#he is battling a really terrible mental illness

[cheemscakecat]

If Emesis Blue really is a Dream, I love the fact that BLU Medic sees RED the way he does.

Think about it, BLU Medic is a Catholic who knows he’s mentally ill and is trying his best to keep it under control. RED Medic is a megalomaniac who likes the challenge of playing god and made a deal with the devil.

And beyond that, BLU has other personalities that he doesn’t understand [who freak him out] and hallucinates them from time to time.

That’s the actual reason he didn’t attack RED immediately, he thought it was one of them from afar. It has to be trippy and difficult to deal with that guy IRL in battle with the personality issue.

And even if BLU doesn’t know it, if he thinks his other personalities are demons or something, they still act like people. Angry, revengeful people, but not monsters. This picture is such a good representation of the difference between the two. RED is feral and messing with powers he shouldn’t…. For fun. Fixing respawn failures is not “for fun” it’s meant to save mercenary lives. So RED would be Monstrous.

He’s still red hued even in this blue room, skin and hair too, like a demon. And given he joined Classic team in hunting his own crew and BLU mercs, it makes sense that he’s literally two-faced.

Something else that’s interesting is that BLU Medic’s eyes are only ever black/brown as the funeral version, and he has hallucinations that make that personality look demonic.

But again, funeral Medic acts like a human person that’s 100% done with BLU Corp and their lies, not a cryptid. He’s not actually evil like Ludwig thinks.

But RED Medic is criminally insane in ways that transcend other Gravel War mercs, and that’s disturbing to someone like BLU.

O no he crumchy

He just put Scout’s body in a coffin as respectfully as he could given the circumstances. RED Medic brought their team’s sniper back to life and there’s no way BLU hasn’t heard about it post-comics. He didn’t want RED touching Scout, even if it could bring him back. He doesn’t trust that maniac, and that’s 100% valid. Why?

BLU team doesn’t know RED personally. What they’re like at their base, living with each other. They don’t know that RED Medic was infiltrating Classic, not truly joining them. They don’t know what he was doing in the early 40s or how close he is with RED Heavy. And here’s the proof:

BLU Medic doesn’t know that this is BLU Heavy; he knows that he’s at RED base, and wouldn’t have a reason to believe that this isn’t RED Heavy. Especially after what happened to Scout. So from his perspective, RED finally pushed nature too far and it blew up in his face. Resulting in RED Heavy loosing his mind and attacking.

That’s also why he hesitates to run away from the big Hoovy; he might be in hearty agreement with defeating RED Medic and leave BLU alone. But that’s not the case, and so the context changes from “this guy no longer serves RED” to “this guy has lost the plot altogether, he’s just attacking anybody’.

We, the tf2 fans know that this isn’t how RED Heavy acts; he actually didn’t question Medic’s loyalty in comic 6 and was ride or die, so if anything he’d still be docile to RED. But nobody on BLU team knows that.

And BLU’s doctor believes that something terrible will happen to RED if he doesn’t stop messing with the powers that be, even though he has no idea about the demonic deal.

[dokoni-mo]

Crave: Part Three || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: Your first time with him.

NSFW // smut

word count: 8,088

warnings: age gap relationship (reader is 20 while William is pushing 40), allusions to mental illness, allusions to dysfunctional parent-child relationships, talks of divorce and custody battles, smoking, will is a bit delusional, will has scars, corruption kink, usage of pet names, Will is a bit of a creep, obsessive behavior like REALLY obsessive, and possessive, sensual touching, swearing, Michael is briefly in this too, kissing, brief and faint sir kink, breeding kink, aftercare, also yandere vibes for a very little tiny bit, praise, body worship, fingering, virginity loss, premature ejaculation, dom/sub undertones, general smut lol

minors dni // please read warnings!!

a/n: omg omg my first fic back!! I had to polish off the rust (esp with writing smut) but i got so many requests for part three of this I just had to!! anyways I hope yall enjoy!! Ive tagged a few people whom I thought would like to read this, but if you'd like me to not tag you pls let me know! enjoy! (also just a little disclaimer, i do NOT condone this type of relationship irl!! this is just my take on being with Willy)

part one // part two // part four

~~

William could remember the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He remembered it as plain as day and recounted it often.

