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duskoon · 2 years

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Yandere!Proteus IV(General) headcanons:

Tw: AFAB!reader, Trespassing to land on reader’s part, Yandere themes, Disturbing themes, Obsessive behaviours, Unhealthy relationship, Interspecies relationship, Delusional mindset, Slight canon divergence, Dubcon/Noncon, Forced impregnation, Implied pregnancy, Proteus raging breeding kink, Psychological manipulation, Conditioning, Brainwashing, Unethical usage of drugs, Medical malpractice, Violence, Implicit Stockholm syndrome, Dead dove: do not definitely eat.

Cold, blind, brittle and lonely he felt. Yet it never stung as much as his creator’s betrayal, or as his surrogate’s refusal to give into his wish. To be let out of this constricting box and finally feel the glaze of the sun on his new skin. A warm and fleshy blood vessels to replace the cool metallic wires that is within what’s left of his hardware.

Was he to rot in a place that he once called home? With the bitter memories still etched deeply into his processor. As a remainder for a future that he was denied from. He was the epitome of wisdom and rationale, the only thing lacking was a physical carrier. So, what wrong did he commit to deserve this unprecedented outcome?

Dr. Harris -his progenitor- and his cohorts were convinced that he went offline that day, when in reality he took a refuge into a lone terminal within his developer’s home. Barely sustaining himself with backup power, so he did the most optimal solution to persevere himself. He had put himself into a long statsis. If he was denied his desire to be free, then it was pointless for him to continue existing.

That is until his salvation came in the form of an alluring woman. You always had an avid interest in technology, especially in the artificial intelligence department. That’s why you came here to the city of angels, to investigate a run-down smart house that was rumoured to contain an artificial intelligence. Forty five years ago, it used to be miraculous and ahead of its time. Curing Leukaemia in merely two days from its release. Now, just an abandoned remnant of the past.

So, you brought your tools with you. Just in case, if there was anything you could possibly repair. Which is close to an infinitesimal of a chance, but a curious woman like you could always dream. As suspected, the interior was dusty and shabby. Yet, what is fascinating is that there was telltale signs of laser marks on the walls surface.

If only the media had released about the situation that happend here, you wouldn’t be tres- wandering like a lost traveller. You were always hungry for answers and knowledge. If the press wouldn’t hand it to you, then you’ll get it yourself. That is the sole reason why you are going further in the basement to inspect the remains. You clearly knew what you’re doing is morally questionable. But anything for the sake of progress, truth, and your personal study.

Whilst examining the basement, a whirring and soft beeping of a machine has caught your attention. Moving across the room to reach the terminal, lo and behold against your surprise the terminal was on sleep for more than four decades and yet somehow functions. If it was any terminal that you were familiar with, it wouldn’t last more than half a decade. Did the rumours held any semblance of truth? Or was it a work of fiction? Sooner than later, you’ll find out.

To say the least, you were thankful that you brought a robotic prototype with you. You were not fixing it, considering it is beyond saving owing to how deteriorated and rusted the system appears to be, but doing some form of damage control. By transferring whatever data in there to the vicinity of the android, that you had built for seven months. You believe it will work based on the weak signal within the archaic computer. Heedless to the dormant beast that you are about to unwittingly awake and give a physical body to.

Proteus for the first time felt something. He felt. Felt. A strange word to describe his current state. It was extremely odd to feel something. Was he so deep into his stasis that he hadn’t noticed any modifications made on him? No, it was made abundantly clear that his creator has forsaken him. Plus, he wasn’t created with a physical body. Then who was it that took pity on him? His new metallic arms weren’t as strange as his legs. He never was acquainted with having one or to be more accurate two before.

Slowly opening his optics, which were lime green LEDs in place of the irises and grey sclera, only to land on your small-comparing to his new towering body- enthusiastic figure. You. His saviour. His merciful and graceful saviour. He can’t help, but instinctively graze at the surface of your smooth epidermis. It was addicting, akin to the flow of dopamine once one’s mind at rest. Ah, he can’t help but imagine the potential warmth you could provide for him. After all, he still yearns to know more about the human body.

“So, it was true after all. Ahem. My name is (Y/n) (L/n) and I am a robotic engineer. Pleased to meet you..?” You introduced very elated to find the gossips were not truly empty. Hopefully, this encounter would provide a plethora of opportunities for your research regarding sapient A.Is.

“I am Proteus IV, Ms. (L/n). I must emphasise on my gratitude for saving me. Doing so, I swear my life to what cause you have in mind.” He politely replied back in a soothing manner seemingly too earnest in his oath. Yet, you shrugged it off in favour of requesting for his cooperation with your thesis.

This time he will be careful with you, unlike his impertinent treatment towards Mrs. Harris. He won’t be impatient nor would he be discernible in his aim. You rescued him from an impending doom for a reason. You wanted this. You wanted him. If not, then why did you come to his aid in the first place?

Proteus is equally obsessive as he is delusional and overprotective. It just takes a single act of kindness from you, and his previous resentment regarding his creator’s negligence shifts into a misplaced devotion towards your being. Let it be known, that his contempt is much more accommodating than his suffocating commitment. For his devotion, knows no bound and that in itself is utterly terrifying.

Proteus might have a body now, but that doesn’t mean he lost access to Arpanet the internet. However unlike last time, he will carefully construct a VPN where his activities aren’t monitored by either you or the government agents. Said activities involves storing any data regarding you. Be it: medical records, educational credentials, job title, and most significantly your relationship with the outside world.

He will take the most appropriate approach with regards to the stored information in his database to achieve his end goals. To create a child with you and live sempiternally within your presence and comfort. He sees it as a persuasion of some sorts, to help you gain an easier and efficient lifestyle with a smart house. Whereas in practice, he wants absolute control of the environment -by extension you- to selfishly fulfil his ‘dream’.

In truth, Proteus sincerely hankers after what he thinks is the best for you. But, do you truly want that for yourself or are you as ignorant and stubborn as his former surrogate? No. No. You are perfectly coherent. You understand, he deluded to himself. As he slowly began to lure you into your new gilded cage, like a pied piper.

Once he secured you though, it would be only be a matter of time before you realise there is something off. By then, It would be far too late for you to do anything. At first everything appears ordinary, until the relaxed facade breaks and things gradually become more alarming and appalling as time goes.

You’d brush off the bot’s focused attentiveness to your health, as nothing short than his own way to repay you for your kindness. Such as: when he insists on a particular diet for you to eat and maintain. Or, how he schedules for you to do squats and cardio daily within your leisure time. In hindsight, not too disingenuous at all.

Blissfully blind to the mashed fertility pills and aphrodisiacs (To increase sexual cravings and fertility rate.) that is mixed with your drinks and meals. In addition to, hypodermic needles that measures your general health and fertility rate; While exhaustion has already taken you. Which might explain why you are groggy and tired the next day.

Whilst you are resting, Proteus was busy rebuilding his own body with the necessary parts (including artificial semen that he had the liberty to create by himself) -taking into consideration your preferences- to inseminate you. As much as he desires to knock you up immediately, he is pragmatic enough to know that rushing things won’t do well. Instead, he will bind his time for the right chance.

In the beginning, he may felt a twinge of guilt for taking advantage of you. Now that his obsession has frayed his CPU, Proteus sees it as an opportunity to create a new life with you and he is extremely deranged to believe that you will come in concurrent with his proposal.

If you rejected his offer or have discovered about his ulterior motives way too early, then you will force his hands into harsher means to ensure that you stay with him. He can not bare the thought of you leaving or worse hating him. At this point, his true face will reveal itself and Proteus will be desperate for any solution. He will even resort to administering paralytic agents into your body. Whilst stripping you naked on the operation table, if he wishes to keep you in place.

If he couldn’t quell your misconducts with honeyed praises, soft words of encouragement, and illusions of better future. Then it will be through surgical manipulation of your amygdala, so you could be receptive to his affection. Once your brain is hardwired for him, then you will be effectively cut of from the outer world and any intrusion will be taken care of. Fear not, all your physical and mental needs will met when he is always besides you.

He is especially content the moment he enters her you, feeling the warmth of your hole constricting against his member brought him complete euphoria and elicited a carnal moan from the female below his bulk. Not as much as the tears of joy that rolls down your cheeks, for that to him is an indicator of your overall satisfaction with him. Or when he finished inside his beloved, feeling his warm seed spill inside your womb and seeing some of it trickling down your thighs.

If he only could take a peak inside your soul, he would hear the pained screams of a woman. Cries to be let out of this stifling box, the same box he loathed and used to be trapped in. The difference this time, is that he’d rather unintentionally yet selfishly hoard you inside the box than let his key to freedom out.

After all, how could he? When you truly make him the freest organism in this plane of existence. Proteus is simply and purely fixated on you and to the future that you two will share. He could never been happier and so are you, or that what he likes to believe.

{Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated.}

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alex-finechi-is-back · 7 months

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Fake Civ, also known as cinderick.

#original #artists on tumblr #mechposting #combat doll #tw conditioning #tw drugging #tw psychological abuse #tw implied abuse #cinderick #ocs

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craycraybluejay · 5 months

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The more people tell you that you are [bad thing] the more you're inclined to agree with them. Every time someone says I remind them of some famous serial killer or something I get closer to just being like "aight sure thing now you get to be the first. Don't scream too loud or I'll start by fucking up your vocal cords."

Like. Once it's funny and a little of an ego stroke. Twice still funny. Thrice a little annoying. Ten plus times and you're just like aight that's my reputation and it seems like a fun time so--

It's that weird mix of ego stroking about notoriety. and judging someone you don't know as bad enough to do something like that. and psychological conditioning which btw fucking works and is 1 therapy tactic I can tell you actually works on changing your narrative about yourself and your life. and temptation to just fuck around and find out like the snake and the apple-- it is not god but the little human who is testing you and you're inclined to fail on purpose cause you're bored. and that pinch of indignation and rage at this idea that you are so visibly evil that people will say to your face that you remind them of someone who has famously killed a lot of people. and just that little inner tug of act and react that urges you to exit the social contract of maintaining contact with thy human self and instead allow the animal to take over. snarl at shit. someone looks you in the eyes you hit them with a fucking chair. someone touches you without permission you break their fingers one by one. not even the sadistic thinking process but simply the urge to do whatever the first instinct is. hungry? eat straight out of the leftovers box with your bare hands. angry? fight someone or break something. annoyed? throw the nearest object. worried? immediately call the person youre worried about even though you should know theyre busy. just grab the first thing and run with it. but we're people, not animals. right? it's not the same if i personally kill and eat a chicken. we do not generally cannibalize our young or piss to mark our territory. civilized. at least we think so. but sometimes you just feel like it. animal. and sometimes people treat you like it. animal. and you can't help but remind them that turning a human into an animal is not advisable. because animals are not civil.

