#tw: stockholm syndrome (mentioned)

[maxedes]

my whole twitter timeline is in shambles. ferrari mercedes & red bull fans have miraculously united. every other person is either threatening suicide or to burn some factory down. 443316 looking like they‘re about to cry. all of that only interrupted by fernando rolling in on on his fucking scooter & george stripping in the press conference. what is going on in the house of monza?

[fxtalitygod]

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

Love.

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx

[3-2-whump]

Falling Like Snow

<prev next>

The penultimate chapter, can you believe it? Break out the tissues for this one, folks.

Thanks again @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz, you two are the best!

Obligatory Author's Note: This is it, folks, the end of Tom's story. Sorry to those who wished for a miracle, and congratulations to those of you rooting for his demise. You know exactly what to do if you desire a different ending. Fanfiction, canon divergence -the world is your oyster, so just go for it! I encourage it, if anything! Just, you know, tag me or let me know in some way. But anyway, here we go

TW/CW: major character death, blood, gore (?) (tagging it just to cover my bases), aftermath of torture, cigarette whump (brief), emotional angst, slave whump, noncon nudity (in the first half), Stockholm Syndrome (maybe?) (like the beginnings of it), but more so, emotional angst. So much angst. Please let me know if I missed anything though! Enjoy

From: Master Forgot about a meeting I have tonight. Be home late. Wait for me.

Khaled noted the time the message was sent, and compared it to how late at night/early in the morning it now was. He wondered if his master was out drinking, or whoring, or whatever it was he got up to when he’d stay out late on short notice. Not like it was his business anyway.

Khaled yawned, shaking out the numbness in his legs from his kneeling position next to the couch. He put away the plate of food on the table that had long gone cold by now. His own stomach gurgled with the need to eat something, but he dared not touch any of the food he carefully stowed away.

With the leftovers sorted out, there was nothing to do but put the dishes in the dishwasher and start the cycle. The kitchen, as well as the rest of the apartment, was spotless, since now he had nothing else to do but keep it clean. Khaled returned to his place on the bare living room floor, grabbing a blanket off the couch as an afterthought as he wrapped it around his nude frame. He was forbidden from wearing any clothes now, as the man who owned him was just a little too eager to see his ‘beautiful body,’ as he called it, and did not want anything obstructing its form. He’d watched in abject horror as all but a few changes of clothes were burned before his eyes and the rest had been locked in a safe. It had been a cold February ever since.

“I like you more like this,” his master had told him. “You’re far more cuddly like this, love, far more tactile.”

That’s another thing; Master was saying the word ‘love’ a lot more, averaging at least one “I love you Khaled” per day for the past two weeks. More than a little overwhelming, the frequency at which he’d expressed his affections seemed just this side of insincere. The three little words Khaled had craved for so many years now sounded so flat and fake, given everything else that had happened to him. How could anyone who isolates a man from his friends, from his job, from the world itself claim to love him? How was any of what he went through love?

What was more unbearable was when he was expected to say it back.

And he would say it back, a strained ‘I love you too’ that grated against his throat like swallowing broken glass. Yet, with a defeated resignation, Khaled realized it had gotten much easier to say, with enough repetition. If he said ‘I love you too, Master’ enough times, he may actually begin to believe it. It was only a matter of time until he would say it and mean it, if his enforced isolation continued much longer. Thomas Costa and Luca Bianchi were the only other human beings he had seen for two weeks now; he had no idea how he was strong enough to deal with this for more than a year when he was a child!

He positioned himself on his side, his sore back facing the door and his head facing the wide windows of the living room overlooking the city skyline. Outside it began to snow. The white, fluffy flakes were a vision of beauty flying against the heavy gray sky. Khaled’s eyelids drooped as he watched the snow fall in the greyish-white winter night. It was cold, yes, but beautiful, like him, he guessed.  His last conscious thoughts were wondering when his master would come home to him. Regardless of whether he loved him back or not, he was cold, so cold without him.

-

It was cold, so cold, on the dirty concrete floor. Not even the blood pouring out of his lacerated wounds could keep him warm anymore. Above him, Julio circled him like a vulture, taking a long drag of his cigarette before throwing it lit-end first at Thomas’ face. The beaten man was too far gone to even flinch.

Damn, is this how Khaled felt when I cut him? he deliriously wondered. With all that Julio and the Juicio Divino boys had done to him, he doubted he’d ever get the chance to ask.

Khaled. There are so many things Thomas now wished he did differently. He should’ve been kinder, more patient, should’ve protected him from the world, from his men -even from himself. Especially from himself.

“Khaled…” he moaned.

A blood-speckled Nike connected painfully with his side. “You dare call out to him, even now?!” Julio growled icily. He kicked Thomas again.

“Julio, just kill him already, for fuck’s sakes,” a voice shouted from the corner of the warehouse. The traitor –Nico- stood off to the side, icing his bashed-in face with some snow wrapped in shirt fabric. “You’re worse than a cat that plays with the mouse it caught!” he admonished. As furious and confused and disappointed as Thomas was about the Clemenza boy betraying him like this, the primal animal part of him was grateful that he was asking for mercy on his behalf.

Although he could no longer raise his head to see past Julio’s ankles, Thomas could feel the assassin roll his eyes above him as he cursed in Spanish. The next thing he knew, Julio was crouching down to his level. He tried to mentally prepare for whatever would happen next.

Julio sunk his fingers into his short, blood-soaked hair, wrenching his head back as he held up a now-very-familiar knife to Thomas’ throat. “Any last words, puto?”

So many last words.

So many things to apologize for.

So many words left unsaid. Not just to Khaled, but to Callahan, to Trémeaux, to Robinson, Kreuger, Martinez, Kościelsky, and of course to Tony. Young Tony, dear Tony, high as fuck at a church wedding Tony. His pain in the ass little brother and his only constant in his childhood, who never lived to see twenty-two years old.

Khaled and Tony were a lot alike in some ways. Smarter than they thought they were, yet looked up to him for no explicable reason. It was a shame Thomas never consciously noticed that similarity until now.

All this time, Thomas thought he bought Khaled as a form of penitence, to make up for killing that boy who was suspected of killing his brother. And while, yes, that was partially why he bought him, maybe he also bought Khaled as a way resurrect his brother. It had been so long since he’d seen warm brown eyes look up at him, he didn’t even know he missed it until he saw Khaled’s eyes that day.

“Forgive me…” he rasped.

