Hello! I'm Onyx (They/Them), I have no idea how tumblr works in any regard and I'm sure that will show.
Feel free to send any requests
@onyxwingsart is my art blog, @whumpeewoes
Is where I will primarily reblog whump related content. I may create a fanfic blog as I am also a fanfic writer. I am primarily a whump writer, and this blog will be primarily whump. But there will be other stuff. I am terrible at schedules, and so there is no telling when I will be writing certain stories.
All of the whump series or longer stories which I post will have happy endings. (Who knows how long it'll take to get there? But when we do, it will be happy) Though any short story that does not have a happy ending, I will mention it at the start.
This is not an NSFW blog, I'm not against the content, I just have no interest in it myself. That being said, there could be NSFW topics mentioned or hinted to within my writing but no explict things.
It is also highly likely that I will not be a regular poster on this blog but I will try to post somewhat regularly
Currently working on:
500 words for 500 days - Masterlist
The Artworks: The Imperfect Painting (Multiple Whumpees, Male Whumpee, Demon ex-whumpee, Artwork whumpees)
The Royals: A lesson in deception (Living weapon whump, Royalty whump, male whumpee)
hi everybody i started HRT at 35 so like don't even despair
being in ur twenties makes u feel like 30 is a brick wall u either fly over or crash into but i promise u it's a door and it opens up into the rest of ur life like getting past the prologue of an open world game
This is a short whump story based on the prompts of Greedy, Heart and Knife
TW- Blood, its rather sadistic in nature, implied previous child abuse/endangerment
The weight of a heart had always felt significant. Not from the myths and legends, or the god who used to weigh a heart to see if they would go to the afterlife. No. It had been a long time since he believed in those greater powers. If they existed, they certainly had turned their back. But the weight of a heart, even if that was a myth told, could tell a lot about a person. As someone who worked in the dealing of organs, it was a closely guarded secret of Michael's. For, no one knew that the worth of a heart tied into what it weighed. That the numbers on the scale were not to do with how large a person was, or how fit they were. Instead, mortality came more into play.
"I told you I would teach you my trade," Michael said as he pulled the kid over to the table. "Don't be scared," Though his smile was full of knives as he handed over the scalpel. "We drag this over the center of the chest,"
The kid, he hadn't even bothered to learn their name, was shaking. But Michael just put his hand over the tiny fingers, calming it as they pressed into the flesh. The kid wanted to back away, he could feel it in how the kid tried to draw themselves away. But then the blood started to ripple over that pale skin.
Death had never been a distraction to Michael. Death was just a fact of life. One lived, one died, and in between both hells, there were choices.
Maybe he had made the wrong choices.
But Michael smiled as he helped the kid onto the operating table. Large enough that they could kneel next to the corpse. Too short to do much of the work from the floor. "You're a natural at this, Jamie?"
"Sasha.." The kid muttered as they stared at the chest, watching as Michael pried the flesh apart. "He's not human?" Michael smiled, the kid knew a lot already. Taken from a camp where they were growing them for their organs. Michael never asked what the kid was, if Sasha was an assistant? Well he needed good hands, and Sasha would quickly learn. If they knew what was good for them.
Michael pat Sasha on the shoulder, both ignoring the bloody hand print before Michael started to pull the flesh open. "No, no this is a human. Their insides are just delectable aren't they," he was well practiced with taking apart corpses. "You stay there, and I will bring the freezer box over. This man here, well. He is what people out in the real world- the one outside of the market- would call a CEO."
Sasha had no experience of life outside of where they grew up, so they stared, looking at the body.
"His heart will be heavy," Michael started to explain. "Now, I will cut your tongue if I ever hear this repeated," Michael smiled as he pulled the freezer box over, getting the bone saw from his filing of tools. "A heavy heart, well. These are created easily through what most people would call sins. This man here was a greedy bastard-- Believed that gain was what rocketed you to the heights that no man could ever reach." He turned to see that the fear had since left Sasha's eyes, they stared at the body with fascination. In that moment, Michael knew he had picked the right assistant. "No, gain doesn't take you that far my dear Sasha. Instead, I'll tell you, it makes enemies, right? Now, both you and I don't want that do we?"
Sasha shook their head, and took the bone saw. They cut where directed, and with hands covered in blood, soon to be covered in guts, they were taking it easily. Taking every motion in stride. Flashes of fear and discomfort were not uncommon. "No. No we don't want enemies. Is this why you wear a mask?"
Michael smiled as he steadied Sasha's hands. "Partially. But I pride myself on being a transporter, I am a tool for a job. Not the one who kills, not the one who judges. I merely watch, I do what is asked of me and nothing more. Now. If it were to get into the heads of other- I'll call them dissectors, that I have information on how heavy a heart can weigh, or that moral failing can create a heavy heart. Well, we may have enemies then. And we don't want that, right? Heavy hearts sell for more, but they don't need to know why we get better rates."
Sasha nodded, but it seemed less that they were inclined on betrayal, and more on the way that the heart moved with the ribs no longer there to cage it.
"You want to see how it beats, don't you?"
Sasha looked up at Michael, and guilt framed their face so deliciously.
"Don't be guilty my dear. Let me show you."
Michael was only reminded of himself as he shocked the heart, letting Sasha marvel at how it beat, desperately reacting to the shocks. "Now, I can't do this with every body we get. Seeing as electricity can dull the price. But, who's going to be telling?"
Sasha smiled, and though Michael still had training to get into their head. It was going to be easier having an extra set of hands.
The open seas held no mercy for anyone who had less than ample preparation for it. Between terrible storms and the even more terrible humans that hunted everything below and above.
Caelus considered himself prepared enough, after all, he was a mer. The only reason why such vapid and silly things such has tsunamis would ever take him vas if he was under extreme and unlikely circumstances. Such as being besieged oy humans and staying too close to the surface and then nearly (his luck wasn that* bad) being hit by lightning
Calues was in a bad spot. Humans firing harpoons at him, several nets wasted rying to catch him. Though, soon enough, one managed to graze him. Slicins through his scales and causing him to flinch. That second was all that was needed to fire several more harpoons. One managed to get him straight in his tail, causing Caelus to nearly cry out.
He had to focus, just bring down this ship, and he could leave. Figure out how to help himself later. Caelus whipped his aching tail towards the ship, the wood instantly splintering. He sneered, daring to capture mers, yet cheaping out on boats. He grabbed a harpoon still floating in the water and took off the rope.
Using a harpoon was much less painful than using a tail, and soon enough the bottom of the ship looked like a beast tore through it.
Grinning at his work, Caelus quickly started to flee, the chances that the ship ever gets repaired in time were nearly impossible. Watching the ship sink and his own vision starting to blur, he slowly swam away.
Stars starting appearing from the corner of his vision, and he felt himself start to get tangled in something. Looking down, it was one of the nets. The harpoon had spun his tail around it, but pulling it out meant bleeding out even faster.
Caelus sighed as he continued, whatever, he could find some place to rest and take care of himself later.
Turns out nets are very good at keeping mers from swimming, and swimming was one of the keys to getting out of storms.
