#tw pill use implied

[r1poutmygvtz]

maybe i should've listened when they said it was addictive, i should've listened when they said it would ruin me, i should've listened when they first said i needed help, i should've listened

[darknights-beloved]

you shall not cause yourself to wither, not in my embrace, not while i still hold you

(and not forever, not even after death)

"It is I who cherishes those hands and holds them with my own. Happy birthday, my darling. I am immensely proud of you." i dont know how this ended up as my birthday fic, but here we are <3 maybe its all the years of growth im grateful for, and here i am.

diluc x reader

wc ⸺ 8.4k

cw; hurt/comfort ◞ implied abusive ( ? ) family ◞ afab! reader ◞ self indulgent (appearance mentioned - dark hair, dark pupils) (personality - heavily implied introvert mainly, adhd and traumatized if you squint) ◞ implied trauma (nothing too explicit. just vague details.) ◞ depression/anxiety ◞ tw self harm (/other mildly suicidal themes) ◞ established relationship (husband and wife. uses of 'husband' 'wife') ◞ once again self indulgent ◞ reader with questionable parents (abusive, overbearing, narcisisstic...etc) ◞ reader is mainly feeling numb due to emotinal trauma catching up w/ them ◞ somewhat melodramatic (in my eyes at least) ◞ mention of pills/medicine ◞ terms of endearment ◞ kissing and holding as always ◞ any and all backstory is mostly vague this is for my broken souls who suffer because of others and are not kind to themselves. pure comfort from here on out. needless to say that it is strictly sfw! hopefully, im not forgetting any other warnings or missing something, if so please reach out! <<<<

synopsis; to cherish someone is to ache for them, more so as they ache. you've hurt yourself and diluc's heart aches deeply. you dont deserve it you both know it - and yet there it is, the stubborn ache that your husband will conquer (even more so stubbornly) and replace with a loving, gentle ache of tenderness instead. - in other words, diluc ragnvindr, comes back home to the manor to see his wife anguished by the troubles of her mind and other factors playing a part in doing so. he takes care of you with nothing but devotion and protectiveness and worry for the night as he will tenaciously every single day of his life no matter how much you think you dont deserve it.he'll show you how beautiful you are.

 Diluc drew in a shaky breath of air as soundlessly he stepped into the stillness of your shared chambers.

His eyes rove over your figure, laid upon lavish crimson sheets with your head burrowed into the soft pillows and fast asleep. Dark, black locks of hair tousled, splayed in contrast stark against the gentle white of the pillow. You were huddled by the comfort of the bed he had always lovingly arranged for your every night’s rest, sleeping soundly. You were safe.

His shoulders relaxed as he made his way forward to your sleeping figure, taking a closer look at your tired form. For now, he wanted to push any worries present aside and focus himself on you. He tugged at the tips of his glove, each finger until it was made easy to pull out. Then wearily making move to cast the leather fabric aside to the dresser, bare and calloused hands reaching out to you and gentle fingers coming down to weave through your soft hair. Another breath leaves his lips.

You were safe.

⸺⸺⸺

Just this morning, you were with him ── happily chatting away by the coffee and snacks table as the two of you shared a pleasant breakfast prepared by no other than Adelinde. You had a small cold too due to the yearly season so the head maid made sure to whisk up a warmer, nutritious meal than usual, suited to ease the strain and drain of your sickness.

Unexpectedly, later, the moment was interrupted by a particularly probing businessman who unabashedly demanded the master’s attention from the distillery’s staff. To say Diluc was vexed with the sudden incident – no less while the two of you were peacefully enjoying yourselves – was to put it mildly. It took about an hour just to deal with the man and another to shut him up completely and shoo him away until he disappeared from the Windwail Highlands itself.

the moment he returned, however, he failed to catch sight of you anywhere in or near the Winery. He questioned his staff and most of them only had short, uncertain answer. But you were gone, this for sure.

You didn’t tell him, or anything. The maids were already done cleaning up along with your much hardly eaten breakfast, discarding away the leftover food as they washed the plate in the sink, simply going about their usual duties. It was nothing all too surprising; you usually tended to skip this meal of the day and in consequence he’d chide you for the lack of care you hate for your wellbeing sometimes. But today, he had gotten you to sit down and eat with him. Despite all the food he set onto your plate, perhaps all you had eaten was a small bun or so. Did the incident with that snob put you off? If so, he had barely constrained himself on throwing his fists at the bigot before lest you’d disapprove of his actions, but he’d most certainly like to punch him now. You were often wary of social attention and the attention he got as Duke of Mond certainly didn’t help.

He looked around the walls of the manor, searching for you with soft yet urgent calls of your name only to hear no reply. No reassurance. You must be in your shared room, yes? No. By his desk, sitting in a position that was very likely to strain your neck later as you draw fond sketches of him? No. Outside. You must be outside. He didn’t check outside yet.

“Master Diluc.” The head maid cleared her throat gently, a trace of concern etched onto her features.

Diluc halted his aimless pacing around the Winery by the doorway of his office, with a solemn expression. “Where is my she, my wife? I’m looking for her.” He stated forthright, eyes searching hers for an answer.

“Where is she?”

But the way the older maid averts her gaze slightly, an ounce of hesitation weighing her silence makes his chest tighten.

“She hastily left just half an hour ago, saying something about taking care of or accompanying her parents somewhere. To…lunch, I think.” Diluc’s eyebrows furrowed but Adelinde’s expression remained flat. “She did not inform us where as she scrambled to the door last-minute.”

“Parents…?” Diluc echoed quietly with a tone that could only be identified as a mix of caution. Anyone with eyes good enough could tell that he didn’t like what he was hearing. “Did she take her coat?” Mondstadt would only get windier by nightfall. Your cold would worsen.

“No, I don’t believe so.”

A pause.

“And you did not attempt to make me aware of this?” His jaw ticks.

“She had advised us not to bother you.”

An exasperated sigh left his lips gruffly the moment her words reached his ears. He simply turned, marching towards the hanger by his office, snatching the coat off it roughly by the collar as he sloppily slipped his arms into the leather sleeves.

“You shouldn’t have listened.”

That was all, he abandoned the conflicted maid and strode urgently and purposefully away from the winery, off to Archons knows where and hopefully catch sight of you.

⸺

Diluc’s thoughts were scattered. Partly because of his concern and frustration, for good reason too. He was sure his jaw would tense up painfully later from how much he was clenching it. Your faring with your parents was…strained, to put it mildly. Generously, too. He could not bring himself to trust them around you. He knew he was being stubborn, to not take your reassurance when you tell him you are able to handle things on your own. But how could you not even inform him of your departure? He’s more than just concerned; he feels mad and a little hurt. You always, always if called outdoors on any occasion, leave him with a sweet kiss of goodbye and a “I’ll return safely, dear” that the man was always accustomed to.

And today, you had not just disappeared onto any happy occasion, but you were with your parents. Your parents. People who never failed to repulse him by endangering you emotionally or physically by their selfishness, unresolved conflicts and troubles and own lack of understanding.

Then there’s you, with a benevolent heart with unfathomable empathy that hidden away in its core. And the Ragnvindr could never quite bring himself to understand how on Teyvat you could still care for them at times. He’s had his own fair share of family drama; or mayhap more than just what can be considered a ‘fair’ share but he knew for sure and in clear, unforgiving black and whites that anyone who do not even had a shred of decency and respect towards you simply doesn’t deserve to be in your presence.

He could never ensure your safety around them. He trusts you, truly he does, but he’s not a fool. He doesn’t trust them. Ultimately, Diluc only seeks definitive reassurance from you, the fact that you are indeed safe.

⸺

Hours later, and he’s restless. He’s scoured half of Mond and not even a knight dare question him, not wanting to be met by the scorching glare in the Ragnvindr’s red eyes. Caught up by a few pig-headed noblemen on the way or a few drunkards by the tavern who seemed to be causing their daily trouble who delayed him. He knows he shouldn’t prod like this in your affairs but your affairs with them were nothing but trouble.

Your husband remembers the many times you’ve been alone with your parents and then when you finally return to his arms, you don’t tell him about your stay with them. It’s always a vague answer. If he asks you what happened, it’s always “we’re doing good” “it’s fine” and he could never shake off the unease that crawled up his back at those words.

Only when he was met the outrider’s words of reassurance that she had seen you heading back to the Winery much later did he give up on his search. He breathed a soft sigh of relief, more than eager to get back home to you–

“Master Diluc, a fight has broken out in the bar between two knights! No. Wait. Three.” Charles panted, running towards Diluc the moment the barkeep spotted the Master in view. “- drunk knights.”

The Ragnvindr gritted his teeth, silently seething. “Those…imbeciles…” Charles panicked slightly, with a slightly confused expression on his face.

Diluc just sighed deeply, reigning in all his frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s no use talking about it. I will tend to them shortly.” This was taking much, much longer than he could ever be pleased with.

⸺⸺

Dusk had fallen. He hadn’t expected you to sleep so early, not when you always wanted to hang by his side all night alongside him as he did his paperwork. And were it not for the mishaps of his day he would’ve arrived home to you earlier so.

However, his frustration melted away seeing you safely tucked into the sheets as his heart beats calm down significantly in relief. He had scarcely been able to focus on anything but you. It really, really wasn’t like you to sleep early. You must be tired if you’re not going to stubbornly push yourself to stay awake. Shrugging off his coat, he slowly sat at the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. Any questions he had can wait for until after you’ve had your rest.

The truth is you’ve been uncomfortable for days now. Weeks. Only recently had you been progressing well. There's a hollow look in your eyes. No matter how hard you try to feel okay and how much ever his heart aches at the sight, it's as though a fragment - a delicate, precious fragment - of you is missing. His darling.

And the thought of you ever being sad or disoriented destroys him.

Diluc tries not to let the weight of his sinking heart be the focus of his mind now. As soon as he refreshed himself, changing himself into a loose set of nightclothes – a flame flickers and dances at the tip of his finger as it lights a candelabra that stood gracefully on the nightstand, the small flame soon burning down from the top of the wick. He set aside the ornate on the nightstand, along with his vision. His movement were deft as a hunter’s as he carefully reaches out a hand to check your temperature. Your forehead…feels warm. Not too warm. A soft sigh escapes him. He hopes you’ve at the very least eaten when you got back and taken your nightly medicine. Though, noting the stiff outdoor apparel that still clung to your skin as you slept, he knew you would have likely done neither.

At one glance itself, it was easily to tell you had mostly collapsed into bed the second you had returned home.

“You must be tired...” he murmurs quietly, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze is still stuck to you, red eyes swimming with concern as they drift over your figure while he carefully sat against the headboard, mattress sinking slightly under his weight. “you’ve worried me, dear.”

Worried is an understatement.

His arm comes to wrap around the side of your waist and pulling you closer to his side to which you unconsciously lean into his warmth, seeking his presence even in your sleep. Roughened fingers come down to caress the softness on your cheeks, only to feel almost something wet brush against his skin. His brows knit together as he felt damp tears against your cheek – a clear sign you had been crying.

You avoid crying. Resent crying. You didn’t like crying in front of anyone. Even in front of him, sometimes. Just as he was physically strong for you, you’ve always wanted to be his emotional rock in turn and perhaps to a fault. His protective instincts kicked in, alarm bells sounding loudly in his brain as he wipes away the dampness with a warm finger and strokes your hair, trying to soothe you in your sleep. He whispered your name softly, with a mixture of tenderness and worry. He wanted to wake you, ask you what was wrong, hold you but he didn’t want to disturb you.

His mind raced with possibilities at what could’ve caused such an emotional reaction from you at this. He was sure, without a second thought, that it had something to do with your family. He was sure of it. You disappear in the late morning, don’t inform him about a word of your departure, when he’s back you’re in bed early and there’s tears staining your cheeks. The very thought of you crying alone in bed only makes him bristle in more than just one protective instinct. Such nightmares you of all people should not have to endure. And yet…

He struggles to shake out of the darkening thoughts that start to cloud his head and tries to focus on your breathing. He couldn’t help but wonder just what had caused you to cry. Was it something that happened while you were out? Yes, he could be wrong, but his intuition was nagging at him badly. Mind racing with a million possibilities, he forced himself to push the same thoughts that haunted him and lurked at the back of his mind earlier this same day.

You still had your cold. He knew the best thing he could do right now was let you rest and recover as much as you can. He hesitated for a moment and decided to watch over you until you were awake again, leaning down to press a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead as his heart aches with a mixture of concern and affection.

Feeling his warmth, you shudder slightly. A welcome contrast to the cold your body feels right now. Despite his best efforts of keeping, you undisturbed, you couldn’t help but stir awake as your body recognizes his presence and awakes your senses. Though he wasn’t too surprised when he felt you awake.

His heart stills as your eyes flutter open, momentarily frozen in his movements.

“oh, you’re back..” his heart clenches when he sees your hand discreetly try to wipe any tears you thought was there, only to feel your cheeks warm and dry. A flicker of realization passes through your expression. You don’t look at him directly.

“why didn’t you wake me? I was wondering if you’d be concerned about my sudden disappearance.” You murmured quietly, watching his brows furrow slightly. There’s a pang of guilt in your heart. Of course he was worried.

“You’re exhausted.” He frowns slightly, his tone firm but caring “Needless to say, your cold. Why would I wake you up?” “And I was half mad all the day, not knowing where you were or if you were okay.” He withheld a sigh, feeling you snuggle up against him. But when you coughed into your fist, he felt his fists clench involuntarily. You should’ve rested. You should’ve informed him, or something... He normally would’ve rolled up his sleeves and give you a stern talking to but you didn’t even seem all that fully awake.

However, you felt his frustration melting away as you gingerly laid your head on his shoulder, only making him hold you tighter in a protective embrace. “Where have you been, my love?” he continues, his tone softening as worry whelms any other emotion he feels right now. “What’s happened, hm? You did not even care to inform me? You should know you’re not inconveniencingme by something as plain as that, darling.”

“besides, you’re still sick” he stresses, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice.

You stiffened at his gentle scolding, though you knew it came from a good place. A protective place that wants to keep you safe. Though, it was not out of fear nor anything alike, but more of guilt. You could be reckless sometimes, you knew that. But this time, it was more than just recklessness. You knew that and that made you feel guiltier.

“My parents had called for me-“ you reasoned weakly, as though an important excuse. A proper justification. “They don’t like it when I turn them down. You know how they are…” averting your gaze, your own tone softened much more “with me, with us…”

Your eyes drifted to the wall across, a sort of dull white. A thoughtful on your face as you recounted the incident with them.

What was supposed to be a pleasant lunch with them quickly turned sour. The food sat in your stomach uncomfortably the whole walk back home, your guts churning with the need to just shrink away. It was pathetic, really. You were supposed to be strong. And yet,

“They get suspicious quickly.”

You felt another cough coming on, stifling it to no avail as you bring your knee to your chest and your husband’s worried gaze doesn’t relieve at all. The way you said it, it makes him stomach churn. He knows how they are. But he knows you too. You’re being vague. A little too vague than usual.

Though hearing you excuse their overbearing behavior simply because they’re your parents makes his jaw tighten. “They do not own you like that, my flower. You shouldn’t have to drop everything and run to them whenever they call. Especially when you’re unwell..”

He pauses, his gaze studies you as he tries to get a read on your expression. Your eyes are still, not so subtly, avoidant of him. He could see the weariness in them, the obvious pallor in your cheeks. It didn’t help that you were trying to hide the effects of the cold from him either.