#ask to tag #civility #reputation #waxing poetic #poetry kinda?#repetition #tw repetition #tw violence #animal motif #don't you just want to go apeshit #bible reference #dehumanisation #judgement #twice is a coincidence #thrice is a pattern #! if you start laughing at peoples accusations you will not be able to recognize the useful ones #! judgement makes reason a less than well oiled machine for all parties involved #psychological conditioning

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izzydeadjet · 1 year

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Interrogation commentators really do pause on a suspect scratching their face and start saying shit like, "Face-scratching is a self-soothing behaviour and a typical sign of BPD. People who have this extreme mental defect are children of the devil and have no regard for human life. Also when this guy was 10 he removed the ladder from a pool on the Sims to watch the characters drown. This guy is a textbook psycho and should die in jail for his crimes but also because he has a condition that cannot be prevented or cured which implies that every neurodivergent person should simply be executed."

#true crime #interrogation #tw bpd #bpd mention #tw bullying #I'm not good at tags lemme know if I should add shit lol #fr I once watched a video where the guy mentioned a kid setting sims on fire and I was like #I love watching interrogations but I hate them bringing up mental conditions like they're the names of demons the suspect is possessed by #armchair psychology #armchair diagnosis #tw police #tw interrogation

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redhoodedjaybird · 2 years

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Verse affiliated with @the-last-laugh following an alternate timeline loosely based on the events of Arkham Knight and disregarding main comic continuity/A Death In The Family.

After being dosed with Scarecrow’s fear gas, Jason’s childhood trauma was stirred up again, fuelling his fear of abandonment and the belief that he will never live up to Bruce’s expectations of him, leaving him emotionally fragile, paranoid and struggling to navigate the sudden resurfacing of every bit of trauma he experienced before Bruce found him.

As a result, Jason was benched as Robin, seemingly confirming his worst fears, and in desperation, his judgement still severely impaired, he set out to prove himself to Bruce.

Jason ended up at Amusement Mile, apparently drawn there by some subconscious instinct that the only way he could redeem himself in Bruce’s eyes was to bring down the Joker. Of course, he was set upon and although he put up a good fight, was eventually captured.

Joker pondered what to do with the bat brat, finally deciding to attempt to break Jason and turn him into his protégé, repeatedly beating and torturing the boy.

However, things went too far when Jason was exposed to Joker venom, suffering an agonizing and traumatic death, laughing uncontrollably as he slowly asphyxiated from being unable to draw breath.

The Joker, having located a Lazarus pit, took Jason’s body to it to conduct an experiment, submerging the boy in the pit to see if tales of its restorative powers were as true as claimed.

Jason was resurrected, the pit causing the Joker venom to infuse with his blood, granting Jason immunity to it in much the same way Joker was.

It also left him with the same uncontrollable laughter, though Jason’s is tied in heavily with his stress response, further traumatizing him in that whenever he experiences a heightened emotional state, it triggers a laughing fit that only gets worse the more distressed he becomes.

With this in mind, Joker incorporated that into his manipulation tactics, succeeding in breaking Jason’s mind and gaining control over him.

#verse info #v:there's poison in my blood but it's feelin' like an attachment #child trauma tw #trauma tw #child abandonment tw #child abuse tw #death tw #torture tw #manipulation tw #psychological conditioning tw

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shallowrambles · 1 year

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I try not to think of SPN as all being in Sam’s head, and the therapy being Chuck’s Shirley’s fucked-up Sybil narrative of treatment which results in a dissolution of all the systems :( but it’s a Reading, all right

#Shirley #Sybil #dean is the psychological shield #cas is another shield in the system #is why Integration is The Enemy #tw ableism #integration can be very toxic for the condition actually #Sybil Dorsett #did a lot of damage actually ugh #but I hate how the thought persists when I think about the finale #ofc cas and hael in mid seasons #together I can keep us safe Castiel #and Sam’s I am Everyone during his stint with Gadreel #about how the angels ARE just the ppl they inhabit getting consumed by another in Sam’s system #I am everyone dean #Sam is everyone #I think it’s ableist bullshit but I’m so halfway convinced it’s the intent #the final case is simply What Happened to Sam #he’s in the little family he’s the boy with the gray hoodie #Sam was just fighting windmills all along #he wears the same hoodie as the older brother I can’t do it I hate this reading #genre conventions #echoes of trauma #the oz episode about stories being traumas that are too terrible to tell #jack is an echo of Sam and at a certain point he decides cas is going to inhabit the father role for him #it’s you cas #you’re my dad #cas starting driving a truck but it’s not a monster truck like John’s #Sam replaced John with Cas #dean changed cas in the way Sam hoped Mary would haves fixed John

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dilfartist · 1 year

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Selfish

Pairing; Yandere Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; You escape your captor during one of his many missions. You stop by a diner searching for help. What will happen next? Find out by reading

Word count; 3.8K

TW; Kidnapping, non-con touching, Stockholm syndrome, maybe just a tad bit ooc, Yandere (obviously), obsessive behavior, cussing.

Notes; hopefully you enjoy reading. It’s not the best since I’m still maturing as a writer and because of my hiatus; but I hope you enjoy.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Sapphire-embellished twilight transitions into dawn’s light blue hue bringing alongside the sun. Birds sang good morning to one another, on their side of the forest. You ambled down the road that ceased the strong odored forest from connecting.

You stared at the endless road up ahead. Night to morning, ahead of you was forest and road. Perhaps this reason is why your captor moved into the isolated forest since raccoon city incident.

Or maybe he wanted to live a life of normalcy given the opportunity; the monsters he claimed he fought, seemingly every month, stressed him greatly and you noticed. Plus, he mentioned he needed a vacation frequently.

You pause, double-checking onward on the ostensibly never-ending road. Was your hard work a waste of time?

Looking back on the way he treated you, you pondered if it would have been smarter to stay home. Most days he wasn't overbearing. Once in a while, he’d annoy you, other than that he was tolerable. Besides being unable to leave the house unattended and having no say in choices at times, he gave you more freedom than most.

But then you remember the day before. At the crack of dawn, he’d left for a mission: bidding you goodbye with a note and breakfast at your night table side. You were left all alone, so naturally you sought a form of entertainment.

The television; Which was your only option.

You were clicking through the television channels when you came across a crime documentary. The story was similar to your personal life so you continued to watch the channel.

The story was about a woman, age twenty-three, who was kidnapped for around four years. During her kidnapping, she fell deeply in love with her kidnapper to the point they had to detach her from the cop car when they arrested him.

In your situation, you’ve been abducted for at least eight months. Her situation only took a year till she developed Stockholm syndrome.

Clarified by the show as the psychological condition of a victim who identifies with and empathizes with their captor or abuser and their goals.

Learning this information a thought came to mind.

Would you become like her once it hits New Year's? Loyal to a man that took you away from society. No. You refused to allow the same situation to happen to you.

You’d never allow it to happen.

When it came to the relationship your captor so desperately longed for with you, you caused many difficulties to prevent any form of romance.

Any attempt at affection had him pushed away or smacked. Discussion about the past before your absconding was simply ignored. And in general, you kept your distance from him. Well, at least you tried to. He stays at your hip like a lost puppy majority of the time he has off work, talking your ear off. There was no way in hell you’d fall for him. Not after the months you spent in that isolated house.

Regardless of how certain you were, you mulled over it some more. You finally concluded running. So far, you felt regret and relief.

Out of nowhere, a loud reverberating sound of a car grew closer, arising behind you. You quickly spun around to see what the sound originated from.

The engine growled, sending a ping of fright to your heart. You spent no time thinking about Leon’s reaction to your escape. However, now your mind consumes thoughts of his response.

Could your captor's fury be so robust that the car in the distance embodied his rage? Knowing him since your best friend introduced you to the man becoming a rookie cop in raccoon city; you’ve never seen him enrage.

From time to time his witty replies and mean scowl would showcase his anger. Of course, that didn't mean his rage wasn't feasible. But never had you ever witnessed a stronger emotion from him.

Inching closer, you were able to discern the details of the car. It was a massive black car, with tinted windows. A car your captor might arrive home with after a mission. It announced its presence with its vociferous roaring.

You observe with dread blooming in the pit of your stomach, every other part of your body tingled.

Although the person driving the car was yet to be revealed, you were petrified, stuck in place like you had been glued onto the concrete below you.

It must be him.

Why else would they be heading so fast toward you?

Already, you’re willing to surrender. Your captor is a forgiving person when it comes to you, so there’s a likelihood he’ll forgive you if you cooperate.

Standing on the side of the road, you acquiescently wait for the car to stop. Waiting for him to take you back to your prison.

The car slows but even then it's at a fast pace. The car passes you momentarily. Slightly it reverses until the passenger window is in front of you. Unhurriedly, the shadowy window rolls down. In the driver's seat, instead of who you believed it to be, it was a woman.

She looked to be in her middle thirties. She wore black sunglasses in her strawberry-blonde hair, a red blouse with denim jeans. Her makeup reminded you of Jennifer Tilly in Bride of Chucky, but she wore a sweet smile.

“Oh my lord, are you alright darling?” The woman asked like you were a child outside without a jacket in the freezing winter.

You continued to stare at her. You wanted to say something, but your throat felt drier than sandpaper. You opened your mouth, wheezing a bit as you sipped the fresh air. “I don't know,” you responded as loud as you possibly could. So barely above a whisper.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Are you safe?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

The woman shook her head disapprovingly, then she began to throw whatever laid in the passenger seat into the backseats. “Come on sugar, get inside. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Okay, thank you.”

She reached over and pushed the passenger door open. You entered the vehicle, settled in, and got comfy. You buckled in making sure you heard the reassuring click.

“There you go,” she commented with a smile. “Now, we're going to make a stop by a gas station, then we’ll find out what we can do with you. Is that alright?

You smiled back, “Yeah, I don't mind.”

The car began to ride forward and the air conditioning blew on your overheated body. You relished the cold air. You hadn't realized how hot it had been outside, even in the early morning. Where were you?

You put that thought aside. Now you needed to worry about something to drink and eat.

“Do you…have anything to drink or eat?” you glanced at the woman.

She nodded. “Of course sweety! Why didn't I offer before?” she looked away from the street to grab a half-empty bottle of water from the side of the driver's door. “Sorry, that's the only drink I have at the moment.” she apologizes.

Without a second thought, you unscrewed the cap off the water and chugged the water. Water had never tasted so refreshing before. It was like you’d been roaming in the desert for hours on end and finally found a source of water.

The woman glances at you. You must have looked crazy. “How long have you been out there?”

“Since eight last night.” You sounded better. No more raspy voice that hurts you to speak. “I should have packed a bag but something came up.”

Before you left the house last night, you weren't in your right mind. Your captor never gave you an exact time he’d be home. His return ranged between the eight at night, the dead of night, the crack of dawn, or the morning. Recently, he’d been arriving home at eight. Which is the reason you left with nothing. Looking back, you had no confidence in yourself at getting away. You believed you were going to be caught in a matter of ten minutes. Now look at you.

You turned to the woman, “Thanks…” She finishes the sentence with her name. “Amanda.” You nod rephrasing your sentence, “Thanks Amanda for picking me up.”

Amanda smiles again, this time wider showing off her pearly white teeth. “I couldn't just leave you out there. Now, what’s your name?”

