#the sink

[lem0nicle]

i just hope nobody did it already😅

more to come😤

[thinktankbigmt]

[Said ghoul researcher walks into the sink and wipes off their shoes before stepping into the room.]

"So this is what the inside of the sink looks like. Never got the chance to see before the war."

-@bajarangers

Indeed it is, sir. A dreadful tragedy sir. So much scientific advancement laid waste by those barbaric bombs. May I serve you dinner and/or other hospitality, sir?

Well, now! Your face has seen some wear and tear. How's about if I give you a little once-over?

[secretwhumplair]

Do you remember your name?

814 words | Xerxes & Nor (timeline)

Content | Pet whump, collar, crying, referenced: Stockholm syndrome, abuse, death

Notes | Xerxes has grown too fond of their pet, and it caused some unpleasant realizations.

Taglist | @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink

Xerxes hadn’t acquired a new project in half a year.

Of course, Pet wasn’t complaining. He had forced himself, over the years, to tune out the wailing and begging and silent suffering every new trainee went through until they learned their place, knowing there was nothing he could do to help, but he had certainly never enjoyed it.

It was kind of nice, if he was honest, to just exist along with Xerxes. Their tendency of using him as a punching bag when they were bored or having a bad day had already been in decline, and the little humiliations of everyday life as a pet barely registered anymore. Sometimes they just sat and chatted. Sometimes Pet even ventured an opinion.

Still, the fact Xerxes had, by all appearances, given up on their profession seemed like a symptom of something Pet couldn’t quite pinpoint, even after knowing them for so long. Money wasn’t an issue; by now, at the height of their success, they were rich enough to take a year or several off if they so desired. But he caught them staring into nothing, or observing him with unusual thoughtfulness, as if they were grappling with something in their head they weren’t used to.

For a while, he worried they might be ill, and wrapping up their life in the knowledge of an approaching end. Yes, worried; maybe this was that Stockholm syndrome people always talked about, but after all, he had lived with this person for years and years. He’d never liked the way he had grown fond of them, but he couldn’t simply cut it out. And if they died, what would become of him?

So when they invited him to sit at the table with them for lunch that day, an otherwise ordinary day that warranted no such treats, he was prepared for anything.

He kept stealing glances at them as they both ate. They kept silent, staring onto their plate as if avoiding his eyes. It felt wrong; they shouldn’t act this way towards their pet.

He was halfway to plucking up the courage to straight-up ask them what was up when the entire meal had passed in silence, but that was when they put a hand on his wrist, to stop him from clearing the table, and finally looked up.

»Do you remember your name?«

Pet had, he realized as quickly as if he had been slapped, not been prepared for anything.

This being a test didn’t seem to line up with things had been in the past months, even years. He did remember his name, yes; it just seemed strangely foreign now, like the name of an acquaintance from the past. He had tried to hold on to it as his own for a while, but ultimately, Xerxes won. Of course they did.

»Yes, Master,« he replied cautiously.

Xerxes kept looking at him, and Pet - who was, as he was now reminded, once Nor - was startled at the shine in their eyes. They weren’t - those weren’t tears, were they?

»That’s good.« They sounded miserable. Defeated. They fished something out of their pocket, and leant over. Before he could make sense of what was happening, their warm hands were on his collar, and it was mere moments before the little lock opened with the tiniest click.

»What are you doing?« Pet blurted out.

Yes, those were definitely tears, even if they weren’t spilling over yet.

»You can go.«

»To where?!«

Xerxes chuckled wetly, and lowered their eyes again. »Wherever you want. You - you can stay until you figure it out, of course. But… you’re free.«

Free. The word bounced through his head, fluttered in his chest. It seemed unreal. He hadn’t even bothered to wish he were free in ages.

And yet…

Abruptly he got up and walked out the room. Walked down the hall, past the basement door that still made his heart beat faster. Up to the front door.

Touching it was forbidden, he knew that with every fibre of his body. His skin prickled, almost painfully, when he reached out to the key, in the lock as always.

He didn’t know how, but then moments later the door was open, and he stood in the yard. The guard sitting on the front porch looked at him—and made no move to stop him when he went over to the driveway, looking down the hill.

