He deserves a bodypillow. As a treat.

He tried hiding it from his parents by sneaking it in the house.

I totally forgot to post all of my AU’s here! Here’s all the beans together with new reference sheets and some new AU’s :))

Walton’s Day Out

Real!Y/N: Hi welcome to Wendy’s what can I get you Walton?

Walton: ….(Just ask for a frosty… it’s not that hard)… I have to leave…

———————————

Ai!Y/N: How did it go?

Walton: *types* I don’t want to talk about it….

thinking about how Glimpse of Us by joji is the perfect song for an angsty plot line of @flamccinno18 's AU where Walton and Y/N dated, broke up, and both are with new people but Walton is still in love with Y/N. 🫠

fuuuuuck okay i gotta write this

Yandere Doctor Part 1

Warning: This post contains topics such as stalking as well as sexual themes. No minors allowed. Viewer discretion advised.

You had just moved into town and never actually found a doctor to officially go to, so you decided to set one up when you ended up having a cold.

The actual doctors office you went to wasn’t too big. It was a smaller building that was a branch off a larger hospital. If you needed a more serious doctor appointment, you had to drive to the bigger building, whereas this was just for check ups, flu-shots, and common colds.

You nervously waited for the nurse after setting up your insurance and such. She took you back and took your vitals and everything a regular nurse would do, and then left so the doctor could come in. 

You waited for about 30 minutes before he came.

“Hello, I’m so sorry about that, there’s a cold going around schools so a lot of kids are coming in.” He chuckled. He stopped to look at you, and paused for a beat, before shaking his head slightly and walking to the sink to wash his hands. He sat down in a swivel chair and scooted over to you. “I’m Dr. Walton. It’s nice to meet you. I don’t believe we’ve met before.” 

You shook your head. “I’m (y/n). (Y/n) (l/n).” You said quietly.

He chuckled a little. “I don’t bite. I promise.” He could clearly tell you were nervous by the shakiness in your voice. “So, a cold?” You nod, embarrassed. He was quite handsome and you felt awkward in this situation.

Dr. Walton was a very handsome man. He was clearly a bit older than you, maybe in his late 30s? Early 40s? He carried this energy, this confidence and suave vibe, that he knew he was good looking for his age. He wasn’t super muscular, and had a pretty average body. He seemed to be quite tall, around at least 5’10” - 6’ 2”. 

“Excuse me for a minute, my hands are going to be very cold.” He gently pressed his hands on your neck, feeling to make sure there wasn’t anything wrong. His cologne mixed in with the scent of cleaning supplies from the room. It made you feel a little dizzy. The more he was around you, the more nervous you got. 

When he had to listen to your pulse, you could feel in your chest how nervous you were, your face heating up as he pressed the stethoscope under your shirt and onto your back. He chuckled playfully. “Are you okay? Your heartbeat sounds faster than normal. Hey, I told you, I don’t bite. It’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”

You nodded and laughed weakly. He sat back down and leaned forward, looking at you. 

“From what I see, it seems to be a normal cold. It should go away in a few days, I’ll prescribe you some over the counter meds. Make sure you take it twice a day, every day, with food.” He crossed his legs and leaned back, looking at you. “Got that?” You nodded.

“Now listen, I don’t want to see you in here too often, I don’t want to see you ill, but I do hope you’ll come for an annual check up. The nurses told me you’re new to town?” He said, making eye contact with you. The eye contact made you nervous so you looked away. You nodded.

He chuckled again. “Well, I’m honored to be the doctor you decided to see. Here’s your after-visit summary. If you can, set up an appointment with the ladies up front.” He said, smiling gently at you. You nodded, trying to hide your blushing face. He helped you up from the observation chair. You swore his hand gave yours a quick squeeze, and once you were up, his hand lingered a little longer than it should have. Maybe you were imagining it. 

“Have a good day, (y/n). I’ll see you around.” You said goodbye and headed home that day, your new doctor lingering on your mind for much longer than the visit. 

Lets just say you also lingered on his mind, a little too much.

Being a doctor was pretty boring, and it wasn’t any more exciting when you had at least 10 kids a day coming in because of a cold. Crying, wailing, complaining…

He loved his job, he did. Being able to help others was wonderful. But when would he have the time to help himself? 

After the divorce with his wife, he struggled to find a healthy balance between life and work. He couldn’t get over her. And his two kids, well… she had full custody.

