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#linden writes
serialreblogger · 2 years
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can you share all the results you wrote for the batfam uquiz? I'm curious about what the others are. also thank you for making it
ah! for sure :) here they are!
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i just have a lot of feelings about Them
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theoestofocs · 2 years
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at last i present. the tmangled au
The Archive knows his place. He may not remember anything from his life before the tower, but he knows enough to trust Elias when he says it isn’t safe for the Archive to leave.
Elias knows best, after all.
When a stranger crashes through his tower’s window, everything Archive’s assumed about his own nature and that of the world outside is turned on its head. He finds himself thinking that perhaps it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he left the tower, just for a day or two. Elias will never have to find out, anyway.
What could go wrong?
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loupy-mongoose · 1 month
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Lil speech guide: Randy's speech Jamie's speech (Pokespeak will be in parentheses.)
It got pretty long, so under the Bar it goes!
PREVIOUS NEXT
~~~~~~
Jamie, the Gardevoir, and the three Lindens stood locked in tense silence. Randy fought to string together an explanation that wouldn't give away too much, while also trying to gauge Akoya's stance.
Jamie was the first to break the silence. Her expression hardened, her eyes displaying a sharp fury. Well? I'm not letting you a step further until I know it's not a threat.
The pointed stick in her hand lowered to point toward the family, and her authoritative tone chilled Randy. She meant business, which didn't help ease the man's racing mind.
Akoya answered before Randy could, her voice a bit too defensive in his opinion. It's none of your business what's in our bag. It's stuff for travel! What's wrong with that?!
Jamie clearly didn't believe her for a second. Her icy eyes bore into the white haired visitor. I won't tolerate a threat at my home. Tell me what's in there, or you WILL leave. Her eyes flashed ominously. Or worse.
Feeling a wave of protectiveness, Randy shuffled to stand in front of Akoya and Lavender. He hoped they couldn't feel the surge of utter dread that coursed through his body.
Listen, Jamie. He tried to keep his voice low, level, and non-threatening. What's in that bag is very precious to us, and we can't show you out here where others might see it. If we can go somewhere private, then maybe we can work something out.
He felt the sharp jab of Akoya's disapproval from behind him. Between her and the protesting red-head in front of them, he felt his resolve being wringed out of him.
Jamie stood still, her glare unwavering. After a moment, her head lifted slightly as she addressed their Pokemon company in an strong bark. (Darren, Sheila, Percy, please hide us with your wings.)
Percy and Darren gave startled, bewildered looks, while Sheila tilted her head and chuffed questioningly. But they did as she asked, reaching out to their widest wingspans, touching tip-to-tip with each other.
The Lindens hesitantly shuffled to adjust their positions as their space shrank.
There. Jamie eyed them all closely You wanted somewhere private; this is it. If you still won't show me, you'll have to leave.
Randy and Akoya glanced nervously at each other.
What could be done?
They came to a silent agreement.
Akoya turned back to Jamie, giving her a glare that verged on desperation. We're showing you because you forced our hand. NOT because we trust you. If you try anything...
To Randy's surprise, he caught a falter in Jamie's resolve, and something changed. A new expression slipped into her demeanor, if only barely.
Curiosity.
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The look on Jamie's face turned from shock to determination.
Swiftly she addressed her three winged Pokemon. (Spread the word; we need to find a little pink Mew with blue accents. It is to be brought back to these three safely and secretly.)
The three beasts nodded in sincerity and took off.
Persim poked his head of of the bag, his face etched in horror, while Momo was shrieking. Stay in there for now, Perzi. Randy's voice was shaky, but reassuring. We'll handle it. Could you please try to calm Momo down?
The orange feline nodded uncertainly and ducked back into the bag. Randy saw a green bubble form in it as he zipped it shut. Momo's screams went quiet, but he knew it was just contained by the bubble. Poor Persim...
The red-headed girl looked solemnly at the devastated family, her expression softer than any of them had seen from her yet. I'm truly sorry about that... I promise you all, this is the best place for a Pokemon like them to be lost at. There will be lots of good Pokemon looking for them, and any humans will be curious at worst. It might scare them, but nobody will hurt them.
I would've done things differently if I'd known they were in there...
Akoya gave up looking nearby for her son and took a breath. She turned to Jamie, for once without venom. Listen, Jamie, with all due respect, we'll be able to find him easier than your little... network, or whatever you have here. He's gotta be terrified! He might just keep teleporting away if strangers find him, human or Pokemon...
Jamie folded her arms with a hesitant nod. You're free to search too, if you think so. Maybe you're right, and he'll only show for you guys. But if anyone spots him, I'll hear of it, so I'd best stick with you.
Akoya gave an uncertain look and opened her mouth to speak. But, feeling her about to protest, Randy interrupted her. We can talk later. Let's go find Midas.
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~~~~~~
PREVIOUS NEXT
New skill acquired~
And just for the fun of it, I'm uh... gonna share some of the (very) rough sketches I did for this part, because I find them hilarious.
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Luna (my cat) randomly decided to leave the comfort of her cat tower to come lay on my arm. The trouble was, it was my drawing arm. So I made due. XD
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whumpzone · 10 months
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Linden & Colton - Guard Dog AU
(masterpost)
exactly what it says on the tin! as you may know I've not written in months so I'm super super happy that I enjoyed this and got it done!!
CW: pet whump, dehumanisation + dehumanising language
-
The guard dog had been taken in. Everyone at the shelter was shocked, but none more shocked than the pet himself. Even better than that, he had been named. He was Col now, or sometimes Colton. He had figured that Col was the nicer, more affectionate version, but his new Master used it all the time, so perhaps he’d misinterpreted. Humans named all sorts of possessions, from plants to cars to, it seemed, guard dogs. Col happily accepted the gift.
The second he laid eyes on his owner, Col felt every ounce of loyalty he possessed being placed squarely at this man’s feet. He would be a worthwhile purchase, and protect his Master no matter what.
Master had come as a bit of a surprise at first, when Col was taken from the dog shelter to his home. He didn't look like the kind of person to make much use of a guard dog. Col stayed up all night, watching for threats, but Master's entire road was as peaceful as the man himself. The worst he'd ever seen was a few teenagers letting off fireworks.
Everything was just... a bit strange, with this new Master. He didn't have any heavy weights, no punching bag, nothing to keep Col strong. He never doled out punishments, never made sure Col knew where his devotion was placed. Col knew anyway, he was a good boy after all, but he thought all Masters needed to enforce it. His old owner had talked a lot of weak minds and needing to keep the lesson fresh. Clearly Colton's new Master had quite a bit more trust in him.
Which was weird, considering Col was a stray. But it made him all the more determined to prove himself.
Col made sure to keep busy during his otherwise unnaturally quiet new life: he lifted plastic bottles of milk for hours until his arms finally gave out; he filled a suitcase with books and squatted with it; he recited his rules at night, fighting off sleep, fighting off complacency. He spent the daylight hours pacing the house unless Master told him to calm down, which he soon realised was an order to come and kneel by his side.
The day Col fucked everything up was a day the same as any other to begin with. Master had gone shopping without him, like Col was useless, and that always made him frenetic with anxiety. He had begged, knelt with his head to the floor, to accompany him, to do his job and keep his owner safe, but Master had refused. I'll be fine, Col, he'd said softly, and then as a follow up, you can guard the house, right?
