obsessivelyloved

[obsessivelyloved]

fandom etiquette reminders

gentle reminder that people do not have to like/ship the popular ships in a fandom. widely popularized ships do not equal canon ships and even if they were, people are allowed to have different pairings they prefer. if one fandom creator popularized things, it does not mean that every single other creator has to also do that thing.

please be respectful and considerate of the people making free content for your enjoyment as well - you never know whats going on on the other end of the screen to cause an author to not upload a new chapter or why the artist hasn't posted new art in three weeks. their boundaries are just as important as anyone else's and deserve to be respected as a basic human right.

if you're a minor, do not participate in 18+ spaces! this is for your safety as well as the safety of everyone else. if anyone over the age of 18 insists its okay for you to participate in nsfw topics with them, run. be careful with what you're posting online, too. you never know who has ill intent when interacting with you.

be also incredibly mindful that not everyone wants to participate in fandom discourse. proship/antiship discourse, ship wars, "what are your thoughts on [insert problem here]", - these are good and fun in their own respects, but can be incredibly distressing if brought up out of nowhere.

fandom is supposed to be for fun, and it isn't fun if its stressful and dangerous.

[obsessivelyloved]

Day 1: Love at First Sight

Full disclosure: I wrote this while drinking so sorry in advance if it flows weird or if there are any weird sentences that don't make sense.

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His eyes had been drawn to you. Tord couldn’t put his finger on why. It wasn’t like he made it a habit to ogle movie theater workers. He was always in and out whenever the latest gorey movie came out. The less human interaction he had the better. He got enough interaction from the lowest of humanity at his job. Building robots on the side really brought out the stupidity in people. 

But ever since he stepped foot in the theater, he couldn’t help but sneak glances over at you. You looked bored, standing behind the concession stand. 

You fidgeted with something beneath the counter and swayed a little. 

Tord almost envied you. Not many people buy snacks at the movie theater nowadays. It was much simpler - and cheaper - to sneak some in. 

But something compelled Tord to speak to you, His heart raced as he approached the counter. Fuck his movie, he could afford the first few minutes to talk to you. He swiftly read your nametag and rolled your name around in his head. 

He liked it. It really suit you. Knowing your name made his heart race more. 

  Tord put on his best flirty smile, leaned against the counter, and opened with a line he used frequently at the bar. “They pay you to stand here and look so pretty?”

You stared blankly at him. “Can you repeat that?” you ask flatly. His heart dropped. Shit. Normally that got a chuckle out of the pretty girls and guys at the bar. Or the giggly cashiers at the grocery store.

Tord grinned wider, his sharp teeth glinting in the low light. 

“I said,” he drawls, leaning further over the counter. The scent of buttery popcorn grows stronger. “That you’re way too cute to be working here.” 

He meant it. Really, he did. You kept staring blankly at him. 

“Are you going to buy something or are you just going to harass me?” 

Alright, changing tactics. 

“What do you recommend?” Tord asks, leaning back away from the counter. A rush of heat went down his back. Why did he feel so embarrassed? 

“I’d just get a large popcorn and call it a day,” you answer in that same flat voice. 

Frustration starts to bubble in Tord’s chest. Just what the hell was wrong with this person? Tord was great with people. He was building his own army for fucks sake. People flocked to find him, to join his cause.

Why did he want to impress you so bad

Tord snorts and shakes his head. “You sure know how to upsell a guy. Shit, just a large popcorn? You’re not going to try to convince me to give up my right arm for a candy bucket and a large soda?” 

A slight smile appears on your face for a moment. It makes his heart flutter. 

“I honestly don’t care what you buy. They just pay me to stand here.” 

Tord barks out a short laugh at that. “Really?” he asks. “I’ll take the popcorn then, since you put your heart and soul into convincing me to buy it.”

Whatever faint amusement was on your face was gone in an instant. A vague frustration crossed your face before you spun around to fill up the popcorn bucket. Tord didn’t mind. His gaze lingered on you. You may have acted prickly and above his flirtations, but Tord couldn’t deny that something drew him towards you. 

