poisoned rats in a pot of grain - ch. 6
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i spent like days struggling with one scene near the end of this fic only to finish writing it and realizing that it doesn't flow right for the main fic. rip me but hey at least now i've kicked that writer's block! it's a very sizable chunk to cut but it's still a good scene so it'll be repurposed into a post-story one shot :)
cw: past minor character death, violence, blood, dehumanization (the usual)
~
“You’ve fought the Canary?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“It’s Solidarity. And I think he’s being mind-controlled.”
“Right. Sure. Major, would you be able to come with me to meet someone?”
The streets are dark.
It’s nighttime when Mythics, villain of Empires City, wakes. He’s lying on the ground in a tucked-away alley, staring into nothing, when he suddenly sits up and looks around.
He’d stumbled there earlier that day, clutching his head and groaning in pain, had collapsed on the ground and laid there for hours.
Now he heaves himself to his feet, glances around again, and limps out into the city, one hand clamped over his mouth and the other shading his eyes.
He follows a path that is clearly well-known to him, doubling back at points to ensure that there is no chance of any tails. The walk is two hours, two hours that might have been expedited by the use of his powers, but he never uses them. He walks and walks, pace growing slower and slower, on his own two feet until he reaches some dingy townhouses on the outskirts of the west side rundown part of town. Once there, he loses all sense of stealth (which, admittedly, had not been much) and directly approaches one of the doors. He knocks seven times.
There’s a few moments of waiting, waiting that Mythics does not do patiently. He taps his feet, looks around at the neighborhood, runs his hand up a seam of his costume nervously. Right as he reaches to knock again, the lock clicks and the door swings open.
“Hey, Sausage!” well-known antihero fWhip exclaims, spreading his arms wide. Despite the late hour, he’s still fully dressed, leather coat rustling and creaking with his movements. “Long time, no see! How’re you doing?”
Mythics shifts, looks around again. “Can I come in?” he whispers, leaning in close. fWhip frowns, looks past his shoulder.
“Is everything . . . good?” he asks cautiously, adjusting the goggles that serve as his mask. Mythics hesitates, before leaning even closer.
“Something’s wrong. Xornoth’s planning something bad. I’m in too deep. I—I need help.”
-
“You’re—you’re going to what?”
“I’m going to kill him,” Lizzie repeats simply, eyes daring Scott to oppose her. “I’m going to hunt him down and fill his lungs with water and watch as he chokes to death slowly.”
Scott blinks.
He opens his mouth, closes it again.
What?
“I’m—” he starts, but Joel cuts him off.
“Yeah, he’s your nemesis,” he says, “but Liz has got personal history. I think you ought to work together to kill him, but it’s not me doing it.”
Kill—kill Solidarity?
“Ex-explain to me, why, exactly, we’re killing him?” Scott asks, voice faint in his disbelief. Lizzie looks down, then back up, glare steely but eyes far away.
“I can’t remember much,” she says, her voice smaller and more unsure than anything she’s said so far, a stark contrast from her stormy appearance. “I lost my memory. Years ago. But I remember this. When I was young, I lived in a city. Maybe this one, I don’t know. I don’t remember. But. . . .”
She sits down in one of the folding chairs, rests her head in her hands. “I was young. I don’t know. I came home. Solidarity was there. He was—he was standing over their bodies. He saw me, and—and the house went up in flames. He ran. I don’t—I don’t know how I survived. I only remember flashes. But he killed them.
“I don’t remember anything else. I woke up underwater, no idea who I was or how I could breathe. Swam until I found land. Started a life. I didn’t start remembering anything until he started appearing on the news.”
Scott blinks again, looks away when Lizzie’s shoulders start to shake. Joel kneels beside her, rubs her back.
“Sometimes—” she chokes out, “sometimes I wonder if I forgot these things on purpose. With my water powers, I—I could have just taken them away. Saved myself the pain I feel now.”
Scott’s been close to just driving ice through her ankles for the past three minutes, but those words give him pause. “I—how would that work?”
Lizzie shrugs. “Memories are fluid.”
“No—”
“Shut up, Major,” hisses Joel. “Are you with us, or not?”
