#this is why i had a full on crying screaming breakdown banging my fists until they were bruised when i first failed my driver's test

[lilixloveswhump]

“Everything is okay.”

Whumptober Day 6 (Prompts: “Get it out”, “Stop, please”)

Fandom: X-Men

Characters: Erik Lehnsherr, Peter Maximoff, Charles Xavier, Raven Darkholme, Hank McCoy, Kurt Wagner

Word Count: 1980

A/N: IHATETHISSOMUCHOMGGG and it’s FUCKING LATE it’s 12:12 AM and I have a class tomorrow at 9:05 AM and I still need to shower and I might have a breakdown so much for getting this out on time hAhA. bUT aT lEaSt iTs dOnE!!1! I didn’t proofread because I hated it while writing it and I go back and read it in the state I am I might really actually cry :) So please excuse any errors, my mental health and self confidence literally cannot handle fixing them right now. We will try again tomorrow :)))

TW: blood (like a lot, but not all that graphic cuz i got lazy with description), guns? bullets? one swear word (poop), peter gets shot

He swore to God he was cursed. Why else was everyone around him constantly dying? It was God’s punishment for something, he just wished it didn’t always have to involve the people he loved; His mother, his wife, his daughter, and now…

Erik was going to watch his son die too.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Some mutant children were being held hostage by a group of Purifiers; they were just supposed to grab them and get out. Kurt, Raven, and Peter had volunteered to go first and Charles was happy to send them. The only reason Erik was sent along was that the kidnappers were armed, Charles had said with guns. For once, Erik was there just in case things got out there hand. 

Of course, he didn't let it get that far, disarming them as soon as they'd arrived but restraining himself from aiming their weapons back at them, as he didn't want to traumatize the children anymore than they already had been. The underdeveloped mind was a fragile one, and Erik thought it important to look out for the kids.

Turned out he was focused on the wrong ones. 

How could he have not felt it? The one, lone gun hidden in the bushes on the edge of the woods, why didn't he check the woods? He didn't even know it had fired until Peter cried out in pain, clutching at his calf as Kurt was bamfing them all back to the jet. He was immediately checked on once inside, but he insisted he was fine, instead concerned with getting the children buckled safely in their seats. There was a little blood, but Peter barely seemed to be affected, so they believed him.

That is, until his leg gave out. Right out from under him, he crumpled to the ground, seeming just as surprised as everyone else by the paralysis. Panic had slowly begun to take over his face as Kurt and Erik moved him to a chair, and by the time he was strapped in he was sweating bullets. They hadn't been in the air for longer than ten minutes before he'd started seizing.

Hank met them when they landed, though Erik would have preferred Kurt to bamf Peter straight to the medbay, the blue mutant was tasked with settling the rescued children. 

It was quite the monstrous task, wrestling Peter onto the stretcher as he squirmed and shook, seemingly completely out of control of his body. Raven helped to push it, as did Erik despite their constant complaint of him going too fast. In his opinion, they weren't moving nearly fast enough. 

He was cut off by Charles, nearly tripping over his chair as he came zooming around the corner. Raven and Hank raced on, and Erik scoffed as his attempts to follow were constantly thwarted by Charles's maneuvering. It was when the doors to the medbay closed when he got desperate, a devastated gasp leaping from his tongue and he was suddenly acutely aware of the layer of sweat on his palms.

"Get out of my way!" Erik shouted, taking another step to the side, his path immediately being blocked. "Charles-"

"Erik, I'm sorry, if you're in there-"

"Charles, he's my son!"

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't be in there with them. You want Hank to be able without you breathing down his neck-"

"CHARLES, PLEASE!" His plead clawed its way past his throat, leaving the extent of his vulnerability on full display. A rational Erik Lehnsherr would never dare let anyone perceive him to be weak or emotional, but right now that was the furthest thing from his mind.

Something changed in Charles’s eyes before he moved to the side, finally allowing Erik to pass through. Not that it mattered, if he’d said no, Erik would have simply moved him himself. 

They had the doors open in a matter of seconds, and Erik was quickly at  Peter’s side, though Charles seemed hesitant to allow him in the room. Raven pressed another sticky pad to Peter’s face, lighting up yet another machine before moving on to the next. Hank on the other hand was rushing around doing God knows what, Erik wished he was paying more attention to his son. 

“Hank, what are you doing? Put him out!” Raven scolded the doctor, clearly struggling to clip the restraints as Peter thrashed on the table.

“I can’t! His blood pressure is too high!” Hank shook his head, scoffing as he pulled the thermometer away from Peter’s forehead. “His temperature is 104, Erik what the hell happened out there?”

“I...I don’t know. He was shot-” Erik breathed, suddenly faced with the difficulty to form a coherent sentence.

“And you didn’t stop the bullet?!” Hank whipped around, preparing a syringe as Raven finally tightened the buckle on Peter’s left arm.

“I didn’t…” Erik whispered, flashes of the scene playing out in front of him like a projector screen. He could never stop anything, not when it mattered most. He only ever brought pain to the people he cared about.

“You can.” He couldn’t.

“Everything is okay.” No, it wasn’t. It never was, and it never would be no matter what he did. Peace, war, pacifism, genocide, it all ended the same: with the people he loved caught in the crossfire.

“ERIK!” Hank snapped at him, adjusting the IV bag as it rapidly filled with Peter’s blood. “Did you see what hit him?”

“No, I-” Erik shook his head maniacally, his fingers finding themselves ripping away at his scalp. Didn’t Hank think that if he’d seen what hit him he would have stopped it?

“Did the bullet come out?” Hank asked, turning his attention to the makeshift tourniquet on Peter’s calf, blood dripping from the ends onto the floor.

“I...I don’t-”

“Come on, Erik! What the hell am I working with here?!” God, how Erik would have quite literally killed to know.

“Erik, think.” Charles’s hand on his arm brought him a bit of clarity, and he momentarily wondered if Charles was in his head, but his mind was too much of a mess to tell.

“I-I...no. No! No, it didn’t.”

“There’s no exit wound.” Raven said, Hank working at the knot of the gauze they’d wrapped around Peter’s leg, and though he was tied down, Hank’s fingers continued to slip as he writhed in agony.

“Hank, why is there so much blood?” Charles asked and Hank huffed, a shrug falling off of his shoulders.

“I-I don’t know. There aren’t any major arteries the bullet should have hit. He shouldn’t be bleeding this much unless he was on blood thinners, o-or maybe...bitten by a snake or-”

“Wait!” Raven silenced him, and they all turned to her, eager to hear her input. “Like...like poison?”

There was pause...then, “Shit.” Hank tore off the tourniquet, stuffing Peter’s oozing wound with gauze. “How long has this been in his system?”

Erik and Raven exchanged a glance, neither of them seemed able to latch onto a sense of time since Peter had been showing sign of decay.

“How long, Raven?!” Hank snapped, the panic in his voice doing absolutely nothing to quell Erik’s continuously rising anxiety.

“I don’t know, maybe twenty…?” Raven stammered, blinking down at Peter rolling his head around in pain as anguished moans tumbled from his mouth. Charles moved to sit behind him, shushing him quietly as he placed his fingers to the boys temples and shut his eyes, likely in an attempt to provide him some kind of comfort.

“Thirty.” Erik jumped in with confidence at the sight of his son’s face screwed up in pain. “It took about ten minutes for him to show symptoms.”

Charles flinched, a quiet gasp escaping his mouth as Peter’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his jaw clenching up with the rest of his muscles as he quaked severely on the table. “He’s seizing!”

Hank cursed, waving Raven over to take over where he was putting pressure on Peter’s leg before springing up and rushing back over to his desk. He yanked open drawer after drawer, slamming each closed before moving on to the next.

“Hank, what are you doing? Get it out!” Raven shouted and Hank growled, slamming his fists on the desk after yet again searching through another useless drawer.

“I can’t just take it out, it obviously wasn’t a normal bullet. It could have attached itself to multiple arteries and veins, he’s already lost too much blood, we can’t risk anymore he might go into shock.”

“Well, how long does he have left? If you don’t do something now, the poison will kill him before you can even worry about the bullet.” At her words, Peter’s body went limp, and Erik felt his heart stop. Charles placed his fingers on his head again, the room completely silent before a Peter gasped shakily, his heart rate monitor screaming as it raced to keep up with his pulse. The boy began to sob, his silver locks sticking wetly to his forehead as he banged it into the cold table beneath him, glassy eyes flying open to desperately search the room for help. They land on Erik, whose heart shatters when the lost look in them grabs hold of his soul, even more so when the words that follow leave Peter’s mouth in a tortured sob.

“Please, make it stop.”

It froze him for a second, their locked gaze slowing the entire world around him as Erik moved his feet, his calloused hand falling to Peter’s hair and his thumb brushing away the stray tear running down his cheek to his ear. The boy whimpered creakily at his touch, and Erik pressed his forehead to his son’s, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath before whispering so that only Peter could hear, “Everything is okay.”

