hi hello im chaos :D welcome to my whump blog! i write and make prompts and love interacting with people! feel free to send asks i am very friendly and nice ^_^
fav tropes: psychological whump, covert whump, manhandling, casual cruelty, dehumanisation, failed escapes and recaptures, forced to watch, begging, multiple whumpers and multiple whumpees, and soft comfort after it all 💜
-> no longer posting nsfw on here; dm for my 18+ blog
☆ my stories ☆
[main story] amor vincit omnia | in progress; currently on arc 3 of 4
[below are all side stories that are canon to avo but can be read separately without spoilers :D]
- ex igni natus | in progress
- unfriendly fire | coming soon
- fidelis | in progress
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et nos cedamus amori: hero/villain* au of avo - calyx is an ex living weapon who has recently completed their contract with k & is now in recovery :) | completed
niche trope I enjoy: person recounting a story of something terrible they did and the way they describe it makes it sound like an active decision where they were completely in control and knew what they were doing and enjoyed it, but if you look at the bare bones facts, it's like. are you sure about that? are you sure you didn't just panic and lash out and do something irreparable? are you sure that's what you wanted and you aren't just retroactively assigning yourself agency to cope? but you as the audience can't really know the answer to that, because the storyteller is the only one who was there and this is how they're choosing to preserve it, and that matters for how they want to be perceived going forward... but you do still wonder.
Whumpee who seems an alright, well-adjusted type of person, nothing clearly hidden about them, until one day they just disappear. Only then their friends, trying to find them, start digging into whumpee's past.
cw: forced to watch, recorded whump, restraint and captivity, physical whump, torture, psychological whump, references to previous abuse (for 2 of the people watching), conditioning, small references to self-harm (its not explicit at all!), begging [this is my first proper piece of whump writing - pls tell me if there's anything you think should be added here!]
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The video had been sent via email, and Elene had never seen something that looked more like it contained a virus. Something about the single line of text, perfectly punctuated ("Do you miss them?") made her squint at it, clicking on the email address. Her blood ran cold when she read it, when 'callmek' appeared on the screen.
"Fuck. This can't be - Calyx?" A quick glance at the thumbnail of the attached video - oh, that was Calyx's hair for sure. Shit, shit. Shit! She started scrambling to the living room with her laptop, knocking on Tom's bedroom door as she went down and sending out a psychic message for everyone to join. Halfway down the stairs, she paused, almost getting knocked over by Tom, who'd also started barrelling down them.
"Is it Cee?" His face was gaunt with worry, as it'd been every moment Calyx had been missing.
She nodded grimly. "It's a video - would they want us to watch? All of us?"
Tom paused. "No. But what are you going to do, tell Amy or Clem or Ada that they can't?"
Elene bit her lip. "I was thinking -"
He was too quick. "Don't you dare say me. I need to see this, so I can picture it when I tear her limb from limb."
"Right." His fury didn't worry her. She knew he'd never point it her way, and it was all born from care. Not a type of anger she'd ever experienced, and welcome in her life.
"Okay. It's settled, then."
Clem came in from training, sword still in hand, and Amy was already sitting on the couch. Ada followed Elene and Tom down quietly, but Elene felt her sister's fury simmering under the surface.
"Guys, there's a video. It's - I think it's of Calyx."
Amy drew in a sharp breath, and Clem gripped their sword tighter, leather armour creaking in the silence of the room. Sweat plastered their hair to their forehead, and they whispered the incantation that dismissed their armour while locking eyes with Elene.
They moved closer to her, putting a warm hand round her shoulder. "We'll get them back." It was a threat, a promise, an affirmation all in one.
Elene took a deep breath, setting down the laptop on the coffee table and enlarging the video, ignoring her heart beat starting to race in anticipation. The still of Calyx, because it was them, undeniably even through the blur. Their familiar purple tips (God, Elene had helped them dye it in their sink) fell in front of their face and their arms were up and out of frame, prompting a horrid twist in her gut at the implication that they were trapped in more ways than one. Their t-shirt was dirty, ripped to expose their stomach, fraying at the ends.
"Is that our matching shirt?" Ada sounded stunned, and Elene thought of the shirt they'd bought together - looked at the screen, then back at her sister. She didn't want to say it, but she thought it just might be.
They all stared at the still for a few moments. Clem leaned on the couch and breathed deeply, steadily (Elene knew they were steeling themselves for whatever they'd see). The four on the couch huddled together, stock still. In the end, it was Ada who leaned forward and pressed play.
The video took a second to load, then K's voice purred through the screen, both Clem and Elene freezing at the sound.
"Calyx, say hi to your friends!"
Calyx flinched, then raised their head, and oh, this was horrible already. They looked exhausted, a black eye and scratched face painfully visible, and as the camera panned up, Elene's suspicions were confirmed. A chain and manacles connected both hands, and she noticed it was just a little too taut, high up, so Calyx had to stand on their tiptoes. Tom was hardly breathing beside her.
"Don't be rude. Say hello!" Calyx stared at them, at the camera, eyes blaring with anger. It was comforting, to say the least, that all of this hadn't broken them. Yet. Then K threw a punch to their exposed abdomen, swift and sharp, prompting a cry out from all of them except Clem, who, in a moment, shifted to no armour to their dark war armour - and Calyx, who took it with a grim smile.
"Right. Hey, guys. What's up?" Elene choked up at the sound of their voice. They sounded so tired.
"That's better. See, wasn't so hard. Thought I would show you a little of what's going on, put on a little show for you."
"A fucking show?" Tom's hands were in fists, and Elene knew just how hard it was for him to watch Calyx trapped like this.
A thick metal collar became apparent as their hair moved away from their face, and K moved round slightly, revealing the taut chain connecting it to the wall behind them.
"Oh my god. Overkill much?" Amy hissed out, malice evident in their voice.