Maybe it was the blood loss, maybe it was the certainty that this was the end, making him see things, but for a second, Thomas saw a crack in that frosty glare Julio bore down onto him. For a brief second, a painful mix of shock, anger, sadness, and even sympathy flashed within Julio’s golden eyes, before the glacial cold vengeance covered them in its frosty glare once again.

“See you in hell,” Julio murmured.

A sharp pain sliced its way into his jugular and down. (Who the hell slices down?!) As the pain dulled and his vision started to go, Thomas’ ebbing consciousness latched onto a memory, one of the fondest memories he had of Khaled.

He’d had an intense nightmare within the first month of buying his new slave, and instead of deriding him or prying for more details than he was owed, the boy had heated him a cup of milk, rubbed his back, and stayed up with him until he was ready to go to sleep again, just like how he and Tony used to comfort each other after a nightmare. As the last threads of his vision faded and the boss’ surroundings sunk into darkness, he swore he could still hear younger Khaled’s words that night, murmured shyly as he still had his accent.

“Sleep well, Master.”

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[written-by-jayy]

Prompt #6

Masterlist

••••••••••••••••••••••••

Whumpee was kidnapped to be sold to other Whumpers (maybe this is an au where its commonly accepted to own a whumpee, or maybe it's some kind of trafficking thing).

Caretaker is a part of some kind of team/organization that goes undercover to help people in Whumpee's position. But neither Whumper, nor Whumpee know this.

So when Whumper manhandles Whumpee and basically showcases them to a seemingly apathetic, and possibly slightly harsh Caretaker, is whumpee scared that they might be handed off to a worse Whumper? Are they attached to their Whumper and don't want to be sold period? Are they neutral or even happy because nowhere could possibly be worse then here?

Caretaker maybe tries to mingle the price down just because they only brought so much money with them, but regardless, they don't leave until they have Whumpee.

After they arrive at Caretaker's home or the hospital or wherever they're taking Whumpee, how does Whumpee react when Caretaker's personality completely shifts, and they're now sympathetic, worrying and gently tending to Whumpee and their wounds?

[kissorkill16]

Fill My Empty Heart Masterlist

Summary: After Mya's death, Aaron committed suicide. Mr. Peterson, desperately to have a family again, takes in the depressed and heartbroken child across the street, Nicky Roth.

Credit to @abrilk and inspired by @retro-radio

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10 - https://www.tumblr.com/kissorkill16/762863240646639616/fill-my-empty-heart-a-hello-neighbor-fanfic

Chapter 11 - https://www.tumblr.com/kissorkill16/763082850045181952/fill-my-empty-heart-a-hello-neighbor-fanfic

Chapter 12 - https://www.tumblr.com/kissorkill16/763282805842231296/fill-my-empty-heart-a-hello-neighbor-fanfic

Chapter 13 - https://www.tumblr.com/kissorkill16/763461093931843534/fill-my-empty-heart-a-hello-neighbor-fanfic

Chapter 14 - https://www.tumblr.com/kissorkill16/763554583598514176/fill-my-empty-heart-a-hello-neighbor-fanfic

Chapter 15 - https://www.tumblr.com/kissorkill16/763729269728952320/fill-my-empty-heart-a-hello-neighbor-fanfic

Chapter 16 - https://www.tumblr.com/kissorkill16/764283381708095488/fill-my-empty-heart-a-hello-neighbor-fanfic

Chapter 17 - https://www.tumblr.com/kissorkill16/766090324725661696/fill-my-empty-heart-a-hello-neighbor-fanfic

Chapter 18 - https://www.tumblr.com/kissorkill16/766730175156273152/fill-my-empty-heart-a-hello-neighbor-fanfic

Chapter 19 - https://www.tumblr.com/kissorkill16/766819752929804288/fill-my-empty-heart-a-hello-neighbor-fanfic

Epilogue - https://www.tumblr.com/kissorkill16/766867727305527352/fill-my-empty-heart-a-hello-neighbor-fanfic

[hazbinbossbrainrot]

Dustmoth / Radiohusk fans: Eww! You like Huskerdust/Stolitz? That’s so toxic! Don’t you know that’s Stockholm Syndrome?

Stolitz / Huskerdust fans:

[montammil]

June of Doom Day 7 - "What happened?"

| Nightmare | Isolation | Stumbling |

Characters: Lawrence, Marshall

For once, I decided to make Lawrence the super emotionally vulnerable one lol.

CW: Parental whumper, stockholm syndrome, nightmares, death (in nightmare), yandere whumper

...

Lawrence woke up with a jolt. He'd been in the middle of a nightmare, but then realized his blankets were tossed onto the floor. His hands were shaking as he rubbed his eyes, pushing his sweat-soaked hair from his face.

He clutched his own beating heart and tried to slow his breaths, which turned to pants as the anxiety gripped his lungs.

It took a few minutes for him to finally calm down. He ran his fingers over his wet cheeks. It had been a while since he had such an awful dream.

He didn't even remember what it was about until he thought of Marshall.

Those green eyes that normally shone so bright were dull in his hellscape of a dream. The light in them was snuffed out, and Lawrence screamed so loud in his dream, his throat felt sore in real life. He scrambled out of bed and hurried into Marshall's bedroom, slamming open the door.

He was expecting to see his boy there, sleeping as restlessly as he usually did, but his bed was empty.

Lawrence froze for just a moment, and then felt back on the verge of a panic attack.

"MARSHALL?!" he cried, racing out of the room and stumbling down the hall so fast he nearly slipped and fell. There was no way, he wasn't gone. He couldn't be gone. His nightmare wasn't reality.

He frantically opened the doors, ignoring how loud they slammed into the walls. It didn't matter to him in this moment.

He continued screaming his name, but was interrupted by the sound of the toilet flushing and a door opening. He let out a strangled sound and bolted for the bathroom.

Marshall emerged, rubbing his eyes blearily.

He was just as Lawrence had left him hours earlier: in a loose pajama shirt and sweats, with his thick brown hair tangled from sleep.

Lawrence ignored the puzzled look on Marshall's face as he tackled him into a hug, letting out a choked sob. Marshall tensed, but relaxed in the embrace, patting his back awkwardly. He let Lawrence fuss over him, looking him over for injuries.

"What happened? Am I in trouble? I was just using the bathroom," Marshall anxiously explained. His eyebrows shot up. "Woah, are you crying?"

Lawrence sniffled and pulled away, pressing his palms against Marshall's shoulders. "You're okay. You're okay," he repeated. Marshall was sure he had completely lost his mind. He ran his fingers through Marshall's hair. "God, don't scare me like that ever again, do you hear me? Please, please, never do that again."

