#tw: cult
Text
★Mind Break☆
Cult Leader! Tenko Shigaraki x AFAB! Reader
You should’ve known better than to run from the devil.
WARNING: This work contains depictions of psychological, physical, and emotional torture. Cult ideologies/problematic religious themes will be present throughout this writing, and will include nonconsensual and dubiously consensual sexual content. Abuse, violence, murder, sadism, and blood used even in a sexual context will be present. This story is not a romance, and depicts unhealthy obsessions and mental illness caused by psychological breaks. I am not going to tag this work further. By reading this work, you are agreeing that you understand it will include morally conflicting content and sexually explicit material which can be considered extreme. Read at your own risk, and enjoy. ♡
It wasn’t always like this.
You shift, abhorring your inability to function properly anymore, trying to make your body comfortable despite the freezing temperature having numbed your muscles into lead.
The metal bed chained and hanging off the damp stone walls seemed to inject ice into the very marrow of your bones. Was there even a point to it?
You distractedly listen to the soft scurry and skitter of mice. That was the point of it.
Everything hurt.
Your eyes burned with unshed tears, face blotchy and swollen from the last round you’d given into.
It wasn’t like this before.
Sure, you’d occasionally slip up, and you’d get a swift smack on your ass for causing trouble. Where was that treatment now? It changed when he stepped up. When Father Shigaraki passed the torch to him, your life became a walking nightmare.
Your chest constricted, eyes shutting despite no light illuminating your surroundings as memories flooded. The throbbing in your skull becoming a fist pounding to get out.
When you’d finally gotten old enough, you’d left the compound. Ran away from everything you’d ever known and loved. Your instincts had screamed at you to get away. Tenko had become a man you could not withstand, because despite his treatment towards you, everyone loved him. They had hailed him as the next great leader and prophet, saying that he’d bring them to greatness and no one would’ve believed you. He was hope in the dark world for your community, and that was the sign which showed you that the only way to survive was to distance yourself as far as possible.
You stayed hidden for nearly five years… you truly thought for a moment you were free. You thought he’d forgotten. That your past would let bygones be bygones.
You were sorely mistaken.
You clenched your teeth as the loud sirens began, the noise so sharp and painful it made your head nearly break.
You could only weakly curl up, mind so foggy and disoriented you didn’t hear anything but a constant buzzing tone in your ears as the siren waned into silence again. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve slept. Food was brought but it was merely pushed through a hole at the bottom of your metal door. You got two meals a day, bread and a watery vegetable soup.
The sharp pounding on the door cuts through the tinnitus and has you scrambling off the bed, muscles screaming in protest as your skin splits under the jagged earth you’d thrown yourself onto. Tattered clothing not helping the painful friction as you dig your bare feet into the stone and pushed yourself against a wall.
You weren’t fully cognizant, but as the heavy lock turned, you whined as warm light crawled into your space, nearly blinding you despite the dullness.
“Poor thing…,” his voice was raspier than you remember, more gravely in depth as he chuckles, looking down at your pathetic form curled and shaking.
“How’re you doing my little lamb?” His humor isn’t disguised in the least, his glee at seeing you vulnerable and weak for him obvious as he grins.
He tracks your bloody hands weakly hugging yourself, your bottom lip trembling as you look up under your lashes with those teary eyes he adores so much.
Your small pink tongue dips out to lick your lips, his dark garnet eyes watching intently.
“M-m’cold…” your voice is tiny, hardly audible.
His boots thump loudly as he walks towards you, ignoring how you clearly tense up and attempt to mold yourself into the wall to get away from him. When he’s close enough to nearly touch your bare feet with his boots, he crouches down, resting his forearms on dark denim as he tilts his head with a soft expression.
“Tell me lamb, was it fun out there?” The light against his back blanketed his pale skin in warmth, “Did you have fun in the big wide world, running around, dirtying yourself like some common whore?” You flinch as his tone grows in severity. Blurry vision looking at a familiar yet not face.
He has a scar on his lip, one which hadn’t been there before, crossing straight down.
He was still a beautiful man, the scar even seeming to add a masculine charm to his otherwise somewhat pretty visage. Soft purple rings clung beneath his eyes though, making him look softer somehow. He looked like he’d slept about as much as you.
You stared too long.
You can’t react when his hand shoots out and curls around your neck, fingers and rings digging painfully into your flesh as he cuts off your oxygen cruelly. Your fingers grasp at his wrist and hand, futile in their attempt to pry his death grip off your throat as you slowly suffocate. The pinch and pull of the jewelry he wore was breaking the delicate skin and making it more slippery as blood flowed.
He’s rambling, but it sounds like you’re underwater and he’s above the surface, as if he’s speaking another language.
Tears pool down your cheeks, rivers running freely like your blood as your face begins to take on a sickly dark hue, veins bulging in your face and eyes popping wide from their sockets. A few blood vessels bursting in your left eye.
Just as your vision goes dark, he lets you go.
Your coughing fit which followed nothing glamorous or cute, sputtering and hacking as bile rose but nothing came out. Your throat burned like someone forced you to drink gasoline and swallow a lit match, dropping over to your side by his feet and clutching where he’d left bloody indents.
“Pfft, you haven’t changed at all… I’m glad honestly.”
His boot connects with your side, merciful in the amount of strength exerted but still painful in your weakened state. You sputtered, nearly choking again on your saliva as you tremble and struggle to draw in air.
“No one is going to save you lamb, no one even wants to. When you ran away, you died to everyone here, everyone but me,” you can smell the leather of his shoe as he lifts it and brings it to your head, pushing down until you literally croak. “You should be grateful I’m showing so much grace to you lamb, the others suggested I do much, much worse to rehabilitate you.” His voice is snide while your heart wars with his words. He’s lying, he had to be.
You could only cry though. Sniffling beneath his boot as he lifted it off you, eager to look at your face.
His smile is vile, you note as your tired eyes flick up. He looked nothing like the messenger angel Father Shigaraki had dubbed him before his passing. As your tears blurred his pretty image… he looked like a demon from hell. A beautiful monster.
You weren’t sure what he even wanted from you, what it was he truly craved, but you wanted the pain to end.
Your palms scraped against the damp gravely floor below, finding a somewhat good position to lean your weight on and push your body up, even as your blood created an imbalance due to the slickness. Tenko let you, watching as your head hung in defeat lowered even further, chin tucked to your chest as your knees slid up. When you got to a semi-kneeling position, one hand steadying you on the ground, the other… the other reaching out and gripping his pant leg.
Those red eyes widened a fraction, watching intently as you look up at him from your spot on the floor.
His heart rate increased, pounding in his chest as he drank you in, lips twitching as his teeth ached. He didn’t stop you from using him as an anchor and rising up enough to sink your other hand into his pants too.
You looked like a dog begging for a treat, and his cock throbbed in agreement.
You remembered the degrading title he used to force you to call him when you were younger.
“M-Master…” it was almost inaudible, your sweet lips struggling to even form words after the abuse he leveled your throat.
“Master please…” even as your tears continued to fall, face ruined and messy, he laughed. Deep and boisterous, he nearly doubled over as he bared his white teeth.
“Fuck haha! You—!, okay, alright, what do you want little lamb, hm?” Once he calmed down enough, adrenaline high as he stares down at you with a renewed sense of vigor, he spoke.
He leaned down a bit, cupping your jaw and smiling deeper when you cringe and flinch, but still don’t pull away.
“Go ahead, you got my attention now.” He says it almost benevolently, but his eyes were impatient.
It hurt to swallow, your mouth having gone dry as you parted your lips.
“I want to be forgiven… I’m sorry…”
He lifted one sparse brow up. “Yeah? You’re sorry?” You nod, jerky and short as your neck flames up in pain.
He straights, tapping a finger against his lip in a gesture of consideration.
“Okay little lamb,” he snickers, “I’m willing to forgive you and let you leave here, but you need to be cleaned first.” You perk up, eyes finding a hint of light as the prospect of relief is dangled in front of you.
“Yes, anything please,” you gasp, desperation bleeding into your voice.
That’s why it takes you by surprise when his hands drop and begin to calmly undo his leather belt. Fingers steady and sure as you blankly watch him unbutton his jeans, and shimmy them down enough for his fat leaking cock to spring free.
“Well then, we can start by cleaning this filthy mouth first.” His eyes are closed as he grins, pearly canines on display and distorted features resembling something inhuman.
“T-Tenko…?” His hand not holding his cock swiftly sinks into your hair, easily dragging your face closer so he can slap the hard rod against your soft cheek a few times, the smell of him warm and bitter, contrasted by the damp cool air around you. “That’s not what you call me, is it lamb?” He doesn’t sound angry, but when you look back up, he’s dropped his cock and raised his hand.
The blow is more sharp than it is brute force, your head held in place by his other hand to avoid you collapsing and hitting your head on the floor.
Your cry echoes weakly. Face inflamed as your jerked right back to his groin where he smashes your injured cheek against his dick, rubbing it in as he groans.
“You need to be retaught manners too it seems, but we’ll just stick with a simple cleaning today.”
He’s speaking as if discussing a mundane topic like the weather, scolding you like one might scold a child in school. His tip rubbing and spreading pre-cum and tears across your face as you calm down from the pain he assaulted you with.
“Open your mouth.” He’s not asking but you obey and part your lips.
He holds a lot of your weight up by your hair, watching in fascination as his swollen mushroom tip rests against your bottom lip. His engorged meat rod looks insidious against your face pretty, thick veins protruding from the angry red of the skin, long and thick but tapering towards the tip a little where it curves up. He lets his hips tip, the tip entering your warm wet cavern, lips opening wider as he sinks about a quarter inside.