The collar wasn't tight enough to stop them moving their neck, but Elene noticed redness around the edges of it, on the skin they could see. How long had that been on? Could Calyx breathe properly?
"See, I thought it'd be worth showing how much fun we're having. No need to come and get them, I think we're plenty comfortable here, aren't we, Cee?"
Tom yelled, getting up in a frenzy. "That's not your name to use!" Tom had been the first to shorten Calyx to Cee, Elene knew. It was killing him, to know that they were out somewhere hurting. It was killing them all, but it'd kill him first if they didn't figure something out fast.
"Need to take a break?," Elene asked quietly.
"Cee doesn't get a fucking break. No, no, I'm fine." He sat down, but bit down on his hand. Elene would've usually been the one to nudge and remind him not to go too hard, but considering her own mental state and the nails she was currently digging into her thighs, she didn't feel like she had a hill to stand on.
"Go on, Cee. Beg like you always do for it to stop, hm?"
Their response was razor-quick. "Fuck off. Guys, I'm okay. I know you're working on it."
K hummed, then Elene's eyes widened as she brought out a sharp silver knife into frame. Calyx didn't react, only continued staring daggers at the person behind the camera.
When K spoke again, it was with a lower register, an edge to it. "You're okay? Maybe I haven't done enough then." She put the knife to the exposed part of Cee's throat (God, no.) and Elene could swear that she saw a flash of fear in their eyes as they shifted almost imperceptibly, but hopelessly, away from it. Maybe that was just her own terror.
"Come on, Cee. She can't kill you. She won't." Tom's expression had shifted to pure grief. "Keep fighting, we're coming." His voice broke on coming, and Elene felt much the same. This felt awful.
K shifted the camera downward, and the vague bruises came into focus. Their abdomen was an array of colour, purple and red angry areas mixed with the sick yellow-green of old bruises. Magical scars too, Elene noticed. She knew that particular pain spell like the back of her hand (or the soft part of her stomach, where even now, months later, her skin was twisted and grey in places.) Ada must have seen them too, because Elene saw her sister's hand move to her own chest. Blood stained some parts, small dried cuts with streaks below them and other splatters too - it wasn't clear where all of it had come from, and the thought made Elene feel sick.
K brought the knife low, tracing a long, thin line that became apparent once they got close enough. She pushed it in, denting the skin and they all mirrored Calyx's sharp intake of breath.
Clem hissed. "Cracked ribs?" Then, quietly, "fuck, she probably isn't letting them see a medic."
K's voice was sickly sweet. "Now, Calyx. I wonder what it'll take to make you beg today."
They couldn't see their face, but heard them hiss, "Nothing. You can fuck off if you think this is enough to break me." Then they must've kicked K, out of frame, brought up a knee or tried to knock her over. Elene's brief moment of elation was cut short - almost in an instant, K had raised the camera and scratched 4 thin lines into Calyx's cheek, which all immediately started to show blood. The camera lingered on them now, Calyx's face exposed and red, but the only thing that betrayed their pain was the sharp breaths they took, shallow and inconsistent. Closer up, Elene saw that her suspicions were confirmed, that their deeper breaths were being stopped by the collar. Calyx closed their eyes as K took a step back.
"Come on, pet. That's no way to treat me." Ada made a strangled sound. "You know things like that have consequences."
Amy spoke quietly but intently to the screen. "Cee, just listen to her."
Tom shot them a look, but Clem replied before Tom had a chance to.
"Tom, they're right. It's not worth fighting. Not like this." They sounded murderous, but clear-headed. Logical.
K's voice was laced with faux-hurt. "I thought you'd be grateful to have a chance to show your friends how good you are for me. Or are you just pretending to be brave so they don't see how pathetic you are?" A sharpened nail traced their chin, tilting it upwards with a point sharp as a blade. Elene saw Calyx hold their breath, and felt a lurching in their gut.
Calyx winced, then coughed and spoke through gritted teeth. The scratches on their cheek were already raised and angry, and Elene thought of the time she'd found Calyx dizzy on the kitchen floor after an 'accident' with a knife. Confirming her suspicions, they slurred slightly when they said, "My friends would never think that of me."
"Hm. That's not what, oh, your brave and loyal knight said to me."
Clem made a noise of anguish. "Don't bring me into this." They said shut up at the same time Calyx spat it out.
"Oh, what's gotten into you today? I thought you'd like having a chance to show your friends how good you are for me. Never mind."
The camera dropped slightly, though not completely. Calyx made a confused noise, tilting their head and breathing faster. "Are you - is it done?"
"I've stopped it, yes. If that's what you're asking."
K put the camera down, because it must be a camera, not a phone, because it stayed standing on the floor. And stayed recording, importantly, so they saw the way Calyx sagged against their chains, choking a little, and flinched away from K's grip on their chin. K had their back to the camera, was halfway out of frame, hood up, but it was somehow still focused on Calyx, so they all saw them try to make themselves smaller. An impossible task, but it was evident.
"Sorry." That was a new tone. Quieter, less biting. Scared, they were scared. In a flash, Elene remembered how they'd reacted that first day the truth had come out. Cold dread filled her.
Tom drew in a breath, shaky and worried. "No. Oh, no."
"Mm, was that worth it?"
Calyx didn't answer, just looked away, prompting a swift punch to the abdomen that made them flinch and attempt to bring their legs up, and made Tom swear and bite the palm of his hand.
"I won't ask again. Was that worth it, pet?" Her knife dug into the soft skin of their neck, the exposed part, anyway.
Calyx whimpered, flinching away. "No." Then defiance filled their voice, and they said, "Yes." K stared at them, bringing their other hand up - and Elene jumped a little at the spell they could see building. Dark and steady, a ball of pure pain in her hand.
"Fuck." She leaned forward, her own memory of that pain filling her mind. You don't forget it.
