I'm being ambitious, but I'm going to try to do something fun for Christmas- a little side story about the Safehouse residents- and it would help immensely to outsource a bit of the thinking.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it:
You volunteer with a nonprofit that's doing a charity drive to support the Box Boy Liberation Movement, sending things to Safehouses to give the the rescuees and volunteers a merry Christmas. The things you send can be fun or practical, it's up to you (but to be clear, they're genuine gifts of whatever kind, this is all fluff and no whump except perhaps in flashbacks).
At your monthly meeting, you take a little scroll off the tree and unroll it. Inside is the following description of the people you'll be cheering up this Christmas.
Mikey (approx. 24 years old) arrived on the same day as Francis and has been settling in to House 17 after being rescued from a rough situation. He recently had surgery on both arms and is going to be in casts for a few months before he can start learning to use his hands again. When he is able, he plans to learn Sign Language, so that he can communicate more easily, as he isn't able to speak. Mikey wears a size L or XL.
Francis (approx. 21 years old) arrived at House 17 the same day as Mikey and the two became fast friends. Francis has spent a lot of time sick in bed lately and is discovering the joys of daytime TV as he recovers. His favorite show is "What We Do In The Shadows", but he enjoys cooking shows as well. Because of injuries to his feet, Francis is particularly appreciative of soft socks and slippers. Francis wears a size M.
Nathan (23 years old) was rescued from the same home as Mikey. Thanks to a broken leg, he is spending a lot of time on the couch and is having a hard time trying to stay active. Nathan would appreciate having something to do that lets him exercise his mind and helps break up the monotony of a long day. He can read and write decently well, but would enjoy practicing both skills. Nathan wears a size L.
Angie (25) and Tim (26) are the House 17 staff. Angie enjoys going for long runs and introducing Mikey, Francis, and Nathan to her favorite movies and TV shows. When he's not trying out new recipes for his housemates, Tim likes to read detective fiction.
What would you send? I can't promise I'll use all suggestions (that depends on how many there are) but your ideas may show up later this month!
Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds
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When Nathan's phone buzzed, waking him from a light sleep, he shifted to his left and fumbled around the bedside table until his fingers closed on it. He lifted the phone above his face and squinted at the time.
It was 9 am. A perfectly normal time to be awake and responding to texts. Nathan put in his passcode and opened the message. It was from Angie.
Ready for breakfast?
yeah sure, he wrote back. He didn't have long to wait until he could hear footsteps on the stairs.
"Morning, Nathan." Angie's voice came from behind the door, but she hadn't opened it, which Nathan appreciated. He was the last one up, as usual, and he enjoyed having a little time to himself in the mornings, after Mikey and Francis were already downstairs.
"Morning," Nathan called back, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He sighed, thinking of how much work it would be to get up. Maybe he could just stay in bed all day. Angie would probably be fine with it if he asked.
"How's your leg this morning?" she called. She still hadn't touched the door.
"You can come in," he called back, in place of an answer. The more he woke up, the more willing he was to accept company. She opened the door and let herself in, still in her bathrobe.
"Thanks. You don't have to get up if you don't want to," she said. "But I wanted to see how you're feeling and if you're ready to eat something. You're probably due for more meds, too."
Nathan shifted and put a hand down to the bandages wrapped around his thigh, taking stock of how his body felt. The answer was that it felt bad. His leg, set only days ago, was throbbing and still felt swollen, the bandages tight and uncomfortable. The doctor had told him that this was nothing to worry about.
"Yeah, meds would be great."
"I figured." Angie fished in the pockets of her robe and pulled out a water bottle and a packet of pills. She handed them to Nathan and he took them, then finished the water.
"Now I just have to wait for them to kick in."
"Sorry. You want to stay in bed for now, I assume?"
"I really do, yeah."
"Do you want company?"
"Sure. I mean, I'm not that exciting, so you don't have to, though."
"It's fine."
They sat quietly for several minutes, during which Nathan decided that he was impressed with Angie's ability to wait in silence. He was wracking his brain for something to talk about, just because it felt so weird to sit there. She, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm and not at all bothered, and sat in the chair next to his bed, looking out the window into a bright, sunny day.
"So..." Nathan said when he couldn't stand it anymore. Then he wasn't sure what came next.
Angie grinned at him and he thought she might be just a little amused by the awkward look on his face. "You want some help getting ready for the day? I can do it, or I can ask Tim to come up if you'd rather."
"Not quite yet. It'd be nice if the meds kicked in first. My leg- uh- doesn't feel great."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised. My brother Greg broke his leg in high school and he was a mess. That was playing football, though, so... more straightforward."
