reidanderson-blog

[reidanderson-blog]

samiradeclan

        Teeth sank into her lower lip — a bite to keep back the grin that threatened to spread across her face with his surprise. “When I have you alone in my room …” She paused for a moment, an airiness to her tone that was certainly absent before. “Mmn, yes for all of the devious things I clearly have planned for you. What my coworkers don’t know is that I’m descended from a succubus. I’ll suck your soul out of you, and I’m sure you can imagine from where.” Of course she was just poking fun at him — giving all the more reason for him to keep that surprised (maybe panicked?) expression from leaving his face. It was too funny to chase away just yet. All the while she spoke she continued her work. The pile of clean tools was growing while those that remained dirty shrank. “You were being too much the good cop. I can’t fault you for wanting to do your job, but perhaps you would have had an easier time doing so in Chicago. Or Detroit. Somewhere less full of corrupt and twisted souls all crammed into one house.” Of course she couldn’t count herself out of that. While she lacked all of the necessary pieces to be a sexual deviant like her partners there was certainly a darkness inside of her. It presented itself before them both — dirtied tools from dismembering and disposing of. It wasn’t so bad …

“I won’t deny the drug headache. I wasn’t going to be able to fight you and win. I’m not that hopeful or foolish, and I always have something on me anyway — just in case. I took a lot of time to watch you and learn your patterns. I gave you an extra dose. I didn’t want your fight or flight SEAL training kicking in, adrenaline overpowering the drugs.” It would have been sloppy and Samira was anything but. A roll of her shoulders had her continuing her tale, “There’s a lounge in the room you’re welcome to sleep on if you don’t prefer the floor. As I said, I won’t have you in my bed.” She paused, “I did have to drag you to my car, and I bound your wrists, but I didn’t hit you. I had no reason to. You were out cold. —I’d never strike you without reason. So don’t give me a reason.” With a soft sigh Samira discarded another tool to the clean pile and continued on. “Mmn. Are a detective. Yes, yes.”

       And barely a minute’s full of heartbeats passed before the squareness in his shoulders relaxed and his feet widened just enough to revoke his formal stance. The sarcasm practically seeped from her lips, jokes laced with a dark humor and bile he could almost see the black liquid spill from her mouth and trickle to her chin. The toothy crack in his face returned at the unsettling image, at the joke, at the image of her description being made into reality. “Will you be drugging me up for that as well? While possibly enjoyable in my own destruction, I’m not keen on having my soul taken, you know?” The mockery of his situation was to easy to imbibe the humor as she encouraged it despite his moment of doubt, despite questioning what mental ailment befell a beautiful woman to associate with a place. Beautiful. Beautiful. His facial features momentarily screwed while a heavy stone formed within his stomach-- how unsettling it was that he found his abductor attractive. Or even that he was lucky (so far) in comparison to the other captives for not only how they were treated, but for faces they had to endure. It was unnerving Reid considered it, let it pass through his mind that he stepped away from the sink and turned his positioning, shaking off the nerves while he spoke, “Chicago is taking lessons on how corrupt it can be without going public-- it’s failing, by the way-- and I don’t think I’d do well in a place like Detroit. I came to Canada. It was supposed to be Canadians with their fake parking tickets that have compliments on it and maple syrup lollipops made in the snow. And if I knew you were all being roofed here, I would have been a tad more tactful about my approach: bombs, bombs everywhere.”

When his five step pacing seemed enough to forget, or at least move the disturbing thought into the recesses of his mind, Reid settled with the low of his back leaning against the counter beside her, arms crossed. “Now I’m really stuck between the honored and creeped-out feeling. I didn’t take you for stalker but I was bound to have one eventually. I know I have the looks for it.” Cheeky, or at least he was trying to be where he could take it. He couldn’t deny the cleverness of her approach, careful to know who she was taking and what Reid was capable of, disheartening as it was that she seemed to have no fault in underestimating him and providing an opportunity. “I feel like you’re implying something, like I’m not a detective anymore when we both know that even if I’m a retired SEAL, I am still a Navy SEAL. As such, just because I’m here and being... whatever I am here, I am still a detective for Brookswood.”

