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geodes-whump-cave · 5 years ago

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You don’t have to be anyone’s slave anymore.

You are free now.

See from left to right.

This idea has been stuck in my head for a while and wouldn’t let me off until I do something about it.

I wonder if those who look at the wordless comic strip would understand what I was trying to convey…

In a dystopian where corruption is common, Kuroko was sold to the auction house as a slave by his parents at a very young age. He was often tortured, abused, starved and made to do harsh physical labors. One day, he saw a child and his parent interact with each other, and he was filled with longing for someone who would care for him, but believed that it would never be possible. When he saw the child throwing away a half-eaten food, he immediately went to dig it out from the trash bin. However, he was caught by his masters for doing so and thus, was punished. His masters then left him in the abandoned basement of their mansion with little food and water. Akashi was maybe a prince or official-in-training sent to this rural town to deal with the corruption by his father as part of his training. As he was reading the notes about the town, he realised that slavery is a practice in the town and he immediately called for people to arrest those who took part in illegal human trafficking. He freed all the slaves in the mansion and gave them a huge sum of money to help them build a new life(so huge they could live comfortably for the rest of their lives). One of the older slaves then informed Akashi that there was still another slave, the youngest, who was bought when he was still a toddler, and that he knew nothing about a normal life. She then inform him that the kid is being locked up somewhere, as they haven’t seen him around for weeks.

Akashi immediately turned back into the mansion to look for that last slave. In the master’s bedroom, he found a dilapidated metal door cleverly hidden and picked the lock open. He head down the flight of stairs and open another door to find a young teenager staring back at him. As Akashi tried to approach the boy, the boy scurried and cowered away from him, up until he was cornered. The boy then went into a defensive position, curling up his body and covering his head while he whimpered in fear for the impending pain.

He was shocked, however, when instead of feeling pain, he was embraced gently. Looking up at the redhead, said redhead smiled kindly and told him, “You don’t have to be anyone’s slave anymore. You are free now.”.

Kuroko was so shocked to hear that that he cried, and Akashi simply held him as he calmed down.

After that, Akashi decides to bring Kuroko to his mansion and teach him about the normal life. Kuroko was, however, wary and terrified of everyone except Akashi, and he often still behaves like a slave. Though, over time, that changed, and Kuroko now acts like a normal person, except with recurring nightmares about his abuse.

Overtime, as Akashi showed Kuroko the ways of being a normal human(he refuse to send Kuroko back to his family after finding out from some old agreement papers that he was sold by his family), he slowly fell in love with Kuroko, finding him to be sweet and endearing. However, he is hesitant to act on it as he is worried that Kuroko would reciprocate his emotion out of gratitude and obligation.

When Kuroko realised that he too, loves Akashi, he then had to deal with his insecurities as a former slave and showing Akashi that his love is real and not out of obligations.

I am a horrible writer, drawing is the best I can do. Hope this would appease my mind.

#awwwww!!#slavery tw #beaten #sold #injured #caretaker

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geodes-whump-cave · 5 years ago

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I get story ideas from the weirdest places. For example, a video on facebook about a guy feeding his piranhas

#im definitely gonna write about this #i have a whole story planned out and everything #the guy in the video had the perfect voice for a villain #geode cracks

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geodes-whump-cave · 5 years ago

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Another awesome chapter! I feel so bad for Huck though!!

Huck and Stephen 08

Before: Party

OC Nonhuman Whumpee and OC Master fic

This is a series - link to 01. Masterpost here <3

A/N: This one if set directly after the last one, Before: Pet Sitting (here). Huck is again called Pet here and is interacting with Harrison, who is Master Parry’s nasty son. Again, please ask me for specific tags or warnings if you need them or I miss something :)

Content warnings: verbal and physical abuse, dehumanisation, forced alcohol consumption & drunk people, (brief) choking, mention of broken bones.

