#stockholm&lima

[saigoat]

Being tortured to the point of passing out cold, then in a haze as they regain consciousness, see they are cradled in the lap of their tormentor. Skin clammy and crawling as a bloody hand cards through greasy, limp hair. The unwanted tender touch would be etched in their memory for the rest of their life. In months of agony, it was the one solitary moment of softness. Some part of them wants more, some part loathes themselves for it.

[myperfectvictim]

I want you to fear me, just as much as you love me.

[thehomicidalbaby]

I don’t believe love is love without Stockholm Syndrome.

[disguisedcheezed]

Day 2 - Y section

You can tell I had so much fun that I drew this prompt 3 times and wrote (in a restricted time frame) blocks of text from a fanfic that keeps me awake at night.... Yeahhhh.

[nshtn]

💖 what does creep ed do if reader tries to escape? is he upset or does he understand? maybe both?

💖 on the flip side, how would he react to them totally reciprocating his feelings?

💖 and similarly, does he crave affection or does it freak him out?

i love this weirdo!!!!!

Writing this from the timeline of the reader being with him long enough to know he loves them.

1)

He gets extremely depressed, but rabidly manic, about keeping you contained/alive. You must understand this - he needs you and cannot be without you. You are the beacon of light-hope, flickering dangerously.

He understands.

To go out is to allow yourself a permanent reprieve from horrors that peck your eyes out. To gutter the flame is a preservation of your innocence to the true nature of Gotham. It must be horrible to be with a beast like him, barely a man, trudging about with stories of death wrapping around his neck. He's sorry, he is.

He'll do better. Tell him how. Please? Edward will beg if he has to. Edward will cry and grovel his way through your capture. Edward will tie you and bind you tightly to this realm with skin-safe rope and a gag if he needs to.

You are irreplaceable, priceless porcelain. Don't worry... he gets it... he'll pay more attention now. That's what you want, right? Attention?

Edward will read and reread every crumb of information he can about you to optimize his care. Infront of you. He will ask the most invasive and personal questions and manipulate the answers out of you in the righteous goal of your taming, your eternal placation of his presence.

He will wash you every day and every night, hold you close more often, and do more with you, but you will be far more heavily restrained for a while and he'll randomly sob while holding you, feeling an incredible guilt collapse on him. You cannot go, though. You cannot ever go.

Outside of your general scope of view, he will become more reckless and violent towards those he believes contribute to Gotham's inequality.

2) See 3 first.

He would delight in it and take full ride of your new found affectations once he mentally accepts them, burying his face in your hands, looking for your touch and praise around every corner. He will show you the horrifying things he does in your name like a cat presenting a hunt, eyes gleaming at you, waiting for your heavenly approval. He will teach you his craft and ramble in your ear as you drape yourself across him in his lap. He'll take your suggestions for dinner and feel your skin against his as often as you'll allow as payment.

You don't need binds anymore. Just a collar... a chip, maybe... and... and a cute little jingly bell... please...?

He'll also let his hands get away from him when holding you exploratively, reaching and grasping around in an effort to delight in the treat of sounds you might make knowing you now approve of this arena of contact. He will be baptized with the slick of you if you don't have boundaries to assert.

You have truly underestimated how fast of a learner Edward is. You have, perhaps, also underestimated just how often his disappearances after spending mere hours bathing in your glittering shine has been to please himself to the thought of your acceptance. It is tantamount to sex to someone as pervertedly deprived as him. You're practically a fetish.

He has your browser history. He's read it. He likes to study you. You're so cute when you squirm. You're adorable when you breathe a little harder when his fingers brush there.

Good luck.

3) Both? Both. Why do you like him? Tell him all about it... he doesn't see what you do. You're probably just saying it because you have to. You must secretly hate him. No one could ever love Edward. No one did for thirty-something-odd years, and it changes now? Impossible. You've simply deluded yourself...

Edward fearfully pulls away. He reverts to being more cold, to keeping his outfit on more often, burying himself in his work in an effort to avoid the pain of opening up... and when you rest, when your eyes flutter shut, he holds you tighter than anything. When he comes home each day, before the deep red has been scrubbed off his boots, he's tangling you into his lap and swimming in your homely scent. Hot, cold - all a fear-fuelled front opposing insurmountable, cascading, recursive desire that leaks around its' cracked-cap edges.

