#abduction tw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

one-black-rotary-phone · 10 months

Note

Hii! I was the one who messaged you about the general dating hcs for robin :)

Dating Robin Headcanons

Hi! Sorry about the askbox thing lol. Glad to see someone's interested in my blog this early on though! Here it is! :D

Not proofread (it's late and I'm tired).

Slight abduction TW (mention of his abduction), some swearing, Robin fighting (so violence TW?).

First of all, he's so sweet around you. Like not the kind of sweet that buys you bouquets of roses and stuff; the kind of sweet that just softens up around you compared to everyone else. He's a tough boy - a nice boy, but a tough boy - and he isn't one for being a softie around others. Again, he's not like Vance or anything (God no), but it's only really his family, Finney, and you that he's nice around.

Robin likes to just get lost in looking at you. Your eyes, your smile, your hair... Especially wrinkles. Laugh lines, the way your nose scrunches up when you giggle, the marks on your forehead when you pout at him and furrow your eyebrows comically low. He just loves all of your 'imperfections' so much.

Speaking of laughing, he loves to crack jokes. Whatever your sense of humor, he caters his jokes to it in an attempt to her your voice. He loves your laugh no matter what it sounds like. In fact, the less stereotypically attractive it is the better. When I tell you Robin loves things outside of the norm, I mean Robin loves things outside of the norm.

Anyways, back to more dating-central stuff. Let me just say he is smooth. He wraps an arm around your shoulder or waist depending on your height. He picks up on what pet names make you flustered and uses them all the time (to be honest he probably made a game out of that). It's like he's made it his life mission to let everyone know you're together.

You've basically scored yourself a guard dog, by the way. Moose is trying to cause shit between you and him? Robin's kicking his butt (and punching his face). The last thing this boy wants is to see you hurt. But he's only really good at fighting. Don't ask him to sort out a friendship drama between you and the local Regina George. Unless you want him to glare at her, but that will probably only make things worse.

Despite being so smooth, he actually prefers to keep things private. He mostly just does PDA so people will back off. Because in his eyes, who wouldn't want you? When you're alone is when he likes to cuddle and hug. Trust me, he is not a cuddle bug out in public. He's nice to you so he won't push you away, but it makes him feel so awkward. It's mostly because he's not the one initiating it.

If you're dating Robin then you're best friends with Finney, no doubt. Robin will practically force you two to be together. He jokes that it's because you have to get to know the best man to your wedding, but there's a hint of seriousness to that. Robin may only be a teenager, but he's got big dreams ahead of him.

He probably buys you a bandana like his. Please wear it. It doesn't have to be on your head like his; it can be around your neck or wrist. Just please show him you appreciate the gift. You don't even know how much thought he put into this one piece of cloth.

Robin probably dreams about you two sneaking out of your houses and going on random walks and adventures during the night. He probably dreams about having unrealistically fun and comical travels through town. And the dreams probably end with him dropping you off at home with a kiss.

Actually, this boy just really wants to kiss you. Not in a creepy way, but in a 'this is what couples do, right?' kind of way. He wants to do it because it's a big milestone in his life and he wants it to be with you, not with someone he won't even care about. He gets lost staring at your lips sometimes, just imagining what it would be like. It's pretty obvious what he's thinking, too.

Okay, Finney is absolutely teasing Robin over your relationship. He's tired of Gwen teasing him over his crush on Donna and is taking it out on his friend. He's constantly nudging Robin in the arm or going 'hmm okay...' whenever Robin tries to defend himself. It's hilarious.

He loves to buy you sweets and other junk foods whenever he can. If we want to throw some angst in there we could say it was you he was buying lollies/candy for when he was abducted. But seriously, he loves you spoil you in this stuff. Partly because he gets to share and it's cheap, but y'know.

You're always invited to dinners with his family. They usually have takeout, but when you're around they either cook up something good or get pizza (takeout but advanced). Robin's mother is so smitten with your relationship, and always tries to get you to eat more so she can watch you interact.

Though, you did have to earn your place in the family. Romancing Robin was probably the hardest part, but you've still got to prove yourself to his mother and uncle. His uncle is easier; he trusts Robin's decision and trusts you to not be a jerk. His mother is harder; after losing her husband she vowed to protect Robin with her life and is not about to let some potential heart-breaker near her son.

But all you've really gotta do it just be nice and respectful around them. Maybe compliment his mother's cooking or his uncle's new hat. Simple things like that really work.

All-in-all, this boy loves you so much, and he wants people to know it. He's smooth, but not as much of a romantic (though if you begged him to, he would take you on a cheesy date). He's got a good family that care about him and if you prove yourself will come to care about you too. Just be good to him, alright?

#the phone rings #anon #the black phone #the black phone x reader #the black phone x you #the black phone headcanons #tbp #tbp headcanons #tbp hcs #tbp x reader #tbp fanfic #robin arellano #robin arellano x reader #the black phone robin #tbp robin #abduction tw #swearing tw #violence tw #fighting tw

129 notes · View notes

distinctlywhumpthing · 1 year

Text

In League — A Lucky Blunder

Masterlist

Summary: The boys finally caught their rival gang's spy but something about him has their leader intervening in his punishment. Beta read by @alittlewhump!

CW: Late-19th century, explicit language, kidnapping/abduction, nudity (non-sexual), restraints, bruising from implied beating, whipping, scars, torture/interrogation, taunting of prisoner, multiple whumpers, dubious caretaker.

A high-pitched keening wound its way through the house.

Wyatt paused, pencil hovering over his place in the row of numbers. It was early evening. Sunlight entered the window at a low angle to cast long shadows through yellow-orange light. The boys would be winding down from the day which meant they were winding up for the night.

“Tommy?” He called for Frankie’s lad, the portrait of his ruddy-haired father in miniature. A child of about ten years who was always close at hand, ever-keen to make a farthing running errands. Especially if he could smugly tell younger boys later that he wasn’t at liberty to divulge the particulars. As though he was the rare child-confidant of the entire gang. He did have a fair pulse on what was going on, if a little slanted by the perspective of his youth.

Another cry, twisting all the way upstairs, most likely from the cellar two floors down. In the house—their house—not a thing could transpire unnoticed, such was the size and layout. Wyatt liked that. All was within reach and what one could hold in the palm of his hand, one could command.

Although, his appreciation and pride were diminishing by the second as the cries continued and grew more insistent. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh and almost ran his fingers through his hair before he remembered they were smudged with graphite from doing the books.

“Tommy!”

Finally, a clatter and then short, snappy strides as the child scrambled across the kitchen and up the stairs. “Yessir?”

“What is that fucking noise?”

Tommy swallowed, trying to catch his breath. “They found that man. The one ‘tipped off Keats.”

“Is that so?”

About a month ago, a beggar had shown up on their streets. He’d seen the man in question himself—more of a boy really, no more than twenty—huddled outside the door of the pub and shuffling around the streets covered in a ratty blanket.

Around the same time, a number of plans had been mislaid. At first, it had seemed only as though they’d mismatched their timing. Until one night, when they’d had a raid planned on a warehouse, expecting just a few guards and found its owner—one of their biggest rivals—Keats, had two dozen waiting instead.

It had nearly cost two boys their lives and one still had a bullet in his shoulder. They had pulled the usual threads, made sure to reassess the loyalties of certain parties. The beggar, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. No one thought twice about an urchin disappearing. But then, a handful of days later, Jack’s sister had seen the very same accompanying none other than Keats himself.

A short ten days later, here he was, apparently paying for his trickery in the cellar, having finally been apprehended.

No one noticed Wyatt coming down the stairs. All backs were turned, including the one getting belted. Their captive was stark naked and covered in grime with patches of bruises darkening along his ribs. His wrists were tied together and hooked over his head so that he was forced onto the balls of his feet. From the looks of it, he’d managed to bear his due reward silently for a not-insignificant length of time. Raised welts crisscrossed from the back of his neck down to his calves. It was plain by the scars on his back that this was not his first beating. Not much of a distinguishing feature around these parts.

