— path of destruction

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍʏ ʟɪᴘs— ᴍᴇʀᴄʏ ɪs ғᴏʀ ᴡɪᴍᴘs! ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴀ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴ 'σρρσѕє' ʀʜʏᴍᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜ '∂ιѕρσѕє'.

[mettasing]

he may be an ugly ass clown bastard but he's also an icon okay

[tobespecialgone]

scarydragonbitch​:

PSA -

VILLAINS ARE VILLAINS.

Villains are not a precious little punching bag that’s going to stand there and take your shit and be sassy with their hand on their hip. If you mess with the bull you get the horns – if you push a villain, you will get the wrath of a villain. If your character is rude/disrespectful to a villain, especially one in a high place of power, and the villain lashes out (whether it be verbally or physically) – 

THEN YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO BE UPSET ABOUT IT. WHAT DID YOU EXPECT TO HAPPEN?

Don’t write with villain/cruel/evil characters if you can’t deal with a villain/cruel/evil character being less than nice to your precious cinnamon roll of a character. Surprise! That’s not how this works! If the villain suddenly kills your character without having spoken to you first, then you have absolutely every right to be mad. But if your character receives a verbal lashing or non-lethal physical response that is in character for the villain to give, then you need to deal with it. 

I’m also sick of this sense of prerogative way of thinking certain characters hold when it comes to villains. This mindset of, ‘oh this person is evil, bUT OBVIOUSLY THEY’LL LOVE ME AND I’LL BE THEIR SPECIAL SOMEONE THEY WON’T HATE ME OR TRY AND KILL ME.“ NO. STOP THAT. You cannot go into interactions with villains expecting them to absolutely fall in love with your character/be best friends with them. This is why it’s most times excruciatingly difficult to ship/bro-ship with villains. And even if this does happen, you should expect a villain to still be aggressive and/or rude from time to time. 

A VILLAIN DOES NOT STOP BEING A VILLAIN JUST BECAUSE THEY ARE IN A RELATIONSHIP.

I’ve written villains for a long time now, and one thing has been made perfectly clear – you will get shit for writing your character too IC and you will get shit for writing your character too OOC. You will be fucking cursed out for your character being aggressive to those who are rude to them, and you will be blasted for writing them being nice even just from time to time. So fellow villain writers – just let your villain flag fly. Don’t fucking listen to people who try and give you shit either way for your portrayal. To those who do not write villains – respect them. Just because your character is sassy and spunky, doesn’t automatically give them the right to try and be disrespectful to someone who is most likely superior to them.

TL;DR IF YOU CAN’T STAND THE HEAT, GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN. IF YOU CAN’T DEAL WITH SOMEONE BEING CRUEL TO YOUR MUSE, DON’T WRITE WITH VILLAINS.

[xdetruo]

banairai​:

before the fall   ►   accepting

@xdetruo​ said: [ UNLEASH ] @ pirate boyo

[ UNLEASH ]: your muse unleashes their power/weapons on the battlefield, resulting in a considerable advantage to their side.

          Like chaos had chosen to rain over him that day. He had been taken completely unawares and was none the wiser when he heard a cackle from the line of trees. He realized only too little too late what was happening and then he found himself burning and flung across the dirt with such tremendous force, the cackling still in his ears as he lay against a rock that happened to stop his tumbling, though rather painfully.

          “I should have known.” Balthier wheezes, holding his hand to his side. “I should have known you’d be here.” His mission was to cut their enemies off, trap them before they could reach their target and eliminate them and he had counted four among them. Golbez, Cloud of Darkness, Ultimecia, and the Emperor… but he missed a fifth, it seems.

          “Any more strength and I have no doubt you would have killed me, clown. Why didn’t you?”

          A cacophony of exuberant laughter and electric crackles resounded throughout the forest, albeit the primary source of it floated above treetops, prior to a thunder strike of enormous magnitude dealing a blow in the vicinity of an inconsiderate pirate boy, who rather frequently fell victim to the clown’s schemes. Without a doubt the 'comrades’ of his concocted an impeccable plan, a grand machination to compel Materia’s warriors to subdue, yet prolonged strategic planning was of little interest for him at that time; in despite of Kefka being prone to designing elaborate ploys, the urge to destroy whilst obviously having fun prevailed.