He wanted to find out what, keep talking to you, and give you his phone number. He wanted a genuine smile, a laugh, and your phone number. 

You turn back around with a full bucket of popcorn. “Eight fifty,” you state blandly, all but slamming the popcorn bucket on the counter. 

Tord pulls out his wallet and hands you a twenty. You give him a sour look as you open up your till and dig for the right amount of change. 

After he receives the right amount, Tord winks at you and slips it all into your tip jar.

“For your stellar service,” he purrs. And then he was off, making a beeline for the room his latest gorey interest was playing. You wouldn't leave his mind the entire time he sat in that theater. His heart raced every time he thought of you. It’d been a while since someone had caught his attention like you had. 

Perhaps you’d be worth the chase. His bed had gotten awfully cold lately since his dearest decided to get into his locked drawer and wield his gun. He’d love them forever but it was time for him to move on. You seemed perfect for him. He couldn’t wait to see you again. 

After all, it was rare for Tord to experience love at first sight.

[obsessivelyloved]

God I love Drugged! Darling. It's fucked up but I like it. I've been having thoughts about what with a drugged darling escaping but then starting to go through withdrawal for whatever they've been dosed up on leading to their recapture

Mhm, delicious!! Thanks for requesting ^-^

Warning for Yandere and Drugs (+ side-effects like sickness)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ It's been a while since your last hit, and honestly, you've been doing great! You would have run away much earlier if you knew it would be that easy. You feel so damn unstoppable as you make your way through the forest, unable to feel your feet hurting or your heart crying for a break. It's so freeing! Life is suddenly good again! You thought you'd be on the leash of that madman forever, but looking back at it now, you never realized how strong and capable you were of taking care of yourself. He tried to tell you that you were nothing without him, that you needed him. But you don't need anyone; you have all the power you need!

♡ Slowly, you come to a halt. Surely you ran far enough away from the horror house your yan kept you in, right? You've been running for hours, and not even branches or bushes could stop you even though they tried to hold you back by bumping into you and snagging your clothes, little scratches littering your body as you seek shelter from the nightfall in an abandoned building. At least you'll be safe from the wind and rain if the weather changes, it seems suitable for your first night of freedom even though there's no comfort in the cold walls. But being able to choose where you rest for the night is enough to make you feel ecstatic, it's been so long since you've been given the choice to do what you wanted.

♡ Truth be told, you could have continued onwards, maybe even made it back to the city before sunrise if you kept running. Your heart was still pumping the blood through your veins vigorously, and your legs only started to wobble the moment you slowed down the pace. When you lean forward to sit on the floor, your knees cave in, and you drop to the ground, smashing your face into the cold concrete, but all you can do is laugh. It didn't hurt you at all. This is what freedom is all about, and your body knows it. You could have gotten up at any second; you were strong and amazing. You had gotten away all on your own without any help, and life was getting good again. But before you realize the change inside of you, you are overcome with exhaustion. Whatever! You have all the time in the world, now that you escaped! No one can stop you anymore, especially not that psycho who kidnapped you in the first place! A little rest, and you'd be up and running the last stretch, finally reuniting with civilization. Everything would be okay again!

♡ When you wake up just a couple hours later, you feel the cold sweat clinging to your skin like a faint reminder of failure. The sun was still far from rising, the ground hard and icy. Every bone in your body is rigid, and a mighty headache blooms in your head, pushing and punching against your skull as if trying to break out. Nothing could have warned you from throwing up the second you sat up, your stomach too empty to produce vomit, yet you gag and dry heave as if your life depends on it. With tears falling from your eyes, you wipe your mouth, looking up at your blurry surroundings and wondering where you are. Even when you plant your feet firmly on the ground, the second you try to shift your weight onto your legs, you crumple to the ground again helplessly. Despite the obvious pains, you can barely feel your aching muscles, yet they don't let you get up even one inch from the ground.

