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maracujatangerine · 4 months

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The Gift Exchange, part 1

CW: institutionalised slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation

“Miss Lydia, Miss Lydia, what do you think about this?.”

Coriander jogged into the kitchen, brandishing a roll of wrapping paper patterned with abstract swirls in silver and dark green. The silver accents glittered in the pale winter morning sunlight falling in through the windows.

“It is really pretty!” Miss Lydia smiled, brown eyes warm. “Good choice, Cory!”

The blonde pet ducked his head, but smiled back from underneath his bangs. He wore a soft, green sweater with leather patches on the elbows that matched his chestnut trousers.

Lydia was dressed in a dark grey, knitted dress with red leggings. She leaned over the table to move the pot with the red and white amaryllis out of the way.

“Should we wrap everything into one present, or should we wrap each gift separately, do you think?”

“T-this pet thinks we should w-wrap one gift for Colton and one for Linden, b-but that all their gifts can be wrapped together.”

“That’s a good idea, let’s do that.”

Coriander spread out several seed packages on the table and studied them thoughtfully. Closest to Lydia was a packet with a picture of lush, green sugar snap peas labelled: ‘Mangetout, pea seeds 'Norli' ORGANIC’. Then, there were two packets both marked ‘Thunbergia alata, Black-eyed Susan’, the first one called ‘African Sunset’ in shades of red and apricot, the second one ‘Alba Oculata’ in brilliant white. The final was a handwritten envelope simply marked in Cory’s neat handwriting: ‘Chili, mix’.

“Are you happy with those seeds?”

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia. C-Colton will be able to grow them on the balcony, and i-it will be fun that we both can try to grow the same seeds. P-perhaps we can compare notes.”

Cory gathered the seed packets and tied them together with a neat red bow. Meanwhile, Lydia grabbed a hardback book. The blue dust jacket had brightly coloured leaves scattered all over the cover. The title stood out in bright white: When we were birds, by Ayanna Lloyd Banwo.

Opening the book, she wrote on the inside of the cover. ‘To Linden. Merry Christmas and best wishes for the new year.’ Signing it, she handed it over to Coriander to add his name too.

“‘It is a bit of a risky gift,” she admitted to Cory, “since I haven’t read the book yet, but it seems so good. I got a copy for myself too, and I hope I will get the chance to read it over the holidays.”

They added two bags of homemade butterscotch candy in green paper cups, and two reused milk cartoons filled with gingerbread cookies, the result of last night’s baking spree.

Lydia and Cory put their joint efforts into wrapping the gifts into two neat packages. The dark, red ribbon a nice contrast to the green and silver wrapping paper.

“Let’s go for a walk and send it off this afternoon.” Coriander nodded.

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia.”

Linden wiggled the pen between his thumb and index finger, deep in thought. Leaning back in his kitchen chair, he looked over at Colton, who was working diligently at the end of the table. With wholly unbroken concentration, he was pulling strips of sellotape from the dispenser and sticking them in a neat row along the table’s wooden edge. When Linden had done the altogether far more fiddly task of wrapping a gift up, Col could pluck a pre-cut piece of tape and stick it in place. It was, as Linden had said about fifty times, excellent teamwork.

“Hey, Col, have you ever seen this before?” Linden asked, lifting his hand for Col to see. With the pen held right in its middle, Linden wiggled it gently, until it looked as if the pen was bending at the edges.

Col’s eyebrows twitched, and for a beautiful second Linden thought he was going to burst out laughing. Instead, his mouth curved upwards into a tiny smile. “Yes, Sir. I have.”

“Ah, not too impressive then. Haha, no matter.”

“Do you need any tape for the envelope, Sir?” Col asked, eyeing the Christmas card laid out in front of Linden.

“In a second… I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Ah, okay, Sir.”

Col took another breath, as if to speak, then stopped himself. Linden prided himself on reading Col well enough by now to know that it was because he wanted to ask a question. Probably what are you trying to figure out?

“I’ve written my part of Lydia and Cory’s card, but I’m not sure how to do yours. I’m not going to make you try and hold a pen. I was thinking - do you want to just dictate it? It doesn’t have to be much, just a little festive greeting sort of thing. I can be your text-to-speech robot.”

Linden was always cheery around Christmas time. Something about winter setting in, dark and long and rainy, and then being cut through by glittering lights, gifts and music. Today, he felt like he was on a veritable warpath to make Col smile.

“That sounds good, Sir… I can do that.”

“Great!” Linden said, overjoyed that Colton hadn’t taken issue with the idea of ‘dictating’ something to his owner, hadn’t overthought any possible rule-breaking that could come with speaking and forcing his Master to write it all down. “And instead of you signing the card the normal way, I thought you could do a fingerprint?”

“That’s a good idea, Sir, thank you for c-”

“Wait, no!” Linden said, making Col flinch. “Sorry, I’m sorry love. I just realised. We’ll both do our fingerprints. That’ll be nice. Then we’re the same.”

There it was again, the coveted half-smile. Col’s cheeks glowed. “Thank you, Sir, that’s really kind. I think- I, uh…”

“Go on,” Linden said warmly. “I want to hear what you think.”

“I think Lydia and Cory will like that, Sir.”

“I agree. Now, here’s what I’ve written.”

