#& said that me and my brother were weak and pathetic bc of the way my mam acts ...

[gayspock]

my dad is so effing weird & childish fr -_-

[scentedloverangel]

An Mc who doesn't care about death but asks for it.

Warning:Choking,mentions of death. angst I think but anyways luv yall. Xoxo

It all started off fine the first few months in the Devildom.You the human, along with the seven brothers or sins as I should say, They always protected Mc from danger.

Realizing that Mc is with the sins and their anger against a human. Ha! who am I kidding Mc would get crushed.

Not long before Mc experienced death so many times they gave up on being afraid instead you desired death so many times but kept being brought back to life. oh how a pity..

One day You and Satan got in trouble for bringing in cat's and kittens. Lucifer got mad and eventually blew off because of how many times this kept on happening.

"For diavolos sake how many times do I keep on repeating myself!" Lucifer spoke in anger. That didn't keep you from talking back. "Lucifer We only did this because we wanted to have fun."

Satan looked at you with widened eyes. Did you really speak back...Your life is now on the line. "What was that you say MC? Repeat it now or I will make you say it my my hand."

"What a pity you didn't hear me..but I'll be nice I said that we just wanted to have fun and that threat of yours won't wor-" Lucifer got you by the neck and held you tightly.

"Pathetic dying by my own hands. Just who do you think you are...your just a weak human nothing else" You struggling to speak finds yourself to say a few words to the avatar of pride.

"Kill me lucifer. I no longer desire life! just kill me already! You almost killed me once! Please do it end my life!" Lucifer froze at those words "What did you say..." Lucifer let you go, Eyes widened by satan and lucifer looking at you.

You can tell at this point the other brothers were hearing too."Come in all of you. You don't need to hide" The rest of the brothers come in terrified at this point. "What's with the long faces~ hmm?"

"M-Mc is it true?" Mc turns around to Mammon teary eyed looking at You. "Of course dear! Death awaits for me~" as you say that the brothers look at Mc crying their hearts out and lucifer ended the lecture and sent Mc off.

You on the other hand you were always looking for death in some ways, But when you bring the fact up that you wanna die. It doesn't end well..

(Alr imma do part 2 later on in the after noon or morning bc its like 2:07 AM and I'm tired love yall byee)

[septembersghost]

that post about BCS appealing more to women made me think, and it's interesting that Walter and Jimmy are both cringefail pathetic, and don't get me wrong Walter's whole self justifying toxic macho thing is fascinating, but Jimmy is almost more... accessibly pathetic? he's emotional, got big sad blue eyes, wanted his brother to like him, lbr a total bottom with Kim, and even the vanity is treated more sympathetic than in Breaking Bad where it was essentially flamboyance helps with the sleaze. This isn't even me saying he's better than Walter, there's a whole laundry list of flaws, it's just amusing that I can't think of anyone calling Heisenberg their pathetic bb girl

editing this to say i was writing back to you last night and didn't have time to finish it, so i saved this as a draft, and now i'm like 100000x more deranged about the contrasts between jimmy and walt than i was before, because jimmy was PREPARED TO DIE FOR HIS WIFE. walt presses on with his, "everything i do, i do for my family" (despite us knowing this becomes a falsehood of an excuse), but the pure act of selfless love jimmy exhibited for kim is true.

it definitely comes down to endearment - walt is a fascinating character, but innately unlikable from the start, whereas jimmy is lovable. walt's pathetic qualities curdle into cruelty and control, he's not cringefail in a way where we want to bring him in from the rain in a cardboard box lol but there's something about jimmy, some spark of heart or goodness, where we want better for him even though we KNOW where he's headed. accessible is a great word for it, there's something in him that we get, even when his actions are immoral or destructive.

i'm trying to remember if i just wrote about this recently or if i only thought about it in my head...there's a scene in salud when flynn comes over to see walt, and it's his birthday, and walt and jesse have just gotten into an ugly, brutal fight. walt is beat up and miserable and completely out of it, and accidentally calls flynn "jesse," and then the next day when he's a bit more clear, he talks about his experience seeing his father sick when he was a child. it's an amazing, haunting scene and i don't think it gets talked about enough. bryan's performance gets praised for the big meme moments - the "i am the one who knocks" speech, "you're goddamn right," "i suggest you tread lightly," even the breakdown in crawl space, but the monologue he has in salud is one of my favorite bits of his acting in the entire show. he's quiet. he's introspective. and he talks about these terrible memories of seeing his father wasting away from illness, the caustic smell of the hospital chemicals, the sound of his breath rattling like an empty spray paint can. and he tells flynn this formative memory, this huge, revealing part of himself, and it speaks so deeply to the response he's had to his cancer, his fear of his illness, his loathing of looking weak. his father wasn't there to, as gus once said, provide. he only remembers being afraid and seeing frailty. it's just a gutwrenchingly human scene. he says to his son that he doesn't want him to remember him like that. but then flynn says, "remembering you that way wouldn't be so bad. the bad way to remember you would be the way you've been this whole last year. at least last night you were...you were real." it's heartbreaking because all he WANTS is for his dad to let him in and be honest with him, even if that means ugly crying. the emotional vulnerability matters. but walt just...seals back up. walt cannot abide being seen in weakness. and that hubris destroys everything. the narrative knows walt is pathetic, but walt cannot face that himself.

by design, bcs recognizes jimmy's more pathetic qualities, but never needs the veneer of the power or masculinity. even when jimmy tries posturing, it's ineffective. the narrative knows, but SO DOES JIMMY. the "lightning bolts shoot from my fingertips!" scene has howard walking angrily away from him with zero reactions, and ends with jimmy panting and defeated because he's aware he was lashing out in guilt and fear after having to defend lalo, after seeing grieving family members in court. when jimmy gets mad at kim and kim says, "jimmy, you are always down," he doesn't respond with a counterargument, he just sort of collapses inwardly, and starts packing his things (in his metaphorical little rucksack) until she comes to him and softens and offers support. it's not bad to see jimmy weak or very emotional or afraid or frustrated or downtrodden because it's REAL. and we can empathize with those flaws when they're honest.

heisenberg and saul goodman are both grandiose personas, but used for very different reasons and ends. they're both their worst selves writ large, but where heisenberg feels like an extension of walt's obsessive ego, saul, even in his scumminess and vanity, is a shroud for the vulnerability of jimmy's heart - and because we know that exists in him, we respond to his faults more compassionately. in fandom parlance, jimmy's meow meowness, his lovable qualities, are possible because of that genuineness we've felt. we know he can do better, we wish he would. walt's metastatic decay doesn't allow for that. it allows for such great counterpoints between the themes of both their arcs.

[lemonhemlock]

Honestly I think I hate Cersei because she thinks she is some mastermind while she isn’t. Tywin and how he keep holding power for so long is very interesting, btw I love Tywin and Kevan dynamics. Jaime is my fave i just love his storyline. As for Tyrion, there are 2 of them. The book one and the show one. Show one I hate. Book one I kinda enjoy because he constantly flirts with darkness. I don’t buy show Tyrion poor misunderstood meow meow. And I hate that they did the same with show Aemond. That’s why I prefer Aegon and Daemon. From the beginning you know where they stand, there are no attempts to make them sympathetic bullshit. Stop whitewashing characters in order to make characters more sympathising for audience. The reason why the Joker, Soprano Family and Roy family from Succession are so great is because they aren’t portrayed as some poor people being victims of their circumstances all their life. Aemond wanting to console Jace at Driftmark? What the fuck is that? Also giving him sexual trauma made me laugh. The show made it clear I and everyone else is meant to feel sorry for him but I just laughed at how pathetic they are. Like you have weak Viserys, pedo Daemon, rapist and drunkard Aegon and traumatised and with only one eye Aemond. So yeah, the winner of who should be the fan favourite is clear. Instead of showing the 4 of them as bad and letting people choose who their favourite is, they create 3 of them in unsympathetic light and make one of them #1 victim and the other 3 as monsters or weak men. Sorry but I hate the narrative where I am being shown down my throat who I am supposed to love and who to hate. Especially if 3 out of 4 characters are doing terrible things and only one behaves properly until starting the war. I really can’t wait for Aemond to burn Riverlands, most stans would leave his fanclub and began to see Aegon is not the worst guy out there. I just hope TGC won’t stop playing Aegon until the moment Aemond will show everyone what a legit psycho he really is.

idk what to tell you, anon, this is not exactly the blog for cersei haters. i've always found this prevailing tendency of enjoying jaime as a character but disliking cersei to be very strange, bc their POVs are so intertwined and they are as delusional & "awful" as the other so i don't really see the point here. it's a choice i would personally interrogate bc more often than not it has some v unsavory roots. cersei can be just as funny as jaime and he can be just as unhinged as her. also cersei's dumbness is greatly exaggerated, she does have some good ideas and a knack for getting out of tricky situations (some of them of her own making, yes, but she's hardly the idiot fandom likes to paint her as). fans sure love to think they would have made better decisions had they been in her situation.

she also suffers from getting a POV so late in the game, in comparison to her brothers, and is way more affected psychologically by the death of her son than jaime is + the prophecy hanging over her head. she's basically having the worst mental health crisis in AFFC and getting judged for not being Machiavelli's Prince

as for the rest of the message, as i've said in a previous post, i see this desire to not allow characters to be anything other than cardboard villains very reductive and not smth i'm personally interested in fiction. narrative bias and needless demonisation at the expense of others is one thing, but, generally-speaking, why is it somehow superior if they only receive dark traits instead of being humanized & muddled? why is it better writing if aemond is only shown as a psycho killing machine? are the literature gods going to get angry if he tries to be polite one time? the roy siblings weren't coddled by the narrative but they were also shown acting like human beings (clumsily) trying to connect with people

also no actor is going to turn down hbo money and the opportunity to appear in one of the most viewed shows of the year, so i don't see why tgc would stop playing aegon, unless he were fired. these people are professional actors, they may not like or agree with certain character choices but they don't have the luxury of turning down jobs bc of their character is not "true to the text". they still have bills to pay.

[visionofhope04]

Neglected - Part 2

Batfam x Neglected!Batsis!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 (Current) Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Thank you all for your support! I’m glad you enjoy my writing! Btw I noticed some parts of Part 1 made no sense bc I was sleep deprived when I wrote it so sorry!

Ages: Alfred (Immortal), Bruce (48-ish), Dick (26-27), Jason (24-25), Tim (17-18), Damian (13-14), Y/N (13-14)

Prompt: You are Damian’s twin sister and have been living with them for 3 years. (CONTAINS CHILD NEGLECT AS SUGGESTED BY THE TITLE AS WELL AS SELF HATE AND INVALIDATING PERSONAL ISSUES BTW I DONT REALLY KNOW HOW IT IS TO HAVE ANOREXIA SO SORRY IF I OFFENDED SOMEONE AND DID IT WRONG)

—-

It was summer break. School had finished around a week ago and you were glad. This meant you no longer had to fake being alright in front of your friend(s) and pretend to eat. They had started to notice that you had lost an unhealthy amount of weight. When they had asked, you shrugged it off or said you were working out a lot. They believed it and carried on since you were that great of a liar but still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

It was another normal day for you, isolating yourself in your room, slipping into the dining room for meals, grabbing a water bottle instead, and slipping back out, heading to your room once again. (sO mAnY cOmMaS) You had begun to feel lightheaded but quickly dismissed it. ‘They go through so much more than you do, they’ve probably sustained worse injuries. They probably even have more scars than you do from the League! No wonder they didn’t let you join them on their nightly adventures. You’re a weak and pathetic girl.’ You thought.

You heard a knock on your door after three hours. You made your way to the door and opened it to see your twin brother standing there in a suit. “Y/N, what have you been doing?! The gala is in an hour, get ready you insufferable harlot!” He yelled, then trudged his way down the stairs. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me, GALA? Since when the frick was there a gala happening? I was never informed and he somehow expects me to know?’ You thought.

Rushing towards your closet, you searched it until you found your F/C dress/suit (cause I love women in suits it screams power as it should) and matching flats/heels and quickly put them on. You rushed over to your vanity and did your hair and/or makeup. Satisfied with your look, you attempted to stand up only to fall back down onto the chair you were seated at. You became dizzy all of a sudden and the room seemed as if it was spinning.

It became harder for you to remain awake and you felt your eyelids become heavy. They soon fluttered shut, your body falling limp. Your body fell off the chair you had been sitting on to the floor with a thud. Back downstairs, your family was impatiently waiting for your arrival. They had thirty minutes until the gala began. “Where’s Y/N?” Bruce questioned. “She was unaware of the gala, Father. I suggest we carry on without her. She’s nothing but a nuisance and dishonor to the Wayne name.”

“Don’t call her that demon spawn, she’s more of a Wayne than you’ll ever be.” Jason retorted, defending you. He didn’t like how Damian referred to you. He never called you by your name, only insults. Damian hated Tim, but he still called him by his name. Jason could never comprehend how or why Damian resented you. You were such an amazing person. You were sarcastic, witty, funny, and had a big heart.

“That’s enough Jason. Dick, go check on your sister.” Jason was shocked when Bruce hadn’t reprimanded Damian on how he disrespected his sister yet did so to Jason who was trying to defend her. It was clear to everyone that Damian had always been the favorite blood child. Jason hated this a lot. He knew how much of an amazing person you were and that you didn’t deserve such mistreatment. Heck, even Alfred sometimes forgot you existed. Not that he meant to, he just didn’t know you well and you didn’t speak often.

As Dick disappeared up the stairs, Jason turned to Bruce. “Why aren’t you defending your daughter? Is it because you agree with him? That she’s just another mishap of yours? That Damian’s the better one?” Jason said, raising his voice slightly. He couldn’t help it, his anger was rising. He was done with Bruce pretending like you never existed. Before Bruce could respond, they heard Dick call out to them.

“Guys! Y/N fainted! Her pulse is present but weak. She has no physical injuries, but she’s extremely thin, pale, and light.”

They rushed over to her and examined her. Dick was right, you were extremely thin and pale. “Call an ambulance!” Bruce commanded Tim. Tim spoke over the phone and soon, an ambulance arrived and carried you away. Everyone loaded into the limo and followed the ambulance to the hospital.

—-

Hi everyone! So this has turned out way longer than I expected it to be so I think it will be either 3-5 parts in total. Thank you so much for your support and I’m glad you like my writing!

[lexxiisstuff]

Hii may i request Kisaki Angst, where we had an argument before he went to mission then when he comeback reader died, mybe bcs his enemies attack the reader like tht...n lol regretful kisaki shshshs thank youuu btw i really enjoy your hanma storyy hv a good day

this hurt to write omg. Kisaki loml😭. Alsooo my first request ever btw so yay I'm really excited I hope you enjoy it <3 ( Also I'm sorry it's super short I have tons of assignments left and I'm trying to pace myself lol)

Warnings: swearing, death, fem reader

*************

𝑲𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒋𝒊

"Just stop for fucks sake!" Keisuke turned to glare at you and you winced. The two of you had been arguing for days and somehow still, neither one had felt like there had been any break through "God don't you have an off switch."

"Stop being such an asshole then Baji! I apologized more than once for coming to the warehouse! I know I'm not allowed there, but can you blame me, you've been acting different! You haven't been talking to me for weeks! I needed to know if something happened" You ended sadly. The only reason you went to that stupid hideout was to see if you could get some answers as to why your boyfriend had been so down and instead he'd seen you, grabbed your arm and dragged you out before you could talk to anyone.