♡ As you sit there, listening to the bird chirping in the trees above you, every sound feels like a smack over the head, the world spinning madly. You try to recollect what happened and try to think about your intentions and goals. It all seems so far away. You are thirsty beyond anything you have ever felt, your throat clenching desperately every time you swallow. The feeling makes you want to throw up again, but you breathe deeply until it disappears. It's all you can do as you lie inside the dilapidated building. Where have you gone wrong? Why did you feel so free and light yesterday, but now you cannot even move? Life was supposed to be good now... why doesn't it feel that way.

♡ "Look who's finally calmed down," someone remarks, followed by the sound of a foot hitting a bottle. The screeching grates on your nerves, and you cover your ears with your hands, trying to block it out. "What a dinky place..." the voice mutters, and it is so much closer now, even through your covered ears. Someone touches your face, wiping a thumb along your lips. You feel the wet dirt and spit being pushed aside as the warm touch lures you out of your defenses. Your headache has prevented you from realizing it, but when you look into the face of the person who captured you, you flinch. How could they find you? You had run so far!

♡ "Thought you gotten away?" they mock you, grinning smugly at the perplexed look on your face. "Darling, you've barely made it ten minutes from our home."

♡ A small part of you wonders if they are telling the truth, but another wave of nausea hits before you can ponder it. "I feel sick," you mumble as you bend over, crying as violent contractions go through you. "I don't know what's going on."

♡ "There, there," the yan comforts you, rubbing your back with their warm hand, a groan escaping you from how good it feels when their warmth seeps into your frigid bones and muscles. "It's okay now, I got you."

♡ "No..." you mewl, slightly pushing away from your captor. Every inch of your being wants to throw yourself into their warmth, but your clouded, unfocused mind knows better. You push away from them harder, losing your balance and threatening to collapse on your side, but they catch you. "No, I've gotten so far! I left you behind for good!"

♡ "And you got sick and injured while doing it; I'm so proud of you," they mumble sarcastically as they pull you into their arms, lifting you off the ground. You hate how soft they are, how well you can rest your aching head on their broad shoulder. You desire their touch all over you just so you can feel their warmth equally everywhere. "I don't need you... don't want you," you mutter as you sling your arms sleepily around their neck.

♡ "Yes, well, you need a bath and want some of your medicine, I'm sure," your captor mumbles, their steps so light as they carried you through the woods you had run through just yesterday. You know they lied about the distance when it took them forever to get back to the gruesome place they called home. You even doze off as they rub your back, nuzzling your face into their body and making them chuckle.

♡ "I hate you," you whisper as you stay still in the bathtub, letting them wash off all the dirt and blood from your body. The hot water feels outrageously good, and everything smells wonderfully like your favorite soap. They knead all the sore spots on your body, and before they started washing you, they made sure you drank almost an entire bottle of water and ate a chocolate bar from your favorite brand. You never want to get out of the bath again, but although their hands linger uncomfortably on your body for a while, soon your captor pulls the plug, and you whine as the bathwater disappears.

♡ Your captor sighs as they look down at your battered and limb body, your eyes hooded with exhaustion. You still feel sick to your stomach, but with the water gone, a chill rakes over your skin, making you shiver. Before you can try to move yourself, you are wrapped into a soft towel and lifted out of the bath and onto the bed instead. Your captor puts a warm hoodie over your head before letting you fall into the plush around you, and you sigh contentedly. The moment you lay down on the soft mattress, all your resistance and plans to leave are pushed far, far out of your mind. All you want is to bundle up in a blanket and sleep away the sickness that had overcome you.

♡ Complaining when your kidnapper does nothing to help you bury yourself in pillows and blankets, you grumble when you feel their weight dip the mattress to your left. The grating sound of the drawer beside the bed being opened leaves you exasperated and you try to roll away from your captor. "Come on," your captor coos gently, catching your arm that you thought you did a good job hiding from him. Not good enough, apparently, as you feel your sleeve being pulled up, the cold air biting against your skin.

