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sapphicccici · 1 month ago

Note

🥱 - Sleep deprivation (I lied, I'm sending 3 instead of twoXD♥️) Thanks again!

Thanks again for your asks! This was fun!

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Ventis, Onthyes, and Shayah have been holed up in this partially collapsed watchtower for three days now.

Wind howls through cracks in the stone, fluttering the torn edges of old banners. It's freezing, dark, and nowhere close to safe, but it's the only barrier between them and whatever the thing was that tore through their last camp like paper.

Shayah sleeps light, still in her armor, her axe within arm's reach. Onthyes squats in front of the fire, warming his hands. Onthyes glances over at Ventis-

"I'm fine," Ventis says before Onthyes can voice his question. "I've got it."

He's sitting against a wall, one leg outstretched and the other bent. His palms are cupped around a little ball of glowing blue magic. It flickers like a candle flame, casting an eerie light up onto his face. Right now, this ball of magic is the one thing keeping their enemy from sensing their location and coming for them again.

"You haven't slept in days."

"Well, I've still got it."

Ventis isn't sure that that's even true. He's still awake, sure. He's still fueling the wards around their hiding place. But Onthyes is right. It's been days. It's been days and he hasn't slept at all.

"Ventis..." Onthyes stands and goes over to him, lowering himself to lean against the wall just next to him.

Ventis leans into Onthyes's shoulder. He's toasty warm from being by the fire, and immediately Ventis feels his eyes closing, the urge to doze off here overwhelming.

He jolts upright, his head spinning from the motion. The sphere of light flickers dangerously, and he steadies it by sheer will alone. He can't afford to sleep now. His friends need him to keep this ward alive.

Ventis grits his teeth. "I'm fine," he says again, but his words come out slurred.

Onthyes doesn't say anything for a moment, doesn't move away either. He watches Ventis, scanning him with worry pinching his brow.

"You're not," Onthyes says gently. "You're shaking."

Ventis lets out a stuttering exhale through his nose. "Just... tired."

"Then sleep."

"I can't." Tears of frustration sting at Ventis's eyes against his will. "The ward-"

"I'll wake up Shayah. The two of us can keep watch the old fashioned way while you rest up."

Ventis shakes his head. Onthyes doesn't understand. He can't just sleep, knowing that his friends are waiting for some unknown force to tear them apart. He pulls the ball of magic closer to his chest, drawing both knees up.

"They'll find us."

"Ventis-"

"No. I can feel it, Onthyes. Something's looking for us. It's after us. If I let go, even for a second-"

His voice is trembling now, frayed at the edges. Onthyes reaches for his shoulder and Ventis flinches hard. The magic flares, then gutters like a lamp in the wind. His breath catches. His vision goes dark for less than a second and when it returns, he can't feel his hands.

No.

No, not now, damn it.

The magic flickers again. Ventis's limbs buzz.

"I can't," Ventis gasps, panic rising in his chest. "I can't feel my hands."

"Ventis," Onthyes's voice is suddenly stern as he grabs his wrist. "You're done."

"No no no-"

The magic flickers out.

"No!"

"Shayah, wake up," Onthyes barks.

Shayah is up instantly, axe in hand.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay, Ventis. We can handle it."

Ventis lets his head thump back on the wall, unable to hold it up anymore. Onthyes and Shayah stand back to back, weapons drawn.

And nothing comes. No sudden attack, nothing but a distant chirping of frogs and the crackle of the fire.

Ventis sags forward. Onthyes rushes to catch him before he can hit the ground. His skin is cold and clammy, his breathing quick and shallow.

"See?" Onthyes is panting, forced sunniness barely covering his unease. "Whatever it is, it lost interest. You did great, Ventis."

Ventis swallows back a sob. Now that he's not focusing on the spell, he can really feel just how tired he is. His vision fades in and out, a strange buzzing taking over his hearing.

"Can... Can I-"

"Yeah. You can sleep now."

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Ventisposting list

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @purity-weeps

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@saffitaffi @ravenqueen21 @tomato-whump @whumped4whumplover @melpomenelamusa

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sapphicccici · 2 months ago

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✧･ﾟ Ripe, About to Fall - Part 18 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

Series

First | Previous

Chapter Summary: Things get worse, and Onthyes learns a hard truth.

Chapter Content: drug addiction/withdrawal, some magic whump/loss of control, doomed to die, curses, mentions of pregnancy and death of a pregnant person, mentions of childhood drug use, victim blaming, Ventis is extremely depressed sorry, suicidal ideation

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Shayah's POV

Rain pattered against the windows, a soft, steady sound that filled the otherwise silent kitchen where Onthyes sat. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. The air smelled faintly of damp earth and herbs.

Shayah found Onthyes at the table, sitting motionless with his face buried in his hands. The mug of tea in front of him was untouched, no longer steaming. Onthyes stirred at her presence, lifting his head. His eyes were ringed with deep purples and reds, making the green of his irises seem to glow in the dim light.