He pulled away, eyes still shut as he relocated to that place Charles had helped him find so many years ago, the pull from his hand to bullet buried in Peter’s leg like that of a magnet. “Hank.” He started, tuning in on the feeling, emptying his lungs of air and stilling the shaking that had raked through his veins. “Get his bleeding under control.” Before any questions could be asked, Erik gripped onto the bullet, enveloping it in his magnetic field and ripped it out of Peter’s leg, with it a hoarse shriek straight from the boy’s core. Multiple “ERIK”s rose from his friends, Peter once again falling limp as an ocean of blood poured out onto the floor. It was all blur after that, lots of shouting and moving and the beeping of Peter’s heart rate monitor slowly growing slower until Erik found himself in a shroud of indigo smoke outside of the emergency room.

“Hey man!” A pair of golden eyes stared up at him, his head bobbling as the blue mutant jostled him about. “Wake up!” Kurt snapped in his face and Erik knocked away his wrist. He glanced around the hallway before stumbling over to the wall and leaning back onto it, sinking to the ground as his hands dug their way into his hair. He heard footsteps approach before catching a blur of blue in the corner of his eye as Kurt sat down next to him.

“...It’s my fault if he dies.” Erik whispered, and he could see Kurt turn to look at him before he pushed himself up on his knees, bowed his head, and pressed his hands together.

“Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…” He mumbled, just loud enough for Erik to hear and join in if he so wished, but not too loud as to be overbearing.

And for the first time in a long time, Erik was glad that someone had faith. Even if it wasn’t his own.

#whumptober2020 #no.6 #get it out #stop please #x men #xmen #erik lehnsherr #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #quicksilver #magneto #charles xavier #hank mccoy #raven darkholme #professor x #beast #mystique #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #dadneto #writing #whump writing #whump drabble #whump #blood #guns #bullet #shot #poison

[worldwidemochiguy]

closer

anonymous request:

Can I request Jin with either 18 or 23, best yandere writer ever?? 🥺 (if you’re still taking requests, if not it’s fine thank you still) 💝

so first of all, jfsljdskvbkhifjodabhv thank you, and second of all i didn’t see the ‘either or’ bit whoops 💀 but N E ways i know i have other requests, some of which have been there for a while, but anon called me the best yandere writer ever ok i had to do theirs first it’s the law 🥺

18 - “This’ll make us closer, I promise. Just hold still.”

23 - “I don’t like violence, angel. Please don’t make me do this.”

(list of prompts if you would like to give me one pls)

Word Count: 1.8K

Masterlist

“Angel?” You heard the voice of your boyfriend as he entered your shared apartment with his usual dramatic flair, pushing the door open so hard that it banged into the wall. You sighed. You had only just fixed the cracks in the wall from when Jin had done it the last time. Of course, that time was quite different. The cracks were in the shape of a fist, a fist that you had dodged after Jin got angry at you for not waiting up for him.

You shook your head, as if trying to dispel the negative thoughts. When you looked up again, Jin was stood in the doorway with a fond smile on his face.

“Ah, Jagiya, you’re so cute.” You blushed at his unexpected compliment, and he swiftly joined you on the couch you were splayed across.

“What are you doing today, hmm?” He hummed, rearranging you on his lap, his chest pressed to your back. You sighed and relaxed against him completely.

“Waiting for you.” You felt his full lips curve into a smirk against the side of your neck, and fought the urge to pump your fist triumphantly. You had pleased him.

“Well, now that I am here you will have to find something else to do, and I have the perfect suggestion.”

“What should I do today, Jinnie?”

“Ah,” he smiled knowingly, “it is a surprise, angel.”

You pouted, but got off his lap, understanding he wanted you to get dressed so that he could take you to whatever he was planning. You knew better than to ask what it was he wanted you to do. You knew by now never to question him.

Ten minutes later, in one of Jin’s baggy sweaters and loose jeans, you felt ready to go out. You knew Jin was only comfortable with you wearing modest, covering clothes outside, and if you were wearing one of his clothes then it would soothe his volatile protective side even more. However, when you presented yourself to Jin, he seemed to disagree.

“I’m sorry, angel, you have to get changed.”

“But-“ your brow furrowed, trying to find a way to express your confusion without questioning him. “I thought you liked it when I wore your clothes?”

“Of course I do, baby. I just think you deserve to be shown off today. Perhaps you could wear something with a lower neckline?”

You felt your mouth drop open in shock. Jin wanted you to wear something… revealing?

“Jin, are you… alright?”

“Yes, of course I am, angel. Why, what’s wrong?” His voice, previously soft, began to take on a deeper tone, “I hope you’re not disobeying what I ask for.”

“No, no,” you hurried to appease him, feeling your heart skip into overdrive, “I’m just- confused. You told me you wouldn’t let anyone else see what is yours. And, I’m yours, right?”

Insecurity started to seep into the back of your mind and you pressed your fingernails into your palm, digging for some sense of normalcy.

“Unless… I’m not yours anymore, and you’re taking me away to abandon me.” It all became clear, Jin didn’t want you anymore since you didn’t stay up and wait for him to cook you a meal to share together, he was going to leave you, abandon you, and then you would have no one left because Jin was all you had and he didn’t want you anymore because you had been bad and-

“Jagiya!” Jin’s arms surrounded you in warmth. You hadn’t realised it, but as you spiralled into insecurity, you had slid down against the wall until you were curled up on the floor, hyperventilating through your uneven sobs.

Jin was upset by your distress, obviously. But there was a part of him that couldn’t deny the satisfaction that reared its head when you had a breakdown over the thought of him leaving you. It showed that you truly had become dependant on him. You were perfect, he thought to himself as he made shushing noises and pressed kisses into your hairline.

Once you left the apartment, clad in one of Jin’s t-shirts — it was designed to fit his broad shoulders and impressive height so on you the neckline was lax and dipped down to your sternum — Jin led you into a car. He had one of his drivers take you to wherever the two of you were going so that he could snuggle with you in the backseat, pressing kisses all over your face to comfort you even though you had stopped crying already. He kept whispering silly little puns to make you laugh, and you caught yourself wondering if you’ve ever been happier.

After ten minutes of the car journey, Jin brought out a silk blindfold. You blushed deeply, thinking perhaps the reason why he had wanted you to wear something more revealing was because it was to do with a sex thing. But, that didn’t make sense. Jin was way too protective to ever allow anyone outside to see you in the way that only he should be allowed to see you. He had told you that himself, and you agreed whole-heartedly. Nevertheless, you ignored your reservations and obediently sat still while he tied the black silk around your head, obscuring your vision completely.

He led you out of the car and you were only outside for a short amount of time, judging by what you could hear, before the sound of heavy doors opening and closing behind you alerted you to the fact that you were now inside again. You exhaled in relief. Being outside after so long felt strange and unpleasant, even though Jin was there to protect you. But, Jin made no move to take off your blindfold, leading you to sit down in a chair.

The place — wherever you were — smelled peculiar, though not exactly unpleasant. It was like some kind of cleaning product, mixed with lavender, oddly enough. Faint whirring noises occasionally stirred up in the background of your hearing, far enough away that it didn’t trouble you. Jin was talking in a low voice with someone, but they were either too quiet, or too far away for you to hear the conversation properly.

The chair was uncomfortable, the surface plastic-y and cold like a hairdressers chair and you wondered for a bizarre moment if Jin had taken you to get your hair coloured. But, you realised that was not the case when he finally removed the blindfold.

In front of you was a man who made you want to run and hide behind Jin’s broad shoulders. His long, dark hair was tied up in a man-bun, exposing the littering of tattoos across his neck. They continued along his heavily-muscled arms and onto his fingers, and you were sure there was more ink hidden underneath his exclusively-black clothes. His eyes, surprisingly wide but still intimidating, locked onto yours and you restrained a whimper.

Twisting around in your seat, you desperately tried to find Jin. To your great relief, he was standing right behind you, though you probably would have been more relieved if he were standing between you and the tattooed man. He seemed to notice your fear, though in all honestly it would be difficult to miss, and stroked a soothing hand along your hair.

“Don’t worry, angel, you know I won’t let anything bad happen to you.

“Wh- what am I doing here?”

“Are you questioning me?” His voice turned sharp as his grip on your hair tightened and then you did allow yourself to whimper, trying to shake your head even as he gripped harder.

“I-I’m just confused, please…” you trailed off, unsure of what you were asking for.

“You’re in a tattoo parlour. My friend Jeongguk is going to give you a mark that will last forever.”

“A- a mark?” You didn’t want a tattoo. You had very low pain tolerance and it was never something you had wanted for yourself in the first place, but your very being was screaming out at the thought of denying Jin.

“Yes, a mark.”

“What will…” you struggled to get the words out, “What will it be?”

Jin smiled down at you suddenly, as if he was perfectly content.

“My name. Tattooed right over where your heart is.”

You tried to calm yourself down, forcing your breaths to slow as Jeongguk cleaned the thin skin of your chest with green soap, and then closing your eyes and pretending you were somewhere else as he pressed the design of the tattoo above your heart, holding it down until the ink transferred. But when he brought out the tattoo gun, all you could see was the whirring needle, painfully sharp and permanent and smothering.