"Uhh, okay... sorry." Marshall learnt the best way to avoid getting scolded or worse was to just go along with it. Even if he had no clue what he did. "Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"Yeah... wanna sit on the couch, watch a movie?"

"It's two in the morning."

Lawrence put his arm over his shoulder and led him out of the bathroom. "So? We can make hot cocoa, you love that stuff. And what ever movie you want!" Marshall looked hesitant. "Please, kiddo? I don't want to be alone right now. We can sleep in extra late tomorrow, and I can even bake you those madeleines. And I can even make--"

"Okay, okay! No need to bribe me." Marshall gave him a lopsided smile.

Lawrence returned the smile. He had been so terrified to go to sleep ever again after that. The thought of losing Marshall drove him mad. He couldn't stand the thought of losing his child to anything.

They settled on the couch with their cups of hot cocoa, a warm blanket, and one of Marshall's favorite movies.

Marshall hated to admit it, but he was genuinely worried over his captor. He scooted closer, to lean his head on his shoulder. "Do you wanna talk about it? The nightmare?"

The blond turned his head towards him. He pondered it for a moment. "It was about you." His grip on the mug tightened. "You don't need to hear about it, Marshie. I don't wanna traumatize you."

Marshall resisted the urge to tell him he didn't do a good job at that. "No, I want to. If, um, you're willing to tell me."

"I..." Lawrence trailed off. Marshall didn't know if it was a good idea to press him further or not, but Lawrence then went on, "I don't know the details, but you were hurt. You were crying, and there was a lot of blood. And I couldn't do anything to help you. I just had to watch you--" His voice cracked and he cut himself off. Marshall's eyebrows knitted together. "But then I woke up and you weren't in your room, and I thought maybe that was it, that it had all happened in real life."

"Oh." Marshall stared at the TV screen, not knowing where else to look. It hurt to look at the pain in Lawrence's eyes.

Lawrence wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be listening to this, I'm supposed to be the one comforting you." He laughed, but it came out as more of a strangled sob.

Marshall didn't know what to do. He put his mug down on the coffee table and turned so he could hug him properly, wrapping his arms around his torso.

"I'm okay. See? I'm here with you. Nothing's gonna happen to me. Not if you're watching over me," he reassured. He cringed internally at the words, but he knew that would make Lawrence feel better. And that's what he needed.

"Oh, Marshall." Lawrence embraced him back. He pressed his lips against his temple. "I would never let anyone hurt you. You know that, right? You know how much I love you, don't you?"

He swallowed nervously. "Yeah, I do."

"You're all I have," he murmured. His nails dug into the back of Marshall's neck. "I'm never, ever, going to lose you. You belong here. Right here, in my arms, where you're safe." Lawrence's possessive behavior was no longer scary, it was just plain annoying. It made Marshall's stomach churn. "Where I can protect you. From the bad people out there."

Marshall didn't view Lawrence as a bad person, but misunderstood. He was delusional.

Marshall knew he could be cruel and controlling, but he wasn't some villain from a superhero movie. He was a man with problems and needs, like everyone else.

He didn't believe he had stockholm syndrome... he was just an empathetic person. That's what he kept telling himself.

Lawrence's grip tightened. "You know that, right? And--and if anyone tried to hurt you, I'd kill them. I would. I'd do anything to protect you."

"Yeah, I know. But no one is coming after me, and if they did, then you'd be there to keep me safe." Marshall yawned. He hoped Lawrence would get the hint, and thankfully, he did.

He released Marshall from the crushing hug and sat back again. "Right. I would. Don't forget that. Ever."

[mrgriffiths]

Hey there! I'm new to the Fandom, and I love love love your blog and all that you share about TIG/Terry Silver. I couldn't help but ask..

What are your thoughts on kk3!terry falling for a beloved that's from Vietnam?

I noticed that you haven't done these types of asks, so I wanted to know your thoughts on it!

You don't have to reply to this, but thank you so much for all that you do!

xoxo

Hi there, anon! Welcome to the Fandom <3

Thank you for your kind words!

I haven't really answered an ask like this, but I'll share my thoughts on it. You're always welcome to send me an ask!

If you're looking for similar content, then @terrence-silver is your blog! They have the best chatacter analysis of Terry and some of TIGs' other characters, too!

And if you're looking for a reader/oc insert stories/one shots for Terry or other TIG characters, then I certainly recommend these awesome blogs for you! @karatekels @virgo-mess @eemcintyre @thedeadsingforme @larussos-left-sock

°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°•°♡°

- Terry had come a long way from the person he once was during his Vietnam days. He's no longer the skinny, doe-eyed, somewhat innocent kid who came from a rich family all to prove to his father(and himself) that he is a man.

- He had an empire of his own now, dynatix industries, a nuclear waste disposal company that had been handed down to him by his father. He's done plenty of shady things, getting on the cover of the latest magazine and news papers was a regular thing for him. His physique was envied by men who were associated with him even. Perfectly sculpted face and an equally perfect charm to go with it.

- He had a playboy reputation with more money than most in the upper crust society. He's manipulative and will use any tactic he sees fit if needed. Everyone else is below him and he always had a good time toying with people. He's had his time with girls of every race, age , color, you name it. When Terry Silver wants something, he will definitely get it. So when he sets his sites on his beloved for the first time, he isn't bewildered immediately until he finds out more about them.

- If anything he sees them as the enemy at first, a stigma that's been around since the time he's been to Vietnam. He never forgot what happened there. Waking up in cold sweat after seeing his friend killed right infront of him, the bomb blasts and torture they all had gone through. A parting gift of the war.

- his beloved has certainly perked his interests though, whether they're apart of his upper crust society or simply a nobody there's definitely something about them that he can't seem to look past them. Maybe it's their features that is embedded in his head after he first saw them.

- Or it could be their characteristics or personality that's different from every woman he's ever been with. Maybe it's the way they walk, the way they talk, heck maybe it's the way they breathe. Terry will notice everything.

- Terry finds himself looking for beloved all the more. No amount of coke or bedding woman who even looks like them does the trick. He finds himself needing to find out everything about his beloved. He'd immediately thought of hiring an entire team of private investigators to find out every little thing about them. He wants to know their history, who is responsible for bringing his newly formed 'problem' into this world.

