Sal isn't religious, never has been. But listening to travis talk about the Bible makes sal think he can love something like religion just from loving travis
NO TWS OTHER THAN RELIGION
Not beta read but edited
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
So uhhhhh I hate to say this, everyone who followed me for mcyt shit, I will, likely never make write mcyt fanfic again, nor am I an active participant in the fandom, and I probably wont be active in the fandom unless something really big catches my attention or something, but imma be changing my profile on here and such, but yeah, dont follow me if youre looking for mcyt content
Instinctual mimic Flirting tactics normally involve shifting to have similar traits, and martyn is not beyond this. Grian and Jimmy just have to deal with the consequences.
Beta read and edited by mayself
No trigger warnings!!
Ao3 link
(This is for the @mcyt-halloween event, for my giftee @v1neyy)
“It’s not my fault…”
Martyns voice was more of a defensive huff than him actually talking, despite the fact it, very much was his vault. Small green parakeet wings puffing up with his defensive words. Jimmy just sighed into his hand. Gesturing at the man sat on his couch. Trying to find something to say to him before grian takes the words right out of his mouth.
“Pray tell, how exactly is this, “not your fault”?” grains voice grumbles out, arms folded over his chest, his own wings spread awkwardly in the arm chair, as if to show his own emotion, even though it was clearer than need be across his face.
Martyn wasnt born an avian. That was just a simple fact, he wasnt born anything even near human like, to be completely honest. Being a mimic, martyn was more of…a moving glob of sludge when he was born. One that jimmy and grian were warned against growing up.
Being two little kids they thought martyn was more of their…new shared pet between the two. Martyn would hide in grains garage one week, and jimmys backyard the next. Well. that was until one day jimmy went out and on his porch sat a boy with the exact same shade of blonde hair as himself. And grains brown eyes. And a height right between the two. And he just waved, flashing the, at the time, human, a large toothy grin that jimmy knew well, and waving his hand.
After those days, no one really, knew martyn was a mimic, that he just copied traits as he went, eventually his eye color changed, and he started to become more of his own person. A person who was really just a collection of the people he loved.
When grian texted jimmy this time though, jimmy is going to be honest, he didnt expect the words. “Martyn decided to grow wings.” it was not on jimmy bucket list, hes going to be completely honest. Of course he invited the two over, to talk this out of course, but, there hasnt been much talking about it. No. it’s been mostly martyn denying that he meant to do this and the two only questioning him further.
How the actual fuck do you explain mimic courting to an avian and a guy cursed with bird wings? You dont. Thats how.
“Listen it’s just, not my fault, i didnt mean to.” martyn said. Bargaining for the two to just, let the subject drop. Jimmys wings puffing up, making all the wings in the room puffed up and spread out in some form of emotion. “Cant you like, control your form??” jimmy asked, his voice raising as he stressed the words, both hands flaring out gesturing at martyn.
“Normally yeah!! But not right now!! So can you please, show me how to take care of them while theyre stuck to my fucking back?” he pleads, curling up further and holding his head, grian’s sigh is far more disappointed than what jimmy has ever thought hes ever heard. Pinching the bridge of his nose.
Sighing deeply as he decides to give in, standing up and folding his wings against his back.
“Bloody- fine. I guess martyn. Lay down on your stomach. On the floor. “ he grumbles looking over to jimmy. Martyn lets out a breath he knew he was holding in. chest heaving with relief, at finally being left alone. And jimmy lets out a sigh as well. The 3 only mirroring each other without really noticing it.
“I’ll make us some tea.” he says, finding his way out of the room for his own mental sake.
“This is called preening.” grian said, hands on the base of martyns wings, as he sat on the small of his back, sharp talons picking scratching at the skin, causing martyn to let out a happy sigh at the feeling. “You’ll need to do it just about every other day to keep your wings from hurting.” martyn nods turning his head to look at jimmy, who sits with his back against the couch, sipping at his own mug of tea watching the two.
‘True avians, like grian, only let people they trust preen their wings.” jimmy pipes up as he grins at martyn’s relaxing and happy face. “You preen grian wings all the time.” martyn says quietly, half a question and half a statement. And jimmy only grins. “He preens mine too.” jimmy trails off, sentence ending as he sort of changes topics. “Ill let you preen mine when you get better at your own.” jimmy states and martyn feels the smallest flare of joy in his chest at the words. Jimmy would trust him with that. Maybe martyn does have a chance.