Caelus didn't know when it started, a few minutes or an hour ago, it didn't matter. The storm was fierce, dragging him around through water into rocky sides. The harpoon had long been dragged out of him, but between bloodloss and weakened stamina, it was a losing fight against the current. A fight he had no intention to stop, he wasn't going to die here, right after sinking a bunch of humans. He was going to fight, fight until all mers were free.
Caelus grunted as he hit the surface, banging onto a rock. He would live, and do this a thousand more times if he must. And he must.
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP Medical inaccuracies because of superhero logic
Word Count:
AO3 Link
Summary: George collapses after trying to heal Marv as much as he could
"No you're not fucking dying on me." George hissed as he forced more healing into Marv's wounds. He could hear the whining of agony as it spread throughout the mans body. He was so close to getting everything- both of them were so close to happiness. They were so close and yet so far. George pressed his head against Marv's chest, only breathing at the slow beating of his heart.
Marv would live. God he would make sure of it. But he could feel the pain as he tried to ignore it- only heal the wounds and as much as it hurt both of them, it was the only way that Marv would live.
"George, you're killing him. His vitals are all over--"
Reno stopped talking as he saw George's face. Tear stained eyes blinked at him as George tried to hold in his anger. "His body is unstable. If I try to keep his vitals right then I can't focus on the actual wounds. He's got such a deep infection." Marv would have told George to get a second healer- but with Marv's reputation… George wouldn't chance it. He hadn't managed to convince the world that Marv wasn't a villain. They would draw upon that and possibly kill him.
Maybe George was paranoid. But Marv would live.
Only time would tell how heavy of a toll it would take on the both of them.
But Marv fought for live. George knew that the only reason he was still fighting, was because Marv refused to give up.
"George, you might wanna be up for this."
George didn't remember how he got to his room, but with heavy limbs and a headache that would probably kill a small dog, he forced himself up. He knew what happened, he could feel the bruises on his side as Tempest slipped under Marv's arm. "Marv's waking up."
He wanted to have the energy to smile or be happy, but it felt like a Herculean task at that moment. "And i'm assuming--"
"its been about 24 hours since you collapsed and Reno locked you in your room to make sure you rested?"
"Yeah." George huffed- Reno was as much of a mother hen as George was. George would keep working until he dropped- and when he dropped Reno would stop him from falling further.
"He's not in a good condition."
"I didn't think he would be. God- he was hardly alive when I was healing him." George kinda didn't want to know how badly Marv was injured- how much pain he was in and the fact that Tempest was kinda there as a person to stop George from healing Marv or taking away his pain.
But George continued forward. "He's going to have a real rocky recovery. " He knew that, as much as anyone else. But at least Marv was alive.
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count: 383
AO3 Link
Summary: Caspian is tired of being a statue for other peoples eyes. He refuses to let it last any longer.
Caspian had had enough. Too many people had pulled against his feathers- too many people stared at him like he was just brick and stone. He was tired, had enough of it. He was not a statue- and maybe Clarity had failed at training him, maybe Clarity had failed at breaking his mind and maybe it would have been better if he had succeeded. But Caspian had enough. He was tired, hurting and his body wanted to reject life itself.
Helios, the man that Caspian had once known, was frozen against his back. Caspian could only assume that Clarity had been successful for Apollo- or else maybe he would have dragged his other into that… Into his plan. The plan where he was finally going to get freedom, no matter what it ended up actually costing him. He needed an out, and even if that out was another place- another horrible person. He could not exist within the gallery.
Every motion forced him down, every movement agonising. Stone against his flesh as he moved limbs that had been motionless for centuries. He had no idea how old he was, but he knew that the museum was all he ever knew. But Caspian continued on. The brick flaking off of his skin as his limbs felt like weights against the weak muscles. Food wasn't something he had been allowed for years. So maybe it had been a miracle that he was moving at all.
But he knew the direction he was going. Even if his heart started to thump against his chest, and tried to jump out of his chest. Nothing would stop him.
The blade came down as Caspian knocked against the amour- and he felt the axe move. Caspian might have screamed if his voice still worked.
But it didn't. He fell to the ground, puppet strings finally cut. He may have died. But as Caspian looked at the gallery from a new view, he could not say that he wished for anything less.
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count:
AO3 Link
Summary: When one steps into a baker, they expect to step out. John didn't step out again
When one steps into a baker, they expect to step out. Thats what John had assumed as well. But something was weird about it, as he walked into the store. There was no bread for sale, and everyone inside of the place… looked afraid. When the door locked, John knew something was wrong.
It wasn’t something that could just be explained in simple terms. He didn’t understand how it happened, but everything changed. Bread, he was turned into nothing but dough. Almost a sick part of him enjoyed it as he was kneaded, pressed into the counter, rolled out. Not that he could have done anything but exist. An agony that he was yet to fully understand.
The bread oven was yet to come. A sunken feeling told him that the fire inside would not kill him. That the heat would cook every part of him, firm him up and make him even less free. He was covered, a plastic cover. The witch who had done this, seemed happy with her creations. Completely uncaring for the fact that those who walked in, would be purchasing people, made into bread. Maybe those sick bastards knew.
Was it better, to be the bread, or to consume a person.
John had no choice in the matter. Not anymore.
He watched, as hours went by, and he was getting lighter and bigger. It was wrong, to feel himself expand. John had never made bread. But, he was made into bread now. No choice in the matter. No matter how much he begged to move. There were no more muscles that he could latch onto.
How his mind was still intact, he didn’t understand. No brain existed in the dough, and he was just the gluten, the flour and water. All of it mixed together.
Then she came back. The witch, but, she looked like a soft and kind woman. Someone who would save orphaned puppies. Not someone who would willingly bake people into bread.
John had to say that the feeling of her hands was the worst. It was felt everywhere, on every nerve that didn’t exist. For he was the bread, the flour, all of it. He could feel it, in a way that feeling couldn’t describe. Into the dish he went.
Focaccia. Thats the bread he was, he slowly realised as the olive oil, slimy and cold, was slathered all over him. He could feel the holes being poked into him, and if bread could scream, he would. He couldn’t escape the slime as it trickled down his side, inside of the holes that had been carved into his gluten flesh. It was like gunk inside of his gums. But he was nothing but gums.
There she let him rest. Rest and rest. Until, it was time for the flames and the heat.
At first, an attempt was made on his part, trying to reason, think that it was a warm hug. Like a mug that was held on a cold winters day. But John soon learned that he had no reason to be delusional. The oil cooked first, it heated up and burned. The oil dug deep into him, and he could feel himself rise. Even further. He rose and he could feel it as the bread started to merge. He didn’t know how long it was. He could feel each and every part of the bread. The flour, the water.
It made no sense, and screams that wanted to be released were nothing but puffs of steam. But even then he couldn’t be sure if they were his own, or a creation of the monster who enraptured him. He could do nothing but feel as the top of him, started to crust. While the warmth penetrated him deeper then anything could ever go. A deep and crushing weight within him, and it hardened him. It hurt, as much as pain could exist when you were nothing but bread.
But John could think of nothing but how he was trapped. He could do nothing as he felt the heat rise.