- He eventually sets on doing the job by himself. Stalking them, breaking in and entering into their home whilst they're in a deep sleep. He by hearted they're daily routine, he knows when they're in a deep sleep during the late hours of the night. He knows what they eat, what they wear, what hobbies they have, all down to what brand of shampoo they use. He utilizes anything that will help him understand what they are all about.

- He'd sometimes leave something behind in they're home, a dingy apartment unworthy of beloved in his eyes regardless of how well maintainedit is or not. Maybe a hundred dollar bill or even his own semen on their pillows after jerking off on their bed. He'd take something for himself too. Maybe a pair or two of beloved underwear suddenly goes missing.

- After everything he's come to know of beloved with them being none the wiser, he curates a persona of himself that fits all of beloved needs and wants ultimately becoming their dream man before he comes face to face with them again.

- Terry entraps beloved in his web afterwards. He makes sure they're smitten with him and never suspects a thing, giving them everything he knows they want from a partner gaining their trust over a short span of time. Once he's got them where he wants them he would reveal his true self. Ultimately hurting beloved so deeply because they are in fact the enemy. There's a price you have to pay for taking up so much of his time and consuming his mind.

- He thinks he's finally gotten what he wanted after breaking beloved completely but he still isn't able to move past them. It finally dawns upon him that he is in fact in love with beloved and no matter what he tells himself he cannot find anyone to replace them, no amount of coke or people who look like them.

- Terry sets about getting them back this time as himself. No matter where beloved goes he will find them. He will kidnap them if need be in the occasion of them denying everything he's offering them. He will help them see reason in time. He will go to any lengths to make sure beloved remains at his side.

- Stockholm syndrome will be in full swing. He erases the identity beloved once had as no one has the right to so much as know what beloved looks like without his permission. He'd estrange beloved from they're friends and family making them see how he's the only one they need.

- Preparations for the wedding will be in full swing. The wedding of the century. Everyone will know and will be ultimately shocked that playboy Terrence Silver has settled down. The entire world would know months in advance yet they would never see the actual ceremony regardless of the royal standard preparations that's been made. Terry's beloved is for his eyes only.

- The media only gets a single glimpse of beloved and they're rarely seen afterwards. Only when Terry deems it fit at some gala or event. Rest assured, no other woman ever crosses his mind again. He's fully consumed by beloved without them knowing the power they truly have on him. He'd go to any lengths to sure them his devotion too.

- beloved is the only one he'd trust with the truly gruesome parts of his life, through the Vietnam flashbacks where he'd sometimes need to hold them tightly the entire night or sometimes just their presence in the room at a distance. They've seen it all with him including the way he's beloved friend John Kreese had left him when things went down south. Beloved is the only thing that helps keep him grounded.

- Terry eventually starts a legacy of his own with beloved making sure that everything goes as he planned. Nothing is too much or unnecessary for his Silver empire.

Decades later he looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, thinking of how everything had suddenly took a turn in his life that one fateful day he'd set his eyes on beloved. His reflection stares back at him and next to it, ponytail stands with a smile on his face. His long lost war buddy whose personality and traits he's personally taken over as a tribute to his friend.

"You've chosen well twig." , ponytail says and vanishes in the next second leaving Terry smiling faintly at the thought. Letting his now silver colored hair down from its confines, he goes into his bedroom joining his beloved in bed.

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Ahh, I hope I've done this ask justice!

Thank you for sending it in anon!

Much love🤍

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Also, something I can’t stop imagining:

Blood Moon being manipulated by Roderick in a way they don’t notice at first but they gradually become more and more stockholmed by Roderick to the point they don’t remember how to do anything by themselves besides killing.

It gets to the point where Blood Moon is neglecting themself and Roderick is controlling their entire life and Blood Moon is simply Roderick’s servant and Blood Moon’s needs and health is neglected. If they get injured, the injuries don’t get treated because they ‘failed to properly succeed’.

[avvail-whumps]

I just realised in #20 of Guns for Hire, Leo was almosted 🍇ed by one of the mercenaries when he was asleep. If you mind, could you please write something about Leo admitting that to Roy? So we can see his reaction?

“Who was your least favourite?”

The question caught Leo off guard, momentarily pausing and turning his attention away from his food. He was eating a bowl of chocolate mint covered marshmallows, some leftover from Halloween. He hummed, his head lifting off Roy’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” He asked, catching the mercenary’s languid stare.

“I mean the other guys,” he shrugged, as if it wasn’t such a horrible memory for him. “When I was away on my contract. Who was your least favourite?”

Why was he asking him this question so suddenly? Leo’s brow crinckled as he stared at his bowl, fingers squeezing one of the marshmallows gently. The mercenary seemed to notice his obvious hesitance, and leaned down to kiss the furrow in his brow.

“It’s not a trick,” he prompted smugly. He swiped one of the marshmallows and tucked the blanket tighter around them. “I was thinking about it last night, is all.”

Leo bit the inside of his cheek softly.

“Bran,” he responded in a small voice. He didn’t want to remember them at all, but he tried to swallow down the anxiety regardless. “I think Rafi next. He freaked me out a little, especially that one time when I woke up and he—”

Leo cut himself off. He snuggled further into Roy’s side. “Nevermind.”

“Nevermind?” The mercenary parroted, shaking his head. “When you woke up and what, lion?”

“I don’t want to...” His voice trailed off. “It’s nothing.”

“Come on,” Roy encouraged softly, hand gently rubbing his arm. Leo swallowed nervously, just trying to comfort the racing of his heart with Roy’s presence and his warmth instead. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Leo knew he could. That was what made it so difficult. He released a shuddering breath, fiddling the marshmallow absentmindly. He finally set it in the bowl, and another encouraging squeeze from Roy finally forced it from his tongue.

“Rafi, he...” Leo shifted. “I don’t think—he didn’t touch me, or anything. I just, I woke up and he was on the bed...”

He frowned. “I barely even remember it. But he was—trying to take my pants off and he said, he said that—” Leo felt Roy kiss the top of his head, tucking him under his chin. He took the bowl so Leo could wrap his arms around him. “He said something about it not being as fun if I was awake, so he left me alone. I don’t even remember it that well, I don’t even know if I dreamt it.”

There was silence from the man, before he spoke in a calm, measured voice. The arm around him had tightened inexplicably.

“He did?” Roy muttured grimly. Leo gently stroked the tattoo on Roy’s arm, just under the cut of fabric of his short sleeve.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice so quiet. “It’s not...I really don’t even think about it.”