"If something did happen it's none of your godamn business" He hissed. He knew he was being difficult but he didn't care. He couldn't care.

"How can you say that? How could you possibly say that after all the shit we've been through. All the shit you put me through. What the hell is going on with you?" You hated the tears that welled in your eyes. They made you feel pathetic. Weak.

"You. You're what's wrong with me. Save the pity party for later I have places to be" He grabbed his jacket and made his way to the front door of the apartment you shared.

"Keisuke. Wait. Please just don't go yet. Please" You couldn't help it. You knew whenever he walked out that door there was always a 50/50 chance he'd never come back "I'm sorry. I'm sorry okay. Don't leave angry. Just stay a minute"

"I don't have a minute. I especially don't have a minute to deal with whatever your problem is. I'll see you later" He heard your quiet sniffle and felt his heart tug.

"Okay I love you" You said it softly but he heard it and he promised later he'd make it up to you for not saying it back as he shut the door. You felt your heart dropped. He never ignored your I love yous . He'd never been able too and it that moment you felt the last of your hope deteriorate.

"Why don't you just tell her?" Chifuyu muttered. Baji had been in a mood the whole mission, he wasn't concentrating, barely present and had a permanent scowl etched on his features. They were just lucky he'd succeeded in doing what he had to do but Chifuyu had enough of his friends bitter moods.

"Because she doesn't need to know" How could he tell you that a month ago he'd accidentally killed an innocent. A girl who was your age, who had your hair color, your eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, Keisuke. She was collateral. She jumped in front of the boy you were supposed to kill" Chifuyu put a hand on the dark haired man.

"It was her brother" He said angrily.

"Who was a renowned drug dealer, rapist and all round terrible fucking person. She chose to die for him. Leave it at that. Tell y/n. The whole story. Before you lose her because of your stupid actions"

"Keisuke" Baji watched curiously and anxiously as his friend Kazutora stood silently in front of the apartment building.

"What are you doing here?" Kazutora frowned not knowing what to say.

"Baji listen to me I need you to sit down" Baji tensed. A chill sliding down his spine. Something wasn't right and unease curled around him like a blanket.

"What happened? Where's y/n? Is she okay?" He attempted to enter the building but Kazutora held him back shaking his head lightly.

"Keisuke there was an incident" Kazutora said softly "Some guys got into your apartment. Y/n was home. There were guns involved, man. She.. She didn't make it"

She. Didn't. Make. It "That's not fucking funny Kazutora. Move. Now. Before I make you"

His friend hesitantly took a step back and glanced at Chifuyu anxiously. Baji bounded up the stairs. His stomach clenching at the sight of the familiar apartment door. The handle broken. Mikey stood at the entrance.

"Where the fuck is my girlfriend? If this is some joke you, Kazutora and y/n are playing its fucking cruel. Tell her to come out. Right now"

"Baji. I'm sorry. I wish it was, man. Fuck I really wish it was. Four bullets to the chest. One to the arm. She couldn't have survived it. Some of the guys heard the gunshots. Alerted me and Draken. We knew this was your area, wanted to check things out but when we got here she was already gone. I'm sorry"

He couldn't breath. He shook his head repeatedly "No no no" He tried to enter the apartment, Mikey grabbed his arm.

"Don't put yourself through that. It's not a sight you want to live with"

"Don't fucking touch me" The apartment felt cold. Empty. Lifeless. His heart caught at the sight body in the middle of the room covered in a sheet he knew belonged on the bed. The bed the two of you shared. With trembling fingers he knelt down and carefully lifted the sheet and all of a sudden it was too much.

Grief washed over him in waves and he couldn't help the small sob that got stuck in his throat. "Y/n? No. Baby no. No no no. What happened? Fuck. Fuck I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Oh God please. Please."

He cupped your cheeks and sobbed harder at how cold they were. And soon it wasn't only grief that washed over him but memories. Memories of you laughing at the lame pick up jokes he told you . Of you interlocking your fingers with his whenever you were in public. Of you snuggling in his lap whenever you were sad or stressed. Of you kissing away his worries.

"I love you. I love you so fucking much. I'm sorry I didn't say it back earlier. I'm sorry, I was a godamn idiot. But you knew right, pretty girl? You knew I love you" He cried into your hair. Shuddering at how still you were

He couldn't lose you. He couldn't do it. He couldn't live in a world where you didn't exist. He felt something inside him break. It could only be his heart. He heard the crack, felt the life inside him leave him slowly, almost like his soul was following yours.

"You can't go sweetheart. You promised to marry me" He wiped his tears but he couldn't help how hoarse he sounded "You're too young. You have too much ahead of you. Much more than the likes of me. God. Thank you for fucking choosing me though"

The last words he said to you rang through his mind over and over again "I don't have a minute. I especially don't have a minute to deal with whatever your problem is. I'll see you later" Fuck. Fuck. He felt like he was on fire. Like he was being suffocated by guilt, grief and anger simultaneously.

"Keisuke Come on. Come on" Kazutora grabbed him dragging him away from your lifeless form.

"She probably hated me Keisuke" He sobbed into his friends chest " She died not knowing I loved her. Not knowing because I decided to be a fucking asshole and not tell her"

"She knew man. She knew."

"It should have been me" Keisuke whispered softly "It should never have been her"

"It shouldn't have been either of you" Kazutora said vehemently "We'll find the fuckers that did this"

"I know. Because I won't die until I do" He would find them. He'd avenge you. Make those bastards suffer. And then he'd regret this day. Regret the choices he made because somehow he knew he was just as responsible.

[fandomsnfluff]

Scenario 11 with sentence starter 5, with MC/reader and literally anyone you want I just think this is cute ~

no problem anon!! i chose mc and levi bc our otaku boyo needs more tickles 🥺

tickle prompts/scenarios

5: “Keep your arms up!” 11: tickle games

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

"Levi! Can I show you this really cool game that I made up?”

You burst into the third-born’s room rather unprompted, and he nearly jumped out of his gaming chair, turning around to meet your gaze with an annoyed glare.

“Does it have to be now?” he sighed. “I was about to start the boss for this set of levels.”

“Well, it seems like I came at a good time!”

He truly didn’t seem amused with you right now. But you giggled, continuing.

“It may seem a bit strange at first,” you introduced. “But at the same time, it can be a fun and easy way to bond with your friends and family. Which is why I made this!”

You held out your hand to show him a nine-sided cube that you called a die, and one that you folded yourself. Now he seemed interested; he reached forward to grab it and inspect it for himself. “Did you fold this yourself?”

“Yep! Asmo helped me.”

“Huh...” Levi turned the dye around in his hands a few times. As he observed what was in his hands, he started to frown, looking genuinely confused, before turning to you. “Why are there body parts written on all the sides?”

“That’s where the nature of the game comes in! The reason it’s a bonding exercise slash game slash whatever you want to call it is because you have to tickle the person in the spot on the dye that’s facing up after rolling it.”

Levi’s eyes widened, and you could have sworn you saw him flinch at the idea of the game involving tickling. You remembered Mammon telling you about how ticklish his younger brother was, and one evening, when you both were feeling particularly sneaky, decided to gang up on the poor otaku and tickle him until he cried. That’s when you discovered how ticklish he was, and, naturally, you decided to try it out on him first. You wanted to bask in the glory of getting to know about the brother which seemed to be the most ticklish demon, and alone, of course.

“Wh-why tickling, though...?” he asked, somewhat off-handedly.

“Because it can be a bonding activity.” Then you frowned, not sure if it was such a good idea to go ahead with this. “If you’re not interested, I can always--”

“No!” Levi blinked, a bit surprised at his own sudden outburst. He then cleared his throat and looked you in the eye. “I’ll try it out with you.”

“Okay, sweet! Basically, we have to set a timer for ten seconds while we tickle the person in the place that the die suggests. You can do this for as many rounds as you want, as long as you keep track of the amount of time the person being tickled can go without laughing. But I think for a test run we should only do one round, because you’re in the middle of a game. But do be warned, though, because the person who loses, a.k.a. the person who laughs the most according to the recorded seconds, has to undergo a special kind of punishment.”

You heard and saw Levi gulp, and you weren’t sure if he was paying attention to everything that you had just said, only the part about there being a special punishment. He blinked a few times before urging you on. “...Like?”

You smirked, half to yourself, suddenly thinking of the perfect victory strategy. It was really mostly to mess with Levi, but it would still just be fun nonetheless. “You can do whatever you want, but in this case, the loser has to get tickled.”

Levi blinked, flinching at your suggestion, and his gasp was just audible enough for you to hear. You had to fight back your laughter; you couldn’t help but tease him with his ultimate weakness. It was no secret that the demon was extremely ticklish, and you were more than happy to exploit this from him in any way you could. “B-but that’s already the point of the game, isn’t it?!”

“Right. But it would be a rather fitting punishment because of the nature of the game, no? And it would only be for thirty seconds!”

“Fine!” Levi huffed, a slight dusting of a blush tracing across his face. “Just know that I won’t lose, then!”

“All right, you’re on.” You had to fight to roll your eyes, knowing deep down that you were going to win. “Why don’t you go first?”

“Huh?!!” The exclamation came out as a shrill shriek, and you chuckled at Levi’s adorable response to your offer.

“No, no, you roll the dye first and you tickle me, just to see how it works out.”

“Okay...” Levi grabbed the self-made cube of paper that had body parts scrawled out on every edge. You couldn’t work out if his jumpiness was due to his seemingly naturally high anxiety levels, or if it was due to his nervousness about the prospect of being tickled. So you just assumed that it was both.

Levi rolled the dye, which was more like a shaky throw, and it landed with the sided written “ribs” face-up.

“You have to tickle my ribs now,” you prompted the demon when he didn’t respond within the first few moments.

“Huh?! O-oh, right.” Okay, so it probably was shyness. You knew that the demon was very touch-shy, and physical contact often made him anxious or restless. It took a few moments for him to get the handle of, but as soon as he strung up the courage to start his timer set to ten seconds, he quickly reached up and dug into your ribs.

You gasped, not expecting his nails to be so long and so...tickly. You fought the urge to squirm when his fingers got dangerously close to your armpit, and you nearly choked out a full-on belly laugh when he dug between the bones. It had already been at least five seconds and you didn’t laugh yet, and you knew that at this point your win was in the bag, knowing that Levi would barely be able to last a second. However, you did lurch forward in an attempt to escape the grabby and persistent fingers once they returned back to your lower sides, a high-pitched squeal beginning to rise in your throat just as the buzzer went off.

“Oh god, I don’t want to do this...” you heard Levi groan as you swapped places. You were now sitting on the floor, and he had resumed his earlier position of leaning against the back of his gaming chair. Smirking to yourself, you rolled the die, and it quickly landed with the side showing “feet” facing up.

Levi groaned, whispering a barely-audible “oh god” before you set up your timer. You grabbed his ankle and reached over to start the timer, but he kicked away from your grip with a squeak of alarm just milliseconds before you started the timer. “Wait!” he called. At first you were a bit annoyed, but you laughed half to yourself once you realized what was going on.

Levi was covering his face in his hands, and you could see that there was a blush spreading from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. “I’m not ready for this,” he mumbled.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fine,” you encouraged him, gently taking a hold of his ankle, but he kicked away from you, and you breathed out another laugh.

“MC, I...” Levi was finding it hard not to laugh too. “I...can’t...”

“Yes you can! I just took some pretty rough bullets from you!” This time, you refused to let him escape, and you reached over to quickly start the timer before beginning your rather ruthless attack on his socked soles.

A scream of laughter rung throughout the room, and in an instant you knew that you had won. However, you didn’t want to stop there; you wanted to see how ticklish the demon really was. Levi was cackling pathetically and desperately as you spidered your fingers all around the arches of his feet, and you heard a bang behind you as he came toppling down to the floor, kicking his legs out to try and get you away from him. You weren’t sure if it was because you had mistimed your tap on your D.D.D., but you didn’t hear the timer buzz even after what felt like ten seconds.

“MC!” Levi screamed, letting out a sudden squeal of alarm when you got the good spot underneath his toes. “LET GOHOHO STAHAHAP!!!!”

Yep, the ten seconds surely passed. You had to hide a snicker as you stood up, helping him. “Guess we know who won, Leviachan,” you teased him, poking his nose.

“S-seriously....? Wait, why did I even agree to do this?!” He sounded truly exasperated, and you turned your head to try and control your laughter before he could see you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go easy on you,” you told him, but would you? It depended on your mood. And how merciless you were feeling, of course. After all, Levi was extremely cute when he was being tickled.

“Sit back down on the chair,” you ordered him. “I want to test something else during your punishment.”

“Okay...w-what?”

“I want to see how long you can keep your arms up.”

“What?! Nonono, that’s WAY too many surprises in one day.” Levi turned his head away from you, frowning and crossing his arms.

A poke to the side was enough for his entire body to jolt, and he let out a squeal, holding the part of his lower side that had just been assaulted. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” you offered, teasingly wiggling your fingers at him.

“Okay okay, I’ll do it!” There was a true note of desperate panic in his voice that time, and he slid away from you in his chair. Well, as far as he could with the wall blocking him in the direction he was headed.

You sighed, lacking the patience for his antics. However, at the same time, how jumpy the demon was at so much as the mere prospect of being tickled was absolutely adorable. You approached him, and he put his arms up while you set the timer for thirty seconds. You counted down for from three before starting the timer, and your sneaky little fingers immediately went for his exposed underarms.

For the umpteenth time that day, Levi let out a squeal of laughter that filled up the entire room within a matter of seconds. His arms immediately shot down to his sides, and he curled into a ball, exploding into laughter.

“Keep your arms up!” you ordered him, trying not to laugh yourself.

“NOHOHOHO PLEEEEHEHEHEASE!!” he cried, thrashing and kicking and nearly bowling the chair right into you with insurmountable strength.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” you hissed. With his weakened strength from the tickling, you were able to bowl him to the ground and wrap him up in your arms, knowing fully that the move wasted at least a good six seconds on your timer. However, this was a much more advantageous position, for you could basically tickle the demon as much as you wanted now. Your hands traveled up and down his sides, digging into his underarms and making him scream and thrash from side to side, kicking at your legs and slapping at your face.

"PLEHEHEHEASE I’M GONNA PEEHEHEHEE!!!” Levi screamed, his laugh reaching a completely different octave as you pinched at the baby fat around his stomach. At this point, he had grown so tired from the tickling that he was losing the energy to laugh; you could tell in the way he heaved and rasped for breath, barely producing any sound except for the occasional hiccup or wheezy inhale as he fought to laugh uncontrollably.

The timer buzzed, and you let him go. “I am the victor!” you declared, standing upright and pumping your fists in the air as you observed a truly tired Levi curled on the ground, looking as if his soul had left his body for a considerable amount of time.

“You okay there, buddy?” you asked him.

A few moments passed before he responded. “No...” he mumbled. “I’m gonna die here...”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Should I motivate you to get up?”

That earned you a glare. But all the same, you knew deep down that you had won. At least, until he could get you back.

[ibijau]

firstly, i would like to apologize for the way that i saw the words “any ship” and instantly took them as a challenge to create new, bad ships. secondly, i am suggesting number 7 with lan xichen/wen xu. no, you did not misread that; mr capybara can get along with everyone so well that i’m assigning him an entirely new evil boyfriend. bonus points if you actually find a way to make this work in a canon or pre-canon universe, bc i sure can’t see one!

