What would happen if one of Toby's victims was pregnant / had a kid that they were taking care of? Would he leave the child alone if they saw him? :0
VERY BIG TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS. VERY, VERY BIG.
Content/Warnings; child murder, harm to children, murder, blood, death of infant, details of blood, gore, suffocation to a baby, intense detail in regards to child death. Please only open this link if you are comfortable reading detailed descriptions of death of infants, heavy horror themes.
If you have suffered with a loss, or you are vulnerable at this time, I heavily advise you to not read this. If you have recently lost a child or feel you cannot read anything to do with child loss, please skip this post. There are helplines for you.
Yikes! I think realistically he wouldn't want any risks so would kill the child too. He doesn't really have any remorse or shame but I think in the moment he's very fuelled and very pent up; so he doesn't really process what he's doing/done until much later. The idea of taking a child's life would definitely meddle with his mind and he'll be battling with himself and his 'morals' for awhile. He knows that he can't leave the child totally helpless with a corpse, a part of him feels sick just knowing that he would be making someone an orphan but it's not like he can care for them nor drop them off to a local police station! I feel like to try and justify the situation, he'd (as in the voices in his head) probably just tell him that he did the kid a favour, that maybe their parent was some abusive asshole and he put the both of them out their misery! Plus, being a proxy, there's kinda an unspoken rule on how to handle situations like this if one were to ever arise. Slender doesn't want some angsty teenager on his hands and he doesn't want any of his proxies being discovered, so really they have to do what has to be done! It's dirty work, literally..
With one final hack, the job was done and Toby gasped for breath as he swung the hatchet over his shoulder. The blood flicked from the blade, coating what wasn't already covered in blood. Stupid bitch put up a fight, making a ton of unnecessary noise. He didn't want to kill her here on her waxed kitchen floor but it seemed in the moment he didn't have much of a choice.
As he steadied his breathing to a more calmer pace, Toby turned to place the hatchet on the countertop. Thankfully he wore gloves whenever he did the job, so any fingerprints were concealed and he was careful to give away such a lead. Her body was sprawl across the floor, a puddle of blood gushing from her skull as it dampened her hair and filled the kitchen. The final blow was to her head, which killed her instantly but her body was also littered with deep cuts and lacerations that oozed blood. They were so deep that he could see the yellow from her fat, the white flush of her bone peaking out amongst the blood and flesh.
Digging a bloodied hand into his back pocket, Toby retrieved his camera and pushed it on with a simple click of a button. It wasn't a fancy camera, just one of those old ones where the lenses still clicked out open turning on. He'd found it in someone's garage and naturally took it for himself. He didn't admit it, but he was pretty big kleptomaniac. Raising the viewfinder to his right eye, Toby ensured he got a good angle before snapping a photo. The flash illuminated the dark kitchen briefly, further exposing his bloody work as he tucked the camera back into his hoodie pocket.
Embracing the moment of silence, he felt his muscles relax as he glanced around. Pretty fancy fucking house, she had money but he were certain it had to be mommy's or daddy's money. Shit, maybe he should snoop around a little. So, as he reached forward to tug open a cupboard, Toby helped himself to a glass and began pouring himself some water; stepping over her body in the process and standing between her outstretched limbs. The cool water slid down his throat, quenching his thirst as he found himself gazing aimlessly out the window that faced opposite the sink. He was daydreaming a little but he remained high alert, cautious of any shadows that may appear in the reflection before him.
With a satisfied gasp, he slammed the glass down upon the countertop in a sharp clink and it was there he turned to reach for his hatchet. Just as he turned however, something that sat on the windowsill caught his attention and he paused, almost doing a double take as he narrowed his eyes. It was a little monitor and it had lit up, alerting him almost instantaneously. A camera? Shit, he probably should've checked around for those - well, he would've if she didn't lose her shit and throw him off pace. Only the feedback on the monitor didn't resemble that of any room he had seen before, nor the kitchen which was his main concern. No, it was a room, a dark one clearly with the night vision that stood out to him the most. With a sofa in the corner, some teddies and books on a nightstand and shelf that sat upon the wall. His eyes trailed, taking in all the details - the wardrobe, a night light that illuminated on the ceiling, the crib-
There was a sudden cry and immediately Toby spun on his heel, grabbing the hatchet with speed he couldn't comprehend as he glared down the hall, the direction of where the noise came from. It was an ear piercing cry, a distressed cry, a sob longing for someone that was no longer here. He wasn't sure why but his heart dropped. It wasn't just any camera, he turned to glance at the monitor once again, it was a baby monitor. Then his gaze was directed to the corpse on the floor, it was a baby monitor for her baby.