"Probably not more fun, though."
"I don't think so."
There was another moment of quiet and then Nathan said, "Hey, I haven't been in the bathroom a lot to look around- okay, that sounds kind of weird, but you know what I mean- do we have any razors in the house?"
"Razors?"
"I would really like to shave. I haven't looked at myself in a mirror the last couple days, but I can tell I'm getting scruffy."
"Oh, yeah, we must, huh? Let me ask Tim." Angie had made a point to break the habit of going to the top of the stairs and shouting. It was a very normal thing to do in a house with several siblings, but she had found that it startled the rescuees, who were uncomfortable with loud voices.
The text came back without much delay. Yup- under the sink in the bathroom. There's shave gel and washcloths down there, too. For Nathan?
Angie tapped at the phone in reply and then slid it into her pocket. "You want to shave? We can make that happen. Here, if you want."
Nathan pondered the question for a moment. "I guess. I'm not sure I'm up to, like, balancing in front of the mirror."
"Okay, give me, like, two minutes and I'll be back with everything you need."
It was slightly more than two minutes when Angie returned carrying a laptop. Nathan looked at it in confusion, but before he had a chance to ask what that was all about, she left again. When she returned, she was carrying a dinner tray with a dish of water, a washcloth, shaving gel, and a razor. She flipped the legs of it down and set it over his lap.
"Tim says that should be everything," she said. "I'm taking his word for it."
"And the laptop?"
"Oh! That's genius- it was Tim's idea. We don't have any small mirrors, so he said to set it up and turn on the camera so you can see what you're doing."
Nathan laughed. "Okay, that's pretty good."
The camera was a pretty good solution to the problem and Nathan was proud that he didn't get much water on the blankets- and almost no shaving gel. It felt good to clean up, especially since showers were going to be a challenge for a while.
Master List
Notes: Asking questions is a great way to get new writing! I'll answer this question for all three rescuees. I decided to do this as three shorter stories, rather than one very long one, so that it'll get published faster.
Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds
I'm going to be totally honest, I wasn't really thinking about the fact that leg injuries run in Angie's family! But then I read your comment and at work today I was thinking about how Greg is going to tease Chris about this forever.
"You always have to do everything I do!"
"...I do not."
"Yes you do."
"Name one thing."
"Okay. You had to be born." (Greg is older by almost twenty minutes)
"Greg. I know you know how twins work."
"Yeah, I know that I was born and then you had to go and do it, too."
When Nathan's phone buzzed, waking him from a light sleep, he shifted to his left and fumbled around the bedside table until his fingers closed on it. He lifted the phone above his face and squinted at the time.
It was 9 am. A perfectly normal time to be awake and responding to texts. Nathan put in his passcode and opened the message. It was from Angie.
Ready for breakfast?
yeah sure, he wrote back. He didn't have long to wait until he could hear footsteps on the stairs.
"Morning, Nathan." Angie's voice came from behind the door, but she hadn't opened it, which Nathan appreciated. He was the last one up, as usual, and he enjoyed having a little time to himself in the mornings, after Mikey and Francis were already downstairs.
"Morning," Nathan called back, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He sighed, thinking of how much work it would be to get up. Maybe he could just stay in bed all day. Angie would probably be fine with it if he asked.
"How's your leg this morning?" she called. She still hadn't touched the door.
"You can come in," he called back, in place of an answer. The more he woke up, the more willing he was to accept company. She opened the door and let herself in, still in her bathrobe.
"Thanks. You don't have to get up if you don't want to," she said. "But I wanted to see how you're feeling and if you're ready to eat something. You're probably due for more meds, too."
Nathan shifted and put a hand down to the bandages wrapped around his thigh, taking stock of how his body felt. The answer was that it felt bad. His leg, set only days ago, was throbbing and still felt swollen, the bandages tight and uncomfortable. The doctor had told him that this was nothing to worry about.
"Yeah, meds would be great."
"I figured." Angie fished in the pockets of her robe and pulled out a water bottle and a packet of pills. She handed them to Nathan and he took them, then finished the water.
"Now I just have to wait for them to kick in."
"Sorry. You want to stay in bed for now, I assume?"
"I really do, yeah."
"Do you want company?"
"Sure. I mean, I'm not that exciting, so you don't have to, though."
"It's fine."
They sat quietly for several minutes, during which Nathan decided that he was impressed with Angie's ability to wait in silence. He was wracking his brain for something to talk about, just because it felt so weird to sit there. She, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm and not at all bothered, and sat in the chair next to his bed, looking out the window into a bright, sunny day.
