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obligatory rant about william’s gender coming soon TM.

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done it. life is great.

I MEANT TO CHANGE MY PFP FOR JUNE. DAMNIT. i was going to do the nonb.inary flag but forget the colour order & got too lazy.

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@revvnant / they're driving me insane.

MICHAEL IS MORE HIS SON THAN EVER,  WILLIAM THINKS,  THROUGH THE DULL HAZE OF GRIEF AND SHAME.  It’s not a new feeling:  the grief and shame has been haunting him for longer than he cares to admit,  but it’s been overshadowed by anger for so long that he’d forgotten how consuming it could be.�� The anger is still there,  somewhere,  but he doesn’t know how to access it.  Wishes he could,  because anger is normal,  second - nature.  He knows what to do with anger.  

What is there to do with shame ?  He stares at Michael with bloodshot eyes,  and every time he looks at his son  –  his only remaining child  –  it feels like he’s looking at him for the first time.  Seeing double:  the boy he’d cradled in his arms for the first time,  and the shell in front of him.  William clasps his hands in front of him,  and then behind him,  and dithers,  lamely,  for a long moment.  It’s been a long time since he’s sought Michael’s attention.  He hardly knows what to do with it now.  

“ I need, ”  he says,  and pauses.  A drink.  A corpse.  Someone to listen.  Someone to take the blame.  The blinds have been pulled down for days,  and William is too paranoid to open them.  People talk,  and people look,  and he doesn’t want anyone seeing inside what’s left of his family.  Not until he’s found a way to put things back together in a way that makes the guilt disappear.  “ I need you to help fix it. ”

Distantly,  he wonders what his son had been punching:  wonders if Michael had punched a wall and imagined it had been his face.  William doesn’t like pain,  but thinks he’d have welcomed a few blows.  His knuckles match Michael’s these days,  and one of his fingers won’t straighten properly.  It’s an ugly black - and - purple - and - yellow - and - brown that makes his stomach churn when he looks at it.

So,  like a child,  he holds it out to Michael,  as if expecting a cure.  In his other hand there are bandages,  a splint.  He doesn’t trust himself with his own body anymore.  Or with anyone’s.  But for once,  he trusts Michael.  Thinks he does,  anyway.  Not that he has anyone else.  “ I need, ”  like a broken record.  His voice is gravelly,  like broken ceramic.  “ I want you to help me. ”

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debating adding e.dwin to the multimuse......

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NEIGHBOURS (1985 - Present )

Daaron + Episode 8979

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ol' mates

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The thought of harming you is both terrifying and arousing. I fantasize about breaking you down emotionally and physically, all while wanting to love and care for you softly.

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from here / @bravevolunteer this popped into my head & i laughed so hard

“ I ALWAYS TALK ABOUT THE FAMILY RECIPES, “ WILLIAM SAYS, DISGRUNTLED, KNOWING VERY WELL THAT’S A LIE. Mainly because there isn’t any recipe — this is just what he remembers his mother making when the rations had finally stopped and they’d had normal amounts of food again. This had been the first meal she’d made. Granted, he doesn’t remember too well, considering he’d been very young, but between the two of them, they ought to figure it out. “ You just don’t listen. ”

Normally he’d be happy to go into a full lecture on everything his eldest son didn’t listen to him about. Today, however, is different. Today, William is a real father, cooking with his pride and joy . . . That’s the image he’d like to paint anyway.

“ There’s beef in the oven, and obviously the potatoes. ” Without thinking twice, William stoops to pick up the potato Michael drops, squinting at it critically. “ Don’t be fussy. Nothing wrong with it. It’s not been dropped outside. ”

He immediately puts it in his mouth, and bites down before he remembers it’s uncooked. Disgust splatters over his face, and William spits it into the trashcan in some horror.

“ They’re raw, ” he declares wisely, “ don’t eat them yet. ”

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laughs nervously. where are all my drafts.

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MAMMA MIA TIME ! / @florietiae

RIGHT. MENTALLY, WILLIAM KICKS HIMSELF INTO GEAR. GET A GRIP, AFTON. Here’s the situation, he tells himself: he’s going to be working for a few months with someone who had once been his whole world. Which is fine, because he’s not obsessive or neurotic and can handle this like a normal, functioning human being. Which he is. Naturally. No big deal, he reasons: it’s probably only natural that they’d eventually work together in some capacity. So really it’s not a situation at all. And everything will go smoothly.

Jules is good at her job, after all. William pretends that’s the reason for his slightly too - large smile, more genuine than he might have offered any other agent.

“ I’d be a fool to lose someone like you, ” he says, hoping it sounds as charming as he usually might be, and then his brain catches up with his mouth, and he cringes. Right. Terrible thing to tell your ex. “ You — I mean, if anyone can pull this together, ” he hastens to amend, “ it’s you. Not — Not weird, no. ”

Her hand is so soft. William doesn’t want to let go, but he’s always been terribly conscious of how he appears in public, so forces himself to step back. A respectable distance.

“ How has life been treating you ? You look . . . Well, you look well. ”

Very well, his brain supplies unhelpfully, and he briefly considers bashing his head against a wall, because that is not a useful thought.

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from here. / @sorevivals !