He’s definitely not with them, thank you very much. How can he be? They want to kill Solidarity, and Scott has found himself inexorably in support of the man. But some of the things Lizzie had said. . . .
Unfortunately, Scott can relate. Solidarity had killed his own father, even if it wasn’t by blood. He knows where her anger, her grief, is coming from. Just thinking of Aeor makes his chest ache, even after all this time.
But judging by the admittedly very brief and confusing conversation he had with Solidarity, no harm he does is on purpose. He can’t control his powers. And right now, no matter what the Mad King says, he is not in control of himself.
These two aren’t going to sway from their task. The revenge Lizzie seeks is what’s pushing them forward, and she won’t believe anything Scott tries to tell her.
And as much as he hates it, he needs them. He’s been searching for Solidarity for months with no results. He can’t keep going on alone.
They’ve set up a plan already. He just needs to follow along with it, then double-cross them later and save Solidarity.
Or maybe he can convince them that Solidarity deserves a chance.
Strange bedfellows, he thinks to himself. Now lie in it.
“I’ll help,” he says aloud. Joel shoots up, shakes his hand, telling him he won’t regret it and the like. Scott waits until he’s led back out of the building and until he’s skating home to call the mayor.
“Xornoth’s getting dangerous,” he says. “They’re my responsibility. I’m going to be doing some strange things, all right? Just know that whatever happens, it’s all part of the plan.”
-
Gem waves her staff, sends a bolt of purple lightning out, but Jimmy sidesteps it and keeps stalking toward her, his bad leg making his limp prominent.
His master is just watching. They'd pointed at Gem, they'd said "Attack," and they'd left Jimmy to it. He's not sure how far they expect him to go. He finds he doesn't care. He's being good. He's being a very good boy.
Gem's on the ground, scrambling back and away from him, and she looks scared. Good. He needs to be feared.
There's people watching this fight, a small crowd and a news van, but they're silent, holding a collective breath.
Then a couple of younger guys join the crowd, and as Jimmy is closing in on Gem, one of them shouts out in an annoying, high-pitched voice, "Canary! Step on me!"
Jimmy's head whips to find them in the crowd, their obnoxious floral button-up, and it's barely a moment and barely a disaster (it's just their shoes catching fire, it's really not much at all), but Xornoth hisses in his ear.
"Pet, your task," they tell him through the crackle of his comms, and Jimmy turns away from the panicked shouts and stamping and back to Gem, who has regained her feet and is holding her staff out threateningly.
"Stay away," she says shakily, taking a step back for every one of Jimmy's steps forward. Jimmy gathers what adrenaline he can, feels it thrum through his veins, and directs it at her.
It's one of his more powerful hits, and Jimmy takes a couple of steps away as leaves swirl down, faster and faster, the wind picking up around Gem as she cries out and is suddenly surrounded by a mini twister. It manages to pick her up and carry her several meters before she breaks it apart with a purple blast of energy, stumbling out and to her knees.
"What on earth is your power?" she gasps, brushing her hair out of her face. Jimmy doesn’t respond, just keeps pushing toward her.
He’s tired. He’s not sure he has the energy to do much more power-wise. He’s flagging fast, months of the bare minimum amount of food and sleep catching up. He doesn’t stumble, though. He’s better trained than that.
He doesn’t mind physical combat, he supposes. Anything to keep fighting.
Gem’s again scrambling back, eyes flicking back and forth between the staff that had been torn from her hands with the twister and Jimmy.
Jimmy flicks a knife out of an inside pocket, grips it tight in his trembling hand. He’s winning this fight.
Or not, because just as he’s about to leap onto Gem, a blast of ice knocks him aside. Great. Incredible. Just what he needed.
Jimmy struggles to his feet, wincing as his bad leg shifts a bit in its socket. He checks on Gem—she's gotten her staff back—and then looks up.
Major's up there, coming down an ice slide from a high window. He lands with a flourish in the middle of the intersection where Jimmy and Gem fight, waves cheerily to the now-growing crowd.
"Hey, Xornoth. Hello, Canary. Good to see you, Gem," Major says loudly with a nod to each of them. Jimmy steals a glance at Xornoth, sees their thunderous expression, and turns back toward Gem. Xornoth told him to fight Gem. He can do that.