Alfred was winding up for what would no doubt be the first lash that drew blood. The rest of the group surveyed from a loose half-circle, some sitting on overturned crates and others leaning against the soot-blackened walls. Wyatt hadn’t been down here in ages, couldn’t say what was in half of the cobwebbed crates stacked in the corners. The air in the cramped space was beginning to smell pungent, cigarette smoke clinging to the ceiling in spite of the open street-level windows.

Wyatt put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs. He waited until Alfred was about to strike. “What’d you find, lads?”

At least one of the men jumped, a few others sat up just a fraction straighter. Alfred let the swing fall short. Only the tail end of the belt met its target, who hissed as another welt rose on his pale flesh.

Wyatt wasn’t the oldest nor was he the longest-standing member. The group operated mostly by consensus but he was indisputably its leader. After all, he had been the one to rescue this house of cards from collapse before they had completely lost control. He’d recast the senior members into roles that didn’t require temperance and recruited younger men to fill the ranks instead. The younger the better, hungry to prove themselves and yet to develop the arrogance and pride that had prevented their predecessors from changing with the times.

They had swiftly replaced brute force and standoffs in broad daylight in favour of subtler methods, refocusing on activities with higher turnovers that required a fraction of the effort and didn’t put them atop wanted lists. Half the city was still under the impression the gang had in fact collapsed and retreated back to the slums.

Alfred turned, face as red as the skin he’d just been beating raw. Either from the strength he was putting behind his arm or from feeling caught. He wasn’t the type to come up with the first idea himself but was always the first to volunteer to carry another’s. “It’s Keats’ spy.”

“We finally caught up with him,” someone else chimed in, making a few others chuckle.

Frankie sauntered over to clap the accused-spy on the shoulder, making him tense. “Just having some fun.”

That earned a few laughs from the audience and the boy ducked his head as if to hide.

Wyatt cleared his throat. “Come on, let us have a look.”

As Frankie made the captive turn on his toes, Wyatt was struck by two things.

The first was the curious wound on the soft side of his hip, looking as though someone had inexplicably carved a piece of meat off him not long ago.

Secondly, and more notably, Wyatt was struck by the fact that this was altogether a different boy.

Part II

Together/Apart taglist: @painsandconfusion @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main @whumpy-writings @maracujatangerine @whumptakesthecake @subject-v @susiequaz12 @writer-reader-24 @whumpinthepot @wormwriting

#whump #whumpee #whump writing #multiple whumpers #dubious caretaker #captivity whump #torture whump #interrogation whump #prisoner whump #restraints tw #captivity tw #beating tw #nudity mention tw #burns tw #loss of consciousness tw #kidnapping tw #institutionalized slavery tw #abduction tw #smoking tw

82 notes · View notes

aff1uence · 6 months

Text

𓏲 * ( oliver jackson-cohen, cis man, he/him ) ⸺ pictures of DYLAN CHRISTOPHER KHOURI have been showing up all over my feed, and considering the last time they were #trending, it was due to a photograph of him looking attractively photogenic being rescued from a hostage situation going viral — i'm not likely to unfollow anytime soon. with their precisely coiffed hair, mixture of military clothing in the field and suits in the studio, i'm not surprised to hear that they are considered part of the NOUVEAU RICHES. after 35 years, they've managed to garner a reputation for being more brave than coarse, but their critics say that they're more haunted than gallant when they aren't too busy capitalising on the events that cause him to lose sleep every night ; cooking elaborate meals for himself alone ; photographing animals in the park. when they aren't occupied with their work as a journalist / former war correspondent, they've been sighted taking pottery classes. reputation.com has taken to calling them HERCULES in order to avoid a lawsuit ( again ). ──

GENERAL DETAILS.

full name: dylan christopher isaac khouri . nickname(s): d . dyl . age: thirty5 . date of birth: 4th of april , 1988 . place of birth: lismore , australia . current location: soho , new york city . ethnicity: jewish australian egyptian . gender: cis man . pronouns: he / him . sexual orientation: heterosexual . romantic orientation: heteroromantic . relationship status: single . religion: not religious . occupation: journalist / podcaster , former war correspondent . education: master of arts in journalism from murdoch university . accent: mild australian . spoken languages: english ( native ) , italian ( fluent ) , arabic ( fluent ) .

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

faceclaim: oliver jackson - cohen . hair colour and style: straight dirty blonde , a textured crew cut with low fade . eye colour: blueish green . height: 6 ft 3 . tattoos: none currently . none: none . clothing style: street style , jeans , neutral - toned tops , leather jackets . distinguishing features: various small scars across his body . including a recently healed gash from his hairline to just above his left eyebrow . signature scent: tom ford , oud wood .

HEALTH.

mental disorder(s): ptsd , anger management issues . physical disorder(s): a busted shoulder , permanent hearing damage ( 30% loss in left ear , 10% loss in right ear ) . allergies: none . sleeping habits: night owl , sleeps approx. 4 - 5 hours each night , has night terrors . eating habits: omnivore . sociability: extrovert . addictions: alcohol dependency . drug use: weed , party drugs such as mdma occasionally . alcohol use: daily , gets drunk twice a week minimum when not working .

PERSONALITY.

label(s): hercules . positive traits: brave , gallant , generous , sociable , protective . negative traits: haunted , selfish , coarse , noncommittal , stubborn . likes: working out , clubbing , photography , writing , hanging with the boys , flirting . dislikes: conferences , being fussed over , confronting his feelings , country music . fears: small spaces . goals and ambitions: to shed a light on the cruelties of war . astrology: aries ( sun ) , scorpio ( moon ) , leo ( rising ) . moral alignment: lawful neutral . element: fire . primary vice: pride . primary virtue: charity .

BIOGRAPHY.

dylan grew up in australia , with his mother grace and his father rowland isaac . most of their life revolved around rowland's job – a military man . they moved around often when dylan was young . his father was the person he admired most and he planned to follow in his footsteps . the signs of the horrors of war were there , but a young impressionable mind convinced itself that it was to be expected and that it was a badge of honour . when his little sister was born , things settled a bit more . they stopped moving as often , allowing dylan to make friends while the family was slowly starting to crumble . rowland was struggling more and more with what he had seen in active duty , often having periods where he did not understand where he was or who was around him . more often , grace would leave the house for the night and leave dylan and gwyn alone with rowland . although dylan always empathised with his father for what he had gone through , his post traumatic stress was escalating into more than just night terrors . the violent outbursts became a regular occurrence and dylan often felt responsible for ensuring the safety of his little sister and himself .

approaching his high school graduation , dylan initially did not want to go to university . he considered finding a job locally , perhaps working for a gym , so he could stay home and keep an eye on the family . after much convincing from his both his parents , he ended up enrolling at the university of queensland for a bachelor in political science in brisbane .

the day before he left for university , his mother pulled him aside and dropped a bombshell on him . rowland was not his father . his father was a man by the name of haim khouri – an egyptian businessman she had met in italy in a whirlwind romance , when she and rowland had already been together for a while . grace made him swear he would not tell rowland , fearing for his mental state . so , dylan kept the secret from rowland and from his sister .

while at university he contacted with his biological father . he even flew out to tunisia , his current home , to meet him . dylan learnt arabic , craving to have a closer connection to his paternal side as he heard the struggles rowland continued to endure . after his bachelor in political science , he followed it up with a masters' in journalism at murdoch university in perth , unsure what he wanted in life . following graduation , he started work as a political journalist in brisbane , first written correspondence , then as a field reporter for a local news programme . he travelled all around australia and didn't get to visit home as often anymore . however , just after gwyn's 16th birthday , he travelled home only to find it in chaos and his little sister covered in blood and rowland dead on the floor .

a lot changed after that . the case was dropped and him , gwyn – now florence – and grace moved to the us . he continued his journalism career , actively pursuing a path towards war correspondence . he had seen how much war impacted those around him , and studying politics and international relations , he knew that he needed to report on it . not long after the move , he was off again , running around active warzones and photographing and reporting on them for cnn .

late march 2023 , dylan did not make his scheduled call . it took 48 more hours before he was reported as missing . the envoy he had been travelling in was stopped for what was initially thought to be a routine check . instead , he had found the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head and he was escorted away by a terror organisation . he was not alone . two fellow correspondents , one from the bb c, one independent reporter from germany , were also captured . the first few months , they were used as a pawn in negotiations with the reporters' respective home countries and countries of employment . he was kept in relatively comfortable conditions . his captors demanded supplies , then money , then weapons . the list never ended and demands became too outrageous . by the time august rolled around , it had been claimed that all three of them had been assassinated . the governments were only able to confirm the deaths of the english and german reporter due to footage appearing on the dark web . in reality , they kept him around and alive just for the fun of torturing him .

early october , months after the outcries for dylan's release had died down and the news had moved on , though contact had remained between the australian government , united states government and the terrorists under the radar , the home he'd been kept in was raided and he was released . on his way out , looking rather worse for wear , one of his colleagues from the cnn captured a photo of him . it went viral , not because he had been presumed dead , but because despite his injuries , despite his worsened physical and mental state , he looked attractive in the candid photo and the internet went wild .

since his reappearance , he has been involved in talk shows , podcasts & radio shows . he has yet to see a therapist , despite the horrors he now continues to relive nightly .