“You have to take better care of yourself, my love.. And you need to set boundaries with your family…you can’t let them keep guilt you into things like this. I won’t.”

He reaches out and pulls the blanket over the lower half of your body, feeling your faint shudders and shivers.

“I know…I do, I just...” your voice falters and you feel your words failing you. It wasn’t just this situation and you know it. How to describe the tumultuous rage of emotions in your heart when your mind violently blocks all your feelings? It’s stuck in your throat; it’s almost choking you and you hate it. You also hate that he can see it, that it’s worrying him, deeply.

(oh if only you knew where his worry was coming from…) albeityour doubts and fears were the most stubbornest things about you and you loathe it.

And how can you reassure him when it’s so clear that in your eyes a spark is missing, a spark he’d do anything to reignite until they smile and shine so brightly yet softly as though a sea of stars were poured into the darkness of your pretty pupils.

His heart hurts. Gods, you’re usually so talkative. He loves listening to every word that falls from your lips, music strung by your pretty voice. But now you’re awfully silent and he doesn’t miss the way your lips tremble every time there’s but a syllable on the tip of your tongue. Albeit the silence is unnatural in every aspect, he doesn’t push it.

It hasn’t just been weeks and both of you know it, pretending will only get someone so far. It’s been months and it hurts. It hurts him as much as it hurts you. The past few weeks were only more prominent, the numbness stronger and more palpable compared to the days before that. You’re falling apart and he keeps picking you back up, with gentle and nonetheless steady hands. For Archon’s sake, you’ve even demanded him why. Why didn’t – couldn’t – he just give up on you already? What makes him so patient, so kind, so caring? To stay by your side with the softest of smiles and go to the point of exhausting himself to keep you safe and cared of. Loved. Was he even tired at all?

Instead, you snuggle up just a little closer to his side and Diluc’s expression softens a tad bit more. Both arms now come to wrap around your smaller figure, as if protecting you from the world, from your fears. He turns to face his body to you somewhat, his chin propping itself right above the top of your head as he takes in your scent to ground both you and himself.

“I missed you..” you breathe and his heart clenches at how timid it sounds. No matter how much you may try to conceal your emotions or hide your thoughts from him, sometimes its as thought he knows more about you than you do about yourself. And in times you forget who you really are, he is more than happy to remind you.

“I’ve missed you more, mein liebe.” whispers he in return, his voice a little more quieter.

“we will take care of this later” he promised, pressing his lips to your right hand with absolute reverence. “for now, let me take care of you..”

He felt you shuffle nervously in your place, your left-hand stiffening under the blanket. His brows furrow, alarm bells sounding in his head as he sensed you were conscious of your movement, intentionally keeping it away from him. He knows sometimes you avoid his kisses out of your own insecurity but never quite deliberately and without being aware of what you were doing.

He felt his stomach sink as his hand searched yours underneath the soft blanket.

“Darling-?” he caught your hand in his fairly quickly, concern immediately etching onto his face as he feels you tug away from him.

“What are- “ you tugged your hand again as you hid the upper half away underneath, and he saw the panic rise in your eyes like urgent flames with only one instinct in mind.

“it’s nothing.” There it is. Your tone, it was uncomfortable and you cursed yourself for it. “Can you not do that- “

Your efforts were to no avail. You watched in helplessness and panic as his fingers brushed against a rough scrape with your broken and abrased skin around it, his blood going cold as he felt his heart lurch with ripples of shock electrocuting it so - on your ring hand no less where a red rose carved diamond rests on your ring finger. His heart dropped to a million pieces as he felt you quick, desperate protests, flying out of your mouth instinctively.

“W-wait…Diluc! D-don’t…. I didn’t-“ To hide this from him. His eyes darkened.

“What have you done?”

The words sound strangled in his throat; each syllable being forced out as though it were he was forcing out pointy daggers out of his esophagus instead. His held your hand firmly but gently – the last thing he ever wanted to do was cause you more pain.

“I-“ but the words were strangling you, too. Each cutting through your throat as you tried to force out your own set of daggers. You weren’t as strong as him. Not that you could find a coherent word in your head to word anyway. You had caused yourself harm, again.

His thumb silently traced across the scratches, cut deep but not too deep. Perhaps just deep enough for it to sting in the cold air, for you to wince at the touch and gentle tracing of his finger – for it to leave a small scar behind and to swell around the edges. The sight were knives twisting at the guts of his heart, hurting him more than it could hurt you. He slowly rubs against the slight swell, feeling your hand tense under his touch. One cut just below your pinky, another on the opposite side of your wrist and one in the middle, below them.

Those were three cuts.

He felt a wave of despair and anger wash over him, a roaring fire that burned furiously in his eyes, with emotions too loud to identify and some he could’ve even name. Hopelessness and sadness mixing alongside it. His grip on your wrist tightens slightly and you know you can’t escape even if you wanted to. His eyes trail over the self-inflicted wounds, swimming with anguish and then slowly but inevitably - unshed tears. He grits his teeth.

“I don’t understand.” His eyes search yours, and it almost seemed as though you didn’t understand either. “I thought you were doing…better.”

You’ve hurt yourself. Did you see that? Feel that? And yet, the only thing that seemed to be your main concern now was the fact that you were caught. Not the fact that you slit open your delicate, petal-like skin. Skin that’s soft, so perfectly in contrast to his callous ones. He has scars and he hates it. And If anyone ever dared to scar you or do so much as lay a fingertip on your body in the wrong way, he’ll do away with them. Severely. Anything the poses as a threat to you or any danger that stalks you, he’ll have absolute zilch hesitation in obliterating them completely. He’s all too familiar with the dangers of this world and what’s to come. But the thought of you being the one to hurt yourself, to wound your undamaged skin and treat yourself in ways he would kill were it anyone else’s hand scarring yours was torment to say the least.

“What have you done...” he pleaded, pulling you impossibly close and eliminating any space between you as though even a gap would be enough to stop his breath. “…to yourself...?” Your breath hitched and you were at a brilliantly pathetic loss for words.

"I was sure you were long past..." he paused, the words choking on his throat. It felt like poison in his tongue and he could neither spit it or swallow it down. "self-inflicted injuries..." "I'm sorry" you shivered against his chest "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I just.."

Sorry doesn't cut it and you know that, you should. You don't miss the way he seems to tremble too, as if he was also scared just as you are. Red eyes that can't tear its burning gaze away from the various self-inflicted cuts on your wrist and forearm. Red eyes that swim with frustration, worry, concern, sadness, and fear all at once. Red eyes that seem to be fully set ablaze now.

“I didn’t mean to repulse you…. or anger you.” No, of course not. If anything, you meant to demean yourself. The thought made him feel all the more helpless, yet more protective.

“No, angel. What you’ve done has done more than just repulse me. It’s hurt me.” He lets go for a second, scrutinizing each cut as his heart swelled in muddled and screeching emotions. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

Your tears finally fall, the weight of his words pushing the droplets down your cheeks. Now you see. You have given into those urges again. Something you have both fought tooth and nail to shake yourself away from. Something he thought he’d succeeded in doing but as your stomach churns do you slowly realize whatever pain you endure hurts more than what’s just. Because he cares, cares beyond what would be fathomable.

“You don’t deserve this.” His thumb gingerly hovers over the wound, his heart heavy and mind unable to focus on anything but the weight of his suspicions made reality. More so than what his initial anxiousness was for. He doesn’t understand. He simply doesn’t. You don’t deserve even a fraction of this. “Come here.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly. You’ve sliced open your skin because no one would care and you could feel the thrill of pain and numb all emotions. Where’d you get this from? When had that ever become reality? Was it the moment you had fought with your parents again, when they overlooked you and your efforts and you felt all that hurt all over again?

"Sshh..." he coos, despite yourself. Despite himself. He encircles his arms around your waist, and you can really feel it. His heartbeat was stuttering. He really is trembling.  "...my darling..."

Your eyes sting with more fresh hot tears at the hardly stifled crack in his voice, the way he tries to stay strong for you. But just as your cuts bleed, his heart bleeds more at the sight of it all.

A hand makes its way to the back of your head, holding you tightly and keeping you leave locked in his desperate embrace. Weary red eyes flutter close. Fingers thread through your hair again and Diluc holds you a little tighter - just to ground himself. Just to remind you and himself that the both of you are here, together.

He tries to let it sink in, that you had gone and does this to yourself again. You didn't in the past year. And he wasn't there beside you. He's frustrated, mad at himself. He wasn't there to shield you, to protect you and he could've. If only you told him, if only he....

Your spouse lets out a slow, unsteady exhale. He pulls back to look at you more clearly. Dark circles under your mildly bleary eyes and your nose flushed red from crying. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he feels your shoulders loosen slightly. His hand comes down, tracing the back of your wrist, along your pinky to your forearm. His frown deepened slightly, heart squeezing when you winced. The bruised skin have swelled up around the marks. His chest tightens as he inspects it closely.

"My darling..." He breathes, bringing the mistreated hand up to his lips as he peppered the most featherlight kisses. Right below every cut, above and all around as if to make them disappear with his lips alone. "Who made you do such a thing?” and did I fail you? But he dares not speak the questions that plague him, it’s on the tip of his tongue though – not so steadily balancing itself if it weren’t for him biting his own emotions back.

Because more than anything, Diluc is scared. He is really a scared, worrying lover of all things, trying to take care of you with all he is capable of (and oh so much more) and protect you with all he is. All he wishes is for you to let him.

Feeling the way you tensed up at his questions, as if your senses were on high sensitivity, he backtracked. His hand moved to your soft, silky hair that cascaded down the front of your shoulders messily as he stroked the stray locks tenderly. “Why? You don’t have to pretend with me, I love you more than words can articulate.”

You looked up to his eyes again, taking in how soft such a hardened gaze can become for you. This time from a slightly different emotion. You know what he's asking, pleading for.

“Let me in. Talk to me. Please.”

"I'll try.." You can't promise him. Not this time.

"No." But he won't let you.

“I think you need to understand this clearly. Everything will be okay sooner than you’ll know it, I will make sure of it. No matter what happens, I’ll always be beside you.” he sucks in a breath through his teeth and his eyes flicker to your hands once more. The right one, unscathed while the left…was the opposite. His heart contracted.

“Wherever I am, whenever. You have me. I’m yours, my love. And I want nothing more than to keep you happy and safe. To see that precious smile of yours.”

A shaky breath leaves his lips as his sternness cracks and overflows with emotion. "Because I can't bear to see you like this, my sweet..." Diluc brokenly whispers. He tries to swallow down his sadness, but it's painfully prominent in his eyes. He doesn't mean to make you feel guilty, it's not his intention at all. But he needs you to understand just how much he cares about you; he cares more than what he can handle sometimes and it hurts.

It hurt to see his dearest hurt herself.

"Whatever did you do to deserve such pain, such...hurt?" he demands in a broken whisper, gently cupping your cheeks up to him. "hm? Was it ever your fault? Your wrongdoing?"

No. No, no it wasn't. It wasn't. Your heart breaks along with his and all you can manage this moment is a strained sorry - a word he shakes his head at.

"Don't apologize." His jaw clenches slightly. "Don't apologize to me."

Your hand gingerly reaches his at his distress, you squeeze it as it rested atop your cheek. "For all the pain I've caused you." You murmured, watching his eyebrows knit together.

"It's only my pain because you've caused yourself pain." He interjects roughly, his hand quickly interlacing with yours as he kisses your knuckles gently. You sigh deeply.

“Don’t you understand?” you breath hitches as he pulls you impossibly closer to him with his eyes full of ache. “Everything I do, I do for you. You deserve so, so much more sweetheart. I’m…scared.”

Your hand comes to instinctively wrap around his and you hold onto it firmly. “What, why?”

“I can’t lose you…” His fingers dig into your hips lightly and your press your lips against his chest, right atop where his heart is. “Not to pain. Not to grief. Not to sadness. Not to doubt, not to paranoia. Not to death.”

“You won’t. I promise you won’t.” you assured with the same desperation as him, looking up at him with apology “I don’t even know what I was feeling, it just….it just happened.”

“I know. I know you don’t.” His heart swelled from the kiss and he felt ache tighten his chest again. “I know its hard but you can tell me, come to me if there’s if there’s anything even remotely bothering you. I’m here, sweet darling, and I’m solely here for you. You know this, don’t you…?”

You let out a heavy sigh, averting your gaze. “…not always.”

“Then I would remind you.” A finger delicately tilted your chin up, bringing your eyes back to your husband’s burning gaze. “I know not always. But it’s alright. I’m your husband – not just anyone. Your lover, yours. I want to be there for you. It’s my duty, my honor and privilege.” Burning with conviction and firm love. “You have to let me.”

Your throat constricted with unvoiced words, too many of them. All jumbled up. But he didn’t force a reply out of you, didn’t force a promise out of you no matter how much he wanted a conclusive reassurance from you.

“You don’t have to promise me that you won’t do this again. Just tell me you’ll let me take care of you.” his voice dropped to a delicate whisper; the next words fragile as they were precious. “…my love?”

So were yours. “I’ll…let you take care of me.” You reluctantly muttered and that was all he needed. His lips found your own, and no matter how many times he’s kissed you, he could never be prepared for how his heart sings, soars and swells all over again.

Whatever happened will be discussed once you’re in a better state of mind and ready to talk. For now, all you need is rest while your husband dearly takes care of you.

⸺⸺

The fireplace lit the dark manor, its halls illuminated in the warmth of its light and heating up the distillery to a comfortable temperature. It was silent, not too silent, just perfectly silent. Maybe it was the rare quietness in your mind that made you feel this way. Calm, oddly enough. Your thoughts not screaming at your emotions for once, your head not heavy on your shoulders.

The only sound was the crackle of the firewood or the broth boiling small bubbles in a pot over in the kitchen. Or Diluc’s disapproving hums and soft take of breaths as he carefully unfolded the dressing pad of the square bandage and gently pressed it atop the streak of your swollen wound. And never mind your barely stifled coughs from time to time…

The smell of classic chicken soup wafted in the air; broth filled with luscious ingredients that Diluc lovingly prepared for you. Your cold was still mild and you couldn’t even feel it in the tranquil of the moment. When everything else faded out and it was just you and your husband, while your head rested on the cool mahogany table and left arm stretched out for him to examine, to take care of. To put to rest what pain you’ve inflicted because of those who hurt you. Were you to allow it, he’ll find them later, strip them of everything they hold dear were it not for your patience.

“Does it hurt?”

You felt his fingertips caress the top of the bandage; eyebrows knit together with a hint of lingering frustration you knew he wouldn’t be able to shake off that easily. “No, it doesn’t.”

He hummed, somewhat distracted. Your eyes wandered around for a bit, before you finally lifted your head up to properly get a light read on his expression. He’s been quiet for some time.

“So…. aren’t you going to say anything?”

He sighed deeply, squeezing your wrist gently as he looked you firm in the eyes. “Please don’t take this lightly.”

His eyes trailed over your wounds once more, his eyes stuck on the same spots. The ointment he had applied was cooling to your skin, the burning tinge of the scrapes fading away from your skin. He holds it, tenderly, holds it. In his own scarred hands, more scarred than yours, bloodstained even but he holds it with a reverence that shines in his gentleness, his care.

Carefully, he lifts your petal soft skin to his lips and lets his faintly chapped lips brush against your knuckles just delicately enough. You still, heart pounding in your chest as he peppers them along your wrist to the very last mark below. It’s times like these, your heart to scream “He loves you.” And he does.

“Thank you.” at your whispered words, he looks at you and brushes your cheek with the softest smile. “for what, my sweet?”