(Huck/Pet POV)

Pet was trying to make themself small and unnoticeable in the corner. Their ears were pressed so close to their head that they ached, but it didn’t stop the deafening music from reaching them. If only they could press themself into a small enough ball, perhaps it would stop the guests from noticing them at all.

But Master Harrison didn’t want Pet out of sight like his father did when he had guests round. Harrison repeatedly ordered Pet out of the corner and had them running errands for the guests, who made a game of trying to stamp on Pet’s tail as Pet tried to scamper through the crowd to obediently fetch another drink.

Keep reading

#those people need to leave my baby huck alone or i will fight every motherfucker in that damn place i swear i-#so anyways awesome story!

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geodes-whump-cave · 5 years ago

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Hey, remember my obsession with those two? Still not gone!

So have this night monkey business!

#blood tw #this is so good!!!!!

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geodes-whump-cave · 5 years ago

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Here’s some

Random Worldbuilding

(Cause my brain can’t figure out how to fit the actual story together)

Tamer (the whumper) is a famous beast tamer

They’ve made everyone believe that the onilleans are a suffering species that must live in captivity since they don’t know how to survive on their own

Tamer is lying of course, the onilleans are smart, capable creatures

To the general public, Tamer seems friendly, eager to help, and a little playful while still being a good worker

The onilleans can walk on two legs or four (kinda random but just thought that I’d mention it)

Tamer trains and sells the onilleans and sometimes even breeds them for special orders

There are four “breeds” that Tamer sells: guard, statue, show, and companions

The guard pets protect what their owner tells them to, the statue pets are just to be displayed, show pets are very luxurious and compete in dog shows, and companions are simply the perfect friends

The selling mostly occurs at the pet showcase that Tamer holds to show the four different breeds

At the shows, the statue pets line the little arena place and change positions every hour

The guard pets chase and take down fast targets

The show pets perform dances and do tricks

At the beginning and end of the show, companion pets are a part of a petting zoo where people can interact with them

#the tale of suntail #let me know if i need to tag any trigger warnings #gonna make a separate post with the actual training stuff #might start calling Tamer Tanner since the two words sound similar #and they need a normal name so they can seem normal #might keep looking for a more badass name though

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geodes-whump-cave · 5 years ago

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Frathouse Boxboy: Bradley (the Alumnus)

continuation of this creepy comfort prompt! Bradley is a character now. He’s a wealthy alumnus of the fraternity and takes Zee home with him for a weekend because he’s afraid the frat is too chaotic and neglectful to be safe for a boxboy without breaks. we get insight into the nature of their relationship here and also get to understand zee a little bettter because he is out of his element.

CW: BBU, creepy comfort, forced starvation mention, food, torture mention, conditioning, repressed memories, begging, nausea, dubcon touch (nonsexual), general verbal pushiness

****

Zee had been right about an apartment. He’d been right about the floor to ceiling windows, too, only it wasn’t sleek and bare like he expected. There were paintings on the walls, oil and watercolor, bookshelves, sun-faded Persian rugs covering almost every spot of bare floor, and a large gas fireplace in the living room. Bradley steers Zee through the kitchen, down a step into the main living area. The whole thing was one open wing, it seemed, with a hallway at the other end he assumed led to a bedroom and bathroom.

“This is… it’s very nice.” Zee says, keeping his manners. Cam had taken him by both shoulders before he’d left, looked him dead in the eyes. Best behavior, Zee.You’re representing me while you’re with him. Remember who you belong to. And remember what you are.

What he is. He’s a refurb. He knows that. Don’t pretend to be a fancy domestic, or especially a romantic. Got it. Bradley takes him to the sofa, two sofas rather, angled around a large coffee table, sits him down. They’d picked up takeout on the way there, and he set the fragrant paper bag in front of Zee.

“I know it’s an odd meal, but this place is famous, and they were still open. Help yourself.”

Timidly, Zee opens the bag and starts to pick out the warm bread inside, feeling like a raccoon in someone’s trash. Bradley hangs up his coat and takes off his shoes, checks his phone. “I’m hitting the shower.” He says over his shoulder, going through his voicemail. “Hang out, make yourself at home. I’ll be out in a few.”

