Fair Share (Ruvenacht)

I’ve decided to abandon the nonsense about no longer naming my chapters. I miss coming up with titles, so I’m going back to it. Anyway, this piece is the closest to actual whump this story has gotten and it features a brand new character, Charlie’s sister. I’d say more, but this sort of speaks for itself. She’s… well. She’s a trip. Enjoy!

tags | @vickytokio, @boxboysandotherwhump, @deluxewhump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @itstrueiwasthewraithberry, @whumpthisway, @wolfeyedwitch, @thecyrulik, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump​ (ask to be +/- to the tag list)

warnings | bbu, training/conditioning, stress position? (standing in place for an hour +), manipulation, underage whumper (Lane is 17), knives, blood, description of injuries.

~*~*~

Finn held himself tightly, the edge of the kitchen countertop biting into the small of his back. His neck was stiff and his shoulders beginning to ache from standing still for so long. His mouth was slowly drying, making each swallow sticky and uncomfortable. His skin prickled with every pass of her eyes.

Charlie was in the next room on the phone. Not an emergency just… urgent, he had reassured him earlier with a tight-lipped blush. He promised to tell him about it later. Finn stared at the handle of the door Charlie had slipped behind an hour earlier, wishing it would open the very next second over and over. His jaw ached from the tops of his teeth grinding together. Finn didn’t know how much longer “later” was meant to be, but he was certain he wanted it to be right then. The sooner the better, frankly.

It had started innocently enough, he supposed.

Charlie had made his excuses, closed himself up in the study, and his sister had made her entrance. Finn hadn’t exactly noticed her – not that afternoon and not much in the months since he’d first arrived. He knew very little about her save for her name, age, and her late night television habit. 

“It’s just unfair, Finn,” Mercedes Lane had sighed, pushing out her lower lip in a simpering pout. “Mom said you were for all of us, so Charlie’s hoarding you. I mean, he doesn’t actually need help, you know, and I want some time. Just my fair share, you know? I mean, it’s my house too and all.”

Finn hadn’t reacted. He kept himself focused on the spread of things in front of him. Everyone was in the house that day, each requesting something different for lunch. A salad with poached chicken and vinaigrette for Madam. Parsnip and carrot soup for Sir. Leftover escabeche for Miss Elsa. Mushrooms on toast for Miss Mercedes. Whatever you want to make for you for Charlie.

“When do I get some help, Finn?” She whined, all but sprawling her top half over the kitchen island. How he kept her bottom on the bar chair at that angle, Finn didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Something glinted in her dark eyes. “I need help, Finn.”

Training shivered up his spine, easy and awful all at once. “What do you need help with, Miss Mercedes?”

Her whole person had seemed to shimmer and alter at the knowledge she’d gotten her way. She had sat up, shoulders held back. She had grinned brighter, a pleased glimmer to her now. Finn had seen that shift happen multiple times, but never had it pointed in his direction. A coldness had settled in the pit of his stomach, regret seeped slowly into his skin.

“Miss Lane, actually.”

The apology came automatically. “Sorry. What do you need help with, Miss Lane?”

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Ruvenacht (4)

I promised an angsty New Years Party and, dear reader, I have not delivered. It’s going to take way more for me to get that scene right and I want to take my time with it. But, in the meanwhile, perhaps we should round the corner on Finn and Charlie talking about what the WRU is up to. Enjoy! 

masterlist | writing master | ko-fi

tags | @vickytokio, @boxboysandotherwhump, @deluxewhump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @itstrueiwasthewraithberry, @whumpthisway, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

warnings | bbu, wru, insomnia, angst, discussion of training, discussion of conditioning, discussion of disability, memory loss, identity loss, trauma survivor, trauma recovery, 

~*~

Finn didn’t sleep much. He never had — at least so far as he could remember. He spent many nights in the bare little room, laying on his cot and staring at the blank ceiling, willing it to bear with him for another night. Nights in the house were passed in his room — his own bedroom, a noted change — pacing, watching the shadows on the ceiling, staring out the windows as midnight passed over the immaculate garden. 

Tonight was no different, save for the reason his brain wouldn’t settle. The reason Finn had fallen asleep in a chair the last few nights, dropping heavy into empty sleep after sitting there exhausted for hours on end.

He knew Charlie hadn’t meant to keep him awake, talking about what had made the empty spaces in his head, but he had. It had been all Finn could think about for a full thirteen days. 

He had been counting. 

He had not spoken his churning thoughts out loud. 

Whenever he considered doing just that — while folding Lane’s laundry, serving lunch to whoever was around, turning sheet music pages as Charlie played piano — his training got the better of him. His jaw would tighten and a shiver would run through him, the precursors to the terrible headaches he knew well.

Finn pushed it out of his mind. Charlie had apologized to him for a second time the day after, but hadn’t mentioned it ever again.

