#cw implied slavery | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mythicalsanctuarysodor · 2 years ago

Text

Happy late James day! Have a pic and a fic for my lateness-

(Warning! Under the cut is a fanfic that may contain topics sensitive to some readers, read tags for more info. Otherwise, you have been warned, read at your own choice.)

James smiled and waved as he saw Gordon, Duncan and Sir Bertrum board the train out to the mainland, Edward and Henry standing at his sides were doing the same as the old stallion and forest spirit wished them good luck. Once the train had left the other mythos were left with their own plans for the day, Edward was taking his wife into town so they could go furniture shopping for their new house, Henry was finally ready to go into the forest he once called his home, Thomas was going to do a bit of expansive exploring around the island, Percy was going to visit the Skarloey, and their jockeys were going to hang around the docks chatting with old friends.

James however had a train to catch as he was going to the mainland for a visit, when the others questioned him his answer was- “I always wanted to learn a little bit of alchemy, and now is the best time with all the classes popping up.” They bought it as it also was to explain why he would be gone for a few days. With suitcases in hand James’s own train to Manchester was coming in, the others wished him luck as the unicorn boarded the coach.

James made sure to get a coach that had compartments so he wouldn’t take up to much space, he had a long way from Sodor to Horwich after all. So he sat his luggage on the seat and laid down in the middle of the compartment. As the train carried on, after an hour someone knocked on the compartment door, James looked up from a book he was reading to see a human there, James was honestly expecting a mythic to join him before a human would.

“Hello, do you mind? Everyone else is full.” The man said. “Sure, though I apologise for the tight space.” James said as his body didn’t quite take up the whole small isle but there was enough space for two humans. The man smiled and sat down on the opposite seat to James’s luggage. James was about to go back to his book when the human decided to engage in small talk.

“So, where are you heading?” “I’m heading back home to Horwich, I’m hoping to still find some family there.” James said. “Ah,” the man smiled and nodded then got a notepad and pencil out and began writing down what James had told him. The crystal mythic found this strange and asked about it, “Do you record your conversations with people?” “Oh! Sorry, no-no I’m a mythology professor in Manchester, ever since the new law many of my colleagues have been jumping at the chance to talk to as many mythic as possible to record things while their still fresh.” “Ah! Well in that case I’m one to brag and boast, if you have questions I’d be happy to answer, professor…?” “McGlynn, Oswald McGlynn.” The man said extending his hand for a shake. “James, James Shire!” James smiled and gently shook his hand.

The first thing Oswald did was gasp when he got a good look as James’s hand and arm, as the unicorn was wearing a short sleeve dress shirt and vest today. “My goodness your arm, is this solid gemstone?” Oswald asked. “Yes it is, 100% ruby and my tail and frills are flecks of gold.” “Good gracious you’re a walking few million pounds! You must have done something extraordinary before boarding this train.” “Not really, I did mixed traffic work on a railway off of Barrow-in-Furness, granted I did pull the express there a few times but otherwise it was mainly goods work with some passenger trains mixed in.” “So you were an industry mythic?” “I guess I still am, because our owner offered us to still work there if we wanted, I said yes and he’s given me a few months to get my interests in order.”

This confused Oswald, he had gotten the impression that many industry mythic had been glad to leave their old jobs behind. “Why are you still working there? I’ve seen several reports of mythic loathing their old jobs they were forced into.” “My boss was actually rather fair compared to what I’ve heard about other railways, and he still is fair by giving us proper wages, heck, I did just say he’s giving me a few months to get my things together before going back to work.” “True, I guess there are a few good eggs out there. But moving on, since you’re an industry mythic, were you paired with a locomotive?” “I was, a Lancashire and Yorkshire class 28.” “So how did you get from that railway to the one you’re on now?” “That particular class of locomotive was riddled with problems, and mine was chosen to have some modifications done. They worked, but they didn’t have enough money to do it on the others. So I was eventually sold off to the railway I work on now when they needed a quick cash grab.” “Sounds like that was for the best in the end.” “Absolutely, my best years are with my current home.”

As Oswald scribbled down his notes he then moved onto a more personal topic. “If you don’t mind this next topic, I was wondering if you could tell me about you personally. Like… your middle name, last I knew working class mythic didn’t get family names and rarely got proper names at all.” “Ah! Well… I was wild caught truth be told, my herd had its own language and when my name was translated it meant supplanter, and the human name James means supplanter. As for my surname, I just needed something to write on my new birth certificate, so since Yorkshire and Lancashire both ended in ‘Shire’ I chose that. It also makes sense because I’m a horse.” James explained with a chuckle. “Alright, then what about your heritage? I’ve never seen a unicorn made out of minerals before, so are you from an area with caves?”

James seemed to pause at that question. Back when he first arrived at the NWR he got asked that frequently, eventually people just stopped asking but it was always still a mystery in the air of what James 100% was. “It’s… complicated. I’m sorry but this isn’t one I’d like to answer.” “No need to apologise, I understand that some things of the past should stay there. But if you can’t tell me that then I would like to ask how you maintain your body, do you need to eat rubies or gold? Or what is your diet in general? I couldn’t help but notice you also have wrather sharp teeth.” “Well to answer the whole thing about my food I’d have to say I’m an omnivore like you, I can eat my fruit and meats. Not rocks however, my body isn’t the you are what you eat factor.” “If you don’t mind me asking then, how do you bathe? Do you polish the rock or do you just run it under water?” “Run it all under water and then dry the gem part with a special towel.”

Oswald then got to the last few questions he had. “Okay, last few, and the most awkward of all. How do you court and mate?” “We’re still not barn animals so I wouldn’t say ‘mate’, but to answer that question my species specifically reproduces asexually, using a method akin to how most industry mythic were born except instead of using a female or female equivalent they put the beginning embryo into a large crystal, and it gestates from there. As for dating? My species are technically gender fluid or don’t identify with any gender so we don’t mind who we date as long as they’re the right person, but me personally I’m not looking for any love at the moment.” Oswald smiled as he put a firm dot at the end of his last note. “Thank you very, very much James, I’m hoping this will help my classes understand mythic better. Um, if I could interest you, would you like to come to the university I work at for a live demonstration? You’ll be paid and such.” Oswald handed James his card. “I’ll definitely consider it, it was fun getting to talk about myself for an hour or so.” James said as he checked his pocket watch. Oswald was surprised to, checking his own wrist watch. “Oh my the time flew by fast, my stop should be coming up soon.”

James did his best to stretch as his own stop would be coming soon as well. “Well if you get off before me I want you to take this.” James made a small square plate of ruby form in his hands that had some odd pictures but also some numbers on it. “This is so I can just teleport into your class room if you place it on the floor, it also has my crystal ball sigil and phone number on it, but I might not be me answering the phone, just ask for me if not.” Oswald was amazed! He just saw James do magic and he didn’t even think to ask about that! He took the ruby with glee and carefully wrapped it in cloth before packing it in his brief case. “Thank you very much James, and who knows, maybe now having a sigil will give me an excuse to use a crystal ball or magic mirror.” Oswald said as he got up and saw his stop approaching. “Well this is my stop, it was a pleasure talking with you James.” “Likewise! If only more humans were like you, we would be a lot further along than we are now.” Oswald chuckled as he smiled and left the coach, waving to James.

Once James was on his way again he began to dread reading the signs of the stations as they came up, but eventually he found the one he was looking for… Horwich. He began to collect his things and climbed out of the coach, to his surprise he saw a lot of mythic walking around on the platform, working as ticket sellers, maintenance, he even saw who looked like a tall faun hybrid as the station master. Regardless he trotted off and began to search around, he remembered some of the tracks but a lot of them had been paved over by roads, now the only ones really around were tramway tracks. But as he undoubtedly knew, all tracks lead to the place where engines run, so he followed them across roads and past other landmarks he used to know until he was standing in front of the brick building of Horwich works.

He trotted in to try and see if he knew anyone there, it was being cleared out as the working class mythic that would have previously lived there were moving out. And to his surprise he did see someone he recognised, a brother in steel as they were paired with the same engine type but weren’t biologically related. “12517?” James asked. The unicorn centaur turned around from the other mythos he was addressing and gasped when he saw James, “12520?! Holy cow! What?!” The centaur trotted up to James and pulled him into a tight hug. “Brother it has been decades! Where have you been? Is this a new gemstone? What’s with the solid red look? Why have you come back? Do you have a name now?” James laughed as he hugged back and even ruffled his brothers short hair. “Haha! It’s good to see you again to big brother! To answer your questions- A railway on an island from Borrow-in-Furness, yes it is new and the gem is ruby, I went for a solid red look since I asked for a new colour after I had a bad crash, I wanted to see my family in steel again, and yes! I was christened that nickname I insisted you all called me back in the day, my name is James!”

The class 28 unicorn chuckled and trotted around James in a playful manner. “Well James, it’s nice to finally say that’s your name, the old managers here will be furious! As for me, my name is Jacob! Just got it on paper a few days ago actually.” Jacob laughed. “Jacob? My name is a derive from that name, they both mean ‘supplanter’, did you struggle to come up with a name or something?” James asked actually feeling a little offended that his brother would just copy his name. “Actually… all of us choose a name beginning with ‘J’, it was so we could honour you. You were the most gutsy of us to insist you had a name and hardly responded to anything else.” Jacob winced as he remembered those punishments James would get if he didn’t listen to his industrial name.

James grimaced and squirmed under his clothes, remembering those days of his youth well. But he pushed it aside at the feeling of pride that his brothers and sisters would name themselves after a similar theme to his own name. But just then a shout came from an office door, “52530! Quit your gossiping and get back to work!” Jacob jumped as it seemed a manager was addressing him. “Yes sir! Right away sir!” Jacob was about to gallop off but James skipped in front of him and stopped him. “Woah, woah, woah! Hold your horse Jacob, what does he mean by work?” “I’ve been pulling wagons of living stuff for the other mythic that have been moving out, there’s a lot to get through, would you like to give me a hand?” Jacob asked. “Did you somehow manage to open a moving company in the span of a few days ago from getting your name on official paper?” “What? No.” “Then why are you moving other mythic’s crap and not just your own?” “Because I was told to?”

James facepalmed at his brother, the clink of ruby on ruby from his hand to his horn not being very subtle. “Jay… that kind of defeats the purpose of what this whole mythic rights thing has done for us, you don’t have to do anything that manager tells you to do! Did you ask the other mythic if they wanted help with moving out?” “No.” Jacob said. “Did they ask you and you agreed to help?” “No.” “Are you only doing it because that man told you to?” “Yes.” “Those mythic are grown adults they can sort their own moving situation out, now. Where is your crap? I’ll help you pack and we can get you started on getting out of here.”

Jacob looked to be thinking to himself as James could see the gears turning in his brothers head when they heard another shout from the manager. “52-!” “How about getting off your own fat ass and doing it yourself you lazy git! He doesn’t work for you anymore and his labour is not for free!” James shouted causing the whole works to go silent. The manager in question standing in the office door stood completely out and marched right up to James with a furious scowl. “Who the hell do you think you are talking to me like that centaur?” the man yelled. “I am this stallions brother in steel, that’s who the hell I know I am, and who do you think you are demanding things of him? He’s not your worker, his time is not a charity, if you want him to be a moving service you’d better start paying him.” “I’ve been his manager for the past five decades, so when I tell him to do something, he does it!” the man shouted. “In case your dead braincells in the back maybe didn’t hear, the only manager your of- is the bacteria in this tetanus hot spot! You have no power here! Come on Jay, show me your stuff and we can blow this joint.”

James grabbed Jacob’s arm and started walking further into the works for Jacob to show him where he was staying. “So, where’s your stuff?” James asked only to not hear a word from Jacob. When he looked back he saw his brother quietly crying to himself, tears dripping off his cheeks. James stopped and addressed his brother again, “Jay? Hey Jacob? Come on bro use your words.” To his surprise, Jacob shoved James away from him, huffing as his face became red from anger. “What good has words ever done? All the words I tried to say to you just always went right over your head! I was always getting in trouble for you James, and even after fifty years you still haven’t changed! I’m still going to be getting in trouble for you!” James looked hurt but also confused. “Jacob, you shouldn’t be getting in trouble because of me, not back then and sure as dam hell not now. If you think you have to cop that on the chin still your wrong, you can walk away no matter how much he yells at you because for once in your life he has no power over you. You just saw what I did, I don’t have to take anything from him, you’re in my shoes now, you don’t have to take it ether.”

