#tw; gaslighting

[mrgriffiths]

A request for what would it be like for a fem reader to be stalked by Terry Silver.

Thankyou.

I'm so sorry for taking this long! Only a month late O_O

𝕾𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝕾𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯

<<𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜>>

- Mr. Silver had been associated with all kinds of people throughout the decades. He's seen the good, the bad, and the in-between. Ultimately, everyone just became a means to an end. So, for a lady to catch his attention? It would have to be someone who is different than what he's used to... even in the slightest way.

- In the 80s, he's a playboy. Always seen with models or with women who have a million dollars to their name or two in the upper crust society. The kind that he'd flaunt around with the intention of showing off his status. These conquests wouldn't last more than a few weeks. He gets a rush out of just seeing the paparazzi in a craze to get the latest scoop on him all while he is fully in control about what gets let out to the eye of the public, even the 'leaked photos'. Everyone is merely a puppet in his world, and it gets him cackling at the very thought of it.

- But that's not all. Hell, it's the tip of the iceberg for Terry. He'd indulge in the mediocre bar dancers and hookers from the dingy parts of LA and likely all over the world too, the man's got to travel for business and he's got to keep himself entertained while he's at it! Women would practically fall at his feet just for a chance, a billionaire with looks and charm that could put the best models and actors to shame.

- So I'd imagine that the kind of lady that would catch the eye of Terry Silver would be someone who he'd seen whilst pretending to be a commoner, a broke karate instructor who's got a blue pick up truck that isn't in good shape. A random woman who works or lives in the area, just a few blocks away from the dojo. Probably isn't one to be seen as a fast or pretentious like himself. One who would generally be described as sweet and humble but would stand her ground if she's pushed too far. I think he'd like the challenge of molding someone to his liking while they have a fighting spirit in them. Makes things a whole lot more interesting.

- It would start off small. Him keeping an eye on you every day, memorizing your daily times of leaving for work in the morning and returning home. The route that you take, whether you walk, take the bus, or travel using your own vehicle, that would most likely be of the same value of his blue pick-up truck. The people that you interact with on the way.

- He'd hire a team of private investigators to get every bit of information about you after you seem to be stuck in his head even while he's coked out in the sauna. 'Nothings for free' there's a price that you will have to pay for occupying the thoughts of Terry Silver, borderline obsession sinking in.Your past, your family heritage, everything right down to your passport and social security number. Any past lovers and their history, too. If you happened to have a lover at the time, they'd swiftly be removed from the picture. He's all about the extremes, and no one will get in the way of him getting what belongs to him.

- Whilst you're away from home, he'd enter with the spare key that he'd seen you put under the small pot plant near the door although a mere door lock isn't something that would be hard for him to pick. Your apartment is small but clearly lived in. He'd have a look at everything you keep around, your drawers and shelves memorizing your interests. Your wardrobe and accessories will definitely get an upgrade in his home. He probably keeps something of yours for himself as a momento of you, your scent lingering on it. You seem to have not found one of your underwear in your laundry this week. That's strange...

- He'd come by and hide in the dead of the night to watch you in your natural state. Your mannerisms and what makes you feel relaxed. The type of shows you watch, the food you cook and whatever else you like to do in your spare time, your hobbies. He'd provide you with it all and more when the time comes. You'd get the weird feeling of having eyes on you, yet everything seems to be normal, and everything around is still in place. Nothing out of the ordinary. He'd even follow you to work and at the spots you chose to spend your leisure time at. Watching who you confide in and who you wouldn't associate with.

- After days, maybe even weeks of stalking his prey, Terry might come over and introduce himself to you. Just taking a walk on the street and offers to help you with the groceries one day. "Hey, need a hand with that?" All smiles and very friendly. He'd pick up the conversation easily with you coming off as innocent as possible. "Terry Silver, nice to meet you! I actually run the dojo a few blocks ahead." He'd tell you whilst offering a handshake after setting your groceries on the kitchen counter..

- That night whilst getting a good soak in the tub, he'd be on a call with John absolutely cackling about it all and going over the details of his plans for you. "Oh yeah! I'm just getting started, John!"

- Present day Terry Silver has a much different style and approach to this kind of situation. His playboy reputation all cleaned up, and the CEO of Dynatox Industries, who used to illegally dump nuclear waste, is now seen as someone who is an environmentalist more than anything. He's sober, has been to therapy, and is now associated with 'like-minded 'people. Yet everyone is still a means to an end, and he's just wearing a mask in front of these people. They don't know him the way they think they do, nothing of his time in 'Nam and certainly nothing about his old-time friend Captain John Kreese..

- It isn't likely that a woman from the upper crust would get his attention this time around either. All of these people are around him because of his money and reputation anyway.. if anything, they would end up just like Cheyenne Hamidi. In this case, it's likely that the woman who catches his eye would be someone who works for him or maybe comes around to one of his dojos. After observing you for a while during the class and afterward in his office through the many cameras installed in the dojo, he'd come to the decision that you are going to be his. There's definitely a fire in you if you have the guts to try out something like martial arts even if you don't know what it is that you're getting yourself into..

- He'd take full advantage of the presence of technology these days and find out everything he needs to know about you. Stalking your social media accounts and using all means possible to get information on you. Again, he'd have everything on you down to the very last detail. No lover or potential lovers will get in the way either. All of that will be taken care of.

- He's more direct in his approach this time, he'd come off as the sensei who's intimidating during training with the most piercing eyes in the room, but the most humble and understanding man outside of it all. He'd make you feel like you could trust him and confide in him whenever you needed to. He'd easily gaslight you into the entire situation, making it seem like it was you the whole time, and he'd be downright successful.

- He'd talk you into telling him everything about you in the shortest amount of time and have you invite him over to your home with ease. He's an old man, he doesn't have all the time in the world to play these games like back in the 80s as much as he liked the chase he would likely speed up the process tenfold. He'd have a look around your home whilst you're in the kitchen or bathroom, and he'd memorize it all. Not a sound would be heard from him. For a man as big as him, he's the quietest. You'd often get spooked by his sudden presence around you.