♡ "I'm tired," you complain, and they hum in acknowledgment. "You can sleep in just a second. I just want you to feel better soon and be on your best behavior tomorrow. I hate seeing you so sick and having to pick you up from a random ditch in the forest." With your mess of a mind, you find no fault in what they are saying. You don't want to be sick either anymore; you want to feel light and happy again, able to run and make plans to escape this awful person you hate so much.

♡ "Now give me your arm; stop twisting it," they order, and you comply, pouting. You know you'll feel better soon and can finally fight them again. But not right now. You need to get better first. Some medicine, and surely, you'd be up and running in no time.

♡ "Here we go, and I didn't overdo it this time."

[obsessivelyloved]

I’m so sorry

I’m so sorry to disappoint you guys. I have part of a Tord fic written but I’ve been dealing with heavy mental illness, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to post fics again

[obsessivelyloved]

Was looking through my docs and found this. It's a polyworld au, where Tom laid an egg. Reader is a child of divorce in this because I’m a sucker for divorced future eddtord. I might continue this if anyone's interested.

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You gotta be fucking kidding me. Edd thought in disbelief. He grits his teeth as he rips the poster off the wall. That piece of shit, he thought furiously. He ripped off another. And another. Wanted posters were scattered across the alley. All of him. 

                            Edward Galloway

                         $1,000,000

 WANTED: Him and the child. Both brought in ALIVE. 

Edd would be damned before he let that asshole take his child. It didn’t matter if Tord had carried the egg and birthed it, the baby was Edd’s. Edd raised them for most of their life, after Tord dumped them on him. It didn’t matter that he had an army building. The jackass could have at least called more, to talk to their toddler. 

He sure had no problem contacting Edd when he “needed a place to stay”. God, how stupid Edd was. How blind by excitement. He really believed that Tord had finished whatever sketchy thing he had been up to for years. That he was ready to come home and raise their child.

Fucking hell. 

Edd would never believe a word Tord would say again. Never again would he be so stupid. Not like Tom and Matt. And that was a whole other can of worms. 

He shook his head, picking up his grocery bags and continuing down the alley. It had taken ten minutes to rid the alley of posters. He hadn’t bought cold groceries so it was fine. 

Thankfully, he didn’t cross paths with any more wanted posters of him or his child. It was a good sign. More posters popping up would mean he’d have to lay low for a while. If he was spotted and reported, more of Tord’s robots would patrol along with his soldiers. Police? Whatever the fuck he called them. 

Edd didn’t pay much attention to what the Red Leader was up to these days. Good or bad, it mattered nothing to him. All that mattered was that Tord was on the hunt. Edd already missed the first three years of his baby's life, he wasn't missing anymore.

[obsessivelyloved]

GOSH, I'M SO SORRY, I ACCIDENTALLY SENT IT HERE😭

you’re good, no worries!! it happens to me from time to time lmao

[obsessivelyloved]

Would you be willing to write platonic yandere red leader x Child reader (maybe around 4-5)? I was think about the knock knock love post and just thought of it with a child who wants to come out but is scared of punishment so they make him pinky promise them from under the door before they come out. And when they do they just cry into Him! I think ot would be so cute!

You asked for reader, but I left who the kid could be left up to interpretation. They could be Reader, a kid Tord had with Reader or with some one else, or even just a random child Tord adopted.

________________________________________________________

Tord leaned against his child’s door, anger long gone. “I promise I’m not mad, sweetpea. Please just open the door.” 

He heard shuffling from behind but they didn’t answer. He sighed and sat down with his back against the door. Maybe they needed a few more minutes of silence. He wasn’t exactly… kind when he lost his mind. 

It was something he needed to work on. He couldn’t afford to be so hot headed now that he had a child.  Although he really did need to make the house more childproof. Seeing his child wave a large knife around nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.  

