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1427 · 3 months

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petal plush’d

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary:

Sinnedenoderum: Floral Species - When inhaled by human beings it has psychoactive properties as well as acting on the nervous and vascular systems. Often causes a lack of inhibitions and desire or delusion of the need for sexual intercourse. In some cases will cause tumecense in individuals affected.

Setting: Season 2, the farm.

Warnings; dub-con (reader is willing but daryl doesn’t ask), drugging (sex pollen, without consent/forcefully), size!kink, panty sniffing, oral (m and f), unprotected piv, mentions of vomit (no one actually vomits), rough sex, swelling genitalia, poorly written SMUT, no plot just VIBES (sex pollen vibes)

Word Count: 3k

A/n: heed the tags y’all. Enter at your own risk. This is more idea/concept than good prose so; sorry if it’s written like dogshit.

18+ mdni.

masterlist

Daryl should know better. Everyone who ever known anything up in the mountains knew you don’t smell the purple flowers. Daryl shouldn’t be wasting any time smelling any flowers. Supposed to be out hunting. But nah, had to stop and do it. After all there was a whole damn bush of ‘em. How could he not?

Honestly, he’d probably already been influenced by the time he kneeled down and took a big inhale. The spores already creeping in and taking hold of him. As soon as he does it, he stands up straight as an arrow. A mission. A need. An ache.

He stalks back to camp, handful of flowers and spores that he’s tracking all through the forest. This is how they spread. This is how they used the human species to populate.

He’s over by the tents, blinking back into reality as he unzips yours. He doesn’t know it’s yours, doesn’t care. Doesn’t matter. His brain is reset - back to zero. Back to puberty and being so horny he could fucking die and he’s going to find a pair of used underwear and he’s going to put it in his fucking mouth. His ears are pounding, he’s never felt dirtier. His cock rock hard and killing him.

Your few pairs of dirty panties are hidden in a ball in the bottom of your backpack and they are honestly disgusting. Just exactly how Daryl likes them. Worn maybe a few days, and when you were working in the sun. Sweaty and salty and tangy and delicious. His saliva bringing the taste back to life on his tongue, his eyes roll back into his head.

He’s an animal. On all fours in your half unzipped tent with a wad of soiled underwear in his mouth. Hand shooting down his pants to touch himself but it doesn’t feel like anything.

Nah, he should know better. Knew it wouldn’t. Knew he either had to ride it out or find a girl. But now he knew he had to find whoever these belonged to. This fuckin’ taste. He needed you.

He quickly scours the tent for a clue as to whose tent it is. Coming across some silly charm bracelet he’s seen you wear and a few notebooks he’s definitely seen you writing in.

Daryl exits the tent with a bit more hesitancy, his heart pounding even harder. Part of his brain fighting back against what he knew this flower was about to make him do to you.

This is how they spread.

He comes across you alone on the far edge of the field hanging laundry on the line, almost hidden in the tall grass that edged the property, grateful that he didn’t have to face anyone else like this. His hand covers his hard dick in his pants before he calls out to you, “Hey!”

You jump, not realizing anyone had been out here with you, wondering how long he’d been standing there. You give him a once over and realize something’s wrong, he’s out of breath and looks like he’s in pain. “Hey!” You call back, continuing to hang clothes, “What’s going on?”

You put your hand up to shield the sun as you make eye contact with him. He’s standing there with his hand over his mouth, slumped shoulders, other hand loosely over his crotch - before he starts walking toward you. Feet scraping against the grass as he stalks over.

“Gonna need yer help w’somethin’.” He shouts, finally getting close enough to speak at a normal volume; to see him without squinting your eyes in the sun.

He’s flushed, his heart racing. You can tell just by looking at him that whatever he needed help with, you didn’t want to be involved. You assumed it was something like hard labor. Or walking far somewhere. And you were enjoying the mendacity of hanging the laundry on the line. It was serene. "I'm kinda busy, can't someone else help you?"

"Naw, s'gotta be you." He replies quickly, his voice almost dancing up your neck. His moves are deliberate as he positions himself behind you, one hand grazing the skin on your shoulder before pulling it right across your body. Crossed across your chest, he whispers even deeper into your ear, "These're yers, righ'?" He asks gruffly while pulling his arm up and into a light chokehold, elbow crooked around your neck, his whole body pressed into you. Your eyes shoot wide while he holds up a pair of your used panties with an extended arm directly in your line of sight. The light stain clear as day, you're more mortified than confused. His grip gets tighter, "They are, ain't they?" his heavy breaths moving your hair as he speaks into your ear.

You nod, cautiously, curiously. "Mmhmm"

As he pulls the panties close to your face you see the soft purple colors of a flower - and then you smell it. On top of your own scent there is a light delicate unmistakeable floral smell. Daryl’s holding the flower inside the panties, shoving them both forcefully in your face. “Don’ be shy, com’awn.” He grunts, without taking his arm from your neck he removes the flower to put the panties back up to his own face. He maneuvers you slightly in his grip and shoves the flower back into your nose. Both of you taking deep breaths in. You don’t have time to wonder what the hell is going on before it hits you. Daryl’s inside his head screaming at himself, but he can’t stop. He doesn’t know he wouldn’t have to use some flower to get with you. Or that you’d probably have done this willingly.

You don’t have time to think about it. You don’t care.

You’re overtaken. Set to zero. This insatiable need; you look over at him, gnawing at the light stain right in the center, and it fills you with desire. He tears himself away to see if it had worked yet. Your dilated pupils in the midday sun were an instant give-away. He pulls you fifteen feet towards the tall grass and shoves you backwards, you land on your ass and your elbows but even that pressure and shock vibrates through your body like a dull orgasm.

Your heads swimming, you’re fucking drowning in it. Daryl’s between your legs and pulling your panties off of you as fast as all of this seemingly has happened, his tongue covered in saliva like he’s fucking drooling for it. He needs you, now. To taste that fuckin’ juice right from the tap. He dives into you nose first, parting your lips harshly for his rough tongue, he’s not trying to please you. He’s trying to eat you alive. He’s never been hungrier.

There’s a thought prickling in your subconscious; you know the flower is what did this to both of you. Looking down your body, his tongue on your cunt is starting to become way too sensitive, you realize your pussy is swelling. Engorged, puffy, and honestly adorable. Daryl seems to like it, licking along the glossy wet skin more slowly. Taking your swollen lips in his mouth and swirling his tongue all around them. The sensation vibrating inside of you only reminding you of how hollow you feel. “Daryl-!” You choke out, he grunts into you in response.

“Put that fat cock down my throat already.” Your eyes go wide at your own words, you can’t imagine ever saying that; and yet it slips right out of your mouth like you’d never been more confident in your whole life. It is what you wanted. But…damn. It was like every dirty thing your subconscious ever wanted was pushing it’s way through and to the surface. It’s on your skin, it’s in your thoughts, it’s bursting out of your fuckin’ soul.

When Daryl hears your words it sparks something inside him too. Reignites a desire long lost to actual experience. Something he’d always wanted to try but never could. He was going to fuck your face until you threw up all over his cock. He smiles, kissing up your leg, “Ya wanna choke on it, huh?”