Calyx saw it too, eyes widening. "No - no, wait, please, no, sorry, don't! It wasn't! It wasn't worth it, please!" They thrashed against the chains, ignoring the collar digging into their neck as they attempted to pull back, fear pitching their voice higher with every word. "Please." They repeated it feverishly, still futilely trying to get away from K's hand, and Elene knew exactly why. It terrified her to know that they knew to be afraid.
"You're sorry?"
"Yes," they breathed, eyes fixed on her hand.
"Good." K hummed, stepping back slightly, and they all let out a breath in time with Calyx.
Then she sent the punch forward anyway, and they all jumped and swore, all six of them, Calyx yelling with an anguish that made Elene feel like her heart was being ripped out. Tom had his hand covering his mouth, Amy stood up in a frenzy and was pacing, and Clem switched from a sword to their axe. Elene and Ada looked at each other in shocked horror, the only ones intimately aware of the electric sharp, white-hot pain coursing through Calyx's body. Their friend convulsed with it, restrained as they were, still attempting to move away but held by K's grip on their waist. Then, suddenly, they went limp, legs buckling - and Elene had never been so glad to see a friend pass out. At least the pain was over for a few moments. K chuckled darkly, speaking to - them, presumably.
"See? This is how it is. This is how this goes, okay? I hold the cards here, not you. Not any of you."
Clem spoke, furious. "Pick on someone your own fucking size, pick on someone who isn't powerless to stop you, and we'll see who holds the cards. Bitch."
Calyx stirred as K unchained the chain attached to the collar and to the manacles. Elene felt a surge in her heart - they were free, technically, was it over? - but K still held them, the action far too gentle. The collar and manacles remained, but Calyx's exhaustion seemed more and more evident. K leaned forward and whispered something they couldn't hear, to which Calyx made a choked sound, then they nodded sharply, winced, then half-fell to their knees, the impact audible.
"Fuck." Tom seemed beside himself with grief and anger, staring at the screen. They were all feeling it, and Elene put a hand on his leg, which he hardly even seemed to register.
"This is awful." She murmured, and when he turned to look at her, his eyes were red-rimmed.
"Don't have to tell me twice."
Ada nudged her leg, and Elene looked back at the screen. K had linked the collar to the wall with a shorter chain this time, so Calyx was wholly trapped on their knees in the middle of the stone room.
"Hands." Elene didn't understand it at first, but Calyx did. They didn't fight, didn't say a word, only raised their hands up for K to loop a chain around again.
K hit the side of their head once she'd finished, hard, and Calyx was knocked askew. They coughed once, twice, panic setting in, and Tom hissed at the screen.
"Bastard, they can't breathe!"
As if in response, though of course it wasn't, Cee held their breath for a few seconds, let it out slowly. Box breathing? Elene had taught them that, once.
"Where's all your fucking bravado now? I bet your friends would love to see you like this, taking your punishment like a good pet. Would be a shame if I - oh, forgot - to switch off that camera."
Calyx looked up sharply, speaking with a tight voice. "No."
"Yes."
K put a boot - steel capped - on Calyx's knee, leaning her body weight on it. Elene thought of the dotted bruises littering Clem's stomach after an unfortunate encounter with those boots, felt sick at the thought of imprints in their friend's thighs. Calyx looked at the camera as if they could see them on the other end, and Elene drew in a sharp breath at the eye contact. They looked so… defeated, eyes shifting down to stare at the boot as shivers ran through their whole body.
"No, oh. Please -"
"Please, what?"
Calyx's voice broke. "Please don't send this to them."
"Oh, kitten." K crouched down, nails once again digging into their neck, forcing eye contact. "I don't think you've been good enough to make demands like that. Won't they want to see you?"
"Not - not like this. I'm - I'm sorry. I won't fuck up, not again."
"Sure you won't. Thing is, I don't think you know your place properly. Who do you belong to, hm?"
Calyx made a soft noise, anguished and quiet. "I - I." They screwed up their face, unwilling to say it, and Tom clasped his hands together as if in prayer.
"Cee… it's okay. It's okay, starling. Oh, Calyx." His voice broke again, but this time, quiet sobs shook his body. No one could help him.
Calyx looked at the camera, up at their chains and back at K, expression searching and painfully sad, then sighed deeply, wincing slightly. Clem might have been right about those cracked ribs.
"Go on. Say it."
"I'm - sorry." They were breathing quickly, squeezing their eyes shut. "I - b- belong. To you."
Stunned horror rippled through the room. They were all frozen. Briefly, Elene thought that she must be dreaming. How could this be real?
K hummed, ignoring the tears starting to run down Calyx's face. "Wasn't so hard, hm?" Calyx stared at her, then shook their head no slowly, even as small sobs wracked their body.
Tom's hand twitched, and Elene knew he was itching to to wipe those tears away. She was too. Desperately, she just wanted to hold them.
"Oh, pet. You seemed so strong when your friends could see. Like you're still worth rescue, but they aren't coming to get you anyway, are they? You're nothing."
Anger raced through Elene's body. That was her little brother. Not true.
Calyx whined softly, the words seeming to hurt as much as their actual wounds. Then they nodded and sniffled, looking just for a moment at the camera. Elene wished it went both ways, wished she could just tell them how wrong K was, how much they were doing. It wasn't enough, even as Elene thought it through in her mind. Tom was hardly sleeping while they were missing, passing out anywhere that wasn't his bedroom, maybe she should be doing the same. They had to get them out of there.
"Are we done, do you think?"
Calyx was still for a moment, then spoke with a hoarse voice. "I - yes?" After a beat, they added, "please?"
"You've learnt your lesson?"
"Fuck." Clem put a hand to their forehead and the other to their stomach, and Elene felt similarly sick.
"God. Yes. Please just stop." Elene hadn't realised she'd been holding in a breath, till she heard Calyx talk in a more familiar register and let it out.