Your face scrunches, likely due to the sensation and taste of him, little tongue moving languidly against the underside of his shaft. He curses, bucking his hips a little more and arm exerting force when you attempt to pull back.
You whine around him, hands trying to push his hips back but too weak to prevent him from sliding out and doing it again.
“That’s it lamb, I’m just cleaning your mouth, relax~” he chuckles, Tenko’s grip in your hair tightening painfully as he begins testing your limits with depth and speed.
“I wouldn’t have to do this if, fuck, you just stayed home where you belong like a good girl,” he moans, your teeth accidentally grazing his cock but it seems to spur him on rather than flinch in pain.
“Shit, that’s it, go ahead and bite if you feel like dealing with a concussion, I’ll break your skull on this floor happily.” He’s sneering down at you, loving the fear which enters your gaze as you now struggle to open wider and avoid such a fate. It only helps him work his cock deeper, into your throat where you almost scream due to the blinding pain.
His earlier damage still too fresh as he loses it moaning, your slobber and blood now coating his cock and bringing delicious friction as he lets his tip tease your raw throat. His balls tap against the under side of your chin, his white pubic hair nearly tickling inside your nose as he tries to fit all of himself inside your mouth.
The noises you made would make any normal person stop. The painful howls muffled by his cock and stuffed back down your throat, his speed increasing as his balls drew tight.
“Have to keep you clean inside and out lamb, so you’re going to take every drop—,” his teeth are grit, grinding together as his orgasm washes over him, hot ropes of cum gagging and suffocating you again as he lets his cock rest inside your throat while he finishes. You don’t feel the cum, only him twitch as he empties his load into your belly.
Your eyes stare blankly at nothing. Dark spots dotting your vision even when he pulls out and pushes you off him.
You land on your side, wheezing and clutching your throat again as you blink away the darkness threatening to consume you, your adrenaline keeping you awake as Tenko crouches down beside you again.
He’d redressed, looking unfazed with a healthy pink hue to his cheeks now.
“C-can I leave now…?” Your voice doesn’t even sound like your own now. Each syllable grating on your damaged flesh.
“Why the fuck would I let you leave?” His words nearly stop your heart. Icy dread replacing the burning.
“Y-you said…” your eyes leaked, face showing your absolute shock and disbelief.
He laughed, standing up again, shoving his hands in his pockets as he smiled down at you.
“I lied.”
His lips tug higher as he leaves, locking you away again even as your wail echoes woefully throughout his hideout.
Invisible needles stabbed up your knees, waking you up more than the blaring white light.
You wanted out, away from this migraine inducing brightness, but all you could do was pray.
As a child, you’d preferred to sleep or pass notes around rather than be immersed in devotional. You wished you paid more attention, because only God could save you from this hell.
You flinched, startling yourself as shadows stretched and danced around the walls, despite the fluorescents preventing such things from being cast.
Your arms wrap around yourself, kneeling and hunched over as the visions continued even when you closed your eyes. Faceless dark creatures trying to pry into your mind as you scream, the noise bouncing back and slamming into your sensitive eardrums, breaking you from the moment.
They were gone, your weary eyes tracked, licking your dry chapped lips and imagining how nice it would be to have some sort of lip balm or lotion.
Your head bowed again, lips running through carefully memorized prayers as events from your past unfurl like a blooming rose. Each petal a fractured piece you try to suppress and fail, the voice of your therapist so distant now since you’ve been home.
Deep breathes led to panic attacks and unconsciousness, the faces of family and friends skewed into wicked distortions you struggled to differentiate between dream and reality.
Tenko remained vivid in your memories though. You grimaced, as it was likely due to the pain he inflicted in your youth, which seared into your subconscious as a warning for any future interactions. Humans rarely touch a hot stove twice.
You shake and tremble as time drags on, murmuring scripture from memory as best you can to ask for grace, pleading for your safe release.
Tiny patters catch your attention, eyes blinking open and staring at a small mouse. Soft tuffs of light brown fur, the little creature might’ve invoked disgust and fear before your capture, but now only bland curiosity filled you.
It scurried around for a while, sniffing at the metal tray left by a thin hole on the bottom of the door, looking for crumbs it would not find.
It was… abhorrently cute.
You returned to prayer, until your evening meal arrived and was silently exchanged, your eyes catching not even a glimpse of skin.
You shuffled awkwardly before the tray, decorum gone as you eat with need for survival instead of enjoyment, eyes steely and swirling almost violently as a tiny squeak draws your attention down.
The mouse. Tiny pinpoint dark eyes and a little pink twitching nose face you.
You should kill it. It likely had diseases or something else, it’s better of dead but…
Something inside prevents you, and instead you drop a few crumbs of bread.
It was all you could spare. The little creature isn’t wasteful though, eating with gusto unlike you as you watch in mild amusement.
“If you like the food so much, we should switch places,” you whisper jokingly, the mouse ignoring you in favor of licking and sniffing out even the most minuscule piece of food left.
You finish your meal too, however unsatisfying and unfulfilling.
Your eyes close shut even though the light disallows you any proper rest, mind shutting off like a device to power down.
Your hazy brain reboots at the sound of footsteps some time later, obnoxious compared to the ones belonging to the one in charge of food delivery.
Tenko, your brain unhelpfully supplies. You don’t want to see him. You want nothing to do with him or this compound anymore, but your body was beginning to associate him with more than just pain.
He was warm, physically speaking at least, and the skin on skin contact left you reeling with comfort you didn’t want to receive from him. He’s a lunatic and a psychopath, and you loathe him like none other, but the terror of him is equal to the hatred.
Your new friend abandons you as the locks turn, your eyes trailing up from the ground to watch as the door slowly swings open, revealing the man who haunts even your dreams.
“Hello little lamb, did you miss me?”
Each wobbly step felt like treading over broken glass.
You could hardly stand, legs truly unused to the feeling as you’d given up your mad pacing in favor of protecting the damaged soles of your feet.
Not anymore though, as the hand tangled in your locks jerked you onward, using your hair almost like a lead as you stare at the filthy floor you traverse on, destination left an anxiety filled mystery.
“Come on little lamb~ we’re nearly there,” his soft cooing voice makes your insides revolt, twisting and causing you to stumble.
At least he’s there to make sure your face doesn’t hit the hard surface of the ground, oddly powerful in his lean physique as he simply holds up your weight and pulls you along side him.
He’s merry and cheerful, whistling occasionally as he strolls as if through a friendly neighborhood park and not some type of underground dungeon only found in medieval theatrics.
Your eyes trail back at the light smattering of your blood on the floor, wearily looking as far ahead as you could in this half crouched position.
It was dimmer out here than your cell. The blaring alarms replaced by white hot light that seared your mind awake and deprived you of sleep further.
Out here the shadows danced. Your eyes fearfully taking in the monsters beginning to crawl off the walls and towards you, just out of reach though, as if Tenko was holding them back.
That scared you even more.
A new room came up just at the end of the hall, a shorter distance than you’d felt it was.
He hauled you forward and threw you inside before dim lights illuminated the space from an antique switch on the wall.
There was only a chandelier in here, you noted before the breath left your lungs on impact with the ground, side blaring up in pain as you lay still.
Your eyes widen, pupils dilating as strange staticky figures moved about the space, the room swirling like a whirlpool of colors before you were yanked up and out of the fever dream.
Tenko was humming some sort of hymn, his deep timber almost soothing despite his violent manner of dragging you towards a small in-ground pool.
A baptism pool, with steps leading into the shallow water with a metal railing for assistance, likely for the elderly.
Your vision seemed to jump back and forth between the water being a dark blue and bloody red, unintentionally jerking in Tenko’s hold.
He seems to misinterpret it, “It’s okay lamb, I’ll be baptizing you tonight, washing the sins of the outside world which tainted you away.” You want to bark at his delusional little speech, to roll your eyes or do something, but you’re silent like a doll in his hold. Weak. Pathetic. Worthless. Powerless.
He lets you drop, in favor of scooping you up bridal style in his arms, your filthy sorry figure truly in need of a bath you’ve been denied thus far.
He’s not the least bit repulsed, seeming even thrilled to hold you close as he smiles his pearly white canines at you.
“Look at you, being so good for me. I almost want to reward you,” he chuckles, face calm and even as he takes you both fully clothed into the shockingly cold water.
He doesn’t even flinch.
You’re unable to do much else but gasp, curling into Tenko’s warm chest as chills immediately wrack your body.
Once he’s about waist deep, he extends his arms and lets your feet sink down, one hand spread between your shoulder blades and keeping you up.
Those red hued eyes truly seemed to manifest evil, the dim lighting not dampening the color’s vibrance. He looks like a malevolent angel.
“Are you ready? You’ll need to hold your breath for just a little while I recite the passage.”
Something inside is trying to worm itself out past your lips, begging you to speak up, move away, not trust him.
You can’t seem to remember exactly why as you nod numbly.
Until his free hand raises up, pressed against your chest just under your collarbone and caging your upper body between his hands.
His smile is almost serene.
Then you’re submerged, just barely enough time to hold your breath while the chilling liquid around you wakes you.
Your eyes blink open despite the chlorine burning them, seeing him through a strange mirage now, lips moving and canted up.
Your chest starts to hurt after ten seconds. Then it’s a somewhat urgent need after twenty.
At thirty your instincts take hold and you struggle, air being pushed out meanly by his hand as he applies pressure to still you.
It’s impossible though, you need to breathe. You need it with urgency as your feet kick out, arms coming up to fight and remove his grip, but he just keeps you under. The adrenaline wins though, finally pushing him roughly so you can come up for greedy gulps of air, choking and sputtering while the rooms spins and nausea grips you.