Your eyes roll back as you feel him move from between your legs, shuffling through the tall grass to kneel beside you. Daryl gazes down at your body, your skin sunkissed and flushing and perfect, everything seemed brighter. Like you were fuckin sparklin’ in the sunshine. He’s not expecting his cock to be just as swollen as your pussy was, but jesus christ. It almost makes him lose his balance, he’s never seen himself look so big. It turns him on that much more. He can’t take it, your mouth just inches away and drooling for it.

Your cheeks immediately burn at the entrance of his engorged member. Spit rocketing out the sides of your mouth around him as your breath quickens. He pushes himself deeper into you. poking at the back of your throat and you gag. He doesn’t care, you don’t care. He drives himself in and out of your mouth with no abandon, like he’d never been able to do before. Always too scared, too ashamed, too embarrassed. Never able to take the back of the girls head and just force her down on him. Exactly everything he’s doing to you now. And you love it. Your eyes sting with tears, and you’re gagging and spitting up thick strings of saliva and mucus, and you can hardly breathe. Daryl’s looking down at you, thinking to himself that he’s never seen someone look more fuckin’ beautiful. “Takin’ ma cock like such a good slut, hm?”

You look up at him, mouth stuffed full. As he speaks your eyes flutter closed, nothing's ever sounded hotter. It seeps into you and shakes your core. Daryl pulls his hips back, hands in your hair and pumps long purposeful strokes into the back of your throat while he continues praising you, “So. Fuckin’. Good. Fer me.” Each grunt another rough assault on your mouth.

Your jaw was starting to seize up, your cheeks completely abused. Your tears turning to real ones, whines at the back of your throat. Snot bubbling out of your nose as you try to breathe.

Daryl doesn’t notice but he stops anyway, pulling himself out of your mouth, his cock bouncing proudly as he makes his way between your legs again.

He’d looked down and over you, taken one look at that puffy pussy, jiggling in the sunlight, and the flower took him over. No thoughts left in his head; no more perverse diversions, just the need to empty inside of you. To fill you full.

You close your eyes and wait as you feel him push through your folds, kissing the head of his cock with your sensitive clit a few times before dipping himself inside of you. His swollen head pushing your walls apart is an agonizingly delicious burn. Slowly inching himself inside, he can’t fucking breathe you’re so fucking tight.

Every part of you pulsates with extra blood, so sensitive and juicy and perfect. As he starts to pull out, you can feel your pussy being pulled back with it. The size and girth of him creating a suction inside of you, it pulls him back in. Daryl groans deeply at the feeling and begins to reposition himself

Grabbing your legs and pushing your knees up toward your head, your hips angled directly to the sky as he plunges long deep strokes into you. Your pussy pulling up with his cock every time he pulls out. You can see him pulling and pushing with every thrust, your lips coming to meet his shaft and swallowing him again.

“Fuckin’ made for ma’ cock, huh?” He takes one hand off the back of your thigh and holds himself at the base, rubbing himself back and forth through your folds harshly. Watching the plump skin jiggle around his cock. He’s never seen anything like it, so full and perfect and so fucking hot. He almost gets lost in it, fucking up and into your tumescent lips, but you want him inside again. You’d never felt so full in your life.

You buck your hips up into him and he gets the message, burying himself inside of you slowly and to the hilt. He pulls himself out of you again, even slower. Both of you just feeling as every vein and bulge is suctioned tight to your walls as he moves.

You both seem to drone into this feeling. Him slowly sliding in and out of you, both of you watching as your pussy contracts around him - until you start moving to meet his hips, wanting him even deeper.

Daryl sits up and repositions you both again, his thick calloused digits moving over your skin so gently in comparison to this whole experience. Pushing your legs, and repositioning your hips so that you’re face down in front of him. Can’t fuckin’ wait to feel that grip from behind. He knows he’s done for the second you arch your back and push yourself back into him. He’d hardly got the tip in before you were bottoming yourself out ontop of him. As you slowly pull yourself off he watches your asshole puff out, his cock head pushing it out from the inside. Fuck, he can’t even move. Just letting you ride him from underneath, watching your asshole push out and around his cock from inside your fucking body. Holy fuckin’ goddamn shit.

You milk his cock with your pussy until you can feel him swelling even more. You slow down to give him back control, to let him use you however he wants. Daryl takes one hand on each hip and pushes you flush with the ground. His thumbs spreading you apart so he can watch his cock drive into you as he finishes. He’s doesn’t know it yet but he’s going to think about how good your cunt swallowed him every time he cums for years - it’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever had in his life.

Pulling your hips back against him with such force his fingernails dig into your skin, your gasping out screams as he fucks into you so deeply you forget how to breathe. You can feel every single twitch of his cock as it pulsates his load inside of you.

But you were still aching. He slumps over ontop of you, his sweat kissed forehead dropping to your shoulder, as if reading your mind he asks you sweetly, “What do you need?”

“Suck on my tits.” You rasp out, not needing even a moment to think about it. Your nipples had been screaming for attention this whole time. He grunts a smile into the skin of your shoulder before flipping you over on your back again. Moving out from between your legs he kneels on the ground beside your sprawled out body. He moves his hand swiftly over the top of your dress and yanks it down, your nipples just as puffy and swollen as your pussy. Even though the effects of the flower are wearing off Daryl can’t help but salivate again at the sight. He dips his head down to your chest, licking into your nipple, pushing it around inside his mouth. You lose it. The tight tension in your belly unraveling and twisting itself into every part of you. Your hand shoots down between your legs to play with your clit but Daryl pulls it away and replaces it with his own.

His warm rough fingers circle your sensitive bundle of nerves so gently, you’re dissolving against his touch. Climbing inside and up the steep hill to the top of your orgasm. His lips still tightly sucking on your breast, one hand between your legs, and the other pulling on your other nipple harshly. Your body feels so ruined, so pulled and prodded apart, destroyed against the force of the flower through the arms of a man. It cascades through your cunt like you’re expecting, but you’ve never felt an orgasm that tore through the nerves in your nipples as well. Like every place he’s attached to you explodes all at once. Screaming into the open air while it rips through your body. Pussy to fingertips to toes and back again, a shaking mess underneath of him.

Daryl didn’t have time to feel the post-nut shame, not with you to take care of. But you feel it. The prickly grass on your skin like small reminders of the dirty things you’d said, you’d done with him. The way he’d seen your body, the way it reacted to him.

His voice cuts through, as he’s putting himself away and back into his pants, “Shit, sorry I made ya do all that. It’s the damn flower…” he doesn’t even know how to explain, how to begin to apologize for what he’d just done to you. How he’d violated you.

“No,” you scramble, blushing, “I liked it. I mean-“ you cough, standing up and dusting yourself off, “I know the flower made me really like it. But, I would have… liked it anyway.”

Daryl observes you getting awkward and stumbling over your words, it makes him feel less like a super fucking predator. He takes a few big strides to stand close to you again, leaning down and kissing your forehead. He touches his thumb to your lips, “Cuz yer fuckin’ made fer me.” He means it. Your scent, the way you fit around him, the way you took his cock so perfectly. Fuckin’ made for him.