“How’s he doing?” Shayah asked, lowering herself into the chair across from him.

He drew a slow, unsteady breath. “Worse,” he murmured. “It’s… it’s really bad.”

Shayah hummed softly. She’d expected as much.

Her own mother had used nightspill years ago, before she took too much and it snatched her away in the night. But before that, she’d tried to quit a handful of times, spurred by moments of clarity in which she realized that she had young sons to raise and a teenage daughter who was doing her damned best but crumbling under the pressure.

So Shayah knew better than most how brutal nightspill withdrawals could be.

“Onthyes…” She slid a little closer to the man, leaning over the table to place a hand on his arm. “Are you prepared for the possibility that he might not make it?”

His gaze snapped to meet hers. “What? No. He’ll be okay, Shy. He has to. He’s come too far-”

“I know. It’s not fair. But the gods don’t give a fuck about fairness, and nightspill withdrawal is nothing to be taken lightly.”

“He isn’t going to die. I won’t let him. We can’t just give up.” Onthyes’s voice was so firm.

Shayah wished she could share his certainty.

She’d come to like Ventis in the time since he’d arrived at her house, a too-thin bundle burned and bleeding and wrapped up in more diamonds than she’d seen in her entire life. He was odd, yes, and his bone-deep submissiveness was unsettling, but there was a quiet charm to him that she couldn’t ignore. Besides, he clearly mattered to Onthyes. To Theodore too, although he might never admit it out loud.

“I never said anything about giving up on him,” she said softly. “I just… I don’t want to see you hurt again, Onthyes. After Samantha-”

She stopped herself as soon as the name left her mouth.

Samantha was a subject that everyone in Onthyes’s life - including the man himself - avoided at all costs.

Shayah had been there in the guard barracks when Onthyes got the news of Samantha’s passing. Some complication with her pregnancy, apparently. Shayah and Onthyes hadn’t been very close yet, so she didn’t know the details. She just knew that he had lost both his betrothed and his future child that day, and he hadn’t been the same since.

“He’s going to live.” Onthyes stood abruptly, eyes hard. “I’m not losing another love. I can’t.”

Shayah just swallowed, unsure of what to say. She’d just wanted to prepare Onthyes for what could very well be inevitable, but he clearly couldn’t bear the thought. At least he still had hope. Shayah wasn’t sure if she could say the same for herself.

She followed him into Ventis’s bedroom.

With the curtains drawn, the room was lit only by a flickering lantern and a few candles. The air reeked of sickness, thinly masked by a warm coat of lavender. Even in the low light, Shayah could tell that the place had been destroyed - books and decorations flung across the floor, glass shattered and pages torn. A draft chilled her skin, although it had no discernable source. Shayah fetched the broom leaning against the wall and busied herself with sweeping glass shards into a pile.

Theodore stood near the foot of the bed, arms crossed. He’d insisted on watching Ventis for a few hours, just long enough for Onthyes to get some rest, although the man hadn’t taken proper advantage of the opportunity.

Ventis lay on the bed, no more than a shivering heap of blankets.

“This is the longest I’ve seen him sleep yet,” Onthyes muttered, carefully sitting down at the edge of the bed. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“Right,” Shayah whispered, but a louder part of herself feared that it was only a sign that he’d become too exhausted to fight anymore.

“He woke once,” Theodore said, his voice low and flat. “He didn’t know where he was. Who I was. Passed out again soon after.”

Onthyes carefully pulled down the blankets, washing the room in a purple light that shifted and pulsed like little veins of lightning under Ventis’s skin. Sparks jumped at the points where Onthyes touched him, and his body jerked.

“His magic is calmer when he’s asleep.” Onthyes glanced up at Shayah, watching her scoop the glass shards into a tray to dispose of. “Sorry about the mess. I’d stopped trying to keep up with it. When he wakes up his magic just…” Onthyes made an explosion gesture with his hands.

“Trust me, I’ve heard it,” Shayah said with a chuckle. She’d lost count of how many times she’d been woken by magical winds battering her spare bedroom to pieces.

The room fell quiet again, save for the occasional crackle of candle flame and the quick, strained breaths from the bed. Shayah dumped the last of the glass into a bin and straightened, wiping her palms on her tunic.

“He can’t go on like this,” she said.

Onthyes didn’t respond right away. He was watching Ventis with quiet desperation, his hand hovering over the boy’s arm, hesitant to touch as if even that small contact might be the final blow that makes him crumble.

“We’re doing what we can,” Theodore said, settling at the end of the bed. “We’ve kept him alive this long.”

“Barely,” Shayah muttered. She didn’t mean to be cruel, but it was the truth. Every inhale from Ventis felt as though it could be his last, and every silence between each breath felt final.

Onthyes finally spoke. “He needs help. Real help.”

“From who?” Theodore’s voice was brittle. “A doctor? We’re wanted criminals, Onthyes.”