"So..." Nathan said when he couldn't stand it anymore. Then he wasn't sure what came next.
Angie grinned at him and he thought she might be just a little amused by the awkward look on his face. "You want some help getting ready for the day? I can do it, or I can ask Tim to come up if you'd rather."
"Not quite yet. It'd be nice if the meds kicked in first. My leg- uh- doesn't feel great."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised. My brother Greg broke his leg in high school and he was a mess. That was playing football, though, so... more straightforward."
"Probably not more fun, though."
"I don't think so."
There was another moment of quiet and then Nathan said, "Hey, I haven't been in the bathroom a lot to look around- okay, that sounds kind of weird, but you know what I mean- do we have any razors in the house?"
"Razors?"
"I would really like to shave. I haven't looked at myself in a mirror the last couple days, but I can tell I'm getting scruffy."
"Oh, yeah, we must, huh? Let me ask Tim." Angie had made a point to break the habit of going to the top of the stairs and shouting. It was a very normal thing to do in a house with several siblings, but she had found that it startled the rescuees, who were uncomfortable with loud voices.
The text came back without much delay. Yup- under the sink in the bathroom. There's shave gel and washcloths down there, too. For Nathan?
Angie tapped at the phone in reply and then slid it into her pocket. "You want to shave? We can make that happen. Here, if you want."
Nathan pondered the question for a moment. "I guess. I'm not sure I'm up to, like, balancing in front of the mirror."
"Okay, give me, like, two minutes and I'll be back with everything you need."
It was slightly more than two minutes when Angie returned carrying a laptop. Nathan looked at it in confusion, but before he had a chance to ask what that was all about, she left again. When she returned, she was carrying a dinner tray with a dish of water, a washcloth, shaving gel, and a razor. She flipped the legs of it down and set it over his lap.
"Tim says that should be everything," she said. "I'm taking his word for it."
"And the laptop?"
"Oh! That's genius- it was Tim's idea. We don't have any small mirrors, so he said to set it up and turn on the camera so you can see what you're doing."
Nathan laughed. "Okay, that's pretty good."
The camera was a pretty good solution to the problem and Nathan was proud that he didn't get much water on the blankets- and almost no shaving gel. It felt good to clean up, especially since showers were going to be a challenge for a while.
Master List
Notes: Asking questions is a great way to get new writing! I'll answer this question for all three rescuees. I decided to do this as three shorter stories, rather than one very long one, so that it'll get published faster.
Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds
Unsure if we’re allowed to ask questions or request things and totally okay if not!!! If not pretend I’m an evil anon and that I never sent this 😭
I was at work thinking of the Safehouse boys, as I often think of them on slower days! And I was wondering- Does Tim help them shave? I can imagine the stubble would be uncomfortable for poor Mikey and with his poor hands, I can’t imagine he’d be able to shave himself! Or is he rocking his stubble 👀? Does Francis know how to shave himself because he was a ‘gentleman’s pet’? Hehe anyway sorry for asking!!!! I was just super curious as it’s been rattling around in my brain all day
Not only allowed, but gratefully welcomed! This is probably also the fastest way to get new writing, because as soon as I read it, I started thinking about how all that would have gone. :)
So the answer will be along shortly, as soon as I get to write it! It's on the docket for this weekend, for sure.
The WRU had always felt like some far-off tale to Jamie and his mates. The pet training industry had extended far into many countries but it was concentrated in big cities and not so much the small towns like the coastal town where Jamie and his family lived. He, of course, had heard of human pets before from his peers and the television but his parents always shut down any conversation about them he brought up.
He saw mentions of pets more when he left home to study at his community college. It was a similar situation to his hometown being so close to it, only an hours drive from his parent’s place and the beach he grew up loving, but his peers became increasingly more interested in what influencers and television stars liked and owned, which often included their pets. Jamie had walked past more than one sorority girl fawning over a posted picture of a celebrity’s pet bundled up in brand names to her friends on campus.
It was a usual day for Jamie, he was between terms at his community college and so he spent most of the day at the beach with his surfboard. He was staying at his parent’s place over the holidays and they were used to him returning late with sand stuck to his bare feet and salt water dripping from his curly blonde hair onto their floorboards. His Mum usually scolded him at the entrance but she wasn’t a very firm lady in her corrections and ever since he came home from the holidays, it was clear she was just doing it for old times sake.