Sometimes Leo thought about it. Sometimes when Roy would unbutton his pants, he would imagine what it would have been like it he hadn’t woken up that night. He liked it when Roy peeled his clothes off, but the memory clung to him like dirt, and it wouldn’t come off. So, he supposed he was lying, and he knew Roy wouldn’t like it.

“Yeah?” Roy sighed curtly, kissing the top of his head like he could hear his heartbeat picking up. “I’m glad I put a bullet through his skull. Didn’t know that was a taste of his.”

When Leo remained quiet, gentle fingers slid under his chin, tilting his head back to meet his eyes. They were darker than usual, but his voice was so warm.

“None of the others touched you, right?” He asked quietly, and Leo didn’t even have time to shake his head before Roy was continuing. “Because it doesn’t matter that Bran and Sean are in hiding, I will find them. So just give me an excuse to bury them in the back garden too, lion.”

Maybe it was the morbid sentiment that made him blush, but Leo shook his head. The fingers under his chin gently stroked his cheek, and he leaned keenly into the touch as if he’d never experienced it before. His heart skipped a beat.

“No,” he whispered. “Promise.”

Roy smiled slightly, leaning forward to kiss his lips. When he pulled away, the ex-secretary happily cuddled against his side, accepting the bowl of marshmallows back.

“Good,” he sighed, leaning his head against his in the coziness of the couch. Leo didn’t have to know that he was absolutely livid, seething with jealousy at the idea Rafi had even thought about the idea of touching what was his. “I’m glad.”

[fxtalitygod]

Survival. IX

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, mentions of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 1-2x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint)

Word Count: 3.4k

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

You remembered the most content morning you had ever had. It was a relatively beautiful and tranquil day in the garden. The sky was clear, and the sun was beaming brightly, yet the weather was pleasant. It was the most satisfying day you had ever had within the temple.

It was also the day your twins spoke their first word.

You had been spending quality time with your twins, your attendant joining the activities as you both basked in their childish nature. She had grown as close as family and acted like an aunt to your kids, and if you were being honest, she felt like a sister to you in some sense. You truly appreciated her company and assistance throughout the time you had known her— especially when sharing this memorable moment.

It felt like it was out of a dream when the word effortlessly slipped from your daughter’s mouth. Moments ago, she was a child who only knew how to babble, laugh, and cry, but now she was a little girl capable of speaking. And if your daughter hadn’t surprised you enough, your son letting the same word slip next had left you paralyzed with shock.

“Mama.”

Yes, it was a standard word for a child to speak first other than Dada or Papa— a cliché, as most would say, but that was the last thing on your mind. To hear your child acknowledge you for the first time and know they recognize you as their mother was a pleasure that could not compare to the joys of sex, alcohol, or money– it is a pleasantry of its own. You swore you would do anything to hear them call you their "Mama" for as long as possible.

And if anyone took that away from you, they would be damned to hell.

The screams of a woman echoed through the temple. The shrieks were ear-splitting and could cause anybody's ears to bleed upon walking into the hearing radius. You could only listen as the screams continued, the sound muffling out as your ears began to ring again.

Why was she screaming? The woman in question should have been thrilled that your children were deceased– they would have been a threat to her. She was probably trying to win Sukuna's favor in some fucked up way. The bitch had no right to grieve in your presence nor in solitude. You had every want to strangle her soundless; however, something stopped you from that impulse.

Your throat began to burn.

At that moment, you realized the screams of grief and agony were those of your own. Nobody was present in that room, just you and Sukuna, as your cries echoed in the room and nearby halls. You were blinded by your own tears as you stared at the now-blurry image of your twin's hanging corpses, choking on your own sobs as you collapsed to the ground, holding your midriff with the painful thought that the life you had cultivated within you for nine months and raised for six years was now reduced to carcasses hanging from a wall.

Your blessings had been snatched from you, from right under your nose.

You should have known things would have not been so simple. You should have never let your guard down for even a second. This was your punishment for being so blissfully ignorant when you should have analyzed all the possible faults in your plan and anticipated any threats that remained to perform a clean escape.

You stood on weak legs, shuffling to the wall that was covered in blood. In your mind, you always thought that the blankness of those walls would drive you mad– you never anticipated that the splash of color would be the thing that forced you to insanity. The crimson dripping down the wall proved you wrong.

Your hands shook as your fingers hovered over the pins that were holding your children in place, flinching back as you swallowed the bile rising up your throat before reaching for one of the pins again. You made an attempt to hold back your sobs but with little success. Huffs, spittles, and gurgles continued to resonate from you as you held back your cries– you looked pathetic.

Your hands felt weak as you pulled the pin, the audible squelching sound of the flesh rubbing against the item sickening you to the core, yet you persisted. You pulled the lower pins that you could reach from your son and daughter, tears gushing out of your eyes as you did so. No torture was as great as this, especially when you went to reach the higher ones. You stood on your toes, stretching for the pins that were sunk into your twin's hands, but it was futile. Under normal circumstances, you could have reached that high; you would have improvised a way to do it, but your mind was numb, and your body felt weak.

"Help me," you choked as you continued to reach.

The only response you got was silence.

"Please," you weakly whispered, "Please, help me."

Silence lingered again, but before you could plea a second time– your husband spoke.

"Why?"

You paused in your movement, your breath hitching as the simple word echoed in your head.

"Why?" you repeated, bewilderment found in your whisper, "Why?"

Your head slowly turned to look over your shoulder, your eyes gleaming with fury as you looked at Sukuna.

"I'll tell you why," you seethed, "For eight years, I have lived in this temple with you and your sickened whores and bastards– lived in your residence with little to no complaint. I have endured everything bestowed upon me and have managed to keep my spine straight with my head held high– and when in your presence, I have given you nothing but the lowest bows of respect despite the falsities of that action; I sacrificed my pride!" you paused to breathe before continuing, "I bore you children and dealt the blunt trauma of my impossible pregnancy and labor without complaint or ask of favor because you and I both know I would have gladly died in the process. In my life here, I have asked you for ONE SINGULAR FAVOR that would benefit both of us!"

Another pause as you caught your breath.

"The very least you could do," your voice shook with exasperation, "is grant me this one selfish wish."

"Do you understand the line you are crossing, Little Flower," Sukuna threatened as he took a few steps forward.

"Well aware," you answered without hesitation, "but at least if you killed me now, I would reunite with my children and be rid of you," you grinned mockingly at your partner.