“Youd have to cut off my wings before i let you.” grian said jokingly as his hands move through the outer feathers. Silently hoping martyn learns by the way it feels. But martyn just lays like a puddle on the floor as talons move through his new found wings. A small trill rises in his throat as he closes his eyes and lets himself become one with the floor. It isnt uncommon for martyn to trill as he often picked up vocal habits from the two. But from some reason in the smallest bit where his eyes are still open he sees jimmy.s face turn pink. How odd. He doesnt say anything about it, because thatd be like pointing out the way grian has always rested the ends of his wings on their backs. Thatd be like pointing out the way martyn inspects them, or the way hes never made himself look exactly like the two. It’d be crazy to do so. It’d just be calling eachother out, and if martyn calls them out, then they can call him out, and that never ends well for anyone.
Martyn hums, stretching his arms out across the floor, only relaxing more into it as grian goes further. “You pull out any bent or broken feathers, straighten out the other ones, and scratch out the dirt.” grian says absentmindedly like he isnt quite paying attention anymore to his words and just trying to get the job done. Martyn does see anyone reach for the remote, but he hears the clicks of it and the sound of the tv turning on. “What do you guys wanna watch? Jimmy asks with a hum as he scrolls through the movies, and martyn isnt even sure what streaming service hes on. But he hopes its a good one. Like. nextflix. Well. actually. No, fuck netflix. Hulu. he hopes its hulu.
“Nightmare before christmas” grian answers before martyn even has time to realize how lost in his own head he is at this point. His voice still mumbled with focus, and martyn just nods his head. Grian sounds cute like that, all focused. He bets he has that little frown he’s always had when focusing on school assignments. And martyn feels whats close to a purr rise in his chest at the thought of grian focusing on him like that, having all of grians attention. And he can hear jimmy’s surprised laugh at the sound, mixed with grians. “Oh he’s already gone dude.” jimmy giggles out as he reaches down hand in martyns hair, only causing the purring to go up in volume. He must be so lucky, two pretty boys, both touching him. What did he do to deserve this.
“Im surprised it took this long.” grian laughed as one of his hands moved to scratch the spot between the wings fondly, causing martyn to let out a long, happy trill. Jimmy only cooed along with his laughs. Martyn pays attention to the words just enough to understand them, but his brain only circles back to how nice the two sound and how he’s the one making them laugh and giggle like that. “Feels nice..” martyn grumbles into the floor, word airy and light as he seems oh so happy about the turn of events.
“It’s going to, naturally relaxes you.” jimmy chuckles as he scoots closer to martyn, lifting the mans head and setting it in his lap to give himself more space to mess with the mimics hair. And martyn swears he almost chokes, hiding his turning red face into jimmy’s thigh. It is both the best and worst feeling to have all their attention. Both of them paying so much detail to every single noise or twitch from martyn. Both driving him crazy and making him so fucking happy that he cant stand it. So he decides to not face any feeling and just try to close his eyes and hide.
Grian returns to simply preening, and jimmy puts on the movie like planned. The two whispering words that martyn doesnt have half a mind to make out. All the roams in his mind is the hands on him. God. he should have sprouted wings years ago if this is how itd go.
Time ticks by and has much as martyn would like to say its been hours, its more likely to have only been a singular hour. But every single second feels like forever, even in his almost entirely asleep state, his eyes feel heavy and his body is warm, a perfect mix that leaves his trails and purring quieting down, but still going.
Before he can really notice grian is done, the man is getting off his back, a high whine leaving ,martyns throat as he tries to blink his eyes open to look at whats happen, a small sound of distress leaving him at the mere thought of grian leaving. He cant go. Martyn needs him. He really does. Jimmy’s hand only smooths down his hair. braiding a piece between his fingers. “Snap out of it mar.” jimmy snorts out in a laugh, martyn can only huff and flop fully back into jimmy without a single care for what the avian says.
Martyn sat as still as he could on the cold bench in the autumn air. Trying to keep his back straight and ignore not only the closeness of him and Scott, but also the way the man was looking at him. Face paint pallet in one hand and a brush in the other. One thick line down the side of his nose.
"So what are you even making me?" Martyn asked, voice slightly amussed as Scott just hums. Putting it on his lips. And martyn has to fight the instinct to lick his lips, knowing it would go badly. "A skeleton" Scott answers and looks into martyns eyes. Blue meeting blue. For just a split second before Scott goes bac to painting and martyn goes back to looking at the glitter all over Scott's face. Unicorn. How predictable. But also fitting and kinda funny muttering on the crowd! "Isn't that a little.....boring?" martyn asks which in turn Scott only grins further, not moving his eyes from the teeth he's drawing. "So it's perfect for you!!" Scott says jokingly and the horrified gasp martyn let's out tells him his joke hit the target.