“For taking care of me!” You exclaimed with a hint of defensiveness for his playful innocence, knowing he only wanted to lighten your head up a little. “You know that…”

“I know.” He confirms as you clasp your hand, a more serious expression on his face. “But that’s no such thing to thank me for.”

His feels your hand squeeze his and his eyes soften again with a soft grumble following afterwards. “…but you can thank me by letting me in more, hm, baby?”

“…right.” Your face flushed a soft red immediately, a shy smile twitching at the corners of your lips immediately and his gaze only softens more at the sight. His fingers brush against yours as he slowly pulls away – turning to the kitchen. The air smelled good. The soup must be ready.

“You need to eat now.” He grabbed a black catlike-shaped bowl (one he specifically bought for you at the market, telling you how it reminded him of you). Catching your pout however, he shakes his head lightly with a fond smile. “Darling, you had barely touched your food at breakfast today. As for lunch…well, I want you to forget about lunch. And then; your cold.” He said with a pointed look. Your cold wasn’t even that of a big deal. “Just sit there and look pretty, I’ll be done here soon.”

Your pout soon turned into a soft, somewhat bashful smile and his heart skipped a beat. He really knows how to worm his way into your own heart, and you’ve come to trust it with fondness. “Alright, fine.”

Soon, he placed the bowl of steaming chicken soup along with a silver rose engraved spoon. It was that pleasant, comforting warm color that the broth held – along with the perfectly diced vegetables and meat in it. Looking at the food only did you rather surprisingly realize how hungry you were. Skipping meals were a norm for you, something both your and the head maid would highly disapprove of. But something was different. He wanted you to eat. He wanted you to enjoy the taste of the food, thus the carefully homemade meal. It wasn’t cooking for another for the sake of it. He wanted you to love even the first bite and thus the effort. That felt different from the begrudgingly cooked meals you were given from your mother in the past. It was her responsibility. This was different. This was Diluc and he wanted you to eat.

“What going on in that head of yours, my love?” He inched it a little closer to you before his hand came up to gently pat your head, pulling you away from your thoughts. He lifted your chin, eyes carefully scanning if you were hesitant. When he found none, he let go. “don’t keep yourself waiting.”

“I was just…thinking.” You dismissed, shaking your head lightly in reassurance, taking the spoon in your hand while he dragged a chair closer to you and sat beside you; offering silent company.

Every spoonful made your heart and stomach feel full and warm. It tasted so good. So good. The flavor invaded your tongue, the spice a small comfort to your now weakening cold. He rubbed your back the whole time, just silently staring at you with concerned care swimming in vermillion eyes, making sure you were okay. Additionally, also making sure that you’d finish the bowl completely…maybe have seconds. No, definitely– he silently added to himself as he stood up from his seat, abruptly deciding to brew you some warm ginger tea as well. Now that he thinks about it, there were some fine assorted dark chocolates in a cabinet, too.

⸺⸺

“Let’s get you into something comfy, yeah?”

You hummed softly in response to your husband’s words, your eyelids already drooping with the weight of sleepiness and tire. The warmth of the food seeped in too close to your heart like a comforting flicker of flame, spurring sleep. Everything was slowly but surely catching up to you – most prominently – exhaustion.

Your eyes flickered across his figure, moving diligently as he rummaged through your closet for your night clothes. The warmth of the food felt oddly lingering, lulling in a way. The pillow that helped your back rest was fluffed to your satisfaction, only more soothing to your weariness.

Once you saw him reaching for your clothes, an idea came to mind. “Can- can I wear your shirt?”

Your voice came out unsure, your heart jumping, albeit he had sternly taught you to be nothing but open with what you wanted with him.

Diluc froze, short-circuiting for a second at the unexpected request. He paused in his rummaging; he was surprised but pleasantly surprised nonetheless. He turns to look at you with a soft smile.

“You want to sleep in my shirt, my love?”

Your eyes flicker elsewhere hesitantly before returning to his again, then to his smile. It was almost as though he was proud of you of voicing that aloud, despite the shyness that seeped into your tone. Well, if anything, it only made him further smitten with you.

“Uhm, yes?” You confirmed with a nod, waiting for his reaction. His shirt alone and the soft fabric wrapped around her body along with his arms would be enough healing needed right now.

A warm, tender smile stretched out on his lips instantly as you confirmed your words, his heart aching with happiness at the simple request.

“Of course, dearest. My shirt is yours to wear.”

Instantly, he moved to his side of the dresser, rifling through his clothes and uncaring about the mess he’s making through the neatly folded clothes. He pulls out a soft, well worn-shirt. He makes his way back to you, the clothing clutched in his palm as he hands it to you.

“Let me help you.” before any protests could come flying out of your mouth, he gently helped you remove your top. Your heart calmed at the sight of his beam, relieved by his eagerness and enthusiasm.

“there now, careful...” he focused softly, making it certain that the bandages do not disarray as he pull the top over your head carefully. You let him take your top off tiredly while he set it aside to the laundry and you trying not to disarray the bandages too much over your injuries as you slowly donned the shirt.

With that he gently laid you down into bed, grabbing the covers to pull over your legs. His eyes raked over your figure, hugged loosely by his much larger shirt. He was suddenly made aware of how small you were compared to him. With a gentle kiss to your nose, he whispered ‘beautiful’ – reveling in your soft giggles afterwards.

Then he grabbed both of your hands in his gentle hold, pressing his lips onto every inch of the skin from your wrist to each of our fingertips. Just to feel your hands in his, hear your laughter for a little longer before sleep. It took his breath away every time he absorbed the fact that your hands – smaller, softer than his could ever be, chose to held his. It was definitive he’d protect them without question just as he’d protect your heart and soul. He just wanted you to be happy, he simply wanted you to be…

“Comfortable, sweetheart?”

You smiled contentedly, tucked back in into the comforts of the soft sheets. “yeah. Comfortable!”

“Now lay down, my love.” But despite your sleepiness, you really didn’t want to. You wanted to stay awake beside him, even for a few minutes. But knowing Diluc, he would use his vision to warm his hands to an impossibly unavoidable sensation of comfort, rubbing your back soothingly until sleep lures you into unconsciousness.

Your husband couldn’t stifle the smile that stubbornly clung to his lips as he gently pushed you into the mattress again when you tried to sit up once more, lifting your hair back and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’ll sleep with you.” leaving each other was the last thing on the both of your minds.

“Yes, you will.” You happily smiled as he climbed into bed beside you, wrapping a protective arm firmly by your waist as he brought you close to his chest. “but not yet...” you cheekily added, making his smile widen reluctantly.

He cocked a brow at your words but before he can even part his lips to speak, he’s suddenly met with a plethora of kisses to the lower half of his face and you trying to squirm out of his hold

“You’re tired. Stop that.” He chastised gently when you tried pushing his hands away with a small frown on your rosy lips. Diluc adores your kisses and he, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt himself, was nothing more than your darling lover and more with every kiss you pressed unto his lips and body. But you needed your rest now and Diluc was also a stubborn man in that fact.

“But I didn’t kiss you all that much today.” You sighed, slightly muffled as you pressed more kisses to his cheeks and jaw. He blushes so very easily and his pale skin doesn’t do the man any favors either.

“You can kiss me plenty, tomorrow.” He cupped your face in place, squishing your cheeks together gently as he chuckled at the adorable sight of you, followed by a reluctant sigh. “After you’ve had your rest, my love. Go to sleep.”

“Fine-“ you grumbled slightly but he booped your nose, making you laugh softly again. “Hey!!” you clasped his hand in protest, holding it in your smaller one.

“don’t be mad at me, mein liebling. I just want you to have a good night’s rest after everything.” Lifting your hand up to his lips, he brushed a kiss against your knuckles. He swears it’ll be the last kiss but he can’t seem to get his hands or lips off you all too much. Despite his playfulness, the sternness in his eyes are clear and no doubt he’s still worried about you. He would be worried about you for days until he truly felt you better yourself both mentally and physically. But a few laughs spilling from your lips every now and then was the only thing that felt like it could ease the heaviness in his heart.

For now, he wanted you to have a good night’s sleep. To simply close your eyes and rest.

“I know, I’ll sleep..” you sunk deeper into his embrace he held you, no more fighting the pull of slumber. With a tired smile, Diluc tightens his arms around you gently, feeling your breathing and heartbeat steady against the rise and fall of his own chest.

“good girl. I love you. I love you so much.” His lips met yours once again and tonight, you couldn’t doubt him or that he was yours to love as you were his to be held. Your eyes flutter close. “I love you too, Luc. I love you very much too.”

Hands that were once soaked in unfathomable volumes of blood, hands that are calloused and far too roughened to lay skin to skin upon soft, silken ones such as yours, hands marred with scars big and small, some faded, some deep. Hands that run over yours gently feeling the ring that sits on your finger before reaching up and raking gingerly through your hair, lulling you to slumber. The only next thing that falls from his lips is a soft “goodnight” as you teeter on the edge of unconsciousness, failing (and successfully so, in your lover’s eyes) to the bear the brunt of catching sight to see the tears that quietly forms in your lover’s eyes as his thumb brushes once more against your wounds. Only as you slip into the deep slumber your body and mind longs for does the tears slip from the desperate grip and grasps of his restraint.

Your skin does not deserve to be marred. Not like his, at least not like his. Not like this. He’ll show you how beautiful you are all over again, no matter what. How utterly darling you are. He’ll remind you so.

a/n: im not sure if i wouldve finished it without you, aurora. i know you're dyslexic but the emotion in this fic could not exist without being dedicated to you first.

[shooting-love-arrows]

Your aesthetic is just so beautiful dear!! i love how you organize everything, how pretty you write !!

Can i request maybe a yan! mortician? I don't really know the word in english waaa (⁠´⁠;���︵⁠;⁠`⁠)

kisses. mwah mwah take care of yourself ok?? 🎐

Dear Anon,

Thank you, dear. It’s really nice of you to say. Your english is very good so no need to worry. Sending you lots of kisses and thank you for the patience.  P.S I’m reminding myself to drink water regularly :)

@shooting-love-arrows

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍! 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 x reader [gender not mentioned/specified/implied] SYNOPSIS: General headcanons/some concerning habits of his. Tw. yandere walking red flag, creepy yandere, intentional poisoning, delusion, attachment issues (?), nudity but not nsfw. 

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Who treats you like a corpse rather than a living, breathing, human being. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 is so used to being surrounded by dead that sometimes he forgets you are in fact alive. It shows during those moments when he starts doing most simple things for you, like dressing you up before you wake up; when you stay still for to long, he’ll carry you around bridal style because he forgets that you can move on your own or forgets to prepare you a portion of food, because corpses don’t eat. Those moments scares you the most, because you’re never sure if he snaps out of it.

“Hm…? Oh dear…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 muttered and tilted his head when he realized he’s been carrying you around the funeral parlor for a while. “It seems like I have done that again.” Not that he was complaining. After all, he’s got to hold you in his arms.

Who regularly poisons you. He adds small doses of the earlier crushed pills he originally brought in the pharmacy to your food. Just enough to make you sick, weak and confused. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 feels his heart squeezing painfully everytime time he sees you in this state but at the same time, he believes that what he's doing is for a good cause. You must stay in the house. It’s not safe in the stress! Not to mention those people who could harm you (or worse, take you away from him!). This just can’t and won’t happen. He’d rather be the one to bring harm to you and nurse you back to health. Your place is here, in your shared house, with him.

“It seems like you are ill again, sweetling. Lay down, you need rest.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 proceeds to tuck you in and kiss your sweaty forehead lovingly. “Let me take care of you, sweetling. I will make everything better.” He whispered into your skin decorated with glistening pearls of sweat, smiling softly. 

Who always has to carry a piece of you on him. He just can’t part with you. Be it before or after you’re officially his. He has a silver locket with a coil of your hair in it, a ribbon that fell out of your outfit tied around his wrist or a photo of you (especially the one he took of you). Those are few examples but anything that belongs to you he’ll gladly take to carry around. This way you can always be with him.

“What beautiful hair you have, sweetling.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 laughed in glee. He was in his funeral parole, staring at the coil of your hair he secretly snipped off when you were asleep. It was placed neatly in a pure silver locker he always carried around his neck. “The prettiest.”

Who has a habit of photographing your nude body. It depends on his mood whether it’ll turn sexual or not, but what doesn’t change is that he’s always in awe of your body. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 saw many naked bodies, more or less beautiful. But you…you are perfect in every way. He feels like it’s his obligation to document that beauty. So usually, you’ll find yourself lying in the coffin panelled with silk, naked as the day you were born. And so the photo session continues. And when he’s done…? 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 will lean over you, looming like a grim reaper ready to whisk you away into the underworld, and whisper sweet nothings, prizes and compliments to you while his eyes admire every inch of your body.

“Keep still, sweetling.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧! 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 adjusted his trusty camera so it’ll focus on you.  You kept shivering from the cold that keeps nipping at your skin. Not even the silk you were laying upon helped to ease your worries and shame for you had no choice but to be vulnerable and exposed towards your captor.  “Perfect. Close your eyes and stay in this position.”

Who kisses the spot on your chest where your heart beats. It happens first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. When you’re laying in bed, in your nightclothes, he’ll lower the front of yours and gently place a kiss above your heart. He imagines that it’s his way of pouring his undying love straight into your heart. It always sends a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

“I was born to love you…” kiss “I am breathing for you…” kiss “I am living for you…” kiss 

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[darkcherry6916]

Yandere-Artist x Reader

Tw: Implied Kidnapping ,slight NSFW, stalking , blood , unhealthy obsession, delusional man alert 📢

tad bit short but continuation may be one the way (this was just a tiny thought was kicking to be written)

Yandere-Artist-whose artistic nature had been slaugtered and dimmed by the hands of his blank mind. Who was cursed with a palpitating passion but no way of execution. Doomed to a dull world , that was slowly enclosing in on him , reminding him of his lost talent.

YandereArtist-Who thought he had lost his spark , watching the world with indifference and approaching life with disinterest.

Then a miracle happened as they usually do, a sight laid before him so soulful that his empty gaze turned enamored.You with your smooth skin glittering from moonlight ,a beauty worth blood, and most importantly, a look of life-the very one he rightfully lacked.

Yandere-Artist- Whose heart started pounding, his sculpted fingers twitching for a sketchbook. The sound of his heart hammering sumerging him, as he dealt with the assault of a feeling which had become foreign, the feeling of inspiration

His spark

Yandere-Artist- Who reached in his bag with desperation ,only to find a sketchbook and no utensil. Who, in a moment of impulse , grabbed a small pocket knife from his pocket and vigorously sliced his palm. Using his blood to capture your flame , as fast as his shaky hand allowed it. Wincing from the sting but having a triumphant smile on his face , as he clenched his hand for more supply. Like the pleasure of finally putting heart to paper , was over-charged by you and you alone.

Yandere-Artist-Who went home with his body aching from excitement , the twisting response between his legs pulsing as he stared at the sketch he made of you.

Yandere-Artist- Who "casually" found you again and fondly pronounced you as his muse. Following you everywhere against your knowledge;sketchbook in hand.It was never meant to be creepy , he would never hurt his muse. It was simply best you stayed clueless , he wanted to perceive the real you. He needed the raw you in more ways than one. He couldn't risk tainting your natural beauty , especially when you looked this beautiful through the flowy curtains of your open window.