But his words still nagged at Finn. He sat with himself, cross-legged on the bed, one lamp illuminating the quilt’s colors spread beneath his legs. Thoughts bounced around his brain, leaving him feeling wobbly. The small voice piped up with words like memory wipe and suppression and contract. 

It was unsettling, hollowing. The feeling a little ball bearing let loose to rattle around a massive tin can.

He couldn’t catch it. He couldn’t pin it down. He couldn’t ignore it. And he had tried.

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Ruvenacht (3)

Now, for a little bit of a departure. This scene was started for the sake of having something to post under the mood board, but it hasn’t left my brain since. So, for that reason alone, I had to expand it – and now its in your hands! 

Tags | @vickytokio​, @boxboysandotherwhump​, @deluxewhump​, @mylifeisonthebookshelf​, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump​, @melancholy-in-the-morning​, @itstrueiwasthewraithberry​

warnings | bbu, discussion of training/conditioning, discussion of injuries, discussion of disability, discussion of WRU practices, difficult discussions, reluctant owner (wru), memory wipe/altered memories

~*~

“How’d it happen?”

Finn’s stomach dropped as he heard the words leave his tongue. Dread wormed its way up his throat to coat out his mouth. A headache’s beginnings prickled at the base of his skull. 

He wasn’t supposed to ask, had been explicitly instructed not ot ask. It wasn’t his place to know. It wasn’t his business as a pet, trained and expensive. It wasn’t any of his concern so long as Charles was well cared for and content. And yet it had still come out of him, seemingly from nowhere.

They hadn’t known one another long – perhaps two months, but it wasn’t in Finn’s training or nature to keep track. The time they spent around one another was supervised, unmonitored, and uninterrupted until a meal needed making or another family member required him. 

Still, it was long enough to know some things about the other boy. Long enough to know he liked scrambled eggs with ketchup, that he only slept well on his side, and played piano while he was thinking.

Long enough to know that Charles – I like Charlie better, Finn remembered then – was nothing like his family. Startlingly different at that, Finn realized with a numb blink.

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Ruvenacht (2)

For the next chapter, you’re going to meet a little more of the family Finn has found himself in. More specifically, going to get a little more of Charlie’s flavor and introduce Cosmia, the Ruvenacht matriarch. She’s a right piece of work, y’all, so be forewarned. That being said, enjoy!

tags | @vickytokio​, @boxboysandotherwhump​, @deluxewhump​, @mylifeisonthebookshelf​, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump​ (ask to be +/-)

warnings | bbu, dehumanizing language (bbu) terrible parents talking down to their adult children, terrible people making shitty assumptions, that same shitty person saying shitty things to their own child. Swears, anger, lying, emotional manipulation. (Seriously Cosmia Ruvenacht is a piece of fucking work and I’m not entirely sure how to tag her bullshit, so please take a heavy dose of caution. Especially if you’ve ever dealt with toxic people in your family or otherwise close to you.)

~*~

Cosmia fixed her son with an uncompromising stare. “You’re being ungrateful. I did not raise my children to be rude regarding a gift.”

“I’m not ungrateful, mom. Just confused.” The exasperation had already made its way into her son’s voice. It was creeping into his eyes and mouth at he spoke. The set of his shoulders, the stiff purse of his upper lip… he looked very much like his father that way.

More precisely: he looked like all the reasons why Cosmia had chosen to sleep in her own bed, in her own bedroom, for the last nine years.

“What is there to be confused about, Charles?” Cosmia asked, voice innocent and as light as organza.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Charles countered.

“I bought you a gift. How is that confusing. I bought you a gift, and I not unreasonably expect to be thanked for it.” She blinked, unmoved. “I’d remind you that it was a special request, as well, Charles. Just for your–.”

“A person isn’t a gift, mom,” Charles lobbed back, looking every inch unapologetic about interrupting her. “And I already told you, I don’t want a… a caretaker. We talked about this.”

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Ruvenacht (1)

Almost new year, almost new story… right? Well, I think so in any case, and I’m genuinely hoping this story goes the way of Henry’s – namely, that I can keep writing and posting here regularly instead of hoarding it all in a word doc in the off-chance I might publish it some day. 

So we’re going back to the well that is the BBU – surprise, surprise. I don’t have individual chapter names at the moment, so be on the look out for the numbers in parenthesis. Alright, all that being said, you didn’t come to my blog for a look behind the curtain into my brain. You came for a story. And a story you shall get!

Thank you and enjoy!

tags | @vickytokio​ (let me know if you’d like added/removed)

warnings | general bbu warning, implied training/conditioning

~*~*~

“I’m not going to give you orders or anything, so you might as well relax.”

Finn blinked a few times at the other boy, confused again. Thoroughly confused. He’d been confused ever since he arrived, at times oddly wishing for the small room and small bed that wasn’t his anymore. The other boy was staring at him from across the room, fingers drumming on his thigh. He looked stern, but not unfriendly.

Eventually, Finn’s voice came back to him. “What do you mean?”

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