Jacob still cried. “It’s not that easy James, fifty years doesn’t just disappear like that.” “I know! Thirteen sure as hell weren’t off my back the second I left here, and you coped a tongue lashing while I endured a literal lashing, I was broken and shattered so many times Jay, I was most of the time in too much pain to even move because they never allowed me a second to just let the part of me connected to the stone actually heal, you remember why I was so bad at magic back then? That was because the migraines made it physically impossible for me to even conjure the will with how many times they broke my horn. I was in a hell Jay… it took me more than thirty years, if I can get over it, I know you can to. Granted, it’s obviously not going to be the same journey as mine, far from it. Like you said, that’s fifty years that’s not going to go away overnight. But where do you think beginning to recover starts? You’ve already been given the push, you just need to take the first step.” James held onto his brothers shoulders as he spoke to Jacob, having the older stallions full attention.

Jacob looked to be in thought again and this time James covered his ears so no outside source could cut him from them. It took a minute or two but eventually Jacob whipped his tears, then guided James to the back of the works where his personal belongings were. They were in a large gym bag, packed and ready to go. “This all?” James asked. “Yeah… I didn’t bother much for personal possessions that I couldn’t carry on my person.” “Fair, you lived in a work shop after all.” James picked up Jacob’s luggage and they began to trot out. “Are any of our other siblings here?” James asked. “No, I was the only one who stayed here, everyone else were in sheds.” “You have a new living arrangement sorted out yet?” “There’s a local mythic shelter, I was going to crash there while I get my bank details in place for the money.” James gasped and instantly shook his head. “Oh hell no, no brother of mine is staying in a shelter until he gets his life together. You can crash at my place, I kind of went over board when making it and now it’s just that bit too big.” Jacob was surprised. “James seriously, you don’t have to take me in.” “Bull shit, I have an obligation out of love to. Plus, if your still looking for hauling work, the place I’m at is still looking for hires, we’re wrather short on unicorns.”

Jacob thought about is for a second before smiling and nodding. “Alright it couldn’t hurt to live with family. So, where is your new place?” “It’s on an island past Barrow-in-Furness, the island of Sodor.” “I’ve heard of Sodor, its alongside the isle of man isn’t it?” “It is!” “Huh… well it’s a little far but if your happy with it than it must be worth it.” “Great! I can teleport us there now.”

James erupted a 10ft stalagmite of ruby from the ground, it’s red glow being a sign of imbued magic. “Holy cow! You figured out how to teleport?” Jacob asked. “My own way of teleporting, yes. I still can’t do it the way you lot can though.” James said as he began to walk through the ruby with Jacob following him. When they got to the other side, they were in James’s front yard on a large property of land with farm land and horse paddocks in the surrounding area.

“Woah… I see what you mean when you say you’ve made it to big.” Jacob commented. “This isn’t what I meant. I knew I wanted a large bit of land because, well come on, we’re half horses. What I meant when I said I made it to big was my house.” James said as he began walking up the hill and gesturing for Jacob to follow. The unicorn stallion did and when he was over the hill he could now 100% see what James had meant, on the top of the property after a small hill was a giant mansion made with all variants of gemstone and other such materials, plants climbed up the walls and made archways, some bricks sporadically had a shine to them, the windows were all stained glass around the rims with wooden windows having carved details, there were towers around the roof reminiscent of old castles with many balconies, and the pathway lights were designed to ether be glowing plants or gems that would light up at night. Jacob was amazed at how much effort looked to have gone into this, like it was ripped right out of an old times fantasy novel that a matriarch would live in.

“Sweet Jesus fucking Christ…” Jacob whispered out loud. “Regret choosing to come with me yet?” James asked cockily as he began to walk up to the front door. “I’m beginning to trust your judgment more and more despite knowing I shouldn’t.” Jacob said quickly trotting to catch up with James. “Trust me dear brother when it comes to architecture, I am a king at it.” James said as he opened the door and let themselves in.

To Jacob the inside was no better than the outside, archways that connected the rooms were heavily detailed in different themes of pictures, large centaur sized leather sofas lined the living room walls with a giant magic mirror mounted on the wall, the stairs were all with decorated railing, marble floors with some carpets and rugs in the appropriate rooms, and again, everything looked like a palace!

“Upstairs are the bedrooms, study, library, studio, theatre, and entrance to the veranda out back, though there’s an entrance on this level to. Bathroom on this level is over on that side, and there are bathrooms with all the guest rooms. Master bedroom is on the third floor, if you need me during the night that’s where I’ll be. Kitchen and living room are to the right as you can see, I don’t have much food kept yet but there are a few quaint café’s down the road if you get hungry at the moment. Theres a pool and fountain at the back along with a garden, there’s also a river and pond, I don’t recommend swimming in there because there are a few fish. The only rules I have off the bat are don’t go down stairs, there’s a magic stone there that leads to my personal forge, and my bedroom is off limits unless you get my say so. Otherwise, that’s the whole place. If you want to explore the bedrooms and pick one go right ahead.” James said as he whipped his hooves on the carpet and left his luggage at the front door.

Jacob almost dropped his bag in surprise at how massive the place was, he swore he was walking through a modern palace with how everything looked. “Do you have anyone else living here?” Jacob asked. “No not yet, I haven’t shown any of my friends this place yet but I want to offer them it while their own homes are being built. The majority of them have been getting personal stuff out the way first like healthcare and marriages.” “Understandable. So, what do you want to do first?” Jacob asked. “I actually wanted to immediately head back out, back to Horwich.” “Why? We just came from there.” “I know. I wanted to visit the works first to see if any of you were there and needed help, but I wasn’t just there for the works.” “Really? What else then?”

James gave Jacob a saddened expression. “You remember I’m wild caught right?” “Yes, but what-” Jacob then had an idea of what James was getting at. “Oh! Are you going to try and find your birth family?” Jacob asked. “I know where they are, it’s just a journey I have to take alone. There are some sides of my past that I don’t want you or quite frankly anyone else seeing, and I especially want to have some time with my mother.” Jacob was surprised; even when they were kids James hardly ever talked about his life before he was captured and ran through the trade. Back then James wasn’t even any kind of gemstone, he was just ore rock with a few things from metal to precious stones sticking out of him and he didn’t speak English.

“Okay… I can hang around here for a bit while you’re out. How long do you think you might be gone?” Jacob asked. “I might be gone for a few days if I’m being completely fair… I’m hoping to broaden my knowledge on my unique magic and also catch up with many people.” James admitted. “Where will you be going?” Jacob asked causing James to slope his shoulders and look rather pensive. “Do you remember Aspull pumping pit?” James asked. Jacob gasped, “The pumping pit? What on earth could you want with down there?” “That’s where I was found and roped. And it’s not the pit itself I’m there for, it’s the local mines in the area that the pit drained. Down those mines are where my craft of magic comes from.” Jacob looked very concerned. “Just… please little brother, come back home, preferably in one solid piece.” James hugged Jacob before handing him a cut of the house keys. “I’ve got a wave point set in the back yard, I’ll come back through there when I arrive home, you’ll know it when you hear it. In the studio I’ve got multiple clothes I’ve made that you can try on and have, the completed ones are in a walk in closet, try those on. But I recommend having a shower first. Here’s 500, feel free to use that at the café’s I mentioned. If it’s an emergency here's my personal sigil, you have plenty crystal balls around here to use. And feel free to study up on some magic if you like.” James said handing over a paper and some bills. Jacob smiled and hugged James again before watching him leave back through the ruby he made, once he was gone, Jacob got to searching for a bedroom to pick.

With James he had teleported back to Horwich works, and when he came back through the crystal he immediately shattered it into a red sand that blew away in the wind. Now it was just the long walk to the old pumping pit.

This proved to take under an hour though, much to James’s surprise as he remembered it being a lot longer. Once he was out of Horwich and had run across the train tracks he was into more open farm land as he came closer to Aspull, he followed the farmlands boarders until he came across the forest where the pump now resided in the middle of. He was aware of it’s closing in the 30’s and it now being abandoned, that made it all the more easier to James though.

When he finally found the pit, he was surprised to see how different it looked. The quiet forest a complete contrast to the horrid loud growling the pumps had made back in the day. The tubes gone, and the boilers gone to that operated the pistons. James walked over to the maintenance cover that sat in the ground almost sacrilegiously with how the old moss covered stones looked, he removed it and couldn’t help but shiver as he thought over how he was really doing this, no turning back now.

James gently poked one of the stone pillars, what grew from the spot was a flat plate of ruby. James lifted his luggage up to the mounted ruby and when the gem lit up James’s belongings were teleported through it, acting like a storage pocket dimension. With James unburdened of his packaging his clothing was next, he stripped of all the cloth on his body, leaving his skin and stone left. What was next was something not even his siblings in steel have seen, not even anyone from Sodor. James’s lower body of crystal that resembled a horses began to change and shift, the breaking and grinding of stone took over the silent forest as James began to morph.

Gone became of James’s horn and hooves, his legs becoming two and turning much more human minus the feet. He began to hover off of the ground as the rest of him changed, the gold glitter flow of his tail and frills disappearing and being relocated to his hair, a long whisp of a golden trail started falling from his scalp and trailed far behind him to drag close to the ground. The crystal that attached to his skin began to grow and cover his body more, growing down from his ears to his neck and connecting at his shoulders to his spine then at his new legs. Spikes of ruby grew from James’s more exposed sides of his shoulders and top of his arms, across his hips and even around where his ankles would be. Eventually the only skin that was left was James’s face, front neck, and front chest and ribs. But that wasn’t to say his organic parts didn’t change ether, James’s usually sharp teeth were sharper, turning from canines to outright fangs, his red eyes turning a more fire orange with white pupils and black sclera.

James looked at his hands once he was done, his nails now claws and the world looked so much more different to him now. He was annoyed by the daylight and the lack of any immediate magic around him besides his own made him practically blind on the surface, but underground was a very different story.

He gently lowered down the maintenance hole, and then closed it up once he was under the earth. Instantly his vision was much better, his eyes allowing his sight back once he was in a complete abyss. He lowered down to the bottom of the pit and searched his memory for the old tell-tale signs of caves, once he found where an old pipe used to be James’s old childhood memories came back to him, the routes and the curiosity he used to be so naïve with.

James followed the old holes where the pipes used to be, and eventually he found the water source they used to drain so long ago. James didn’t have any issues about breathing, so he dived into the water and swam through the underground rivers to where they lead. It took a long time, swerving the tight corners and sometimes resurfacing and travelling down the old abandoned mines before needing to dive back into the water again. But eventually, he found what he was looking for.

After another dive into water from a mine, this time the water sucked downward like the plug from a bathtub. James was taken down with it before he was spat out on the other side down a waterfall into a more open natural cave. He fell onto the stone with a thud and clink with a few shards of ruby breaking off, James groaned and just decided to lay there for a second while the pain subsided. That was until he saw something familiar.

Lining the wall above him, was a vain of sapphire. And it wasn’t a normal natural ore, it was like when he made his rubies appear, they had a magic aura to them that James saw as glowing. He instantly shot up from the floor and began to follow the sapphire down the cave, the more he followed the vain the more carved out the cave got, like it was shaping out to be a walk way or tunnel. It ended up being a muralled tunnel as different gemstones suddenly started showing up and forming a picture the further in James followed them.

Eventually he came to the mouth of the tunnel and when he was out the other end what greeted him was a massive miles upon miles long underground ravine with raging waterfalls and a river flowing at the bottom. But what was most surprising was that this ravine was inhabited, along the faces of cliffs and inside some more open spaces of cave were carved out houses into the rock faces. A massive architect of a bridge stretched across the two sides and more bridges roped across on some lower levels, and even from here James could see some species of mythic milling about and going about their days, it was a whole city and society, and it was his old home.