Once he is convinced through defeating the seven deadly sins of his avoidance of risk in possibly losing you by opening up to you, though... see 2. How you convince him is as mysterious as he is, however.

[dumbdomb]

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allowing me to stay over in your guest room which has, unbeknownst to me, been created into a fully inescapable- yet seemingly safe and normal bedroom. it's true purpose has always been to be the dungeon you'd keep me in so you could prove your loyal devotion to me.

the first night you focus on making sure i'm comfortable and at ease. hidden cameras detail my sleeping schedule and you're prepared for the next phase. we spend some time together during the second day, but mostly you're preparing for something special that evening... at night, once i've fallen asleep, you begin.

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dimly lit monitors power on to display obscenely pornographic content, hidden speakers play binaural and hypnotic audio, and soon i am surrounded by a barrage of subliminal ideas designed to coerce me into becoming more deviant. the moment i stir awake, everything is shut off automatically. i've no idea what is going on, but my head feels fuzzy.

during the day, i seem a bit out of it, but otherwise don't notice anything unusual. like a vacation, i finally begin to relax after a few days. on the fifth night, you continue this nightly programming and increase the volume and lighting just so. when i wake, i catch a glimpse of my surroundings that immediately fall silent and i question whether i saw anything.

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in the morning i notice some of the clothes i don't wear often have been replaced with similar, yet more revealing styles. i angrily question you about going through my belongings and you act so unaware, surprised, and frightened that someone may have broken into your house that i actually believe you. i help you get new locks and install security cameras to watch over all entrances and windows. i ask you to stay in the room with me that night, and you make a bed on the floor next to mine. nothing more happens, a few uneventful days pass...

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i suggest you move back to your own room, feeling silly for being scared, you only continue to build my trust in you by comforting me and making me feel safe. everything will change soon enough, bc while i visit a friend during the day, your plans to move into the third phase begin.

all my clothes are replaced with very revealing styles, except for my usual pajamas that i lay out each day. i don't see you when i get back, but figure you're out or taking a nap. i don't know you've changed anything yet, keeping to my new routines in your home. by the time we usually have dinner together, you join me a bit later than usual. and when i retire to bed, it's all so mundane.

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while i sleep, you turn on the programs. they increase as i squirm in bed, getting louder and more visible. this time, when i wake up, everything stays on as i look around startled and confused. i try to use the remote to turn off the tv, but nothing i do works. i decide to leave the room, scared to stay inside with all the overwhelming perversion around me. when i try to open the door, it's locked. the windows appear to be locked from the outside... i yell out for help, not wanting to believe the situation i'm in, and the obscene volume increases. the more i yell, the louder it gets, until my screams are nearly indistinguishable from the loud moans and cries of pain and pleasure. i go back to bed and cover my head, trying to make it all stop and i somehow manage to fall asleep again.

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in the morning, i wake up like normal. as if it were all just a horribly bad dream. i go take a shower and when i look for something to wear, all my clothes are gone. i'm in a towel, my used pajamas already added to the laundry bin in the other room, and all the clothes i have to wear are not mine. i go to leave the room and the door is locked, just like in my dream. i hear you yell out that breakfast will be ready soon, and i should hurry up so it doesn't get cold. how can you be so normal when something strange is going on here? i find the most "comfortable" outfit i can to make do, and after getting dressed the door is unlocked, like i was never locked in to begin with... i felt so confused and wanted to tell you, but i also felt overcome with shame. was it just my mind playing tricks on me?!? ♡

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[abhainnwhump]

Forced Marriage

(Content warnings: Abusive/toxic relationships, forced gender roles, manipulation, forced whumpee turned whumper, very possessive whumper, intimate whumper, pet whump vibes, kidnapping, conditioning)

Whumpee being some form of royalty and is forced to marry a rival/evil royal member as part of a treaty between kingdoms.

Whumpee waking up from being kidnapped and they're in wedding attire and a ring. They have no idea where either came from.

Whumper surgically alters Whumpee into the perfect partner. Or causing permanent damage to their ankles/feet so they can't run away.

Gilded cages. Whumper treats Whumpee lovingly and they're kept in good health, but a cage is still a cage.