His Mum wasn’t at the door or meandering around the place to scold him like usual as he finally entered the house and called out he was home. It struck Jamie as strange, unnervingly so. He couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t appeared out of thin air or seemed to already be waiting by the door for him.
“Mum?” Jamie called as he crept further into the house, leaning his surf board up against the wall. Had something happened? Jamie reached for one of the shoes on the rack next to the door just incase there was an intruder or something deeper inside and that’s why they weren’t responding. As he slowly inched closer inside with his Dad’s shoe gripped tightly in his hand Jamie instantly went more alert as he heard a choked sob- had his parents fallen or hurt themselves while he was out? They weren’t even that old yet! Surely not…
Jamie paused in the doorway of the living room as he finally found his parents and at the sight of no robbers or beloved parents sprawled injured on the floor, he dropped his dad’s shoe and toed it away as inconspicuously as he could so he wouldn’t be asked why he had it. Jamie’s worries were misplaced however as neither parent turned to look at him as he hovered, their eyes were fixed onto the television screen in front of them.
“Mum? Dad?” Jamie repeated cautiously at their lack of reaction and shuffled closer to the cozy couch he had grown up with and his parent’s tiny TV.
The television was playing something unfamiliar, the news. His parents never watched it, nor did they read the newspaper often, so it was an especially unsettling sight to see them hunched around it. Jamie’s worried gaze drifted from his parents to concentrating on the television screen. Had something bad happened?
No, Jamie realised. The news just played out the announcement of a WRU facility opening up nearby- somewhere between his university and home. Jamie wanted to laugh at his parents dramatic reactions to such a thing- the two had always hated change and progression, but held off on actually doing so due to his parent’s devastated expressions.
His Mother sniffled and Jamie, not wanting to hover over his distressed parents, headed towards the kitchen. “I’ll make some tea” Jamie mumbled as he flicked the kettle on. While the water boiled Jamie’s attention did its best to stay off his parents, he didn’t get why they had reacted like this. Despite having his own beliefs about the news and their overreactions, they had always been there for him and so Jamie would do his best to be there for them too.
If there was one thing Jamie was sure of, it was that they’d always have eachother to rely on.
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TWS: pet whump set in a post apocalyptic world, dehumanisation
Winter had finally come in full swing and had let itself be known by blanketing the inside and outside of the settlement in a thick layer of powdery snow. It had snowed the entire night, and Wren had stood shivering throughout the night as they stood guard atop the wall watching the dark night for shadowed threats or passing groups of Walkers. Wren, as usual, found nothing of the sort and now trudged back through the knee-high snow to get back to the barracks they had kindly been allowed to stay in until the spring.
“Mister”
The voice made them pause and Wren had to resist the knee jerk urge to huff in frustration at the interruption. They wanted nothing more than to collapse in their bunk and get warm enough to sleep off the cold night. Wren’s eyes briefly closed as they let out a sharp exhale, preparing themselves for polite conversation. Wren turned their head to see who it was, their dark hair falling in front of their face and reminding them of how overdue a haircut was. They pushed their snow clumped hair behind their ear and finally spotted who was talking to him.
The pet they saw often at dinner.
Wren had never seen him talk before, they had figured he was one of the ones the handlers trained that out of. A part of Wren thought it would be better if they had, it would have stopped the pet bothering them on their way back anyways. Wren glanced around the white covered settlement to look for his owner but they couldn’t spot her. Wren’s face set in a hard line as they looked back at the pet, who they noticed was barely even dressed for the weather. Their confusion must have been written on their face however as the pet started to speak again.
“‘Mistress is staying with another, can’t I stay with you tonight Mister?” The pet asks, his head tilting downwards as he forces his eyes up to peer up at the much larger person that Wren is in comparison to the pet. Wren wryly mentally acknowledged the act as an attempt at being cute or seductive and found it laughable as their eyes caught the way the pet trembled in the early morning snow.
“Ain’t much of a night left” Wren gruffly replied, ignoring how the seductive expression of the pets shifted into a more disappointed one. So it was the pet coming onto them, didn’t the pet get enough attention from his mistress and the rest of the settlement? “I’m sure that Mistress of yers won’t be happy to see you tryin’ to snuggle up with a stranger” Wren warned, ignoring how the pet’s face fell even further.
Wren stared the pet down and expected him to protest further, but no such things left his mouth. The pet just stood there, trembling in the cold as snow started to build up on his eyelashes, hair and his thin, cable knit sweater. Wren let out a heavy sigh at the pathetic sight.
“Well, a’ight. C’mon on then so you don’t freeze” Wren relented, rolling their eyes as they saw the way the pet’s little face absolutely lit up at the concession. Wren resumed their walk to their barracks and ignored the clumsy footsteps in the snow behind them.