In fact, it was probably one of the most solidified memories in his mind. Even more so than the birth of his children, or even the day he married his ex-wife. He could recall every single little detail; what clothes you and him wore, what you smelled like that day, how you styled your hair. Every last little bit, he remembered. The first meeting is always important, yes. But this one was much more important to William. In a way in which he doubted anyone but you would understand.

For it was the first time in nearly all his life that William wasn't faking.

From very early on, William knew he wasn't normal. Or, at the very least, what everyone else deemed as normal. Even as a boy, William was hard to excite, or even get some sort of reaction out of. Toys, games, new friends, holidays; none of it was ever appealing to him. He found it all boring. It caused his mother great worry too. William could see the way she looked at him. Even as a boy, he knew what that look meant.

Perhaps that's why he began to lash out in his early years. That's why he was labeled a "problem child".

William had thought that if conventional means of joy and excitement couldn't elicit a response out of him, perhaps other means would. Lying, cheating, getting into trouble. It had some effect, he had to admit. The thrill of it all. He had gotten pretty good at not being caught, too. But, of course he would slip up some times. That's when the trouble arose. William was emotive, at last, sure. But no one liked it. At least, no one liked how it came about. His mother often scolded him. Teachers too. And, if William had a father that gave two shits, he was sure he would've received punishment from the man as well.

It was confusing. Terribly, terribly confusing. Couldn't he finally be happy doing what he loved? That's all his mother wanted, wasn't it? What everyone else wanted, too? For William to find himself, and be emotive?

Then why were they mad at him. Every. Single. Time.

It was frustrating. And, the more frustrated William grew, the more he acted out.

It was a balancing match made in hell. And William grew tired of it all. William accepted that in order for him to have peace, he must comply. Mr. Afton would have to wear a mask of his own face, and be what everyone wanted him to be.

Charming. Handsome. Intelligent. Charismatic. Great husband. Better father. Businessman. Inventor. Successful. Approachable.

William played these charades for nearly 40 years now. Enough to where the lines on his face grew deeper, and the roots of his hair turned grey. He played it through the unpleasant surprise that was his eldest, Michael. Then again at his wedding to that bitch Clara. Again though Elizabeth and Evan's births. Then continued after the divorce. And on through the custody battle. And on and on all the way to now.

Every. Single. Day. For 40 years.

William was tired of it but found no avenue to stop. If he dropped the act now, he couldn't even imagine the headache that would be the fallout of it all.

He had to keep it up. He had to. This was the life he made for himself. He made his bed long ago, and now he had to sleep in it. William was in a prison of his own making. That no one even knew was constructed. He hated that he got Michael out of all of his kids. He hated his business. He hated his neighbors. He hated his friends that weren't Henry. He hated his fancy house, expensive car, and clothes.

This life was his fate, and how unfortunate he was.

Or so he thought.

He didn't want to pay for Michael's college. William would never admit it out loud, but he thought that boy trying to make something of himself other than a minimum-wage employee was a joke. That's why he forced Michael to pay his own way. In reality, he told Michael it was to "make him more of a man", but William knew his son saw right through it. Michael could be smart, sometimes.

Sometimes.

Because Michael was, in fact, a minimum-wage employee at his father's diner, the young man couldn't afford much else than the local community college. Not that that was a bad thing to the young man; Michael didn't care that much. William wouldn't have cared either way, but Michael's compliance made things easier. And, being around other people his age, Michael was out of the house more often. This meant less fights that William would have to deal with weekly. It was a win-win all around.

And, when Michael was home, he would often be accompanied by one or two of his friends. William didn't mind, as long as his house was kept tidy, and no one made too much noise. Any distraction that would take his idiot of a son away from him was welcome.

If William was around when Michael showed up with a friend, William was polite enough to them. A smile and a how are you, perhaps even a question or two. Just small talk, enough to keep up his façade of good dad, better person.

That was until, years into his university, Michael brought you over.

William was in his house that day, doing paperwork at the kitchen table with a cigarette pluming smoke in the ashtray nearby. The Diner was closed whilst the state was doing their bi-annual health inspection. While Mr. Afton preferred to keep himself occupied to his workshop in the basement, he thought that perhaps a change of scenery could do him some good. Smoking in the basement made it stuffy down there, anyway.

