#kidnapped tw

[running-with-kn1ves]

BELONGINGS

Orc x Kidnapped human reader (Gender neutral)

A/N: Literally NO ONE asked for this but I kept seeing all those shrek/swamp romance tiktoks and got inspired to do some orc stuff. Man I love orcs... like big dumb bugs personified. (also ignore the experimental latin pet names idk what im doing)

CW: Kidnapping, forceful holding, arson, raiding, kind of just angst fluff?

Word count: 2600

You knew the excitement of your life would never move past the blandness of day-in day-out work to survive, not as one without any bestowed or taught brow-raising talents that could lift you away from the mundane daily life you held in the wispy fields of the woodlands. 

As a realist you concurred that you’d never be the breadwinner in your family, maybe not the strongest when hauling crops, or the smartest when it came to solving passed down arithmetic equations from your cousins’ old school books. But as a child you always took comfort in the thought ‘at least I won’t be chained down, won’t be tied to some ugly pig farmer for a couple shillings.’ Your family valued you that much; well-- your working hands, that much. ‘One more body is one more mouth to feed’ you were told time and time again, but you pulled your weight and then some. 

You had little time to think outside of planting, weeding, bathing and eating. Meals and getting rid of the dirt covering your soles that you were scolded for after hours of being in the damp pastures were the only down time you had to yourself, not surrounded by the screaming nieces and nephews you were expected to take care of when the elder of your family members eventually passed from whatever disease ran rampant in the village the coming winter. You prepared your life, prepared for taking care of others and continuing your hard work in growing what you needed to survive, and selling what you didn’t. 

Unfortunately, that humdrum future was wiped out by swirling flames and the braying of stallions of mountainous size. They came in, trampling the greening cranberry bush you were planning to keep all to yourself, and the cabbages your family would have relied on for meals for the next two months before winter fell. 

Persimmon trees were burnt to crispy thorned stumps, the lush of your family’s acres now shredded to flecks of dead grass and muddy hoof prints, along with humanoid footsteps far too large to resemble any of the humans or disfigured hybrids in your teensy rural hamlet. Who were these unwelcomed strangers, the enormous creatures of the night that disrupted the only human civilization for miles around? You remained clueless for the entirety of being ripped out of your bed, continuing to be hauled over some olive-colored shoulder and thrown into a sack on the back of a wagon. 

“This one.” You heard, right before your dirty finger nails were pulled away from your twin beds fading sheets you desperately tried to keep. You had even managed to bring a small, lumpy pillow along with you, the creature that slung you over their shoulder leaving no assumption of a notice. You witnessed the still-burning remnants of your frail thatched home, as the silhouette of a muscular man lowered a flamed stick to its leftovers. 

The entirety of the bumpy ride to wherever your captors were bringing you to, you could only think of the fires holding onto the greenery of your land, of the dirt and rubble and smoke that clawed at your feet when you tripped into the wagon, burnt air choking you as a baby screamed out for its mother. 

Hours must’ve passed before you were brought into this musky, dank room with other fading faces from your village, but it only felt like a few moments ago that you heard the crackling of a fiery tree crushing rows of perking crops. 

The snapping of fingers nearly as grimy as your own blocked your recollection of clouded smoke and angry flames, bringing your attention back to the leather hut you sat domestically within. It was damp and dark inside, the light of torches outside being the only form of light. That, and the reflection of the metal on the warrior in front of you. He turned back, thumbing toward you as he looked at a similar creature.

“Agh, its no use, practically fucking deaf this one. Sure you don’t want one of the mothers?” 

The other orc slapped his fellow warrior on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. 

“No, my friend. Besides, sweet things’ only other option is Brutus. Don’t think he could last with one of these poor creatures without splitting it in two; ‘specially this one.” 

You were suddenly and acutely aware of the orcs conversation, now that your fate was being so clearly decided in front of you. 

The first, far sootier orc patted his fellow brethren on the chest as he turned away with a look that showed he was hardly convinced. Yet, he still walked out of the tented hut, ducking slightly to fit under it. 

You watched him leave, feeling a sense of relief as the threat had been removed. And yet, there was still one so prevelantly in front of you. 

“Hey there.” A guttural, almost faltering voice murmured to you. 