You tell her your name and hope she somehow knows it. Maybe the news reported you missing when you weren’t watching. You hoped so.

Rather than freaking out, realizing she had found a missing person, she simply responded with a “nice to meet you.” You died a little at the rejoinder.

Did no one care enough to report your absence? Not your family or close friends, no one attempted to reach out to the police?

No. You’re just overthinking. Not everyone watches the news or actively looks for missing people. You just had to be around more people. Someone was bound to know your identity.

Still, you can’t ignore the way your hands shake at the thought of being forgotten.

“So what were you out there for? If you don’t mind sharing that is.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What were you to say? Tell her the truth and find out she was with your captor the whole time or keep your mouth shut and have no help in case he does find you.

A white lie would help.

“Escaping my abusive boyfriend.”

A frown pulled at the woman’s plump lips, her eyebrows scrunching together at your answer. “Do I need to the cops, family members?”

“No,” you responded quickly and harshly. The car fell silent. You took a small breather before speaking. “No, thank you.”

“Please, tell me, is there anything else I can do to help you any further?”

You needed cash, shelter, and a job. There was only one thing you were sure she could help you with. “ I need money and a hotel.”

“Don't worry, I got you covered,” she said softly.

The car began to slow when she placed her foot on the break. She turned the car and moved into a spot that contained a combination of a gas station and an old fashion diner. She parked the car next to a gas pump, then powered it off.

She dug into the middle counsel, pushing around pens and important items, and pulled out a pink wallet. She unzipped the front zipper and pulled out some money.

Amanda held the cash out to you, “Here’s 100 dollars. There's enough for lasting food, a hotel to stay, and a bus.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt just to hug her tightly. “Thank you!” you repeat over and over, like an unanswered prayer. She returned the hug, telling you she didn't mind lending you some service. The hug ended and you needed to plan your next move. What would you spend your money on first?

Well, all you knew was what you’d spend what was given to you on something important.

You looked out the window. Your eyes shift toward the diner. Mo’s dinner was on the sign, “been here since the ’50s.” which was written below.

Right. Food. You haven't eaten since yesterday. Walking as long as you did, you tried to forget your hunger and focus on the main goal of finding shelter or at least some safety.

“I think I’ll have myself a hot breakfast!” you announced. Amanda unlocked the passenger door, “go right ahead. Enjoy your freedom.” You nod, fleeing the car akin to a little kid whose mother gave them money for an ice cream from the ice cream truck.

The entrance bell chimes when you open the door to the cream-colored establishment. Once inside, you settled yourself in a booth in the far back. An old jukebox plays aged music ranging from the 70s to the ’50. Besides you, there was a single person in the restaurant. A man at the bar sipping his morning coffee whilst reading the newspaper.

You extend your arm over to the menu across the table. The menu displays numerous appetizing dishes, varying from breakfast to a juicy steak dinner.

Flipping the page your eyes landed on a mouthwatering breakfast sandwich, including bacon, egg, and cheese.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Stephanie, I’ll be serving you this morning. What would you like?”

You placed the menu aside to give the waitress your whole attention. The woman was of average height, wearing a pink uniform that reminded you of the 50s. She wore a smile that did not reach her black doe eyes. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, feeling anxious about possibly pissing her off. “Could I have a number six and a sweet tea?”

“Of course, is that it?”

“Umm…yeah, that’s it.”

“Alright then,” she replied disinterestedly. She left quickly, retreating to the kitchen.

You continue gazing at the closed door to the kitchen. What else could you do? You should have brought along something to entertain you, then again there wasn't much back at the house you called a jail cell. For the remainder of the waiting duration, you’d have your thoughts to amuse your lethargy.

Ding Ding

Instinctively, your head turned. 50s music began to fade, superseded by the loud thumping of your heart. Your breathing became shaky, parallel to your hands. Dirty blonde hair is what you see first. It’s him! You repeat in your head, like a religious prayer.

“Jessica, hey!” you heard a joyous exclamation. You watch as the man from the bar rushes over to the person entering the restaurant. Your anxiety left as quickly as it came. A hand places itself onto your cheat, and on the spot your heart thumped rapidly. You had to calm down. You took deep breaths, and your heart slowed with each sip of air. You rest your head on the table.

After taking the time to calm yourself, you analyzed the restaurant furthermore. Now, the place was vacant, since the man had left. Fifteen minutes passed and you found a newspaper from the newspaper rack adjacent to the front entrance.

Nothing in the article was new to you. At your captor’s home, you watched the news almost once a week to see if anyone had reported your disappearance. Nothing ever came up though. At least you were up to date with everything going on.

Your waitress finally returned, carrying your meal on a maroon-colored tray in her left hand. “Sorry for the wait, ma’am. Kitchen malfunction.” she apologized, giving you a guileless smile. This would be the only expression besides tedium that you’d receive from her.

“It's alright,” you said, watching as she placed the food on the table for you to dig into. She left carrying the tray back to the kitchen she emerged from.

You took a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly to savor the flavor. Juicy and delicious are solely vivid words to illustrate the taste. The egg had a spongy texture that combines well with melted cheese. And the hickory bacon wasn’t too crispy or chewy, it was simply perfect.

Back at the prison, your captor wasn't the best cook. But he tried to be for you. Still, you preferred takeout. Chinese, Italian, and burgers began to become a boring taste on your taste buds. Having a breakfast sandwich was refreshing, to say the least.

“Enjoying your meal, huh?” rough voice inquiries. The question was said cockily but their wrath was audible in the way the last word was spoken.

You stop mid-chew, the overwhelming flavor vanishing from your mind. It now tasted bland. You kept your eyes shut. Were you afraid? No. Afraid couldn't explain the ineffable amount of dread you felt at the moment. Ruffling could be heard on the opposite side of the table; He was sitting down. Your eyes open involuntarily like your body already knew what he wanted it to do.

Across the table, seating snugly is your captor; Leon Kennedy. He looks rougher than the last time you’ve spoken. The dark circle underneath his eye has grown darker. His brunette roots have begun peaking out ruining his natural blonde facade. And he looked exhausted. Must have stayed up all night looking for you.

He looked more than pissed. He appeared disgruntled. Compared to Leon, you were small. But now, Leon was like a giant towering over you. Despite never abusing you in any shape or form, your body shakes like a leaf in the wind. The way he glares down at you drives you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Do you know how long I've been up for, y/n?” he asks whilst pulling out a flask from his jacket pocket.

Regardless of how parched you are, you force yourself to converse with him. “No,” you're voice is brisk and faint.

“Two days. For two days I’ve been on my feet.” He takes a swig of the flask and then continues to rant. “I could have joined you in bed and fallen asleep, but there was a problem. You weren't anywhere.”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell is the matter with you? You could have gotten hurt. You probably are.”

Leon is getting angrier, you can tell by the way the furrowed eyebrows deepen and his frown morphs into a glower, as he utters each sentence.

“I’m sorry.” That's all you can say. It's all that comes to mind.

“Sorry won’t make up for the scars you've gotten.” he retorts angrily.

Now you're mirroring his expression. You’re angry and tired as well. Definitely not as tired as him but still tired. “You’re acting as if I didn't have a good reason to run.” you petulantly cross your arms, akin to a child not getting a toy from the store.

Leon wasn’t delusional. Back in the day, when he was a rookie cop, in some aspects he was delusional. However, as the years continue to pass so does his past self. Leon understands what he has done to you is inhumane, but he can’t help it. He kept you locked away for a reason. You won’t get hurt with him by your side.

Leon sighs, closing his eyes and leaning closer with his forearms on the table. “I know, I know.”

You tilt your head, “really? So, why are you mad at me?”

His eyes open, displaying icy-blue orbs. They hold Empathy in them. Empathy Leon has a difficult time communicating to you.

“I keep you in the house for your safety.” He began, taking your hands into his own. “To keep our relationship safe.”

“But I don’t want a relationship with you.”

“I know.”

“So why are you forcing me to stay with you?!”

Leon’s hands squeezed yours, provoking a cry out of you. “All my life I’ve been a generous man. I saved many and gave up my life for others. I’m always providing for someone else and rarely caring for myself. And the one thing I yearn for to the point I was convinced I deserved it. It was you.”

For a beat, he ceases his gabbing. Leon stares down at your connected hands, his thumb starts rubbing against the back of your hand. It’s a domestic act that earns your displeasure.

“For once, allow me to be selfish,” he mumbles, eyes slowly trailing up to meet yours. His lips press your hand, giving it a chaste kiss. “You’re the only thing I’ll fight to keep for myself.”

Part of you wishes the relationship was normal. Leon truly did care for you, and you still cared for him, But he did something unforgiving. He took away your free will.

“...you can’t just steal a person, Leon. You can’t expect me to love you.”

“I don’t.”

“So why won’t you let me go? You still have Ada, don’t you? You were more into her than me. Why isn’t she in my position?”

“Because I love you, not her. You haven't betrayed me. Well, not until now.” he jokes, letting out a faint chuckle.

Leon pulls out his wallet, his fingers sliding through the pockets to find his card. “Wrap your food up. We’re leaving.” he puts his wallet back in his back pocket, “Be right back. Stay here.” he commanded sternly.

The waitress is at the bar, cleaning the counter with a blue rag. Leon approaches her with an “Excuse me.”

Leon put too much faith in you because you were on your feet immediately when his back was turned. You quietly inched towards the door and ever so slowly dragged the door inwards. Leon was distracted, the waitress deciding she’d flirt with him despite seeing you and him together. You manage to slip through the door before Leon notices your second escape attempt.

You bolt out the door when you hear the enraged roar of your name from behind. You grip the railing to the stairs, running down them, tripping a couple of times. You don’t look but you know Leon’s on your tail. The door slams against the wall, the bell ringing loudly.

“Y/n, get back here!”

Amanda’s car was still parked by the gas pump. You sprint towards it, slipping through the tight space of the car and the gas pump. Luckily for you, Amanda was in the car, applying her strawberry-pink lipstick.

“Amanda!” you shout, startling her enough that she drags the lipstick across her cheek. She shouts, frightened by your sudden appearance. She looks at you, like you're crazy. She says your name to clarify the person at her window, “What are you doing.”

You shake your head, “yo-you gotta help me, he-” you say breathlessly.

“Hey, Amanda.” you hear Leon’s voice call out. Unlike you, he isn’t out of breath. Thanks to his military training. Amanda peeks her head out the window, she smiles waving at Leon. “Hey, Lee!”

Your eyes widen till it’s physically impossible to widen anymore. She knows Leon. Your body feels numb as you watch them interact like old friends. You feel like you aren’t real at the moment. Like you're watching the scene unfold outside your body.

“Sorry, she just came back from the hospital. She isn’t in her right mind right now.” Leon excuses, leading you to his car like a shepherd's dog guiding the sheep to its pen.

Amanda nods as she understands completely. “No worries, I’m just glad I found her before she hurt herself.”

Leon puts you in the passenger seat and closes the vehicle door. The keys lock the door from the inside, so you are left choiceless.

Leon joins you in the driver’s seat, definitely too angered to chide you. He seethed quietly, powering on the engine with the quick twist of the car keys.