[reidanderson-blog]

softboyshardgirls

Every time he left Claire’s room he was immediately reminded why he spent most of his time there in the first place. In less than one hour he’d seen three separate couples fucking in the hallway, two fistfights, and five weeping teenagers. So now he stuck to the corner he’d gravitated towards, out of sight for the most part, blatantly judging the room’s inhabitants. Only even that is too much social interaction for Marion’s disaster of a brain, so he turns to leave, only to meet the gaze of the person who apparently stood a little ways a way- and Marion hopes they just walked up, because he’s pretty sure he’d been mumbling grumpily under his breath for a while now. “You got a problem?” he asks stiffly, defensively.

      It wasn’t the captivity that made his feet wander in so many directions, nor the activity around-- whatever display given by captor or captive-- him that made his foot dance in place to release energy put to waste. It was the aimlessness, the free movement without task or reason that made him anxious to the point of considering to run if only for something to do. Books could only satisfy Reid for so long, and any kind offer the clubhouse provided still carried no weight towards any goal save for the release of energy, nothing more. So he was left to wander, find details and nooks, nuances and personalities of the people within, stop in place to observe his surroundings with mental notes and move on. But the boy’s voice stopped him before he could venture into another room he’d already visited twice that day, staring him down with furrowed brows before giving the delayed, calm response: “Nothing that isn’t obvious. Sounds like you have one, though.”

[reidanderson-blog]

pumpcdupkcks

nora hadn’t been sleeping the best for the past couple of weeks. even when she was exhausted, she got four hours of solid sleep at best. so after laying restless on the couch she let out a loud sigh, looking out the window. it was getting light out. rolling off the couch she pulled on a hoodie and slipped out of the room. the house was quiet as usual, until she turned a corner and gasped. just about running straight into another person. “shi —- sorry.” 

       “Woah,” he laughed, hands slipping out of his pockets, holding his weight from falling forward with a palm to the wall. “No need to apologize. I wasn’t minding where I was going, either.” His mind was about as lost as he was to society, left to wander and find his footing where he could, wherever his footfalls would take him-- most of which was found in the kitchen. Reid was about to continue on with a polite smile but stopped in a stuttered step before looking back to her. “I know you. I’ve seen you around but I know you but my head’s not helping me place your face.”

[reidanderson-blog]

[reidanderson-blog]

evelynellory

        “Property.” Her repetition of the word was quiet, soft, an afterthought to enunciate the situation they were both in together. She had never signed up for this. She knew there were lives people chose to lead, paths that brought them here for one reason or another. Whatever her own path had been, her affiliation with the Anserini was through her brother and even then it wassparing. She knew nothing of what they did, just that he ran drugs, and anything beyond that wasclueless. When he offered a hand to her she glanced at it for a moment before giving her own. Wouldn’t it be nice for one person her to know her name outside of what they wanted to do with it? Someone who knew her in earnest? Not her married names, not her aliases — but her. “Evelyn Ellory. Evie works, though.” Her clasp was firm enough to be genuine, loose enough to reveal the heart she did not have here — the beaten-down soul. “You look like a Reid.”

      Her echo back rattled between his ears several times before the thought dissipated. Slavery justified by the attempt of opposition, by the connection to another’s opposition-- he had thought the political and proclaimed religious wars between nations were their own bout of crazy no other ideal could top. The Anserini happily proved him wrong in that regard, subject to it with little means of resistance... but he was thankful the chance was still present. “And your parents sound like they were having a laugh with the alliteration. It’s nice to meet you, Evie, even if it’s under terrible circumstances.” He had yet to extend his hand to other captives he spoke to, none seem to be as easy to speak with. The strain was the conversation-- captive together-- was understandably enough to mistrust even those who weren’t affiliated with their estranged overlords. Her company, her demeanor, it leveled his shoulders and grounded him to the carpeted floor instead of a sanded one. “How did they get you?”

[reidanderson-blog]

evelynellory

        “I want to say that it’s obvious that you’re joking but … my sarcasm radar has been off since I go there.” More like — since she threw her -empty- purse at her captor and made a mad dash for a main road. She remembered vaguely the rules of being followed and what you were meant to do, but nobody ever said anything about being chased by Jack Skellington. Three of her steps equaled a half of his, there was just no way. “I don’t want to have sex with anyone for fun.” How child-like she sounded in that moment, joining the blond by staring into the fire. Maybe she could just jump in. If she didn’t die at least she’d have horribly scarred flesh. Nobody would want to touch her then, right?

