Do you know how hard it is to live with a cat that has the intelligence level of literally like a 3 year old but the pure chaos of a high ranking demon?
He’s learned to open the lazy Susan and won’t stop clawing open the flour and rolling in it like a little chinchilla
I’ve seen people pass around the “hold up, I’m googlin’ something” image but it cropped out the part where he was googling “how many guys can one guy take”
in general you can do a lot with torture tapes for living weapons if your future caretakers are investigating the enemy's weapons development without knowing it's y'know. People
Temeraire dragon things that live rent-free in my head:
precocious hatchlings who learned language from hearing it before they hatched
the way life starts before "birth" in general
talking, fully sapient dragons in general, and the way they're clearly also a species of living being different from humans and experiencing different instincts and urges from humans
the Tswana dragons, for whom identity is shaped in the egg by community and history and creates an unbroken chain of ancestral memory
humans packbonding with dragons
humans as sapient animals that also experience their own instincts and urges
humans, packbonding with dragons, for their lifetime. the intense loyalty and the grief of loss that come mutually, on both sides
this fic by Chi, the implications of which I'm obsessed with
the way Jane Roland says they've bred themselves as much as they breed their dragons, to love and serve and bond with them,
the way that Temeraire, an intelligent and principled character who cares so much about doing the right thing even if it costs you personally, at the mere suggestion of Laurence feeding a new-hatched dragonet recoils and sounds like he'd kill that baby himself to prevent it from bonding to his human,
the Incan dragons, who bond to many humans, families and generations of them over their lifetimes, knowing and loving them fiercely and possessively and guarding each one like treasure, but not quite like people,
the love and loyalty of it all, complicated by what it means to be two different species, so alien to each other and yet reaching out, over millennia and across the globe, to be companions
“It’s definitely not out of the question,” Whumper purred, stroking his knife. “But I don’t think we’ll even need to go that far. It’s just… you have a naturally loud voice. It carries. And I’m not even speaking about volume. What you say carries. It inspires. It carries a message. It carries far, to all the other cells we have here. And right now, I want you to broadcast the message of defeat.”
He crouched down in front of him, pricked the knife straight up into the underside of the man’s chin. But Leader didn’t look up, even when drops of blood flowed down his throat, the stream slowly splitting over his Adam’s apple.
“Look at me,” Whumper growled. “Before I pin your tongue to the roof of your mouth.”
Leader closed his eyes for a second, in patience, resignation, Whumper wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, by the way something moved under his eyelids, was that Leader rolled his eyes at him. But before he could say anything about it, those eyes snapped open and instantly found his. Whumper looked him straight in the eye. There was nothing there; no fear of what was about to come, nothing that remotely resembled anything close to defeat. He didn’t even wince when Whumper slowly turned the tip of the knife.
“I think you’ve got the wrong man for that,” Leader merely said, leaving it up to Whumper whether he meant he couldn’t—or wouldn’t.
Whumper took a long, sharp inhale through his nose and didn’t immediately exhale. Then he pried his knife free.
“Very well,” he said in a lethal tone. He stood, let the knife drop from his hand, resisting the urge to flick it away and reveal his frustration. “There was never much choice in this matter. But have it your way.”
Without another word, he busied himself with Leader’s bonds, clipping something to his handcuffs before freeing them from the bolt to the floor. He walked across the cell, hoisted a chain, and pulled Leader to his feet.
Leader went along, knowing he couldn’t break free from the iron pulling him up, not wasting his energy. When he was stretched out, hands tied above his head, Whumper stopped.
And he picked up the whip.
The first lash forced out a sharp hiss of pain. It slashed through Leader’s white undershirt and red immediately soaked through.
A steady rhythm of lashes, leather against skin, snapped through the air. It alerted the troops to what was happening, without a doubt. But Leader kept his pain bottled safe within.
The barrage kept going. Skin split open violently, the leather carving deeper with each hit. Blood stuck his shirt to his skin, sweat soaked the shirt until it turned to a see-through flimsy barrier across his back. Leader took every hit almost patiently. But he knew very well he couldn’t keep from screaming for long.
Grunts turned to small cries when the pain became too much. He was on the brink of losing control over his voice. And finally that voice boomed free. But not in the way Whumper wanted.
“Men!” Leader roared, letting the pent up pain explode in the single word. His voice didn’t even crack. It echoed against the walls of the cell. Carried the length of the dreary corridor. And could clearly be heard by both foe and friend. “What is defeat?!”
Whumper, his arm drawn back for another hit, stopped in his tracks in surprise.
Almost immediately, a raucous roar came in reply from outside.
“Temporary!” The men shouted back as one. A loud cacophony of shouts and cheers rose up. They rattled against the bars of their cells with whatever they could find, shook the doors in their hinges.
Whumper lashed him again with all his might in frustration. But the noise drowned out Leader’s following, genuine scream.
“This. Is. Not. Temporary!” Whumper shouted, each word emphasized by another lash.
Mere angry welts weeping blood turned to vicious open wounds as Whumper kept going harder. Leader’s shirt was nothing but shreds by now. Muscles trembled underneath, in pain, in exertion trying to keep himself up. But even despite all that—
He let out a chuckle.
In a rage, Whumper flew forward. He threw his whip down, circled around Leader, and grabbed his chin, roughly yanking his head up.