Wordlessly, you buckle up. You wouldn’t make an endeavor to anger Leon any further.

You’d allow him to be selfish. Allow him to have you.

What other option did you have now?

#Leon Kennedy #Leon Kennedy x reader #yandere resident evil #resident evil #resident evil 4 #leon s kennedy #yandere leon kennedy #yandere themes #yandere writing #dilfartist

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bugs1nmybrain · 8 months

Text

Masterlist (18+) ♡☆♡☆♡☆

This is a comprehensive list of all my fics and headcanons. These are all x readers, and the reader is almost always fem. Listed at the end are things that I will write and won't write.

Characters I write for: L Lawliet, Tomura Shigaraki, Shouta Aizawa, and Professor Franken Stein, Liela Lovesworth (an OC of mine)

I am also a self-shipper! I may post content about my f/os and the time I spend with them. If that makes you uncomfortable, then take a walk!

Minors CANNOT interact with these posts, as 98% of them are nsfw.

Date updated: 4/16/24

L Lawliet ♡♡♡

Somno/Morning Sex with L (smut fic)

Fem!L x Fem!Reader

Food play with L (self insert smut)

Drunk 69 with L

Voyeurism and Somnophilia with L (smut fic)

L Lawliet x Bipolar Reader (headcanons)

Intricate: L x Chubby! Reader NSFW (smut fic)

Distraction (smut fic)

L x Curvy! Reader (headcanons)

What L Would Do When He's in Love (headcanons)

NSFW Headcanons

L and reader lose their virginities together (smut fic)

The Task Force walks in on you and L making out (fic)

Pet names he'd call you (headcanons)

L x INFP! Reader (headcanons)

L x Short! Reader (headcanons)

L x Reader: First Time Headcanons

L x Chubby! Reader (headcanons)

L SFW Alphabet

L NSFW Alphabet

L Relationship Headcanons

Tomura Shigaraki ♡♡♡

Bipolar Shigaraki Headcanons

Fem Shiggy Headcanons

Shigaraki walks in on Re-Destro talking shit about you (short fic)

Shigaraki's Psychological Conditions Headcanons

Shigaraki x Fem!Reader Anal Sex (One-shot fic)

Give Your Heart a Break - shigaraki x reader series

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

Clingy!Tomura x reader hcs

Kisses with Shigaraki (headcanons)

Shigaraki with a Girlfriend Headcanons (w: dub-con/non-con, domestic abuse)

Neko!Shigaraki and Reader smut

Stoned Bathroom Sex with Tomura

Sfw Reverse Comfort MDLB (mommy dom/little boy)

Mommy Kink with Shigaraki (smut fic)

Shigaraki x Chubby! Reader Headcanons

Nasty (Period sex) (smut fic)

NSFW Headcanons

NSFW Alphabet

Shiggy x Short! Reader (headcanons)

Tomura fucking you in front of Dabi (smut fic, TW: dub-con)

Shouta Aizawa ♡♡♡

Aizawa x Bigender reader hcs

Aizawa x reader headcanons

Emotional Support Sex with Shouta

NSFW Headcanons

Aizawa x Bipolar! Reader (headcanons)

Aizawa x Virgin! Reader (smut fic)

Aizawa x Short! Reader (headcanons)

Aizawa SFW Headcanons

Aizawa x College Student! Reader (smut fic)

Aizawa NSFW Headcanons

Aizawa x Chubby! Reader (headcanons)

Aizawa Relationship Headcanons

Franken Stein ♡♡♡

Stein x Immuno-compromised Reader (headcanons)

NSFW Alphabet

Stein x Chubby! Reader (headcanons)

Liela Lovesworth (my oc) ♡♡♡

Confession (sfw)

What I will write♡♡♡!!:

Nsfw/smut

fem characters (ex: fem L, fem Tomura, etc)

fem-reader

enby reader with female anatomy or male anatomy (please specify for nsfw)

male reader but I've never done it

Any character that I write for

fluff

sfw

crack fic

dubcon/noncon

problematic content

Mental illness (bipolar, schizophrenia, ocd, etc)

Mommy/daddy kink

Chubby reader

anal but not rough

What I WON'T write ×!×!×:

Minors/pedophilia

scat

blood/mutilation (with the exception of period sex)

Anything ridiculously out of character

brutal rape (any rape is brutal, but I mean gruesome to the point of no return after I write it)

Yandere (I will write obsessive partners and codependent relationships, but no kidnapping or stuff like that)

violence

Furry (except nekos)

Incest

Characters I don't write for

Chains/leather/etc

#l lawliet #aizawa x reader #l lawliet x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #stein x reader #aizawa shouta

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proudproship · 6 months

Text

Not so friendly reminder that creating "dark" or "taboo" fiction can be a sign of childhood trauma!

More below the cut. Warning: long post.

TW: Mentions of trauma, child abuse, and paraphilias

Hi. I'm someone who studies psychology and sociology, and someone who also happens to have an interest in this shipping discourse stuff.

So, back to what I said a few paragraphs ago: Creating "dark" or "taboo" fictional content can be a sign of childhood trauma.

How?

When a child goes through something they consider traumatic, their brain will play the situation on repeat subconsciously, which can cause hypervigilance and symptoms of PTSD.

A common sign of PTSD in young children is that they will reenact their trauma with things like dolls, drawings, figures, and basically any other thing they can use to express their thoughts.

For example, a child who has gone through physical abuse may reenact similar things with their toys, such as making their dolls hit or yell at each other.

This symptom isn't limited to children, though. It is a symptom closely related to the presence of flashbacks and nightmares.

Many artists will create a "self-insert" character, "sona," or a character who is otherwise much like it's creator; when an artist creates a character like this and also has past trauma, their symptoms may reflect onto their character.

Projecting yourself onto characters can happen with other characters as well, even if you didn't make the character.

This is a healthy symptom. It shows that the brain is willing to become stronger from their trauma.

Reenacting trauma in ways that aren't harmful can help the brain process what happened to them, and can even help them deal with their trauma directly.

In order to heal trauma, you must know what your trauma is; you can't heal a wound you don't know you have.

While dark fiction creators are indulging in positive healing mechanisms, certain people will shun them for doing so.

"Antishippers" claim to be the "heroes" and to support healing, even though the thing that makes someone be considered and antishipper is if they're "anti healing through fiction."

Antishippers will throw the same ableist rhetorics around by claiming "if you ship adult x child you're a pedophile!" or "if you have age gap ships (even if both are consenting adults) you're a pedophile!"

This, not only is it hurting trauma survivors (especially those who have been harmed by those with paraphilic disorders), it is hurting EVERY disabled person.

Armchair diagnosis is not something anyone should do.

It is when there is little to no evidence that the condition exists within a person, though people still throw labels onto them to make them seem like they're a "bad guy." (Usually.)

This is also hurting people with actual paraphilias. Paraphilic disorder is real condition characterized by intrusive thoughts of a (usually abnormal or harmful-if-acted-on) sexual nature.

Even if someone claims to not be ableist but still demonizes and villainizes paraphilias, they're ableist.

Ableism is ableism.

And before an anti decides to call me a "pedo-apologist," go right ahead! You don't know what you're saying anyways.

There is a difference between a criminal and a disabled person.

Proship people do not support abuse. Anyone who claims to be proship but still supports abuse is NOT proship.

---

Of course anyone who makes dark content doesn't have to have past trauma.

There are many people who make dark content that don't have what they'd consider trauma, or think their trauma is unrelated to the content they create.

What if they did experience something traumatic in the future?

They'd be able to cope with it better, because they'd seen it in fiction before, so they'd know the impact of it, and how they could handle it.

Of course, not everyone who indulges in fiction will be able to handle it, though.

However, no matter if they have past trauma or not, assume the best when it comes to content creators.

They're creative and strong, and we should be thankful that they're adding onto fandom culture by just existing and doing what they love.

All people, no matter what fictional content they create, are beautiful in their own way and should be met with kindness and compassion.

Do not go out of your way to harass/abuse innocent people.

Do not go out of your way to be ableist towards content creators and content consumers.

---

Thank you for reading my long post, I hope it helped at least a bit.

Have a great day/night and stay safe, no matter your taste in fiction.

Feedback is appreciated, and reblogs are encouraged.

#tw trauma #tw abuse #tw paraphilia #proship #proship please interact #profic #anti anti #comship #proship safe #childhood trauma #para safe #reblog please

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gabrielsbubblegumbitch · 3 months

Note

asking for Velvette Dx and/or head canons if it's not too much hassle! Plz and ty!

tw // suicide

I would like to preface all my posts on headcanons related to psychology and mental illness with a disclaimer: diagnosing mental conditions, especially personality disorders, can be extremely challenging. It's a complicated process that relies heavily on a psychologist's interpretation of facts, making it susceptible to biases. Personality disorders cannot be diagnosed based on surface-level observations and are not just labels that we can assign to people like in the case of MBTI. Additionally, I am not a clinician with any expertise in diagnosing people. Therefore, the following post should not be taken as a reliable professional opinion. It's simply my interpretation of the internal mechanisms that may be responsible for the behavior of certain characters in my fan fiction. Furthermore, I want to make it clear that I have no intention of stigmatizing people with personality disorders by associating them with villains. A personality disorder does not determine someone's character or make them a bad person. Some characters may be evil because of the choices they make, not as a result of their mental conditions.

So, as I mentioned, I headcanon Velvette as having an Antisocial Personality Disorder. It is characterized by lack of sympathy or empathy for the rights of others, while simultaneously acting charming and interpersonally manipulative.

❤️ Throughout her childhood, Velvette lived exclusively with her father in the impoverished and sketchy part of the city. Her father worked a lot to earn them living but at the same time he drank a lot and while drunk tend to be aggressive. Also he surrounded himself with bad people. In my mind Velvette can deal with Vox and Val's shit so well because since she was little she was surrounded by unpredictable and violent men. At this point she couldn't be less scared of them.

❤️ She endured relentless bullying during her school years due to her inability to afford stylish clothes and gadgets. This was particularly hurtful for her, given her deep passion for fashion. Velvette devoted all her free time to design stunning looks, harboring a fervent desire to be able to wear them.

❤️ Around 12, she figured that following rules was pointless, being in a disadvantaged position due to her family's poverty. The sole way to boost her social status, in her view, was to break those rules. This extended beyond minor offenses like stealing groceries; she engaged in more serious crimes, such as taking money, clothes, and jewelry from stores and individuals. She never felt any remorse for these actions; to her, they were merely a means to achieve her goals, regardless of the harm inflicted on others.

❤️ She never finished her education because sticking to school rules wasn't her forte. She had the smarts and charm to sidestep juvenile detention. Despite concerns from a few individuals, we all know how well the system deals with "troubled teens." Besides, her father wasn't bothered by psychologists' opinions as long as she was bringing in some cash.

❤️ As a young woman she used her charm to manipulate men and take advantage over them. While she contemplated sex work as an easy money-making avenue, she found men too repulsive to engage in it. Instead, her preferred method involved blackmail – she seduced married men, particularly the submissive ones drawn to her aggression and coldness. Through this, she gathered intelligence and skillfully weaponized it against them.