     He nodded several times as his hand lowered. “I understand. I regretted my own words the moment they came out. No, no, I am not one of these maniacs, to clarify; supposedly the property of one.” He turned and faced her, a bit too uniform like but her honesty struck a chord of truth for both of them. In his life he expected to be shot, torn by explosives, concussed, and even held hostage with the possibly of torture. Not once did he consider sexual abuse, threatened leisurely as if it was akin to drinking water. “I wouldn’t wish it to happen to any of us, and hopefully it won’t, the ones who have yet to experience it.” His burning hand clenched, now feeling the exposure he convinced himself he didn’t feel. How proper that it was hotter than the rest of him, holding the anger he had for their situation from revealing itself to be taken advantage. “Reid Anderson,” he introduced, holding out his free hand to shake. “ ’Figure we should know each other before they start renaming us, too.”

[reidanderson-blog]

samiradeclan

        “My thighs are sweating at the mere thought.” Sarcasm oozed from her tone like ichor, she didn’t even bother to fleck her eyes up from her work to dignify it with a glance. Whenever she wasn’t speaking, when her concentration was a bit more boldly on her work, she chewed her lower lip, only to release it when she readied to speak again. “None of them were as impressive as you, obviously.” A pause. She did finally look up, “None of them threatened the gang the way you were. How bold. I think I have to change my panties with it.” Another tool to her far left, away from where he could reach it without being obvious about what he was doing. Sharing a bed with him. She knew that most of her coworkers used their captives for physical pleasure. The idea of condoning any sexual act including herself in a house with so many people inside of it made her skin crawl. It was a private thing — not for shame, but for a measure of keeping herself to herself. “Yes, well I have no desire to wake up to a pillow being stuffed down my throat because you’re so close. I am a light sleeper, for the record. If you try anything from your place across the room I’ll hear it well before you reach me.” She had so many more things to clean, but it would pass quickly. At least he was amusing to chatter with, for now. “They do act like children, sometimes.” Most times. Eyes flecked over to the sink, Samira even leaned back to ensure there were no sharp objects lingering that he could brandish against her after washing his hands. With the all-clear she gave a nod, “Go for it, Hoss. —And for the record, I didn’t let your head hit the ground. I caught you. Your dead weight made my knees buckle onto the pavement. Did you wake up with a knot on the back of your head? No. And you call yourself a detective.”

     Of all the phrases she emphasized with sardonic humor… his brows reached the heavens, eyes wide in the stare that their banter escalated so quickly. His lips were normally loose, quick to comment back in his own bold manner but instead they remained lest there was some truth beneath the sarcasm they had been toying with. Despite how easy their conversation came, he didn’t know her well enough to claim she was fully joking, or if his sarcastic encouragement wouldn’t reveal any tendencies she shared with her colleagues. Instead, he eased off with the simple remark, “That is certainly an image. Should I be concerned about this imagery when you have me alone in your room. And I wasn’t threatening anyone. I was piecing together a vague puzzle and trying to get the law to its job.” Apparently in Brookswood, that was a feat in itself. When he first moved, Reid chalked it up to the backwards country Canada was, where kindness oozed out of mouths with a passive-aggressive bite they insisted was innocent and genuine. Years taught him it was the city, too kind (and frightened) to care for themselves that their heads were crooked from constantly looking away and pretending it meant they didn’t see. For the compliment that it was he only heard, Impressive that you still uphold the law.

Backwards country indeed, stuck in a sex (and possibly disease) riddled home. The only consolation was when she was specific to his place across the room which seemed far more accommodating than what he heard from fellow captives, or what he heard eavesdropping in their sob stories. “Will it at least be a comfy corner I get to stay in? I’ll get these terrible aches in my neck, which,” he added, taking his turn under the facet with note how she kept everything just out of reach. "I woke with a headache after missing two days, a drug headache, but I don’t entirely believe I wasn’t knocked around a little when you dragged me to your car.” For how bitter he was about the situation, there was some small lift to his tiers, imagining her catching him while he spun and fell. While she was practically his height, his weight would have been difficult for a built man to manage. “And I am a detective, mostly. I’m even asking questions I know the answers to as a tactic to produce more information from my subject, just like they taught me,” he grinned, shaking his hands before finding a towel to dry them– the tactic also proved to be a tad annoying but a great way to stir conversation.