James felt like he wanted to scream with joy as he almost instantly recognised the layout, he was about two-fifths into the ravine and currently in the more middle class suburban area than the city. James knew he needed into the actual city itself and the closer to the capital he got the closer to his old house he’d get, so without any more time wasted, James bolted off down the path he was on to get to the bridges and cross them.

James’s speed made him seem like a sparkler as he ran down paths and roads, he spooked many of the mythic but didn’t stick around long enough to hear them out, quickly crossing town after town before he was rapidly approaching the capital. Once James got close enough to it’s boarders he slowed down considerably to take it all in, these were his city streets, this was his true home he remembered from fifty plus years ago.

As he rounded a corner he finally saw the ravines crown jewel, at the very end on a straight rock face, was a castle mounted on the stone. It had multiple spires and towers, thousands of windows, millions upon millions of fancy decorations, and it was all for one thing. A vampire clan.

Back in the late 18th century a vampire family business discovered a source of gold and coal at the top, and throughout all the mining down, they eventually came across this society of cave golems and other various types of underground mythic. Once they did they began asserting themselves as the ravines monarchy, eventually it didn’t become too uncommon to see bats down here and vampires joining into this society.

James remembered staring at that palace long ago when he was much, much younger. Someday hoping that his father would magically decide one day to come see him from that castle, so he could know who his other half was. James didn’t realise how intensely staring at it he was until someone broke his focus. “Quite the detailed place isn’t it?” A voice next to James said speaking in the local tongue. James quickly had to recollect his old language to answer them. “I-I’ve seen bigger.” James stuttered out hoping he wasn’t forgetting anything. “Are you okay? That came out rather odd.” A cave golem looking similar to James said but without the human flesh part. “Sorry, I haven’t spoken this language in a very long time. I went to the top for a while you see,” James explained to the crystal golem.

“You’ve seen up top-?” the golem seemed to stop himself in his tracks once he got a better look at James, noticing that he wasn’t 100% crystal. And to James’s surprise, he said his old name. “Zirconiame?” “Um, yes actually. Sorry though, have we meet?” “Zircon! Oh my boy it has been a very long time indeed! Yes we have meet, I was the sorcerer that tutored you, don’t you remember that?” James gasped when he did recognise the golem in front of him. “Mr Ospal! Yes I do remember! Sorry for not recognising you sooner, you’ve changed a bit since the last time I saw you.” James gave his old teacher a hug as he was happy to finally see a familiar face. Mr Ospal laughed while gently petting James’s back and setting him down, “I could say the same myself dear boy, your adorning ruby now? And your locks, weren’t they admitting coal dust before? And my you look much older, a lot like those vampires. It seems your mother was right when she said your vampire heritage would show up the more you got older, there’s no mistaking those fangs.”

James almost instinctively hushed his old teacher and began to guide him away from the public spot they were in. “Maybe still keep that vampire knowledge on the low, I don’t know how much has changed but I don’t want to take any chances.” “As your mother always said little Zircon- in little ways where everything stays, I agree keeping your heritage hush might be a good idea for a little while longer. But enough about that, where have you been? You disappeared one day and never came back. You said you came to the top?” Mr Ospal asked.

“The surface, yes. I didn’t listen to my mother’s words and went exploring up the waterfalls, I travelled up and up for hours before I finally found the surface. I was amazed by what I saw, these creatures were of warmer flesh than vampires and only had flat stones for moving on, they motioned with four legs on a long body and a large sharp rock stuck out from their heads and that’s how they casted magic! I ever so wanted to do what they did, pulling items with no magic at all, a whole new language, a whole new set of rules, it was all so exciting that I did everything I could to try and act like them. It worked, but not in the way I thought it would…” James grew sad at the old memories.

“I was wrapped up to tight in thick fabric chains, I was hurting before I knew it and wanted them to stop but they didn’t. I eventually just started crying and pleading with them to let me go but they understood none of my words as I was taken away into an order that didn’t allow me to come back home. Compared to them, they made the vampires appear as the water harmonies. It wasn’t until a few cycles ago did I finally have my freedom back and decided to come see down here again.”

Mr Ospel was horrified by James’s words, they had been told by vampires that creatures up top were much more horrid than they, and judging from James’s experience he was inclined to believe it. But regardless, at least he was home now, that was the good thing. “Well Zircon, I imagen your mother would like to hear it. She had never been the same since you had gone.” James became worried when he heard that, he could imagen his mother not taking it well. “Is she still where her old home was? I was on my way to her when I caught sight of the palace.” “No, she moved after a few years of your disappearance. She now lives down the deep halls of the palace.” James knew what the actual deep halls were, to the cave golem they were less personalised homes, but James knew better when he heard their descriptions, they were cells. His creator being in the palace cells made his heart pound he could feel his teeth begin to poke him gums. The anger in his body must have reflected strongly to his old teacher as Mr Ospel grew concerned.

“Zircon? What is the matter?” “Those deep halls are not something to be called homes, the vampires view them at an entirely different view. Do they except visitors to the deep halls?” “Yes they do, I visit her often. I was actually just on my way.” “May I accompany you?” “I was hoping you would.” Mr Ospel smiled as he began to lead the way to the palace entrance. They travelled over a few bricked roads before coming up to the bridges that entered the castle, James was nervous as he had seen what vampires were capable of up top and didn’t want to be involved in a fight with one despite him being half vampire. James covered the rest of his body in ruby so they wouldn’t become suspicious, but he was still on guard as he saw the entrance guards.

Mr Ospel spoke to them mainly and they let them in without issue, but soon a lone guard escorted them to the dungeons. When they were finally down to the cells, to James’s great shock his mother had a rather swanky prison, it had some flower plants around the room with glowing sunstones above them, a king sized bed in the middle with canopy, and despite the bars being open she could lower a privacy curtain if she wanted. James smiled when he saw her sitting on the bed, but saw that someone was in there with her sitting on the bed, it appeared to be a male vampire.

“Gemini, please… won’t you have something today?” The male vampire said in a tinge of a Scottish accent, causing James to grow concerned. Gemini wasn’t his mother’s name, and what was this about having something today? But Mr Ospel spoke up when he saw the two together however. “Sir Nightingale, how is she today?” Mr Ospel asked as they were let into the cell. “Ah! Mr Ospel, please I am hoping you can convince her to consume today.” It was obvious to James that this Sir Nightingale wasn’t all that fluent in gem-glyph, making him think this man was a doctor. “I actually have hope that this young man may be able to do that better than I.” Mr Ospel said gesturing to James.

James was surprised, but was quickly on it when he realised that his mother hadn’t been eating with what they were implying. James dropped the ruby coving his remaining skin and floated up to his mother’s side, the vampire gasped but quickly floated out of the way. James got under his mother’s face to meet her gaze, she looked at him and instantly perked up with interest at the sight of him. “Mother? What is going on here? Are you alright?” Were the first words out of James’s mouth before he was tackle hugged tightly by his mother. “Zirconiame!” She shrieked as she pulled James into the air with a spin. “Mother! Mother! To tight! My neck!” James cried as his mother’s strong arms crushed his neck. “Ah! Oh my child, I’m so sorry, you are not to hurt are you?” “No, no, no! I am okay, just a little crushed. But mother, what on graces happened to you? Why are you in the palace? Why are you not eating? Who is this man and why do they call you Gemini?” James asked having many questions. “You ask me questions?! Zirconiame! Where have you been? Why have you been gone so long? What happened to you? Why are you in different minerals? What of your tone? You speak as if you have trouble with your voice.”

James gently sat his mother back down on the bed and had a proposal. “Okay, okay! How of this? I answer one question of yours, you answer one question of mine, deal?” “Yes, now- where have you been?” “Ah, that has to also answer my tone. I found my way up to the top.” Both his mother and the vampire next to James gasped. “You have been to the surface young man?!” The vampire shouted with his eyes glowing red. “Yes I did, and please do not authorities me sir, I do not know you. I would also not call being over fifty young.” “It is to over two-hundred.” The vampire said snootily. “Zirconiame, this is your other half, father.”

James’s jaw hit the floor when he heard his mother’s words… this vampire was his father? James looked to the man and could now see the resemblance between him and his more human appearance, but still… last he checked his father was a no show with nothing to do with him or his mother, why was he here now? James switched to English for this as he didn’t want Mr Ospel or his mother knowing what he was really saying. “You are my dad?” Sir Nightingale seemed surprised that James knew fluent English, but rolled with it anyway also in English. “Yes, I am. I can gather that you are upset with me Zirconiame.” “Call me James, it was a new name I insisted on when I was up top.” “Alright then. So, James, you are unhappy with me?”

James sighed. “I confess my anger is more of confusion. Why is my mother in a cell? Why are you suddenly here? Where were you when I was growing up?” “Well, to answer where I was when you were growing up, I was here, in the castle. …Have you been educated on the roles of a vampire clan?” “A vampire hierarchy, yes.” James nodded.

Sir Nightingale went on to explain, switching back to gem-glyph for the golems in the room. “Well, at the time my parents had just pasted, so I fled here to hide from the hunters that killed them, taking on the new title of king and ruling this ravine as its matriarch. While I was still coping from the loss of my parents and suddenly needing to take over a kingdom, I met your mother.” The king paused with a chuckle.

“It in all honestly played out like a romance novel. At the time I thought that we could have you, I thought everyone was moved on with the times and that I was allowed to officially marry your mother and have her be queen beside me with you as the prince, but apparently my vampire subjects still didn’t see it fit. So I was forced to marry a vampire and live my life as such of a typical king and queen, with the relationship I had with your mother and you a secret. But things came to a nasty end when your half-brother was born.”

“-He was born, found out he wasn’t an heir, vamp wifey put logic in her head and discovered about me.” James interrupted having actually heard this story from Harper. The king was surprised and shocked causing James to elaborate, “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that story, heck, I actually have a co-worker who is a hybrid and a vampire heir from America. Now he works on the same railway as me.” “R-Really?” James’s father asked shocked that he wasn’t the only one.

“Yeah, so what happened next? My co-worker said that his step-mum wanted him gone so that her child could be the true heir, did that happen with yours?” James asked. “Yes actually, once my wife found out she set up a warrant on your head. I came to warn your mother and you but when I saw her again she looked in a similar state to now, not eating and just had no life left in her. You were also nowhere to be found.” Nightingale said. “By then you had been missing for a year, I had searched the whole ravine for you and found no trace.” James’s mother said. “So we concluded that if you weren’t here, you had to be up there. I got to searching on the surface for you while also dealing with the many other things that happened, your mother I moved in here so she could be under constant surveillance and so that the other vampires wouldn’t grow iffy, I divorced my wife, I actually got custody of my son, and I still had all the mining business to deal with.” “While searching probably the whole country for me…” James hushed out and slumped down onto the mattress.

“Yes… but, please James, what happened to you?” “James?” the ruby mythic’s mother asked her love. “Ah, that was my new name I choose once I was on the surface. I told Mr Ospel this story already but I’ll give you the abridged version. I followed the waterfalls up from where they came and eventually found the surface, I saw unicorn centaurs working and wanted to be like them, so I shape shifted into looking like them and when I went out in the open I was captured and ran through the trade-” “WHAT?!” The king roared when he heard that, the whole stone around them shaking.

“You were ran through the mythos trade?! That’s why I couldn’t find you, I was looking for you assuming you were ether still looking like a golem or using your vampire side to live amongst them, I had no clue you were in the working class. Where did you end up? What did you do?” James’s father asked sounding really concerned. “What is this trade? Why does it worry you my love?” James’s mother asked sounding concerned as well. “I believe the rest of our sons story will reveal more my Gemini, lets listen.” With that James continued.

“Yes, like I was saying, I was ran through the mythos trade and ended up being put to work as a railway colt. I didn’t know how to speak English at the time, or cast the normal spells that the unicorns did, so it was a few months of trial and error before I got everything right. Afterwards I started to rebel a lot more, I insisted on them naming me instead of just calling me a set of numbers, that got me in a lot of trouble and caused a lot of pain. But at some point the locomotive I was paired with got an overhaul to fix its problems, it worked but they couldn’t do this to all the others and eventually I was sold to another railway where I still work today. I have a new home, I’ve got a big set of land with a nice house I made myself, I have a brother in steel with me at the moment and I have an amazing group of friends, all in all I guess I got what I wanted when I travelled up those waterfalls and saw those unicorns.” James chuckled.