Major's saying something, and Xornoth is spitting something back, but he doesn't hear any of it because he has to focus on Gem. He has to take her down. His master told him to attack and he can’t stop, he can’t disappoint them, he can’t be in trouble. . . .
Something hits him from behind and Jimmy crumples, his forehead smacking against asphalt. There’s a weight on his back, and even as he flails he can’t become free—this isn’t good, something’s on top of him and he needs to get back up—
What are you doing? a voice whispers in his head. Jimmy bucks at the sound, foreign and unasked-for and intruding. It’s terrifying—there’s something in his head and he doesn’t know what and he wants it gone. “Master,” he whispers, hoping his comms pick it up. The feeling of something pushing at his brain, the voice, rears back for a second before pushing again.
Why do you follow them?
Unbidden, unwanted, images flash through Jimmy’s mind. The beeping of a machine as skin is grafted from him by faceless scientists. Feeling the stitches behind his ear. The cage. Xornoth fixing the collar around his neck. The cage. Xornoth holding him as he sobs, soaking wet. Underground as he raises his arms. Xornoth’s steady hand guiding his knife maneuvers. The cage. His leash. He’s a pet. He does what he’s told.
“Oh, no,” someone says out loud, but before Jimmy can move to throw the weight off his back, there’s a hand reaching around to his face—he shakes his head, but it presses over his eyes—
There’s a pop and a burst and the weight—a person, he knows now—goes flying.
Jimmy rolls onto his side and takes a short breath before stumbling up, shaking out his glider. Some part of it is bent; he’ll have to make sure to straighten it out and give it to Xornoth before the next battle.
On the ground about twenty feet away to the right is the Mad King, groaning as he sits up. On the ground about ten feet to the left is Gem, staring fearfully at her own staff, which lies on the road before her.
Jimmy stares between them. He’s been commanded to attack Gem, but the Mad King is clearly a threat. He can’t keep his back unguarded. He can’t disobey his orders.
His comms crackle, and Jimmy glances up to see Xornoth held by a tentacle in the sky, Major creating spike after spike of ice to leap up to them.
“Incapacitate the wizard,” Xornoth tells him. “I need her. Get rid of the Mad King in any way you see fit, but do not focus on him. The wizard Gem is your main focus, pet.”
Jimmy nods, turns toward Gem. The Mad King shouts something, but he ignores it. He limps forward, straightens his glider straps.
Gem looks up at him, eyes wide, opens her mouth—
A stoplight above her bursts, an entire bulb falling out. It falls, quicker and quicker, and Jimmy has a moment of thinking that it’s larger than he expected before it slams into Gem’s head and shatters. She’s limp on the ground in barely a moment, eyes closed, blood streaming down her forehead, glass shards around her.
Right. That’s that taken care of. He turns to the Mad King, only to see the man standing, arms outstretched defensively.
"I won't hurt you if I don't have to," the Mad King says, backing away a little. "You can come with us, Solidarity. Make it easier."
For a moment Jimmy doesn't even register the use of that name, but when it processes he stumbles. Do people know who he is? His eyes flick up to Major, who is hand-to-hand with Xornoth.
"It wasn't Major who told me," the Mad King says, calling Jimmy's attention back to him. “I figured it out on my own. Come with me, and I won’t hurt you.”
Jimmy’s mission isn’t to go with the Mad King. It’s to get him out of the way by any means possible.
He’s tired, maybe too tired to use his powers, but he can’t get in close combat with the Mad King at risk of losing his senses. He shudders, recalling just moments ago when the foreign voice had pulled at his brain. His best bet might be to collect Gem and run. The van is waiting not too far away, surely he can get there if he causes something small to happen?
He throws his arm out wide in the Mad King’s direction, hoping for anything to happen. Thankfully, there must be something left in his steadily draining energy reserves. The scar behind his ear buzzes with heat, sparks traveling down his arm, and the Mad King is bowled over by a runaway trash can.
Jimmy blinks back the fuzzy blackness that encroaches on the edges of his vision, turns back to Gem. He doesn’t think he can lift her. He hasn’t done any sort of weight training since . . . well, he’d only just restarted his workout regime after . . . before. . . .