Zee pauses mid-chew, both in stunned silence that he has been left unsupervised in this swanky downtown pad, and that Bradley was right, there is something magical about this hot, crusty bread. The soft inside melts on his tongue and he could cry.

He can’t help but glance around. There was a time when some other boy he once knew would’ve jumped up the moment Bradley was out of sight and started casing the place for valuables. Is there a lockbox under a bed or in the back of a closet? Are any of these painting originals? What about silverware? That watch, he probably takes that off before he gets in the shower. But Zee just sits in the middle of the sofa, taking bite after grateful bite of warm bread.

Bradley comes out a few minutes later, towel drying his short hair. It’s odd seeing him without his more professional getup, swapped for sweats and a plain white t-shirt.

“I left some clothes on the sink in the bathroom for you. You can take a shower, bath, whatever. There’s a walk in as well as a tub. Oh man, you gotta put that jam on there. It’s uhh, French or something. You’re missing out.”

Zee digs in the bag for the jam and Bradley sits on the adjacent sofa, crosses his ankle over his knee and watches. It takes Zee a moment to feel it, to look up self consciously.

“Sorry.” Bradley laughs at himself. “I’ve just… you know I’ve never actually met one of you? A… is it polite to say the word? Is it slang?”

Zee covers his mouth with his hand. “Boxboy?”

“Yeah.” Bradley leans back, tilts his head as he regards him. “Boxboy. I’ve got friends of friends who have them. I know my boss does but the slippery fucker won’t admit it. I swear it’s because his wife doesn’t know. But I’ve never had the pleasure. I could afford one, of course, but.” He gestures around. “I work a lot, and this would be their entire world. Kind of cruel, isn’t it?”

Zee looks around, still chewing. It’s open, and comfortable, and luxurious. There’s a big TV mounted on the wall and he can see a million city lights from the window, in the places where there is no glare. He doesn’t know if they’re east facing, but either way the light would be amazing, morning or afternoon. Cruel?

He shrugs. “It seems very comfortable here, Sir. I mean, I don’t get out of the house much, either, so.” I got kidnapped once. Sometimes they take me out to eat with them, or to a game.

“You think? I suppose your situation really puts it in perspective. I’ve heard wonderful things. About your— uh, about the talents of Boxboys. Anyone I’ve spoken to privately is very impressed by their services. It’s not something you discuss in mixed company, of course.”

Zee looks down at his hands, presses a crumb to pick it up and puts it in the paper bag. “I uhm… I thought they would’ve told you, but I guess you should know. I’m not… I’m not a romantic. I’m not even— I’m actually just a refurb.”

Bradley’s brow wrinkles. “What does that mean?”

Zee swallows uncomfortably. “Well…we can get sent back. If that happens, they do it again. Training.” He glances up to see if Bradley is following his spotty, tiptoeing explanation. He’s met with sympathetic eyes, hands clasped in his lap as he listens.

“I displeased my master and I was… sent back. I was uhm. Salvaged. Refurbished and sold at a… a very low price.” He takes a shaky breath, suddenly feeling very dizzy, like all the windows disappeared and left them high in the night sky, in a vacuum.

“I understand.” Bradley interrupts. “Although I find it hard to believe someone could be displeased with you.”

Zee barks a laugh, sharp and more like a yelp than anything. He covers his mouth at that, too, clears his throat. Bradley was just being gracious, but it made him feel a strange pull toward him.

Still, he shouldn’t have laughed.

He’s so base, even twice trained. He really is next to useless. He doesn’t know why they bothered to sell him again at all. Could’ve used him for parts. He’s got everything but his wisdom teeth and appendix, but nobody wants those anyway.

“Sorry,” he all but mouths.

