#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

[stolitzfamily]

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

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- 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]

EPILOGUE. ~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, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 1-2x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), implied incest mentions

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: Today marks the day I finish this series. Guys, I cannot believe it took me two years to finish this damned series. Do not get me wrong, I loved writing it, but boy, it was a major pain in my ass. As corny as it sounds, thank you all for sticking with me throughout this series. When I originally posted the first chapter, I did not expect ANY attention whatsoever; it was just a self-indulgent thing I wanted to write because I wanted a better representation of (Y/n) where, yeah, she may not be the strongest. However, she still knows how to make do with what she has and make that her strength. I also wanted to give a more realistic relationship with the pairing. As much as I love Sukuna's character, I did not believe him to be a character capable of "true love" but a character that values others but not in the way you might think. I'm talking literal value, currency value, and benefit value. I wanted a more realistic take on the story because I did not know how many more historical "Kuna," "Suku," or "Kunie" stories I could take. No hate for those who write it or those who enjoy it; it just isn't my personal cup of tea. I like true crime and dark stories (I have this serial killer project that I'm stoked about because I know I will get my group an A+), so I tend to enjoy those darker sides, which I believe is why I like Sukuna's character so much, he just feeds into that side of me. There are some of the fantasies I enjoy where Sukuna is non-canon, such as AUs and all that, but when it comes to JJK's storyline or his historical AUs, I tend to fall short of enjoyment of that type of fantasy.

Anywho, thank you all for sticking around and enjoy the epilogue. I hope it was worth the wait. I may or may not have written three times because my perfectionism kicked in every time I proofread it, and I found something I did not like and scraped half the chapter. I bet I'll find a little thing here and there when I post this. Still, it won't be anything noticeable, something along the lines of my tags and probably my TW, though Im usually very on point with those kinds of things. Still, it always seems that AFTER I make the post, I really start to notice things even after proofreading it 50x.

P.S. I plan to do a behind-the-scenes post on all my original ideas. I have worked on this little project for two years, so you bet I had alternatives. Feel free to send me asks or messages asking me about things you are curious about, and I will gladly answer.

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

The market was bustling at this time of day. Workers were heading home from a hard day of work, rushing through the roads as they grabbed ingredients and materials for their households to prepare their meals and homes; everything was so normal...and if she were being honest, it felt strange. The confined life of the temple had practically become a comfort, so when presented with a slice of normalcy, it was foreign and, if she were being honest, alarming as well.

Having so much freedom was intimidating and overwhelming– the fear of having something good and it being taken away was a looming thought that brought many anxieties.

Years have passed since that fated day, Sukuna Ryomen's downfall. Since the fire and the slaughter that had immersed, Sukuna's actions had remained silent. There were whispers of sightings and rumors that the curse user had met his demise, but she knew better. Sukuna Ryomen was unkillable, and if anybody had truly caught a glance of him, they would be dead before they could live and tell the tale.

"Mama."

The world seemed to stop as the word processed through her head. Blood ran cold, and breaths of air seemed to come in at a faster rate. The woman turned to the little girl holding her hand, causing her heart to shatter.

"Darling, I told you not to refer to me as your mother, remember?"

The question remained as a statement rather than an inquiry as if refamiliarizing the child with a rule she had been reacquainted with on multiple occasions.

"I-I know that, but why can I not? You care for me like a mother, so why can I not call you my mother?'

"We have discussed this before, child," the woman sighed, "I believe it unfair to be taking the title of your actual mother."

"Well, if my real mother had not given me away, it would not be like this..."

Pausing mid-step, the caretaker held her breath, controlling the emotions and memories that flashed through her mind. The girl's sentence rang through her head, eliciting a feeling she was not commonly met with... aggravation. With no hesitance, the woman's minimal steps turned into longer strides, her grip even firmer on the young girl's hand. Getting to their place of lodging was more vital than anything, as she wanted to avoid discussing such sensitive matters in a public setting. Prying ears were close enough in such a crowded setting.