It doesn’t matter, anyway, because a tentacle picks Gem up and drags her unconscious body away. Jimmy nods, begins to follow, when a small chunk of asphalt whizzes over his shoulder.
He spins around to find the Mad King standing, another rock in hand. “You can’t just leave!”
It’s all Jimmy can do to not roll his eyes before waving his arm again. The exact same trash can, which had happened to rebound off a spontaneous ice spike, rams into the Mad King from the other direction and again sends him to the asphalt. Again, Jimmy blinks away darkness. He needs to get out of here.
The crowd is so very, very loud, the fight itself full of shouts and crashes, and Jimmy’s already so tired. . . .
Before he can begin to limp back to the van, though, a tentacle grabs him around the waist and lifts him into the air. For a moment panic seizes his throat, certain that he’s going to be dragged up to fight Major (he doesn’t have enough energy he can’t do it but he’ll do it if his master commands), but it only carries him to the van and sets him down gently beside it.
He clambers into the back of the van, holds his hands out for the guard there to cuff them together. Gem is in his usual place on the floor, blood drying on the bright red hair splayed out around her. Jimmy looks down at her impassively, squished to the side, while the van starts up, then pulls away jerkily.
Xornoth isn’t back when they arrive at the manor, so the guards lead him directly to his cell, dragging Gem in with him. They leave her there, on the floor, while Jimmy takes a seat on the bed and lets them uncuff him.
They bring him half a loaf of stale bread and leave.
Jimmy stares down at Gem.
There’s another person in his cell. That’s not right. This is his cell. This is where he sleeps and eats and drinks and stares into space to contemplate death and eternity, not where people intrude to lie on his floor.
Is Xornoth getting another pet?
Jimmy feels his chest puff out at the idea, the idea that Xornoth would even consider it. He’s Xornoth’s pet, Xornoth’s perfect bird. They don’t need anyone else.
And Jimmy wouldn’t wish this fate on anyone else.
He knows what’s expected of him when Xornoth isn’t here, so Jimmy stands and strips off his gloves, followed by his musketeer hat and his glider and coat. He pauses, glaces at Gem, still motionless on the floor. He shouldn’t undress in front of her, right?
He flinches as he feels the phantom crack of a cane across his shoulder blades. He knows the punishment for not complying. He quickly pulls off the rest of the costume, leaving the Canary mask for last, for which he covers his face with his coat to hide until he can replace it with his plain black mask. Then he’s left in a mask and his collar and shorts, and it’s right. This is how he’s supposed to be. He gathers up the heavy bundle of clothes off the bed and places them in a heap by the door. Someone will come in while he’s asleep to take them.
He stretches a moment, feels rather than finds a sore patch on his chest that will certainly become a bruise soon. Then he lays back on the bed, eats a slice of bread, and promptly falls asleep.
-
“Wake up.”
Jimmy rolls off the bed, is on his knees before he even has opened his eyes. When he does, he finds that the person standing over him is neither a guard nor his master. It’s—right. Gem.
She watches him, eerie with the dried blood still coating her hair, waits until he meets her eyes to begin speaking.
“Where am I?” she demands. “What’s going on? If you tell me where we are, Solidarity, I promise I’ll try and get the judge to be lenient with your sentence.”
Oh, great. More people who know who he is. Jimmy doesn’t reply. She isn’t Xornoth and she doesn’t get to have his voice.
He rises from creaking knees, glances longingly back at the bed. He needs some water, though. His throat feels like it might just crack apart.
He limps over to the sink, jiggles the knob until it turns on. Gem follows him, undeterred.
“What are we doing here? Where have you been? Why . . . why aren’t you wearing clothes?”
Jimmy cups his hands, drinks a bit. The handcuffs are back on. Someone must’ve come in while he slept.
He shouldn’t have slept through that. He must be more tired than he thought.
Gem’s got cuffs too, he notices out of the corner of his eye. Maybe she is a pet.
He splashes some water on his face, shuts the sink off. Gem is tapping her foot, glaring at him pointedly. He’s not sure what she expects. He’s just a pet. He’s a pet. He has to be a pet.