K's voice was strangely sing-song when she said, "okay," and got up, taking a step back towards the camera. Out of the corner of Elene's eye, Amy flinched back, and Clem moved to rest a hand on their shoulder.
"Just - one last thing," and Elene knew what was coming before it came, the solid kick to Cee's chest that shook their chains and left them winded and gasping for breath.
"How fun. I had fun, how about you, Calyx? We have fun together, don't we? We should do this again."
Calyx was still catching their breath, and in between gasps, spat out - "you know where to find me."
"Careful." Calyx shrunk back, bravery gone in an instant. "Should have you punished for that kind of snark."
"N- No. No. Sorry. Sorry, no I didn't - didn't mean it. I don't - I don't know what I was thinking. Sorry. Please."
"Shut up." The playing tone was gone, and Elene's blood went cold at the pure venom in K's voice. "Actually," K put the camera down again, facing Calyx's front this time, and they seemed to not want to look at it, eyes darting everywhere else. Then their eyes widened, and they shook the chains trapping their hands as K approached again, and went behind them, something in her hand.
"N- no, no, no, please don't - not that," Calyx broke off, a sob stopping their speech. They tried to move to look at K, but could hardly twist their head. "N- no. Please. I'll be quiet, I promise."
"Oh, I know you will."
Elene couldn't watch as K tied the cloth gag around her friend's mouth, couldn't stomach watching their eyes drift upwards to look anywhere other than the camera, could hardly breathe for the injustice of their freedom while Calyx, normally so full of life, was trapped like this. Tears flowed freely, from all of them, and behind the gag, Calyx made quiet, pained noises. Elene couldn't look away, but she knew that they were all crying.
K lifted the camera and forced Calyx to look into it, forced them all to watch and do nothing. It was killing them, every single one of them.
"Oh, Cee. Look at you. Your friends are better off without you. I'd tell you to thank me, but -" She laughed, high and clear and full of malice, and Elene had never wanted to kill someone more. Except maybe her mother, but this anger was white-hot fury, unclouded by fear.
"Well, that's all from us. What a fun reunion, hm?" The video ended, but the image of Calyx bound and gagged was branded into Elene's mind.
Ada seemed the same, motionlessly dissociating beside her on the couch. Tom slowly walked out of the room, and Amy sank down to the floor, a somehow horrified and blank expression on her face. They heard a crash from the kitchen, and none of them flinched. Elene distantly hoped that Tom had stuck to the plates they'd bought specifically for that purpose, but she really couldn't bring herself to care if he'd broken her wedding china. He came back after a few moments, glass pieces still in his hands, and apologised gruffly.
"It's all in the sink," he said quietly. "I'll clean up. Clem. You good to train?"
"Sure."
Clem leaned over and squeezed Elene and Ada's shoulders, and Elene turned to squeeze Clem's hand in return.
Amy spoke without looking at any of them. "No one else sees this," she said in a low tone. "Delete it, even. It wasn't even a fucking ransom note..." The last part seemed mostly to herself. In her shell-shocked state, Elene felt a pang of horror that the utility of the video was simply to show them that Calyx was suffering, and to mess with their head. What was going on in there?
Clem nodded sharply then gestured to Tom to follow them, and the two of them walked back to her armory. Elene heard one powerful thunk from Clem presumably attacking a practice dummy with all her pent-up fury. Clem was good at holding every single muscle tense in anger and letting it out in one fell swoop.
"What the fuck just happened?" Ada sounded as stunned as Elene felt.
computer show me highly trained, highly knowledgeable, otherwise pragmatic characters twisting themselves into knots to rationalise their self-destructive tendencies
its funny cause you think the trope of artist character w paint all over them and brushes in their hair is unrealistic but it's actually not. i accidentally painted my cupboard and my hand and my arm cause i was rapid switching between 2 brushes one with paint on both sides (don't ask). so anyway. when bee shows up in avo you know that's from the heart
its funny cause you think the trope of artist character w paint all over them and brushes in their hair is unrealistic but it's actually not. i accidentally painted my cupboard and my hand and my arm cause i was rapid switching between 2 brushes one with paint on both sides (don't ask). so anyway. when bee shows up in avo you know that's from the heart
big fan of when a character usually doesn't make a peep when they're hurt... but then there comes a point when they're so seriously injured to the point that the first sign they're even still alive when their allies find them is them letting out a drawn-out groan or (my favorite) whimper of pain
Ohhh yes! I love out-of-character reactions signifying something's badly wrong and characters in such extremis they're incapable of concealing their distress and in so much pain/so weak that their pained noises are reduced to mere moaning and whimpers.
Tags: branding, burns, restraints, living weapon whump, power play, sci-fi whump // Words: 5.3k
Sapphire Masterlist
A crossover with @paingoes!
Tags: branding, burns, restraints, living weapon whump, power play, sci-fi whump // Words: 5.3k
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Amira woke up that morning with a renewed vigor. She’d only managed a few hours of restless sleep after her late-night visit to Delta’s cell. But she didn’t feel fatigued—her heart seemed to beat awake, hammering in her chest until the thudding roused her.
Today was the day.
Delta was going to learn his place and never forget it.
Up early, she was sure to make the preparations. She’d had something for this lying around, for a rainy day, but never thought she would ever actually use it.
She instructed Marston and a few others on her team to finish the setup, before descending the elevator to the lower levels. She wanted to escort Delta personally this time.
The heavy door slid open with a grating rumble, and Amira found Delta once again, curled on the floor, hands cuffed in front of him.
He’d hardly slept any better. He’d spent most of the hours in between their last meeting still awake, nursing the tenderness within his ribs and against his jaw. The fog didn’t lift from his mind; he found no clarity in her absence. When sleep did find him again, it was light and dreamless.
She opted not to kick him awake this morning, simply putting her boot on the side of his head and pressing down until he stirred.