His vision blurred.

He barely could put a name to the emotions that brought the tears—there were too many, too overwhelming. His whole life was about to change; he would—would he? Would he have the nerve to leave everything he knew behind?

He wiped off his tears.

He didn’t have shoes. Regardless of what he was going to do next, there were still things to be sorted.

Gingerly, as if walking on eggshells, he went back to the house.

[lux-et-astra]

if there's anyone who's a mincemeat fan who HASN'T listened to the sink yet... i'm just asking why

the ONLY valid answer is "i couldn't get past the giraffe sex" and even then you're on thin ice babey. listen to natasha hodgson's giraffe orgasm like the rest of us.

[whattheactualhela]

I was having ideas after listening to The Sink: A Sleep Aid

[peacerisendove]

hey, nothing - The Sink

[oldfarmhouse]

this laundry room reveal

https://www.instagram.com.cottageporch

[389]

Fossil sink

[wedarkacademia]

- Evelyn Waugh, from Brideshead Revisited (1945)

[lux-et-astra]

scare-eye balloons aren't for scaring people, madam. they're for scaring birds. are you a bird, madam?

DUDE THIS IS SO FUNNY

[secretwhumplair]

Coming back

1,163 words | Leigh & the shapeshifter (immediate prequel to Home)

Content | Exhaustion, fear, begging, swearing, implied starvation, death mention

Taglist (The sink) | @snakebites-and-ink

Notes | Remember Leigh and the shapeshifter? Now you do!

After an arduous escape, they make it back to Leigh's home. Or at least Leigh thinks so, if his navigation skills are to be trusted. He can't be sure, it's been a long an awful time.

Leigh couldn’t know whether they were right here. Not really.

But there was a fence approximately where he had thought there should be a fence. The horses, if really there were horses and his cloudy memory wasn’t fully misled, would be safely stabled for the night, of course, but there was a fence.

He slipped off the shapeshifter’s bony horse back, his knees giving way under him as he hit the ground.

The shapeshifter touched their soft nose to the side of his head, breathing their concern or exhaustion.

»This is - I think this is the place.« He didn’t know, but they couldn’t go any further, anyway. They’d need to find the house, though, if really there was a house. He would get up in a moment, once he had recovered just a little bit, just a little break-

He had no sense of the passage of time left, but suddenly, there were voices in the dark. Voices, barks, and flashlights, and a jolt of panic jerked him out of his apathy, and the light brushed over him-

»Who goes there? Answer! You are trespassing!«

Leigh forced himself up from his knees, but changed his mind halfway through. He wasn’t thinking clearly any more. He only wanted to make sure the shapeshifter, trembling behind him, would be safe.

The flashlight caught him, momentarily blinding him so he could hardly make out the person holding it.

»Please,« he choked out through cracked lips. »I, I-« He was hopelessly lost in his words. How could he explain? Even if anyone here remembered him, he must look unrecognizable, starved and beaten and exhausted. Was he even sure he was right here?

»Fuck,« someone hissed, then came towards him quickly.

Leigh braced himself for the hit - he would be kicked to the ground until he was a whimpering mess, maybe until he was finally dead - but none came.

»Fuck, kid. What happened - scratch that. You’re coming with us.«

»Please.« It took effort to raise his voice to a cracked whisper. He would be taken again. It had been foolish to think he could escape.

»What’s your name, kid?« The voice was surprisingly gentle, and so was the grip on his arm forcing him up on his feet.