#wealth.intro #𝐃𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈 . biography #abuse tw #psychosis tw #death tw #war tw #abduction tw #torture tw #ptsd tw #murder tw

8 notes · View notes

dannyredwoods · 1 year

Text

A cute guy chained up in a basement, a dusty old stereo placed just out of his reach playing the same cassette tape on repeat. The sounds ricochet against the cobwebbed heaps of wood and metal objects, many impossible to identify in the darkness, clattering around the grey concrete walls and floors in a tinny nightmare symphony. Day and night without ceasing, no way to tell the difference in the windowless room, no light but a dim, flickering, naked bulb hanging precariously from a wire in the ceiling. The audio from the tape drilling its way into the poor boy's brain, keeping him from sleeping, scoring his rare, fleeting dreams. Invading his thoughts, his memories of freedom. No more words of encouragement, no more friends' laughter, not even his own name, he can't hear anything in his mind anymore. Just the tape, harmonizing and clashing with itself over. And over. And over. And over. For who knows how long now. Perhaps his captor has forgotten him, he figures. Gone away somewhere and left him to rot. Maybe they died. An increasingly enviable fate.

#you decide what the audio is #whump prompt #whump #abduction tw #kidnap tw #torture tw #dark k1nk #audio torture #sound torture #scary basement #abduction k1nk #kidnap k1nk #abduction fantasy #kidnap fantasy #just me

41 notes · View notes

starlit-hopes-and-dreams · 1 year

Text

Chapter 8 ~ Difficult decisions

Hidden Depths AU

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

Genre: Fantasy whump

CWs: thoughts of death (in relation to someone killing him), drugging, abduction, on the edge of a panic attack, very brief reference to past noncon, lady whump, lovely angst

WC: 2135

Taglist: @kixngiggles

A/N: Alright. I know I said I'd only have one chapter or so left. Turns out I have three. Whoops. We also get a little of everyone's POV in this and the next chapter. Also whoops. 😂

But hey, the warnings are shrinking. That's usually a good sign when you're approaching the end of something, right? lol

Resh

Resh wondered how much longer he had to live while he followed Nykim out of the torture chamber.

They met an older, well-muscled male with thinning brown hair at the top of the stairs who, at a nod from the thief master, stuck to Resh’s side like glue while they snuck out of the manor. It was late, and the guard they walked past stared straight ahead like they didn’t even exist, allowing them to melt into the countryside.

Every step jarred Resh’s shoulders, especially the right one, even though he kept his arm close to his body as instructed. The muscles in his neck and back ached, and his reaction headache continued to plague him. None of it could possibly touch how Carr must be feeling, despite how gently Nykim carried her.

Resh didn’t know what to think about the thief master. He’d heard rumors, of course. Knew that threat about stripping the flesh from his bones and decorating his office with them probably wasn’t far off the mark. But the way Nykim treated Carr made him wonder if there was something more between the two of them.

A branch, or a root, or some undefinable debris on the shadowed ground beneath the tree cover they’d entered a few minutes ago tripped him up, and he fell to his knees. The pain shooting through his body still didn’t match the ache in his heart. Resh bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep quiet while he forced himself to get up. The thief dogging his steps did nothing to help him.

Yeah… if he wasn’t hunted down and executed for the prince’s murder, he would probably end up in a shallow grave outside the city. Nykim didn’t seem the type to let some outsider run free with knowledge of his magic. Resh doubted it would matter that he had magic as well.

As long as Carr was safe. That’s what really mattered.

Now that Marcus was gone, his sister would be okay serving as a handmaid to the queen. The royals wouldn’t punish her for her brother’s crimes, surely.

There was no one else in Resh’s life. No one who would care if he disappeared. Orla would be sad, he was sure, but she was young enough that she’d be able to move on without too much trouble.

Carr–

His foot caught on another branch, and the man beside him hissed his displeasure at Resh’s clumsiness. Resh sighed and tried to focus. The thin shafts of moonlight piercing the canopy didn’t provide much light, and he didn’t have the energy to use his lifesense to guide him.

Bone-tired and heartsick, he attempted to blank his mind while he trudged after the dim outline of Nykim’s figure. He’d manage for a few minutes, but another thought would invariably pop up.

How hard Carr had fought, trying to best Marcus.

The desperate way she’d held his gaze while... He shook his head.

All that blood.

Nykim hovering over her, his eyes glowing green.

A knife to his throat, poised to cut. Hands across his chest, holding him back from Carr.

The way she’d thrown herself in his arms and let down her guard.

The threatening glances Nykim kept shooting him before they’d left.

It was only when he found himself guessing at spots where he might end up in the ground that he was successful at shutting his mind down.

Sometime later, they arrived at the back of some manor house in the business district. Resh was too tired to care about why Nykim lived in such a centralized area. He just stumbled inside after him.

A lantern flared to life, and while Resh blinked against the brightness, a hand wrapped around his left arm.

“Where you want this one?” the man who had followed him asked.

Nykim turned around, giving Resh the first good look he’d had of Carr in what must’ve been hours. She looked pale underneath the streaks of dried, flaking blood, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her lips moved, but the words were too faint for Resh to catch.

“Upstairs,” Nykim said curtly. His lip curled, like he was displeased. “Have one of the vermin bring a cot to Carr’s room.”

What in the pits was a vermin? The man holding his arm yanked him away before he could even think about asking. They headed back outside, where a handful of kids slept on pallets in a stable. The man barked out a series of orders that seemed too long for just bringing up a cot, but Resh was in no state to pay much attention. He’d reached the end of whatever endurance he’d had left, and now he just wanted to collapse somewhere.

Hopefully, he’d wake up. He was under no illusions that outcome was guaranteed, though.

Back inside, the man brought Resh to the kitchen and gave him some water. The fuzziness of exhaustion must’ve claimed him after that because when he blinked, the kitchen was gone. The man was gone. Instead, he found himself in a small room with no memory of how he’d gotten there. He swayed.

“Lie down before you fall down,” Nykim said, walking over to stand before him.

Resh started at his unexpected appearance and took a step back, nearly tripping over something on the floor behind him. Nykim caught his arm, helping him sit on a cot.

When Nykim moved away, Resh caught sight of the bed across the room. Half-lidded eyes and bloody strands of blond hair were all that was visible of Carr from beneath the blankets piled on top of her. Their gazes locked.

Nykim knelt before Carr’s bed, breaking Resh’s line of sight. “Are you happy now?”

The answer must’ve been yes because Nykim nodded and stood.

“She. Is she. Okay?” The words tangled in Resh’s mouth, stumbling over his tongue on their way out. They sounded thick, leaden. Not like his words at all. He blinked against the blurriness overtaking his vision.

“She’ll be fine. Lie down, sleep,” Nykim said.

The room tilted, darkening at the edges.

Something soft brushed his cheek. His eyelids were so heavy...