“Don’chya got somethin’ yer s’possed ta be doin’, girlie?” He tugs on some of your hair before slapping your ass and making his way back to the tents. Leaving you to gather yourself and finishing hanging clothes. Going back to tell everyone the bad news that he didn’t hunt anything today. ‘Cept a pretty girl and her womb.

He left that part out. And no one believed him about the flower when he tried to warn them it was in the woods close by. Just an old Appalachian wives tale. Sure.

a/n: had this idea swimming for a few days, had a few parts written. Blasted it out in a few hours and I didn’t really proofread it but I feel like this is NO PLOT JUST VIBES.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you

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levmada · 16 days

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levi and compliments to his lover, how would that go?

mm i have a couple ideas — (btw this is for canonverse levi :))

//gn!reader, fluff, hcs

When he gives you a task, direction, an order—especially if it was important, dangerous, or both.

On top of a hill fit for tents and not too steep with visibility several miles out was optimal in the first place, but the real detail that made the location priceless is a line of trees, straight and narrow tracking the decline—perfect environment for ODM gear, and perfect for Titans to slip down if the Survey Corps got attacked.

A few hours ago, a small squad was sent to scout out the area, and you’re on it. He’s suck waiting around a temporary camp in a grove, mostly surrounded by overgrown coppices; he imagines them like Titan hands thrust out of the ground with spindly, torn fingernails.

He rearranges his crossed arms, again, and looks out in the clearing. He hates to wait, especially while others might be fighting—and you’re among them. Erwin’s orders were to come right back if there was any Titan presence at all, but nothing is predictable when it comes to fighting them.

Just when he’d gotten to thinking too much, your group soon arrives back with easy expressions, and good news. What held you up was avoiding Titans on the way back here. Plenty gather to hear the news, and when the group disperses, you two are the last together.

He steps up to you and tells you candidly, “Good job.”

He gives nicer? cuter? compliments when he’s comfy in your presence.

Levi looks more comfortable when you come sit down on the sofa with him after the nightmare he just had. He won’t admit it, of course.

It’s not that the dream bothers him as much as the sweaty fearing blanket over his bones after. He has tea to calm him down, which you hand to him before you sit, and, you.

He sips slowly as you squirm up next to him, your feet propped on the foot-table and arms crossed. As you rest against his side, and sip his tea, he slowly finds it within himself to breathe again and actually feel like he’s getting enough air.

He folds his legs and props his feet up the same as you, keeping his cup carefully cradled between his chest and knees. He turns his head, and you shift a little so he can rest it on your shoulder.

Just then, it occurs to him by an unknown source that he feels guilty about all this. There’s nothing he can do to make it leave, just ignore it.

He nestles into the crook of your neck a little more, and you hum. You showered earlier tonight (technically last night), like you do every night.

“You smell good,” he murmurs.

this one is a no-brainer :)

On laundry days, you both have a system. Sometimes he’s the one ironing clothes and you’re folding and putting away, sometimes the other way around so you stay good at both. (You consider this one of Levi’s more relaxed routines.)

While you lay the next shirt over the ironing board, his fingers draw across flawless fold and cotton. It’s one of those things that make him smile.

“Nice job ironing these.”

(and every variation ;’)))

when you impress him with your wit, attention to detail, instincts, etc.

Levi's voice comes from behind you. "This is a waste of time."

"It's still a good deed."

"I wonder if it being manipulation cancels out that fact. Weigh volunteer-work and blackmail on a scale."

You sigh, eyes dropping from the hilly field as far as the eye can see to the wind-tangled grass overgrown almost to your knees. Inside, Erwin is sweet-talking a noble; just an exceptionally inept one. One of the stablehands had burst in about a high-value stallion somehow escaping the fencing, and you both have been "volunteered" with looking out for it. It has bay roan coloring, which makes this a challenge.

He stubbornly stops following you after you went off the shaved path to the edge of the wood fencing. You shoot him a nagging look. He doesn't react.

With a dramatic sigh, accepting you're alone in this task, you idly go on your toes and squint out over the fields. There's roaming cattle, and plenty of it. But instead of dismissing them as obstacles, you silently examine portions of the field—if the horse is somewhere around here—divided into gatherings of cows.

"Oh, I think I see it."

It's been a couple minutes. Levi, who unbeknownst to you had been looking, grunts. "See what?"

"The horse." You backstep so you don't lose it until you're back beside him as you point it out.

He grunts, this time with a little impress, you notice. The faint approval even shows on his face. "Good eye."

When you show off your combat prowess.

Out in the training yard, if you’re in action Levi will usually find himself idly looking for you out of the corner of his eye.

For the sake of looking out for you—anything you can improve on, anything that will help keep you alive—and, just because he wants to. Nothing can be done to impress him, except occasionally what you do.

It’s a special moment when Levi can walk up to you and say almost blithely: “Remind me not to piss you off.”

When you excel at something, especially something he can do, too.

There's a lot Levi's good at, but there are plenty of things he has never tried. If it’s the latter, he likes to observe you doing, with practiced, smooth grace, something he’s completely unfamiliar with. He would call it admiration, but that’s not scratching the surface.

He waits until an apparent easy point in your focus to say what’s on the tip of his tongue. He sort of turns his head, getting your attention by gently plucking your sleeve between his thumb and pointer finger.

“I don’t suppose you got a guidebook for that?”

Alternatively… if it’s something he’s well-experienced with, he’d huff and say, “Look at that. I see you don’t need my help.”

When you feel insecure.

When you quietly express an insecurity about yourself, he doesn’t know how to make you see what he sees (if he even can), and more than that, he’s annoyed you see it as an undesirable about yourself (not that he’s annoyed by you, exactly).

“Don’t be stupid,” he softly murmurs, taking your cheek and giving you a once-over before flicking your ear. The way he gazes into your eyes tells you what he doesn’t know how to put into words.

You don’t know why, but he makes you laugh.

#levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you #captain levi ackerman #levi heichou #rivaille heichou #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman drabble

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static-radio-ao3 · 3 months

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@croptopjames // frat boy james in a very tiny t-shirt proves to be quite distracting when regulus is trying to study // words: 687

Regulus is just about to consider the pros and cons of repeatedly slamming his head into the desk when the door opens.

He’s holed away in James’ room, escaping the madness of his own dorm, where Evan is frantically trying to memorize human anatomy, and the library, where Regulus’ soul vacates his body one hour at a time.

James is a willing host, although he seems to have some trouble letting Regulus study. He had to send his boyfriend on a run to get some quiet, because James can be very very distracting when he wants to be.

Thankfully, Regulus has managed to make his way through a good few chapters by the time James returns and it’s for the better because—

“Hi, sweetheart,” James pants, sweat dripping down his neck, catching on the gold chain that disappears under the collar of his shirt. “Got some studying done?”

Regulus swallows dryly. His eyes catch on the strip of skin between the hem of James’ t-shirt and shorts.

His t-shirt. His very tiny t-shirt. His t-shirt that rides up when James lifts a hand to card through his sweaty curls and reveals more tan skin. Dark hair trails down his stomach and disappears beneath the waistband of his boxers, a path Regulus is eager to track.

There is cotton in Regulus’ head, static between his ears, not a single thought behind his eyes, only a continuous loop of JamesJamesJamesJa—

“Take a picture, baby. It’ll last longer.”