Whumper shows off their new spouse to their friends and Whumpee has to pretend to play the role.

Forced cuddles and kisses.

Whumpee forced to wear the clothes Whumper deems "pretty".

At order of Whumper, Whumpee has to cut off all of their loved ones. Whumpee holds back tears as they tell their friends, family, and significant other to screw off and never talk to them again.

Instead of a traditional ring, Whumper gives Whumpee a gold collar and leash.

"Til death do us part"

Whumpee has a significant other and feels like they betrayed them.

Whumper forces Whumpee into a traditional gender role they're not suited for. Either working hard labor they're too weak for or cleaning and cooking all the time.

Whumper justifying the torture under the guise of being Whumpee's "lover"

Stockholm Syndrome, need I say more? Lima Syndrome while we're at it?

Anniversaries that make Whumpee feel ill for how long they've been trapped with Whumper.

[feverdreamsanddelusions]

5

inspo

[tw language, kidnapping, captivity, hostage situation, stockholm syndrome, lima syndrome, talk of dismemberment]

They weren't supposed to get attached to the hostage.

But spending several days in a stupid little cottage with no one else to talk to seemed to have done a number on both of their psyches, with Whumpee treating them more and more like a particularly intimidating friend, and in turn... Whumper taking a liking to them.

It was ridiculous, of course. At first, Whumper suspected a trap, or an escape attempt. Why else would their hostage go on a quiet little rant about how messed up their life had been before the kidnapping? How the kidnapping had hardly made it worse, quite the contrary. How they didn't mind the restraints, not really, they were just getting really worried about blood circulation. It was the perfect way to get Whumper to loosen them so they could free themself and run.

But Whumpee stayed perfectly still the entire time. They didn't even look at Whumper. They were trembling slightly at the closeness, but they just sat there and let Whumper readjust their bonds without any indication of their desire to escape. But they must've wanted to. Right?

Whumpee kept complimenting the food, too. It was nothing fancy, mostly canned stuff and some instant oats; and yet Whumpee seemed delighted to be cared for, always making sure they thanked Whumper thoroughly.

It had to be part of a plan. It just had to be.

It didn't matter.

"Today is the deadline," Whumper announced. "You better hope they have the fucking money."

Whumpee swallowed and nodded. "What... what if they..."

"If they fucked up? Oh, I don't know. Shooting you in the head feels like a waste. Maybe I'll cut off an arm and send it to them..."

It felt wrong to say that. It felt cruel. It was cruel, but that was supposed to be the point! They weren't supposed to care about the hostage's opinion!

"I can live without an arm," Whumpee mumbled, and Whumper froze in their tracks.

"What?"

"N-nothing. Nothing. I'm sorry."

"What the fuck did you say?" They walked over and grabbed Whumpee by the neck of their shirt, barely able to tell what made them want to hear that again so badly. Was it because they wanted to slap Whumpee for it? Because they thought their victim had implied their family wouldn't pay, rendering the plan useless? Because of perceived defiance? Or was it... something else?

"I said– I said I c-can live without an arm," they choked out. "I'm sorry, I didn't– I didn't mean anything by it, I want to keep my arm–"

"Why the fuck would you say shit like that? Huh? What's wrong with you?"

Whumpee shook their head, tears trickling down their face. "I just don't want to go back! I– I'm just happy you'd allow me a few more days with you, even if– even if it'd cost me an arm! I just don't want to leave! I hate them! I hate them so much! I, I hope they don't pay–"

Whumper slapped them across the face and let go, allowing their hostage to crumple to the ground in a sobbing heap. Fucking idiot. What a stupid thing to say.

"I can't believe I kidnapped someone so sick in the head," they grumbled, and Whumpee curled up tighter at the insult.

Fucking hell.

They were already hoping the stupid fucks wouldn't pay, and now Whumpee had to say it out loud?

[petrichormore]

also hey wait a minute I don’t think people are talking enough about how Ron said they forgive Bad.

For kidnapping and torturing them.

What.

This weird ass lima syndrome thing Bad’s got going on is starting to go both ways. We should Pay Attention to That.

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - PART 16

CW: drug abuse, addiction, defiant whumpee, bad coping mechanism, stockholm syndrom(?)