“A healer. He needs magic. Medicine alone won’t fix this. I know someone.”

It finally dawned on Shayah. “You’d risk going to your mother with this?”

“She’ll help us.”

Theodore scoffed. “But your mother lives with your father. Who is, if you’ve forgotten, the captain of the guard.”

“I know. But she won’t betray us.”

Shayah believed him, despite the risk. She’d never met Onthyes’s mother personally, but if she could raise someone as stubbornly heroic as him she must be trustworthy.

“Alright. I’ll go first thing in the morning,” Shayah volunteered.

“She’s an elf. You won’t be waking her. Besides, at this point Ventis might not have until morning.”

“I’ll go now, then.”

Ventis’s POV

Ventis just wanted it all to stop. The fire. The itching under his skin. The voices.

He was floating, falling, his limbs weightless and head clouded by vertigo. He missed feeling heavy, feeling grounded. The nightspill had been a weight on him, sinking him to the earth, keeping his treacherous body from drifting into the sky, and now he missed it more than anything because he couldn’t stand to fall for another minute.

But it wouldn’t stop.

Before - hours or days ago, he couldn’t be sure - he’d been holding onto something. Something to make all this pain and confusion worth it. But now he couldn’t quite remember. Why was he even doing this if all it did was make him hurt?

A gentle touch pressed down on Ventis’s shoulder, too much and not enough at the same time. He longed to be held down again. To be under someone again. At least then he wouldn’t float away anymore. But the hands were too much. Always pushing too far, too hard. All of them but this one.

Swordsman’s calluses on the fingertips, brushing carefully along Ventis’s aching skin. Onthyes, right. He’d almost forgotten. He was doing this for Onthyes.

Ventis tried to lean into the touch, tried to say something, but all he could do was let out a pained whine.

“It’s okay,” Onthyes’s voice came from deep underwater, nearly incomprehensible. “Shayah’s getting help. Just hold on a little longer.”

“I can’t,” Ventis wanted to say, but his lips wouldn’t move.

“You’re so cute when you’re helpless, treasure.”

Gods, not again.

Even here, hiding away in Shayah’s home, Athos had yet to leave Ventis for a moment of rest. The man’s voice was always present, his shadow always slinking in dark corners.

“You really think you can escape me?” his voice mused, echoing from every direction, pressing in on Ventis.

Ventis whimpered, tried to curl into himself, but he just didnt have the energy and he knew the motion would be torture even if he did. “Stop,” he managed to gasp out, and Onthyes’s hand tightened slightly on his shoulder before disappearing.

“You can run away as far as you’d like. You can hide yourself away for the rest of your pathetic little life. But you’ll always be mine. You know that, don’t you?”

The voice slithered through him, curling behind his ribs. He could feel it, a thread wrapped like a collar around his throat, pulling too tight and dragging him backwards, back to cold marble floors and perfumes that made his head pound. The touch of silk gloves, brushing along his jaw, sliding down his hip.

Ventis wanted to scream. What came out instead was a rattling breath that scraped its way uselessly out of his throat. His skin prickled with cold sweat. When he tried to open his eyes the room swam sickeningly.

Then the fire in his blood flared to life again, burning poison in his veins, flooding his body. He didn’t want to be in it anymore. His body was a cage, a torture chamber more than anything else. He had forgotten what it felt like to be so present and to hurt so badly, and he didn’t want to live like this for any longer.

“He’s shaking.”

“Ventis? Come on, hold on a little longer. Please.”

“Onthyes, I don’t think-”

��You remember the price of disobedience, don’t you darling?”

Yes, of course he remembered. He remembered the whip, the branding iron, the times he’d been denied nightspill for just a few hours and it had felt like it would end him. Now he would give anything to feel like he had then. Anything would be better than this.

“You chose this. You chose to run away from me, knowing perfectly well that your knight won’t take care of you like I do. And now you’re paying for it, aren’t you?”

Ventis let out a choked sob. That was the worst part, wasn’t it? Knowing that all of these years of suffering were his own fault. His own choice.

The nightspill had just been for pain at first. He was called Jasper back then, sixteen and suffering from chronic pain due to a spine injury after taking a tumble off the palace roof. The royal physician had told him that the pain would never really go away, and she’d given him some pills to combat it. “Only take these when it’s unbearable,” she’d warned him.

Jasper hadn’t listened.

It just felt too good to be unburdened by pain, and he realized quickly that even the sting of his father’s and brother’s words was dulled by the drug. He became dependent quickly, and his physician seemed to have no problem getting him more when he ran out. Things were so much more peaceful around the palace without constant squabbling between brothers, after all.

It hadn’t taken long for him to want more. The nightspill took the pain away but it brought mind numbing apathy with it, and it drove Jasper to the docks, to the taverns, to that little shack on the beach where he’d drink until Peer dragged him home on wobbly legs. It went too far at one point. He couldn’t even remember what happened, just that he’d woken up in a cell with a black eye and his father standing on the other side of the bars, looking directly at him for the first time in a year with nothing but disdain.