Upon reaching the home, the stand-in mother pulled the child inside before shutting the door. She swiftly bent down to the young one's level and took the child's shoulders into her hands. The little girl was shocked by the woman's reaction, staying silent and still as if afraid of what was to come next.

"Child, I will not hear you speak such false claims of your mother. You do not know the sacrifices she made to get you here."

The girl's expression of fear shifted from dread to shame. Her face was red from embarrassment after she was caught for her prior statement. However, as children do, she made it her goal to justify herself.

"What is the point of her sacrifice if she left me. Did she not want to be around me?"

"She did not leave you; if she were still in this world, trust me, she would be right here with you!"

The caregiver's words came out with little thought; all she knew was that she would not tolerate the little girl's false assumptions. However, now that the words spilled out of her mouth, she began to regret them. Seeing the tears well up in the girl's eyes made her wish she had phrased it differently.

"What do you mean?"

The caretaker cursed under her breath before inhaling through her nose, exhaling softly before speaking.

"You deserve the truth, my dear, and the truth is that your mother sacrificed her life to ensure you had a good one. She loved you so much that she valued your life more than hers. You might not understand this now, but that is a mother's love." The woman's breath stuttered, "She loved you more than you could ever know. I will not claim the title as your mother for that reason."

The girl was overwhelmed with emotion, only knowing how to express it through tears. The woman could not bear it and brought the girl close to her chest, embracing her to give any form of comfort that might help– it broke her heart to hear the child's quiet sobs.

After calming down, the kid spoke, though with some light chokes.

"W-what s-should I call you then?"

The warden took a sigh as she thought over her charges question. In all honesty, she had no idea what to say. What answer could she even give her? She could not allow her real name to float between the child's tongue as it would expose her identity. What name could she let the child speak?

"Hmm," the woman loosened her embrace, looking the little girl in the eye with a soft smile, "What do you think you should call me?"

The girl tilted her head, wanting more elaboration.

The lady chuckled softly, "What do you think my name should be, child?"

The caregiver had expected the girl to take some time to come up with an answer; however, the kid took no hesitation when she blurted out...

"Makato-san!"

Silenced engulfed the home as her caregiver failed to respond.

"Makato-san, I'm going to the market. Do you need anything?"

Another prolonged stillness as the young lady waited for a response.

The girl scrunched her brows in concern, extending her neck to look further into the room as if the individual she was looking for would appear. With the growing silence, the young adult searched the home for her guardian.

"Makato-san?"

She searched and examined the silent home with slight panic before finally stumbling upon the older woman, staring blankly at the floor she was kneeling on– unresponsive as she continued to stare.

With caution, Y/n's daughter reached her hand out to her caregiver's, placing it on the woman's shoulder. The response she got was one she had not expected.

The Makato turned suddenly, grabbing onto the young woman's wrist with an ungodly strength that even the girl was unaware of. This caused the girl to wince in pain as she tried to pull her arm away. Her arm was turning a light purple from the lack of circulation, proving the grip's vice.

Despite her fear, the charge could only feel concerned as her caregiver made eye contact, tears welling up in her eyes. It stayed like that for a couple more seconds before she snapped back into reality, gasping as she was presented with the image of her actions, quickly letting go of the young lady's arm.

"I'm so sorry, my Dear. I did not mean to...I was just..." The woman paused, swallowing her following words; however, her stutter did not disappear: "D-D-Did you need something, m-my, Dear?"

"I was preparing to leave and was going to ask if you needed anything from that market," the girl paused, choosing her next words carefully. Makato-san, you've been acting strange as of late. Is everything alright?"

The young woman was old enough to recognize the hesitance in her caretaker's features and the short lack of response.

"Whatever do you mean, Darling?"

"Please do not take me a fool," the youthful female voiced before sighing and looking at Makato in pity, "I'm worried for you, Makato-san. Ever since the refugees from the other village came, you have been behaving irregularly."

The refugees.