[reidanderson-blog]

evelynellory

        “I guess I could scream it, but it would ruin the serenade of silence.” Or bring unwanted attention to an otherwise undisturbed room. Her residency in the attic wasn’t so far behind her and the last thing that Evie wanted to do was be somewhere so … public. It was different when she was wandering, not so much when whomever could appear and do whatever they wanted to … well, the idea was there. She came to a stop beside him, half-a-person’s worth of space between herself and the blond, before she rose her own hand before the grate. Not to burn, just to warm. “Please tell me you’re not one of those sex maniacs?”

     Silence. The very thing he blamed for pulling him into a distant world (although the entity held no responsibility to mind), she didn’t want to disturb. At least her question was worth ruining it, a smirk and huffed laugh to think he was anything akin to them. “Absolutely. I go around telling everyone my fetishes and expect them to fulfill it with sadistic glee.” His eyes flashed to hers, pausing to gauge if he had made a mistake, tricked into offering the joke of an open invitation to the very type of person he was mocking. A shake of his head, he looked back into the flames. “It’s a horror show and we’re the entertainment.”

[reidanderson-blog]

samiradeclan

        “I obviously brought you here because I was so lonely, and so desperate for human contact, that I just … abducted you.” The sarcasm was imminent but her tone, her expression — none of it gave intothe fact that she was being sarcastic. In fact, she’d spent zero nights in the same room as her new friend, most of them had been called away to work and the one that she wasn’t … she was reading. Willfully spending time away from him so he wouldn’t try anything out of the irrational new anger of his situation. “But when I do, we’re not sharing a bed. You can sleep on the floor or in the closet or in the tub but … I spread out when I sleep. I’ve never been good at sharing.” She’d have left him in the attic if she didn’t think he was liable to try and flee at some point. Samira was less-inclined to use him as a play thing and more business about the arrangement, and she wasn’t dumb to how dangerous he was. “There’s a reason why you’ve popped the cherry on my abduction, Hoss. I didn’t want to deal with having an angry child roaming around plotting my murder. Not that you��re a child — a lot of the people who were taken act like children. It’s boring.” She snorted at the idea of good whiskey. It was usually just shit beer or whatever else the poor taste of her peers were. “I’ve waited nine years for any sort of good liquor in this house to appear and it hasn’t yet. So keep hoping.” Another tool done. She placed it out of his reach and made for yet another dirty one — dutiful. “No, I don’t leave behind any evidence, never mind one so narcissistic. I have no desire to have a battle of the wits with Vancouver’s finest. And it wouldn’t be acidic anymore. Hence it being dry, and dry shit can still get on your hands. Oh. Shit. I could be shit, too.”

    “I knew I had to have some charm that was appealing though I can’t say I feel honored you chose me. Any one of my neighbors would have thrown themselves at your feet. I’m sure several coworkers of mine would have too– but instead of them, here I am.” Any one of his colleagues would have been equally frighten and excited to be in his position: too scared to fight the organization but thrilled to be within its walls. Some of the kidnapped portrayed the same, the majority seemed to have accepted their fate without dignity. And here was Reid, fight or flight senses at their peak, no resources at his disposal to act on either. “I would have been more put off had you expected me to sleep beside you. Our strenuous relationship wouldn’t fair well as bed mates.” Perhaps he spoke too much, not knowing his captor well enough to understand her intentions but as the interactions around him fared, there was a level-headedness to Samira absent from the others, confirmed by her own words. “Your colleagues act like children,” he emphasized in hushed words, another uneasy statement but she had opened the conversation to it. “But why would I want to kill you? No, I’ve been plotting how to knock you out to return the favor, with the added bonus of easing you to the ground instead of allowing your head to knock off the pavement.” His hands still hung in the air, nodded to the sink. “That’s why I said ‘pardon me’ to wash my hands. And to answer your question, no, you weren’t a part of my list names though I’m sure you’d get your jollies if I were add you to the search with nothing to find. Can I have access to the sink now?”