- You'd find yourself running into him a lot these days, but you couldn't put anything past a coincidence. After all, he's the nicest person you've come across. He's probably got your phone taped while you were non the wiser. Everything you do would ultimately be in his control without him even moving past the facade of friendship with you. Your friends and family start to get distant, but Terry is always there whenever you need it... Once a snake has you secure in its coil, there's no escape other than that of death..

[terrence-silver]

Hey could i make a request please. Terry X fem reader, her former abuser comes back into her life to torment her all over again and Terry buts them in their place and destroys them physically, mentally, financially and when it's all over they'll thank him.

Jerry and Terry.

A story of disproportionate revenge; Terry Silver x Fem!Reader in the background (with an appearance from John Kreese).

---

Jerry is a man with a common office job and the accidental assonance of their names never fails to amuse Terry.

Infuriate him some.

Jerry and Terry.

Well, Jeremy, in actuality, just another information in the long mosaic line up covering everything he discovered about this schmuck, as much personally as through his sources, not that it was tremendously difficult seeing as how none of these common civilians were ever too much of a mystery anyway, granting him immense satisfaction in the hunt nonetheless — but the punk’s name might as well be worm or cockroach, because that’s in effect what he was, leaning over Colorado Street, in Pasadena, a two hour drive from LA, the July summer air after midnight still hot, the asphalt seeming to let off steams of a searing, stifling sensation, the cool breeze blown in from the Arroyo barely reaching the isolated steel ledge secluded from the buzz of the traffic; the city long since planned to put to preventive nets over the bridge — Terry should know because he personally funded the project with a generous donation and it was hilarious how life had a weird way of falling into place and connecting in the most bizarre ways on a bridge of occasional suicides where your ex was standing, hands in pockets, staring down into the dark depths of the river below, no such net in sight just yet except for a couple of signs issuing a warming that it was dangerous to lean over the railings, nothing separating him from the flowing abyss below. Him and the Mayor shook hands on the business venture two years ago. The news even reported on it with all the adulation in the world. Terry’s picture was in the paper. He was all over the news — long enough to distract from all his other ventures. But, it was one of those urban landscaping deals that would dawn on the news and then take years, perhaps decades, to be actually realized. Meant that Jerry could jump — and there would be nothing to save him from doing so. No cameras installed for security measures just yet either. Maintenance. Terry knew, because this was Terry’s city.

Terry’s country and State.

Nobody in sight right at this moment.

Merely a narrow concrete path along the bridge for pedestrians.

Terry, the stranger, snug in his leather jacket, not minding the heat, pretending to be an innocent bypasser.

Truth of the matter was, he ruined this man’s life and he developed the progression of the slow decay all along the way with great interest and like a cat eagerly eying a moving red string, Terry’s effortlessly led him here, deliberately, right to this very place, this very spot, on this very night, on this very bridge and the guy never even realized he had no say in any of it or that none of it was an accident. Jeremy got let off of work. Accused of embezzlement. Embroidered in schemes. In debt. Reputation ruined. Social circle gone. All that jazz. All the classics. And Terry did it all. Weaved it all. And it culminated in this. Do a flip, he thought to himself, approaching the man under the headlights, leisurely, acting like someone who accidentally stumbled upon a scene he wasn’t supposed to stumble upon, en route to somewhere else, haunting the city, stopping in his tracks, behind a steel pillar, watching Jerry climb over the ledge; He could say something now. It would've been expected. A hastily thrown in 'Hey, you there! Stop!' or 'Hey, you! Don't do it! Lets talk, man! Life can be good, actually. It can be good when you're not crossing Terry Silver, that is.' Something faux-poignant. Something mean. Something mocking. Something distracting or even infuriating to bait the man into arguing rather than hurting himself. Anything, so long as it distracts and causes the man to hesitate and think twice, but it’s only once Jerry’s heel is slipping over the edge of the pipe he was perched up on does Terry act, allowing himself to smile from where he's standing, seamlessly, feeling his mouth twitch upward, watching the shadow disappear over the railing into the darkness of the night. The next day, there's a suicide report briefly on the news and you never even catch it in the whirlwind of all the other crime circulating in the media. Your asshole ex, identified by his wallet and the documentation found in his soaked interior pocket, fished out by the loading docks. Just another statistic.

-"So, what he’d do?"-

John asked him on one occasion when Terry told him of his plans.

-"Nothing much."- Terry slings his arm over his driver seat leisurely, chuckling. He didn't treat you as well as you deserved? Tried to occasional get in contact with you again and stay on, quote-unquote 'good terms'. What did that even mean? Good terms? Wasn't that enough to warrant execution? Terry thought it was. It was a crappy, mediocre relationship and nobody had to put their hands on you for Terry to be convinced that deserved payback. Not to mention --- the said entanglement wasted your time. Time that would've been better spent with him if you weren't busy wasting it with some Jerry. Revenge. Reason for revenge, right there. They were parked near Griffith Observatory, in the embrace of a forested path, all zig-zags and steep rocks, the skyline of the city visible from a nearby slope, offering them both a view and sufficient privacy to talk. -"I just want him to die."- Terry confess bluntly, nearly cackling as the words rolled off of his tongue, sensing something exciting coil around in his gut like so many butterflies, seeing no reason to hide these things from his Captain after everything they've been through together and John gives him a lopsided, paternal smile, halfway critical, halfway entertained, like he was about to throw in the talk.

-"Terry…"-

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head and Terry instantly protests.

Show mercy!? Why!? Since when were they the mercy-showing types!?