You practically flew out of the chair, running for the exit as fast as your legs could carry you. Jin didn’t let you get very far, of course, gripping your wrist and yanking hard. You fell to the floor, and he stood over you with a disappointed look on his face. You wanted to cry.

“Angel, why do you do this? Why don’t you trust me?” You pushed yourself to your feet again and sprinted to the doors. You didn’t know where you were going, you just knew you had to escape. From the parlour, from Jin, from your life — you didn’t know which.

As your hand brushed the wood panelling, Jin’s body slammed into you from behind, knocking you against the door so roughly your head snapped forwards and struck the hard surface. You felt a warmth spilling from your temples.

“I don’t like violence, angel. Please don’t make me do this.”

His voice, soft and nice, broke a dam within you. You cried, stuck between Jin and the door, two immovable objects slowly crushing you into nothingness. As soon as he was satisfied you wouldn’t try and run again, Jin stepped back slightly and you moved back with him, your blood-stained head lolling to the side. Your pupils were dilated and darted about the room, confused. You might have a concussion, Jin thought hopefully, in which case this would be a lot easier.

He carried you back to the chair where Jeongguk was still waiting, his grim expression unchanged. Jin nodded at him, and Jeongguk started up the needle again.

“I- I don’t understand why- why do you-“

“Hush, angel.” He murmured to you, hoping to stop your fractured stuttering. You were still distressed, but now there was nothing you could do except lie there. But, you tried again to ask him, hoping that it would cure the pain in your head if you knew the answer.

“Why do y-you want this for muh… for me?” Your eyelids fluttered, and Jin started worrying you might lose consciousness. He tried to comfort you, stilling your half-awake shiftings.

“This’ll make us closer, I promise. Just hold still.”

send me requests pls

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #jin #bts jin #bts seokjin #yandere #yandere bts #yandere seokjin #kim seokjin #jin x reader #Seokjin x reader #bts self insert #bts imagines #bts scenario

[cherrytart-ffxiv]

all i want is you. (part 1.)

[[ Content warning for general adult themes, body horror, self harm, blood, and stalking. ]]

“She BELONGS to me!” Alfie had bellowed in the wake of his latest rage, gripping a broken bottle in his hand while the blonde Miqo’te cast his mismatched eyes down at the marble floors, covered in broken glass. 

“You mean to tell me you can’t find her?” Suddenly, the Elezen was in Zimmy’s face, and he was forced to look up at his employer. “Have you overturned every city-state and every slum in it? Looked through every nook and cranny? Have you gone across to the sea to Hingashi and Doma to see if she’s run home to her daddy?! Or maybe her Garlean boytoy smuggled her into a Garlean territory. Have you really looked everywhere?” 

“Sir, we-- we been checkin’ every airship landing and takeoff, checkin’ with everyone who knows her to see if she’s come by-- We’re doin’ our best, sir! But you know how these things fuckin’-- fuckin’ work, sometimes. The girls get tired of it and they disappear off the map, probably right into the arms of some social worker. We should be more worried that she ran off to one of those fuckin’ organizations that try to bust places like ours! We could lose everything--”

THWAP!

Zimmy howled and fell to his knees as Alfie’s cane cracked against his skull, both hands lifting to stem the sudden flow of blood. Through the current of crimson and tears of pain that had sprung into his eyes, he looked up at the Elezen. He appeared like a man possessed, lifting another vase and slinging it at the wall as he howled.

“She doesn’t get to just leave, you worthless, miserable sack of shit! Don’t you see? We have lost everything. I have lost... everything! Do not come to my doorstep until you have her with you-- or next time... Next time...” 

Alfie crouched in front of the quivering Miqo’te, icy eyes aflame and wild. 

“Next time you come here without her,” he whispered, “I’ll kill you.”

He could smell her blood. He could hear her heartbeat. He knew the way her flesh tasted and every strand of hair left behind in a comb were secret treasures that he hoarded beneath his bed, locked away with the sketches that her mother had done of her as a child. So why was it, now, that she evaded him so easily?

Alfie stood in front of where her apartment door ought to have been, breathing through his nose. All he could see was smooth wall with the same cherry red wallpaper as the rest of the hallway, the little golden flora mocking him as it glinted in the flickering overhead light. His knuckles ached, bloodied and bruised, from beating into the wall, but it didn’t even show signs of caving in response to his pummeling. 

Wards. Strong wards, hiding her away from her rightful owner. 

How dare they? 

“Audrey!” he roared, repeatedly slamming his palms and fists against the wall. “Audrey, you better fucking come out here! I swear, I’ll slit your pretty throat if you avoid me for another fucking MINUTE! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE! You dumb bitch! How dare you do this to me?! I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you myself!” 

Suddenly, the air was cold in front of the wall, much colder than it ought to have been. In the Elezen’s ears, he swore he could hear voices behind it. He wanted to decimate it. The gold handle of his cane slammed repeatedly into the drywall as he screamed his frustration, and suddenly, it felt like he was being enveloped by ice. A chill went down his spine, and he felt breath on his neck. The man whipped around and found himself face-to-face with something fresh from a nightmare, his own scent of roses overpowered by that of burning, of singed flesh and fabric and hair. 

A boy no older than Audrey herself stared back at him, but he hovered, translucent, above the carpet. There was a horrific hole in his cheek, showing his muscle, bones, teeth... Eyes burned like ceruleum behind cracked glasses, lips curling back and parting to reveal a mouth full of fangs. The world seemed to slow, and overhead, there was a scream that Alfie had a feeling was not of this world as the lights sparked and then cracked, flooding the hallway in darkness. The ghost himself was all that glowed, blue and green and red. There were shadows against the wall, tiny, dancing creatures with long teeth and long hair and claws that they clicked together. 

“Leave this place!” the figure howled, his voice layered and layered upon itself, though Alfie had a feeling it was only he that could hear it. Heart thumping so hard it threatened to punch out of his chest, Alfie lifted his cane and swept it viciously at the ghost before shoving off of the wall. His limp hindered him as he ran, and he could feel the ghost fast approaching.

Laughter echoed in the halls, eerie and unnatural, the cold grip of hands tightening around his legs to make him trip over himself. The walls trembled, swelled and deflated, as if trying to suck him in. As he scrambled to his feet in a cold sweat, the carpet beneath his feet shook, and he went toppling forward... right into the Garlean spirit’s arms. His skin felt scorched and covered in mucus all at once, and when Alfie reeled back, there was slime on his hands. 

“You know not what you have come to play with, little man,” another voice rumbled, low and deep but the source unseen. “You look innocent compared to the things we could conjure to drag you under.”

“She belongs to me,” Alfie panted as he fell backwards, the Garlean boy still bearing down on him as the flesh dripped from his cheek. “She belongs to me! Please, can’t we cut a deal--”

“She belongs to no one,” the ghost echoed angrily, through his fangs, placing his hands on either side of Alfie’s head against the floor. “Least of all to you, you rat. You pathetic excuse for a man. What deal would you make with the dead?” 

“She has lifetimes of ancestors to protect her,” the other voice snarled. “The gods smile upon Audrey, little coward, insignificant speck of dust. Can you say the same for yourself?” 

Lightning flooded the hall as it sparked outside, and thunder rumbled so roughly and so loudly that paintings fell from the wall. A painting’s frame shattered beside Alfie’s trembling frame, and perhaps by instinct, his hand jerked out for a shard of broken glass, brandishing it at the Garlean ghost, who laughed at the show the Elezen put on.

“All I want is her. The world will not miss her. She is worthless-- worthless to all but me--” 

“Liar!” the ghost spit, the chill growing so cold that Alfie swear that frost was beginning to form on the fibers of the carpet and upon the walls. “You don’t even know her at all, do you?” 

---

Audrey sat in the tepid bath and stared at the wall. The water had cooled off fifteen minutes ago, but she’d made no move to stand. An idle glance is cast to the razor at the side of the tub, and she thought back to Caius’ arms. She’d dug scissors into her thighs as a teenager when drugs weren’t option, and she remembered the high, the release of emotional pain into something physical. 

She wondered it if would work again.

She remembered Caius in the other room. 

Her voice was still hoarse from their argument over him berating Celia over linkpearl. She didn’t remember the last time she’d been so irrationally angry, been so out of control of her own words and out of her own mind. In truth, only a small portion of her anger was even directed at Caius, but it had been him to suffer the better portion of her second mental breakdown that week. 

Anger. Anger that she’d tamped down for years, anger that she’d told herself wasn’t important, anger that she told herself was good for her, anger that she used to spur herself on... With Connor’s final act upon her, it had set something off in her mind. She felt like something else had entered her body to make it scream for hours, to slam her fists into walls, only to end up collapsing, screaming, sobbing into Caius’ arms with grief, too heavy with self loathing to be able to stand up on her own. 

Connor, Alfie, her old clients... They all thought they knew her. All of them thought she belonged to them, that she owed them something because they hadn’t killed her or cast her into the streets. That she owed her body to them because they gave her gil. That she didn’t deserve anything better than what they gave, because who could love someone like her? If she was a good person, then why did bad things happen to her? No-- she wasn’t a good person. She was a filthy, disgusting, worthless person, given undeserved kindness from her brother and her boss and from the rich men who sullied her body. 