Heat floods Regulus’ face. “Shut up.”

“No, I’m flattered, really.” James lifts a hand and presses it against his still-heaving chest.

“Your own boyfriend ogling you is not a flex.”

“No, but half the campus ogling me is.”

“Only half?” Regulus mocks, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He ignores the spark of annoyance he feels; James is just trying to rile him up, he knows this. But James is very good at finding Regulus’ last nerve and picking at it until it snaps.

Admittedly, the stress of exam week leaves him slightly more irritable than he usually would be, so when he asks, “Where is the rest of your shirt, by the way?” there is a bit more bite in his tone than he intended.

James simply shrugs. “Laundry day.”

Regulus’ eye twitches.

He turns in his chair again, eyes trained on the chapter he is currently revising. It is riveting stuff, something about Alexander the Great and his conquest of Macedonia. Except, the words swim on the page, none of them registering, but Regulus refuses to give James the satisfaction of— of— well, he just refuses to give James the satisfaction.

“Sweetheart…” James murmurs, voice low and sweet, tempting Regulus into looking up again. He’s leaning against the door frame, posture relaxed but his brow furrowed. Neither of them says anything when their gazes meet.

“You really shouldn’t be allowed out of the house like this, you know. It’s obscene.” Regulus’ voice sounds rough. It is not annoyance that makes the words gravelly.

“Are you mad at me?” James crosses his arms in front of his chest, the muscles in his arms bulging a little with the movement. He tilts his head in consideration.

Regulus scoffs and a slow smile spreads across James’ face.

“Regulus, sweetheart, are you mad at me?”

“Yes!” Regulus slams his textbook shut. “Because you’re distracting me! Again!”

The corner of James' mouth twitches. He says nothing for a moment, simply regards Regulus. Then:

“Wanna get it out of your system?”

The question has barely left his lips before Regulus is shoving the chair back, not too worried about the way it topples over onto the floor. He is much too busy tugging James’ shorts down, allowing a hand to trail up up up under James’ shirt and splay possessively over his abs while he swallows his boyfriend whole.

The next time James and his very tiny t-shirt go for a run, Regulus makes sure no one gets any ideas. A hickey on the tan skin of his stomach tells everyone that they can look all they want but James Potter is a taken man.

#frat boy james you will always be famous #james in a crop top would also distract me to be fair #regulus didn't stand a chance #happy james day to those who celebrate #he's about to get his soul sucked out #everybody cheer #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #mil's microfics #mil's writing #frat boy james au

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charliemwrites · 7 months

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Ahajskskskdjdj I just binge read all of Feral x Simon and OMG it's my new Roman empire

And your WRINKLY BRAIN IS GIVING ME WRINKLES OMG

WHAT IF someone finds out about Feral?? Either someone who just hears Simon giving Johnny a couple of tips on how to handle Feral or just answering some of Johnny's questions about Feral, and is deeply concerned or is to nosey about the elusive Ghost to pass up the chance to know more. OR AN ENEMY finds out about Ghost's little pet.

Either way someone tries to break out Feral while Simon is out on deployment. BUT Feral doesn't want that and Simon comes home, after getting an alert that the security system is down, to a wrecked house and no Feral :((((

How would Simon react??? First to of course find Feral but afterwards?? Poor Feral all traumatized and trust broken because Simon is supposed to protect them and where was he??

Ooooooh I like this concept a lot.

Say it’s someone from another team, hearing him and Johnny chat out in the training grounds. The guy gets it in his head this is a huge conspiracy - obviously ghost’s captain is in on it. Hell, it could even go further up the chain. Who’s gonna tell an asset like ghost that he can’t have one measly civilian in exchange for all the work he does? Well this guy has morals, he has integrity. He’s drawing the line in the sand.

He does some covert investigating, figures out where ghost is keeping his hostage. Then he just waits. The whole 141 is away on a big mission. By the time the bastards get back, Rando will be long gone with his rescue.

He shows up just before the sun is meant to set and breaks through the heavily locked and reinforced door. It looks… like a normal house. He shivers - how diabolical. He dreads what the bedrooms must be like.

When he walks into the living room, there’s still no signs of life or even noise.

“It’s okay ma’am, I’m here to rescue you,” he calls.

A face pops out from behind a doorway, scowling.

“The hell are you talking about? Get out!”

“No, really it’s okay,” he insists, hurrying closer. “I’m not with him. It’s not a trick. I’ll get you to safety.”

“I’m fine-“ the poor thing must be so traumatized. He’ll have to get her out for her own good. She’ll thank him later. “Hey!”

She starts kicking and squirming as he grabs her arm, trying to usher her to the door.

“I’m going to save you, ma’am. You won’t ever have to see that terrible man again.”

She’s putting up too much resistance, he’ll have to scoop her up and take her out.

And that’s when her expression changes.

—

Simon bursts through the door to a dark house. There’s blood all over the floors. Tracking from the living room into the kitchen. His heart drops into his stomach.

“Love?”

“S-Simon?!”

He follows her voice to his bedroom, where she’s just slinking out from under the bed. Her eyes are huge and blood is dried all over her face and neck and hands.

He hurries to her side, thinking she’s been badly injured and has been bleeding out beneath his bed this whole time. But she stutters out that it’s not hers. That there’s a body in the laundry room.

She’s practically trying to crawl beneath his skin, sobbing and shuddering.

“You promised,” she wails, “you promised.”

#asks #fanfiction #cod #thoughts™️#reader fic #my writing #keeper ghost #kept pet ghost #dark fic #keeper/kept au

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amethyst-halo · 2 months

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decided i want to work on everything stays au so post time stop oh my god why is this so LONG

when the bros start fighting after failing the family harmony, grandma rosiepuff steps in and stops john from leaving. when they try to point blame, she puts her foot down and tells them to stop and apologize to each other. all of the older boys are too stubborn to, but baby branch feels guilty and takes the blame for everything going wrong. floyd, spruce, and clay all go to comfort him, and john realizes what he's doing is ruining the band for them. he apologizes to all of them, recognizing he'd pushed too hard and set too high a bar.

they decide to take a break from the band and focus on just being brothers instead. everything is okay for a while; they goof off and mess with each other, help their grandma with chores, etc. as brothers will do. branch is a happy little thing, though pretty anxious, and while his brothers still fight with each other, things are good. but rosiepuff gets taken the next trollstice, leaving the boys on their own.

the boys are devastated, of course, and things are pretty rough for a while. john and spruce share the brunt of rosiepuff's role as the parental figures, doing their best to comfort the youngest three and keep the pod running. branch is struggling the most with comprehending what happened, as he hadn't lost anyone before, and doesn't fully grasp for a while that rosiepuff isn't coming back. things are okay eventually, but it's a hard time for a while.

john is still keeping everyone on track of their chores and such, but mostly likes to let them goof around. he still writes music in his off time, and likes to help branch plan his bunker hideout. he prefers being outside most of the time, and likes to find weird bugs and plants to show his brothers and teach them about them.

spruce leans way back, no longer feeling pressured to keep up his heartthrob persona. he takes up the cooking and gets super good at it, and overall is very relaxed. he likes to climb high into the tree to bergen-watch at the top of the cage, and sometimes talks one of his younger brothers into going up with him.