“Where do you live now James?” His father asked. “On an island off of Barrow-in-Furness and in between the isle of man, the island of Sodor.” “Sodor? I’ve heard of that place, my distant cousins visit there for vacations every so often with the Hatt family there.” The king mentioned. “The Hatt’s are my bosses actually, and I think you’re referring to the Duke and Dutchess of Boxford aren’t you?” James asked. “Yes I am! Ohh… you were so close yet so far, I’m disappointed in myself for missing you.” “Well, to be fair, it wasn’t like I wanted to be found out by anybody up there. None of my steel siblings or close friends even know my true origins, the closest they know of it is that I was wild caught and spoke another language while being half made of stone.” James admitted. “Then what did you tell them when you went to come down here?” James’s father asked. “I said I was coming to Horwich to expand my magic knowledge, which wasn’t entirely wrong, I was kind of hoping mother would catch me up to speed.” James’s mother chuckled and slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry to say Zircon that I don’t have much magic left, I would not be able to teach you properly with how little I have.” “I’m in my older years as well Zircon, I would not be able to mentor you ether.” Mr Ospel said.

James thought for a bit before asking, “Do you still have those books on them?” “Yes I do, here, this is them.” James’s mother handed him a flat rock of lapis, it was another magic rock like what James used to teleport his belongings into a pocket dimension. “This is great! Is it all of them?” James asked. “Yes, down to the final addition and master class.” “I can imagen those would be really useful for the times up top.” James’s father commented when his love mentioned master class. “Really, really useful! These could actually help a friend of mine if I predict the craftsmanship of some prosthetics he’s going to get.” James said as he looked eager to bite into the knowledge of the rock. “I agree, if that’s the best those professional alchemists can do then their a flop just waiting to be found out.” James nodded with his father.

“Well then Zircon? What will you be doing going forward?” Mr Ospel asked. “I kind of want to stick around for a bit while I study these, catch up a little and get reacquainted.” James said. “If your looking for more magic knowledge on your plate I can show you these old vampire mage spell books, my other son didn’t take much of an interest in them but you seem to be quite the academic.” James’s mother and Mr Ospel chuckled a little at that since James wasn’t much for school in the past. “I didn’t know vampires had their own magic.” James commented but never the less intrigued. “We do, but its considered old magic, so nobody really bothers with it anymore. It’s on the lines of necromancy if that’s something you’d want to look into.” James nodded his head enthusiastically with a big smile on his face.

The king chuckled, and got up to show him where the books were, switching back to English. “There in the library, there’s also a study that you can use, but I’d recommend practicing your alchemy magic outside.” “I can work with that,” James smiled before giving his mother a hug and kiss on the cheek, “I’ll come and visit you every day, I love you so much mother.” James’s mum kissed his forehead before letting him go, watching as his father guided him out the cell and back up the stairs. She then proceeded to have a coughing fit, hacking up clouds of dust and gravel and grinded lapis. Mr Ospel caught her before she fell back on the bed and sat her up right so she wouldn’t choke. “Lazillie, do you really think you can afford to spend any more time spent lost with him? You don’t have much time, you should follow them up to the study.” Mr Ospel pleaded. “No…” Lazillie croaked out. “I’ve had my best memories with my child… Harlow deserves his best moments with his son just as much as I had. My boys deserve some time together.” Mr Ospel was very concerned and hoped she knew what she was doing, because he didn’t have the heart to tell her son that his mother that he just saw again after fifty years was dying.

For the rest of the month James had gotten into a new routine, he would see his mother at every mealtime and eat with her, while the other time was spent with his father in the study hall. Apparently his majesty had wanted to take up alchemy for the longest time but the methods that the golems used wasn’t translatable very well to written form, so James did his best in coaching him through the beginners steps. During this time James also took up a new form while in the castle of a far more human body, even wearing pants and shoes for the first time in his life, the ruby of his body pushed so far up his limbs that it looked like his nails were painted and he had red earrings in.

He also had the pleasure of meeting his half-brother Damon who was a pure blooded vampire prince, but since James was the heir that made this vampire a duke. Needless to say they didn’t get along all to swimmingly, Damon was three years younger than James but sometimes he made it sound like they were thirty years apart, he complained like a man child all the time and argued with James about every conversation even if James was in the right. It especially ticked James off when he insisted he was right about alchemy even if the guy had never bothered to read a word of gem-glyph in his life, so James often took a page out of Toby’s book and let the man child make a fool of himself to prove a point. It didn’t make their father any to pleased but it was plenty satisfying.

In the end James got a lot more skills than he initially thought he’d come back with, he graduated up to archivist in his alchemy studies that was essentially a master’s degree, he got to the level of bachelor in his vampire sorcery, he also walked away with a diploma in fashion as a tailor had offered to teach him in the middle of his other studies. All in all, James was pretty darn proud of himself for doing all that in the span of a month.

At the end he wished his family well and gave them his address so they could visit him, but under the guise of being old friends. So it was surprise that not even a week after James had come back home, Sir Bertrum announced that the vampire king of Aspull was coming to Sodor for a vacation along with the Duke and Dutchess of Boxford.

But that is a story for another day…

#mythic!au #ttte #ttte james #cw implied abuse #cw slavery #cw abuse #cw terminal illness #cw kidnapping

7 notes · View notes

malerakas · 1 year ago

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 -- 𝐇 𝐎 𝐑 𝐍 𝐒 .

Age 50: KIDNAPPED by pirates. Made to be their performer for several years, forced to partake in situations he wanted no part of. This ranged from being their musician and slave to being used by the pirates to let out their frustrations of any and all kinds. By day; he'd rest as much as he could and by night he'd play them music, tell stories and do whatever it was he needed to do to please them & survive another night.

AGE 65: CAPTURED BY GUARDS; arrested and convicted of crimes he had not committed. The pirates named him captain and he was sentenced to have his horns removed. His right to symbolise that the crimes had been committed knowingly, and the left to atone for crimes committed against others through exile. Wherever he goes, people will see hm as a criminal.

AGE 69: HORNS ARE REMOVED AND HE IS EXILED. He travels the road for close to a year and eventually comes across a place called Emerald Grove, Halsin ( @bruinescence ) is the first person Mal meets that isn't immediately hostile or avoidant. The Druid is cautious, but does not treat him as a criminal outright.

AGE 70: CAPTAIN WHITEHAIR CAUGHT. Malerakas is acquitted and offered the chance to return to his society. He refuses & remains in the Grove.

AGE 72: PRESENT. Remains at the Emerald Grove, where he has formed a close friendship with Alfira. He is recruitable if aided in ousting Kagha by whatever means necessary.

#[ 016 ] 𝕄𝔼𝕋𝔸 #. // MAL : IMPORTANT #cw slavery #cw assault #cw kidnapping #cw implied sa #cw sa #cw body mutilation #cw horns

3 notes · View notes

sometimesraven · 11 days ago

Text

@febuwhump Day 21 - Put On Display

Fandom: Doctor Who / Original Work POV: 3rd Person Whumpee: Sapphire Balmore (Original Time Lord character)

Summary: She had defied him one too many times, and an example was to be made of her.

Warnings: Slavery, implied SA, torture

AO3 Link

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

An example was to be made of her, he said. Disobedience is death. Sapphire had defied her puppet master for long enough; disobeyed his orders one too many times.

Chains bite into her wrists, the slumped position she is forced into making the collar dig into her throat; the sharp prongs under her skin a reminder of what would happen if she struggled.

The others were forced to pass her as they journeyed from room to room, carrying out whatever menial tasks they were forced to. She knew they were being sent this way on purpose, so they would pass her and remember.

Her limbs ached. Every inch of her was ice cold. She could feel the bubbled, ice-burnt skin tugging and parting with every small movement, the pain worse than any death she’d experienced. No regeneration would erase the ache in her hearts; the memory of every way she had been scarred.

Oscar came by, sometimes, his hands behind his back in a pathetic mirror of his father’s practiced stance. Tended her wounds, dabbed the cold sweat from her brow. Apologised, over and over, until she screamed in his face and spat insults. There was no apologising for this. No reality in which his actions were justified. Zerral was his father — this was his family business, to collect exotic things and hire them out like toys. His father would pay for this, when she had the chance, and Oscar would be next.

She lost track of how long she was here. Time passed infinitely slow, a blur of averted eyes and pain that was barely coherent.

Zerral approached her one day at long last, his hands behind his back, his face set with hard lines and cruel authority. He asked if she was ready to apologise and obey. She spat in his face, screamed as he burned her with ice again.

Atleast in these conditions she couldn’t be sold. Couldn’t be passed around like a curiosity, forced to kill for him or worse: forced to play the fiery redheaded princess of his clients’ sick fantasies.

He left her there to cry and seethe and fantasise about his demise. Oscar came to tend her wounds, his pain joining hers in an agonising feedback loop. She did not speak to him. The cycle continues.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2025 #febuwhumpday21 #torture cw #implied sa #slavery cw #doctor who #doctor who oc #original character #torchwood #original characters #sapphire #writing #fandom

0 notes

shameofice · 6 months ago

Text

some tithonus hcs because they are in the brain

the reason tithonus' arm was forcibly removed was that it had a unique birthmark on it that was only ever found on avgins, and his current 'boss' (that's what they were called) at the time decided to hack it off to keep it for themselves. luckily, it wasn't tith's dominant arm, and he was able to keep doing his work.

tith is primarily a bodyguard, although his current boss has him take commissions from various people around the cosmos. despite being a bit on the shorter side (5' 5" american standard), his fighting prowess honed from years of forced training and survival are not to be underestimated.

his path is nihility, although he still worships the god of the avgin, although he somewhat believes that she has forsaken him and his people.

for weapons, tith normally relies on his arms and legs, using his own strength and skill to dispatch foes with ease. with more tricky foes, however, he makes use of a gauntlet strapped to his remaining arm.

tith tends to speak in an oddly formal manner, and rarely smiles or laughs. it's lead many people to say that he has an incredibly tragic aura about him.

'tithonus' isn't his real name. he remembers and knows his real name, but like aventurine, does not go by it.

#tithonus oc #dismemberment cw #his nickname is tith because y not #fictional slavery cw #(implied)

0 notes

maracujatangerine · 3 months ago

Text

92: Playing with the pet

CW: institutional slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation, box boy universe, implied abuse, physical injury

The pet’s master had guests. The pet was on its best behaviour, kneeling on the hard, grey tiles next to Master’s chair. It was tired, cold, and hungry, but it did all it could to keep itself from swaying in place.

To distract itself, and to prepare itself for what might happen, it watched the guests carefully. These people were new. The pet had never seen them before.

Two large, muscular men with colourful tattoos running down their arms and wrapping around their necks. Both of them carried themselves as people who were no strangers to violence, and the pet caught a quick glimpse of a gun in a holster when one of them leaned down to place their tan leather messenger bag on the floor.

With them, they had two women in their late teens or early twenties, well a decade younger than the men. They wore carefully applied makeup, and flowery perfumes that itched the pet’s nose and made it want to sneeze.

“Oh!” The blonde woman exclaimed in surprise when she saw it. “You have a pet! That’s so adorable!”

“Can we play with him?” The redhead asked wistfully. The pet saw how its master and the two men exchanged meaningful looks, even though the women seemed unaware. When the burly men nodded, the pet’s master smiled and, with an inviting gesture, handed over the pet’s leash to her.

”Of course you can, Jenna! You can take him into the living room across the hall and play with him as much as you want.”

”That’s amazing!” She turned, and the pet scrambled clumsily to its feet, stiff after kneeling for so long. ”What’s his name?”

”Um… well…” Cassius hesitated. ”He doesn’t really have a name. We usually call him pet, or… well, my niece and nephew sometimes call him buddy.”

“Okay, Buddy it is, then.” She smiled at the pet and patted her thigh. “Come on, Buddy.”

The pet glanced at its Master, but Cassius had already turned away and was busy pouring whiskey into three tumblers. Despite the fluttering of fear in the pet’s chest, there was nothing for it to do but to follow the young women across the hallway and into the room on the other side.