He lived in a really nice house, but he lived alone with his dog. A big house and no one to share it with. 

Well, until you came along.

When he first entered the room and saw you, something in him caused him to freeze. He didn’t expect to see such a cute patient. He tried not to linger on it, he was a doctor and he had to do his job. But gosh… you were cute. 

He never believed in love at first sight, it wasn’t logical and didn’t make any sense. But… you? Maybe you changed his mind. It’s like all his worries melted away.

When he checked your throat and back, he lingered close, and took an excruciating amount of time to do these tasks. He could smell your perfume/cologne and wanted to just hold you and take your scent in. 

Was that weird? He had never fallen for a patient before. Not only was it wrong, it was illegal. To sleep with a patient. Not that he was thinking of sleeping with you or anything… well… at least not yet. 

Something inside of him ached when you had to go, but he knew he had to do his job, so he did just that. He encouraged you to set up more appointments, but a checkup wouldn’t be for a while, so he had to find another way to see you.

He had never felt this way about someone, not even his wife. With his ex-wife, it was so soft, so fluffy, so… sweet. But with you it was like… some kind of hunger. Craving. Desire. Like drinking a refreshing smoothie versus biting into a juicy steak. Something came over him and he felt like he needed to have you. To own you. To take care of you and protect you. 

That night when he went home, he did everything he could to keep his mind off of you. He knew obsessing over you like this was… wrong. 

As he lay in bed, trying to fall asleep, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw you. Saw you smiling at him, saw you in so many scenarios with him, so many positions….

He didn’t even realize his hand was in his pants until he felt something wet all over his hand. He groaned and panted, rolling over to the side, grabbing a tissue and wiping his hand off. As he cleaned his hand, he was deep in thought about you and his feelings. 

He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how, or when, but what he did know was that you needed to be his. And there was no exception.

Authors Note: I CANT IMAGINE THIS MAN LOOKING LIKE ANYONE EXCEPT HARVEY FROM STARDEW- I gotta make an bootleg, Walmart version Harvey... sorry ya'll I'm down bad

Nothing suits better than a couple of Friends hang around at the park together... HAPPY VALENTINES' DAY!!!

it's music shuffle time!

I was tagged by the darling @aintgonnatakethis ty <3

Shuffle your on repeat list and share the first 10 songs.

Let's gooooo:

Thou, "I Feel Nothing When You Cry"

Akira Yamaoka, "Wounded Warsong"

Fvnerals, "Rite"

Antichrist Siege Machine, "Sisera"

Aberration, "Interstitial Enmity"

Pyra, "Becoming"

Witch Vomit, "Blood of Abomination"

Necrowretch, "Daeva"

Rosa Walton & Hallie Coggins, "I Really Want to Stay at Your House"

Kenshi Yonezu, "KICK BACK"

There are music videos for the last two because they're so GOOD:

tag!

@autism-purgatory @byronicbi @borisyvain @deanwax

@minamaybe @noblebs @words-after-midnight

Simmering Rage

Hello my darlings!! you are in luck today!! ive got a couple of chapters for you, typing this out on a cellphone wasnt the best but i made do with what i had.

Trigger Warnings: Anger, Rage, Blood and violence, and self hatred

Word count:4.3 K

August pov

 My phone chimes with a notification on the seat beside me. I check the screen. Lo again. I haven’t seen her since my car . After I found out what Harper did, I was in a bad place for a while. I don’t remember much of the rest of the mission. The monster operated in my place, holding space for me until I was ready to come back. When the mission l ended, and I had time to think things through, I stopped thinking about what Harper had done and finally looked at the facts behind it. Of course, my mind went straight to the one person who could have told her about Hockington—Gloria Walton.

They’d gotten close, thanks to me, and I fucking paid for it. For letting a Darling into my life, letting her get in with my friends. That’s what I get for letting anyone close to me. Still, it’s a dick move on my part not to at least give Lo a chance to defend herself. If she wasn’t the one who told Harper, I cut her off for nothing. Harper could have bribed someone who worked there, seen me leaving with someone and tracked her down, rooted through my stuff or Dad’s when she was at our house and somehow put it together. It’s better this way, though. Better not to have anyone around me who knows shit about my life. When Lo found out about room 504, it felt safer to keep her close, to give her a reason not to tell anyone. Even if we never talked about it, never talked about our families the way I did with Harper or any real shit, our friendship was real. 