“You didn’t even last a minute lamb,” he remarks offhandedly, and your near drowning reminds you why he is to be feared like death itself because his next move is to grip your throat, the other tangling back in your hair while he smiles down at you, face cinching unnaturally tight as he leans over your panting trembling figure.
“How about this? If you can last a minute, we’ll stop.”
Liar, your heart and mind roar with passion, but your survival instincts demand you do so because it meant life or death.
He doesn’t prepare you this time, sinking you under while his laugh filters through the water into a muddled tune as you fail to even last thirty seconds this time, clawing and biting like a wounded animal as your vision begins to go dark and lungs threaten to shut down.
He yanks you back up, just enough time to gather in air before you’re plunged again, vision beginning to fade as those horrid shadow creatures emerge, almost playfully as you dance around suffocation.
Your mind is playing tricks, these devils aren’t real, not when the one above you is flesh and bone attempting to end your miserable existence.
You’re dragged to the surface again, fighting for freedom from the death grip which holds you in the water as you lash out, a war cry almost deafening to your own sensitive ears.
It’s impossible to tell how long it goes on, your will for survival being challenged by a soul deep exhaustion, finger nails soaked in blood from scratching at his arms and even his bared skin around his throat and chest.
He’s content to watch the inevitable. The moment when your mind releases the concoction of chemicals to ease your death peacefully, because it could fight no longer as he repeatedly drowns you.
His eyes gleam with wicked joy, pupils enlarged as he pushes you beneath the water again, you’re thrashing so much more futile despite how you still struggled. You still wanted to live.
It’s inevitable though, when your vision goes dark, creeping in at the edges and swallowing your sight hole as a painless numbness washes over you.
You begin to hear again first. Strange warbled noises and hissing. Your foggy mind is content to drift, light as you feel rested and freed from the confines of agony which plagued you like a disease so long.
It sounds pained, the noises, the strange squelching and smacking not connecting as you languidly listen and try to decipher what was occurring around you.
Your vision returns next. Slowly, as if not to frighten you, your eyes begin to take in more and more light. Faded blurry shapes and colors becoming clarified into a full picture you could actually make out.
You were on the ground, this floor tiled like you’d see around a public pool. Face resting down as you looked at a familiar baptism pool which began filling your mind with dread.
The water was rippling, your eyes noting that the room was rocking.
Feeling came back last. You felt the chilly air slowly prick at your wet skin and hair, teeth sensitive as you felt your body rock, pressure and numbness beginning to fade into true feeling. Your hand was out stretched and dipped into the water, as if he couldn’t be bothered to fully pull you out, the cool liquid somewhat refreshing as your skin felt hot and feverish.
A blooming white hot pain in your rear caught your full attention though, body too weak to even manage words as you lay limp on the ground, realization dawning as full frontal clarity strikes you like a branding iron.
“Awake?” He muses, hand moving to press your face back down when you attempted to lift your head, not bothering to lessen his crushing weight as you choke and heave. Your eyes can only widen further, looking up at the mirrors which acted as a backdrop to the the pool to see your body and not recognize it. Not recognize you. As if this was all happening to another as he grunts, the hot iron rod which continued its path inside your taunt previously unused sphincter as you groan low in your throat like a wounded animal. Your own native language foreign in your mind as it goes blank to only focus on the mirrors.
His pretty face screwed up in pleasure, his tongue nearly hanging out his mouth as he pants and works his hips against you, more of a struggle to fully sheath himself inside your bleeding rectum due to the lack of preparation he’d done. The stretched ring of muscle inflamed as he lets a drop of spit hit just above it and slide around his cock as he grips your hips.
“You have such a tight little ass—fuck—,” his head drops, hair falling into his face as he watches you take him, pulling out occasionally to see how wide he’s left your abused asshole.
“—p-please—,” you brokenly whimper the words, still unable to fathom why this all was happening. What did you do?
It didn’t matter, not when his thrusts were getting rougher, thick cock spearing you and nearly tearing you open as he grunts and moans above you.
“Keep begging lamb, I want to hear it,” he chuckles, and your vision becomes blurred with tears you can’t even wipe away. Too tired and hurt. You wanted to sleep again.
He doesn’t like your unresponsiveness though, bucking hard and digging his knees into the ground to scoot you up.
You shriek as he pushes your torso back into the water, hand tangled in your hair as he cackles now, deranged expression lighting up at the break in your stoic facade.
“I-I’m sorry—!” Your voice is broken and raspy as you cry out, hands trying to keep him from pushing your head back into the water as his cock begins slamming inside you aggressively.
Blood, spit, and his earlier load he’d jerked and shot over your unconscious figure frothed at the base of his cock as he sinks inside you.
“Start begging lamb!” He moans as you tighten in fear and panic, senseless babbling too quick and jumbled for him to truly appreciate.
“Tsk, that’s not how you beg—fucking idiot,” he sighs, ruthless as he shoves you beneath the water again. Enjoying your futile struggle as your hips jerk and work his cock with delicious friction inside your rigid hot walls.
“Fuck yes, tighten your ass slut, that’s it!” He’s close just from watching you struggle.
Your eyes are open, staring at the bottom of the pool as he abuses your hole above the surface, oxygen deprived and delirious until he yanks your head up.
He moans loudly when you cough and sputter water out, the suction of your walls driving him wild as his thrusts become more jerky and uneven.
“O-oh God please—!” You can only sob for mercy, praying to be saved from the purgatory that is Tenko Shigaraki.
“Yes—! Pray to me baby, because I. Am. Your. Fucking. God.” He growls and punctuates each word with a merciless thrust, pushing you under one last time as he grinds his groin against your soft rear and pumps his load deep inside.
Bleary eyes blink open to dim lighting, seeing a familiar cell from the position of the metal bed.
Your head ached like it might split open any second, but your soul felt the most damaged.
You could only whimper and whine as you sat your stiffened body up, muscles screaming in protest as you stood before collapsing to the ground below.
It was a miserable reality as you dragged yourself over to the little toilet in the corner, attempting to relieve yourself but only finding the water saturated with murky red and clots.
The little sink difficult to use as a wash station, as you cup the icy water, for once grateful for it, and let it wash down your battered form.
It took what seemed like forever to clean away the evidence of him, but as you looked around, you realized blandly there were no clothes for you anymore.
What you’d worn to the… baptism, had been stripped in your unconscious state. He didn’t seem to feel like returning the tattered rags.
You crossed the room, laying beneath the metal bed now, content with just sitting with the low hum of aches inside and out of you. Curled on your side, you sit and watch the door in the dim orange glow of the lights.
They turned off the white fluorescents, which meant the noise would come soon.
It did, not long after that thought, the wailing siren began as you numbly looked ahead, no longer flinching at the noise.
Hours seemed to pass before your food arrived, which you crawled towards, content with eating on your stomach as you rested.
It was the familiar squeak which granted your friend the favor of seeing your face.
Your little mouse came just on time for… whatever meal this was. You hardly paid mind to it, throwing a few generous crumbs for your mouse like a gracious host.
“You should feel honored mouse, this is the finest bread they serve here.” Your giggle is slurred as you bite into the stale bread, mouth dry and the baked good only acting as sandpaper.
You finished it all though. Your mouse not one to be beat either, leaving no trace of the crumbs you’d left for it.
You smiled, content to watch it skitter about, before it curiously moved closer to you.
Then a little closer.
Then it was sniffing your finger, flinching back at first when you lift it, but coming back anyway as you softly pat its tiny head with the tip of your pointer.
“Am I all you got down here…?” You imagine those beady little eyes filled with intelligence and understanding.
“That’s okay. We can stick together.” It’s whispered like a sworn secret.
You let your eyes fall closed, trusting mouse not to attempt to nibble on you while you slept.
You awoke with a jolt, heart beating wildly in your chest as shadows rampaged around the room, the sound of the siren wailing as you try and scramble away from the chaos.
They were everywhere, trying to grab you, actually grabbing you, your scream of fright falling on empty halls as you struggle with your sanity.
Your legs kick out, arms thrashing as you attempt to fight off these morphing demons, hazy mind fighting for some sense of reason despite the madness.
A clawed hand reached at you from below, your palm instinctively coming down to smack it away in your panic.
The siren ends, and with it, the shadows seem to disperse as you pant and try to catch your breath, dizziness and fatigue weighing on you as your fingers rub together and feel something… stinky.
Your heart stops. The world seems to as well.
“Mouse…?”
It’s not real. Yet the little brown clump of fur and dark blood and guts could only be the dead body of your tiny friend.
“Mouse— I-I didn’t mean it— wait, why?!” Your shriek echoes, blood on your hand streaking your cheek now as you wail in anguish, careful to lift up the mangled corpse you’d crushed.
You did this. You hurt it. It was your fault.
It felt like you were being shattered. Screaming until you couldn’t anymore, coughing up blood from your raw and abused throat, clinging to your cooling friend as time became irrelevant.
Food came and went. You didn’t touch it. You didn’t know how many trays were given and taken away without a single piece touched, but it finally summoned him.
Heavy boots were your first clue, eyes still following shadows of little mice dancing around you.
The door opening changed the direction of your gaze as Tenko stepped inside, face impassive this time as he looks at you.
His presence invokes the tears which bubble and spill down your cheeks, quick to crawl on your knees to him like he was your last salvation.
“Please—,” your lower lip wobbled as your scratchy small voice broke the silence. “She’s hurt… I hurt her… please…” and he watched.
Watched the lovely little angel he adored lose her wings and fall to the depths of hell where he ruled.
“Shh… it’s okay, I’m here. Let me see,” he crouches down, smile soft and soothing to your frayed nerves, one hand moving to tuck a matted and tangled chunk of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t seem the least bit repulsed by the decomposing mouse corpse you held. Eyes focused and attentive on you, as you cried and confessed the sin of murder to him.