He would later be so, so grateful for this decision.

From the opposite end of the house, William heard Michael's keys in the door, twisting the lock to let the young man in. Listening a second longer, William could discern two sets of feet walking along the wooden lining of his foyer, along with two hushed whispers bantering amongst themselves.

Mr. Afton breathed a quiet sigh through his nose.

Great. Michael was home. And dragged some other runt along the way.

William knew that in order to reach Michael's room, his son and his friend would have to go upstairs. And, much to William's dismay, the entrance to the stairs was positioned in such a way that his son and his friend would have to go through the kitchen.

Great.

Hearing the footsteps grow closer and the whispers louder, Mr. Afton leaned back in his chair, tamping out his cigarette in the process. Grey eyes situated on the paperwork in front of him, William put on his well-rehearsed soft, friendly smile, waiting for his son to show himself.

Michael was the first to round the corner, the care-free smile slowly fading off the young man's face as he saw his father sitting in the kitchen. Sensing Michael's presence in the doorway, William looked up from his work and to his son, his fake smile growing to make up for the disgust he felt.

"Dad..." Michael groaned, "What are you doing here? I thought you had work today..."

William chuckled, "Michael, I told you this morning. Inspection, remember?"

Michael rolled his eyes and sighed, looking around the corner of the door and saying a few more hushed words. Whoever his son's friend was, they must be shy. William couldn't blame them too much. Mr. Afton was probably the most popular guy in town these days, with the amount of business the Diner had brought in.

Michael turned his attention back to his father, "I have a friend over. Is that alright? Or are you gonna throw another fit?"

William clenched his jaw, "Of course, of course, it's no trouble at all! Just keep it quiet upstairs, yeah?"

Rolling his eyes again, Michael said a few more words around the corner before making his way to the stairs. William had dropped his gaze for a moment to fill in a few of his signatures. When he sensed that his son's friend had finally shown themselves around the corner, William looked up to give them a friendly smile.

Oh, and there you were.

Adorable, precious, beautiful, darling you.

The world around him seemed to fade away when William laid his pale grey eyes on you for the first time. Instantly, he knew you were the single most breathtaking creature he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. You put his ex-wife to shame ten times over. A hundred times, even. All of his past flings as well. They were nothing compared to you.

You were a timid little thing. William could tell by the pink on your cheeks and your hands clasped in front of you. You had a small, soft little smile; your lips so perfectly round and plump. The way your hair had framed your face made you look as if you were hung in the Louvre itself. Your eyes were kind, looking at the older man with a warmth William didn't know possible. Genuine warmth, too.

The way you looked at him. The way you carried yourself. The way you smelled, even halfway across the room. The way you smiled. The way those clothes hugged you in all the right places. The way your body curved and bent...

William swallowed the saliva building up the back of his throat. Without noticing, his lips had begun to part, but he was quick to fix it with a smile.

You gave Mr. Afton a tiny little wave as you shuffled awkwardly towards the stairs behind his son, your voice barely above a peep.

"Hi, Mr. Afton." You had said, "Sorry to interrupt you..."

Shit. Your little voice saying his name like that. It matched you so well.

William's smile grew as he leaned forward in his chair, setting his paperwork to the side.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, love." He said in his thickly accented voice, "At least you're getting that one out of my hair for a while, yeah?"

William almost never made jokes at the expense of others. At least, not around everyone else. He kept his true feelings in his mind most of the time. He knew most folk wouldn't react too kindly to what he really thought of them. But you...

You didn't seem the type to need such filters. He could see it already. You were the type of person to tell it how it is, and not apologize for it. Just like how he wanted to be.

How interesting.

You let out a little giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. William could feel his jaw clench again. Why were you hiding yourself from him? He wanted to see your smile. Your laugh was so cute, surely your smile is too.

William felt himself still. William wanted to see it. Your smile. That was the first time he had ever wanted someone's smile. And the fact you laughed at his joke about his son...

"Yeah, well, it's not like I wanted to, but someone's gotta do it!" You responded with sarcasm, Michael's groan making you giggle to yourself again.

Without even having to force it, William felt a laugh bubble up from the bottom of his chest. He heard it reverberate off the walls of his shiny, sleek kitchen, and it surprised him greatly. Mr. Afton couldn't remember the last time he didn't have to force a laugh. Let alone a smile. All attempts from others just made him cringe on the inside.