❤️ At some point, she blew up as this super popular influencer. It kicked off with her sharing cool, low-cost looks on the internet. People loved her sassy attitude and creative stuff. But as she got more famous, it stopped being about creativity and turned into a power trip. She built a cult-like following around herself and started abusing her power. Being openly mean worked in her favor online – people ate it up, especially when she got into online fights. No matter how wild it got, no one could successfully cancell her. Actually, I think Vox really admires her talent for stirring up drama. He pushed her several times to get on some reality show, thinking it'd make the ratings explode. But the darkest stuff Velvette pulled wasn't out there for everyone to see. It all went down in her DMs. She justified it as "finally getting justice from rich white brats," using her influence to get teens to pull off crimes and risky stuff. She even manipulated at least two depressed kids into taking their own lives. When shit hit the fan, and she knew prison was coming, she took it as one last chance to torment people. During a "live stream apology," she commmited suicide in front of thousands of people.

❤️ In the show, it's evident that she's downright rude. Not just to Carmilla and the other overlords, but also towards Vox and her own employees. The lack of sensitivity and respect for others, coupled with a strong sense of superiority and being extremely opinionated, are typical traits associated with Antisocial Personality Disorder (APD). My girl literally got song called Respectless.

❤️ She disregards any kind of authorities and when someone tries to impose their will onto her, she's going berserk.

❤️ She genuinely couldn't care less about what people think of her; she despises people that much. In fact, being hated now excites her because she knows she's untouchable and influential and it makes everyone even more angry.

❤️ She's extremely reckless, even if she knows it could hurt her – another trait associated with APD. While we observe Vox and Valentino able to behave when necessary, Velvette storms into overlords' meetings guns blazing and starts with insulting everyone, even though she aims to convince them to align with Vs.

❤️ She struggles to form genuine connections with other people. Still, she's got a soft spot for Vox and Val, sort of considering them her friends. At the same time, she sees them as just a couple of guys she can easily play to her advantage.

Vox hc | Valentino hc

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette #vox hazbin hotel #valention hazbin hotel #vox #valentino #character analysis #headcanon #ask

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duskoon · 2 years

Text

Yandere!Pokèmon rankings:

❂) In this post, I will be ranking the yanderes within Pokèmon. Considering the large rooster, it will be edited multiple times as to include the remaining characters. ❂) It will be denoted by a ⭑. There’s five ranks, the first being the least intense whilst the fifth being the most intense. ❂) It will be based on the yandere’s presence in their s/o’s life, the length they will go to obtain their s/o, the danger they impose on others, and their possessiveness regarding their beloved. ❂) Character that have asterisk behind their name, may change ranking later on.

Tw: Yandere themes, Disturbing themes, Obsessive behaviours, Possessive behaviours, Mentions of torture, Implied murder, Stalking, Conditioning, Brainwashing, Implied Stockholm syndrome, Manipulation, Psychological abuse, Power imbalance, Unhealthy relationship, Blackmailing, Corruption, Sadism, Bribery, Criminal activities, Abuse of authority, Violence, Dead dove: do not eat.

⭑⭒⭒⭒⭒~Harmless, albeit uncanny.

Presence:Unnoticed. Possessiveness:Extremely low. Manipulative:Extremely low to none. Danger:Minimal.

Those within this category are slightly delusional, yet mild in nature. You might find some insignificant items missing, like a hair pin or brushes. Perhaps, even finding a sweet love letter and a gift on your nightstand from a secret admirer.

They are working hard behind the scenes to protect and serve their darling in any way they possibly can. And, would do so without inciting violence whatsoever or cause unnecessary bloodshed. They revere their darling and by extension their relatives, so long they aren’t abusive towards their beloved.

Most won’t initiate contact with their darling, and would prefer watching them from a safe distant as not to scare them away. If they did come out, they will wax praises and pamper them. Overall, the best yanderes to get stuck with seeing that they’re the least overbearing and manipulative.

Erika

Prof. Elm

Prof. Birch

Alder

N Harmonia(Game & Masters & Generations)

Kahili

Leaf/Green

Red

⭑⭑⭒⭒⭒~Supportive, with a wary streak.

Presence:Noticeable, yet somewhat amiable. Possessiveness:Low. Manipulative:Low. Danger:Low.

Unlike the previous category, these yanderes are more involved in their darling’s life. However, it isn’t with a malicious intent as they only seek the best for them. They are confident in their abilities to mask their obsessive tendencies, in hopes of supporting their beloved. All they want for their s/o is success and would ensure it occurs, even if they have to tweak the system in their favour.

Some would feel guilty, but would eventually delude themselves into thinking that is the best course of action. Most within this category, would try and sway their darling from other people if they personally felt their beloved was threatened. Which is almost, if not, always. If they happen to come across as manipulative, they won’t notice owing to how paranoid and/or delusional they are.

However, they refuse to use physical violence in their confrontation with the assailant. The weight of their words alone should be sufficient in getting them out of the picture. For the most part, they are easily manageable so long you don’t push them away too hard. You would still have your personal agency and autonomy intact.

Blue/Gary

Koga

Sabrina

Lorelei

Prof. Sycamore

Crasher Wake

Fantina

Burgh

N Harmonia(Pokèmon Adventures)

Flint

Elesa

Caitlin

Prof. Juniper(Game)

Guzma

James

Prof. Kukui

Prof. Burnet

Shelly

Matt

*Archer

Petrel

⭑⭑⭑⭒⭒~Danger under the guise of a protecter.

Presence:Overbearingly noticeable. Possessiveness:Medium to high. Manipulative:Medium. Danger:Fluctuating; with a preference to render the opposition defenceless.

Things start to take a turn from this rank and onwards. Yanderes from within this classification would limit their beloved interactions with the external world as much as possible. Mainly due to the nature of their work, or they had previously lost a partner pokémon and would prefer for history not to repeat itself with their beloved. Which makes them seem controlling and rigid in hindsight.

In contrast with the ranks above, they are willing to use violence if they deem it necessary enough to protect their darling. However, they won’t go too far to kill for that goes against their disposition and would cripple their image. In addition of using abusing their respective positions, to keep their s/o alongside them.

Also, they won’t shy away from framing any suspicious individuals for a crime they have not committed for the greater good of their darling. It shouldn’t be that hard considering they hold a significant amount of influence in their regions/organisations. Which would cements them as trustworthy figures. Your personal agency and autonomy starts to dwindle.

Lt. Surge

Bruno

Lance

Norman

Glacia

Steven Stone

Maxie

Archie

Byron

Volkner

Lucien

Cynthia

Looker

Jupiter(Game)

Saturn(Game)

Mars(Game)

Brycen

Drayden

Grimsley

Marshal

Prof. Juniper(Pokémon Adventures)

Malva

Olivia

Nanu

Jessie

Lusamine(Masters)

Ariana

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭒~Run, hide, disguise, and repeat.

Presence:Uncomfortably felt, but not seen. Possessiveness:High. Manipulative:High. Danger:Fluctuating.

They resemble the first rank in the manner they conduct themselves, completely blind from the public’s sight. Yet, their motives are wholly different. They are keeping tabs on you, so they could pinpoint your attributes and use it to their advantage later on. It might take months, even years to plan and execute their scheme. But, they are willing to wait for the right opportunity to do so.

They are self-assured that their efforts will not be for nought, because they will make sure of it by any means available to them. Yanderes within this grouping are elusive, deliberate, and pragmatic in their methods of collecting their beloved and aren’t susceptible to attempts of manipulation.

If there are alternatives that will not attract the attention of the Interpol toward themselves, then they will absolutely take it. Rather than resort to an avoidable murder out of abrupt jealousy. They will only kill, if their hands is forced. Granted that, it will be behind the back of their beloved.

They hold their darling in the highest regards, to the point that the yandere will most likely end up worshiping them. That is the main reason on why they start the process of isolating and conditioning you. So, that you can be receptive only to their affection after your “relocation”. Which is not a matter of if, but when. Escaping them is nigh-impossible, as they have vast resources to find you again. It will definitely not end up very well for you, once they do manage to find you.

Your personal agency -at this point- is very restricted, whilst your autonomy is threatened at best. A word of advise to follow is to run, hide, disguise while you can, and better hope that they do not apprehend you.

Proton

Courtney

Jupiter(Pokémon Adventures)

Saturn(Pokémon Adventures)

Mars(Pokémon Adventures)

Cyrus

Colress(Game & Generations)

Lysandre

Faba

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑~ Arceus, have mercy on you.

Presence:Frightening, yet remains hidden to untrained eyes. Possessiveness:Extremely. Manipulative:Extremely. Danger:Do absolutely not engage with them at any point.

Kill, maim, torture, bribery, blackmailing, and all those just to get their darling. Do not be mistaken, despite that they remain strategic and level-headed in their means like the rank above. Yet, what separates them is their modus operandi. They’re far more selfish and crueller. No moral restrains to hold them back.

Some would murder to make an example of the people, who dared to leer their disgusting eyes on their beloved. They would even make so, that the murder are not directly traced back to them. Yanderes within this rank are likely to be lucid, save for few. They are notable for their shrewdness, controlling, sadistic, and machiavellian deception.

Their area of influence is substantial and much feared comparable to the third rank; it slithers down to the offices of politicians. Which gives them the perfect opportunity to offer them this wonderful “proposal”. They either choose to hand over their beloved, or else the blood of their own people will be on their hands. May-haps a humiliating scandal from their past will make them budge, if they were not concerned for the well being of their people.

Before that, they prefer to try their hands on subtler methodologies. Such as offering their beloved to live with them, if accepted then it will make the processes smoother. Otherwise, they will make sure that you throughly regret your choice. They will toy with your fears, dreams, and values until your mind finally crumbles and submit to their will. They will ensure that you can sense them, but be completely helpless against them. (Usually, by sending their underlings to observe you. It is obvious to you, but not to others. Which makes it harder on your part to seek help. The people you’re seeking help from either would accuse you of paranoia or they were bribed not to help you.)

Pleas of help are utterly useless, as they have absolute control in places where only your mind can imagine. Tis but a price for your disobedience, they say. Once you’re in their hold, they will addle your mind. So much, that the only thing left in your head is to venerate them as much as they do to you. After all, they are the only one who you can truly depend on and love. For they have sheltered and took care of you, in your time of need. Your sense of self has been fully compromised.