The blonde girl sat down in the black leather sofa and pulled up her legs under her. Jenna sat next to her, and as she held the pet’s leash, it knelt down on the grey carpet in front of her. They both looked at it, which made its stomach tighten in fear. Unsure of what to do, it tilted its head and tried an imploring smile.

“Awww! Look, Crystal! That is so cute!” Jenna clapped her hands together appreciatively.

“Do you know any tricks?” Crystal asked, and the pet immediately panicked.

What tricks? It hadn’t been taught any tricks.

It could walk at heel, and serve canapés, and pour champagne in a straight and perfect arc. It could cook, and clean, and listen sympathetically to its owner’s lamentations. It could grovel, and beg, and bleed. But it had a terrible feeling that none of those skills were what these young ladies wanted, and if it couldn’t show them a sufficiently amusing trick right now, they might hurt it, or its Master might be displeased, and that would be the same thing…

It knew it was spiralling, but it couldn’t stop. It was all it could do to keep the confusion and fear from its face.

“Shake!” Crystal leaned forward, a strand of her blonde hair - more warmly yellow than the pets pale blonde - falling down over her face. She held out her hand, and dumbfoundedly, the pet laid its hand in hers. She gave it a vigorous shake. “Yay!” She cheered. “Good job! Good boy!”

The words rushed like endorphins down the pet’s spine. Blessed relief! It had guessed right at least this time.

”Wave!” Crystal nodded to the pet, and it tentatively raised its right hand in a cautious wave. ”That’s good! Now spin!”

The pet hurriedly span around on its knees, making a full circle and then, daringly, tilting its head at them again.

It was equally successful this time. Both Jenna and Crystal laughed and applauded.

”Let me try.” Jenna said. ”Roll over.” She told the pet, who laid down on its stomach and rolled around on its back to land on its stomach again. ”Good!”

”We should give him a treat for doing well.” Crystal said suddenly.

”Yes!” Jenna nodded. ”Do you like chocolate?” She asked the pet.

”Y-yes, Ma’am.”

She rummaged around in her bag and found half a bar of milk chocolate. Unfolding the metal foil, she broke off a square of chocolate and held it out to the pet. Hesitatingly, it leaned forward and carefully took it between its lips. The burst of flavour almost shockingly sweet.

”Sit pretty.” Crystal ordered, and the pet almost lost it for a moment. It was already sitting, what else did they want from it? In a burst of creative inspiration, it held up both hands in front of its chest, mimicking a dog sitting up on its haunches.

It was rewarded by laughter, and another chocolate square. Crystal leaned forward and tousled its hair appreciatively.

“I know!” Jenna looked at Crystal with a wink, then, with a mischievous smile, she turned to the pet and gave the order.

”Snoot Boop.”

Shyly, the pet stretched up on its knees to lightly touch its own nose to hers. Jenna giggled. It kept its eyes respectfully downcast the whole time. Her breath smelled sweet and fresh, like peppermint, and even though her flowery perfume was strong, it was not unpleasant.

The pet sat immediately down on its knees again, and when it dared to look up at her, Jenna’s dark blue eyes looked straight into the pets own. They glittered with laugher, but the pet could see no hint of maliciousness. It was more like she was laughing with it, enjoying its cleverness, rather than laughing at it.

Crystal raised her right hand, index finger pointing at the pet.

”Bang!” She said. This time, the pet caught her meaning quickly. Dramatically, it flopped down on its back on the carpet, eyes closed.

When its theatrics made the young women laugh, the pet felt really proud. It hadn’t been trained for this, but they thought it was funny - and well-behaved.

Suddenly, the laughter stopped.

“Oh no, look.” Jenna grabbed its wrist, making the pet instinctively go limp, letting her twist its hand to and fro as she pleased. A long, infected scratch along its arm glistened damp and red in the lamplight. ”You’ve gotten hurt.”

Before the pet had time to react, she called loudly out into the other room.

”Cassius, did you know that Buddy is injured?”

A moment’s silence, then the pet’s Master’s voice.

”It’s nothing to worry about, Jenna. You know pets, they play rough sometimes.” He cleared his throat. ”If you want to fix him up, there’s a first aid kit in the kitchen.”

”I’ll get it.” Jenna jumped up and walked out towards the kitchen.

”You poor dear.” Crystal said. ”What happened?”

The pet could very vividly recall Kristoff pushing it up against the chain link fence, its arm catching on the strand of barbed wire hanging down loosely from on top of the fence. But if it said that, the truth might reflect badly on its Master.

”T-this pet cannot remember, Ma’am.”

When Jenna came back with the first aid kit, they carefully cleaned the cut and dressed it with a proper, white bandage and everything. The pet was amazed, especially since they gave it the whole rest of the chocolate bar, ’for being so brave’.

”Can we braid your hair?” Crystal asked, as Jenna gathered up the first aid materials.

”Y-yes, Ma’am.”

So then the pet sat with its back against the sofa, while both Jenna and Crystal played with its hair, making Dutch braids on either side of the pet’s head. They were so gentle and careful. The pet closed its eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation, when something tilted and shifted. The memory slid away from it, and changed.

Another hand touched its hair, roughly.

”Did you make yourself this pretty for me?” A deep, melodious voice asked.

The pet froze. In the distance, it could hear its Master greet the man with respect and notes of fear in his voice.

”Of course you can feel free to borrow my pet. Take your time and enjoy him as much as you’d like.”

The pet was immobilised. When it opened its eyes, everything was dark. There were hands all over it, groping, stroking, probing. It knew, that whatever it did, they would have their way with it. Maybe today would be the day that they broke it.

The pet pleaded, begged, finally screamed, but the wandering hands did not let up. It twisted and tried to get away.

It screamed again and then, suddenly, jerked awake.

The soft, warm light from the night light alleviated the darkness.

Hands were touching it, but these hands were safe. Coriander heaved itself up into sitting, and nearly melted into the familiar hug, only now aware of the tears running down its face.

Miss Lydia hugged the pet gently. She stroked its back.

”It’s okay, Cory.” She repeated quietly. ”It was just a dream. You are here with me now. You are okay.”

The pet was clinging to her, taking shivering breaths. Slowly coming back to itself. Relief flowed over it, as it realised it was true. It had just been dreaming.

Then, the pet remembered. It froze. When Miss Lydia felt it stiffen, she froze too.

With an effort, Coriander straightened up, and turned away.

”P-please, Miss Lydia. Don’t… P-please leave this pet alone.”

It didn’t look at her, but it could feel her hesitation. After a moment, her breath hitched as if she wanted to say something, but instead, Lydia got up and walked away.

She left the door ajar.

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#pet whump #whump fic #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #lydia and coriander #bbu #caretaker #pet whumpee #recovery whump #rescue whump #writers on tumblr #writeblr #original writing

164 notes · View notes

writereleaserepeat · 1 month ago

Text

Hear No Evil - Chapter 4

Masterlist

Previous (Chapter 3) // Next (Chapter 5) (tbd)

CW: bbu, bbu-typical institutional slavery, panic attacks, implied prior noncon, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

Rowan was relieved to see that the boy was capable of cleaning himself up. The shower had only run for a matter of minutes, but as Rowan lingered outside the bathroom to eavesdrop – just in case he was needed - he heard the tell-tale clicks of the shampoo bottle opening and closing. Water splashed rhythmically against freshly cleaned tiles in a hum that was barely muffled by the door. Rowan waited a few painstaking minutes after the water had turned off, seizing the opportunity to practice his patience, before he knocked and reentered.

Although it was a deeply unsettling sight to see the young man kneeling naked in his bathroom, Rowan could already see that the boy’s skin was cleaner, and his wet curls still seemed lighter than when they had been coated with grease, sweat, and blood.

The shower also made clear that some of the yellow patches on the boy’s skin were not dirt, as Rowan had foolishly hoped, but near-healed bruises. Some wounds that had been scabbed over before the shower were open now, glistening red with nascent blood as the skin tried to stitch itself back together. Bright white scars danced with blue bruising, and a single drop of crimson trailed down from a recently reopened leg wound. It seemed that the boy had interpreted the instruction to clean himself up as an instruction to rub his scabs away, scrubbing at his skin until his injuries were raw.

Rowan made a note to himself to speak more clearly in the future. The next thing Rowan noticed was that the mirror was bone-dry, no signs of steam or beading water at the top of the glass. No hints of humidity hung in the air either. He felt his lip turn down in spite of himself.

“You can use hot water next time, yeah?” He offered as hopefully as he could, though his gaze was not returned. “Seriously, you can use the hot water, as hot as you can stand it. This place is great, because I only pay a flat fee for utilities. No extra charge for those long, hot showers. Feel free to sit in the hot water as long as you want. I mean, I certainly do. Anyway, you’re looking a bit cleaner now, so maybe you want to try on some of those clothes? You’ve got to be freezing after that shower. Come on, follow me back to your room.”

And the boy followed, damp hands and knees finding purchase on vinyl tiles, an unfamiliar rhythm across the condo’s floors. Rowan winced again, making sure to hide his disappointment by looking towards the ceiling. They’d have to do something about the crawling, get him back on his feet and walking with confidence. They’d also have to get him eating and drinking on his own, comfortable enough to take showers in hot water, wearing clothes by default, acting of his own will and guided by his own desires…

Rowan bit back a sigh. There was a lot to work on.

They made it back across the hall, and Rowan walked over to the file cabinet that was currently doubling as the boy’s dresser. He slid the bottom drawer open as the steady shuffle-crawl followed in behind him. Rowan’s fingers thumbed through the sweaters that he’d hastily folded just hours earlier, one after the other, a stack of cotton and polyester and sherpa promising warmth. There was a sweatshirt he remembered specifically from his clothing haul, something lined with fleece, certainly thick enough to restore a bit of warmth after a cold shower. Hands still digging through the drawer, Rowan defaulted to his rambling once again.

“I know I set out sweatpants and a sweatshirt earlier, but there might be a warmer sweater in here. I’m going to guess you’re cold, so let’s see if-“ and as Rowan turned to look back at his guest, just to see if he was listening, his heart dropped through his stomach.

There, on the bed, the young man was presenting himself with raised hips and a carefully arched back, eyes looking up through thick eyelashes to meet Rowan’s own-

“Fuck.” Rowan gasped, and he took a step back so fast that his shoulder slammed into the filing cabinet. His hand snapped up to shield his eyes while his voice bubbled up from his chest, words coming out as an inadvertent shout. “No! Jesus Christ, no! No. Stop doing- stop doing that. Fuck, get down from there, just get down. No, we’re not doing that. I’m not going to- we’re not- just- fuck-“

Before Rowan could speak another word, the young man bolted off the bed and down to the floor, throwing himself flat against the ground so hard that the nearby furniture trembled. The sound of his bony knees hitting the ground resounded like two gunshots. In the blink of an eye, Rowan’s outburst had caused the emaciated victim to expose his scar-riddled back to the sky.

It was clear that he was waiting for Rowan to rain blows down on his skin, whether with fists or with whips, another line written in the book of abuse written for all to see. He trembled, but he was silent, utterly silent. This was routine, a punishment he’d been subjected to before. It was something the boy expected, that he waited for, that was the natural consequence to someone raising their voice.

All because Rowan had been a bit uncomfortable, and all because he couldn’t keep that discomfort to himself. He’d been given a sliver of power, a shred of influence, and he’d already resorted to screaming.

Guilt washed over Rowan just as coldly as shock had moments earlier. The sight of the boy offering himself up for punishment, moments after he’d offered himself up for use, jolted Rowan’s consciousness back into his body. He’d yelled, one of the very few thingshe wasn’t supposed to do, and had undoubtedly terrified his guest in the process. The boy’s hands were trembling where they rested, palms up, in front of him. Short gasps came from his mouth, just soft enough that they weren’t quite whimpers, but Rowan could hear the tears he was swallowing back nonetheless.

Rowan pulled in a deep breath, surprised to find that his own eyes were stinging with emotion and moisture. This was all too much. He knew what the victims endured in their abuse, he knew that he had brought a Romantic into his home, he knew all of this from when he signed the papers and looked through the PLF rehabilitation materials. But it was one thing to read the words on a page, and it was another thing to have a battered young man on his bed offering himself up for abuse.