Col had done step-ups at the bottom of the staircase to try and work through his wasted energy, and when that hadn't worked, he'd stared out of the kitchen window like a hawk, every wail of an ambulance siren or police van sending his mind spiralling downwards. By the time Master returned unharmed he was a nervous wreck (utterly unfit for a guard dog, no wonder he wasn't allowed out) and he'd thrown himself at his owner's feet in relief. He knew what a wonderful rush of power his old owner had got from such an imposing pet cowering below him, and Col hoped Master might want to take him out next time, keep that feeling of power going.
In the present, Col was dutifully following Master's order to do some yoga.
The cat, Jaffa, was doing her own set of stretches alongside him, something that pleased Master greatly.
The sound of the front door unlocking pulled him from his meditation. Someone was trying to get in, Col realised, with a burst of aggression.
He sprang up like a startled animal and ran into the hall, but he still wasn't fast enough: the stranger was inside. Col noted a lean, strong build, with no obvious weapon, and tried to plan accordingly in the split second before he collided into him. He grabbed the human roughly by the shoulders and slammed him against the back of the door, letting his head crack against it with the momentum. Not enough to do any real damage, just to make him see stars. He wasted no time in pressing one forearm against his neck, letting it sit snugly against the windpipe, tight with pent up force. There was no mistaking that if he needed to press harder, he would. His other hand stayed gripping the man's shoulder, holding him in place.
'Who are you," he growled.
"Whoa! F-fuck, Linden! Get off me you crazy bastard!" the man shouted, but there was a smile on his face, which only made Col angrier.
Before he could bark his question again or tell the man to shut up, his Master appeared, running over to them. Col bent his head just enough to see both him and the intruder- he had been trained that dealing with a threat was not an excuse to ignore his owner.
The intruder gasped in what sounded like a sigh of relief, or a strained laugh. Col was still pushing on his throat.
"Mate, get off me," he said, and it was infuriating that he didn't seem at all bothered by Col's presence. Col had the upper hand, didn't he? Was there something he didn't know? Maybe this man did have a weapon concealed somewhere?
"I take orders from my Master only," Col replied, and hoped he would get one.
"Let him go, Col," Master said, "and come over here, please."
He obeyed instantly and moved to stand behind his Master's left shoulder, arms folded, glaring at the stranger. Hoping he knew that it would only take one wrong move for Col to knock his lights out.
He expected Master to tell the man to get the fuck out of his house; Colton was more than a little confused when the stranger instead threw one arm out for a hug, and Master leaned in happily.
"Hey Vik."
"Hey. Nice bodyguard you've got there."
"I'm sorry about that. Col," he turned to face his dog, "this is Vik. My brother."
His brother?
Oh, fuck.
All the blood drained from his face and he actually flinched back, his arms unfolding and instead resting hesitantly by his side. Now wasn’t the time for him to look dangerous.
He looked between the two men. Their physical similarities were suddenly glaringly obvious.
Col had fucked up. He'd fucked up and he didn't know how to make it better. He'd just tried to choke Master's brother for god’s sake, and Col was strong, sure, but he still howled when the belt was used on him, or when his owner had held his lighter to Col's arm, or when his back was slashed open and his owner kicked him between the shoulder blades. He was going to have to pay dearly for this.
"-hear me? Col? Hey, hello?"
Col blinked. His mind had wandered- a bad habit he never shook off despite hours of training. Master and his brother were stood together, eyeing him.
He pulled himself together enough to curl his hands against his heart and bow in submission.
"I'm so sorry for my mistake, Sir, it was unforgiveable, and I'm sorry," he said, forcing the words out mechanically. He didn't sound remorseful in the slightest, and he'd said he was sorry twice, it sounded stupid. His panic was starting to seep through. "I didn't know, b-but that's no excuse, and, and I'll take any punishment you see fit."
The sentence was familiar, and Col managed to dig deep for some composure. He'd be a big brave dog for this. Guard dogs didn't feel fear- they didn't feel anything. Col didn't feel anything. He straightened up, but kept his head bowed, and listened to his heart pounding in his ears. He waited to see if Vik was the type to show mercy.
Master spoke first. "No, it's okay. Just a misunderstanding, right? Vik has a key, so that's how he just appeared-"
"Hey, stop giving me evils."
"-and you were just doing what you thought was right, Col."
Col looked up slowly. Master seemed to be waiting for a response.
"What I did was unforgiveable," he tried, the panic smothering his thoughts. He had to get this right and he just didn't know how- except through pain. "I promise I'll take my punishment well, Sir, very well."
He saw Vik's eyes widen as he tried to catch Master's gaze, but it stayed fixed on Col.
"Well... you could apologise to Vik, I suppose, for- for-" Master's words were eaten up in an outburst of laughter. Col's fear took a sharp, and weird, left turn. What the fuck? "I’m sorry, I just can't believe you almost bollocked my older brother, that’s fucking hilarious!”
"Stop laughing!" Vik snapped, giving Master a mild shove that made Col bristle. "Or go do it while making me a cup of tea."
"Sorry, I'm sorry, haha, I'll leave you two alone for two seconds, I'm gonna-"
Master put a hand to his mouth to contain his laughter, and breezed past Col towards the kitchen, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he went. Master figured this was all a big joke, then.
Left alone with Vik. That would be Master's strategy, and Col figured it was more than fair. Vik had been the offended party.
He was about to lower himself to his knees, but Vik reached out a hand, stopping Col. He tensed just a fraction, no more than that: he wasn't allowed to mitigate pain.
"Fair play, mate, you were very quick. Good form, too. Got the jump on me like that." Vik snapped his fingers, making Col stiffen even more. "But we can be cool now, yeah? Now you know my face. You'll probably see me a lot, I come round all the time. So let's put this behind us and shake on it like two gents."
Col realised why Vik's hand was held out.
He thought about protesting for half a second- his old owner had always reminded him how dirty he was- but the last thing he wanted to do was look like he was buying time.
Vik would probably grab his hand and pull him down, try to throw him to the floor. Col didn't think he had the strength, so he prepared to fake it.
The handshake was the most human thing Col had ever done. Vik did pull, but towards him, and not in the rough way Col had expected. He'd forced himself to go so limp that he almost stumbled into him- he caught himself at the last moment and stood still, grazing Vik's shoulder.
"My brother's a really good man," he said, and Col was sure he knew the threat that would follow it up. So if you make one wrong move, I'll break you.
But instead, Vik's voice stayed low, and calm, with no hardness that Col could discern. There was even a smile on his face. "You're gonna be fine here."
. . .
"You're gonna be fine here," he said, doing his best to use his inside voice because he couldn't let Linden hear him being nice about him for once.
And also because the big guy still holding his hand seemed shit-scared already.
Vik had a damn good view being so near to him: Colton's face was absolutely littered with scars. That was meant to be a bad sign when it came to guard dogs- meant they were volatile or picked fights constantly. Vik wasn't so sure. He'd backed off the minute Linden intervened, and Linden had already told Vik that Colton was clearly terrified of him, even though he tried to hide it. Standing with him now, Vik reckoned he wasn't hiding it very well at all. He could feel Colton's heartbeat thrumming from his wrist like a drum.