Even more so when they dropped it, nicking their hand in the process. 

Tord had rushed for the first aid kit and they had vanished to their room. Anger rushed through him again. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. He needed to stay calm.

“Papa’s not going to punish you, love. I-” A small hand half popped out from under the door. 

“Pinky promise?” They asked, pinky stretched out as far as they could get it under the gap between the door and the floor.

“Pinky promise.” Tord latched his metal finger around their pinky and lightly squeezed. 

They pulled their hand away and Tord heard the lock unclick. 

He rose to his feet and took a step back. They could open the door. 

A moment later their door swung open, his child teary eyed and sniffling. He wasted no time in scooping them up to his chest, rubbing their back. 

The dam breaks and they wail. 

“I’m sorry!” they sob. “I’m sorry!” 

“Shhh, it’s okay. What did we learn today?” 

“Don’t… Don’t touch things in the kitchen. Without Papa’s supervision.” 

“Very good! Now let me see the cut on your hand.” 

They complied, holding their hand out for him to see. 

Relief washed over him. It wasn’t nearly as deep as he feared. The blood had slowed as well. All he needed to do was clean it and put a bandaid over it. 

He kissed their cut and told them, “There, now Papa’s going to make it better. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” they sniffled. 

He carried them to the kitchen and sat them down. At the very least, he hoped this taught them to not touch sharp objects.

[obsessivelyloved]

want to be clear that if i ever talk about a headcanon and then later discuss a headcanon that is directly contradictory to the first one, that’s because headcanons exist in a quantum state where they are all simultaneously true and not true up until the point where i discuss it in detail, in which case that is the one that is true in that instance. schroedinger’s headcanons

[obsessivelyloved]

dude! where have you been?

fighting an eating disorder </3

[obsessivelyloved]

[obsessivelyloved]

WHERED U GET THE HOMESTUCK LAYOUT THING IM ON THE FLOOR

I got it from this post here! The one I'm using specifically is Jade's theme, but this person made themes for John, Dave, and Rose as well!

[obsessivelyloved]

Takes place during the psych ward fic.

___________________________________________

Tord went silent after you broached the question. His mouth was a hard line and he kept his eyes downward at his hands. His jaw clenched.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer,” you say gently. “I’m sorry for pushing.”

He shakes his head. “No, no… It’s alright. I understand talking about what happened is supposed to….” he trails off again. A small tight smile appears on his face as he looks up at you. “Help me get better.”

Tord takes a deep breath and sits up straight. “I hadn’t meant to kill Jon. Really, I hadn’t. Poor guy was just at the wrong place, wrong time, when my flatmate and I… were having a drunken sprawl.”

You nodded, trying to keep an encouraging expression. “And Jon was your… neighbor?”

“Yes. He was the nicer one. It’s a shame that it was him and not one of the other three. They were a near constant pain in my ass. One of them was always upsetting my…” Tord grows quiet as remorse crosses his face. “Edd still hasn’t visited?”

You shake your head. Guilt crosses your face as your eyes dart to the reinforced window of the room. The guard wasn’t paying attention. You clasp your hands and lean forward, elbows resting on your knees. In a hushed voice, you rush out, “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I think you deserve to know what happened. He’s still being kept in the institute up north. Him and… Tom. Matt’s family took him in and he’s under housewatch.”

Relief and anger flash side by side on Tord’s face. “I told them that Edd and Tom had nothing to do with my decision,” he says through gritted teeth. His voice rises with anger. “I told them that that prick Eduardo started the whole damn thing when he-” he cuts off, giving you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t yell.”

You both sit in tense silence. Then, he opens his mouth again. “I wasn’t trying to kill Tom. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but I’ve never wanted to kill him. That night, we both just… had too much to drink. So we took our fight outside. And, well, you know the rest.”

You nervously tap your thumbs. As much as you hated to push, this was more than Tord had ever spoken about that night. “I-I’d like to hear it from you, in your own words. If you feel up to it, that is.”