Maybe it was a shorter time then he expected, but for all he knew, the pain could have lasted forever. Hours and hours long, agonising in pain that couldn’t even be pain. Because as bread, he couldn’t feel. Nothing he did could do anything, nothing but wait.
She pulled him out, and the cold air wasn’t a mercy. It didn’t draw the heat away enough to ease any suffering. It lingered, like a sharp tongue. She was whistling, the woman that he didn’t even know the name of, was whistling as she cooked people. Frustration wasn’t close to a word to describe it. She let him rest on the counter again. But this time, even if he could not see with eyes, he knew that there were customers.
Who wanted slices of Focaccia.
He had felt knives before, muggers were relentless in the small town. So he knew what it was like to have his skin pried apart by a blade. A sharp blade ripping through his skin, and blood oozing in rhythms from his body.
Yet, as he felt the oil drain from the holes within the dough, it felt nothing like blood. The screams were inaudible as the knife was relentless. A sawing motion, back and forth, over and over. Until John forgot what he was. Before the sawing motion. Just bread, and that was all he could be. All he was anymore.
John had never been good with words, before he was turned into bread. But he had never felt as his body was no longer whole, and yet… he could feel everything. In half he had been split. Yet, he could feel every part of himself. As the knife started again, John wished the oven had killed him. He wished that as the gluten hardened, it had taken whatever was left of his mind away with it.
But the knife didn’t stop. The witch didn’t stop. Sawing, sawing. Pressing into the bread with her large hands, grabbing onto him. Like a piece of meat. But bread. A food, nothing but something to be devoted. The sick part of him, told him that now, at least he had some use. Before, whatever had been. A job that had been sawed out of his mind. It didn’t matter. The bread did.
Maybe, being cut into pieces, slices to be served, fractured his mind. But John could only hope, that he could be a part of something… someone. Maybe, being split into 16, would allow him to… to merge with someone. To know what it was to be successful and useful.
But the rest of his mind. It knew the horrors that awaited him. Just being in a tray, and being cut apart was agony. He could image the stomach acid, as it burnt him away. Maybe he would exist in there, forever sinking in acid that burned and ate at him. Or maybe, finally, it would kill him.
Day 30 - Cleaning Injuries, Labored breathing, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
Masterlist Link
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count:
AO3 Link
Summary: Caelus gets injured by a whaling ship hunting Mers. But he can't stop fighting now. They aren't free yet
Caelus pressed himself against the wall as he felt Helios starting to dig the whaling harpoon out of his tail. He leant against the wall, trying his best to hold back any sound of pain. The fever was slowly starting to make itself apparent, and, well. It was lucky that Helios had dragged him out of the water when he did. There had been another ship in the area- and… well it was luck that they didn't see the avian as he flew off with their catch.
Caelus closed his eyes as he tried to take deep breaths- the blood had stopped- but the harpoon had been barbed. Getting it out of his tail was no easy feat. The wound was almost certainly infected, but it wasn't Helios' fault. "Caelus. Eyes open."
Caelus opened his eyes, only to glare at Helios. He hated the pain- and Helios was just trying to help. "Don't ever scare me like that again." He knew what Helios meant.
Caelus had been a dead weight when he was first pulled out of the water. His strength had gone into snapping the whaling harpoon before they could get anything else to shoot through him. But when Helios had brought him to land- he was finally able to breathe.
"I'll try not to." Caelus coughed as he pressed his head into the cold stone. It wasn't like it helped that much, but better than to focus on the fact that his body felt like it was on fire and the fire was eating his entire soul. "Do you have water?"
Helios moved beside him. "Your tail is a pain to bandage. Why do you have a fin-" He huffed as he helped Caelus down a waterski of water.
"I'm a- a deep sea merman. We- it- it has bioluminescence. But its been too long since I've eaten anything with bioluminsensce for it to work."
"You need to spend more time in the deep sea then-"
Caelus huffed as he pressed his head into Helios' shoulder. "Okay. Maybe when you're not burning up."
"If I stay in the deep, its harder for me to return to the surface. My body adjusts to the pressure."
Helios sighed. "You can't just think of if you're going to be able to see me Can- you are literally not designed for this- If you were in the deep sea more, the ships wouldn't be able to get you."
"You'd be surprised." Caelus grumbled as Helios moved to start on his second tail injury- thrashing about with harpoon in his tail- surprisingly hadn't let him get away without any scratches. "They have- a lot of ships that can use sonar- and there. God. They use the sounds of baby Helios to attract us high enough to captures us. Sometimes they are genuinely babies that they captured and are used to lure us."
Helios shuddered. "We are- not able to live as normal." Helios struggled as well- avians were plucked of their feathers- they were used as feather generators. Whole fake towns were made for the production of feathers, stripping the parents of feathers- and allowing the kids to grow until they were fledged-
"Its just. Reality."
"You need to stop capsizing ships. You're going to get caught one of these days. " Helios muttered- but he knew that Caelus wouldn't stop. Not until all of them were gone- He couldn't stop. Not when his people were in danger. Caelus had lost his pod, and he never knew if they were alive or if they had been killed off. But that didn't change the fact that merpeople were his people.
"I'm going to stop after you stop raiding villages and saving children."
Helios smiled as he started to clean out Caelus' wound- pulling shrapnel out of the scales. Caelus tried to stay quiet, he bit into his hand, trying to hold back the groans of pain. Helios was going to get annoyed at hi creating a new injury- but it wasn't like Helios blamed him. Caelus had taken arrows out of the bird's spine. Pain and injuries were no new new thing to either of them. But it didn't mean that it didn't hurt every time.
"Its going to be over soon." Helios promised but Caelus would have snarked- if he didn't have his teeth buried into his hand. He started to clean the wound- salt water although it had a lot of things in it, was better than anything for a deep sea mer. So Caelus had to prepare for the pain of salt on an open wound.
Caelus closed his eyes, bracing against the pain that was going to come. He didn't move his tail as he felt the salt water pour over it. His teeth dug deeper into his hand- he was lucky that his skin was thick because he had multiple puncture wounds on his hand- holding in his screams. they didn't need to be found when Helios was the only one in a state to protect them.
"Its over." Caelus panted as he let go of his hand, letting Helios grab it and start to bandage it. "It's gonna heal fine- within three days you'll be back in the ocean- just. Will you promise me that you'll wait at least a week before you go attacking a mer hunting ship again?"
Caelus lay his head on Helios' shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist. "You know I can't promise that."
Helios sighed, and kissed Caelus' cheek. "We have got to help- like instigate laws against mer hunting or avian trade."
"People are already trying." Caelus grumbled, they had been trying for years. But the amount of money in the business- a lot of people weren't willing to change. Not even if it was for morality sake. Unless they managed to convince multiple governments- it was unlikely anything would change. At least drastically. There would be occasional bans during the spring when Mer families would generally have their kids.
But that was the length of it all.
They weren't going to be free. Not for a long time.
Caelus pressed a kiss to Helios' lips. They weren't going to be free, but they could still enjoy life.