Nykim

It wasn’t until the kid finally flopped over onto the cot that Nykim moved. He turned down the oil lamp until just a flicker of light lit the room, then refilled the basin. Carr didn’t need to wake in a dark room.

A little surprised she’d fallen asleep so quickly, Nykim replaced the tin of oil on the tiny table by the door and took a seat in the chair he’d brought in. He’d wait a bit, check on Carr once more with his magic, and make sure Resh was well and truly knocked the fuck out.

Then, some decisions needed to be made.

There wouldn’t be much time before the prince was discovered. Maybe he should’ve had the earth swallow Marcus like he’d done with the guards he’d killed. But he wanted people to see how that sick piece of shit had died.

Gods, the way Carr had looked… Nykim rubbed his face.

And there was the small matter of this kid. Carr seemed to be attached to him, which was really problematic since he fucking knew. Nykim was fairly certain Carr would try to kill him if Resh… disappeared.

His mouth twisted in a small smile. Who knows, she might actually succeed. There were limits to his magic, after all. Pretty sure even he wouldn’t survive a slit throat and ripped-out guts.

It was a little ironic that the qualities he appreciated most in that woman were the ones that would end up getting him killed.

See, Carr was an honest person–this pretending to be a boy thing aside. If she was displeased, you knew about it. There were no backhanded compliments, underhanded deals, or knives in the back when you least expected it. No, she would look you in the eye while she stabbed you. Make sure you knew exactly why she was pissed.

He was going to miss her after he sent her away.

Ignoring the ache in his chest, Nykim rose. There was no other way. Too many people knew she’d been in the torture chamber, according to his source. Moving silently, he went to check on Resh. A nudge to the ribs with his foot elicited no response. Good. Looked like Brant had dosed him well. But still, better to be safe.

Carr might be comfortable with this boy, but Nykim hadn’t vetted him yet. Even if he had, he wouldn’t leave her vulnerable in a room with another male, drugged or not. After a quick check on Carr–her other injuries weren’t life-threatening–Nykim returned to the kid.

Slinging him over his shoulder, Nykim crept out of the room.

Carr

Waking was unpleasant.

Her lamp was still lit, and her bed was familiar enough to stymie Carr's rising panic on her return to consciousness. Too bad it was replaced by a deep-seated fatigue and countless aches and pains. There was not a single spot on her body that didn’t hurt.

Her teeth chattered while she stared at the barely visible wooden lathes crossing her ceiling. Gods, she was cold. It had to be the blood loss, although she supposed she could be in shock. Maybe she was even still bleeding. Fuck.

Under her blankets, Carr unbuttoned Nykim’s jacket and slowly checked her injuries, feeling for the warmth of blood soaking through her makeshift bandages.

She found nothing.

Confused, she pushed her fingers underneath. The cut she’d taken to her side should be a gaping wound, one that would’ve needed stitches at the very least. But… she traced the line of aching flesh, feeling for sutures that weren’t there. A hiss escaped through clenched teeth when she pressed down on the edges, trying to get it to split back open.

It didn’t.

What the fuck?

A quick inventory told her things that didn’t add up. She distinctly remembered Marcus stabbing her in the back. There wasn’t even a trace of a wound to prove it, though. Her scalp still stung where the prince had grabbed her hair to slam her head into the stone, but it wasn’t even sore when she checked. All she found was dried blood matting the strands.

Her hands shook while she redid the buttons. The ache between her thighs told her it hadn’t been a bad dream. She hadn’t sustained training injuries or been on a job gone wrong. It had all been horribly real.

So what in the flaming pits was going on?

Her chest tightened while her thoughts whirled. Trying to calm herself before she descended into a full-blown attack, Carr took several deep breaths. She wished… but wait. Resh was here. Even if he still slept, his presence might be enough to stabilize her. She turned her head to check on him.

Carr’s heart beat a little faster at the sight of the rumpled blanket on the cot across the room. It was dark–just the barest flicker of light from her lamp lit the space. She just couldn’t see properly. That was all.

The room spun when Carr pushed herself up. She waited for it to stop, then carefully scooted to the edge of the bed. Her foot bumped into something, and when she looked down, she found a cup. Carefully, she leaned over to pick it up, then sipped on the water inside, giving her body time to acclimate to being upright. When it was gone, she set the cup aside and stood.

Her knees wobbled, and she felt the blood drain from her face. A prickling wave of shattering cold spread over her body, followed by a sheen of sweat that turned her skin clammy. Carr ignored the warning, forcing her body to move before it gave out on her. Hugging the wall, she made it to the lamp and turned up the flame.

White spots flashed in her darkened field of view like stars in the night sky. Carr lowered herself rather ungracefully to the floor. She couldn’t allow herself to pass out. She had to know.

Feet up on the wall. Lay flat. Breathe through the pain.

Familiar actions. Still, it was agonizing to wait, as always. When the tunnel vision finally receded, she flipped over, ignoring the pull on the wound across her chest.

Resh wasn’t on that cot.

A messy knot of emotion threatened to choke her, and her eyes shot up to the door.

She would kill him mixed with what if she was locked in?

Had she brought Resh here to die? If she found out he was dead, after everything they’d been through… it wouldn’t matter how fucking weak she was.

An eye for an eye. A life for a life.

Blood would be her due.

Image Description

[ID: The banner is a sepia-colored version of the original blue-green background, with tree branches arching over a set of blue-green eyes, forming an approximation of a face. The words Hidden Depths AU are written in white above the eyes. end ID]

#fantasy whump #lady whump #whump #whump writing #original writing #original characters #alternate universe #hidden depths au #drugging tw #abduction tw #angst #warnings above the cut

18 notes · View notes

cagesings · 1 year

Text

@honorhearted cont.

she did not expect him of all people at the door. when johanna first heard the sound of the knock, her heart nearly leaped out of her chest and she had to bite back a smile as she practically leaped up from the bed to answer it ( in case, it was one of the staff or one of the other girls, of course ). it was neither. and it wasn’t who she hoped it would be, even knowing how dangerous that would be for him to meet her here. practically in front of everyone at this heaven-forsaken school.

johanna is quick to move out of the way in time for mr. tallmadge to come barreling inside. the moment she saw him, her brows creased with the knowledge that something is wrong. hands are rigid at her sides.

❝ mr. tallmadge, ❞ she mumbles as he sits, ❝ i do not think it is appropriate . . . ❞ though, she says it as if she hasn’t been in the unoccupied company of a single man before. the rules at the school are strict. not as strict as the rules enforced under the judge’s so-called care, but they are restricting enough to bring out a flame of silent rebellion in johanna. very much including the guest she let in through the window every few nights.

she does not want to be here. letters back to the tallmadge’s ( and, of course, extra long ones addressed to gabe ) detail the boring and restrictive life she leads. johanna has to bring herself to be thankful. she always knew reverend tallmadge would grow tired of her and perhaps even hate her. she brought this upon herself doing whatever it was to make her so unlikable. she never expresses gratitude for being here, but never admits she resents it. the only person she has ever admitted that to is the young man that comes to her window later in the evening.

❝ been informed? mr. tallmadge, they don’t tell me anything here. i wouldn’t know . . . ❞ johanna stops at his next words. despite hating this school, despite knowing that the poor reverend lost his seemingly endless amount of patience with her, she cares about the man. she doesn’t want him to be gone. without a note. without any sign. without any witness.

fingers weave through her curls the way they do when she is upset. no, no, no. he is not here. he is not here to interrupt the little moments of happiness she has found here. no. and if he were to find out about anthony . . . he would kill him. the same way johanna is certain he intends on killing mr. tallmadge the moment he gets too close.