But letting people into my life is a mistake. People blackmail and betray. And if it was her, if she told Harper… Well, Preston can fucking have Gloria. When my phone rings a minute later, I sigh and pick it up. We can talk once. Just to clear some things up. I’m not going to give her a ride anywhere, like I used to when she didn’t have gas money. My car smells like a swamp from all the times I’ve dropped my muddy boots and rubber coveralls in here this summer. Gloria would ask questions, and I’m not about to answer. “Hey,” she says. “I figured you’d ghost me again.” “What’s up, Lo?” I ask, my voice sounding weary. “Do you use the OnlyPics app?” “No,” I say flatly, bristling at the insinuation. “Why would I?” “That’s not—I didn’t mean you’d put stuff up.” “Why?” I ask. “You don’t think people would pay to see my dick?” “No!” she says quickly. “I mean, they would, if you wanted to put it up. That’s not why I was asking, though.” “So, you don’t want to see my dick? That’s not how I remember it.” I’m being an asshole, but she’s basically calling me a whore. She knows better than to ask if I use an app that’s basically a sex worker platform. I don’t get paid for sex, and I don’t need to sell pictures of my body for money. The OnlyPics app was supposed to be a companion to OnlyWords, which is a texting app with, as its name implies, only words in the messages. Everyone likes OnlyWords, but it has no photo sharing capabilities. So the same company made OnlyPics but it was basically a knock-off Instagram where you can’t use captions and the hashtags are hidden, only used by the algorithms to know who to show them to. It probably would have died a quick death if it weren’t for the sex worker industry, who cashed in on three key features—the ability to add a link to profiles, where they added their payment link; the fifteen-second video limit, which let them put up teases to get people hooked; and the private chat feature, which let them send someone the rest of the video for whatever fee they wanted to negotiate or even video chat for a live show.

 I don’t use the app because I’m not an amateur porn star, and if I want to watch porn, I can do it for free like everyone else. If I need a live feed, I have a phone full of numbers of chicks who would be happy to put on a show for me, and I can do more than watch and jerk off. I’m not interested in that any more than I am this app. “Okay, let’s try this again,” Gloria says. “You remember how Harper  disappeared off the face of the earth when you dumped her?” I stiffen in my seat, yanking the wheel to pull off at the nearest exit at the last second. The car behind me lays on the horn, but I ignore it. The noise is almost drowned by the pounding of blood in my ears. “Yeah, what about it?” I ask Gloria. “Well, I think I found her.” “On a porn site?” I ask, hoping like hell someone just uploaded the video of her sucking someone’s dick from last year. It fucks with my head to think that one year ago today, I didn’t even know the name Harper Avery. It was another month before I would see her giving head in the parking lot behind the tampon factory. “Hey, don’t judge me,” Gloria says. “Your brothers have been out of town all summer, and you’ve been ignoring me. I’m having a dry spell.” I could tell her the twins are back, but if she ran her mouth to Harper, I don’t want her around my house, running her mouth to my brothers. So I point out the obvious. “There are more than three dicks in this town.” “Once you go Walker, you never go back,” she says lightly. “And anyway, I only saw it because she sent it to Dawson.” I’m glad I pulled over at the exit, because I’d probably run someone off the road right now if I were still driving. I grip the steering wheel with one hand and close my eyes. My voice comes out so normal you’d think I was just a guy who dumped a girl and didn’t give a fuck about what happened to her since. “I’m afraid to ask, but… Does your brother always share porn with you?” “No, you weirdo,” she says. “Someone DM’d him, and I’ve been obsessing about her all summer, so he showed it to me. He thinks it’s funny as shit.” “Why are you obsessing about Harper?” I demand. 

What the fuck. Maybe I should have kept in touch with Lo. She could find out shit, maybe even the truth. “I don’t know,” she says. “Don’t you think it’s weird that she just… Vanished? I mean, I’m not saying you’re not worth going off the deep end over, or that you couldn’t eviscerate her heart so completely she could never love again. She liked to play it cool, but she really loved you, August. Like, the kind of love that eats you alive, and you’re never the same again.” “Put that shit on a ninety-nine cent Valentines card. You could make real money.”