To say that their arrival was a shock was an understatement. At first, Makato thought nothing of it until the newcomers began to tell their stories. Their village was burned in a monstrous fire by a "crazed" sorcerer, and their home was now unsustainable to live in as it was left entirely in shambles. Despite this information, Makato thought little of it as there had been few stories of criminal sorcerers destroying homes, most being "inspired" by Sukuna's actions after his sudden hiatus. It was not until an elderly woman, who she happened to hear at random, described the appearance of the sorcerer.

"He was monstrous, the vile thing; he had four arms and two faces if you do not count that horrid mouth on his stomach. I watched both of them grin as it chewed on the remains of my eldest son." the elder choked and sobbed as the memory came back to taunt her.

Makato's heart dropped to her stomach. Rushing home in search of her charge, she found the girl working on her studies. Seeing the child she worked so hard to raise brought relief, but it was not long before the memories and visions began to haunt her. Sometimes, she would see you standing there, looking down at her, motionless and silent, with a pained, pitful look.

She hated it.

When you looked at her that way, she felt weak and vulnerable—as if she were failing. She was not as cool and calculating as you were, nor as confident or intimidating. Had you been here, you would have more than likely been able to disappear from society and find a nice, quiet life for yourself and your daughter. But you were not here; that was the problem– you were just a figment of her imagination.

Even then, she wanted you to stop looking at her that way.

Sometimes, she was left in her privacy and saw your vision appear to accompany her. It would drive her mad as she tried to convince you, even herself, that she was doing enough. She would speak into the silence of the room and get no response.

"What else could you want with me? I am doing everything I can!"

Silence.

"I am happy. She is happy. We are happy. Is that not enough for you?"

Silence.

"He thinks she is dead– he thinks I am dead! There is no possible way that..."

Silence.

"Please, stop looking at me that way. I am capable of doing this...please have faith in me."

"Makato-san?"

Pulling herself from her thoughts, Makato tracked what the girl had said earlier, not wanting to worry about her charge further.

"I apologize for my irregular behavior, my Dear. I can assure you that I am alright. I have had a lot of stress these days regarding the refugees. I want to do my part to assist them, but I have been running myself ragged and am just...tired."

The girl hesitated, not wanting to accept her caretaker's excuse, but she knew pushing the subject would not do her any good, so she nodded in understanding. The worst part is that Makato knew your daughter was aware of her white lie, but she would not admit it for some slim hope that the girl honestly did not know. Sometimes, she wished your daughter had not inherited your intelligence and perception.

"Do you need anything from the market, Makato-san? I plan on leaving soon to aid the refugees."

"No, I believe we have enough supplied for quite a while. All that I ask of you is to be safe, Darling."

Your daughter agreed, letting a soft smile slip onto her face before hugging Makato. The woman accepted the embrace before experiencing a wave of realization. Intelligence and perception were not the only things she inherited from you; she happened to be a real beauty as well.

"My Dear, if you plan on seeing that boy of yours, speak your peace now and know that I only want you to be safe and happy."

The girl struggled to find words before lowering her head in embarrassment, her face bright red with fluster.

"You are of age now, and I want you to know the responsibilities that rest on your shoulders."

"Makato-san, I never meant to keep it a secret. I just...I was afraid of your disapproval."

The more experienced woman could understand where she was coming from. Long ago, she was in the girl's position. However, she was never allowed to pursue her love due to the circumstances of her arrangement, but that does not mean she did not try. Despite her efforts to keep her relationship together, it was all for not in the end. She was given away as a sacrificial lamb to a monster.

Your daughter had a chance of love, and the caregiver would not squander it for her. She wanted your daughter to have a chance at a relationship she never had. Maybe it was questionable on her part due to the circumstances of her mission, but she did not entirely care. She just wanted your daughter to have a normal life.

She knew that was what you had wanted for your child.

"I do not disapprove, Darling. I just want you to be happy and to be careful."

"I promise that I will Makato-san."

There was a pause of awkward silence before the young woman embraced Makato once more.

"Thank you, I'll be back soon."

