#against the ants

[scratchandplaster]

Dulosis

CW: sleep deprivation, white/noise torture, creepy/intimate Whumper, defiant Whumpee, hallucinations

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The room was as barren as it was functional, two square meters of locked space. They called it a white room, but the walls were padded with dusty-gray foam, which he already tried to pick apart. In no way did the tapered spikes budge.

Not that this changed anything, the noise was still kept inside. It came once every half hour, he counted, a deafening sough in close intervals, at least one minute in length.

Counting was the only thing he was able to busy himself with, though, so he didn't mind when they decided to change the frequency up to put the ungrateful guest on edge.

On the third day, he ripped a button from his cardigan, throwing and blindly fumbling for it. Another game, another way to keep the last sliver of his mind in place. He remembered vaguely seeing this trick in a documentary about Alcatraz, a little how-to experience about keeping sane in solitary confinement.

The issue wasn't the silence or the solitude; he preferred that to being kept downstairs and playing house with a person he barely knew. That fucking psycho snapped, he had thought when they shoved him in here, food or water missing since day one.

No, it was the noise.

The chaos that dug itself deep into his brain's fissures, keeping his mind alert and body awake even after what felt like eternity. 

The ants came after the fourteenth alarm, he counted that too, crawling through the barely visible slit that was separating him from freedom. A few at the start, but where they came from others waited for an equal opportunity, and soon the floor was sprinkled with them, too large to number. On his skin, his lashes, pushing his lips apart to engulf every pore with the prickly tap of their countless feet.

And then they were gone again, nothing but foam and noise for a while. They would return, no doubt, and with that knowledge he started to get thankful for the scheduled terror, just barely. Scratching at the back of his senses, the thirst that dried his body up from the inside had become just a minor problem.

At one point he could hear his own intestines working; pumping, contracting and rhythmically meandering to the sound that just so snapped him back to reality.

Again.

And then again, never a warning beforehand. Did that happen in the documentary too? He couldn't tell anymore; didn't know anything. Mind so fuzzy, he nearly caught himself wishing for that freak to come back and open the door, turn off the sounds, anything to let him rest.

Now, after cowering on the ground with both hands pressed tightly against his ears, so nothing would crawl inside, there came a new fuss. A single light click, then another as the heavy steel door moved outwards and his captor's silhouette blocked the entry. The sudden brightness left him nearly blinded, another misery piling on top.

"Hello there, I nearly forgot about you."

The friendly chuckle they let rain down on him felt like poison. But they lied through their teeth, spending every quiet minute they stole from their captive to plan the inevitable outcome, success now prickling right on their fingertips.

The cowering mess at their feet let out a weak hack, voice sore from misuse: "Let me rest."

Bloodshot eyes met an unmoving stare. There was no room to negotiate.

"Ask nicely, sweetheart," the shape offered instead.

"You fucking-"

Without another word, they turned on the spot, ready to leave him stewing in his own misery. Maybe five days weren't enough, they could wait.

The room was practically filled with his stare that clung to their back, heart thrumming so heavy in his chest it felt like it would burst out any second. Not willing to give up the last sliver of freedom he had kept safe so carefully, but too weak and confused to do anything about it, the words just slipped from his lips.

"Nonono wait, I'm sorry. Stay. Stay!"

He wanted them to keep talking, to hear anything else than that ingrain blare, the thrumming of his heart, the legs crawling along...

Behind the veil of quickly forming tears, he could see his captor halt and turn. More? Did they want more of this? Living the lie with them, just as a short break, maybe. A workaround. Get strength back and try again. If he made it that far... Just to rest for a bit.

"Please," the hurt voice pressed out, "I'm j-just so tired. I won't make you any more trouble."

"Again," the shadow replied, voice warm as the summer noon. They knew he was so much closer to what they imagined. The other sessions they had together were not as successful, but finally he seemed to let his guard slip. Almost there.

A lone sniff could be heard in the room, more closet than anything.

"Please. Can I please go to sleep, just for a bit?"

It was over for today. Other fights would come, ones he would win, or so he assured himself.

Fights he would give up again, his captor knew.

Nearly gone again, he was quickly brought back by the thin smile that crept across their face, victorious after all. They gave a single nod that made the sore loser fold into himself, eyes closed and face flat against the barren floor.

Maybe the light will stay on too. Oh, please stay on, it's safer that way...it's safe.

A warm palm gently placed itself on his matted hair, not touching but resting in a most innocent gesture.

"Not in here," they whispered, "Not after you're finally behaving, dear."

The hand slipped down further, and with it the reassuring touch. He was being pet, a part of him recognized. A small price in the end.

Hand placed in shaking hand, he was pulled up to face the victor of this little game.

"Come on. You will love it."

More carried than led down the hall, through blurry and burning vision, he could see doors beside them passing. They pulled him around the corner and through the wooden doorway onto a bed, ready and freshly made.