Who knew tossing these pets a bone was like feeding pigeons? Wren hoped the little pet wouldn’t swarm them outside their barracks all the time now.
TWs: zombie apocalypse, post apocalyptic world, wru mentions, pet whump, dehumanisation
Pet remembered what it was like before he was a pet. It had been hard, and it had been difficult and he remembered being scared. The outbreak had caused his world to tilt on an axis but even before the outbreak, he had never been the best at surviving. He had lived with their Mother for longer than his peers, he had struggled to find work, he had struggled to make friends.
Pet had lived longer than most his more accomplished peers after the outbreak, back when he was still called Lucas. Back when he was still a person. He wasn’t sure how he had managed it but looking back on the hazy memories, it was because someone had always taken pity on him. Lucas hadn’t been strong or smart, he had just looked sad and pathetic.
That’s what made him a good pet now.
Pet had joined the settlement in hopes of gaining protection from the walkers wandering outside. It was nice to be in a group at first, they had fed him and they had told him not to worry about contributing like the others who had joined at the same time as him. Soon, he was being offered extras from others small plates and eventually he was kneeling at people’s sides, and then just his mistresses. It had happened so incrementally he hadn’t even noticed it had started.
Winter was swiftly approaching and his Mistress had him bundled up in the extra scraps of fabric the settlement had. The settlement treated their pets very well, besides for the occasional punishments. Unlike when he was travelling Lucas’ tummy was never empty and he never had to be scared and his calloused hands were allowed to soften as others worked for him. The residents he recognised enjoyed petting his head when he walked past and they cooed and pinched his cheek whenever he gave them puppy dog eyes.
It was easy to see who was new to the settlement as their eyes lingered on Pet and the others with surprise and nostalgia and often commented to his Mistress, or another’s Master, that they were shocked their settlement still kept pets. Sometimes he could see eyes linger at his wrists searching for a barcode that wasn’t there and Pet always ducked his head in embarrassment at the way he had learnt late what he was always meant to be. Only pets made before the outbreak, trained by the WRU Lucas only very distantly remembered reading pamphlets about, had those identifying tattoos.
This winter they didn’t have very many new newcomers. Mistress had spoken with her friend while petting Pet’s head about how she suspected it was due to the number of survivors decreasing every year- especially ones with no group already to huddle in for safety. Pet was lucky he didn’t have to have those conversations, it was hard to keep up with and he wasn’t sure what the world beyond the settlement’s big walls were like now and no-one expect the pet too.
Pet hadn’t meant to stare but when the largest of the newcomers turned their head to stare right at the inquisitive pet he felt ashamed for having been so obvious. He hoped his Mistress hadn’t noticed his misstep and he hoped the stranger was kind. He couldn’t read the stranger’s dark eyes and could only see his own reflection in their pupil instead of the soul beyond them like his Mistress could.
Unexpectedly the stranger tossed him a piece of bread off their plate and Pet gasped at the unexpected, kind gesture. Pet was usually fed later in the evening by his Mistress and so gratefully ate what he was given. He flinched as he heard his Mistress’ chuckle over top of him and looked down as she spoke to the stranger on pet’s behalf.
“It’s good to see you settling in already, Wren. Isn’t my pet such a dear?” His Mistress’ words were quickly followed by affectionate strokes to his head which Pet leaned into and he let the world around him wash away again.
First of a five part series set in a zombie post apocalyptic world where the WRU existed before the outbreak!!!!
TWS: Zombies mention (not prevalent in this part!), post apocalyptic setting, dehumanisation, mentions of pet whump and typical BBU aspects of that
Wren had never cared much for the WRU and ‘human’ pets. Even before the disease had swept across the country and beyond and with it, had taken most of the ‘pets’ the WRU had created. Walkers weren’t fast, and they weren’t smart but they had heard that often box boys wouldn’t even attempt to run in the first place- like someone had already taught them that trying was a worse fate than death.
Wren wasn’t sure if it was true, but they had no reason to believe it was a lie. Their childhood friend’s family pet had acted just like that. They briefly wondered how their childhood friend was, and whether or not he had survived the outbreak and the five years since then. Wren didn’t wonder what happened to the pet, they didn’t know anything about it and human survival mattered more than a box boys.
Wren had been a lone wolf for most of the last five years. They had watched society crumble around them and the small groups that they had drifted through on their travels always seemed to be attempting to mimic that already long dead social structure and Wren thought each was worse off due to it. Why join a society that they already knew was following in footsteps that led right off a cliff?