Yandere-Artist- Who dreamt of your naked body , sprawled in front of him immobile and covered in red paint. Red was the color of the impure, and while you were the purest thing in his life , the growing love he had for you was the filthiest thing you would ever encounter.

Yandere-Artist- Who planned to take you away soon , he couldn't take another minute of having undeserving eyes looking at his masterpiece. It was like watching a child with sticky hands touch all over , a freshly cleaned pastry window-it just couldn't be allowed.

Yandere-Artist- Who built a spot for you in his studio , where he planned to display you for his own amusement. He had even bought pretty little outfits for you , ready to dress up and pamper his fleshy mannequin.

Yandere-Artist- Who watched you while you slept, nearing your bed with sadistic timidness. Who trailed his gloved finger along your features , his skin rising like arrows at the feel of your god-so soft skin. You had finally fallen asleep , only this time you wouldn't wake up . The little pill he sneaked into the juice carton you dwelled in every night would make sure of it.

It was time for you to come home , he couldn't spend another second with out his spark

You should really stop leaving your windows unlocked, you never know what the night might bring in

[emo-trash101]

Guys I think I've developed an addiction to writing this series, but uhm, here's part 3 guys

Home is Where the Heart is

Pt 3

Daisuke x Male! Reader

Pronouns: Second person, implied male

Word count: 1k+

TW: People going insane, Jimmy, murder/death, general mouthwashing stuff, internalized homophobia (this is just generally for the whole series)

Day 54

It's been weeks since Daisuke had really talked to you.

You know it shouldn't be affecting you as much as it is. You hate him, and his stupid bright attitude. But right now, every single time you look at him and he offers a weak smile instead of his usual bright one, or him having just dry conversation instead of talking your ear off about some random thing you weren't paying attention to, well its making you feel sad?

It's almost as if you feel bad for treating him so terribly, and not giving him the time of day. Surely he wasn't being so kind to try and piss you off, so why did you hate him so bad?

These were all questions that had been racing through your head for at least the last week. And it's not like you've had jobs that require quieting the voices in your head. Ever since you spilled that dumb bottle of disinfectant, Anya has been having you just taking inventory, over and over again, almost passive aggressively.

So now, here you are, counting each individual pill from a pill bottle by yourself in the med room. It would at least be a little better if Daisuke was in here annoying you like he used to when he'd have his break.

And speaking of the devil, right as you finish counting the pills in the bottle and writing it down, Daisuke walks through the door, "Hey Anya-?" He starts, before seeing it was just you there. His voice immediately sounds more dejected, "Oh uhm, hey (Name)" he says.

You turn around swiftly, being sure to not knock over the pill bottle "Oh, hey Daisuke, are you okay" you ask without even thinking. Why are you asking? You don't care about him and whether or not he's okay.

"Oh I just burnt my hand, it's really not a big deal." He says, rubbing the back of his neck with what you assume is the not burnt hand. You look at him, trying to will away the urge to rush up to him and check. Why are you acting like this?

"Lemme see." You say, motioning for him to come towards you so you can examine his hand. His eyes widen slightly in shock, but he quickly shakes it off, walking towards you. He offers his hand to you, and you grab it, carefully examining the burn as he starts explaining the story behind this injury, the same dorky smile on his face.

You let go of his hand, grabbing a small container of burn cream, applying some to your fingers before softly rubbing it over the burn area "You need to be more careful Daisuke" you say, looking up at him. Suddenly you both make eye contact. "Yeah, you're right" he says sheepishly, his eyes looking into yours. 'why is this happening?' you ask yourself, trying to will yourself to look away but you just can't.

Suddenly the door opens, Anya walking back in. Daisuke pulls away, some of the cream smearing up his fingers. "Oh hi Anya!" He says cheerfully walking towards the door., "I was just leaving" he says, and he whispers something to her something that you couldn't hear whatsoever.

Almost immediately after, Daisuke leaves the room, the silence afterwards deafening. "So what did I miss?" Anya asks, looking at you. Her speaking was what knocked you out of your trance, seeing you still had your hand somewhat outreach and still had a little bit of the burn cream on your fingers. "I...I don't even know" you say breathlessly.

And you wish that you could say that after he left things made a little more sense, but if you're being completely honest, you just feel more confused. You can't get the look of of his brown eyes out of your head.

At this point, you're considering requesting a psych eval just to make sure you aren't losing your mind.

Day 62

"I don't think you're suffering from psychosis." Says Anya carefully. You furrow your brows, looking at her intently "But, I swear something's wrong with me." A tense look on rests on your face. Ever since that one time you were around Daisuke about a week ago, you could swear you were going insane.

You had never ever had thoughts like these before, at least not as far as you could remember. Every time you close your eyes, or dream, or have even a minute of peace to yourself, all you can think of is Daisuke's brown eyes. And there's no reason behind it at all.

That, and the issues you had back when you hated him seem to have come back tenfold. Almost every time you catch him glancing at you, your face heads up almost immediately. If you didn't know better you'd assume that he's just somehow telekinetically giving you a fever.

"You didn't tell me what this was about" Anya said, a calm sad look on her face. "It's...its about Daisuke", you say pausing to take a deep breath. You had already told her about what happened the week prior, but this, this was a new development.

"It's like, every time I see him everything in my body speeds up and slows down at the same time and I feel like I'm burning alive" you say, leaning against the chair you're sitting on exasperatedly.

Anya smiles, something that seems to have become rarer these days "I think you have a crush (name)" she says, and a strange feeling fills your gut. Memories seem to flood your brain from growing up, your father scoffing at two men holding hands and leaning down close to you, telling you that a 'real man' would never be caught doing that disgusting of an act.

"No, no I definitely don't have a crush on him..." You say, scoffing at such an absurd idea "I don't think I could ever participate in such a terrible act" She looks back at you, a concerned and confused look in her face. "A-are you sure?" She asks, her brows furrowing.

Anger rushes through your veins at an unreasonably fast pace. "I'm not fucking gay." You say, your words dripping with venom. Before she can even respond, you stand up storming out of the medical room.

You don't even know what your plan was after you left. Where could you even go that she couldn't find you. You sigh angrily, making a turn towards the bedrooms when you bump into someone. You step back in surprise, looking up. "Shit I'm-" you stop what you're saying when you see it's Jimmy.

You and him haven't seem to have been getting along whatsoever. It's like, you always bump into him at the wrong times. "Watch where you're going, dumbass" he says, mumbling the last part as he shoulder checks you.

Before you really know it, you're in your room, hot angry tears running down your face. You don't know why you're so mad that Anya thought you had a crush on him. You know you're not gay, right? That's all that matters.

You repeat that to yourself as you start pacing your room, your hands clenched into fists. "There has to be...there has to be a good reason.." you say, trying to close your eyes to try and think.

But much to your dismay, the first thing you think of is his eyes, they way they looked into yours with such care. You open your eyes up again, more anger in you than you think you have ever experienced. You shout, not even words just a yell as you kick the nearest thing to you, which just so happens to have been your door.

You hear a loud crack, almost like the sound when wood snaps, and look down, seeing the entire bottom of your door being almost completely removed.

"Shit..." You say to yourself.

You really need to figure out what's going on before you destroy the rest of the stuff in your room.

It's so much more fun writing when I'm not like extremely sleep deprived, but in all this one is one of my favorites so far. I don't know how many parts this is gonna have but it's probably gonna be 6+

Anyways, make sure you drink water and eat food!

Last and Next

[spooky-donut-ghost-house]

Gonna be honest

Arkhamverse Joker is probably the most evil Joker ever

TW for a lot of fucked up shit

I'm sure I missed a few so if I did please let me know

He blew up multiple school buses and schools filled with kindergarteners and then sewed them back together and made their parents try to figure out who is their kids

He manipulated a father and his terminally ill 5 year old daughter made her an experiment for the Titan formula which killed her and then convinced her dad to kill himself with laughing gas pills

Tortured Jason Todd for over a year in Arkham Asylum, convinced him that Bruce abandoned him, permanently branded him, fucked up his posture by having him strapped to a wheel chair with barbed wire, had him beaten by other Batman villains, had other inmates dress up like Batman and had them beat him hell it's implied that Jason was even sexually assaulted by these inmates and remember this happened when Jason was a teenager then he proceeded to continue to lie to and manipulate Jason after the events of Arkham Asylum

Donated hydrochloric holy water to the Gotham church which resulted in the painful deaths of multiple babies

Tortured Jason and crippled Barbara to get them out of the way of him and Batman's rivalry as he thought they were ruining his game

Threatened to donate his poisoned blood to every hospital in Gotham if Bruce didn't find a cure and even poisoned Bruce with his blood only to make things worse which affected Bruce even worse in the long run

Poisoned four other innocent people with his blood

Drugged a bank manager with laughing gas when he was disguised as Black Mask

Kidnapped and tortured Black Mask

Killed The Executioner for questioning orders

Tried to kill Bane twice first by shooting him as he was leaving and second when he forced Bruce to kill Bane or he was gonna electrocute himself and Gordon to death

Murdered his own goons just to piss off Bruce

Blew up an entire building full of people the second time him and Bruce met

Threatened to blow up things Bane cared about if Bane didn't do as he said

Manipulated and abused Harley

Killed Talia

Caused a massive riot at Arkham Asylum torturing many GCPD police officers and Arkham guards and keeping them hostage

Kidnapped Starro and used him to mind control helpless citizens in his amusement park

Having his goons kill innocent people as initiation to his gang

[stormy-writer]

A Bitter Pill

Summary: Betrayal is a bitter pill to swallow, but it's worse when you didn't mean to fall in love. The one man who could actually make you smile is the one man you really aren't supposed to like, let alone love.

Catergory: Surprise angst? It's a surprise to me, I didn't know what I was writing

Tw: Mentions of death, implies death, mentions of violence and gore

Wc: 687

Maybe it was a little too late for you.

Maybe it was too late for anyone to try and save you.

That didn't stop your heart from hurting as you turned away from your lover. You couldn't bare his heartbroken look anymore, the betrayal like a knife to the back for both of you.

“I didn't have a choice,” you called, wind whipping through your hair and forcing your tone a little louder. “I didn't have a choice in any of this.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, biting back tears of anger and frustrations, and a deep sadness very few could describe.

“Don't lie to me like that. We both know that's not true, I know you could choose not to fall into this- this irrecoverable darkness!” His anger was understandable, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

“I'm not lying,” you faced him again, a blank, trained look on your features. “I never had a choice in my feelings.”

That confused him, if his furrowed brows and tilt of his head were any indications.

“I chose the dark side, of course I had a choice of abilities, of tasks,” you paused, the barest hint of regret in your eyes. “... But I never meant to fall in love, Obi.”

His features softened for only a moment, before you killed any show of emotion and pulled out your saber, what used to be a brightened blue now a deep, haunting red.

“But I have a choice now.”

His hurt returned in tenfold, and he drew his own lightsaber, blocking your swing and looking you in the eyes.

“Please, please make the right decision,” He pleaded, not wanting to lose you like he did Anakin. But it was too late. You were too far gone to the dark side.

“I already have.” You swung again, getting blocked before parrying and aiming again. Most fought with dignity, even the dark side generals. Hell, even most of the sith. They aimed for their swords, aimed to keep it fair and win.

You aimed for his heart.

You already ripped it out metaphorically, ripping through it physically wouldn't be half as bad. Right?

Before you could have that question answered, you were shoved back by an unseen force, the Force. He wasn't holding back anymore. Not after you made your decision.

Although you stumbled, you righted yourself quickly and started your next onslaught of attacks. The battle was more painful than just the heat of the sabers, more scarring than every little graze. And though you could keep up with him in training, you couldn't handle his full force, and were soon on your knees in front of him, saber thrown to the side with his barely inches from your neck.

You could just feel the heat radiating from it, breath ragged as you stared up at him.

“Do it!” you shouted, urging him to finish what you had started. “Kill me, kill another sith, Jedi Master.” The title felt more of a taunt than a congratulation spilling from your lips. The pause and hurt in his eyes made even you falter. It was a second too long, long enough you could have summoned your saber and cut him in half.

But you didn't.

You didn't make any effort of moving, other than your chest heaving with every breath.

“Do it, Obi. You know I'm just gonna go back to them if you don't,” you said softly, too soft to be entirely too bad. But you were.

And he knew. He knew you would go back to the darkness, fight for the wrong side, hurt all the wrong people. But that's who you were. That's who you'd always been, and that's who you were gonna be.

And he knew that.

So he took a moment. He took a breath, shutting his eyes and steeling his nerves like he'd shown you so many times during training. A single tear rolled down his cheek and you couldn't help but let one go as well.

“I'm sorry I couldn't help you, my love.”

The last noise you heard was the sszzzzing of his saber.

What the fuck?? Uhmmmm???? What possesed me to write this? Huh? I guess it's good???? Enjoy???

[r1poutmygvtz]

pretty much sums up how high school was for me 😭✊

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter One

Masterlist

AO3 link

Lydia Vector is a trauma surgeon trying to find herself again after a traumatic incident--on top of surviving the zombie apocalypse. Along the way, she finds community, friendship, and maybe something more.

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted SA, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--blood, violence, amputation, swearing

“Lydia Rae Vector, Board-Certified in Trauma Surgery!”

The grin that spread across my face caused my cheeks to ache. I looked out and saw my parents and brothers, who fought like hell for their front-row seats to witness their only daughter and sister receive her certification. This was the moment I had worked my entire life for.

My residency was complete. And my boards had been passed. I was officially a surgeon.

The “waterproof” mascara I had spent my last $20 on ran and flaked into my eye, causing it to water more. I take my certificate from the officiator, shake his hand, and look out to the audience once again.

And I see him. Every single time, I see him.

A man stumbling down the center aisle, appearing drunk and disorderly, but he’s covered in blood, and his skin is bluish-grey. Decomposition has clearly already started. That was evident by both the open wounds on his body and the putrid stench that accompanied him. And the rest always happens the exact same way.

The crowd notices him, and slowly, the entire auditorium falls silent. Security starts to come around from the emergency exits, but before they can get to him, the man has made his way to the front row.

And he attacks my mother.

Her screams, the screams of my father and brothers, the screams of the audience and the screams coming from my own throat haunt me. He rips her vocal cords out with one swift bite, and her screams cease as quickly as they began.

And this is always where my nightmare ends.

I wake up in a cold sweat, nothing unusual there. I throw myself upwards, letting out a small yelp and feeling all over myself with my hands, checking for wounds and blood. My mornings went exactly the same way.

Every. single. time.

The small shed I had spent the night in looked even dustier during the day. I used my hands to prop myself up off of the floor and and pulled my backpack, which was my pillow every night, out from behind me. Scooting slightly to my left to get out of the blinding sun coming in through the window, I unzipped it and went through the checklist that I always do, making sure every weapon I had was still in its place.

“Axe, knife, guns, spear,” I said out loud, pulling one of the small guns and the collapsible spear out and setting them on the ground next to me. Checking that the safety was still on for both guns, I checked for my other items. Nothing had ever been stolen from me in the night, but you couldn’t be too careful.

“Journal, water bottle, clothes, food, tools, gauze, lighter, bandages, disinfectant, sewing kit, pills, and my most unique weapon.” Once everything was accounted for, I took the blanket I had been using and folded it as best as I could, stuffing it in on top of everything. I slipped my water bottle out and took the smallest sip, just enough to get rid of my cotton mouth and dry throat. I slipped the gun I left on the floor into the strap on my leg and extended my spear, getting up off of the ground and dusting myself off.