-"What? What!?"-

He finds himself whining slamming the palm of his hand against the backrest of the leather seats, feeling his own face furrow up. -"C’mon, Johnny!"- He sighs profoundly, rolling his eyes, annoyed and exasperated. This was some prime-time bullshit. -"Don’t you dare tell me that you never wanted anyone someone you loved loved before you to just, you know…"- He starts, trailing off, digging his teeth into his lower lip. Savoring the moment. -"Drop dead?"- He says it then, and it tastes so sweet, like caramel coated candy dipped in white powder. Terry knew all about Johnny nearly beating his beloveds Betsy's then-beau halfway to death on the parking lot of the Deli he worked in before the army. They were exactly the same, him and John Kreese. A Cobra doesn't tolerate competition. It's not in it's nature to. John says nothing. Almost as if contemplating that memory himself, looking off into the distance, pulling up the collar of his brown vest jacket on the passenger seat beside him, his face crinkling into a grim smile, not saying yes but not saying no either. Terry has the odd impulse to kick his feet up in the air in a flash of euphoria. -"We could always rough him up. Scare him. Hurt him, make him piss his pants and call it a day. I'm available for that."- John murmurs, the deep rumbling sound emanating from his throat recognized only as a suppressed chuckle. Terry grabs John by the shoulder and shakes him in excitement, halfway hugging him in joy. While kicking that Creature to a pulp did sound exciting it wasn't part of the plan. -"My man! Now we're talking! But, that would only martyr him!"- Terry lifts up his hands, engrossed in his own imagination. He felt more comfortable and content if this guy was just wiped out of existence altogether. Like, hit by a moving bus, perhaps. A guy that put his dick inside of you before being alive and well out there? Yeah. Unacceptable. -"No."- Terry says with a sense of looming doom. -"This is so final. There’s no coming back from it. And what’s best?"- He pauses slightly for dramatic timing, presenting the whole picture to John the way a storyteller would describe the synopsis of his newest magnum opus.

-"I’ll ensure he’ll do to himself."-

Six months into this special project and Terry never once put his hands on Jeremy. Could've. Itched to. But, he didn't. If Jerry deteriorated, it's because he ruined himself. With every drink, every cigarette and every sleepless, stressful night in tow. All Terry did was set events in motion and brought about the right environments for someone to start feeling profoundly unhappy.

-"I've put him through enough pain and now it's time to go to sleep."-

There can be only one, he almost halfway desires to add but he withholds at the last moment once he spots a shift on John's face --- that he didn't need any more convincing. Maybe it was an old habit --- an army habit --- but whenever Terry seriously wanted to end someone, he always came to Johnny first. To discuss the matter. Strategize. Get his greenlight from his Captain to go out into the field and terminate with extreme prejudice. That's how the hierarchy worked. Terry would do whatever he wanted anyway irregardless of John but he supposed he wanted to let him know. For old times sake. Reason why he invited him to meet here today. That and to gloat. -"Alright, Terry. If you say so."- John smiles that gruff smile of his, finally capitulating and Terry finally allows himself to breathe again after what seemed like an eternity of anticipation, letting himself be as jubilant as he wanted, turning the key in the ignition along with the steering wheel almost immediately, ready to get a move on, wasting not a second longer. There was a five star restaurant just down the road with their name on it. -"Of course I say so, Johnny! What I say is best!"- He exclaims, one hand on the wheel and another on the back of his John's neck, patting him triumphantly. Enough talk. Time to crack open the bottles before the big bang. You knew he was out with his oldest friend. You merely didn't know the context, is all. -"Reservations at five. Lets go grab that chow and celebrate!"- Terry practically shouts in euphoria, throwing a joyous glance at John, making a sharp U-turn. -"Ever ate a turkey stuffed with a chicken that's stuffed with a quail!?"- He snickers, knowing for a fact that Johnny would probably need everything in him not to roll his eyes at the option of orders, but regardless, he lived for treating his Captain to the finer things, just like he lived for removing each and every person from your past until nobody but him remains. Him, representing the future. -"I'd prefer plain good old bacon and some beer."- John mutters with a small, fox-like grin just like Terry knew he would, taking a relish in poking and prodding at him anyway. His Captain's wish is his command. They'd have so much to toast for today.

-"Done, baby!"-

Is all Terry says, laughing as he speeds away, down the woodland highway.

---

When you discover the news because he effectively tells you, deciding to control when and how the information reaches and that it might as well reach you from his own mouth, naturally, as expected, your mood turns gloomy. For days. Weeks. More time wasted and he despised it, deciding to immediately take you on a cruise of the Bahamas to distract you from it, but deciding tactically that you just had to ride it out. And you did. Week two on the deck of his yacht, eventually, slumped, looking out to the ocean, knees against your chest sitting on deck, you decide to speak. -"Terry, this will be such a weird thing to say."- You stutter, unsure of yourself and yet he's there, tracking your every movement and expression like a sonar radar. -"Maybe even meanspirited."- Will it now? Good. You were about to get whatever useless thing was still lodged in your system out of yourself. He's by your side, sitting beside you, looking at you intently, not wanting to miss a thing. -"But, I'm oddly glad I got out on time. That I met you."- You confess, holding back tears. Wasn't easy discovering that your ex was practically six figures in debt and wanted on several charges and that if you stayed with him, it would've reflected on you as well. Dragged you down with him. To the bottom of river Arroyo. That's what your pretty little head thought and Terry coos, massaging the edge of your scalp in gentle motions with his fingers, letting that beautiful brain below think whatever he wanted it to think. Oh, he loved you so. You were made for the greenest of pastures. For him. -"He would've destroyed his life as well as my own and I'm relieved the universe moved me out of the way when it did. That it brought me you. Thank you."- Ah. There it was. There were tears in your eyes flowing freely and you were thanking him, never even realizing you were unknowingly expressing gratitude that he effectively crapped all over your ex's life and led him to suicide. Stood by and watched while he did a triple Salto off of a bridge. The blood and the heat shoots down into his cock. How could it not? In any other situation he would've dragged Jerry's waterlogged swollen carcass fished out of the river at your feet and present it to you like a cat presents its owner a dead mouse. -"He was never bad towards me, exactly. But, he was never fully good either, you know? But, definitely not bad enough to deserve this."- Oh, Terry knew alright. It is just that he considered that your ex not being fully good towards you was a capital offense that found it's equivalent payback only in death. So, yeah. Punk deserved it.