Audrey curled in on herself after shoving the razor off of the edge of the tub, pressing her face into arms. What had she ever done wrong? She had been so young. She forgot, sometimes, that she was still young. Her mind and body felt ancient. Seen too much, done too much, experienced too much, too fast. Her eyes weren’t twenty. They had lived centuries. And as she tried and tried to tell herself that this wasn’t deserved, as the scar on her hip burned, she could hear their voices in her head, cutting in to remind her that she was nothing. Nothing.

Hands clamped over ears as she rocked back and forth in the water, trying to drown them out. Tears sprung to her eyes as she heard Alfie screaming, and she could swear it was just outside the bathroom wall, that she could hear banging and threats on her life from the snake’s lips. 

“No,” she whimpered, shaking her head frantically. “No, no, no, no-- No!”

“Audrey!”

The door swung open, and Audrey still found herself screaming and crying as hands pulled her from the tub. She’d been sinking beneath the surface without realizing it in an effort to escape the sounds. Her body was wrapped up tight with a towel, and she heard her name again, spoken softer. 

“Audrey.”

Caius.

Big brown eyes turned up to look at Caius, at his worried angel face, and all at once, the voices silenced. It was just them, the sound of water dripping from the faucet and into the bathtub, her own heartbeat in her ears.

“I’m not a bad person,” she wept, but it came out as more of a question. Caius stared at her like he couldn’t quite believe his ears before shaking his head quickly, lips pressing against her forehead, her temple, one of his strong hands gripping her much smaller one tightly.

“No. No, mea columba. You’re not a bad person. You’re a good person. The best person. Breathe. It’s alright. Nothing is going to hurt you. You’re safe. You’ve got me, until the end of time. Okay? I’m here.”

Audrey pressed her face into his broad chest, clung to his clothes as he rocked her back and forth. Quietly, he hummed the lullaby his mother had played when he was a child to her, wrapped around her like a shield. 

(( mentions of the three Beanie babies: @benes-diction​ ))

#tw stalking #tw body horror #tw self harm mention #tw blood #tw death mention #writing #[king of her heart.] #ffxiv rp #ff14 rp #SPOOPY? #SPOOPY #{light of his life; fire of his loins}

[overlyobsessedgaygal]

Hollow

Song: Hollow ~ Icon for Hire

Characters: Emile Picani, Sleep | Remy Sanders, Elliot

Warnings: Mental Breakdowns

I don't wanna break down, but I'm feeling low

              Let me sink to the bottom 

 Emile had his head tucked between his legs, breathing harsh as his mind raced to catch up with his own thoughts. 

        Air in my lungs keeping me afloat

                    Inside I'm still 

               H O L L O W

   Remy sat on a chair across the room from him, studying him. Noting every shaky breath and sporadic movement. Taking in the way Emule had withdrawn so far within himself that he appeared to be a shell. Waiting for Emule to speak to spill his soul into the air 

             I know I'm not my thoughts

         But my thoughts don't know that yet

   Emile screamed loudly. Every thought and feeling meeting at the back of his throat and producing an inhuman sound that came more from the demon in his mind than Emile himself. 

           Sometimes I try to sneak up

           On the voice inside my head

   Without much thought Emile lashed out, wiping the magazines straight off the table and sending them flying across the room. Remy raised an eyebrow but his pen didn't stop moving across the page. Recording every single broken moment Emile hated to have. 

     I try to meditate, cause they told me it'll help

    But the last thing I need is more time alone           

                     Inside myself 

Remy hummed in acknowledgment as Emile had his break down. Angered screams accompanied the sounds of items being thrown.

            I know I'm not unique, 

           we all got broken brains

  Culture recently decided being crazy is okay

      And now we all can talk about it on our

                      social feeds

 In an extreme burst of anger Emile swiped his phone off the table and slammed it against the wall until the cracked screen shattered to the floor in small pieces. 

               Having a rough day?

      Hashtag Mental Health Awareness Week

  Emile clenched his fist and sobbed into the wall, banging bruised fists against it in a rough pattern. 

                I know that's progress

          We don't have to hide no more

   Remy twirled his pen and called Emile back to his seat with a soft tone, a comforting smile on his lips. "Tell me more," He coaxed. 

          But it leaves me wondering why 

        we ain't said this stuff before

  Emile began to scream his thoughts once more, flailing his limbs with pent up raging energy.

          Like were we always all crazy

            and we all just kept quiet?

   Remy nodded along, a grim set to his face and a wise look in his eye. He understood where Emile was coming from. The pen met the page again. 

            Are we on the same page 

           with what we're identifying?

   Strokes of ink spread across the white paper like thoughts scattering from the pen as if it were Emile's mind. As if it had any reason to be on it's knees crying in front of a therapist. 

       And if crazy's the new normal then it's

not that crazy, is it?

     Emile couldn't keep it in for much longer, sending his foot striking out with all the force he could create. The coffee table flipped and the mug of hot chocolate shattered, staining the white carpet. 

     Cause the word by definition means it sits 

                    outside the system

     Remy glanced at the mess and tilted his head, debating the best course of action. Emile needed to have a breakdown, in fact it was long overdue, so Remy bit his tongue as Emile stood stiff. The pen once again began it's strokes. 

         And how can we tell difference between sick and tryna' fit in?

      Emile took the silence as challenge and he yelled, throwing the closet object with all his might at the doorway. The pillow hit the door harmlessly and bounced away. Emile felt irritation at the anticlimactic end, the need to shatter and fracture and break propelling him forward. 

                If everybody's crazy, 

         then who's supposed to fix it?

      Remy took the pen away from the page to watch as Emile ripped books from the bookshelf and tore the pages from the spine. 

         No one told me it could get this bad

                        this fast

    Emile clutched his hands in his hair, pulling, desperately trying to RIP away the overwhelming thoughts. 

       Guess we only hear about the struggle

                       after its passed

   Remy calmly removed his hands from his hair, untangling his fingers. Emile dug his fingernails into Remy's palm, eyes wide and with anguish clear as day. 

            Good to know I'm not alone

            But if I'm really being honest

   He paused to take deep breaths before yanking himself away from Remy and stalking back to the seating area. He hesitated and met Remy's eyes, then without moving his gaze he placed his foot on the chair and sent it tumbling. 

   I kinda hope there's something wrong with me

   I kinda hope this isn't how it's supposed to be

 Remy closed his eyes with a sigh. Emile deserved a breakdown and so Remy scooped his pen up from the floor and proceeded to let the ink glide across the paper forming the familiar shape. 

              I pray to god it's not normal

                   Crying on the floor

  Emile screamed once more before dropping to his knees. Head buried in his hands. Breaths coming out as shaky sobs. Anger faded to exhaustion and before long the red-rimmed eyes were full of tears instead of rage. 

         I don't wanna do this anymore

"Dr. Picani? Are you listening?" Emile snapped out of his trance at the words and glanced up a smile automatically slipping into place. 

     "I'm sorry, Elliot, can you please repeat what you just said?" Emile let himself go, falling into therapist mode while his patient repeated what they had said. His finger traced the lines of his face that had been drawn onto the first page of his notepad with his own pen by Remy while Emile had broke down into tears. 

              I don't wanna break down

              So where do I go?

       My screams sink to the bottom

        Top of my lungs, just an echo

                 It's like I'm still

              H  O L   L O W

#cartoon therapy #remile #remy sanders #emile sanders #thomas sanders #mental health #songfic #icon for hire #Hollow #kaytikittyfanfics

[camp-half-mess]

Collocation

So? Ghosttube AU? Sprinkled with angst and a bittersweet ending? Did you know that we talked about Liang being actually two soulmates sharing a body... and with all the issues this may cause? So have this I guess, I got to say I’m actually really proud of it lol

-A

TW: Self-harm; abuse; implied abuse; generally dark undertone ngl

They couldn't take it. The voice, screaming in their head, arguing, fighting. It was tearing them apart. They sank to the ground, their knees giving up under their weight as they held their head in their hands, tears streaming down their face.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

They grabbed fists full of their hair, pulling on it as a pained, strangled cry escaped their lips. They felt as if they were suffocating, their body reacting violently as they were writhing on the floor. By the time they let go of their hair to scratch at their skin, they had literally pulled away with some strands. They needed to free themselves from this body, to tear this shelf apart before it destroyed both of them.

Both of them? Since when were they two? Liang didn't have time to dwell on this thought as panic and urgency soon replaced it. They needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out they needed out.

Blood started to draw as they kept digging into their skin, now screaming in a near agony. Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop

"MAKE IT STOP"

That's when Liang started hitting their head, violently banging it on the wall, again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again until the world was spinning around them. And once they reached this point? They kept banging it on the wall, again and again more until they went through the wall itself, head bleeding nearly as much as their neck and chest now were. Finally.

Finally, everything stopped.