❝ you are not . . . you are not serious, sir. ❞ she cannot bare to speak. ❝ why would he come here just to torment you? why would he attempt to get his revenge on you stealing his ward and wounding him? ❞ he would, is the simple answer. he is. she knows him better. ❝ you are certain there are no other possibilities? ❞ johanna begins to pace about the room. ❝ if there aren’t, i must come back with you. ❞ her trunk is already packed with her belongings because of her plans of elopement with . . . anthony. ❝ i have to . . . inform someone of my leaving. perhaps, you should meet him. ’ she has lost control of all thought, of all meaning. ❝ he will be good to come with us. if we have to leave, he can sail us there. ❞

#you said that turpin might make a comeback i just didn't expected it to be this soon (to us)#oh no your dad couldn't have gotten kidnapped this weekend #i was planning on running away with my secret boyfriend #i'm sorry but they meet in every universe and johanna always has a secret relationship #'300 more notes here we come' stop i'm crying #*❈ ‣ 𝘩𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔? — ( interaction. )#*❈ ‣ 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝘩𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙? — ( v. alternate )#honorhearted #long post tw #kidnapping tw #abduction tw

37 notes · View notes

justatouchjaded · 2 years

Text

(Plotted starter for @archerwhiterp !)

Diamond leaned against the door frame, tugged fruitlessly at the anti-casting collar around his neck, and tried to decide whether the person strapped to a table in the next room was breathing.

They were hooked to something that looked remarkably like a crude apheresis or dialysis machine, aside from the glaring absence of a return line. The attendant vampire had apparently been peckish and impatient, because they were drinking directly from their prisoner as well, leaned over the prone figure on the side opposite the machine. Diamond was lucky they were occupied, or he would have been noticed already.

Diamond could handle one vampire. It was how he’d escaped his own imprisonment. The damned collar certainly prevented him from casting any spells, swallowing down any active magic and delivering a blinding shock of pain besides: enough to completely wreck his focus and leave him dazed and confused for several long seconds. But his telepathy...

His telepathy was right on the border between magic and physiology. There were parts of it Diamond genuinely could not turn off, and that seemed to confuse the thing and keep it from fully engaging even when he did use active telepathy. It had been unpleasant in the extreme, but he’d been able to control one of his captors for long enough to get them to unlock his cell door, enter the cell in his stead, and go to sleep.

He could do something similar here.

(...it would be foolish, and Diamond knew it. The person on the table was too pale, too still; even if they were still alive, and even if he did intervene, they likely weren’t in any shape to survive much longer.)

(And yet… a chance. There was a chance.)

Diamond gathered his strength, reached for the vamp’s mind, and threw his entire will behind forcing the blood drinker to sleep. A vicious buzz ripped through his body from the collar. He gagged and hunched over, sliding to his knees, but clung to his focus on the vampire’s mind with stubborn tenacity.

The collar muffled both his perception and his influence; the best Diamond could manage with it on seemed to be a powerful compulsion, not the outright control he was used to having against untrained minds. There now, turn the damned machine off, doesn’t the floor look inviting, you can take a break…

The vampire blinked and drew back from their victim, giving their head a woozy shake.

It felt like it took a fucking eternity. But eventually the vampire palmed a control on the machine and sank to the floor, curling up to sleep. As soon as their thoughts grew muddled with unconsciousness, Diamond dropped the compulsion with a shuddering gasp.

It was harder to catch his breath than it had been the first time. Still, there were bigger things to worry about. Like whether all that effort was for an actual person or a corpse. (Or a soon-to-be corpse, because Diamond sure as hell didn’t have the resources to deal with decompensated shock right now.)

Diamond swallowed, hauled himself to his feet, and…

…and the victim already looked less like death and more like death warmed over, a bit of color returning to their complexion and their eyelids stirring. Diamond slid into the room and pressed himself against the wall out of easy view of the hallway, but didn’t approach any more closely. He wasn’t sure what was going on, here.

“...hey,” he said softly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping vampire. “Anyone home?”

#archerwhiterp #(here we go! ^_^)#(let me know if anything needs tweaked!)#(including like if it would be easier to reply if I have Diamond approach Archer a bit more directly at the end)#abduction tw #captivity tw #medical tw #Archer #verse tbd #thread: drained

41 notes · View notes

cantfightmoonlight · 4 months

Text

@linden-reed

"Are you fucking kidding me? I'm going to kill that little witch," Jasmine cursed to herself as she emerged from the shadows at the location marked in blood on the map only to find herself starring face to face with her brother and not her dad. What was the point in trapping a witch with tracking magic and forcing them to do your bidding if they were only going to give you the location of the wrong family member? "Sorry, bro. But, I'm looking for our dear old dad. You haven't happened to see him, have you? Because apparently, when I tried to track him, I got you, which as you can imagine, is hardly helpful."

#linden ft. jasmine #c: jasmine #lunarcoveevent9 #abduction tw #kidnapping tw #blackmail tw

5 notes · View notes

forafcrtnight · 6 months

Text

VALENTINA KNEW WHAT SHE WAS DOING. or so did she want to think, because.. MESSING WITH FINN PEDERSON was not something that she wanted to do and so, she had to play her part here perfectly. if that happened? maybe she could win over mark hoffmans’ trust and become one of them and never, ever be a victim again. regardless, she would have been lying if she said that there wasn’t a part of her that was a little too happy about the fact that pederson had said yes to what she had offered. had he just let her in here because he knew that she despised cecilia as much as he thought that she did? HM. regardless, she had to admit that knowing that the other had lost everything - her reputation, her career and even parker now - was a little too satisifying. “RISE AND SHINE, BITCH. you look a little too peaceful sleeping, so.. wakey wake,” she banged on the wall with a silver plate, hoping that it woke the bitch up and that it hurt. “oh, man. you look like shit. how the mighty have fallen. cecilia pederson, trapped in her own former home - looking like she’s still recovering from a three day hangover and with only me to keep her company. MAN, YOU MUST REALLY HATE YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW, huh? you hungry or something?” she popped a frie into her mouth, smirking a little bit. “i’d offer you some, but .. these are for me. your dad’s kitchen staff is STELLAR, by the way. think that i might go and get some more snacks. thoughts?" @xtinyslip

#valentina ; talks.#valentina ; cecilia p.#had to >:)#also if cecilia ends up killing her.... well justified bc she has every plan to be awful so sjdshd #with finn's approval #sdghdhsdsd had to twinny #GONNA BE FUN :L #death mention tw #mental health tw #violence mention tw #or maybe she's here cos finn wants to see if she'll snap and kill her #WHO KNOWS #abduction tw

2 notes · View notes

beerecordings · 2 years

Text

Wolf Bite - Part 15

As the wolf who stole him walked him away from his house, a hand gripping the back of his neck tightly, Chase remembered one of the kids from his last foster home who kept running away from anywhere she was placed. She was always trying to get back to her sister, he heard, but to get there she would sneak off, take rides with sketchy people, and always wind up in danger. The last time she went missing, she didn't come back. The police put out footage of a van letting her in and then driving away, and Chase's foster brother had popped the bubble of his gum and said, "once they get you where they want you to go, you're as good as dead."

It was ringing in his head. He wanted to run. His whole body was tense with the need to take off at a sprint. It would only take him ten minutes to get to Jackie's at a run, and he was sure the bigger wolf would protect him and Henrik both, and that he could handle both of the strangers at once, probably, and everything would be okay.

But he couldn't run. That hand was squeezing his neck, and the smell of the other wolf surrounded him in a way that made him feel hazy and confused. The moon was rising over him, so near to fullness that his teeth ached with the need to shift, but he couldn't. He wanted Sean so badly he could cry.

The second black wolf was walking ahead of them, Henrik at his side. Chase didn't know if the wolf forced him to shift while the first one wrangled Chase, or if instinct got the better of him and he shifted to protect himself, but it didn't seem to be helping anything. Henrik was in wolf form, but so was this other stranger, and the black wolf was smaller than Henrik, probably faster too. With his teeth so recently wrapped around Henrik's neck, Chase knew neither of them would be able to run.

"Why are you doing this?" Chase managed, his voice trembling. "Who are you? Why us?"

The wolf who stole him cast glances at the houses around them before speaking, but they were getting into seedier parts of town, and it was deep into a stormy night, though at least the rain had quieted into a drizzle. No one was going to do anything. He doubted anyone would even see them.

"We're just a small pack right now," said the wolf. "But we'll get bigger. You two were just the start of that."

"How did you know my name?" Chase croaked.