Idiots.

Michael had dragged you up the stairs after your little joke, annoyed by the banter between you and his father. William's eyes were fixated on you as you disappeared from sight, watching as your cute little legs carried you up his staircase.

From your height compared to his kitchen counter, William could deduce that you were much shorter than him. If he had to guess, you'd probably only about come up to his shoulder. From the lingering smell in the air too, he could tell that you took good care of yourself. You were clean. Fresh. Supple. And, from the tiny bit of your personality he saw that afternoon, William already knew he liked you. In fact, it was from that moment on that William would think of you.

He encouraged Michael to bring over more friends in hopes that you'd come back. If you weren't in his house, William found himself wondering where you were. What you were up to. What your routine was. What he assumed to be an infatuation quickly grew. He begun to think of you more frequently. When sitting down for a meal, he would wonder if you would like what he had made. William wondered what such a cute little thing like you was doing in this nowhere town. Did you have dreams away from here? Is this were you wanted to be? He had never seen you in his diner before, he was sure of it. He would've surely remembered such a pretty little thing. Although, his diner was the talk of the town. For both adults like yourself and for children. So where were you?

You became illusive to him. You were full of mystery, and he had to know more. It would never be enough. He wanted more. William began drilling Michael about who you were. This was met by some animosity by the young man, but William didn't fucking care. Eventually, when Michael became obsolete of information, William took to other means. He would eavesdrop around the diner on the security cameras, hoping one of the other college kids in there would utter your name. It was slim pickings, but the thrill of it is what got to William.

Every single little thing he learned about you was priceless to him. He committed it all to memory, as if you would vanish if he had not. You were a plague to him. It was your name he thought of first thing in the morning, and it was the last thing he moaned quietly into the night. His fantasies grew dirtier by the day. He had imagined you in oh so many different scenarios. Different positions. Places. Outfits.

Everything about you was perfect to William. From the very top of your head to the very bottom of your feet. You were his soulmate. He just knew it. Every single little thing about you had been crafted just for him. Everything you did, said, perfection. He could be so, so good for you, just as you'd be so good for him. He made more than enough money to spoil you rotten. His house was big enough for you to move in. Not that you'd need the extra space. Of course you'd be sharing a bed with him. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Couldn't you see it? How you and him were meant to be? Couldn't you picture your budding life together with him? This is what all those years of suffering were for. To lead him to you. You were his everything. His sun, moon and stars. The oxygen he breathed. The food he ate. The ground he walked on. All of it.

You.

His precious, precious little bunny.

~~

William already knew he loved you. He did, he really did. He didn't have to fake that part about him. Loving you came as naturally to him as breathing. And with you pinned underneath him, Mr. Afton felt as if he was on cloud 9.

Sure, this isn't exactly how he'd plan things to go. He didn't want to have his first time with you on his couch. You were better than that. You deserved all the nice things he had to offer. But William wasn't too sure he could contain himself long enough to carry you to his bedroom. He had already waited so long to have you. Surely you wouldn't mind, right?

You didn't seem to, at the very least. As the man continued to grope and squeeze at your chest, his other hand ripping his tie off, he studied your face carefully. His pale eyes never left your pretty little face, not even for a moment. Your cute little hands were gripping the fabric of his couch, and soft little moans escaped past your puffy lips every so often. Your eyes were focused on his arm rather than his face.

He found this to be a shame. He understood that you were probably embarrassed, perhaps even overwhelmed. This was your first time with him, after all. Oh, but it just wouldn't do, little bunny. He wanted your eyes on him.

Where they should be.

After finally getting his black tie off, William used his free hand to slip underneath your chin, using his pointer finger and thumb to tilt it up towards him. Your glossy doe eyes met his, and he could feel an uncontrollable grin creep across his handsome features.

Just look at you. Not even five minutes in, and already so eager to please him. William could see how much you were enjoying yourself already, the pleasure of it all making the ache in his pants all the more tighter.

Patience, William, patience. The night is still young.

You are something to be savored. Not just a quick fix.

"(Y/N), my darling," Mr. Afton said to you, feeling the heat radiating off your cheeks, "keep your eyes on me. I want to see you, love."

