Ingredients: storm at sea activity, mentioned stabbing, suicide for "convenience" (it's not quite the usual level of he doesn't care but it's still not like bro wants to die yk), a little self harm (once again, out of practicality)
What Castys really wanted was to have something for breakfast, but responsibilities came first, so here he was, delivering a message that he could have ordered anyone else to relay, just so he could go back belowdecks and hopefully grab something on the way back, which made him wonder if he should have been given responsibilities in the first place, but oh well, he didn’t put himself in charge. Now, to get this done so he could eat. Castys knocked on the door in front of him, and upon hearing a noise that sounded like a word, he entered. Captain Izogie was sitting with her shirt partially off and her back to him, exposing the bold patterns of white fire ink curling around her dark shoulders. Alfyn was standing behind her with his hands on her bare back, clearly concentrating. It was a sight he’d seen before, but he always felt a little awkward stumbling upon it.
“Uh, sorry, didn’t realize it was woman magic day.”
“Hero, I… I love you. I’ve been in love with you since our first meeting. You’re so brave, smart and the most beautiful person I know. My life is better because of you. I’m better because of you.” Villain got down on one knee. “Hero, will you marry me?”
The masked crusader scratched the back of their head. “Oh… big oof. This is super awkward, but I’m just covering Hero’s shift tonight.”
An inconvenient silence fell. The hero coughed uncomfortably. “Do you… do you want me to pass on the message?”
Clayton should pull the ultimate role reversal and treat the alien like an animal. like do that clicking tongue thing to call an animal over and see if the alien catches on to what he’s doing (let’s be honest, they probably wouldn’t) like, if I was in Clayton’s position, I’d try to fuck with the alien at least once, as a joke
CONTENT WARNINGS: nonhuman whumper, punishment, spray bottle, chemical burns, taunting, descriptions of burn wounds
Clayton watched the alien closely for what he thought was the rough equivalent to three, maybe four days. It was difficult to tell how much time passed without the sun and a familiar rate of orbit to measure the concept of minutes, hours, and days. His watch had stopped working at some point during his original ordeal of abduction, captivity, and being sold at some massive space market full of a million kinds of aliens that Clayton had never even been able to begin to fathom.
With little more than his sleep cycle to measure time, he couldn't be sure of how much time had passed, but he was sure that it was long enough for him to have completely run out of patience for the whole situation. The alien seemed to be settled in his strange sort of seat by the huge open window that looked out at the unsettling darkness of space, and Clayton felt his annoyance renew with a sharp edge that made him restless and prickled in the back of his mind. The way his captor seemed to sit and relax - so similar to how Clayton used to sit in his beat up leather recliner - grated on his nerves and made Clayton want to do anything at all to disturb the serenity of his extraterrestrial keeper.
A wicked grin spread across his face as an idea formed in his head and Clayton sat up on the strangely plush little pet bed, his eyes fixed on the alien. He took a quiet breath and let out a small “pspspspsps” sound, just as he did when calling his stubborn little tabby cat for her dinner.
CONTENT WARNING: nonhuman whumper, muzzled, locked in a cage, ransomed, sold, electric shock, fear, pain, alien technology, losing consciousness.
Clayton woke slowly, his thoughts still working slowly in an effort to remember where he was, what had happened to him, and what was going on. His jaw felt tight and stiff, his teeth ached as if he had been grinding and clenching in his sleep. He tried to stretch the joint, to work his jaw to alleviate the pain throbbing just behind his ears. But he found himself unable to open his mouth, his jaw forced shut as something hugged his face in atoo tight hold. Clayton's thoughts began to scramble to full awareness as he reached up to touch his face and felt something that was not the familiar feel of his skin or the stubble of his facial hair.
It was dark but noise slowly crept into the edges of his awareness as Clayton ran his fingers over his mouth and tried to pinpoint the strange feel of the almost leathermaterial that had been attached to his face and was now forcing his jaw shut painfully tight. He reached around the back of his head in search of straps and buckles, logic finally pushing him to attempt to free himself from the restriction of the muzzle. But he found none - no straps, no buckles, no snaps. Nothing. His fingers moved back to the muzzle, following along the edges of the strange material and finding no obvious fastening mechanisms. But when he dug his fingers into the edge of the makeshift muzzle and attempted to pull it from face, it merely tightened at the edges of his cheeks and clamped his jaw shut even tighter.
content warnings: choking/strangulation, creepy whumper, i can’t just let this man have a good thing apparently
Floyd’s eyes go wide and flick around as if waiting to be caught at just thinking about using his magic out of turn, but the two of you are alone in his cell. You flash an encouraging smile and he leans forward just slightly.
“Do you… can I…” He frowns, and you can almost see the war he’s waging against his better judgement. “He would be so upset but- I have to, don’t I?” You can’t tell if he’s asking for permission or affirming the command’s legitimacy. You nod, either way.
Floyd dips his head, a thin smile spreading and triumphing over his fear for the moment. He reaches up towards his collar, fingers tracing over the outside of it and seemingly looking for something.
“There’s, ah, there’s a blocker on here somewhere. Keeps me from doing magic when he doesn’t want me to, and I think it’s supposed to take his magic to remove but…” he pauses as his fingers trace over the collar’s fastening. “It shouldn’t do anything if I just-” Floyd fiddles for a second and finally loosens the collar, slipping the leather away from his neck. “-take it off…” he finishes, trailing off.
The collar drops to the ground between them, and his hands go to his neck, rubbing carefully over the chafed skin there. It’s a relief to feel air on his skin there after weeks of wearing that awful, humiliating thing. There’s a momentary, sharp pang of fear in Floyd’s chest when he realizes just what could happen if Percival saw him like this, but he pushes it down. This is a chance for him to affirm that he’s not falling into that bastard’s traps. That he’s still himself, through and through. Then he’ll be done with it, put the collar back on, and play the role of the captive once again.
Floyd stands up now that the chain on the collar isn’t tethering him down to the floor, stretching his aching back and legs. He glances around for a second, trying to figure out what to do next. The command had mentioned ‘something big’, but it hadn’t been all too specific otherwise. There wasn’t much around his small cell in the first place, and his eyes inevitably settled on the wooden table across the room.
He bristled at the memory of every time he’d been tied down there and hurt in some way or another. It would feel nice to just… burn it. Even if he only scorched the top, not even a noticeable amount. Floyd couldn’t even fathom the punishment he’d earn for burning the table in its entirety.
Taking a deep breath, he walked a few steps closer and closed his eyes, holding his hands out. You can’t tell exactly what he does, but he mutters something quietly to himself, twitches his fingers, and his eyes fly open, a blazing magenta light swimming in them. Seconds later, the table is ablaze.
The flames race across the wood surface in long lines, small at first but growing taller, their forked ends licking at the air as Floyd urges them on. You feel yourself slipping away from this physical plane now that your command has been fulfilled, but you continue to watch, enraptured by the magic. He seems completely focused in his element, glowing eyes fixed on the fire and hardly blinking at all.
Okay so maybe you could add this in a piece Idk but I just wanted to say this: How about, Zander gets beaten (a lot) he tries to hold in his screams and cries. He refuses to break in front of Cain (bonus points if Clement is there too with his annoying grin on his face) so then after, when Zander is in the bathroom, cleaning himself up, he just breaks, he cries, he can’t handle it. That was kinda deep but anywho ....... Oki byeeeeeeeeee
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