"Oh, don't be silly. It's on all your mail, after all, even if you weren't some kind of famous. We know everything about you, Chase."

"We?"

"Yeah. The pack."

"So who's this, then, your lackey?"

The wolf's grip tightened on his neck. "You don't concern yourself with him."

The little black wolf looked back at them, tongue lolling out like they were all on a one AM walk in the rain together just for fun. There was something bizarre about that. Chase stared at the black wolf for a moment, trying to find any sympathy or cruelty in his gaze, but the wolf just wagged his tail and kept moving, turning back towards the pavement. He was smaller than the wolf who stole him, and a couple white markings distinguished him too: one on his snout and up around his eye, and another on his back right paw like a single white sock. He smelled like caramel and book glue.

"Is he... young?" asked Chase, blinking. He hadn't seen adolescent wolves before, but not only was this one smaller than him, he seemed lankier, and almost like his ears were too big for him, in a way.

"I said don't worry about him. I won't tell you a third time."

"Well, how about you, then? You just get off on this, huh? Just a stranger who - what, stalked me? And picked me just because? Because I was isolated, huh?"

"I didn't pick you. Any of you."

"So who did?"

"You'll find out soon enough, won't you?"

He thought he was going to cry. He'd really rather not find out who, on second thought.

"Try not to be so nervous," said the wolf, tone a little less mocking. "Just... things will be good as soon as we get out of this fucking town. Out to the wild. And you'll be able to let all of this stupid human shit go. We all will."

"You're out of your mind," Chase croaked, wiping rainwater from his face. "It doesn't work that way. We're wolves, but we're human too. You can't just pretend one side doesn't exist. Trust me, I tried. Please, please - we don't want to go with you. Please let us go."

"It's cute that you think I would go to the trouble of kidnapping you twice and then let you go if you asked nicely."

For a moment, in front of them, Henrik seemed to sway on his paws, his air coming in and out so roughly that it was almost like he was coughing. He shuddered and sank to the ground, panting so hard Chase thought he might throw up.

"Keep him moving," said the bigger wolf.

The one with the white sock glanced back at him, tilting his head for a second.

"Come on," said the first wolf. Frustration seeped into his scent and his voice alike, but there was also something else there. Chase tried to identify it. Concern? Maybe even fear? "You can still understand me, come on. Can't you?"

The black and white one let his tongue out again and then stepped over Henrik politely, putting his head down to nip at his scruff. Henrik yelped and got back up again shakily, the smaller wolf bounding up to go with him like they were playing. When Henrik didn't wag his tail or come chasing after him, the wolf's ears fell flat.

"If you really wanted us for pack, you wouldn't treat us like this," Chase managed. "You're scaring the hell out of him. Out of both of us. That's not how this is supposed to work."

"Once we get out of town - "

"No, nothing will change once we get out of town! We'll still be terrified of you! You're fucking abducting us! I don't know you, I don't want you. I don't even know your fucking name!"

The wolf's grip tightened on his neck as he yanked Chase close, pushing his head down slightly, and Chase whimpered despite himself, eyes burning.

"You stop talking like that before we all get in trouble," hissed the wolf.

"We?"

"Just shut up, okay? Shut the fuck up. Just - we just need to get back to the den. Walk."

Chase stared at him as his grip loosened and he lead Chase forward, gripping his arm gently to keep him moving. The wolf's eyes were fixed ahead, his mouth sullen and taut.

"It's Anti," he added after a moment.

Chase blinked at him, letting him pull him on. "What?"

"My name."

"Oh. Is that - ?"

"No more talking," said the other wolf. "Don't make this worst than it has to be, alright? Soon, we'll all be pack."

They were approaching a dilapidated house in a row of wrecks, and his throat closed up abruptly. For all the questions that he had dammed up, Chase couldn't get them out past the fear.

The nurses at the hospital know Sean by name. In a way, it's a good thing, because Marvin knows that they're going to take good care of him. But there's something jarring about it too. About all of this. Like it shouldn't be real, watching them coming in and out and talking about the nice werewolf who always sits with the newly-turned wolves. Is it real?

He and Jackie sit in the chairs outside Sean's room, watching doctors and nurses running in and out, but they never wheel Sean down to surgery, which Marvin hopes is a good sign. Jackie won't stop rocking in his chair and sucking on the strings of his hoodie, and it's kind of driving him crazy, but he's not going to ask him to stop, either, because they're both at the brink of losing it completely.

"You're supposed to have your medicine," says Jackie, the exact minute the clock hits eight. "You're going to have a seizure."

"I don't always take it right at eight-thirty, Jackie, we'll just make sure I get it before bed."

"No," says Jackie, a little too loudly. His hands are gritted into fists. "No, you're supposed to have your medicine. Every day. At eight-thirty. You need your medicine in thirty minutes or you'll have a seizure."

Marvin breathes out, turning to look at him directly. He sets his hands on Jackie's shoulders and squeezes him gently. "Well, we're not doing too much just sitting here. How about you go back home and get my meds and some food for all three of us? You can take some time in the quiet. Shower the blood off. Can bring back your headphones too."

Jackie glances back at Sean's door anxiously, but the pull of providing for his pack with food and healing is too great for an Alpha to resist. Marvin's alone in the hallway when the doctor finally comes out and tells him Sean can have visitors.

Marvin shoves into his room without further questions.

Sean's scent is buried under gauze, blood, and antiseptic. The flagging hints of his coffee scent makes Marvin's eyes water. He's not supposed to smell like this. He's not supposed to be here. Why is this happening?

"What the hell were you thinking?" he whispers, stepping up to Sean's bed and leaning down to rub a little of his scent into his shoulder, brushing his hair from his face. Sean shifts unexpectedly, hand gripping at Marvin's shirt.

"I'm up, I'm up," he mutters.

"Fuck, Sean, are you with me?"

Sean rubs at his face, wincing as his neck strains. The bandages around it and his shoulder are already spotted with red. "Yeah, I'm... yeah."

Marvin sits down beside him, resting his arms on the bed. "Should I call the doctor?"

"They were in here just a minute ago. I'm in and out. They must have me on the good stuff."

He makes his voice goofy at the end, high-pitched and wavering, pretending to be loopy. Marvin's mouth doesn't even twitch. Sean looks down at the sheets of the bed, picking at a scrape on his arm.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Marvin asks. "Maybe the truth, this time?"

Sean swallows, glancing up at him. "So I hurt a couple people," he says lowly. "They deserved it."

Marvin closes his eyes, trying to breathe. "Is there even a point to calling you a hypocrite?"

"They weren't random fights with people who pissed you off on the street, Marvin. Perpetrators, that's who I went after. And just a couple, okay?"

"You really bit a man's hands off? Sean."

"He deserved it," Sean snarls, with a sudden venom that makes Marvin sit back in his chair. "He hurt her. And they just let him off. He was going to hurt other kids, I knew it. I knew it!"

Marvin stares as Sean sinks back in his bed, having made himself dizzy. He reaches up to touch his head, eyes sliding shut.

"I'm sorry, brother," he whispers, a moment later. "I know I told you I'd stop, but I got a scent of that wolf who turned them, and I wasn't even going to hurt him, just try to understand, to make sure he wouldn't do it again. His scent was right there in the park. I realized he was coming there, maybe regularly, to run like any other wolf. All I had to do was wait, and he came to the park. Right under our noses. Like he wasn't even afraid. And when I finally got the smell of him face-to-face, he... it was too late."

"He already smelled like Chase and Henrik," Marvin says.

"Yes," chokes Sean. "He took them, I know he did! Marvin, you and Jackie have to go after them, now!"

"Sean, we told the police everything we know. There are a couple wolves who track for them, they said. They'll follow their scents."

"No," cries Sean. "No, that's not enough. Do you have any idea how many werewolf cases I see fall through the cracks every week, Marvin? You have to go after them!"

"Sean, we can maybe go track tomorrow, but right now the police are on it and you need to rest. I won't leave you - "

"No, no," Sean protests, heart rate rising on the monitor. "They'll be killed and no one will solve it, or they'll just disappear, or two months from now they'll be arrested because somebody found them feral on the edges of town, and then they'll go to prison - "

"Sean."