He should probably give her the bed. He really doesn’t want to, but he’s used to the floor and she’s a girl, so he can let her have it. He’s just a pet, after all.
He points at her, then gestures to the bed, before moving to the middle of the room and easing himself down to the floor. The sack of bread is still there. He digs a slice out of it, tears a piece off and pops it into his mouth. Gem doesn’t move from by the sink and toilet, eyes narrowed.
“Why am I handcuffed?” she asks. Jimmy doesn’t know. He tears off and eats another piece of his bread slice. He’s tired. He’s always tired. He can’t have slept long if he’s still this exhausted.
“How long was I unconscious?” Gem seems to read his thoughts, and Jimmy would be scared if he didn’t already know her powers. He doesn’t know, anyways. Long enough that he’s handcuffed and the Canary costume is gone. Not long enough for him to feel properly rested.
He finishes eating the slice of bread and takes another before Gem speaks again.
“Why won’t you talk?”
Jimmy hunches his shoulders, stares down at the bread. He doesn’t want to talk to her. His voice is for Xornoth.
But they’re going to hurt her, aren’t they? There’s no other reason for her to be here, in his cell, handcuffed. They’re going to experiment on her and hurt her and chain her to the table leg. That’s—that’s not good.
He has to help her.
Gem sits carefully on the edge of the bed, fingers tapping on her knee. “I don’t understand,” she admits. “Have you been here the whole time? Where’s the Canary?”
Oh, so she doesn’t know that he’s the Canary. Jimmy’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. He glances at the door, then back at her.
“Is Xornoth keeping you prisoner?” she asks quietly, gesturing to Jimmy’s wrists.
Prisoner?
Maybe once upon a time, long ago. Jimmy’s not a prisoner anymore. Not really. He belongs here.
He hates it he hates it he hates it.
“Are you . . . able? To talk?”
It would be so easy to shake his head. Instead he twists his bread between his fingers and nods jerkily. Gem huffs.
“Then why don’t you?”
Because he doesn’t want to. Because he only speaks when Xornoth commands it. Because speaking never gets him anywhere except in more pain. Because he can’t stand the sound of his own voice.
He shrugs.
Gem sighs quietly, looks around the room. Her head hurts, Jimmy can tell. He can tell in the tenseness of her jaw, the way her eyes move slowly and blink frequently, the way her fists clench. He’s had bad headaches before.
“I don’t understand what they want with me,” she mutters, her gaze falling back to Jimmy. “Major’s the one who’s been looking for you.”
What?
Jimmy snuffs that hope out before he can even feel it. He’s here. He lives here. He is here. He’s a pet. He doesn’t have hope, except hope to go outside and hope that Xornoth will be kind. He’s good for the devil and he doesn’t dream of anyone rescuing him from Hell.
Gem goes quiet then, and after a couple of minutes, she cautiously eases her legs onto the bed. Jimmy finishes his crumbling bread, crawls to the corner and curls up the best he can. He doesn’t take his eyes off Gem, who doesn’t take her eyes off him.
She’s not supposed to be here. This is his cell. He’s always been alone here, he’s supposed to be alone here. This is where he’s safe, safe to sit by himself and breathe and maybe think a traitorous thought like how much he hates his master—
He shakes his head, as if that’ll push the thought away. He can’t. He can’t think those things. He’s a pet. Those are dangerous, bad thoughts to be having.
He hates them so much.
He pushes that thought away, too, and the next one. Jimmy falls asleep like that, Gem watching him, trying not to think such horrible things about his master.
He wakes when the door slams open, and Jimmy shoots up onto his knees with his head bowed submissively and his hands down. Gem doesn’t do that, only stirs a bit and groans. A sick feeling washes over Jimmy. They’re going to hurt her so very badly for disobeying.
They don’t, yet. The guards hit the bed, yell at her to get up, and Gem does, slower than Jimmy ever would. A guard smacks the back of his head and he turns his focus back on his hands.
Once Gem is fully up, standing between two guards, Jimmy is dragged up by his collar, his leash clipped onto it. Only then do they release him, keeping a hold of the leash and Jimmy steals a glance in Gem’s direction to find her mouth curled in disgust. He bites his lip. He knows he’s disgusting.
