His knowledge of it is as deep as his understanding of himself, perhaps even more so. It’s as much a part of him as he is a part of it, veins of ancient magic as old as the seasons, threaded and tangled and weaved until given form of a boy that really isn’t. Such threads and knots make Jackson as much an Overland as it makes him Jack Frost: He is Magic and he is Winter, which is to say the same thing, gifted and cursed with human body. Or as human as Jack can appear like.
To Jack, cold has always been home, like his mother. Like his sister. Like his king.
Jack feels the cold with a sense of comfort, a blanket that layers under his skin, beyond his physical body, although he enjoys it perfectly well that way, too. He feels cold as one would feel one’s own arm or leg, except everywhere, all at once. It’s beautiful. Until it isn’t.
Jack stares at the discolored tint Hiccup’s body has been steadily taking over the last two days, bleaching away his red-colored cheeks. They’ve taken to a sickening mix of pale yellow’s and bruised blue’s and ashy white’s to it—and those are Jack’s colors, the ones Jack wears with pride, like they were made for him and him only.
Jack’s gaze is fixed in front of him, focused hard at the way the metal chest plate goes up, so agonizingly slowly…and down, again. Then, there will be a moment of silence and nothing at all, and Jack doesn’t know, Jack doesn’t know if this one will finally be his friend’s last breath.
Jack doesn’t blink. Time slows, looses it’s meaning. His breath is kept tight under lock, not daring to miss a single moment to himself. He does not matter, right now. Only Hiccup does.
Hiccup’s chest rises up once more, defying death with every moment, and Jack feels like crying. All the senses of the word can not encapsulate his living grief.
Yes, Jack thinks, he thought he knew cold. Turns out he doesn’t, not at all.
He understands, now, why there are people who come to detest it. It’s cold, and for once, Jack is too.
In honor of the tenth year anniversary of the series finale and inspired by @alkalinefrog ‘s art stream, have a hijack moment turned merlin bbc. :) (I apologize for the people who came looking for actual Merlin content, I just had to, as my other fave dumb magical/noble people that belong to the past)
Connor awoke with a jolt. He sat up, despite the pain and looked around. The same prison cell as before, nothing really changed.
He took a shaky breath, faintly recalling the events of last night. Shame sunk into his skin, scarring worse than any injury from before.
They knew. Well, they already knew, but now they really really knew. How long until they stopped being so nice? How long until they started to take advantage of it? How long until they stopped caring? How long until….
Connor shook his head, desperately trying to silence the thoughts in his head.
He wanted to run. He wanted to cry. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to be saved.
He wanted to go home.
“Breathe,” he told himself aloud. “Just breathe.” His eyes moved against his will, targeting around the room as waves of anxiety rolled through him. You’re alive, so fucking breathe.”
He had gotten quite good at being different people. He could be Connor, he could be Visage, he could be good and bad. A bad person, a good person, or somewhere in between. He could be a different and not think once about his actions. He could be a different person and forget about his crimes. He could be a different person whenever he needed.
So why was he still here?
His leg hurt. His arms ached. His head pounded.
Sinking back into bed, Connor didn’t let himself think through the pain. But nothing was that easy.
A voice cleared their throat and was followed by the sound of the electric gate deactivating. Connor didn’t want to look.
The woman that had questioned him before stood beside his bed, alongside the heroes of the team that had capt—saved him.
“I have good news,” she said with a controlled smile. “You won’t be killed.”
Connor looked at her blankly.
“You’ll be a part of a new project of ours. Welcome, Connor, to Team Aegis.”
Connor wanted to scream. He wished he could run. Him? A hero? Never. He wasn’t hero material. He didn’t want to be hero material. He wasn’t worth being hero material.
If you’re looking for new experiences, challenging courses, and a new life, Evenfall University is the school for you! At EF University, student’s education and safety is our top priority. As one of the leading universities in advancements in course diversity, students have endless opportunities to learn and grow while at school.