Despite their distaste for groups, food had been short with all the old gas stations and supermarkets picked clean and most prey ducking in their burrows for the winter and Wren’s hunger had led them right to one of the few settlements that had successfully cultivated a garden behind some tall walls. To stay was to contribute and Wren had taken up the same mantle they did whenever they stayed, security. Their hands were rough and scarred from years of fighting their own battles and handling guns and taking their turn on watch was a fair trade for a belly full of whatever the others could scrounge up.
This settlement seemed to hold onto the old ways that the WRU had set up and had their own version of box boys and while Wren couldn’t understand why they wanted more mouths to feed, seeing the human-like pets kneel at their masters feet as they waited for scraps painted a particularly nostalgic image to Wren, who had grown up in peace times watching such a thing happen when sleeping over at their friends or on the television. Wren could understand the need for escape that led the pets to sign up for such a thing as well, more so than they understood before the outbreak.
Maybe all the time by themselves had just made them soft however, as when a pet’s wide eyes fell on them Wren offered them a scrap from their own rationed plate instead of shooing them away like they should of. They were just staying until the end of winter, not long enough for the wide-eyed thing to become attached anyways. What was the harm in indulging it?
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I have definitely said their ages somewhere before and forgotten to write them down haha! I see Linden as 24 and Vik as 27 (both roughly! ages are never very important to me so i dont bother to pin them down)
I‘m a sucker for deep dives on specific traits of a character!!! Loved the details about Col‘s gait! Could you do another one on his voice? Gimme the details <3
why i would love to :-)
Col's voice is soft. it will get rougher and deeper as he heals. nerves and uncertainty can make your voice wobble higher and higher, so Col's first few weeks of speaking sound quite different to his actual natural voice
his voice will forever remain calm, though. it is calm with a soft Welsh accent. if you know the comedian Rob Brydon, it is quite similar to his Welsh accent- not very strong at all, a blend between Welsh and English. Linden notices that he loses his accent noticeably when he repeats phrases his old Master drummed into him
so his voice is calm, with a normal volume. he speaks very clearly, but he speeds up when he's scared or excited. he is extremely stiff with Vik- it's abundantly clear when Linden returns home and the tension is relieved
when he's really scared, he mumbles or whispers, because he doesnt want to get in any more trouble. he wishes he could just not speak at all when hes already sure he's going to be punished
I have definitely said their ages somewhere before and forgotten to write them down haha! I see Linden as 24 and Vik as 27 (both roughly! ages are never very important to me so i dont bother to pin them down)
CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump
The cold wrapped around Coriander like a silk cloak. The pet took care to close the door as quietly as it could, yet the sound echoed in the still air.
The street was empty when it walked the familiar way to the edge of the forest, snow crunching under its feet. The light of the short winter afternoon was already fading towards night. Christmas decorations still graced the houses with strands and sprays of warmly yellow or brilliantly multicoloured fairy lights.
With every step, the pet could hear a chorus of bad pet, bad pet, bad pet echoing in its inner ear. The trees finally closed in around it - white birches with their filigree branches silvered with frost, dark spruces shelving the snow, a strand of regal aspens reaching towards the deepening sky. Without thinking, the pet took the well-trod path up the hill, towards the pines on top of the ridge. Every now and then, an image of Miss Lydia on the floor rose unbidden in its mind. Her heartbroken expression when the pet rejected her apology.
The pet was shaking. Full-body tremors that had nothing to do with the cold. The warm jacket - bought for you by Miss Lydia, as a part of the pet’s mind unhelpfully reminded it - kept the winter’s chill at bay. The storm that made it shiver was all in its mind.
It was violently thrown between feeling almost triumphant - it was right and finally it had got to say it - guilty - Miss Lydia had taken care of it, unlike its previous Masters - and terrified. What if this was the breaking point, the time Miss Lydia decided to send it away, for retraining or simply to be returned to the WRU?
bad pet, bad pet, bad pet, bad pet, bad pet
The path meandered up the hill in lazy serpentine swirls. Dusk was slowly gathering among the trees, but the sky still held on to its brilliant blue light. Every breath was tinged with scents of frost and woodsmoke.
No one else was around. The forest was quiet, not even birds stirred. The fresh snow on the ground revealed that only the pet had been walking here for at least some time. The glimpses of fairy lights receding down the hill as the pet ascended reminded it of warmth, and companionship, and buttered toast in front of the fire.
It was lonely out here, and suddenly, the pet felt a new kind of fear. What if there was someone here? Someone dangerous, someone threatening, someone who did not wish the pet well?
