Apr 6
throws this up in front of you like a 7 year old who had too many oreos
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throws this up in front of you like a 7 year old who had too many oreos
Follow the schedule, safe flying, All Aboard!
There's also this and this that you can check out
The 'Talk' but like, different, and probably worse, how should he really react to that?
sochie's private. selective. multimuse ft. vampires, demons and gods oh my! low activity, mutuals only. heavy dark horror themes, usfw
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testing testing
Christmas Morning
The blanket was warm, and softer than anything he had felt in years, but he was sure it wouldn’t last. He was lucky though, to be out of the box.
“Uh, well, how about we introduce ourselves. My name’s Victor, Victor Hart. What’s yours?”
“I don’t have one sir.”
“What?”
“I don’t have a name sir.”
“What do people call you?”
“24602, sir.”
“But what did people call you before?”
“Before, sir?”
“Before you came there.”
He seems to shrink in on himself, tears forming in his eyes. He didn’t want to tell him.
No one had asked him before. It was all he had left, the only thing he’d been able to hold onto simply because no one had cared to take it from him.
“You don’t have to tell me, it’s okay, or if you can’t remember that’s okay too... What would you like to be called?”
The man, Victor he had said, seemed sincere, soft brown eyes watching him in earnest.
“Thank you sir..”
He knew he would have to earn this somehow. He had long learned patience, trust, and mercy were earned, and spent. And he had already spent some.
“Do you have a name you like?”
“Uh,” he wracked his brain, trying to think of something truly humble, something to pay back some of his mercy, “Anything you would like to call me sir?”
“Well, I’ll let you think about it. How about, until you think of one you like better, we could go with... Alcott? It means someone who lives in a long house. I think.”
“Yes sir.”
Victor looked around, seeming awkward, and suddenly, his, Alcott he reminded himself, stomach growled loud enough for both of them to hear.
Victor smacked himself, “Of course. Here, I’ve got lots of stuff, let’s get you some food.”
He followed gratefully, sure there would be a catch but it would be okay. It was still early.
He rummaged through the cabinets, pulling down various things, and then piled a plate high with nuts, fruit, crackers, and some cheese slices.
He handed it to him, and Alcott stared down in wonder. “Sir?”
“Hmm?”
“I can...?”
“Please, eat. I dunno what people have told you, or what has happened, but you aren’t my slave.”
Oh...so he’s not my owner...
He’s almost disappointed, but the thought is quickly wiped away.
He sets the plate down, taking a couple steps back. He’s been in trouble for following others before, and he wasn’t quick to repeat it.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I-I just wanna wait till they tell me what to do, if that’s okay.”
“What?”
“I don’t- I don’t want to be bad, I’ll just wait until my owner gets here.”
“You- oh... see, when I said you weren’t-“ he sighs, “you don’t have an owner.”
His heart stops.
“They said- I was sent- no...” his voice cracks weakly. He knew what happened to box boys without owners. Same with anything else people didn’t want.
Tagging @im-not-rare-im-rarr @pepperonyscience @comfortforthepain @gnawingonhumanbones
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