I paused for a moment and listened to the birds chirping outside. I wonder what they were saying to each other, I thought to myself. They seem happy. Of course they did. They don’t have to live through the end of the world in the same way humans do.

My reveling in listening to bird calls was quickly interrupted by the sound of a scream. A human scream. And Walker groans.

I swung my backpack onto my shoulders and jumped to the corner next to the door. I lifted my head slowly, just enough for my eyes to enter the window frame.

There was a man, probably around my age, on the ground, and three Walkers surrounding him. I could see that he had lost his knife in the scuffle, and I imagine he was hesitant to use a gun because he didn’t want to attract more of the reanimated corpses. I readied my spear, took a deep breath, and kicked the door open in one fell swoop.

“Aye motherfuckers!” I yelled, drawing the attention of all three Walkers towards me. I skipped backwards, away from the man, putting a little more distance between myself & the undead. I swung my spear and stabbed the closest one right between the eyes, pulling it out and watching the heap fall to the ground. The other two went down similarly. I paused for a moment, perking up my ears and listening to make sure no others were coming.

Once it was clear, I ran to the man. He was still on the ground, groaning in pain. That’s when I saw the bite on his ankle. My heart sank. But I knew what I needed to do. I ran and kneeled down next to him.

“Hey, what’s your name man?” I said to him, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. I saw a small glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“A-A-Aaron,” he said, gritting his teeth through the pain.

“Alright Aaron, my name is Vector. I’m a doctor, and I can save you, but we gotta get you inside that shed right there. Can you sit up?” He nodded and used his arms to pull himself into a sitting position. I got up on my feet and put an arm around his back, under his arms.

“Alright Aaron, let’s get you on your feet,” I told him, and I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. He put his body weight onto his right foot & onto me, and we slowly stood up together. Thankfully, the shed was right by us. I got him through the door and helped him back down onto the floor. Once he was on his back, I moved like lightning to get out my small axe, disinfectant, lighter, bandages, gauze, and two of my shirts, one with long sleeves and a small one.

“Aaron, you probably know where this is going, but I’m going to have to cut your foot off. And then I’m going to cauterize your wound so it hopefully won’t get infected,” I said between inhales, taking the my smaller shirt and tying it into a knot to form a gag. We couldn’t have him attracting any more Walkers. “I need you to take this and bite down as hard as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes…” Aaron said. I saw a couple of tears leave his eyes. He put the knotted shirt into his mouth, laying his head back onto the dirty floor. I poured a small amount of disinfectant onto my axe and onto his leg, just above the bite mark. Some of the disinfectant ran into the wound, and he writhed in pain.

“Alright.” I looked over at him, meeting his eyes, “I need you to stay completely still. Bite down as hard as you possibly can. You got this my man.” He squeezed his eyes shut. I raised the axe up, lining it up with where I was going to make my mark.

“I’m so sorry Aaron,” I whispered, swinging the axe down as hard as I could. Thankfully, his foot and ankle came off with one hit. His blood sprayed across the shed, getting onto the walls and all over both of us.

Despite the muffling of the shirt, his screaming was loud. The tears were flowing. And so was the blood. I grabbed my lighter with my right hand and grabbed Aaron’s hand with my left one, squeezing it to remind him he wasn’t alone.

“I’m going to cauterize it next. This pain is probably going to be worse, but I know you can do this. Just keep breathing through your nose and squeeze my hand when you need to,” I told him. He didn’t nod or acknowledge what I said in any way, but I had to keep moving to stop the bleeding. I flicked on my lighter and held it to his open wound, gliding it back and forth across the whole area. I did this for a couple of minutes to ensure the whole area had been cauterized. For Aaron, I’m sure it felt like hours. He squeezed my hand so hard that I was sure he was going to break it. His muffled screams were the only sound I heard.

“You’re doing great bud,” I spoke softly, “I have padding and gauze that I’m going to put onto it next, then I’m going to wrap it in one of my shirts. Keep biting onto that one for as long as you need.” This time, he opened his eyes, which were bright red from crying, and nodded. I took a couple of pads and pressed them to his leg, holding them in place while I started the gauze wrapping.

“I’m sorry I don’t have an ice pack or anything to help with the burning,” I said. He spat my shirt onto the ground and let out a small chuckle.

“Sorry? You just saved my life.” I took my long-sleeved plaid button-up and wrapped his leg in it, using the sleeves to tie it around his calf. He was still hyperventilating a little.

“Just rest for right now,” I instructed, “once you’re doing a little better, I’ll help you get back to your home base.” He tried to pull himself up to a sitting position, but I lightly pressed on his shoulders to let him know to lay back down, “Stay like that. Just focus on your breathing. I have some water, and I have food if you’re hungry.”

“What did you say your name was?” he asked me. I pulled my water bottle, which was about half-full, out of my bag.

“Vector,” I repeated. I scooted over to him and helped him lift his head enough to sip some water without choking on it. I took my knotted shirt and unknotted it, giving to him to wipe the tears and water off of his face. He rotated his head and looked up at me.

“Vector, why did you help me?” he asked, “you could’ve just killed me, saved your resources. Or taken my stuff and ran.” I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“I took an oath,” I explained, “I’m a doctor. This is what I do.”

“How can I—“ a cough stopped him mid-sentence, “repay you? I can get you food, water, supplies. I have a community. Just say the word and whatever you want is yours.” I leaned back and grabbed my spear, which I had dropped on the way in, and collapsed it fully, rolling back and forth on the floor between my hands.

“Honestly, I could just use directions to a certain place, I must be close to it by now. I’m looking for a safe zone, it’s called—“

“Alexandria.”

I cocked my head at him, my words catching in my mouth and my facial expression displaying my shock. “How did you know that?”

“It’s the only one around here. We’re only a couple miles out” he laughed. Despite my protests earlier, he used his upper body to pull himself up into a sitting position, leaning back against some boxes, “I’m actually from there. I’m a recruiter. I go out with my partner Eric, and we search for survivors, like yourself, and see who would make useful additions to our community. And hell, we could definitely use you.”

I couldn’t believe my luck.

“I’ve been looking for Alexandria for months.”

[yellowroseswrites]

"Gotta be nourished sweetheart"

Soft!Rafe cameron x Ed recovery!reader

Bascically, rafe won’t sleep with you unless you’ve eaten properly and drank enough water.

Tw- {ed behaviors, mentions of reader eating, mentions of reader drinking water,reader is recovering from an eating disorder, theres talks of retricting, purging, and lax pills, none are in detail and its very vague on which ones reader actually had problems with, just to keep it open for anyone to self insert, reader forgetting to drink water, curse words used, idk how to write rafe without cursing im so sorry, soft rafe tho, ooc rafe, hes not a psychopath, reader is called numerous petnames, pretty angel, pretty baby, implied smut, no actual smut tho, idk if this is too close to smut to post on a comfort blog?} Pls tell me if this is crossing some comfort line

Your eyes lingered on the tall boy in front of you as he went about cleaning up the trash from the movie night you two had just concluded. He put the dishes away, catching you staring as he made his way back to the couch.

“My pretty angel, what’s with the ‘fuck me’ eyes hm?” He stood in front of you, using his hand to lift your chin so you were looking right at him.

You giggled a bit as you pulled your face away from his hand, “Shut up.”

Rafe took a seat next to you, “What did my pretty baby eat today while I was out?”

He always asked this, but he somehow found a way to make it seem casual. You knew you didn’t have a choice but to answer him, yet it never felt forced. He was nothing if not caring, making sure this topic never had to be any more uncomfortable for you than it already was.

“The lunch and dinner you made, I ate pretty much all of both to be honest, and I had some yogurt right before you got back.” Saying it all out loud made it feel like way more food than it really was, making you stress nearly immediatly, but before you could linger on the thought any longer you saw the immense joy in Rafe’s eyes.

He smiled a bit before responding, “Did you do anything after? Or take anything?”

He meant purging, or lax pills, something you had always found gross and unnerving, not wanting anyone to know or think you would do either, but he always talked of them with no judgement.

“Nope. My meals stayed fully digested today.” You couldn’t help the slightly annoyed tone, but you moved on quickly, “Did I pass your test?” You reached out to place a hand on his neck, gently scratching at his scalp.

“Mm, How much water did you drink?” shit

“Enough.” You responded, hoping he’d believe it.

“Uh-huh, sure.” He stood up, slowly walking to the kitchen.

“Rafe, it's not that big a deal, come on.” You huffed, "I'm plenty hydrated enough."

He knew what you wanted, you knew you weren't getting it until he was satisfied.

He brought you a glass of water, "Drink."

You took the cup and rolled your eyes, taking a sip from it.

"Keep acting like that and that cup will be the only thing you put your pretty little mouth on."

You nearly choked at his words, but quickly recovered enough to drink the water.

Rafe was just happy his baby was eating and drinking.

[angieshere16]

What's Done is Done

TW: gore/substance abuse/ self harm/ physical violence/ implied smut

My boyfriend walks in holding bags of groceries and placing them on the dining table. I stride happily over to him, engulfing him in a warm, loving hug. He's so perfect and sweet. My sweet boy. I kiss his cheek softly then proceed to kiss his lips, tasting weed on his breath.

"Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you gone to buy anything special?"

He cocks his head lazily, looking at me through half lidded eyes and repeats back to me slowly,

"Something special?"

"Something special."

His eyes travel from looking at me to gazing at the bags he left on the table, deciding whether or not he should answer. He reaches the table in two strides, grabbing a plastic bag and handing it to me carefully.

"Look inside if you want darling, I don't mind." he tells me.

I rummage through papers wrapped around a box. I carefully unwrap and open the box. It's filled with smaller bags. They contain joints, carts, gummies, and pills. I see a small bag filled with gummy worms that had been torn open.  My eyes shift from staring at the contents of the gummy bag to staring into my partner's eyes. His beautiful colored eyes, staring calmly back at me. 

“You bought all this?” I inquire and he only nods his head in response before saying,

“Your birthday’s soon, and I wanted to have a little fun, ya know?” sounding as if what he wants to do is the most ordinary thing in the world.

I stare at his face, taking in every feature, his thin lips, the stubble growing on his face, the pretty hair atop his head, his perfect button nose, and returning my gaze to his intoxicatingly gorgeous eyes once more. He breaks the silence with a question.

“Want me to make dinner for us?”

I crack a smile at the absolute randomness of his question

“Nah. I don’t wanna wash dishes tonight.”

“So, Pizza?”

“Pizza sounds great.” I reply looking at his eyes, which crinkle slightly as he smiles. His pretty eyes that make him seem like such an innocent man, someone who can do no harm. 

We call the nearest pizza place on his phone, ordering one medium sized pizza. Once the call ends he walks into our room to leave his phone charging. I plop down on the sofa near the door and take my phone out of my pocket, scrolling through my social media apps. Not too long later, I feel his arms wrap around my torso, and I lean back into his comforting frame, turning my head to kiss his neck innocently. He rests his chin on top of my head, caressing my face with his thumb, rubbing circles into the fat of my hip with his other hand. I turn to stare at the door, shifting my weight slightly from the edge of the couch. I feel hot, but I stay still, my body on top of his, both of us just enjoying one another’s presence. I close my eyes slowly, feeling relaxed, having my boyfriend right next to me. Once I begin to doze off, I hear a knock at the door. My head perks up at the thought of food finally arriving. I grin and race to the door, opening it hurriedly. A short stout man holds out the pizza box and his hand, waiting for his tip. I grab my wallet and pay him five dollars, then I grab the pizza box and close the door, lock it, and parade over to the table. Nick is already sitting in his seat, waiting for a slice. I put down the pizza box and sit down next to him, opening the pizza box quickly and reaching for a slice just as fast. The second I take a bite I can't help but smile and close my eyes, letting the flavor sink in, seeping onto my taste buds. 

“This is delicious”

“Pizza hits better after a long day.”

“Real.”

We finish the pizza in no time. Nick grabs the box and throws it into the trash. 

“C’mon baby, let's go.” He says, grabbing a stray joint that lay inside his box of drugs. He wanders the hallway, dragging his fingers along the walls. I follow him as he strolls into our room. When he lays down on the ground, I sit next to him and ask him if he’s okay.

“Yeah yeah” he says, dismissing me with a wave. “You don’t gotta worry a pretty little hair on your head about me. I’m just a little up in the clouds from the gummies I took earlier.”

“Then wouldn’t it be bad if you smoke the joint?”

He chuckles, deep and heartily. Dismissing me once more. He sighs happily and grabs a lighter from his cabinet without shifting his gaze from me. 

“You’re such an innocent little lamb, you know that?” he says, smiling once more as he brings the joint to his lips, flicking the lighter once, twice before producing a small flame which he holds to the end of his spliff. It lights up for a second before the flame dies and leaves a ring of heat at the end of his spliff. I close my eyes as smoke fills the room, the familiar scent of weed traveling through my nostrils and into my lungs. I open my eyes and lock my gaze with my boyfriend. 

“Do you want to try?” He asks.

“No thank you” I replied sweetly.

“C’mon, just a puff,” he says. “It won’t hurt.”

I shift my sober eyes from his crimson ones to the ground, feeling timid all of a sudden. 

“I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to try. Isn’t it bad for your lungs?”

“That’s complete bullshit. I’ve been smoking for years and my lungs are fine.”

I continue to avoid eye contact and stare at a random spot on the ground. 

“Well?” he says. “Gonna try or what? I promise it’s fun.”

I look at him and take the smoking joint in between my two fingers, inhaling and immediately choking on the smoke. I hold it between my index and middle finger while I pound my fist onto my chest, trying to get rid of the feeling of choking. I breathe heavily, panting, I push the joint into his large hands, still coughing from the smoke I inhaled. He laughs at me, calling me names like cute and precious. 

“It’s not funny!” I say, feeling embarrassed that I could barely hold down just a little puff off the joint.

“Whatever you say darling.” he retorts, beaming at me smugly. A few moments of silence pass before he speaks again.

“One more try?”

“I dunno..” I reply to him. 

“C’mon baby, don’t be a killjoy” he says, flashing a calm, carefree smile. “C’mere” he says.

And I do. I go scoot closer to him on the ground, sitting right next to him so that our thighs are touching and we are side by side. He cups my face in his large strong hands and rubs comforting circles into my cheek.

“Close your eyes my love” he tells me.

I close my eyes slowly, and feel him pepper kisses all over my face. He kisses my cheeks, my forehead, and there’s a pause. He thumbs at my lips and I pout, letting him tug softly on my bottom lip down so that my mouth opens. I feel his lips against mine and he exhales, pushing smoke into my mouth as his tongue pushes in as well, tasting the inside of my mouth. I inhale, trying not to choke. My eyes are watering from the itch in the back of my throat, and I cough as I pull away from him. I see smoke spilling out from my mouth and nostrils, curling away from me and eventually blending in with the air above me. Another smug smile coats his face. He seems satisfied. 

“See? Was that really so hard darling?” a shit eating grin still on his face.

My face is burning red from our exchange and small coughs spill from my mouth while the burning in my throat begins to fade slowly. I open my mouth to speak, but I stop. I don’t know what to say. Should I be happy, relaxed, angry, or sad? 

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks me cockily. 

I look at him slowly after a few moments as I stand up slowly, teetering dizzily.  “Am I high?” I ask, wondering what this foreign feeling is.

“High as high can be.” he says, chuckling as he puts the joint to his lips again. 

I sit down and lean into him. “I don’t wanna stand anymore.”