Linden pushed the card over. He’d written a short message making light of the strange way they first crossed paths, saying how glad he now was to know the both of them, wishing them a peaceful and happy holiday. He waited patiently as Colton gave his message some thought, then wrote it down exactly as dictated on the left hand side of the card.

Linden found some stamp ink in the back of a drawer, and the two of them rolled their index fingers in it until they could leave two bold prints, one below each message.

Once the card was sealed, it was time for the gifts. Lydia’s gift was a specially-made book embosser, which had EX LIBRIS - LYDIA WINTERTHORPE printed onto it. The embosser itself was a satisfying, weighty thing, and Linden hoped she’d get great pleasure out of stamping all of her most beloved books.

Cory’s gift was also a bespoke item: a brass door sign with his name, Coriander, printed on it. It had ornate rounded corners which gave the thing a rustic, rather stately look, and although Linden had never seen Lydia’s house he guessed it would fit right in. He had run the gift idea past Col first - would a pet such as Cory be okay with claiming the bedroom as his in this way? Col had given it a fair share of thought, ultimately telling Linden, in a way that sounded more like a sinful confession, that Cory would like it very much.

The two men performed their well-honed wrapping ritual, with Col sticking down the final piece of tape with a flourish.

This is a collaboration between @whumpzone and @maracujatangerine.

We would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas!

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @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

#lydia and linden #lydia and coriander #linden and colton #whump fic #pet whump #pet whumpee #bbu #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #box boy whump #writers on tumblr #original writing #christmas whump #chirstmas

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catty-whump-us · 1 year

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First time posting my whump art, please be kind 🙏

if you guys like this, I might open myself up for whump/box boy art requests!

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boxboysandotherwhump · 2 years

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whumppsychology · 11 months

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Waking up - Part two

Part one here

Tag: @justplainwhump

CW: same as last time... bbu shenanigans, box babes and all that, potential questionable-con mention, still mostly just fluff

Not her owner. He wasn't her owner. She cock her head in confusion. But then how did she get here? Why was she here? He saw her confusion and rushed to explain,

"Sophie, Baby... You got taken... Those pet-makers got you. God, I was so worried! All of a sudden you were just gone! I looked everywhere! I called all our friends... When I finally figured out where you were I knew I had to come rescue you!"

That... wasn't right. Pain lanced through her head again and she wasn't sure if it was for an aberrant thought or for contradicting her owner. But he wasn't her owner, he had said. Tears welled in her eyes. “You're… You're not my owner? Then…what am I… Please! I'm made to fulfill my owner’s wishes. All I am is a pet, a toy, a pretty thing to love and hurt and fuck. I am an active participant in fulfilling my owner’s desires. Where is my owner?”

The man on the bed with her made a complicated face, something equally concerned and…pleased. Maybe he could see what a good pet she tried to be. Maybe she could convince him to keep her and he wouldn't send her back.

“My darling, you're not a pet! Oh, they really have done a number on you, haven't they? Do you remember me? My name is Peter. You're my girlfriend. You're my beautiful damsel.”

“And you're my white knight” she found herself saying before she had even fully processed his words.

“Forever and always.” He finished, joy lighting up his green eyes. “You remember!”

She didn't remember, not quite, but pieces of a memory were filtering its way into her consciousness. A horrible, cold white room screams in the background and warm arms scooping her up. Carrying her out of that place. So apparently she was his after all! She was still a pet, of course, she knew her place, but maybe she could be his “girlfriend” too. It's what he seemed to want, and she wanted to make him happy. She wanted to be near him, to feel his strong arms around her, to feel wanted. She looked up at him from under her lashes.

“You rescued me. You… You still want me, right? Even though I'm…” She didn't quite know how to finish her question but it didn't matter because he was already nodding and pulling her into a crushing embrace.

“I will always want you, my love. You were made for me.”

#iwnsc #my writing #bbu community #bbucommunity #box babe #box boy multiverse #Sophie Collins #peter knight #Ya they're short #I'm impatient ok?#also I'm still trying to get a feel for her #I know where I want this to go #I just don't entirely know how I want this to go #i'd love to hear your thoughts

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whumplr-reader · 11 months

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WRU Press Release (March 23, 2020)

{Day 10: In-BBU-media} Create a piece of media that could exist within the BBU - everything from twitter post to newspaper feature to ad transcript to WRU press release! Pet lib call for action to desperate owner self help reddit thread. Go wild!

I know WRU is usually set in the near-future, but I got to wondering how they would have handled the early pandemic. This isn't a well written press release (thanks mysterious illness[s] that have been killing my life the past few weeks), but I'm going to blame the employees in-universe who were overwhelmed by everything and just rushing to get it out the door...

WRU Announces New Pickup Acquisitions with Fast Payment; Online Ordering and Support Remain Open; Confirms Employee Compensation Continues

March 23, 2020 — Arlington, VA — WRU Inc, the nation's leading Pet and Service Companion company, announced today that its temporary pause on retail acquisitions due to the COVID-19 pandemic will not stop it from allowing new applicants to sign up. WRU now offers same-day pickups and Same Day Rewards™ across North America, giving even those without transportation a new path forward in life.

Same Day Rewards™ is a new initiative that delivers full payment to an applicant's designated recipient within twenty-four hours of acceptance. Applicants may also choose to have part of their remuneration paid in groceries and other necessities delivered straight to their loved ones' homes.