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count: 278
AO3 Link
Summary: Someone wakes up with no memory in a hospital
There were white walls, it was always white walls and he didn't know why he was crying. It felt so wrong, everything felt so empty. But there was something wrong, he was in the wrong place but there were no memories. He had no memories and he wanted to scream, call out for help. But he couldn't get anything straight as he looked around.
A hospital.
It was a hospital, and it was wrong.
He felt cold, and everything was blurry as he curled up on the bed. He couldn't remember anything- but he didn't know what the issue was but the tears didn't stop. They refused to stop.
"Hey sweetie, welcome to the world again."
He looked around, and a woman in white smiled at him. He hated that smile. Everything rubbed him the wrong way and he wanted to bite that smile off of her face. She was wrong, everything was wrong. But he couldn't remember where he was- who he was.
"Why can't I remember anything?"
The woman smiled. He wanted to snarl. "Oh because those memories are dangerous hun. So we took them away."
"Give me my memories back!" He hissed, and the woman just walked over and placed a hand on his head. He realised that he was bound.
His arms didn't move as the woman stood above him. "Don't worry about your memories. You will make a lot more here. I promise you. You will become out family." Her voice was sing song. But everything felt wrong. Even as his eyes slipped close without him able to fight it.
Day 27 - Sensory Overload, Don't pretend to understand
Masterlist Link
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count: 1047
AO3 Link
Summary: Blake has sensory overload, in a way that no one will ever understand.
Blake hated the world- he hated that when he was a weapon he ignored it. He forgot the world apart from his commander. Only listen to their orders- nothing else. He had no reason to be a person with feelings- with emotions. He could have blocked out the whole world apart from the commander and their orders.
But all of that went belly up, when Jamie had taken him in.
Now.
Blake would never hate Jamie for freeing him. He would never have swore out his name or gotten mad at him for what he did. Jamie was a kind soul- someone who never saw the good side of a war and would prefer to make sure that people were happy or alive. But he was a fighter. He would fight if needed.
He fought to keep Blake alive, and now Blake would always question it.
But he would never question the fact that he liked to be a person. He liked the freedom that came with it. The senses however- his senses as a mage were heightened. Painful at times. Only made worse by the years that he had trained himself not to pay attention to everything, only the things he needed to.
Blake suffered from headaches- he had ever since he had started to use his magic for something other than warfare.
Everything hurt- the fabric of his clothes, the warm and sticky air that hung in the sky. He couldn't breathe as he tried to stop his senses from feeling every tiny thing that existed in the world. His feet were touching the ground and they were touching it too much- his toes rubbed together and he could feel the skin- there was too much skin and Blake wanted to scream. The senses hurt- even the brushing of his arm against his side- he could hear the fabric as it brushed against each other- a sound that echoed in his mind and he couldn't get it to shut up.
Instead he stayed still- he could feel everything- his heart as it beat in his throat, the sound of blood in his ears. No matter how much he begged for silence, there was none. Not even a hint of silence. Nothing that could free him. Nothing that would take the senses away. His skin felt itchy- and then it burnt when he tried to scratch at it. He held himself back before there was blood brought under his fingertips. Only because he knew that the sticky blood against his arm would make things worse. The sweat already beaded around his body.
His neck was too wet- it was too sticky and he wanted to pull it off- to pull the whole part of his neck out, he could feel his chest as it rose and fell- his own breathe echoing in his ears and Blake couldn't do anything. Even his hands over his ears didn't silence the world. Only made his internal world louder.
There was nothing that he could do- nothing that would stop the agony that coursed through his entire body. Nothing that would stop him feeling anything. If Blake could, he would have resorted to his training- blocking out the world. It helped- god did it help.
But he couldn't. His magic reached out- like it was begging for something else to help him through it. But- every sensory change just drove him more and more mad. Every breath, a trumpet in his ears, from the movement of his shirt- the fabric as it rubbed together- his chest as it pressed against the fabric. His body felt like it was on fire, and sitting still made it worse and yet bearable.
It was good that they had nothing to do that day. Blake couldn't get up, let alone thing as to how to protect Jamie. One day- he just had to trust that one day, Jamie wouldn't get into trouble. He wouldn't-
Blake could feel the tears on his cheeks- and that reminded him of his face. His skin pressed too much into his skull. When his legs tensed from the pain- from trying to cope with it, he could feel them again. He could feel too much, all of his body all receiving the world as it overlapped onto of each other.
He wanted the world to just choose one. He didn't need to feel the fabric on his chest- he didn't need to feel the pain from his back as he was curled up against the floor. The wood pressed against him- and he could feel every fibre-
Then, to make everything that much worse, the door creaked open.
He could hear footsteps and god did Blake want to snap- want to hiss and become the monster that he was always taught he was. "Blake?"
Blake whined- the only sound that he could force from his lips. He wanted Jamie to go away. He wanted to snap at the man that he was not meant to be there. "Are you okay? Where- Oh hun."
He could hear it as Jamie passed by the threshold of the bed and then he knelt down. Jamie wanted to help- god he should have been more selfish. He should have just not tried to help- nothing he could do would help him. "Blake- let me help you up onto the bed- the floor--"
"No. Don't touch me." Jamie backed up- much to his credit and Blake hated the violence in his voice. "Don't pretend to understand. just." He wanted Jamie to help- but there was no way for him to help. "Please just- You can't do anything." Blake hated the hurt in his voice. But there was genuinely nothing else he could say. He didn't need to spite at his friend- he didn't need to growl and tell him to get away.
Blake just wanted the silence, and even Jamie breathing made him want to strangle the man. He continued to stay curled up as Jamie let out a soft sigh. "Okay, just. You know where to find me, I wont come in- until you let me."
He hated the hurt in Jamie's voice. Both of them knew that neither we angry at the other- but it didn't make it any easier to exist the way that he was. Sensory overload- Jamie had called it the first time he had felt it.
Jamie left- closing the door gently, and Blake let more tears fall- he had to make it up to Jamie- when he world wasn't on fire.
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count: 1047
AO3 Link
Summary:
Screams ripped through the air like fabric on a rusty nail. Broken and desperate screams, some cut off too soon, others drowned into nothingness. But the screams stayed, a cacophony of sounds that droned on far longer than they needed. Icarus knew what was coming as they came to drag him out. They kept his feathers growing longer than anyone could imagine. Just to rip them out. The feathers of an angel would fetch a much higher price if they were perfectly intact. They would take from any being if it served their purpose. Icarus just fell to their trap
Icarus snarled- as they approached. He was not going to become a screamer. Even though there were men- none of them would dare to hurt him. Not one of them would make a move, if they were to harm the money maker. Well. It was going to be more than their head which would be ripped off. They would have to pay, and Icarus knew that not one of these stains against humanity, would want to pay that price.
His legs ached, but they kept him fed- which meant he still had his strength. Enough to try and evade them, enough that he could keep out of their reach.
They pulled out the feathers. One after the other and it burned. Like plucking a hair from his scalp- but four hundred times bigger. He refused to scream as he thrashed, and the men laughed. Oh how they laughed. He would tear their throats out. The moment he got the strength to.
Maybe thats why they never fed him enough food- why they stole his feathers too soon- or why the chains that held him kept on digging at his skin- it would infect it soon enough. But they didn't know Icarus could not die, and Icarus wanted that to stay hidden for as long as possible. He knew what they would do when they found out.