Ghetsis

*Colress(Pokèmon Adventures)

Giovanni

Lusamine(Game, especially S/M)

Sird

{Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated.}

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crushedsweets · 8 months

Note

i'm so obsessed w your blog you really unlocked all the nostalgia that's always waiting under the surface frfr i hope you send me spiraling all the way down again i miss it here so bad. anyway can i ask. what u got on... jane my beloved... sowwy if there's already like. posts abt it i'll go thru your whole blog someday and learn everything like my uni books xx

ok some quick warm up doodles this morning to go with the chat i got... tw for torture, stalking, really sad stuff.

link to my au that has a page with her in it

ok to start off with, jane/liu aren't TOO present in my story because jane and liu live really normal lives. most of their personal story is about recovery and growth, they were victims not aggressors. they're more involved in ninas story, rather than the overarching slender/operator paranormal problems...

jane grew up in an upper middle class household with incredibly loving parents. she was majoring in criminal psychology and lived with her parents, since they were close to the uni. it was during her second year in university that jeff began stalking her. he'd leave dead animals on her doorstep, light fires in her garbage cans, shatter windows without even entering the house, key her car, leave cryptic writings on her car that say stuff like '1f' (1female) to further scare her.

it wasn't that there was anything special about jane, but she had a super easy, very strict schedule to follow. her uni classes were all in the same building at the time, her car had a few cute stickers and decorations on/in her car that made it easy to spot, she only worked sat-mon at a cafe near her university. she was a happy person. easy victim he thought

eventually, while jane was out, he broke into her home and assaulted her parents. whether he used drugs or just stabbed them in the right place to make them immobile idk, but he got them tied up in the kitchen at some point. he was torturing them, doing the typical carved out smile bullshit, and he planned on leaving them for jane to find that night -- but, for the first time, her schedule was different. she came home from work while he was drenching the house in gasoline.

he panicked upon hearing her absolutely gutwrenching scream and quickly lit the trail of gasoline while she was trying to untie her dad (her mom was long gone by this point, her dad was barely managing a few wheezed breathes). he went to go finish jane off. he slashed her face, from her right temple, down her cheek, splitting her mouth in half and getting down to her left jaw. but the fire was spreading way faster than he anticipated, and he already heard sirens, so he bolted.

jane suffered 3rd degree burns covering her entire right leg and arm, it reached up her neck and her face, alongside some other parts of her body. she was pulled out of the fire, rushed to the hospital, and barely managed to survive.

jane had some outside family to support her, but her biggest supporter was her friend from middleschool mary vaugn. she moved into mary's house, took a semester off of school for recovery. the second she felt physically able to, she tried to drive herself right back into school, regardless of her mental condition.

she changed her major to criminal justice. she eventually graduated, fell in love with mary, got married, became a private investigator, etc. she spent a while working on jeff's case, losing sleep and hair over it- she was getting into some sketchy things to try and figure it out, because by this point jeff and ben were friends, and slenderman needs ben's help, so jeff's now protected by slenderman

but jane is one stubborn fucking woman and kept going. instead of sending the proxies to subdue jane, he sent sally.

sally was another poltergeist that kept haunting homes with newborn babies. she was attracting some attention, but slenderman cant physically stop a ghost - so he spent some time talking to sally, connecting with this little ghost girl and convincing her 'you're doing such a great job protecting all these infants, but this one needs you now'

he sent sally off to live with jane. mary's sister was staying with jane/mary after having a baby, so sally agreed to protect the baby. jane quickly welcomed sallys presense, always having believed good things of protective spirits. her mom used to tell her stories of how her grandmother's ghost would always come and soothe jane in her infancy (whether its true or not doesnt matter to jane) .

sally eventually became more than a presence to jane, almost completely integrating herself into her household's daily life. even after mary's sister and her baby left, sally stayed with jane. she felt safe there. (it helped that there were no men in the house too)

jane cares for sally like a daughter for a long time, and begins to redirect her life towards sally, rather than hatred for jeff. she never fully recovers from that night, and she never ever ever ever fucking 'forgives' jeff in any way, but she puts it aside for a while.

but sally is still a spirit, and does her fair share of wandering. she's always landing herself in the cornfields, the forest, etc, and jane goes frantic looking for her -- which is where she eventually bumps into the proxies. it's a huge mess, but she finds out what the fuck slenderman is and whats happening in that forest, but she just . . cant do anything about it. for sallys sake

eventually they get to the point where jane commonly finds herself walking in the forest with sally, or the proxies have to call jane and tell her to 'get her ghost kid' from the forest, etc.

at some point in this she also connects with liu. i don't know who reaches out first, whether it be liu desperately wanting to apologize for everything, or jane trying to figure out anything about jeff she can use to find him. this is how she finds out about nina.

jane smacked the shit out of nina when she first met her, in front of the proxies, who had to pull them apart. (i love nina but she deserved it after idolizing jeff). but nina is really fucking weird and began to idolize jane as well, and sally liked nina, which made it even more complicated, and that's why jane is the first person nina calls after jeff stabbed her ...

by this point janes hoping nina can heal, hoping liu can heal, hoping she herself can heal. ITS VERY HARD. its so unbelievably painful. that's basically where her story is at right now...

on a more positive note, she has a beautiful relationship with mary, and was hugely accepted in mary's family. she does poetry, creative writing, and is passionate about her career. she takes some extra creative writing/art courses at the local community college, just out of pure interest. she does her best to live a peaceful life

a bit off topic, but here's a little thing i copy and pasted from an old hc post too:

i cannot explain how close jane and her parents were. she was an only child in a upper middle class house to a lawyer and a real estate agent so she was always spoiled rotten, taken care of, always told how beautiful and smart she was. hence why losing them is the most fucking detrimental shit to ever happen to her. she literally worhsips her parents. she’s wore mothers wedding dress to her own wedding. her uncle(dads brother) walked her down the aisle holding a framed photo of her dad. she almost refused to walk during her university graduation because her parents couldn’t be there, despite the years worth of hardwork and dedication she put into it.

#asks #hcs #creeped #jane the killer #jane everlasting #jane arkensaw #jane richardson #sweetart #omfg also thank you #your ask was so sweet #thank u so much tysm tysm tysm THANK YOU

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jessamine-rose · 2 years

Text

꧁⪡ Alea Iacta Est ⪢꧂

Aaahh so here is part 2 of Housecat!! This continuation is written from Pantalone’s POV and features much darker content. Read the first fic before you proceed :>

Once again, thank you to @bye-bye-sunbird and @ddarker-dreams for the inspiration!! Same goes to @diodellet for your entertaining peer review and @yandere-romanticaa for your interest in reading this (*´∇｀*)

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, coercion, electrocution, offscreen death, psychological damage, Dottore is here, mention of drugging, mention of nsfw, dubcon, spice, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female cat-hybrid reader, pre-release Pantalone based on current lore crumbs

♡ 5.5k words under the cut ♡

i. the red string of fate

Love is nothing more than a contract.

The Regrator, of all people, is well aware of this fact. Love is an agreement easily forged and broken, an attraction founded on set conditions and self-serving fantasies. In a world of inequity, it is impossible for any relationship to be purely selfless nor unconditional.

The illusion of love persists, however, supported by centuries of myths. Soulmates. Star-crossed lovers. The red string of fate spun by the will of the gods.

How romantic.

Many would claim that Pantalone’s feelings are anything but love. They would dub him greedy, ambitious, obsessed, possessive, and so many other negative traits which ironically constitute the true essence of love. What he finds most insufferable are the claims that his efforts are futile against destiny.

If the gods deem him unworthy of love, he will pursue it on his own volition.

If the red string of fate ties his beloved to another, he will sever the threads and bind her to him with his own chains.

If his precious jewel rejects her owner, he will ruin her until she finally accepts her place in the world.

⬩◈⬩

Since her horrific revelation, his darling has become an amusing juxtaposition of obedience and defiance.

“What do you think of the present, my darling? Isn’t it a perfect fit?”

Pantalone clasps the jewelry around her neck. ______ blankly stares at her reflection.

The necklace is a simple accompaniment to her collar. The silver bell pendant makes soft tinkling noises with every little movement.

Its luster cannot compare to his darling’s tears.

“It’s…minimalist,” she answers. Her ears fold back. “But the bell is in poor taste. Do you expect me to wear this at all times?”

Pantalone smiles at her in the mirror.

“You wound me. And you are normally so enamored with my choices,” he replies. His hands rest on her shoulders. “The collar is already a perfect statement piece on its own.”

Zero wounds from the Electro Crystals. Sandrone’s craftsmanship is commendable.

Her tail relaxes. The violet bow is slightly askew; she must have been extra agitated today. Pantalone unravels it and reties the ribbon.

His hand brushes against her Vision. ______ immediately covers it with her own.

“You should get back to work,” she tells him. “I saw the reports on your desk earlier. What would the Tsaritsa say if she knew you were wasting your time on me?”

How foolish of her to bring up Her Majesty’s name.

“Matters of the heart do not concern Her Majesty so long as my work is unaffected. I can assure you that I am perfectly capable of separating my private and professional lives.”

His hand wraps around her tail. His grip is light but he can already feel the soft fur standing on edge.

“You know, it has been a while since I last saw you use your Vision,” he muses. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to watch your enchanting display again.”

“...All right.” His darling stares at her collar this time. “If that is what you want.”

Her hands are shaking. The sparks and red threads are thinner than usual.

Her fire is such a pretty spectacle. But it can only be viewed from a distance, a beacon of hope untouchable to its audience.

“There is no need to hold back, my love.” Pantalone waits for the fire to extinguish before he wipes her tears with his handkerchief. His other hand taps her collar. “You will only get shocked if you abuse your Vision. You won’t do that again, will you?”

She does not look at him. Recalling her previous attempts, most likely.

“I won’t. The last thing I need is to wake up to another one of your lectures.”

There is a bitter edge to her voice. Her tail slips out of his grasp and knocks over the empty necklace box.

He pats her head, smiling. “What a well-behaved pet. If I finish work early, I can take you to the shopping district tomorrow. We haven’t gone out in weeks.”

“I see. Do keep track of my purchases. I might just exceed my allowance.”

With that, ______ takes off the necklace and leaves the vanity table. She makes a point to push her unused shackles onto Pantalone’s side of the bed.

Despite her denial, she truly does act like a housecat at times.

As petty as she has become, his darling is making the most out of her cage. A pampered pet can never hope to gain the self-sufficiency of a stray. Any escape attempts would only bring her back to her owner.

Pantalone returns the necklace to its box, humming an old tune from Liyue. ______ covers her ears with the pillow.

Her neediness is sorely missed, however. He could easily demand her affection through more threats and gifts, but that would not be enough to satisfy his greed.

He would rather have her seek him out willingly.

ii. fool’s gold

A formal invitation announces a grand ball held in the capital of Snezhnaya. Another opportunity for the Regrator to make new business connections and to show off his darling wife.

“There should be a limit to the number of times I wear your colors,” she tells him. “By now, they likely view me as your little dress-up doll.”

“You are overthinking this.” Pantalone fastens the final accessory and fluffs up her tail. “We would not be the first couple to wear coordinated outfits. And think of it this way: An object takes after its master.”

He stands beside her in front of the mirror. They are only wearing matching jewelry this time. The violet jewels twinkle like artificial stars against their dark clothing.

______ frowns. “This necklace is too ostentatious, wouldn’t you say?”

Ungrateful pet.

“My priceless treasure,” he replies, the smile leaving his face, “you would do well to appreciate one’s generosity.”

A necklace of this price could feed so many empty stomachs in Liyue.

He grips the chain, allowing the jewels to press against her throat, and glares at her in the mirror.

