#MagicWhumpWeek2024Day4

[geode-crystal]

Magic Whump Week, Elemental Magic

For @kabie-whump 's Magic Whump Week, Day 4: Loss of Control/ "Leave me alone!"/ elemental powers

Thinking about the moments when elemental powers respond to emotion and lash out

Ice magic making it impossible to reach Whumpee. Blizzards drowning out any sound. The frozen ground too treacherous to get across. Spears of ice bursting from the ground, falling from the ceiling. A clear warning—Stay away. A warning that Caretaker must ignore.

A rush of flame that comes with fury. Walls of fire utterly surrounding Whumpee, decimating anything in its path.

Conversely, fire is not just destruction, but life. A Caretaker with fire abilities doing everything in their power to keep Whumpee safe. To keep Whumper as far away as they can.

Water heals. Water can be pure. But at the same time, the ocean is merciless. Powerful. Terrifying.

Tidal waves sweeping everything away. Monsters—perhaps more magic in and of themselves— lurking beneath the surface of the water, waiting to tear wayward ships apart.  

Rain pouring down over fallen heroes, not as a sign of some sort of deity, but a sign of pure, utter grief.

Wind becoming storms. A cry of fury and pain turning into a thunderclap. Caretaker becoming the center of a storm, shielding a wounded Whumpee with their own form, their ferocious wind and strikes of lightning making sure that no one else can touch Whumpee.

[the-rad-pineapple]

magic whump prompts

Day 4 - 9/26: "Leave me alone!" / bonus: emotional powers

This is based off this loose X-Men First Class AU thing I’m messing around with. There is lore/backstory I have ideas for that’s hinted at in this little fic. It's also not as whumpy as I thought it would be, so sorry for such a lack of whump in this little oneshot thing.

~ ~ ~

Charles feels it farther away than he thought he should. It’s a series of emotions. Flashing quickly. Powerfully. Chaotically. Whatever is happening is big. And it’s hurting a lot of people. Their thoughts are too jumbled and strong for Charles to separate them. To find who each thought belongs to. He’s racing towards it before thinking twice. 

They’re all over there. 

The other mutants. All of them. His new found family. They can’t be gone. 

Not so soon. 

There's pain. Searing. Debilitating. So much. Too much. Who. Who is it! Is it someone Charles knows?? 

Raven?? 

Erik?

Anger. So white hot it feels cold. Like a blue star. The tip of a metal fire poker. The drop of a roller coaster a moment before the sharp descent. It’s the most dangerous form of anger. Calm and collected. Controlled and sharp, like a hidden knife, deadly only by the precision of its wielder.

And then…

Fear. It clutches at his chest. Cold. Suffocating. Paralyzing. His footsteps stutter, and he breathes in a ragged breath.

Oh, God, please. Let them be okay. Please. 

Charles doesn’t even believe in God. 

His shoes slap loudly on the pavement. And then he can see it. Smoke rising above the nearby buildings, difficult to see in the darkness of night. Charles reaches his mind out. Searching. Feeling. Desperate to find answers but afraid of what he might see. There’s so much pain and fear. And they’re such strong, primal feelings they’re difficult to sort through. It’s not the usual thrum of low-level, day-to-day thoughts he’s used to. 

People race around the corner, and Charles slams into one of them. He’s thrown to the ground, and his head smacks painfully onto the sidewalk. 

Shit. 

He scrambles up, heart in his throat, and races onward. He blindly reaches out with his mind as he races towards whatever is causing this mayhem. And then he feels him. 

Erik.

That tranquil anger. It’s usually like a river. Rushing steadily yet calmly. But now…now it’s a waterfall. Not exactly chaotic, but unceasing. Impossible to ignore. Loud. Overpowering. 

Beautiful.

Erik is floating in the center of the street. Cars and buildings—even lampposts and fire hydrants—are bent towards him as if he’s their center of gravity. Charles has never seen him use his mutation before. He still isn’t even exactly sure what it is. But it’s obvious that Erik is powerful. 