Apply today and make the first step towards your future!
i wrote this in a fervor because my back hurts real and I needed a distraction. so, uh, consider this the set-up of the caretaking to come? and, of course, plenty of flashbacks to be had. anyways, i hate having a bad back, enjoy!
In the midst of a battle, it isn’t easy to watch your own back. It’s only worse when you’re the supervillain. Only heroes look out for each other.
Connor Kim was not a hero. He watched out for the people he fought with. He held no love or care of them. After all, it was his mother’s team.
Calamity. Hybrid. Matriarch. And his mother, Revenant. Each had terrifying powers, ones he had been on the receiving end of more than enough times to call them deadly.
As Visage, he played the role he was assigned. A villain to be feared, violent and cruel, like the one who raised him.
In the midst of a battle, he was able to forget how much he hated all of this. To focus on the dance he had to play, his survival depended on it, in more ways than one.
“Hey now,” Visage grinned as he narrowly dodged a punch from the superhero Omni “Can’t we get along?” The hero only scowled at him. Visage gripped the dagger at his waist, “Now that we’re up close, I gotta say, you’re pretty cute.”
Omni charged at him, catching Visage off-guard and with a body currently made entirely of metal, Visage knew it would leave a bruise. Shit, shit, shit.
Knocked to the ground, Visage struggled to move. Despite the easy opening, Omni didn’t take him out. A classic superhero move that, currently, Visage appreciated.
He forced a laugh, “If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked!” Omni seemed distracted, he shot Visage a glare before moving away.
Visage pulled himself to his feet, finally. The world was spinning around him. Was it Calamity or nature? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he was just hitting his limit, as the drumbeat in his head would like to confirm.
As he caught a glimpse of a retreat, Visage stumbled once again, but what stopped him was the rubble that began to fall.
A lovely distraction. A common distraction. As fragments of the building above him crashed around him, he fell to his knees. A window pane shattered on one side of him, a cascade of bricks on the other. As something fell on top of him, Visage could only make out one coherent thought.
More! I’m bad at the introductionary things, so after this, hopefully we’ll be more smooth-sailing in terms of ~content~! And yes, there’s not one caretaker, but two caretakers! (and maybe more :3)
The rhythmic beeping on a heart monitor was the first sound Connor heard. A heart monitor. It wasn’t the kind of technology he was worth using on.
Connor’s eyes shot up as he forced himself to move. A strangled scream escaped him as pain flooded him. Frantically, he looked around.
He was in a hospital bed? In a hospital room?
Well, no. The place looked far too small and simple to be a part of a hospital. He glanced down, noticing handcuffs binding him to the bed.
Connor let out a curse, whatever this situation was, it was bad. Even if he could have gotten up, he wasn’t sure his body had the strength to do so. One of his legs was wrapped in a cast and he could feel the pressure of bandages against his chest and stomach. He sat back as much as he could, closing his eyes once again to try, just try and calm down.
It wasn’t working. Mother….Mother would be so disappointed. She’d be furious, wouldn’t she? He’d be punished severely.
Connor didn’t need to wonder if she’d find him. Even if it was the heroes who had captured him, Connor knew she’d give him what he deserved. And, of course, as the obedient son he was, he’d accept it all.
When voices began to near the room, he tensed. Going back and forth between pretending he was asleep and facing whatever he was about to see. By time the voices had gotten into the room, he had decided to be awake.
Cracking an eye open, he saw two people. Both dressed casually, so he had no clue who they were. In his head, he took a deep breath.
There was no being Connor here, only Visage would survive.
“What do you want?” Visage hissed and lifted his hand up, flipping them off. It wasn’t very intimidating, when he was handcuffed and stuck in a hospital bed.
“Uh, well.” The man gestured vaguely to Visage’s bed. “Checking on you?”
“You’ve been unconscious for a few days,” the other said, “Personally, was kind of hoping you didn’t wake up.”