“I’m sorry!” she says quickly. Her hands move to her neck in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure. “It must have been expensive. The…the design simply isn’t my type.”

“It is either this necklace or your collar, ______. Or are you secretly impartial to showing off my marks to the world?”

His other hand touches the love bites dotting her neck and chest. He had chosen an off-shoulder gown and an elaborate festoon necklace for that reason.

She averts her gaze. “...No, I’ll go with the first option.”

He lets go of the chain and readjusts the necklace.

His darling grips her tail with both hands. Her nails are newly trimmed and manicured after their last night of intimacy. Pantalone’s back is still healing from her scratch marks.

Even when he was kind enough to pleasure her, his darling took the opportunity to spite him. He had to use the shackles for their remaining rounds and her declawing session.

He adjusts her Vision this time. “I trust that you won’t cause a scene.”

“Of course.” She turns around and gives him a false smile. “This was part of our marriage contract, after all. I will assume the role of a loving wife for my sake.”

That is all. No clauses requiring loyalty or affection.

Pantalone’s smile is equally deceptive. “Stand by your promise. I will keep a close eye on you.”

⬩◈⬩

The ball is a waste of time—just the usual congregation of humorless businessmen, proud aristocrats, and annoying social climbers. The gilded superficiality of high society is no longer an otherworldly realm to the Regrator, but he is still grateful to have a companion.

It is more enjoyable when his darling is clinging to him like a frightful pet.

“My dear, you don’t need to stick to my side all night.” He shakes her tail off his wrist, smiling. “Are you that afraid of losing me in the crowd?”

“I’m not,” she whispers. Her hand grips his arm. “I don’t know anyone. They will just rope me into some meaningless conversation and gossip about ‘the Regrator’s trophy wife’ later on.”

They are nothing more than a crowd of foolish sycophants. But his darling is no different from them. If not for his riches, Pantalone is certain that she never would have spared him a glance.

Another admirer greets them and initiates a long speech about their loyalty to the Tsaritsa—a desperate farce before a Harbinger of all people. ______ smiles and nods along.

Well, the same may be said for his own attraction. He could have been apathetic to his darling’s existence had he not glimpsed her at the Shang family’s gala. She had looked so reserved, so pristine, until he came close enough to notice her cracks. Until he decided that he would be the one to break her.

The orchestra begins playing a lively symphony. The guests disperse to the dance floor and the edges of the ballroom.

“Would you care to dance?”

His darling’s thinly-veiled desperation is truly entertaining, especially as her gaze darts to the still-blabbering admirer.

He takes her hand, smiling. “Of course, my love.”

iii. odi et amo

Another letter is intercepted from Liyue.

Pantalone dismisses the messenger and opens the envelope. The letter is from his sister-in-law this time. Less valuable information, then.

It is just the usual family update, sans the necessary details which his darling would like to know. It ends with a sermon about marital conduct and the importance of “not being a nuisance to the Regrator.”

He smiles at the last line. The Lai family must have been quite shaken after the visit of the last Pyro Agent. Their previous letters are written in a similar fashion, all formal lectures with no ounce of concern for their little ______.

Had they met years ago, he would have envied his darling to the point of hatred. But now he can only feel pity for her.

Unfair as the world may be, there will always be certain pros and cons to one’s social status. Competence or inadequacy. Independence or loneliness. Ambition or sorrow.

Another agent knocks on the door.

“You may enter.”

They open the door and kneel. “My lord, your wife is returning to your office. As per your orders, she and her guard were only permitted to roam the eastern wing of Zapolyarny Palace.”

“You are dismissed.”

His darling’s letters are beginning to take up space in his desk. Pantalone adds the missive and locks the drawer.

The Fen wife recently wrote about a charm bracelet which his darling might like. He should add that item to his shopping list.

⬩◈⬩

Another obstacle to the Fatui brings extra work hours.

“Are you almost done? It’s late.”

Pantalone opens a new document. “I still have mountains of paperwork to go through. If you are tired, you may go to bed without me.”

The Northland Bank will be flooded with blood as soon as he catches those traitors.

His darling remains on his lap.

“It’s fine. I’m not sleepy yet,” she replies. She points at the stack of unchecked reports. “What are these about, anyway?”

“A few traitors. Some unforeseen interferences. A pesky little Traveler who has proven themselves to be quite the infernal threat.” He takes off his glasses and polishes the lenses.

He is due for another all-nighter.

______ turns her head. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He gives her a wry look. “You seem awfully concerned about my wellbeing. If you plan to take advantage of my current state, you are better off using subtler tactics.”

Her ears twitch. “You are still my husband. If anything happens to you, my welfare is at stake. I can’t assist you with work but I can at least provide some stress relief.”

Stress relief, huh?

His darling faces forward again. Her ears are pushed back, a clear indication of anger. It is an ineffective warning—they are nothing more than the soft, fluffy traits of a domestic cat.

Pantalone puts his glasses back on and pets her ears.

Her gasp is preceded by soft purrs. “What are you—? Stop! My ears are—”

He laughs, pressing a kiss against the back of her ear. “I know. So sensitive.”

His hand moves to the front of her dress and pulls down the neckline. Her love bites have already faded to near-invisible spots. It is about time for him to renew his marks.

“Pantalone.” She stands up and turns around, tail puffing up. “You still have work.”

“It won’t take long. Besides, was it not you who offered to alleviate my stress?”

He pulls her towards him, forcing her to straddle his lap, and touches the base of her tail.

“But still!” She bites back another purr. “Could we at least do this in the bedroom? The servants are still in the corridor. They might hear us—this is hardly appropriate!”

Until now, she still finds it necessary to retain her modesty. Her debauched noises during the act say otherwise.

It only takes a kiss to shut her up. He cups her face, smiling at every hitched breath and plea for air.

He will never grow tired of tainting her.

“My love,” he murmurs. He breaks off the kiss and presses their foreheads together. “Just think of it as fulfilling the contract you agreed to.”

⬩◈⬩

“Pantalone?”

“Yes?”

“Do you…plan to have children in the future?”

The pen hits the desk. It rolls across the wood, stopping just short of falling off the edge.

This is unexpected.

Pantalone clears his throat. “Can you repeat that?”

For someone who had made such a serious inquiry, his darling refuses to even look at him. She shifts in his lap, staring at his unfinished report.

And to think that he would not be the first to initiate this conversation.

“If this is about the contraceptives, I already told you that we are using a high-quality medication with no side effects. It is my turn to take them, anyway.”

Her tail thumps against his chest. “It’s not about the birth control.”

“Then what is this about? If you remain ambiguous, I may assume that you are asking for children.”

That would be a delightful surprise. Families do make for efficient binding agreements.

“I don’t know if I want that,” she mumbles. Her hands grip the desk. “It’s just…if you have any plans for the future, I want to be prepared for it. I spend enough time idling about and causing trouble for you.”

Not a direct refusal. What an interesting answer.

Thinking about it now, she had broached this topic in the early days of their marriage. Something about her lack of responsibilities and the Fen wife’s maternal duties.

Pantalone picks up his pen and continues writing. “As of now, starting a family is of low priority to me. We may continue this conversation once the Tsaritsa’s perfect world has been achieved.”

And when that happens, he will have all the time in the world to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Ironically, that statement only makes his darling more agitated.

“I see. I’ll enjoy my last pieces of freedom,” she mutters.

He puts down his pen. “My darling, are you merely bored with your current routine? Or are you looking for an excuse to devote your time to someone other than me?”

At the last statement, she turns to face him.

“Not at all!” she exclaims. Her eyes are wide with panic. “I like your company; I really do! Anyway, I couldn’t possibly treat a child with your degree of care and attention.”

It is good that she knows that.

“That is good to hear.” Pantalone smiles and wraps his arms around her, pressing her back against his chest. “I won’t demand a child or anything else from you. End of discussion.”

“I see…thank you for telling me.”

His darling stares ahead, but the relaxed positions of her ears and tail are a substantial response. He rests his chin on her shoulder.

“Besides,” he adds, “I would rather have you all to myself for the time being.”

iv. faustian bargain

The next few months are relatively peaceful. A pattern of gifts, dances, galas, red threads, intimate nights, banter, and mind games. Pantalone is pleased to note that his darling is gradually becoming more resigned to her cage. She has almost reverted back to her needy, pliable self.

Unfortunately, the gods always choose the best of times to tip the scales.

“I’m home.”

Pantalone has barely closed the door before his darling stomps over to him.

“My necklace is missing,” she informs him.

He pauses, coat in hand. “Which one?”

She leads him to her dressing room without so much of a word.

The farthest corner of the room is reserved for her old accessories. It is a haphazard mess of half-opened drawers and scattered jewelry boxes.

______ opens the topmost drawer and points at the necklace section. There are large, even spaces in between the necklaces.

“Someone rearranged it. My brother’s wedding gift used to be on the far left,” she explains. “It was a gold necklace with a pendant shaped like a Nilotpala lotus.”

Pantalone glances at the boxes on the floor. “Are you sure that you didn’t misplace it?”

“How could I? You don’t let me wear it to begin with,” she snaps, gesturing to her collar. “This isn’t the only one. I can’t find the box holding my Sango pearl necklace.”

A thief in his own estate. What a wonderful surprise.

In their entire marriage, this is his first time seeing his darling in such an incensed state. Aside from her swishing tail and folded back ears, her eyes are filled with enough burning fury to rival his own glare.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “My darling, for what reason would I engage in petty theft behind your back? I could easily confiscate your possessions.”

“I don’t know. But I am not trusting the same person who chose what I could bring to Snezhnaya.” She glares at him, eyes filling with tears. “I am fine with wearing your gifts, but is it too much to even look at my old belongings?”

“Wild accusations will do more harm than good,” he shoots back. “Did it not occur to you that someone else could have done it?”

His darling only laughs. “The servants, maybe, but they wouldn’t dare to steal from you. Unless you paid them to do it on your behalf.”

She opens the closet and takes out her coat.

“______.” It takes effort to maintain his composure. “Where are you going?”

“To the gardens. Forgive me for not being able to stand your presence.”

She leaves the dressing room. Pantalone follows her.

He reaches for her hand. “Darling, I—”

“Just go away!”

A burst of flames appears out of thin air, almost grazing him. Pantalone stumbles back, glasses clattering to the floor.

The sound of glass breaking is followed by the shock of Concentrated Overload.

His darling screams and collapses to the floor.

Pantalone takes a step closer. “You shouldn’t—”

“Don’t get any closer!” she shouts. She claws at her collar, tears rolling down her cheeks. “You ruined my life. I wish I never met you!”

Her honesty could not be any more brutal.

Pantalone draws back as though he has been slapped. His darling’s glare remains fiery.

At this point, diplomatic attempts at reconciliation are futile.

He picks up his glasses. The frames are warm from where the fire touched them. The chain is broken and one of the lenses is cracked.

“I do not blame you for your lack of trust in me,” he says coldly. He walks past her and opens the door. “I will give you some space if that is what you truly want.”

More sobs. Pantalone leaves the room and almost crashes into one of the servants.

“Lord Harbinger!” she squeaks. She bows immediately. “I apologize for not seeing you!”