There’s a group of people huddled behind a car, hands gripping each other, eyes pointed at the sky, fearfully searching for Erik, despite being unable to see him from their position. With a careless gesture, Erik sends the car crashing into a building. The fear from the people skyrockets, slamming into Charles. He clumsily puts up his mental shield a few seconds too late. He’d let it down in his search for the other mutants, uncaring what he let in. 

Erik floats down towards the group of people, a thousand different images of their deaths flashing through his mind. It’s almost satisfactory. But it’s…not. Death is not satisfactory. These are Erik’s desires. He’s become so entangled with Charles, Charles is having difficulty separating his own thoughts from Erik’s. He’s never struggled with that distinction like this before. 

Then Erik’s feet soundlessly meet the ground. His rage thunders in Charles’ ears.

“Erik!!” Charles calls. 

Erik freezes. His shoulders straighten, and his back goes rigid. 

Charles takes this time to slowly approach. “Erik, listen to me. Please. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to hurt them.” He’s inching forward. 

Erik slowly turns. His eyes are cold. Distant. “You don’t even know half the pain they’ve caused me.” 

“I…” I do. 

But Charles can’t say that, can he? Because then he’d have to tell Erik he’s been able to read his thoughts this entire time. That he’s been a mutant this entire time. That he’s useless and pathetic and has gotten some of their brothers and sisters killed. That he’s worse than the humans that Erik hates. And that Erik should hate him, too. 

Erik will hate him, too.

“Erik.” It comes out breathless and weak. 

“I’m sorry, Charles, but this is who I really am.”

“No, it’s not!”

“You think you know me??” He suddenly advances, and Charles stumbles backwards. “I’ve killed people, and I will kill them again.” 

Images flash through Charles’ mind then. Erik’s murders. Blood, and its warmth and metallic smell. Eyes filled with fear. Bodies laying peacefully on the ground. Cold ruthlessness. Sick satisfaction. A sense of pride and justice. 

It’s a stab to the heart. Because it’s wrong. What Erik has done—what he’s doing—is wrong.

And Charles can’t—he can’t take it. He reaches a hand out towards Erik. He can almost touch him. “Erik—” 

“Leave me alone!” he shouts, shoulders moving from the harshness of his breath. It’s then that Charles sees his tears. They fall silently and leave twin tracks down his cheeks. “Charles, I—” His voice wavers. He grabs Charles’ outstretched arm and pushes it back towards him. “I am not who you want me to be. I am not kind. I am not nice. And I am not forgiving.” 

“You’ve been all those things to me,” Charles whispers, tears of his own spilling down his face.

“You are the only human who’s ever been kind to me first.”

And Charles cries harder, lip wobbling and tears falling, because he can’t even be that for Erik. He can’t be the kindest human Erik’s met. He can’t be his hope that there is good in humanity. He can’t be the reason Erik changes his mind about them. Because Erik will never believe it until he sees it. Until it happens to him. And he thinks it has. But it hasn’t. 

Because Charles isn’t human.

Yet he’s still everything Erik despises. Everything Erik claims all humans are: liars, weak…

The reason mutants are dead.

Charles is shaking his head before he even realizes he’s doing so. “Erik, I…I’m not human.” 

A beat. 

“What.” Erik comes closer. Just a couple steps. But now they’re close enough Charles can feel the puff of Erik’s breath on his face. “Charles…” He’s searching him, looking almost…wondrously at Charles’ face. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“I— W-what?” 

One of Erik’s hands gently cups Charles’ cheek. Charles blinks in surprise, shocked at how gentle Erik is. Shocked at the intimacy he’s sharing with him. Their closeness. Charles instinctively reaches out to Erik’s mind to see what he’s thinking. Why he’s doing this. Why he’s not upset. 

That familiar anger greets him. Not quite the waterfall it had just been, but not as calm as the usual river either. Almost like rapids. Bumpy and wild and bordering on uncontained. 