"We know times are tough, and we want all members of the WRU family to feel taken care of," said Jennifer Wakelyn, CEO of WRU Inc. "Whether that's assisting the families of our newest associates or providing in-home childcare to our retail operatives who are now working remotely, WRU is committed to our people, as we've shown by consistently being scored as one of the best employers in America." (Fortune 2019 and Business Week 2019 surveys, among others).

"Part of taking care of our people is safety, and that is absolutely our top priority. To ensure the safety of our employees and our customers, we have worked with doctors and epidemiologists to design a quarantine system that minimizes risk to all," Wakelyn continued. "Although we have had to close our retail locations, we want to reassure everyone that they can still rely on WRU, on our support, and on our products."

The newly designed quarantine procedures include a minimum of three days isolation followed by testing for all outgoing orders and in-coming acquisitions. Customers can request further measures, which will be added free for Caregivers and Service Pets or for a small surcharge on all other designations.

As noted in Friday's press release, all online shopping options remain open, and dedicated support team members have moved to a "work-from-home" environment that will assist them in providing industry-leading assistance to all customers and applicants. Employees at the company's thousands of retail locations across the country are being fully compensated while their workplaces are shut down.

You may also be interested in...

WRU Announces Pause in On-Site Retail Operations; Online Ordering and Support Remain Open; All Employee Compensation Continues March 20, 2020 — Arlington, VA — WRU Inc will temporarily close all retail locations in response to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. Read more…

@bbu-on-the-side

#a Seera original #my writing #bbucommunity #bbu community #bbu community event 2023 #day10 #bbu meta #box boy multiverse #whump event #bbu worldbuilding #WRU - a corporation #box boy universe #intradiegetic document #tw institutionalized slavery

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whumper-whimsy · 1 year

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Cw: pet whump, abuse, bbu, humiliation, whipping, it as a pronoun (trained)

Pet sat under the large dining table between Sir's feet. It half-listened to the bustling conversations and clinks of silver utensils on expensive china.

It was Sir's–the prince's– birthday today, and an extravagant dinner had been put into place to celebrate.

It laid its chin on the Prince's thighs, catching his attention.

"Hello, sweet pet." Sir scooted his chair back slightly, peering down at Pet with a smile. He squeezed the handle of Pet's gold chain, removing a bit of the slack.

"Sir, may I have a bit of your meal?" It asked, reassured by its owners good mood.

"Of course, give me a second," Sir returned his attention to the table, and a second later his hand appeared with a large bite of tender-looking steak. "Eat up, baby."

Pet ate the chunk straight from Sir's hand, reveling in the taste. The meat was warm and tasted of garlic. After it swallowed the chunk down, it licked the extra juice from where Sir's ring and middle finger met.

"Thank you, your majesty~ Delicious." It said between gentle licks.

"'Your majesty,' huh? You're adorable~" Sir purred, his voice low and sweet like warm honey. His hand brushed through Pet's hair, ruffling the freshly cleaned curls.

Pet enjoyed how Sir's hand continued to play with its hair, even as he returned his attention to the other royalty and friends.

Sir had asked before if it wanted to sit at the table, but it had politely refused. It wasn't uncommon for royalty or other members of the upper class to own pets like it, but it had always been embarrassed anyway. It much preferred sitting between Sir's knees anyway.

Pet tilted its head up, Sir's hand stilling over its face. Pet opened its mouth and drew its tongue slowly up his warm palm. Sir lowered his hand so his ring and middle finger were pressed against its tongue.

It began to suck on the prince's long fingers, drool running down its lip.

A boot rested on its thigh posessively, pushing slightly. Sir leaned back and looked down for a second.

"Don't bite." He warned, running his finger along the bottom of its top teeth. His mood still seemed pretty good, so Pet playfully bit down, closing its lips around the fingers.

Sir's hand withdrew and in the next moment, Pet was on its side, clutching its chest where it was kicked. It held back a whine as Sir's boot planted against its cheekbone and ground its face into the polished wooden floor. "Im sorry!" It squealed.

The chattering at the table stopped, save for a few hushed mumbles.

"Well," Sir announced. "It seems it's time for the entertainment of the night."

The weight lifted from its face, and it felt Sir tug it by its collar. It got to its hands and knees and pushed past the chair.

Sir was cheerful as ever, humming to himself.

Pet was dragged to an open part of the hall where anyone at the feast could see. Sir dropped his end of the gold leash.

"As all of you know, today marks my 30th bithday!" Sir declared, walking around Pet in a circle, a display. "My pet has been naughty tonight," he leaned down, "haven't you?"

Pet looked up. "Sir, Im sorry! I didn't mean it! I thought you were playing around!"

"My sweet thing decided to bite me," he announced, coming to a stop. "Ill let you all pick how he's punished. 30 of anything."

"Im sorry!"

Pet expected someone to protest. For anyone to be disgusted. For one fucking person to go 'hey, maybe we shouldnt punish it for doing absolutely nothing.'

It didn't expect people to start calling out suggestions.

"Break 30 of its bones!"

"Beat it with a belt!"

"Punch it!"

"30 cuts across its back!"