PART 15 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 17

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Elliot woke to nothingness. Neither the stuffy trunk nor crack house bathroom had woken him up this kindly, yet he felt nothing: from his left pinky to his dry lips - just quietness. All the anger and fear that spurred him on during his stay were swept away.

Weird.

Tramadol 100 stood no chance against whatever lingered inside his veins, cushioning his body like wads of cotton. It felt pleasant, more than that, reliving. Like for the first time in this damned year, he found a chance to breathe free of pain.

If this was what constituted a junkie, Elliot might gladly be one.

Despite the calm soundscape surrounding him, he didn't dare to take a peek yet. After the weakness that Chris revealed, one could only suspect what else he liked to smash to pieces now. 

The filthy concoction he stabbed Elliot with was incomparable to ordinary MR tablets. No, this was the good shit. The kind of stuff his doctors had withheld from him time and time again, the kind they give you before you get stuffed in a disheveled Honda, borrowed from the crazy grandpa down the street.

Maybe if he said pretty please, Chris would be so kind and give him another pinch.

Careful as a fawn, Elliot peeked through his lashes. Flat on his back like he had just been picked up and slapped down on the bed, he never felt freer, mainly thanks to the absence of any cuffs around his wrist. Chris probably failed to find the other one in this mess.

Only then did Elliot notice the smear of sticky blood across his arms - not his own, one might add, his fingernails cut short hastily to take his last weapon away. The cause of this involuntary nap watched him closely from the other side of the room.

Chris surely had no patience left after his little stunt, yet Elliot simply couldn't care less.

For someone who "fights like a bitch", the damage was undeniable. Elliot couldn't help but grin at the swollen teeth marks arching over Morris' chin up to his lips, how the blue eyes were stained red by more than just a few tears. 

Sniffling like he got stood up at prom, Chris pressed a bag of frozen peas to his neck and dared to break the silence first: "Happy now?"

What a diva. Elliot swallowed, no venom left to spit.

"Quit whining. You had it coming."

Nobody had kissed him this way since high school, and for good reasons. Disgusting. Absentmindedly wiping over his mouth with a sleeve, Elliot was unsure about his next steps.

What was that guy thinking? His boyfriend…guilt does that to a lonely man, huh?

Since Amber, he never really thought of risking that humiliation again, but if he did, it would not be for Christoph Morris, never like that. Elliot surely had more fun making out with the wood-chip wallpaper than him any day of the week.

On the upside, though…

"Now we have to start over," his host moaned accusatory, throwing the peas aside to reveal three long and harsh gashes across his skin, "For fuck's sake, you were nearly done with it all! And don't blame me, you went ahead and ruined all our progress this time."

That man really couldn't stop regurgitating his own shit until it tasted like honey. "Again" was acid on Elliot's otherwise so comfortable skin; not another week in withdrawal, he would rather peel his flesh off the limbs piece by piece. 

Wordlessly, he held his left hand in front of him - half of it limp as a glove - and clenched it into a fist.

Weak. Pathetic even. And without a single twinge of pain.

His rage was snuffed out and with it the fire, inside and out, gifting him the cure he searched for so long. The endless flare inside him was not just subdued, not better.

Gone. 

Nothing that would last, surely, Elliot wasn't that naive. Yet, the fantasy of securing this state for as long as possible let a new spark bloom inside his mind.

Make him like me. And who knows, maybe I'll allow him the one or other trade-off we both profit from.

But for that to happen, the senseless pursuit of absolute sobriety had to die. If he was not allowed to leave, so be it! Morris better get used to caring like he claimed, then. 

"I'm hungry," Elliot yawned and noticed Chris through his spread-out fingers, busy picking at the seams of the thawing plastic bag. Unable to stop his whining, he glared back, ashamed by how brutally his confession had opened him up for rejection.

"And?"

"You have anything sweet around here?" The plaque on Elliot's teeth tasted of cold ash and copper as his tongue ran over it.

"No," Chris spit, strategically keeping the smushed key lime pie on the kitchen table a secret, "No way. After what you did..."

What did I do?, Elliot wondered, a blur of fists and red splatter being the only memory of yet another brawl his brain managed to pull from the fog. Third time's the charm, it seems, at least when leaving a mark as a thank you for all of Elliot's.