“That’s okay. You can go ahead and sit with me for as long as you want pretty little thing.” He says, smoke spilling out from his lips and up into the air. I stare at the smoke, feeling dazed and turn to look at my pretty boy’s face. His pretty eyes and soft hair bouncing on his head when he turns away from the smoke to face me. We both lock eyes and we stare at each other.

“You look so pretty like this, my innocent little lamb, facing me with red in your eyes like I’m the most important thing to exist.” He tells me, slurring his words slightly as he speaks. “My pretty girl.” he says through his half lidded eyes, facing me while he sucks on his joint and all I can do is nod in agreement. He grins idiotically as I crawl into his lap, leaning my head into the crook of his neck. “Such a good girl. You must love me dearly to seek comfort in me.” He says while his hands wander up and down my back, tracing my skin gently as if I might break if he’s too rough with me. I sit up and look into his eyes, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. He looks down and then makes eye contact with me. “You know I love you, right my sweetness?” He asks.

“I love you too.” I say, feeling my chest bubble with happiness. I have the most perfect boyfriend in the world, don’t I? I sigh happily as he kisses me, pressing his lips gently against mine, treating me as if I may break at any moment. I feel something poke me just where I was sitting and I grin shyly. I break away from him and begin to kiss his neck, sucking roughly, leaving blue and purple marks on his skin as I grind on his lap. His head faces the ceiling as he moans softly, giving me more room to paint his skin from a light peach to a dark violet. I pull away to observe the markings littered on his neck and he lowers his chin, coming face to face with me. He holds my face in between his hands and mutters praises that my high mind can’t comprehend. I just want to feel good, and what's making me feel good right now is sitting on my boyfriend's lap, rubbing my cunt against his hardness. He puts out the joint on an ashtray I didn’t notice before and kisses me roughly. I let my eyes shut and let him kiss me. The harsh feeling isn’t unpleasant. I feel one of his hands rest on my waist and the other massaging my lower back, sinking lower and lower until he’s cupping my ass in his hands. I let him. When he starts to unbutton my shorts and stick his hand inside my panties, I push him away.

“I can’t. I’m sorry I don’t want to do that.”

“C’mon baby, it’ll be fun. I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.” He says, continuing to rub his hand up and down my arm in an attempt to convince me. I hesitate for a moment and he takes it as a sign to keep going. He goes under my shirt, trying to unclip my bra, and I push him again.

“Babe, I don’t want to. Stop, please” urgency rising in my voice.

He stands still for a few moments, pushing me off his lap and mumbles something about getting gummies from the box and I nod my head. While I stare at the ground, feeling ashamed for not being ready for anything more than kissing and groping, I notice the lighter he used earlier thrown on the floor. I grab it and flick it under my fingers. It lights up under my fingers and I stare at the flame for a moment and bring it to my arm, holding it close enough to hurt a bit before letting it go off. I stand up slowly, frowning at what I just did and head to the bathroom, going into the cabinet in the corner and opening up the bottom drawer. I toss in the lighter, but I don’t close the cabinet. I see a polaroid, and my wavering eyes focus on it. Blood. It’s a bloody body, torn apart, limb from limb, cut up into slices that make them look like meat. I see Nick in the corner of the photo, splotches of blood on his face, smudged with sweat while he smiles that stupid shit eating grin, pointing a knife at the body. My hands begin to shake as I grab the picture. I feel overwhelmed and I gag, feeling nauseous. My legs tremble beneath me as I turn around, seeing Nick, standing menacingly behind me. His eyes no longer half lidded, but fully focused on me, like a hawk watches its prey.

“You gonna say something, pretty girl?” He says, his voice sounding hard with anger.

“Did you do this..?” I ask, my voice trembling with fear.

“What do you think? Hm?” He says, his eerie smile growing.

“Please tell me this is some stupid prank you came up with!”

He chuckles with a laugh that makes my hairs stand on end. “Okay then. Let’s pretend that you didn’t see that, understand? Just a dumb prank, right?”

I start hyperventilating as I can’t wrap my head around my boyfriend killing someone. One tear falls from my eye which leads to more flowing like a small river from my eyes. I grasp at my hair, trying to rip it from my scalp, digging into the skin, trying to take out the thought of the person I love being capable of such evil. My stomach churns and I continue crying, feeling dizzy, slow, and overwhelmed. I stumble towards the toilet and retch into it, talking to myself in an attempt to soothe my nerves.

“This isn’t real. I’m high, I must be hallucinating. I have to be hallucinating.”

He snatches the bloody polaroid from my fingers and dangles it in my face. “Oh honey, this is no dream.” he says, lifting my chin with his finger. “There is no weed that I know of that can make you hallucinate.” 

I pull away from his fingers, not wanting the hands of a murderer to be anywhere near me. “Don’t touch me.” I hiss at him, my voice laced with disgust and anger. I stand up and he pulls away from me, taking a step back and smiling such an evil smile that it gives me chills.

“So now what are you going to do? Hm? Leave me and run away?” He says sarcastically, not meaning a word of what he said, almost like I have no choice in the matter.

“Exactly that” I retort. “The second I’m out of here I’m reporting you to the police.” I tell him, with hatred in my eyes. “You’re a demon straight from hell. You feel no guilt in taking the soul of an innocent person.”

He moves away from the doorway. “Go ahead and leave. Go ahead and tell the police that I’m a killer. Who are they going to believe, the friendless girl working a dreadfully stressful job, or the friendly man who works hard every day, never late, always doing overtime, and making sure to be gentle, even with the worst of the worst? Hm?” he asks, eerie laughs spilling from his lips, filling my ears with dreadful sound.

I make a bolt for the door, but he sticks out a hand blocking me from exiting. 

He whispers softly into my ear, “I’m gonna tell you your options and you’re gonna choose very carefully, understand?”

I look up at him, sweat dripping down my face, body trembling in fear, eyes welling up with tears again.

He speaks cool and calmly. “Either you’re going to stay in our house, pretending like nothing happened, both of us living out our days happily, or you try and go to the police, tell them what you saw, and they’ll tell you you’ve finally snapped for accusing such a nice guy for such a horrid crime, after all, her only parent, her dear sweet mother, died in a brutal car accident and she’s working nights at a shitty gas station with shitty customers.” He pauses for a moment “Then I’ll find you. I’ll take you back to this house we’re standing in, and lock you in the basement after breaking your legs.” I swallow back the buildup in the back of my throat. “After about a week missing, everyone will think you’ve killed yourself, jumped off a bridge of some sort and died after going crazy, when really, you’ll just be with me, giving me each and every thing I might ever desire.”

If I was trembling before, you should see me now. I stand, frozen in terror and he puts down his arm, no longer blocking the bathroom door. My eyes shift slowly from his face, to the door, trying to decide what I’m going to do..

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds: Act II- Chapter Twenty-Four Ko No Mono

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Cannibalism, Guns, Animal Death, Mental Heath, Desecration of Remains, Pregnancy, Vomiting,

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher

Twisted Minds Masterlist

GRAHAM/L/N HOUSE - BEDROOM - DAY-

Will twists in the throes of his fevered dream. A sound Gagging competes with his pathetic moan. Will finally awakens, disoriented. The Gagging comes again.

GRAHAM/L/N HOUSE - BATHROOM- DAY-

Will in T-shirt and sweats as he opens the Bathroom door to find Y/N leaning over the toilet gagging. “Honey?” Will calls to her. She groans back, she’s donned in one of his T-shirts. He goes over to her and holds her hair. Rubbing her back. Once she’s done vomiting, Will brings her Alkaline Water and anti-nausea medication. “I’ve been feeling so sick lately.” I take the pills with the water.

“Do I need to-” I shake my head, “no. I think its just a stomach bug or something.” Will kisses my Forehead and brushes my hair out of my face. “Are you sure because-” I give him a look. He nods. He helps me up and takes me to the kitchen. He makes me some buttered toast and then there's a knock at our door.

GRAHAM/L/N HOUSE - DAY-

Will in a T-shirt and sweats as he opens the front door. ALANA BLOOM Is on the stoop with APPLESAUCE. Will's DOGS mill around them, saying hello. Will watches as she bends to pet them. “Do we do friendly visits anymore?” Will raises a brow. “This isn't a friendly visit.”

“What kind of visit is it?”

“I guess I'm trying to convince myself of something. Or maybe I'm trying to convince you.” Alana is pensive, thoughtful, struggling with confrontation. “Or maybe I don't know why I'm here.” Alana adjusts her stance. “I know why. You're worried I killed Freddie Lounds.” The statement is matter-of-fact and sits there between them. “Did you?”

“What do you think?”

“I think that's the wrong answer to tell somebody who is already wondering what you're capable of.” Alana says, the sound of breakfast cooking and the sound of soft singing comes from inside the house. Will smiles softly “Been wondering that for a while.”

“I know you're lying to me. You've slipped into some kind of skin and I think it fits a little too well.”

“I told everyone Hannibal was a killer and no one believed me. Just like no one would believe you if you said I was a killer.” Will's tone chills Alana. But she's brave and persistent. “I'm afraid, Will. But not of you. I'm afraid for you. I don't think Hannibal is good for you. I think your relationship is destructive.”

“But Hannibal's good enough for you.” Alana reacts to that, stung. Will tries to soften his remark. “You should be afraid. You're right to be afraid. I have something for you.” Will quietly goes inside and returns, brandishing A HANDGUN. “Whoever you're afraid of... don't be afraid to use it.”

Alana reacts in fear, then Will SPINS the gun on its TRIGGER GUARD and offers it to her. He holds her gaze. Alana takes the gun. And her certainty about him wavers. She sees the old Will for a second. “Takes 9mm rounds. Buy a box and find a range. Practice.” And he goes back inside. The door swinging closed behind him, leaving Alana alone in the cold.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-

the fire flickering wildly. HANNIBAL placing it on the table in front of Will and Y/N. As the flames die down, we reveal THREE THUMB-SIZED BIRDS sizzling in their own fat and flesh.

“Among gourmands, the ortolan bunting is considered a rare-but debauched delicacy. A rite of passage, if you will. Each of the birds resembles an oval of butter with wings, feet and head still attached. Preparation calls for the songbird to be drowned alive in Armagnac. It is then roasted and consumed whole in a single mouthful.”

“Ortolans are endangered.” Will remarks. Y/N smirks, “Who amongst us is not?”

“I haven't been gorged, drowned, plucked and roasted. Not yet.” Will says as he gazes down at the birds who have met their fate in the stomachs of them. “Traditionally, during this meal, we're to place shrouds over our heads, hiding our faces from God.” Hannibal picks up one of the birds by its head.

“I don't hide from God.” Will and Y/N pick up their own birds. Raising them in a toast. “Bones and all?”

“Bones and all.”

Following Hannibal's lead, The couple place the bird in their mouth. As the flavor fills his mouth, Will nods in appreciation. It's clearly delicious, despite the CRUNCHING of tiny bones. Never taking his eyes off of them, Hannibal draws in the bird's head and beak, blithely crushing them between his molars before continuing. “After my first ortolan, I was euphoric. A stimulating reminder of our power over life and death.”

“I was euphoric when I killed Freddie Lounds.” Y/N says and then smirks. If only she was truly dead. “Tell me, did your heart race when you murdered her?”

Y/N deadpans, “No. It didn't.”

“A low heart rate is a true indicator of one's capacity for violence. One might say you are genetically predisposed to it.” Maybe he’s right. My mother was a serial killer, I hunt serial killers by thinking like them, and inevitably i have grown to enjoy the blood that runs down my hands. “This is my design?”

All teeth, starkly white in the chiaroscuro of blackened, scorched skin. With lips shriveled back, it's almost as though this death mask is grinning at us.

BAU - MORGUE - NIGHT-

The slab bears the burned body of an adult woman. Hair crisp like black hawthorn. Skin charred and cracked open. JIMMY PRICE and BRIAN ZELLER attend to the body. Will, Hannibal, Y/N and JACK CRAWFORD are there as well. “Orthodontics confirmed. It's Freddie Lounds. A little kerosene and fwoomp. Incendiary journalism. If she were burned alive, blood would have boiled out of her mouth.”

“No scabrous crust on her chin. Dead before the match was struck.” Jimmy says as he points it out. “Blood already pooled to the lowest points of her body. She'd been dead at least twenty-four hours.” Zeller says. “Freddie Lounds's ultimate failing was her inability to keep herself out of her own stories.” Jack says with a not sorry tone.

“Freddie had the longing need to be noticed. She was noticed.” Hannibal then leans close to inspect her corpse. “Severely-burned bodies tend to split along lines of musculature –” He points to a JAGGED OPENING along the corpse's back.”-- but this looks like an incision.”

“Cut out her psoas muscles. Looks like he used a hunting knife.”

“A peculiar trophy.” Hannibal glances innocently at Will who averts his eyes. “Why did he burn her?”

“How many people has Freddie Lounds burned in her career?”

“Whoever did this was not striking out against Miss Lounds's exploitative brand of journalism. This is something else. This is something sacred.” Y/N considers the charred corpse in front of her, then: “Freddie Lounds had to burn. She was fuel. Fire destroys, creates. It's mythical. She won't rise from the ashes, but her killer will.” Y/N says.

“He's the one to be noticed now.” Jack Crawford studying Will, Y/N and Hannibal...

GRAHAM/L/N HOUSE - BATHROOM - DAY-

I pace me and Will’s bathroom anxiously, the scary thing is what im hoping for shows up. the "+" of a pregnancy test. The test wand droops in FRAME so that the positive result icon looks like an "X", Oh my god. Is this real? I look down at my non-existant belly and then back at the test.

“Oh my god……OH MY GOD!”

CEMETERY - GRAVESITE - DAY-

The freshly-dug GRAVE and its MOUND OF EARTH are dark against the surrounding snow. a WREATH commemorates Freddie Lounds, sat atop a COFFIN at the graveside. An intimate group of MOURNERS are seated under a canopy – family and colleagues. They face the PRIEST who presides over Freddie's inhumation.

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

ALANA is watching the intimate group of mourners. But more interested in the cemetery beyond. She waits. At last, she sees what it is she's searching for: WILL GRAHAM

He's mostly obscured by a tree a dozen yards away, standing with Y/N. He notices Alana's gaze and approaches her. “Funeral was long at the chapel and it's long at the graveside.”

“I'm here to mourn Freddie Lounds. Can't imagine it's why you're here.” Alana says with slight distaste. “All sorts of reasons why I would go to Freddie Lounds's funeral. All sorts of reasons why you would go.” Will says as he grabs my hand, guiding me to his side. “Which reason are you here for?” Alana looks to me.

“It's common for a killer to revisit their victims after death. Attend funerals, return to crime scenes.” I say and Alana eyes Will, not amused. “Anyone suspicious?” She asks turning back to me.

“Besides Will?” I retort with a playful smile.

“That was implied.” She replies, still very clearly unamused.

“You were expecting me.” Will tilts his head with a slight furrow of the brow. “It's common for a killer to revisit their victims after death.” Alana repeats my notion. Will sighs taking a step forward. “I'm not here to dance on Freddie Lounds's grave, if that's what you're getting at.”

“Not here looking for her killer, either. Don't seem particularly interested in the crowd.” Alana says, I watch as she tries to analyze Will. “Are you profiling me, Dr. Bloom?”

“A psychological profile is nothing more than statistical probability. You here makes it that much more probable you're Freddie's killer.” Despite her doggedness in pressing Will, Alana looks away..”I'm here because my psychiatrist suggested it would be therapeutic.” As one, the mourners start away from the gravesite and Alana starts after them. She continues away in the cold.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - NIGHT-

Will observes the amber light trapped in a tumbler of Scotch. I sit observing both men. “I've been so preoccupied with taking a life, I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the possibility of making one.” Earlier in the day I asked Will about the possibility of children.