Logically, Coriander understood that this was not likely. Who would stand and wait at the edge of the frozen forest on the off chance that a stranger would pass? But the fear remained.
The pet considered turning. It had no real reason to climb the hill in the first place. The chill made its bad shoulder ache. If it wanted to go, it could still go in the morning.
It could return home. To the warmth and safety, it could even apologise to Miss Lydia, mend their relationship. This could all pass.
But somehow, stubbornly, Coriander continued. Putting one foot in front of the other. A long line of footprints in the snow behind, untouched snow like an unwritten page ahead.
The stars came out in the darkling sky, like lanterns lighting one by one. As Cory followed the path, it felt like the pet would soon walk among them. It was fully dark among the trees now.
Even if Coriander already knew what to expect, the sudden unfolding of the forest still took the pet’s breath away.
The snowy pines like a shield at the pet’s back. In front of it, the lights of its own neighbourhood and the other residential areas nearby, rising to a city center crescendo almost straight ahead. The streetlights, bright neon signs, lit windows, moving cars, and left-over Christmas decorations shining like jewels in a giant’s chest of treasures. Further away, roads and fields and forests, stretching away into the night.
Coriander had always thought that a life without a Master would be desolate. Stretching out in front of it as a wasteland, devoid of hope, devoid of meaning. Now, for the first time, the pet considered an alternative.
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CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump
”Cory, can we talk?”
”Yes, Mist…” He swallowed, ducking his head. ”Yes, Miss Lydia.”
Lydia sat down crosslegged on the floor, so that they were at the same level. Her brown, warm eyes searched the pet’s face. Cory avoided her gaze with downcast eyes.
Lydia took a deep breath, and clasped her hands together in her lap.
”I…” Her voice wavered unsteadily. She paused and cleared her throat. ”I’m not sure how to talk about this.” She said. ”And I am nervous about it.” At this, Coriander looked up at her face, a quick, darting glance, before lowering his eyes to the floor again.
”I wanted to tell you what it was like… What happened when I bought you.” When the pet said nothing, she continued.
”You know some of this already. I had gotten the inheritance, and I was looking for something to do with the windfall. I wanted to do something good.” She blushed, and looked down at her hands. ”Maybe I felt that I didn’t really deserve the money. At least I wanted to use some of it to benefit someone else. And I met Ceci and Absalom, and they seemed fine. Then I watched this documentary…” She sighed. ”It seems lame now, but for some reason I found it really compelling.” She paused and looked at Coriander.
”I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to defend myself. I just want you to know… to know what I was thinking and how it happened. I have found the documentary again. We can watch it if you want?” When Cory still didn’t say anything, she continued.
”I didn’t know what it was like. It just seemed like a good idea and I decided to go for it. When you came…” She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the creak of the heavy, wooden lid being opened in front of her. ”When you came, it was nothing like what I had expected.” She took a deep breath and leaned forward.
”I am sorry.” Lydia paused, to give weight to her words.
”I am sorry for what happened to you. You know this already, but it was absolutely wrong, and I am terribly sorry. I hate that I gave money to the WRU. They have probably used all that money to enslave more people. I was being naive and stupid, and I believed in their lies. I thought I was doing a good thing, but I was not. I’m really sorry about that too. Still…” There was a glint of steely conviction in her voice.
”I am not sorry that you came into my life. I really want you to know that, Cory. If I hadn’t bought you, I think you probably would…” She broke off abruptly. ”Well. Nevermind.” She moved her hand downwards, cutting the air to emphasise her point. ”I do not regret it. I’m happy that I got to know you, and you have given me so much.” Her voice broke a little, and she had to pause to blink away tears. ”A-and I want to thank you for that, no matter what happens now.”
The pet looked at her from underneath his bangs. A raw, naked look, his wide grey eyes swimming with tears. ”Miss Lydia…”
He took a shivering breath, and she could see the turn in him. He shook his head, sharply. No. He set his jaw and looked straight at her. Grey eyes meeting brown.
”I-is this it?” He asked.
”Um…” Lydia looked at him, bewildered. ”Yes? Well, I can show you the e-mails between me and WRU staff, if you want? Most of our communication was over the phone, but I have some e-mails as well.”
”N-no.” Coriander shook his head, just once, in a sharp, short movement that made his blonde hair dance around his face. He was visibly shaking, but pushing through with steely determination. ”I-is this it, as in, you say sorry, and that’s it. Sorry that t-this pet - that I - went through….” He paused for a deep. shivering breath. ”… went t-though all that.” His grey eyes shimmered with tears, but he refused to look away. ”T-they broke me, Miss Lydia. They broke me so that s-someone like you could own me.”
