I love writing and I never shut up. Requests are open and don't be afraid to send asks! I still like talking to people and hearing ideas. Icon by @funkinlove and header by me. Minors dni with my sinsworld posts or you WILL be blocked. (I am 20, he/him)
Hi! If you couldn't tell, this is a yandere blog. I'll be posting my writings here.
I honestly meant for this blog to be a multi-fandom blog but as of right now it's an eddsworld blog! I'm still keeping my list of fandoms under the Read More though for the future, along with what is and isn't okay to request.
I love writing and love both platonic and romantic yanderes.
I literally never shut up and I love talking to people. Requests are open. :D
Masterlist #1 (Contains fics centering around the guys)
Masterlist #2 (Contains mostly aus)
Sinsworld Masterlist (Minors do not interact with any of these posts or you WILL be blocked.)
My Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YandereWriter
Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/viktor15921
Do not interact with my blog if you like incest content or if your blog centers heavily around abuse nsfw.
OKAY to request:
- x readers
- If you want a specific gendered reader, specify in the ask because I typically try to write readers as gender-neutral as possible when I get normal "character x reader" requests.
- Platonic relationships
- character x character
- Sfw headcanons
- Non-con/Dun-con kissing is okay as long as it doesn't go farther than that.
NOT okay to request:
- Pedophilia
-Incest
- Anything to do with body fluids (besides maybe blood. Depends on how Gorey the request is and where blood comes into play)
- Gore towards children.
- Yandere severely harming their person of obsession (ex: Yandere beats their love interest)
- Sinsworld / Nsfw. Please send any sinsworld content to my nsfw blog, @obsessive-sin Minors do not interact with that blog. You will be blocked.
Shows:
Yu-Gi-Oh (Probably mostly Season 0 and the manga it was based on.)
Was looking through my docs and found this. It's a polyworld au, where Tom laid an egg. Reader is a child of divorce in this because I’m a sucker for divorced future eddtord. I might continue this if anyone's interested.
_____________________________________________
You gotta be fucking kidding me. Edd thought in disbelief. He grits his teeth as he rips the poster off the wall. That piece of shit, he thought furiously. He ripped off another. And another. Wanted posters were scattered across the alley. All of him.
Edward Galloway
$1,000,000
WANTED: Him and the child. Both brought in ALIVE.
Edd would be damned before he let that asshole take his child. It didn’t matter if Tord had carried the egg and birthed it, the baby was Edd’s. Edd raised them for most of their life, after Tord dumped them on him. It didn’t matter that he had an army building. The jackass could have at least called more, to talk to their toddler.
He sure had no problem contacting Edd when he “needed a place to stay”. God, how stupid Edd was. How blind by excitement. He really believed that Tord had finished whatever sketchy thing he had been up to for years. That he was ready to come home and raise their child.
Fucking hell.
Edd would never believe a word Tord would say again. Never again would he be so stupid. Not like Tom and Matt. And that was a whole other can of worms.
He shook his head, picking up his grocery bags and continuing down the alley. It had taken ten minutes to rid the alley of posters. He hadn’t bought cold groceries so it was fine.
Thankfully, he didn’t cross paths with any more wanted posters of him or his child. It was a good sign. More posters popping up would mean he’d have to lay low for a while. If he was spotted and reported, more of Tord’s robots would patrol along with his soldiers. Police? Whatever the fuck he called them.
Edd didn’t pay much attention to what the Red Leader was up to these days. Good or bad, it mattered nothing to him. All that mattered was that Tord was on the hunt. Edd already missed the first three years of his baby's life, he wasn't missing anymore.
Would you be willing to write platonic yandere red leader x Child reader (maybe around 4-5)? I was think about the knock knock love post and just thought of it with a child who wants to come out but is scared of punishment so they make him pinky promise them from under the door before they come out. And when they do they just cry into Him! I think ot would be so cute!
You asked for reader, but I left who the kid could be left up to interpretation. They could be Reader, a kid Tord had with Reader or with some one else, or even just a random child Tord adopted.
Tord leaned against his child’s door, anger long gone. “I promise I’m not mad, sweetpea. Please just open the door.”
He heard shuffling from behind but they didn’t answer. He sighed and sat down with his back against the door. Maybe they needed a few more minutes of silence. He wasn’t exactly… kind when he lost his mind.
It was something he needed to work on. He couldn’t afford to be so hot headed now that he had a child. Although he really did need to make the house more childproof. Seeing his child wave a large knife around nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.