“Keep playing, you didn’t feel it, too,” she says. “But y’all broke a lot of hearts when you broke up, not just your own. Everyone figured you’d get back together.” “What’s your point?” I snap. I don’t need a fucking lecture about how much I disappointed everyone. She can add it to my fucking tab for all the times I fucked up and pissed off everyone who matters. “My point is, even if Harper was devastated beyond repair, she’s not the kind of chick who would let a breakup destroy her. She’s stronger than that. You may be irreplaceable even to her, but you’re still a boy. And it would take more than one boy to break Harper.” Maybe not one boy. But one boy who shared her with two more against her will? A broken hand and a rope she couldn’t get free of, a swamp full of snakes more poisonous than her? Yeah. That could do it. “Then it obviously had nothing to do with me,” I say. “Maybe she got hooked on Lady Alice or Pearl Lady or whatever the fuck they’re calling it now, and she’s selling herself to pay for it like a regular junkie. Hell, her mom basically said as much.” “It did blow up the scene right around that time…” Gloria muses. “Maybe she’ll tell you for the right price,” I say flatly. “That’s all she’s ever cared about.” “August…”

 “What?”

 “Look, I don’t know everything that went down between you, but I know what it’s like to walk away from love. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean your heart wasn’t decimated, too.” My laugh is brittle, like stepping on glass. “You’re funny, Lo.” I could ask her, just come right out and be blunt, like King. But I can’t acknowledge that much aloud. The hotel is its own world. When we leave, we don’t mention what goes on there. I don’t tell the school that Gloria is a scholarship kid. I elevated her. And she never tells anyone that I get a room there every few months. Would she risk telling someone, knowing she could lose it all? Even if she hates me, she loves her status too much to risk it. What would make her turn on me like that? Harper didn’t tell that creep where she found out the information. But it has to be Lo. No one else knows. So, I hung up the phone, letting her think this is about a breakup.

 That it’s not about a murder, not about a girl coming back from the dead, a ghost dragging her broken body from the swamp and crawling back into my brain to fuck with it even more. I open my email, the one connected to the OnlyWords and OnlyPics apps by default because it’s all made by the same company. I barely remember thumbing away the automatic notifications I got when someone sent me a message this summer. I ignored them all, knowing they were porn spam. My chest is hollow as I open one from my spam folder. It tells me I have twenty-four new messages on OnlyPics. I follow the link and open my direct messages. The first one is a thumbnail of a video, sent this evening. If it’s from Harper, she changed her handle from BadApple. For a few seconds, all I see is a closeup of part of her tattoo. I take it in, examining it until I realize it’s her hip crease, and pressed along the back of her thigh, an expanse of pale skin. It takes me a minute to make sense of what I’m seeing. Whoever she’s fucking, he’s got her folded in half like her legs are over his shoulders while he nails her into the bed. There’s no caption, and there are no words even on the messenger, so I have to click on the profile to find an explanation. Apple Cream Pie, $1k/min. Time seems to skip. Some caveman part of me must take over, because the next thing I know it’s five minutes later, and I’m five thousand dollars lighter, and I’m slamming my phone against the top of the steering wheel over and over. I feel it crunch and snap, but I keep pounding it until there’s nothing left in my hand, and the pieces of it are scattered across my lap and the floor. Time skips again. I’m in my driveway at home. Blood is dripping down the steering wheel and into my lap. 

I open my hand and find pieces of glass jutting from my palm in a dozen places. And all I think about is that day my car was bombed, and Harper tried to pick the glass from my face with her tiny, careful fingers. I climb out of the car. There’s a black Jaguar parked on the gravel, a tall figure leaning against it. I walked up to him. Something in me seems to have been knocked loose, and I think I might fucking kill him, even though it’s just Oliver Finnegan, who never goes inside. He doesn’t approve of the family business. “Hullo, August,” he says, his Irish accent distorting the words. Or maybe it’s the ringing in my ears. “Am I in your spot? I can move the car.” “Don’t worry about it.” He cocks his head, his weird, pale eyes taking in the blood on my pants, my hand. “You alright, mate?” I shrug and head for the house. Just as I’m about to step inside, his brother steps out, a black duffle in one hand, probably full of cash or those fucking pearls everyone’s on about. Colin Fucking Finnegan. My eyes narrow, my fists clenching until I can feel the glass biting deeper, piercing through my skin and into the muscle and sinew. “Was it you?” I grind out. Part of me knows it’s impossible, but maybe he sent the photo on his way here, or maybe he took it earlier. I need Baron to find the date signature on a video, if it’s even possible. For all I know, Harper’s dead, and she took those videos herself while we were together. If she’d sell my dignity for a scholarship, why wouldn’t she sell videos of herself fucking 2other guys when she was with me? “Whatever it was, I bet it was me,” Colin says, flashing me a knowing grin that shows off his chipped front tooth. “Are you still sore about that beating you took last spring?” “You know what it’s about.” “If it’s not that, you’re pissed you didn’t get a cut of this,” he says, jiggling the bag. “Don’t fucking push me right now,” I warn. His creepy eyes go smug. “Or… You still on about that whore? I figured that’s what set you off last spring. Everyone in town knows I fucked her first. Are you just finding out?” “Where is she?” I demand, grabbing him around the neck and slamming him up against the wall. “Where the fuck do you have her, you cum guzzling, festering wad of infected dick cheese?” A cocky, defiant grin stretches his lips. “Aww, did you catch something off her?” he asks. “Wasn’t me, mate. I popped that cherry when there were barely three hairs on her pussy. Haven’t touched her since.”

