#box boy whump
At random, whenever they strike me, have some little bits of whump.
CW: PET WHUMP, BBU
AU: Riley, a big tough Guard Dog “box boy” captive, inherited or caught and sold, not back to WRU, but into a black market for underground “Dog” fights.
Picture him kneeling in a darkened cell, muzzled, chained wrists above his head so he can’t lie down. They’ll leave him like that, depriving him of sleep to wear him down before they go in to teach him his place and his new role.
This is a series! Masterlist here!
This chapter is another Flashback so if you want to read only the “current” storyline you can skip this, it just adds context.
Content: Box Boy Whump, BBU, dehumanization, domestic abuse, victim blaming, conditioned behavior, shock collar, alcohol mention
Riley had spent a busy night fielding drunks at the Diamond nightclub away from Mr. James. Usually he did this by getting in their way and steering them along to one side, but sometimes, like tonight, someone actually tried to start trouble. Mr. James was the kind of man who occasionally made enemies, or found himself resented by lesser businessmen and their cronies.
The sight of a huge Guard Dog pet in his studded collar and black leather motorcycle jacket, looking like a particularly young and restless Hell’s Angel, was enough to make people think twice about trying to take a swing at Curtis James. Well, most people. Every so often, someone was angry, and drunk enough to be stupid.
With acknowledgements to @fairybean101 who helped me figure out how to write fluff.
This is a series, Masterlist here!
TWs: food, fever. Institutionalized slavery implied by the existence of Box Boys. This is almost entirely 2k of pure fluff.
It had been partly cloudy when they’d reached the college campus, but by the time they finally left the Liberal Arts and Lit building, it was starting to plop those warning raindrops that come ahead of a real downpour.
“Oh, crap!” Alice patted the sides of her wheelchair. “Of course it rains and I forgot to put my rain poncho back in the pockets! Argh!”
David stopped pushing the wheelchair for a moment and took off his jacket, draping it over her head and around her shoulders like a hood. “We’re still halfway across the campus from the car.”
“I can’t take your jacket, you’ll get wet!”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m washable. Can you hang on to the armrests? I… think we better run,” he said glancing over his shoulder at the oncoming rain falling in sheets.
This is a series! Masterlist here.
TW: chronic illness, Institutionalized slavery, fainting, dehumanization (real and joking), brainwashing
Alice hadn’t meant to. She really did not need looking after by an eager… “pet”. But she should have remembered her own body often didn’t leave her choices, and of course, it was only a matter of time before some stupid thing happened while he was around to see.
This is a Box Boy universe series, Masterlist Here
For this series, the more graphic flashbacks to things that happened during captivity will be separate as their own chapters so people who don’t want to read those can skip them and still get the Recovery Plotline. I hope to manage this!
This is a Flashback, and you can skip it and not lose plot info, I think, but it shows some of Riley’s old life.More is implied than said outright-no explicit content.
TW: Institutionalized slavery, Box boy whump, pet whump, dehumanization, alcohol, gun threat mention, robbery at gunpoint mention, sexual innuendo, sexualized situation with fingers in mouth implying things, noncon touch, future noncon implied
The Diamond was a well known city hotspot for nightclub entertainment. When there wasn’t live music, they had the best DJs playing top US hits and new imported beats on the thumping sound system. The drinks were excellent, the doormen strict. If you weren’t in the In Crowd, didn’t know the right people, or at least have the right looks, you didn’t get in.
Only a very privileged few, however, could access the upstairs rooms. At a glance it looked like just a dark utility hallway for reaching the sound wiring and storing old lighting rigs. Hidden behind sound-dulling black felt panels were private rooms that Curtis James, owner of the Diamond, kept for his best clients and his personal friends. Tonight, for example, was poker night.
Masterlist for this series is here
no editing we die like men
TW: Chronic illness frustrations, fainting, food, institutionalized slavery.
Alice awoke in pain. It ached, everything ached like being hit by a bus. Her whole body felt like something had impacted all of her at once and left her behind as it roared on by. She swore under her breath. Meds. She had to take her meds before the day got too far along.
Unintentional 18
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As always, beta-read by @alittlewhump <3
CW: BBU, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization, surgical/medical whump implied, and subsequent “side effects” and trauma. Explicit language. Some of this narrative involves an ongoing suicide attempt. General suicidal ideation, hopelessness, trauma. Implied noncon, restraints, beating/electrocution mentions, murder mention,dissociative/delusional state,drugging mention, victim self-blaming. Asks and messages are always welcome, please stay safe.
He had expected to feel lighter. Beat by beat untethered, unburdened. Nothing left for anyone. Not even him. He had thought it would all simply fade away.
Instead, it was heavy.
With everything he let out, more crowded in. Everything he’d lived through, had ever survived, the weight of his whole life. Each ounce replaced in triplicate. Holding him down from the inside out. All of it there, everyone there. Pressing in on him. Until it was unbearable.
Harrison, laughing at him for thinking he had any choice in the matter.
Archer, furious and screaming at him for fucking up so thoroughly.
And Leo.
Leo wouldn’t go away. He’d known him the shortest time of all but he took up the most space. He grappled and twisted around and around, stuck in the repetitive current of the thoughts. Their weight gathered an undeniable momentum, his control itself was too heavy to wield. He was swept off his feet, drowning, wondering over and over how Leo would react to this finality. Trying to force Leo’s expression into one that he could accept.