A nice strike.

If inspected closer, one might have spotted Elliot rolling his eyes before swinging his legs out of the bed and standing up; as did Chris, skittishly guarding the door. Another race to the exit fell dead before it could ever start. 

More than embarrassed, Morris felt queasy about his next step. Could he just pretend that nothing happened? Or find a new approach to how fussy Elliot acted?

Unbelievably, his guest dug placidly through the box of old clothes under the bed, before pulling out a pair of loose-fitting pants. The scabs on his hands and knees had crumbled away already. Despite the way this involuntary striptease made Chris tingle with excitement, he kept his guard up. 

Nevertheless, Elliot hadn't wasted a thought on approaching the locked door behind them, too spellbound while buttoning up his shirt with both hands. Both. Sloppy execution and a shaky hold didn't stop the disks of horn from slipping into their designated place. 

Be nice to him for a refill, apparently the only action he was able to take during this stalemate, and get out of here. Elliot felt no need to rush today. 

Kneeling on the floor, still very invested in opening and closing his shirt as if trying to drive Chris insane, Elliot noticed another box beside him. Sleek and colorful, the packaging reminded him of a tile mosaic. 

Azul. 

Living on his own had a few disadvantages the lonely collection of board games made him painfully aware of. No wonder he's so desperate for company.

"Do you like it? It's not a card game, but you still need good strategy," Chris finally spoke up.

They had to pick up the pieces somewhere and a quick round may be helpful in raising the spirits. Oh, the fun they had together, before he...before the situation got out of control. "I thought about getting the sequel too, it's supposed to be even better."

"A board game sequel?"

"Yeah, it won a few awards."

A game night, seriously? For all the ones he stole from him and his parents. Even so, a rather small price to pay compared to whatever else this guy had on his mind an hour ago. A trade Elliot could be interested in.

"Looks fun enough," he shrugged, not yet ready to put on a happy face. 

"Care for a round?"

Once more, Elliot simply shrugged. 

In and out of the room, Chris quickly returned with a foil pan and two forks in hand. Be the bigger man, he reminded himself while swallowing so much more than the rejection, be forgiving. The soggy peace offering laid between them on the floor. If Elliot should stay with him, voluntary and well-behaved, his host had to accept certain needs.

"So, you feel better now?"

"Obviously," Elliot muttered without looking up from the game manual. Next to him, a fork was carefully dropped on the carpet, as if handling an animal ready to go berserk again any second. "It's a lot easier if you don't steal my meds."

Decent intentions aside, Elliot spoke the truth. Keeping up last week's plan would only make history repeat itself, a fact Chris wanted to avoid at all costs. Strength and patience had left him; both of them.

The room went dead quiet while they both dug chunks out of the pie. Chris dodged the crust any way he could, like shoveling for gold in the lime purée. For the first time since they reunited, no tension, no animosity from the past broke their peace. Be it for a different reason than Chris hoped for.

The small colorful tiles were passed out on cardboard circles in between them. 

Elliot, lost in thought, only stared through his playmate. His face got some color back, Chris noticed, a rosy blush to his cheeks. So cute. In a blink, Elliot snapped back to the present and faced him, voice sharp:

"What you demanded from me-" 

"I wouldn't say demanded," Chris murmured, "I-I just tried to show you-" 

"It will never happen. You hear me?" Elliot fixed his gaze on him. Not once before had Morris seen the usually so cautious thing this serious, "Never."

A mangy dog had more composure than what he showed at Elliot's demand, frowning and glancing over from his side.

"Don't you like...with men?" 

I can change that.

"That's none of your business," Elliot snarled. The nerve of this guy, what in the hell- 

Make him like me. Fine, then. "I don't like it with anyone, especially you, of all people. And that's that."

"Hmm."

At this, Chris felt at a loss. Was this a test, a chance to show that he wasn't as brash as his confession painted him? A punishment even? Or a lie, though Amber had definitely complained more than once about being neglected this way.

One way or the other, he knew that he knew nothing and for Elliot's good mood to last, Chris needed to accept some compromises. For the moment.

Finally, Elliot picked up four yellow tiles, scattering the rest in the middle.

"Your turn."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

[yuhi-san]

you know back in season 8 wher Doc brought up the stockholm syndrom to wash by pointing out nobody has it yet?