He briefly imagined a scene in the far future, when Linden's gamble had worked out and this man was alright again, where the three of them were hanging out together, where they were all close friends. Vik would tease him for the time they first met, when Col had tried to chuck him straight back out onto the street. Linden would probably make some joke that he should’ve gone through with it. They’d all laugh – Col would be laughing hardest of all.   
Right now, Vik felt like laughing wasn't a physical possibility for Colton.
"Please punish me as you see fit, sir," Col replied, just as quietly.
"Ahh, well," Vik said brightly, giving Col a pat on the shoulder - making him flinch - and drawing back to a normal distance. His voice raised with it, giving his brother a hint that all was okay. "You weren't to know. No harm done."
Except for the back of my head which hurts like fuck, but whatever, I don't want this guy to start grovelling.
Col looked at him, his frown loosening a little bit. “Really, sir? You’d give me mercy?”
Ew. “Er, yeah, man. We’re cool.”
Linden’s voice came from the kitchen, accompanied by the sharp rings of a teaspoon being tapped against the rim of a mug, shaking off the final drops. “Tea’s ready!”
Col looked at Vik, waiting for something- instruction, probably. Vik gestured forward. “After you, mate.”
. . .
The rest of Vik’s visit passed without incident. The two brothers settled on the sofa so fluidly that Col got the impression they both sat in the exact same place every time. He felt overwhelmed with shame and apprehension as his mistake replayed in his mind. Running at Vik and pinning him to the wall, snapping at him, intending to hurt him. His Master must feel so embarrassed to have such a poorly-behaved pet.
Col knelt behind his owner and stared at nothing, keeping his back straight and his ears on the world outside. Occasionally the cat threatened to distract him with her purring and big eyes, but Colton didn’t allow himself to enjoy the sight of her. She wasn’t for his enjoyment, anyway.
“Come to mine next time, yeah?” Vik asked.
“Sure, it’s been a while. That’d be nice.”
“Alright, well I’ll head off. Nice to meet you, Col.”
Vik’s face appeared in Col’s peripheral vision, and Col looked over, giving him a nod and looking to his owner for permission to speak.
When his Master gave him an encouraging smile, Col said quietly, “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m sorry again.”
“It’s alright, Col,” Master said, reaching down and giving Col’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Col flinched that time, too. The shame only twisted deeper in his guts. Master turned back to his brother. “I’ll wave you off.”
“You’re always keeping me out of trouble, aren’t you,” replied Vik with a wry smile.
. . .
Linden didn’t have to catch Vik before he walked out the door – they clearly both wanted to have a debrief. Their chat had been more than a little stifled with Colton kneeling right there, ramrod straight, his eyes wide and unfocused. Vik bent to put his shoes back on and stared up at Linden with a face that said what the fuck.
“Yeah,” Linden whispered. “Someone’s clearly done a number on him. Did he hurt you?”
“No, no,” Vik said, unconvincingly. “It was funny anyway. But he really is fierce when he wants to be.”
“At least I know he’s… loyal, now. Not that I took him in to be loyal. Or violent. Ah well.”
“I know, but I get it, it’s good to know he doesn’t want to use any of that strength against you. You’re safe as anything as long as he’s around.”
“Bless him. He’s so nervous all the time. He won’t even pet Jaffa.”
“You’ve got this, mate,” Vik said sincerely. “He’s still new. Maybe you’ve gotta be a bit more clear with things. Next time he looks at Jaffa, just tell him to go and pet her.”
“I’ll try. You should still come round whenever, I’ll tell him not to worry about you.” The thought of Vik almost having his ass handed to him made Linden’s lips curl up again. “Maybe buy a helmet for next time just in case.”
“Oh shut up, I could still batter him and you, you better not start thinking I’m soft. I’ll see you later. And buy him some weights or something, for god’s sake. He’ll go crazy otherwise.”
Linden laughed as Vik headed off. When he walked back into the lounge, Colton was still kneeling. Of course he was – Linden hadn’t ordered him to do anything else.
“Uh…I’m glad you’ve met my brother. Please don’t fret about earlier, Col. You’re genuinely not in trouble. Vik wasn’t mad in the slightest.”
Col didn’t move except to cast his eyes towards Linden’s face. It made him look creepy, like a mannequin. “Thank you, Sir. It won’t happen again. Thank you for this mercy.”
“It might be helpful to mark Vik as someone who’s completely trusted, you know. You don’t have to be afraid when he’s around. You don’t have to be… on high alert. He’s not going to do anything.”
. . .
Col nodded. If Vik made a move to attack, it would be for him, never his Master. Col wasn’t to fight back. “I understand, Sir. Thank you.”
-
taglist part 1:
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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
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Noah: “What on earth are you doing? Something legal I hope!”
Stiles: “…If that’s the case, then it’s probably for the best that I don’t answer that question.”
(source)
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croissant-enthusiast · 3 months
Text
Wollsocken und Zigaretten (und warme Umarmungen im Abendlicht)
Hey besties, es ist fanfiction Zeit!
Ich hab eine Pia/Esther fanfiction aus meinen Docs gekramt, die ich letztes Jahr im März geschrieben habe, love here, please read her!
Danke @starlighnes für's beta lesen und pressuren, I needed that! <3
5.6k Wörter, T-rated, keine Warnungen.
Esthers Augen sind wieder auf Pia gerichtet, wie sie da mit ihrer Kaffeetasse steht, das Gesicht voller Sommersprosse, die Augenlider schon schwer, obwohl es erst kurz vor eins ist. Sie muss aufpassen, dass ihr Blick nicht zu liebevoll wird. “Was ist denn hier los?” fragt Leo dann. Esther schaut zu ihm und sieht, dass er die Akte runter genommen hat und die beiden anblinzelt. “Wieso, was soll sein?” fragt Pia zurück. “Ihr steht da so,” erklärt Leo und gestikuliert mit der Akte in ihre Richtung, als ob das irgendwas erklärt. Esthers Mundwinkel zuckt. “Wie denn?” *** Esther und Pia sind zusammen, Adam und Leo spekulieren.
Den Link findet ihr im Reblog!
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cricketnationrise · 9 months
Note
Hey! Very excited for you and the follower count and excited for the fic fest! These are always so fun!
Can I suggest please:
11:58 p.m.
the linden tree
Henry
Thank you!!
yayyyy thank you and thanks for the prompt!
want your own ficlet? rules here, 1 week left
❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙
linden tree, 11:58pm
“Thought I’d find you out here, sweetheart.”
Henry turns, like he always does, at the sound of Alex’s voice – a smile already tugging at his lips. Alex is flushed, buzzing off the energy of the crowd inside and the chocolate fountain June insisted on having this year. He’s so bloody beautiful, and even years after their first kiss, Henry is still left breathless more often than not. He hopes that never changes, hopes he’s always as excited to see Alex as he is right now.
Henry leans more firmly against the linden tree and holds out a hand for Alex, wanting him closer, wanting contact. Alex comes closer, willingly tangling his fingers with Henry’s before tucking his face into the crook of Henry’s neck. Henry locks his knees to stop them from dumping both of them in the snow. 
“It’s likely my last chance to be here on New Year’s Eve,” he explains, stroking a hand up Alex’s back, “It’s the end of an era really.”
“Mmmm,” Alex hums, burrowing closer. “We’ll just have to make a new tradition next year then.”
“Best start planning now, love.”
The muffled noise from the party becomes suddenly louder – it must be the countdown. Alex pulls back and looks at him and Henry is lost, drowning in the warm chocolate gaze of his boyfriend.
“Ready for another year?”
“With you? Always,” Henry murmurs, moving his hand up to cup the back of Alex’s neck.
Alex snorts, but it's a fond sound. “You’re such a sap.”
“I learned from you. Happy new year, love.”
“Happy new year, baby,” Alex says, before pushing onto his toes and kissing Henry the way he always does, all enthusiasm and warmth. Henry holds him close and returns the kiss, letting himself relax into the sensation.
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michelangelinden · 1 year
Text
Send me a number between 1 and 101 and I'll tell you what fic I would write based on the corresponding song from my Spotify Wrapped playlist!
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emeraldgreaves · 3 months
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pierced ears becus I know what it is hehehe 👀 circle era my beloved!!!!
send me a fic title and i’ll add five sentences and ramble about it
Red’s not there when she arrives. For a moment she weighs whether to just take the skirts and hide away in her room, but then the door on the far end of the auditorium creaks, which kills that plan completely. It’s all been decided for her, it seems. She sits by the outfit racks, because it’s the most practical place to work and not because she is being a coward. By the time he’s picked his way through the scenery, there’s a needle in her hand and a mountain of sequined gauze spread across her lap.
time to work on exposition! bc i’m very much out of practice. i have laid so much groundwork for characters to be serious and sincere that i’ve somehow managed to loop around to unlock the next tier, which is letting them be stupid <3 anyway i love the circle era. no world-ending stakes, just some good old fashioned high school drama
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serialreblogger · 1 year
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Spelling was not standardized in Shakespeare's England
yes this is my point. william "sex jokes" "historical RPF" shakespeare is broadly upheld as the pinnacle of english literature, and zero percent of his works conform to any standardized spelling/grammar system
"shakespeare couldn't spell his own name" is shorthand for "the snobbery of ~english literature & canon~ is both self-contradictory and arbitrary in the extreme." & to me this means that anyone can create whatever they want and be just as good as any shakespearean sonnet. bc the only real qualifier for "good writing" is that somebody cared about the story they were telling, and the only real qualifier for "good reading material" is that someone, somewhere, wants to read it
no gods no kings no earl of oxford only a bunch of plays written in a drama club's groupchat and the people who keep investing them with meaning. there is no magic formula or golden standard. the only thing that gives any art any value is the people who choose to value it
#ask linden#this is about the title of my blog#shakespeare couldn't spell his own name and NOBODY CARES!#this is my point!#nobody *should* care! it doesn't matter!!#also that last line abt earls of oxford is in reference to the ''oxfordian theory of shakespeare authorship'' as the wiki page calls it#u can check that on wikipedia if ur interested but what it boils down to is that a bunch of academics have been up in arms since ~the 1920s#over the idea that The Venerable Shakespeare could have been some rube born to commoners#obviously plays so Erudite (& so uniquely appealing to the ''commoner'' demographic) could not have been authored by some paltry lowborn!#why that boy billy probably couldn't even write!#- which like. cmon man. u have about as much evidence as chemtrails here. and also like -#yeah there's a solid chance shakespeare wasn't super up on his penmanship! but that doesn't mean he wasn't capable of eloquence??#like in all probability a lot of shakespeare's work might not have been penned by him#& in fact it's not unlikely that at least some of it was quasi-crowdsourced as actors & collaborating playwrights weighed in#Richard Burbage probably had a lot to do with Hamlet's character work & writing!! we know this!!#we do not create in a vacuum!!! art written in a groupchat is not less valuable or artistic for having peer review built into it!!#shakespeare was just some guy. & he's also a symbol#arbitrary as that designation may be. but the old white men who chose their canon chose him as a patron saint#so i will go on insisting that if we're to know shakespeare we had better know him properly. foul mouth gallows humour bisexuality & all#shakespeare#literature#linden's originals#linden in the tags
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theoestofocs · 2 years
Link
behold, the mer!jon au
Elias Bouchard has dedicated his life to two things: first, amassing a fortune via his company’s cutting-edge work in genetic engineering; and second, obtaining definitive proof of the merfolk he knows live under the sea.
Tim, on the other hand, was only trying to catch some dinner when he swam into Elias’ trap. He wound up beached and helpless as a human approached him with a set of blades.
Jon didn’t intend to get wrapped up in any of this. He certainly didn’t intend to get on Elias Bouchard’s bad side; how was he to know the man would take personal offense to someone damaging his stray nets? It was Jon’s job to disentangle and treat the sea life that wound up on their beach every morning, after all. Whatever that sea life might be. He hadn’t done anything wrong.
Then again, he would have expected “Elias Bouchard’s bad side” to mean something like cut funding for conservation research, not… this.
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loupy-mongoose · 5 months
Text
Note: For the sake of differentiation, Nico's text will be bold, while Randy's will not.
If there's any trouble telling anyone else apart, let me know, and I'll see what I can do to make it clearer.
Also it is. VERY long. So to the Read More zone it goes!
Enjoy. :)
PREVIOUS NEXT
ARC START | CHRONO
~~~~~~
The Mews-in-human-form and Nico stepped carefully around the debris of the mansion floor. Lav, who had their bag on her human form, had transformed so they could grab a flashlight out of it. Now she had returned to Mewtwo form and floated around excitedly, taking in the sight of the neglected remains of Nico's birthplace.
Randy held the light in his left hand, while his right tightly gripped his cane. Akoya walked close to his side, her hands in her jacket pockets.
Daddy, stop shining at the floor! I wanna see what's around!
Not until your mom transforms and I don't have to worry about her stepping on something.
I'll be fine, Love! I can handle a few pebbles here and th--YEAHK!
She suddenly hopped away from Randy, inspecting her foot. Randy gave her a snide look.
Fine. She rolled her eyes before shifting. A split-second flash later, she was a Mew. She hovered over and draped herself on Randy's shoulder.
Content that his wife would no longer step on things, he looked at Lav. Here, Hon. You can hold this if you want. Seeing that he had her attention, he tossed the light her way. She telekinetically caught it and brought it to her hands.
Thanks Daddy! She smiled as she went around the room with the light. Nico followed after her, and Randy trudged behind.
Nico... Lav spoke after looking at charred walls, flooring, and rubble around them. Is this the place you destroyed? The one from that memory that woke me up?
It is, yes...
Akoya chimed in from her perch. It's a wonder nobody's bothered to fix it up after all this time.
Well, the volcano eruption kinda got in the way of that. I guess nobody saw any point afterword...
Randy glanced upward, wracked by a sudden chill. It feels like the ceiling could come down at any moment...
Akoya nuzzled her husband's cheek. We'll teleport out if anything happens, Love.
Still feeling shaken, Randy raised his hand to her and brushed his fingers through her fur.
He hoped against hope that the Mewtwos--especially Nico--couldn't sense just how right Akoya had been.
He needed her support.
And not the way his cane could provide.
This place filled him with dread. It was too... familiar... Every once in a while he caught a whiff of smoke and burned things. He could just make out the cracks in the ceilings and walls. He heard the occasional faint creaking of the dilapidated building.
He was almost glad it was too dark to see clearly.
The pain in his legs hadn't let up since they came here. He did his best to hide it from the 'twos, but he know it was futile to hide it from the little blue cat on his shoulder
She clearly knew.
And he endlessly appreciated it.
They walked along, chatting and looking through the debris. There were a lot of books in there, but most were burned beyond recognition or reading, or just boring scientific observations and notes. Wild Pokemon skittered about, too frightened by the strange intruders to engage with them.
Lav picked up yet another book and skimmed through it.
Oh!
Randy looked at her as she approached him. He could feel her buzzing with excitement.
She handed the book to him. It's Mr. Fuji's!
A spark of curiosity coursed through him as he took the book. Nico came over, his eyes shining in the gloom. He read over Randy's shoulder.
Wow... He flipped slowly through its pages. It... it goes through your growth, Nico...
Nico tilted his head, eyes filled with an almost child-like shimmer. Cool!
He flinched back as Randy handed the book up to him. Here. It's about you, so you should have it.
After looking at it for a moment, Nico shook his head and gently pushed it away. No. It's Fuji's. You should take it back to him when you return.
After a moment, Randy gave a smile and a slight nod before stuffing it into a pants pocket.
They continued their impromptu tour of the mansion.
Eventually...
They came to the back portion.
The floors and walls had sustained significant amounts of damage. Walls crumpled to the floor, creating larger rooms than once were. The floors had large holes, leading down into the basement below. Light streamed in from gaps in the ceiling.
Akoya floated off Randy's shoulder. How 'bout that! A shortcut to the basement~
As they all started heading into the nearest hole, Randy transformed without a second thought... until he noticed Nico looking at him in somber shock.
Randy know what he was thinking, and gave him a sad look.
So... that's... what my dad looked like, huh?
Randy's eyes grew somehow more weary than they were. ...Pretty much, yeah... He never looked this exhausted though...
The basement was worse off than the floor above, dimly lit by the sunlight. It was clear walls once stood, but now the area was just one large room, with a few pillars-that-were-once-walls being the only support for the tattered building above.
Along the back wall of the basement...
Was a set of cylindrical tanks.
The group hovered over to them, not wanting to step on the sharp debris on the floor.
Shattered glass and old dust carpeted the area. A small keypad protruded from the front of the center tank, and two more of the tubes stood behind on either side, and forward of those were two large computer casings.
The area was stained with old burn marks, while plant life had grown in. It was almost serene, lit by the rays of persistent sunlight.
Randy floated over to the skeletal tanks.
...Mo has been here...
Randy...
The long Mew turned to Nico.
Can... Can I ask you something...?
Did... Did Mo ever talk about me?
Randy took a moment to think.
...I think he wanted to...
Akoya looked at him questioningly.
Right b-before... He shut his eyes, trembling, trying to break free of his dread.
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Oop.
PREVIOUS NEXT
ARC START | CHRONO
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echo-goes-mmm · 10 months
Text
Okay this is kinda niche (as is all my whump tastes let's be real) but the best part of recovery arcs is "discovery"
Learning exactly how bad it was
How badly affected whumpee's mind really is
Even better if Whumpee and Caretaker have made so much progress
But some outsider demands an explanation bc to a stranger, Caretaker looks like a whumper only bc this stranger really has no idea what's going on
The sheer humiliation of having to explain to stranger in detail whumpee's trauma and why Caretaker is their guardian (is caretaker more humiliated than whumpee, who is used to flatly explaining their torture? up to you!)
And of course maybe this stranger needs to ask whumpee separately if they're safe
And whumpee is terrified trying to convince them please let me stay with Caretaker they're so kind please this is all I have, I love them
And Stranger is like. This looks soooo bad dude. What the hell
And Caretaker is like yeah. But this is the best anyone can do
And Stranger has no choice but to agree because they are so out of their depth
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whumpzone · 1 year
Note
Hi I don’t want this to seem pressuring or rude, especially bc the update was so recent, but I love your writing and I’m super into the vampire au and I’m wondering if we’ll see Viks reaction in the (potential) next update?
i hope you like this! it got long!
(masterpost)
CW vampire whumpee, thoughts of death, dissociation, dehumanisation
-
Vik pulled open a cupboard door, snatching a cereal bar for no good reason. He was kind of hungry, but he mostly enjoyed stealing something out of Linden’s house every time he popped by. The thing upstairs shouldn’t ruin their small rituals. Vik could just about ignore the way he was leeching the fun out of the place, replacing it with this awful, overbearing awkwardness.  He grunted and took a bite.
“You are so predictable,” Linden scoffed. “I knew you’d take one of those.”
Vik just opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, treating Linden to a sight of his half-chewed food. Linden burst out laughing and whipped the teatowel at him. It was a good shot, snapping against his arm and making him choke in surprise.
“Ow!”
“Thieves get the whip.”
Vik didn’t want his mood to sour, he wanted to ignore it, but fuck it was hard. “Give that thing the whip.”
Linden’s smile faded and the sight of it made Vik’s chest hurt. He was already dealing with so much, and yes it was his own bizarre and stupid choice, but Vik knew he shouldn’t add to it.
“Sorry, mate.”
“No,” Linden sighed. “No, it’s okay. I don’t expect you to be okay with it, I get it. It’s weird.”
“It is weird.”
“Can you trust that I’m doing the right thing?”
Vik thought about this. Linden always appreciated his honesty. “I can’t. But I can trust that you know what the right thing to do is. Does that make sense?”
Linden’s smile returned, but it wasn’t quite the same. “Yeah, you always make sense.”
Two more bites and the snack was gone. Vik held the wrapper in his palm and crushed it up slowly, pretending it was solid steel and only his strength could break it down. One of the stupid, boyish habits he should have left behind in his teenage years but never quite did.
“I dunno what to cook for tea tonight…” Linden murmured as Vik turned to throw the wrapper away.
His talking turned to static, however, as Vik had his attention grabbed by something else. A hastily written note, like something out of an old indie horror game, was lying at the top of the bin. It wasn’t Linden’s handwriting, it was far too messy, and that left only one suspect. Not a person. The thing didn’t make it into that label.
Vik’s eyes narrowed.
What did you need to say sorry for?
Glancing back, throwing in a nod and a hum, hoping he had timed them right enough to look convincing, Vik saw that Linden wasn’t looking at him. He had a new shopping list on the counter before him, but he was staring out of the window, watching the world go by. He was probably happy to have to curtains open for once. God, why would he do this to himself?
Vik seized Linden’s moment of inattentiveness to swipe the piece of paper, pocketing it in one swift movement. From the same pocket, he pulled out a fag.
Linden glanced over, the movement alerting his peripheral vision, and Vik held the cigarette up. “Mind if I?”
“Yeah, sure,” Linden waved him off complacently, of course he did, he trusted Vik.
He had to abuse that trust, but this was important. Linden would understand.
“Have jacket potatoes, I would. So easy. I’ll be back in a bit.”
. . .
Pet knew. He had known long before he caught the scent of Vik walking up to the house. He’d known all night, and he hadn’t slept a second because of it, instead choosing to spend his last night on earth with the stars.
He would try to take it well. He wanted to aim for dignity, but such fantasies weren’t allowed.
The door opened slowly, like it had before. Pet could only watch as Vik locked it behind him. Of course he had a spare key, he was family. As Vik turned to face him once more, a tiny whimper escaped his lips.
No, no, he thought. I don’t think I can do this.
Vik started moving towards him. Pet couldn’t tell if he had a weapon, but he had enough silver to reduce him to screaming flesh. He scrambled back, all thoughts of being still and good thoroughly chased away, replaced by terror and rising panic and the clumsy, ugly desire to live.
Vik took another step. Pet had expected a blind rage and sudden pain and death following not long after, but this slowness reflected a depth of self-restraint, of planning, of a desire to do this properly. There would be no enraged punch that knocked him unconscious. There would be no misaimed kick that cracked his head in just the right place to kill him fast.
Vik’s eyes were locked with his. Should Pet look down like a dog, with a face full of humility and submission? Or was it better to hold the eye contact and prove to him that he wouldn’t dare put him under hypnosis? In the end it felt as if the choice was made for him, as his back hit the wall and he realised he was frozen in fear. He kept staring with wide, frantic, orange eyes.
One of his hands was balled up, and as Vik lifted it, Pet realised it wasn’t destined to punch him, not yet. It was holding something. Vik smoothed the note out and read it over.
“What made you write this, then?”
. . .
The vampire gasped, and Vik knew he was on the right path. Oh yeah. Something had definitely happened and he had needed to double-down on the I’m so harmless and damaged act.
His body was pulsing with anger. He could feel it under his skin, guiding his hands to wring the neck of the creature that was only a metre from him. It would be so easy. He could make sure all his silver rings were lined up and then pound and pound and pound until he was a mess. Until Linden had no choice but to throw him out. Vik would do that too. Linden wouldn’t have to worry about anything. He’d be glad for Vik’s help.
A tiny spark of caution suddenly ran through him. He was dealing with a vampire, after all. No matter what, he was faster, stronger, and more deadly.
An even tinier spark of frustration followed. If Vik did beat the shit out of him, it would mean the vampire was letting him. And what did that mean?
Did it mean he really was domesticated? Tamed? Tortured into submission?
Was that a good thing?
Vik’s lip curled into a scowl. He was standing over a vampire, and the vampire was cowering. Vik was the one in control. What the fuck else mattered?
“You wrote my brother a little sorry note. And I suppose you thought that was all you needed to do. I’m sure you feel pretty smug right now.”
The vampire shook his head, all of his features twisting up like he was going to cry. His eyes were shining. Vik almost laughed. Oh shit, he really was gonna cry.
There was an almighty bang behind him. It would have made a lesser man jump, but not Vik, not when he had a business to see to.
“Vik! Vik you fucking maniac!” Linden shouted. His voice was loaded with pure anger, and on Linden it sounded all wrong.
Vik didn’t break eye contact. It would be too easy for the vampire to get the jump on him if he got distracted.
“Open the door!” Linden continued. “Vik! He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t do anything!”
His tone was already dropping from anger to bargaining. He sounded scared.
Vik knew he couldn’t stay for long, and he felt like taking a risk. He leant even closer to the vampire. His blood would smell so fresh to him, separated by only a thin layer of skin, flesh, whatever. All negligible in the eyes of a hungry vampire. The cereal bar wrapper that Vik had discarded earlier.
“I warned you, right? I’d say I was pretty fair.”
The vampire just nodded, finally looking down and screwing his eyes shut. Braced.
“Vik!”
Before Linden had even finished shouting his name, the first punch had cracked straight across the vampire’s jaw, and god it felt good. It felt like sugar and caffeine and sweet release.
The punch caught and dragged, and Vik realised it was because his silver rings were doing their job even better than he’d anticipated- he’d obviously never punched a vampire in the face before- and each one had started to melt the skin. It was like dragging his knuckles across a fresh wax model. When he retracted his hand, Vik was staring back at an even more monstrous face than before.
The vampire’s left cheek and jaw, where the punch had landed, were badly burnt with rivets exactly where the rings had hit him. Patches of his lips were missing, leaving him with a permanent snarl. The vampire breathed heavily, spitting out some pieces of burnt flesh.
He still wasn’t fighting back. He hadn’t even raised his hands to shield his face.
He just watched, tears running silently down his cheeks, as Vik raised his fist again.
Tame.
Vik faltered.
The vampire started to move.
But he was lowering his head, not lunging for him. Vik’s throat went wholly ignored as the creature bent forward, chest against thigh, and pressed a kiss to Vik’s boot.
Vik’s stomach turned.
The next punch landed easily, knocking the vampire clean down, his curled hands and skinny shoulder bruising against the wooden bedroom floor.
“Get the fuck off me,” he spat, real nausea fuelling the bile in his words. He staggered back, a little too unsteadily for his liking. The vampire hadn’t put him under his control, sure, but he’d still done something to him. He delivered a few swift kicks, going for his ribs until the last one, where he simply lifted the boot that the vampire had just put his lips on and brought it down hard on one of his hands. Vik smiled as the vampire moaned, pushing his face into the floor, like it would swallow him up and let him escape.
It had only been a minute at most since Vik had last heard Linden shouting. He wasn’t going to break the door down, was he? That would be extremely stupid.
“Vi-“
“I’m coming out, calm down,” he shouted, summoning every ounce of nonchalance he could. None of this mattered to him, the whimpering vampire below didn’t matter to him, the only thing that might be worth a damn was that Linden was upset with him. Vik could let himself attend to that.
He thought about taking one of his thickest rings and pressing it into the back of the vampire’s neck, seeing how far it would sink into the flesh, burning a path through the living creature. His stomach rolled again. Perhaps not. He wanted to beat him, rough him up a bit, not torture him.
He kicked the vampire one last time, right in the face where his burns were, and then held his breath as he turned and opened the door.
He found Linden right outside, and ugh, fuck, the fucking look that Vik was greeted with was enough to sow the seeds of guilt, and that made his anger puff its chest up even further.
Linden grabbed his shoulder to shove him out of the way, staring into the bedroom, then back to Vik.
“Go downstairs,” he said, low and flat and emotionless.
Vik grunted and stormed away. When Linden did appear a few minutes later, Vik knew to hold his tongue and let him speak first.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Linden barked as soon as he was downstairs, just far enough that if Vik decided to turn back and finish the job, Linden would at least have time to react.
“Can’t you?” he replied, not missing a second. “It was really out of the realm of your imagination? You dumb, Linden?”
“You’ll be thrilled to know that he’ll be fine in a day or two. I thought you’d killed him. I thought you’d actually just murdered someone. I mean, beating the shit out of them is hardly better, but-“
“Of course he’s- of course he’s fucking alive!” Vik yelled. “He’s a vampire! Fucking hell!”
“He hardly fought back, did he? He would have let you kill him.”
Vik ignored this. “I did that for good reason, you seriously have no idea how much danger you’re in having that thing in the house.”
“God, you really do think I’m dumb. I know, Vikram, and it’s okay, he’s-“
“No, because it’s not okay, something happened and I found the note- he did something! He did something to have to write all that shit!” Vik was surprising himself with how unstable his voice was. He was going to tear himself to ribbons with emotion if he wasn’t careful. But he- his brother- “He did something to you!”
“He didn’t, it- where are the injuries, then? I’m fine!”
“Stop fucking lying to me, Linden, I know we see this differently and I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry I can’t support this, but you’re really gonna lie to me? To protect a worthless piece of shit vampire?”
“You lied! You lied to me,” Linden snapped, jabbing a finger into his own chest to emphasise his point. “You didn’t even ask me about the note, you just, what, fished it out of the actual rubbish and snuck away? You went right under my nose in my own house and-“
“Linden, Linden, do you hear yourself? You have a vampire upstairs!”
“Would you just take some deep breaths? Fuck!” Linden was shouting, now, they were both shouting and it was never going to accomplish anything.
How did the vampire see his brother? As master of the house? Vik could listen to the master of the house. He took some deep breaths. Linden did the same, and the two didn’t break eye contact. Vik wasn’t sure how his own face looked. Hurt? Furious? Beastly?
Linden looked like he was a hiker that had just come across a bear. His hands were slightly raised, ready to placate.
“Okay, okay, I’ve calmed down.”
“Okay.”
“Please just tell me what happened.” Vik felt wrung out. Why had any of this needed to happen? Why had Linden taken the stupid thing in, he thought hopelessly. Everything was going wrong. He absolutely hated arguing with Linden.
“I’m not going to let you hurt him anymore.”
“I won’t!” Vik heard himself raising his voice, and paused. Deep stupid useless breaths. “Sorry, I won’t, alright? God.”
“You’re acting like that was a ridiculous accusation to make, when you just-“
“Okay, I get it, I get it, I get it. Please tell me, please Linden, I need to know that you’re okay, I’m doing this for you.”
Linden stared at him from under his heavy brow. It would be so easy for Vik to lean into his own annoyance, but he didn’t want to. He tried to let himself feel the unbearable pain of humility.
Yes, Linden was right. He had just gone and beaten the little pet that Linden was looking after. He shouldn’t have done that- not because the vampire didn’t deserve it, but because Linden hadn’t asked him to.
“I moved my arm in front of his face, just to pick something up, but it scared him. He thought I was gonna hit him. He did this… kind of, like, a bite in the air, but it was like his mouth just closed as a reflex because he was surprised. So he didn’t actually bite me, or hurt me. And yeah, it scared the shit out of me, Vik. I panicked. And then he didn’t move, and I realised if he’d wanted to bite me, he would have. So I asked him if he could write on some paper, and he just used it to apologise, and then he ran upstairs.”
Linden broke eye contact. “Thanks for letting me talk.”
“Yeah, ‘course mate…” Vik said as he mulled everything over. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was only yesterday. I knew you’d lose your shit.”
“Yeah, but that’s not- I still can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”
“But Vik, you found out and you did lose your shit. I’m trying to look after him here. I would have told you, okay, of course I would’ve, just in a way that was a bit calmer.”
“So you’re really not hurt?”
“I promise. I swear down.”
“Good.”
“Christ, Vik.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry I kept interrupting you.”
Linden ran a hand down his face and exhaled. Vik stepped forward and tilted his shoulder, a tiny fraction of movement. Linden saw it, like he always did, and he understood, wrapping an arm around Vik in a tight hug.
Vik’s arms tightened across Linden’s back, using his strength to push the air out of him in a huff. It only lasted a second or two, but it was all they needed to get the point across.
“I’ll go home. I know you need to go back upstairs.”
“I really need to name him…” Linden muttered, with another almighty sigh.
. . .
Pet lay on the floor where Vik had left him. He was alive.
He took a few breaths. He didn’t want to think. He was numb- alive, and numb. Humans called his current state of breathing, eating, sleeping, a type of undeath. It didn’t seem quite accurate, but he knew he shouldn’t be questioning humans.
Still. Alive he was.
Why had Vik shown him mercy?
Even before his Master intervened, Pet’s finely tuned senses had picked up on all the infinite ways Vik had hesitated.
He hadn’t expected kissing his feet to stop the onslaught, and it didn’t- if anything, it made it worse-but Pet hoped it had proved his obedience. He was alive! He would happily be Vik’s punching bag. Vik could beat him senseless, keep him in his place, Pet would welcome it with Master’s permission.
His hand was twitching in pain where Vik had crushed it. He was strong, for a human, and Pet was an incredibly weak vampire. It made for a pretty good beating. The injuries would fade fast, but it didn’t make the hurt any less severe.
It had been deserved, so the pain didn’t feel like proper pain. The handlers used to remind him that being pinned down, bitten, drained of blood- that was legitimate. What Pet felt was justice, or something. It was hard to remember, not because he had forgotten, but because his mind shoved the memories behind a door and locked it.
He was thinking too much.
If he was truly destined to live a bit longer, Pet decided he had time to drift away. His mind was already tugging at the loose rope that moored him to his body, scratching at it with clumsy fingers, holding back until Pet closed his eyes and lent a hand. He knew how to untie the knot. He had done it so many times before, and as he finally went away, he let the rope slip from his palm without a second thought.
-
here's a little sketch of how Col looks at the end of this chapter:
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taglist:
@whumpsday @whumpycries @hollowgast1 @pigeonwhumps @cupcakes-and-pain @extemporary-whump @unicornscotty @d-cs @secretwhumplair @octopus-reactivated @wolfeyedwitch
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maracujatangerine · 2 years
Text
31. Lost Property
CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump
Previous
When Lydia and Linden came downstairs again, there was a strained silence between them.
Lydia opened the bottle of wine, Linden fiddled around with getting some wine glasses, and some glasses for water, and a bunch of crackers, and some cheese and olives and some rather superfluous plates, and neither of them seemed to know how to break the silence.
“You think I treat the pets too much like children?” Lydia just went out and said it, flatly.
Linden jerked his head up and looked for a moment like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming train. He looked back down at the table, then, determinedly, back up again.
”Well-” Linden hesitated. “I just think…they already have no control over their lives. And they aren’t children. Even calling them ‘the pets’ is…”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Lydia bristled. “Don’t you think I know that it is totally insane that they look to us for guidance as if they were dogs in a bewildering human world? And you think that I want to strip them of their agency?”
Linden almost recoiled at the intensity of her words. She could see that he was collecting himself, choosing his next words, but she wasn’t done.
“Listen,” she said sternly, “Apart from Cory I have gotten to know another pet, a guard dog named Brutus. They are very different, but in some ways they are the same, and Col seems to be similar in that way too.” She paused.
“Every time I try to give them more power over their own lives, they push back in terror. ‘Pets should not do X, pets should not do Y’. They have gone through hell and they have been taught that their own decisions, even their own desires, should not exist.
I am telling Cory what to do. But within that safety net of sorts, where he knows that he is a good boy,” she made a face at her own words, ”I encourage him to take his own initiatives, to grow as a person. And he does, and he feels reasonably safe while he is doing it. If that means that I am treating him too much like a child,” she spat, “then so be it!”
Just try it yourself, she wanted to say, if you think it is that easy.
But Linden did. That gentle, dark-haired man that sat across from her, looking crestfallen, did struggle with the same issues every day.
She knotted her fingers together in her lap. “I’m really trying to do the best for Cory, but it is just very hard to know, sometimes. What is the right thing to do, I mean.”
Linden nodded, quietly. Inky eyes meeting her own.
“I usually just feel like I’m muddling through,” he admitted. “It’s very hard to predict how Col will react. I try to make him feel safe, but sometimes I just succeed in freaking him out instead.” Lydia nodded.