Hannibal stops behind my chair, stroking the ends of my hair. “When men become fathers, they undergo biochemical changes that affect the way they think.”

“You said the same thing happens when men become killers.”

“Fatherhood is not always a nurturing role. Fathers can be killers. In protecting a child, things trapped inside a man for years fly free, ready to explode in pain. And dangerous behavior. What sort of father would you be?” Will reflects on that, imagining a different life.

“I would be a good father.” Hannibal smiles warmly. He imagines Will would. I know he will be. Even if he doesnt know about you yet. My little love. “Do you see a life flashing before your eyes that's not your own?”

“Yes.”

“What about you Y/N…What sort of mother would you be?” I think on it, Thinking back to my own childhood. about my brothers and my own Mother. My first victim….and the woman who made me this way. “Better than my own….I’d be better than her. Because No child deserves what i went through.”

“How quickly we form attachments to something that does not yet exist.”

“I'm not attached. I'm only anticipating attachment.” Will furrows his brows in thought. “We have a deep-seated need to interact with our children. It helps us discover who we are.” Hannibal says inquisitively. “Have you ever been a father?” Will asks Hannibal.

“I was to my sister. She wasn't my child, but she was my charge. Abigail reminded me so much of her.” That derails Will's train of thought, almost sobering. “Then why did you kill her?” I ask softly, thinking of my dead child as I grown my new one.

“What happened to Abigail had to happen. There was no other way.”

“There was. But there isn't now.”

“Would you protect this child the way you couldn't protect Abigail?” I lower my head, No one will hurt you My little love. Not ever. Will studies Hannibal, then: “I still dream about Abigail. I dream I'm teaching her how to fish.”

“I'm sorry I took that from you. I wish I could give it back.”

“So do I.”

“Occasionally, on purpose, I drop a teacup to shatter on the floor. I'm not satisfied when it doesn't gather itself up again. Someday perhaps a cup will come together.” Will considering Hannibal's words --

CEMETERY - NIGHT-

Reflecting bone white in the moonlight. TRACKING across them shows their eerie shadows as the world opens a new day. A figure looming, silhouetted in the morning rays, the definition of its outline inexplicable until its sunlit front, a ghoulish representation of -- SHIVA

In multi-armed splendor, the god of the Hindu pantheon. FOUR ARMS fan out on each side of the torso -- eight arms in total. The composite deity made whole via composite body parts strapped to pose in a state of après-mort meditation.

THE HEAD Appears much larger than a normal human skull -- a result of THREE HEADS being strapped together to create a singular monstrosity. The center head faces forward as the ones flanking it point in opposite directions.

A THIRD EYE Leers sightless from a HOLE gouged into the forehead of the center head. As the sun continues rising, its light reveals the impromptu Shiva's many additions and accoutrements adorn and emanate from a SINGLE BODY at its core – The charred corpse of the late-but-not-so-lam

CEMETERY - FREDDIE LOUNDS'S GRAVESITE - DAY-

ZELLER Moves to reveal the RICTUS GRIN of Freddie's corpse. He and Jimmy Price are processing the grotesque Shiva. Will Graham and Dr. Y/N L/N watches them silently.

“Extra parts were harvested on-site.” Zeller takes note. “Just one night in the ground. That beats Jesus by forty-eight hours.” Jimmy says with a slight smirks. “Never thought Freddie would make it to heaven, much less get deified.”

ALANA BLOOM Is walking toward the gravesite with Jack Crawford. Will and Y/N are standing before the Shiva. Jimmy and Brian see Jack and Alana and nod greetings. Will is impassive. Alana holds his gaze. Neither looks away. Then Alana's eyes are drawn back to the Shiva. Its funny how no one ever thinks it Y/N… Always Will.

“This killer is trying to get somebody's attention.”

“I don't think he wants to be found. He has direction. His chaos is getting more orderly.”

“First he burns effigies, then he assembles them.”

“Burning Freddie Lounds wasn't his first effigy. Whoever killed Freddie killed Randall Tier. Mutilated him, dismembered him, put him on display.” I listen, Thats where her profile derails….The person who killed Randall Tier and the person who Created his sculpture are two different people.

“What connection do Freddie Lounds and Randall Tier have?”

“Will Graham. Randall Tier was his suspect and Hannibal's patient.” Will reacts to this and crosses to Jack and Alana. “Freddie was investigating his murder when she died.”

“Freddie was investigating a lot of things when she died.” Will states with an incredulous look. “This is a psychopath who has incubated fantasies of killing and is translating them into action. He's building himself up. Or somebody's building him up.”

“He could have a benefactor who admires his destruction. Hindus believe that destruction leads to new life. Shiva is destroyer and benefactor.” I say turning into the conversation, I cover my tracks well enough to not be known. Though Will and Hannibal make it to where i would never get caught. “He's being guided”

“This is a signpost?”

“Maybe Freddie's killer didn't do this. Maybe his benefactor did.”

“Why?” ALANA dawning in realization. “It's a courtship.” Alana watches Will intently now, determined.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - DAY-

Will and Y/N Sit with Hannibal. “Every creative act has its destructive consequence.” Will considers that and is compelled to ask: “What you did to me, what you did to Abigail, was that a creative act or destructive consequence?”

“The Hindu god Shiva is simultaneous destroyer and creator. Who you were yesterday is laid waste to give rise to who you are today.”

“Rise and rise again and again, until the lambs have become lions.” I say softly.

“Yes.” Will studies Hannibal a moment, then: “How much reality has had to be slandered? How many lies have had to be sanctified? How many consciences devastated?”

“As many as were necessary.” Hannibal says Without a second thought. “You sacrificed Abigail. You cared about her as much as I did.” Will says. “More. But then, how much has God sacrificed?”

“What god do you pray to?” Hannibal regards Will as though the answer is obvious. “I don't pray. I have not been bothered by any considerations of deity, other than to recognize how my own modest actions pale beside those of God.”

“I prayed I would see Abigail again.” I say softly, My hands play with the end of my dress. Hannibal lifts my Chin. “Your prayer did not go entirely unanswered. You saw part of her. Should the universe contract, should time reverse and teacups come together, a place could be made for Abigail in your world.”

“What place is that?”

“You've lost a child, Will. It seems you're likely to gain one.” From behind Hannibal, the WENDIGO RISES UP IN SILHOUETTE.

“God is beyond measure in wanton malice and matchless in His irony.” But the Wendigo itself has TRANSFORMED as it raises its arms revealing, Shiva-like, FOUR ARMS per side -- A FAN OF EIGHT.

Will entranced not by Hannibal, but the thing behind him.

BAU - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY-

Alana stands opposite a curious Jack Crawford. “What are you up to?”

“I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, Dr. Bloom.”

“I think you know. You're not fooling me, Jack.”

“I'm not trying to fool you.”

“You're lying. You're all lying. Will. Hannibal. You're lying to each other and they're lying to you. This isn't in my head. You are hiding something and this will end badly for all of us.” Jack considers Alana's state and carefully asks: “What do you believe is happening?”

“What do you believe? Do you believe Will killed Freddie Lounds?”

“I do not.”

“Do you believe Dr. Chilton's the Chesapeake Ripper?” Alana feels as if she is going mad from all that has crumpled around her. “There was overwhelming evidence–”

Alana angrily interjects; “Stop lying. You think you've moved all your pieces around so cleverly.” Jack's eyes narrow, studying Alana. “What's changed, Alana?”

“I have no confidence that I know Hannibal Lecter anymore. Even with as much as you know or think you know Hannibal, you don't know him either. And you don't know Will. And I’m not sure anyone knows Y/N. You're going to lose, Jack. If you haven't lost already.” Jack stares a long moment, then: “I want you to come with me.”

BAU - CORRIDOR - DAY-

Jack leads Alana down the hall, toward the conference room. Every step Alana takes is filled with dread. Jack opens the door and he firmly ushers her through --

BAU - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY-

ALANA as she comes through the door. Jack following behind her. Alana follows his gaze and stops short, stunned. FREDDIE LOUNDS.

“How was my funeral?” Alana looks at Jack Crawford. Her eyes well up as the gravity of its meaning WALLOPS her. That she has been putting Will Graham in terrible danger.

MUSKRAT FARM - PIG BARN - NIGHT-

The barn is dark, but LIGHTS BURN on the raised platform. And OPERA MUSIC drifts toward us from the speakers. The maze is a BLACK MONOLITH in the center of the floor. RAISED PLATFORM Mason Verger sits in a wing-back chair, a SUCKLING PIG in hisarms, and he listens to the music as he strokes it.

He stands and looks into the dimly-lit pit, at the rooting PIGS, SNORTING and GRUNTING below him.

He raises a REMOTE CONTROL and changes the music -- the SUDDEN HORRIFIC SCREAMS ring out! “Carlo, I don't think they've had enough to eat.” Mason turns and is surprised to see Will Graham standing behind him. Mason shuts off the recorded screams, then:

“You must be the baby daddy. Excuse me if I don't offer you a cigar.” Will PUNCHES Mason, bloodying his nose. Mason touches the blood and examines it, then laughs in Will's face.

“I'm going to feed you to my pigs.” Will violently grabs Mason by the scruff of his collar and drags him off his feet and over to the pigpen opening. “Carlo? Carlo.” Will roughly pulls Mason to the edge and dangles him partially over the hungry, SQUEALING pigs below. Mason's eyes are more rage-filled than even Will's.

“No I’m not. I’m a friend. But do You think it was Margot's idea to have an heir? Think it was your idea to take it from her? My idea to come here and kill you? No….What you, your sister and I all have in common is the same psychiatrist.” Will drops Mason on the metal grating, hard. Mason gathers his wits, debating lunging at Will's back... then Will turns with a gun pointed directly at the prodigal Verger. “If Dr. Lecter had his dithers, you'd be wrapped around a bullet.”

Will tucks the gun back into his holster, adding: “He's the one you want to be feeding to your pigs…”

[ravennasgf]

LL: More

TW: su!c!de 

A/n: Was listening to More by Halsey when I came up with this 

Being Lady Lesso’s secret lover was hard, but I accepted it for her sake. 

Attending a ball for students and staff and not being able to dance with her hurt a little. Yes we were both Nevers, but she still didn’t want to have our relationship known. 

“So anyone in your life yet?” My best friend Emma asks 

“No, unfortunately,” I say as I see Lesso looking at me with a flash of hurt in her eyes. 

~~ a few days later 

Leo has been ignoring and avoiding me. I decide to talk to her. I knock on her room door. 

“What do you want?” she asks her tone ice-cold

“What did I do wrong Leo…”

“Don’t call me that you have no right after what you said.”

“Is this about the ball? You’re the one who wanted our relationship secret because of your reputation and I have kept that,” 

“Well it seems that you’re more than happy to be single so leave. I have a function to attend with someone,” she says. Hurt and betrayal fill me at how quickly she tossed me aside. 

“So you’re pretending that there was or is nothing between us?”

“You made that clear the other day,”

“Nora…”