Had it long time coming.

-"Is that fucked up and evil of me? To feel relieved I left on time? I feel so awful it's crazy! A man died!"-

A weak, nuisance man died, Terry wants to correct, but instead he settles into the act of collecting your tears with the tip of his fingers, letting none of them escape, feigning outrage, yet partially feeling said emotion in it's most genuine capacity; Jeremy died! Fuck sake, who cares! This guilt would evaporate and you'd find it fading overtime, because he'd be here to ensure it fades; there was almost nothing meaningfully positive for you to vindicate or romanticize and far too much crappy and mediocre to actually mourn or remember fondly. That was the good thing about measly, middle-of-the-road, middling, lukewarm individuals; too grey to be turned into saints and too grey to be turned into devils. The only thing one could do with them, whether one wanted to or not is to forget them. Where he could easily replace them and everyone else you ever trifled with, usurping their very vacancy and every emotion sent their way, be it good or bad. All of it. Only his. -"Fucked up!? Huh!? No way! It's not! Are you even listening to yourself!?"- He shakes his head vigorously, letting his disapproval grow visible, pulling you close, until the side of your body melts with his and you're effectively there, drying up your tears in his embrace, the open sea breeze against you. Terry grabs your face with both hands, making you look at him. -"You wanted a normal, stable life! Of course you did! Who wouldn't!?"- Terry explains, separating his gaze from you for but a second to point the tip of his nose out towards the blue expanse of the sunlit Atlantic.

[shiroi---kumo]

"I know what is BEST for you."

[shiroi---kumo]

⋆˖⁺‧₊���◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ He knew and he didn't know how he was supposed to ignore it. Every day the cracks got wider. Every day the fault lines continued to crawl forward on his chest and slither down his legs like an infection he had no way of ever finding the cure for. It's a cruel sick reality that he's had to come to face each and every time he dares to stand in front of a mirror, disrobed before a bath or catching the sight of his own reflection as he looks just over his shoulder while he changes into his night clothes.

He knows. He knows. He's known.

How do you ignore such a thing as your death stretching out and cracking over your skin? His heart is as shattered as his soul is but hearing it out loud is an all new sense of plunging into an unending purgatory where he's caught between this twisted space between life and death. Not quite dead yet but not quite living anymore either.

He couldn't call himself a ghost anymore even if the only thing his mouth ever did was speak from the graveyard of a lost civilization. It's hard to hear it. It's hard to hear that's no hope for him even if hope was that fickle little thing he only ever dared to pick up from time to time. Hope was a rose he should know better than to touch because while it looks beautiful from afar it pricks him every time.

It pricks him and the blood flows. It pricks him and the tears stream leaving the prince only able to wrap his arms around himself as he crashes to the ground in a weeping mess of shattering stability. He can't keep it up much longer. He doesn't know how much he can keep on the mask of his sanity before he shatters before them all and reveals the fragmented monster that rests just below the surface.

They - they were the only family he had left and he didn't need them to see their prince - their King as such a discomposed wretch as this. He knows Revon will hear the crying in the hallway and he doesn't know how to halt his tears before the man returns to his post. He'd sent him away for only a moment. He'd sent him away to check on the others while he took a moment to change in his nightgown before he would attempt to find rest this evening but seeing the mess that was his body had that little beast's voice echoing in his mind again.

"There's no saving you." He's said as he felt that phantom touch of the poisonous pink python that lives in his mind. Forever haunting his every move. "There's no saving you precious. My beautiful Little Cloud, this is your fault for defying me. Look at what you've done to yourself."

And he couldn't deny it. He couldn't deny that the beast was right. It was his fault for rebelling. His was his fault for daring to snap back at the hand that kept him safe all these years since he crash landed in this world. If you could call that safe. Was it? No. He knew that tortuous environment was anything but -but it was - all he knew since he landed here and if he had just kept his head down and obeyed then -

-then he wouldn't be dying like this. A dying immortal. What a joke!

Even if that little beast is half way on the other side of Wonderland he can see feel hands ghosting over his back as he holds his nightgown close to his chest unable to even get the damned thing on to cover his bear chest. He's a shattering mess and - and - and -

"You know this is all your fault, don't you Little Cloud? I warned you didn't I? I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me again, didn't I, my pet?"

And it's all he can do to stare back at the wretched picture of himself reflecting in the mirror. The warzone walking. Look at the mess he'd turned himself into and his lips finally part as the cries slow and tears silently stream over his face.

"Yes Master. "

“There’s no saving you.” 

As his heart shattered so did the strength in his legs sending him collapsing to the ground. Somehow he had known what their answer was going to be and yet he still found himself screaming in anguish.

[asmolllurker]

lol

playing the game of “Am I Hungry or am I In Pain?” Because I forgot what hunger feels like after my father and step mom gaslighting me into thinking I wasn’t and that I was just eating because I was bored and me gaslighting myself into believing that I wasn’t because I couldn’t possibly be hungry, I’m just bored!

[auschizm]

Far too much talk about how "dangerous" psychotic/schizophrenic people are. Far too little talk about how easy it can be for an abuser to take advantage of a person who is already labeled as "crazy". We're usually among the victims - not the perpetrators.

[blessed-bruises]

˚₊‧ ⊰ ⸸ ⊱ ‧₊˚

[amaditalks]

Gaslighting isn’t the same as lying.

Gaslighting also isn’t lying a lot, or lying and deflecting the lying by shaming the victim for not believing the lie.

Gaslighting is a long con. It is a practice of ongoing emotional/mental abuse, that doesn’t just involve lying, but manipulating or altering someone’s reality in order to make them question both the truth, and more importantly, question their own mental and cognitive wellbeing.