[reidanderson-blog]

samiradeclan

        From behind her lashes Samira stared, between the tool and him, and waited for him to finish his rationalization as to why he was so privileged to touch her things. After a quiet moment she dropped her cotton ball and flicked the switch for the bone saw on — the small round blade whirring loudly and pressing a pleasant smirk onto her lips. After a moment Samira killed the power and set it away, away from him for sure, and reached forward to pluck the tool from his grasp. “If you think that being my captive means you earn any right, you’re quite wrong. I was patient enough to let you stew off most of your anger in the room alone, the least you can do is be something less of a headache on your first real day around.” Teeth bit into her lower lip as she worked: a new cotton ball, more rubbing alcohol, slow swipes. “If you think I’m not going to clean the work station when I’m done then you have me pegged for someone whose sloppy in my work. And if I were a sloppy cleaner you’d have gotten information from a crime scene for your plea against the Anserini gang. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, you did not. Not my jobs, at least.” She was still smiling, despite the banter. “Are you worried you’ll get a hair in your food? Now that there’s shmutz on your fingers.” Once more she flashed her gaze up at him — at the dirty fingers from his touching. “Mm … maybe dried bile. Too dark to tell.” 

    “Patient? You were that eager to have me in your room, sleeping not far from you.” What a funny notion it all was. When he heard it was standard for captives to reside with their abductors, he questioned why more Anserini weren’t popping up dead and disposed, why the clubhouse didn’t have its own accompanying graveyard for their fallen comrades butchered and strangled in their sleep. Of course reason argued, they wouldn’t make it far afterwards, but dying trying to live was more honorable than yielding without question. “Well, if you were under the impression having an abductee was going to be an easy feat then I’m here to enlighten you I didn’t simply accept this is my new home. I would need a really good bottle of whiskey to swallow that notion, fit for gods… oh, and freedom, which is not an offer.” The hint of a smile gracing his lips flat-lined and eliminated all progress it made in their banter. “I had evidence, though I’m not sure if it was you. You didn’t by chance leave a mark behind, an ashtray signature in plain view to laugh at the cops working the case?”  His fingers rubbed together, absent of plaything while feeling the odd consistency, a familiar and uncomfortable consistency. His head nodded to the tap, hands reaching out. “Pardon me. Bile would be acidic, it’s not acidic. So why didn’t you clean them when you were cleaning?”

[reidanderson-blog]

    The fibers beneath his hands were supposed to be jagged, rough rock and rumble from a destroyed building where he was perched, where the sun was supposed to be burning his already blistered cheeks. Instead, the soft cloth of the sofas in the lounge were keeping him grounded where the silence in the room wished to drift him off, remind him, but neither reality was appealing to lay claim. Reid was caught between the bridge of the two, absent from his physical surroundings and unaware of company that entered as he stood and approached the fire place. His hand was near touching the hot, metal screen to the fireplace when he paused, "Repeat what you said a little louder this time.”

@evelynellory

[reidanderson-blog]

amildyo

The people in the clubhouse are odd, be it by nature of the gang or being taken by them for so long that they change. Drea doesn’t really know who is who anymore, but watching someone try to touch BURNING hot metal? “You’re not thinking of hurting yourself, are you?” Question remains, perhaps daft to even ask but all the same. “There are doctors around, I’m sure they can help with..whatever you’re thinking about.”

      Thinking. The question made his nostrils flare and gaze avert from the yellow glare. It wouldn’t be surprising if some went to great lengths to cope, but it wasn’t in the man’s blood to go out without a fight. No, he wasn’t thinking of hurting himself, only of a country far away where he could fight and hurt himself trying-- though the concept was not too unlike from where he stood. “Nah, I’m not about that. Besides, I’d be surprised the medics around here are looking to treat my head without busting it a little, first.”

[reidanderson-blog]

dreadfiilled

          ichabod watched carefully, head tilting slightly as the other man spoke. his eyes followed his hand and he swallowed thickly, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. “ sure. “ he muttered, moving a step towards the other. “ it would be, but then i would have to patch you up and i’m tired of smelling like burned flesh. “ he thought of jace and how disgusting the brand had been. “ there are blankets if you are cold. “ he wasn’t stupid. he knew something else was going on, but he wasn’t particularly sure what.

