review, a fellow idol whose eyes lingered on Y/n a second too long. Y/n, in turn, became her silent guardian, meticulously monitoring her online interactions. He'd even taken to leaving "gifts" at the doorsteps of her competitors – poisoned chocolates, threatening notes signed with a single crimson rose.

One rainy afternoon, while Mina was away at a recording session, curiosity gnawed at her. With a mix of nervous excitement and trepidation, she decided to use her spare key to enter Y/n's apartment. The air hung heavy with a strange musky scent, and goosebumps prickled on her skin as she stepped inside.

Then she saw it – a hidden door, ajar at the back of the living room. Her heart pounded in her chest as she pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit room that sent a tremor of dread through her veins. Walls plastered with her pictures, newspaper clippings detailing her career, and a makeshift shrine adorned with her personal belongings – her discarded microphone, a ripped piece of clothing, a crumpled love letter she'd carelessly tossed months ago.

Y/n's obsession mirrored her own, a chilling realization that should have terrified her. Instead, a twisted sense of belonging bloomed in her chest. Here, in this room filled with her essence, she found not fear, but a terrifying sense of completion.

That night, when Y/n returned, his face pale with shock at finding her in his secret room, Mina knew she wouldn't tell a soul. In fact, a macabre plan began to form in their minds. They weren't just two souls bound by love; they were instruments of a twisted symphony of obsession.

Their first target was Detective Kim, a man haunted by unsolved cases with eerily similar methods. He'd been following Mina's career for years, a nagging suspicion festering in his gut. But without concrete evidence, his suspicions remained just that.

Their plan unfolded with chilling efficiency. They lured Detective Kim to a secluded warehouse under the pretense of a tip. Detective Kim, ever the tenacious investigator, arrived alone, unaware of the twisted game he was about to become a part of.

The warehouse echoed with the metallic clang of a single light bulb swinging precariously overhead. Mina, her face devoid of its usual pop idol charm, watched with a chilling detachment as Y/n tightened the binds around the detective's wrists.

"You've been a thorn in our side for far too long, Detective," Y/n hissed, his voice laced with a dangerous calmness. "You'll learn why some things are better left undisturbed."

There was no elaborate torture, no prolonged suffering. Their act was swift and brutal, a single, fatal blow silencing Detective Kim forever. It wasn't about inflicting pain; it was about removing a threat, a chilling testament to the power their love wielded.

With Detective Kim gone, they were free. But the taste of blood, the thrill of silencing a potential threat, ignited a new spark within them. They craved more. Their crimes became bolder, more audacious. They targeted high-profile individuals, leaving behind their calling card – a single crimson rose, forever a reminder of the terrifying couple they were becoming.

The media dubbed them the "K-Pop Killers," a Bonnie and Clyde for the modern age. Their infamy skyrocketed, a macabre mix of fear and fascination gripping the nation. Mina, the fallen idol, became a symbol of shattered innocence, while Y/n, the enigmatic figure lurking in the shadows, became an object of morbid curiosity.

Years passed, a trail of bodies and stolen jewels marking their path. They remained elusive, ...a phantom couple leaving a nation breathless and terrified. Interpol joined the hunt, their faces plastered on wanted posters plastered across continents. From daring diamond heists to meticulously planned assassinations, they were a whirlwind of calculated chaos, their crimes fueled by their twisted love and a morbid sense of liberation.

Their notoriety reached a fever pitch when they orchestrated the kidnapping of a high-ranking politician's daughter. The nation watched with bated breath as demands were issued, a single crimson rose left on the national news desk every night. Negotiations stalled, the city held hostage by an invisible threat.

Just as the deadline loomed, authorities received a tip. A lone fisherman claimed to have seen them on a remote, uncharted island. With the military on high alert, a task force descended on the island, a swarm of helicopters tearing through the pristine silence.

What they found sent shivers down their spines. Nestled amidst the palm trees stood a dilapidated beach hut, the only sign of life. The air hung heavy with an acrid metallic tang. As the soldiers cautiously breached the door, they were met with a macabre tableau.

Mina and Y/n lay sprawled on the floor, their bodies riddled with bullets, limbs tangled in a final, desperate embrace. Their eyes, wide open, stared blankly at the ceiling, a chilling mirror of their shared madness. But it wasn't fear that etched their faces; it was a twisted joy, a macabre triumph that sent a tremor of unease through the soldiers.

"Told you this island was perfect, darling," Y/n rasped, his voice weak but laced with a twisted satisfaction.

Mina, her once vibrant eyes clouded with a dark euphoria, managed a weak cough before whispering, "Together forever, Y/n. Just like we planned." They both smiled maniacally.

Their reign of terror was over, their love story forever stained with blood. News reports proclaimed their demise a victory, a dark chapter finally closed. Yet, as the bodies were loaded onto helicopters, a single crimson rose, untouched by the chaos, lay nestled between their cold, lifeless hands.

In the end, they weren't just lovers, not just criminals. They were the Mina and Y/n duo, a chilling legend whispered in hushed tones – a testament to the darkness that lurks beneath the surface, a love story written in blood, forever etched in the memory of a nation.