OCs: Asta/Damien Ravenelle, Katarina Laurier-Bancroft, Zero
Content: Pet Whump, Food Mention, Muzzling
Zero kept his head down as he knelt on the kitchen tiles, bruised knees burning in an all too familiar way. Off to his side, Asta — that’s what Katarina had called him — was getting some sleep.
But Zero knew it wasn’t voluntary. Being unconscious wasn’t the same as being asleep.
She cooked, humming to herself as she put together breakfast, dancing across the kitchen to the radio — knee length skirt flaring out with every movement.
Zero just looked down. Traced the blurry tiles with his gaze. Only able to distinguish between the most contrasted of the patterns. The true delicacy was lost on him.
Two bowls clattered to the floor. Zero’s own ceramic one, carefully engraved with his name, and Asta’s. Stainless steel. Scratched and dented.
Both were filled with oatmeal. Boring. But safe. Edible.
Katarina must have passed him — Zero hadn’t seen — and shaken Asta awake. The initial quiet protest. The immediate flurry of motion. Asta crashing backwards into the wall as he stumbled away. Sobbing from behind a muzzle as he conceded.
They always conceded. And he was right to. Katarina peeled the muzzle away from his face, leaving it on the couch.
Zero was rigid as Asta came past him. As Katarina instructed him to eat, told him he’d be hungry if he didn’t. Softly spoken coercion veiled as concern.
Zero too.
It was all the encouragement Zero needed to crawl across, pressing grazed palms against cold tile. Beside him, he felt Asta’s form. Frozen in fear, a jerking flinch at every movement made.
And Zero wished, more than anything, he could be of comfort. He could help Asta adjust. But with Katarina looming over them to ensure Asta’s behaviour, it was too much of a risk.
Asta knelt beside him, shaking with violent, uncontrollable tears. Deep rooted panic as Katarina went about her day behind them.
“Eat,” Zero’s voice was beyond hoarse when he finally spoke.
No recognition from Asta. Only a gentle flinch. If Zero could see him clearly, he would understand.
“Eat,” he repeated, putting out a hand to rest on Asta’s shoulder.
Even the gentlest of contact elicited a violent flinch, before Asta sat still. Before he allowed Zero to touch him. Before he gave in.
There was so much that Zero wanted to explain. To save Asta from the same learning curve he himself had endured. Ease the fear. Give him a chance.
Zero broke the contact when Asta finally leant forward. Moments later, Zero heard him eat.
It was only when Zero truly focused did he realise Asta’s hands were forced behind his back. Zip tied, Zero thought. But he wasn’t sure.
He was told to eat again. Told he’d go hungry if he didn’t. The threats were strikingly familiar. Came around like clockwork at every meal.
He took a bite of his own food, if only to appease Katarina. Oatmeal sprinkled with sugar and finely chopped banana. No more. Despite the hunger — how he was painfully aware of it in the pit of his stomach — he didn’t eat.
Zero waited agonising minutes while Asta ate beside him. Awkward, jerky movements as he tried to keep his balance. Tried not to choke.
Asta sat back, and Zero made a quick, clumsy movement. He pushed his own bowl across. Scraping it against the floor, lying it to rest vaguely in front of Asta.
A not-really-canon snippet of an unhappy reunion between Ryan and Charlie
cw: mention of past/childhood torture, forced to heal, recaptured, electrocution, knives/blood
for reference, ECO is Enforcement Corps Officer, like a soldier/guard/policeman, and suppressors are collars that suppress one’s power. eventually I should make a post about stuff like this specific to my world but today is probably not that day.
Ryan was shaking uncontrollably. Blood poured from deep lacerations across his chest and stomach, forming a growing pool beneath his feet. This one was bad. He was hardly breathing, trying not to stretch the wounds any further. He breathed in sharply- and involuntarily- and exhaled with a whimper.
Ren laughed, pacing in front of him like a prowling beast. “Priceless. Good job staying conscious. You never used to.” They stuck their knife into one of the deeper cuts, prying it open and driving the blade into the deep flesh. Ryan’s sobs were silent, no real breath behind them, just soft coughs as he pulled at the chains binding him. “Isn’t it lovely, Kursey? I can hurt you as much as I like, and this time no one is here to bail you out.” They jerked the blade back, and fresh blood flooded in its wake. Ryan’s head was starting to spin, but he kept himself from blacking out. He was stronger than he used to be. He wasn’t a child anymore.
Ren stepped closer to him, until they were mere inches apart. They tilted Ryan’s chin up and brushed their thumb over his cheek, reveling in the pain in his eyes. Ryan looked away. Dark shadows were creeping into his periphery, and his strength was waning. Panic clawed at his stomach at the ECO’s touch, a remnant of days long gone- days that were long gone. He squinted his eyes shut. Not now.
Ren backed away, pulling the radio to their lips. “Bring them in.”
Ryan’s eyes flashed open as a fresh surge of fear jolted through him. Ren was watching him with an eager grin. He heard the external door open, and then the door in front of him slid open to reveal two figures: a large blueblooded ECO gripping the upper arm of a familiar Grey.
“No!” He could barely choke out that single word. Charlie was trembling, eyes wide, a gag secured around the lower half of their face, a suppressor around their throat, and hands cuffed behind their back. At the sight of Ryan, Charlie screamed, the anguish piercing him even as it was muted by the gag. The ECO threw them onto the bloodied floor, and blue smeared across their skin. They twisted on the ground, trying to keep Ryan in their sight. They were fully sobbing now.
Ren knelt down next to them and unlocked their handcuffs. Immediately they lunged at them, reaching out for their eyes, throat, any weak point in reach. The ECO behind them pressed a button and Charlie froze as their muscles seized.
“Just because the suppressor’s off doesn’t mean the shock is, you understand?” Ren stepped back and brushed off their jacket. “A valiant effort, though, I’ll give you that.”
Charlie glared up at them from the floor of the cell, chest heaving. They lay their hands down at their sides, palms facing up.
“Good. Now heal him.”
Confusion flashed in their eyes, until Ryan lifted his chin and they saw the suppressor beneath it. Their eyes trailed up his body, taking stock of the marks Ren had made, that day and the weeks preceding, his skin pale and slick with sweat, eyes struggling to stay focused. They stood up hesitantly, trying to communicate to Ryan without words, searching his face for answers but finding only heartbreak. They stumbled towards him, and cradled his face in their hands, even as that face blurred and warped through their tears. They squeezed their eyes shut and pressed their forehead to his, as a faint white light began to pulse from beneath their palms.
Slowly, Ryan’s strength returned to him. The gouges in his skin closed, leaving only the drying blood, and he stopped shaking. He should have felt relieved, thankful. But instead, his sobs only intensified.
The final cut in his chest sealed, and Charlie dropped to their knees, head in their hands, shoulders shaking.
Ren set a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Perfect. Thank you, little mutant. Now we can begin again.”