Eyes growing wide, you gripped harder onto the smushed pillow in your lap, instinctively leaning your upper body backward to get away from the orcish face right in front of you. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” The orc gruffed, falling to a crouch as he watches you slide to the edge of the hut’s leather wall. “Just wanna see you up close.”

He consumed the entirety of your fearful attention, his existence like a heavy weight in the room as the quiet tension aimed at him. You pushed your head painfully against a wood pole behind the leather walls, trying to morph your body any distance away that would provide you a miniscule fraction of comfort. But none came, especially not when a sudden warm finger pushed into your cheek. The green thumb pulled your upper lip, showing the ends of your teeth. Your other cheek smushed into your eye as the orc did the same to the other side, observing your poor excuse for chompers compared to his large, well-groomed tusks. 

“Guess these’ll do. You can atleast chew meat, right?” he pulled your jaw open gently, making your lips part. “Don’t wanna have to feed you like a baby bird; though, that wouldn’t be the worst of troubles.” 

You slapped his hand away, grimacing at the idea of being fed by this beast-creature. 

“I can eat perfectly fine.” You grumble, noticing how stiff the orcs arm was, still holding out beside your face as it rests dejected. “What does that matter, aren’t you going to eat me anyway?”

You keep a frown on your face, glaring up at the crouched brute. 

He let out a hearty laugh, those around you turning away from their miserable memories to face the strident disturbance. 

“So cute, as if you’d be enough to feed an orcling!” He let out another chestful of a laugh, grabbing at your cheek this time with a pinch. “My little to-be spouse, I knew you’d be worth the trouble.”

Wincing in pain, your fingers came up to try and pry his rough, printless thumb off your salty skin. 

“So adorable,” He throatily squealed, dragging you closer by the cheek to stumble into his chest. The only thing covering the caverned flesh of deep holes and ravined slices in his skin were straps of bull leather, and the furs of cottontails sewn to form a thin shawl around his bulky shoulders. 

He smelled of a foreign musk, the slight piquant scent of his skin being swallowed in by your nostrils as your lips smushed against the dip in the middle of his chest. Something sharp poked into the side of your face as you were held tightly against the orc, making you muffle against him to let you go. 

“You’re right you’re right; we should have some privacy-- and you, should get a chance to see your new home. My home.” He huffed against your ear, humid breath making your neck sweat as tusks touched the top of your head. “Name’s Xerxes, don’t forget it-- make sure you tell it to any orcs that try n’ talk to you.”

“Wait now--” Your aimed attempt of protesting was cut wrongly short by the sudden grab of your ankles, Xerxes beginning to stand back up as he dragged you with him. Before you knew it you were upside down, hollering as fat fingers made their way around your tibia. A shoulder jutted into your soft stomach, throat heaving as Xerxes began to move. You saw your lone pillow left on the ground, growing farther away as the large legs belonging to your captor moved from below your vision.

With every huge step he took, the harsh necklaces of teeth (which you prayed belonged to animals) dug into your side-- huh, so that must’ve been what was scraping against your face earlier. They clinked together as he walked, his body so rigid and unorthodox that he made a sound whenever he moved, whether it be a snorted grunt or the stomp from his feet, or the shift of his clothes and sheathed weapons. 

Xerxes didn’t open the leather flap of the hut sahe carried you out, walking straight as it brushed across your head. You shut your eyes in an unavoidable flinch, but the orc hardly noticed as he adjusted you on his shoulder, grabbing right below your thighs to hold you steady. 

The brilliant idea of beating and scratching his back enough to get free was so enticing you were on the brink of trying it-- but the orc standing outside the hut you just left, the unfamilliar darkness of the grasslands surrounding you, made you think twice. 

And just like that, your world spun and you were tossed inside what must’ve been another tent, a blur of oranges from fiery torches and grey browns of animal hide entering your vision. Something soft hit your back as you let out an ‘oof!’ from the depths of your chest. 

You scrambled to get back up, alert now that you were thrown in some different environment. But as you clambered to look around, whipping your head from side to side, all you saw were reddish walls of leather and two warm torches, along with the occasional spread of a map or a scribed foreign language.

This tent was much smaller than the last, not meant for a community to rest in. Instead, it was about the snug and spacious size of a room for only one to sleep in. The softness of hairs touched your palms, layers upon layers of furs covering beneath you to create a small lump of a warm, makeshift bed. 