I don’t know exactly what happens next. I don’t see Colin Finnegan in front of me anymore. All I see is red. The next thing I know, my brothers and Dad are holding me down on the steps, and Oliver and their uncle are holding Colin back while he curses and struggles and spits. The white gravel is painted red like the day the Darlings vandalized our house, but this time, it’s blood. “Let me up,” I growl, shoving off the step and wrenching free of my family. I stalk toward Colin, who writhes like a cat getting a bath. I can feel blood trickling down my face, the jagged edges of a few broken teeth, and the throb of one eye that’s already swelling shut. But I don’t feel pain. The other thing that lives inside me has swallowed it, and I can’t feel a thing. “Come on,” Colin yells, dancing in the grip of his brother. “Let’s do it again. I can go all night. Whoo! I feel alive!” I stop in front of him, ignoring my brothers, who have rushed up behind me to grab me if I lose my shit again. But I’m calm now. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” I say to Colin. My lip is broken and swollen so thick my words come out slurred. “If I find out you’re the one who sent those videos, you won’t be alive much longer.” I turn and walk inside. I don’t know why I care. I watched two guys fuck her. I gave them permission. I made sure to watch, so I knew I could never want her again, never think she was mine. I broke her on purpose, but piece by piece, I’m the one falling to pieces.

Harpers POV

“Are you Mr. D?” I demand, standing in the Phantom’s bedroom, my whole body quaking. I hold the tag in between my finger and thumb, waving it at him. He just walked out of the shower, his body all steamy, a towel around his hips, mask over his face. He shrugs. “What about it?” Anger seethes through me. “That’s how you knew where I was that night. Isn’t it?” He opens his dresser and pulls out his underwear. I know where he keeps them. I know where everything in his apartment is. But I didn’t know his name, have never seen his face. I come when he calls, practically live here two days a week, like a goddamn whore. He promised he’d fuck me one day, and now he has. I don’t know why it matters suddenly. I never cared before. He nods vaguely toward the windows. “I keep an eye on things.” “On me,” I say, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “You keep an eye on me.” “I told you, I can be anyone you want me to be,” he says with a haughty little smirk. “As long as you’re you, Miss A.” “As long as I’m August’s fuck toy,” I correct him. “That’s why you take those pictures, isn’t it? To send to him and show him what you’ve done to me.” “What I’ve done to you?” he asks, turning to face me after pulling on a pair of sweats. They hang low on his narrow hips. Above them, the ridges of his abs are carved deep and sharp. His body is a finely chiseled sculpture. I’ve never noticed, but he’s beautiful, even without a face. “What about what he did?” He paces forward, stalking, his voice laced with fury that makes me shrink back on the bed, as if he could hurt me more than I’ve been hurt. As if he could take something from me that he hasn’t been taking all along. “You changed me,” I whisper. “I saved you.” I stare up at him, feeling guilty for feeling anything but gratitude. He works out, takes care of himself, wears exquisite clothes to work at his standing desk with three monitors, an ergonomic keyboard, and a fancy Mac computer. I’m the one who should be ashamed. I don’t take care of myself until he tells me to. He tells me to shower, puts me in fancy clothes, makes me look like a girl who could be, in some fairytale in his mind, deserving of him. And he treats me like I am.