Makato smiled as she watched her ward leave the home. She had no problem admitting she was happy for the girl, but something deep within her told her it was a bad idea. It was hard for her to come to terms with, but she had an itching feeling that did not settle with her.

The world was perfect at the moment. Your daughter had put smiles on faces from her charity and was now being rewarded with a proposal for her marriage. She hugged her lover, showing her love and adoration in any way appropriate for their stage in relationship. If you were here, you would be beaming with joy, giving consent to the marriage with no hesitation because this is all you could ever want for your girl, and it would have been all you wanted for your twins.

You never had a chance of love and a happy life; seeing your children be able to pursue their lives to the fullest, especially in romantics, would have been considered a blessing to you.

"This is the happiest day of my life, honestly, but have you received my guardian's blessing?"

The young man chuckled, caressing her cheek reassuringly, "I plan on coming over for dinner tonight to ask for your hand properly if you will have me."

The girl could only agree eagerly through her expressions, unable to speak in fear of shouting instead of politely inviting him. Hugging him one last time before parting to rush home and prepare their meal; however, a chill went up her spine the moment she left; everything felt cold, and she could not explain why. Maybe it was the lack of his embrace, but she had never felt that way. There was only one good reason she could name.

Her nerves were getting the best of her...

"What if Makato-san declines."

The young woman's moods changed throughout the day as she prepared for the most significant evening of her life. One moment, she had the goofiest, filled with overwhelming joy, but there were other times when she would find herself chewing her nails from anxiety, and right now, she was having one of those times.

"Dear, stop that. This behavior is far from healthy. What has you behaving this way?"

"Nothing, everything is fine. I suppose I'm just hoping dinner will turn out acceptable tonight."

"Dear, please do not insult my intelligence with these excuses. What is going on that you are not telling me?"

"Well, I—" there was a pause. How was the ward supposed to say anything without giving anything away?

"You what? Spit it out, child, you are worrying me."

"I cannot say. I am sorry. But do not worry, please; something good is about to happen. Please trust me on this."

Makato chewed the inside of her cheek. She did trust her ward, but she had this gut feeling, this sickening feeling that she could not name. Maybe it was just her nerves getting the best of her, so she pushed it aside. She trusted your daughter, the only trustworthy person that Makato knew.

"Alright... is there anything you need help with?

The younger one smiled sweetly, taking her caretaker's hands in her own.

"No, I have it handled. You have been so stressed the past few days that you should just relax. Tonight, all your worries will be washed away." With that, she parted to continue her work for the big news. She was all but too excited.

She was also naive.

She was a sweet little girl, but she was naive. To think all of Makato's worries and problems would go away by simply relaxing, through sweet and simple gestures, was an innocent way to think. It was how Makato raised that girl because she wanted that sweet little girl to have that luxury. There were times she wondered if she had made the right choice, but then she would remember what pain looked like and what too much experience could do to a person.

No, she made the right decision. This is what you would have wanted.

Right?

Yes.

Makato went, and she sat as the young woman finished her final preparations for the meal. The girl looked more stressed than ever, rushing at the final threshold, but it seemed that preparations were finished and she was filling time. She found little things to do that held no significance. She was in her head, making Makato question if everything was truly fine.

Then, the footsteps could be heard. He was here, and everything was going to change. Life was going to change, and it was between her and that door. The biggest day of her life was only a dinner conversation away. So she opened the door and was presented with an image she thought she would never see or experience.

"We must leave. The village is under attack, and we do not have much time."

The smell of smoke was strong, and embers could be seen from a not-to0-far distance. The world came crashing down, and she could not say a thing. She could only stand there with an oblivious smile.

"What?"

Fear, confusion, anger, any negative emotion she could feel, she was feeling. This was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to get a blessing and marry the man of her dreams. Why now? Why this? This could not be real, there was no way.

If the world had crashed down for your daughter, the heavens collided into the earth, dissipating everything in its path in Makato's eyes. The older woman stood, no thoughts running in her head as she strided to the boy, grabbing him by his garments

"You tell me now, and you tell me true, boy! What did you see?!"