“Look at this,” An excited, guttural voice begged of you. “Been keeping it since forever; saw it in some… abandoned goblin grotto, once. Couldn’t help but take it with me as a memento. As soon as I saw it, I just knew it’d be the perfect gift for my future amasiuncula.”

You could taste the lie on your tongue, as if it was thick in the air once he spoke it. Orcs didn’t just ‘find’ things, the destruction of your teensy village showed you that much. But that didn’t matter, not when the piercing blue of a silk fabric dazzled at you. Why, you had never seen something so plush in your life. It was surely just a base blanket-like piece likely once spooled for the future of becoming some sort of clothing or undergarment; it was still so silkenly smooth nonetheless. Your fingers traced the perfect fabric, its sensation nothing you had ever felt in your years of living as a farming peasant. The softest thing you’d ever touched were the baby calfs your far neighbors had bred into existence. 

“See how soft it is?” Xerxes said with a slight sputter, bringing the silk to your cheek. “Like a cloud… it’s yours. My engagement present.”

You looked back up at him bewildered. “Engagement?” 

“A present. Orc tradition is to offer a gift of richness; the wealthiest thing I could get my hands on.” He covered you in the silk, wrapping your shoulders in it as he pulled you from the furs to his bare lap. You would’ve resisted given the chance, but the orc smugly kept the silk around your arms, bringing the other side of it to wrap around you, pulling it tight; you could hardly move yourself now, shoved in this warm softness of a cocoon; it frightened you. But the tusks pressed against your cheek, chewed lips touching your temple as a tongue gently poked out to swiftly press against your skin, made you fear something else more. “Always wanted a human..” The orc exhaled, audibly sniffing in the scent of your hair. “Been looking for a good once for a while now. One that’ll be nice and docile, a sweet little foal for me to enjoy--” 

You slid your arms against the suffocating silk that was beginning to build heat. “I don’t think i’m what you’re looking for, besides I’m not--”

“Oh but you are,” Xerxes cut you off, leaning his orcish face close to yours to make you look at him. “So.. soft, your skin is like obsidian smoothed and frosted by the tumbling of waves of the sea, so polished and spotted I can’t help but want to keep it in between my fingers.”

Beads hung low by his neck, attached to rings of metal that pierced large holes in his pointed ears. The black and silver balls that dangled would jingle when he moved his head to get a better look at you, along with the wire and metal ornaments wrapped around the braids in his hair. Despite the undercut he fashioned (that you could see better now), a great mane of thick brown hair traveled to his shoulders, tickling your neck as he squeezed you closer. You felt almost like a baby, swaddled and pressed close to his large beating heart that thumped against your shoulder. 

“And oh your dainty little fingers and toes, when I saw them peeking from your bedsheets I knew grabbing them with would be no mistake.”

The orc nuzzled into you with his flat nose, warmth spreading against your cheeks as his sunken face created friction. You always sort of thought your fingers were quite round, your toes a little mishappen, but compared to him, your entirety was merely like a child’s straw doll’s. 

“I don’t want to marry you!” You blurted, freezing as the orc kept himself nestled against you. “I wanna go home, I want to go back to my bed and forget this-- I'm not some little trinket to mate with!"

Xerxes gave you a look. It was so smushy, an embarrassed grin like some pubescent boy watching his crush undress. It was perverted, so snickeringly crude as he bit his lip at the word "mate."

Ahh, he heard his fellow warriors, his chief in command even, discuss their "mates" with lustful wonder and candied eyes that danced with images of their beloved, their spouse. He had never had a person, never had a soft warm thing at night to hold, for him to bully himself into; it was hard to contain the joy inside of him, even with your rapid repeating of "no no no!"

"Mate…" He repeated. 

"I said NOT to--"

"But you said it; and now… I can't get it out of my head, dulcis." Xerxes was snug against your wiggling chest, pressing his freckled cheek against yours to make your lips pucker. He was unbelievably, fiery warm, with a heat under his skin that you wondered was just a layer of embers. 

The mixture of the orcs body heat and the humid equinox night made sweat cling to your dirty skin, the satin coddling you now feeling stickier.  “Now, I s’pose its time we get you looking like a proper orc, smelling like one too. Like me,” Xerxes pressed his tusked mouth below your ear, protruding lips pressing a deep, slightly nipping kiss to below the corner of your jaw. “Get rid of this disgusting… exhilarating human stench.”