Yeah i was just looking up stuff for a story and found this gem

London-Syndrom. It is the opposite to the Lima syndrom; the hostage is so annoying that they get shot for it.

yeah Doc should have worried about that way more.

[this-violence-of-mine]

I am so normal about Pickman and Hancock like I am totally cool and normal about them (I'm not) (I need to be stopped) (You need to put me down like a dog)

[redcallisto]

Read R-L

A little something from last year! I was looking thru my old posts and feeling nostalgic lol. I don’t think i’ve ever posted this here tho

[stemms]

I came up with a timetravel c!Prime AU, it's called Cyclical Repossession Through Times (or CRTT) and it's my main AU right now.

After the destruction of the lands of the Dream SMP in the previous timeline, it was restarted. This change wasn’t impactful to the majority of the server; they had no clue they ever existed before, and therefore didn’t hold any memories of their past lives. c!Tommy and c!Dream were the only ones who managed to keep their memories. To c!Dream it was a benediction, and to c!Tommy - a curse. While c!Dream remembered their time in exile, prison, post-prison break, and protégé au, c!Tommy only remembered the very beginning of the server (s0), L’Manberg, and Pogtopia. Even though the boy’s mind lost all the upsetting memories tied to the man, his body didn’t. The moment c!Tommy met c!Dream for the first time, he couldn’t help but flinch, his ears were ringing, hands shaking, and every inch of his body screamed at him to get away from the man and run as fast as he possibly can. But he couldn’t comprehend why he reacted this way, if he was facing no one else but his rival, mentor, and brother figure who’d certainly do no harm to him...

The plot revolves around two timelines, both of which took place after the finale of Dream SMP:

The past:

After the restart of the server, the eight-year-old c!Tommy lived in the woods by himself, until c!Wilbur found and took him in. But before the two had the chance to bond and fully warm up to each other, the boy was kidnapped by c!Dream, and taken to exile (to his real home, where he truly belonged). After all, he was a much better candidate for the role of an older brother than c!Wilbur would ever dream of becoming, c!Tommy just didn’t know it yet… 

Because c!Dream still had his memories of exile, prison, post-prison break, and protégé au, he simply couldn’t keep himself from reclaiming what was truly his… especially now that he was the only one who remembered the boy.

Although c!Dream didn’t possess the revival book physically anymore, he knew it by heart, so there was no need in participating in any wars or choose c!Schlatt’s side later. Not to mention that he already had the key to L’Manberg in c!Tommy… 

Even though c!Dream managed to get his hands on c!Tommy with very little effort and no one was aware of his plans, he had a strong paranoia of losing the boy to the hands of the server again. Similarly to c!Tommy’s kleptomania, which directly impacted his self-worth, c!Dream depended on owning the boy (although he absolutely hated the idea of it, and denied it until the end). So, if c!Dream was c!Tommy’s God, he was nobody without him by his side… 

Upon moving to Logstedshire, c!Tommy built a tent to live in, and it stayed this way for a few weeks, until c!Dream’s paranoia worsened to the point where he decided that it wasn’t safe to keep the boy there anymore. So, he made c!Tommy build a little bunker below the tent, and compulsively checked if he still had the keys, and if c!Tommy was still in his room, every night before going to bed.

In the beginning of c!Tommy’s exile, c!Dream abused him the way he did in the past timeline; after all, he could never get enough of it… After having broken the boy’s spirit, he coerced him into seeing him as his big brother and parental figure.

Although c!Tommy was ripped out of c!Wilbur’s arms before they got a chance to become closer, he was very fond of the kid and found his sudden disappearance at night very suspicious. He was aware that he was powerless in this situation, so he established L’Manberg by himself, in hopes of creating a safe place for the boy to return to. Soon enough, more people joined L’Manberg, and it gave c!Wilbur a slight glimpse of hope that other people would join him in his mission of saving c!Tommy.

Eventually, c!Wilbur succeeded in his mission, and got the boy back to safety where he was able to finally heal, and learn what family really meant… 

XD and Drista granted c!Dream the power of reset, however it had its limitations. 