 He cooks me fancy dinners and buys me everything I need or could want without me having to ask. He even took care of my mother. I don’t treat him half as well. I don’t cook or offer to help clean up. I don’t even talk to him when I come over. While he cooks, I sit curled on his fine leather sofa, sipping his fine wine. The only thing I do for him in return for everything he’s done is spread my legs. If he’s made me a whore, I’ve let him do it. The first day he bought me something, the phone, I could have said no. But I didn’t. I let him dress me up like a doll, treat me like property, and fuck me like a whore. If anything, he’s shown me he values me more than I value myself. He bought me fucking diamonds. A girl like me, I have no right to even hope for this kind of man, this kind of treatment. I’m lucky to be his whore. But for the first time in months, I want to speak, to voice my desires. “You’re right,” I say. “You’ve treated me well. But I’m done being your whore.” “You’re not—” He breaks off, pressing his lips together and shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. That’s not how I see you, Harper.” “How do you see me?” He stares at me a long moment. “I just wanted to take care of you,” he says at last. “I saw what they did to you. You’re not the only person…” He shakes his head again. “And yeah, I wanted to fuck you to piss off August. I’ll admit that. But I never saw you as a whore. I only gave you what you needed.” “Like these?” I ask, upturning the jeweler’s bag. The box falls out, the lid askew, one of the diamonds dangling out the side like something obscene. “Fair enough,” he says, moving across the room and sitting heavily on the bottom of the bed. “Maybe I had selfish reasons. But I never thought you owed me.

 I know you won’t believe me. I know what I look like. You think I can’t get laid unless I buy a girl diamonds. And you’re right.” “What about your girlfriend?” I ask, my voice thick. He scoffs. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Look at me.” “So you dressed me up and pretended you did,” I say, feeling like some weird blow-up doll. I’ve acted like one. I haven’t been a whole person since before the swamp. I’ve been a doll, broken into a million pieces, and he’s pieced some of them back together—at least on the outside. But he can’t fix me inside. He can reach in, but he won’t find anything to piece back together. I’m hollow. “I never pretended to be a good guy,” he says. “Don’t act shocked that I’m exactly who I was all along.” “But you never told me who you were,” I point out. “You never asked.” “I did.” We sat side by side for a while, neither of us speaking. “You don’t want to know who I am,” he says. “Look at me. Look at what I’ve become.” I could say the same thing. 

 When I tell Mr. D I’m not coming back, he doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t get ready to take me home as usual. I ask if he’s taking me home, and he says no, but he doesn’t stop me when I take his keys. I keep waiting for him to come after me, but he just studies me, his face behind that infuriating blank mask, his one good eye watching me leave. In the garage, I climb into his truck. I’m sure he’s going to come down and stop me. My hands are shaking so hard I can barely get the key in. I open the garage on the bottom level of his building, and I drive out. I keep checking the rearview, sure I’ll see him coming after me. But he lets me go. Some sick part of me deflates when I turn into my driveway and he’s not there. Not even Mr. D thinks I’m worth hunting down. I climb out of the truck and go inside. Nothing has changed. But everything has. Without the Tuesday and Thursday excursions, I stop leaving the house. I ignore the staff that comes in and cleans my house on a weekly basis. I don't care where they came from or who hired them.

 There’s no point. I Don't even return his truck. It sits like an oversized monster in our driveway, drawing attention from anyone and everyone. I hide the keys inside a tear in my box spring, I sleep with a switchblade in one hand for the nightmares that plague my every waking moment, as if my fall from grace has given them permission to terrorize me, maybe they can smell my brokenness, my weakness, the way I can smell alcohol on Duke’s breath. And even though I was sure I felt nothing all those months, now that I don’t see the Phantom, there’s an ache left inside me that he once soothed. 

When I wake myself up croaking feebly, from a dream where I’m gagged, silenced as I try to force sound from my strangled throat, there are only blankets to wrap around me instead of his strong, salient arms. I stop leaving the house, stop doing anything. I can’t remember why it mattered to be clean, to eat, to live. One evening, as I’m lying corpse like in my bed, a tap sounds at my grimy window. I’m so startled I sit up before my brain can kick in and say what it says about everything—it’s not worth it. It doesn’t matter. Turning my head I see a crow pecking at the shiny part of my window. Standing up and making my way into the bathroom, I turn on the lights avoiding the mirror. I don't want to look at the girl in the mirror. I just can't.Turning on the hot water in the sink letting it fog up my mirror, I scoop the water with my hands and splash it on my face.