“No! get out now,” she shouts. I do so tears falling down my face as I leave the woman I love behind. 

~~~ a week later 

I see her around the school with the new me, she’s very similar to me, and it hurts like hell. I spend the day working the nights drinking myself into oblivion to drown my sorrows. 

Broken beyond repair I take a week off of teaching. I turned to self harm, anti-depressants and alcohol still to numb the pain. 

My dearest Leonora,

I have loved you for the longest time. I still love you and I can’t help it. Somehow I still love you more. I am truly sorry for everything that happened. I’m glad that you have found someone to move on with. I’m sorry for the hurt that I caused you. I’m sorry that the future we talked about won’t happen with me, but I hope your new girlfriend can fulfil it. I wish you nothing but the best. I know that you also hate seeing me every day, so I’m leaving so you no longer have the reminder of me. Again I’m so sorry, I will love you til my dying breath (soon) and wish you all the happiness in the world. I’ll see you on the other side.

Love y/n

I go to the garden and conjure a piano to play and sing as I cry my eyes out. It won’t matter soon I’ll be dead. The pain to much to handle. I start playing More by Halsey https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLw3JCQSkCU 

I grab the letter out of my pocket and head to Nora’s office. I knock but there’s no answer meaning she’s out. I open the door and place the letter on her desk. I look around at the room seeing all the memories it holds I decide that the sooner I die, the better for me. I head to my room grabbing my razor, whiskey, and two bottles of pills. I then head to the old headmasters tower. It was time. 

~~ 

After ingesting the pills and alcohol and making deep cuts on my wrist crying my eyes out, my eyelids feel heavy. They finally close. 

~~

Lesso’s POV

Walking into my office I see a folded letter on my desk. As I open it and read it I feel overcome with emotion. I feel a little guilty about what happened. I regret not talking it through with her instead I pushed her away. “I will love you til my dying breath (soon)” as I read that line I stopped breathing. Is she planning what I think this implies. No, please no. as I finish reading the letter I feel a part of my die. A pain rips through my heart and I know that I was right in what she was implying. No, she’s gone and it’s all my fault. 

“NO!” I scream out in pain as my heart breaks even more tears falling a million miles an hour down my face. Dovey and Emma run in.

“Lesso? What happened?”

“y/n she’s gone,”

“What?!’ they ask confused

“I’ll explain later we need to find her,” we all run out of my office trying to find her. I check the tower. Upon entering the tower I see her body on the floor, blood pooled around her. Alcohol bottles and pill bottles. I feel my heartbreaking even more. I rush forward and collect her body pulling it close to mine cradling it, as I scream out in pain. I eventually pick her up and carry her into the evers castle. Dovey and Emma see me and rush forward with tears in their eyes. 

I bring her to the infirmary and lay her cold body down. 

“What happened to her to get to this point,” Emma asks

“That may be my fault,” I whisper out

“What did you do?” Dovey asks me angrily. So I explain everything

“You know a true loves kiss can bring her back,” Dovey says. 

“Just give it a go,” Emma pushes. 

“Ok,” I give in. I give her a small kiss on the lips. 

“Lady Lesso?” I hear y/n say hoarsely.

“y/n you’re ok?” I say with relief. 

“Yeah, why are you here shouldn't, you be with your new girlfriend?”

“We’re not together anymore. I need you, and only you just like I love you and only you,”

“You clearly don’t Lesso and that’s fine, but please leave.”

“No please listen.”

“Fine,” she agrees 

“y/n I love you and I know that I said we should keep our relationship secret but instead of talking it out that night I pushed you away, and I regret it with every fibre of my being as I almost lost you. y/n I love you and I want the whole world to know that it’s you that I love, want and need.” I explain desperation evident in my voice along with love. 

“I love you too Lady Lesso,” she says quietly

“Will you be mine again?” I ask 

“Yes but only if we start talking these things out,”

“I promise darling I can’t live without you,” I tell her honestly. She gives me her incredible smile which makes me smile. 

a/n: please give any requests I’m out of ideas

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

Ello

I am a mutual but i am embarrassed about self shipping so we go anon

If you are comfortable with it could i request the mercs with a trans man/nonbinary on their period? Like if they comfort you and how, what their reaction is (if they find it gross, if their confused as hell)

Thank youu

TF2 Mercs Comforting A Trans Man/Nonbinary Person On Their Period!

————————————————————

Hello Secret Mutual! Of course you can ask this, it's really cute! You asked the right guy, too, because I am a transgender. Anyways, would you believe this is my second x reader ask? Uh, I hope you don't mind that I used my lgbtq+ headcanons for this! Also, I assumed by comfort you meant general comfort but also dysphoria, I hope I didn't go off ask with that assumption

————————————————————In case you were wondering, none of these guys would be embarrassed or refuse to buy pads/tampons/any other period products for you. And even if they were embarrassed, they'd do it anyway. I will die on this hill. There's also a myriad of period products in the base already, probably all old, but they're still there. Also, none of them will find it or you gross! Some of them might not really understand what a period is, but when they figure it out, they will never make you feel like it or you are gross. Periods are natural, and at the base, no one needs to feel ashamed!

————————————————————

Um, light TW for gender dysphoria mentions? Nothing serious, just what the title implies. Lots of comfort and validation, though! Also uses of the words pussy and uterus!

————————————————————

Demo is probably confused for like five minutes and then has a lightbulb moment,

"Oh, yeah, I remember being on the rag, hurt like hell. Medic can fix that if ya want. He took mine years ago." He had follicular cysts and good god was he thrilled to never have that pain again. (He's just like me fr!) Assuming you don't trust Medic, hate surgeries, can't get it removed, or just don't want it removed, he's understanding of your choice to keep it, and will try his best to be comforting. Anything you'll need, he'll manage to find. Heating pads? He's got them somewhere, he's sure. PMS pills? He's on his way to the lab to get them from Medic for you. If you have dysphoria from your period, he's also really good at providing comfort for that. If you're a trans man, he'll tell you you're plenty masculine and one of the strongest men he knows. If you're nonbinary he'll assure you that a little bit of blood every month doesn't change anything and that your identity is still valid as hell. He would fist fight your dysphoria if he could.

————————————————————

Engie is more surprised than anything. Not in a bad way! Here's the thing, he straight up forgets about periods once he got his uterus taken out. My man had PCOS, and once he no longer had to deal with unbearable cramps and sickness every month, he just never thought about it again. He's super quick to comfort you, though. In a similar vein to Demo, he'll tell you about Medic removing his. Again, I am very respectful of your choice. He will do his best to make you super comfortable and keep you happy. He'll make you special heating pads! He'll also bring you anything you need. I cannot stress this enough. When it comes to dysphoria, you will get called an insane amount of pet names. All validating your identity, of course. He understands the feeling of dysphoria and will do anything to ease the pain and sadness that comes with it. Lots of cuddles from him too btw.

————————————————————

Heavy is confused. Not by periods. This man grew up with three sisters. He knows what a period is by now. No, he's confused by you getting a period. He's not mean, of course! He's just going to ask you a lot of questions because he's probably just interested. He'll do whatever you need him to do to make it easier for you. He knows his sisters were miserable during their time, and he can't imagine how bad it is for you to have to deal with a period and dysphoria. Speaking of dysphoria, he doesn't really know what to say but also manages to say everything you need to hear at the same time? Like he assures you in no uncertain terms that you are super valid and no less of a man or person and that you are you and you're valid. He hugs you a lot! If you seem even the slightest bit sad, he's giving you a hug.

————————————————————

Medic is probably the best when it comes to dealing with periods. He understands dysphoria and knows how to ease your pain. The second you feel pain, he's handing you hot tea and pain medication. He keeps you in his lab while he works to keep an eye on you and sends Archimedes and his other doves over to comfort you whenever he can't. He tracks your period purely to make sure he can have anything you might need on hand day of. He's always willing to remind you of how scientifically you're gender has nothing to do with those pesky organs. Lots of compliments on your body if you're a trans man, commenting on how masculine you are. If you're nonbinary he's complimenting your resilience and strength. Honestly, he's great. Points taken off, though, because he wants your uterus for his ever growing organ collection, but he will respect your choices with minimal pestering.

————————————————————

Scout is confused all around. He doesn't get it. So you have to explain periods to him, then you have to explain being trans to him, and then you have to explain both together before it finally clicks in his mind. He's immediately supportive. Maybe to supportive. If you ask him to get period products you'll get hit with the "Alright babe, I'm in the pad isle, what's ur pussy size?" And if you make the mistake of not answering in the first five minutes he buys so many boxes of pads and tampons. You're sitting in bed clutching your stomach, and he comes in the room to dump at least seven boxes of pads and tampons on you. Hey, what he lacks for in understanding, he makes up for by being able to make you laugh so hard you forget the period cramps. You'll never feel dysphoria if he has any say in it. He will do anything to distract you from bad thoughts and will validate you until his voice wears out.

(HE'S LIKE THIS WHEN HE FIRST LEARNS WHAT A PERIOD IS 😭)

————————————————————

Sniper doesn't care that you have a period and doesn't care that you're trans. That sounds really mean, but I swear it's not like that. Periods are normal, and you shouldn't feel weird about them, so when it's your time of the month, he'll support you in whatever way you need, but he'll act very nonchalant about it all. With you being trans he reassures you that he doesn't care about how you were born and that you shouldn't either because your body doesn't define the person you are. Basically, this man is so supportive but in a really calm kind of way. But just because he acts all chill and nonchalant doesn't mean he isn't worried. Oh no, this man appears to be calm and collected, but he's really upset that you have to go through this. You might find yourself on the receiving end of hugs and kisses whenever you look particularly sad.

————————————————————

Considering his ass is on the support team, Spy is not very supportive. Well, not supportive emotionally. Physically, he'll bring you the best of whatever you need or want. He's more than happy to kill someone to get you something nice, just to see you light up or (happy) cry out of appreciation. Emotionally, however, he's not mean, but he thinks you're being ridiculous with the things you say. He wants to provide you comfort, but he really doesn't understand why you feel so dysphoric and doesn't even know where to start. He'll just reassure you he loves and cares for you. Speaks softly to you and talks more than he normally does if you prod him. Who knows, he might even sing for you or tell you stories while you lay in bed with cramps if that would make you feel better.

————————————————————

Soldier is confused, but he's got the right spirit. In a similar vein to Scout, has asked what your pussy size is at least once, and has at least bought nine boxes of period products. He really just wants to be helpful and make you feel better. He'll gladly get anything you need, from heating pads to chocolate he's already getting it the second you even thought about it. I'd you feel dysphoric, he'll remind you that you're an American!! (even if you aren't 😭) And you're an amazing person. So, who cares how you were born? What matters is the person you are today! Less screaming than normal, especially if you get migraines or just headaches in general. He's still really loud, and your head will still probably throb, but he's trying. It takes him a while to go from his normal 100% volume to a normal speaking volume but the effort really shows. Most of the time though, he might just lay with you and listen to you talk, if you're in any mood to. Or just take a nap with you. Literally anything you want to do, he'll do, as long as he can do it with you.

————————————————————

Pyro knows. Like 100% knows. They experience it every month and deal with pain and gender dysphoria. (They're the only merc who has a uterus and period, actually! They're MTF and underwent the surgeries only to realize their agender, they now have a complicated relationship with their gender where they love their body but dislike their uterus and want it removed but at the same time value their uterus) Anyways, this isn't a Pyro post so moving on! So, you two would probably sync up and deal with it together. Pyro would most likely focus on you to help them ignore their symptoms and dysphoria. They love helping you and caring for you. They have a big heated blanket that you can share to help ease pain, and they have as much chocolate as you need to make you feel better. Lots of hugs and cuddles, too! They'll talk to you for hours about their issues with gender dysphoria if you let them, always returning the favor to let you rant back at them. Finding their own way to assure you the feel the same and that you both need to realize that a blood cycle can't and won't ever define you or your gender.

————————————————————

I love these guys so much. It's insane. Also, I love this ask, I want to shake it around in my teeth like a dog. Anyways! I swear I'm normal. I hope you like this Anon :)

[spitsonyou1]

the randomest little be more chill rant that nobody asked for- both musical and book spoilers

not anything wrong with either of these, just mad at a character and I WANT TO CRUSH HER UNDER MY HEEL I ALSO WANT TO CRUSH THAT STUPID COMPUTER PILL.

read if you want?? Idk if you wanna sooo you dont have to

⚠️TW⚠️- sensitive topics such sexual harassment, drug use, and more relating to these

alright im not explaining anything and i assume you have read or watched bmc if you are reading this

i am going to be talking about the scene/song 'Do You Wanna Hang". (a very disturbing song for me, which most definitely implied S/A)

ehem. JEREMY IS NOT AT FAULT HERE. AND NO IM NOT BEING BIASED BECAUSE HE'S MY FAVORITE.

but genuinley. people could say it's Chloe's fault-- but that is more in the book, which i will talk about in a minute. It could be Chloe's fault in the musical, but she was also drunk off her mind and did not consent either. IN THE MUSICAL, THE FAULT IS ON THE SQUIP. it kept jeremy in that situation in both pieces of media, against his will, and if it weren't for Jake finding them, that situation would be horrifying. And because of the squip controlling jeremy, jeremy would be at fault for (yk)ing Chloe while she was drunk, therefore cheating on Brooke.

and so yesterday i finished the musical. i am still thinking about this song, and i go to the song on yt to see what others think about it.

dear the people, THIS IS NOT LIKE 'SAY NO TO THIS' FROM HAMILTON. ALEXANDER WAS FULLY IN CONTROL OF HIMSELF. MARIA (marie? idk) WAS NOT DRUNK.

as that one person on the reddit article said, this is much more like Blue or Your Welcome from Heathers. a very disturbing song portraying a strong message when characters were not in control of themselves, leading to messed up situations.

it is nothing like Say No to This.

(dear fanfic authors who make Jeremy and Chloe friends, this situation had not been resolved. you better have made a good side plot for this <3)

AND NOW FOR MY BOOK RAnT (there are many differences between the book and the musical, i prefer some things in each over others for reasons.)

a little bit of this info may be wrong, because i read the book a month or so ago. correct me if i AM wrong.

At some point when Jeremy was first in the party, chloe of course found him since they had agreed to meet up at the party in the book. (also, brooke and jeremy were never dating book wise) chloe gave him a mystery drug, and just told him to take it. CHLOE. LOOK AT ME. WHY. he takes it, and of course the squip is turned off now.

SO CHLOE HAS GIVEN HIM THIS STRONG DRUG, TAKES ONE HERSELF, AND TAKES HIM DOWN INTO THE BASEMENT.

you can see the problems with this.

in the book, this is chloes fault. she took advantage of jeremy for her own pleasure.

i dont think jeremy had consented to this in the book. (again i might be wrong)

and of course, Jake catches this in the act

we continue the book without uncovering this again, as they did in the musical

but yes that is the end of my rant.

i still dont like chloe

[satanicsanity]

Guess who's got more au lore for Baker-wally!! (I worked hard on this with some friends and mutuals in the Discord server)

Tw: Disturbing themes, cannibalism, implied abuse, violence, demonic-ritual stuff, overall Just... Huge trigger warning! This is a bit dark!

The overall lore, so far:

Wally was unstable from childhood, grew up in a violent home, baking was always a coping mechanism for wally... Whenever wally was sad or angry, he would bake. This always kept wally calm... And happy. Wally found from early childhood that sugar improved his mood immensely... By large amounts. (this lead to later-on sugar pills, to keep himself happy and.. mostly stable)

One day during his childhood, a close friend of wally's passed away. Wally (being completely off his rocker already) ended up eating their corpse in a desperate and crazed attempt to stay close to them... and never forget them. But upon doing that he got a sudden addiction to it, to the taste of the flesh... and began going out late at night to kill innocent folks and would frequently draw little pictures in the victim's blood.

However one evening upon doing this... He accidentally drew some kind of demonic entity symbol (A swirl to be specific 🌀) which summed... Well... And entity. (because it was drawn in blood) which lead wally into the knowledge of the paranormal, etc etc.

Realizing all of this... He tried to convince the entity he'd accidentally summoned, to bring his friend back. But the entity couldn't do so... because wally had eaten and harmed the corpse... Meaning they couldn't be brought back, because they had no physical body to be brought back TO anymore.

Wally was discouraged by this, but the entity decided to give wally an offer... The entity took a quick liking to wally.

So the entity proposed a deal... Keep making sacrifices to them, and the entity would assist wally... Giving wally SOME of their mind and time manipulation abilities to use however he wished. The only downside, is that this mind manipulation could only go so far... And could only erase others memories for so long. (There was a time-limit on how long the memories would stay erased, in a sense.)

Wally of course took the deal without hesitation... Using it to his advantage to get more sacrifices, to keep the power the entity has granted him alive. But there was another issue, the entity only needed the blood-symbols and the life of said victim... They had no use for the victim's body. (And wally could only eat so many victims at a time on his own.)

And so, Wally began struggling to hide the corpses and the police were catching on... As the downside was previously mentioned that wally could only erase people's memories for a certain amount of time, before the memories would be returned. (The Time manipulation didn't help, because The memories were still intact after time ran out for the erased memories. It just made people slightly confused on why the day seemingly reset.)

So wally moved out of town quickly for a fresh start, packed his things and left without a trace... Left his family behind... Left everything behind. Eventually finding himself in a cute neighborhood. Wally quickly made friends with some nice neighbors... Barnaby, Julie, howdy, Eddie, frank, Sally, and poppy.

Unable to keep his cannibalistic murdering urges at bay... Trying to bake to Distract himself from those intrusive thoughts... He realized he could simply get rid of the corpses by baking them into the treats he makes. Not only that... But he could embed his new-found power into his treats by infecting it, in a sense.

So wally worked some magic when greeting his new neighbors formally, offering them cupcakes... That he infected himself using certain sprinkles (doused in the entity's power he'd been given) that would allow complete control over those neighbors minds, COMPLETE control. (the same sprinkles that are stuck in wally's hair, a hidden sign of wally's control over the neighborhood) This created a loophole of sorts when it came to wally's power limitations... The time limit didn't matter anymore, BECAUSE wally's power was now attached INTO their bodies and systems, attaching onto their brains, growing like fungus... Wally had complete manipulation over their minds now and practically the entire neighborhood, no time limit to worry about. This would make things much easier... He could create the PERFECT neighborhood! Killing off neighbors he didn't like, baking them into teats to serve, and his neighbors would be none the wiser! And if he was ever caught... He'd simply erase their minds, and reset the day!

There was one issue though... Poppy didn't take his cupcake offer upon first meeting. This is a huge issue for wally... Because now she's the only one, besides wally, who remembers things the others don't... And is aware of the day-resets. And she has a strong feeling it all has to do with wally. (which she's absolutely correct, but has no proof)

When poppy tries bringing this up to the other neighbors, they have no idea what she's talking about. (like I said... Their minds get erased by wally if he's ever caught.) Poppy knows something isn't right... and wally is aware poppy knows, as she never took his cupcake offer. She's as aware as wally is of the neighborhood resets.

Wally finds this a bit fun though... And strives to make poppy feel as if she's going crazy. He doesn't bother using his short-term mind eraser on her... He finds toying with her is far more amusing.

Now where does home (wally's bakery) come in with all this?

Home was built from the ground up by wally, and brought to life through sacrifices wally made to the entity. In short... Home basically owes wally their life. Wally is the reason home is alive and conscious... Which is a reason why home never goes against wally's word. (other than the fact wally also protects home to an extreme extent.)

In A VERY short sense: Wally's gained complete control over the neighborhood, and all the neighbors expect poppy, through the help and collaboration between him and an entity who'd taken a liking to wally after an accidental summoning.

(This is all over-explained and word vomit, so I apologize for that! If there's anything problematic about this story, I will go back and fix it! <3 I tried to make the lore as close to the overall theme as possible! This may be edited in the future!)