[mottinthepot18]

@figuwhump I coloured one of the prompts!! :)

Those dishes are all plastic btw… Useless useless… Unless? 🤔

[jp-todd-rp]

🔪(from @speedsterredhead from a negative speedforce!wally)

Send 🔪 to kidnap my muse! | accepting ( @speedsterredhead )

''Wally -'' Jason's ribs ached with the aftermath of being slammed down and dragged to where he was tied down, but Jason spoke through gritted teeth. He had to try. ''Come on, man, snap out of it - you don't wanna do this.''

[its-my-whump]

Whumptober 02

“I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.” | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

You don't need to read the whole story. Everyday can stand for its own. And that poor soul has to suffer through every single one of them, I promise!

Hummingbird 02

(Story starts here)

There was the hart partition wall, than the cool tilts and now it felt... soft. Everything around was more soft, than it had been. Cotton touching his cheek. It was warm like him, too warm. Fingertips brushed over tightly nitted texture.

That were the first things that came to his hazy mind. A quiet humming somewhere above, but it sounded like being muffed by something, or far away.

His shoulder sank into that soft surface. He was laying on his side. His body was rocked gently, a static sound lolling him in. Something was moving. But it was so hot in here.

The humming was cheerish, sounded friendly, but far away.

Sam tried an attempt to open his eyes. They were so heavy. It was dim, little artificial lights, big sources of light passing above., everything blurry. Than the pain came, a pulsing in his head rushed in. At the same time a shiver overtook him. He felt freezingly cold all of a sudden. With a moan he tried to move away from the moving sources of light and the pain, closing his eyes again. Suddenly he felt sick to his guts. Or he just registered, because his body finally arrived in reality? It felt like he was coming down from the flu. His stomach was empty, this kind of sick-empty without appetit. His clothes stuck to his body, he felt soaked. But he must have cooled down again and now was shivering slightly under the blanket, he just realised its existence.

Every muscle in his body seemed to be made out of lead. Rearranging his position was near to impossible. Another moan escaped him by the attempt. His head was hot and definitively going to explode soon. Everything was so blurry. He thought he was laying on a rocking boat.

The humming had shifted, was a bit louder now. A big, warm thing... a hand brushed over his forehead. It was grounding, it felt good, it was comforting in his state. Sam tried to open his eyes again. With every blink he registered more of his surroundings, but details still vanished in his blurry vision. He was looking through a fog. His body was rocked by another cold wave.

Apparently, he was in a moving car, not a boat. The little artificial lights, he had seen, were indirect lighting of a consol and the big one's were streetlights passing over. So he thought. It was more like a dream, or watching a movie with half closed eyes.

It was dark outside. Sam was on the backseat, his head on the passenger side, his feet behind the driver. Slowly his head put the pieces together.

'He had passed out in the club. Maybe, he was in a taxi on his way home?' His mind reasoned. "Home?" He whispered more to himself, then out loud. But his mind was too confused. He wasn't even sure if it was a question for directions or a wish. Sam felt miserable and really sick. Another shiver shock him, but his hands were clammy and digging into the blanket for some stability. A whisper from the front seat. He couldn't really make out the words or the meaning, but it sounded something like. "All.. these... years, I c..ll out... name, but y... won't c...ll back, till t..day." But that was making no sence. Maybe the radio was playing and he mistook it. His head was just too clouded anyway.

The hand on his clammy head was still slightly ruffeling his hair, it was heavingly cool on his hot forehead. Sam felt so miserable, he inwardly was longing for a hug. But he had no family anymore or a girlfriend right now, so his own arms wrapped themselves around his shivering torso against their own leaded heaviness. "Home?" His hazy mind formed and pushed over his tembling lips.

'Wait!... A Taxi?... But why would a randam driver touch him for comfort?'

Suddenly Sam's eyes widened in panic. The thought making its way to his muffed brain. His only natural reaction was to go completely stiff under that hand. He couldn't see for the hand was blocking his view of the driver. 'This wasn't a taxi. The interior was too fancy, the fabric too expensive. Taxiseats had another surface, easy to clean. Who's car was this?'

The hand on his head had stopped moving, as had the car. Around the passanger seat, through the windshild Sam could see a foggy red light. His heartbeat was hammering inside his chest, the slight shivering had suddenly turned into his whole body shaking from adrenaline. His breathing sped up too. He couldn't control his body going into full panic mode.