The reason that it’s called gaslighting is because the tactic was demonstrated in a 1944 film called “Gaslight” starring Ingrid Bergman. In the film, Bergman‘s character’s husband tries to make her have a mental breakdown.

He tells her that she is having blackouts (she’s not) and doing things that she didn’t do.

He steals things from her, and tells her that she lost them herself.

He makes noises in the attic of the house, then tells her that he wasn’t in the house at all.

He steals things from other people, puts them where she will find them, and then tells her that she stole them.

He puts his pocket watch in her purse and tells her that she stole it from him.

He isolates her from the world by telling her that her behavior is too erratic to be safe near others.

He encourages their housemaid to be cruel to her and to repeat his lies about her behavior.

And, to apply the title, he repeatedly causes the gas lighting (it’s set in 1875) in her bedroom to go dim, then comes into the room, and when she says that the lighting is dim, he says, no, it’s perfectly fine.

It goes well beyond just lying. Gaslighting is a setup to make the victim so confused that they’re unable to trust themselves and their own perceptions of the world around them or even themselves.

It’s beyond time to stop calling run of the mill dishonesty gaslighting.

[cupcakeslushie]

Prev || Next

Part two!! I love brains and brawn duo so much you gais.

I think one last part to wrap up this short!

[skinnylegendblogger]

this is what i look like in my dreams

[melatoninangell]

@dollykiller

[terrence-silver]

Terry getting jealous of a guy Beloved meets at a gala, or literally anywhere lol. I’d like to see him getting overprotective and angry 🤭

---

During the afterparties of black tie events, all the gamblers tend to come out.

Champagne is copious and the podium contains ice sculptures and pyramids made out of filled liquor glasses trickling down, like a sparkling fountain. The jazz is loud and blaring as nightgowns shimmy back and forth on the shiny podium. Laughter resonates across the gold lit, music-filled hall of the Ritz's lushly carpeted Banquet Room. A wooden, dark mahogany roulette wheel spins with a gaggle of curious gawking eyes following it's circular motion like a hypnotic carousel and you make yourself at ease in the crowd. When Terry tends to leave, he tends to leave for but a second. His absences as short as they can be and the presence of his vice grip, or at least the shadow of it, so poignant, that even when he's gone, you feel like he's right beside you, lingering to the point you barely even notice you joined the company of people looking at the roulette wheel and that someone was addressing you. -"Wanna help me with a lucky number?"- The suited up man next to the dealer asks, the frilly collar of his black bow tie untied and disheveled. He seemed like he had a couple of extra drinks from the champagne pyramid tonight. You aim for the political correctness of politeness regardless.

-"Oh, I'd rather not. Don't want to be responsible if you hit a losing number."-

You try, apologetically, to shake him off and being as nice as you could about it. Really, in all honesty, the last thing you wanted was to irk an inebriated man in spite of the security detour at all exits or in equal measure be responsible for him throwing money out the window at your personal suggestion. He gives you a lingering look, up and down, like he was assessing you. -"You're Silver's, right?"- He asks, slurring a little and my god, was it that obvious? Like it was stamped on your forehead. The fact is almost amusing. You chuckle. Terry would feel proud at that one, especially considering the possessive noun that was attached to the state of belonging to Silver. -"You know him?"- You inquire, more with the objective of making small talk for its own sake than anything else. -"Who doesn't, c'mon. He's bigger than the economy of Denmark."- The man shakes his head and you quite honestly don't know what to say to that, not wanting to chortle in front of a drunk man, even though, admittedly, the statement was funny was much as it was undoubtedly true. -"So? Suggestion? From a friend's friend to another friend? I can handle a bit of losing, promise."- You sigh at his insistence, capitulating. You supposed it was partially your fault for deciding to tune out from the party in front of the crowded roulette wheel table of all places, but you digressed. -"Okay, if you absolutely insist then; Black. Twenty eight."- You shake your head, managing a harmless smile, watching the man place his bet on the smooth green layout in front of the dealer. The wheel spins.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a familiar arm.

Terry's finger's sneaking themselves around your waist from behind.

-"Quit while you're ahead, Al, all the best gamblers do."-

You feel his chuckle against the back of your spine as he addresses the slightly tipsy guy and you feel instantly relieved and in equal measure, tense. Something about Terry addressing people with sayings and proverbs always carried the scent of danger about it. Like he was giving them an artificially kind piece of life advice with a double meaning before encouraging them to drink some Arsenic. -"Terry! How are you!"- The titular Al extends his hand across the table of chips and dices, shaking hands ardently while Terry's other free arm was promptly slung around you. You knew his penchant for jealousy and you genuinely hoped that you being accidentally (and involuntarily) chatted up by a drunk guy at a party full of people with champagne glasses in their hands wouldn't induce any of his envy, but watching their friendly exchange, you count your blessings. Yeah, they were probably just acquittances and everything was fine. -"I imagine it's my lucky night tonight! I had your lovely companion giving me tips."- Al clarifies gesturing at you, downing a straight shot of Cognac like it was water. Lovely. He called you lovely. You nearly bite your tongue imagining what was going on in the back of Terry's head, envisioning the grinding wheels.

His grip around you tightens seamlessly.

-"Since I see you're already introduced, I might wanna give you your next one."-

Terry's all charm and all smiles, but you sense a backhanded sort of politeness and veiled hostility in that statement, looking around the crowd, wondering if any of the energized faces focusing on the game noticed, finding they were fading into a blur of euphoria. -"Your turn, sir."- The dealer suited up with white gloves announces and you really wanted to get away from this table; while you were never a fan of chatty drunks and you made an endeavor to avoid them and be tactical with them if you could, you didn't exactly think they deserved some terrible fate befalling them merely for making the mistake of speaking to you. Terry did, though. That's exactly what worried you. -"Hit me, baby!"- Al excitedly slaps his hands together, ready for the next round. -"Oh, I'll hit you alright, pal."- Terry interjects and at that point, the alarms are off in your head. God, god, god, no, please. Nothing about those words was actually amicable or well intentioned as they seemed. You feel Terry's fingers practically dig into the fabric of your attire, squeezing. -"Red, twenty eight."- As promised, Terry makes his suggestion, leaning over to Al and dealer, taking note of it, spins the wheel. The dice turns and turns, until it lands on the wrong number and Al throws hands back, disappointed and making no effort to hide it. In fact, his emotional outburst was colorful enough to have people staring. -"Oh, man! Seriously!"-

-"Told you to quit while you're ahead."-

Terry jokes and at that point, you're officially numb with anxiety.