clay indulges in his interest in learning and graduates super early; he's the first to graduate troll school (which im just basing on the us school system bc thats what i know aksjdhjk), with john having dropped out when rosiepuff was taken and spruce still in his last couple of years. while he still likes to goof off with his brothers, he takes on a more serious persona with other trolls and likes to keep up with his sad book club. he becomes pretty good friends with the older princess, viva.

floyd still wants to go solo, and ends up doing little gigs and such around the tree in his spare time. he doesn't want to leave his brothers, so he never gets huge, but he manages to set himself a name. he's fairly quiet and struggling a bit with the always-happy-ness of pop trolls, but he does his best to keep it to himself, at least around branch.

branch himself is a fairly happy kid. he's got a paranoid streak, though, and struggles a lot with being alone, so he's usually stuck to one of his brothers. he's fairly shy with other kids and doesn't seem keen on making friends, but he gets coaxed out of his shell sometimes. he loves to plan his hideout and share his ideas with his brothers, who are all getting a little concerned about how much he wants to hide.

a couple of years after the band's hiatus, branch and spruce are doing laundry up on one of the higher branches of the tree. branch is enjoying himself, singing a song john had taught him while spruce works. he doesn't notice the approach of a bergen until spruce shouts, and the next thing he knows, he's falling out of the tree as spruce is grabbed in his place.

branch is sure if he hadn't been singing, this wouldn't have happened. he had brought the bergen to them by singing, and now his brother was gone.

clay and floyd find him at the base of the tree, and they know something is wrong. branch blurts that it's all his fault and spruce is gone, and they try to tell him it isn't his fault. they take him back up to the pod to john, who won't believe that spruce is gone. john goes to look for him and clay has to follow, leaving floyd to comfort an increasingly distraught branch. john initially thinks its a bad prank by spruce and clay, but clay gets through to him that spruce was really taken.

when they get back to the pod, floyd is all but freaking out, and branch is silent and gray.

things are more subdued after that; john and clay get more serious with their younger two brothers, floyd loses a lot of his energy for things and mostly just tries to make sure branch is sleeping and fed, and branch... he's a shell of his former self. he refuses to speak, let alone sing, convinced he'd only get his other brothers taken. he pours all of his focus on planning his hideout bunker, refusing to try and play with other kids or go along with his brothers' activities.

it gets a little better over time, as the initial grief fades. branch is still gray and refusing to speak, but he is slowly talked into acting like a kid every once in a while. his brothers also get better over time, john and clay's fun sides and floyd's energy slowly returning. john pushes himself to be better faster, determined to be there for his brothers, but it does lead to clay and him getting into more arguments, and floyd sees right through his facade most of the time. but it gets better, and branch's old colors even begin to return, albeit slightly.

with spruce, he gets taken to the bergen castle, where he manages to escape the bergen's hold. he has a little cat and mouse chase, but he squeezes into a hole in the walls and gets away. in the chase, though, he lost his pathway out, and all of the bergens are looking for him, so he can't escape right away. he's forced to hunker down and wait, so he starts exploring to find a way out.

his main hiding space ends up down in the basement, close to bridget's room. he doesn't dare let her know about him, but he does listen in on her struggles with her work and emotions.

he makes a few attempts to escape over the next while, but each time ends up with him being chased back into the wall. he manages to figure out his escape path, at least, but all of his attempts are squashed one way or another. one of his attempts to escape nearly goes wrong as chef catches him and almost kills him with her knife, but he manages to move away so all she catches is his tail, causing him to lose most of it.

a couple of years after spruce is taken, the escape tunnels are finished. john does his best to keep all of them together, but when they get out on the other side, clay is missing. john tries to go back in to find him, but the tunnels start to collapse and he's pulled out of there without clay. they wait, and wait, until king peppy begins to leave, meaning there aren't any more trolls to save.

the brothers are devastated; john blames himself for losing track of clay and basically shuts off, and branch loses any color he'd gotten back. with john near unresponsive, floyd takes charge of keeping them with the group and such, distracting himself from his grief.

spruce hears about the trolls disappearing from his place in the wall, and while he's glad they seem to have escaped, it seriously deters him from trying to escape himself, as he's not sure he could find them. he loses hope, which means he loses his colors.

clay, meanwhile, managed to escape the tunnels with viva. he wants to go back to find his brothers, unsure of if they made it out, but viva stops him. he's forced to hope for the best, as he and viva find the other trolls who were separated, forming the group that becomes the putt-putt trolls.

everything is... hard, for the first few years. branch's anxiety and paranoia only gets worse, and john dory is zoned out most of the time, so floyd is forced to be the one in charge, making sure his brothers are taken care of and doing whatever he can to help with setting up the new village. floyd eventually gets sick of it and encourages john and branch to build branch's bunker, figuring it'll keep them busy. it works, and john slowly comes back to himself while helping branch dig and plan.

spruce is pretty lost back in the castle; he knows the place like the back of his hand now, but he kind of resents it because he just wants to be back with his brothers. he's spent a lot of time near bridget by proxy, and one night when she's despairing over her feelings and workload, he accidentally gives himself away. to his surprise, she isn't as eager to catch him as every other bergen, and is more curious about how he'd escaped for so long. the two end up talking more; spruce finds himself worrying about her like an older brother, and she makes a point of sneaking him more food and other things he needs where she can in return for his company.

at some point, spruce nearly gets caught again, getting cornered by one of the cooks- the chef is exiled by this point- who nearly kills him again. the side of his face and his ear get caught and injured pretty badly before he can get away, and he manages to get to bridget's room before collapsing. bridget is wildly alarmed and does her best to patch him up, but the injury scars and his hearing is damaged on the one side. still, he's incredibly touched by her care for him, and while he's not as bright as he used to be, his colors do come back.

back in the village, john and branch build most of the bunker together, floyd pitching in where he can while also working on his music and running errands and such. when branch is older and more independent, john decides to start making trips back to the tunnels in an attempt to find clay. floyd isn't thrilled, worried that john is still stuck in the past and not letting himself heal, but he can't really stop him. john doesn't have much luck anyways.

floyd himself is struggling a lot of the time under the pressure of taking care of branch and john while also maintaining a social status and dealing with his own grief, and his colors dull slowly over the next several years. it's gradual, to the point it's hard to notice, so john isn't super perceptive to it. eventually, though, floyd gets sick of john ditching them all the time to dig in the tunnels and they argue, and floyd finally blurts all of his struggles in the heat of the argument. he crumbles, the last of his color fading, and john feels awful. he does his best to apologize and comfort him, and promises he's going to take care of them properly and stop going back to the tunnels, stop being stuck in the past when the present needs him.

i don't have much planned between that and the start of the first movie tbh. branch stays gray and silent, john does his best to care for his brothers, floyd does gain dull colors again at some point and keeps up with his solo career and is probably the most social of the three of them. spruce is kinda just surviving in the castle walls. clay's doing hot girl putt putt shit. etc

movie 1 is fairly the same to start. the party lures the chef in and trolls are captured, but it includes floyd, who attended the party to be polite, and john, who tried to go save him. branch and poppy go after them and branch is even less inclined to put up with her shenanigans along the way. im not gonna lie i haven't managed to figure out much of any of the movies from there.