“You are no longer part of this family,” he’d said. “Never come back.”

He wasn’t given time to pack. Just grabbed his jar of nightspill and a few loose coins and talked his way onto a merchant ship headed south to Nimbria.

He changed his name from Jasper to Ventis, telling himself it was just because ‘Ventis’ sounded more standard for an air genasi - if he ever ran into another of his kind, he didn’t want to stand out. But that wasn’t the truth, not really.

He just… wasn’t Jasper anymore. Hadn’t been in a long time.

Because Jasper would have turned and run the moment he saw the way Athos looked at him. Because he wasn’t as stupid and naive as some made him out to be and Athos had made his intentions clear from the moment they met. Jasper would have saved himself in an instant.

But Ventis wasn’t worth saving.

He let Athos take him. He signed the contract of his own free will. He craved punishment, desperate for someone to steal him away and make everything just stop, and Athos had been right there ready to do just that. Ventis had brought this on himself.

The next thing he knew, he was sobbing openly. Crying with what little energy he had left because he had never allowed it to surface - how deeply he hated himself. He’s always been the problem, even now, because he was forcing Onthyes and Theodore to stand there, helpless, while he selfishly succumbed to the consequences of his own actions after they gave everything to save him.

“Look at you,” Athos cooed. “I don’t think I’ve ever managed to get you this broken.”

Shut up shut up shut up shut up.

Ventis’s thoughts couldn’t find purchase in his own head. There was nothing left but agony. His muscles convulsed weakly, his jaw clenching so hard he was afraid something would snap. But the pain wasn't even the worst part anymore. It was how familiar the pain was, like some twisted part of him had always known this was how he would end: sick and hallucinating while the people who tried to love him stood helpless at his side.

He was so tired of hurting people just by existing.

But surely it would hurt someone if he died, too. Onthyes had tried so hard to save him.

But he just wasn’t worth it.

“I’m sorry,” Ventis managed to whimper. “Onthyes… I’m so sorry.”

A hand gripped his, shaking. “No no no no, you’re okay, Ventis. Just hold on. Help’s coming, I promise. Just stay with me.”

Ventis tried to squeeze the hand back. He couldn’t tell if he succeeded. He just knew that darkness was rushing in, and his limbs were freezing cold, and every breath was a monumental struggle.

He wasn’t afraid of dying.

He was afraid that if he didnt die, this would go on forever.

He was afraid that surviving this would mean facing the world all over again - the shame, the conditioning, the look on Onthyes’s face every time he wasn’t strong enough to overcome it all.

He couldn’t fight any longer.

Then a voice cut through Ventis’s haze, soft and unfamiliar.

“Faenya. Stay.”

The words hit him like a splash of cold water. Elvish.

He didn’t know that voice, and yet something ancient stirred in it. A hand touched his chest, over his heart. His magic flared to life, angry and scared, but the hand didn’t pull away. It held strong, pushing down just enough to steady him. And just like that, for just a moment, Ventis felt heavy again. Present.

“Revar.”

And everything slipped away.

Onthyes’s POV

“He’s asleep now.” Onthyes’s mother, Sylviavaris, lifted her hand from Ventis’s chest, the golden glow fading from her palm. “It’s a good thing that you sent for me when you did. He was fading.”

“Will he be okay now?” Onthyes asked, anxious for any good news at all.

She turned to him, a slight smile touching her lips, and reached out to cup her palm against Onthyes’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re alright, my son. Although, I’d hoped you had the sense to leave this place for good. It’s not safe here for you. Any of you.” She glanced over at Shayah and Theodore, who were lingering on the edges of the bedroom, wanting to give her space to work but also ready to help if need be.

“Trust me, as soon as Ventis can stand on his own we’re crossing the sea,” Onthyes assured her. “But right now I just need to know he can survive this.”

Sylviavaris glanced down at Ventis’s sleeping form. He was quiet now, his face wet with leftover tears, and relentless shaking had stopped. He still couldn’t quite be called peaceful, but he was something close to that.

“I gave him more time,” she said. “But I’m afraid I may have just delayed the inevitable.”

“What are you saying?” Theodore crossed his arms, tilting his chin up in a way that may have seemed tough to anyone else, but Onthyes could see the glint of fear in his eyes. “He’s just going to die no matter what? What good is healing magic if it won’t heal him?”

“Theo.” Shayah bumped him with her elbow. “Lay off.”

“No, it’s okay. He’s right to be concerned. If this were just any sickness I should be able to heal it easily. Withdrawal is tricky, but… Well, I don’t mean to be vain but I am quite powerful. I still should have at least eased his symptoms long enough for him to ride it out on his own. But I could feel a resistance. Something is keeping my light from reaching him.”