The symphony of threats sang like a hymn from the table. At one point, a woman with a extravagant dress slid a short crop into the mouth of a boy leashed to her wrist. She mumbled something to him and he crawled to the end of his leash and dropped it near Sir's feet.

"Why thank you!" Sir exclaimed, picking it up and ruffling the pet's hair. "Beautiful pet you have here, ma'am."

As the boy crawled away, Sir picked up the crop and approached Pet. He crouched to its level and held its cheek.

"Please, Sir, not in front of everyone! Ill take double the punishment if you do this in private." It begged him, refusing to look up.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Just a show, dear. Im not really mad. Scream pretty for our guests and I won't have to hit as hard."

Pet curled its head in between its knees, horror seeping through every nerve. Was that supposed to be comforting?

He was waiting for me to slip up.

It looked back at the boy who had delivered the crop. He kneeled at the side of the woman, hands behind his back and head bent. Once and a while, though, he glanced up, empathy shining in his clear, gray eyes.

Sir stood next to Pet, his fingers running through its hair. "Looks like we're whipping him tonight. Close your eyes now, if you wish."

And then came the first hit. Pain stung across his bare back. He didn't need to pretend to scream.

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

Pet screamed and blabbered in pain. About ten whips in, Pet noticed how they got weaker. It kept its voice up, knowing that if it got quieter, the pain would grow worse again.

Twenty whips in, its back was getting numb. The pain still seared when its heart beat and blood pulsed through the wounds, but it was better than nothing.

"Please-" it still begged. "Hurts so bad-"

Of course, a chorus of no! Keep going!

"Oh?" Sir stopped, using the crop to push up its chin. "Well let the others decide." He turned to the crowd. "Should I stop?"

The pet who had brought the crop chimed in, "stop, he- he didn't-" He cut off abruptly as his owner dug her nails into his shoulder.

"Im sorry, Pet," Sir said, dragging the crop up its face and hovering over its back. "Our guests want a show."

#whump blog #whump scenario #emotional whump #whump community #whump tropes #whumpblr #whump fic #whumper #whumpee #whump #bbu whump #bbu #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #box boy whump

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lucakairomi · 1 year

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Had some ideas and snippets for the BBU/WRU/pet universe that I don’t know what to do with, so thought I'd share in case anyone gets inspired! I'll probably reference these in my writing! Feel free to reference, expand upon, and use, just tag me so I can read it!

In the future, WRU has gained enough power and political sway to become it's own corporate state. Additionally, the rise of genetic and behavioral modification (perhaps cloning?) allows for the creation of "custom" Pets- for an exorbitant fee the WRU can choose and edit pets to match their buyers- sex, height, features, and even disposition. This has created a high demand for Show Pets- Pets created to their owner's exact specifications and trained solely to act as decoration. However, the removal of the "voluntary" label on these types of Pets caused public opinions on WRU to decline, causing them to withdraw public sales of custom Pets. The market is still very much active however- a sign of status among the upper echelons of the rich and powerful.

The PLM (Pet Liberation Movement) is a pet welfare advocacy group and one of the biggest opposers of the WRU. They run safehouse networks, connect with pet shelters, and provide resources for freed or former pets. Given that their actions are technically illegal, most of their more drastic methods are kept secret from the eyes of the public.

#whump #my writing #whump prompt #bbu #wru #bbu prompts #pet whump #dehumanisation tw #pet whump ideas #my ocs #whump writing #wru worldbuilding #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #ooc

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distinctlywhumpthing · 2 years

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hi:) I have a question: how old is Aiden really? It's quite strange to think of him as a child, even though Leo only thinks of him that way

— Masterlist —

@alittlewhump beta reads everything and fixes my last lines <3

CW: Institutionalized slavery, dehumanization, conditioning, panic attack, PTSD, typical Aiden.

“How old are you, Hon?”

The question sent a shiver down Aiden's spine.

Leo took a sip of his coffee like he wasn’t in a hurry but his eyes never left Aiden’s face.

Aiden knew the Correct answer, could feel it like it had been punched into him like one of those label makers with the adhesive strips of blue plastic. Each letter turning the plastic white with the strain of absorbing its shape but it would never break. It was made to take it. Aiden swallowed and shook his head. It hurt worse to get it wrong than it did to say nothing at all. Even with Leo staring at him expectantly. He did his best to swallow the dread but he couldn’t dispel the crawling sensation that seemed to burrow under his skin.

Leo sighed softly. “Okay, okay. Uhm, I know you can’t—I know speaking isn’t easy, but do you think you could write it down?” He opened a drawer where he stood on the other side of the island and pulled out a pad of square yellow papers with a pencil.

What? His Master had to be joking. This was a test? Did he think…had he been misinformed? Aiden tightened his fist until the cut on his palm felt white hot and numb at the same time. He wasn’t aware that his breathing had kicked up a notch until Leo pulled back the paper and pencil.

“Hey, never mind. Okay?” He shut them back into the drawer and took another sip of coffee that was deliberately slow.

But Aiden couldn’t seem to relax. All he could think about was the pounding of his own heart and he couldn’t even hear his breathing over it.

“Easy, easy.” Leo was coming around the island with his hands raised. “It’s okay, it’s not important.”

He couldn’t bring his shoulders down from nearly touching his ears, he couldn’t stop the rushing and pounding, he couldn’t stop himself from flinching away, nearly folding onto the counter when Leo’s palm came to rest between his shoulder blades.