"Or somebody else will take them for pack and they'll never be free of some Alpha who hurts them, they're just new, how can they know? They could be trafficked or tortured or a million, million other things, and if I don't do something, no one's going to, and people will get hurt, because that's what's always happening, always!"

Sean's own shudder cuts him off; he turns whiter than ever and grips at his shoulder, flopping back into the pillows. Marvin grabs his hands, staring wide-eyed, and nearly lunges for the panic button, but after a beat, Sean just goes limp against the bed and stays there, eyes red.

"Sean," says Marvin, one more time. "How long have you been feeling like that?"

He just shakes his head, pallid against white sheets.

"You've been bottling too much up," Marvin whispers. "Working too much at work you're not supposed to do all on your own. When did the world start looking so evil you had to go out attacking people?"

"No one else is doing anything," Sean croaks. "I'm the only one who can help. If I don't work everyday, if I'm not everywhere, people get hurt, or disappointed, and then I've failed."

"Fuck, Sean. Fuck. For the love of the moon. You gotta go see a therapist."

Marvin holds his hands as Sean gets tired, having worn himself out in more ways than one.

"You have to go after Chase and Henrik," he begs.

"Jackie and I will go look for them if the cops don't find them tonight. If we can track their scents, we'll let them know where they are. But the rain... it will make it hard for everyone."

"No, you and Jackie have to find them and get them," Sean whimpers. "Please, the cops won't be able to."

"Sean, Jackie's my Alpha. He'll decide that. This wolf was able to take you down, Sean, and you're no weakling. Jackie makes decisions about our safety. We can't just get maimed too."

"Bring him to me, then, please. I'll tell him."

"He'll be back soon, I promise. Right now, you have to rest."

"Oh, but I have court tomorrow! I have to call the mom and let her know - "

"No." Marvin squeezes his hands, trying to pull him back. "No, Jack. You just have to rest."

Jack takes in a shuddering breath. He looks like a paper doll in that hospital bed.

"I'm letting everyone down," he says. "Everyone will be so disappointed."

"People will understand, Sean. Time to take a break. You put so much weight on your shoulders. Time to sleep."

"I haven't slept," Sean says. "In years, it feels like."

"From here on out, you will sleep. I'll make sure of it."

"Gonna knock me out?" asks Sean, a hint of levity coming back, and this time, Marvin grins.

"Yep. Every night. Pow."

He mimics punching Sean in the head, his knuckles bumping into his hair.

He sits beside him and guards him til his eyes close and his mouth parts, his breathing coming in slow draws. The beeping of his heart rate monitor soothes into a steady rhythm.

“A workaholic and a martyr,” Marvin whispers, pushing a strand of hair from his friend's face. “Idiot.”

There's one thing he's right about, though, thinks Marvin, glancing out at the rain-swept day, and that's that Henrik and Chase need help right away, before they're lost for good. But there's no tracker on the police force who can follow a scent after a storm like that. Marvin knows for sure – because he can't track after a storm like that either.

“You two better be okay,” he whispers.

The basement was frigidly cold, the summer heat sapped from its walls by the rain and the wind. The slam of the door that lead upstairs felt like a death toll as Anti and the black wolf forced the two of them downstairs, and then followed after.

Henrik shook against Chase's side, his head tucked into his stomach. Chase kept his arms wrapped around him, shivering just as hard, and only partly from the cold. Usually, he would think Schneep might make a decent blanket in his wolf form, but in that moment, they were both sopping wet.

"This house is kind of a junker, I admit," rumbled the wolf who stole him - Anti - as he looked around. "But like I said, we'll get out pretty soon. Forest won't be so claustrophobic. We're thinking the Rhineland, maybe. There's a nature park out there, and the laws aren't as harsh against us. I kind of think the Americas would be cool, though. All that space out in Canada - we could hunt anything."

"You're crazy," Chase croaked. "We're not going to fucking Canada. Or wherever the hell the Rhineland is."

Henrik gave him a look that, even in wolf form, managed to be skeptical, and Anti went, "holy shit, Americans. Whatever."

The smaller black wolf padded past Anti and snuffled at a grouping of boxes and pallets of wood, arranged in the saddest amalgam of housing Chase has ever seen. The wolf pushed himself inside and laid down, still thumping his tail determinedly.

"You gotta share blankets," Anti told him, walking towards the shelter. He reached in and tried to yank out a blanket, but the wolf was sitting on it. "JJ! Move!"

The wolf grabbed the other side of the blanket with his teeth and tried pulling it back.

"No, we are not playing," Anti snapped. "Give that here, now. Can you just behave for once?"

The black wolf dropped the blanket. His tail stopped thumping and he slunk back into his shelter, flopping to the ground and staring out at Chase and Henrik miserably, like a rain-soaked cat instead of a dog. Anti tossed the blanket at Chase, making him splutter as he caught it.

Out of the rain, he could smell both of them more clearly, and the blanket was packed with both of their scents. Chase wrapped it around himself and Henrik uncertainly, sniffing at the pack scent there. Anti was the one who smelled like a storm, he knew that from their time together. This other wolf's caramel and book smell was pretty shockingly pleasant too, for a wolf who's soaked with rain and also just bit Henrik into submission. Chase snuffled at the blankets, and Henrik lifted his snout to help him.

"If he wants to shift, there's some clothes in the bag," Anti said, gesturing half-heartedly to a backpack by the bottom of the stairs. "Whatever's comfiest, I suppose. Bathroom's through that door, even if it is a mess. Knock upstairs if you need anything, but I am going to lock it. I won't have you running off again. If we hadn't decided to let you both be rehabilitated, I would have been... well, I'm not having you run off again, that's the point."

"There's a third smell here," Chase mumbled. "Or maybe just on this house. Like... a river, maybe. Like spring-water. But also something chemical."

"Wow, good catch." Anti rolled his eyes hard.

"How long will we be down here?" asked Chase. "How can you act so blase about this?"

Anti ignored his second question, but Chase took a second to look at him, hoping to find the answer in his face. All he seemed to be was pale, though, and somewhere between stressed and annoyed. His right eye had a fading bruise, nearly gone, but from the mottled spots around the eye, it must have been a good hit.

"Til we're ready to leave," he answered Chase. "Or til you realize you're pack now. Up to you which comes first."

"I have kids," whimpered Chase, one last attempt at convincing him to give them their freedom.

"You were going to lose those kids already," sneered Anti, turning to walk up the stairs. "Instead of watching that fester for years, we amputated it."

Henrik let out a sudden snarl and Chase squeezed him close, burying his face in his fur. At the top of the stairs, he heard Anti laugh, and then the door closed again, this time with the click of a lock.

"Holy shit, holy shit," Chase whispered, the reality beginning to sink in. "This isn't happening, it can't be."

Henrik kept growling. Chase breathed out and looked up, finding his friend's gaze fixed on that pile of boxes. Chase cleared his throat. "Are you here to guard us, then?"

There was no reply from the boxes. The wolf was looking back at them with big eyes, licking at his wet paws.

Movement beside him turned him back to Henrik just in time to see white fur fading. He averted his eyes for modesty's sake as the doctor shifted back to human and pulled the blanket around himself, shivering.

"There's something not right about him," whispered Henrik.

"Is your neck okay?"

Henrik didn't answer. His whole throat was purple and black with bruising already, but Chase was just grateful the wolf hadn't pierced his neck. He could have lost a lot of blood. Fucking wolf teeth in his throat.

"I'll get you clothes," Chase assured him, rising to get the backpack from beside the stairs. He moved cautiously in case the black wolf jumped at him, but all he did was give one sad wave of his tail. Chase dragged the backpack back to Henrik and unzipped it.

"Hey, what the hell? This is an actual school backpack." He started pulling out notebooks, textbooks, a calculator, and a bag of pens. "Who is studying International Politics in this fucking radical anti-human werewolf cult?"

Henrik dug into the second section of the backpack and started pulling out what looked like workout clothes, a t-shirt and sweatpants. At least they were clean, and dry too.