“What is so funny?” he hissed.
“You didn’t let me finish… earlier,” Leader panted through a wicked grin. “I was going to say… If you think me screaming… will break their spirit…” A small scoff broke through. “You’re mistaken.”
The uproar outside kept surging, expanding, escalating now that Whumper’s men tried to calm it down. Shouts of “Shut up!” were unheard. Even a warning gunshot only led to boisterous cheers.
“All you did…” Leader continued. “Is make them more angry.”
Every time I see this I go “oh, neat pony” and scroll past while my brain chugs through the caption like the slowest computer on earth and I have to scroll back up to it
was reading drive and GOD dennis is that one friend everyone needs.
i love that dennis is so compassionate and silent in his own way when it comes to jay talking out his own unprocessed trauma
i really wanna see more of such instances, just a 'lore drop' for dennis and how it works between them, pls give us more when u have the time 🙏
now im thinking, jay repeated twice that 'it was horrible', how did he look to dennis at that point of time? like im picturing jay just pretty distant, maybe even half dissociating through it
sometimes my heart really breaks for jay ngl, super strong mentally
Jay is pretty distant when he tells these things, yeah. He doesn't make eye contact, he just looked down at his coffe, drawn into his memories of the event. Have some more lore drop :))
-
"What's this?"
Dennis waved a hand in front of Jay's abdomen, pointing at something as they both spread out their laptops in the small conference room.
Jay glanced down, pulling at the fabric of his shirt, looking for a stain or— His heart skipped a beat.
Two little pinpricks blinked in his shirt, the white of his undershirt underneath stark against the dark blue, like two stars in the night sky.
Oh shit. Shit! He'd just tossed that shirt onto his laundry pile after Zayne had jabbed those holes into it, jabbed burns onto his body. His skin tingled underneath, still red and sensitive and, luckily, hidden. With the aftermath of the cattle prod incident, he'd completely forgot about the barely noticeable pricks.
"Nothing," he bleated out, too fast, effectively betraying himself with the single word. Why couldn't he just play it cool with a 'huh...' and leave it at that?!
Dennis glanced up, his hands planted on the table leaning over his laptop, waiting for it to boot. He looked again at the two tiny holes in Jay's shirt, and Jay could see him put two and two together. Suspicion clear to see on his face, he looked Jay in the eyes a beat longer than was comfortable. But then his gaze dropped, his attention back on his laptop and he just said, "Okay". He pulled out a chair, sat down, and didn't say any more.
Jay hesitated. He could interpret this as Dennis realising he had unintentionally breached a topic he hadn't meant to, now wanting to back out, unwilling to pry. But Dennis, unlike Jay, didn't seem uncomfortable and the silence between them was tense. Which Jay, of course, fully interpreted as a silent way to call him out on his lying bullshit... He sighed and pulled up a chair as well.
"Zayne sometimes had his experimental moods," he said, casually, typing in his password on his own laptop.
He waited for some sort of 'I literally didn't ask, man', but that break didn't come.
Dennis glanced at the pinpricks again. "Like with the noose?"
"Like wi— yeah."
"I'm guessing it didn't involve acupuncture?"
Jay gave a wry smile, not really sure if he wanted Zayne to pick up acupuncture... "Actually these are burn holes."
Dennis’ brow furrowed in confusion.
“From…” Jay stopped again, wondering which explanation would flare up Dennis the least; taser or electric shock. He didn’t even consider the words ‘cattle prod’. “They’re from a taser…” he settled on, eyes on his laptop.
He heard Dennis take a deep, sharp inhale. A curse under his breath. Then a longer, calmer exhale.
“I’m sorry.”
Jay looked up, flustered, finding Dennis’ eyes already on him. “Don’t—”
“I’m sorry you had to… experience that.”
The soft words completely caught him off guard. He swallowed hard and looked away again, feeling tears prickle behind his eyes.
“Yeah… me too.” He wanted to reassure his friend, words like ‘it wasn’t that bad’ immediately bubbling up in his brain. But memories of the event, of both electrical events, forced its way up as well, reminding him cruelly of the truth: it was bad. “I thought I could handle it… just a ‘bam, you’re out’. Y’know, like in the movies. But that didn’t happen… it just burned.”
He mixed the two electric events together. The taser had felt wildly different from the prod, more paralysing, while the cattle prod were 'just' quick little zaps. While he felt more calm sharing these things now that Den already had a basic understanding of what happened to him, he didn't want to go into too much detail.
Unlike Jay, Dennis didn’t hide behind his laptop; he listened, to more than just Jay’s stuttered words, he paid attention. And while it was… uncomfortable, to constantly feel his gaze – not yet meet his gaze – Jay also felt grateful having him so attentive. Having him care. Too deeply, really… It was a double-edged blade. For both of them. Telling this stuff hurt. Hearing this stuff hurt. Both unable to protect the other like they wanted. But hiding it… eventually just made things worse.
Dennis nodded, leaving a silence for Jay in case he wanted to tell more. He didn’t of course. Then he pulled up the protected files they had on Emery and Zayne and said: “Let’s make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Jay smiled, having no clue what was going to be waiting for him that evening. “Yeah… let’s.”
ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to be bleeding out in the back of a helicopter while a medic with kind eyes and his full weight on my gunshot wound screams over the engine noise that I'm going to be okay