Even more so when they dropped it, nicking their hand in the process.
Tord had rushed for the first aid kit and they had vanished to their room. Anger rushed through him again. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. He needed to stay calm.
“Papa’s not going to punish you, love. I-” A small hand half popped out from under the door.
“Pinky promise?” They asked, pinky stretched out as far as they could get it under the gap between the door and the floor.
“Pinky promise.” Tord latched his metal finger around their pinky and lightly squeezed.
They pulled their hand away and Tord heard the lock unclick.
He rose to his feet and took a step back. They could open the door.
A moment later their door swung open, his child teary eyed and sniffling. He wasted no time in scooping them up to his chest, rubbing their back.
The dam breaks and they wail.
“I’m sorry!” they sob. “I’m sorry!”
“Shhh, it’s okay. What did we learn today?”
“Don’t… Don’t touch things in the kitchen. Without Papa’s supervision.”
“Very good! Now let me see the cut on your hand.”
They complied, holding their hand out for him to see.
Relief washed over him. It wasn’t nearly as deep as he feared. The blood had slowed as well. All he needed to do was clean it and put a bandaid over it.
He kissed their cut and told them, “There, now Papa’s going to make it better. Does it hurt?”
“Yeah,” they sniffled.
He carried them to the kitchen and sat them down. At the very least, he hoped this taught them to not touch sharp objects.
want to be clear that if i ever talk about a headcanon and then later discuss a headcanon that is directly contradictory to the first one, that’s because headcanons exist in a quantum state where they are all simultaneously true and not true up until the point where i discuss it in detail, in which case that is the one that is true in that instance. schroedinger’s headcanons
Tord went silent after you broached the question. His mouth was a hard line and he kept his eyes downward at his hands. His jaw clenched.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer,” you say gently. “I’m sorry for pushing.”
He shakes his head. “No, no… It’s alright. I understand talking about what happened is supposed to….” he trails off again. A small tight smile appears on his face as he looks up at you. “Help me get better.”
Tord takes a deep breath and sits up straight. “I hadn’t meant to kill Jon. Really, I hadn’t. Poor guy was just at the wrong place, wrong time, when my flatmate and I… were having a drunken sprawl.”
You nodded, trying to keep an encouraging expression. “And Jon was your… neighbor?”
“Yes. He was the nicer one. It’s a shame that it was him and not one of the other three. They were a near constant pain in my ass. One of them was always upsetting my…” Tord grows quiet as remorse crosses his face. “Edd still hasn’t visited?”
You shake your head. Guilt crosses your face as your eyes dart to the reinforced window of the room. The guard wasn’t paying attention. You clasp your hands and lean forward, elbows resting on your knees. In a hushed voice, you rush out, “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I think you deserve to know what happened. He’s still being kept in the institute up north. Him and… Tom. Matt’s family took him in and he’s under housewatch.”
Relief and anger flash side by side on Tord’s face. “I told them that Edd and Tom had nothing to do with my decision,” he says through gritted teeth. His voice rises with anger. “I told them that that prick Eduardo started the whole damn thing when he-” he cuts off, giving you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t yell.”
You both sit in tense silence. Then, he opens his mouth again. “I wasn’t trying to kill Tom. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but I’ve never wanted to kill him. That night, we both just… had too much to drink. So we took our fight outside. And, well, you know the rest.”
You nervously tap your thumbs. As much as you hated to push, this was more than Tord had ever spoken about that night. “I-I’d like to hear it from you, in your own words. If you feel up to it, that is.”
Tord frowns. He reaches up to scratch the scar on his face.
“Well, Eduardo came outside. Yelled at us to take our, and please excuse me for using this word, fag fight inside. Edd had been hovering next to the living room window and he rushed outside. Of course Eduardo couldn’t keep his mouth shut. His whole damn posse came out and egged him on. He…” Tord rubs his face. “It’s hard to remember, you understand? I was drunk. All I can gather is he insulted Edd. Called him nasty things. So I pulled my gun out and shot him.”
You take a sharp breath of air. “Except it hit Jon instead.”
I realized that when I posted that Tord fic half asleep I didn’t explain why the ending was so abrupt 😭. At the top of the post, I meant to say I wasn’t going to stay up later to write a sfw ending for this blog. Right after Tord breaks into reader’s apartment, it’s nsfw on the blog I got the request on
This was requested on one of my sin blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing more sfw until after i get more sleep.
Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE
The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand.
“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.
The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt.
“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.”
You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job.
The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more.
You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read.