Her sudden actions left him too stunned to speak, but after some shaking and calling for his attention, he found himself capable of a response.

"Makato-san, what is happening?" It was like everything hit her at once, but she was still trying to understand why it was happening today– why it was happening now at the most crucial moment of her life.

"I do not know what it was, but it was a man of stature. He was disfigured; he had two faces and four arms. He came without warning, started flames, and began a massacre. His face was cold, as if he felt absolutely nothing."

There was no doubt in her mind that it was him, no doubt her former husband as reigning terror; however, based on the emotionless state of his ambush, bloodshed was beginning to lose its flavor. It was comical, but as much as it had some humor, this was no joke. This was all too real.

Makato grabbed your daughter's shoulder, pulling her out of her shock. Tears were in her eyes, looking at her caretaker pitifully.

"Makato-san, what is happening?"

She was naive, and being naive was safe, but being naive was also unrealistic. Makato gave the girl a sheltered life, eliminating the possibility of danger to the girl. That was no way to live.

"Your father, that is what is happening."

"What?"

And the shock returned. Makato made an effort to avoid mentioning Sukuna in conversation, only mentioning you in light memory. As far as your daughter was concerned, her father did not exist...until now.

"That so-called man is your father, Ryomen Sukuna. That is the man who drove your mother to eventually kill herself," A pause, licking her lip as she readied herself to elaborate, "Your mother sacrificed herself to protect you from him. He drained the life from her and left her no choice but to die, but she gave it purpose. She died to give you a life, a life away from him."

"I-" Your daughter was at a loss for words. Everything was hitting her too fast.

"I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping it from you. I wanted you to have an everyday life, but I should have noticed sooner or later that the truth would reveal itself and that he would present himself one day."

There was nothing to say, only to exchange expressions of fear and dismay.

"W-Well, what do we do now?"

"We run."

Taking the two charges, Makato grabbed whatever necessities they needed to start a new life. She had been planning this since the day she ran from the temple. She would admit that now, with a third party, it would be more complicated than she had intended, but they would make do.

They exited the home frantic. The smell of smoke became more potent, and the embers were closer than before. The flames became more evident as they spread. Any entrance to the main road would have been a route to death, but Makato had never planned to use that path. There was a back trail through the woods, one she had discovered when your little girl was merely five years of age.

They ran towards the thicket, avoiding as many obstacles as possible. Things were looking smooth, with hardly any disruptions. It was almost serene, but that was the issue. To have such tranquility was a nauseating notion for mayhem being at their backs.

It was too quiet to be safe.

And that is when she knew to push the girl and her lover aside, veiling their presence with her technique before everything went black.

Ringing...

Ringing...

And more ringing...

The lights were brighter, and the smoke and ash came straight from the source. She woke up coughing and gasping for air. For a moment, she thought she had been dreaming, immersed in a life that was not hers. Maybe she was waking up, back to her village, back to her parents, back to the life before she got caught in that awful nightmare.

"I am surprised that it was you, of all the women she let live." Sukuna started, looking down at what he believed to be the scum of the earth.

No, it was all too real. His voice registered through her head instantly despite not hearing it in years– at least in person. She had repeated memories, but sometimes she wondered if she had deformed his voice from years of not hearing him speak down on her. Turns out she remembered it accurately. It still managed to send chills down her spine and make her wish to be six feet under the ground.

"I was probably too forgettable for her to ever really care about whether I lived or died." Makato spat.

"That is reasonable enough, but that would not serve her memory well and rather insult her intelligence. I will say that, if anything, my Little Flower was too clever to let such technicality slip from her. She probably pitied you and your fruitless womb, so she gifted you with a child for you to care for in her absence. And knowing your broken state, she probably knew you would be eager at the opportunity."

Makato scowled, turning her gaze to the ground. How dare he speak of you in such a way. He said that as if you were on his level, as devious and conniving as he was, and claimed your actions were selfish when they were the opposite. You did this for her daughter, not for yourself. If you had it your way, you would be there.