“Aw, you were that worried about me?” Visage said, trying to spit sarcasm into every word. “I’m honored that I was found by such heroes.”
“Okay, chill out, edgelord.” That same asshole smacked Visage on the side of his stomach. It might have been gentle, but with how injured he already was, it sent a wave of pain through him. Visage couldn’t stop the whimper of pain that escaped him. “You deserve much worse than this.”
“Theo!” The first person scolded. “You can’t treat an already injured person like that!” Visage barely listened to the reveal of a name. Rather, words were ringing in his head.
You are worth nothing but your powers. You are worth nothing but your powers. You are worth nothing but your powers. You are worth nothing.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re sympathizing with a supervillain?”
“I-I’m not! I’m worrying about a human being!”
“You’d cal—”
“Don’t go there, Theodore. You know as well as I do how shitty that would be.”
“...yeah but still! This guy isn’t deserving of your or my sympathy.”
“I get it, I get it. He’s a villain, he’s a bad guy. That doesn’t mean he isn’t a person still.”
“I just don’t feel like this was the right choice, Darrel.”
“We’ll find out soon enough if it was or wasn’t? Jus—”
“What?”
“Hey. Hey!”
Someone grabbed Connor’s hand, yanking it away from where he had been digging into his side. Dazed eyes turned to meet the one who had stopped them.
“What was that?!”
His lips parted to speak, closing and opening over and over. He didn’t fight the hand that stopped his.
“...V-Visage?”
“I am sorry.” He finally formed words. “I will do better. I will be better.” He repeated, over and over.
It kept going until someone interrupted him.
“Stop! What the fuck’s going on?” Theo asked, grabbing Connor by the shoulder.
“I….I….” Connor trailed off, the shout seemingly having brought him back to reality. He glanced between the two people. “....fuck.’
“Are you okay?” Darrell asked him.
“Yeah right,” Theo said. “What the hell was that?”
“...um….” Connor finally tugged his arm away from Darrell, staring at the bed before him. “Just...leave me alone, please.”
“What, you’re not gonna be an ass and demand it?” Theo mocked.
“Please, I-I’m sorry.” The words started and didn’t stop. “I can’t do it. Please don’t give me to Mother. Don’t give me back to her, please. I’ll do whatever you want just don’t—don’t give me to her.” his voice cracked. His injuries made movement painful, yet he curled in on himself, probably tearing more than one set of stitches.
The two heroes beside him made no sound.
Then someone finally spoke. “Do you need our help?” It was the person that had been so cruel before this. “We’ll keep you safe, I swear.” Theo sighed, muttering something he surely didn’t expect Connor to hear. “So, even supervillains get abused?”
I continue to write without editing because I just enjoy writing recklessly!
@whump-me-all-night-long < tags (ask if you want to be added OR removed!)
===
Day after day went by, leaving Charu a friend of the darkness. Their brother had gotten comfortable using the shock collar on them. Far too comfortable.
Every curse, every hiss, every comment was punished and it left Charu with no energy to fight back.
Each time Indivar visited, he'd ask, so sweetly, for his sibling to simply unfurl their wings. Each time, Charu refused, awaiting the shock that never came.
This time, when the door opened, they barely batted an eye.
"Hello, baby bird~!" Indivar hummed, "You know, the news has finally picked up on your absence." How long has it been? "See this is what I was talking about," Indivar clicked his tongue, "you think they would care about a hero, you think someone would try and save you. But that's just how heroes are."
"Shut….up."
Indivar sighed. Loudly.
Charu didn't make a sound as they convulsed once again, hitting the floor as they jerked against their will.
"Well, perhaps I won't feel so bad doing what I had planned…." Indivar spoke aloud, Charu didn't bother to look at him. They knew exactly what they'd see.
An uncontrollable expression of glee. One that nearly could convince Charu themself there was something to be happy about when it came to getting shocked.