Liang curled up on the floor, waves of indescriptible pain coursing through their body, as more tears kept spilling out of their eyes. They wanted to disappear, to cease existing, to phase through the floorboards and into nothingness, trying to make themself as small as possible. They were insane, mentally ill, broken, they should be sent to a mental ward, they knew it, deep inside if them.

Their father had always been right.

More burning tears rolled down their cheeks.

They were a mistake, a fuck up that should have never existed. They were a danger to society, to themself, nothing more than a freak, than a monster that deserved all of their pain.

They could never bring anything truly good by leaving in such a state and, as such, their existence should have been long time go-

The door creaking open snapped them out of their thoughts.

"Lenlen?"

Oh no no no no no! Not him! Not Jason! He couldn't see them like this, he would panic!

As the toddler waddled inside the darkened room and towards their form, they tried to make themself even smaller. Seemingly unbothered by it, the boy laid down beside them, wrapping his small bruised arms around them to pull them into a tight hug. Almost on instinct, they wrapped their own scratched arms around him to hug him back.

They could feel his wet cheeks pressed against their shirt and he squeezed them, shaking.

"I m-missed Lenlen..." he whispered.

Oh... right... he was home last night…

They squeezed him tighter, albeit gently to avoid pressing on his new bruises.

"It's okay, J." They croaked out, their voice hoarse from all the crying.

"I love you Lenlen."

Why... why would he love someone like them? They were so rude, so harsh, never happy, always brusquing people, always pushing them away. They regularly had breakdowns like this and had even been deemed mentally unstable by every psychiatrist they had encountered. Why would the boy love them? What was the point of loving them, what good could they-

"You protect me from Papa..."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Not expecting any answer from them, the toddler squeezed Liang again.

“I don’t like home…” he whispered.

“It’s alright J…” They ran their fingers through his hair, “I didn’t like my home either…”

Liang cringed at the memory of their dad spanking them whenever he saw fit and screaming around the house. Specialists said that people in abusive relationships then to fall back in these rather quickly; was that why Diana had fallen for Jeremy? In all honesty, Liang didn’t know, but what they did know, however, was that both their sister and her son were suffering from this and they hated it.

“But everyone else likes it…” Jason mumbled.

“You don’t have to.”

“I wanna…”

The boy’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if he feared expressing his wants to them.

No, not “as if”.

Liang bit their lip, pulling him closer.

“Then… we’ll make your home here… with everyone.”

“Promise?”

Jason looked at them with hopeful eyes and they already regretted saying this. It wasn’t as if someone as unstable as them could ever manage to do this, was it? But at the same time… he needed this. He needed somewhere to feel safe and loved. He needed… them.

All of them.

Liang nodded, pressing a kiss on his forehead.

Maybe they could stay together for a bit longer…

“Promised.”

#writing #oc writing #oc #ocs #jason chhet #liang chhet #Ghosttube AU #-a #mod a #tw: abuse #tw: implied abuse #tw: self-harm

[upinthestarsx3]

Ruined (Jimin x Suga)

Summary: Jimin is an addict willing to do anything for drugs. He has lost everything except for his boyfriend, Yoongi. 

Warning: Kind of dark, drugs, and abuse.

Genre: Angst, and smut.

*There is also a little Jimin x Jungkook.*

(I guess you’d call this a drug addict AU?)

Jimin’s POV

I lie in Yoongi's arm with my head against his chest while he carried me to our shared bedroom. He hadn't said a word since the minute he got home and caught me face down lying on the coffee table. Trails of white powder scattered and two used needles on the table. I was awake, I just couldn't move.

"Why do you keep doing this?" He whispers as he lies me down, quickly lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I ignore him, too weak and tired to talk; instead, I move closer to him and just allow him to cuddle me.

The next morning I wake up and I quickly look to the other side of the bed, it wasn't Yoongi I was looking for, it was the drugs I left there before he got home. But the bag was gone, and so was Yoongi.

"Fuck." I whisper to myself.

"Good morning to you too, sleepyhead." He says with a smile, entering the room with a tray of breakfast.

"I'm not hungry." I say bluntly. His smile falters a bit but he recovers it and places the breakfast tray on my lap anyway. I let out a deep sigh before speaking again. "Have you seen a black plastic bag that was on the night stand by where you sleep? I can't find it."

"Yeah I saw it." He says with his eyes avoiding mine.

"Well? Where the fuck is it?" I snap, not in the mood for his games; I just needed my morning fix.

"I- I threw it away. I'm sorry Jimin but I can't watch you do that to yourself anymore. You lost your job, our friends don't even want to visit anymore. It's just- you're.. you've changed." I can tell he wanted to use different words, but he was scared. Scared because I was so unpredictable. I can't blame him, I was scared of myself.

"It's okay, baby. I hate seeing you so scared of me. Come here, you look like you haven't slept all night." I whisper soothingly, placing my uneaten tray of breakfast on the dresser.

"I didn't sleep." He says with a frown, lying next to me and allowing me to wrap my arms around him.

"How about a quick nap." I say to him while rubbing his back, putting him to sleep. It doesn't take long before I hear light snores coming from him.

I planned to sleep right next to him, I really did. But first the sweating started, then the itching, and before I knew it; I was shaking. Tears came to my eyes while I forced my hand into his back pocket, grabbing the cash he usually shoved there because he hated carrying around wallets.

I hated having to do this to him, but I needed it. Just this one last time. I run out of the house and head straight to the one spot I knew I could get what I was looking for.

When I finally arrive, I'm out of breath and I knock a little harder than intended to. The door is swung open and a gun is pointed right in the center of my head.

"Fuck, Jimin! Banging on the door like you're a cop or something!" A man barks, shoving the gun back into it’s holster.

"Sorry, Jungkook. I just um- I need something." I mumble, casting my eyes towards the floor. Embarrassed. He rolls his eyes and brings me to his office.

"What do you need?" He snarls. He knew what I wanted, he just loved to make me feel inferior to him.

"I just need a little heroin, just a little to get through today." I tell him, handing him a crumpled 20 dollar bill.

"What the fuck is a 20 supposed to do for me, huh?" He chuckles loudly. "My God, you are a loser. You lose your fancy office job and can't even afford your pathetic habit."

I wish I was able to feel hurt by his comment. I wish I was able to feel anything. I was numb.

"I'll pay you back."

"No you won't! Don't fucking lie in my face." He yells, grabbing my cheeks tight with his large hand, pulling me close so that I'm on my toes and close enough to him to smell the mint on his breath. "So I'll ask again. How are you going to pay me?" He continued. Bringing his free hand around to my ass and groping it tightly.

"Oh, I'm- I'm not a prostitute." I whisper, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear.

"And I'm not a pimp, I just want a blowjob." He says with a smirk, shoving me to the ground. I hiss, squeezing my eyes shut; feeling the stinging that radiated from my lower back that took the impact of the fall.

When I open my eyes his pants are down to his ankles, his cock is at full length while he strokes it, looking down at me.

"Come here." He coos.

"I can't do this. Jungkook I'm sorry I came here. I'll find what I need from somewhere else." I whisper, my eyes blurring from the tears that began forming.

"Well, if you don't get it from me; who else is going to give it to you? Besides, we go way back. This would just be our thing right? Kind of like high school." He says with a wide smile.

"No.. I- I have a boyfriend."

"I don't give a shit about Min Yoongi." He roars but immediately calms himself down. Instead, he reaches in a drawer and places a large zip lock back on the edge of the table. Bribing me. Showing me what I could have if I just gave myself to him.

"It's yours if you want it. Cocaine, heroin, a little weed too." He says to me and begins taking my hand and placing it on his erection. "All you have to do... Is be a good boy." He grunts when I wrap my hand tight around him. "Just like that." He moans, throwing his head back.

I begin licking the head of his cock and he places a hand on the back of my head and he slowly pushes me lower. He pushes my head until my nose brushes against the bottom of his stomach.

"Fuck, Jimin." Jungkook breathlessly pants while he starts thrusting his hips into my mouth. I gag and try to push myself off of him but he only pushes me back toward his cock and fucks my face harder. I choke when he unexpectedly comes but manage to swallow all of him.

His eyes stay closed as he rests against his chair. He doesn't bother to open them when he tells me to take the drugs and get out. Luckily, I didn't plan on staying. I snatch the drugs and run out of the door. My breath hitches in my throat when I see Yoongi standing outside with his hands in his pockets and a knowing expression on his angry face.

"Tell me now what the fuck you were doing here!" He screams loudly.

"I was.. I was just saying hi. I didn't do anything Yoongi I swear." I reply with a high pitched voice. He rolls his eyes and drops his head.

"Get in the car." He sighs, his voice small and fragile. I don't bother replying, I get into the car while he drives back towards the house.

"Give me the drugs, Jimin." He speaks up without facing me; his are glued to the road ahead of him.

"I don't have-"

"GIVE IT TO ME!" He cries out. Slamming his hands on the steering wheel. "You stole from me and came straight here so I know you must have drugs on you!" He continues.

His accusations angered me; he was right but who did he think he was? Yelling at me as though I was some child?