What was he planning?

-"Oh, brother. I need a drink. They're taking the fucking skin off my back."-

Al swipes an exasperated hand through his hair, stumbling backwards and turning around, heading for the bar, the crowd starting to whisper, alerted by his loud display of obscenities. Terry was doing this on purpose. He was, wasn't he? Smoothly talking this guy into acting out and embarrassing himself. -"What are you doing?"- You demand, furiously, whispering into Terry's ear, irked and annoyed once he responds by snuggling closer until his cheek is practically pressed against yours in a possessive, jealous display. No. Seriously. This had to stop. Now. -"The dealer owes me a favor and the owner of the establishment is an old friend."- Terry coos and of course he had connections at places like this. The aforementioned dealer meets his gaze and they nod at each other in mutual understanding and you gulp, feeling uneasy. -"He lost ten thousand dollars because of you, Terry!"- You seethe, whispering. -"So? The price he pays for looking at you like you're something to devour."- He's drunk, you yearn to retort swiftly. He's looking at everyone and everything like it's something to devour. Time's short, though and Al comes waddling back to the roulette table, a fresh drink in hand. Oh, for the love of god. Terry's arm around you is in a vice grip at that point, holding you in place. You dig your fingers into his wrist, but he doesn't budge. You swear you hear him chuckle, in fact. -"Okay, I feel hot!"- Al shouts with a newfound hope for winning and Terry strategically leans over, whispering the next number. -"Black twenty two."- You hear Terry mutter and you dig your nail into his arms, fidgeting to the side, trying to get him to leave this nonsense behind. The wheel spins and Al looses again.

-"No! Seriously!? Again!? Come the fuck on!"- He yells.

You were pretty certain the entire hall was looking at the the man at that point.

-"Terry..."- You try, silently, almost begging, regret lurching in your belly.

-"They're trying to hold an honest gambler down. You gonna stand for that, my man, huh?"-

Terry leans over for, perhaps, the third time in a row, muttering into the man's ear's, dripping in some verbal venom, and it hits you there and then, that to an outsider looking in, it must've seemed like Mr. Silver was trying to de-escalate the situation and talk the guy into calming down, but closely glued to Terry as you were, held unto by his arm, it was blatantly obvious that that meanspirited glint in his eyes was present in his hooded gaze. He was trying to make sure this man gets thrown out of here by security and blacklisted from attending future events, wasn't he?

He was annihilating what he thought was his competition, right?

Of course that's what he was doing.

Terry's hand travels discreetly south until he's touching your thigh and you, in a sense, get your confirmation. He was being territorial. -"Oh brother, the system is fucking rigged! I should've gone to Vegas."- Al starts slurring, antagonized, dropping his drink and spilling half of it over his tuxedo and hissing as a result, throwing his dice aggressively, until it bounced off of the table with a loud clank and landed on the floor. -"They don't want a self-made Industrialist making it big and scoring his slice of the American dream."- Terry quietly encourages, filling this guy's head with conspiracies and you discreetly try to nudge him in the ribs to get him to stop. You got it, okay? You got it! He didn't like people having your attention even if it was for all but five seconds, but this has gone on for too long, with your attempts interrupted by a suited up security detour interrupting he drunken ruckus and placing their hands on the man's shoulders with the intention of leading him outside of the venue, getting his attention with a diplomatic Sir, please, we'll escort you. -"Oh, fuck you, man! Don't touch me!"- He shouts, slinging his shoulder backwards at a futile attempt to throw hands as the security grabbed him, fully willing to drag him, if need be. You cover your mouth with your hand, unable to look at the scene, feeling all of this was your doing. You fault. All of it. Silently, Terry's finger finds your chin and tilts it back, ever so gently, where the gesture might've been mistaken for affection, making you look. -"Let me play! I've a constitutional right to win! The same as those old money Wasps do! Get fucked!"-

The shouting escalates and soon fades.

He's pushed down a back exit somewhere down the corridor.

The hallways echoing with his cussing until it promptly disappears.

The whispering and chatting in the grand hall continues, waiters making rounds.

The gossip making just as many around the stacked bar and the smoking joint.

Terry undoubted got his wish; getting rid of someone who was in your sphere.

Didn't even have to move his tiniest pinkie to achieve that.

-"You did that on purpose. As revenge over him just speaking to me."-

You state the obvious, your voice low and sour. His hand finally lets go of your waist and instead sneaks a feel of your lower back and posterior. You click your tongue, swiftly moving away from the damnable roulette table before he can get too handsy, because the last thing you needed after that circus is him getting horny too, atop of everything, even though you felt it was already too late for that. Him merely influencing someone getting into trouble like this was often enough to get him going, like an aphrodisiac. -"Don't wanna talk smack about him, but old Al's always had a bit of a gambling problem. I had no idea he had a violence problem too."- Terry feigns sympathy peppered with the cutting edge of mockery as he follows suit, behind you, ever the gentleman, adjusting his lapels, his nostrils positively flaring with mirth, leaving you with the only slightest trace of anger in his tone, subdued and buried under layers of sarcasm, coming through like some sort of venomous thing. -"If it puts your mind at ease, I'll have Milos send him a 'Get Well' fruit basket the minute we're outta here."- Terry promises and you were certain he'd do that solely as some sort of elaborate victory dance over some gambling drunk. Worst of all, he'd seem like a nice guy for it. -"Schemer!"- You practically spit when he grabs you ass again and his arms take hold of your shoulders, spinning you around to face him the second you reach a secluded hallway, his eyes close enough to reflect your face back to you like a mirror. -"Oh, deep down, you know you liked it."- He taunts, purring, bearing his teeth in a shark-like smile.