Gem is a princess, finally having been given the chance to leave her castle, to see the world with her own eyes, and she grabs the opportunity in her hand with an iron grip. Taking her gaurd, etho, with her as she goes to finally view the world she's always heard about. With a small attempted assassination along the way!!
TW!! Non descriptive violence at the end!!
Edited and beta read
(This is a collaboration with @seldans for @mcytblraufest !! Make sure to check it all out!!)
The art
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Ren and martyn are the final two, all their allies and enemies are dead. And on the black heart alter, ren and martyn stand, axe and sword in hand.
Martyns entire life revoles around his king, he knows ren better than he knows himself. And he knows ren isn't made for spring. And well. Martyn will always follow were his king goes.
TW!! MAIN CHARACTER DEATH, HURT NO COMFORT, VIOLENCE!!
Beta read and edited!!
(This is for day one of treebark week, prompt flower/frost!!)
The air is turning warm finally in dogwarts, and the two who rule over it stand on th black heart altar. The king and his hand. Winter has finally passed, and ice and snow are melting away to reveal green grass. The trees are decorated in blossoms, and birds are singing happily. The air tastes like pollen in ren and martyn’s mouths.
Red winter has passed. And spring has come.
And yet there is still red decorating the ground. Poppies burst from the ground, and the tops of beetroots. Red winter has passed and yet a cardinal sits proudly in the tree overhead. Tilting its head as it gazes at the two. Wonder in its sound.
Spring is here, and the light and growth are returning to dogwarts in every way they possibly can.
And there are only two left. Two stand on the ruined earth. They won. It’s, well, it’s almost over. They have almost done it. Soon, there will be nothing but whispers of their lives in these abandoned walls. Ren's ears are low, his sunglasses discarded on the ground, tail between his legs. His hair is matted, and his crown long since gone. His cape curled up at his feet, and Martyn wants to weep. His classic green hoodie is stained brown, red having soaked in. The time is pink now, it’s green, it’s beautiful and alive, life takes over the corpses of their enemies. And yet here two dead men walking are. They aren't made for the gentle spring.
They made the winter with their bare hands, it’s far too late for them to bloom into spring.
Martyn can feel his torn jean shorts against his legs. His sandals painfully digging into his feet, the red winter axe in his hand held tight. He can feel the shaking of despair traveling up his spine. It leaves him feeling breathless and his knee’s shaking.
No matter how gentle the air is, he can't seem to breathe right. He feels sick to his stomach.
Death game. It’s in the name. Everyone dies. Everyone kills each other. Teams are never meant to last here. No. They rot, and fall away like old wood. Lasting for the moment, but after a while, after rain, it always rots away, it always opens up to a hole.
Death game.
They have to kill each other. After all this time they have to tear their weapons through beautiful, loved skin. Skin they grew to worship. Kisses whispered prayers late at night during the beginning of the end. The skin of those they love so deeply. The skin they cared for in the deepest parts of their souls, the skin they both vowed to try to keep safe from harm.
The ax falls from martyn’s hand, and he lets out an ugly sob, back shaking as he loses even more breath in his air from his lungs, he brings the balls of his hands to his eyes each, voice raw as tears start to run down his face, slowly he hears the sound of ren dropping his own weapon, and it’s slow, hesitant even, before ren is running, desperate to get to martyn.
Steps once slow, now quick and rushed as there is no longer any space between them, ren clawing, latching onto martyn, claw like nails digging into clothing, and almost skin as he tugs martyn to his chest. His own breathing is shaky. And his own tears coming to his eyes, there is no space between them to even breathe as he holds martyn like his life depends on it.
If anything Ren is safer away from martyn, but at this point, they don't even care.
“Gods- i- fuck ren, i dont want to, i dont want to do this..!!'' Martyn's voice is a wet scream near the end as he curls into the rough and worn fabric, tears falling like a waterfall, soaking into ren clothing. Rens head settles on top of martyns own, and the king shakes and hiccups, his own tears falling into martyn’s hair, it’s almost nice to know that ren is feeling the same way martyn is right now, just a little bit of reassurance, a “maybe he loves me too, maybe it was true.” but Martyn knows it was. Martyn knows how honest Ren is, and he could not have faked that long, looked into Martyn's eyes, and lied for that long. He knows Ren loved him. And he loves Ren the same. Of course he does. How could he not?