Like he was your God.
He wrapped you up in his arms, carrying you out as you sobbed weakly for mercy and forgiveness… for the little mouse and for your crime of harming it.
Your face buried in his neck, breathing in the scent of bleach and chemicals like it was fresh air.
You were curled up in a ball, rocking yourself comfortingly as you trembled in fear before hallucinations so real you weren’t able to differentiate anymore. Shadow monsters haunting you at every second except when he was around, trying to crawl into your mind and destroy you completely.
Your hands ran through your hair, clean now as Master had been returning nearly everyday to bathe you with him.
He should be back soon.
You glance at the bed and clean living space, somehow so foreign and alien that you feel terrified of even laying on it without him.
You hum a familiar hymn, counting the seconds until these demons are cast out in his presence.
Your soft skin is naked and bare, but the room is warm despite phantom goosebumps raising.
The door opens, boots muted on the fluffy carpet, strolling towards you with ease and grace as you unfurl and crawl towards him.
“Little lamb, did you miss me?” His cherry red eyes sparkling with amusement and mischief, glossy white hair swept back save a few strays which framed his face.
Your smile is genuine as you nod, “Welcome back Master.”
He watches you with immense satisfaction, your skin and hair healthier now that you’ve been rehabilitated and given proper nutrition and care.
You sit perfectly still, nude body on display for thousands of eyes. The solemn atmosphere disallows for embarrassment as Master speaks, voice carrying his message and voice of God for the people.
“With this sacrifice, let our sins be washed in blood!” his arms spread wide, the cheer of the church deafening yet you move not a single muscle.
You don’t watch, even as the muffled screams become gurgled sounds of drowning.
The sacrifice had to be a damned sinner, one Master deemed better off sent to Heaven early. Dying for the church like this meant even though they were unclean, they could still find salvation through their death. It wasn’t anything new, even as a child you’d witnessed such things.
You cease useless thoughts, eyes trained on him.
He caught your gaze, eyes crinkling as he grins before winking.
They smear the freshly spilled blood over you, hooded masked members wordlessly carrying out the ritual.
“Now the blood of a virgin needs to be spilled…” he murmurs for heads to bow, prayer beginning but you don’t close your eyes, staring out blankly as iron burns your nostrils.
Your skin painted with the blood of a sinner, laid dead on another alter, which you let yourself skip from staring at.
The prayer finishes as Master rises, turning his attention on you as he walks your way. His clothing is all white, current appearance similar to a saint as he approaches.
“Little lamb,” he smoothes a hand through your soft hair with affection, bright red eyes nearly glowing as he leans close, undeterred by the blood coating your cheeks, lips, forehead, and major portions of your body. “Are you ready to be slaughtered?”
A chant in the crowd begins. Hummed at first, building in volume, the words ominous. “Lamb for slaughter.”
You briefly wonder if you’re next, just like the man they’d gutted next to you.
You nod anyway. It hardly mattered whatever he chose to do with you.
Your eyes still widened in surprise as he pushed you gently to lay back on the alter, as he climbed up as well before his people watching with heated gazes.
Master grins, looking sinister and beautiful as he licks his lips and addresses the masses.
“I shall now make the virgin bleed,” you don’t question him as he easily spreads your thighs open, leaving your slit on full view for the crowd and his own eyes.
“Be good for me lamb, I know you can do it,” these words are hushed and spoken just for you, as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. The action is soothing, and you allow your muscles to relax as you watch the crowd with a mixture of emotion.
Were they real or shadows?
You jolt as you feel something hot and wet prod your vaginal entrance, looking down to see Master had freed his heavy thick cock, erect and leaking from the dark red tip as he pumps it with his free hand a few times.
Then he lets the soft warm tip slip through your folds, parting them to press.
It takes immense force that leaves your chest heaving for air as your finger nails chip and break on the marble alter, body wracked with the intense desire to cringe and pull away.
You stay still, as he grunts pushing into your dry walls, essentially digging his cock inside your cunt to burrow deep.
You’re hardly breathing anymore, face frozen in agony as he stuffed you with each searing inch as you grit your teeth and endured.
The chanting was muted by the muddled noise in your head, like water in your ears, as tears slid down your cheeks.
He pulls out completely once his tip kisses your cervix. His cock coated in a sheen of your blood, though whether it was actually your hymen or the tearing of your vaginal walls was not important. It was the symbolism.
He lets his people take in the sight of you both, feeling pride swell inside him as they grow wild with excitement, moving to close in around you both now. The elders stayed back, their robes and masks in place as they continued the chant while the younger and common members touched and groped your trembling body, smearing the blood and even moving it down to your slit where you jerked a little.
“Be gentle with my lamb, tonight, I make her my wife on this auspicious occasion.” His teeth are sharp and glaring as he smiles, your eyes watching as if behind a screen.
What day was it? You wondered oddly, curious why you couldn’t recall it at all.
Master begins disrobing, shamelessly revealing each inch of his lean muscular build for all eyes as he falls on you again, this time caging your view in to only see him.
Your eyes connect, his alight with joy. “Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you stupid tonight.” He whispers in your ear, too low for anyone else to pick up on, using the position to lick the shell of it as you moan at the strange sensation.
He uses one arm to stay propped above you, letting the other move towards the hooded hard nub just above your slit, pressing softly and rubbing circles as electric shocks of pleasure zap up your spine. Your toes cramp as you try to straighten, but his hips smashing against you ass he sinks into you again stop your movements.
Your eyes widen in shock.
It doesn’t hurt at all.
It’s strange, the fullness still heavy and different, but the sting and ache are gone as he uses the blood of that scapegoat as lube to fuck your pretty cunt.
Tenko laughs as your eyes glaze over, face already showing the euphoria as he works your clit and his cock slowly into you, taking his time this round without the necessity of injuring you.
His gaze even gentle as he almost lovingly fucks you, the terrified expression on your face amusing at the very least for him.
“Relax lamb, we got the pain out of the way, just keep your legs spread for me and I’ll do all the work.” He assures, and like always, you fall for it.
He works you both to climax quickly, chuckling as you clamp and seize around his cock helplessly.
Your hands gripping at his shoulders as he leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue in your mouth for a filthy kiss that leaves you light headed and pliant as he hardens again inside you.
You glance down wearily, his hips grinding back into you as his finger works your clit again.
“Let’s feel so good we both want to die.” Those red eyes seal your fate.
“Tenko! Stop breaking your toys, I’m not gonna share mine if you do.” Small childish and chubby hands grip at his own, tugging the toy owned by you from his grasp as he eyes you with disdain not matching a child his age.
“I have to break them.” He rolls his eyes, picking up the disfigured doll he’d “fixed” given to him by his previous family. The ones before his Master Father Shigaraki took him in.
“Why? That’s stupid.” You retort, obnoxious as you try to hide your dolls as if he even wanted them.
“Because if I don’t break it, then how is it even really mine?”
Post dividers/@cafekitsune
A/N:
I hope you enjoyed this piece! It was very self indulgent if I’m being honest~
#dark shiggy material#tw: noncon#tw: violence#tw: dark content#tw: cult#Tenko bnha#mha Tenko#Tenko Shigaraki#quirkless AU#Cult Leader Tenko#Cult Leader Shigaraki#Shigaraki Tomura x reader#Tenko Shimura x reader#Yandere Shigaraki Tomura#yandere tenko shimura#yandere shigaraki tomura smut#yandere shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura smut#mha tomura smut#bnha tomura smut#dark tomura shigaraki#bnha smut#mha smut
381 notes
·
View notes
Text
hello, darling, youre safe with me now. — @cultmaxxing is my main.
welcome to harmonism.
i am your leader and all powerful god, sent down from the skies above to absorb the hate in the world. you wouldn’t like if it happened to you, would you? :-)
i’m cakey, but that is not my name to you anymore. i am only to be adressed as the great harmony, as i bring harmony to a world which would be tainted without my balance.
you, however, are not a name to me. you are never a name to me. you will simply be a number. you are my dolls. you will worship me, imitate me, become me. your life will revolve around me, just as it is meant to me.
my ideals are not strict, but you will fall into line eventually. i am a radqueer, but anyone is allowed under my watchful eye. i promise, youll be well taken care of.
i am both twelve and twelve hundred. i am mentally and physically disabled (autistic, adhd, bpd, npd, schizoaff bipolar, heds, and fnd.) so i have all the time in the world to give my dolls love.
my rules are simple. worship me. follow my ideals. become my projection in your body. i will try my best to be nice, but bad dogs are punished. i consider myself pro: all paraphilias, consang, all transids, all queer labels, all types of kinning, all plurals, ship, fiction, self diagnosis, muds, being a crazy fucking nutjob, and anti: CSEM and CSAM, abuse of any kind, harassment, etc.
join. you know you want to.
join. you know you want to.
join. you know you want to.
# ⌒🍰 BLOG
# ⌒🍰 REBLOG
# ⌒🍰 IMPORTANT
# ⌒🍰 NEW MEMBER
# ⌒🍰 LINKS
# ⌒🍰 ASK
#fult#fultist#fult leader#tw cult#cult tw#tw: cult#trigger warning cult#cult trigger warning#transharmed#transharmful#transharm#rq 🌈🍓#rq community#radq#radqueer community#rq please interact#pro radqueer#pro radq#pro rq 🌈🍓#rq safe#rqc🌈🍓#radqueer safe#radqueer#radq safe#⌒🍰 IMPORTANT
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
kool-aid: the zenith of society
It would be just her luck to be in one of the biggest cities in the US when the world ended. Everyone knew about the Colorado town that had fallen ill & then there was the chemical spill in the Mississippi, but people forgot about the 1st & of course, the government claimed to be fixing the 2nd tragedy. Next, the country fell sick. When other countries reported that their citizens were showing similar symptoms & dying, it became clear to the public that there was a problem. It was like all the other international crises: conspiracy theories, celebrities making social media posts, public service announcements...