But it never reached his eyes.
He is such an absolute mess and I just want to dive into all the tangled threads of his story and straighten them out until everything makes sense. I wanna know how he got to WRU in the first place, how he went from being a pet in training to just a medical experiment. I wanna know about all these people he’s mentioning. I wanna know why he’s 359 here but 810 later.
I wanna know WHAT HE MEANS BY COMING BACK WITH TWO KILLS UNDER HIS BELT
I wanna knooooooooow
Finally having some time to draw again I sketched a scene from the next chapter. Poor Paxton took his first warm shower at Amals. Being confronted with his reflection, with all the things done to him, irreversibly etched into his skin, hurts more than the beatings themselves had.
25. Lost Property
CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump
Previous - Next
Coriander was kneeling next to Linden’s chair on the balcony. The morning sun touched their faces with gentle warmth, and glinted on the detritus of a demolished breakfast. Linden took another sip of his masala chai, enjoying the milky sweetness and the scent of cardamom and cloves.
Cory was also sipping his tea, cupping both hands around the warm cup. It made Linden feel bittersweet, seeing how effortlessly Cory could use his hands.
“I do this with Col, you know. Sit on the balcony together. It’s pleasant… he likes the sunshine a lot. And I like the view.”
“It’s very nice, Sir. So much birdsong.”
Linden smiled. “Yes. Do you and Lydia often, um, spend time together like this? Just enjoying your surroundings?”
He had never felt more awkward in his life. Making conversation with a borderline stranger was tough at the best of times, but for once, Linden didn’t feel as if he needed to subtly interrogate Cory- to try and worm some evidence of Lydia’s sadism out of him. No, he just wanted to get to know the man a bit.
Cory’s eyes unfocused as he visited a memory in his head. “Miss Lydia has a garden, Sir. When the weather is good, we sit out there together.”
“That sounds nice. Do you like it?”
Cory paused. “Y-yes, Sir. This pet does.”
“I’ve only had Col for a few months, but I’ve been doing my best to make him feel safe. Secure. What… what makes you feel safe, Cory?”
Linden had no idea if that was a question Coriander would be able to answer. He might have pushed too much, but- a memory of Lydia taking Colton to the conference flashed through his brain. Cory was surely more stable, if Lydia had intended to take him?
There was another pause. Linden looked out over the town. There was a pair of teenage girls standing at the bridge, throwing sticks into the river. Seeing which one travelled through the water faster.
“Miss Lydia… takes the time to tell this pet things. Before they happen. Uh-” he shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake the right words into the right order. “She tells this pet when someone is coming over, or if something is going to hurt. It’s- it’s more than this pet deserves, of course. It would never expect this treatment, but…”
“It’s alright, Cory.” Linden tried to keep his voice calm and friendly. “You don’t have to worry. I just want to hear what you think. There’s no wrong answer, I promise.”
Coriander swallowed hard, his voice shivering, but he pressed on.
“Miss Lydia, s-she keeps her promises. If - if she says that something is going to happen, then it usually does. S-she is very kind to this pet, and… and patient.” He looked nervously up at Linden. “And she asks for this pet’s opinion.” He said the last in a hushed voice, as if he was admitting something elicit. “That… that was very hard at first… but now this pet kinda likes it.”
He looked down, cascading blonde hair covering his eyes. In a small voice he continued.
“A-and she touches this pet.” At Linden’s sharp intake of breath, Cory shook his head, aghast. “Not like… not like that, Sir. Miss Lydia doesn’t do that. B-but she often pets this pet.” Awkwardly, he pulled a hand in a caress over his own hair. “Or… or hugs it. S-she is affectionate.” At that Cory looked straight into Linden’s eyes, as if daring him to contradict his description. After a brief moment of bravery, he lowered his gaze again.
“That’s wonderful. Thank you! Thank you, Cory. That…” Linden leant back in his chair. “I’m so happy to hear that.”
Patience, and affection, and speaking. Linden was delighted that he had been on the right track, more or less.
He hoped- no, he knew- that Col could be like Cory one day. Opinionated, and trusting and… dexterous.
He wouldn’t want Col to be too similar, of course. Linden was excited to find out more of what Colton’s personality really looked like.
Each separate thought ran through his head, pushing for his attention. He felt both hopeful, and overwhelmed.
“I’ve never given Colton a hug,” he blurted out, the realisation hitting him. “I’ve been too worried that it would scare him. But he likes it when I pet his hair, or hold his hand. Maybe I should offer him a hug.”
“T-this pet couldn’t say, Sir.”
-
Coriander briefly considered telling Linden that Colton had spoken well of him, back at the hotel. But it was every pet’s duty to be loyal to their master, and Linden surely knew that already. It wouldn’t mean anything to him, except alert him to the fact that the two pets had been speaking together, unattended, about their owners.
At present, Linden was smiling up at the sky. Cory allowed itself a small measure of pride, at having answered such a broad question well.
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@incoherent-introspection@kim-poce@broken-typewriter@the-monarch-whumperfly@whumpers-inc@grizzlie70@lil-whumper@writingbackwards@sunflower1000@wingedwhump@thecitythatdoesntsleep@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight@onlybadendings@rabass@wolfeyedwitch@melancholy-in-the-morning