“Why?” Onthyes asked. He was painfully reminded of the time Ventis was poisoned, and just like now every doctor and healer said the same thing: that he was beyond help. He felt that same helplessness all over again. “There must be something, mom.” Tears stung at his eyes and he quickly scrubbed them away with his sleeve. “I’m not… I won’t lose him. I can’t.”

Sylviavaris considered him for a long moment, her green eyes widening slightly with realization.

“You love him.”

Onthyes nodded miserably.

A flash of grief crossed her face and she rushed forward, pulling her son into her arms. Onthyes has been taller than her since he was a teenager but her hugs made him feel small again, and he bent down to tuck his face into her shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered into his hair. “My son, I’m so sorry. I’m afraid… I can’t save him. If you truly love him, then there’s nothing I can do.”

Onthyes pulled away, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She glanced at the others. “Maybe we should speak about this privately.”

“Tell me.”

Letting out a deep sign, Sylviavaris sat at the foot of the bed. “It was your father’s doing.”

As always.

“I was pregnant with you. And he… he’s always had high expectations for you. Even before you were born. He was willing to do anything to guarantee that you would live up to his standards. So he went to a hag.”

Theodore and Shayah both cursed at the same time. Onthyes was too stunned to do anything but stand there and listen as his mother pressed on.

“I told him it was a bad idea. I warned him that hags are not to be played around with. But to him, no price was too great. He bartered with the hag. She rewrote fate so that you would be destined to become the greatest swordsman in the realms. In return, she claimed the souls of everyone you fall in love with. If you love someone, they are fated to die a painful, premature death.”

She reached out, taking Onthyes’s hand. “I’m sorry, Onthyes, but he’s doomed.”

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sorry for the wait on this one yall i have no excuse other than i had a minecraft phase <3

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @purity-weeps

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@saffitaffi @ravenqueen21 @tomato-whump @whumped4whumplover

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sapphicccici · 2 months ago

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if it's good enough for you, then it deserves to be made. don't let anyone else decide if your story is worth it or not.

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sapphicccici · 2 months ago

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A superpowered character losing control of their powers and having to be restrained or sedated for their own safety. Is this anything

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sapphicccici · 2 months ago

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Royal Whumpee being held hostage in their own palace but forced to act like everything's fine to the public send post

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sapphicccici · 3 months ago

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sapphicccici · 3 months ago

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Defeated—

Danny is the victim again, because they think he’s the villain.

“I’ll never give up on you.”

⟢ Sketch of Danny being pinned down by the hand of a GiW agent. Pinterest inspiration doesn’t do me any good. This sat in my head for a while now and it needed to get out.

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sapphicccici · 3 months ago

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trying to do homework but i can’t stop thinking about supervillain whumpee + lab whump. like,,, a supervillain being captured and used as a lab rat brrrrrrrr

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sapphicccici · 4 months ago

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for april fools we’re deleting this entire site sayonara you weeaboo shits

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sapphicccici · 4 months ago

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Every time this post gets a note I'll drink some water

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sapphicccici · 4 months ago

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I am never not thinking about loss of power in whump. Yes yes obvious loss of autonomy or loss of ability to physically fight back... but I'm talking loss of MAGIC. Or SUPERPOWERS.

Picture this: whumper is some high level mage, one whumpee already had little to no hope against fighting, but they give it their all, and get captured. But then whumper does something... weird. Clamps some kind of enchanted jewelery or cuff or device on them, hooks them up to a machine, puts them in a magic circle, starts speaking a spell whumpee doesn't recognize, injects a drug into them... then all of a sudden they can see the glowing energy leave their body, or feel the sensations of their abilities actually leaving them.

Like what the fuck. What the fuck?! You know how when a hermit crab doesn't have a shell on, they naturally feel more anxious and terrified and skittery? That's what happens to whumpee. As if it wasn't bad enough before, they have nothing to fight back with now. Sure they have their own strength, but who knows how much THAT is, and how much they relied on their powers.

And it's so fun! Maybe on top of making them nervous, loosing magic makes them drowsy and tired, as a font of energy is sapped from. Or maybe their immune system goes to shit... a shape-shifting whumpee feeling too tight in their skin, loss of fire powers leaving them colder than they've ever been, loss of super senses making them feel utterly in the dark, there's so much variety, and all sorts of unintended consequences.

Not to mention... assuming whumper TOOK them, what do they have planned with whumpee's magic or powers exactly?! Are they able to use them, go out and find whumpee's friends and attack them with whumpee's powers?? Or maybe its a renewable resource that whumpee's body naturally replenishes, and whumper periodically drains and bleeds them dry of their magic to power themselves, or whatever device they had. Are whumpee's powers the last piece they needed for a powerful weapon?

Are whumpee's powers gone forever? Can whumper give them back? Will it naturally grow inside them again, like making new cells? All very good questions and anxious whumpee would worry about.