Until certain people got powers & 75% of the world had died. All of a sudden, the global panic that already existed skyrocketed. Los Angeles definitely was impacted, seeing as how there were fires, looters & screaming everywhere. The hospitals were filled to capacity. & Jas needed food. She & her roommates had been sharing their last few snacks & bottled water (thank goodness they'd stocked up when they had), but then it turned out that Adrienne had been sneaking out to see her boyfriend (despite their quarantine agreement). Suddenly she was sick. Nancy followed soon after, since they shared a room. Jas tried her best to stay in her room, unable to fly out to see her parents (not like LAX would be safe anyway). Two days later, she realized she was hydrokinetic when she took a shower.
Anyway, Jas had packed a backpack with bottled water, a small First Aid kit, two books, a handheld notepad, all the cash she had left & her phone charger (actual cellphone held in her sweatshirt pocket). She had read about some kind of government or volunteer (unclear which) convoy going around, trying to help survivors by providing clean water, transportation & food. It was supposed to be going through the city, a 20-minute drive from her apartment.
Well, after getting into a car crash that sprained her non-dominant wrist, she had to walk alongside the freeway. She ended up in whatever area, tired but proud of herself. & all of a sudden, someone was poking a switchblade in her face, demanding her stuff. Jas froze, tears streaming down her cheeks as she quietly pleaded with them. Her powers couldn't help her; what were a few tears supposed to do?
@meepiedeepie
#jkw: thread#apocalypse rp#tw pandemic#pandemic tw#meepiedeepie#toxic relationship tw#tw: toxic relationship#cult tw#tw: cult
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
hey guys i may be running a fult but PLEASE… SOMEONE TELL ME TRYLY NASTY AND TOXIC FULTS I CAN BE APART OF SO I CAN TRANSITION
#tw cult#tw fult#tw: cult#tw: fult#pro rq 🌈🍓#radqueer safe#rq community#radqueer#rq safe#rq please interact#rq 🌈🍓#rqc#rqc🌈🍓#pro radq#transharm#transharmed#transharmful#⌒🍰 BLOG
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
youtube
Here's a documentary about the cult I was raised in. My dad started listening to this guy in the late 70's before there was any end of the world prediction but things slowly got more and more extreme. What you're seeing in the documentary happened when I was about 25. At that point I didn't know anything else and my life felt like it was not my own. We were not allowed to doubt the prediction and were so isolated, hiding in plain sight. I started deconstruction in July 2011 and was later diagnosed with Complex PTSD. Unfortunately, this documentary focuses on the adults who were what we call first gen (even the college student). Those who are recruited and not born in, but us second and third gen survivors are out there. Our stories are just as important, but this gives anyone who is curious an idea of how ordinary people can get trapped in a cult. There are still children trapped in the offshoot of this cult and I hope they can escape too.
#cult#cult mention#cw: cult#tw: cult#family radio#harold camping#not star wars#bounded choice#cognitive dissonance#Youtube
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Training, pt 1?
Please Read the Warnings and Tags Before Continuing, Thank You.
Media; Game + OC (Nightfall)
Pairing; Hisa + Leo
Tags; @nightfallgame
Warnings; kidnapping, cult behavior and speech, tentacle rape, drug use(aphrodisiacs), religious talk(related to the cult behavior), mentions of lactation, Breath play/choking, mind break
Notes; Under the cut for length. Idk when part 2 will be out lol. I found I had a tiny bit of trouble writing Hisa, but I'm not sure why? I can usually write tsundere-type characters pretty well, so idk what's happening there. Maybe it's his specific brand of tsundere-ism
Leo smirks at the boy squirming around on the concrete ground, naked and tied up tightly with rough red rope. The black haired boy is lying on the ground on his side. "My, my, Hisa Igarashi," Leo drawls, gaining him said boy's attention. He lets out a strangled screech that's muffled by a gag. "You know Hisa, this is a first for us. This is the first time The Manic One has chosen someone outside of the cult to bless," he explains, strutting around to grab at the handle on the back of the rope harness. The boy screeches as he's hauled up into a sitting position. Hisa’s eyes widens as he looks up at the man looming over him. The redhead laughs, “Curious, are you?” Leo’s already figured out how to get the poor boy, hook line and sinker. “In fact, you could become the blessed one. We’re in desperate need, truthfully. Our beloved god needs someone pure to bless, only the purest, and simply no one else will do,” he monologues, paying close attention to how Hisa reacts; he’s still apprehensive, but his red eyes scream hope and a bit of pride. He’s been leaning in towards Leo the whole time. He wheels around and kneels down in front of Hisa.
Leo gets close enough he can feel the boy's breath on his face. Hisa tries to pull away, but Leo stops him. “I’ve heard of you, from that monk. Always singing your praises about how pure and good you are. A perfect little angel, right?” He sings, watching as the boy inflates and tries to sit up straighter. “Now you can see why you’ve been chosen for this. Oh, but where are my manners? Our esteemed guest and you can’t even speak!” He fakes his surprise and realization. He unties Hisa’s gag and the boy gasps and sputters. “Well, at least you’ve seen how important I am!” He barks out. “Of course you’re important!”
“If I’m so important, then why not untie me and give me back my clothes?!”
Leo sighs, “You still don’t understand, do you? We need you here, Hisa. There’s no way the monk would’ve let you come with us! He wants to hide you away from people that desperately need your help. And he couldn’t come with us anyway, he’s not clean enough. Not pure enough, he’d ruin everything. In fact, I’m toeing a line by being in this room with you! I’m not as pure or clean as you, either. The Manic One tolerates me enough to allow me to explain things to our blessed-to-be.”
“Explain things? And blessed-to-be?” Hisa blurts out
“Right, I haven’t explained a damned thing, have I? How idiotic of me,” he clears his throat, “We, The Children of Mania, care for our beloved deity. By caring for and feeding him, he purifies us. He cannot receive our prayers on his own, however; he needs a conduit. To do this, he tells his followers to prepare the purest among us to give to him. These people, we call the blessed ones. After his blessing, they can never be tarnished! Some have said he helps them reach a state of nirvana--”
“Feed him?” Hisa asks, interrupting. “Ah, right, I glossed over that, didn’t I? Yes, we must feed him. As I’ve said before, he can’t do this on his own. We give our sins to the blessed one, who receives it on our lord’s behalf. He consumes our sins and impurities through the blessed,” Leo pauses, giving him a second to process this, “If you receive our lord’s blessing, you’ll become impermeable. You’d never have to worry about someone robbing you of your purity, Hisa. You’d play a huge role in sustaining him and purifying the others as well! Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”
Hisa’s silent, absorbing the information. The temptation in the air is palpable. “Fine then, since you idiots can’t seem to do it yourselves, I’ll help you. You’re useless without someone to purify you, aren’t you?” He states after a moment, cocky. Leo suppresses his sly smile, “Perfect! Before I present you to him, I need to prepare you. You’ll need to remain tied for this; it’s part of the process, you see.” Hisa nods as he pulls away, remaining sat up straight. Leo flits away to a shelf off to the side and rifles through the cabinet. It gives the smaller boy time to look around; the room is remarkably dark, he can’t see the walls or a door. The only light comes from a candle in a holder on the floor some distance in front of him. He can catch glints of gold, shimmering with the candlelight but he can’t figure out what the structure is. Leo appears in front of him suddenly with a tiny bottle. There’s a small amount of liquid in it, which shimmers with the light as well. “Open up for me, Hisa,” He sings, taking his chin in his hand. Hisa hesitates before opening his mouth. “Don’t spit it out, now, swallow it all,” Leo says as he pours it into the boy's mouth. He gulps it down, shivering as it slides down his throat. It feels like it coats everything it touches on its way down, like oil.
It burns when it hits his stomach and spreads quickly, touching every corner and crevice in him. He lets out an involuntary moan while Leo laughs. “Feels good, huh?” He teases. “What’ve you done to me?” Hisa exclaims. “It’s a simple drink, to open your mind for our lord,” the redheaded man says with a smirk. He kneels in front of the boy, setting the bottle down. Hisa’s body is almost feverishly warm, radiating it outwards. His tiny cock is hard already and painfully red. “So cute~” Leo murmurs, grabbing it between his pointer finger and thumb, making him moan again. “St-stop!” He wriggles around, trying to shake off his hand. Leo simply ignores him, carefully jerking his dick. “This is preparation for The Manic One, Hisa, I need to do this. This won’t ruin your purity, if you’re worried about that,” he finally says. Hisa curses and mewls and moans while Leo jerks him with two fingers until he’s leaking pre. “He won’t like you if you can’t hold out a bit longer,” he tells the boy with a scolding tone. Hisa looks up at him with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. He withdraws his fingers, earning a pitiful whine. “Already such a little slut, missing my touch~”
He stands, picks up the candle and walks towards the oppressive darkness. “You can’t just leave me like this!!” The ravenette screeches. “Oh, I won’t leave you here, Hisa,” Leo responds, illuminating the darkness and revealing the thing Hisa’d seen; a large, fully enclosed palanquin decorated with gold. Leo grabs the handle on the door while chuckling, “Prepare yourself, Hisa. You’re about to meet a deity~” He pulls it open. The inside looks endless, like he’s looking up at the night sky. Leo sets the candle down, out of the way. He approaches Hisa and roughly grabs onto the rope harness, dragging him towards the palanquin. Hisa fights back on instinct. “Stop that, you petulant child,” Leo scolds, pulling him up to stand. He grabs his arm roughly, holding him in place in front of the endless void of the palanquin. He starts to untie Hisa’s ropes, letting them drop uselessly. As the ropes are untied, squelching sounds can be heard from the depths of the void. They get a bit louder each second. Writhing pink tentacles worm their way out, slithering their way from every angle and reaching for the doorway. Horror rises up in the bottom of Hisa’s stomach, he’s so tempted to try to run. Leo squeezes his arm as a reminder that he’s being held firmly in place, “Face our lord with courage, Hisa. Fear taints your soul and corrupts your mind.”