It was the closest Rowan had come, now by himself and in his very own home, to seeing just what he’d been fighting to have dismantled all these years. It was the closest he’d been to direct complicity, to participating in the cruelty of man. It was the closest he’d been to hell on earth.

I can fix this, Rowan thought to himself, forcing another deep breath into his lungs. I have to fix this. I can smooth this over, make it better. This is what I signed up for, this is what I’m here to fix, this is what I have to deal with. I fucked up, so I have to fix it.

What better way to start than with an apology?

“I’m sorry,” Rowan hissed through his teeth as he fought to control his volume. He wasn’t going to yell again, no matter how hot the adrenaline felt in his veins. “I shouldn’t have yelled, and you’re not in trouble. You’re not in trouble, I promise, it’s all okay. You’re okay. You’re alright. Everything’s alright.” Rowan’s heart was pounding so heavily in his chest that it was hard to swallow his volume back. His head felt heavy and his hands tingled with the panic seizing his nervous system.

Yet Rowan knew that he was not the most terrified person in the room. No matter how scared he was at the seemingly impossible challenges ahead, and no matter how worried he was that he’d already ruined everything, the boy was infinitely more afraid. If his first instinct after a shower was to offer his body up for sexual abuse, and if his first instinct after a shout was to offer that body for physical abuse, there was little question as to what horrors he’d endured before this point. He hadn’t even been in Rowan’s home for more than an hour, and he had resigned himself to the service of a stranger who owned his body, who held a title to his very life. There was no sign of the defiance, or disobedience, or even displeasure. It was fluid, seamless, undeniable recognition of ownership.

The boy hadn’t moved despite Rowan’s attempted placations. A perfect pet, entirely obedient, unmoved by gentleness. This was everything WRU wanted in its output, in its products. Simultaneously, it was everything that made Rowan sick to his stomach.

After a painstaking deep breath, Rowan grabbed the clothes he wanted from the file cabinet, and took a step towards the body trembling on the floor. He kept his steps slow, movements as glacial as he could muster, hoping that the boy wouldn’t expect a blow.

“Hey, I’m coming over now, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not even going to touch you. Just-“

The boy flinched nonetheless as Rowan lowered the clothes to the floor beside his outstretched palms.

“Here,” Rowan offered, voice as soft and level as he could manage, “these are for you. To get dressed. Please, get dressed. I’m going to leave you alone now, okay? Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be back later to check in. I think we both need… a minute, yeah? A minute to take a breather. Both of us. You’re not in trouble. Just, get dressed please.”

Rowan left as quickly as he could manage, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

---

The pet could hardly choke back its tears. What had it done wrong? Had it erred by not offering to please Master first, settled square on its knees, eyes pointed upwards and an eager, open mouth? Had it not cleaned itself well enough, hair still damp from the shower, some wounds still raw and dripping blood? Had it not seen something obvious in this room that it should have found for Master’s use instead?

But the punishment it expected for its insolence and incorrect assumptions never came. Even though it had exposed its hands and its back, opening its skin for lashes or stomping boots, no such corrections came. It hadn’t been able to make out the precise words that Master had shouted, his precise displeasure lost to the ringing in the pet’s ears, but it knew anger from the tone alone. It always knew when its master was angry.

Anger, yet no correction. Shouting, but no punishment. Nothing but a bundle of clothes dropped on the ground beside it, a clear indication that it was supposed to get dressed.

And with that, Master left, closing the door behind him. The pet was left alone to cover its shameful body and await its uncertain future.

---

Rowan wasted no time in grabbing the now-wrinkled PLF Rehabilitation Manual from where he’d placed it on top of the fridge. He knew that if he didn’t separate it from the rest of the paperwork strewn across the kitchen counters, he’d certainly lose it amidst the chaos. On top of the fridge, placed alongside the boxes of now-stale cereal, was as safe a place as any.

He leaned the small of his back against the countertop and busied himself with thumbing through the pages. His eyes flicked quickly over the table of contents, then through the section headers in the body of the document. When he read the manual earlier, he swore he’d seen a few pages dedicated to fixing a fuck-up. That’s what this was, wasn’t it? It was a fuck up of fantastic proportions. Rowan hadn’t even made it two hours before he’d yelled at the abuse victim in his second bedroom, all but screamed at him, just for doing what he’d been so thoroughly trained to do.

He was the picture of a perfect pet, and Rowan had managed to get mad at that. In the boy’s mind, he’d done exactly as he was trained, and it still hadn’t been enough for Rowan. That was going to forever be his first impression of Rowan.

Some people are just more suited for fieldwork, the voice of his past mentor echoed in his ears. Rehabilitation and recovery isn’t for everyone. Just like Greyson has found his stride working on the administrative side of the PLF, you’re doing your best work out in the field. Rehabilitation is an entirely different skillset, a skillset that some people don’t excel in, and that’s fine. Everyone’s job is important here. Your job is important even if you don’t work directly with the victims, I promise.

And yet, despite years of being aware that he was most certainly not suited for rehabilitation work, he’d taken up this cross on little more than impulse. The only one who would pay for Rowan’s ignorance and impatience was the very person who needed him the most.

For the second time since he’d purchased the boy he felt his eyes sting. The weight of this new responsibility weighed on his shoulders now more than ever. There was so much that could go wrong, so much pain and misery he could unknowingly inflict. This time it was his own uncontrollable shock, something he should have been able to swallow back. What would it be next time? His impatience? His ignorance?

Rowan swallowed back the lump in his throat as he finally found the dog-eared page he’d been looking for. He’d dog-eared it, of course, because he’d been afraid he’d have to use it.

You Lost Your Temper – Now What?

In a perfect world, we’d never lose our temper when assisting the wards in our care. Much like we might lose our temper with friends, family, or colleagues, we might likewise lose our temper with our wards.

These moments, while less than ideal, present a learning opportunity for all parties involved. For you, the guardian, it is an opportunity to model sincere apologies and create a safe space for your ward to talk about how they feel. For your ward, it is an opportunity to learn that they deserve politeness and equal treatment from others. For both guardian and ward, it is the chance to discuss communication, expectations, and mutual respect.

Should you lose your temper with a ward in your care, take the time to collect yourself and your emotions. You might be feeling upset, disappointed, or even angry with yourself. You might even be upset with your ward for the actions that triggered the incident, even if you know those actions aren’t their fault. You might be upset with a ward who tested your boundaries, or exercised their freedom and autonomy, in a way that you aren’t comfortable with. These are normal and expected feelings. While it is healthy to process these emotions and acknowledge their impact on you, it is best to do them away from your ward early in the relationship, and in front of your ward later in the relationship. Both are opportunities to model behavioral processing in a healthy and focused way.

Once you have gathered yourself and recognized your own emotions, take some time to think about what caused that first negative feeling. Recognize the moment you lost your temper, recognize what triggered that initial negative emotion, and consider creating a plan to prevent a similar reaction in the future. Take as much time as needed for this process, and ideally, try to give your ward an adequate amount of time to process the event as well.

Finally, talk to your ward directly. Make an appropriate apology for your reaction. For example, if you yelled, apologize for raising your voice. Take the opportunity to remind your ward that they should be treated with kindness and respect at all times, and acknowledge that you did not fulfill that basic expectation. You do not need to share the reason for your reaction – in fact, doing so can cause unnecessary fear and guilt in your ward, particularly early in the recovery process, and even more so if the triggering behavior was due to their trauma or conditioning. Instead, offer them comfort and an opportunity to discuss how the event made them feel.

The rest of the page was filled with sample conversations, language for new rehabilitators to use in such situations. Rowan studied them carefully, feeling himself grow calmer as he did so. He wasn’t the first rehabilitator to fuck up, and from the looks of the manual, he certainly wouldn’t be the last. While this did little to alleviate the guilt, it allowed for a small sliver of relief. There wasn’t anything uniquely wrong with him. Instead, his response was one rooted in human emotion, another byproduct of the system and its cruelty. His disgust was with systemic oppression, not with the boy himself.

I have to do better, Rowan reminded himself, and he took yet another deep breath. His hands were still shaking from the adrenaline that had dumped into his system.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how the boy was affected if he himself was feeling the effects of his own temper so severely.

That was the next thought in his mind. He couldn’t simply refer to his guest as the boy forever. Part of developing autonomy, including the autonomy necessary to process scenarios such as the one that Rowan had just created, came from a sense of independent identity. Right now, the boy was just that: the boy in Rowan’s spare room, an object, a legal possession. To recover, he would have to become so much more than that. The manual had said as much: giving the ward a name as soon as possible was critical to developing a relationship of equals.

That would all have to come later, and it would hopefully come from the help of a rehabilitator that Rowan prayed was on the way his condo. Hope was doing a lot of heavy lifting as Rowan sat and stewed at his kitchen counter. He took a moment to check his phone, then he checked a second time to confirm there were no new messages, before placing it back on the granite.

His heart was still racing, so he looked back to the manual with a glance, then over to the closed door of the den, then back to the manual. If either of them were going to make it out of this intact, the least Rowan could do was take the manual’s word as gospel.

What emotion am I feeling? It burned hot, Rowan knew that much, and it had spurred him to yell when he rarely ever did so. Is it anger?

But instead of a tightness in his throat and a burning in his head that he would expect from anger, Rowan felt a tingling in his fingertips, a tugging in his chest, a queasiness in his stomach. It was like he was in grade school all over again, waiting for a teacher to pass out a test he hasn’t studied for. It was that heavy, burdensome dread that clung to him every time he walked onto the liquidation event sales floor.

Rowan knew he could name the feelings as soon as he took note of their home in his body. It was one that he was loathe to admit, even as old as he was, because of the stigma of weakness that clung to those words. No matter how many times he had conquered these feelings in the past, he struggled to confront them now.

But he had to. He had to, for the sake of the person in his care, the very soul that was counting on him to move past the discomfort. Rowan would have to now, and he would have to again, for the both of them.

What am I feeling? He asked himself again, biting down on his lip in spite of himself. Coppery blood washed over his tongue from the open wound. What am I really feeling?

Anxiety. Fear, dread, distress.

Those feelings were so much more than mere anger, and they were budding like a nascent ulcer in his stomach. Those were the feelings that had governed his actions since he’d signed the contract just over 24 hours prior. Adrenaline had made him run like prey, a panicked creature hunted by an unseen predator. Rowan was a gazelle on an endless savannah, running for his life, uncaring of his destination so long as it put distance between himself and the lion on his tail.

In Rowan’s case, the lion was the system itself, the weight of an industry that would crush him if it knew what he was doing. It was ruthless, it was nefarious, and it would readily kill him if it knew of his efforts to liberate people from its clutches. If so, he wouldn’t be the first liberationist to go missing under similar circumstances.

Of course Rowan was frightened, and of course he had every reason to be. There was legislation, there was law, there was unspeakable amounts of money and power that he was up against. The PLF had always been at a systemic disadvantage in this fight, as had all of its victims, all of its wards. They were fighting on the side of the underdogs, and they would be underdogs until a significant change in the public consciousness occurred.

I’m smarter than a gazelle, Rowan thought to himself, fist tight in his lap. And the lion’s only teeth are rich politicians with a vested interest in oppression. I’m not their fuckinggazelle. I’m braver, I’m smarter, and I’m stronger. I have to be. I refuse to be their prey.

A few more moments of steady breathing were necessary for Rowan to compose himself. And just as the manual had mandated, he’d named his emotions, processed them, and acknowledged their trigger: a victim, a ward who could not consent, offering their body for sexual and physical abuse.

Another minute passed, and much to Rowan’s pleasant surprise, his breathing had levelled. The buzzing in his extremities had relaxed, and his heart no longer felt like it was being squeezed in an unforgiving fist.

The next step was to confront his ward, the boy still waiting and terrified in the spare bedroom.

“I can do this,” Rowan muttered under his breath, the soft escape of his internal dialogue. “I can apologize, I can name my feelings, and I can offer reassurance.”

He paused and searched his thoughts for something to bridge the gap. What had the boy responded to the best in these last few hours?

