#warning:triggering

[smokin-witches]

How many moves to checkmate || Part two || self

He pulled Kieth's hair hard as he stared into Kieth's tear filled eyes," Why do you do this? Over and over, Kieth. Do you like ti when your mother cries?" He snarled.

Kieth grabbed his father's wrist to try to pry his hair loose. The scrawny eighteen year old was unsuccessful and all he got out of it was a firm shake from the older man.

"Why can't you just fuck girls? Be normal in some way? Soiling my last name, I should disown you but then you will ruin your mother's name." He growled and Kieth struggled and tried to pry his father's hand lose to no avail.

Garret Langston shook his oldest son then slammed him into the wall, kicking him in the side as he fell to his knees. He wrapped his hand into the long messy strands and lifted him to his feet again starting to drag Kieth down the hallway. Kieth groaned and shook his head, fighting as hard as he could to not be forced into the bathroom. His father didn't care.

Kieth lifted his hand up and muttered in quiet, choked off, french, a large concussion of air shoved he and his father back against the hallway wall and knocked Garret's hand loose. Kieth fell to the ground and started to crawl away.

Garret grabbed Kith by the ankle and slid the boy to himself. Grabbing Kieth's hair he bent the young man backwards and grabbed him by the throat, slamming him to the ground.

Kieth's eyes widened as his airway was cut off. He was going to do it this time. He was going to kill him. Kieth was about to die. He clawed at Garret's wrist and choked, tears pouring down his face and his eyes begged his parent not to do this.

He put a hand on Garret's chest and the older man glared," You use that birth defect on me again boy, I'll break your neck." Kieth felt like his lungs were on fire as his father leaned in close and the doorbell rang.

His father stood Kieth up against the wall and loosened his grip. Long, gasping, desperate breaths, Kieth felt he was going to pass out, in and coughed roughly out. 

"Hold your hand out." His father commanded. Kieth shakily held out, palm up, glancing down. his father emptied a while pill bottle into Kieth's hand and forced his fingers closed.

"These will make you feel better and get you out of our hair...." His father snarled, pointing to Kieth's bedroom. He went to answer the door and Kieth looked down, opening his trembling hand slightly, sobbing to himself. 

It wouldn't hurt anymore.

He glanced the direction his father went and then locked himself in his bedroom and sat on the bed.

They weren't hard to swallow, they weren't that big. He lay face first on the bed and started to cry harshly into the pillows as he started to feel nauseous and numb at the same time.

[redstained-wrath]

Lost and Found || Self

"Just shut up!" Akane's wrath started to seep as the argument in Brigh's head escalated.

"No! No! Shut up! I'm not listening anymore!" she groaned and sat in front of her vanity, staring into the mirror. The words just kept pouring into her head and she snarled.

She didn't remember punching the mirror, but it was broken as her fist was bleeding then he took over. He stood her up and she wasn't really even awake anymore. He was blocking her, for some reason the demon decided it was best to protect her, or to keep her in the dark for other reason.

He grabbed a bit of glass and hid it in her sleeve. It was time to bring the empath out. He had talked to those gossiping ghosts, got word of random little things being said about the Good Father. If what they said was true then he would come out of his hiding. If it wasn't then Akane would find another way.

He walked her body down the hall, standing a little wobbly on purpose, walking, holding her bleeding arm in front of her. He searched and avoided until he found the perfect person. The man stood in front of her looking confused and almost animalistic in a way. It was a vampire.

"Please, can you help me?" He asked, making her look pathetic.

The vampire was holding his breath as he looked over her wound. He shook his head as he investigated the wound. He was afraid to speak. Afraid he would somehow get a whiff. Akane wanted him to smell.

He slid the glass out and growled,"What about NOW!?" and he slid the glass along Brigh's neck, near the shoulder so it wouldn't be fatal. Unlike most other demons he planned on Brigh being able to live after he left her.

the vampire lurched forward to stop the cut, gasping at the sudden movement and sudden cut Akane had made. That was when he smelled it, tasted it in the air, started to thirst for it.

the vampire was hlding her tight as he bit into her neck, forcing her to be still as she started to scream. Akane let her wake and sank into the darkness again. This would bring him out of hiding, or Akane would have to kill him a vampire in the matter of about five minutes. He would see.

"HELP!!" Brigh screamed, choking on blood where he had bitten too hard,"FATHER PETER!! ANYONE!! HELP ME!!" She was scared and in pain and confused, unsure how she even got here as the vampire drank. Her body started to go limp even as she clutched and pushed at his shoulders," Please let me go! Stop! Help!"

But none of those seemed to be happening.

[always-will-need-max]

Good things in life are hard to find || self

Will stepped into the blood room. He looked around for a specific type of blood. Blood tye that was kept away from the others. He found it and swallowed thickly, his hands starting to shake as he leaned down and grabbed some. Max was already starting to stir, but not this time. No. He had made up his mind about it this time. She wasn't going to do a thing. Neither was Arthur. No one was. Not this time.