Tord frowns. He reaches up to scratch the scar on his face.

“Well, Eduardo came outside. Yelled at us to take our, and please excuse me for using this word, fag fight inside. Edd had been hovering next to the living room window and he rushed outside. Of course Eduardo couldn’t keep his mouth shut. His whole damn posse came out and egged him on. He…” Tord rubs his face. “It’s hard to remember, you understand? I was drunk. All I can gather is he insulted Edd. Called him nasty things. So I pulled my gun out and shot him.”

You take a sharp breath of air. “Except it hit Jon instead.”

“Yes.”

[obsessivelyloved]

Takes place during the psych ward fic.

___________________________________________

Tord went silent after you broached the question. His mouth was a hard line and he kept his eyes downward at his hands. His jaw clenched.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer,” you say gently. “I’m sorry for pushing.”

He shakes his head. “No, no… It’s alright. I understand talking about what happened is supposed to….” he trails off again. A small tight smile appears on his face as he looks up at you. “Help me get better.”

Tord takes a deep breath and sits up straight. “I hadn’t meant to kill Jon. Really, I hadn’t. Poor guy was just at the wrong place, wrong time, when my flatmate and I… were having a drunken sprawl.”

You nodded, trying to keep an encouraging expression. “And Jon was your… neighbor?”

“Yes. He was the nicer one. It’s a shame that it was him and not one of the other three. They were a near constant pain in my ass. One of them was always upsetting my…” Tord grows quiet as remorse crosses his face. “Edd still hasn’t visited?”

You shake your head. Guilt crosses your face as your eyes dart to the reinforced window of the room. The guard wasn’t paying attention. You clasp your hands and lean forward, elbows resting on your knees. In a hushed voice, you rush out, “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I think you deserve to know what happened. He’s still being kept in the institute up north. Him and… Tom. Matt’s family took him in and he’s under housewatch.”

Relief and anger flash side by side on Tord’s face. “I told them that Edd and Tom had nothing to do with my decision,” he says through gritted teeth. His voice rises with anger. “I told them that that prick Eduardo started the whole damn thing when he-” he cuts off, giving you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t yell.”

You both sit in tense silence. Then, he opens his mouth again. “I wasn’t trying to kill Tom. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but I’ve never wanted to kill him. That night, we both just… had too much to drink. So we took our fight outside. And, well, you know the rest.”

You nervously tap your thumbs. As much as you hated to push, this was more than Tord had ever spoken about that night. “I-I’d like to hear it from you, in your own words. If you feel up to it, that is.”

Tord frowns. He reaches up to scratch the scar on his face.

“Well, Eduardo came outside. Yelled at us to take our, and please excuse me for using this word, fag fight inside. Edd had been hovering next to the living room window and he rushed outside. Of course Eduardo couldn’t keep his mouth shut. His whole damn posse came out and egged him on. He…” Tord rubs his face. “It’s hard to remember, you understand? I was drunk. All I can gather is he insulted Edd. Called him nasty things. So I pulled my gun out and shot him.”

You take a sharp breath of air. “Except it hit Jon instead.”

“Yes.”

[obsessivelyloved]

It’s fine because I’m actually using a secret technique called writing it in my head and nowhere else.

[obsessivelyloved]

I realized that when I posted that Tord fic half asleep I didn’t explain why the ending was so abrupt 😭. At the top of the post, I meant to say I wasn’t going to stay up later to write a sfw ending for this blog. Right after Tord breaks into reader’s apartment, it’s nsfw on the blog I got the request on

[obsessivelyloved]

THANK YOU!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 :D

This was requested on one of my sin blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing more sfw until after i get more sleep.

Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE

___________________________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.” 

[obsessivelyloved]

This was requested on one of my nsfw blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc the rest of it/the ending is nsfw. I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing a sfw ending for this blog until after i get more sleep.

Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE

___________________________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.”