As we approached the house I don't brother waiting for him while I run upstairs into the house ignoring his cries for me to give him the drugs that I literally sold myself for. I run into the bathroom and lock the door and about five minutes later, Yoongi is banging on it. Unfortunately for him, I had the high that I had been craving since the morning already.

"Jimin, I swear if you do it I am leaving." I can hear the panic in his voice but I don't care. I'm high.

"Too late." I sing. Unfazed by the hurt in his voice. I open the door and push past him to sit on the couch. He stares at me and I look back at him, a huge smile on my face.

"I hate you. I love you but I hate you, and I refuse to watch you kill yourself. I'm leaving." He says with the saddest eyes.

"No. You're not." I mumble, following behind him while he makes his way upstairs. I wrap my arms around his waist from behind before he can reach for a suitcase in our shared closet.

"Stop." He says, trying to free himself from my grasp.

"How can you leave someone you claim to love?" I ask him, making him breakdown and cry the hardest I've heard him cry since we've been together.

"You've given me no choice, Jimin. You will always choose drugs over me. I can't watch you like this." He whispers, voice cracking in the process.

"You can't leave me, baby. I can't live without you. I'd die."

"With the way you're living, you're already dead." He replies with little hesitation, staring me down with hard eyes, tears still falling.

His comment sets me off; and I can feel my patience disappear.

"Don't fucking speak to me like that!" I explode. My hands instantly balling into fists as I watch him furrow his eyebrows and stare at me in shock. I knew I was over exaggerating, he didn't say anything that wasn't true; I was just scared. Scared that he would leave me.

"Sorry." He replies softly, although he's not at fault. "I want to leave. I don't want anything to do with you ever anymore." He speaks between sobs. "You make my life so hard. I don't even know what kind of shit you get involved with when you're out there. You stole from me today! And I also know for sure that drugs cost more than $20 so what exactly are you doing for the drugs, huh? Are you fucking your gangster high school sweetheart for hits now?" He snarls.

He slaps his hand over his mouth and he begins to apologize but in a flash my fist connects with his face, and he falls to the floor holding his left cheek. He doesn't say another word, and for some reason this angers me more; he flinches as I grab him by the collar of his shirt and land another blow to the left side of his mouth. There's blood on my fist and Yoongi is full on crying now, hiding his face in his hands.

As my breathing begins to calm, I look at my bruised hand and it all hits me at once.

"Baby. I can't believe I- I'm so sorry!" I squeal, dropping to my knees and looking over his body, now lying on the floor with his eyes shut covering his mouth to drown out the sounds of his cries.

I lie behind him, knowing he has no intentions to move from his spot on the floor.

"I'll quit. I want to be better for you. I'll do therapy and- and we can do counseling. We can make this work." I whisper into his neck, he nods his head but doesn't say anything. "I'll prove it. I can change." I add on, but there's no confidence in my voice; this is all deja vu to the both of us now. A repetitive cycle of drugs ruining my life, and me ruining him.

A/N: Part 2 is here

#YoonMin #suga x jimin #yoongi x jimin #angst #bts #jimin x jungkook #Jimin #Jungkook #Suga #Yoongi #Smut #Dark #soft suga #soft yoongi

[curtashiism]

Free Fall- chapter 1

Summary: When Cruella inflicts a horrifying punishment on Carlos, Mal and Evie struggle to solve a mystery. Jay, meanwhile, must find the line between lashing out at the ones responsible, and being the rock Carlos needs.

A/N: Recently, through my Lefou RP blog, I've found my way into the Descendants fandom. Following my tradition of putting my favorite character(s) in any given fandom through unimaginable suffering, we have... this. Hope you enjoy it despite my clear lack of conscience, haha. Reviews are much appreciated.

The sunlight seeping in through the window wakes Jay from a deep sleep, and he groans in frustration. Pulling his pillow over his head, he grumbles, “Carlos, close the curtains, will you? ’s too early.”

“It’s noon,” Carlos retorts from their desks.

Jay is certain he’s already starting their weekend homework. On a Saturday, who the hell does that?

“Like I said. Too early,” Jay half-whines into his bed. “Come on, Carlos, it’s like the law you can’t do anything on a Saturday. Lemme sleep.”

“We have an extra practice at one, remember?” Carlos reminds him. “And you promised to come walk Dude with me before it starts. You have to get up, Jay.” Pouting, he says, “I’ve barely gotten any real time with you since midterms started!”

“I’ll get up at noon-thirty,” Jay says, whining again and rolling over. “Dude doesn’t need two of us to walk him.”

Carlos sighs in defeat, the disappointment clear in his voice. “Fine. I’ll bring Dude and then come back,” he says. Jay can practically hear his eyes rolling. “If you don’t get up then, I’m telling Coach exactly why you didn’t bother showing up for scrimmage.”

“Fine,” Jay says, far too grumpy to play along. “Just close the damn curtains!”

Carlos huffs, slamming the curtains closed- at least, as much as one can slam curtains. Jay wouldn’t be surprised if Carlos figures out the secret one day.

As the door closes, Jay yawns and stretches lazily, closing his eyes. He enjoys tourney, and is excited to practice, he truly is. He just can’t function before noon on weekends. He figures it’s a more than reasonable rule considering how hard he works the rest of the time. School is hard work, especially for people lacking Carlos’s brain.

A half hour more, and he’ll be ready to face the day, he decides, closing his eyes.

Some time later Jay wakes up to the sound of fists rapidly, frantically banging on his door. Immediately his heart starts pounding, remembering Jafar and his rude awakenings. He’s already halfway out of bed, about to apologize desperately to Jafar for not having gotten any scores yet, when he looks around and registers his surroundings.

“Come in, Carlos, I’m decent,” he calls, groaning in frustration. He’d been sleeping so well and now he’s wound up, anxious, instead of feeling peacefully rested.

The voice that replies isn’t Carlos’s, it’s Ben’s, and he sounds terrified as he demands, “Jay, you have to come with me right now!”

Jay’s heart immediately starts pounding again. “I’m coming!” He doesn’t even bother changing out of his pajamas or brushing his hair, just sliding on his shoes and throwing the door open. “What happened? Is Carlos- is he?-“

Ben is already running down the hall. “He’s not hurt, but- you need to hurry,” he calls over his shoulder.

Jay isn’t sure whether that makes him feel better, or worse. It somehow manages to be both at once. The what-ifs running through his mind make him freeze until Ben is already halfway down the hall, at which point Jay snaps back to his senses and charges after him, making up the lost ground right away.

The dread he feels makes his stomach cramp with terror. If Carlos isn’t hurt, what could be causing the pure panic in Ben’s eyes and voice? What else could possibly be this bad? His mind conjures a million scenarios that cause his body to soak itself with sweat. Could Carlos have had some kind of mental breakdown? Is he trying to return to the evil ways they’d sworn off? Is he sick? Sick, after all, isn’t the same as hurt.

Ben leads them past the tourney field, to the woods, and Jay swears his heart stops when a wail pierces his ears.

He’s not hurt, Ben had said, but what else could be causing the agony in Carlos’s voice? Jay has only hear a noise like that once in his life- when he was five, and Jafar had discovered Jay’s mother’s lifeless body in their bedroom. Oh no…

Suddenly it clicks into place, and time seems to slow even as Jay’s body speeds up. Carlos’s voice sounds miles away, and Jay feels as though he’ll never reach Carlos. The selfish part of him almost doesn’t want to, because for all he’d experienced on the Isle, he knows none of it will compare to the agony of his lover screaming with a pain that can rent apart without leaving a mark.

Already he begins pleading with whatever entity may exist. Hurt me instead, he begs, don’t make him go through this.

But there’s no undoing what’s just happened, and Jay knows it. He has no choice but to face the horrible reality.

Still in slow-motion, he hurries to Carlos’s voice, blood rushing to his ears, heart racing so fast his chest aches like a bruise.

“CARLOS!” he roars, charging into a clearing and finally finding Carlos in his line of sight. “CARLOS! I’M HERE!”

“J-Jay?” Carlos’s voice is so broken already, so hoarse and pained, like his very soul has been tortured. Like all the good has been torn out of his world.

God, how Jay wishes there were a physical wound instead. It wouldn’t hurt half as badly as looking at Carlos’s stricken expression.

“Carlos. What happened?” Finally, at last, he’s beside Carlos, and he wants to cry at the sight: Carlos’s eyes already bloodshot, tears streaming down his cheeks. Carlos is shuddering with every whimpering breath, cradling a tiny, bloody, forlorn figure to his chest.

Dude…

Jay’s heart breaks, no, shatters.

“Carlos,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “Carlos…” He can’t seem to say anything but the boy’s name.

Carlos lets out an utterly broken sob, burying his face in Jay’s chest. “H-He- h-he’s g-g-gone…“ The sobs get somehow still harder, Carlos gasping for breath and shaking violently. “H-He’s g-gone…”

“What happened?” Jay asks, trying to make his voice comforting instead of demanding; he isn’t sure if he succeeds.

“T-There was… s-something…” Carlos whimpers. “S-some kind of b-beast… it charged at us…” He lets out another gasp, and starts to gag, getting sick from the exertion of crying so violently. “D-Dude p-protected m-m-me!”