He twitched at the sudden pressure. They trained so many of his instincts out of him, but when roused from sleep, some found their way back. He recoiled as best he could, a soft sound of pained confusion escaping him. But he came to quicker this time, and seemed to realize where he was.
She removed her foot from his head. "Get up."
He stumbled up into a standing position, the effort made harder without the use of his hands. She’d been serious, then. For some reason, when she’d said in the morning, he had not interpreted it as the second he woke up. Maybe he should have. His brain wasn’t even working all the way yet. He tugged idly at the chain, meaning to just wipe at his eyes, but stopped when he realized that would be impossible.
The threat of further kicking hung in the air for a moment, before she fiddled with the padlock and released the chain that kept Delta's cuffs tethered to the bolt in the floor. She looped a finger around the chain-links between his wrists and gave it a sharp tug.
"We've got somewhere to be."
“Where’s that, sir?” he asked, biting back the yawn and following behind her. It might’ve just been better for him to stay quiet at that point, but the question seemed inoffensive enough. He felt oddly cold as she walked him through the metal corridors.
She pulled the chain forward with a grunt. "Upstairs."
Amira dragged Delta down the hall to the elevators. They ascended to one of the upper decks, a large open control-room like space, with the far wall made entirely of glass, looking out into the starry depths beyond.
There was some sort of contraption, an apparatus of some kind, erected in the center of the room. It was like a frame, a bit larger than a clothing rack, with bolts at each of its corners. Members of the crew stilled as they entered, filing out to fill the space surrounding the central apparatus.
His reaction to the sight was intensely negative. It was nice to see the stars again, however briefly. His cell had afforded no view of them — and he missed being able to roam freely. But it was all overshadowed by the room’s centerpiece.
“…Sir?” he addressed Amira nervously, quietly. Not pleased with any metal thing meant to hold him, not pleased with the appearance of other people within the space. He kept his voice low so only she could hear.
Fear slowed him. The resistance was subtle, but he was definitely dragging his feet. He didn’t like to. He knew it wouldn’t do anything — they could do whatever they wanted to him and he’d have no recourse. But the fear and uncertainty were fully gnawing at him. It was the not knowing that got to him. She could at least give him a warning, some indication of what was about to happen. He’d gone all rigid.
Amira pulled Delta to the center where Marston met her, and together they tethered Delta's hands to the bolts in the top two corners, two more shackles locked around his ankles and held them fast against the bottom two corners. He was pinned like a butterfly inside the metallic frame.
He stopped fighting it just as soon as she moved to shackle him. It was exceptionally obvious that she was going to go through with this. She’d already drawn a crowd. Delta felt he was beginning to understand her better, knew well enough that there was no way she’d be able to back out of this now—even if she wanted to.
Amira said nothing as she chained him in, only responding to his little confused inquiry when she stepped back to take in the sight of him, to make sure all was in place.
"The problem is clear," she projected her voice, addressing Delta but also the entire room. "You've said it yourself. In fact, you keep saying it over and over again. 'I belong to Empire.'”
"And I'd thought," she paused, as if for dramatic effect—her voice was different when she addressed the whole room, "that we had settled this. That you understood the terms of your own surrender."
"But," she paused, letting a half-breath of silence hang in the air alongside her captive. "It seems you are still suffering from that same stubborn delusion. You still don't quite realize your position."
"Well, you're going to learn exactly who you belong to today."
Delta’s assumption was only confirmed by the way her voice changed. She wasn’t even speaking to him anymore. She was just addressing the audience. He’d had enough experience with spectacle to know when a show is being put on—and his role as unwilling participant came as no surprise either.
This felt different though. His stomach dropped a little as he realized he had totally lost his chance to negotiate with her. It had ended as soon as they’d entered the room.
All the effort now was spent on a good performance. He didn’t want to risk her ire by ruining it, did not want to debase himself with any futile attempts to stop it. But just as before, he had no idea what she wanted from him, no idea what was about to happen.
His eyes didn’t quite meet hers. They’d fixed on some odd point on the floor, where he could pretend not to notice the room’s laser focus on him and her. He gave no reply.
Amira was glad he didn't respond. She imagined he'd figured out it was probably the best choice, as any argument would only serve to prove her point.
Marston walked back over to Amira holding something metal in her hands—a long metal rod with something carved at the end, like some sort of design.
He recognized the brand for what it was and was fully unable to stop himself from panic. His wrists turned idly in the restraints. There was clearly no hope of actually escaping them, but his own nervousness prevented him from staying still.
Amira held it in her hand and approached Delta closer, holding it up for him to see. It was a bird, carved out of metal, with its wings spread high, like a halo over its head.
"You probably won't recognize this. It's an Eastern Xolluvian Thunderbird, known for its call that could sound for miles through the densest forests.” A hint of something almost reverent laced her tone when she said this, although it disappeared just as quickly. "They aren't around anymore, though. Would you care to guess why?"
He did look at her now—because she was close, because she wanted him to. The look in his eyes had turned pleading—it would have even if he wasn’t trying to.
“Sir,” he said, completely ignoring the question. “I know who I belong to. This isn’t necessary. Please.”
His voice was level and low. In fact, his lips had barely moved. He was deliberate in this — no one else would hear the answer he had given. It wasn’t for their benefit. He was trying to speak to her now. Not the Captain, not whoever she was pretending to be in the moment. Amira.
Her eyes snapped to his when he spoke, piercing like arrows as though trying to see through him—did he mean he belonged to her? Or Empire? She'd heard him say he belonged to Empire more times than she could count—but if he'd meant her—
In the end, she knew it didn't matter. The stage had been set. The actors to their positions. The scene would proceed as directed.
She lowered her tone to match his own, a hint of bite mixed with a tinge of regret. "You don't decide what's necessary."
This was actually happening. Delta withered a bit from the rebuke, though truthfully he’d already seen it coming.