He couldn’t fathom why they would want to know, but he knew better than to refuse an answer. »Leigh.«

The force pulling him up froze. »No way.«

Leigh didn’t have it in him to even cry anymore. He had given the wrong answer, he would be punished, he didn’t even know what would happen to the shapeshifter-

»Greg, tell Callan immediately.«

»What if it’s not-«

»D’you want to take that chance? And you, stable that poor horse.«

In the state he was in, it took Leigh a moment and a frightened whinny from behind him to realize they were talking about the shapeshifter. »No - please - they, they - with me.« He barely knew what he was saying anymore. He wanted for the shapeshifter to escape, that was what he wanted - but they wouldn’t get much further, and he didn’t want to - he couldn’t be alone in this hell again-

He barely heard something behind him, then the shapeshifter stepped up to his side, being a lynx once more, still trembling in every limb. Leigh’s gratitude for his company didn’t near outshine his terror: if they knew what the shapeshifter was, then - what then-

»Oh,« the guard - it must be a guard - said softly. »Okay, then you both, come along.«

Leigh had no more strength to fight back as he was guided - half-pulled - onward. He could only hold out his free hand towards the shapeshifter, who limped along beside him; he could barely hope. He could hardly imagine what new horrors awaited them. He was so tired.

They approached a building complex, a farmstead; they were brought across a threshold into warm light. The room looked somewhat like an office. The person who had brought them here dropped himself into the chair behind the desk, twice as large and cushioned as the one in front of it. There were shelves on the walls and a lamp shining a friendlier light than the flashlights and papers scattered about the furniture.

»Alright. Alright.«

Leigh stood, his legs trembling under him, not having been given orders. The shapeshifter lightly leant on him, for which Leigh couldn’t blame them - they had carried him all this way. They were still trembling, and Leigh found another reason for it - the dog he had heard earlier, but had never seen in the dark, now sat on a cushion by the desk, its eyes on the shapeshifter. Leigh’s mind briefly wished he could ever hope for such luxuries as this dog experienced, but it didn’t matter; what mattered was the shapeshifter’s terror.

»Come here, girl. You’re scaring the kitty. Leigh - uh - take a seat, hm? Have some water.«

The dog slipped under the guard’s chair, into their hands, and Leigh let himself tumble onto the newly vacated cushion, the shapeshifter keeping close by him. »Thank you,« he whispered and felt it from the bottom of his heart. No matter what would happen - he needed to rest-

»Ah-«

Whatever the guard was going to say, they were interrupted when a man stormed in. He stopped at once when Leigh and the shapeshifter both flinched, but Leigh’s heart was already racing to the point of giving out.

The man, with quiet movements at odds with how he had arrived, crouched down before him.

»Leigh?« His voice, too, was hardly more than a whisper. »Leigh - look at me.«

Leigh obeyed. He was so tired. His mind found no connection to the face in front of him, and he had no way of knowing whether it was too much effort or he had been wrong, he was wrong, everything was wrong-

»Leigh, it’s - it’s me. Callan. Your uncle Callan? Sweet mercy, it’s really you.«

»Yes, sir.« He didn’t know whether it was safe to speak, but neither if it was safe to remain silent.

The man - Callan, his uncle Callan - opened and closed his mouth. His eyes, Leigh suddenly realized despite his blinding terror, were wet. »Okay. Okay, listen, we’ll get you into the house and- and you can rest, okay? You’re safe now. I’ll keep you safe. I love you.«

Leigh was too numb for the words to leave more than a trace of meaning in his mind, but not numb enough to not flinch back in fear when Callan made to grab him.

»Sorry. Sorry, I was going to carry you over but you can walk if - if you prefer?«

Once more, Leigh let himself be pulled to his feet. He was led across the yard, Callan mercifully letting go of him as they walked, and into another part of the building.

The shapeshifter had stuck close enough to him that Leigh could feel their tremble, their stumbling steps, and when they crossed into the house, they collapsed and moved no more.

[lux-et-astra]

happy "natasha hodgson confirmed that the sink is a love story" day to everyone who celebrates

[nonebinary-leftbeef]

DEVASTATING the lyric you've been mishearing is better than the real one

[mugshawt]

Don’t bother putting in me one of your 12 steps. I don’t need a letter to know the truth.

I heard the medicine you got ain’t doing shit, what’s it gonna take for you to finally admit?

All the pain you caused, all the friends you lost, all the times you said you’re right, you’re really wrong.

All the pills you take falling down the drain. You can’t swallow a mistake that you have made.

I’m washing you down the sink, my bottle is empty. I’m keeping my hands clean.

[peacerisendove]

hey, nothing - The Sink

My new band obsession.