HI!!! I adore how you write bill, an my own birthday is tomorrow an im ✨Terrified✨✨,, n was wondering ifff. You could do a sorta angst-fluff where its the readers birthday, but every single one of his birthdays has been awful. And like, now that bills here with the reader he feels like maybe he wont have to Just survive his birthday? That even with his god awful family, it might be ok. Like yeah the meds help, but it doesnt fix anything if the people youre with are why youre fucked yknow? IDK and maybe bill decides to take it upon himself to remove the readers family😋 cant be a neglected middle child w all the responsibilities of the eldest if youre an orphan/J AN I DONT MIND HOW CLOSE YOU STAY TO THIS I LOVE YOUR WRITING ANYWAYS!!
(,,,o n also the reader maybe be a grungey scene kid kinda guy? Lots of piercings, an is more feminine than his parents think he should be, especially as a trans guy, So thats smth. Love bones n bugs and shinies an is like if a dog n crow were a guy,, n supr srry if this is a bad req!! Im jus excited cus i love bill, and im also stressy out cus of my burthdayy >_<“) SO NO PRESSURE TO RESPOND ESPECIALLY IF THIS IS TOO LONG OR ANYTHIMG!!!/gen
-🌙
Hello and Happy Birthday 🌙 anon! I've managed to whip this up and I hope it gives you at least some sort of comfort for today. I really do hope you're situation gets better soon, take care of yourself and have a great day! (Also, don't worry, I never really do mind long asks.)
BirthDate
Oneshot | Bill Cipher x Reader | Fluff/Comfort?
Warnings: Mention of Death, Implied Abuse, Implied Trauma, Implied Bad Birthdays, Bill Cipher lol
Quickly stepping upstairs, you lock yourself in your bedroom, blocking all the noise emenating from downstairs. Exhaling, you drop to your bed, letting yourself relax into comfort of the soft mattress and fluffy pillows.
Only needing rest by this point, you close your eyes. Wanting nothing more than to leave this place behind.
"WHOA, DIDN'T EXPECT TO SEE YOU SO EARLY!" A voice suddenly spoke, booming loudly for you to hear.
Ah yes, there he is. You can't exactly say he's your best pal, but right this moment, you truly do feel more at ease with him than being back there.
"It's honestly been a long day so..." You shrugged for a moment before continuing, "Does it bother you?" You ask, giving a lighthearted smile.
"NOT AT ALL, I WOULDN'T BLAME ANYONE BY WANTING TO MEET YOURS TRULY," he spoke, blinking slowly in a dramatic way to show off his 'impressive looks'.
You chuckle slightly, shaking your head, "I mean, I don't think I'm exactly the one to choose to be here..." speaking your thought aloud just to perhaps tease him a little as you glance at him for a moment before slightly chuckling once more.
You never really did know how you even get to meet him to be honest, he somewhat always manages to show up in your dreams, so overtime you guessed that he might be the one approaching you...That, or it might be because of something else entirely.
For a moment, you thought you saw him become nervous for a second, but maybe it didn't happen at all as you only saw it for less than a second.
"WELL, JUST WANTED TO CHECK HOW YOU'RE DEALING WITH KNOWING YOU'RE ONE YEAR CLOSER TO YOUR DEATH," he flatly said, in a weird, eerie way. He always did love being weird so this type of behaviour wouldn't be uncommon by this point.
"Right... Well, what's the agenda for this time then? Or are you busy?" You ask, avoiding your 'birthday' in question. You'd much rather not talk about your birthday at all to be honest. Not a single one ever went well...
Adjusting his bowtie, he started to speak, "WELL..."
Snapping his fingers, your surroundings completely change.
The rest of your 'dream' went on a relatively good note. Having a cup of tea, playing chess, you both did the usual activities you both would do when meeting in your subconscious mind. But the only thing is that, he seemed to be more...well a bit more charming and noticeably, but only slightly more open to your suggestions on what else to spend time on.
He'd usually take the wheel and drag you through any activity he wants, but this time though, this time he was a bit more...considerate.
Now playing a board game with him, you take the dice and roll it. Getting one, Bill chuckles slightly at your misfortune for a second before taking the dice from you.
He might be treating you like this because it's your birthday, but you'd doubt it... Well at least for now-
"EY, IT'S YOUR TURN TOOTS," he snapped his finger a few times in front of your face.
Chuckling, you mutter an apology before taking the dice. Rolling it in your hands, you then let it go. As the dice lands on the floor, it lands on a six, letting you be the winner for the match.
"Yess, I won!" You raise your arms, smiling back at him.
"CHECK AGAIN." Bill spoke, pointing at your piece. Looking down at the board, you see a newly added tile in front of your piece, moving the finish line out of reach. You raise your eyebrow, giving him the side eye.
"WHAT? I DON'T MAKE THE RULES," he raised his shoulders, smiling mischievously with his eye.
Shaking your head, you chuckled at his silly banter while giving him the dice for his turn.
It's unexpected but, this dorito triangle man truly has made a significance on making your birthday much more bearable. Be it his choice to do it or not, you're honestly just glad to at least have some semblance of joy sprout on this day.
I haven't been able to post for a week because unfortunately I became rlly busy at the moment and it isn't helping that I do tend to procrastinate at times. I'll post more regularly later, but for now at least, I'll post this here. Once again, happy birthday 🌙 anon!
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Wesker has a massive ego to cover up his lack thereof within.
personal hc / just me illegibly scrawling about the nature of uro!wesker's narcissism <3 tw: medical, childhood trauma
The idea that he is Umbrella’s biggest failure keeps him up at night, swirling around his neck like a noose every time he has to inject PG67A/W – the insane, stark difference between properly medicated and missed by two hours flattens him and destabilizes his composition. It doesn't show outwardly as much other than irritation and snappiness, but it broils within.
Fighting Chris, holding back, not letting himself kill the man because of the very compassion they worked so hard to erase – it makes him feel weak. The conflict between hating what they’ve done to him and the urge to be the monster they’ve made is intense. He has blown people away for something as small as being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and yet something small and decrepit inside of him swells and blocks his perfect aim when the man who destroys his progress crawls back for another spar? Pathetic.
His laser focus on the sterile apathy of hypothesis, theory, test, production is a way of detaching from the fragile self within, allowing him to reprieve from his personal thoughts for as long as he can keep himself awake and slavering. You don’t question when you’re splicing. You don’t ponder the principles that guide you and the sanity of your slipping framework when you’re comparing before-and-after strands. The threat of having to think about something he perceives to be as useless as feelings and dealing with the buried, petrified remains of what were once his morals keeps his nose firmly in his work. He talks about his work. He debates on his work. He attends meetings on his work. He succeeds in his work. He does not tend to, discuss, or debate his feelings.
He covers this conflict up, mental bandaid and gauze, by outwardly projecting a massive, bloviating ego; focusing only on his worth as the world’s greatest virologist, the world’s most powerful bioweapons dealer, the world’s most benevolent, unshakable savior… being cold, cruel, heartless; entertaining no space of play, no downtime when he is sick or stumbling. It is what he knows, the harbor he has always thrown his rope to regardless of how he has been impaled by its’ rocks. He clings to these titles and his sycophants tread their legitimacy into a reality even as his big black boot suffocates the life around him.
The truth is, Wesker has no chance to survive, ultimately, as he is. His blathering about ‘delaying the inevitable’ finds its’ truth nestled in himself: he continually delays the ultimate, final mental break to destruct his sanity irreversibly and turn his mind feral to his own viruses, by drowning in his obsessions – obsessions that will ultimately betray him no matter how he fosters them.
And it is why, when Chris finally rains hell upon him in that volcano, he goes completely, utterly feral. He does not get the out that Hidalgo had to T-Veronica, or the reprieve of control that Ashford artificially chained to herself. The very last straw to grasp is attempting to execute him for the monster he is.
There is no ledge left to prop him up after that.
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