Carlos cries still harder, and clearly can’t continue, but Jay doesn’t need him to. He already has the picture in his mind, one he doesn’t want at all. But if Carlos has to have it in his head, then so should Jay. After all, his mind is already growling that it’s all his fault for not going on that walk.

“I’m so sorry…” Jay whispers, his voice softer and more full of sympathy than it’s ever been before. “Oh, Carlos, come here…” He sits on the ground, uncaring of the dirt, and pulls Carlos into his lap. Carlos gasps and bawls against Jay’s chest, fists balling up his shirt, and it’s all Jay can do to not to start crying himself. “Shh… shh…”

God, he wishes he knew what the hell he was supposed to do. He grew up on the Isle, for heaven’s sake; he knows nothing about comforting, not even his boyfriend. Surely he’s failing every which way. Why had Fairy Godmother never covered this in her stupid Remedial Goodness class?

Jay hopelessly looks to the sky, and sees that Ben is in the distance, watching them. After a moment Coach arrives behind him, face full of worry.

“Son, let’s get you back on school grounds,” Coach says softly, stepping towards them, but Carlos just whimpers and pulls closer to Jay.

“S-She d-d-did t-th-this,” Carlos manages through his tears.

Ben and Coach look at Jay in utter confusion, but Jay knows precisely what Carlos means, and immediately clarifies.

“Cruella,” Jay says, voice turning dark. “She did this to punish him for making friends with a dog and embarrassing her on family day.” He looks down at the boy in his arms. “She did something. I don’t know how, but she did.”

“You don’t know that,” Ben tries to reason, but Jay cuts him off with a glare.

“You’re telling me you just have wild animals roving around here ready to attack anyone who wanders off campus?” he spits with far more venom than he would if anyone else had been the injured party instead. He likes Ben, considers him a friend. But Carlos always comes first, and he can’t bring himself to care who else’s feelings get hurt if he’s protecting the smaller boy. All his life, Jay had been the only one Carlos could count on for protection, and Jay isn’t about to let him down for the second time in one day.

“No,” Ben says slowly, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “We haven’t had a bear or wolf sighting in at least ten years.” He looks to Coach for affirmation, and receives a silent nod.

Jay’s eyes darken dangerously. “It was her. Maleficent too, probably.” He looks down at Carlos and can’t help but whisper, too quietly for the others to hear, “why him?”

Carlos’s tears finally take their toll on him, and his slight gagging and coughing turns into vomiting. Jay winces and rubs his back through the fit, soothing words escaping him.

Carlos falls back against Jay when he’s finally done, panting weakly, and Jay steadies him with his strong arms. “Carlos,” he murmurs into his boyfriend’s ear, tenderly brushing Carlos’s hair out of his face. “We need to get back to our room so you can rest. Can I carry you?”

Shakily Carlos nods, wrapping one arm around Jay’s neck, the other still firmly clutching Dude’s body. Coach steps forward, ready to take it from Carlos’s arms, but Carlos lets out a faint cry of protest and wraps his arms tighter around his best friend’s lifeless form.

“I c-c-can’t l-l-l-eave h-h-hiiim,” the boy bawls, hiding his face. “H-He g-gave his l-l-l-l-life for meeee!…” As the last word escapes him Carlos lets out an agonized wail, once again letting his tears fall onto Jay’s shirt.

“O-Okay,” Jay says helplessly. What is he supposed to do, let Carlos carry Dude’s body around all day? “Okay. You don’t have to yet.” He looks sadly at the empty shell that had just an hour ago been so full of life and energy, that had given so much joy to Carlos. Tears finally forming in his own eyes, Jay reaches a hand out to pet Dude’s blood-soaked fur, confused when he feels that it’s still warm. Aren’t dead things supposed to be cold? That’s what he’s always heard.

Swallowing thickly, Jay forces himself to withdraw his hand, and looks down at Carlos. Again he wishes that the problem was anything else. He can fix anything else- sometimes it just takes a new gadget, or a stupid joke, or a kiss, or a plate of cookies. Other times it takes a reminder that he’ll never let Cruella near him again (which, of course, isn’t a promise he can keep anymore) or talking him through a panic attack. He can provide those things. But this… there’s nothing he can do.

He’s utterly helpless, and Jay hadn’t spent his entire life working to be the strongest so he could be helpless to protect Carlos when he needed Jay most.

Gritting his teeth, Jay decides to do the only thing he can for now. And so he stands with Carlos still in his arms, softly saying, “come on.”

“W-Where are we g-going?” Carlos asks, hiccuping as the tears finally start to slow.

Jay starts to reply with the obvious- back to campus- before realizing Carlos wants a more specific answer. “Our room. I’ll have the girls come meet us, okay?” He glances at Ben, who understands the unspoken command and races off.

“Okay,” Carlos whispers, before breaking into a fresh round of tears when he sees the puddle of blood on the ground. “I-I w-want Dude back! I-I didn’t- I- I tried to-”

“I know.” It’s all Jay can say. There are no words of comfort, no reassurances he can give.

“It was my fault! It should have been me!” Carlos wails into Jay’s shoulder, grip tightening on the broken bundle in his arms. “I was the one Cruella was mad at! Dude never did anything wrong!”

Jay bites his lip, vision starting to get blurry from his own tears of mingled sorrow and fury. They slide down his face, landing on Carlos’s hair, matching the tears Carlos has shed on his shirt.

Guilt starts to eat at Jay like an acid. It’s his fault, not Carlos’s, because Jay should have been there. Carlos could never have fought off a beast, but Jay could have. He could have ordered Carlos to carry Dude to safety while he headed the threat off.

But instead, he’d decided his sleep was more important than spending time with his boyfriend, and now Carlos and Dude have paid the price.

Because of him, Carlos’s best friend is dead. He’s caused Carlos more hurt than Cruella ever did.

No more coherent words are spoken on the trek to the dorms. Carlos is too distraught to say anything more, and Jay forces himself to be silent. He knows if he opens his mouth, he’ll spill all his guilty thoughts, and then Carlos will be more focused on assuaging Jay’s guilt than his own grief. Jay’s selfishness has already cost Carlos too damn much; the least he can do is not add to Carlos’s troubles.

The only small blessing is that Carlos stops protesting when Coach tries to take Dude from him. He lets Coach take the pathetic ball from his arms, and then tightens his grip on Jay, the tears coming as hard and fast as ever.

Mal and Evie are waiting in their room when Jay swings the door open. He meets the girls’ horrified eyes, his own expression dull and blank, while Carlos doesn’t seem to register them at all.

“Carlos,” Evie whispers, rushing over to them and cupping his face, looking into his eyes. “Oh my god Carlos, I’m so so sorry!”

Carlos lets out a tiny half-sob and presses still closer to Jay, and Jay looks between the girls and Carlos before making his way to Carlos’s bed and lying them both down, covering his boyfriend with the blanket.

He knows when he feels ill, nothing feels better than the soft warmth of a blanket- a warmth he only knows in the first place because Carlos had stolen one from Cruella long ago and given it to him- and though Carlos isn’t sick exactly, grief and shock may as well be the same thing. They’re both exhausting and fill a person up with emptiness and cold and misery.

A warm blanket is the best cure for both, in Jay’s opinion. So he spoons up behind Carlos, arms wrapped warmly and securely around him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises as the girls settle in front of Carlos, Evie openly weeping and Mal pretending not to care, but with clear cracks in her facade. The girls rub their friend’s shoulders, Evie whispering soft words of comfort that Jay knows Carlos won’t listen to.

Mal makes her way to Jay’s side of the bed, leaning forward to whisper in his ear urgently. “What happened?”

“Later,” Jay whispers. “I wanna get him calm.”

Mal nods her acceptance and goes back to Evie, and Jay returns to the task of calming Carlos down. Jay secretly tries to lull him to sleep, stroking his forehead the way he knows Carlos can barely resist, whispering soft nothings, and letting Carlos exhaust himself with tears. Even as Carlos fights it, Jay can see him sinking deeper, and he redoubles his efforts. He settles Carlos to lie half on top of him, head on Jay’s chest so Carlos can hear his fast but strong and steady heartbeat.

Carlos half-laughs as he says, “Oh, now you’re playing dirty…”

Jay too lets out a mirthless laugh, smiling without it reaching his eyes. “Do I play any other way? Now get some rest before I have Mal spray her sleeping potion on you.”

Carlos lets out a sound that’s more a sob than a chuckle, and falls asleep in Jay’s arms.

Then Jay looks up at the girls, and says lowly, “we have a problem. I don’t know how, but… Maleficent and Cruella are behind this. There hadn’t been a creature to attack anyone for ten years before this… and then it just happens to attack Carlos and Dude. It’s not a coincidence.”

Evie’s eyes widen, while Mal’s glow green, and Jay feels his stomach drop as he realizes this will only be the beginning for Carlos. His poor boyfriend will hardly be allowed a chance to grieve his friend, as instead they will have to find and fight this returning threat.

The very thought makes Jay’s arms tighten protectively around Carlos, and he gives a silent vow, on everything he holds important, that this time he will be there. It may be too late to save Dude, but he can help Carlos.