          The other’s whimpers were akin a melody the jester relished and did not intend to conceal the fact, thus once the pained noises reached his hearing, the man wrapped in flamboyant fabrics floated closer to Balthier, who already was spitting out a vexed tirade. Assuming a nonchalantly lying position midair, the jester beheld the blond with unfeigned curiosity, an ambiguous smile stretched accentuated with purple lips, which widened further at the last spoken words. “Why didn’t I, indeed? Hee-hee!” Signature laughter erupted from the depths of his throat denoting the utter amusement, the posture altered slightly, though the gaze remained fixated onto the toy. “If you would die, it would be due to your own weakness. Pathetic!” From previously honeyed tone there was no trace left, a venom dripped from the tip of his tongue, another reminder to never give credence to the facade of ‘the fool’.

[incorrect-final-fantasy]

Kefka: I have an idea:

Leo: No murder.

Kefka: I no longer have an idea.

[valtsv]

currently considering becoming a bother and a nuisance. maybe even a menace or rascal idk i haven’t made up my mind yet

[addicted-to-darkness]

[fuckyeahfinalfantasymusic]

Visit Original Link

[xdetruo]

garuvusu‌:

❛  ‘tis what i observe,   nothing more.  ❜   HE DOES NOT CATCH A CERTAIN COYNESS,   instead his voice smoothes out into an all too soft hum,  one laced with his already baritone tongue.   all too velvet.  all too keen.  but he does not seek to hide his poison unlike the others.  nay,  armour worn is armour wearied,  he is what is splayed out before them  :  a hunter.  a pack of wolves.  a world’s destruction teetering on the edge of his naked fingertips.  one who has consumed the pious aether of a dreaded wyrm.  there are no layers of deceit to be pulled away here,  he was no liesmith.   mayhap zenos cannot find whatever indulgence the harlequin finds in raw chaos.  not that he particularly cared in any way,  though to prick at the skin of a possible foe  …  he has followed this tune before. 

❛  you and yours are but pawns set upon a chessboard,  vying for power that is ultimately meaningless.  ❜    he speaks callously but not carelessly.   the prince’s tongue is not made of gold nor lead,   it is lathered in the decadence of his own wanting.  his indifference is almost frustrating.   he cannot bring himself to hate yet he will besmirch their cause all the same,  no matter if that same collar is wrapped around his own scarred throat.  to hail from a land  —  a world where gods are but passions turned into physical matter,  it readies him for the divine and those who seek divinity all the same.   the katana is set aside,  though not partly sheathed.   eyes which carry an ageless blue loom over kefka,  lashes descent upon his cheek and he merely tilts his head.   ❛   you gorge yourself on destruction until you are dazed.  it is a fleeting joy you cannot touch but you strive for it nonetheless.  why struggle for an empty glass when you might gain another prize  ?   ❜

          The deep low voice slithered over the skin, leaving the stench of that man’s confidence and intricately imposed misconception, a convenient yet fallible conviction developed to further own intents; human existence was uncanny and still had no meaning, a clown could be one’s undoing. Albeit performing the role so credibly availed in concocting own schemes without begetting any suspicions, merely a court mage, an Imperial tool, the superficial title was utterly detested. For a fleeting moment adorned with red paintings eyes narrowed at the other’s words and along with nonchalant shrug fingers unclenched its grip over the fireball, dropping it onto the bereft of life ground with a display of oh so innocent 'not mine’, which was accompanied by incessant palm rubbing against red terrycloth as if smeared.

          No trace of the previous indignation remained, alterations of his mood were too swift and unpredictable, nevertheless, the fickle attention was grasped newly once Zenos deigned to proceed his speech. “Power? I have no need of that!” With a resentful tone obtaining high-pitched manner as the last word was spoken, the jester declared, claiming an offense. For a few instants even own image transformed to emphasize the outrage he had to endure, brows furrowed and line of painted lips assumed a pout; yet offended facade eventually faded to yield to the characteristic buffoonery, when Kefka enthusiastically leaped, throwing hands up and connecting heels. “Destruction is more fun!” A seemingly simplistic inclination for causing ruin concealed a blatant disregard towards even ‘comrades’, champions of Spiritus, had they a mischance of teetering on scales of life and death, he would not hesitate to tap those towards the latter and proclaim it to be boring. They could compete for the domination perennially, yet it stirred no interest within the man himself.

          Whilst remaining floating mid-air the continuation of the other’s words hooked, preventing from levitating beyond the other’s reach, pale blue optics shifted its gaze and fixedly beheld the hunter; a commentation he did not yearn to evoke, yet now hearkened to, whist, immobile. Upon the last word escaping Zenos’ mouth, the exclamation found its way out of his own; the posture of his instantaneously altered, frame bent forward and hand was lifted up to cup the ear as if mimicking the demonstration of undivided attention and intent to actually listen to what that man kept in mind. “A prize?! Let’s hear your proposition!” Bizarre antics for those unfamiliar with the clown could infuriate immeasurably, those various reactions he thrived on.