His bad leg is stiff today, leaving him limping as he’s dragged down the hallway, then a left turn to a different hallway that disorients him because they don’t go this way ever, but then his eyes catch on a familiar stone bust and he realizes.
They’re going to the ballroom.
The place with the cage.
Jimmy’s halted in his steps before he even knows it, blood rushing in his ears. The guard leading him yanks on the leash, pulling him back into a stumbling walk. He can’t—he didn’t do anything, he didn’t disobey any orders, he’s been good—he’s not going down without a fight—
He braces himself as they enter the room, as he sees the cage beside the throne, the throne where Xornoth currently lounges. He gets ready to dig his heels in, to pull at his leash, but he’s taken by surprise when a guard behind him shoves him and he windmills forward until he reaches Xornoth, who gestures to their knee.
Jimmy stares blankly, even as the guard holding him loops the leash around the arm of the throne. His eyes linger on the cage, then turn back to Xornoth, who coos sweetly and pats their knee again. Slowly, carefully, Jimmy lowers himself to the ground, rests his head on their knee.
“What kind of kink—” Gem starts to say behind him, but she cuts herself off with a grunt. Jimmy readjusts so that he’s facing her, on her knees before the dais, guards all around her.
He closes his eyes briefly, presses into Xornoth’s leg. He’s not going in the cage. Xornoth isn’t putting him in the cage.
“Good boy,” Xornoth murmurs, scratching at Jimmy’s head for a moment. His master has rested since the battle. That’s good. Xornoth is angrier when they’re tired.
“The Wizard Gemini, am I correct?” Xornoth says, voice silky smooth. Gem says nothing, just glowers at them. They slowly run a hand through Jimmy’s hair, rolling strands between their gloved fingers. Jimmy lets his eyes flutter shut, but he doesn’t relax. Not when the cage is right there.
“You could prove quite useful to me.”
“I don’t want to be useful to you!”
A laugh, a light tug on his hair. “She’s feisty, isn’t she, puppy?”
Jimmy swallows, manages a whispered, “Yes, master.”
Xornoth’s hand vanishes, and Jimmy doesn’t move. “In one way or another, Wizard Gem, you will comply,” Xornoth says, voice booming. “You could join me willingly, enjoy all the comforts of my usual associates.”
Gem snorts. “What, and end up like him?”
Jimmy doesn’t need to open his eyes to know she’s talking about him. Xornoth lays a hand on the back of his neck.
“Oh, my little bird is a special case,” they croon, and Jimmy just knows they’re giving him that terrifyingly possessive look. “He didn’t have the choice I give you. His pitiful dreams of escape have been fun to train out of him. Isn’t that right, pet?”
Jimmy can’t help the full-body shudder that seizes him before he croaks, “Yes, master.” Xornoth hums, turns their attention back to Gem.
“You won’t be my pet, I assure you,” they say, and relief washes over Jimmy, filling his throat with a sickly feeling.
He’s not relieved that she’s escaped this fate. He’s relieved that he’s going to remain his master’s only pet. He’s relieved that there will be no one to take Xornoth’s attention from him.
He wishes he’d done it then, when he could, when he had the leash and was alone in his cell. He can’t help but wonder if they would’ve stopped him in time, if they would’ve noticed.
“So, what will it be?” Xornoth says, and Jimmy tunes back in to the conversation. “Join me willingly, or be forced to?”
“I’ll never join you!”
Jimmy almost scoffs when Xornoth does. Everyone joins them eventually.
“Take her away—and not to my pet’s cell. The cellar, perhaps.” Their hand finds Jimmy’s hair again, toys with it gently. “I don’t want her putting any sort of ideas in my pet’s head.”
Jimmy sighs, quieter than quiet. He hates them. He needs them. They keep him safe. They hurt him. He’s fine. He’s—
Gem screams, and Jimmy’s eyes shoot open. The guards are dragging her away, and she’s lashing out—with a blast of purple from her fingertips one gets blown to the other side of the room—Xornoth watches passively as the other guards leap on her, their tasers crackling. She screams again, louder, filled with pain, and all Jimmy can see of her is her red braids, but the ropy scar plastered down his side burns in sympathy. Those stun batons hurt.