A slimy tentacle finds the warm skin of Hisa’s thigh. It wraps around his thigh and wanders upwards. Several more take hold of him, circling his ankles, wrists, legs and arms. Leo lets go quickly and backs away. “Have fun, Hisa! May The Manic One show you no mercy~” he calls. Another tentacle slinks its way around Hisa’s neck and lumbers towards his lips. With undulating motions, the creature starts to drag him into the palanquin. He opens his mouth, ready to cuss this thing out but doesn’t get a single sound out before the tentacle thrusts into his mouth.
When he’s inside, the door closes, leaving him in pitch black. Hisa whines against the tentacle slipping its way down his throat. It’s pleasantly slick and seems to fit in his throat perfectly, throbbing enticingly. He swallows involuntarily and milks out a liquid not unlike whatever he swallowed before; it coats every inch of his mouth and throat thickly and sticks and burns. It’s entirely tasteless and the tingling sensation is almost addictive. By now multiple tentacles are clinging to him, caressing and groping him while leaving slick trails in their wake. Two are wrapped around his abdomen, closing in on his perky little nipples. One pinches his left nipple painfully, twisting and massaging it. The other tentacle shivers, then splits open four ways and closes around his right nipple. It sucks greedily like it’s trying to milk him and only sucks harder when it finds nothing coming out. He lets out a moan, sending vibrations through the tentacle lodged in his throat. Several more tease at his hole, spurting out copious amounts of fluid. One wraps itself around his petite dick, jerking him roughly. Hisa can feel this thing pulling at him until he’s spread out in every way and he feels like he’s suspended in the air. He cums, all too easily. He screams, shivering through the pleasure of his first orgasm. Right at the tail-end of it, one of the creature’s tentacles thrusts into his tight ass, making him scream again. It’s not gentle in the slightest, treating his poor hole like it’s taken more than a few cocks before.
Each thrust makes lewd squelching sounds, which echo in the emptiness. The other tentacles still tease his asshole while he’s getting fucked, like they’re trying to push into him as well. Squeals, moans and groans are forced out of Hisa, though they’re muffled and awful gurgling and choking noises come out as well while that damned thing uses his throat like a fleshlight. The Manic One is relentless, quickly breaking the poor boy down physically while it whispers into his ears;
You’ll find true purity through debauchery.
Let yourself go, Hisa.
F̵̡͈̯̦̟̯̦͉ͧͧͫ̎̐̃̊̆̿̍̚iͣ̓̕n̵͉̯͕̳̘̍̍̿d s̹ą̵̭̖̣̘̗̝̹̺̲̬ͤ̏͐ͩͫͯ̎ͨ͆̀̃͡͠l̈́v̧̧̰̹̖̮̪̻̜̭͖̈́̆ͩͭ͐̔̔͐̀ͤ͑̓͟͟a̴̲̻̼͈̘̪͔̜͒̓͛̄̌̅̋ͩ̏̋̂ͤ̀̂͘͠t͕͇̥̺̠̲̣͇̂̾̀́͂̌̊į̷̵̬͉̭̫̣͈̲̃̈̋ͨ̆́ͥ͂͒̇͠o͚͙͈̫̼͍͉͚̮͍̫̓͑̇̂̍ͫ̉͑͗ͧ͘̚̚͞͝n̤̭̟͔̝̠̤̂̅͆ͣ͗ ţ̷̨̛̘͕͎̼̀ͭ̒̏ͧ̔͟͞͞h̴̛̫́ͯ͒ͤͩͦͯ̈̕͜rơ̟̯̻̗͓̲̜̪̻͊ͧͬ̇̌ͫͦͤͥ̌ͬ͋͘͟ͅṳ̸̦͉̝͂͐̓̋͊͒g̎h̶̷̷̨̢̝̞̥̘̜̺͈ͪ͊̒̓̌̀͐̐̈́̚͜ l̴̻͓̼̅̌̀̀̿̍ǔ̫̬ͤs̷͍̳̬͛́͑̓̃̏̈́̆͑̐͌t̡̩̝̩̥̤̫͖̺̬́̀̆̂͌̊̊̓͒ͭ̚͠ an̂̏̓̇ḑ̶̛͕̳̲͎͚̗̼̭͆̉̆̈̆͆̇ͤ̋̂́̓̉ͣ̕͡ d̴̡̩̱̬̬̺̳͕͍̤̫͆̇̊̇ͭ͐̔̎̍̔͗̕͠ȩ̵̛̛͔̗̫̮̖̞̳̹͐̾̓̏ͤ̂́̑̌̋ͤ̿ͫ̀̕v̴̸̱͈̻͔͌͊̊ͮ̒͂͟͡ͅi͇̮̮̫̮̮̫͙̫͆͐͋̾̑̎̏͢ą̴̧̣̞̬̰͙͇̬̰̲͙̪̫ͦ̆̎̊͗̿̓̉̐͋͂͘͝ͅͅṉ̜̉̈ͯc̴̡͍͓͇̙̙̭ͬ̒͂́̒͒̈e̘̱̾.
#citrus scale#lemon#dark#writing#oc#tw: cult#OC: Leo#tw: kidnapping#tw: noncon#tw: rape#tw: tentacles#tw: lactation mentioned#tw: breath play#Nightfall Game#tw: religious talk#tw: aphrodisiacs#tw: mind break
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lore Theory #1: Beliefs
Tw: for talking about cults, mentioning cults, talking about religion
I feel one of the most ignored aspects in the game is Ennioch, the backstory of Gnosticism, the religious undertones, and the fact that Andrew Allen himself confirmed that there is a parallel within those with Mortimer and Owen-
After watching the MS I immediately associated a lot of religious themes and subjects as I had some time being involved in the church and served for some time (I had no choice. I am agnostic btw) I had some familiarity and actually experience some of the doubts and questions regarding faith and such.
This actually goes in hand with Owen canonically being considered a God and that phrase Mortimer says about no one being able to strive with their God keeping them.
Also, Riley was called an atheist for not believing Owen was her "father"/creator, which pretty much makes blatantly clear that the puppets are not Owen's actual children but his creations as He's basically God.
So, seeing this tweet and thinking of the religious aspects, made me think about this question:
Do the puppets have an actual religion?
I am not sure, but I think the game has some undertones that probably could incline that there might be it. This is my take on Daisy's phrase:
"A family that prays together, stays together."
I don't see this as a clue of the puppets being related because of a nice little thing called "Show Don't tell" exists and the game pretty much follows it. This phrase in particular feels more related to a religious environment. Something that you would hear in a church or well in a cult as there are religious undertones in some cults (E.I. Jehovah Witnesses, Jonestown.)
I did ask some people and a cousin in how would they take the phrase, and they do agree it has more of a religious connotation than a family related one. This is obviously up for interpretation unless the devs say otherwise.
For the sake of theorizing, I'll be leaning more towards this being a religious theme within the Midnight Show itself (I also don't think the puppets are related so yeah-)
I guess the closest thing to what a religion is for the puppets would be the concept of what is a God to them and the themes involving Gods as Owen is the equivalent of what is a religious entity (mostly Christianity) to our world. He is basically the creator of all things the Puppets know and the one who created them and brought them into a purpose.
Not to mention Atheist puppets are a thing in the game, so I suppose this would count as a religion in the game as there are some mentions of religion in the game (my friend Stich told me she does agree with me in that aspect)
Some themes regarding the religion in the game.
So, Mortimer and Owen are technically Gods in the game. One is confirmed as the God of the puppets, and Mortimer refers himself as a God several times throughout the game (One of the many reasons why I don't see a connection within him and Owen's dad) and has an analogy about power and using concepts that I've seen Machiavelli talk about in the prince (I had to read that book)
I'm mentioning this because I want to talk about Riley being a puppet atheist and a recent discovery that I made regarding Riley that finally puts my whole "Something doesn't feel right with this" regarding how she actually sees Mortimer. Here is my take:
Since Riley doesn't believe Owen is her "father" (since he's considered the father of creation) what if she calls Mortimer her "Father" not because she sees Mortimer as a Father (which thinking more about it, she only says that but I haven't seen more into if she loves him as a father) but rather because it's the most logical answer to her own existence, and she just sees Mortimer as a leader (cult leader TBH)
Riley is a logical person, and she tries to find ways that in her mind she believes work and can be explained through factual evidence (Hence why she's looking at Lord of the Rings as evidence to prove evolution)
As one of my besties put it, all Riley knows is that she was brought to life by Mortimer. She has zero idea how the hell does that magic work, but all she knows is that there must be a logical answer that links Mortimer without the relying on of the supernatural
Riley would, must likely try to find reasoning and logic in the unexplainable and look through things through critical eyes and believe the stuff she has with value. Mortimer was pretty much was that.
I think Riley was most likely to believe Mortimer was her "father" and the puppets evolved through how her methodological mind would perceive things. Why would she believe the human man, what puppets think as castle could possibly be her "Father"/creator?
Owen is not made out of what she is, he doesn't even look like a puppet, but Mortimer is the exact opposite. The evolution theory is basically the whole science vs religion sorta stuff. Riley is using the evolution to disprove Owen (the lab rat) created her.