It was now or never. With his feet he pushed the blanket away to the other side of the backseat and his arms went up defensively. But his muscles were stiff, his arms and legs unnaturally heavy, his movements much too slow. He hadn't had really pushed the foreign hand away, as it only had stopped moving midair a few inches away from him. Sam's left grabbed for the doorhandle above his head, but his system was still flushed with whatever was in that drink and he was exhausted from puking his guts out.

The hand, that had been soothing, comforting, grounding him mere moments ago, was the exact opposite now. It came for him, but instead of pulling his hand from the door handle, it went straight for his left upper arm and wrapped around it like a vise. It pushed down on his already existing big painful bruise from his fall and encounter with the rumble on his work shift last night.* Instandly Sam's hold on the doorhandle losened and his complete arm went limb, when white hot pain exploded. His scream was muffeled, while he jerked his head towards his left shoulder fighting to controll that pain. Desperate puffs didn't really help to get through this cruel moment. He needed a second to brace himself, than flightmode took the upper hand again. He trashed and kicked, trying to pull away. The grip around his arm tightend, but Sam knew, this was probably his only chance. In his violent struggle, he bumped his own head against the rear passanger door.

The pounding in his skull had been overtoned by his panic reaction, but now it was back. He was dazed all of a sudden. His free arm went to his tuft reflexively. Over the concert inside his head he hadn't registered, that the hand around his already bruised arm was gone.

A sting in his left tight and the last remains of fight left him. His pounding head went into a stupor in seconds and he felt his heavy muscles getting even heavier. It was scary, but soothing at the same time. He couldn't react anymore, he couldn't fight, he couldn't move at all anymore. And he just didn't want to. His hand slipped from his head and fell down flabby. He didn't feel it hitting the floor of the vehicle. It wasn't a part of him anymore. His hammering heartbeat seemed to have been cut into half by whatever was injected in his leg.

His surroundings got blurry again. A last aspirated "Home?!" escaped his lips. Sam wasn't able to move his neck, so the only thing he really could see was a diffuse figure behind the wheel out of the corner of his eye, the head was looking at him, maybe some movement in his face. Sam really couldn't tell.

"Home? They don't care about you. Actually, there's nobody who cares about you out there. But don't worry my little hummingbird. I do."

The fuzzy traffic light changed from red to yellow. The man was humming and scarly it sounded soothing again.

The yellow blop turned green and than everything turned black.

TBC

Hummingbird previous / masterlist

*explained later (05)

[cantfightmoonlight]

@briarreed

"Briar Rose Reed!" Bri called out, banging heavily against her dear friend's door. "Are you in there? Because you haven't texted me back in hours and there are still two psycho killers on the loose, so if you don't open up in the next five minutes or give me some sort of sign you're alive and well, I- I'm going to assume you got kidnapped like that asian dude did and call the pol- we don't have a head of police anymore. Fuck. I'm going to tell your siblings on you."

[meraki24601]

Taken Away

Whumptober day 18! Thought for a moment 17 was going to be my last day. Guess not! Prompt: Blindfold

-----------*-***-*-----------

Without warning, Whumper removed my blindfold. The sudden light blinded me. The bindings around my wrists cut into my skin as I cringed. Whumper picked me up with surprising care, turning so I could see my parents standing in the doorway of my guest room. They smiled and waved as they carried me towards the front door. 

Not far ahead, Henchman 1 and 2 dragged my struggling spouse. They got us. We had no one left. 

Kidnapped. Lost forever. Betrayed by almost everyone I loved.

Parked in front of the house were two vans. Whumper carried me to the first one, waiting for their Henchmen to load my kicking Spouse into the back. “Once we get to the house, I’ll explain everything. You’re going to like it there. Almost everyone there is like us. They understand.” 

In front of us, Spouse went limp. At first, I thought they’d given up, but then their head fell back. Henchman 1 was holding a rag over their nose and mouth. They lifted Spouse into the van, and I saw they already had a prisoner. Lying limp on the floor of the van was Friend. Their wrists were bound with the same scratchy rope as mine, and a blindfold covered their eyes. 

That was the last straw. 

I flung myself out of Whumper’s arms. The poorly tied ropes around my legs had loosened enough for me to kick them off into Whumper’s face as they reached for me. 

I ran. I screamed.