      He almost misheard the other, he almost agreed head in the air ready to confirm the nod before it froze it place. Reid knew the sickening sweet fumes but never, thankfully, did it linger and cling to him. Now his gaze was on the doctor, now he attention had been brought back to clubhouse and where he stood, even if the haze still lingered. “So you’re the doc, around here. Heating by the fire isn’t too unheard of... heating in the fire is overdoing it, just a little. As I said, I’m not enough of anything to willingly do that.”  Only run into the danger without care if he was hurt. “Treat a lot of burns, then? Or did a fire take over somewhere?”

[reidanderson-blog]

desidcriium

“i was just asking if you were new around here. i haven’t seen you around this place before.” taylor said. she knew that there was a chance reid wasn’t new, there were people all over the clubhouse who had been there longer than she had. this place was larger than she ever thought it would be. she made sure to write down little details about it whenever she got a chance to have a piece of paper to write things on. she didn’t care if being a journalist was what got her into this mess. she wasn’t going to stop until she could tell the complete story on this gang.

      "A week? Maybe verging on two weeks. I’m not sure. I lost count of a few days, so I wouldn’t know how to math it right.” Did he even want to count the days? It was surreal to even think he had been here a week, but then isolation blurred time into an amalgamation of days and nights blended together, and he would be thinking the same when a month had passed, a half a year, two years. A part of him hoped to have escaped by then, the other half was hoping him dead. For now, it was two weeks passing, of him surveying the clubhouse structure and its inhabitants’ tendencies, finding nooks and amusements like the heat reddening his hand and slowly becoming less of a comfort. “You?”

[reidanderson-blog]

desidcriium

“it’s not like i have a sign saying, ‘hey, one hundred dollars in this safe. the passcode is 1-2-3-4. i hope none of ya’ll will steal any of it. love kenzie’. i was going to sleep with him, but then found him trying to break into my shit while i was in the bathroom freshening up.” she told reid. she could tell that reid didn’t understand how things usually worked in this gang, usually people didn’t steal from one another. they saw each other as a big family. “it’s not like i didn’t interact with anyone. i interacted with gang members and their children.” she said. “like anyone in this place would be stupid enough to give you a knife.”

      “I hope that’s not the passcode. All the same, I think my perceptions of this place are one-sided, though it’s said that an outsider’s view is the clearest perception-- but only an opinion.” Dysfunctional, no doubt, especially when they spoke to each other like they were ready to fight for the better position, ready to maim each other because someone called them a dirty word or disturbed their reading. For a so-called family, they seemed pitted at each other’s necks waiting for the excuse that would allow them to act, such as stealing from each other. “They were stupid enough to try to steal from you while they thought you weren’t looking. So... there’s still a chance.”

[reidanderson-blog]

averyxkilbourne

Avery had been reading quietly when he heard the dude mumbling to himself. He glanced up and tried to think who he was. Was that Samira’s cop? The former Navy SEAL? As Avery considered he saw the man reach for the hot screen. The fuck? Did the asshat think he was going to get out of here by injurying himself? Fucking idiot. Avery rose to his feet in one swift movement, letting the book fall closed as it tumbled to the floor. He gave the other male a rough shove, just enough to move him back from the fireplace. “The fuck you doing man? Get your shit together.” he growled in a low voice.

      It was an unconscious reaction, being startled from his daze with a staggered step, Reid was already in a defensive position ready to engage physical fight. But like a recorder replaying the scenario, the other’s words slowly caught up to him, what they were in reference to, and slowly relaxed. “I wouldn’t have touched,” he explained, even if he didn’t know for sure. “I’m not looking to injure myself when there are plenty here who would happily oblige. Even then, I’m not trying to encourage them,” Reid added, hands up as he retreated a few steps while maintaining eye contact. He couldn’t imagine how injuring himself would help his situation either. Taken off to some doctor who might have been twisted as the lot of them? Given his position, there was no guarantee he’d come back with less or healing injuries. 

[reidanderson-blog]

hoosier smith lockscreen because I love this salty son.