More rushing, pounding, hushing, shushing. As soon as recognized himself rocking to match the sound, his throat was closing and he was choking on the cry that came with the realization. His vision blurred and he thought the room was spinning, was sure he was falling.

But after he blinked away some of the tears, he realized Leo had turned him and held him in a proper hug.

It was Leo sushing him. It was Leo rocking him.

Aiden melted into the embrace like he deserved it. Just for a second, he told himself. It didn’t really matter. He was already broken and had already fallen apart. He wasn’t staying but he wasn’t going back.

The sobs seemed to hitch from the exact center of the empty, aching void pressed against his ribs.

He could only cry harder at the feeling.

— Masterlist —

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @mazeish @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump @painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings @peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup @jadeocean46910 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo

#bbu #box boy universe #box boy rescue #box boy whump #box boy multiverse #bbu whump #whumpee thinks caretaker is new master #institutionalized slavery tw #dehumanization tw #conditioning tw #panic attack tw #look she's not dead she will still answer asks #slowly but surely #with half-answers for you to interpret as you wish #sorry not sorry for being vague #have also shamelessly inserted a few plot clues that will make sense later #okay that's enough internet #crawling back into my cave now #<3

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rookthebird · 1 year

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character who’s grown up indoors seeing snow for the first time and not knowing how dangerous it is. it’s so pretty to touch and hold and climb in. but then he starts realizing he can’t feel his fingers, and he’s wandered very far from home trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue...

#hypothermia #hypothermia whump #cold whump #winter whump #environmental whump #innocent whumpee #box boy multiverse #clarien would absolutely do this.#note to self #check if clarien is cold-blooded

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andromeda-whump · 1 year

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So me and a friend are thinking up BBU stuff and we thought up an idea of “BBU but the boxies are animal hybrids” because it was kind of immersion-breaking to realize that technically afaik there isn’t anything truly separating box boys from other people who aren’t box boys other than supposed “volunteering” to become a boxie

So do with that what you will :)

#box boy universe #box boy multiverse #box boy whump #whump #whump writing #pet whump #tw institutionalized slavery #tw slavery

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maracujatangerine · 30 days

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I woke up thinking about this so I'm asking! How would Cory fair if, for some unimaginable reason, Lydia had no choice but to have Wayland watch him for the weekend??

84. Unfortunate Circumstances

CW: NSFW, non-con, institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

“Of course, dearest. You and Lydia should enjoy your girls’ weekend together and I’ll keep an eye on the pets.”

“Are you sure you are all right with looking after Cory-boy, too?”

“No problem, Ceci. It isn’t more than right considering your friend took care of Brutus for our trip. We should help her in return.”

Mistress Cecilia pouted prettily.

”But that sounds so boring and full of drudgery, dear. Perhaps I should stay to keep you company?”

Wayland gave Cecilia an affectionate kiss. “Don’t you worry! I’ll have some fun too. I might have a few friends over tonight.”

“That sounds better.” She wrapped him in a quick hug. “See you in a couple of days!” Looking at Absalom, Brutus and Coriander all kneeling in line, she added. “Be good, pets.”

And then she was out of the door.

Handcuffs clinked as Wayland locked Cory’s hands behind the pet’s back. Then, he pushed him down to kneel on the cold floor. Brutus watched helplessly as Coriander, naked, lowered his head. His scarred back, the vulnerable arc of his spine, the blonde hair falling freely around his face. The fair-haired pet looked… broken.

Wayland rubbed his hands together, grinning.

”Don’t worry your sweet little head, pet. We are going to have fun together. First, Absalom is going to make you feel so good. He is a wizard with that mouth of his. He knows exactly what to do.” He smiled languidly. “And then, Brutus here, will take you from behind.”

Wayland reached up and patted Brutus’ upper arm a couple of times. Just like you would pat your horse or your hunting dog. For once, Brutus didn’t feel the elation that praise from his Master usually gave. Instead, he felt a sick, cold dread roiling in his stomach.

“You’re going to pop some pills, boy.” Wayland said. “So that you can stay nice and hard for a long, long time.” He chuckled to himself. “This will be a show for me and the lads to enjoy. I have heard from Cecilia that your dear Mistress Lydia doesn’t even play with her boy toy.” He spat. “Just what you could expect from that fridgid bitch, am I right?”

He reached out to smooth over Coriander’s hair in a mock caress, only to violently fist his hand into the silken, blonde tresses and force the shivering pet’s head up. Tears glimmered in Cory’s grey eyes, catching the lamplight, but the pet did not let them fall.

“Hmm.” Wayland almost purred at the sight. “But that should mean that you are nice and tight.” He laughed. “Perhaps too nice a treat for a simple guard dog, maybe all of us should have you? Brutus can get his chance when we are all done.”

He looked up, behind Brutus’ shoulder. “What do you think, Absalom? You little whore. I’m sure you have all the experience in the world when it comes to these matters, don’t you?”

The romantic gracefully sidestepped Brutus’ hulking form and sashayed into the room. When he passed the guard dog, he turned his head and locked eyes with Brutus. The eye contact somehow electrifying, meaningful, as if he wanted to share a message. But Brutus had no idea what Absalom meant to convey, and the moment passed.