i know that spruce reunites with his bros while they're trying to rescue the snack pack and such, and is a major advocate for trolls and bergens not being as different as they think.

between movies 1 and 2, about a month before 2 starts, floyd sets off for a gig at mount rageous for his solo career stuff, which :) is fine :)

i don't have much else figured out yet for some reason it is eluding me way more than any other au has so. i'll figure it out aksdjhjkhdjfh

#trolls #trolls au #trolls 3 #trolls band together #trolls brozone #trolls john dory #trolls bruce #trolls spruce #trolls clay #trolls floyd #trolls branch #sketch speaks #everything stays au #this has been staring at me from my drafts for a bit. dear god is it long and theres NOT EVEN ANY STUFF FROM THE MOVIES YET #AUGH #i started this post a couple of weeks ago and its been fuckin At My Door since then #i love all my aus equally. only draws like 3 of them

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laundry-management-software · 7 months

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How to streamline SOP in linen management to improve productivity and cut costs

Linen management software leverages the substantial processing abilities of RFID and BI software and pushes them towards resolving SOP issues linen rental facilities face, which include missing linen sheets.

Linen management software uses RFID technology to optimise linen tracking and management. The technology can track linen using RFID tags inside each sheet.

#laundry management solutions #laundry management cloud platform #laundry inventory tracking #laundry productivity #laundry invoicing integration #laundry productivity solutions #gps delivery management system #laundrysoftware #laundry businesses #bundle laundry

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laundry-management-platform · 9 months

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Leading laundry management systems - Bundle Australia

Leading laundry management systems allow the integration of financial software that enables laundries to conduct their accounting process without the need for separate databases. With this functionality, not only can employees generate invoices for various services, but track revenue and expenses, as well as calculate net income and perform other accounting activities.

#laundry inventory tracking #gps delivery management system #laundry management cloud platform #laundrysoftware #laundry productivity solutions #laundry businesses #rfid inventory management #bundle laundry #laundry management solutions #laundry productivity #laundry management systems

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theresattrpgforthat · 9 months

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Hello! Do you have any suggestions for ttrpg that are like Control (video game)? I enjoy number crunching, and playbooks are a plus :D

THEME: Games inspired by CONTROL

Hello! I’m going to first reference to you one of the first posts I ever made, about Paranormal Agents. If you like playbooks, you’ll probably want to take a look at Against the Dark Conspiracy, but don’t sleep on External Containment Bureau! Not much of what’s in that post is big on math, but I don’t want to leave out any possible options. Now, on to some more recommendations.

In Case of An Emergency, by boyproblems.

You work at foundation., a global corporation known for its cutting edge inventions and morally dubious treatment of its labour force. It stays at the top of its field by exploiting the paranormal and the metaphysical. Due to an "incident", you are now trapped inside. The glitch causes you and a group of your co-workers to be tasked by a group known as THE SHAREHOLDERS to fix what has broken, and solve THE EMERGENCY.

The Head Office is an ever-shifting office complex that threatens to trap your intrepid group within its labyrinthine walls. Fable and superstition come alive and threaten your very life. Gain new abilities (ABSTRACTIONS) through exposure to the powers that lie beyond, investigate the truth behind foundation., traverse a place where new science is discovered daily, and cut through bureaucratic and literal binding red tape to escape and survive.

This is a one-shot game, but that doesn’t mean that your character can’t gain new powers throughout the course of play. In Case of Emergency is directly inspired by CONTROL, so theme-wise we’re definitely in the right territory. It doesn’t look like it has playbooks though, which is a bummer - in almost every other aspect I think it’s what you’re looking for!

Agents of the O.D.D., by Jason Tocci.

Agents of the O.D.D. is a tabletop roleplaying game of conscripted cryptids, shaky psychics, burned spies, and other investigators of the paranormal. Based on the rules from Into the Odd and Electric Bastionland, and inspired by series like Hellboy, Planetary, and The Laundry Files.

Agents of the O.D.D. doesn’t necessarily have playbooks, but it does have player archetypes. During character creation, you roll a d100 and take the result from a hefty list of archetypes. These will give you one or more special moves, companions, and/or pieces of equipment. And equipment is a really big thing in this game - there’a at least 6 pages in this 24-page game dedicated to equipment alone. This might be because Agents of the O.D.D. is built off of Into the Odd and Electric Bastionland, which are both minimalist and focus on dungeon-delving.

Now that I think of it, exploring a place that is abnormal and haunted is likely very similar to engaging in a dungeon-crawl, so expect a game like this to point you to your inventory when it comes to solving problems - like talking to extraterrestrials, or fighting against hostile cryptids. You’re also going to be tracking your gear, so if you like inventory-keeping this game is for you.

Making Change, by Beth and Angel Make Games.

Researchers at The Observatory study all sorts of objects that seem ordinary but are gifted with a special power. One of these objects is a coin. However, when the senior researcher went to start testing it, it… convinced them to "liberate" it. Surveillance shows the researcher was speaking to something or someone —presumably, the coin— and the researcher quickly went from arguing to utterly submitting to the coin.

This is an adventure made for the CoinSides Jam of 2023, which had the stipulation that the adventure have a coin as a central theme. This adventure invokes the coin with some kind of intelligence, as it has the ability to affect the desires and emotions of people around it. Because the adventure is system-agnostic, it’s meant to work with a number of different systems, but I would recommend using games that are good for detective stories or modern horror, or even something like External Containment Bureau.

You Can Check Out Anytime You Like, But You Can Never Leave, by Marn S.

You Can Check Out Any Time You Like, But You Can Never Leave is a game for 3+ people, and a surreal horror-flavored hack of Mobile Frame Zero: Firebrands by Meguey & Vincent Baker. It is also a loving homage to The Shining, NanQuest, and the songs of the 70s and 80.

Play as a Guest, Staff member, or living Anomaly at the Hotel California, the first and only hotel to exist outside of time and space! Create messy entanglements — ally with monsters, or backstab your friends! Inject the surreal and horrific into everyday life! Solve mysteries! Have strange dreams! Chase someone with a knife! Burn it all to the ground!

The setting for this game takes place in a hotel rather than The Oldest House (or something like it) but what makes it interesting is that it’s a hack of Firebrands. This means that rather than following an adventure seed like a traditional RPG, you’ll be setting up and playing through various scenes in the form of mini-games. The creator has also published Such A Lovely Place, a supplement with five extra mini-games to incorporate into your eerie stay at Hotel California. There might be math here but if there is it’s probably only in a mini-game or two.

FIST, by CLAYMORE.

FIST: Ultra Edition is a tabletop roleplaying game about paranormal mercenaries doing the tough jobs no one else can. In the game, you belong to a legendary rogue mercenary unit called FIST. You are a soldier of fortune who doesn’t fit into modern society. You are a disposable gun for hire, caught up in the death and destruction of pointless proxy wars and oppressive establishments. You may also be someone who can turn into a ghost or control bees with your mind.