-"You love it when I scheme and don't get caught for it."-

[shiroi---kumo]

In connection to ( 1) | (2) | (3)

⋯✧・♪♫♪・✧⋯ The sound of her voice filling his ears is the fastest way to ruin his perfect day. His absolutely perfect day. He thought it couldn't be ruined. He thought there was no way to make this day awful. He just had mid day meal with Sydän, Terälehti, Valo, Aamunkoitto and Aqua and on his way back to his classroom he was brave enough to lean in and steal a quick kiss.

They'd had a date last week. They were moving into first names. Aqua was staying over more often. Giving him more of his attention outside of working hours. They had an hour sat aside just for napping and purring. He had friends. He had a bond and if he was lucky Aqua would say yes when he asked him to Mix Mist with him but he needed to find the time to ask.

His parents not him. Not yet. He had Terälehti's permission. He needed to ask Sydän next and then somehow he would figure out how to meet with Aqua's parents to ask for their permission to mix mist with their son.

He wanted it more than anything, so the sound of Syksy's voice in his ears was like nails on a chalkboard as she exploded.

"I can't believe you!! Did you seriously think you'd get away with that?! You're doing exactly what you were told not to, Sitriini."

And he doesn't think he can groan loud enough as he lets his eyes roll to the back of his head and then back again as he makes sure he is plenty aware of where Liekki is in the room. Syksy is perched at his desk again in his fucking chair and he really wishes she would keep her slimy ass self OFF of the furniture.

"Do you want me to do it again? Did you not get a good enough look, stalker?"

He watches with pleasure as pink eyes narrow at him and he is careful to listen as Liekki takes a step forward from his position at the middle of the room.

"Do not test me, Sinfonia. You won't like what happens if you keep pushing back like this. You're being unreasonable. I tell you to keep them away from Usva and now you're making friends with them, and going on dates and kissing that pest."

And he can't say he knows what comes over him in that moment but instead of his usual apprehension and fear that would fill him. Instead of his usual all consuming dread his lips are tugging out into a knife like smirk behind his mask and citrine eyes shine back at her with a wild look in his gaze.

"Oh. Oh I see the problem. It makes sense now. You didn't need to tell me that and I think that's kinda private but if voyeurism is your fucking kink who am I to judge? Is that why you've been stalking my ass all these years? Did it at least get you there? You've been watching me for so many years I'd fucking hope we at least accomplished something by now. You want me to kiss him again? Isn't going to bother me but I think it's kinda rude to watch."

"Why I NEVER! How DARE you?!"

"How DARE I? How dare YOU! You came into my house, Syksy. Don't forget that. I don't care if you are co-binds. I was born here, you two clowns are just guests. "

"You can't talk to me like this!"

"Why? You're in my classroom, sitting in my chair, at my desk all while wasting my fucking time. I'm not in the mood for your bullshit today so either get the fuck out or make your fucking move."

Her eyes narrow at him as she growls, looking back to her companion.

"Do something." She urges the other man in the room as the musician turns to face with the same wild look in his eyes and raises his fists.

The look the other man makes is largely unimpressed.

"I told you once, I'll tell you again. I'm not afraid of getting physical with you Liekki."

"You could hardly defend yourself when Sielu broke your nose and we both know how these interactions normally end."

"Normally, so let me make myself perfectly clear, asshole. You get one free shot, make it count."

And the elder swings, clearly missing as the musician does the one thing he's never done in any of these interactions before and he dodges to the side with a grace and speed he shouldn't possess... should he?

His right arm winds up swinging back and forward all in one blinding motion striking the elder so hard in his jaw it makes the man of toxins recoil and stagger backwards.

"Never mind I lied. Put your fists up, Doc. I'm done playing with you."

And the two of them turn into a mess of hands and fists flying towards each other. Both missing and landing blows until the doctor manages to get musician by the neck only to slam his back against the bookcase spanning the wall to the ceiling. There's a jerk and a cough at the impact and he can feel the way that massive grip is wrapping around his neck threatening to choke him out if he doesn't do something. Liekki's already taken him to the floor and he needs to think -

So he's reeling back his right leg and kicking his attacker in the stomach hard. He coughs, jerks, releases his hold on the musician's neck as he's forcibly sent flying backwards and into the coffee table in front of his couch.

"GET OFF ME!!"

His hand is his neck as he coughs and his opponent starts to scrape himself off the floor just as well. He knows he doesn't have the time for this and his chest hurts but he doesn't have the luxury of saying "enough". He won't stop until either he lays him out or the asshole has put the musician on the floor, so he's swaying as he stands. He's swaying as he drags himself back up from the ground, but it's all he can do as that asshole is coming at him again and he has to focus.

He has to focus no matter how much pain he's in and he has to remember. He's done this a thousand times, and he's letting memory take over as he hears Tuulta explaining the motion to him in his head as if it's the first time he's been asked to this.

He was fourteen and Taivas and Tuulta wanted to give him more ways to defend himself when he was unarmed. What to do if an opponent is bigger than you and they had Helakan volunteer as tribute for such a lesson. They were only three years apart but his brother was already so much bigger than him so it served as the perfect lesson.

Let your opponent throw a punch, square your hips, in step, turn your body and use the motion to throw them straight to their back.

He's sure he practiced the motion with his brother a thousand times and it taught them both. It taught him how to protect himself and it taught Helakan how to fall.

So even as Liekki swings, he's going over the steps in his mind. Square your hips, evade the blow, in step, turn his body, and both his hands are raising to take the larger man by his arm only to flip him over his body and slam him down straight into the floor.