“That’s right, Master.” Absalom stepped close to Wayland, let his hand glide lightly down the bigger man’s chest. He looked up at him through his eyelashes. “But..” Absalom said slowly. “Why would you bother with these… amateurs?” The pet tilted his head upwards, as if inviting a kiss. “I can give you and your friends all the entertainment you need.”

He turned his head slowly towards the door. Again, that meaningful glance towards Brutus. An expression of urgency flickering over his face, only to be completely erased when Absalom looked up towards Wayland again. “You can send them away.” He suggested, coyly. “We can have some privacy to enjoy ourselves before your friends arrive.”

“Aha, I know what you want.” Wayland said. “You just want to have the chance to curry some extra favour for yourself.” He laughed. “That’s kind of sly. Smart for a pet, at least.” He grabbed Absalom’s chin, forcing the pet’s head further upwards. “It will be fun playing with you. But me and the lads, we probably want some novelty as well.”

He looked over all the three pets with a calculating expression that chilled Brutus’ blood.

”Maybe..” he said, and the glint in his eyes held no hint of clemency or compassion. “Maybe I’ll just take all three of you at once.”

Brutus awoke, heart still beating fast with fear. The familiarity of the sparse room. The shapes of his weights on the rack at the end of his bed, each of them glistening silver in the light from the street lamps. The hard cot beneath him. It all brought him back to reality.

Coriander was safe, at home, with his owner. Absalom probably asleep upstairs.

It had all just been a dream. But the uneasy feeling stayed with Brutus for a long time.

The ‘it was just a dream’-trope is a bit of a cheap cop-out, I agree. Sorry about that. ☺️

I don’t think Lydia would ever leave Coriander with Wayland. She would rather leave him to stay home alone.

Thank you for the fun ‘what-if’-inspiration, Anon! ✨💖✨ (I love getting asks, but I am very slow in responding to them.)

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

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catty-whump-us · 1 year

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A moment of appreciation for the many renditions of Joe Goldberg's infamous cage; or as I like to think of it, the Glass Box.

#netflix you #joe goldberg #whump #whump community #box boy #bbu #box boy multiverse #box boy whump #whumper #whump tropes #caretaker #psychological whump #violent whumpee #violent whumper #romantic whump

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yjwhatif · 2 years

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MOM!Ed going up against Fate and Klarion who have teamed up together in an act of desperation, the duo one of the last lines of defense against the witch and if they can’t stop him…no one can. No one will be able to stop him from getting what he wants. Their worlds Bart.

LOVE IT!! Gotta love a Klarion/Fate team up - they are the Loki and Thor of YJ! Them against OP!Ed would be epic!

#thanks anon!#ask box #my response #MOM au #multiverse of madness #young justice #yj #bart allen #eduardo dorado jr #klarion the witch boy #Nabu #dr fate

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whumplr-reader · 11 months

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bbu community intro

* {Day 1: Introduction} Introduce yourself and give a little overview about your BBU writing / creations. If you want, this is the moment to advertise yourself!

Hi, everyone. I'm Seera (she/her), and I am, as my url implies, mostly a reader of whump. I have a few pieces of fiction I'm working on but am not ready to post any of it yet. Hoping to get something out during this event (even though it won't be my best work at all and I was hoping to lead best-foot forward).

I think collaborative world-building is really cool in general, and fell in love with BBU stuff when I stumbled across it in December. I have since read quite a bit set in the BBU/BBU Mulitverse/BBU Adjacent 'Verse and love everyone's slightly different takes, seeing what's evolved organically, and how the different criticisms of our own society shine through. I've also read a few posts on how the community arrived here, which is absolutely fascinating to me.

(I'd also love to collab on a story with someone else at some point.)

I love a lot of the whump, of course, but some stories have also helped me in ways I didn't expect. I'll touch more on that when we get to day 14 (Recovery).

ETA: Like @maracujatangerine writes, this place is how the internet should feel, and in many ways how it did feel to me when I coined the name Seera in the very late 90s. (Seera-Gahere-Shamor, which was an Andalite name. Ahhh, Animorphs, how I loved you.)

@bbu-on-the-side

#a Seera original #bbucommunity #bbu community #day1 #whump event #bbu community event 2023 #bbu meta #box boy multiverse

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florencemtrash · 9 months

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Hummingbird: Chapter One

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

You leaned back against the desk, ignoring the leftover smattering of paint as it seeped into your overalls, and checked the time. Miles’s face was stuck to the pages of his sketchbook, blue and red ink staining his cheek as he snored softly. One hand loosely gripped an open highlighter, the other dangled over the edge of his desk, half-eaten sandwich abandoned on the floor.

Twenty minutes. He’d been asleep for twenty minutes, and if you let him sleep any longer, he’d be late for fifth period.

You rapped your knuckles on his pencil case, the ringing tin jolting the teenager awake. Brown eyes flashed around the room, fists shooting out in an amateur boxing move as he tried to figure out why his spidey sense hadn’t warned him of any danger.

But there was no danger here. Nope, just Miss Y/l/n staring at him curiously from under raised brows.

“Wakey wakey, Miles,” You wore your usual pair of yellow Converse and paint-splattered overalls, the pockets hanging wide and loose after years of carrying around paint bottles, brushes, and books. The school board liked to complain about your “improper dress,” but at the end of the day you were one of the school’s only art teachers - and the most highly approved by students.