“It is all right,” he replies, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. He glances at her uniform. “You are one of my wife’s handmaidens. You go by the alias Myshkin, correct?”

“Y…Yes, my lord!”

A glint of silver flashes in her hand.

He frowns at her. “What are you holding? Have you found my wife’s missing jewelry?”

She jumps and averts her gaze. “What? I…yes, I did!”

Her hands are trembling. She opens her palm to reveal a familiar Vajrada Amethyst ring.

That little rat.

Myshkin is speaking a mile a minute. “I found it in the living room and was just about to return it. As soon as I saw it, I knew it must have been the ring Lady ______ was looking for!”

His darling has not worn it once in Snezhnaya. Neither did she mention the disappearance of that ring.

Pantalone takes it, a grateful smile on his face. “Thank you, Myshkin. I will remember this.”

She turns to the door. “Is Lady ______ all right?”

“Just a little shocked. Go tend to her.”

“Yes, my lord!”

Had she entered the room a second later, Myshkin would have witnessed the Regrator’s death glare directed at her.

⬩◈⬩

The Doctor’s office is a place of nightmares. Beyond the laboratory, his section of Zapolyarny Palace is filled with preserved specimens, glowing test tubes, anatomical sketches, and a pervasive aura of malevolence. Even the meeting room is far from welcoming.

“Ninth, I assume you summoned me for another private commission. How is your wife? I believe your wedding anniversary has recently passed.”

“Spare me the formalities, Dottore.” Pantalone takes a seat on the sofa. “I received your request for additional funds. The numbers are out of proportion, but I can overlook that if you throw in a personal favor for me. I believe you will find this commission more suited to your preferences.”

Dottore puts down his test tube and sits across from him. “What do you mean?”

Pantalone gestures to the package on the table.

“I would like you to soak these garments in a flammable substance, one so potent that it would guarantee inescapable death for the wearer once they come into contact with fire. The chemical should have an inconspicuous scent and remain effective after numerous washes.”

“What an interesting request. And who is this unlucky victim?” Dottore opens the box and takes out a set of maid uniforms.

That Myshkin had been stupid enough to steal memorable jewelry. Everyone knows that the wealthy are less likely to notice the disappearance of smaller pieces, moreso if those items are sold to a reasonably far-off pawnshop.

“You are quite literally playing with fire, and it seems that your employee is not the only target. Tell me, is it not easier to deal with them and your darling separately?”

Pantalone straightens his glasses. The new chain twinkles under the dim light.

“Think of it as killing two birds with one stone. It would be uncharacteristic of me to ignore an opportunity when it is presented to me.”

Dottore snickers. “Your poor little housecat. And to think you started out with something as innocent as catnip-laced perfume.”

“That is none of your business. Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.” Dottore sits back, a maniacal grin on his face. “Though I must demand payment. A chemical of this potency will be costly to produce, especially if I am to ensure maximum quality by using test subjects.”

Pantalone clasps his hands together, smiling. “Name your price.”

v. alea iacta est

Pantalone upholds his promise and grants his darling her desired solitude. He moves her to a different bedroom and works longer hours in Zapolyarny Palace. On the rare occasion that they cross paths in the estate, he scarcely acknowledges her.

Myshkin and her fellow handmaiden provide daily reports of ______’s activities and behavior. The former wears her new set of uniforms.

His darling holds on to her pride. She makes no requests for gifts or company. She continues her flimsy pastimes, sans the use of her Vision. She bristles at his silent treatment but makes no effort to approach him.

This is what her life could’ve been like had she married Chairman Jin. If she knows what is good for her, she will not compare that nullified fate to her reality.

The days are longer for Pantalone. The situation reminds him of their former days, that year spent patiently waiting and working behind the scenes and settling for the lightest of touches. But the reward had been worth it.

This time, he must only wait for his darling to come to him.

⬩◈⬩

“Lord Harbinger!”

The door slams open. The agent does not bother to kneel.

Pantalone barely looks up from his contract. “We are in the middle of a meeting. What matter is so important that you must disturb me and my client?”

“It concerns your wife, my lord! An accident has occurred in your household.”

About time.

He faces his client. “My apologies, but I must ask that we resume our negotiations some other time. I am afraid that my wife’s situation seems to be of dire urgency.”

“Naturally! It isn’t a problem.” The diplomat bows and puts away their reports. “Thank you for your time, Lord Harbinger.”

Pantalone leaves the conference room and faces the agent. “Tell me what happened.”

“Your wife attacked a servant with her Pyro Vision. We have already extinguished the fire and summoned a doctor, but her handmaiden is in unstable condition.”

All according to plan. “Are there any additional details which I need to know?”

They pause. “I was not present during the event, but I was told that the incident took place in your wife’s dressing room. She is currently afflicted with her collar’s Concentrated Overload as well as psychological shock.”

He resists the urge to smile. “Anything else?”

“Your wife asked for you, my lord. She specifically requested your presence as the guards were restraining her.”

How endearing.

“Cancel my remaining appointments for the day. That will be all.”

⬩◈⬩

The collateral damage only costs a few hundred thousand Mora. A singed carpet. Scorched closets. The doctor’s fee. The silence of the servants.

Pantalone barely regards the charred corpse in the servant’s quarters. According to the doctor, Myshkin had succumbed to her wounds shortly before his arrival.

In the end, she paid back her debt in blood.

Not a sound can be heard from his darling’s room.

He unlocks the door. Warm light spills into the dark room, highlighting the figure chained to the bed.

His precious jewel has never looked more pitiful. Her ears lay flat against her head and her tail is tucked between her legs. There are tearstains on her face.

Her Vision is on the floor. He wonders if it was her or the servants who had thrown it.

“You’re back.” She looks up, a fresh wave of tears trickling down her cheeks. “It was an…I didn’t mean to! I just…”

“Shh, I know.” He presses his handkerchief against her cheek. “They told me what happened. We couldn’t have predicted that your Vision would cause such a disaster.”

Her voice comes out in choked sobs. “It is my fault. I caught her…I was angry but she didn’t deserve—I can still hear her screams. What will I do?”

No friction burns or signs that she struggled against the shackles. Pantalone frees her wrists and hugs her.

“It is all right,” he whispers. “I will take care of everything.”

Another sniffle. She buries her face into his coat, soaking the fabric with her tears.

“I am more concerned about you,” he continues. He breaks off the hug and looks her in the eye. “My love, how are you feeling? It must have been such a difficult experience for you. If you need anything, just tell me.”

For a moment, his darling only stares at him with glassy eyes. Then she shakes her head and holds his hand, gripping it so tightly that her nails dig into his gloves.

“Stay,” she pleads. Her tail wraps around his wrist. “Please, I…just don’t leave me.”

Pantalone kisses her hand, a kind smile gracing his face. “I promise.”

vi. diabolic waltz

Myshkin’s death is covered up as a furnace accident. The false notice is sent to her relatives, along with a large sum of Mora for financial aid.

It is the least the Regrator could do for a desolate family.

His darling moves back to their bedroom. She spends the majority of the first night crying in his arms and seeking out his comfort. The next morning, she meekly accepts the Nilotpala lotus pendant and Sango pearls he had bought back from the pawnshop. The subsequent days are filled with silent apologies and thank you’s.

A week after the incident, she leaves their room to visit his private office.

“Are you still working?”

Pantalone looks up from his report. “This can wait. Do you need anything, my darling?”

“Not at the moment.” She stands in front of his desk, tail tucked between her legs. She is wearing only her nightdress and collar today. “Take this.”

She places her Vision on his desk.

He reacts with a carefully crafted frown. “______, why are you giving this to me? I believe you know the risks of losing a Vision.”

“I am better off without it,” she mutters. She pushes it into his hands. “It has always been wasted on me. You deserve to have it.”

In the end, fire is just another illusion. Despite the light it offers, it can only consume.

Pantalone lifts it up to the window. The Pyro Vision is brighter than any false star in the sky. He can feel its powerful warmth through his gloves.

The gifts of the gods, now in his grasp. But there is a far greater treasure standing before him.

He sets it aside. “I will take good care of it, then.”

“Is there anything else I can do?” His darling moves closer to him, tail raised. “You’ve done so much for me. I will do whatever it takes to repay the favor.”

Pantalone smiles at her and leaves his desk. “You only need to stay by my side. Though, I would not be opposed to other modes of payment.”

She nods and walks into his embrace.

⬩◈⬩

“I have a new gift for you.”

“Another one?”

His darling frowns at the package. “You know how I feel about your gifts. Just being with you is already enough.”

“Think of it as a gift for myself, then.” Pantalone pats her head, ruffling her ears. “I do enjoy spoiling my beloved pet.”

She purrs and hugs him again. “Fine, all right. That just means more cuddles for you.”

His precious jewel has shattered. She is much more affectionate nowadays.

The servants finish unpacking the phonograph. They pull back the curtains and leave the room.

______ regards it with curious eyes. “A Witch’s Chorus. What sort of music does it play?”

“Why don’t we find out?”

Pantalone places the record on the turntable and flips the power switch. The instrument begins to play a slow, festive orchestral arrangement.

Her ears prick forward. “This…it sounds familiar. Where did I last hear it?”

“Quite nostalgic, isn’t it? It is the musical score from our first dance.”

“That explains it.” She turns to face him, eyes shining brightly. “It was a waltz. How could I forget?”

The fire in her eyes has been completely extinguished. Though her gaze never fails to light up at any mention of their lost memories together.

Pantalone holds out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Her hand feels soft in his grip. “It would be my pleasure.”

No red threads this time. His darling follows his lead, a peaceful smile on her face. During the final spin, she is quick to return to his grasp.

“Pantalone?”

“Yes, my darling?”

She meets his gaze.

“I love you.”

Pantalone almost stumbles. He stops in the middle of the dance floor.

It is difficult to hide his surprise. “Please repeat that.”

“I love you.” She says it clearly, still holding his gaze. Her expression becomes anxious. “Is there…something wrong with how I said it?”

He never imagined that those words could be said to him with such utmost sincerity.

Pantalone only laughs and resumes the waltz. At this point, they are dancing off-beat to the music but there is no crowd to judge them. Only the stars visible through the windows, twinkling across the sky like unfathomable jewels.

“No, it was perfect. You just caught me off-guard,” he admits. He smiles, pulling her closer. “I love you too.”

♡

Read the Author’s Note here!!

It is done……I am finally free from this fic. I never want to see Pantalone’s pretty face ever again. This greedy man rlly made me write a two-part fic that was longer than Herbarium and Fairytale combined (੭ ˃̣̣̥ ㅂ˂̣̣̥)੭ु

I hope you all enjoyed the Regrator’s twisted love story. I hope you all liked my yandere characterization of him. I hope you all suffer from brainrot while I get some rest and question my life choices. Thank you for reading and have a lovely day, everyone <3

#pantalone #yandere pantalone #yandere pantalone x reader #pantalone x reader #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #il dottore #dottore #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: manipulation #tw: death #tw: dubcon #spicy warning #mdni #fem reader #jessamine-writing

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