Toby groaned because now another problem had occurred and he didn't have time to think before another cry emerged out from the room down the hall. Deep down, he knew what needed to be done and it was nothing compared to the other crimes he had committed. Something within him clawed inside, desperate to come out and yet he pushed down with a simple, steady swallow before slowly trudging down toward the room. The cries became louder, nauseating almost as he pushed open the door with a creak, using the aid of his blade before slowly poking his head into the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, taking in the details of the room, the colour of the nightlight on the ceiling and the soft lullaby that hummed gently.
The gentle sound of the music did not soothe the baby and nor him as Toby stepped closer, peering down into the crib at the soft flesh that wriggled around on the mattress. He wasn't sure how old the baby was, a couple months at least because the thing was tiny. It's hunger evident alone in it's cries as it called out into nothingness. He felt motionless as he just watched, his emotions and feeling conflicting with his line of work as he sucked in a breath.
"Sorry kid, sh-sh-sshe can't hear you-" he mumbled softly, leaning his elbows against the wooden door of the crib. "So really, this should make it easy," he grimaced a little. "It'll just be like-" he pulled away to pick up a teddy bear off the floor with a grunt, the bear almost the size of the baby itself. "Like going back to sleep." With the bear in his hands, he appeared at the edge of the crib, glaring down at the child that continued to wiggle in desperation for some attention, some milk.
Toby wasted no time to press the teddy bear into the child's face, pushing down hard enough to the point where the child's screams and cries became muffled. There wasn't much of a fight, which.. well, didn't surprise him and after a couple minutes of smothering, the child fell silent. A silence that felt uncomfortable as he slowly retrieved the bear away from the child's face. The baby, once pink and flush with blood and life, was now lifeless and blue.
His hand squeezed the wooden railing of the crib as he glanced down at the teddy bear in his hand, the dead, plastic eyes staring back at him and judging his every character. He sighed.
"I know, I'm an awful person," he mumbled to the bear before slowly setting it down beside the lifeless child, ensuring that the little corpse was not alone.
Everyone will view Toby differently and please know this is just how I view Toby, whether you agree or don't that's fine.
Quinn’s experience within the underground bunker her cult moved into, during the nine months of cut contact with the other cultists, w/ Reflecting commentary from present Quinn’s thoughts. :3
So genuinely I think it's because LMK is a kid's show and that pedophiles flock to mediums of children shows. It's easier for them to find groups that find their behavior and tastes acceptable. The second I clicked together everything I went "YEET"
OBLGATORY PSA DO NOT WITCH-HUNT/HARRASS, BE THE BIGGER PERSON
Silver here would claim to "forget" character ages despite multiple in-server discussions about y'know why simping for underage characters is a bad thing.
Let me point this out: Silver also has a platform on the yanderelmk-x-reader blog. She actively has a platform where she can interact with children who frequent this kind of content! That's what has me the most disturbed. They can interact with minors who could fall prey to them and their ideology that an 18-year-old and a 12-year-old is acceptable.
Oh and to a lesser red flag that can be found on Tumblr a lot of people on my Discord server, upon reviewing everything, pointed out that the blog said it was "inspired" off of mine while directly ripping off the matchmaking idea that I had. Matchmaking is not owned by me and neither is using it for LMK characters, however it comes under suspicion more so when a lot of what the account does is reblog my content. In and of itself not a bad thing, but when it piles off of things they've done in the Discord server it doesn't look good.
Silver also, as another smaller thing they did compared to the pedophilia which was super creepy, wrote a vent post and publicly published it on Quotev wherein Nezha crawled into reality to comfort her because people on the Discord server weren't constantly talking to her.