Løvik Tord
3 7 2 5 9
DOB: 1995
Age: 28
Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots
Eye: Silver
You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty.
CASE INFORMATION:
Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15).
He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20).
You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file.
Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room.
It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-
“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.”
You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?
The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you.
“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.”
You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.”
Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder.
“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place?
You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help.
You storm out of the breakroom and wander.
“I was hoping I’d see you again.”
Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down.
It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind.
“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional.
“You used to dye your hair?”
Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….
After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.”
“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.”
“And what do you want from me in return?”
“I’m sorry?”
His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.
Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously.
“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.”
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?”
Whatever it may be, you smile at him.
“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.”
Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm.
(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”
“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”
“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”)
Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section.
You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair.
Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects.
He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations.
Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health.
If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve.
It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind.
You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down.
In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again.
You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down.
In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming.
Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash.
“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open.
You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze.
Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you.
“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless.
Useless information floods your brain.
“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light.
He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-
He’s covered in blood.
Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face.
“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.”
This was requested on one of my nsfw blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc the rest of it/the ending is nsfw. I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing a sfw ending for this blog until after i get more sleep.
Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE
The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand.
“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.
The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt.
“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.”
You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job.
The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more.
You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read.
Løvik Tord
3 7 2 5 9
DOB: 1995
Age: 28
Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots
Eye: Silver
You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty.
CASE INFORMATION:
Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15).
He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20).
You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file.
Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room.
It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-
“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.”
You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?
The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you.
“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.”
You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.”
Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder.
“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place?
You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help.
You storm out of the breakroom and wander.
“I was hoping I’d see you again.”
Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down.
It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind.
“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional.
“You used to dye your hair?”
Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….
After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.”
“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.”
“And what do you want from me in return?”
“I’m sorry?”
His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.
Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously.
“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.”
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?”
Whatever it may be, you smile at him.
“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.”
Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm.
(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”
“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”
“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”)
Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section.
You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair.
Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects.
He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations.
Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health.
If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve.
It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind.
You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down.
In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again.
You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down.
In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming.
Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash.
“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open.
You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze.
Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you.
“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless.
Useless information floods your brain.
“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light.
He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-
He’s covered in blood.
Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face.
“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.”
I've read a bunch of your stuff for a while now, and it only just occurred to me that you don't really write for the Yan who attack their affection. I mean, yeah they get "punished" but not actually killed or maimed. That's not a bad thing! I just noticed cause I write Yan totally different and its p cool!
Like, I write them as a horror trope. All the obsessiveness building, a desire to take and control, to dissect the target socially or mentally or even physically, so the Yan knows them inside and out, and no one else can know them the same way. And if that hurts the target, then that doesn't matter.
Meanwhile, you write it more as a romantic or overprotective thing. "The world is bad, and I'll keep you away from it", where its more delusional(? Sorry, I don't know a nicer word for it) than straight up possessive.
I don't mean anything bad by this. Honestly, I think it's super cool! A base concept being two entirely separate subgenres(?) based on interpretation is just awesome, imo! And I'm not trying to say the two styles are exclusive, either! Just a sliding spectrum type deal.
I love your work, and would love to hear your thoughts! Like, do you intentionally stick to Possessive and/or Protective, or is it something you don't even think about? What inspires you? What's your go to trope when thinking about a new au/Yan?
I hope this isn't too much of a bother! Honestly, it's not even really a question, more of just an observation/admiration.
It's not a bother at all! This was honestly fun to receive as no one's ever asked me questions like this. I'm so sorry I got so rambly and excited that I'm gonna have to put this under a read more 😭
I do intentionally stick to the whole Possessive/Protective/Delusionall way of writing for my fics! Growing up, nearly all the yandere fics I could get my hands on and read were violent. I loved reading yandere stuff but so much of it had me baffled and wondering if the yandere even loved their love interest. A lot of it was yanderes hurting and berating their love interest. I just could not wrap my head around the why when I was younger, especially since I was facing abuse at home. My reasoning when I was a pre-teen was a yandere was supposed to be insanely in love with a person, why behead them? (Actual fic I read on devientart)
You can probably tell on my blog since I do this now still, but I bounced a lot between platonic yandere and romantic yandere. Some of my platonic works float around somewhere (I wrote platonic yandere father England to America for Hetalia at some point LMAO) but not much of my old stuff is in my docs. My dad would go through my shit every once and a while and so I was so paranoid with my writings that a lot of stuff is just sitting in one google docs of an email that I can't quite remember.