I dont know, I just really think that would be a special kind of torture. Remaining relatively able to fight back physically- maybe they aren't even restrained- but now whumper took their magic, they're fraction as powerful and whumper is still at full capacity.

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sapphicccici · 4 months ago

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characters breaking the facade: a collection

Calm and impassive caretaker who usually never says anything more reactive than eyebrow raise gripping an offender by the collar and spitting pure venom in their face

Brawny characters who are usually sarcastic and shield-like going completely, entirely dead silent. Grave ashen face. Hopeless eyes

The comic relief team member crying. Eyes that are used to being filled with light tipping tears over the edge onto their cheeks. Helpless, silent, pretending it isn't happening

In that same vein, leader characters sobbing. Harsh and unhesitant heaving crying, every ounce of heartbreak and grief tearing them open

Stoic and serious characters curling up next to a caretaker and allowing themselves the warmth of being comforted. Possibly even falling asleep on their shoulder

Medic caretakers who don't know what to do. Uncertainty barely suits them; their hands are trembling uncontrollably; their words are slurred with how fast they're speaking. Panic in their lungs

i love it when you push a character past their facade. break. them.

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sapphicccici · 5 months ago

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✧･ﾟ Ripe, About to Fall - Part 17 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

Series

First | Previous

Chapter Summary: Withdrawals! And some flashbacks for added flavor.

Chapter Content: drug addiction / withdrawal, some magic whump/loss of control, body mods with dubious consent, implied future sexual assault of a teenager

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“Jasper… are you sure about this?” Peer shoved his hands deep into his pockets, glancing around worriedly. His dark green hair fluttered loosely around his face in the ocean breeze, and he blinked it out of his eyes. “I mean, your father-”

“-is fast asleep, and he’ll still be that way when I get home,” Jasper cut in. He led the way down the beach, his shoes swinging from where they were hooked on the index and middle fingers of his left hand. “What Father doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“I’m more worried about him killing you. Or me, even. I mean, if he finds out I had anything to do with this…”

“Then don’t tell him. You wouldn’t do that to me, right? You like me too much?”

“Um, sure, Jasper. I mean, not that I like you. I mean, we’re friends and all…” Peer huffed, shaking his head. “I won’t tell him.”

“Good.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the waves licking up the shore at their bare feet.

Peer knew that Jasper was tired of this - of the lectures, of his friend chasing him around like a lost puppy when he was just trying to let loose a little, but he couldn’t help it.

“It’s just that-”

“Peer.” Jasper stopped and turned towards his friend, placing both of his hands on his shoulders. His pupils were huge, blown wide with tiny rings of purple irises peeking out around them. “If this whole thing is making you too anxious, you don’t have to come with me. I can go on my own. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

A pained, conflicted look crossed his face. “I know, I know. But… Listen, I know you have fun with these guys, but they don’t give a fuck about you aside from your money and your last name, and if something happens to you they’re not going to help you, and if you’re going to mess around with them then I can’t sit comfortably at home knowing that I could be protecting you, you know?”

Jasper rolled his eyes. “They’re rowdy, but they’re not bad people. And I don’t need a chaperone.” He turned, starting to walk again. His steps were uneven.

Peer jogged to catch up. “How much nightspill have you taken today?”

Jasper groaned, tilting his head back. The moonlight glinted off his horns and his scales, and Peer had to force himself to focus. It was so hard sometimes, being sixteen and having a best friend who was so distractingly beautiful but also so damn irresponsible. “Why do you always ask me that?”

“Because you act like it doesn’t matter when it does,” Peer shot back. “You know what that stuff does to you, right? You get slow. You get quiet. You just… go along with whatever’s happening, and if something happens tonight you won’t be able to stop it.”

“It’s just my back-”

“Your back hurts, I know. I understand that it helps you. But you have to be aware of the consequences.”

“I know my limits.”

“No, you don’t.”

“M-make it stop! Please!”

Onthyes winced, his hand tightening around the cloth he’d just finished soaking in cool water from the basin on the bedside table. The water ran over his fingers as it was squeezed from the cloth, landing in the bowl with a soft dribbling sound. He exhaled slowly, reaching out to press the cloth to Ventis’s burning forehead.

“It’s okay,” Onthyes said softly, knowing that Ventis probably couldn’t even hear him right now, “You’re okay.”

He’d expected the withdrawals to be bad. Theodore had warned him. Shayah had warned him. He’d even heard Athos mention it offhand once, how withholding nightspill was a punishment reserved only for the most severe transgressions.

But this?

Ventis lay curled into himself on the bed, the sheets damp with sweat and tangled in his legs. His breath came in uneven, ragged gasps, torn painfully from his throat. He trembled violently, his too-thin body shaking itself to pieces.

It had escalated so quickly.

Ventis had managed to fall asleep after refusing the nightspill in the small hours of this morning. When he woke up he had been achy and feverish and irritable, but he’d still managed to get out of bed and eat breakfast when prompted to. Onthyes had given him the order to finish his plate, knowing that it was only a matter of time before things got bad and Ventis couldn’t afford to spend precious hours agonizing over not having permission to feed himself.