TW: Written Rape, Heavily Abusive Yandere Themes, Written Suicide Attempt, Written Self-Harm, Partner Abuse, Trauma Dumping, Forced Pregnancy
Something else that was a gigantic red flag was that Silver wrote fics of her persona being kidnapped and raped by Nezha, having Stockholm Syndrome, and even being forced to birth ten of his children. What's even more disgusting is that she posted this and didn't black any of it out.
They also, upon not receiving attention, began writing fics in which their persona was bullied to the point of trying to kill herself by other server member's personas (without obviously our consent or knowledge) only to be saved by Nezha. Pretty two-faced since they'd try to play buddy-buddy otherwise with server members, and this was obviously a vent about people not paying constant attention to her (she'd post over people talking and try to yank attention away from people talking then pouted when it didn't work).
They wrote so much angst people in the server were breaking down from the sheer amount of heavily angst they would write. When told to stop and that people were upset, they only said that they'd never stop. They actively joked about how often they posted angst despite server members expressing extreme discomfort and upset at the amount of angst she posted.
Any criticism was met with pouting and Silver refusing to accept it.
That's not mentioning how she added her IRL abusive boyfriend into persona writing and only reveal it was an IRL ex to massively trauma dump unprovoked about it. Which is screwed up. That and they trauma dumped a LOT in general out of the blue.
All of this was a gigantic, huge, massive red flag that ended in a well-deserved ban.
HYDRA had an ulterior motive bringing those terragen crystals to the lab the day of the incident—the day Kenzie had accidentally gone through terragenasis. They were collecting inhumans, trying to understand their biology and how their powers worked. And with Kenzie’s particular power, she endured endless physical torture to test the limits of her abilities.
It was but a day after she went to down to the cells to speak with Serg when she was kidnapped. HYDRA snagged her when she was alone. A few of the others had gone out on an op and requested to come with them, she said she would stay on the Zephyr. She just didn’t want to be in the same base as the man who broke her heart.
She didn’t stay on the Zephyr though, and now she wished she would have.
Kenzie left, informing the pilot that she needed some air. It was foolish, she had no hand-to-hand combat skills, the only thing protecting her were her knew healing powers ( which she would eventually come to despise ). All she did was go for a walk, try to clear her head, and before she knew it, she felt a cloth over her mouth, breathing in the chloroform that was soaked into it. She barely had a chance to scream, her muffled voice fading away with the rest of the world as she fell unconscious in the mysterious figure’s arms.
When she came to, she was in a dimly lit room, a bright light shining in her face. It wasn’t until she tried to move that she realized both of her wrists and ankles were strapped down with leather straps, and panic set in immediately after.
Kenzie spent the next few weeks strapped to that table—-they didn’t feed her, they barely let her have a sip of water. She tried to stay brave in the beginning, she had hope that her teammates would find her. It was a few cuts here and there at first, her body healing the wounds almost as soon as they came. She spat curse words and threats—-but as the torture escalated by the day, she became weaker. She begged for mercy, she cried and pleaded and screamed but it never stopped. They never even acknowledged that she was a human being, too evil and thirsty for knowledge to empathize.
Eventually, as the cuts escalated to burns, they took hot irons to her flesh and even poured gasoline over her legs—that was the first time she blacked out from the pain. She woke to the smell of burning skin, the pain was gone as she glanced down to see her pants singed away, but her legs perfectly intact. Is this how it was going to be? She would endure endless pain and suffering, just to heal and feel it all over again as they thought of new ways to test her abilities.
They cut off body parts, and slowly they grew back—every moment as excruciating as the last. They used guns, taking shots that would have been fatal to anyone else but her.
She survived every single day, for weeks, and eventually all she wanted to do was die. Could she die? At this point, Kenzie wasn’t even sure. She lost hope that anyone would find her, and she lost hope that this was ever going to end—how much farther could they go to test her limits? The only thing she hoped for now was that they’d find a way to successfully kill her and put an end to her misery.
It was getting closer to a month now, and Kenzie was alone in the room. She was dehydrated and starving, barely able to keep her eyes open. She was too weak to move a muscle, too weak to cry. She felt like she was already dead, her soul was shattered into oblivion and she was passed the point of giving up. She hoped, if she could starve to death, she would soon—before they came back to continue her torture. Her clothes were tattered and filthy—every inch of her body nearly covered with dried blood, however her skin didn’t even hold a scar. Kenzie didn’t believe in God, but as she peeked through heavy lids up toward the bright light above the table shining down on her, she prayed for God to take her.
It was then that she heard the door open, and she assumed it was HYDRA coming to continue their viscious work. She closed her eyes, her expression blank and she breathed out words in a hoarse, barely audible whisper, “Kill me…… pl-please….”
This rant has been a long time coming... This is mostly for me, so feel free to skip over it--
Think about this for a minute. Take your mind out of defending yourself for just one second and think about something: If you walked out of the house today and interacted with a handful of people, I can almost 100% guarantee you that you have talked to someone who has been raped or sexually assaulted. That cashier at the gas station, that person standing in line behind you at the movies, the driver who passed you on the road, the child who ran between your legs to get to the candy aisle. Even your friend you waved to. Even your parents you kissed goodbye. It's not my job to baby-feed you links and resources, so go look up rape statistics for yourself. I've given out hundreds of links before, and those people don't care enough to read them. If you care, go Google it. It's not that hard, and I'm sick of doing it for you. The second you read those statistics, you'll know what I'm saying is true. And guess what... It's most likely more than what those statistics tell you.
So you're standing in line at the movies with a few of your friends and decide to say, "Yeah! I totally raped that game last night, dude." Those people I just mentioned? The cashier, the person in line behind you, the child holding their mother's hand? They heard you. And do you know what they're thinking about now? They're thinking about the life-altering, brutal act they have survived. They might even be reliving the experience (or multiple experiences) with their abuser -- likely someone they knew. And it's even possible that their abuser is standing right next to them. They also heard you casually use the word rape like it meant absolutely nothing. They now feel reassured in their position of power. You feel reassured that you're hilarious and all of your friends adore you. Who doesn't feel reassured? The survivor. They have just been kicked again. Trust me, they do enough kicking to themselves. They don't need it from you.
Okay, so let's just say that you tell this child molestation joke (there's a million of them) instead of talking about the game. That kid heard you. The tiny child who is lost and frightened and has no idea what's going on or what they did to deserve such pain has also been kicked by you. You're over there laughing with your friends, and you just don't give a shit. This "joke" that honestly means nothing to you -- it's just there because it's this "random, funny thing you heard on 4chan" -- means a whole lot to a bunch of people. And that bunch of people are all around you every single day; you just might not know it.
I know there are some survivors who take comfort in finding humor in their own personal situations. That is their coping mechanism, and it's within their right to find humor for themselves in their own situation. (How many times will I have to emphasis that for it to stick in your head?) But there are a lot of survivors who can't and won't find humor in it. That is their way of dealing with it. You, who are not in their position, have no right to tell them how to properly process their trauma.
You have no right.
It is not your place to tell a survivor to lighten up about their pain, because you can't recognize how fucking disgusting your words can be. If a survivor wants to use humor for their situation, they can. If a survivor doesn't want to use humor, they don't have to. You are not in this equation. You have no right to "reclaim" anything. You have no right to "teach" survivors your "magical way" of smiling through their pain. They need to find a way that works for them, so just leave them the fuck alone with that. If they come to you for comfort, listen. If they tell you you're being an ass and said something gross, listen. You are not the victim here, so shut up.
Think before you type those "jokes" on the internet, tag them on Tumblr, reblog them from people, post on Facebook or Youtube, mention in the line at the movie theatre or cafe, or even tell your friends. If you honestly don't give a shit that you might trigger, hurt, and frighten survivors (who have already been through more than enough pain) and you only care about this "funny thing you read online," you are a sick person and you need to stay far away from me.
If you think this is in any way taking away "your free speech," you just need to stop before you begin. If you're also going to relate this to people picking on you for your glasses or pimples in high school and mention how you laughed through the pain, you can also just stop. Jokes about your braces =/= rape jokes. They don't and they never will. Should you have been made fun of? Of course not. But you cannot relate someone laughing at you for having glasses to someone laughing at you for surviving rape.