"How old is she now?"

She refused to answer, turning her gaze back to the dirt. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of belittling her more than he already had. It was humiliating, but she still had some dignity and a promise she wished to uphold.

"What does it matter? She is dead. (Y/n) told you herself that she was gone."

A sharp pain was felt at the back of her head as he pulled her hair to force the woman to look up at him.

"Do not picture me a fool! For a woman whose last words claimed her daughter was gone, she left me the most humorous smile. I know that age of the girl, but I would rather hear from you, bitch, how long you have been holding her captive."

No response.

"Answer me!" Sukuna snarled, pulling at her scalp once more.

"Nineteen years of age," Makato smiled. Why? Do you wish to act as a father now? Well, you are too LATE! While you were out throwing tantrums, I raised her child, which you would not know how to do without being given exact handwritten instructions."

"On the contrary, you let her potential slip, and now she is nothing but another womb to breed. Unfortunate, due to the heritage of her mother and myself. However, a womb is still useful regardless."

Out of anything Sukuna had done, out of anything he had said to threaten her, that was the most horrifying.

"You are a disgusting bastard."

"Do not speak as if you can fill her shoes as if you have her confidence. You would not be in this position if you were half the woman she was."

"You are right; if I were half the woman she was, I could have easily manipulated you and have you play the role of the arrogant man with an ego so big, he does not notice the knife pointing at his back," A pause as she licked her lips, swallowing to try and quench her dry throat, "Everything that woman did was out of fear, much like everyone else; however, she knew how to tick your interest and she used that to her advantage. Honestly, I am ashamed. I only noticed it when she told me about her plan."

A twitch in his eye, he was irritated. It was known through body language and the knowledge of his nature that he wanted to tear Makato apart, limb from limb, until her body was unrecognizable.

"What? Afraid to face the truth of her decision. She could have run away with ease; she could have killed you, but both of those options would have been considered a mercy for you. She took away the one thing that you valued: herself. That must eat at you a lot."

With a swift motion, he scooped the former wife from her neck, squeezing her throat as he raised her to face him eye-to-eye.

"You are a worthless bitch who cannot even reproduce, summing you up to nothing. What is your worth?"

Nothing but the struggling breaths of the woman attempting to pry herself from this monster's grip.

"Exactly, you are worth nothing."

Darkness, wherever they were, was dark. The girl and her lover were still in the woods, alive as well as they could manage. She could only remember running into this place before being shoved into the dark area. She felt the ground around her and reached her arms out into the pitch black as she tried to navigate this strange place. It scared her.

"Makato-san? Where are you?"

No response, only silence.

It was dark and frightening, and she did not know what to do. What could she do? She could cry, so she did; she cried as she tried to find her way back. This had to be some kind of night terror. She would wake up, and she would be at that doorway, welcoming her lover into their home, eating their meal, and then sharing the news. Her lover would get her caretaker's blessing, get married, and live happily ever after, right?

Dreadfully wrong.

Instead, a hand reached out and pulled her out of the darkness. The world was still unlit, but moonlight and the flames dancing in the distance could be seen nearby; however, she was not a part of the conflict.

She was about to scream, cry for help, anything to get attention drawn to her location, but was stopped by a large palm to the mouth.

"Shhh, my love. It is only me. It will be alright."

For the first time that night, she felt genuine relief. Turning her head to see her man, she looked down at her disheveled features. She weakly smiled, moving herself to embrace him. It all lasted for a few seconds until she realized the missing member of their little group.

"Where is Makato-san?" she whispered.

The man looked down, not daring to respond. She attempted to make eye contact, but he would only look away.

"Where is she?" she insistently asked, but louder.

" I do not know; a couple curse users emerged from the woods. Makato shoved us into the ditch, and when I came out, she was gone."

"Well...Well, we must go look for her."

A grasp to the wrist effectively stopped the girl.

"No, I cannot risk losing you, and I know Makato-san would agree. She would not want you going out to risk your life to save her."

How could he say that? How dare he say that! What right did he have in this decision?