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

if life decides to cast you as the villain, then gosh darn it be the most flamboyant villain they’ve ever seen

[addicted-to-darkness]

Dissidia NT: Kefka Moveset

[ixa193]

[xdetruo]

ixa193​:

Final Fantasy Record Keeper: Kefka Palazzo (Final Fantasy VI)

Burst Super Soul Break: Symphony of Madness

Rot and Ruin: Deal four magic poison and dark attacks to one target

Jesters Dance: Temporarily lower the Attack of all enemies a large amount, with a small chance to Slow them.

(x)

[xdetruo]

@thiefwho​ said: “ i’ve polished this anger and now it’s a knife. ”

sentence starters || accepting

          After the entertaining spat with the Celes’ former companions, the jester did not foresee another encounter to occur so swiftly; a tenacious boy whose confidence and trust into that ungrateful brat he so artfully shattered evoked nothing but a contented humming, immensely elated with own machinations. Those words boldly stated, a sheer insolence of a challenge Kefka did not intend to indulge; an undeniable gratification was in beholding those primitive beings absorbed by cold despair, tight clutches of anguish tightening its grasp around the throat, suffocating, completely annihilating every pathetic excuse for living. “Is that sooo?” Intentionally vocally extending the latter word, he aimed to unveil own utter disregard to their misfortunes, palpable mockery almost literally dripped from every spoken syllable.

          The man contemplated the boy, the wide grin never faded from his lips, pale blue optics narrowed slightly, when a brilliant idea crossed his mind: until the bluff remained unmasked the court mage could revel in his indignation by taunting Locke further; and an overly sweetened tone whispered. “She was always an Imperial spy. Naive wretched fools! Gullible cretins! Hee-hee!” A chuckle painted with apparent ridicule erupted from the depths of his throat and transformed into high-pitched signature laughter, akin the echo resounding within the premises of the current room. A stinging reminder to those people how effortlessly they could be manipulated, a slight nudge and they willingly walked in the required direction. Everyone. Even the emperor.

[xdetruo]

@re-no​​​​ said: “ that’s my emotional support knife collection. ” he may have more than one knife collection. no he will not give any of them away. / :*

sentence starters || accepting

          Investigative Bureau of Research Department - a secretive organization with consummate professionals in its ranks, each capable of performing tasks of varying degrees of complexity and required expertise, frequently evaluated greater than the SOLDIER; thus the premises of their office was not commonly attended by people of lacking importance. Forbidden territory to venture into, upheld by countless regulations, rather frequently enticed interest of the garishly dressed individual, whilst aimlessly wandering around ShinRa building. Abruptly halting walking in nonchalantly jumping manner, the man dramatically froze mid-air as if performing in front of the uncountable public, head tilted backwards slightly to permit pale blue optics to pin its ever so snoopy gaze at the door leading to the Turks’ headquarters. Lips accentuated by purple make-up stretched into a grin, displaying an utterly puckish inclination, proceeding with own theatrics in deliberately short steps Kefka shuffled sideways closer to the door; leaning closer against the door he confirmed the absence of its common inhabitants prior to laying hand onto the door handle and impertinently walking in.

          The very first instants of his presence remained uneventful, with evident hunger deeply saturated with rapture the glance trailed over the room, devouring its furnishings and finery, when a peculiar set beckoned his immediate attention. A splendid collection of refined in their forms knives was shielded beyond glass case, pitiable protection which encountered an audible sigh. Lifting own hands up, his fingers wiggled in anticipation and, carefully placing them onto the corner of the lid, revealed the goods. Eyes flickered with exhilaration as he brushed the fingertip along the edge of one of the blades, a heinous crime to keep such marvelous tools without proper usage and the demented mind could contribute to employment if not for the voice that touched upon his hearing, evoking an exceedingly displeased frown to manifest across his image. Oh well, caught red-handed. At leisure stance shifted to face the other man, decorated countenance almost instantaneously obtained a common to witness casual smile directed at the redhead who favored a similar element, nonetheless the approval of the other male was mercilessly spoiled with an additional comment.