Holding their hair back as they vomit into the toilet

See, this is the one that got me in trouble. Because actually, that ship isn’t even that bad to me. I’m pretty sure it has been discussed several times on the xisang discord. And so I stupidly commented on tumblr that well, y’all think you’re giving bad ships but it’s not that awful. And boy oh boy, do I regret that now (not really, it’s gonna be fun)

warning for mentions of violence against a corpse, and for vomiting :)

The nausea hits Wen Xu when they pass through Qinghe, and doesn’t leave from that point on. It goes ever stronger as the cart gets closer to the Unclean Realm. If not for the man sitting next to him and throwing him weak smiles, Wen Xu would have jumped on his sword and ran away. This is a terrible, terrible plan, and he should have known better than to let Lan Xichen get plotting, and yet…

And yet, what choice did he have? Wen Xu doesn’t have his father and brother’s blind faith in Qishan Wen’s power. He understands the power of numbers, of good position, of sheer rage too. The instant Lotus Piers burned, he sent a letter to Lan Xichen, begging for his help. A desperate move after what happened with Qingheng-Jun, but Lan Xichen knows it was an accident. Back then too, they had a plan.

Hopefully, this one will work better.

As they fall into the shadows of the Unclean Realm’s high walls, Wen Xu starts fidgeting with the bandages on his face. If too much of his features show, if he is recognised… Nie Mingjue is on the frontlines, his little brother hidden far away in the Cloud Recesses, but Wen Xu’s face is one even lesser Nie cultivator will have seen at conferences. If he is seen, if he is spotted… this isn’t just about him, Lan Xichen too would…

“Calm down,” Lan Xichen whispers, taking his hands and forcing them away from his face. “I am well liked and well trusted here. And it’s only for a day or two, to avoid arousing suspicions. I always stop here when I’m in the area.”

Wen Xu, growing more nervous with every passing moment, grasps one of Lan Xichen’s wrists. Lan Xichen smiles as best as he can, and struggles against that grasp until they’re holding hands instead, their fingers tightly linked together. It feels more comforting that it should. Wen Xu has no faith in his father and brother, but he would follow Lan Xichen to the end of the world if the other man asked him too.

After a last squeeze, Lan Xichen lets go of Wen Xu’s hand and turns his gaze back to the doors of the Unclean Realm. He frowns and narrows his eyes, as if trying to see something, then turns deathly pale.

“Oh no,” he gasps.

That’s all the warning Wen Xu gets before he hears Nie Mingjue’s booming voice coming their way.

“Xichen! What are you doing here?”

Wen Xu shrinks on himself. He wants to take Lan Xichen’s hand again, to have the other man smile at him, look at him. He resists the impulse, fearful of attracting attention on himself, and watches instead as Lan Xichen smiles peacefully at the man who presents such danger to both of them.

“Mingjue-xiong, this is a surprise,” Lan Xichen says, sounding quite delighted to meet his friend. “I thought you’d be on the front.”

“I’ve just returned to do some decorating,” Nie Mingjue announces, leaning on the side of the cart. Wen Xu doesn’t look, but feels his gaze on him. “Who’s that with you, Xichen?”

“The heir of a small sect attached to Gusu Lan by marriage,” Lan Xichen flawlessly lies. “He was captured and wounded, but I freed him and I’m taking him to safety.”

The intensity of Nie Mingjue’s eyes on Wen Xu grows. They’re going to die, Wen Xu is certain of it. All these efforts, and they’re going to die, both of them.

They’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to…

“Well, I’ve got good news for him then!” Nie Mingjue announces smugly. “The war is going well. Help the man sit up, Xichen. I’ve got something to show that will please both of you.”

“Mingjue-xiong, it’s been a long day, I’d rather…”

“It’s on the way in,” Nie Mingjue explains. “Just sit him up so he doesn’t miss it.”

Lan Xichen’s face remains calm, but his hands are shaking as he helps Wen Xu sit up. In turn, Wen Xu doesn’t have to pretend too much when he leans against Lan Xichen’s side. His nausea is still there, stronger than ever. He must stink of fear so badly it’s a surprise that Nie Mingjue can’t smell it, when everyone knows the Nie are more beasts than humans.

As the cart starts moving, Wen Xu wonders what, exactly, he’s supposed to be seeing on his way in. There’s just not much around, and the bandages on his face do limit his field of vision.

Lan Xichen spots it before him.

Lan Xichen whose body turns to stone, and his grip on Wen Xu to iron.

There, right in the middle of the main yard of the Unclean Realm, there’s a high pike with a head on it. A head that Wen Xu knows too well, because it’s one he sees in every mirror, every puddle of water.

Bile hits the back of his throat, and he has to clench his teeth to avoid puking in public.

“We got him trying to retreat during our last battle,” Nie Mingjue explains proudly, mistaking their horrified silence for admiration perhaps. “He begged for his life like a dog and tried to pretend he wasn’t who we thought. Pathetic.”

In spite of the danger, Wen Xu blindly grasps Lan Xichen’s hand, desperately needing to ground himself.

That wasn’t the plan.

The plan, Wen Xu told his cousin a week ago, was for said cousin to disguise as him, mess up a battle, fake his suicide after that dishonour so nobody would look for Wen Xu, and then run back to his family and take them very far away from this war. Wen Xu gave the man gold, letters to guarantee his passage to safety, and placed his wife and children with Wen Qing’s people since nobody would dare to cross her.

Wen Xu’s cousin had just had his first son less than a year ago. Now little Wen Yuan and his sisters are orphans, and their mother will never know what became of her husband.

“Isn’t it a bit morbid?” Lan Xichen asks in a trembling voice.

“He killed your father,” Nie Mingjue reminds him.

And it’s true, of course, but it was an accident. Lan Xichen agreed that it was an accident. They’d had a plan. How were they supposed to guess that Qingheng-Jun, who hadn’t been seen in over a decade, would finally remember he was sect leader? Wen Xu hadn’t meant to kill him, and Lan Xichen had forgiven him, saying his father had likely just seen a chance to end his life without causing more dishonour to their family.

“It was Huaisang’s idea,” Nie Mingjue continues. “Well, he asked me to do that with Wen Ruohan’s head and to keep it there until he returns, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind seeing the full set.”

“I see,” Lan Xichen whispers. “Let’s hope the war is over quickly then. The smell is going to get terrible if that stays here all summer.”

“I’ve put a spell on it to…”

“Mingjue-xiong, I’ve had a really long day,” Lan Xichen interrupts, struggling to maintain his usual polite warmth. “I know we have talked in a while, but I really would like to rest a moment. May we be given a room for the night? And something to eat as well. I am very sorry, but my plan was to leave early tomorrow morning so I can go back to the frontlines quickly once I have delivered this man to safety.”

Nie Mingjue seems surprised by that demand. He grumbles, and offers to have his healers look at Wen Xu, to have his men deliver him back to his sect. Lan Xichen politely refuses all of that, claiming some vague oath to do this in person, and Nie Mingjue gives up.

Wen Ruohan needs armies to be respected and obeyed, while Lan Xichen needs only to smile.

Terrified beyond words, Wen Xu leans heavily against Lan Xichen as they are walked to their room for the night. He doesn’t need to pretend weakness. Every time he looks around and sees a Nie crest, every time he hears Nie Mingjue’s voice, his legs buckle under him.

As soon as the door closes behind them, as soon as he’s alone with Lan Xichen and safely out of view, Wen Xu falls to his knees.

“I’m going to be sick,” he gasps.

Lan Xichen barely has time to put a basin in front of him before Wen Xu starts heaving, and before long his last meal makes a return.

It lasts too long. Even when there’s nothing left to puke, Wen Xu’s body is rocked by dry hiccups that make it near impossible to breathe. He can’t stop thinking of that head on a pike, a head that should have been his.

“I’m sorry,” Lan Xichen whispers, holding his hair out of the way with one hand, rubbing comforting circles on his back with the others. “I’m so sorry. I never thought he would be there and… well. You know Mingjue.”

Wen Xu nods, a nearly hysterical giggle escaping him before he finds that though he’s empty of food, he can still vomit bile.

He knows Mingjue indeed, the man who has sworn he would avenge his father, who has looked at Wen Xu as if he wants to cut him in pieces since the day he became sect leader. Him and that sneaky brother of his have always scared Wen Xu, something for which his brother and father have mocked him sometimes.

Wen Ruohan probably isn’t laughing anymore. Or if he is, if he thinks he’s just rid of the weaker of his two sons at last, that only proud and devoted Wen Chao remains… then he’s a bigger fool than Wen Xu ever thought him to be, and he won’t be missed by his eldest son.

Between Wen Ruohan and Lan Xichen, the choice was always an easy one.

[ktheist]

bleed the same red | m

synopsis. they raised you to defend the weak. yet you fell for the one thing that preys on them.

alternatively, you had one job.

muses. pureblood!jimin x huntress!reader

tropes. starcrossed soulmates | e2l

words. 1.5k

warnings. rated m for depiction of death. (but no character death!)

x

the pain from jimin pushing you against the wall sears through your body before it numbs. his lips latch onto the delicate skin on your neck, just above your shoulder.

“must you do this every damn time?” you hiss, nails digging into the pristine white dress shirt that clings to his perfectly sculpted body.

“if i have to wait another day - i’ll die,” the tip of his fangs grazes your skin ever so lightly as he speaks, refusing to let any space between his mouth and your body, “i swear death is a much more merciful than you, huntress.”

you shiver at the name he calls you. bestowed by the highest priest of the temple at only the age of five right after their men tore your village down and burned the houses in search for the child of prophecy - it was god’s will, they told you.

as they had told you many things. a child whose eyes shine brighter than the red moon they oh-so-devoted themselves to. warm blood coursing through her veins compared to the stilled stream in jimin’s kinds.

you looked just like the creatures you were destined to kill.

but somewhere along the line, that child began to stray from the light. drawn to the darkness as though it was home.

“would you like that?” the tips of your nails dig into jimin’s throat - if he could breath, you would have felt him inhale sharply, perhaps, “to join your brothers and sisters that i’ve slaughtered?”

jimin raises his head. not because he’s afraid of you puncturing his airways and turning him into ashes. but because he wants to look you in your blood red eyes - he wants you to say it to his face.

“will you kill the other half of yourself?” his voice is hot and cold at the same time. as though he’s threatening you for offering him eternal slumber and yet begging you to end the centuries he’s lived, “you were just a puppet when i found you. with strings and threads and without a soul.”

something in the pit of your stomach bursts into flames. before you know it, your palms are on his chest, sending him flying across the rickety walls of the old shed. dust fills the air from his pathetic land on the ground.

jimin laughs - it’s purely reactionary. an admittance of your superior strength. you share the same soul but you do not share the same abilities-

“there’s no other like me.” the words pour out of your mouth like a script. you struggle to push the bile down as the priest’s leering smile flashes at the back of your head. you swore you’d never be like them - yet here you are, repeating the words they told you as though you actually believe it.

but then again, they weren’t lying.

“of course, there isn’t.” he agrees too easily, head leaned back against the wall he just slid down from. he doesn’t make any attempt to stand up. legs splayed on the ground just like a puppet who needed its master to make him move, “otherwise, i wouldn’t have lived so many lives. wandering the face of the earth. questioning my existence only to find it in you - and yet you, my other half, refuse me.”

“in that many centuries you’ve lived, you killed millions of humans!” your voice heightens with every step you take towards him. body heating up like the sun.

he lets out a breath - something between a chuckle and a scoff. “don’t act so self-righteous. you would have too if you were born a pureblood.”

the point of your heels bumps against the sole of his shoes as you stop in front of him. you see his heart inside his chest. cold. unbeating. lifeless. while yours ache when you mourn for the lives of your parents and palpitates with every leap across the branches while you chase after one of his kind.

you’re alive but jimin is not.

“i rather die than be born as one of you.” this time, the temple didn’t teach you this. despite their motives, they still raised you to cherish life. a gift from god.

“there you go again, acting all high and mighty.” his lips curls over his fangs as his smiles. it’s wicked and ratchet and oh-so-stunning. “yet you take lives too. what? do the lives of humans have more value over those more different? i won’t say lesser, no, if anything, we are more superior.”

you lower yourself in between his legs but none of your body parts touches the dusty ground. no words form in your throat. it’s true, what he said. the temple had showed you the polished side of the coin but thwarted your tiny little hands away when you reach for it. fearful of the corroded side you might find.

that was why, when jimin, once upon a blood moon, came to you with eyes blazing as red as your own and a scent as sweet as honey, you had slipped your hand into his and let him defile you.

child of the temple.

huntress.

no more.

you lean into jimin’s hand that caresses your cheek. he could lower it to your neck and snap it in half. and you don’t think you would mind. because just like him, you fear a life without the other half of your soul in it.

“so pretty, my little huntress.” he coos, if there is a thing called love then the it’s the deep shade of ruby in jimin’s eyes.

his love is as cold as the enchanted silver of your dagger. it’s pierced your heart one too many times and you’re left with scars all over your body.

but his love is also everlasting.

engraved in the cosmos - the same cosmos that surrendered his death in your hands.

“i want it.” you murmur under your breath, knowing that his senses could at least catch that. no matter how weak he is - how weak the pureblooded are compared to you, they’re still stronger than humans, “your blood. i want it all.”

jimin doesn’t object. he simply brings his wrist to his lips, grazing his fangs over his fair skin. that’s when his sweet scent overwhelms you - the scent of his blood is like no other. but you don’t have fangs the way he does - you have to ask for blood when all he needs to do is kiss your pretty little neck as a warning and dig his fangs into your bloodstreams.

he watches you wrap your mouth over the wound, tongue lapping at the incisions he’d created all the while your eyes hold his. that’s the thing about jimin - he lets you take however much you want, wound him however way you wish and he’d never groan or moan in complaint. even when he’s on the brink of dying from not having a drop of your blood in weeks, he still puts your wishes before his needs. ever since he met you, no blood of humans nor nymphs (the second most delectable blood) could satisfy him. it has to be you.

perhaps it’s because of that, your hand goes to your neck, pushing your hair back to expose your neck. wordlessly, you break the contact, lashes fluttering as you keep them half-closed.

it’s five second later that you feel him shift closer to you but still managing not to move his wrist so much while you feed on him. another second for him to litter butterfly kisses all over your neck before he sinks his fangs into you.

the discomfort sears across your shoulder and knocks on your skull like a headache. but it’s nothing compared to the injuries you’ve sustained in your time as huntress.

“you taste divine, huntress.” he purrs, waves of gratification rolling off his tongue as he wipes the corners of his lips on the back of his head. it may just be wishful thinking, to have your soul woven to a living lover instead of a beatless hearted one, but you think you see the colors coming back to him. cheeks dusted pink. complexion a little less pale. and there’s more tone to his lips but that could have been your blood.

“___.” you say, heart clenching at the name your foster parents gifted you. it’s been awhile since anyone’s- “call me by my name.” 

jimin’s lips curl into a smile - not a sneer, nor a smirk but a complacent smile as he pushes your hair out of your face, “have you finally accepted a savage murderer as the other half of your soul?” rather than contempt, his words are spoken with so much serenity, you have to take a moment to digest it.

“no,” you stand up, foregoing the featherlight touch of his fingerpads. “but i swear on my name, for as long as i’m alive, you will not have to murder anyone for blood.”

his smile tilts wider just the slightest. there’s a knowing glint in his eyes before he nods to himself.