“Don’t be. We’re just having a conversation. But that’s not why you’re here.” Bradley stands and Zee tenses, but he only pulls a blanket from the arm of the sofa, shakes it out and leans over to drape it over Zee’s shoulders. “I meant what I said, you need rest. That’s why you’re here, not for me to poke at you and ask you stupid questions I could look up on that place’s website.”

Zee tugs the blanket closer. It feels safe. “So the brothers don’t get in trouble? If something happens to me?”

Bradley looks him up and down, sighs. “Yeah. But nothing’s going to happen to you, angel. That’s my point.”

Zee nods, if just to appease Bradley, who is being so kind. If the boys want to do something dangerous or wild, there won’t be anyone there to stop them. No SOS will help, and in most cases he won’t even be able to get near a phone to send one.

“I have one question. If you’ll humor me.”

“Sir.”

“I heard Boxboys, and the girls too, I suppose…I’ve heard they can’t read. That’s got to be an urban legend, right?”

Zee shakes his head. “It’s true, Sir.”

Bradley opens his mouth, a look of disbelief crossing his face. He closes it again.

“I mean, they can, before. But not after.”

“When’s ‘before’? What were you, eighteen at the time?”

“Nineteen, Sir.” I turned nineteen in jail before I took the plea deal.

“So you can’t read the receipt there. From the bakery.”

Bradley’s voice has taken on the amused, disbeliving tone he recognizes from so many of the brothers when they get going on something. Zee closes his eyes against the feeling in his stomach, the fear that comes from knowing Bradley could do anything he wants with him. That he’s alone here. At least in the house someone always took pity on him, or found him. Here, there was just Bradely.

“I can’t. No. I can’t read it.”

Bradley narrows his eyes. “You’re fucking with me.”

“No.” Zee shakes his head, gives him a pleading look. “I wouldn’t. It… it gives me a migraine but like, worse. The letters, they’re not… I can’t recognize them anymore. Like, they’re Russian letters instead, or something. You know?”

“Cyrillic.” Bradley corrects quietly, thinking this over. “Would you recognize your name? How do you feel about numbers, like a simple math problem?”

“No. No, they make me sick too. Please, just… don’t.” He whimpers unhappily, fighting the fight or flight instinct making his whole body run unplesantly hot.

“Sick? Like physically? So what, they Clockwork Oranged you? How’d they do it? I gotta know.”

Now that was a brick wall, one that ran for miles in either direction in his mind. Peering over it would surely make him lose his composure entirely, right here on this strange man’s sofa. “I don’t… I don’t know. Please, Sir.”

“What about spelling things out loud? Like a spelling bee? Can you still do that?”

Zee makes a noise of frustration and sickness as whitehot pain spikes in his head, sweat breaks out under his arms and on his upper lip. He has to think for a moment which direction he’ll run if he has to be sick. Probably backwards, up to the kitchen. His nose runs and he sniffs indelicately, trying not to fall apart, to start sobbing. Or begging.

“Okay.” Bradley holds up a hand. “Okay. Relax. Don’t look at the receipt. You understand my skepticism, though. It’s not you.”

Zee leans over his knees, taps one foot rapidly and blows air as if through as straw to fight his nausea. “Sorry, Sir.”

“Stop that. It’s alright. My curiosity got the best of me. I have no reason not to believe you.” He gets off the adjacent sofa and sits on the other one with Zee, lays a hand on his back, another on his knee.

“Shh. Look at me. Hey. I’m really sorry, kid. That was rude. As much as I’d love to pick your brain about how they pull something like that off, I’d rather remain ignorant than upset you so badly. Really. Look at you, you’re pale.”

Bradley’s hand is cool and clean on his forehead. His skin smells like body wash from the shower. Zee takes a shaky breath, leans into it.

“There. Deep breath. Good. Everything’s okay. You’re my guest when you’re here, you know.” He pets Zee’s hair like he did in the laundry room at the fraternity house, adept and soothing. “We’re a little sensitive. Duly noted.”

Zee smiles self deprecatingly, feeling his bearings coming back and feeling a little silly. Bradley hadn’t even touched him. He’d just asked a question from five feet away. Should’ve just stripped me for parts.