I do believe Riley eventually started to accept the fact that Owen created in the later years as she doesn't seemingly seem to see Mortimer as more of an individual who she's close but not exactly a father, and she probably called Mortimer "Their true Father" out of respect (as she surprisingly still has some) as
Mortimer hasn't shown any discomfort or care about being called father
Riley only called him that on one tape directly, and later in the tapes I believe it's imply she doesn't really see him as such.
Riley respects Mortimer as a leader, and just wants his approval on her ideas as he's the one in charge and the one she feels the safest around platonically (I am wondering if she actually feels a mix of different feelings, but that is just stretching things)
Besides this being something Riley would do, I do think this is her way of trying to explain one of the themes that we do face in our day to day which is:
What is exactly our existence, and how are we different from a similar concept?
I do believe Riley's metaphor of not knowing how to use a microscope is about just not knowing what some mysteries in their existence have or what exactly is life to something that was simply an inhabited object.
This is obviously a reflection to us and the mysteries of the universe, and I do believe Mortimer is abusing this as he's trying to be the one who holds all the answers but as Riley puts it "She knows that he is just as clueless as she is."
Riley is more observant and a thinker about stuff. Something that the puppets don't really question as they are adjusted to a way of life, which reminds me a lot of the human world and also a bit of cults (to a small extent.)
I am still trying to figure out why the others do see Owen as a God instead of Mortimer, so I would love your POV in this as well.
#hello puppets#hello ppuppets midnight show#rambles#theories#tw: cult#tw: mentions of cults#tw: religious themes#Riley Ruckus#Mortimer Handeee#Owen Gubberson
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
cult leader simpbur who wants to use his beloved to be a vessel for the lost god/goddess that he worships. think about it.
he was so kind in the beginning, loving, sure he had questionable beliefs but he didn't... force them onto you. Not really. He spoke kindly of his deity, speaking words of devotion and worship in their name. And the way he spoke to you, in almost the same tone, context... it made you feel warm almost. That you could be held in the same light as someone as important as they are to him.
And then of course it was revealed that he was in a cult devoted to his deity. That he was the leader. That they were planning a ritual to bring their deity to this world. That he planned on using you.
Of course it scared you shitless, to be tied up with silk and dressed in a light robe, a gag on your tongue. The scariest thing, second only to the calm look on Wilbur's face, stroking the side of your face with the back of his hand and cooing supposed words of comfort. It didn't help that he kept saying that you were absolutely perfect. Beautiful and pure in every way. Perfect for them.
To be carried in his arms into a dark room and placed on a table with a masked crowd of cultists, it snapped something in you. Tears poured heavy down your face. Had you sobbing and crying for Wilbur. For him to stop, to take you back home. Anything other than this.
He didn't stop it. He led the ritual. The chanting. The dressing. Leads the cult in prayer and with one apologetic look sent your way, he cuts a single line across your palm, pressing hard on it even when you screamed around the gag. The blood straight into the bowl.
And the ritual completes when a presence fills your mind, body and soul. A deity forcing you to the backseat as they take over your limbs and words.
You still cry for Wilbur even after he's shoved a god inside of you.
#anon asks#wipes answers#au: gods#i thought about it#but i got away with it#tw: religion#tw: cult#my baddd
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
whenever it's like "oh yeah silva's gotta be able to see that what's happening is bad" i sit here and hit the reminder button that the people that taught her how to properly read and write are Flare. the people that taught her about society are Flare. Flare taught her basically EVERYTHING she knows. she didn't have an identity or much more knowledge beyond survival beyond wild child in the woods who might just be a pokemon before she was adopted.
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
has amelia ever fallen in love with a devotee?
when it comes to amelia and devotees/cultists that she is above in both social status and cult rank, amelia will attempt to keep a very healthy distance from fellow cult members. she's uncomfortable with being worshipped as a saint and while i do not doubt there have been devotees who express love (read: obsession) towards her, she is, above all else, the public and perfect image of a dutiful wife and mother - but beyond that, she is deeply uncomfortable with being around devotees. she knows they don't see her as a person with thoughts and feelings; and that they will never see her as such.
though in her many canons there is no word or idea of para-social relationships, amelia does recognise it for what it is: devotees have an idea of her in their head; and often come with pre-formed thoughts, ideas, and feelings towards her - or the notion that they somehow know her.
amelia, to put it bluntly, would never fall in love with a devotee - much less be friends with them. when she does pick and choose lovers, she seeks out people who are not connected with the cult as both a safety buffer for herself and as an act of rebellion. the imbalance between herself and a devotee reminds her of her own marriage and zachary; and is understandably a bit of a trigger for her anxieties and she cannot be one on one with a devotee for too long before she starts looking for exits.
#thank u anon!#🕊️❝ out of redemption ( ooc. )#🕊️❝ she speaks in channels ! ( answered. )#🕊️❝ sanctify them by truth: your word is truth ( headcanons. )#🕊️❝ you shall know them by their mark ( anonymous. )#cult mention //#tw: cult#indoctrination //#tw: indoctrination //
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
friend and i have just started a cult
the e cult
we worship e thats all
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Where the Sparrow Flies
Summary: A new story begins. Or well, we’re caught up in the middle of it as the Mother’s Dove has a tendency to wonder off. It’s okay though, it’s only a new era of your imprisonment.
TW: religious setting, cult, domestic abuse, SFW but 18+, If I missed anything let me know
Note: Hello! I’m a huge nerd for this genre. I’m not certain how this will do, but I thought I’d try my hand outside of fics and do my own thing. (Not that I’m not still obsessed over fanfics.)
Above the lush groves of cottonwood and aspens, that have already begun to turn from the verdant green to the golds and oranges of Autumn, the sparrow flies. It looks down upon the unharvested fields littering the countryside. Up and up through the woods and farmland the little bird flutters. The land turns from fertile soil to craggy rock as the sheer mountains that protect the valley come into view of the dear sparrow. Its little wings beat and it breaks the tree line as a screeching hawk dives. Clutching the sparrow in the blink of an eye, the hawk is of no consequence to those driving the silver van. The hawk crests the ridge, finally gaining your attention as you sit in the van. Wedged between two armed men, she has no fear on her face. No anger. Just a dull, melancholic boredom settled on her features. The ramblings of the bearded man in the front passenger seat have long been spoken on deaf ears as she watches the hawk soar.
“Honestly, I cannot comprehend why you do this. Why you…” He stops himself from speaking glancing at the other men in the car. “Why you keep running off. You have everything, half the valley would gladly take your place.” The your attention snaps away from the hawk to the bearded man. Gray streaks his beard and at his temples. Wrinkles make cavernous lines on his handsome face. Not an old man, stress has aged him beyond his years. He is dressed like the three other men in the car, dark tactical gear with flashes of silver. However, upon his chest a patch featuring a silver raven denotes his station.
“Can we please save the lecture, Amos? You know the Mother is going to go all hellfire and brimstone on me once we return.” Her lips are pursed into a thin line as she nibbles on the inside of her cheek. She no longer holds Amos’ gaze, as the puttering of the vehicle's engine fills the cabin.
Knowing stares follow the vehicle as they pass farm after farm. The workers stop their work to watch the van, a vehicle unmistakable to them. Not like their beat up pickups. It was practically a tour of the valley, but not enough to shame you. Once the vehicle stops her head is high despite the crowd that has gathered. Exiting the van, A large white church with a steeple stands before her, as do the fifty or so members of the parish. They part for you and Amos entering the building. The inside is grand, the nave can hold about a hundred people and the wall behind the stage is a stained glass window that features the Mother on her knees before the Granter, a being of smoke and feathers. A hand carved lectern is centered on the main aisle. Amon brings her down to the stage where the Mother stands waiting. A broad smile on her face and piercing eyes that burn holes into you. She has donned her robes for this particular chewing out. The black material shines in the light of the church, adding to her sharp beauty.
“Thank you for returning my Dove, brother Amon. You may attend to your other duties.” The Mother dismisses the man, her gaze never leaving you, whose head is high and is staring back at the Mother. Amon bids her farewell before hurrying out of the church. “Now for you.” Her eyes break from you as she paces the stage, standing a few feet above you. A sharp slap reverberated in the echoing halls of the perish. The Mother had knelt down with such speed and fury that she had nearly knocked you off your feet. While you regain your balance, she began to pace the stage. “It was a shock to hear that you remembered to call Amon once you were done with your little romp around the valley. Have you finally accepted your place within His flock?” She glances at you. The Mother is talking more at you than to you. “No, that’s not it. So, why do you stray?” You roll your eyes.
“I have yet to answer that question, what makes you think I will now?” The Mother’s smile falters, her voice slowly raises in response.
“Hope. Hope that you will accept your place. Hope that you will obey. Hope that you will accept this parish’s love. His love.” She raises her hand to the stained glass behind her, then to her chest. Her voice barely a whisper. “My love. You have scorned me.” She is crouched now, a gentle hand strokes your face as she smiles with tears in her eyes. This is not the Matron Mother of the Granter’s flock, the steely eyed fraud that controls Lilith’s Bend. The woman has shed her outer layer, a sight only you and the Granter have seen. Now, before you is Cecily Dawn the daughter of a preacher who ran off at fifteen and over the next thirty years has carved out her place in the world. It is a sight that melts your heart, ever so slightly. After all, that is the woman you fell in love with, the woman you married.
#WTPF#tw#abuse#religion#cult#writing#thriller#horror#reader#xreader#no beta we die like men#tw: abuse#tw: religious themes#tw: religion#tw: cult#sfw
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Finor, the first follower.