"I have your meal, oh and a deal! If you show me your wings today, I'll take off the chains. Those have been chafing, haven't they?"
"... You will?"
"I will."
Whatever was left of their rationality screamed at them but it hurt too much. Their wrists, their ankles, both had been rubbed so raw even their healing factor couldn't keep up.
Charu nodded loosely, forcing themself upright, muscles still tingling. They had desperately wanted this, after all. To free their wings, even for a few moments.
They would just have to accept it was what Indivar wanted.
The chuckle that followed sent shivers down their spine.
"Before that, eat up." Indivar entered the cage to set the small plate of food before Charu. "It's extra important that you eat this." They squinted at the food, as if to determine what was different.
Just rice and chickpea curry.
"Do you remember when we were kids?" Indivar asked, as he closed the cage behind him. He was doing something, something Charu couldn't see. "You used to love this type of curry. After Mom and Dad died, I made Auntie teach me how to make it. When I made it for you, it was the first time you had smiled since the accident."
Charu didn't speak. It was true.
Indivar used to do everything possible to make them smile.
"You'd bother me to make it all the time after that. Do you remember what you told me?"
When we eat it, it kind of feels like they're still here.
"Stop." Charu said instead. "I'm eating it. So just stop."
Indivar was silent, "I'm just reminiscing. Did those damned superheroes make you hate that too?"
They ignored the question. Instead, focusing on the taste of the food. Of course, the curry was just as they remembered but the rice had a weird tang.
Something sour was in them. Charu couldn’t think of an ingredient that would taste this way. Yet, something else came to mind. As a child, they hated eating.
Charu finished the plate, every last bit of it. Almost paranoid that not doing so would have led to some sort of punishment. They weren’t willing to give the trigger-happy supervillain another reason to shoot.
“Unchain me,” they said.
“After you show me your pretty little wings,” Indivar responded, once again entering the cage. Each time that door opened and closed, Charu imagined running out.
Closing their eyes, they submitted to the order. A moan escaped them, a sigh of pure and utter relief as they unfurled their wings and spread them out. The ache in their muscles was so satisfying.
They didn't stop to think about Indivar’s reaction. They felt his hands on their wings. Brushing through them so delicately.
“I’d have thought keeping them cooped up would have meant they wouldn’t have gotten so messy,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Let me preen them, that’ll feel much better for you, won’t it?” Charu was silent as they raised their chained up hands. “Ah, yes yes, that.” Indivar was nonchalant, as he hummed his way through the process of unlocking the chains and unwrapping them.
Immediately, Charu rubbed at their wrists, feeling the raw skin that had been rubbed away at. It was worth the cost, they told themself, it was worth it. It didn’t hurt as badly as they’d expected. Maybe their healing factor had kicked in.
“I-” Charu faltered, “Thanks.”
“Of course, baby bird.”
Charu frowned at the nickname once again, but didn’t speak up. They felt….weird. The taste of that rice remained in their mouth, making them wish there was water to wash it out with.
Indivar took a seat in front of them and smiled. “Lay against me,” he ordered and pushed Charu into his shoulder.
Charu went limp, letting out a soft groan of protest. They were almost startled by the wave of weakness that hit them.
There was so much relief in their body, like something had snapped, now that their wings were free.
They were tired. Every muscle felt loose and soft. Indivar’s soft hums as he worked through their feathers was oddly satisfying.
They were tired. So sleepy and weak. Shouldn’t they be fighting? Resisting?
But they were tired.
A hand ran through their hair, “If you’re tired, why not go to sleep?”
They hummed in response. “Can’t sleep….” Charu shook their head, yet burrowed deeper into their brother’s shoulder. “Felix and Ciarán need me.”
The hand stopped, just for a moment. “Charu….you need me right now. Okay?”
The warmth they felt only sent them deeper into sleep. “...okay…” Whatever they were saying, whatever it meant, could wait until they finally slept well.