He sounded like he would have liked to spit on the floor.
”A-at least s-some of the o-other owners went to the trouble to have t-this pet specifically trained. Customised to fit t-their needs.
You j-just picked me up on a whim. Miss Lydia.” His voice didn’t shiver anymore, his tone was cold and sharp. A sword of ice.
”Sorry doesn’t cut it.”
Lydia sat there on the floor. Dejected. The pale light of the early winter afternoon washing out the colours of her brown hair and her pink and grey woollen jumper. She didn’t trust her voice, so she just nodded once.
Coriander got to his feet first.
“I-if this pet may be excused?” He said politely, his face an emotionless mask. When Lydia nodded mutely, Coriander turned and, once again, went to the hallway to get dressed. The pet moved with his usual, quiet elegance, but quickly, as if he could not bear to be in her presence for even a moment longer.
Lydia slowly got up from the floor and went to the window. The blonde young man stopped by the letterbox and turned to look back at the house. When he saw her in the window, he averted his gaze and continued out on the street. Soon, only his footsteps in the thin layer of new snow remained.
When Coriander came back, hours later, Lydia had gone to bed. On his bedside table, he found a couple of folded A4 papers, printed copies of the conversations Lydia had had with the WRU staff, and info about the WRU-produced documentary. On a violet post-it note Lydia had written: “This is everything I’ve got in writing. Perhaps it doesn’t matter anymore, but here it is, anyway.”
*
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Tw: Whumpee, dehumanisation, BBU setting, pet Whumpee, captivity, implied sexual abuse
Pet had always lived in these dark four walls its owner calls a basement. It sometimes remembers briefly the blinding bright room of the training facility as well, but it hadn’t lived there. It and every pet who floated through the facility knew that it was a temporary hell that one had to bear before they found their forever homes. Pet didn’t remember a time before the training facility and everytime it tried its head hurt and ached and it recalled its handler telling it that the before didn’t matter and didn’t exist.
Pet shakes off those thoughts, and any sleepiness still clinging to its drowsy form. It rises from the mattress it’s allowed to sleep on. The mattress smelled of mildew and was only slightly softer than the cold concrete that it laid on. Pet still recalled the day it was brought down to ease the strain on its owner when she deigned to use him for the purpose he was bought for. It had been a while since then, there was always ups and downs in its owners marriage and it only saw her for more than dinner time when it was down.
There was little else down in the basement except for the mattress and the stairs leading up into… into… Pet doesn’t recall what the top of the stairs was called anymore. Whenever the door resting at the very top swung upon all their eyes could see was this ray of blinding light. Pet’s eyes always struggled to keep open looking up at it, tears would bead up in its lash line as it stared right into it until the door once again swung closed. The light reminded them of a salty smell, like their mistress’ sweat or something hovering just past the memory of antiseptic and sterile white walls. Pet always had to remind themselves that whatever laid further didn’t exist.
Pet had been taught how to sit idle and wait, to stare into the distance and find something interesting in the way the world would blur around them but even that got boring when it was all it had to do. It didn’t remember how to count, so it had named every ceiling beam and it would whisper each beams name to itself to occupy its time. Today it walked around the basement to try and see if there was something more that it hadn’t found the last.. last forever times it had walked around it’s home.
Staircase, rat trap, wall, mattress, wall, wall, wall, staircase, rat trap, wall, mattress, wall, window, wall, staircase, rat tra-
Window?
Pet didn’t know what that was or why that had jumped to its mind. It headed back to the wall next to their mattress and stared at the solid wall of concrete and ran his soft fingers over the endless sea of gray.
Sea
Was that was what was on the tip of his tongue? Beyond the aftertaste of antiseptic and poison? It can’t remember what that was but it makes his heart ache. Ache more than the bruises it had gotten back in training, ache more than it’s body and back did sleeping on the mattress… but this ache made him feel more complete, unlike how aches usually made him feel. The word sea tasted like the blinding light at the top of the staircase he stared into until all he could see was that light, it tasted like it’s mistresses sweat but with none of the shame.
His fingers traced in a rectangle along the hard wall for reasons he himself couldn’t understand. Pet tries to think of what this sea would be beyond the solid concrete. But its mind blanks out. They can hear the voice of their former handler again parroting ‘it doesn’t matter, there was no before it doesn’t exist’.. but which was it really? Did it not exist? Or did it just not matter?