“Go take a shower. It’ll feel good. Use anything you want in there, towels on the rack. And those clean clothes I left out for you.” Bradley pats Zee’s knee to get him up. “Go on.”

*****

Zee comes out in a pair of clean pyjama pants and a white t-shirt. He tries to keep all the guys whites this clean but he can’t help it, eventually they get dingy and yellowed. He pads down the dark hall back into the warmth of the main room, all soft lamps and now a glow from the fireplace, too. He wonders where he will be expected to sleep. He’s been wondering that the whole time, but was pushing it away in favor of thinking about being fed and bathed.

“Over here, Zee.” Bradley calls him. He’s got six books from his shelf spread out on the coffee table, and Zee gives him a look of betrayal, of open fear.

“No, no. Hush. C’mere. Trust me a little, would you?” He pulls Zee close by the elbow. “No words, no reading. Just based on the jackets, the covers. Whatever. Pick. I’ll give you a synopsis of ones that look good and I’ll read to you for a bit.”

Zee blinks as he takes that in. He’ll read to him? Like a kid?

Bradley does have a very nice voice. It could be nice. He thinks of Alex reading him things from his phone while they lie on his bed, how nice it is to hear anything, even a joke or a short article go through his head without having to look at the words, which he can’t. It’s like being in the world still for a moment, being a part of the rapid pulse of it even though the world stopped for him the day he took the deal from the public defender, and the judge granted it.

“I know that one. By the cover.” Zee points to the one with a picture of snow, and a howling dog, or wolf. He can’t remember.

“Call of the Wild. A fine late night choice for us, I think.” Bradley smiles, a friendly and gentle expression that helps Zee’s constant need for reassurance.

Surely this man doesn’t want to spend the last few minutes of his day reading to someone else’s Boxboy. He could ask him to tidy up, or clean these huge windows, or organize the medicine cabinet. Or just cut to the chase and make another use of him entirely. Something. “But- I mean if you have other things to do. I-I understand.”

Bradley raises an eyebrow. “Would I have offered, if I didn’t want to? It’ll put me to sleep just as much as it will you. You’d do the same for me. If we were…” He makes a flip-flop gesture by swishing two fingers past one another. If our roles were reversed.

Zee smiles back. “This one.” He taps on the hardcover.

“You didn’t even hear my other options.” Bradley teases. “I threw in A Clockwork Orange for you.”

Zee doesn’t get the significance of those words, or why he’s saying them again. “I know I like this one already. I know it’s about a dog.”

“A safe choice. Understandable.” He picks the book up and gestures for Zee to lay on the couch. He lays the blanket over him again and Zee hugs a pillow, watching the fire crackle endlessly over fake logs.

Bradley begins to read, one hand casually on Zee’s shin over the blanket and before he is five minutes into the story Zee knows he is going to drop off to the hum of his voice, like warmed honey.

#awwwww!!!!#i know bradley is most likely gonna be bad but i love him too much!!!!

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geodes-whump-cave · 5 years ago

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Huck and Stephen 07

Before: Pet Sitting

OC Nonhuman Whumpee and OC Master fic

This is a series - link to 01. Masterpost here <3

A/N: This is the next update of the Huck and Stephen story, but here set before Huck ends up on dear Stephen’s doorstep. In this, Huck is called Pet, which was the name given to them by their previous owner, Master Parry. These new fics are much much more hurt & no comfort than some of the other ones I’ve done, but I promise Huck will get the nice treatment they deserve from Stephen soon enough! (I know because I’ve written up to it aha). But there’ll be some heavy stuff between now and then so please ask me for specific tags or warnings if you need them or I miss something :) Hope you enjoy this, I will be hiding under the desk.

ALSO! @haro-whumps did some gorgeous fanart for Huck (LINK) and it’s so lovely!! Thank you so much!! I hope you like these new updates.