“Been there, done that. It is really unpredictable, sometimes.” She sighed. “And they all just want to be good.“ She gave him a bit of a lopsided smile. “Sorry for taking my frustrations out on you for a bit, there. Even if I sounded as if I’m sure, honestly, I’m really struggling with if it is better to let Cory know that he is being good, so that he will feel safe, or if that just reinforces the whole thing about being a pet in the first place.”
“Yeah, completely. I find it hard to find a balance between accepting these very glaringly obvious difficulties and just falling into a hole of pessimism. I never want to complain too much, or sound resentful, or… yeah. But it is nice to talk about this with someone who really gets it. And, um. Thank you for the apology. It’s okay, really. We all react to things differently.”
“You’re a very measured man,” Lydia said, staring into her wine, the ghost of her earlier smile still barely visible on her lips.
“So, how did Cory end up with you anyway?” Linden asked.
Lydia swallowed a gulp from her glass and sighed, then she looked straight into Linden’s eyes.
“I bought him.” She admitted with a grimace. “I didn’t know what it was going to be like, and I thought I was doing something good, but I bought him and paid good money for him.” There was a bitter anger in her voice, at the WRU, but mostly at herself. “I paid for Cory, as if he were a dog.”
“I’m not judging you,” Linden said evenly. “The alternative was for him to end up with someone who really did see him as a dog.”
Lydia sighed. The thought was painful. “How did you get Col?”
“Ad in the local paper. He was living on the street so they gave him to me for free. It was that or they’d, uh, put him down.”
Lydia felt a twinge of guilt. Linden had at least acquired Col outside of the conventional system. She felt so complicit. Perhaps she had helped Cory to a better life, but at the expense of supporting the pet industry.
She thought back to the revelation about the attacker at dinner, and how Col had sobbed that he deserved to be put down. Did he know, she wondered, how close he had come to such a fate?
”That was truly a good deed.” She told Linden. “Brave of you, too. If I had known what to expect, I’m not sure I would have been brave enough.”
Linden hummed in assent and refilled their glasses. They both sipped their wine.
“Cory did do something quite odd,” Linden remarked suddenly, as if the memory had just come to him. “When I had the radio on. It was playing a classical piece and I walked in on him with tears streaming down his face. Properly streaming.”
Lydia cocked her head to the side and nodded, letting him continue.
“He told me later about this dream he has sometimes. He said that he dreams he’s in a cave, with… something weighing on him. And music coming through him. Has he ever talked about it with you?”
“No,” Lydia confirmed, leaning forward. “Never.”
“Doesn’t it sound like being in an orchestra?”
Lydia locked eyes with Linden, nodding slowly. “It does. It does!”
Linden felt a little excited at the new revelation. “And when he was crying at the music, he didn’t seem scared or upset, just- moved? He said he’d forgotten how beautiful it was. But that he’d never try to play. He insisted upon it, in fact.”
“He’d only say that if it was trained out of him,” Lydia finished the thought.
“Exactly.”
“But…” Lydia bit her lip, doubtfully. “He does play. I mean, you heard him yourself tonight. He was a bit nervous at first, but it was quite easy for him to start to play even for other people.” She shook her head, slowly. “And you heard him, he’s good, right?” Linden smiled and nodded. “But…” She hesitated, unwilling to criticise Cory. “ “I don’t think he’s professional level good. I’m not a tin whistle expert, but still, I think he is more like a gifted, dedicated amateur.”
“I guess you are right.” Linden looked down, disappointed. “Perhaps it was nothing more than a random dream.”
He took a sip of his wine. The memory of Coriander still bothering him. The blonde man’s tear-stained face as he swayed in tune with the violin, an almost religious ecstasy. It should mean something.
Cory had been swaying to the violin… which is a string instrument… which is a whole different kettle of fish compared with a flute or any kind of wind instrument.
“Hey Lydia,” Linden said slowly, puzzling together his thoughts as he spoke, “have you ever let Cory try some other kinds of instruments? You know how many musicians play several instruments, but have one instrument as their main expertise?” He could see understanding dawning in her eyes as well. “What if Cory plays another instrument even better?”
“Oh my God.” Lydia took a breath. “That is brilliant. I haven’t thought of trying that, but of course I should. I could maybe take him to a shop that sells musical instruments, or…”
“You should be a bit careful.” Linden cautioned gently. “There were some pretty strong emotions in play just by him listening to the radio.” Lydia nodded in agreement.
“You are right. I shouldn’t overwhelm him. Maybe that would be too much at once. I will give it some thought.” She gave Linden a lopsided smile. “There was some Sherlock Holmes-level deduction right there. I hardly know anything about Cory’s past.”
She looked away in the distance, suddenly sad. “Oh Cory, if we are right. I bet you played so beautifully.”
“He probably still can,” Linden said softly.
“I just- I want him to be happy again. I want him to be able to regain whoever he was, once.”
“Me too. That’s exactly what I want.” Linden said. Lydia nodded.
“For both of them.” She hesitated and amended herself. “For all of them.”
The pair made eye contact once more, warm smiles reflecting in each other’s eyes.
Lydia was the first to break the silence.
“I’m… I’m just so glad to have met you, you know. It seems like everyone involved with this pet business are just terrible human beings and I haven’t really met anyone else trying to do what I want to do with Cory.”
Linden grinned, raising his glass into a toast.
“Here’s to not being alone in a shitty situation.” Lydia huffed a laugh and clinked her glass against his.
“Let’s drink to that, to not being alone.”
*
The next morning dawned with sunshine from a clear blue sky. Linden drove them all to the station, in plenty of time for Lydia and Cory’s train.
“Thank you,” Lydia said, standing on the platform, “for great company,” she smiled at Col, “and great hospitality” with a smile for Linden. ”Don’t forget to come and visit us!”
She stepped up to Colton and wrapped her arms around the tall man, feeling him first stiffen in surprise, then relax into the hug. “Take care, Col.” She told him quietly. Lydia let him go and turned towards his owner. There was no hesitation in Linden’s hug, just warm friendliness. “Thank you for looking after Col.” He smiled and mimed holding up a phone. “We should talk soon.”
“T-thank you, Sir.” Coriander smiled shyly. When Linden hugged him, he hugged back carefully. “It was lovely to meet you Cory. You’re gonna be just fine.”
Col and Cory exchanged one long look.
“T-thank you, Colton.” Coriander said. “T-this pet w-was happy to see you.”
”I was happy to meet you, too, Cory.” Col raised his hand in a careful wave. “Take care.” Cory returned the gesture.
“Y-you too.”
Lydia and Coriander took their places and waved through the window as the train ponderously started to leave the station. Linden and Colton waved back. Then, together, they turned and started walking to their car, on the way back home.
*
Thank you all for tagging along and for being such great readers and co-adventurers! 💖
This collaboration grew and grew to become something much larger than either of us envisioned from the beginning. We’ve come to the end at around 37,000 words. We are both very proud and happy to bring this story to completion.
Even if Lost Property is finished, Linden and Colton and Lydia and Coriander will continue their separate adventures. Going forward, we will not automatically tag the Lost Property tag list for our separate writings. If you want to be on the tag list for Linden and Colton, let Cerys know. If you want to be on the tag list for Lydia and Coriander, get in touch with Linda.
Once again, thank you all!
Cerys & Linda
xxx
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