“Oh heyyyyy Miss Y/l/n.” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck before dropping to the floor and snatching up his forgotten lunch. This was the fourth time you’d caught him sleeping in your classroom. Any more and you might actually have to start giving him detention. He tossed pens, snacks, and his sketchbook haphazardly into his bag, but not before you caught sight of a familiar blond-haired, blue-eyed girl smiling in front of a backdrop rioting with yellow, pinks, and blues more vibrant than a fireworks display. “GWEN!” the comic-style calligraphy called out next to her glowing face. Miles always seemed to be drawing her these days.

“You’ve still got five minutes left, calm down.” Miles straightened up to face you, clutching his lunchbox to his chest and smiling nervously. You folded your arms over your chest and stared pointedly at the gangly boy in front of you. With how much he’d grown over the last few months you wondered if one of his ancestors had been a garden weed.

“You want to talk about what’s been going on, Miles?”

“What do you-what do you mean?”

“You’ve been falling asleep in my class, this is the fourth time I’ve caught you napping here during lunch, and now I hear from Mr. Maloney that you’ve been skipping English.”

“He-he told you that?” He tugged at the collar of his shirt, hoping for a breeze to drift in through the window and save him from his nerves. He thought he’d been good about juggling the responsibilities of being a high-schooler and everyone’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. If his parents noticed anything different about him they chalked it up to teenage angst and grief over Uncle Aaron’s death. But someone had caught him slipping up.

You shrugged, “The teacher’s lounge exists, and people like to talk.”

“Oh…” he mumbled, shoulders dropping.

The dull ringing of the school bell cut through the silence, followed shortly by the rumblings of conversation as students filled the hallway, moving with the current like fish in a river.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Listen, Miles, you’re not in trouble, ok?” Miles sighed in relief. “If you need to eat your lunch or just take a break in my classroom that’s fine with me. I just want to make sure you’re not trying to flunk out like last year.”

He shook his head adamantly. He couldn’t - wouldn’t - drop out of Brooklyn Visions now. He had a plan for the future: go to Princeton, figure out multiversal traveling, and reunite with Gwen and Peter and the rest of the Spider-gang. Seemed simple enough… and totally doable…

“I promise that’s not the case, Miss Y/l/n.” The sincerity behind his words satisfied you.

“Alright Miles, but I’m keeping an eye on you,” You said dramatically, squinting your eyes and pointing at his chest. Miles snorted, mouth breaking open into a lopsided grin, “Now get out of here or Mrs. Cape will think I’ve convinced you to go to art school again.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I just…”

“Yes, yes, you want to go study physics at Princeton,” you waved your hand in the air, tracing some invisible pattern in the sunlight before grabbing a wet wipe from your desk and tossing it to Miles, “Quantum mechanics, the multiverse, and all that stuff.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d told you about his future plans, but the words that left his mouth had a tendency of flying over your head. The kid was too smart for his own good.

You paused and took a moment to look at Miles, to really look at him as he scrubbed away at the ink on his cheek, “Those Princeton schmucks would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks Miss Y/l/n.” Again he gave you that crooked, boyish smile.

“Alright now out, out!” You shooed him towards the door, watching as he saluted you and flashed you one last smile before joining the crowd of students and disappearing around the corner.

You slipped back into your classroom, the smell of charcoal, dried paint, and pencil shavings settling into your lungs - sweet and comforting. There wasn’t an inch of space that wasn’t covered in some manner of artwork: sketches, paintings, collages… colorful graffiti that you should probably scrub out before parent-teacher conferences. Most of the pieces were the works of current students, but sometimes people like to leave things behind on purpose, trusting that you would find a place for them somewhere.

You wiped down the desks, rubbed the worst paint splotches from your overalls, and then collapsed into your chair, swiveling around and munching on the sandwich you’d picked up at the Prospect St. bodega. You had thirty minutes of peace and quiet before sixth period.

That’s more than enough time. You thought to yourself. Maybe I’ll get some grading done and-

A head of curly black hair popped into the room, face wet and screaming with tears. You straightened in your chair as the boy’s lips thinned, then turned down. His shoulders began to tremble.

“He…He,” Hiccup, “He broke up with me, Miss Y/l/n.”

“Oh geez,” you sighed deeply, setting your sandwich down and ushering the boy in.

There were things you missed about being a teenager… the highs and lows of a first love were not on that list.

>>>

Saturday nights were sacred - the only time you reserved entirely for yourself. No grading, no reviewing and updating lesson plans, no agonizing over student reviews. You’d used to go out with old college friends for drinks on the weekend, but most of them had moved out of the city or gotten married and were doing married people things.

Is this what getting older is like? You wondered as you snuggled further into your couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders to keep out the chill. It wasn’t too terrible… albeit a little lonely.

The latest in a slew of cooking shows played out on the tv, throwing flashes of light onto the book-burdened coffee table and providing the background noise necessary for you to finally get your thoughts out of your sketchbook. But the moment you went to put the pen nib down, your mind went blank, and not in a good way. Every line looked wrong, the eyes of the figure looking bloated and misshapen. Time creeped by slowly, dragging you along for a ride as smooth as sandpaper.