“Did they do this to you?” Erik asks. Steel is in his voice. Hatred.

“Do what?” 

Erik brushes the side of Charles’ face, the ghost of a touch just above his ear. 

Pain. Sudden and sharp. 

Charles recalls falling on the pavement. 

Erik continues, “Humans hurt you, didn’t they?” 

Charles swallows, throat suddenly dry. “They were running from you, Erik.”

Erik’s gaze hardens, and he pulls his hand away. “You cannot keep advocating for them, Charles.”

“And you cannot keep hurting them!” he exclaims. “You are the reason they are so afraid!”

“They are always afraid. They are always violent.” 

“Not all of them! Not all of the time!” 

Where the hell is Erik? I am not leaving without him. There’s not much time. Where the fuck is he??

They’re not his own thoughts, but the tone of them is familiar. It’s someone he knows. It’s—

It’s Raven. 

Charles immediately turns to where he can feel the tug of her consciousness. She’s panicked. She’s afraid. 

“Charles?” Erik asks, concern suddenly flooding his voice as if they weren’t just shouting at each other two seconds ago.

Charles turns back to Erik. “It’s Raven. She’s looking for you.” His tone is clipped and cold. 

“You heard her?” 

“She’s over there,” Charles says with a quick nod. 

But Erik is shaking his head as if he’s the one who can read minds. “Come with us.” 

“Erik, I—” 

“Please.” And then he steps closer. They’re not even a foot apart. “We need you, Charles.” 

I need you. 

“O-oh. Erik…”

“Please? We can do this together.” 

“No, no. Erik, I— Violence isn’t the answer, and I don’t want any part of that.” 

“Then let’s discuss it. Later.” He places his hands on Charles’ shoulders. “Once you’ve come with us.” He doesn’t look away.

I have to make him see. I have to make him see. Doesn’t he realize I don’t beg for anyone but him? That I can’t fucking do this without him?

“Okay,” Charles hears himself agree, ears ringing, heart stuttering at Erik’s thoughts. 

Surprise splashes across Erik’s face before he quickly conceals it.

“Now,” Charles urges. “Before I change my mind.” 

[kabie-whump]

Magic Whump Week Day 4 - Loss of Control

Here's a new piece of Ventis backstory teehee.

So, in canon, Ventis didn't know that he was addicted to the nightspill. He was given these pills by Syllyn, his physician, to help manage his chronic pain after his resurrection went poorly, but he wasn't told what they actually were and he never thought to ask. He didn't know they were addictive or that they were the reason he was struggling to use his magic.

Then his medicine was stolen (along with some of Shayah's valuables and Onthyes was literally kidnapped but that's not important). Once they retrieved their paladin and their belongings Onthyes and Shayah noticed his pills and told him what they were.

Realizing that everyone he trusted before he left home was lying to him about everything was pretty tough for him. He got upset, and his magic did too since he hadn't taken his pills all day.

~

"You should go."

Ventis's ears popped. The curtains began to flutter against the walls.

"Ventis-"

"Get out," he pleaded. He could feel it welling up in his chest; pure power that took every ounce of energy he had to keep from bursting out of him. He wasn't going to be able to hold it in much longer.

"I think we should go," Shayah said, taking Onthyes by the elbow and trying to pull him off the bed.

Onthyes pushed himself to his feet, still moving a bit sluggish from the drugs he'd been given when he was taken. "Is there anything we can do-"

"No. I can't..." he couldn't hold it. Wind stung at his eyes. The window rattled in its frame. "Please, just leave me alone."

Shayah opened her mouth to say something, but the sound was lost under the roar of a tempest breaking out inside the small room. Ventis squeezed his eyes shut and curled into himself, tucking his knees close to his chest and gripping his hair so hard it hurt.

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. All he knew was that he was angry.

This whole fucking time he had thought there was something wrong with his magic; that there was something wrong with him. But he wasn't broken at all. This was something that was done to him. On purpose. Father knew all along why his magic wasn't working and still he did nothing but berate him every time he failed.