Once she goes limp, they drag her from the room. The guard who had been thrown across to hit the wall is sitting up, groaning, another guard helping him. Xornoth’s fingers curl around Jimmy’s ear.
“Such a perfect bird, aren’t you, darling?” Xornoth says absently, and Jimmy can’t help but rest his head a bit more comfortably on their lap. He’s a good pet, and Xornoth seems to think so too. He’s behaved himself so very well lately, hasn’t had any punishments in a little while. He’s been so good.
He settles in once it becomes apparent that Xornoth has no plans on moving, resting his entire body against the throne and his head still propped up on Xornoth’s knee. It’s quiet, still but for Xornoth’s occasional adjustments as they type something up on their tablet.
Jimmy doesn’t exactly doze, but he shifts into a lower state of functioning, unmoving and barely-there, even as the touch in his hair grows tenser and pulls harder.
"Pet," Xornoth says, rousing Jimmy from not-sleep. "You belong to me."
Jimmy's silent until Xornoth yanks hard on his hair, prompting a squeaked, "Yes, master!"
"Hm." Xornoth is quiet again, for long enough that Jimmy feels secure in letting his eyes close.
"How long since your last punishment, pet?"
He doesn't know. He really doesn't. It's impossible to keep track of days here, in his windowless cell with no clock. But Xornoth is waiting on an answer, and Jimmy can't disappoint.
"A—a week, master?"
The fingers move from his hair to caress his cheek, pressing into his face a bit harder than expected.
"I have a choice for you, puppy. Look at me."
Jimmy turns, his leash jangling. It's cold in here, he realizes as his head leaves Xornoth's leg. He holds back a shiver and faces them, not quite meeting their eyes but very clearly paying attention.
"The first choice is a public example," they tell him. Jimmy instantly wants to vomit. Not that choice.
A smile curls those blackened lips. "The second is the cage."
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20 Questions For Writers
One as tagged by @x-i-l-verify and I’m a sucker for answering questions. :)
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
7 (and since it’s not many I’m going to color code them) - Wow that’s actually crazy, can’t believe it’s only been a little over a year since I first posted.
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
129,165 - Yo, I’ve written a couple novels worth in words let’s go!
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Dream SMP. (though I have a real angsty fic idea for MCU’s Loki that I’ve considered doing…)
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
(Poor B is for Betrayal is at a disadvantage with only coming out this week lol)
Crow’s Nest
Which makes sense since it is the longest finished work and the most diverse in content, but it’s pretty wild since it’s only been since October. (I’m going to try and not assume it’s just because of all of the co-author, @midnight-fangirl01’s readers lol<3 :)…)
Dreamcatcher
Which I am probably the most proud of as far as my individual work, especially because the concept is really fun to explore. Hoping to finish the sequel soon but we’ll see.
Good Cop ‘Bad’ Cop
This is the shortest non-one shot by like half, so it’s interesting that it ranks higher. I do make some kinda cool graphics for it so I’m glad people like it. Not gonna lie though, a combination of positive feedback and projecting has made it go much farther than the one shot I had originally planned. And since I usually do a lot of planning for stuff it’s no wonder that I have non idea what I’m doing lol. :)
Misery Loves Another Idiot With A Jukebox Where His Soul Should Be (Or umm Misery for short)
(Every time I have to type that out I wonder why the heck I made the title so long, I means its perfect but also you can’t even do a good acronym because that’d still be long…) To be fair the kudo count is really close between Dreamcatcher, Good Cop ‘Bad Cop and this one, which is interesting…
Back in the day, when I first posted this as my blooper reel I did not expect people to like it this much, but I’m glad I’m not alone in my affinity for torture box madness. >:D I still can’t decide which is more unhinged the hopscotch or the crucifixion… like my mental health this year was suffering for real… lol
If The Crown Fits, Wear It
I mean c!Techno should always rank top 5 so it makes sense. ;) As someone who doesn’t love to read one oneshots because I get too attached and sad when it ends, I can’t say I’m overly surprised at its ranking. But also still surprised. Regardless,it was really healing for me and I’m glad it seems to have been for others too.
(Ok though for real my first fic Hell in a Box being the lowest makes me kinda sad not gonna lie. Like it’s true that I think I’ve certainly gotten better at writing, which is actually why I edited it this summer, but it is the one that started it all and while it’s not my favorite work at his point it does have some really cool scenes and holds a special place in my heart.……)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Always. Every one. They took the time to make me smile so the least I can do is share the love or fun. Especially when I spend a maddening amount of time on specific details it makes me so happy when someone noticed and enjoyed. <3 :)
6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Yes. Oh wait lol I mean technically it would be Misery since there is both no ending and it’s more so a complication so technically it probably won’t get one. But if we are talking a finished work with an actual ending then probably Dreamcatcher I guess, because it’s kinda a sad realization, though technically it would have been Crow’s Nest if not for the co-author spoiling my plans lol >;)
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
I mean easily Crow’s Nest… I mean the ‘epilogue’ is like 13,000 words so that’s how you know it’s good. ;D
8. Do you get hate on your fic?
No not really. And honeslty my self esteem is low enough I’d probably quick if did. :) I did receive a hurtful but also wild accusation (from what I discovered to be a bot) that Good Cop ‘Bad’ Cop was written by AI, which is funny because honestly that fic is really uniquely formatted with literal nutrition facts I designed at the end, like heh? An AI doesn’t come up with this.
9. Do you write smut?
Nope. And I do not read it either. In fact, I originally thought that all fanfiction was smut but after reading my first one that was recommended by a friend I was pleased to discover there is plenty of fanfiction that isn’t.
10. Do you write crossovers?
Haven’t yet? But I wouldn’t be the most opposed to it…
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes, someone is translating Crow’s Nest into Russian, which is pretty cool.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic?
Yes with @midnight-fangirl01 and it was pretty fun. Though the short timeline and time difference made it difficult as well as my canon compliance extremism. But overall, I think we made a really good pair and I certainly got some new writing skills. It is by far the longest fic I have worked on so I’m pretty proud of it and certainly couldn’t have pulled something like it off without her.
14. What‘s your all-time favorite ship?
Umm I don’t really do ships, but Drunz is one that is cute, and I always try and keep my fics kinda open and up for interpretation for anyone who does ship them. I think in general my opinion on their relationship doesn’t change much on whether they are platonic or not.
15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I intend to finish everything I post whether it’s how I planned or less so, because it makes me sad when works are unfinished, and I like closure, however sad or open-ended it is. At the moment I’m struggling with Good Cop ‘Bad’ Cop because my writing is based on projection and spurs of creativity so I guess I’ve struggled to project onto c!Bad recently. I will say I actually wrote most of the end the other day, so worse case scenario I just post it, but I do have ideas for chapters before then. It’s just whether or not I get inspired to.
16. What’s your writing strengths?
I’d say despite generally disliking writing it, character/actual person sounding dialogue. Also my detailed descriptions that help you visualize the scene.
17. What’s your writing weaknesses?
Probably pacing, like I don’t seem to cover a lot of ground in my fics. And for the Dreamcatcher sequel I’ve been struggling a lot with exposition.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
If you mean because the character speaks it then yes that’s fine I love character accuracy but there should be translations. Otherwise it ruins my immersion and it’s rude to make me switch screens on my phone and get blinded by the light just so I can translate. Like lots of people don’t translate for Ranboo and it’s really annoying.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Dream SMP.
20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?
How dare you ask be to choose between my babies! XD lol… I mean… I don’t know Misery is the most fun to write because I get to just be unhinged and I can stop or start wherever I want. Crow’s Nest is the one I’m probably the most proud of since it look a lot of lost sleep, research of characters I hadn’t done yet and we basically wrote it in a month and that just blows my mind. But I don’t know my favorite? Maybe Dreamcatcher I guess…
Hmmm tagging: @midnight-fangirl01 @elmhat @catsandgoodbooks @mistythedritten @draconixiaa @swordfright @the-final-sif … umm I don’t know I have no wifi so trying to figure out people to tag is hard but if you’re a writer and you see this consider yourself tagged and feel free to participate I’d love to see your answers. <3 <3
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