You watched as the menacing man raised a hand, keeping eye contact with you as he did so. Normally you would have feared that this was the end of the line, but that was before your worst nightmare had already came true. Some part of you wished that he would hit you, hoping that once he did, he would snap you out of what you hoped what was an illusion of some sort, a night terror, a cursed technique, possibly a hallucination— all three were very much possibilities, but deep down you knew you were in denial, however, you did not want to accept it.

The slap never came.

Instead, your companion reached his arm above you, removing the pins that held your twins hostage against the wall. Sukuna took his time, clearly in no rush, leaving you antsy as you began to wriggle in impatience. You just wanted to hold them and look upon their innocent face. Maybe they were not dead, maybe there was still a breath of life in them, and you could somehow convince your husband to use his curse reversal technique on them due to the terms of your contract.

Maybe, just maybe…

Once the last pins restraining your children were removed, you were quick to cradle your twins, holding them close to your chest as more sobs escaped from your quivering lips. Your fingers lightly touched their skin as you caressed their faces with motherly gentleness. After moments, your cries subsided into a quiet lament as you continued to hold your little boy and girl.

You would have done anything to prevent this fate.

"Mama..." a voice spoke, but excessively strained and quiet.

You jumped up to see your little boy's eyes open no more than a slit. Without hesitation, you rushed to grab his face, babbling words of encouragement for him to stay awake. You were eager as you prepared to attempt to perform reverse cursed technique, but before you could, another strained voice sounded.

"Ma-Mama."

You panicked once more, moving to face your daughter as her condition was nearly the same. You were torn on what to do and had almost turned to Sukuna for his assistance, but it was useless. As quickly as those words were spoken were as fast as they faded back into eternal sleep.

What was this? You had to ask again, but what had you done to deserve this? To be worthy of this torture? Was there not a more deserving candidate for this cruelty you were enduring? Had you just been born to be cursed like this?

Questions raveled your mind, and thoughts ate at you alive– you were beginning to spiral. Your voice, along with many of the other voices from your past, flooded your head, screaming at you all at once as the memories began to invade your consciousness. Your head was starting to hurt from lingering in your mind, far away from reality. If anyone were to look upon your form, you would seem like the hollow husk of a woman based on how you sat there unmoving and totally silent as you stared blankly at the bloody wall– it seemed like you were looking through it like a piece of glass, that is how lost you were, until...

Everything went silent.

The voices in your head had settled, and all you could hear was Sukuna's breathing and your own echoing throughout the room. It was eerily quiet as the two of you remained.

"Their first words were their last."

You spoke without thought; the words had just slipped as you turned back to the father of your children, being met with his expressionless stare. You did not expect a response, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was no happier about this situation than you were; however, Sukuna was not grieving like you were. Your reasons for your dour moods were different, but that did not matter– you both were upset about what occurred.

As you held your husband's stare, it was almost as if you had some sort of understanding with one another, communicating without speaking before turning your attention back to your twins. With caution, you gently lifted your children into your arms, slowly standing as you managed to balance their limp bodies in your hold as you walked toward the door.

Your feet moved without command as you walked through the corridor, Sukuna walking at your side as you ventured in silence. The experience was almost that of your arrival at the temple– all eyes were on you; however, there were no whispers of gossip or vial comments and disgusting displays of arousal as you departed. The tension radiating from your aura was too great for such ill manners to be publicly displayed.

You had no clue where you were going and were hardly thinking about it. Your mind was void of consciousness as you reached the grand doors of the temple, stepping out into the cool night air. A part of you wishes you could have enjoyed it, to relish your first time outside the temple walls since your marriage, but the feeling was bitter and dull, especially as you looked upon the lights illuminating from your village.

Trekking through the terrain, you watched the lights grow brighter and more prominent, similar to the unknown feeling festering in your chest. You could hear their voices, their chanting of uprising as you approached the crowd, stopping just at the border of your village. One of the village elders was the first to notice you and Sukuna's approaching figures before ceasing the noise, focusing on your arrival.

"Y/n L/n, you have finally come home. Your family will be happy to know that you have finally returned," pausing to look at Sukuna before bringing his attention back to you, "It was wise of this monster to return you as requested. Come now child, we shall reunite you with your family."

You could hear him speak and understand his meaning and indirect stab at Sukuna's pride, but the words flowed from one ear to the other as your body remained rooted at the barrier.

"Come now, child, you are free!" the elder insisted as he motioned to you, confused and seemingly irritated at your lack of response.

"No."

The word slipped out seamlessly as you blankly stared at the man, watching his expression turn into shock.

"What do you mean, 'No'?"

"It means what I said," you simply responded before continuing, "Why would I come back to a home that sent me away like a lamb to the slaughter. You presented me like a slab of meat to the man you call a monster as if he were some valued patron, but suddenly, I have become worthy of retrieval after how many years? Why is that?"

"You ungrateful woman! We have pursued you for some time due to your parents' request. They paid handsomely to bring you back home, paid enough to fund our cause."

"And what cause was that?!" you retaliated.

"To kill that vile creature who stole you from us, my dear daughter!"

"...Mother," you whispered to yourself as your mom came into view, your father following her as they made their presence known.

"But it seems his influence has already tainted your mind," your mother spoke with a solemn look in her eyes, "But we can fix that if you just come home." the woman persisted as she held her arms out for a welcoming embrace.

Her comfort was tempting, but there was a lingering feeling of hesitance the longer you looked at the picture. This was something you wished for a long time, to be welcomed home with open arms, but the dream seemed stale as you stood there unmoving.

"Then why were harmless children slaughtered in his place?" you questioned.

"Harmless?" your parents uttered, baffled by your statement, "Those children were born to become monsters along with their father! They were far from harmless! That is why we had to cut them out of the picture!" your father yelled.

"...You did it?" you softly asked.

You could see your father's mouth open before closing, moving his gaze from your eyes to the motionless bodies in your arms. The disgusted faces your parents held were replaced with one of bewilderment and fear. They could finally understand your reluctance.

"Y/n..."

"They were harmless..." you started in a mutter, "They were not monsters! They were innocent! And you accused them of crimes they have never committed!"

"With their upbringing, it would have been inevitable! They were their father's children, after all!" the village elder interrupted, disdain laced in his voice.

"They were not guilty of Sukuna's crimes! They were innocent children!" you voiced, outraged with the small-minded thinking.

You looked to your parents for support but were only met by them avoiding your stare. They believed their actions were reasonable and considered them valid. You were not the one who was influenced... they were.

"Damn you all," you muttered, turning your back to the villagers.