It was too much, much too much. He couldn't handle it anymore. He just couldn't. This numb dull ache, like a wound that had long since healed but still left dull throbs when the weather went foul. The weather was always foul here. Everything made him pulse with mind numbing agony.

When Elliot was alive he could pretend that he was getting better, that everything was okay. Now he couldn't pretend. He couldn't fake it. He literally was unraveling. Nick was trying so very hard and Will did really really hope this wouldn't hurt the Naiad. Will cared as much as his tattered soul could for the creature. 

He sighed and Max started to scream at him. He drank the whole bag of Dead Man's Blood and started to cry. Ma begged him to cough it up, tried to force him to vomit but he didn't. He lay down and groaned in pain but ignored the pleas and tugs and pulls of the others on his mind.

It hurt but he didn't care. He groaned and squirmed but wouldn't let himself gag. Max petted his hair and Arthur was still angry but Will really didn't care.

He was done just existing.

[smokin-witches]

I Remember Black Skies || Self

I remembered black skies The lightning all around me I remembered each flash As time began to blur Like a startling sign That fate had finally found me And your voice was all I heard That I get what I deserve

New Divide -Linkin Park

He teared up, finally realizing what he had done, finally accepting the guilt for the sex with the granter. He was supposed to be with Peter, he wanted to be with Peter, he was already guilty for not being a virgin for Peter, now he had this. He put his hands over his face and started to cry into them, little sobs escaping him. 

He tried to quiet down so no one would bother him, no on would come in and check, but soon those sobs and little cries became weeping bitterly into his hands. He sat up and curled his legs up and pressed his face and hands against his knees.

He sat up when his arms started to ache and started at them. He rolled up his jacket sleeves to peer at the bandages, barely able to make out the words in the little bit of blood seeping through them. Whore, Harlot, Abomination, he was these things, just not the way that these men had meant it. He wasn't Peter's whore, not Peter's harlot. He wasn't sleeping with the priest. 

He was sleeping with someone else, and he had, 'Wanted it.' He grabbed the word Whore on his right wrist and pressed his thumb into it, sobbing at the ache, the sharp and dull pains, the short burst of pain. he was so upset that he barely felt it, even when it started to bleed again. 

He wasn't sure how long he stayed like this, pressing his thumb to that word until he got dizzy and gasped for air. He sat back and let his arm hang off the couch, blood that coated his bandaged now fell to the floor in big lazy drops. He closed his eyes, hoping some sort of relief would come, death from the bleeding, suddenly high. Actually part of him was seconds from just smoking to forget everything for a little while.

He felt a hand on his arm and heard muttering. He opened his eyes and saw Elaine, lifting his arm and unwrapping the bandages. He weakly tried to protest and she shook her head. He stared at her, the tears leaving cool streaked in their wake as they slid down his face. Like the fire they burned and left a cool chill where they did their damage. Each tear should have burned away his guilt and pain, but instead it burned away part of him.

Elaine cleaned him with a rag she had then wrapped his arm up again and brushed his hair back from his face, still kneeling next to him in the darkness. He could barely see her.

"The Granter?" She whispered. He nodded and she closed her eyes. In a blink they appeared in her room. Kieth had been here before. It was very dark, painted a very dark purple. Right now it was only purple candles, some trick of powder making the flames blue as they ate away at the wax. He stared at the candles for a long time, curling up on his side, facing them as he pulled his legs up.

"W-what..." Kieth sighed in frustration and whispered," what if he f-finds out b-before I c-can t-t-tell him...?" He stared blankly at the flames, almost as if he wasn't aware the question had even been asked. She brushed a hand through his hair," Wh-what if I c-can't t-t-tell him... or... he... bl-blames himself?" Kieth started to cry again, sniffing.

He gasped a few times, losing his breath. She whispered trying to calm him as it drew close to two in the morning. He brought his arms up and covered his face with them, laying them on the pillow in front of his face and , buried his face in his arms.

Suddenly he sat up, swaying slightly," I'm s-s-sorry... I d-d-didn't m-mean t-to b-b-bother y-you..." He started to ramble.Elaine put a hand on his knee and he looked at it then to her. She knew this was him about to go into a manic frenzy. She breathed in her nose and slowly out her mouth, repeating the gesture a few times and nodding for him to do the same. It didn't always work, especially when he was taking quick breaths in and aggravated ones out, but he kept eye contact and eventually she had him calmed down.

"Just relax, hon." She whispered. She wiped the tears off his face. She was so much like his sister, it was uncanny. She stood and hugged him and he just rested on her, feeling so heavy with it all, "You're going to be okay, and thanks to you, so is Father Peter..."

He whimpered and she held him until he stopped crying again. Finally she let him go and he completely calmed down. At about four in the morning he slowly stood and kissed the top of her head. He moved to the mirror and wiped at his face, sniffing and trying to make himself look presentable. He didn't want Peter thinking Drake had hurt him. He turned and hugged her one last time before poofing away to his and Peter's room.