          The posture of his altered under evident condemnation, slouching Kefka remained peering at the Turk, silence lingered between the two, an ominous atmosphere enveloped the man adorned in flamboyant fabrics when eventually he parted lips to speak in a fittingly menacing tone. “Weapons must serve its glorious purpose, not decorate walls in boring rooms.” The dreadful meaning entwined in betwixt those words could indicate the man himself, the project begat not an ordinary SOLDIER, but a mean of ultimate destruction.

[incorrect-final-fantasy]

Emperor Mateus: Kefka, you can be really destructive-

Kefka: I can?!

Emperor Mateus: I wasn’t giving you permission!

Kefka: Too late! I already broke something.

[robvalentines]

“Idiots!”

[xdetruo]

:/ shakes sand all over your carpet and everything else you own

@holyxvi

          Narrowed glance attentively followed the other man’s fluid movements carried him across space, curiosity piqued instantly upon his approach and tilting the head ever so slightly to the side the jester proceeded to behold the Emperor’s every gesture; the candor of the displayed interest would abash, which was reflected in flickering eyes, yet the sheer intent of that man remained still unforeseen. Previously narrowed optics at leisure widened its gaze under the impact of the audacity. Insufferable majesty. Infuriating haughty dimwit. An incessant flow of obscene words traversed through his mind, a comprehensible reaction towards immeasurable insolence to violate his possessions in such a detestable manner - the abhorrent grainy substance was vigorously showered over the belongings, filthy, abominable, maddening. With each passing second the scales of the fragile composure the invisible finger tapped more furiously until the teetering equilibrium was eventually fractured, overflowing with immense exasperation, suffocating. The ire poured out through the cracks of the glass vessel, electrifying the very atmosphere around the man adorned with contrasting colors, with a light jump he took off the ground, lifting self above the other man whilst pale blue optics reflected the full measure of unleashed fury that would soon obtain a more tangible form, flashes of lightning enveloped his hands and threatened to break into fierce thunder. “You want to play, Matty?” Breaking into a high-pitched scream and next instant signature laughter, Kefka generated several orbs of lightning a bit below self before sending the first charge hurtling towards the other. Might as well destroy the pest along with repugnant sand, as even the smallest grain of it was not permitted to exist.

[xdetruo]

@holyxvi​​​ said: “ are you flirting or starting a fight ? ” ( this coming from the guy who's oblivious to such things smh )

sentence starters || accepting

          The opportunity to converse ‘bout anything beyond grand designs scrupulously crafted to obliterate wretched goody two-shoes did not occur frequently; jester’s antics irredeemably entwined with his unstable identity prevented a scheme to follow a smooth route and it eventually derailed. Sabotaging the stratagem of so-called allies was one of the numerous diversions he indulged self with, evoking rather titillating responses and nudging the world closer to the brink of collapse that would consume everyone regardless of their origins. And no one could actually vouch to claim his allegiance. Accentuated with purple lips stretched into a conceited grin, pale blue optics flickered with apparent mischief, accompanied by a signature sound in a jumping manner Kefka moved around the other; that unswerving confidence and domineering posture enticed to create cracks in Mateus’ composure, the scarce reactions the man wrapped in flamboyant fabrics were given appeared to be so pleasurable, thus such ambiguous conduct begat the vocalized wonderment. Painted lips parted to permit the honeyed tone to deliver an inquiry of his own. “What does it seem like, your supremely incompetent lordship? Hee-hee!” High-pitched laughter appended at the end of the speech resonated between two men, as the clown’s small form quivered in the air due to a fit of incessant guffawing - a buffoon display of unfeigned amusement originated by the query; a mocking gesture to mimic the respectable way of addressing to someone of that man’s status eloquently pointed at the lack of expertise in the sphere that was questioned.

          Abruptly ceasing emitting sonorous sounds followed by halting motions, Kefka almost instantaneously altered own stance, he pinned the piercing gaze at the Emperor, probing fixated stare that evaluated the target in front of him. A mere tool to play with? Mayhap, nonetheless enchanting one. The silence reigned between the two, seemingly deliberately lingering with the continuation of the talk none of them dared to violate the moment with meaningless prattle. But someone had to. “When there will be nothing left of this world but a smoking crater, I will let you decide.” An elusive response, vague as the man himself, an audible chuckle erupted from the depths of his throat; grasping the attention of such a fickle individual threatened with unbeknownst consequences. Love, friendship, dreams - bloody idiocy and waste of time, which primitives engaged in, did not possess any value for the man, yet it did not exclude the possibility to employ notions of those for own benefit. Everyone was a toy and that world was his dollhouse. Nothing managed to fill his heart with a thrill for a prolonged time, thus he turned to continuous destruction to fill the crippling void.