“___,” unlike his love, your name is spoken with so much warmth, you almost forgot his inborn nature, “your eyes are red. like the moon.”

x

note. jimin’s telling oc that that’s love. bc remember his ‘love’ eye is deep red? oc’s is bright red - like the moon!!

anyways, thank you for reading. hope you enjoyed it!

[eltanin-malfoy]

From the Dining Table

based on the song by Harry Styles

pairing: draco/ginny

word count: 2.5k

warning(s): heavy sexual themes/sex mention/non-graphic smut, angst, alcohol, cursing

requested: not

a/n: yet another depressing ass songfic! am i even surprised? not even a little bit. also, drinny >>> ALSO, v importantly, i’m gonna dedicate this to the lovely drawlfoy bc it was her 18th birthday on the 17th :) happy late birthday!!!!!!!!!! (also evi watch out, i’m working on a (v :/) late bday present my writer’s block has only just gone down recently :3)

taglist: @acciodracoo @drawlfoy @war-sword

also available on ffn, ao3 and fia

It was warm and it was satisfying. But then it was over and it wasn’t anymore. 

It was incredibly pathetic.

Draco lifted the sheets and brought his hand nearer to his face, turning it over. The skin of his palm was red where he’d held himself tight and was speckled with the evidence of the climax he’d brought himself to. The haze, the heat, he’d found himself in had practically vanished into thin air. He stared at it with disgust, then reached for his wand, placed precariously at the edge of his nightstand. 

He could almost imagine what she’d do if she was here. Poke his nose and giggle. Maybe even peck him on the cheek while she chided him for being silly. Ginny was always overly cheery after it was over, sometimes even uncharacteristically so. 

But Draco wasn’t. Especially not now. 

Memories of her pulsed through his mind. The sore stiffness on his front threatened to stir once more and Draco quickly flicked his wand towards his nethers and cast a cleaning charm under his breath. The sheets would be fine now. Not a soul would know what had transpired there that morning. But he… he felt tears dripping down his cheeks before he realised that the swirling in his stomach wasn’t just the aftermath of his orgasm. It was that awful, awful mixture of regret and anxiety. He was supposed to get used to it, he knew. But it felt just as painful as it had the moment it had all ended. 

There were a million ways to get over exes and he’d attempted and succeeded with them before. It’s just that this time around, he wasn’t trying. Maybe, he just didn’t want to. His heart was shattered, and instead of looking to mend it and try over again, for some reason he felt it was simpler to just mull over what had been. Or long for it, rather. 

A  few minutes had elapsed, and while his sniffing had ended, his eyelids were beginning to grow heavy. His wet cheeks felt oddly bloated and he knew his fantasy had long since ended. He’d attempted to imagine morning sex, pretending the hand he didn’t use often was hers. Why? Who knew. Who knew. He wondered when even something as primal as stroking himself would return to normalcy and he wouldn’t have to imagine it had anything to do with what used to be. This train of thought, however, was much too complex for the moment. He blinked slowly, letting the lids of his eyes droop and shield his pupils from the soft sunshine. He felt himself falling back into the void of sleep, succumbing to some odd sense of calm. The dark dreamlessness of his slumber was more comforting than anything else. 

But it wasn’t long before he felt the harsh rays of the early afternoon sun beating down on him, the glare from the french windows on the side of his room enveloping him in the heat. It was time to get up. But his feet suddenly felt too large and too heavy for the rest of his body. He could barely even fit two and two together before he walked over to the desk in the front of his room and picked up the receiver of the intercom and dialled for room service. 

Woke up alone in this hotel room

Played with myself, where were you?

Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon

I've never felt less cool

The harsh scent of whiskey could be smelt off his person. He knew it. Earthy, ethanolic, evocative. He’d ordered the most expensive bottle of whiskey they had and now he knew it’d been worth it. It tasted richer than that usual phenolic taste he’d become used to. You could even call it slightly leathery, with those soft notes of chocolate and smoke that Gin had taught him to look out for. Fucking hell. 

He’d poured himself just half a glass at first, mostly in an attempt to lie to himself. He wanted to limit his consumption of alcohol in the daytime, but it had been no good. The ice in his drink was still mostly solid after he’d finished his first glass, and it still was as he poured himself another. 

He’d relished the fervid feeling down his throat, the burning sensation that he hoped was numbing the pain in his chest. He stared at the half-empty bottle with nothing but remorse. He was laying back on the bed now, thoughts flitting through his mind while brain felt oddly fleshy in his skull. Every part of his body felt so heavy now he could barely lift a muscle. He’d always been deplorably lightweight. And now that he’d drunk so much all within thirty minutes, well, he was doing miserably. He could already feel his impending hangover, even the blood pumping through the veins on his head was cacophonic.

Now, now, he wished Ginny was here to take care of him. He knew this thread of thought was so very pitiful, but it was sensible. She was scarily good at handling her liquor, she always had been. Somehow. He supposed the only girl among a few brothers could certainly turn out just as, if not more, tough than the rest of them. It was something he admired, he’d told her. She could protect him when they’d be drinking. (She was a little more protective over him than he was towards her anyway.) 

His plan to distance himself from everyone and everything in an effort to get over his ex-girlfriend - ex-fiancée-to-be, ex-future-wife, whatever you wanted to call her - now seemed doltish, futile, even. Every single thing he did only reminded him of her. His original intent for his stay at this hotel had long since been lost. He’d stopped trying long since. There was no point.  

The day everything had gone to dust, it didn’t feel like it would be permanent. They’d had plenty of rifts between the two of them, which was to be expected really, what with them being as competitive and quarrelsome as they were and Ginny being a Quidditch player (  god, what a dream that was), they had their fair share of conflicts. But that time, he didn’t know that that evening, when she stepped out of his apartment, that they’d never speak again.

We haven't spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won't you ever say what you want to say?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

It had been a jealousy thing, he’d thought. Why she’d got so annoyed at him for spending time with Daphne. He didn’t say a word when she went out with her friends, regardless of their gender. Sure, she was very pretty, he’d admit that. But it wasn’t fair that she got annoyed at him for it. There’d only been two times when he’d had to blow off plans with her to spend time with Daph. He hadn’t meant anything by it. He hadn’t meant to forget that they were going to have dinner with her parents.

He’d told her so many times. But she hadn’t accepted his excuse. Not at all. 

“You’re a grown man, Draco. You were supposed to remember this. It was-” “Come on, Gin, I told you! I didn’t mean to forget.” “ Of course you didn’t! You didn’t mean to make my parents disapprove of you even more. You didn’t mean to make Ron hate you!”

“Gin, come on, I-” “No, don’t you ‘Gin’ me. You fucked up. Seriously. And I cannot believe you blew me off to spend time with her.”

“Her? What do you mean ‘her’? You can’t even say her name, do you despise her that much? I don’t say anything when you’re out with-with Luna or...  Potter.”

“You know there’s nothing going on between me and any of them. And there never will be. You know that. And you’ve met Luna enough times.. you don’t have to keep being snooty about her.”

“What? How was I being snooty?”

“You-you made that face. The one you make when you’re disgusted. It’s awful, you know? She’s one of my dearest friends and-” “Oh, and Daphne’s one of mine but I’m cheating with her, right?”

“I’ve told you, I trust you, it’s just that she’s so goddamn touchy and all of that. And she makes you-” 

“God, I shouldn’t even bother trying to make you like her, should I? You’re so fucking clingy.”

“Draco, goddammit, I-”

Her freckled cheeks had gone from slightly flushed to a deep crimson through the length of their conversation. With how mad she was at him, he knew she was fury in person. But now, there was something in those brown eyes of her that made him weak at the knees. Not in desperation, but more so in regret. The tears beginning to well up in the corners of her eyes made him feel like ripping his hair out in tufts. He wanted to make it all okay again. He wanted to lean down and kiss her and hug her and do anything and everything he could to make her stop looking so sad. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Draco.” “G-ginny, I didn’t mean any of it. I was mad and-” “It doesn’t matter. Y-you said it. And if you said it, you must have felt it, at least a little bit.” “No, but… I.. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do anything, I swear.” She kept looking up at him so solemnly, so softly, with little tears streaking down her face while her dainty lips began to quiver. “It doesn’t matter.” “Ginny, I.. I’ll make it up to your parents. I’ll make them all dinner all by myself. I’ll-I’ll help.. your brothers. I’ll pay for anything. I swear. I’ve fucked up, I know. Please-” “Draco. Stop.”

She took a deep breath and looked to the side as she used the sleeve of that cute blue jumper to wipe away the mess on her face. He could hardly muster up the courage to look at her face, knowing it was him that had made her feel all that. It was enough to make his stomach drop low into his abdomen and the little food he’d had out with Daphne threaten to exit through his mouth.

Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry, too

Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry, too

Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry, too

He moved out of his parents’ estate and into muggle London for her, but he wasn’t even sure if she knew that. His father had never liked it at all. Him and the Weasley girl, he remembered the sour way it had dripped out of his mouth. But for once, he couldn’t take it anymore. The bloody Gryffindor he’d fallen in love with had made him feel brave enough to stand up to his father, somehow. His parents seemed okay with it. His mother did ask him to get himself his own place, however. He couldn’t even imagine what would have gone down had he fallen in love with a muggle-born, or worse, a muggle.

But here he was, making love to one, staying in a hotel in a part of London he’d never frequented before. And why? Because he thought it as revenge. It was a girl who looked similar enough to her when he squinted. Long, red hair and shapely legs. Not as freckled though, and not nearly as gorgeous. He tried not to look at her face much, because he knew the only way he could even get it up any more was by imagining it was Ginny with him. 

And it wasn’t even like he loved one night stands or something. He hadn’t even stepped out of his room much the whole time he’d stayed here. And yet, seeing him had sparked this rage, this uncontrollable hunger within him, that he just had to do something about it. 

Seeing that son of a bitch out that morning hadn’t stirred much in him at first. He’d thought now they finally had one thing in common. They were both Ginevra Molly Weasley’s exes. But of course, that was no longer true.

Ginevra Molly Weasley was seeing the other again. Or at least sleeping with him.

And how did he know this? The usual browned skin on his neck was adorned with hickeys and ceremonial bitemarks, much in Ginny’s fashion. His face was dazed and even his short, dark hair looked the slightest bit mussed. But oh, oh no. The shirt he had on.. was one of Draco’s own. Or at least it used to belong to him.

That once elegant navy button-up seemed hideous to him in that instant. Even thinking about Ginny having given it to him made his blood boil and swelter. And.. and imagining the context...

It made him want to get on his knees and wail in front of Ginny like a child. To beg for her back. Oh, how much he hated Dean bloody Thomas.

And that was how he justified his going out on the town and getting drunk that night. How he justified charming and shamelessly flirting with a girl he wouldn’t’ve even have treated with an ounce of respect even ten years earlier. It wasn’t his fault he could be so seductive when he tried to be. And he knew she was nothing but a piece of meat to her. A piece of meat that looked just enough like his lovely. Just enough for him to pretend that he loved her that night. 

He thought it would help a little bit, skin slapping against skin. He thought it would help ease that pain he felt deep inside of him. That perhaps holding someone the way he used to hold her would help him. But he knew it was no good. Because even while he tried his best to get her out of his head, she was there again. 

She was in between his fingers when they walked in a park. She was lying across his lap when he gave her the punishment she’d begged him for. She was in between his sheets while he fixed them breakfast. She was everywhere he looked, and yet she wasn’t.

She was in the teardrops that dripped down his face as he realised the girl he’d snuggled up to all night wasn’t even her. And she was still there, heavy in his heart as he quietly made his way out of the girl’s house.  God, he didn’t even remember her name, did he?

But Ginny, Ginny, Ginny’s name was all over him. Blazing red burned into his skin forever and ever still. No matter how hopeless he knew it was. No matter how much he knew there was nothing to come, no positive emotions from her to come into fruition ever, but the way she’d looked at him, so piercingly, so angry yet so calm, when he stepped out of her apartment that night, that was all he could see.

But you, you never do.

[fazbearsfrights]

hey rick tell me. abt your aubergine man. show will to the world

you got it ;)

@bunnyworme

IT’S HIM, THE STINKY BASTARD MAN. he’s meant to look like michael because, y’know, sister location. for reference, here’s my mikey boi! there are some differences here and there, though (i.e. deathly pale, darker hair, sliiightly different haircut, green eyes, bigger nose, etc. also before / when he first opens fredbear’s he’s a LOT chubbier but he uh…loses a lot of weight after certain events. we’ll get into that tho!).

LET’S GET INTO TIMELINE AND PLOT…

SO what’s really important to me here is the stuff just before and after fredbear’s/freddy’s and the afton family, mainly because i haven’t thought up much stuff before then (though i really should - i don’t really even have a solid character in mind for his wife at the moment).

anyhow, william’s family consists of himself, mrs. afton, michael, and elizabeth. william is FAR from the best father, and certain incidents where he lashed out at his own children (particularly michael) led his wife to threaten to leave him at certain points. but william is nothing if not a good manipulator and convincing pathological liar, and he convinced her to stay for a good while before she ultimately did gather the courage to leave. she pleaded for michael and elizabeth to come with her, but elizabeth - desperate for her father’s attention, and always unharmed, unlike michael - chose to stay instead. and being the protective brother he was, michael chose to stick with his sister, despite wishing he could do otherwise. once the divorce was finalized, though, she got custody of them every so often - weekly, which left william feeling…conflicted. that being said, this situation takes place over the course of time, in tandem with the fredbear’s/freddy’s stuff.

at some point in this part of his life, he met henry - a small-time inventor who was incredibly talented, but toiled his days away on miscellaneous small projects, either toys for his children or crafts he could sell for a small fortune (which, sometimes, were toys that his kids had rejected). william, by now, was a bit of an entrepreneur who was looking for a new project - and although it wasn’t obvious at this point, he’d struck gold. over time, their friendship grew, with william wrapping his new acquaintance around his little finger (both intentionally and unintentionally, due to him genuinely growing attached - over time, he grew to admire henry in all sorts of ways). and in the end, some time after learning of his buddy’s talents…he decided it was time for a brilliant idea.

they were both struggling a bit financially, but if they sunk all of their savings into this idea, he was certain it would pay off. “fredbear’s family diner” (although it wasn’t titled at the time, merely a concept) - a family-friendly diner, featuring costumed mascots, like a dinner theater. when henry nervously said that there was no way they could support the salary of costumed workers, william eagerly suggested that they could play the roles, to which henry protested again - they didn’t have the time, especially not if they would be managing the business! eventually they settled on a compromise. henry would be designing a suit that could double as a costume AND an animatronic, like the robotic toys he developed for his children…a springlock suit.

it took ages, with henry tinkering until he developed the first springlock, then a prototype suit, then designs of characters until he and william could both agree, then suits of fredbear and spring bonnie. the two characters who would lead the restaurant. by now, henry was thrilled by this idea and the delight it would bring to not only his kids (who were already excited by the characters he’d been creating) but the kids around their town, and william was simply in it for the money right now (and ultimately, nefarious purposes). still, the two of them smiled on their (henry’s) work at the end of the day, and eagerly started work on the restaurant.