"Then you do not know her." she scowled, trying to withdraw from his hold, but his hand did not budge.

"Then why would she tell you everything had she not already predicted the possibility that she might die."

"Because... because...she needed me to know because if we were going to run away, I would need to put in my own weight by knowing our threat...yes, that was it! Now let me go!" She tried to reason, but not to him—herself.

Denial.

"It was a confession! As if she were lying on her deathbed, she confessed everything to you. She wants you to move on, knowing there are dangers like your father. She wants you to kno-"

"Well, she may not be dead yet, so we have to try!"

With whatever strength she had deep down, she broke free from his grasp, sprinting towards the village and the flame. She could hear him following her, but in her mind, she wanted to believe he was doing it because he could see her reason. He would help; she was sure of it.

She was almost there, and she swore she could see the silhouette of her caretaker, but then she found herself on the ground. It was only for a second before being lifted into the air, a hand covering her mouth as she got further from her destination.

Kicking, muffled screams, and the distant cackling of flames could be heard. She bit her partner’s hand in an attempt that he would let her go from the sudden pain, but he was resistant. He merely grunted and winced while continuing his journey back. But then there was a halt.

There she was, Makato, thrown onto the ground. She could see her in the distance. The woman looked weak but very much alive, and she was right there. The daughter kicked, shoved, jabbed, and bit even more, trying to get loose. However, her lover would not budge because although he could see Makato, he could also see the shadow hovering over the woman, the shadow your daughter was refusing to look at.

Then the shadow disappeared, and the dreadful monster emerged, Sukuna Ryomen, hovering over Makato with disdain. Watching as she tried to crawl away but failed miserably. She was fighting, doing her best, but her fate was inevitable.

Death was the only option, and death is what she got.

Ryomen Sukuna caved into his impulses, ripping her limb from limb until she was unrecognizable. The daughter watched, horrified, as the woman who raised her was mutilated to nothing but a pulp. What sort of sick joke was this? She remained silent as she tried to think of who would pull such a childish trick, watching as the image got smaller until nothing was left. Eventually, it was just a tiny yellow dot in the distance and nothing more; all she could do was look at it.

"Promise me you will live."

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe o-

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

The scream echoed through the dark room, and you tried to comprehend where you were. The walls were closing in, and the air was too thick to breathe. It felt like like suffocation.

What was this?

Why now?

Where is this?

Why is this?

How is-

"Y/n!"

You snapped back into reality, frantically looking at your surroundings to notice you were in your bedroom.

"Y/n, what happened? Are you okay?"

The silence was tense as you sat there, trying to remember your nightmare. You thought long and hard, but in the end, you had nothing.

"I...I don't know."

You heard a sigh, a hand rubbing your back, and another reaching for your cheek, wiping the stray tears you were unaware of.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight, again?"

Some of you wanted to say no, but the opposing side longed for it. You stared at the clock on the wall before you, reading the time. It was a little past midnight, and you had hardly gotten any rest. You had a big day tomorrow, and rest was crucial to get through your day. God knows the things you would do if you did not properly sleep.

Turning to your twin brother, you weakly nodded, "Okay."

He did not hesitate to tuck you under his arm as if in an attempt to protect you from any harm to come your way, to shield you from the nightmares. However, despite his presence, it was like a part of the dream appeared that you remembered but didn't at the same time.

"Do you think I'll be a good mother?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Please just answer me...for my sanity."

Your brother sighed, resting his cheek on your head as he rubbed your shoulder to comfort you.

"Y/n, I have no doubt you will make a great mother. Come on, let's go back to sleep. I'll stay here, and everything will be better in the morning."

"Promise me it will be better in the morning."

"What?"

"You don't have to hold up to it. I just...I just want to hear you say it."

"I promise it will be better in the morning."

"Okay..."

New series?? Sequel???Maybe, but first, a little break ☆~ (˃̵ڡ‘˶ )

Taglist (Thank you all so much for being a part of this series):

@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 @chariotwaves 

[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.