Also, I want to thank @geodes-whump-cave, @deluxewhump and @newbornwhumperfly so much for their support and interest in the Huck and Stephen saga, without whose encouragement I probably wouldn’t be posting. And thanks to @redstainedsocks and @gimmethatsweetwhump for your encouragement always, you’re the best <3

Content warnings: verbal and physical abuse, dehumanisation, (brief) xenophobia, and (brief) choking

(Huck/Pet POV)

Crouched at the foot of the bed, Pet watched anxiously as Master Parry packed his things, meticulously folding up his work shirts.

Flicking his wrist, Master checked his watch with a scowl. “Where is that kid?” He glanced down and Pet reflexively leant backwards, curling their tail close to their paws. “What’re you doing?”

Pet flinched, crouching down lower with a soft whimper of apology, their ears flattened. It didn’t help.

“Always under my fucking feet.” Master kicked Pet in the ribs, hard enough to knock the air out of them with a thud, though Master was only wearing his slippers this time.

They didn’t know what to do, what Master wanted from them these days; pressing close to Master annoyed him, but trying to keep out of the way was no better. Being quiet made Master accuse Pet of ‘sneaking’ around, but every noise they made infuriated him. They used to be able to please him, if they behaved nicely and didn’t speak, but somehow, without meaning to, they’d lost the ability to make Master look fondly at them.

Master curled his lip. “Get out.”

Pet seized on the direct order and hurried to obey, only to yelp when Master suddenly lurched towards them and grabbed a handful of their hair, jerking their head back. Tears came to Pet’s eyes, even as they tried so hard to repress them. Only weak creatures cried. Master’s expression was twisted with loathing as he looked down at them, his grip agonising in their hair, and it was that hatred that hurt more than Master’s kicks or careless cruelties. Pet wanted more than anything for Master to look at them with affection, just once, like he used to.

“You know the one thing that makes this crappy work trip worthwhile, Pet? Being packed into those cheap, filthy planes like sardines, the disgusting hotels and disease-infested foreign food? Not having to deal with you, you and your pathetic snivelling.” He shoved Pet away and they collapsed on the floor, curled into a ball around the pain in their chest, shaking as they tried so hard not to cry. “Dirty animal.”

Master strode away into his en suite to wash his hands, getting Pet’s germs off him, he said, because no matter how often Pet showered, Master never thought they were clean. And Pet never felt clean, not with how Master always looked so disgusted by them.

Sobbing now, but silently, Pet dragged themself off the floor and scurried out the room, tail between their legs, not wanting to make Master even more furious by disobeying when he’d ordered them to leave.

The doorbell finally rang twenty minutes later, to Pet’s great relief. Master had been pacing the floor and muttering in annoyance for ten minutes and Pet was wound tight as a coil. They hurried to open the door as they were normally expected to, but Master was in too much of a hurry and Pet, like usual, was in the way.

“Move!” Master barked, knocking past Pet even as they tried to get out of the way. They stifled a soft whimper as they barely managed to stay upright, not wanting to draw Master’s attention when he was as angry as he was.

Master flung open the door hard enough that it hit the wall and Pet flinched from where they were hovering in the corridor, a few paces behind Master.

“Why are you never on time?” Master demanded of the smartly-dressed young man at the door.

It was Harrison, Master Parry’s son and Pet’s heart sunk at the sight of him, but they made themself sit up straight and tuck their paws and tail in neatly, not slouching like Master hated.

Harrison strolled inside, tall and angularly handsome. He’d changed since he used to live with Master and Pet, before he left for university a few years ago. He’d grown his hair out longer and lost some weight, which left his cheekbones sharper and his eyes, always cruel, now seeming even colder behind the lock of hair that seemed deliberately styled to fall across one eyebrow.

“Come on,” Harrison said, easily, “it’s only just after-”

“I don’t care, I really don’t.” Master waved Harrison inside. “Just take the mutt and get going. I have a plane to catch.”

Harrison, his hands in the pockets of his slacks, looked down at Pet with a smile that looked soft, but barely even reached his lean cheeks. Pet shivered, their skin prickling under their fur.