After a moment of mulling, Rowan realized that it had been the water. The boy had grasped the glass as if it offered his only salvation. He’d swallowed it in the blink of an eye, disappearing before Rowan could have even come up with the words to stop him.

Of course, as Rowan knew from more than a decade of field work, the victims that were prepared for transit were both starved and dehydrated to reduce any potential resistance during transit or during their first few hours with their purchasers.

Such practices resulted in a non-zero number of transit deaths each year, some of which Rowan had documented firsthand.

Rowan went over to the pantry and took out another glass, paced over to the fridge, and poured another glass of cool water from the filter. He filled it just below the brim, tall enough that the boy would be able to drink his fill, but not so full that shaking hands would be unable to raise it to equally unsteady lips.

Glass in hand, Rowan walked back over to the second bedroom’s door.

He paused. A moment, a deep breath, a hand raised towards the faux-wood painted in landlord-eggshell. And he knocked, once, twice, knuckles on the paint making a hollow thunk with each hit.

No response was expected. None came. After another two long seconds, Rowan grasped the doorknob and pushed into the room.

---

The pet had gotten dressed. It had dressed itself in the clothes that Master had tossed beside it after he had yelled, the command obvious enough even without it understanding the precise language.

It knew it had messed up. It knew that something it had done – perhaps it was the position? Perhaps it was the assumption that it would be taken on the bed? – had made its master furious. It had made its master so furious that he had thrown clothes at it, commanded it to cover itself, and left it alone.

So the pet had obeyed as best as it could. It clothed itself in the linens – softer than it had ever been granted with its old master, and so much warmer too – and resumed its position kneeling in the center of the room. Master had placed it here for a reason, certainly, alone with nothing but its thoughts and the ringing in its ears.

Fully clad, from its ankles to its wrist, in pillow-like clothing, the pet felt the pull of sleep. Even the fear from its Master yelling was not enough to overcome the exhaustion of its travels and of its last moments with its handlers. It was so tired that it was nodding off where it knelt, knowing full well that such an action would earn it a lashing like no other.

But its body would only be pushed so far before it broke.

Adrenaline returned when the walls and floor trembled with slight vibrations. Ever since the ringing in its ears had begun in earnest, the pet had learned to pay attention to the way the surfaces around it sang. Now, the floorboards rumbled with the sound of its Master approaching. Light steps – none so heavy as its old master – but an insistent knocking that carried through the wood and laminate.

The pet wished it could shrink in on itself, become smaller, offer an adequate with just its body. But it was already as small as it could make itself, swallowed by the billowing fabric of the sweatshirt, sleeves coming down past its wrists and covering its bony knuckles.

There was almost a certain chance that it would be asked to remove the sweatshirt in short order, anyway.

As it expected, Master’s feet appeared before it moments later. It took deep breaths, listening to the steady hum of Master’s voice. He wasn’t shouting, not this time, back to that level-set rhythm that the pet already found so soothing. If there was supposed to be anger or frustration, the pet couldn’t hear it.

That wasn’t saying much, given that it couldn’t hear much at all.

Much to the pet’s surprise, Master leaned down and placed another glass in front of it. This glass was crystal-clear, filled nearly to the brim with water, its surface rippling from the movement. Although it had happily drank the earlier glass of water at its Master’s command, the pet was still parched. And although its stomach was still in knots from how Master had yelled at it, how it had been waiting for a punishment yet to come, the thirst once again prevailed.

It knew better than to grab the glass with its greedy hands. Waiting, patience, showed the very skills that it had been trained time and again to embody. So it waited, waited, until Master’s voice raised with a sharp uptick in volume.

Drink.

The pet did so without hesitation. It reached forward and it drank eagerly, trying to still the trembling of its hands as it did so. Although it had to raise its head to drink, it made sure to keep its eyes pointed downwards in as much respect and deference as it could display.

The water disappeared in a matter of moments, the pet ensuring that it showed its gratitude for the generosity by finishing it with haste. Carefully as it could manage it placed the glass back on the floor where Master had set it.

Its stomach was still tight with worry, filled with the sandwich and the first glass of water, but it was confident that it would keep the meal down. It had to – if it got sick now, there was no telling when it would get food again. This nutrition was more valuable than anything else at the moment, it was the only way it could hope to have the strength to carry on.

---

“That’s great,” Rowan praised, trying to keep his voice steady as he had been. It had already been stressful enough to raise it to give the command to drink, but the boy seemed unfazed. In fact, he finished the full glass in a matter of seconds, drinking eagerly and without hesitation.

Figuring out how to get the boy to drink on his own would be a challenge for another day. For now, even if Rowan had to command as much, drinking something was better than not at all.

Now, for the reason he’d come back into the room in the first place, when all he wanted to do was leave the boy alone long enough to decompress.

“Hey, uhm, I’m sorry for yelling,” Rowan said. The apology came easily and naturally enough, so he pushed on. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. That was wrong of me, and you didn’t deserve it. You did nothing wrong. Really, you did nothing wrong. The fact that I yelled was my fault. I’m not angry at you. I’m not mad, and I’m not going to hurt you. Everything is okay.”

The boy didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t acknowledge a word beyond the command to drink. Just as all the other times Rowan had spoken, he seemed attentive, but didn’t react.

“I mean it,” Rowan pushed on. “I’m sorry. Everything is alright. You’re okay. You’re safe here, with me. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to ask you to do those things you had to do before. It caught me off guard, and my reaction was wrong. I shouldn’t have raised my voice”

Nothing. At this rate, it would be impossible to have the back-and-forth dialogue that the manual had encouraged, but Rowan knew that it was possibly asking too much for a first day, even a first week, or a first month. His one-sided apology was a start, at least.

“If you want to tell me how you feel, you can,” Rowan offered the floor up. “It’s okay. You can say how you feel – actually, you can talk, if you’d like, about anything. I haven’t heard you say anything yet, but you’re allowed. You’re allowed to talk as much as you want here. And- and you can get your own water, and your own food- ah. I’m getting ahead of myself, I think. The point I’m trying to make is that it’s okay, and you can talk to me. If I scared you, or upset you, you can tell me that. And if you tell me what’s wrong, I’ll do my best to make it better.”

As Rowan rambled on, self-conscious of the words spilling out of his mouth, he forced himself to look down at the boy kneeling before him. This was no way to talk to a victim like this, was it? Rowan was still towering above him, voice booming downwards, the power imbalance as visual as it was ingrained in the boy’s blood.

So, after another moment, Rowan sat.

He lowered himself to the floor in front of the boy and sat down, crossing his legs like he was a child again. A laugh almost escaped his mouth as he realized how much flexibility he’d lost, knees straining and thighs tugging, as he finally got his ankles close to one another.

The boy perked up immediately, looking through his hanging curls in Rowan’s direction with those bright doe-eyes that Rowan had only seen a glimpse of once so far. Rowan smiled in spite of himself.

“Hey, is this better for you? I think it’s better, at least for right now, if you don’t want to stand up yet. This will let us talk to each other like equals, yeah? We are, you know. Even if you don’t believe it yet. So, I’ll say it again, and maybe you can think about it some more. I’m sorry for yelling at you, and yelling was wrong of me. I never should have raised my voice. I wasn’t mad at you, I was just surprised, because I don’t want to do those sorts of things to you. I’m here to help you, not hurt you, especially not like that. I promise that you’re safe, and no harm is going to come to you here.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something. As Rowan spoke the boy’s weight shifted slightly forward, so slight that Rowan almost missed it entirely, and his eyes flitted from his knees towards Rowan’s face. He never quite made eye contact, still hidden behind the curtain of hair, but it was closer than Rowan had been able to achieve from a standing position.

This was what had stood out to Rowan on the sales floor of the liquidation event. The boy seemed distant, but he was far from catatonic like some of the victims that were more difficult to rescue. There was a spark, an attentiveness, a willingness to listen and to obey. It was a flame that yearned for the chance to survive.

Rowan just had to figure out how to nurture that flame and reach through the glass between himself and the boy. They would have to break that barrier down if they were going to move towards healing.

“Yeah, we’re just having a conversation right now, that’s all.” He wasn’t sure how effective his soothing would be so soon after his yelling, but Rowan knew he had to try. “If you want to talk about how you’re feeling, you can do that, talk to me all you want. You can also just tell me to leave if you’d rather be alone right now.”

Nothing, still nothing.

“Can you nod for me if you want to be alone?” He asked, hoping to see some movement. Nothing. “Can you shake your head if you want me to stay?” Nothing again.

A thought struck Rowan as he saw the boy’s eyes peek up again, still hunting, almost fixated on his lips. He tried again once he saw the boy look upwards.

“Can you nod your head for me?”

And just like that, the boy’s head moved slightly, once up, once down. It was short, but unmistakably the very nod that Rowan’s question had evoked. And once the nod had finished, the boy looked back down at the floor.

“Can you nod again?” He asked once more as soon as he was certain the boy was no longer looking.

No movement.

“Oh my god,” Rowan whispered out loud as realization flashed through him, and he clambered to his feet. He nearly tripped over himself as he did so, staggering to a standing position and darting behind the boy, back over to the far corner of the room, directly behind his ward. The boy was still kneeling, unmoving, his eyes were still pointed towards the door. Importantly, he was unable to see Rowan’s face even if he raised his eyes.

Rowan snapped his fingers, a few times on his right, a few times on his left. No reaction. Then, after a pause to suppress the oncoming wave of guilt, he clapped his hands together with considerable force. The sound was sharp enough to echo throughout the small room.

This evoked a reaction. It was subtle, but he saw the boy’s shoulders twitch in some sort of anticipation. A fear response, automatic, but a response nonetheless.

“Holy shit,” Rowan muttered to himself, a hand running through his hair almost of its own accord. His epiphany was looking more and more like a plausible possibility.

“Hey, turn around,” he instructed. He made sure not to raise his voice, keeping it as neutral as possible, but still issuing the command with certainty. Again, no movement. He tried again, same tone, conversational volume. “Turn around, right now. Turn around and look at me.”

Nothing.

After a deep breath, and a final reminder that he was doing this for the boy’s own good, Rowan shouted.

“Turn around!”

And just like that the boy moved, turning on his knees in a swift, fluid motion. A blink later and he was kneeling in that same position, but this time pointed towards where Rowan stood at the back of the room.

A nervous chuckle slipped out before Rowan could swallow it. All of that pain, all of that suffering, the threat of death on the sales floor, it had all been under the guise of disobedience. Rowan was now certain it was anything but.

“Jesus Christ, kid, you’re not disobedient. You just can’t fucking hear me.”

There was a euphoria he couldn’t describe blossoming in his chest. This rescue wasn’t a hopeless mistake that he had made, this victim wasn’t beyond recovery or redemption. He simply couldn’t hear the very words that Rowan was speaking to him, commands or otherwise.

It was Rowan’s turn to drop to his knees, aging bones hitting the wood as he fell a mere foot from where the boy had stationed himself.

“It’s okay!” Rowan all but shouted, the boy’s flinch lost to the excitement. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s all okay.” His voice was as loud as he could make it without screaming.

“You’re safe. You’re safe now. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re home, you’re safe. It’s all going to be okay.”

A/N: Cheers to the rewrite for a chance to make it clear that Rowan's not an idiot, he's just out of his depth. That was one of the driving factors for the rewrite, actually. Sorry for those that hoped there'd be a few more chapters of misunderstanding and obliviousness from our well-meaning caretaker - it's important to me that Rowan is capable and aware of himself in this story, particularly given his role in other liberation efforts. But there will absolutely be other barriers to communication and understanding between the two, I can promise that much!