Now, in the late evening, the withdrawals were really starting to set in. Shayah and Theodore had both gone to bed a while ago after Onthyes had assured them that he could handle this on his own. He’d promised Shayah that he would wake her if he needed a break, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave Ventis’s side.

“Please,” Ventis tried again, his hands clenching tightly in the sheets. “It hurts.”

Onthyes had gotten used to his begging over the last few hours, to the point that he could almost ignore it. “I know it hurts. You’re doing great.”

Ventis shook his head, letting out an anguished sob as he twisted onto his side and pressed his forehead into the pillow.

Onthyes put the cloth down with a sigh. It wasn’t helping anymore anyway. It had been soothing for Ventis at first, but at this point nothing Onthyes tried really seemed to bring him any relief.

Slowly, carefully, Onthyes sat down at the edge of the bed. Ventis curled towards him, one hand reaching out shakily, seeking comfort.

“Come here,” Onthyes whispered. He manuvered Ventis’s shaking body carefully, pulling him into his lap and holding him close despite the way his sweat started to dampen Onthyes’s clothes.

“Please,” Ventis whispered again. His long, thin fingers clutched at Onthyes’s shirt with surprising strength, knuckles going white. “Please, master.”

Onthyes froze, his body stiffening at that word. “What?” He started to stroke Ventis’s hair, hoping that he’d just heard wrong.

“Please, master,” Ventis said again, more desparete. “Please, I’m sorry. I-I’ll be good. Please just make it stop.”

Onthyes squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the urge to correct Ventis. He’d known this would happen. He’d known that Ventis would lose his grip on reality, that he might forget that he wasn’t being punished. That didn’t make it hurt any less, hearing Ventis call him master. He was nothing like Athos. He would rather die than be anything like Athos.

“You’re doing this because you want to get better, remember? You’re safe. Athos isn’t here. You’re not being punished.”

Ventis’s breath hitched. The sobs came harder now, racking through his frail body as he fought to make sense of the pain he was in. His voice broke when he spoke again. “I-I don’t want this anymore,” he hiccuped. “Please. Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

Onthyes just rubbed his back, tears forming in his own eyes.

“If you don’t stay fucking still, Jasper, I swear to the gods-”

Jasper let out a whine, unable to get any words out with his tongue sticking out of his mouth and clasped between two of Peer’s fingers. Peer avoided eye contact with him, knowing that it would only take one pleading look from his best friend to get him to fold, and he needed to do this.

“Yeah, I bet it hurts,” Peer grumbled. Jasper’s tongue was swollen around the steel barbell that pierced it through the center, blood welling up in little drops and making it impossible for Peer to get a grip. The early signs of infection were already apparent, and he’d only gotten this stupid thing last night. “That’s what you get for making unbelievably stupid decisions. I mean, did they even clean the needle first?”

Jasper shrugged, then yelped when Peer ‘accidentally’ pulled too hard on the barbell. He tried to pull away, only for the back of his head to thump on the wall he sat against.

“I said don’t move,” Peer scolded. He dried his fingers off on Jasper’s pants, then tried again. He finally managed to find purchase on the little ball at the top of the piercing and he wasted no time twisting it until it fell off into his hand. He dropped it on the floor, then slid the bar out of Jasper’s tongue.

Jasper shuddered, his eyes tearing up as more blood dripped from the open wound. “I thought-” he stopped short, spitting a mouthful of blood into the hankerchief Peer offered him. “I thought you were just going to heal it. Why’d you take it out?”

“Because it looked ridiculous and your father would’ve killed you if he saw it,” Peer said stiffly. “Open.”

Jasper rolled his eyes, then stuck his tongue out again. This time when Peer touched it he started to whisper in Elvish, golden magic radiating out from his hands and drawing away the infection.

“This is why I always tell you not to hang out with those assholes,” Peer said after he finished the spell. “At least, not when you’ve taken nightspill. It’s dangerous.”

Jasper worked his mouth open and closed, running his teeth over the now smooth spots on his tongue where the hole used to be. “Honestly, Peer, it’s just a piercing. I wasn’t in danger,” he insisted. “They were just messing around.”

And maybe he really believed that. But Peer knew better. He had seen it all; had watched as someone straddled Jasper, needle in hand, while two other pairs of hands held his shoulders firmly against the back of the couch and forced his mouth open. Jasper - wasted, by that point - had laughed the whole time, up until the moment the needle was driven through his tongue and he squeaked, inspiring a roar of laughter from his ‘friends.’

Peer could have intervened. He should have intervened. But he had thought that maybe Jasper might learn his lesson and stop letting these guys use him as their personal punching bag.

They hadn’t given Jasper that piercing because they honestly thought it would look good. They’d done it because they thought it was funny to push his limits, to see how far he would let them go before he finally fucking stood up for himself.