FIST focuses on action and combat, but specifically against the paranormal. You aren’t regular soldiers, not by a long-shot. The time period is during the Cold War: there are tensions that will affect your missions outside of simply what you’re hunting. The combat is meant to be brutal, the missions highly tactical, and the character builds are modular (so there might be some number crunching). No playbooks here, I’m afraid, but if you want the gritty action that keeps you on your toes in CONTROL, you might want to check out FIST, especially since it’s on Kickstarter right now! (Ending soon!)

THE COMPANY, by Mega_Corp.

The Company is a survival horror game centered around corporate emergency response teams and the aftermath of the situations they are assigned to deal with. Players take on the roles of Employees assigned to response teams that quickly find themselves in over their heads with one player facilitating play as the Game Manager.

Now this looks like a game with playbooks. At the beginning, your character chooses one of five Careers, each of which come with special Perks, pre-selected skills, a personal item random table, and some jobs and goals to focus your character. The game itself ins’t terribly long, but there’s enough lore to establish how the game borrows from CONTROL without copying it completely, and the designers have crated an Employee Handbook for players as well as a Management Manual for GM’s. You get both when you pick up this game on Itch. There’s definitely a lot of pieces to keep track in this one - I don’t know if that translates to number crunching but it might get you close!

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #CONTROL #paranormal games

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painsandconfusion · 1 year

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Entering and Breaking

(tw: gun, break-in, kidnapping, chain, zip-ties, chains, gore mention, cat scratch) [Drabble Masterpost]

Shoutout to @hidden-dreamland for this idea - I just had to write it <3

Too remote.

The burglar knew that.

They knew that they shouldn’t be going somewhere quite this remote - people who live out in the middle of nowhere like this tend to do their own hunting. Which means guns.

But.

It’s an old house. Older car. Well unkempt.

And most importantly no cameras.

Since the burglar had been living large, jumping house to house in the town, not only had people started installing their own security systems, but the fucking city started putting up cameras, too.

It just wasn’t safe anymore. They couldn’t afford to go to jail - they just couldn’t. Too much was at risk.

So. That meant driving. That means rural homes. That meant rural homes that weren’t estates that weren’t crawling with security systems. That means places like this.

Ugh.

The burglar stood in the treeline, watching the owner of the home as they came home - unlucky break, that. Should have gone in while they weren’t there. Of course, the burglar didn’t know they weren’t there at that time.

They watched as the owner moved around a warm-lit kitchen, singing along to music that barely tickled at the air through the windows. Watched as they cooked. Watched them fold laundry and throw a penpoint laser around the room, kitten chasing it.

Strange thing, that kitten.

The burglar could swear it saw them when it sat in the windowsill, wide yellow eyes dilated out into the night. All-knowing, overly saturated whole moons that someone shoved and pushed into the little thing’s skull until it was able to see some desperate little creature sitting in the treetops of a darkened timber, shrouded in leaves with a deflated duffle bag strapped to their back.

Unsettling, that kitten.

Stripes that blended into the blinds until the burglar wasn’t even sure if the cat was there at all. Maybe they were just staring too long into windows.

Regardless, the lights were out for hours before the burglar finally worked up the courage to shimmy down their little pine tree, sap screaming across the front of their black hoodie and catching at their long hair, before their feet hit the ground, greeted by damp, muggy leaves.

They moved to the house as swiftly and simply as they could, sliding a thin, metal ruler into the gap between the window and sill, persuading the latch to oonch a little more little more littttttle more to the right with tiny nudges and taps until it finally popped free.

Carefully, they pressed the window up, careful to touch only the pane, not the glass. It creaked and shuddered as wood ground against wood, but they kept the ascent as smooth as possible.

In a moment, they were able to curl upward, heaving themself over the edge and setting one soft foot onto the hardwood of the living room.

Their eyes skittered around the room, immediately searching for any sign of threat or notice. A flick shocked through their silent body as eyes flashed in the darkness - kitten perched on the piano with those haunting yellow eyes shining at them. Just watching. Uncaring and all knowing.

The burglar swallowed, snugging the window back down to avoid outdoor noises that might alert their victim of their presence.

Carefully and silently, the burglar began to shift through the house. Checking. Stashing. Silver spoons, identified by the tarnish. A slightly outdated but still valuable console. An ipad that they tucked under their arm - not wanting it broken by the other contents of the bag. They needed to wipe it before they left anyway in case there was a tracking option on it.

They moved carefully, plucking up small electronics and…..stepping around the damn kitten that insisted on weaving between their legs as they moved. “Shoo- shoo, I need to nodontgothere-” the burglar groaned as the kitten started climbing up their leg.

They stumbled as a tiny claw dug into their leg, hissing at the pain as they clattered to the ground. Evidently their main priority was cradling the ipad like a baby- keeping it perfectly safe while the burglar landed on a bag full of sharp, cold, and hard. They managed to keep their yell to a minimum as corners and edges bruised into their back and side, pinching the kitten by the scruff and setting them aside.

Floorboards creaked above them, the owner of the house shifting out of bed.

“Fuck-” that was a lot of noise- shiiiiiiiit- they pushed up to standing and slipped into the closest closet they could find, pushing the kitten out after them as the staircase groaned and shuddered under the oncoming footsteps of doom.

The burglar’s breath slammed so hard against their ribs as they stood behind the door they didn’t dare close completely - it would make too much noise to latch, focusing instead on the -fucking KITTEN TRYING TO CLAW IN AFTER THEM - SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHI-

Without thinking much, they found a random, jingly cat toy at their feet and flicked it through the crack between door and pane, holding painful breath in tight lungs as the sound echoed through the moonlit house.

The kitten followed, skittering and pouncing on the fuzzy thing.

The burglar heard a sigh - footsteps wandering up to the kitten. They could barely see a hand reaching into frame, scritching behind the kitten’s ears. The little terror, in turn, rolled over, grabbing and biting playfully at the hand in a viciously harmless attack.

“Precious thing, you need to learn to be quiet at night..” the voice was soft. Groggy from sleep. Clearly a little relieved it was ‘just a kitten’ they heard.

The burglar took a small step back, away from the crack in the door lest the owner glance up and see the streak of light glinting off a wide brown eye through the crack.

Panic snapped through them and their breath caught as their heel dropped into nothing. In a flash, all the burglar could see was them tumbling - stumbling and flailing through the darkness into a cool, cavernous pit of nothing - bones crunching against stone as they hit the bottom.

But they didn’t fall.

Their hand slipped to the side, gripping a wooden rail their instincts must have deemed there.

They turned, eyes wide in the darkness now illuminated by that strip of light.

….not a closet.

Basement stairs. A landing.

The burglar took a deep, shuddering breath.

They were too loud. Breathing too loud. They could swear the owner of the house could hear their heartbeat slamming- echoing off the walls.

They had to get further away.

So..down the stairs they went.

Carefully - so carefully - they stood on the crosses of wood, walking only where they could see nails.

The wood was new. Unfinished. Barely sanded. Handmade.

But strong. Strong and sturdy.

It, blessedly, didn’t creak under their weight as they slowly descended into the darkness.

Foot tapping blindly out at the air on each step, they clutched the duffle bag and ipad close, terrified of dropping either of them and making a clatter. Terrified of hitting the ground before they realized it was there. Terrified of…everything, really.

Their breaths came a little more freely the further they got from the door, quiet, wet pants all but echoing off stone walls. Close. Telling them at least that the space was small. Fairly bare. Mostly for storage, then.

….maybe there would be things there? Family heirlooms or even a safe? People keep shit like that in basements, right?

They could bide their time here while they waited for the owner to fall back asleep - which meant waiting a couple more hours to make sure they were dead enough up there that they could sneak back out the window without the hell kitten waking them up again.

Then they’d get out and it would be fine and no one could call the police and everything would be fine.

Breath choked against their throat as their foot hit a little too hard against concrete - the bottom of the stairs now.

The little colden slit of light didn’t extend nearly far enough. Eyes still adjusting, the burglar reached blindly out in front of them, hand moving through cool, musty air. Touching nothing as they blindly shuffled forward with eyes plastered open - wide with the desperation to see.

They didn’t dare turn on a light - maybe they would if it were one on a dimmer - just to get a little glo- OH-!

They stopped, turning around the ipad in their hands. They pulled the cover around to block the flashlight, at least mostly, then opened it, swiping and flicking on the flashlight option.

A spit of light swarmed out from the area in a small arch, and the burglar clamped their hand down over it.

They just needed a glow. Just enough to know they weren’t going to hit someth-

Their heart stopped dead and painful at the sound of footsteps groaning against the floorboards above their head.

They were breathing so hard it came in a round, muffled panting breaths coming so sporadically and echoing that it almost sounded like there were two of them here.

Eyes wide and plastered to the ceiling, they kept their breath dead still and the light clutched and covered against their chest as they blindly tracked the steps across the room. Through the kitchen. Up the stairs again. A soft cooing and chittering as they did.

They were bringing the damn cat with them.

Good.

The burglar took a deep breath, peeling back the cover of the ipad again and squinting against the fresh wash of white light as it turned around the room.

Shelves. Desk. Oddly…clean - no storage? Closet an-

The burglar’s breath clattered to a stop as the ipad slipped from their fingers at the flash of eyes staring back at them - haunted face outlined only briefly until the light fell and flickered away.

They stumbled back against the floor, fear and panic tangling up their stomach and squeezing at their lungs in an icy, branching fire. They choked on it, breaths harsh and desperate. New threat located.

Their fingers scrabbled for the ipad again, hand raking across the broken screen to force the light back on again. Hitting the side of it with the heel of their hand as they shoved themself back - dufflebag forgotten on the ground in the middle of the room - until their back hit the wall.

When the light finally did turn back on, it was flickering - sporadic. They shoved the light at the face they saw, begging the universe to let it just be a trick of the light. A strange marking in the store or an old coat hanging strangely on a chair like the ‘monster in their closet’ when they were a kid. That they’d see the creature’s face and it wouldn’t be real at all. Please please please-

But that didn’t happen.

They saw bloodied, dirty hands and elbows, forearms crossed up over a face they couldn’t see anymore.

Torn clothes..

On the wrists…zipties..

The burglar’s breaths were coming so fast now they were starting to get dizzy. Then softly sob - no - no that wasn’t them - no, that was the creature. The person. The person who was chained up in a fucking basement.

The burglar took several deep, shuddering breaths, keeping the ipad pointed at them.

A small, hoarse voice cracked across the room, not even amounting to a whisper. “pl-ease-”

The burglar stared, beam of light trembling over the wall - shaking like a projector with far too aggressive a fan rattling the image during a grade school movie day.

The burglar couldn’t think of a response. Couldn’t think of..anything. But they did point the light away.

They set the ipad down on the ground, light pointed up so it scattered a gray haze over the entire room.

Tear-sparked eyes peeked out from behind shaking hands as they light moved away from the poor creature.

They were small. Frail. Littered in bruises. Tear-tracks slid down their cheeks, cutting through the dirt, blood, and grime.

“Wh-hho a-re you-??” they dared to ask..

The burglar..didn’t know how to answer that either. “I…n..I’m not anyone- I j….wh-ats going on??”

The little human scrubbed at their eyes. “Y-oure not with him?”

The burglar shook their head in small twitches. “No- just…I….I was..no I don’t know him.”

They seemed to breathe a little easier now - eyes flicking swiftly up to the ceiling - then descending to the burglar again. “C-ccan y-ou get me o-ut-?”

The burglar swallowed down the knot in their throat. It caught on dryness and fear, but they forced it down anyway.

“Yeah- y-yeah I can …do that-” they glanced around the room, whisper growing in pitch as they moved up to a crouch, looking around for..a key..? “..how?”

The human stood carefully, chain around their ankle chafing and rattling slightly - it echoed through the room. “Th-eres bolt cutters i-n the cabinet-??”

The burglar did not want to think about what the fuck this sicko needed bolt cutters in their torture basement.

Their mind filled in the answer to that question anyway.

Bile rose to the back of their throat, but they nodded, standing and tugging it open. They felt around in the darkness for the thick, heavy metal, and dragged it out with a grumbling scrape and a small clatter. They winced at the sound, but heaved it up against them - fuck it was heavy-

They carried it across the room to the captive, anyway.

“..wrists first-?”

The captive nodded desperately, holding out their wrists.

The burglar took a moment of heaving to get the teeth of the bolt cutters properly in place where they wouldn’t bite through skin, but snapped them together fairly easily.

The captive shuddered a soft sob, relief dripping from their eyes as they rubbed at their wrists.

The burglar didn’t wait for further instruction, they needed to move.

They knelt down to the captive’s feet, slotting one link of the chain between the thick metal teeth, then braced one handle against their thigh as their hands pulled back.

It bruised and dug into the flesh of their leg, but they didn’t stop.

The metal didn’t relent, but they didn’t stop.

Teeth grit, fueled by fear and desperation, the burglar pulled harder and harder, feeling the bruise work against the bone and listening to their back crackle at the strain.

They shifted, readjusting - maybe just one half of the link?? It was dented- that was a good sign - but not nearly enough.

They had to break it.

The captive rested both hands on the burglar’s shoulders, steadying both of them as the burglar groaned under the effort. They flinched hard as a hand pressed over their mouth, indicating quiet. They were making too much noise.

They were so stupid.

Silencing their voice with a small nod, the burglar moved back to the agonizing pull, jerking the handle to and fro, desperately trying to force the iron link to submit to iron teeth, crumbling to the ground.

They almost cursed as a little body brushed soft against their leg. “Not the time-” they scooted the kitten away from their leg with their foot, resuming their posi-

…

..how did you get..h..-

The burglar straightened immediately, terrified eyes turning to the stairs.

The owner sat there, crouched in the shadows.

The softest glint shone off the barrel of the pistol that was lazily pointed at the pair of them. Footsteps moved all but silently down the stairs - heavy all the same. The burglar flinched at every muffled step.

Silence clattered away as the owner’s shoe crunched against the discarded ipad, sending the world dark.

A ‘click’ and the room flickered into blinding, garish, rotting light from the dusty orange of a dangling bulb.

“Ohhh honey, did you pick the wrong house..”

[Drabble Masterpost]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @uvanuva @a-whumped-tea)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

#gun #break-in #kidnapping #chain #zip-ties #chains #gore mention #cat scratch #2600 words #ew #whump #whump scene #whump drable

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