Taglist:

@honey-is-messi @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @squishablesunbeam @tragedyinblue

@clairelsonao3 @den-of-evil @cepheusgalaxy @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @whumpzone @peachy-panic @whumplr-reader

@dislexiher @cc1010foxy @onlybadendings @panstardalia @tempoghast

@dokidokisadness @anonfromcanada @starfields08000 @bloodredfountainpen @pumpkin-spice-whump

@maenr @whump-enthousiast @taterswhump @whump-me-harder

#hear no evil #whump #whump writing #whumplr #whump community #bbu #bbu whump #thanks to everyone who's tagging along on this wild ride #all your notes and comments mean the world to me

63 notes · View notes

oldbutchdanielcraig · 6 months ago

Note

any female!armand backstory headcanons/crumbs to share with the class?

i think she would be an expert at Performing Gender and, probably due to the fact that she would have been expected to be very feminine while younger/mortal, when she's attempting to manipulate or w/e through her wits alone she presents as hyperfeminine. and she does serve cunt while doing this

i imagine though that armand at her most comfortable is a very similar style to the dubai wardrobe which is fairly androgynous. she does also serve cunt this way

the existence of femme and androgynous armand implies the existence of butch armand which like. yeah i mean. can we all hold hands for a minute and imagine her in a leather jacket (maybe even DANIEL'S leather jacket? and some beat up jeans. a cigarette dangling from her lips. sorry what was the question?

i think all of the above and also 500+ years means that armand is as comfortable with gender as she's going to get which is like. she knows how it fits her and knows when to "use" it to get what she wants and otherwise feels pretty emotionally removed from it

(as opposed to daniel who wants to be butch SO BAD but can't due to her issues. but that's another story)

(quick cw here for armand's backstory re: forced prostitution/slavery, though not discussed in great detail)

i think her thing with pregnancy would arise from the fact that she for whatever reason was never able to have a kid. she would have been at the age where she was expected to marry/have children and that she wasn't able to was one of the things that contributed to her "brokenness." i don't even want to get into the marius of it all because i don't have a fully developed enough thought to make it compelling but trust that being a young girl who wasn't able to have kids + living with marius + losing the possibility for children forever by becoming a vampire + 500 years gave her a pregnancy complex you could see from jupiter.

this of course results in a fascination with daniel who has, as far as they know, a fully functioning womb. (she does in fact have a fully functioning womb. but watch out!)

this plays into the personal armandaniel sex dynamics a great deal but i think it alters the purpose of the cuck chair encounters even more. armand would be so obsessed with getting men to fuck daniel and kind of tempting fate with getting her pregnant

re: tracking daniel's fertility cycles she IS doing shots of daniel's period blood out of her diva cup

lastly, she SHOULD be the first lesbian ever to get her gf pregnant through strap

#asks #armand #writing tag #i wish i had more story crumbs to share with you but i have written like. exclusively daniel. SORRY.#this is exactly the kind of encouragement i need though to get moving so literally thank you so much #what other parts of armand's personality would you like to see adapted into yuri. lmk

35 notes · View notes

whumpsoda · 4 months ago

Note

How would all the WSFSP recues respond to being flirted with by a creepy stranger?

Masterlist

Sorry but this inspired some writing!! Here’s how Agnes would react :]

cw: pet whump, lady whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, Institutionalized slavery, conditioned whumpee, past abuse, dubcon implied, creepy whumper, bar setting, intimate whumper, drinking

——————

The words were flying right over her head, jumbling up in a throbbing ache either from her training or the loud, bumping music swirling around her. She used to read all the damn time, and now she couldn’t even string a sentence together. Agnes grit her teeth, continuing.

Sh- she… at the… no… I have no fucking idea what that word is.

Slamming the book shut, she threw it to the side carelessly. How could everyone else seem to do it so easily?

Agnes settled her sights over the maze that was the bar, filled with the sounds of people. Too loud, she thought, yet didn’t leave. She knew a good lot of the people in said maze, a lot for the same reason they knew her. It was never hard for a pet to recognize another pet.

Agnes made eye contact with a woman making her way to the counter, tall and slender, who eventually looped around the open chair beside her.

“Hey, there.” Grazing a hand over Agnes’ back, the woman slunk her a grin. “You having a good night?” She had long, dark hair, and a face caked with precisely done makeup.

“It’s going alright.” Agnes shrugged. She looked the opposite, hair unbrushed and face bare.

Taking a seat beside her, the woman’s bracelets jingled along with her movement. “Could be better with a drink, I assume.” She dipped a strand of hair behind her ear, biting her lip.

“I’m okay.” Agnes told her, as casually as possible. She didn’t really know why she was even there. “Thanks, though.”

“So you come to a bar and you’re not even gonna drink?” She laughed, a kind of sting to the ears. Hearty and low. Agnes joined in, weak and faked. Easy, though. “C’mon, don’t be a buzzkill. It’s on me.” Before Agnes could refuse - not that she would’ve even had the guts - the woman had already ordered them both something. “I’m Carter, by the way.”

“Agnes.”

“That’s like-,” again she laughed, but this time it felt more so at her than with her. Kind of like- “What an old lady name you got there.”

Agnes dipped her head, allowing herself to look through her lashes, twisting her abdomen to face the other woman. Exactly like with- “Yeah, I guess you could call it that.”

“Ah.” The woman - Carter - looked to find the bartender - Derrick, his name was - handing her their drinks. “Here’s yours, and mine.”

Agnes took the cup with both hands, tapping it with her fingers. A touch of cold. “Thanks. You really didn’t have to.” She failed to catch what Carter had ordered, but didn’t really care.

Carter smiled, stealing a sip out of her cup. Agnes watched the bob of her throat. “Drink up, pretty girl.”

Drink up, pretty pet.

Maybe… one drink couldn’t hurt. She was going to need it if she couldn’t find a way to see herself out of this conversation. She took a swig, bitterness filling up her mouth and down her throat.

“What’s that?” Carter gestured to her book, discarded beside her.

She chuckled, awkwardly. “Just a book I’ve been reading.”

“Here?” Carter made a face, a scrunch of her expression with an amused smile. “That’s pretty weird.”

Discreetly Agnes slipped it back into to her bag, a cross body big enough to fit her most important belongings. “Yeah, I know.”

“To each their own, I guess.” She didn’t say it like she really meant it. “You’re nervous, I can tell,” She muttered, bumping Agnes’ drink with a gentle nudge, “drink a little more. It’ll make you feel better.”

She said it like Agnes wouldn’t fucking know that, as if she didn’t come here at least like a twice a fucking week. Agnes, obedient as ever, took another gulp.

“Good girl.” Agnes almost spit before she could swallow, a dribble slinking out of her pursed lips. Carter looked as if that was the most normal thing she’d said all night. “What?”

Agnes swallowed the burn. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Carter sat in a way that made sure her body was facing Agnes’. “You’re very gorgeous, y’know.”

“Me?” Agnes huffed a laugh, as if she disagreed. How could she when that was why she was made romantic? “You’re joking.”

“Nope, I’m serious. And, if you’d let me,” she licked her lips, keening in, “I’d love to see more of that beauty.”

“Oh, um-,” Agnes slunk back, “Sorry, but I’d rather not… tonight. Maybe another time.”

A yank of her arm, and she was level with Carter’s shoulder.

“Oh, you can’t fool me, pretty thing. I know what you are, okay?” She whispered, lips smacking in Agnes’ ear. She froze, utterly still. “No more dancing around it, baby, everyone can tell you’re one of them.” Carter leaned back, resting her head on her knuckles. “You’re not a very good actor… or, well, maybe you were just trained so good you can’t help but show it.”

Agnes’ mouth moved, so many words dying right in her throat. She hesitated. “I’m not-,”

“Hush, okay? You’re prettier when you’re not talking.” She tisked, trailing a thumb over Agnes’ lips and down to hold her chin. “No one likes a smartass slut.”

It’s okay, Roxy, you don’t need to speak. No one wants to hear a dummy like you talk, anyways.

“But, I mean,” her arm brushed Agnes’, “Reading? In a bar? I’m surprised it’s not a kids book. I know you guys can’t read very well, if at all.” Again, she bit her lip, inspecting her prey. “You’re definitely not a smart one, I can just tell.”

“Stop-,”

She held Agnes’ wrist with an iron grip. “Do you really want to play this game with me? I could call up a couple handlers right now to take you off my hands. A refurb is what they’d call you then, right?”

“I-,”

“Come back home with me, baby. Just one night, okay? I bet it’s practically routine for you.” Carter leaned in ever so closer, a hand pressing to Agnes’ thigh. “Then I’ll leave you on your way.”

“I don’t-,” In, and out. Her lips firmed. “No thanks. Like I said, maybe another time.”

“Well you’re just a waste of space, aren’t you? A romantic who doesn’t want to fuck?” Her hand brushed Agnes’ cheek. She yanked away. “That’s crazy.”

She turned Agnes’ wrist to the inside of her arm, nudging up the bracelet that covered her scar. “Please- let go of me.”

“I will if you give me your number.” Carter cocked her head. “I won’t call anyone, if you do, either.”

“Wh- whatever. Fine.” The hold on her wrist released as Carter reached for her phone, allowing Agnes to provide her a contact.

“See ya, pretty girl.” She called as Agnes grabbed her things, making her way out as fast as possible.

Pushing her way through the crowd was the hardest part, through the noise and the lump in her chest, but the chill of the outside smacked her across the face as she finally left. Taking a sharp, almost immediate turn, she stumbled into an alleyway, phone in hand.

The light was bright on her face, blinding her for a moment before her vision settled. Putting in her passcode - Isaac’s birthday - she looked for Isaac’s contact, which was a bit tougher when you weren’t great at reading.

Agnes had her number saved, knew what her name looked like, but never really used it. Not unless she needed to.

She was such a dick.

She pressed the call button, biting her nail with every next ring.

“Hello?” Someone answered with a click, a drowsy rasp sticking to their voice.

Agnes sipped in a shaky breath. “…Isaac?” She whispered, fighting a sob.

It was obvious in her voice, as she could practically see Isaac shooting to her feet.“Agnes? What is it?” Her words were trembling then. “Are you okay?”

“N- no.”

“What do you need? What can I do? Should I come pick you up?”

Agnes swallowed. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll be right there. Send me your location.”

“Okay.” Swift, one nail in her mouth and the others typing, she did just as she was told.

She heard the jingle of Isaac grabbing her keys. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No… I’m okay.” She hid the sob in the back of her mouth well. “Just get here as fast as you can. Please.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm. I’ll be fine.”

Isaac sighed, but relented. “Okay. See you soon. Love you.”

“Bye.” Instantly as the call ended, her eyes clouded, a wail clawing up from her throat.

Agnes counted down the minutes it took her to get there, phone more near death with every check. A little over twenty minutes.

The car door swung open as they pulled up, the car not even stopped, someone jumping out and running at her. She flinched back, for a second seeing something different, something that made her head burn with white. They were here for her they were fucking here, everything she’d built was over, before she realized who it was.

“Oh! Uh, hey, Wesley.” He grabbed her by the abdomen, pulling her in tight.

“Hi.” He mumbled, face scrunched into her sweatshirt.

The window rolled down, Isaac sticking her head out from in the drivers seat. “Sorry. He caught me leaving and wouldn’t leave me alone until I let him come with.” Agnes patted him on the head, hugging him back. “Got pretty worried when I said I was going to get you.”

“Nothing to worry about, man. Everything’s all good.” She mumbled to him, brushing his bangs out from his eyes. He didn’t respond.

She looped her hand into his, leading him back to the car and opening the door to the passenger seat.

“So what happened?” Isaac was tired, heavy bags under her eyes, but when was she not?

“It…,” her gaze shifted from Isaac to Wesley, then back to Isaac. “It’s nothing. Just a rough night.”

“Mm.” Isaac didn’t believe her. Agnes didn’t blame her.

“Are you, um, gonna sleep over? Agnes?” Wesley asked, piping up from the back seat, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Uh…,” Isaac cast her the smallest of a glance. She was wondering, too. “Sure.”

“Really?” He grew a smile, wide and smooshing his cheeks. “Can you stay tomorrow? Do stuff with me? Can I show you my drawings?” He spit off rapid fire questions, radiating excitement.

Her face, red rimmed and tear stained, softened. Maybe her night wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Whatever you want, Wes.”

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump @ivymyers @taterswhump @octopus-reactivated @tippytappytyping

@distracted-obsessions @starfields08000 @bitchaknso @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @scoundrelwithboba

@whumped-by-glitter @whumpering-heights @arlin-always-writing @bilightningwhumper @sharkyydoesnothing

@whump-till-ya-jump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

26 notes · View notes