Even though c!Dream possessed divine powers and was able to achieve what simple humans could only dream to, he was still human, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise. His human body was simply far too weak for that power, so he could only use one power at a time, and couldn’t cross the boundary set by XD and Drista, otherwise his body would’ve simply exploded. And because he no longer had c!Punz, and c!Tommy wasn’t trained enough to revive him, he would’ve simply perished. It means that he could either revive c!Tommy twenty times, or reset the server once. Because the power of reset demanded was much stronger, it renewed every two years. 

Because c!Dream actively killed and revived c!Tommy in order to fasten up his training, the moment things went downhill, he simply didn’t hold enough power to reset the server. c!Tommy was taken away from him, and he was utterly helpless in this situation, and unable to retrieve his little plaything.

After two years have passed, c!Dream finally reset the server, and decided to try to get c!Tommy to himself again.

2. The present:

After the reset, c!Dream desperately wanted to earn c!Tommy’s trust and make him follow him to Logstedshire at his own will, so he was one of the first people to meet the boy. To be sure to succeed at winning him over, he made a neon green bandana with a little smiley face on it resembling c!Tubbo’s bandana to gift it to c!Tommy before c!Tubbo. But he was too late and c!Tommy already received one from c!Tubbo, so it was all for nothing. It seemed that some events kept on occurring in each new timeline, no matter how hard he tried to prevent them from happening. It’s as though destiny itself tried to protect c!Tommy from him… 

c!Dream was aware that c!Tommy didn’t remember anything of his past abuse, but he did notice how he tensed up and flinched every time he encountered something related to his traumatic past. Every time c!Tommy looked at the area of c!Ranboo’s visits, c!Dream couldn’t help but panic that the teen might retrieve a part of his memories, and if his friend showed up and tried to persuade him to leave Logstedshire, he’d be more convinced by his words and follow him.

c!Dream was so obsessed with the idea of matching with his boy in everything that he dyed his hair blond, so they really looked like brothers :) When c!Tommy saw the man with newly dyed hair, he experienced a strong feeling of déjà vu, but he couldn’t understand why… His reaction left him utterly perplexed, as he tensed up for seemingly no reason, yet also felt very relieved. Little did he know it was due to something he encountered in his past life… :) 

At some point, c!Dream’s paranoia significantly worsened and the thought of putting an enchantment on c!Tommy again crossed his mind, but he decided against it. The idea of managing to keep the boy to himself with no enchantments and his effort alone seemed more satisfying and fun to him. If he managed to do it, it’d certainly mean every single part of the boy, his body and soul, belonged to him, wouldn’t it? :)

[dumbdomb]

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this is not a sexual assault kink. there is implied consent in my writing. be respectful. i am not submissive or a straight woman. thank you for reading my pinned post BEFORE liking, reblogging, or replying on this post. 🚥

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you notice some creepy guy following u around and try to walk faster, try to lose him, but it doesn't work. you're scared and you spot me and my friend, joining us and pretending like you're part of our group. the creep sees us and i put my arm around you, smiling and making eye contact with that loser until he turns around and walks away like a sad excuse of a person. i tell you, "it's ok, you're safe now. he's gone." and ask if you'd like us to give you a ride somewhere. you agree, since it's only a short distance anyway and we both are concerned for you, not knowing if that creep decided to hang around out of sight. once we get in the car and approach your destination, a sinking feeling of regret tugs at your mind. confusion and panic setting in as we drive past where we agreed to drop you off. "don't worry, that creep isn't going to hurt you. you're safe." you interrupt, trying to tell me that i missed the turn. "he'll never be able to hurt you. so you don't have to be scared. he's not going to find you, see..." i glance at my friend, both of our smiles turning to laughter, "no one will ever find you." ♡

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[anemcia]

"Eh, I think the space assassin is pretty cool-- Or at least that's what I can say from an outsider's perspective. He ain't much a talker, but I'm sure he's probably down to Earth, yanno? I could stand a stick in the mud kinda guy. Slick could learn a thing or two from em'... Personality wise."

"..."

"Or, maybe I'm just a sucker for the breed of asshole I've come to know. I doubt he'll be changin' his tune anytime soon... And I prefer em' that way. For all the headaches and problems that come with Cell, I think he's... Cooler to me than anyone. I'm such a loser."

She's never going to let him know that, anyhow.