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count: 1047
AO3 Link
Summary: Gene is bought off the black market
Gene knew what it was like to be captured- he had been that way for the majority of his life- just functioning as a hostage, someone who they could all control. He was used to it, the way that people looked at him like he was an animal. No matter what Jamie did, he would never forget it, when people stared at him as if he was never human, if no part of him was ever human.
But the ropes that bound him were magical ones.
It was rare that Gene was ever caught by a magic hunter. Someone who knew exactly how to make magical people get under their control. "What do we have here?" Gene hissed as he watched as the man walked around him. He felt the man grab his hair, forcing his head up. "Such a little beast. I can see the wild nature in those eyes." The man smiled- sick and twisted. Gene wanted to head butt him. But he couldn't move with the bind keeping his magic trapped inside of his body. He needed to- He needed to fight. Just to get out of the bind.
He twisted and the man laughed, until Gene got onto his side- and he could hear a command.
There were multiple people pinning him down to the ground. "You aren't getting out of this lovely. I can promise you that." Gene hissed as he felt a gag being slotted into his mouth- he was going to be sold? For the magic trade. He tried to fight, but there was no point as he felt himself being lifted by too many people. He didn't try to fight back, not as they threw him down, leaving him at the bottom of the ship.
Instead he just curled against a net, holding onto the hanging net just so he didn't start sliding around as soon as the ship started its movement. He could hear other people in the hull- but he couldn't see them. Not with his eyes not used to the darkness.
"Are you hurt?" A kind voice spoke, and Gene hated that these were almost certainly other mages.
"No." Gene muttered as he looked away. "Are you all mages-?"
He heard the sigh from the woman who spoke. "No. But all of us are magic in some way." Gene grimaced- because he knew where they were going. To be sold.
"And I think… getting you was on the last stop."
Gene was dragged up, he could hear the commotion all around them, and he wanted to fight the men trying to drag him towards the stage- but he didn't have strength to fight them off. Not with his magic bound, and the starvation- it had been days since they had last eaten. They had blindfolded him- so he couldn't even run if he had the energy.
"This is a highly desired item- a full blooded mage"
Gene didn't listen to the man above him as he explained why they should pay more for Gene. Gene wanted to just bite his leg off and rip the man apart. But he heard-
"The mage goes to number 482."
Gene felt his blood go cold as he was forced out of the stage- he didn't even listen to the prices- but he didn't want to know as he stumbled towards what he could only assume was a cage. Made of iron to bind magic.
it felt like it choked him as he was stuffed into a cage. The ropes were still in place and he could hardly breathe. Maybe it was meant to make him more docile. But if anything it made him mad- pissed off and ready to burn down the first person he got to see.
Before he knew it, he was on the move. He could feel the cage moving as he was forced along an uneven path. But Gene didn't make a noise, even when he could feel the bruises from smashing into the bars. "I will take it from here. Thank you."
He didn't recognise the voice, but he was taken out of the cage. "It would not fit in our carriage. The ropes will do just fine I'm sure-"
They were talking to someone, but he couldn't see him. Not that Gene tried to see them as he was loaded up into a carriage.
Gene didn't realise that he had started to daydream, until someone started to peel the blindfold from his eyes.
He was in a carriage- a plush- velvet carriage normally reserved for someone with a lot of money. Then his eyes fell on the people inside of the carriage and his shoulders tightened even more because he could see them staring at him.
"Hey hey, we're not going to hurt you." One of them spoke- his eyes glittered of magic. How he even managed to get near--
He could see the collar on his neck and flinched- "Jasper?"
The very clearly human, reached over and unclasped the collar. "Sorry hun, thats just to help me get into the events without people suspecting Jasper."
He didn't know how to react as he felt the human start to undo the ropes.
Gene just curled up, letting his knees hug his chest as he stared at these strange people. "There aren't… many mages in this area. I don't even think you're from nearby- and."
"Jasper tries to- uh. Rescue a lot of magical beings. We're in the process of trying to dismantle their whole operation- But when we saw you uh-"
"I wasn't going to let them- I. I knew who was trying to bid for you, and just."
Gene didn't understand what they were trying to say or what they were doing. He just felt dizzy as he tried to let the magic flood his body without overwhelming his system. It had been too long since he had felt the magic.
"Well uh. My name is Iya, I'm a wind sprite, and this is Jasper, the king of Revlon"
Gene froze- he hadn't reapplied that they had gone that far north.
He wouldn't be able to get home, unless he managed to get hold of an actual ship that could cross the ocean without smashing to bits.
"Do you have a name-"
"Iya!"
"I mean, it is a genuine question- not everyone has a name- and like. Their culture also could be--"
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count: 1047
AO3 Link
Summary: George refuses to rest even when he really needs to
There hadn't been the number of injuries that the Agency was seeing at once, in years. Half of the agents were down and George hadn't even had a second to sit down after he had healed one person. It was onto the next- then the one after that and then next- and each one just kept piling on each other. There was no escape from it. People asked him if he needed a break- but there were just too many people.
It had been a large event- the battle to end all battles as some people called it. The battle that would cement their place in history. George pressed his hands against another kid- healing him of wounds that could have killed him. He wanted to argue against the war- that they shouldn't have been fighting if they were going to use kids to fight the war.
"It's okay kid- you're going to be fine."
George muttered it as the kid started to stop struggling, less pain that seemed to course through his bones. He sighed as he looked at his other patients- the other medic was down. So it was his job and George had never been known to be one to refuse a challenge. "George-"
He sighed as another one was rolled in. He was going to help them in order of- if the injury was going to kill them or not. The most energy needed to be used to protect those who were more likely to die. He- would make sure that there were no causalities on their side if he could prevent it.
He rushed towards the next person, ignoring the start of the numbness in his fingers. He needed to make sure that they didn't die- and then he could rest.
He pressed his hands against the wound and there were not black spots in his vision as he took the pain away and started to reconstruct blood vessels- just to keep the woman from dying.
"George? You look exhausted." Marv muttered as he walked in. "Sasha sent me to get you some food- and damn sit down George." George glared for a second but he knew that Marv would not let it go. It was lucky for George that Marv didn't seem like he had enough energy to go prying into his mind- but if he even dared to try he would be able to just feel the exhaustion that George didn't have- no. He just needed to get through the last people- then he could stop.
"George- look at me." He looked up, to find Marv kneeling and examining his eyes. "You're going to drop." He muttered and cupped his cheek. "You need to slow down or even just stop and take a break."
"But-"
"George."
George shook his head as he took a bite of the sandwich. "I need to make sure that no one dies. I won' t anyone die- not for-"
Marv huffed- he knew better than anyone that George was stubborn. For one, he had made it so that Marv was a part of their team. No one but a stubborn ass would have been able to make that possible.
"Please just don't push yourself until you break."
Marv couldn't argue. He couldn't claim that he wouldn't, because it was only more and more likely as there were so many patients. "Don't heal the people who aren't going to die from their injuries."
George knew that- he needed to save his energy for the people in critical condition.
"George is on his way to collapsing. We're going to have two healers down at this rate."