He came forward to rub Pet between the ears. “Hello there.” Harrison’s touch itself wasn’t unpleasant but Pet still had to force themself not to flinch away from it. “We meet again, mutt.”

“Harrison.” Master put his bag down in hall loud enough to make Pet flinch. “Just take it and drop it back in a week. In one piece.” Harrison’s hand briefly tightened in Pet’s hair and, their scalp still tender from Master grabbing their hair just a moment ago, Pet winced. Harrison noticed and goosebumps passed over Pet’s arms at the slight smile that passed over Harrison’s cold face.

Harrison finally dropped his hand from Pet’s head and Pet’s shoulders slumped in relief. Turning to his father, Harrison grinned rakishly and held out a hand. “Cash up front, dad. Pet sitting is expensive; those shelter places would charge you a fortune.”

Master scowled, but he was already digging out his wallet, glancing again at his watch. “How would you know what it costs?” he said as he shoved the money into Harrison’s hand. “You do nothing but bleed me dry, kid.”

Harrison just smiled, pushing the notes into the pocket of his jeans, which looked like they’d been torn at the knees by the claws of an angry creature.

“Hasta leugo, dad,” Harrison said as he grabbed Pet’s leash and muzzle off the hook by the door, carelessly fastening it around Pet’s neck. He gave his dad a jaunty wave. Without waiting for Pet to get their paws under them, he towed them out the door and onto the pavement outside. Pet coughed, half-choked, and dragged in a lungful of air as they hurried to catch up with Master Harrison, their stomach sinking. A week. Just a week.

I know this one is only short, I’ll post the others over the next few days probably, Please do let me know what you think, and my inbox is always open for thoughts, requests, feedback and ideas <3

Keep reading

#HUCK IS BACK!!!!!!!#JUST REALIZED IM ACTUALLY TAGGED IN THIS OH MY GOSH #verbal abuse tw #physical abuse tw #abuse tw #choking tw

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geodes-whump-cave · 5 years ago

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@whumpthisway I'm thinkin about... them...

#babyyyyyyyyy

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geodes-whump-cave · 5 years ago

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Box Boy/Babe Info Guide: Worldbuilding Compilation

This universe (multiverse) can be intimidating at a glance. So many writers, so many stories, so much lore. You might not know where to start. First thing us to remember that it’s a multiverse and you can change things as you please, but you might want to follow some guidelines. I’m compiling worldbuilding posts from various writers to help new BBU writers get started.

Big thanks to @ashintheairlikesnow @haro-whumps @albino-whumpee @moose-teeth @the-host-and-colton @slaintetowhump @sweetwhumpandhellacomf for all their contributions and concepts created by them. A for writing some rad stories.

Warning for kidnapping, abuse (emotional, psychological, physical, sexual), violence, institutionalized slavery, brainwashing, etc.

Keep reading

#abuse tw #violence tw #saving this for uhhhhhh reasons lol

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geodes-whump-cave · 5 years ago

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This is so good!!!!

Not the same anon, but I had an idea for creepy caretaking with Zee. An older guy who’s a former member of the frat/alumnus of the college comes to visit and stops by the house. As for the scenario maybe he could find Zee hurt or upset after some of the guys did something to him. Or like he wants to “borrow” Zee for little bit while he’s here.

A version of what you suggested. This is just where it took me. To anon who asked for slightly meaner Dominic, I couldn't do it. I wanted to do it but I couldn't do it 😔 I'm sorry.

CW: creepy comfort, Zees lack of autonomy. Dubcon touch (not sexual, but intimate). Implied neglect and abuse.

****

"Well well." A man tugs up his pants at the knees to squat down in front of Zee.

Alarmed, Zee raises his eyes. This is not one of the brothers. This isn't even a student. For a moment his heart drops, wondering if someone from the facility was making some sort of check, to make sure even their refurbs were representing the company well.

His eyes must've been wide, and terrified, because the man clicks his tongue at him.