The heavy comforter atop the sheets seemed too pristine to hold his filthy body, but his captor didn't seem to mind one bit when they dragged him under the white heaven. Both would clean up tomorrow, the next step that was oh-so carefully prepared.

The shaken man shouldn't dare to forget how divine this felt, and if he did, their special room would still be vacant for another time.

As he was tucked in with peaceful humming right behind his ear, his mind sank into the comfort he had denied himself for such a long time. And for this moment, freedom traded in for peace, numbing sound for forced touch, he believed it was worth it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterpost]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I know those eyes.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Shameless established relationship RLGL AU fluff ♡

Look at these goobers, they are just foolin' around

[franken-shits]

Thinking about punk herstory again...

[ants-personal]

also i just know if benson had been invited to a dinner at the Bradley household he and tandys mom would be locked in the biggest power struggle ever both being politely passive aggressive bensons over here gripping and massaging randys thigh under the table whos trying to stop the shaking in his hands as benson flashes his sweetest shit eating grin at mrs Bradley benson comments how much bigger than this house and town randy is his mother counters randys always been happy here this is where his family is theres no need to leave tensions are so high randy feels like hes going to explode so he has an outburts apologizes and tells his mom hell see benson out mrs Bradley thinking shes won the game unknowing benson has randy begging and panting like a dog in the backseat

[daily-isabeau]

i am sick and insomniac scrolling through this blog at 4am on. a school night make him suffer. as a treat. for me <3 /nf

Explodes him. For you.

[myokk]

beach day!!!

[queenoffoliage]

Annt

[frostios]

Vote for either Matilda or Quake in the Sonic Oc Showdown polls I'm running!

Matilda belongs to me and @halcyon-pandion

Quake belongs to @bunnymajo

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Also obsessed with Peggy Carter (70 year old woman) clearly and easily restraining Hank Pym (20ish year old younger man with superpowers). Do you understand

[ingravinoveritas]

Favorite moments of David flirting with Dec on Saturday Night Takeaway last night.

[chameleocoonj]

🕸️🎃👻SPOOKY BUGS👻🎃🕸️

[headfullof-ideas]

Fontaine and Nate are a little more domestic in how they got together, while Ant and Kari have been chaos since day one of their friendship. I headcanon that Ant doesn’t have the most experience with relationships, due to growing up on a submarine with little idea how to talk to other kids his own age, let alone girls, but his parents and sister made sure he did not grow into one of those guys who’s insensitive to girls. Kaiko and Will made sure their son was a gentleman to women. Problem is, Ant was raised to be nice to women and not push himself onto them so much that he didn’t actually make a move when he realized he liked Kari. Because he valued their friendship so much, and heard firsthand about some of the less than stellar relationships she’d had and how jerky some of her exes were, so he just…didn’t say or do anything. He knew he liked her but didn’t immediately pursue anything because he didn’t want to seem like that guy who only became friends with a girl so he could date her, and then ruin their (at that point) near six year friendship.

Kari meanwhile has been trying to get this stupid boy to realize their last few hangouts haven’t been hangouts, and that she’s almost blatantly asked him out on a date three times in a row. She’s wondering if she needs to go so far as kiss him to get him to realize what’s going on.

And a Fontaine and Nate, because they’re also cute.

[dreadeves]

i’ve began rotating an au in my mind where people find out about the necromancy but it’s through the magic signature, and using the theory that kit’s magic did something after the catalyst failed, kit gets blamed for it.

like. he’s not talking about the necromancy. no one knows what happened except him and ty. so either ty has to tell everyone the truth, or watch as kit willingly martyrs himself out of a fucked up sense of caring for him.

like they’re trying to solve this issue themselves, obviously, but eventually, ty’s going to have to make a choice.

[ants-personal]

imagining a scene of benson being off on break but hes been gone longer than 30 mins and randy cant go on break till he gets back so the boss sends randy to go find benson cause if boss does it hell lose his shit so course randy does and he eventually finds him sat down against the wall by the backdoor sleeping cigarette held limply

and randy does try to wake him by gently calling his name even getting whay randy thinks is loud but benson doesnt wake so nervously flexing his fingers randy eventually decides to just poke him its not to rude right and they both really need to get back soon so he takes a breath before poking benson quickly

and that still doesnt work and honestly lowkey scares him what if benson died oh god so hed finally grab bensons should to shake him and thats when benson would wake and snatch randys wrist with enough force to bruise and grind his bones benson eyes dark and glaring as randy teies to jump back and apologize unable to pull his wrist out of bensons grip its only when benson blinks rapidly and glances around he seems to come back to himself and let's go of randy

he mumbles a quick sorry stubs his cigarette and goes back inside leaving randy standing there clutching his wrist later that night randys laying in bed the brusies are beginning to show pain shoots up as he slowly applys pressure to it and soon finds himself wondering what itd be like if he had grabbed his neck instead which quickly devols into imagining benson manhandling him against the back wall and sticky hands

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

On your recent post. Hear me out, dinner but picnic dinner :0

- <3

oh... picnics...