another long while passed, and the financial struggles that its construction caused stirred serious turmoil in the afton family that william had to fan down. henry had similar troubles, but finally, the diner was COMPLETE. the stage was set! his two springlock suits were brought in and placed, and the diner opened the next day. they had a rough time getting word about the diner out, but once it did, it spread like wildfire. it was New to everyone around, especially because of the way the mascots could “change” their styles of dancing. they could even sing! people were impressed, and it was a good thing too, because they really needed that cash.

time passed, and the diner’s popularity grew, and william was pretty happy with how things turned out…for the most part. by now, his familial troubles were getting really rough - things were settling down now, but he wasn’t a better person at home whatsoever. his wife was getting ready to leave (for real) and That was tearing him apart on the inside, despite what success he had from fredbear’s, which was all he seemed to care about now anyway (aside from his relationship with henry). when she finally did leave, he started to snap for the first time and started to lash out at everyone, especially henry. it was the first time the two of them had ever had a real argument, since william had endeavored to keep himself on his “best behavior” because he didn’t want to lose him - and yet here he was, projecting his feelings for why his wife left him onto his best friend, and yelling at him for his unfounded fear that he would leave him too.

the next day, william outwardly gathered himself for henry’s sake and apologized, then explained the situation at home (but twisted the story so that it favored him - it wasn’t his fault she was leaving him, she was the one who manipulated and abused him, etc). and upon hearing all that, being the empathetic soul he is, henry was ofc like “oh worm im so sorry????” and wound up trying to COMFORT him bc he’s baby. and once again, william had him wrapped around his little finger.

now, when his divorce was finalized and his custody of the kids got kinda fucked, and his wife got her first week with them, he snapped yet again. only this time, it was MUCH, MUCH worse. yet again, his meltdown involved henry (or rather, his family), and it was meant to be a cathartic moment - if my family can’t be happy, if i can’t be happy, neither can he. so when one of his henry’s twins wound up locked outside of the diner, he smiled at her - a familiar face for her, as henry’s best friend, and comforted her for a moment…just before stabbing her. and as she bled out on the pavement, he felt no remorse or sadness…in fact, his only concern was that henry might be nearby, since one of his damn kids was. so he haphazardly dragged her toward the back, near the dumpster, barely concealing her under some trashbags, and smiled as he loomed over her pathetically covered corpse. henry would be just as miserable as him now.

william changed into his “professional” outfit in the car, then scrubbed his hands clean in the bathroom the first chance he got, despite wearing gloves at the time of the murder. not even a few hours into the work day, he was being pestered by henry about the whereabouts of his daughter - he didn’t even know a parent could be so paranoid. master manipulator that he was, he assured his friend that she must’ve been around somewhere, probably playing with sammy or one of the other kids, or heck, maybe even playing hide-and-seek. kids are unpredictable! that seemed to ease his worries just enough for the time being, but in the meantime, he just chuckled to himself, knowing what a fool the man was and what panic and misery would ensue the second he knew what fate his daughter had met.

as anticipated, over the next few days, henry’s misery drastically intensified - she went from “missing” to “found” in what felt like a matter of moments, and all the while, william was his only pillar of support. and he was loving every second of it. being able to comfort him on his darkest days, hearing the weak “thank you”s every time he listened to the pitiful man’s venting, the long and anguished hugs. of course, it wasn’t because he was being a friend to him (although part of him did yearn for a closer relationship with henry like this) - it was because he was towering over him in a position of power, because now he was the one “on top.” henry was the one suffering now, moreso than him, and he would never be able to recover. in fact, william was doing better than ever - killing charlie seemed to instill him with more confidence than ever, and he LIKED that feeling.

henry became more and more disheveled, showing up to work in stained flannel and mussed up hair, bags under his red eyes because he’d been crying all night. this pattern continued for a long time, but the crying eventually stopped, though his sorrow was replaced by a deeply-seeded paranoia regarding his own diner. he feared the place, and feared his kids ever visiting it, despite him practically opening it up for them. and yet…none of his suspicions were placed on william. not the one person who’d comforted him in his darkest days, no. not his best friend. that man would never betray him.

eventually (after a bit of an expansion, thanks to some convincing on will’s part - new characters would make the place brand new, make him forget), the diner claimed another victim, and it wasn’t even by william’s own hand, much to his own surprise. another one of henry’s kids, funnily enough (from will’s perspective). he had to witness the man’s grieving process all over again, and support him all over again, all the while trying not to smirk as he towered atop him - when henry suffered, he felt higher than ever before, even though he loved the man to death. 

with this death, however, henry officially decided that it was high time that the diner closed down. he couldn’t bear another death on his hands - not another child of his, especially. he’d grieved enough, and he only had one left. even so, william wouldn’t give up. he convinced henry to create another restaurant, finally, but henry refused to make the animatronics himself…he didn’t trust himself anymore.

and so marked the first time that william invented animatronics of his own, with henry’s help. and once again, his ego soared, as he took to the inventing game rather rapidly - even henry remarked that he was impressed. his models were plastic, unlike henry’s fuzzy and soft ones, and he insisted that they would be more “kid-friendly” and fitted with safer technology to keep him happy. so, the 1987 restaurant was opened, and the toy models took over while the withered animatronics rotted in the back room.

in the meantime, william got to Killin for realsies. charlie was like…a warm up, but this was the real deal. he got sloppy, though, not realizing that his own tech would recognize Him as a criminal if he killed in front of them. in fact, it shouldn’t have been technologically possible. one of his creations - the toy version of foxy, and what would ultimately be the prototype of funtime foxy (mangle) - even recorded audio of him in the act. so, to keep them all in order, he tampered with their facial recognition software. then, he dismantled the mangle beyond repair, then passed it off to everyone around him as something the children did.

although william didn’t have much of a real motive for killing this time around, his interest was piqued when he overheard henry’s oldest son - an employee of the establishment - discussing issues with the current night guard, and how he complained about the animatronic’s behavior during the night. it might not mean much to anyone else, but the way they acted made it seem like they were aware. sentient, perhaps. and their behavior over the ensuing weeks made that possibility feel more and more likely - they stared at staff almost maliciously, and adults in general, but behaved normally around kids. and that caused him to wonder if there was any chance whether the spirits of the kids themselves could’ve tethered themselves and possessed the things.

regardless, when henry realized that more kids were going missing in this restaurant, he started to lose it again. he couldn’t keep it together anymore - and eventually, he managed to figure out just who was behind it all. and although william did his best to keep it together, and sway him otherwise, and smooth-talk him out of it, henry continued to push and push until he snapped and called him out for the liar and the monster that he was. with that, henry truly DID leave him - in fact, he’d left a suicide note, but he just disappeared. no body was ever found.

but despite everything, all the misery william put him through, all the intentional torture, william found himself absolutely devastated by that loss. and for once, he seemed to be genuinely saddened by it; instead of lashing out at others, as he was wont to do, he seemed to lash out at himself. he was a pretty rotund lad back in the day of fredbear’s and the 1987 freddy’s restaurant, but he grew incredibly, deathly thin in the months after henry left. a few new scars had gathered on his wrists by the end of the year. he grew more unkempt, just as henry had just after his losses.

but in time…he recovered. he grew to turn his sorrow and saudade into unbridled hatred. he didn’t need henry, he NEVER did. and to prove it, he made his own franchise and his own robotics company in 1990 - “circus baby’s pizza” and “afton robotics, llc.”, respectively. when his daughter’s interest was piqued after seeing him work on circus baby for the first time, he even encouraged her by telling her that circus baby was being made for her. that wasn’t the case, obviously, but it made her giddy and it would ultimately make her excited enough to possibly spread the word about the upcoming restaurant to her little friends.

finally, circus baby’s restaurant was open to the public - and unbeknownst to them, it was essentially a haven for child murder, just as william had planned for it to be. each of the animatronics had their own mechanisms for luring children away and for ensnaring them, and essentially all he had to do was watch the chaos unfold. this time around, it was an “experiment” of sorts - he wanted to see whether the kids really would possess the robots if they were killed inside of them, test out different methods, etc. as toy chica would say, though, “there is only one thing that could possibly go wrong…”

although william hadn’t been the best father, there is some part of him that did care about his kids. especially elizabeth, his “favorite” child. he may have ignored her - a lot - especially in favor of his work, as of late, but he did love her. and so when she ignored his constant warnings, his incessant pleading for her to stay away from circus baby, only to be snatched up the second she walked up to her…well. he was devastated, yet again.

he should’ve seen it coming, really, especially after telling her that he’d created circus baby “just for her.” but of course he hadn’t thought it through, and now she was gone. it was like he was reliving what he’d done to henry, wasn’t it? karma’s a bitch, ain’t it, afton.

he closed down circus baby’s after that single incident, and started working on an underground facility for the animatronics to be stored while his own mental state started to deteriorate more and more, since he was in almost complete isolation - not even his own son came to see him anymore now that he was entirely independent by now.

around this time, the next freddy’s opened up - the owner just so happened to be henry’s oldest son, the only apparent survivor of the tragedies that befell his family. this IMMEDIATELY caught william’s attention, and reignited the grudge he felt toward henry and his family all over again. he’d get “revenge” for what was done to him, and even to his daughter - at least, that was how it was justified in his twisted mind.

he applied for a job as a dayshift worker under an alias, since he would be recognized otherwise. thankfully, his appearance had changed SO drastically over the years that even henry’s kid - who’d spent so much time around him back in the day - couldn’t piece his identity together. not at first, anyway…but by then, it was too late. he got to work with his usual pattern - luring kids away with the suit they kept in the back room, then stuffing them into the animatronics.

fortunately for him, this could be the experiment he missed out on when he lost his daughter and closed his own restaurant down. and he didn’t have to pay the price for it - henry’s franchise, son, and overall legacy did. he kept a keen eye on the animatronics’ behavior both before and after the children were killed, and he was fascinated to find that they were indeed haunted. something about the semi-conscious bodies being tethered to metal caused their souls to become tethered, too - which led to events like this. 

in fact, their behavior got so aggressive that they started hunting night guards - most of them either quit to keep their lives or mysteriously went “missing” in the night, but william knew what happened. he could see their clumsily stuffed bodies in spare suits in the back. the animatronics were getting revenge for what happened to them, and he was intrigued. but at the same time, he was given a new hope…

he decided to re-dedicate some of his attention to circus baby and her friends with these new discoveries in mind. his resources went to staff and machinery that would allow the bunker to be automated for them - and once that was sufficient (despite a few losses here and there - what can you do? the animatronics Were designed to be killers, after all), he even started up a rental service for them. it wasn’t big, but it was a side project. and in the meantime, he contacted his son about a job offer.

it took some convincing, especially since this offer was coming from a father who had never treated his son well, but because it was about his sister - and despite the supernatural circumstances surrounding the situation - he ultimately accepted. his son would take a job at the rental place as a night technician, but his actual goal would be to find elizabeth and “put her back together.”

with all that settled, this particular freddy’s inevitably closed down FOR GOOD. after all, plenty of grieving parents had come forward, alongside customers complaining about blood and mucus seeping out of the animatronics, and the owner himself had “gone missing” during the night shift (after taking the place of his last willing night guard). and so william went in the abandoned restaurant one last time to dispose of the evidence. after dismantling all of the animatronics and retreating to the safe room, however, he was met with the ghosts of the children he’d killed - and one of them in particular started to approach him. 

he wasn’t sure what they could do, but he was frightened enough to back away until he locked eyes with his springlock suit in the corner - and he suited up one last time, positive that once they saw him as “spring bonnie,” the cheerful character that they’d loved and trusted before they died, they’d leave him alone. he made one fatal mistake, though - in his surge of confidence, he laughed to himself the second he put the suit on, which triggered the springlocks. and once one of them went off, all of them started to go off, one by one, inflicting a quite painful death - or what ought to have been one. william always comes back, y’know.

the safe room got sealed up - william never knew who did it, or why, but it seemed like a premeditated arrangement by henry’s son - and 30 years later, fazbear frights opened up and william was Pissed. he’d been locked up all that time and he was itchin for revenge…and since the emily family was gone, he was ready to take his anger out on the world around him. except there was no escape from this attraction, all over again - and there was only one person around. a “guard.”

only, when he approached the makeshift office, what did he find? the “guard” this time around was none other than his goddamn son - except that his son was barely recognizable now, deformed, corpsey, and boney. if it weren’t for the wig and the make-up to make his skin resemble…skin, he Wouldn’t have recognized him. william was a confused and angry stinky, rotting bunny.

every time he managed to make it up to the window pane just in front of the office, he slammed his animatronic paws on it demandingly and tried to speak to michael through severed vocal chords. michael, on the other hand, would wince and desperately try to lure him into another room by distracting the suit he was inside of (which still had a mind of its own, even with him being somewhat dominant) with those damn balloon boy giggles, and he would be unwittingly forced to leave.

the miserable pattern continued for a week until michael set the place ablaze, trying to get rid of the franchise’s worst mistake - william himself. of course, he failed, and william survived…and now he had a new target. his son himself. whoops. and that leads us into the final freddy’s restaurant.

a freddy fazbear’s pizza joint that michael himself opens up, to salvage all the final pieces of the fazbear franchise and get rid of them once and for all, to make sure that everyone is set free. william is, of course, one of these final pieces - and despite realizing that this must be a trap, this piques his curiosity, and he’s confident that he’ll be able to escape again. that’s what he did before.

unfortunately for him, the construction of this place was too clever for him to anticipate - a carefully-constructed labyrinth that would endlessly lure him and the others in a circle, up until the final day, where they would all meet their end in a fiery grave.

and, of course, there’s the end - where william meets his ending in hell, surrounded by the animatronics he’s gotten to know so well; some of which he’s created, some of which henry has, some of which are haunted by his victims, some of which are a product of circumstance, and some of which…are him himself. and the one orchestrating it all just so happens to be henry’s boy…sammy, represented by golden freddy, one of the most vengeful spirits there.