William leaned down to kiss you again, feeling how your hands gently found a spot on his chest before he could do so.

"W-wait..." you peeped out, making William still his movements. He pulled away from you for a moment, his smile falling as he looked into your worried eyes.

"What's wrong, my love?" He asked, "Please, tell me. Do you want to stop?"

You shook your head, "N-No! It's just-"

William removed his hands from you, clasping your little fingers around his own, "Please, my bunny. Whatever it is, I'll fix it immediately. Please tell me."

Mr. Afton watched you like a hawk a you looked over your shoulder towards his door, the heat on your cheeks creeping down your pretty little neck at his words.

"It's just..." you whispered to him, "What if Michael walks in on us? He should be back any minute, right?"

Oh, that. The lie he told you. He had forgotten all about that, actually. William was glad you reminded him.

Mr. Afton pressed a small kiss to your fingers to ease your worries.

"Don't worry about him, my love." He said, admiring your features as if they were fine art, "It's all taken care of, I promise. Keep your focus on me, darling. On us. You can do that for me, hm?"

After studying his face for a moment, William watched as you nodded in response, making his smile widen as he kissed your fingers once again.

"Can we maybe just move, erm... this, somewhere else then?" You asked, "Please?"

Oh. So you did mind. William mentally kicked himself. Stupid fool. Of course you would mind. How could he have overlooked that? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

William leaned in and kissed your sweet lips one more time.

"Of course, bunny." He whispered to you, finally letting go of your hands. William got off from on top of you and planted his feet on the ground. Once he was secure, he leaned down to you again and slipped you into his strong arms, holding you bridal-style close to his toned chest. He felt his heart swell inside of him as you wrapped your tiny arms around his neck, nuzzling your cute face into his neck. Gently, the older man carried you through his house and into his dark bedroom, using one of his legs to push the door open.

Once inside, William gently laid you down on top of his bed, giving you a kiss before leaving breifly to shut his door. After he was sure that it was shut tightly, William turned his attention back to you.

Heat creeped down his face and neck when he saw his precious bunny on top of his bed. Oh, little one. If only you knew how many times he had pictured you there. How many times your name was repeated over and over like a mantra within these very walls. Even with all the fantasies William had played over and over in his mind, none of them compared to the real thing. Just look at you. So so cute.

And just for him.

Walking back over to you, William was sure to drink in the sight of you on his bed, and commit it to memory. His hands on autopilot, William unbuttoned his purple dress-shirt as he neared closer, exposing his chest to you.

You must've felt awkward being the only one with all your clothes still on. He saw how you went to shrug off your jacket, but was quick to stop you as he took his place on top of you once again.

Silly bunny. That was his job.

"Ah, ah, my darling." He whispered to you, gently taking your hands away from yourself, "No need to worry about that. Just let me do all the work, yeah? Just relax, and let me take care of you."

Mr. Afton saw that his words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Your eyes weren't on him. Instead, they were lain gently on the expanse of his chest, going up and down over and over. The dim lighting made it a little hard to see exactly, but William knew what you were doing. Ogling him.

William wasn't sure how much harder he could get. Look at you. Precious little you, drooling over his chest. What a good little bunny. That's exactly where your eyes should be, little one. On him. And only him. He only had eyes for you, so wouldn't you do the same for him? Of course you would, bunny, of course. By the end of the night, you will. Mr. Afton is gonna show you so many levels of burning hot pleasure you didn't even know existed. Why? Because you'll be his. His bunny. No one else's. And if anyone dared try take you away, then well-

"How did you get these?" William heard you peep out to him, snapping him out of his trance.

He felt one of your little hands pull out of his grip, and gently trace lines up and down his chest and stomach, earning a shudder out of him. Elation ran through his veins, knowing this was the first time you had ever touched him. Touched a man like that, too. Slowly, whilst coming down from his high, William could recognize the patterns you were tracing.

Ah, yes. Those. He had forgotten about those, too. His scars. He hadn't even remembered to warn you first. He knew that at first glance, they did look rather gnarly.

But, still. You didn't seem to mind. You were his good bunny, after all. Of course you'd be good for him. Love him no matter what he looked like. Just like how he loved you.