He can see the dazed look in his eyes as he lays there and it's then that the musician takes a moment to look around his classroom. Books all over the floor, shelves broken, coffee table busted and a picture frame full of broken glass barely hanging from a nail in the wall.

Still he's raising his hands back up with fists balled tight as his whole body falls to tremors. His chest is screaming and he can't take much more of this. His face feels hot and his hair feels sticky. He won't lie and say that one eye isn't burring in and out but they don't need to know that.

Liekki is dragging himself back up from the ground as Syksy finally fucking does something as she's up and rushing to her companion's side to help him up and help him fly out of the balcony to the right of the room.

His knees buckle as soon as they're gone and he's collapsing to the floor. His whole classroom is a disaster and it's now that he can see the blood on the knuckles of his right hand from when he punched that bastard in the mask. His hand went numb as soon as he did it, so he couldn't feel how much that was going to hurt later.

He doesn't have the strength to deal with this, so he's digging his phone out of his pocket. He needs to - he just needs - he's so dizzy. Telling his hands to do anything is hard when they're numb. He just needs to say something. Anything at all....

( phone text: "help" )

His phone falls out of his hand when he hits the floor. His chest hurts too much and he's so dizzy - he thinks maybe he'll ... take .. a .. little nap.

[angelyuji]

SOME MOREEE YANDERE PINES TWINS THOUGHTS

stan pines thoughts and professor ford pines??? HOLD ON LET ME COOK

18+!!!!

tw // yandere themes, gaslighting, manipulation, power imbalance, pervy uncle lowkey, also lowkey bimboification, noncon (not explicit)

professor ford pines!!!!!!!! known to be the eccentric professor who goes on tangents about trans-dimensional physics and other science junk, but also superrr lenient grader like no possible way anyone could fail his class. you’re def teacher’s pet type and he’s definitely aiming to make you a TA. always getting you involved in weird experiments, but you’re always down cuz ur there to learn! ford invites you to his house, you guys hang out outside of class and research, you’ve met his brother!! like u knew it was getting weird, but at the same time…. you need a good rec letter. so one day you guys are in his office at his home, grading papers…

“(y/n).” ford calls your name, sternly. the lights were dim and quiet classical music played in the office. you hum and turn to him. before you know it, his chapped lips press against yours. you push him away, scared and surprised.

“professor, what the hell are you doing?” you try back away, but ford grabs your hand.

“i think you are one of the most brilliant minds i know and i want to be with you, (y/n).” ford stands, pulling you into a hug. you push back, stumbling away from him.

“no, i-i never thought that! i thought we were just friends!”

“but, i invited you to my home.” ford’s face saddens, “you met my family…”

“i never… i never realized…” you felt embarrassed for the old professor. you take a step back. you can’t see his face, but you watch his fists clench.

“i suppose that means you’re okay with losing your job, as well as any opportunities in this field.” his voice was low, words drenched in anger.

“no…. no, no, no, professor you can’t do this to me.” your heart feels like it was being ripped out of your chest.

“no, i can’t, but who will you tell? who will believe you? i am a respected scientist in our field, (y/n). think once more on your decision.” ford looks at you, a smug smirk laying on his face. you don’t respond, knowing that you had no other choice. you step back to him and he pulls you into a soft, loving kiss. his 5 o’clock shadow scratches your face. “now, please (y/n), call me ford.”

stan pines who had known your dad when he lived in texas and saw him again in gravity falls. stan pines who gets invited over to meet his friend’s family for dinner and sees you. a cute, little thing in their early 20s. stan’s instantlyyy enamored. you’re so cute and respectful, explaining how you’re living at home while you work and save money for a house, blushing when stan compliments you, serving him food first. you were acting like a perfect homemaker and stan was instantly obsessed. your dad’s gonna tell stan before he leaves that you’re all moving somewhere cheaper:

“yeah, pines, we’re moving some time soon. you know how it is with retirement and the market going down.” your dad sighs, wearily. stan nods, trying to listen to your voice in the house. “can’t move till (y/n) finds a job though. its gonna be tough on them especially with how hard it is to find jobs these days.” stan perks up at his words.

“y’know, (y/n) don’t have to quit…” your dad looks at the older man in confusion. “my grandkids have gone back to california, shermie’s grandkids technically, so my attic is open for them to stay in. they can stay at their job and you guys can move.” stan offers, fighting a giddy smile.

your dad clasps stan’s hands, “stan pines, you are the kindest man i know.”

stan for sure acts like a feeble old man around you to get you to take care of him. like cooking dinner, doing laundry, and more. he conditions you into acting like his stay at home partner. he starts making advances, subtle at first, to see what you would tolerate. soon he’s dictating what you wear and bending you over on the kitchen counter to make sure you stay full :) (dont get me started on somnophilia cuz i have thoughts on those but idk if u guys are ready for the things im gonna say)

here are those thoughts i was talking abt… :))))

[candiid-caniine]

my favorite thing about denial is the opportunities for mindfuckery. gaslighting and emotional manipulation, in particular.

"if you want to cum so bad, why do you get so wet when you're denied?"

"you came just now. yes you did. are you such an edged-out slut that you don't remember what it feels like? i know you came, and i didn't give you permission, so now you're in big trouble."

"but your hole feels so much better when it's denied. don't you want to make me feel good?"

"if you could just stop touching yourself so much, maybe you'd be able to prove you deserve to cum."

"every time i tell you 'no,' you get wetter. i don't care if you don't believe me, i can feel it."

"your orgasms are so special for me, and i don't want them to lose their specialness. don't you want to save them for special occasions? if you just cum all the time, i'll get so bored of it..."

"if you won't give them up for me, you don't really respect me."

"only sluts cum every day. do you want to be a slut? because i have no problems treating you like one."

"when you stop being so pathetic, maybe i'll let you cum."

fuck. when they say shit like this to me,,

[hamoodmood]