HIS NOSTRILS FLARE; HE OUGHT TO BE USED TO OLLIE CALLING HIM OUT BY NOW. It happens often enough. And yet still William feels that helpless cloying rage, the childish defensiveness at her words. It’s not his fault he has to drink to relieve the stress of his stupid job and his stupid family and his stupid fucking mind. It’s not his fault that his coping mechanisms happen around his children ! Really, he’s the victim here. ( At least, in his own mind. )

Only bristling further at Ollie’s continued snark, William jabs a finger at her, half - authoritative and stern, half - incensed and righteous. “ You watch your tone with me. I don’t like that attitude. Those friends of yours are rubbing off on you, and let me tell you, I won’t stand for it. ”

He steps closer, lowering his voice again; partly to conceal this conversation from Liz, and partly to ensure no neighbours overhear through open windows. Their reputation as a family isn’t as squeaky - clean as he’d like, but that doesn’t mean he has to make it worse.

“ Underage drinking is entirely different. ” He adds, narrowing eyes at her. “ What were you thinking ? You don’t think this family has gone through enough without you poisoning your liver ? How little do you care about us to hurt yourself like that, hmh ? ”

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❛  i wish staying was enough. i really do.  ❜ / from jules. sobs-

IT CREAKS AT FIRST, NOTHING OF VALUE TO SAY. VERY LITTLE IS OF VALUE THESE DAYS. He’s learned to conserve what’s left of his body’s strength for what really matters. Slamming into vents. Breaking down doors. Following the laughter of children endlessly. No end in sight. Nothing hurts as much as existing, at least it seems that way until it tries to move or talk, and then he remembers why he doesn’t.

But for her, it does. Lurches forwards a step, then another, wishing briefly to swallow the distance between them like wine. “ You—u-u could.” It rasps. There’s fresh blood in its throat ( it’s started marvelling him, how there’s always fresh blood ) and it hacks a vicious cough. He doesn’t have the brain power to suppress the twitch that wracks his frame, and then the snarl as its body spasms. The scent of rot and flesh follows him.

“ Stay. ” He says again. There’s a hint of imploring in his tone. Under the muscle and gristle there’s the memory of love, of anger, of want. Faded, rusted, by being so alone: but she brings it to the surface in him. She always does. “ D—o not leave me ag—again. ” It’s her fault, isn’t it ? Some part of him believes that. This is her fault. He takes an age to force what’s left of its brain to remember her name . . . “ Julie—t. ”

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🐝  *  ―  𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮/𝑩𝑬𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑳𝑬𝑭𝑻 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

BEING LEFT ❛  wait! you can't just leave me here alone!  ❜ ❛  i don't know how to live in a world where i'm all alone.  ❜ ❛  everyone i've ever loved has either left or died.  ❜ ❛  i'm not yet ready for it to end.  ❜ ❛  will we ever see each other again?  ❜ ❛  please! you promised! you promised you'd never leave.  ❜ ❛  if you leave now, i'll never forgive you.  ❜ ❛  are you really going to leave after everything we've been through?  ❜ ❛  how am i supposed to keep on like before when you're not here anymore?  ❜ ❛  i knew this day would come, but i hoped it wouldn't be today.  ❜ ❛  please don't go. not yet. just stay a little longer ...  ❜ ❛  don't just walk away. say something, anything, before you go.  ❜ ❛  so that's it? you're just ... gone?  ❜ ❛  you can't just walk away like none of this meant anything!  ❜ ❛  why does everyone i love always leave?  ❜ ❛  i should've known better than to think you'd stay.  ❜ ❛  is it really that easy for you to walk away?  ❜ ❛  you said we'd face the world together. now i have to face it alone.  ❜ ❛  if you're going, at least look me in the eyes and say goodbye.  ❜ ❛  i don't have the strength to watch you walk away again.  ❜

LEAVING ❛  i'm sorry, but i cannot stay here any longer.  ❜ ❛  for once, i'm trying to do the right thing.  ❜ ❛  you don't need me here anymore. you've always been stronger on your own.  ❜ ❛  i wish staying was enough. i really do.  ❜ ❛  don't look at me like that. if i don't walk away now, i never will.  ❜ ❛  one day, you'll understand why i have to walk away.  ❜ ❛  i wish i could stay, but this isn't my place anymore.  ❜ ❛  don't wait for me. i don't know when ... if i'll be back.  ❜ ❛  i wish there was another way. but there isn't.  ❜ ❛  this isn't goodbye because i don't care. it's because i do. too much.  ❜ ❛  this goodbye is the hardest thing i've ever had to do.  ❜ ❛  i'm leaving because i love you too much to keep hurting you.  ❜ ❛  i'm sorry i couldn't be what you needed me to be.  ❜ ❛  i have to go find who i am without all this.  ❜ ❛  just because i'm leaving doesn't mean i stopped caring.  ❜ ❛  i'm not running. i'm just done waiting.  ❜ ❛  every step i take away from here is breaking me.  ❜ ❛  i can't keep pretending this place feels like home.  ❜ ❛  the hardest part isn't leaving. it's knowing you'll be here when i'm not.  ❜ ❛  sometimes goodybe is the kindest thing we can say.  ❜

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I MEANT TO CHANGE MY PFP FOR JUNE. DAMNIT. i was going to do the nonb.inary flag but forget the colour order & got too lazy.

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@florietiae THEM .

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fucked up hurt/comfort. the person who stabbed you tends to your wound. the person who killed your loved one helps you grieve.