"We did this for you to survive, Y/n! And here you are, well and alive. You kept your promise, so please come home!"

"Survived...survived..." Your chest heaved as you began to laugh hysterically. You placed your children down before rising, "Is this what survival is, just staying alive? Well, if that is the case, then yes, I have survived just like I promised, but with the cost of my life! I may have survived, but I will never live...not without them."

"There will be other opportunities to have children, my dear, with a far better suitor," your mother attempted to persuade, her arms still held open.

"Excuse me?"

That had done it.

"The man you practically sold me to was far from my first choice of significant other, but at least he managed to give my life some meaning, something to live for...and you took it from me, the last crowd of people I thought would do such a thing...how naive of me."

"Y/n, if we-"

"If you what?! Tell me, if you had known those children were mine, would you have spared them, given them mercy?"

No response.

"That's what I thought. You know I had hoped to come home with open arms, and shown by tonight, my wish came true; however, that was before I had the twins– the dream expanded to have all three of us welcomed with warmth...how pitifully optimistic of me."

"Y/n, I cannot tell you those events you hoped for would have come to fruition, but I can tell you this: you can start over, have a family you have always dreamed of... pure children."

Silence.

"They. Were. PURE!"

And just like that, the extent of that unusual feeling lingering in your chest had unleashed. The full extent of your furry had combusted in the form of your cursed energy and technique. Within the blink of an eye, what was once a bustling village full of chatter and laughter was now a blazing inferno filled with screams and cries.

You could see the fire, smell the blood, and hear their screams as they begged for mercy. They cried out for their children and loved ones whose bodies were now burning in the roaring flames, reduced to cinders and ashes. Those who threatened to charge were killed before they could make contact, their bodies contorting in ways the human form was incapable of, causing cries of pure agony as they were left to bleed out in their mangled state– they were retired to suffer in their pain as the life slowly drained out of them. If a suffering soul was fortunate, the fire would catch them aflame and kill them faster, or debris would land in a fatal spot or crush them whole to end their misery.

Viewing the demolished structures and flaming bodies, both dead and alive, was a petrifying view– yet you felt nothing. Your breath was methodical, your expression blank, your body unmoving. Pity and remorse were thrown out the window– fear and anguish had long vanished; however, anger and resentment lingered like a tiny flickering flame that continued to grow with each crumble and cry that could be heard.

Although your exterior appearance seemed calm and collected, your heartbeat said otherwise as it accelerated, pounding against your chest so hard you could eventually drown out the hollers of distress with its rapid thumping.

They were now suffering the pain and torture you had suffered for years to its full extent...

Unlike you, it was the kind of punishment they deserved.

You allowed yourself to view the sight for a few seconds longer before picking up your son and daughter, balancing them in your embrace again, and turning your back towards the village. You began to walk toward the temple, knowing better than to run off, but it was not like you had a reason to go anywhere else. There was no life for you. You were to remain by Sukuna's side until you died, and you were content with that.

"Y/n."

With all the heightened emotions and events that occurred only moments ago, you had forgotten Sukuna was there. The curse user had not muttered a word nor made a movement. He idly watched your wrath unfold, watched as you burnt your home to the ground.

You paused for a minute, looking blankly ahead as you thought of the past and reflected on your choices. Out of every action you committed, there was one you regretted most.

"I should have killed myself that morning, the morning after the ceremony. It would have saved me a lot of trouble and heartache."

With that, you walked off into the night, letting that thought of regret linger in your mind.

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya@pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one@rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade

[xxbunnyboy]

Personally I just think getting a tiny amount of Stockholm syndrome would be easier than dating apps.

[thsc-confessions]

"I'm sorry but I just can't get into toppat x dave ships. They feel wrong in a weird way. Maybe stockholm syndrome-y?? Maybe that word's a little heavy. The power imbalance? I don't know, but I tried to read a few toppat x dave fics so I could understand the appeal, and while they were objectively good fics, I just couldn't get into them. Especially whenever that same toppat is the one who gets him out of his cell....just gives me the ick." submitted by anon

[sinfullyxsadistic]

// Best part about having a fandomless muse? I can insert him into any Fandom I want! That being said, I have a few ideas to play with!

Orphan!Verse

**Early Life:**

Parker Ambrose Winslow was born into a wealthy family in a prestigious neighborhood. From an early age, it was apparent that Parker was different. Despite being biologically older, he had a condition that made him unusually small for his age, causing him to appear and be mistaken for a child. This physical appearance allowed him to blend into environments where he could exploit his youthful guise.

**Diagnosis and Institutionalization:**

By age 7, Parker’s parents began to notice disturbing behaviors. His manipulative tendencies and a cold, calculating nature were troubling. His intelligence was off the charts, but it was coupled with a profound lack of empathy and moral restraint. Despite numerous evaluations, his condition remained ambiguously defined, with various specialists labeling it as a rare psychological disorder similar to Leena’s from *Orphan: First Kill*.

Overwhelmed by Parker’s behavior and fearing for their safety and public image, his parents admitted him to a high-security mental institution. There, Parker’s unusual ability to deceive and manipulate was observed and documented. Although he was classified with a broad psychological disorder, the specifics remained elusive, complicating treatment and containment.

**Escape and New Identity:**

At an age significantly older than what he appeared, Parker plotted his escape from the institution. His detailed knowledge of the facility’s routines and security flaws allowed him to outwit the staff and flee. His goal was to exploit his childlike appearance to start a new life under a new identity.

Targeting a wealthy family that had recently lost their young son, Parker used his understanding of their loss to create a convincing impersonation. He adapted his behavior and knowledge to fit the memory of their deceased child, exploiting their grief and desire for closure to integrate himself into their lives.

**Life with the Rich Family:**

Once adopted, Parker’s ability to mimic the deceased child’s habits and preferences enabled him to seamlessly fit into the family’s life. He quickly established himself as a beloved member, using his charm and deception to win their affection. His small stature and appearance helped him maintain the facade of a child, despite his actual age.

Parker began to steal from the family, starting with minor items and escalating to more significant thefts. His skills in manipulation extended to the household staff and visitors, whom he would frame for various misdeeds or create distractions to cover his tracks.

**Motivations and Actions:**

Parker’s actions were driven by a deep-seated need for control and validation. The mental institution had been a prison, and the rich family’s home represented an opportunity for power and luxury. His violence emerged when his carefully crafted life was threatened, leading him to eliminate anyone who could expose him.