#cult of the lamb#cotl oc#finor oc#trod au#the rehabilitation of death#the lamb doesn't remember what their mom looks like but it's finor they think of when they say the word#doodles#tw blood#comic#do yall see the ch/ca f/naf reference lksdhglkshgd
24K notes
·
View notes
Text
request: "What do your bishops look like and how does the lamb think of them?"
I haven’t decided (or started) on designs yet. As for my lambs opinion, they process everything through humour, I would say this is their surface level opinion on the bishops. There’s obviously the deeper-seated issues they have w them tho.
#cotl#cult of the lamb#narilamb#the bishops of the old faith#narinder#lambert#leshy#heket#kallamar#shamura#cotl comic#comic#drug ment tw#alcohol ment tw#I hope u can see how the lamb devolved the more tired I got#my artwork#fr au#Fool's Revenant au#Fools revenant au
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
the update hatched a brilliant idea for me
#cult of the lamb#tumblr#illustration#digital art#sins of the flesh#tw // decapitation mention#red crown#collar#lamb#lamby#narinder
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
Cult theory updates 1
thinking about the cult theory, I believe that I'll probably try to explain first the most controversial and confusing aspect. This is going to be hard but I'll give it my best shot. Still me not trying to justify but give a much cleared reason based on the others interactions.
This probably will go after the basis of what makes them a cult. I do believe I have an explanation to what Mortimer called Nick during tape #7 (I believe)
I decided this since, it is better to approach the elephant in the room rather than ignoring it until the end. That might explain much better my intent to reference a documentary that does give a lot of inside in some cult "Keep Sweet: Pray and Obey" which can explain a bit the logistic in what I believe was Nick's OG idea in the last tape
as
It appears he knew Riley was coming but was confused about the others as he says "Riley, What are the others are doing here?"
I noticed some subtitle error in a video called "Rosco's origins explained" it actually shows the scripted version of what was going on and I noticed a line (that was not said. I am not sure if it was recorded but unused.) It said something like "This was totally why I was here. Definitively nothing else to look into" I do believe this was something that Nick was going to say. It does goes along with the idea he originally had in plan
I also believe that perhaps Nick leaned into his dramatic tendencies and build upon his head a huge drama that could resemble a Shakespearean tragedy when in reality it was not a big deal
That does sound like something Nick would do since sometimes he can be way self-absorb in the worst times and make huge deals about petty little things.
I'm just showing this as a recent observation.
-----
Now to some actual updates.
While talking with a good friend of mine from AO3 (They sorta believe the puppets are in some sort patriarchy cult, and the puppets are like a twisted "Family") brought up the Riley and Owen's relationship and the whole "Riley is an atheist" but they said they believe that Riley has some conflicted feelings about the religion as, according to my friend Stitch, she believes Owen is "A False God"
That made me realize that this could lead into something considering that canonically Owen is some sort of Puppet God (Mortimer and Riley confirmed this in the game and tapes. Owen is considered their creator)
I also remember reading somewhere in one of the articles I was reading for my investigation, that one of the "steps" or things related to cults is the rejection of god.
Now as far as I remember on how cults work (based on my high school assignments on true crime and cults which involved a podcast, hearing about real life cults, and listening to what makes cults a cult, ect.) Cult leaders aren’t necessarily worshiped (this is my take), but they're consider the ones who hold the true answers and the true leader that would lead them.
This does seem to reflect a lot with Riley in a sort of way. She refuses to believe Owen is her god and creator, but canonically established that she believes Mortimer is their true "Father" (whether she refers to this as Father in the sense that "oh he's dad" or father as "Father of creation" is debatable) and that she considers Mortimer "As their true leader"
I do believe it has to do something with what my friend Kris (Dreamlandcreations said) about Owen creating Riley but not being the one that brought her to life (Andrew Allen did comment on that by saying things like this are what make writing games worth it)
What I found interesting is that Riley genuinely follows Mortimer and still respects him even thought she believes he has gone mad with power but it appears she sees the puppet Rebellion as something for the greater good of what the puppets want rather than their well-being.
Why?
She puts more emphasis and her desires for the puppets to grow and advance instead of poking some looser guy and wanting to bring a show back to life after many years.
And I just realized that Riley complaining with Mortimer going mad around power is more about him become careless with what is going on and thinking more about his wants other than why the puppets are uniting.
This goes along with them not really being concern about their well-being but rather accomplishing one goal. One mindset.
Riley does seem to confirm this as she refers to the rebellion as "The puppets needing a new leader on their path of Glory."
---
Another observation, is Mortimer despising Nick.
Maybe Mortimer despises Nick so much is that whatever he is doing that involves Mortimer is always about how Nick can get off or get a reward whether Riley who is canonically considered "Mortimer's favorite" does things for being in service.
Mortimer does say Nick would rat out his own creator if it means he'll get something, which does goes with my observation.
This probably adds up to the cult theory as cult members are predetermined to follow a role and to serve for the greatest of the cult. Something that could be the reason why Nick is considered the black sheep of the clan and why Riley's first natural response is to get suspicious of Nick.
In comparison to Mortimer's "Favorite" and his "Hated" members of the Handee clan (I'm calling it that) is, like I said before, Riley does things to be on service and somewhat to keep the order as Mortimer would want it. Nick only seeks to benefit himself, and it appears Riley does notice this and is very much annoyed that he's not doing things for a greater good.
That's why she would become suspicious of whatever Nick has done.
And maybe she'll have some suspicion about Daisy as well since Riley has done everything in her power to keep things as Mortimer ordered them to be.
So, what if Riley's intentions into helping Daisy was because she felt guilty that Daisy would face a consequence that wasn't even fair because she could not control her danger mode, and decided to help Daisy control her danger mode as a way to kill to birds in one shot.
She's not very sure as its a concept she doesn't understand (empathy)
To help Daisy avoid slipping into danger mode again (and perhaps clear her guilt over blaming her over)
To make sure the problem is avoided next time and keeps things the way Mortimer wanted so they can focus again on their plans and Mortimer not to get mad again.
I do believe Riley's mentality in doing things is as a way to not only benefit herself, but the others, and to make something that Mortimer will approve.
Kinda fits into her role of second in command (which was something both games imply, and Owen confirms in a tape)
---
Those were some of my observations and progress I have so far.
I'm still trying to figure out to what extent the parallels to actual religion go which I do think there are a couple of ones. I don't think they go far into religion, but it appears the game plays with the idea of "Being created similarity and resemblance" which is a belief in Christianity (and I believe other religions too. Not sure, but if you know feel free to comment) that we're reflections of our creator uniquely.
I was also talking with my discord sister @dolly-royal in the possibility of Mortimer and Owen having some sort of inverse situation of Jesus and God (mostly on Jesus prayer in Gethsemane, which is about Jesus asking God if he could avoid the unavoidable: his death. In the end, Jesus does end up accepting his fate)
@dolly-royal asked me if the possibility that Owen's conscience being transferred into different hosts could be a way of reincarnation, and we did agree that this could also be revolving in the puppets trying to find a way into Owen accepting them since It does seem it is something they need.
Maybe this is what Mortimer referred in "No one can succeed if their god doesn't want them alive" in the game. Not sure.
Other things that I need to get into, is once again the story of the book and the implication that a greater evil was in the book based on the tape where the book dealer seems possessed. This is more related to the lore, but I do think everything is connected.
I do intend to check the first game again for some clues or things I can pick up. I just realized that during the tapes' timeline, Anthony was most likely around as there's a picture in the first game of Riley experimenting on trying to bring Rosco back to life. That is a cool detail.
I still need to look back at the tributary meaning, which I do believe I saw through the wrong POV considering Riley is more based on facts. Maybe I can break it down to what Riley meant during her conversation with Daisy.
The tapes revolving Mortimer to pinpoint his descent into paranoia, and perhaps things I never noticed before.
And finally I intend into learning more on one of the most important relationships in both games: Mortimer and Riley.
I do believe we all got the wrong idea after watching and hearing the tapes on what their relationship truly is after I gave it some thought and rewatched some of the tapes.
I've noticed that:
Mortimer and Riley have some unspoken level of trust with each other
It appears that both work extremely close to each other to the point of a personal level. I mean it in the sense like both could randomly enter each other's offices and be all like "Oh, hi, sir/ma'am (I do believe Mortimer was unfazed about Riley coming to his office uninvited, but "questioned" why she brought the others)
They do seem to know each other better than anyone else, and have a better understanding of what goes through each other's mind. It's like a non-romantic bond within the two that does seem to reflect in the first game.
There could be implications that a small (a very tiny) side of them genuinely care about the other. Like I noticed Mortimer sigh in a peculiar way and chose to at least pretend that he gave it a thought before telling Riley he was denying her request instead of just telling her "I said no." It almost felt as if he was unable to do that and decided to ease the hit. Still that doesn't change the back that he is willing to do horrible things against her.
This is more of an idea. I do believe Riley is aware that Mortimer genuinely does seem to have a like of her (in the no-romantic sense) as she does seem to return the feeling towards him (I don't think necessarily she sees him as a dad, but rather a figure she looks into to grow. Like some sort of mentor) I do think that is the reason why Riley never thought about the idea of treason + Mortimer being quite soft and almost humorous about Rosco. It is almost like him telling her in a matter she would only understand: "You know very much that I genuinely find you competent and likable, to the point that I am not joking when I say you're my favorite. That's the main reason why I spare you a severe punishment, but remember that I won't always be this nice to you."
I do believe this is a key relationship in understanding how Mortimer's mind and decisions work
Anyways, this is my long ramble. Feel free to ask questions or add anything to this.
16 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
babysgarage
heart-eyes appreciation
rrszz
caff!!!
amyharleysgal
Harleysgal
lolitaaxx
`♱lolita’aax𖤐˚
actualhumantrashcan
mostly void, partially memes