Marv stared at their commander, and their commander didn't look like he was that interested in it. "We are down too many of our people-"
"And George is actively the most important person here. He is saving the lives of all of our people. If he passes out then it could be days before he is recovered."
Marv knew that when the commander turned- that there wasn't much convincing he could do. The man hated him anyways. "I'm pulling him away from action. If you wont I will."
"Marv."
"Fire me. Just. After you realise that Marv could have killed himself today, and you would have let it happen." Marv hissed as he stalked out of the room- and the commander didn't follow hm. Which was a good thing because marv would have gone off on him. He needed to protect George, even if it meant literally betraying what his leader wanted.
Marv was never one to listen to orders.
"George."
The man stared at him- dazed.
"Oh god George, come over here." The man walked over- almost like he was in autopilot.
He let Marv hold him- and he almost collapsed right there and then. "Marv-"
"Yeah I know George. We're getting you back to your room-"
"But theres-"
"No George."
George complied- he was hardly even talking as they walked to the room. Marv sat his significant other on the chair, and the man seemed out of it. Far too out of it for it to be a normal behaviour for George. "You should rest."
George seemed uncertain, but let Marv help him lay down on the bed. "When you wake up- you can help again. But for now you need rest. You're not going to help anyone when you are three steps away from death's door."
When the other didn't argue, Marv knew he had made the right choice. He needed George to sleep- and if it had gotten him fired- if he was arrested. At least Marv would get to live another day.
"Marv?"
Marv looked up to see Sasha. "I heard what you did- and the commander is pissed."
Marv huffed as he tucked George in- he was already asleep. "But I think you did what all of us wanted to do. Ive is already down, and having both healers out for the count isn't good- but we can't just drain them."
Marv nodded as he pressed a kiss against George's hair. "That man is a self sacrificing bastard."
"I wonder why you two are so attached."
"Sasha."
Sasha just laughed, smiling at Marv. "Don't tell me that you wouldn't do the same."
Marv sighed "I just wish he would listen to his own needs."
"And I'm sure he thinks that about you. Now. I need your help at the front. No one is going to touch your precious healer. "
"If they did, they would be missing an arm tomorrow."
"I'm sure of it hun. Now come on."
Marv spared George one last glance before he followed her out of the room.
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count: 1047
AO3 Link
Summary: Lucius experiences his time in hell again
Lucius knew better than to stop fighting. His wings ached from the chains that were wrapped around them- He knew what they were trying to do- he had seen it happen before, he had heard the rumours. There was a reason that Demons didn't go to the surface.
Lucius had gotten too tired to fight himself on it. It wasn't his fault and no matter what he did- he couldn't change the facts that the angels stole him.
He tried to pull his wings out of the chains again- it burnt. Every time the iron touched his wings, they metal pressed in deeply- they weren't even well made chains. he could feel the slight opening- and blood leaked out of his body as they nicked and pulled at his skin.
"Oh look at him- he still has so much passion. Wouldn't he make a fine addition to your team."
Lucius dreaded it as he looked up and saw Michael- one of the head angels. He knew his team- and as he saw Michael smile he felt fear leak into his body. His breath shortened as he wanted to stop thrashing in that moment. But it wouldn't change the angels mind.
One thing about Michaels team.
All of the demons had their wings ripped from their back.
Lucius wanted to pull away- to be looked at by any other angel. But he could already feel the blood pooling in his wings. He knew why they had chained him up- and it had always been Michael-
"Cut his wings off, and I'll send my people to collect him."
Lucius didn't let them near him. He thrashed- moved- anything to keep them away. He knew he had even bit one of them, he could smell the blood of an angel as it dripped onto the floor. The slight power increase made him more feral as he lunged against the chains and snapped at another angel. It didn't matter- the people weren't people to him- not in his mind. They were going to take his freedom from him even more.
Demon wings didn't regrow. Everyone knew it. So Lucius would do everything to keep them away from him.
They might have been able to brand him. But that was one thing. His wings were another.
No matter how tightly the attempted muzzle was- it could not hold back the rage inside of Lucius. Maybe thats why Michael wanted him. Maybe the passion was what was desirable. But Lucius had no choice. He snarled- taking a chunk of skin of one of the angels who tried to get near him.
"He will eventually exhaust himself-" one of them claimed. But they forgot that demons and humans were similar. They had an endurance that lasted- and Lucius would fight for years. Until no one would even dare get close to him. Years he would snarl and bite- and there would be no stop. Because Lucius would not go down easy.
"Are you willing to wait years for Michael to get his prize?"
"Lucius!"
Lucius didn't pay attention to the voice- it had been years when they finally caught him. He felt the muzzle being forced onto his face- and it had been Michael himself who finally got it. He had grabbed Lucius- letting him rip tears into his body--
and then Lucius fell.
Iron flooded his veins, burning out his insides as he heard the clatter of his own wings.
Tears was not even the word to describe the flood of water that left his mouth. The agony which consumed him- the rage he would not let rest. He lunged- the pain didn't matter. He couldn't control himself as he tried to do anything-
"Lucius!!"
He didn't recognise the voice- but he could feel Michael's hands and he snarled- snapping out of their grasp.
"Apollo. Back off. You'll only get yourself hurt."
Lucius growled- he knew what it was like to be a beast- and if thats all that they expected of him. Well who was he to get them to think any differently-
"Lucius. I need you to stop- you're going to rip the place apart."
The voice that came out of Michael's throat- couldn't have been him. The kindness that even started to bubble out was wrong. Michael had no remorse- he never knew what it was to have empathy. An empty shell-
"Lucius please." He felt a hand on his face- and Lucius blinked.
The world flickered. He was somewhere- there weren't chains.
But then Michael's voice came back. "Come on dog. We have some training to do."
Lucius lurched back, scrambling- and his limbs weren't restrained- his breath came quick- ragged and shaky.
"Take a deep breath Luci."
Michael never used his name- never used a nickname.
"Do you know where you are?"
"Heaven." Lucius growled- and he could hear the sharp inhale.
"No wonder he's fucking terrified." - the voice that was different to the fake Michael's spoke- and Lucius blinked again. He felt a hand on his chest- it tried to guide his breathing- but when he looked down to see blue feathers he stopped.
No angel had coloured feathers.
"It's okay Lucius. We're not in heaven, can you look at me?"
When Lucius tried to look up- all he saw was heaven. Until he noticed there was a strange man sitting on the ground with him. He was smiling- and Lucius saw one wing on his back.
Like a mirror- the illusion shattered.
"Caspian-" Lucius breathed out and then arms were around him before he could blink away tears. "Caspian I-"
He heard Caspian shake his head. "No. You just- shush. Its okay. Please-" He pulled away and brushed his hair back. "Tell me what you can see, five things or whatever that routine is."
Lucius opened his eyes, "You- Apollo." He paused and grimaced at the cut on Caspian's arm- "blood-"
"Its okay Lucius- you didn't hurt me." Caspian promised "Two more things."
"The- white walls and your blue feathers-"
"Okay thats- thats good enough. You're here- you're safe and heaven is far far away."