And then, when he'd had his failed son sedated and still he couldn't mold him like he could mold Theodore, he'd had the audacity to banish him.

But of course he couldn't just send Ventis away. No, he had to lie to him and manipulate him and leave him to spend the rest of his life fighting for the approval of someone who wasn't even fucking watching.

Ventis's thoughts whipped around too fast for him to pin them down. He pulled on his own hair, shivering as wind whipped in a fierce circle around him.

Then, a metallic clang. Ventis's eyes flew open, his gaze snapping to where Onthyes stood, unflinching, with his shield raised and his feet planted firmly on the floor.

Why didn't he leave? Why isn't he afraid of me?

The winds seemed to calm with Ventis's confusion, and a wave of exhaustion washed over him. Everything that had been flying circles around the little tavern bedroom dropped to the floor with a clatter, leaving his ears ringing.

Then, he cried.

After all these years, Ventis had forgotten how awful it felt to really cry. His lungs collapsed in on themselves, forcing out every desperate breath he tried to fill them with. He couldn't stop shaking. His body pitched forward, drained, until his forehead was pressed to the mattress and he could feel the fabric becoming soaked with the tears he couldn't be bothered to wipe away.

The bed dipped next to him and he let himself fall with it, his cheek hitting something warm. He turned into it, hiding his face. Unsure fingers carded through his hair, and somewhere past the ringing in his ears he could hear the lull of a low voice.

Part of him could accept the truth. As his mind started to clear he realized: this is exactly like Father. Of course he would know the real reason Ventis's magic was fading. He was probably the one who called for him to be sedated in the first place. Father was just waiting for a reason to banish his first son so that he could usher Theodore into his place. And Theodore wouldn't fight it - he'd always seen Father's position as his birthright, cruelly blocked by a brother that shouldn't even exist in the first place.

What really hurt was Syllyn.

Syllyn had never lied to Jasper. She always believed him. When he felt there was no one else to turn to she was always there with open arms.

And she knew. This whole fucking time she knew.

She knew the reason Ventis was losing his powers. She knew the reason he was so spaced out and couldn't focus on anything. She knew the reason he had to drink himself half to death every other night just to feel something.

All that time she knew and she never said a thing.

Ventis cried for what felt like hours until his breath finally caught up with him. Outside the shattered window leaves tinkled against each other with a gentle melody. He allowed himself one more gasp, then lifted his arm from his face. Onthyes stared down at him, a wrinkle forming between his brows, and Ventis felt himself flushing with embarrassment.

"You should drink some water."

Onthyes reached down, grabbed his waterskin, and held it out to Ventis.

Spots filled Ventis's vision as he sat up, but he managed to take the water from Onthyes and sip it slowly.

"Are you okay?"

Ventis gave him a hard look.

"I know. I'm sorry." He took the water back and set it down on the bedside table. "I can help you clean up the room later if you want."

Ventis allowed himself a look around. He had done a number on the place. Shards of glass from the windows littered the carpet. Clay pots lay in scattered fractals on the ground, dirt poured into cracks in the floorboards, and leaves were flat stuck to the floor and walls, which were spiderwebbed with cracks.

Shame clawed at the pit of Ventis's stomach.

This is what happens without your medicine, a small voice said in the back of his mind. You ruin everything. You're destructive.

Onthyes cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about your medicine. I can't imagine..."

Ventis shrugged, fixing his gaze on the blankets. "Yes, well, you can see why they were necessary, can you not?"

Onthyes shook his head emphatically. "It was wrong. They shouldn't have done that to you."

"I may have taken them willingly if asked. I just can not believe that she would lie..." he gripped the blankets tightly as tears returned to his eyes. He was sick of crying. As much as he usually craved attention, he just wanted to pretend like this wasn't happening for a while. "I would like to not think about it anymore tonight."

"Alright, Ventis. Let's get some sleep."

Read about the withdrawals!

Ventis list:

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet

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

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba