Alright, title is pretty self explanatory. Most people know what Stockholm Syndrome is, but if you don’t, it’s a mental disorder that causes hostages to be psychologically attached to their captors. In this rp, we will do just that (I can play either role, I’m very flexible with this sort of thing!). My account may say I’m brand new to this site but I was a member months ago and had been for years, but I wanted a fresh start so here I am!
Rules
- Rated MA for violence, swearing, and sexual situations (flexible with these things as well!).
- Don’t create OP characters, that sort of ruins things.
- No one liners, and grammar is important!
Again, I’m super super flexible with all of this and I am open to suggestions! Don’t be afraid to approach :)
Hi yes. So is this gay, straight? Just wanting to know what I can play with here.
Hey, I’m comfortable with working with any sexual orientation! Do you have a preference?
Naw just have a gay boi who i'd like to use. -looks at Evan- cause ya know psychologically damaging my characters is always a good time
Lmaoo I’m good with that! I had more of that path in mind anyways. Would he play the hostage part i’m guessing??
Yes he would. Anyways here's his character link . He has a twin sister that appears a lot, i'll give you her link as well.
Invalid Character -Evan
Invalid Character -Evelyn
Ok he looks great and so does she! Sorry this is taking a minute too long, my characters information apparently deleted so I’m putting it back in super quickly
Ok, this is my characters information! Thatcher Wain
OOF what an asshole, but. It'll definitely work.
Yeahh he’s a bit of a jerk a lot of the time, but yeah, for the prompt it works!
So then. Have you looked over the two?
Yeah, I did look at the both of them!
I’ll type up a starter right now!
Thatcher wasn’t quite ready for his new job. He was sat in his car on a darkly lit street. He was wearing almost all black, a couple of silver rings on his fingers, and other types of jewelry. His hair was tied up in two buns, braided strands hanging down the sides of his pale face. His hands were lightly shaking as he gripped the steering wheel, only aching the tighter that he squeezed. He looked over at the building he was parked outside of. On his phone was the profile of the male he was supposed to be bringing back to the organization. He hoped the kid didn’t fight too much. He didn’t have the patience for that- he had to get his dog home, she had been cooped up in the backseat all day, after all.
Evan walked out of the bookstore, sighing as he made sure he had everything for the third time, waved goodbye to his friends from the window, put in his earbuds, and walked along. His hair was dyed in rainbow, but light. Really light. He wore a blue dress shirt, jeans, and converse, a satchel slung over his side as he plugged in his earbuds, played some Troye Sivan, and after texting his mom he was coming home, got on his bike and sped off. The black car parked outside kinda creeped him out, but the guy inside was kinda cute. That made him smile. He sped past the car, and was soon off and down the hill, riding home. To Crystal Love Rosethorn, one of the most infamous Wiccans out there. She had published tons of books, led many readings and rituals, all the while being a wonderful mother raising 16 kids. But none of them shared her last name, so it was hard to tell who was her kid and who wasn't.
Thatcher looked up when he saw a male walk out of the bookstore. He glanced down at his cellphone, where there was a photo of the target, and the photo matched the male that was now on his bike. He sat up in his seat, watching for a moment before he pulled back out into traffic, fingers trembling on the steering wheel. He idly wondered what the Reaper Organization wanted with the pretty looking male. He was never told what would happen to the people that he picked up. He would just get them and deliver, that was all. He wasn’t supposed to harm the boy, he needed to be alive. But he was on a bike. He might get scuffed up a little bit.
Evan then dodged down an alleyway and coasted down a hill,then he stopped at a small park and put his bike aside,and sat on the swings. Wanting a bit of recollection before going home to his crazy family.
Thatcher watched as the target made his way to a playground. Strange place to be at that time at night. He fidgeted with his cool chained necklace and tucked it under his shirt. He parked a distance away and got out of the car, getting Nike out as well on her leash to walk nearby, thinking it would be more casual that way.
Evan swung back and forth, slowly, texting away on his phone, and sang quietly to his music as he kicked his feet. He looked up when he saw you, offered a small wave, and realized it was the cute guy from earlier. 'Is he…following me?' Suddenly he was on his feet, his guts telling him to run. He walked over to his bike, looking casual. He didn't want to alert you or anything,despite the sick feeling in the put of his stomach.
Thatcher walked with his large, sleek and muscular looking doberman, her walking right at his side. He’d gotten her as a little puppy around the time after the acid attacks happened. They had been inseparable ever since. He threw a glance over at the target walking towards the bike. He’d have to move quick and grab him.
He took a breath, glanced back at him. Another few calm breaths. Patted his pockets. House keys, phone, pocket knife. He'd be fine. His sister had pepper spray, oh if only he had brought her along. He then got on his bike, pushed off, and was happy he was going down a hill instead of up one, as he let himself drift down the hill, far away from you.
Thatcher headed back to his car, getting Nike in and getting into, starting it and slamming on the gas. He drove up close and eventually drove past the target and around a corner. He would swerve the car to block the lanes, opening the back door to let Nike out. He got out as well, pulling his handgun from his pants. He loaded the cartridge. While he didn’t prefer to use it, he’d need to if necessary.
He stopped, and looked at you, then turned around. He knew this city way to well, and knew at least 5 ways to get to his house. "WHAT THE FUCK???" He screamed, as he rode down, taking a super long and complicated way with a lot of twists and turns. He knew what he was doing. "I JUST want to get HOME!"
Thatcher smiled lazily. He whistled to his dog, and she became alert. “Don’t maul him completely, baby,” he told the dog and signaled it to run after the male, long legs moving fast. He strode back to the car, thinking of the backroads he had studied days before. The male was going home. He’d simply have to meet him there.