Lucius nodded, and Apollo sat down on the bed- soon they were a bundle of arms.
Heaven wasn't as far away as Caspian promised- it would always exist in his mind.
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count: 1047
AO3 Link
Summary: The day Blake and Jamie meet for the first time
Blake lifted his head as the commander stepped into the room. He could hear the key as it clicked into the lock. He cared to pay attention to nothing else. That was what they trained him for. "Weapon. Up on your feet." Blake stood, he knew better than to misbehave and he could hear that his commander was happy. His commander had a plan- and Blake knew better than to think about it. Even as a collar was fixed around his neck, and his magic stumbled in his chest. He took a sharp breath- trying to hide it from his commander. But- his commander didn't seem annoyed at the slight indiction that he was human.
Blake stood straight as he felt his commander looking over him. "You will have a new commander." Blake stayed still- he couldn't show any sign of resistance. If that was how it would be- he would learn the new commander and be perfect for them as well.
It just meant that he needed to prepare for the annoyance of if he wasn't perfect.
"Walk." He followed keeping his head up high. "Good. You will make a perfect pet for him."
Blake would not correct him that he was a weapon, and not a pet. But…
He had no reason to. If his new commander deemed him nothing more than a pet. That was all he would become. He would listen to the new rules. That was what he had been trained for. Whatever they needed.
Blake ignored the clang of the metal chain as he followed the commander, two steps behind him. Just as he preferred it. He wanted to seem the leader. Blake was to listen to him. He had to.
Blake never remembered his first commander. He forgot them as time went on. But. He knew how to listen, how to learn. They forgot he was there- or they kept him in a cage. As long as Blake lived, he knew how to obey. How to listen.
But then. The door opened, and he was pushed inside. "Walk ahead of me Weapon." Blake did not nod but he walked two steps ahead of the man, though the chain pressed into his neck- he had an order.
"Sit."
Blake sat down. He glanced at the room, not moving his head much. It was not a room he was familiar with. It was usually warm. But each of his senses were on guard for someone else. If they attacked his commander- he would attack back.
But. Instead a stranger just stumbled into the room. He was not a threat. He was starved- similar to Blake. Blake wondered if this was another weapon.
"Weapon." Blake turned his head to face his commander. "This is your new commander."
Blake froze- as he stared at the stranger. The- very small stranger. He did not seem powerful- not someone who had owned a weapon before. But Blake had to listen to his commanders. He did not question the orders.
He just turned to the new commander, as he heard the other one leave the room. But his new commander did not seem to be focused on the world around him. He seemed out of it. Blake had to step out of his seat on the ground, to catch the man before he fell over.
Blake stared at the man- was making sure that his commander was fed- apart of his new job? If his commander was dead- it would be the next person to pick up the amulet that would own him. The amulet which was clutched in the weak hands of this new- strange commander.
He lowered the man onto the floor, and for the first time the eyes focused on him. "Why do you have a collar on?"
Blake just tilted his head as he sat back on his heels. He did not try to be taller than his commanders. Many of them in the past had hated that Blake was tall. They were to be his superior. So he had learned to make himself look smaller.
"Uh- Come here." The man seemed uncertain, and Blake just knelt next to him. He did not move as the man went to unclasp his collar. The magic flooded him- and Blake questioned why the collar had been on- if his new commander did not want it. There would have been a reason his older commander had put it on him. "God- you look horrible." The man muttered as he rubbed his neck- "Not that I look too much better…" He mumbled and looked up for a second. "Uh. God. We should go to the kitchen. Yes." He seemed uncertain. Never before had Blake had an uncertain commander.
"Help me walk." The man commanded- though his commands were not normal.
He wrapped his arm around the man's waist. Blake would make sure that this sickly commander did not die. Even if it felt as if a breeze could knock him over. He would protect this commander.
"Thank you."
Blake froze for a moment, before he continued his step. Never once had he been thanked. It had taken him looking around for another to know for certain- it was a thank you for him.
He didn't have any words for his commander- many of them never liked him to speak a word. So he just continued on to the kitchen. The man hadn't said much, but his shoulder had rested on Blake's shoulder. Blake paid no attention to it- he did not need a commander that was affectionate. It did not matter that it had been the most contact he had received without violence attached to it- in a long time. Maybe longer than Blake would be able to remember.
They got to the kitchen. "Do you know how to cook?"
Blake was not used to being asked questions- he was meant to be commanded to do things. He shouldn't- have had someone asking. But he nodded. His commander smiled- at him.
Blake would have a heart attack. This new commander would be hard to learn for. "Could you just make a simple meal- all of this ingredients are yours to use. Actually- you can put me down on that bench and I'll just sit here."
He would watch Blake- make sure that he was not misbehaving or poisoning his food.
That made sense.
The rest of his commander? It did not make any sense.
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count: 1047
AO3 Link
Summary: Caelus gets stranded in a storm
Caelus glared at the ghost net, as it settled on the ocean floor. The net that had held him captive for days. The one which had caught him in the middle of a storm, slamming him against a rocky outcropping.
Caelus' arm was probably broken. But worse was his tail, having ropes tightly wound around it didn't help the weakness that he felt in his muscle. He forced himself up onto the rocks above the ocean. It offered little respite, apart from not having to wrestle the ocean. His tail drifted in the water, little to no strength left in it as Caelus tried to survey his surroundings. But the world was nothing that he was used to. It had been clear the moment that the water had started to warm up. He was used to the Arctic. Not the warm ocean.
He started to look at the wounds on his tail- because it wasn't likely that he would be able to swim- let alone get home. Stranded in the middle of the ocean- despite the fact that he was a literal merman. He was stuck- in the middle of an unfamiliar location.
Caelus wasn't going to be found by anyone. Not anyone that he knew, they all lived in the snow and the ice. There was none of that anywhere near.
He pushed himself up even further- just to get his tail out of the water. He needed to see the injuries before he continued forward.
Luckily, as he dragged his tail up next to him, there were little injuries. Which meant that it was just the fact that he needed to start swimming despite the exhaustion. But-- sleeping on the rocky outcropping wasn't an option. Even if he really wished that it was the case. He needed to get into the water- the salt would heal his wounds and he needed to get food before the hunger made him unable to swim.
He needed to do it all himself. Because he didn't trust the beasts in the water to be of any help to him.
Caelus had managed to start swimming through the warm water. He had seen some smaller schools of fish. But he wasn't strong enough to catch any of the fish. They were faster than he expected.
But he continued on- trying to make it to the colder water but everywhere he went the water just seemed to get warmer and shallower.
Caelus hated it- he felt trapped. His tail was made for large open water.
But he would make it out of there, he just had to. he just needed to keep swimming, even though the exhaustion wanted to rip through his bones and leave him stranded in the open water.
Then he spotted a pod. He could see the shapes as the moved towards him- like shadows, sharks that were circling their prey.
But when they came into focus- they weren't sharks. No. They were worse.
It wasn't like there were many dolphins in the oceans that he went through. He just knew how to avoid them. They loved to play games, normally those games were not made for fun- they were made to hurt.