  I know I should care but I can't summon the energy. My sponsor is gone. There’s no way out. I’ve given up, accepted the fact that I’ll be just like my dead beat mother. Turning off the water and raising my head, reluctantly I look back at my reflection, I meet my soulless eyes and stare. I should want to rage against this weak girl that I've become, to become the monster those boys wanted me to be.. Turning off the lights and walking back to my room. Dropping back down into bed, I looked out the grimy window and let out a deep sigh, I can't stay like this broken doll. But I just don't care anymore..

A while  later, lying in my bed, I think maybe it’s time I did.

Do you really want this?

I finally finished all of the characters!! I’m so happy with how they came out :))

Hopefully I’ll be able to get to writing more for them soon

walton: pedro! my darling. it's been a little too long for my liking since i've seen you. not to mention that darling angel of yours. when do i get to schedule some time with you and the little one? appears we have a mutual connection at this point. @pascalispunkhq

Luminous Princess Harosu, Lady of Light and Destroyer of Shadows. The Chosen of the prophecy, destined to slay The Umbral King.

AKA, on Earth, Miss Honora Walton, a darling child actress turned rising Hollywood bombshell. She’s beloved by the public, and seemingly living the dream. Yet, she just can’t find it in herself to love the life she leads…

Small little bit of lore on my au in the works right now

I call it Colour Factory because I can’t name things for the life of me

Walton Darling (or CF as I will call him for the time being) inherited The Factory from his adopted ‘Father’ that mass produced a hallucinogenic called Colours that made users feel extreme happiness in short, controlled burst and is a extremely addicting substance, causing shifts in moods and personality the longer the user takes it. It’s a common chemist brand in stores and is highly recommended as a cure for depression or to eliminate anxiety for many user, allowing them to access a short lived experience that leaves them coming back for more of Colours in the end. Its a short lived experience that capitalises on users need and desperation to have a cure for their negative emotions, making them crave the techno coloured vivid emotions that overtake them every time they have Colours. It’s a liquid substance that comes in a variety of colours that have a iridescent appearance to them and is a flavourless substance that can be added to any any food or drinks in the end.

Colours is extracted from a extremely rare fungus that is nursed in…living, breathing bodies of people that are kept in a comatose state, allowing for it to be continuously harvested in bulk degree. Colours also needs to go through a vigorous and thorough fermentation and treatment process before it can be allowed for commercial use. They also…need to test it through a wide variety of test subjects of ages and conditions through either willing means…or unwilling means.

Money can buy a lot of things…and nobody will think twice about a missing homeless man or two in the end.

The end justifies the means in the Boards eyes.

The Board are a panel of directors that are involved in overseeing the The Factory and that’s it operation is running smoothly in the end. There are several other Factory’s but, the main one that Walton runs, is their largest factory to date and has the biggest production lines that the others can’t hope to compare to in the end. It’s one of the oldest as well and has been standing before the new Board took over in the end as well. It’s a large, behemoth of a building with a thick colourful smog coming from the smokestacks every single hour of the day and it almost seems to be watching the employees…as if it is alive.

There were, speculations of course, of the Factory actually being a sentient being but those rumours were dismissed by the Board in the end.

There is still that feeling of a oppressive gaze constantly on the employees back in the end…watching, waiting and hungering.

CF is the new director of the The Factory now and has replaced his father on the Board, as well as being the main leading scientist for Colours. CF, while moving out stuff from his late fathers office, eventually found a experimental Colours formula and test vial that was left behind from him. The formula was found half burned into the fire place while the experimental liquid was completely destroyed except for one that CF decided to test on himself as the control variable in the experiment to see if it would do anything, being completely immune to Colours himself. It had a…extreme effect on him that he’s been attempting to recreate the formula through the half-burned notes that was left behind ever since. Pouring his time, when not making the Board happy, and efforts in trying to recreate it while going through test subject after test subject to make sure that it would be fine for him to consume.

CF is…or was emotionless until he had that unique taste of Shimmer (as he calls it) that it made him feel so many terrible things, as if his own being was enflamed and his mind burned when he used it. He was a quiet being with a serious, no nonsense nature that strives for perfectionism over everything…until he had Shimmer. Shimmer changed his quiet mannerisms into a whirlwind of volatile, vivid emotions that left him so hunger for more of that feeling. He still a very cold individual but now he has a wicked temperament that almost anything can set him off if he’s pushed to the point, along with being more aggressive and manipulative to get what he wants when talking with people. People are tools that he can use to get to his own goal in the end in the literal sense…Shimmer needs to ferment somewhere and he doesn’t want to use his own body as the incubator for it.