He loves Ren with everything he is. He loves Ren with everything in his soul. He has given his life to ren, every single life. He has listened to every single command ren has ever dished out. He has given everything to ren, loved ren like how someone would love a prayer. It’s all their wishes, dreams, deepest fears. It’s everything they are, is only a few words. Or in this case, one man.
“I don't want to either..”
The silly accent is dropped of ren shivers against martyn, hand tangling into his hair as he holds on like his life depends on it. Like it's his entire life on the line. And he cries. Ren lets out a deep sob, and he cries. Full of love for martyn, love for the home they built. And hate, hate for the situation and how he cant do anything to change their fate.
He can't fix anything, this is the end after all.
Martyn tilts his head up just barely, looking at Ren with tear filled eyes. And he makes a decision as he looks at ren. He makes a decision he could never take back.
He meets Ren's eyes, and for one final moment, one moment of love, he whispers the words he’s meant for ages, in reality, it has only been maybe 8 weeks, but they mean so much more than he’s willing to admit. And he kisses ren.
His king's lips are chapped and scratches against his painfully, but he doesn't so much as care about how it hurts, no, he focuses on the way Ren sobs into his lips. How his grip tightens on martyn. How everything feels like it’s crashing in. He lets himself enjoy it, just for a moment, a moment of peace, of happiness. A moment of love in the end.
Martyn couldn't tell you how long they spent like that, desperate for every moment they can get, holding onto each other lips pressed against each other, breath stolen in these moment, and tears shed, they could have spent hours like that for all they knew, they could have spent years holding each other and it wouldn't have made any difference to them. Cuz in the end they still pull away, they still separate, and they still know what has to happen. There is no other option, no other choice, no other way out.
And so, they get into fighting stances on either side of the altar, they leave the sentimental weapons on the side, and they weep oh so openly. As they prepare to fight, to kill each other in cold blood on the altar that means oh so much to them, they raise their fists, getting ready, a sob racks through ren, he leaves his sunglasses off, and red eyes hold onto red eyes, as they wish, and pray this wasn't the way it ends.
The first hit is thrown by Martyn, because he knows Ren won't take it, he knows Ren won't throw it, so he does. Martyn hears his fist connect with Ren's face, he doesn't see exactly where, but he can feel it through his entire arm.
Like a racing fire up his body, the bloodlust of being red starts to cloud his mind. He feels the fog fill his mind. But he knows he won't win. He knows it. And so he lets Ren take the next, he gives the act of missing as Ren takes another. Martyn lets it happen, because he’s just the king's hand, his role is to give everything to his king, his lord. It’s his job to let Ren take swing, after swing. It’s his job to fall to his knees, and even further as Ren doesn't stop. The redness in his eyes near glowing as he throws hit, after hit.
Martyns face isn't right, and the humid air leaves him feeling sticky. Ren does not relent, even as martyn face turns into some shape it was not supposed to be before, as it no longer looks like martyn, it doesn't even look human to some degree, no, he can't see anymore. Martyn can't see, and he isn't able to talk right, but try as he might, he whispers the words, over, and over, and over again. Broken prayers, to the god that is harming him, in a voice that it can't even hear. Broken and sorrowful declarations to the man he deems his god. To the man he devoted every whim of his life to.
Declarations of love. Of home. Of everything he can say. But Ren will never hear them, as Martyn's voice is drowned out by the blood that fills his mouth. His world is spinning, and he promises that it’s all rens, but all ren can hear is painful gurgling. All Ren is able to feel is shame. All that is there, is martyns bloodied body on the ground below him.
All that remains is a man made god, sobbing at his lover's feet. All that remains is a body that drifts off into dust in the wind. And a man with bloodied fists crying over a pool of red. Whispering his own prayers, and sorrows, and his own declarations of how if the gods aren't cruel, then maybe they will get another shot at this, another life time together, another maybe, and another please, and another im sorry. And everything he can give to the space that once hosted martyn. Another i love you, maybe he deserves this. To lose a lover he held so close, maybe he did something, in some other life, to be the sole survivor in such a painful way.
Ren stumbles over his feet, reaching, begging his arms to grab onto the sword. Praying that as he thrusts the blade into his chest, that him and martyn can be somewhere else, at another time. Maybe they could have lived in a small cottage on the hill, maybe their story doesn't always end in red and death, maybe they mold themselves for spring.