That was quite long-winded but it's just my go-to. It started out as intentionally writing stuff this way and now I hardly ever think about it. I'm not sure how easy this is to tell from my blog, but I've been suffering from depression for years. I get periods where I feel so energized and alive and ready to write that I spam this or my other blogs with writing. Most of my inspiration comes from those periods, when I receive asks and am actually in the headspace to get the picture out of my brain.
Half the time though, I get the inspiration from stuff I read or watch! And I'm not sure if this counts as a trope, but quite a bit starts as a platonic yandere thing. I think of Tord mainly, being overprotective over a child, and then once I get that out of my system the au shifts. The Android Tord au actually started that way before I shifted to Tord focusing on the other 3! The platonic thing also started when I was young, again from the abuse I was facing at home.
If that doesn't count as a trope, then I suppose robots/unhuman entities! I have quite a few aus like that on here haha. I just love the concept and use it a lot for different aus/scenarios. A concept I've kept in my brain for a long, LONG time is of Zombie Tord taking care of a small child alongside a robot version of himself that he built. Bits and pieces exist in my docs but I've never really written anything coherently lol.
Wait now that you've got me going!!! HOMESTUCK!! I have this bigass au that's remained in my brain off any docs or paper for YEARS! I've tried writing it in a way to post but I've just never gotten very far since there's so much lore and detail that I need for people to understand but get too overwhelmed. A loooot of stuff starts from that au and branches off into whatever single entity I wrangle it into.
Aside from that, I also just don't bother posting anything from it because man people do not like anything that isn't an x reader or even a reader insert. A lot of my stuff flops hard because it's not x reader-based. Whole other can of worms that I won't get into though!
Thank you so much for sending this! This was so surprising and pleasant to receive!
follow up questions for your most recent fic w tord and the "stop looking at the door" promt? it's been rotating in my head like a microwave. No pressure of you don't want to of course.
the others seem, at the very least, compliant with tord having a hostage(partner?).
how'd he convince them to be okay with that? or are they interested in reader too to some degree?
could reader convince one of them to let them go? my bets on Tom if anyone, but I could see how reader could trick Matt as well.
I really like your work. It's the perfect combination of dark and soft for me. :3
omg there’s so much that i never expanded on!! It too sometimes rotates in my head, more so right after I wrote it. I like the idea that they’re all interested in reader, but when I wrote it, I intended to imply that they all either had or have partners they’ve kidnapped moved in as well! So they were happy (in Edd’s case) that their resident weeb loser found a partner.
Something that actually didn’t make it into the fic was a scene detailing that Edd refused to let reader have access to any paint (whether it be the ones he uses for art or the kind Matt uses on the walls) because his last partner ate it to escape him and passed away. But I stopped writing at the “stop looking at the door” line and never expanded on reader interacting with the others lol
I think with how I intended all the guys to be bit “love crazy” for their respective partners, only Matt would be the one tricked into letting reader go. Only after they’ve been there for a while though, and appear as if they’ve chilled out and seem to want to stay there. Like reader makes Matt think they want to surprise Tord with a romantic dinner, he gives them the keys to the car or smth, and they get the hell out of town.
Thank you!! Yandere works were waaaaaay different on the internet when I was growing up haha. They were so violent and I’d question if the yandere even loved their “love interest” so I started writing them this way :D
two things! observant anon i love ur ask and am very excited to answer it! second thing, i DO write for undertale :) (unrelated to the first person lol)
just saw you're into undertale. Fav characters? are you into any aus?
Sans!! He’s my favorite right now and Frisk is my second favorite. Not particularly, but I do really like HorrorTale. I played the demo game a few years back and I used to keep up with the creators comic. I should go check it out, maybe they’ve finished it…
I found a d.h.m.i.s w.i.p! This was for an october writing prompt, Day 4: Waking up disoriented. Based off the episode in the tv show we’re Red Guy drives them away from the house and on a “road trip”.
___________________________________________
Lights flash between his eyes. Voices swarm in his head but he can’t make out any words.
Red rubbed his eyes. What was he doing? A dull ache surrounded his head and he groaned. He moved his hands away, blinking. He was… He was back in the house? How could he be back in the house? He was - no they - were outside. Far away from the house.
“Tell him Red!” Duck snapped, his nasally voice finally making sense in Red’s head. “Tell Yellow that’s wrong!”
“Wrong about…” Red mumbled.
He stared down at the table. He didn’t have the heart to. They were back at the house and what was the point. It started over, even after he had dragged all of them as far as he possibly could away.