He was 25 years old when he first had a taste of Shimmer and is now, roughly, is 32 years old. A lot of things have changed in The Factory during the seven years that passed every since CF consumed Shimmer and many…modifications have been made to improve production and performance in the factory.

The most cosmetically change to him would be that his once dull amber eyes now shine with a iridescent light in them and he always seems to have a half-smirk forming constantly on his face now…it worries the staff and, to a point, concerns few members of the Board.

People are now more disposable to him if he can perfect his sought after Shimmer and he will use any means necessary to make sure that he

Expect, of course, the head of the Board Ronald Doraline.

He actively encourages and funds CF research into Shimmer so they can make it into a commercialised product like they did with Colours and make bank on it, while CF is trying to perfect Shimmer so he can experience that one-of-a-kind feeling again when he first had Shimmer. CF is constantly wanting to feel that wild whirlwind of emotions that he felt and he chases after it in a desperate flurry in order to feel anything in the end.

He’s never felt something like that ever since then.

Note: Old sketch involved on decorating the Christmas Tree...

I saw a post a little while ago to tag the song you claim as the one your fandom would make ship edits of you and your f/o to, and of course because I’m extra I put entirely too much thought into choosing songs for each of my F/Os :P So I’m posting them here for posterity!!

tagging my mutuals who will appreciate these the most @codedreams @maddymoreau @starleska

Eren Jaeger: You Are the Reason - Calum Scott

Jonathan Sims: Unsteady (Erich Lee Gravity Remix) - X Ambassadors

Wanda Maximoff: Boats & Birds - Gregory and the Hawk

Eddie Munson: Work Song - Hozier

Chrissy Cunningham: Chiquitita - ABBA

Dream of the Endless: Strange Sight - KT Tunstall

Aemond Targaryen: Blind - Placebo

Keith Toshko: Don’t Fear the Reaper - Gus Black

Johnny Silverhand: I Really Want to Stay at Your House - Rosa Walton & Hallie Coggins

John Wick: You Have Stolen My Heart - Brian Fallon

Vash the Stampede: Daylight - Taylor Swift

Nicholas D. Wolfwood: Soul - Lee Brice

Wally Darling: Time in a Bottle - Jim Croce

Aesop Sharp: Dancing On My Own - Vitamin String Quartet

also, honorable mention because this song is an anthem for self shippers everywhere: ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine

↪   𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙳  “   ♫   ”  𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 𝟹 - 𝟻 𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃   𝙸 𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷   𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴𝚂 ,      *   bonus points if receiver specifies lyrics ! @theseancekid

──  ; I WOULD DIE 4 U. by holly humberstone. .... You're just a sinner, I am told, be your fire when you're cold, make you happy when you're sad, make you good when you are bad. I'm not a human, I am a dove. iIm your conscious, I am love. All I really need is to know that you believe. Yeah, I would die for you, yeah, darling, if you want me to.

──  ; MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE. by francis and the lights. ....  May I have this dance? To make it up to you? Can I say something crazy? I love you. Give me both your hands to make it up to you. Let me spin and excite you. We are bound to inherit, the sins of our parents, and all of the people we passed through. Now we're down to the last two

──  ; I REALLY WANNA STAY AT YOUR HOUSE. by rosa walton & hallie coggins. ....   I'm on top of you, I don't wanna go, ‘cause I really wanna stay at your house. And I hopе this works out, but you know how much you broke me apart. I'm done with you, I'm ignoring you. I don't wanna know.

──  ; MESS IS MINE. by vance joy. ....   Well, hold on, darling, this body is yours. This body is yours and mine. Well, hold on, my darling, this mess was yours, now your mess is mine. Your mess is mine.

──  ; I SEE YOU. by missio. ....  I see you when you're down, and depressed, just a mess. I see you when you cry, when you're shy, when you want to die. I see you when you smile, it takes a while, at least you're here. I see you. Yes, I see you. I'm alone with you, you're alone with me.

──  ; MESS IT UP. by gracie adams. ....   Did I fall out of line when I called you? When I told you "I'm fine", you were lied to. How could I think that all that I gave you was enough? 'Cause every time I get too close, I just go mess it up.