Jay watches Evie pull out her magic mirror and Mal pull out her spellbook. Mal’s jaw is set as she starts planning aloud, thinking of ways to find and chase leads.

He’ll make Cruella pay for hurting Carlos. For hurting him before they arrived in Auradon, and for coming back just when Carlos has finally started to recover from her abuse. She’ll regret all of it by the time Jay is done.

He’ll avenge both Carlos and Dude.

#carlos de vil #descendants #jay jafar #disney descendants #jaylos

[faerietrolls]

So I wrote a somewhat short thing for Domovi and Sikori’s relationship and Sikori’s death that lead to her being a Rainbowdrinker. I’ll put it under the cut, sorry to mobile users.

Content warnings: breakups, blood, murder

Their relationship had always been confusing for them. They both knew that they loved each other, but in what capacity was debateable to say the least.

They were friends from a young age, she was there when he discovered his psionics, he encouraged her when she decided that she wanted to be a model. While they were good friends, Domovi had developed a crush on Sikori, he didn’t want to make things weird for her though. However, the night she realized she felt the same she asked him as soon as she saw him. He said yes.

As they got older Domovi started a business, he was a fixer. His clientele was mainly highbloods in the public eye, he would make sure whatever reputation you wanted out there would stay that way. Sikori became a model, a popular one with a big online presence. She developed bad habits, drinking, staying out well past sunrise, pitch flirting with trolls she barely met, and others that one might develop for unhealthy coping mechanisms for stress.

At first Domovi would quietly take care of her image. Delete a photo here, bribe the press there, but it was starting to interfere with his performance at work. He was ignoring clients to help her. He became more vocal about it, expressed some concern, she would listen for about a week or two before falling back on old habits.

He started to lecture her more, she would brush it off. After all he wasn’t her moirail and she felt fine, “You worry too much Domovi.” she would say giving him a kiss before leaving the office.

She’s right… I do worry more than I should.

But then why doesn’t that make me feel better about this?

He kept his concerns to himself for a while, but her escapades didn’t stop. Was she getting more reckless? Or was he just noticing it more? The more he tried to keep his concerns to himself the more he flipped pale on her. They started arguing about it, but the more they argued the more they started sounding like they were reading from a script.

“You’re my matesprit not my moirail, I don’t need you to fix me!” She said in frustration

“Sikori you don’t know how much I clean up after you.” He sounded calm but she could hear the bite in his voice.

“Oh I’m well aware…” She crossed her arms.

“What do you want from me Sikori?” He sighed.

“Not this! I want you to trust me to make my own decisions, cleaning up my mess isn’t helping me, and it’s not your job.” She said, a bit hasher than she intended. But that’s how this conversation always ends.

“You make it really hard to ignore your self destruction.” Wait what am I saying?

“That’s… That’s not my problem.” Sikori says taken off guard.

“Actually I think it is. You say you don’t want me fixing things, yet you make no attempt to change.” He pauses. “I can’t just sit back and watch you destroy yourself.”

Sikori didn’t say anything, she was too shocked. They sat in uncomfortable silence, staring each other down. Both unwilling to relent, to say something that could change everything.

“Maybe…” Domovi broke the silence, “Maybe we’re just too different from we were before.”

She could hear something in his voice, sadness? No. Defeat.

“Domovi…” she didn’t know how to respond.

“I love you…” He said

“I love you t-” He cut her off.

“But. I can’t do this anymore.” He looked away.

“What… What are you saying Domovi?” She didn’t want to hear the answer.

He ran a hand through his hair, not wanting to give the answer.

“I can’t keep fixing things for you, you’ve made it clear that you don’t want that from me. But I can’t sit by and watch you ruin all you have made for yourself.” He walked to the window and looked at the city below. He couldn’t look at her. Not now.

Tears ran down her face silently as she grabbed her coat. She headed to the door and opened it, turning to look at him. He was still not looking at her, his face reflected in the window, stoic. She leaves, closing the door quietly behind her. He sat down at his desk and stared down at it for a few minutes before putting his face in his hands and he cried.

---

After work he headed home, it felt like an eternity getting there. He kept playing over the conversation in his head. Then he was trying to pinpoint the exact moment that lead to all of this. He couldn’t figure it out if he was being honest.

Eventually he made it back to his hive. He walked into his study, something was not right. The window was open, curtains billowing in the light breeze. Before he can process a light in the corner gets turned on.

“Domovi Oorisk. I’m glad you can join us.” A sleazy looking tealblood was sitting in his chair, Domovi recognized him, he was a lackey for an ex client. But he wasn’t alone, at his feet he had a bound and gagged Sikori.

Domovi’s face hardened, his psionics kicked in instinctually, making him more intimidating. Or at least that’s what was supposed to happen.

The tealblood started laughing.

“Hmm seems like we were right about your abilities.” He taped something metal on the side of his face. Whatever it was it interfered with Domovi’s power.

“What do you want?” Domovi said clenching his fists.

“Me? Oh I don’t want anything. My boss however, she’s very upset with you. She doesn’t understand why you would drop her.” He looked at domovi with the smuggest look.

“It was just a business decision. She was eating up to many resources, and was trying to talk down the price of her contract.”

“See that’s not how she sees it. She took it very personally.” His expression went cold. “I’m here to send you a message about how personally.”

Before Domovi could react he grabbed Sikori by the hair pulling her up to look at him and dragged a concealed knife across her throat. He tossed her to the side and wiped the jade from his knife on the arm of the chair. Shock settled on Domovi’s face, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be actually happening. It couldn’t be real.

But it was.

And it did.

Emotions flooded Domovi, he barely heard the teal laughing, he barely registered anything. He dropped to his knees holding his head in his hands he screamed. His emotions feeding into his psionics and they flared up. He couldn’t control it, all he could do was scream, in rage, in pain, it was too much but they kept growing in intensity.  

The tealblood stopped laughing, he started choking, the air was getting too thick to breath. He was told Domovi’s psionics were all telepathic, they weren’t supposed to manifest physically. He was not prepared for this! Suddenly he clutched the side of his head in pain, the interference device had been overloaded.He looked at Domovi in fear, his fear was being amplified. He felt like his head was going to explode. He knew, he was going to die.

Domovi stood up. He walked over to the now paralyzed tealblood. He leaned in taking the knife from him. He drove the knife into his chest, over and, over and, over. He screamed with each plunge of the knife. He kept stabbing and stabbing, tears running down his face, until he dissolved into sobs. He crumpled to the ground losing grip on the knife still in the teal’s chest.

Domovi looked over to Sikori’s lifeless body. He crawls over to her and pulls her into his lap holding her. He was breathing raggedly as he looked down at her. His hand went to her throat to futilely stop the bleeding. She was dead.

This is really how it ends…

But then he realized, Sikori is a jadeblood, maybe…

“Come on Sikori!” he begged “Come back to me… please.”

He shook her a little and patted her face. He started crying and rocking her, repeatedly saying “Please.” But she didn’t move, it seemed like she wasn’t coming back.

No.

He couldn’t let this happen.

He stood and picked her up as gently as he could. He brought her to his car and laid her down in the back seat. He heard rumor of a few necromancers in town. One of which was nearby.

He was going to fix this.

---

He drove like a mad man, barely paying attention to traffic lights, the sun was coming up so no one was on the road to get in his way. He parked haphazardly in the front yard and took Sikori and hurried to the front door. He banged on the door while trying not to drop Sikori.

Eventually the oliveblood answered the door in a huff.

“What the hell d-” they cut themselves off as they took in the scene. “Wha-”

“Save her!” Domovi commanded, his psionics kicking in again in his desperation, if they wouldn’t help he would make them.

“I…” they look from Domovi to Sikori, fear in their eyes, “I can’t…”

“What do you mean you can’t? You’re a necromancer aren’t you? Save her!” Domovi pushed into the olive’s hive.

They backed up as they raised their hands in defense. Their voice trembled as they spoke.

“I am… I don’t have much success with full resurrections. I won’t be able to save her, her body will still rot.” they backed up against the wall, too fearful to flee.

“You have to… I can’t lose her… not like this.” He sinks to the ground cradling her.

The scene is frozen like that for what seemed like forever. Domovi was holding back more tears, unwilling to breakdown more in front of this stranger. He brushes a hair out of her face, tears starting to roll down his face despite himself.

“I’m so sorry Sikori.” he kissed her forehead and buried his face into her.

“What the hell?”

Domovi looked up at the oliveblood then looked at Sikori. Her hand was twitching.

“Sikori?”

She took in a deep ragged breath.

“Domovi?” Her skin was going pale.

“Shh it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” He smoothed out her hair and held her head. “Let’s get you fixed up. Okay?”

She nodded weakly as she closed her eyes.

He snapped back to the olive. “Bandages. Now.”

The oliveblood quickly scrambled up the stairs to get them. As they did he turned back to Sikori. She was breathing, she survived. She came back. All Domovi could think in that moment was this would never happen again.

He would make sure of it.

#writing #sikori chulan #domovi oorisk #kellis elidae #fantroll