"Look, a wallet," Henrik said, pulling it out of the front of the backpack.

"Is there ID?"

Henrik had it out a moment later. His face slackened.

"What is it?"

"He's only nineteen."

Chase stared at the ID. A London University student ID, with the name J. JACKSON printed on it.

"How do you decide to drop out of college - in the middle of your classes, apparently - and run off with werewolf extremists?"

Henrik shook his head. The black wolf turned over on his side and started grooming his back.

"This whole thing is not right," Henrik whispered. "Sean and Jackie and Marvin all agreed this is not normal pack behavior. Strings are being pulled. We need to get out of here immediately."

"How are we going to do that?"

"Let's scope the place out. Look at that kid, he won't do anything the two of us can't handle together. You only got your teeth in me because you came for me in my sleep, by the way!"

JJ cocked his head at them, tail flopping.

"By 'scope the place out,' do you mean noticing that?" Chase pointed up to the ceiling. Henrik followed his gaze, and Chase smelled the twist of added fear in his scent as he noticed the black camera in the corner, staring at them with one red eye blinking. Henrik sucked in a breath and leaned in closer to speak quietly.

"We can't let them take us out of the city. I don't even want to be here to meet the Alpha."

"What?"

Henrik looked at him, blinking. "That Alpha. The springwater and chemical one."

He pushed the blanket back towards Chase. Chase picked it up again, pulling it to his nose, and inhaled deeply.

Anti smelled like he had a pack. He had always smelled that way, the same way Alphas do, coated in more scent than one, familiar and warm and authoritative at the same time. But this other smell... the faint difference between the way they carry each other's scents...

"Anti's not the Alpha," Chase whispered. "He's the Second. Oh, no. No, no, no."

"If we think the Second is bad," Henrik began, "then I do not want to meet the Alpha."

In the pile of boxes across the room, JJ whined aloud.

#MID-WEEK WEREWOLF WEDNESDAY WOOOO #to be clear this is character jack but jack's said he's cool with fanfic that not's sxual or shipping anyhow so cheers!#let me know if you enjoyyyy thanks #werewolf au #bee writes #abduction tw #kidnapping tw #imprisonment tw

15 notes · View notes

one-black-rotary-phone · 10 months

Note

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST

Ghost Kids When They Were Kidnapped

You ask and you shall receive. I'm not including the uh... The certain inappropriate stuff because no. Listen I don't know the time frame of the kidnappings so I don't know if Max was there the whole time, but let's pretend he was.

Not proofread.

Kidnapping TW, anxiety, breakdowns, etc. Violence and child murder/death. Torture. Do NOT read this if you have an inkling that you may be triggered. This gets dark.

Griffin

This boy was the first and the youngest of the group. He has no way of knowing there was about to be a serial kidnapper and killer going around, nor that he would be the first target. I feel like The Grabber would have been more anxious about the kidnapping and therefore would've killed Griffin sooner.

Albert Shaw would've taken Griffin while he was on his way home from school, just like everyone else. I feel like Griffin lived a good way out of town, so he usually got the car or bus to and from school. That day, however, he was practicing walking part of the way home on his own. It was only when he didn't complete the trip to his mother's work was he reported missing. Griffin was definitely the easiest to kidnap, being the smallest and lightest and the one who never had a chance of knowing what was about to happen.

But for the short time that he was there he screamed and cried his lungs and heart out. All Griffin wanted was to go home. He didn't care if he couldn't report the Grabber, and he tried to tell him that, but he wouldn't listen. I also feel like The Grabber used to be a lot more outwardly cruel (though he still was by the end) towards his victims, so he probably beat Griffin up a few times just for the hell of it. However, Griffin's death was probably the quickest out of everyone, since the Grabber just wanted to job done. It's because he was there not very long that he knows Finney doesn't have much time.

Billy

With a little experience under his belt, Albert Shaw felt a little more confident in taking his next victim. However, he hadn't yet become known amongst the community for who he was to become, so Billy was still pretty calm about the situation. Everyone assumed it was just a one-off incident.

As we know, Billy was the exception to the 'picked up after school' pattern; he was kidnapped while doing the morning paper run. I feel like Billy had specifically trained his dog not to run over to people or bark while on the paper run as to not disturb the people, which happened to be pinnacle in his demise. I feel like it happened right when he finished doing the papers. The Grabber had memorised his routine and swooped in at the last moment to 'offer a ride him for those tired legs'. We all know what happened next.

Once Billy was down in the basement, he was immediately trying to scream for help. The Grabber informed him that wasn't going to work, so he decided to escape. He had heard Max calling his brother from upstairs, which is why he tried to climb the stairs; he was looking for Max. But he didn't find Max (despite Max apparently never sleeping due to being high. IDK how that worked). He found The Grabber upstairs, and was killed for it. His death was also pretty quick, but the beating that happened before it was much longer.

Vance

Vance was easily the hardest to kidnap. But he was also easy to convince The Grabber wasn't a threat. Vance never believed he'd let himself get kidnapped; he would beat the life out of whoever tried. So when the Grabber approached him as he was walking the long trip home from school, he didn't suspect anything. That was until he was hit on the head with a 2 x 4 piece of timber before getting the spray can trick.

Once Vance was in the basement, he for once didn't react with physical violence. Because he isn't dumb, you know. He knew acting up would get himself in trouble. So, he just worked on his escape plan until The grabber found the massive dent in the wall.

Vance definitely put up a fight. He used all the remaining strength he had (remember, The Grabber fed his victims little as to weaken them) to do damage to his kidnapper. But The Grabber had a knife, and as Vance put his hands on Albert's shoulders to try and push him away, he was promptly stabbed. The death was brutal. I imagine Max was out so The Grabber took all the time he needed taking out all that pent-up anxiety on poor Vance.

Bruce

Okay, so by the time Bruce was kidnapped everyone knew who The Grabber was. And Bruce was probably the hardest to coerce into getting near Albert simply because the boy had basic stranger danger training. But Bruce was also a very friendly guy, so in the end he crumbled and agreed to help The Grabber with whatever was going on in the back of his van (The Grabber was purposefully vague about it). Bruce had a horrible gut feeling, but he ignored it in favour of being kind.

Once he was in the basement, he immediately began to cry and berate himself. I mean, he had a gut feeling; why didn't he just listen to it? That was what was going through his head at the time. He was scared - so scared - as were everyone else before and after him, but Bruce definitely let it show the most. He eventually got control of himself, though, and began is escape plan.

Only, he was caught right as he had started. Bruce had begged for mercy, for anything. He was willing to do literally almost anything to get out of there. He was willing to let The Grabber cut off a limb while he was awake if that's what he wanted. But The Grabber liked knowing he had control, so he instead made it as painful as possible. Bruce was crying (I mean, they all cried, but he cried the most) and continued begging for mercy. But he never got it.

Robin

Robin, as we know, was snatched while he was on his way to the store from school. I feel like Robin didn't fall for the classic 'want to see a magic trick?' trick because The Grabber had specifically approached him. And Albert probably knew that; he had heard the kid's reputation and saw the way he presented himself and just knew. So, he decided to approach Robin while he was still a little ways' off the store and attack him there. Robin may have been strong, but he wasn't strong enough to get a fit, full-grown adult off of him.

Once he was in the basement, he tried to take the most calm and intelligent route. However, he just couldn't get a good escape plan going. So, he decided he'd just have to fight his way out. But that was difficult too, since he was barely being fed enough to stay alive. In the end, Robin ended up falling for the open door trick. He was at the end of his rope and just needed a lifeline, which was exactly what he wasn't going to get.

By then The Grabber was confident in his skills. Robin only lasted a good few days before caving and going up the stairs. Because of his confidence, Albert Shaw took as much time as he wanted bringing Robin the most pain possible. It was horrible. All the deaths were horrible. None of them deserved it. And all Robin could think about as he was dying was how he was never going to see his family again. Never going to see his friends again. How it would impact Finney's bullying. How it would impact his family. As he said, his father never came home, and now he wouldn't either.

18 notes · View notes