You knew the cause of your frustration, but knowing never made it better. It had been two months since Richard had moved out, two months and one day since you’d found out he was cheating on you with some grad student at NYU.

Pendejo.

You’d hated his interior decorating, but now the blank spaces on the wall screamed his name.

You tossed your sketchbook and pencil onto the ground and went to make a cup of tea. Maybe you were better off calling it a night and crawling into bed. Mid-year reviews had just ended and you had a long list of emails to reply to in the morning. One thing you hadn’t been expecting when you’d accepted this job was the number of parents who’d be on your ass about their kids getting a B in art - in art.

The tea kettle was just about to open its mouth and start singing when a crash sounded from the living, followed by a sheepish “Whoops.” The muffled word punctuated Paul Hollywood’s critique of someone’s lemon tart - too stodgy.

Your blood ran cold as the stranger continued to mutter.

“There goes another one. Wow there’s a lot of stuff on the floor.” Another one of your precious potted plants hit the ground with a dull crack.

You grabbed the wooden bat from where it leaned against the wall, swinging it easily behind your head. At least there was one good thing Richard had left you with.

You creeped out into the hallway, backing up towards the front door with your eyes trained on the shadowy figure making a mess of your living room. The figure fluctuated in and out of existence as he stumbled about the room, tripping over the piles of books and art supplies littering the ground. His body splintered outwards like cobwebs and twisted with flashes of bright light, haunting and inhuman.

The creak of the floorboards gave you away. All at once the figure stopped and turned around to look at you. Where its face should have been was a single, flickering white spot, pulsing with curiosity as it tilted its head to the side.

Mierda.

You bolted towards the door… but he was already there.

“Why hello Mrs. O’Hara. Nice to finally meet you.” A thousand voices said at once.

You screamed and swung.

The first swing missed, leaving a crater in the drywall. The second swing hit true, but the bat merely sunk into the black void of his body, some force ripping it out of your hands as you staggered backward. “Oh! Well that wasn’t very nice.” The creature laughed.

Spindly tendrils of dark matter grabbed hold of you and you let out one final scream before the Spot swallowed you whole.

There was a momentary blindness and the sensation of falling before you were unceremoniously spit out onto a hard granite floor. You winced at the rough cut of broken glass beneath your heels, with nothing to protect you but a thin pair of socks. You looked upward and gasped.

Where there had once been a towering glass ceiling dozens of stories high lay a gaping hole, the metal beams blown backwards into the night air like a blooming flower. It took you a moment to recognize the building, after all you’d seen it nonstop on the news for weeks last year - Alchemax.

What the hell?

Police tape criss-crossed over the debris like yellow spider webs, the scene broken up by black holes that morphed and twisted around you, pulsing with the same energy as the stranger in your apartment.

I must be dreaming. You thought. But in the back of your mind you remembered bits and pieces of what Miles told you he’d been studying over the summer - wormholes and spacetime and portals to different universes.

You picked up a piece of metal off the floor, experimentally tossing it into one of the spots. It disappeared under the surface like pottery in slip before popping back into existence above you. You only narrowly lunged out of the way before it crashed into the ground and stuck there like a sword in a battlefield.

“Beautiful, isn��t it Mrs. O’Hara?” the Spot stepped out of a hole in the fabric of spacetime beside you.

You jumped back, choking the scream in your throat. “That’s not-that’s not my name.” You managed to say. “Maybe you’ve kidnapped the wrong person?” A stupid hope.

“Oh? What is it then?” You said nothing, daring to lean down and pick up a jagged piece of roof panel. It might not do much, but it made you feel safer with its weight in your hands. “Well you don’t need to tell me. I just wanted to ask you a question.” He blipped out of existence, taking with him the darkness that pooled out of his skin.

“Who is Spider-Man?” the voices said as the Spot reappeared right beside you.

“You’ve got to stop doing that! Pendejo.”

“What?”

“Just talk to me like a normal person.” You pointed the roof panel at him, keeping him at a safe distance.

“Who. Is. Spider-Man?” He stepped closer, the tip of your makeshift weapon sinking into his skin like he wasn’t even there.

The question made you pause. That was what he wanted to know? He had kidnapped you just to ask about Spider-Man?

“Um, I mean, he’s kind of the local superhero. Stops thieves, saves kittens stuck in trees, makes questionable brand deals at times-”

“NO! I know who Spider-Man is.”

You blinked in confusion, eyes shifting to the side, “Then why did you kidnap me?”

“I want to know Spider-Man’s identity! His real identity.” The edges of his body sparked, shooting outward and striking the walls of the room. Dust and plaster fell to the ground like snow.

“I don’t-how the fuck am I supposed to know who Spider-Man is?!”

“You know him! The other version of you knew him!”

“What, other me?”

“The alternate universe version of you!” He threw his hands up into the air like a petulant child. The darkness around him grew with every passing minute, crawling around on the floor and up onto the walls like a reptile looking for its next meal. He slid his hands down his face, somehow pulling at the ether he was made of as he muttered under his breath.

“Whatever, I may have miscalculated. You’ll still be important. Don’t you worry. You may not know who Spider-Man is, but Spider-Man sure knows you.”

Next chapter ->

>>>

Author's Note: so... I may have gotten carried away and written the second chapter as well... hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things

#miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #gwen stacy #hobie brown #miles morales #across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n

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