And for that other reason, the one Peer had overheard two of them chatting about in the background. (“I bet it’s gonna feel so weird when we-”)

They hadn’t hurt Jasper last night, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in danger. He had just proven that he’d let anyone do anything to him, and he wouldn’t know how to do anything but laugh.

Jasper hadn’t always been like that. Not before the nightspill took hold of him. If anything, he used to fight too much. Bratty and prideful and unbearably persistent when he saw something he wanted.

Peer had been enchanted by it, by him. When he’d started taking nightspill to manage his back pain, he had really hoped that it wouldn’t change him too much. That hope was dashed now. The Jasper he’d loved was gone, replaced by this disaster of a person who fawned where he used to fight, biting words replaced by slurred laughter and hald-lidded eyes.

It was going to get Jasper in big trouble some day. Peer could see that from miles away. But there was nothing he could do, and it hurt.

“Just… try to be more careful next time,” Peer muttered, knowing that it wouldn’t help.

“Go away!”

“Ventis,” Onthyes sighed, tired from the numerous times he’s tried to explain this. “Your brother’s just trying to help, okay?”

“No! I-I don’t… ah!” Ventis’s eyes flashed with a blinding purple light before he snapped them shut, groaning through his clenched teeth as he reached out, searching for Onthyes’s hand.

Theodore moved quickly, intercepting his grasp just in time. Pure energy surged from Ventis, crackling across his skin and lighting up the room, and Theodore absorbed it, drawing it into himself.

It wasn’t a perfect system, but so far it was the only method they’d come up with to keep Ventis from hurting anyone after his magic had started acting up this morning. His lightning didn’t seem to affect Theodore as much as it did Onthyes or Shayah, and the energy needed to go somewhere or it would end up tearing Shayah’s house apart, so they’d settled on letting Theodore take the brunt of it.

Onthyes was grateful for his help, considering the rows of handprint shaped burns on his arms and the smell of burning hair that still hadn’t managed to filter out of the room. The problem was, when Ventis encountered rare moments of lucidity and realized that Theodore was practically sitting vigil at his bedside, he was less than pleased.

The window shutters slammed against the walls with a bang, letting in a torrent of rain and wind before Onthyes got up and closed them again. It was a losing battle, he knew, but with the three of them still wanted by the law he felt much more comfortable minimizing the risk that someone caught a glimpse of them through an open window.

Ventis cried out again, gripping Theodore’s arm weakly before he let go, his hand falling limp on the sheets. His face fell into something almost relaxed, his breathing slowing into soft gasps. It wasn’t sleep - sleep was something he just hadn’t been capable of over these last few days - but it was close enough, blissful unconsciousness.

Theodore sighed as the wave of storm magic faded out, the room suddenly dark and quiet again. He was panting lightly, his eyes shining a brighter blue than usual, his fingers twitching with idle energy. He’d claimed that absorbing Ventis’s magic wouldn’t do anything to him, but Onthyes was starting to wonder if that was proving to be untrue.

“How are you holding up? His magic seems to be… affecting you,” Onthyes said slowly.

Theodore glanced away, putting on his usual air of casual confidence. “Nonsense. I could keep this up all day.”

“You’re smoking.”

Theodore glanced down at his arms. Sure enough, smoke had begun to rise from his skin, curling towards the ceiling. “Ah, well, perhaps Jas- Ventis’s magic is stronger than I had anticipated. I cast circles around him when we were children but…” He trailed off, distracted by the smoke, then snapped back into himself. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. He has to run out of energy eventually, and I believe that I can outlast him.”

Onthyes wasn’t convinced, but he decided to allow Theodore to hold on to his pride for a while longer. “Alright then, just let me know if it gets to be too much.”

Theodore nodded, and they left it at that.

They lapsed into uneasy silence, neither of them unable to relax under the constant threat of another episode from Ventis. These moments of calm were fragile, and they never lasted long before the next wave hit.

Theodore adjusted his posture, shifting where he sat perched on the edge of the bed next to his brother’s limp form. “He’ll get through this,” he muttered, although it was unclear if he was trying to reassure Onthyes or himself.

“He will,” Onthyes agreed softly. He took a risk, reaching out to hold Ventis’s hand. It was clammy and cold, his fingers almost skeletal. Everything about him was too small, too thin. He’d barely been able to eat since starting the withdrawals, barely eaten before then as well. He was wasting away before their eyes, and Onthyes wasn’t sure if there was anything they could do about it.

“You should rest,” Theodore said, glancing over at Onthyes. “You look terrible.”

Rest had become a foreign concept to Onthyes, and he had no plans to reunite with it until after Ventis recovered, but he appreciated Theodore’s concern nonetheless.

Onthyes huffed a quiet laugh. “Thanks.”

Neither of them moved. Ventis would wake again soon enough, and they would have to do this all over again.

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