NOW. uh. i’m sure you’ve gotten a taste of it throughout all of this, but we can talk a lil more about his personality and stuff?

william is a very mentally ill boio, but i really like to hone in on the fact that he’s a bpd bastard because i feel like there were lots of hints about that in the books. maybe that’s just me though. i mean, the fact that he wrote stuff about henry that ranged from the dude being his idol and him loving his work to him almost hating his guts and being consumed by jealousy for his talents kinda sealed the deal for me on THAT headcanon?? so he’s got like - a debilitating fear of abandonment, acts kinda recklessly / impulsively, is INCREDIBLY antisocial, hostile, and irritable, has mood swings a-plenty, is actually VERY insecure even though he’ll never show that to anyone around him, and is really self-destructive even if he doesn’t fucking realize it. like, this man will shrug off ANY self-blame until the cows come home.

and straight down the line, i think william meets all the criteria for having antisocial personality disorder, too. disregard for right and wrong, persistent lying to exploit others, disrespecting others, manipulating others for personal gain, arrogance and a sense of superiority, CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR, impulsiveness and failure to plan ahead, hostility, aggression, violence, lack of remorse, dangerous behavior, abusive relationships, failure to consider negative consequences or learn from them, and being consistently irresponsible and failing to meet work obligations.

so he’s obviously manipulative and cruel, and a pathological liar. but well, he can be…nice when he wants to be? it’s usually when he’s first starting his relationships, but it’s never quite “right” - there’s a moment of peace while he struggles to find what his new friend/partner wants in somebody, and he’ll do anything to meet their expectations and keep them happy until they’re content enough for him to start showing his true colors. 

in his wife’s case, he was a perfect gentleman who did anything for her, but then he started getting upset with her very easily over the littlest things. things escalated drastically over time, but he apologized every time and assured her he would be better for her, bought her candy and flowers, anything to remind her of that perfect guy he was at first. and that sort of pattern continued up until they were married, and she miserably stuck with him through the arguments and bruises and incidents with her children until she finally had enough.

on a similar note, he really did care about henry (before it all went astray) - henry was his closest friend and it really showed in just how intense his attachment was to him. his depression over henry’s loss was far more intense than what he went through after his divorce. unfortunately, his affection for henry just manifested in an INCREDIBLY twisted way, with his jealousy and bitterness often taking hold more than any actual kindness he might possess. 

there’s also his kids - even though michael got the short end of the stick, william did occasionally show…some shred of affection toward him. let’s just say that a lot of the ways that michael was mistreated, beaten, and kicked while he was down was how william was treated as a kid, and those patterns took over once he had kids of his own. when he wasn’t taking out his anger on his family, he did act like a real father every so often, treating his kids to Good days at the diner and letting them play alongside henry’s kids, or playing with them himself, or just tucking them in at night and doing little things to show he did care, even a tiny bit.

and as for elizabeth, the favoritism was real. when william was working on his bigger projects, like starting up fredbear’s or actually designing and creating animatronics - those for circus baby’s pizzeria in particular - she got ignored a lot more, which always upset her, but other than that? she got PLENTY of attention. love from her dad (though his “i love you”s were always spoken so haphazardly to both of his children, whether he intended for them to sound that way or not), playtime (though he always seemed bored), and he would take her out every so often to get ice cream (her favorite). circus baby might not actually have been made for her, but one aspect of her design was certainly inspired by her - the ice cream dispenser. her father’s attitude was always what made her insecure - and there were other things behind the scenes too, like the way he threw out her drawings when she wasn’t looking (she always found them in the trash later on).

[k-pham]

hi y’all it’s a and I’m continuing my trend of never doing anything valid and playing the same character with different faceclaims. also this blog is so... empty rn pls skjdfshd

Meet Kiet Anh “Kit” Pham. 17. Slytherin. Seventh year. DE.

(+) sensitive, loyal, charming, organized

(-) glib, arrogant, spoiled, impulsive, reckless, insecure, misguided, offensive

Make no mistake. You were never good.

From the start, you were a menace. As your mother tells it, you started to wail the instant you took your first breath—and you haven’t stopped since.

As soon as you were able to walk, you tore through your mother’s rose garden, grabbed fistfuls of thorns to rip out the flowers. For your seventh birthday, when gave she gave you the wrong gift, you smashed your grandmother’s heirloom vase against the wall. You’ve always been more trouble than you were worth. You’ve always been a terror.

But, let’s be honest— that’s not what you wanted to be.

So what if cruelty has always been your first resort? If consequence is still far from your mind? You learned the taste of blood before honey, salt before sweet. Your first bite tasted bitter, and the sting took time to fade.

You were never good. But that only was because you didn’t know how to be—

-          

When the divorce happened, you watched your mother pack his things from the corner. When she leaned in to tell you goodbye, you flinched. You told her you hated her. But that was only because you were afraid.

You see, being a monster is easy. And admitting you care is hard.

You were never good. No, that’s for certain. You’ve said too many bad things. You’ve slammed too many doors. You’ve thrown too many fits.

But oh, how you’ve always wished you were.

kiet anh pham (nicknamed kit) was born to parents who, he was mostly certain, never loved him.

it’s not like they were incapable of it. they tried their hardest. even as their own marriage fell apart, there was still love there. at least for his younger sister, mailan, for for his other siblings.

but that was easy. everyone loved mailan. she was cute and soft and she did all the right things. kit- was-, well, kit. he had never really made it easy for them.

he was the only son of a high-society pureblooded family and he acted like it: rich and spoiled, he grew up a little monstrous and more than a little disrespectful. he would do things without really thinking of the consequences and make more trouble than he really meant to.

looking back, he was probably just acting out because he knew what was coming. he knew his parents were going to leave each other. and he, well, all he ever knew was the only time they ever did anything together was when they yelled at him.

in retrospect, all that did was probably make the divorce happen faster. 

but he didn’t know.

he just wanted them- to tell him no. 

he didn’t think they would really leave.

honestly, for kit, the only thing good that came out of his parent’s divorce is- z. 

while the two of them had known of each other before and might have even considered each other friends, when he gained a new brother, kit saw a light at the end of a tunnel. 

it was all fun and games at first. they shared a bunk bed and a room. z taught him about pokemon and beyblades and kit did his best to pretend not to be interested. they played aurors and robbers. they got up to tons of mischief, stayed up way too late, talked way too much. so, though kit didn’t stop being trouble, it was- the best thing in the world to have someone all too willing to share the blame and laugh. he had always liked being a brother, but, with z, he found that he loved– having one.

tw abuse mention and then, i guess, bc all good things come to an end.  he got old enough to understand what had happened to z and his mother. and, filled with deep-rooted hatred for the muggles that raised z, unable to reconcile that anger into anything else but broad generalizations, he ended up joining the death eaters. 

it was actually a targeted recruitment (wanted connection here, i suppose). the phams and diggorys were well-connected and well-off, but not de-aligned. someone offered kit guidance and purpose and preyed upon his already existent hatred for muggles and voila! he signed up— and (unbeknownst to him at the time) signed away z’s, mailan’s and his own futures.

i think right now– to put it in the most concise terms. kit is having– growing pains. z has withdrawn from the family, doing work for the de higher ups that he clearly doesn’t care to tell kit about. mailan is working as a double agent for the de, in direct contact with the student leaders, and there’s so much that she has to hide. safe to say, they’re both doing- better than he is. 

so what if he’s jealous? that he joined up first and everyone else in his family is doing bigger things than he is. so what if he’s sad? he no longer has the confidante and friend he used to have. he’s the oldest brother and none of his siblings even need him anymore. and so what if he’s scared? that all of them are in over their heads. that he got them into a bad decision. that—  mailan and z going to do what his mother did and leave him the second they find out what the world is like without him.

he’s never made it easy to be loved, he knows, but that’s never made it hurt any less.

this time, kit is thinking things through. he’s taking precautions. before his mother left, kit begged for him to stay. he lashed out. he threw a tantrum. he cried. he ended up saying some things that can never be taken back. that was pathetic. this time, he won’t do any of that.

so what if z wants to be distant? go. kit doesn’t care. 

so what if mailan is risking her life every single day? that’s all fine. kit won’t worry.

so what if the death eaters don’t want him in their uber-secret and top-level ranks? okay. kit has other things to do.

within the last year, kit has proclaimed his lifelong goal is to photosynthesize, a concept, he entirely doesn’t grasp but has heard of through his vague understanding of muggle science. “drink, soak in the sun and breathe good? sounds okay to me.” 

he’s very purposely going to not care about things. he’s going to do nothing that doesn’t benefit him directly. he’s not going to care at all. he was never good at being loved, never good at being good— so now he won’t even try. 

it’s a good plan. after all, in this world, you can really only be certain of one thing: people leave. you have to look out for yourself.

more rando points and introspection

to break things down in the most concise way, I think I need to talk about the connections and difference between Kit’s actions and his feelings. i think that kit has big feelings and just no way of communicating them. he’s afraid of looking weak, of being vulnerable. he’s afraid that he’ll give them something else not to love.

fuccboi hypebeast naruto runner mode x3000

kit absolutely dresses like a Naruto character 100% of the time

im mostly thinking abt this meme  but also he would dress like kakashi n sasuke in a heartbeat

um? how to say– a lil bitch. literally a gremlin.  a virgin, but like… in that lies about it bc he’s ashamed and insecure about it. if he got laid once… maybe it would solve all his and his family’s problems. probably not. but lbr… he wouldn’t mind it.

lies about a lot more than that too, just to be clear.

biggest lies are “i DON’t LOVE u.” and “I DON’t CARE.”  but nearly everything he says is a lie.

“mUGGLES n muggleborns ARE BACKWARDS and THEY HAVE NOTHING REDEEMABLE about THEM” a lie, first off just in the not true sense, but also kit doesn’t even really believe that. he likes the muggle things that z has shown him and also, likes z, even though he is not a pureblood.

that being said has literally no understanding of muggle concepts beyond what z has told him and even then grasps very little

kit vs catholicism is… v bad

i can really see kit, like when his parents were fighting, getting in between them with tears in his eyes. “i’m the prince of this house! and i’m telling you not to fight anymore and also you have to stay together for me!!!” this equal parts entitlement, ludicrousness and … just desperation is… altogether kit for me.

even tho mailan and z are the MOST IMPORTANT PEOPLE In THE WORLD TO HIM, he has absolutely put them down publicly, sometimes (recently) even to their face. it’s his way of saying im insecure and i don’t care that u guys are leaving me and being much more accomplished than me

yeah he a soft DUMb. SO WHAT ABOUT IT.

·        

·        Bc I’m at character saturation, I literally have to use my other characters to describe him so here we go.

probably most like cress— in that they’re both opinionated, misguided and committed to the de. They’re just… misguided in different ways. Cress doesn’t really lie about the way he feels. Cress genuinely thinks what he is doing is right. He thinks the sacrifices he has made are worth it. Cress has some level of altruism (even tho…he is selfish too). Cress is smart and calculated and, well, frankly impressive. Kit is the opposite of all of that. He’s reactionary, impulsive, selfish and… inadequate in so many ways.

one thing of note is that he can’t talk himself out of situations like Cress can. Kit makes mistakes— and has to live with them. Cress doesn’t blame himself but will “accept responsibility”. Kit blames himself.

kit is also way less behaved that cress. cress will make a bad prank and laugh if he stands by it and then, say sorry after a little bit. kit will do something absolutely awful and feel awful and still laugh while hating himself wildly. kit will also never apologize.

like rose, he’s having a truly rough time with growing up. he wishes things could go back to the way they were. but unlike rose, he refuses to cling to his childhood innocence. he’s pushing himself to grow up way faster than he’s actually comfortable with and that’s really causing intense angst. kit is exactly the kind of person who has and will make fun of rose for things that even he himself are guilty of. 

apparently I also have a thing for older siblings bc … rose, jasper and kit are all really protective of their siblings. But while rose and jasper mainly manifest this in healthy ways (if anything, probably … a little too overprotective), kit is a tiny lil shitball full of irrationality. bursts of being way too controlling and, when that’s not received well, sulking in a corner.

lowkey… he’s awful, but, because he’s motivated purely out of irrationality and spite and not logic, he’s my de character with the most chance for redemption.he’s … awful. he acts awful. he thinks muggles n muggleborns r backwards n dont deserve rights. he’s half cocky quips and half … just like offensive comments. gross. when ur a pureblood rich boy, u can care about literally nothing and say whatever u want get away with it. the only problem is… he does care. he cares so much. he’s worried about his bb sister and his step bro, but doesn’t have the emotional strength to show it. he worries about the future n what he’s going to do. but most of all, he worries that if people know that he cares… that they’ll think he’s weak (which tbh he is).

wanted connections

tba

terrible de friends!!! photosynthesize with kit

good friends !!! pls tell kit he’s being awful. this one is limited bc... he truly is awful!!!

a de mentor!!!!! v important for kit’s sense of self!!! bc this mentor approached him asnd was like wassup!! wanna have a sense of community and got a lot of misplaced anger??? kit: hell yeah my dude also i got two juicy siblings that can convert with me

a tutor! this girl only plays dums!!! kit no es tan inteligente como cress o rose n el necesita ayuda!!!!

[michael-langdon-appreciation]

Girrrlll, can you imagine the reader and Jim have a big fight its just nasty so she just leaves and Jimmy is devastated and goes to what he knows best, them drugs, at one point hes just to fucked up and endes up with Heather in his room. At this point the reader goes back to his house bc she feels bad and decides shes the bigger person and goes to apologize, BUT SHE FINDS THEM HAVING SEX AND IT GOES ANGSTY AF, jimmy is crying, shes crying amd everything goes to hell basically

I have to confess nonnie this has been sitting in my inbox because I didn’t even know how to tackle it. This is so incredible and so sad omg! 😭

The only saving grace Jim Mason has is that his dick hadn’t entered her yet. 

You storm down the hallway of his house, Medina right behind you having been disturbed by the commotion. Jim stumbles everywhere as he gives chase only in his boxers, the ones I bought him. ‘Y/N,’ He screams, ‘PLEASE. I didn’t mean, I didn’t know I-’

Medina turns round and shoves her twin back with so much force he clatters into the family portrait hung on the wall. The glass spiderwebs and both Jim and the picture slide down the wall, Medina billows like a bull. ‘You’d better not follow us Jim.’ 

Jim’s eyes are focused entirely on me. My wet tears cling to my face, I have never known rage or betrayal such as I do right now, ‘I didn’t realise.’ He moans, a hand reaching out to me. His face is just a shining mess of tears and as I look down at Jim Mason a sense of blankness runs over me. He looks ugly like this, the outside reflecting how fucked up he is inside and I’m better than it. I’m better than wallowing in the drama that is the Mason family. 

I lean over him and Jim pushes up, trying to take my hand in his. He’s begging me with everything he has, ‘It was the…the drugs, Y/N.’ He blubbers, ‘I thought she was you, she lead me on. I would never, not with anyone, you know that right?’ You don’t answer him as you unclip the necklace you gave him a couple months back. Jim seizes my hand, pressing it to his heart. It’s thudding wildly, Jim pressing kisses to the top of my hand. ‘RIGHT?’

His weakness is pathetic, watching him grovel before me only solidifies the dissatisfaction I feel, ‘You made your bed.’ I tell him, ‘Now go lie in it, Heather’s waiting for you.’

He’s back on his feet the second I drop him, ‘No. I’m not letting it end like this.’

Medina takes my hand and flips her brother off, ‘You were about to fuck another girl when you’re with Y/N.’ Her words don’t cut me as deeply as I thought they would. 

We’re outside now, Medina leading me straight to her car. She deposits me in the passenger seat and shuts the door. I hear the lock click into place - smart. Jim could overpower her if it came to that. I can vaguely hear the twins though most of their words are nuanced by wild gestures, Jims scraping away the tears on his cheeks. Mine have started to dry, crusting and leaving their silver trails on my face while I watch them. I can’t bring myself to join in, keeping my eyes on Medina.

I’m lucky to have her. 

Jim’s hands slam down on the car window, his face level with mine. ‘I know I fucked up.’ He said, ‘I thought you’d left me forever.’

‘So you think fucking someone else would work?’ Medina challenges, ‘Fill the void while Y/N’s away? I thought you were better than the Bay Boys, Jim. You’re the worst of them.’

She opens her car and I watch her, trying to ignore the boy plastering himself to the window again. ‘I will never stop fighting to win you back.’ He vows, ‘Never, Y/N. I know you need time but I will fix this.’ 

The engine roars into life, ‘Don’t listen to him.’ Medina says, blasting the radio. 

Jim’s hand thuds against the glass, ‘YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME Y/N. I don’t know what I’ll do!’ I crank the radio higher till Jim’s just a faint scream, ‘I love you.’ He tries, ‘I love you so much and I’m so insecure and I don’t know what I’m doing. I fall apart when you’re not with me. I don’t have a hand on the wheel, I can’t do-’

The car pulls away, leaving Jim behind. I hold it together for about ten minutes, trying to listen in to the radio. Then my exterior breaks, the sobs come in droves and I push my head into my hands. Medina pulls over when we’re far enough away, her hand rubbing over my back, ‘If you don’t kill him I will.’ She promises, ‘Or maybe I’ll kill Heather, or the drugs…I don’t know.’ I can’t speak so I let Medina ramble on as she comes up with new inventive ways to slaughter Jim and Heather, ‘You know Jim may have been in a haze.’ She points out, ‘But Heather that bitch is stone-cold clean. She manipulated him.’

‘He still did it.’ 

Medina’s face falls, ‘Yeah. He doesn’t get a free pass.’

It takes a while for me to get hold of myself again, Medina looks as if she wants to say something, ‘What?’

‘What did you fight about?’ 

‘It was about the fucking microwave.’ I say, ‘Who doesn’t know you don’t put foil in the microwave? There were sparks everywhere.’

Medina’s expression sours, ‘Jim. He doesn’t know anything about cooking. He still burns his toast.’ 

Medina’s phone buzzes and she frowns, ‘It’s you?’

‘Left my phone.’ I admit, ‘We know who it is.’

Jim.

Medina mutes the call, ‘I know it’s so soon but, do you think it’s something you can move past?’ 

I look out the car window, I can still see Jim’s desperate face and the pain finally rears, stinging deep inside my chest. 

I thought he was the one, I thought I had cured him, I thought I knew Jim Mason, ‘No.’ 

YOU HAD SOME PEACEFUL DAYS AND NOW I’M BACK FOR YOU ALL: @alexcornerblog @langdonsoceaneyes @sojournmichael @confettucini @ghostiesbedroom @starwlkers @sodanova @queencocoakimmie @langdonsdemon @satcnas @kinlovecody @sammythankyou

[mystarsforanempire]

excerpt from BTJ that i kinda wanna put on here bc it’s loki in therapy (haha couldn’ta come sooner amirite) and talking abt how he sees his relationships w hogun, volstagg and fandral respectively

“I’ve always kept diaries,” Loki says. He sighs, dragging his palm over the blanket beneath him: it is made of cream-coloured wool, with a soft brown pattern dyed into it. “Since I can remember, I kept diaries of everything I felt, everything that happened to me. In my library, I have thousands of them – I tend to fill five or six a year. It was the only way to get things out. In Asgard—” Loki trails off, and then he stares down at his hands. “One does not discuss one’s innermost feelings. One ought merely be merry, and go about one’s life with drinking and song.”

“Nobody can be merry all the time,” Sven says quietly.

“No,” Loki agrees.

“Did you have many friends, on Asgard?” Loki hesitates. “I am not here to judge you. Anything you tell me will be held in confidence – think of me like a tool, a mechanism that will allow you to look at your life through a healthier lens.”

“You wish me to dehumanize you?”

“If it makes this easier.” Loki bites at his lower lip, dragging his fingers over his palms.

“Then— No. Growing up, I was alongside Thor. We were as close as brothers could be, utterly inseparable. But he was older than me, by some years: when he met the cusp of his adolescence, he was allowed permissions I was not. To travel more freely, to run alongside the Warriors Three, and Sif, his good friends. I was very solitary, as a child, when I was not in Thor’s presence. Later, of course, I would travel within their band.” Loki closes his eyes, and he imagines himself in the golden halls of Asgard’s palace, walking with silent step over the stone floors, quite alone. He would spend his waking hours in the library, or in his bedroom, and elsewise he would walk the gardens, putting his seiðr into breeding flowers or coaxing new fruits to life from the boughs of old trees. “And, and I became friendly with the keeper of Asgard’s orchards. Iðunn.” He hears the quiet scratch of Sven’s pen on a piece of paper. Writing down her name.

“That friendship did not last, I take it.”

“No,” Loki whispers. “I betrayed her. After that, we spoke not.”

“I see,” Sven says. “Tell me about these Warriors Three, then. Friends of Thor, you said?”

“Yes. The eldest, Volstagg. Volstagg the Lion, he calls himself, but most call him Volstagg the Fat, or Volstagg the Voluminous. He is very tall, with a thick beard of braided auburn hair, and he is large indeed… He is much older than Thor, with old age at his heels – in his youth, I am told, he was a most formidable warrior, but that is much changed, now. He has many children, and he’s a most devoted father.”

“You sound like you respect him.”

“I do,” Loki murmurs. “He’s an old coot, and he over-embellishes his own strengths, often telling stories that are more lie than truth, but… He is very kind, at his core, and very gentle. When I was as yet in my youth, he was sometimes reluctant to allow me to travel with them, if the journey was to be fraught with danger. That— Obviously, as I grew older, he saw me less as a child. And then Hogun. Hogun the Grim, he is called – he is of Vanaheim. When Asgard conquered Vanaheim, Hogun challenged Thor to a battle, one-on-one, and Thor beat him, but Hogun was undeterred. He wished to follow the fight, he said, and he agreed to be Thor’s shieldmate, that the two of them might fight together. He speaks very little, and we used to play chess, at times. He has an incredible mind – for all that he does not say, a thousand thoughts go on within his stony head. He believes in actions more than words.”

“You admire him?”

“Yes, I think so. It’s difficult not to.”

“And what did Hogun and Volstagg think of you?” Loki sighs, softly.

“Hogun despised me. He would be polite, outwardly, for I was the quietest of the six of us, and subsequently I was the easiest with which for him to stand beside for long periods, but— He was always first to distrust me, first to blame me for some trouble. He hated my way with words, my predilection for deception and strategy. And magic, magic he hated most of all.” The way Hogun had once looked at him, as if Loki was the most disgusting thing to crawl from the banks of the lakes of Asgard… “And Volstagg cared not for me either. Often he would call me a coward, or make fun of my feminine features, my lacking beard. There were a few years, where… I had married, and I had two sons, and in that time, he mocked me less. We bonded, some, over each being parents, where the rest of the band were childless, but when my sons were killed, he drew back. He wasn’t unkind about it, of course, but I think he knew that speaking on his children would upset me. Even with his sympathy for me, Volstagg never liked me.”

Doesn’t it sound pathetic, to lay things out like this? To tell this stranger, odd connection or not, all about how Loki’s compatriots despised him? Thought him weak, and womanly? He looks to Sven, but Sven is an expressionless as ever as he asks, “And the third of the Warriors Three?” Loki hesitates.

“Fandral,” he says. “The Dashing.”

“Dashing?” Sven repeats. “A ladies’ man, is he?” Loki nods his head. “And what do you think of him?”

“He is foppish: a dandy. Chivalrous, in his own mind. He cares more for the cut of his jerkin than he does for aught else. He has blond hair, flaxen, and a curling moustache… Bright blue eyes, soft skin. He is the smallest of the Warriors Three, built like me, but with narrower hips – and he’s barely a year or two older than I, closer in age to me even than Thor and Sif. He holds a rapier, and he dresses himself ever in soft greens.” Loki cannot help the contempt in his tone, and he watches, detached, as his fists clench in his lap.

“Sounds like there’s quite a bit of bad blood between you.”

“He could be very cruel, when he wanted to be,” Loki mutters. “Asgard held me in contempt because I was— Ergi. Feminine, womanly. I used magic and short blades; I grew no beard; I wove, and sang, and gardened. But Fandral could grow no more a beard than I could, and instead kept his obscene tufts of yellow hair. He sang often, and danced, and wrote poetry. And yet he was not reviled in the least – even as a cuckold and a heavy drinker, people would merely laugh and brush off his fun as harmless mischief, whereas I would be roundly despised. He was charming; I was a deceiver. He was handsome; I was pallid, or pretty in the way of a corpse.”

“And what did Fandral think of you?”

“He thought of me as a toy, a curiosity. Often, he would—” Loki begins to conjure strings between his hands, braiding them into tight, complicated knots, just to keep his hands busy. “He would play with me.”

“Play?” Sven repeats. “What do you mean?”

“I tended to keep myself away from the other warriors, because I knew they did not truly want me there. They accepted my presence only because of my fraternal connection to their leader: I knew my place. So I would take to the sides of parties, read, make quiet conversation… And he would watch me. I would feel his gaze on me, and he would come up, make some semblance of conversation. He would make his stare… Intense. Or he would smile, as if readying himself to seduce me. And he would draw closer, so close, until we were almost touching. Say things that were laced with innuendo.”

“And how would you respond?”

“I would remain steadfast, at first. Refuse his attempts to fluster me. But he—” Loki feels the shame within him heavy in his chest, feels it hot within him, and he grips the strings between his hands so tightly that a knot frays and comes apart. “He knew that I found him handsome – everyone found him handsome – and sought to use that to his advantage.” Sven slowly nods his head, his lips pressed loosely together. “In the end, I would flee, from whatever party it was. Mostly he would let me go, but sometimes he would follow me, speak loving poetry in my ear until I burned him, or cast him off with magic.”

“And – forgive me if I’ve missed something – how did you know this was done with your pain in mind?” Loki blinks, staring down at the knotted string between his hands.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems like this fellow, Fandral… You’re saying he flirted with you; that you found him handsome. What makes you think he did this out of some desire to hurt you, as opposed to a desire for you?” Loki is suddenly very aware of the weight of his own tongue in his dry mouth, pressed against the back of his teeth. He thinks of Fandral’s easy smiles, the way he would playfully shove Loki in the side after a battle, thinks of Fandral’s fingers cupping his cheek as he pins Loki against a corridor wall.

(“You don’t think I’d tell Thor, do you?” he had asked, lowly. His lips had been so pink, and his breath so warm against Loki’s own, and Loki had felt like dropping to his knees and letting Fandral take whatever he wished. “I won’t. It’s a tumble in the sheets, my prince – what, pray, are you so frightened of?”

“Thor is your prince. Not I.”

“Loki—”)

“I was his good friend’s younger brother,” Loki murmurs. “I was to him as forbidden fruit. As we each grew older, he ceased his teasing, for I was more confident in refusing his attentions, not falling prey to his japes, and once I was a widower, I’m sure I was less attractive to him. But even then, he would never allow for my solitude. He would constantly draw me into conversations when our band was riding out, forcing me into the spotlight. He would mockingly praise my attributes, or play as my defender when the others spurned me.”

“You mean, he would strive to include you in conversations,” Sven says, not unkindly, “and that he would stand against his friends when they were cruel to you?” Loki feels a sickness make itself known in his stomach, and he stares down at the wood-panelled floor of Sven’s cabin. “Is it so unlikely this young man was just trying to be kind to you? That he genuinely enjoyed, and desired your company?”

Of course it is, Loki wants to say, There wasn’t a soul on Asgard that didn’t despise me, barring Thor and Mother.

“I don’t know,” he says instead.

“Let’s take a walk,” Sven suggests quietly, and he stands to get his coat.

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Hi lovely! If you're taking requests, would you mind doing a Spider-Man fic where Peter gets really sick at school and for some reason aunt may can't come so tony comes to take him back to the tower and takes care of him?? Thank you so much!!

(Combined because of similarity!! and also wanted to play with different ideas bc lets be real a lot of my spiderman stuff are repetitive!! And also emeto warning later in the fic!)

There’s nothing Aunt May hates more than leaving Peter.

She’s a tough lady, Peter knows this, and she will never admit this, but Aunt May is afraid of leaving him. Peter doesn’t blame her.

She has dealt with loss far too many times. A person with that kind of a heart does not deserve that turmoil. She’s a beautiful woman, and Peter admires her, and he will do anything to keep her happy. He tries to be safe for her, although duty calls, but in the hardest of battles he thinks of her to stay alive.

So when Aunt May was called to do an important business trip down in LA, she was frantic. She had spent the past weeks trying to figure out where Peter should stay, what foods she should leave behind, running over everything with Peter, how much money she should leave, and so on and so forth. Peter admired how much she cared, but all of this wasn’t necessary.

To top it off, Peter had started to develop a bit of a cold. At the time it had been the slightest of coughs, and a bit of a sniffle here and there, but it was enough to send the poor woman into hysterics.

The only thing that eased her troubled mind in the end was Tony Stark’s offer to keep Peter for the week she was gone. It was only then she was able to relax, knowing Peter was in good hands. She had apologised, softly reminding Peter how he was all she had. Peter understood, he really did. He would keep him safe as much as he could. But crime did not wait. The world just kept going and he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. He wasn’t any better than the bad guys if he did.

In an attempt to cheer Peter up from his light cold and fearing that Peter would feel a little homesick and miss Aunt May, Tony decided to do a thing that only encouraged Peter to get out there even more.

On the Sunday, Peter was busying himself rewatching Blade Runner when he heard a weird whooshing noise and a frustrated hiss, followed by a curse.

“For fucks sake, Vision, what’d we say about the walls?!” A man said exasperatedly.

“My sincerest apologies, that notion appears to continuously escape from me. I must enforce this a lot stricter,” An English man said.

“Clint, give him a break. I’m sure he will get it,” A female said softly.

Peter tensed slightly at the realisation, exhilaration tingling in his body in anticipation. He whipped around and a small gasp was forced out of him, eyes twinkling in delight when he saw what he saw.

Before him was The Scarlet With, Hawkeye and the Vision, and they were so fucking cool.

“Oh my gosh, this is so cool!” Peter exclaimed, bouncing off of his seat in excitement.

Wanda smiled at him fondly, “I mean, I would not quite say these two are cool, but I would say so for myself. Not these two.”

Clint gave him a grin, “You’re pretty cool, kid. You really impressed back in Berlin, I mean, we hated you because you weren’t on the right side, but you were really fucking cool. But hey, we like you now!”

The Vision nodded, “I do agree. You did display some rather exemplary skills in the battlefield.”

Peter went bright red, and his time it wasn’t from his endless coughing or slight fever, he felt unbelievably touched and inspired.

“A-awh, no..I..I wasn’t that great,” Peter said bashfully, scratching the back of his neck.

“You know, it’s nice and refreshing to have a young guy on the team. It’s like hope, you know? Knowing that justice will still be served even when we grow old and weary. You’re the next generation of super heroes, and my heart feels a little more at ease,” Clint smiled softly.

Peter’s heart swelled, “P-part o-of the team?”

He wasn’t sure if the croak in his voice was from shock or from his cold.

“Of course, Peter. You’re one of us now, and I’m looking forward to working with you!” Wanda beamed.

“Of course, when Mr Stark allows you. He is very fond and protective of you, it seems, and you will need a little more experience but with after you have acquired that you will surely be a full fledged member of the team,” The Vision said warmly.

“W-wow, I don’t want to sa–” Peter choked, both from overwhelming emotion, and also from a cough that began to strangle his throat and forced out a harsh cough that escalated into numerous, harsh and chesty coughs that had him flushing red with embarrassment and doubling over by sheer force.

Tony sighed fondly, and managed a little smile before approaching the boy and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, patting him on the shoulder, “Alright, that’s enough for today. You guys can go off and be losers, while both of us can do our cool thing, yeah?”

Peter managed a shaky smile, “Yeah, definitely.”

And he definitely would.

This whole thing gave Peter this sudden surge of energy and motivation, this itch that wouldn’t stop burning in him that yearned to serve justice. He couldn’t just sit around and rest, the whole world did not work that way. He had to stand and fight, and he had to do it for the avengers.

Some sickness wasn’t going to stop him. Definitely not now.

“Hey Mr Stark? Are you cool with me going over to Ned’s for our project?” Peter asked, a slightly raspy grit to his voice as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. He smothered an itchy series of coughs against his shoulder in irritation.

Tony reemerge from the kitchen, a frown plastered onto his face, “What? Are you sure you should be working like this?”

He shuffled up to Peter and placed the back of his hand against Peter’s forehead, frowning, “You’re a little warm, Peter..and you’re still pretty sick..”

Peter shot him a reassuring smile, “I’ll be just fine, Mr Stark..Mr Callahan will kill me if we don’t have this project finished!”

Tony looked worried, “O-okay. Here, I’ll give you a ride..”

“No!” Peter said a little too quickly.

“U-uh, I mean..I’ve been really wanting some fresh air..” Peter tried hopelessly, lifting his fist to his face as he began to cough forcefully. It left him feeling a little nauseous.

Tony’s worry only elevated, “Pete..What if you get worse? I don’t want you to get sicker than you already are!”

Peter offered him a soft smile, “I really appreciate your concern..but I’m fine. I think you’re worrying a bit too much. Take a breather.”

Tony sighed, “Okay. You’re right. Go ahead.”

Peter turned around with a grin, only for Tony to yell out a “Wait!” He whipped around in confusion.

Tony rushed towards the hallway and thrust a thick warm coat and a woolly scarf into Peter’s arms, which he barely caught, “Wear these, okay?”

Peter chuckled fondly, “Okay.”

The cold wind left his body in shivers, his teeth chattering as he walked through the bitterly cold air. Peter groaned as he threw on the suit in an alleyway, the harsh cold winds piercing into his skin and causing him to tremble. He let out a hacking cough, doubled over by the sheer force and spluttered, grabbing onto a garbage can to maintain his balance. He had coughed so violently he felt a bit sick at that.

Once he finished his fit, he leaned against the damp, cold stone walls to try and catch his breath, recover from his fit as his chest heaved. He closed his eyes to block out any other stimulus that could potentially worsen his state. Peter felt awfully dizzy, way too warm, horribly woozy in the worst possible way. He felt a wave of nausea hit his stomach, shortly followed by a splitting headache that had deathly tremors that radiated from its epicentre.

Peter felt so awful that his entire body was telling him to stop. To go home.

But his heart was thinking of justice. And how if he didn’t patrol tonight’s someone’s father, or mother, husband, wife, brother, sister..doesn’t matter, somebody could potentially not come home.

That was enough to keep him going.

So Peter shot up his web slinger towards a building, and he swung from building to building, passion burning in his heart. He scanned the land below him, searching and keeping guard. He’d make sure everyone was safe.

It was like that for the next 10 minutes, him swinging from building to building to scan the area. Peter didn’t realise how fast he was going until suddenly the world began to spin and tilt and move. And his stomach cramped and a tidal wave of nausea hit him hard and suddenly his web slinger broke off from the last building and he was falling. He felt scarily light.

Peter skidded across the top floor of an apartment block, his skin scraping against the gravel. He let out a groan as he felt the burning sensation of pain on his skin, but he couldn’t think of the pain for long because his stomach cramped painfully. Peter gagged and ran towards a trash can that was oddly kept on the top floor of this building, yanking his mask off and hurled into it. His stomach contracted and heaved as he puked into the bin, and spluttered when he was finished.

Peter collapsed against the floor, defeated. He held his pounding head in his hands as it spun rapidly at an alarming rate. He could hear the beating of his heart as he gasped for air, feeling awfully lighthearted and pathetic. Peter felt so weak like this. So useless.

He shivered violently with his rampaging fever, feeling his hands turn to ice and they shook. He felt so fevered and sick. He just wanted to go home and curl into bed. He felt utterly miserable.

Peter had started to wonder why he had even bothered in the first place, beginning to lose himself into this spiralling vortex of dark thoughts and self loathing when suddenly he heard the loud clicking of heels against the pavement, in a hurried, rapid pace.

Peter perked up in alarm, rushing towards the edge of the building so he could see what was going on. Down, he saw a woman hurriedly walk down the street in her club outfit that Peter thought was very nice and flattering on her. He smiled softly, but it was quickly wiped off his face when he saw a small group of drunk, bumbling men trailing after her yelling out horrible slurs.

Peter frowned, descending slightly and sitting down on one of the apartment’s balconies. This woman seemed able to protect herself, so Peter would let her, but he’d be there just in case. Once the men caught sight of him, they began to back off. Peter’s heart melted as the woman looked up at him with a grateful smile. She quickly unlocked the door to her apartment and disappeared into it.

It was then Peter remembered why he did this.

Peter weakly opened the door to the living room, smothering a weak cough against his shoulder when Tony sprang up from his chair and rushed towards him.

“Oh god! Peter! You’re okay..” Tony said breathlessly, a shaky timbre to his voice. His hair was a mess, a little paler, and he looked clearly very shaken up. Peter felt extremely guilty that he had done this to him.

Quickly Tony turned angrier, “Do you know what time it is?! Way past ‘doing a project with Ned’, definitely! Why didn’t you even send a text? Do you know the world you’re living in, Peter?! The world I live in?!”

“Tony–” Peter tried.

“Peter, this world has taken so many people I love!” Tony shouted, before suddenly his face fell and he deflated. He looked so much older. So tired. He sunk against his chair.

“..I don’t want the same to happen to you,” Tony whispered bitterly.

Peter stood shocked, not knowing what to say. He looked around as if his surroundings would give him an answer. Peter sighed eventually, kneeling down on the floor and taking Tony’s hands, so they wouldnt shake.

“I’m so sorry Mr Stark..I didn’t want to worry you..It’s just–my phone ran out of battery and Ned and I–”

“For fuck’s sake, Pete–you went on the patrol. Say it. Don’t lie to me. I hate bullshit.”

Peter gulped, “Y-yeah. Sorry. I did…I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to worry you–it’s just..seeing Hawkeye and the Vision and–”

Tony sighed tiredly, “I know. Peter, you’re a great kid. You don’t have to go proving it all the time. We know.”

Tony cupped his face anxiously, as if to try and reassure himself Peter was still here. He frowned.

“You’re even worse. Go to bed, Pete. Get some sleep and rest. I don’t want you going to school tomorrow.”

Peter sighed and nodded, hating that he was going to break another promise. But Señor Zapanta was going to have his head if he wasn’t there for the test tomorrow.

“Good night Mr Stark,” Peter called out softly as he began to retreat into his bedroom.

“Good night, kiddo,” Tony said quietly, deflated.

Peter gulped as the guilt in his heart intensified, and he went to bed uneasily knowing Tony sat there in the living room like that. And that Peter did this to him.

Peter had left a note for Tony that morning saying he felt a lot better.

He hated lying to him twice, but Peter couldn’t miss school. Jokes on him, karma was a bitch.

All the buses to school were full that morning. And the gases and smoke the cars emitted made Peter cough so much that Peter wanted to vomit then and there. He would’ve if it wasn’t for the literal sea of people at the bus stop. He had waited for a good hour waiting for a bus to actually stop, and when he finally did it was ridiculously packed and full of strange and overpowering odours. It was the most agonising bus experience of his entire life, and Peter felt so nauseous and faint he wanted to crawl up on the floor and cry.

Peter eventually made it to school, 5 minutes before Spanish started. Once he got off the bus he was hit by a huge wave of sickness, and wooziness. He felt incredibly dizzy, stumbling as he walked in zig zag formations. Peter managed to get himself inside the school, when suddenly his stomach cramped and he sprinted towards the closest bathroom. He yanked the doors open and collapsed against a toilet and threw up again, heaving. His stomach hurt from how much he was puking.

Peter doesn’t even remember what happened next, because he’s not quite sure if he even had control of his body. He felt so disconnected from himself and like he was walking aimlessly through this feverish haze. Everything seemed to be fading in and out, he could barely see or hear or feel and all he could think off was the weakness weighing down on his shoulders.

Peter faintly remembered walking into the Spanish classroom, and the horrified looks on the teacher and his classmates’ faces, and then everything seemed to go black and he felt oddly peaceful.

Peter’s not sure what happened after that, but from what Ned told him, what happens shortly after his black out Ned quickly “and totally calmly, I was so cool Peter, let me tell you” phoned Tony to come collect him.

Señor Zapanta carried him over to the nurse’s office which Ned says was very cool and very “Die Hard” esque. Peter disagrees, but Ned’s entitled to that opinion. What happened next, Ned says, was the coolest thing.

So Tony stomped into school like it was nobody’s business, suit and all, walking straight through the sea of gawking, star struck teenagers (particularly Flash–apparently he had to visit the nurse shortly after he passed out) to get straight to Peter. Because that was all that mattered to him.

Peter wished he could have seen that, but he only remembers what happened after Tony’s big catwalk.

Peter remembered waking up to a bright light, and Tony’s concerned face sitting down next to him in some chair.

“M..Mr Stark..?”

Tony’s face instantly broke it’s worried state and fell into a relieved one, allowing in one huge breath with relief, “Oh thank god, Peter!”

Peter had a sudden dose of deja vu when Tony’s happy face contorted into an angry one, just like it had last night.

“I told you not to go to school last night, Peter! What was the point of Aunt May leaving you with me if I can’t even get you to listen?! What’s going on, Peter?! Why can’t you just follow instructions? You had me worried sick this morning, and when your friend called me saying you passed out?! You have no clue what that does to a man, Peter!” Tony scolded.

Upon seeing the guilty, sad, almost frightened look on Peter’s Tony sighed, sinking back into his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh.

“Did nothing I say to you last night mean anything? Huh? What the hell was that about? I spill my guts out to you and you go on and do the thing I literally said brings me into panic attacks?” Tony said quietly, deflated.

Tears pricked Peter’s eyes and his lip trembled, feeling immensely guilty and wondering why he was the way he was. He hated that he was like this.

“I-I’m sorry,” Peter managed, feeling a mental block stopping him. But looking into Tony’s sad, tired eyes set him free, “..I guess..I’m not used to other people caring for me this much..I’ve only ever had Aunt May, Ned…”

He trailed off, biting his lip.

“..and Uncle Ben…” Peter whispered, voice cracking, “..and he’s gone now.”

“I-I don’t know M-Mr Stark. I think I’m scared. I…”

Peter smiled shakily, “I’m scared of losing you too.”

Tony’s heart broke, “O-oh Pete..”

Tony went in for a hug and cradled Peter like that, trying his best to fill Peter with as much love and care his heart could possibly muster.

“..I’m really not good at this, I’m so sorry Peter, but I’m trying,” Tony whispered.

“I know you are. And that’s not nothing, Mr Stark. It’s something. That’s all I’ve ever asked for,” Peter whispered lovingly, soaking in the warmth of his embrace.

Tony sniffled as a tear escaped his eye, a soft smile playing on his lips, “Lets go home.”

[brokenbarnes]

Worthless

Title: Worthless Pairing: Carl Grimes x reader Request: I need a story where Negan come to Alexandria and then the reader isn't listen to Negan and he really wants to talk to her. Just like he did with Carl in the 'sing ma a song' episode. He can tell her that she's not worhing anything and that she should die. Negan can tell her that and should die right back with her brother(Abe?) bc shes weak and she' just another mouth to feed. He can tell her really disgousting things, and then Carl can be really over protecting his gf. He can ran over her and hug her so tight also cover her ear so she wouldn't listening to him. He can screm at Negan that he need to stop and that he can do this to him but not the reader. Carl can kiss her forehead and make her feel better by telling her that she's amazing, brave, beautiful and lovely after this. I just really need a overprotective Carl Grimes imagine. (sorry for my english, it's not my first language, I love your works) Warnings: Language, death(Abraham's which we should know), ugh I think that's it A/N: Hello, yes I'm still alive. It is my summer right now so I want to start writing again. I don't have the greatest ideas so if you have one just send it in! I'm so close to 200 fallowers! Hopefully y'all like this, because I wrote it pretty quickly and enjoyed it. Thanks for the anon that sent it in! Please request! It had been a week since your brother Abraham had died. You had been kneeling next to him when Negan hit him, you could show any emotion. Your whole side had been covered in his blood, you could hear the sickening crack of the bat breaking his skull. Negan's words were numb to your ears, you couldn't hear his final words. You don't remember him dragging Rick into the RV and driving away. You don't recall him killing Glenn, or Maggie's screaming. You remember watching in horror, as your boyfriend Carl lay spread on the gravel, Rick raised above him with a hatchet. Carl sat down next to you in silence after the saviors had pulled away. Sasha and Rosita were crying silently over your brother's dead body. You couldn't bring yourself to move. "Y/N," Carl finally spoke. "Are you okay?" You shook your head, wiping the tears falling from your eyes. "No," you shook it again. He put his arm around you, you turned and sobbed into his shirt front. You could hear Maggie silently sobbing over Glenn's body. * * * *

Your heart froze in your chest when you saw Negan inside the walls. When he saw you, he smiled. "Look who it is, Red's sister," he said with a wicked smile. You stood frozen in your spot, you hadn't really spoken to anyone since the incident that night. His stupid face haunted your nightmares, screaming when you woke up. Now, you woke up to find your nightmares come to life. "Haven't seen you since that night," he laughed. He smiled when he saw your terrified face, "oh sorry. Sore subject?" "P-please," you wet your lips. "P-please," Negan mocked. "Pathetic, isn't she?" He turned to his saviors who laughed in agreement. You felt your body wilting away, wrapping your arms around yourself and looking down at your shoes. "Are you listening to me?" He grabbed your arm roughly, forcing you to look up at him. You didn't answer, just feeling tears come to your eyes. God, you were so pathetic. "You're so worthless," Negan spat. "Just another mouth to feed. I should put you out of your misery right now. Then you can see your brother again. Would you like that?" "What is your fucking problem? Are you a fucking mute?" Negan yanked your arm, causing you to stumble forward. "Answer me when I'm fucking talking to you!" "I-I-" "Stop fucking stuttering!" Negan pushed you to the ground. You contemplated on just not getting up, you could feel blood seeping into your jeans. "So fucking pathetic," Negan spat. "Weak little girl. I should just end your life right now. I'd be doing you a favor." "Y/N!" Everybody spun around, Carl was running toward you. He stood infront of you, planting himself between you and Negan. "Please Negan, do this to me. Please leave her alone. She's suffered enough already." "Carl," you whispered. "Please Y/N," he turned to you then back to Negan. "Please just take what you need and go." * * * * You were sobbing by the time Carl got you back to the house. He sat you down on the couch and squated infront of you. "Are you alright?" He asked, touching a sore bloody spot on your knee. "What hurts?" You showed him your bloody palms from where the gravel cut. He left to go grab the first aid kit, you picked gravel out of your knees. He handed you a kleenex box while he cleaned up your knees and palms. He worked in silence, you blew your nose and wiped your eyes. "You're not worthless," he said softly. "Negan doesn't know what he's talking about." "Carl..." You whispered. "You're perfect to me. Just everyone in this world is experiencing loss and it's perfectly okay to grieve. Expecially when the man who killed your only family is taunting you," Carl said while he wrapped your knees. "You're so strong, so beautiful," he whispered. He hugged you tightly, bringing you close to his chest. Your hands knotted in his shirt as you cried. "I miss him, I just miss him so much," you cried. "He was always there for me." Abraham had always been there for you because of the age difference he always treated you more of a daughter once your parents died. Now, you had no one. "It's okay to miss someone," Carl whispered. "Especially in the way he went out, he deserved better." He kissed your forehead, rubbing your back softly. "Everybody in this damned world deserve better."