No one even peeked out their windows. 

A memory of Whumper’s henchmen tackling Traitor in the park flashed in front of my eyes as someone grabbed me from behind. What was left of my heart broke as a familiar voice whispered in my ear, “Don’t hate me.” We fell to our knees together, and Caretaker pressed a rag into my face. 

I struggled. This wasn’t at all what I thought it would feel like. There was still strength in me to fight. A will to stay awake, to get away. Yet, slowly, I felt everything evaporating out of my mind. The chemicals on the rag burned everything away inside me until all that was left was Caretaker whispering in my ear, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

[wearealive]

parameddic asked: [ FIND ]  for sender to rescue receiver after they’ve been tortured.

this field came with risks: connor knew that. police officers, detectives, interrogators: they weren't well-liked by the general public, and especially by criminals. they were easy targets for violence. they worked with dangerous people on a day-to-day basis. this is why it was critical to always have a partner. sometimes, unfortunately, it just wasn't enough.

nancy was dead. shot with her own service weapon the moment she tried to pull it on the suspect. that was twenty eight days ago. she was left behind when robert fled with connor. her body was found within the hour. connor had been reported missing by the DPD four weeks ago. the main suspect, robert hardin, was nowhere to be found. he'd returned home to austin without a trace: new hair and style. new car. new name (ethan coltrain, his alias during his short stay in detroit). it was fool-proof, or so he thought.

connor stayed primarily in the basement, only allowed to come upstairs for short periods of time. he stayed obedient at first, in hopes of trying to keep himself alive while waiting to be found. but days passed. then weeks. by the third week, he was becoming impatient. truly scared that he'd never be found. that's when he started to fight back, which proved to be a near-fatal mistake.

things had gotten especially bad over the past 48 hours. connor had nearly made it out, but ran face-first into robert when he opened the front door. he got one breath of fresh air before he was grabbed by the throat and slammed into the wall with enough force to knock him out on impact. when he woke up, the first sensation he noticed was itchiness — rope was tied around both wrists, arms restrained to a steel pipe behind him. a piece of cloth tied around his mouth. it's like something out of a movie, connor thinks. did this shit actually happen to people?

the longer he goes without food and water, the harder it is to stay awake. he conserves all of his energy for when robert comes downstairs. his neck aches from hanging down, but he can no longer really hold it up. one last attempt at escaping leaves connor bruised and bloody - it's when he accepts his fate. he's not getting out of this. he just holds onto hope that he'll go quickly. that he doesn't feel anything.

connor is asleep when he hears the first round of gunfire. he opens his eyes into blackness. it must be late. the shots sound close. very close. a sudden burst of adrenaline courses through him, arms pulling and legs kicking in a futile attempt at breaking free. ❝ help me! ❞ the young man tries, but the cloth is still secured over his mouth. another minute passes and there's a second round. things grow silent upstairs. it feels like an eternity before the basement door is kicked open and connor is struck with a blinding light, strong enough to make him lose his sight entirely for a minute or so. all he can hear is footsteps, a voice that sounds... angry? demanding? it isn't robert, but connor isn't really coherent enough to tell the difference. he tucks his head into his shoulder and screams, kicking at the individual in front of him.

[estrangedaframian]

@pasiphaedemetriadevil, cont’d [x]

“… Was that…” Sam didn’t finish his question, instead sighing from the feeling of her fingers through his hair. Tears glistened at the far corners of his eyes. Once his limbs were free, he threw his arms around Adrielle, burying his face in the blonde’s shoulder.

“But there’s no way out through the basement, not to mention the father… and that wolf-thing’re.. already home… I don’t think I could take them both on in this condition, but I guess I could try...”

[protectxthem]

@cnlyluck​ asked: "Are you awake?" For Luke?

Kidnapped Together prompts | Accepting

A groan escapes him as he stirs awake. “Ow my head.” He moans out in pain. He lifts his head up. “Yeah.. Yeah i’m awake. Are you okay?” He asks, looking over at Lucky. “Do you know what happened?”

[codename-freya]

INJURED MUSE EMOJIS! // accepting

@perspextivexx said: 📵 after they were kidnapped (one furious Briar incoming) -perspextivexx

~*~ What she remembered was watching her surroundings, but not seeing or hearing anyone from behind. At first the prick she felt seemed like a mosquito. Within moments her vision was going blurry and she knew exactly what happened. Someone drugged her. It could be preferred to blunt force trauma and another concussion to add to her list, but the disorientation from the drugs took effect within moments of it entering her bloodstream. Arms grabbed her but Kaisa was unable to move. She was taken and woke up in an unfamiliar place.

She was bound, gagged, and still very groggy.

Time didn’t seem to exist in this space. All she knew was pain and the inability to move or speak. She could scream, but nothing else. Words couldn’t form in her throat. Kaisa hoped that her occasional partner, Briar, would figure out she was missing and find her. If only she could get the drugs metabolized and not be given more she’d be able to figure out how to escape. So far, that was not happening.

[dearestagonya]

@diverse-hearts-ocs sent an ask to sunshinebled. :: "W-Wait - who the heck are you? Where's my sister?" - Ethan

Icy blues stare at the man who'd just woken up in her home. They're upstairs, in a bedroom that looked old and musty. The wallpaper was peeling in some places and the old carpet looked like it hadn't been vacuumed in years. Prudence sits beside him on the old bed, the mattress creaking with their movements. There's an old handmade quilt underneath them, with different patterned patches sewn into it.

She smiles sweetly at him, reaching out a hand to touch his face. "Oh darling," she cooed. "You don't need her. You're where you belong now and I'll make sure to take good care of you."

[storybounded]

Open Starter ( wrong place, wrong time )

Scott had been missing for several HOURS. He never returned to his hotel earlier that night, and those who tried to reach out couldn't even get him to pick up his phone. How could he if it was thrown within the deep and murky depths of a fountain.

Quite a bold move it was to snatch a high profile actor. But high profile meant this guy was worth A LOT. It didn't help Scott didn't have any security with him. Being a guy with a strong 6'4' stature, it lead himself to believe he would be untouched. That couldn't be further from the truth.

Being stashed way in what looked to be a dark supply closet, the handle was, to no surprise, locked tight, not allowing any form of escape.

The actor's hands were tied behind his back, and his mouth taped shut. His head was still reeling from the effects of chloroform, and every movement felt as if he had just downed a whole bottle of alcohol. Was the room spinning? The actor stumbled, back against the wall, and he slid down to the floor.

Breath was quick, racing along with his heart that pounded with fear within his chest. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Where is he...why is he here. His brain was a buzzing wasp nest. If only he was actually Bolt - the SUPERHERO that he played on TV.

Now....now... He was reduced down to nothing but a defenseless victim. Stiffening when he heard a noise in the distance, his eyes on his bruised face DARTED to a pipe that was just lying there.

Using his leg, he desperately tried to slide it over closer.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Fiddauthor divorce arc speedrun <3

After 30 years of searching for his lost brother through demonic rituals and summonings, Ford has become a bit of a notorious demon collector over the years. He's made a LOT of deals with MANY different demons over the years; from minor and harmless little entities to big and powerful overlords. Most of the time, these deals aren't really a one-way situation, so a lot of demons have a strong grip on him just as much as he does on them. It often ends up being a mutual sort of destruction, as in: "I know I'm but a mere mortal trifling with things I couldn't begin to fathom, and I know you will destroy me eventually; but I don't care as long as I get to destroy you too." He just needs to live long enough to find his brother.

The red hands are essentially pieces of himself (his soul, you could say??) that he wields as his method of restraint to the demons he has "tamed" so far. They act as a leash to contain each demons' powers, and he can loosen or tighten his hold on them as much as he wants. The number of hands required to contain a demon really depends on their individual strengths, but 3-4 hands are already very energy consuming.

YES, I gave all of his demons stupid names. SUE ME.

[bunnygirllover45]

possession.

[danascullysjournal]

“Oh, Archivist.”

It’s finished! Nikola Orsinov kidnapping Jon sent me spiraling so I had to paint it. The horrors he endures😵‍💫🥺 poor Jon. I don’t think the creators meant to have the wax figures melting but that’s how it is in my head

Detail below:

[cantfightmoonlight]

His arms wrapped even tighter around her. His feet grounding them both into place as he acted as an anchor there, holding her tightly against his chest as he kept her upright. His fingers combing their way gently through her hair as he let her break down. He, of all people, knowing all too well what happened when you left your emotions to simmer just beneath the surface.

"I've got you," He whispered softly against her inner ear again and again as the sobs rattled out of her chest one by one. It was only when the panic set in that he told her, "Hey, look at me, okay? Tell me what you hate about the boat. Come on," He whispered gently over to her, locking his eyes onto hers as he gave her a small and reassuring nod as it to tell her that would be okay. That she'd get through this. "I know you want to. Tell me how loud and crowded it's going to be. How you don't like sticky floors and people in bars spill beer everyone. Tell me why you wouldn't want to step foot in this place. You can be as ruthless as you want to be, promise," He offered up, not actually expecting her to respond, but wanting to give her something to take her mind off of the feeling of her lungs closing up as the air around her grew hot and heavy and hard to breath. He had been through it all himself. He had more panic attacks over the past eight months than he'd ever care to admit and likely a new found fear of claustrophobia on top of it. So, while he wasn't sure what good he could likely do for her, the least he could offer her was a distraction from the feeling of one's chest tightening up to the point where they questioned whether or not they were dying. "You've got this and I've got you. So, just breath. I've got you," He gave her a small squeeze as the panic finally subsided enough for him to guide her below deck, past the bar that was still very much a work in progress and over to the bed that was the only part of the boat that was in decent shape. Kicking off his shoes the second they entered the bedroom, he slowly guided her to the edge of the bed to sit down upon as he moved over to his closet to grab her some clothes to change into, though he wasn't quite sure how much good they'd do here seeing that she was just going to change out of them shortly regardless. But, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

"Hey, you're fine," He promised her as he sunk down to his knees before her. Reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair back from her face he held the sweatshirt and sweatpants he had grabbed out for her. "Okay? You're fine. There is nothing to apologize for and no. Your secret is safe with me," He promised her. "Though, if you want reassurance, I can tell you a secret of mine later. But, for now, we don't have much time, so look, you're going to shift and it's going to be painful and scary. But, I meant it when I said that I've got you, okay? Though, we might want to come up with a bit of a game plan. I brought you a change clothes so just let me know if you want me to step out for you to change now, or if you want them for later. I can, uh, I can stay here with you and be moral support if you'd like? Or I can sit right outside of the door until you shift back. Whichever you'd prefer, though I do know that when you shift, you, uh, do sort of tear through your clothes. So, uh, just as a heads up in case you're confused after the fact and, um, if you could do me a favor and not bite me, that would be greatly appreciated."

In any other circumstance, the abrupt physical contact would've had Aysun skittering away like a frightened rabbit, but in that moment, when she felt like everything was falling apart, she might've even welcomed it. The strength left her legs as she sagged into the man's arms, letting him hold her tightly in the hopes that maybe it'd keep her from falling apart any more than she already was. All things considering, she should've anticipated this. Nothing good could come from the way she'd bottled up her emotions since the ordeal, and add to that all the changes that came from running away from home and relocating to a completely new place filled with strangers. The cherry on top was her first transformation as a wolf, it truly was a miracle she hadn't lost it any earlier.

The sobs rattled her frame, her breath coming in heaving gasps. Aysun had talked patients through panic attacks before, and now she found herself wondering if she was having one herself. Locked away in her spiral of anguish, it took the touch of his cool fingertips against her burning cheeks to start to draw her out of the worst of it. Trying her best to recall the techniques she used on her patients, Aysun blinked rapidly to try and focus on his eyes as they levelled with hers, focused on his hands on her face, his body close to hers. Focused on his words. She wasn't sure in that moment if he really meant them or he just knew it was what she probably needed to hear right then, but she appreciated it all the same as she felt the erratic racing start to slow down. "O-Okay," she replied without taking her eyes off his, holding onto that grounding feeling for dear life. On shaky feet, Aysun allowed Song to lead the way as they moved indoors, and only once they were out of the rain did she realize she was shivering so fiercely it felt like her bones were rattling in her body.

Pushing a lock of wet hair back from her face, Aysun pressed her hands to her cheeks, taking another big, steadying breath. She was still very obviously shaken up, but as she started to come down from the high, it was really starting to dawn on her what she'd just done. "Oh god..." she mumbled with a watery laugh at his comment, equal parts sheepishness and genuine mortification. "I- I can't believe I just- I'm...so sorry," she started, all the blood rushing to her cheeks as she looked over at him, "I- I didn't mean to say- well, any of that really, I'm just- you...you won't tell anyone, will you? About...what I did...?"