**Current Status:**

Parker continues to navigate his life within the wealthy family’s home, balancing his deceptive role with the constant threat of exposure. His complex psychological profile and youthful appearance make him a unique and dangerous individual, living a life of both privilege and peril.

Chained!Verse

Based on the movie, "Chained".

One day while out with his mom, he and his mom are kidnapped by a mysterious man who is a well-known serial killer in their area. After killing Mynx's mother, the killer takes Mynx in and forces him to be his servant for the rest of his life. As Mynx gets older, he unexpectedly develops feelings for his captor. Feelings that could be his undoing.

[blue-bower]

Vent time. Buckle up.

I never thought I'd see the day where I would walk out of a job. I tried to leave with patience, grace and gratitude. I tried to stick it out for the sake of my coworkers, who I genuinely love. I thought it was only fair to them, after having endured the constant mental stress for more than two years.

But no job is worth a decline in mental health. No job is worth having panic attacks on the clock day after day; being so worn out physically and mentally that we no longer have the time or the drive to do things we're passionate about. No job is worth being gaslighted and guilted into thinking we should prioritize the corporation over things that actually feel fulfilling in our lives.

To recap: I worked at a massive vacation resort, in a tourist town with a barely sustainable housing economy, therefore a barely sustainable and adequate staffing situation. And that was only becoming more and more apparent as the last couple years passed. It made me hateful, constantly angry, a nervous fucking wreck, and suicidal. If it weren't for the support of my closest friends, I...honestly might not still be here anymore.

I liked working there the first year. Sure, I had heavy new-job anxiety, I'd never worked in the business before. It was terrifying, but I had enough help and support along the way that I picked up on things pretty quickly. Too quickly, apparently. They started recommending me for Supervisor six months in. They promoted me twice; first time was to give me official permission to help in other areas around the resort, then again to focus more on back-office work. Both of which gave me the time I needed away from the front desk, away from screaming entitled old Boomers, away from the endless drama perpetuated by some of my coworkers.

But eventually, once we started losing staff and had some absolutely baffling upper-management decisions pushed on us, I was getting pulled to the front desk way more than I could mentally handle. My pleas to get back to what my role was actually designated to do and was most suitable for the sake of my mental & emotional needs constantly fell on deaf ears. Because why the fuck would a major capitalist corporation treat a neurodivergent, anxiety-ridden, nonbinary mess of a human being with respect? At the end of the day we're just numbers. Unless we're bleeding out and dying on the job, we're expected to get the fuck over it because "everyone's in the same boat, it is what it is."

I recognized a year into the job that they were starting to take advantage of me. I was falling into the same pattern of doubling and tripling my own workload out of the deep-seated need to impress my peers, to feel like I'm worth something, that I had at my other job. But I continued to let it happen, because I kept telling myself that having a job like this on my resume could land me a job in many fields. I wanted to prove to myself and everyone that I could do it. I basically developed Stockholm Syndrome. And I'm ashamed of that fact.

"It is what it is", once again, almost drove me to permanent depression and mental break. It made me backtrack on so much of my progress with improving my mental health. It drove me to start taking edibles; first once a week, then twice a week, then every other night. It's taken everything in me to break the habit before I started taking them every night. (Which yeah, idgaf what you do for recreational purposes, and I don't have the intention to fully give them up since they genuinely do help me get a lot of good story concepts written, but I learned the hard way after a few bad trips and bad chest palpitations that I still need to be careful.)

The point is: Defeatedly accepting "it is what it is", instead of DOING something to CHANGE how it is, is how people end up trapped in toxic environments to begin with, and try to pull other people down with them. Misery loves company, after all. Jobs are shitty no matter what, so might as well keep drinking poisoned wine instead of seeing if anywhere else has at least slightly less bitterness and toxicity, right?? Is it better to force everyone to stay on the sinking ship while panicking and trying desperately to patch up the holes before you drown, because you'd feel guilty if you left your crewmates behind? Or is it better to abandon ship and swim safely to shore, trusting that they know how to use the life rafts or send an SOS for a rescue ship?

It's all well and good to care about the people in your life, whether it be friends family co-workers partners etc. It's common for people, especially people with Golden Child and Impostor Syndrome, to just, naturally fall into the habit of taking way too much on our shoulders because we just want to be helpful. We're proud of being the Jack of All Trades, proud of excelling in areas that are needed in the workplace. But at some point, we've got to learn to set our boundaries, or we'll be so weighed down that we'll crumble and break.

We also need to trust that the coworkers that we genuinely enjoy working with, that are just as privy to the bullshit, that they can take care of themselves if things become too much. We should listen to the advice of people who have struggled through similar stresses and traumas. We owe it to them for having struggled together. I owe it to the awesome people in my life to help me finally make a decision that absolutely terrified the anxiety demon constantly looming over me, but ultimately freed me from the massive weight on my back.

I'm taking a good two-week gap before jumping into my next job. I'm anxious about the future of course, shit is so goddamn expensive these days, but I need to remind myself that I have plenty of opportunities to at least land a decent job long enough to save up and pack up for my eventual plans to move further inland.

I've learned an important life lesson; one that I thought I'd already learned, but didn't fully realize how much of an absolute monster the working world can be. It taught me how to be more courageous and confident in myself; how to stay true to myself no matter how much society tries to make me repress it. My main hope going forward is that I end up finding a job where I can let my true self shine.

[montammil]

dark fantasy(?) whump idea

I’m going through too much writer’s block to write this myself, so I just decided I’d share this idea.

Whumper is insanely jealous of Caretaker and how much Whumpee idolizes and loves them. They tried kidnapping Whumpee, but Whumpee never developed Stockholm syndrome like they hoped, and instead fought them every single step of the way.

So they stage a plan. Since Whumper is capable of magic (I’m being very vague on what kind, you can decide what to call it), they make a trap for Caretaker to fall for, to “save” Whumpee.

When Caretaker falls for it, they take them by surprise and kill them, and possess over their body, pretending to be Whumpee’s beloved savior since now they have full control over Caretaker’s body, the real Caretaker actually dead, and Whumper’s body now just a soulless corpse.

For a while, Whumper’s content, because they have Whumpee all to themself. Whumpee doesn’t look at them with hatred, just pure admiration.

Whumper then realizes now they’re even more jealous, because they fully realize that in the end, Whumpee still thinks they’re Caretaker, not Whumper. They still love Caretaker. Not them.

It doesn’t take long for Whumpee to see how eerily similar Caretaker is now acting to Whumper.