He still twisted a bit in the restraints, cursing the anticipation. He’d been biting his lip, but stopped, too nervous he might pierce through it when the time came.
She took a step back, raising the carved metallic bird once more. "This creature, like so many others,” She was addressing the room again. “—fell to the destruction of your Empire. The way they gutted the lands—as they did our people—it drove many species and civilizations to extinction. The planet doesn't look green from orbit these days. The Thunderbird got snuffed out with the rest of its ecosystem.”
To his credit, he did listen, though he again suspected this was more for the benefit of the audience than any message intended for him. He understood political theater. He recognized this was important to her.
“We wear its image on our flags, our backs, to remember this creature and all the rest taken from us by Empire. And now, it will mark you as well. I want you to remember every life you've taken, every civilization you've helped destroy. Every world you've snuffed out for the sake of your beloved Prince. I want you never to forget, for as long as this marks your chest, that you are my property now."
The speech had turned abruptly personal. He felt a little bit as if she’d just raked her nails across his heart. It had scraped and disrupted the secret he’d kept so tight in his chest.
Every life you’ve taken, every civilization you’ve helped destroy.
“I’m sorry,” Delta said automatically, the only thing he’d said at all today that might be halfway audible to the room. He’d apologized to her so often, over everything, that to say it and mean it felt like an almost alien experience. The wound felt raw. Something deeper and colder than shame pooled within it.
He remembered he used to fantasize about what he might deserve. It had been far worse than this.
Amira blinked at him, eyebrows twitching up just a touch when he said it—he almost sounded sincere—but he was desperate, she was sure, to say anything to end this. No, in the end, if he was learning his lesson now, it was only because she was finally showing him she was serious. To back down now would teach him the opposite—that he could bowl her over with a bat of his eyelashes. Never.
She handed the metal bird off to Marston, who held it still while two other crew members pointed large bright lasers at the metal until it began to glow.
It grew from a deep red to a bright orange, and the laser guns powered down before Marston passed the metal baton back to Amira.
“…Can I have something to bite?” he asked, by way of concession. His voice was still low, but not with the same hushed urgency. He’d watched carefully as the metal had changed colors. He knew it would not be the same burns he was used to. He knew just from looking at it that it’d be worse.
She heard Delta's question and considered it. "Fine," she said, deciding the burn itself would be enough and he didn't need to bite his own tongue out in the process. That would cause more problems than it would fix.
She nodded to Marston, who reached down and unclipped a leather strap around her thigh—one of several that held her various weapons and gadgetry. She held the leather to Delta's lips.
He muttered his thanks from around the leather strap. He really hadn’t expected her to agree to that. He was pretty sure she was committed to making this as unbearable as possible—every other action she’d taken in the past twenty four hours seemed to suggest as much.
Delta wasn’t sure whether to look or not when the iron struck—and he hadn’t made up his mind about it when it abruptly made contact with his chest.
He thrashed. It was the only time in years he could remember actually trying to escape his restraints. It came on no conscious level—just base instinct, some animal consciousness in pure desperation to get away. The scream was muffled by the strap, then half choked off by his own will—he was still trying to take it in silence, though he had so clearly failed at that.
Amira heard the sizzle before she heard the scream. And then it came, muffled by the leather but still bright with pain, with panic, with the desperation of a trapped creature, cornered and helpless, finally getting what it deserved.
She watched the way he twitched, bright and seizing—the way he still writhed when she pulled it away, before withering in the chains like a wilting flower.
It burned hotter and lasted forever, more than he would have ever expected necessary for the image to take. He was in sheer panic as the iron seared into him—and remained in sheer panic for several moments after it was finally pulled away.
Amira passed the metal behind her and stepped closer, speaking only to him.
"I want you to tell me who you belong to, Delta."
Delta blinked. She’d asked a bit too soon. He needed the time to come back to himself. The look in his eyes was still dazed and wild. But she reached him, somehow. He had to speak around pained breaths. When he spoke, it was like he did not fully understand where the words were coming from.
“Um,” he winced, like even speaking pained him, like there was nothing for him in this moment but pain. “You? I-? You, sir. I belong to you. Um.”
His own breathing distracted him. He seemed like he was having trouble with it.
It wasn't as eloquent as she'd hoped, but all things considered—
"Correct. But you can do better than that. Let's hear it again now, louder this time. Tell us who you belong to, Delta."
There was a soft whine, mostly unrelated to her order.
“I belong to you, sir,” he repeated without hesitation. His eyes were fully squeezed shut; he was only barely conscious of what she was saying to him. It seemed like he was capable of entertaining two fully separate experiences simultaneously. He could tell her what she wanted to hear. Most of his thoughts were still occupied by the burning by the make it fucking stop please. But the iron had been pulled away. They weren’t hurting him anymore. But the burn was still there, still running clean through him, and would be. Forever? He couldn’t think straight. His thoughts were still knee-jerk and animalistic. Dazed. It hurt.
“Good,” she said. “If you make any attempt to mar the scarring or the healing process I will do it again on your other side of your chest. Am I clear?”
He couldn’t stand the tone she was still taking with him, like she was still mad, like even this had not been enough. It confirmed something he already knew, something he’d turned over in his head over and over again when he’d first learned what murder meant. That no amount of repentance would ever be enough. That he will never be forgiven. All his thoughts were still clouded with pain, so much that he felt he was dreaming.
It was harder for him to decipher her words than the effect, but when he did manage, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had no desire to do that, nor even the knowledge of how to. The threat was all that registered.
“Yes, sir,” he agreed, quieter. He wanted it to be over. He hoped that was what she was building to.
“You’re to make no attempt to pull away. To resist us. And the attitude is something I should never have to mention again. Am I understood.”