Caelus had no escape. Not when he realised that the pod was surrounding him. He couldn't duck out- he couldn't dive because the water was too shallow and even his normal defences of just staying underwater until the dolphins had to surface wasn't going to work because he was too close to the actual surface for that to be any protection. They would just take turns.
"And look what we have here. What are you?"
One of the dolphins laughed. "I think a freak."
Caelus really didn't care about their words, he was a deep sea creature- he had been called everything under the sun and where the sun could never reach. But when they started to poke and prod him, tossing him between them. He had to brace himself.
Caelus held his breath as he tried not to resist.
They would just take it upon themselves to force him not to resist. He knew the groups of male dolphins better than anyone. So he had to let himself be tossed around. At least he wasn't venomous. Most of them would get a kick of the venom if he was.
If he was lucky- they would get bored.
Caelus was never lucky, so he had no real hope of being lucky.
Instead, he was left bruised and batted int a sand bed and the dolphins moved on.
He couldn't lift himself up, his arms wouldn't work with the amount that they had played around with him. He was just lucky that he hadn't been that interesting to any of them. Just a weird play toy that didn't fight back.
He rested his head in the sand as he tried to let the world come back into focus. But he could feel the exhaustion as it pressed against his eyes, and all he wanted to do was to sleep.
His muscles ached- and the sand was warm. He would just rest there.
His eyes started to droop- as he tried to force himself to stay awake.
Another shadow passed over him and Caelus tried his best to keep his eyes open. But the darkness came faster than he could fight it.
At least- he hoped it wasn't another dolphin.
Well. It was a dolphin.
Caelus opened his eyes to see the orca in front of him.
A male orca- who… didn't seem intent on killing him.
Well. He just had to wait, wait until they killed him or whatever. Orcas were violent- and in open water Caelus had nothing to defend himself with.
"Uh. Your friends are looking for you."
That was not what Caelus was expecting to come from the Orca's mouth.
Caelus tried to sit up, but his arms wouldn't have it. "I uh. Don't know what happened to you- but I wouldn't really try moving yet-" the orca seemed unsure of himself as he moved around the place- a den- Orca's never really had a living area. They were known to just wander about.
He didn't know how to act, not around an orca who didn't want to rip his throat out.
Instead the man just moved around- like he was scared of Caelus- and he made sure that Caelus didn't push himself. It was weird, off putting.
Again I have been very busy so this hasn't been edited
Warnings: WIP
Word Count: 1047
AO3 Link
Summary: Marv is captured- and thinks that he is irredeemable so he just deserves it
Some part of him, was glad that he was in prison. There was nothing good about him. Marv could feel the cold iron on his wrists and it was all he deserved- a villain only made to hurt people. He didn't resist when they had captured him- Sure he was meant to be redeemed. But everyone knew that he was irredeemable. He had hurt children- he had hurt people who were innocent and what did it matter that he was ordered by a commander? It didn't. He had done the actions himself and so the punishment fit.
Marv let his head rest against the cool concrete- he wouldn't have been surprised if he had a fever. It would explain the lagging thoughts, and he had many injuries they only ever bothered to clean by throwing water at him.
Actually. Maybe it was more the water that never dried that gave him the chills through his body.
But he deserved it, so it didn't really even matter. Not as he held back the bile in his throat- he didn't need to throw up the little in his stomach. The only thing keeping him alive.
Marv didn't know what they had planned. They had been out most of the day. But he took it in himself to take a moment to reflect. Reflect on everything-
Even the smiles that came from the heroes.
It had taken a few weeks since Marv had joined the group before he saw the smiles on peoples faces. They had hated him the moment that he had arrived, but… for some reason George didn't? He was the first person to welcome Marv, make him fee like a group. Almost like he was cared for. George would welcome him into group events, invite him to talk even when the others didn't.
But then he got relaxed into the group, people started to talk to him more- he started to help out with Frank's garden and Juniper's crocheting hobby. He had seen for the first time, someone other than George smile at him when Rian had cheered and waved him over to start playing a game that Marv had never done before which was charades. Of course there was a playful argument about who got marv because he could read minds and would be able to get it.
Even then- his team had learned that Marv didn't just access their thoughts constantly that night- and they had listened when he explained how his powers worked. How at a base level all he felt were peoples emotions- and Frank had even asked for Marv to try and dive into his mind.
When Marv had ended up crying and cuddling into the nearest person- everyone had panicked- and it was just because Marv had never had a family. He had.. never felt the warmth in Frank's mind and it overwhelmed him.
Maybe that was the day that he felt like he was home. That he belonged. He remembered the warm blanket around his shoulder and the cup of hot chocolate that had been pressed into his hands- and also the complete noise of horror that Tempest had made the moment that he had learned that Marv had never tried hot chocolate before.
He remembered that day, because it was the warmest he had ever felt. They didn't care about his past, all of them smiling in the warm light. They all had continued to play the game, George pressed into his side and making sure he was okay throughout it. Eventually they had come to a conclusion that they were going to learn how to let Marv feel what love was like through their minds- a whole complex plan about how he could access peoples memories-
The day that they brought him to the ice rink- maybe it had shown exactly what his powers could do, because the moment that he had caught onto the fact that Tempest was the one who was most comfortable with ice skating, he had latched onto the confidence and dove a little bit into his mind. When Marv had started to skate a lot better than a beginner they had started to ask questions. The fact he could learn- or steal skills from people from just a brief look into their mind had fascinated Reno. Who was certain he could do something with it.
But those days were gone.
They had flickered out like a torch as it was placed into a river. It didn't matter what he did- he could never make up for what happened and it was some peoples job to make sure that he knew it.
They had reminded him, that they were just lying to him. If they kept him complacent then he would be easier to control. If he was kept happy then he wouldn't make it even worse. He wouldn't-
Marv wanted to argue, he had felt the emotions and they were strong and their thoughts were joyful and happy. He was so sure that they had cared about him-
But. He couldn't have been certain. he never dove in deep- he never wanted to see the deep parts of them. He said it was for their privacy, there were demons people kept in the dark of their mind that he didn't want to drag out. It would be painful for everyone. But… that also meant that it was very likely that he had just never seen further than the wall. All of the lies- and… they were right. He deserved it.
He deserved the pain, and it really hadn't taken them long to break him down.
When the cold water came, to take him up, Marv was already awake, but he didn't even flinch. His body was too tired to even manage that. The shivering had been a constant, but as his arms were pulled up, they almost popped out of their sockets.
He didn't resist as they dragged him somewhere, his mind fogged, it was easy after practice. They didn't notice, he didn't react no matter what they did. But that had been their plan all along. They didn't want him to be alive so why would they care if he was reactive.
Marv knew that they were all lying, that the team didn't care about him- they thought that he was a mistake anyways.
It was better, knowing that he was irredeemable, because at least he wasn't being lied to. At least, even if these people hurt him, at least they told him the truth, forced him to face the reality of the situation. Even though it felt worse than anything physical they could do.
Whatever the men were doing, he couldn't access their minds. But it didn't matter, their smiles told enough of the story, too much of the story if anything. He hated them- seeing that smirk- that smile. It tore him apart because they took joy in his suffering.
The suffering that he deserved- and they deserved to feel happy. They were doing a good thing.