"It's alright, Z2. The young men in the living room told me about you. I was a representative of this chapter when I was their age." He looks around the room, as if the house is steeped in memories. "Class of '07. I can only imagine it's a bit of a nightmare being you. Hmm? So many young, careless masters."

Zee recoils a fraction when the man reaches out, but forces himself to be still. If this man is an alumnus, is he not a sort of pseudo master by default? At the very least worthy of his best manners. The man is gentle. He smoothes back the hair on Zees forehead, tsks at the yellowing shadow of a bruise.

"Z2. Is that really your name?"

Zee isn't sure what he's asking. Surely he can't be asking for his other name. "Some of the brothers call me Zee, Sir."

"Zee. I'm Bradley. What're you doing in here anyway? On the floor. And which one of them hit your poor face?"

Zee had been sitting with his back to the dryer, waiting for the clothes to be done so he could fold them and transfer the ones from the washer in to dry.

"I was... I'm doing laundry, Sir. The dryer, it's ... Well, it's warm." He doesn't elaborate on who hit him.

Bradley has hay-colored hair and a close, shapely beard that looks like sandpaper. His clothes are well made, the watch on his wrist sleek and expensive. His fingernails are short and well kempt, and he wears a more sophisticated cologne than Zee is used to on the guys, fainter and finer, like leather and burnished teak.

"I think you need a vacation. Have you had one, since you arrived? Or is it twenty four seven duty?"

"I belong to the house." Zee recites warily. He smells a trap. Bradley stifles a laugh, but his eyes get warm and fond anyway.

"Of course you do. That is what they would tell you to say, isn't it? You know, nothing really ever changes. I'll talk to them about getting you a relaxing weekend away. Just to charge your batteries. You can't run on empty like this all the time."

He gets suddenly serious, maybe a little sad. "I could take care of you. Now and then. Give you my number. You can text me an SOS if you need out for any reason. I give this chapter more cash donations every year than the rest of the alumni combined. I believe in it, and the good it does, I really do. But you..." He strokes Zees collar so lightly with one finger that Zee gets goosebumps all the way from his scalp to his ribs. He whimpers without meaning to, embarrassed the moment the noise leaves his lips. Bradley eyes that bruise again, frowning.

"You're too sweet to be thrown to the wolves like this. I can tell. Would you like that? The guys will understand. I live in the city. I'd take very good care of you. And when you're ready, I'd bring you back. Well fed, well rested. Hmm? Does that sound alright?"

Zee knows this could be a trick. That's Michael's style, even Cam's. A test of loyalty. Would this grown man really participate in such childish and cruel games? Maybe. He can't rule it out. The offer is tempting. He imagines a masculine apartment, stainless steel and leather and floor to ceiling windows. A soft bed, a hot meal. This seemingly calm and reasonable man's hand striking through his hair. Like a second chance at the life he was supposed to have, the one he messed up and got sent to retraining, a quicker and more brutal process than the first.

"Sir?" He whispers, painfully unsure.

"I'm looking after my own interests, as well. Can't have an unsavory or tragic headline coming across my desk about this, can I? A preventable disaster. I know it's hard to trust me. You don't know me from a hole in the ground. But I will take very, very good care of you."

Show me. He leans into Bradley's hand, hungry for the refinement of him, the experienced touch. He's met with generosity, gentle strokes of his hair, the other hand coming to pet his cheek, his jaw.

"Poor thing." He croons. "I don't have to ask, you know. It's just that, well, I was hoping you'd come of your own volition. There's civility in choices. Don't you think?."

If there's a threat in there, Zee is too drunk on the soft, petting touches to sort it out. If his master's approve of this man's proposal, he won't protest.

"Okay. Yes, Sir."

Bradley smiles. "Good, then. I'll pitch it to your masters. I have rebuttals for all their objections, don't worry about that. Leave it to me, angel."

#I NEED MORE!!!!!!#creepy whumpers are amazing #i both love and hate bradley

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