Delta gave a morose nod, and at the snap of her fingers, Amira summoned two crew members to dismantle Delta from the apparatus. He was positioned on his knees, forehead pressed into the ground, his wrists cuffed behind him this time. His ankles were still chained to the sides of the frame, making the position awkward and putting unnecessary pressure on his hips. The horror of his fate settled in when he felt his cuffed wrists being drawn up above his back and attached to a chain that dangled from the top of the apparatus. The position forced his shoulders to strain painfully, trapping him in the forced bow.
It didn’t take him long at all to slip into total misery. It wasn’t hard. He was in pain and given no distraction for it. The position was meant to humiliate him. It succeeded.
Delta knew nobody viewed him as a person. This kind of treatment should not have registered as a surprise. But it did. It was fucking painful. He was at least granted the option of pretending sometimes, that he did not exist solely for other people, that he was not just an object that constantly needed to be put in its place. It was able to recede into background noise most of the time.
Here, that reality was painful and unavoidable. He wasn’t even allowed to move. They’d done it to hurt him, because they thought he deserved it. They’d done it to remind him of his place, to make the difference between himself and real people so stark that it could never be doubted. He understood. He understood that, so could they please just fucking stop.
He was crying. It started without him meaning to, and persisted beyond his ability to control it. He pressed his forehead tighter to the ground, just trying to brace against it, to have something that could ground him.
It was hard not to despair when his compliance had not been enough, when every second he stayed here represented a second in which he was not forgiven, in which they were still mad at him, even though he was so fucking sorry. It was hard not to despair that this was what he’d been born to, molded into against his will. He’d never asked for this. He never wanted to be this.
He brushed up against his own nerve with that thought—and was unable to fully silence the sob that it brought up. Fuck, he was losing it. He took deep breaths to steady himself, to not get completely hysterical. He wanted to.
He wondered if Paris was even looking for him.
༻✧༺
Amira’s voice echoed off the walls of the deck where everyone had gathered, pausing every now and then to let her squad leaders give their reports.
She was ignoring him. He was meant to stay there for a reason. He was meant to learn his place and have it reinforced until it needed no further reminder. She was sick of having the same argument with him, night after night. About insolence, about attitude, about loyalty. About Empire. Her loathing for everything that had happened—everything they’d done—everything he had done—led her tone, sturdy and unquestioning, through that morning’s all-hands meeting.
It went on as usual until something unexpected happened. Someone spoke out—Maddox—a lower level engineer with glasses, his braided hair pulled back into a ponytail—he’d raised his hand, as though anything about what he was about to say was anything close to polite.
“Sir, Sir?—He’s, he’s crying… Sir.” Maddox lowered his hand, eyeing the ground, as though expecting a scolding. Amira studied him. She turned her gaze to Delta, trembling in his position with his forehead pressed firmly to the ground.
They’d said Delta’s name a few times throughout the meeting — not addressing him, not even acknowledging his presence in the room — just the passing mention of his powers. His utility. His heart had stopped spiking after the first few mentions of it. By then, he’d almost tuned it out.
For this reason, he almost didn’t notice when they were actually talking about him.
He’s crying.
Shame and fear flooded him in equal measure, with another short burst of energy about how unfair it was. He hadn’t even been making noise. He’d done everything to quiet the sobs. He couldn’t help the shaking, but he knew he’d likely be doing that even if he wasn’t crying. The position put too much strain on him to avoid it.
He forced himself to stop just as soon as it was acknowledged, quieting entirely, nearly holding his breath. He half-expected to be kicked for it. He almost expected Amira to press his head to the ground with her boots again, like she wanted to destroy the most valuable part of him.
“He looks adequately humbled, does he not?” Amira addressed the engineer with narrowed eyes, while her projected tone held the rest of the crowd—the whole room.
Her response came just as callous and did nothing to calm or disabuse him. She’d wanted this. Something in Delta ached.
“He’s—I’m just saying, Sir, he’s… been through a lot, today, Sir.”
It was only when Maddox spoke again that Delta could understand what was actually happening. Some human response to the crying—sympathy he was never meant to elicit—it surprised him. That much was rarely extended to real people in Empire, let alone to him.
Amira was buried for a moment, pupils dilating to tiny, shaking points. How dare he. How dare this nobody—this ignorant foot soldier— But she steadied herself. Caught her rising breath.
She had realized something much bigger was happening now. She was losing control of the room.
If it was one man dissenting, it could be more. Not that she’d ever relent to one person’s will, especially one so lowly ranked—no— No. This was going to take tact. Not a complete shut down, but a middle ground. She couldn’t relent entirely. Plus, Delta deserved it. After everything was said and done, he would always deserve it.
“I assure you, that the next ten minutes will not mean his death. I have one final announcement…”
He still didn’t get his hopes up. All his hope was cautious, but he had already braced himself for hours of this. He tried to be quiet for the remainder of it.
༻✧༺
The next ten minutes dragged into the next fifteen, into the next twenty, as Amira discussed various battle plans and training strategies for the psychic, bowing and shaking at her feet.
He accepted pretty quickly that it'd been a false promise, likely only meant to dismiss the concern. Delta counted up to the ten minute mark, and realizing she was nowhere near done speaking, stopped counting. He'd stopped crying, too, for the time being. Though he hadn't been directly punished for it, the shock of it being acknowledged had scared him badly enough to not want to do it again.
It was hard to relax into the position. That was the point, of course. He understood how these things worked. It was getting more painful each second, the pressure at his shoulders compounding so severely he feared they might pop out of the sockets. He knew that he would've begged, if he thought it would do any good.
Amira thought Delta looked properly cowed, kneeling there, cowering like he'd be safer if he just kept his head down.
Despite her satisfaction at her prisoner’s position, Amira resented that his plea for pity was somewhat working. On her crew members, anyway. Well, on that one, at least. And a few others, from what she could tell from the few concerned expressions passed around the room. Her ranks loathed Empire, unquestionably so, but the sentiment that radiated from her team right now was uncommonly unsettling—it made Amira question things a bit. Back up a step, perhaps.
At twenty minutes, Amira's topics were getting checked off her list one by one, and her worries with them—save for that pretty blue diamond kneeling in the center of the room.
Burned. Branded with her insignia.
She needed to finish this, properly, before anything blew over.
"Good," she said, to no one in particular, when the latest officer had finished his statement.
"I'm finished with this for today, you all know your assignments. We make way for the Serraphial Cluster. The NeuWong system isn't far from there, and our next contact is close. New guns. New mechs, if we play our cards right. I expect everyone to their positions immediately following commissary hour. Dismissed."
She mumbled orders to Jackie and Jimenez, who stood obediently behind her. "Escort him back."
Delta wasn't expecting it when she finally agreed to let him down. He almost didn't hear it. He collapsed entirely when his wrists were unshackled from the chain overhead, arms having gone completely numb with the effort. Luckily, he didn't have far to fall.
Jackie's arm shot downwards as soon as she released the chain that held his cuffed wrists aloft and Delta went down—her hand caught his shoulder, hoisting him back up the second the burned flesh on his chest was about to hit the ground.
Amira had said not to fuck up the scarring. Surely, releasing him straight onto the fresh burn was a bad start to that. With a relieved breath, she maneuvered him around with Jimenez' help. Delta moved like a limp puppet on strings, lifted only by the forces that held him afloat—no resistance to gravity if left to his own.
The sensation was not new, but it never stopped feeling odd. What was disappointing was that release did not even register as relief. It was just a different kind of pain. It would feel better, eventually. He knew it would recede some in the following minutes.
His disappointment was intensified by the fact they'd left his wrists restrained behind him, so the full range of motion would still not be afforded to him. He thought he understood why. They didn't want him to touch the burn. It wasn't like he was all that inclined to do that in the first place, even if he hadn't been threatened.
He had to lean on them slightly just to walk upright, his legs also numbed from disuse. He said nothing. He did cast one final look at Amira, just to see if she was even looking, if she'd even speak to him again after this.
Delta was dragged down back to the lower levels of the ship, back to the room that held his cell, that held his chains. But something changed this time.
It was clear he’d peaked past exhaustion, both mentally and physically. Though he gave them no struggle, he also gave them zero help. He all but collapsed in the handlers’ grip. He knew it was kind of a rude thing to do, to make someone bear all his weight like that, but it wasn’t like there was much of it to begin with. He wasn’t capable of holding his own anymore.
Jackie, the handler to his right, handed Delta entirely over to Jimenez, the tall handler to his left, until Delta was held back by the man at his biceps while he watched Jackie cross the room towards a small storage closet. She wrenched a small, dense parcel from the shelving unit inside, which, upon unwrapping it from its outer canvass, appeared to be a foldable camping cot.
He watched through half-lidded eyes as the cot was unfolded, too tired to think much about it.
Jackie adjusted the cot to take up the meager floor space in the back of the cell, before gesturing to Jimenez to deposit Delta atop it. Delta was kind of uncomfortable being maneuvered onto it—but the medical scene was at least familiar. He knew how to be a good patient. It was somewhat gentle, better than a full on throw. It still hurt when he moved. Any dramatic motion made him almost blackout with pain. They’d tried. They had the burn to worry about.
"The burn," Jimenez muttered to Jackie when Delta was settled on the cot.
"Yeah, so? Get your ass in the cabinets and find something. It's gotta heal correctly," Jackie hissed, voice low, as though Delta were a sleeping child not to be disturbed.
She stood over him, watching him, waiting for any reaction, while Jimenez stomped off to rummage through the medical supplies in the adjacent cabinets.
"Burn salve?" His voice carried across the room despite his posture, crouched down, his head still buried in a lower cabinet.
"Should do it!" Jackie called back, suddenly abandoning any commitment to whispered silence.
"Gauze," Jackie called after a few seconds, and Jimenez rummaged for a few more seconds before he called out, "Got it," and approached the cell once more.
Delta looked back, but the stare was impassive. Even now, there was a kind of distance forming between them. It did not feel as though he was really seeing her.
They’re broke, he thought again, bitterly. But he corrected himself quickly. He was pretty sure they had better medical treatment available, some sterile room. They must have. It just wasn’t being afforded to him at the moment. The thought made him mildly nervous. That the people he belonged to would risk everything to keep him healthy was a constant he had never had to fear would be taken away.
Luckily, there were the bare essentials in the room—a sink, Jackie washed her hands, put on gloves, and began to apply the salve to his chest carefully.
Delta’s eyes snapped shut again at the contact. Though the motion was careful and the salve was meant to soothe, the wound was still raw and burning. The only thing that kept him from crying out was some well-trained reflex to be quiet. He stopped breathing instead.
They made him sit up for the bandages, unlocking the cuffs around his wrists so they could wrap the gauze in a long ribbon around his torso. Delta let himself be manipulated, having now been thoroughly dissuaded from the idea of putting up any resistance at all. The layers wound around his chest like a constricting blanket, soft yet pressing against the fresh burn.
He didn’t thank them. It was not out of impoliteness, just habit. His old medics didn’t like it when he spoke.
They laid him down afterwards. "There. He'll be fine like this," came Jackie's voice.
“His hands,” Jimenez commented. “Shouldn’t he be… you know, restrained?”
“We can do the one,” Jackie responded, lifting the closest of Delta’s wrists and snapping it into one of the cuffs that sat chained into the bolt in the floor.
“Keep him from rolling over,” Jackie confirmed, knowing Delta had enough leeway to shift around a bit but not enough to ruin the burn.
Without much more than another word, they left the cell and locked it, closing the heavy sliding door behind them.
sorry im busy today i have to go hang out with my friend who is a decaying log and my other friend who is a patch of milkweed and my other friend who is the sun