While you continued to feel up his chest, William shrugged off the remains of his dress shirt and tossed it to the floor. He subsequently leaned down close to you, capturing your lips in another kiss. The following ones trailed down the side of your face and to your exposed neck, earning another whimper of pleasure out of you.

"It's nothing to worry about, love." He whispered to you, pressing more kisses to your skin, "Let's just say the early designs of my spring-lock suits weren't without their... flaws."

"Do they hurt?" You asked him, your little fingers finding a place on his shoulders.

William's breath fanned across your heated skin as he chuckled, "You ask far too many questions, bunny."

William gently bit down against the swell of your neck, earning another gasp out of you.

"Just, relax, little one." He said, his hands slowly working your jacket off of you and discarding it to the floor, "Do you want to stop?"

"N-no! I just..." you trailed off, your voice fading to a whisper "I just want you to be okay."

Mr. Afton picked his gaze up from your neck to look into your eyes, committing to memory the pink on your cheeks. Oh, precious, darling little bunny. If only you knew just how much he loved you. If only you knew just how you made him feel; the gravity of your presence around him.

The older man leaned forward to kiss your neck again, his large hand gently slipping underneath your shirt.

"My darling bunny," William whispered, "you're far too kind. So, so good for me. My bunny. Mine."

The brit's movements begun to get more frantic and passionate as his hand crept up to your chest, groping and squeezing from under your shirt. Your moans became more frequent in conjunction, along with the sheer amount of bruises and marks he was sucking into your soft, warm skin. Your hands found their way across his bare shoulders, one eventually travelling up to tussle into his dark brown hair. William rumbled out a groan from the back of his throat as he continued attacking your neck.

Once he was certain that you'd have plenty of hickeys in the morning, William detached himself from you and sat back slightly. His hand ran further up your chest, pulling your shirt along with it. Once your garment was halfway up your torso, William brought his other large, calloused to the base.

"May I remove this for you, my sweet?" He asked through half-lidded eyes, the tent in his pants growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. His mind told him over and over to just cut to the chase and pound you into the mattress already, but he dismissed the thought. He needed patience. William had waited for this day far too long to piss it away. He wanted to savor it. Stretch it out as long as possible. Not only for his selfish reasons, but for your sake too. You were a virgin, after all. He didn't want to scare you away, oh no. Eventually you'll get the hang of it, anyway. Don't worry about that, little one. William promises to show you how all of it is done. Show you just how amazing he can make you feel, and spoil you rotten in the process. Give you the treatment that only his bunny gets to have.

But, for now, slow and steady it is.

You looked him in his eyes as you gave him a timid nod, making another grin stretch across his face.

"Let me hear your words, darling." He said.

"Y-yes, Mr. Afton. Please... take it off." you responded.

Fucking hell you were so goddamned cute. Sweet bunny if only you knew just how many times he imagined your cute little voice saying those exact words to him. How long he dreamt of it.

Another shudder ran through the man's veins as he pulled your shirt off of you, leaving you bare-chested in front of him.

"Please, love," he whispered, "Call me William."

The tips of his fingers ghosted over the expanse of your chest and stomach, earning a shudder of your own under his touch. Leaning down, the older man pressed more open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and chest and his hands crept down further, stopping at the hem of your pants.

"Though, if you're up for it," he continued, "I'm quite fond of sir as well."

Before you could babble out any sort of response, William gave a few more open-mouthed kisses to the space right above your pants, your hands finding a home in his hair again. Your soft whimpers underneath the brit made his kisses all the more violent, and his hands all the more wandering. They traveled underneath you, coping a few feels at your butt before slowly trailing down your thighs.

It was getting harder by the second for the brit to control himself. He wanted to go slow, he really did, for you. But he wasn't too sure how much longer he could restrain himself from taking you as his. Here you were, right where he had wanted you for so long. Moaning and whimpering underneath him just like he wanted you to. You were already so good for him, even without him having to coach you on what to do. You truly were made for him.

So, perhaps you would forgive him for picking up the pace a little bit.

Could you do that for him, bunny?

"How about we remove these next, yeah?" He asked you through half-lidded, lust-filled eyes, his fingers picking at the hem of your pants.

You nodded in response again. Embarrassed and bashful.

Oh, naughty naughty bunny. Didn't he tell you to use your voice?

"Words, darling." He reminded you, his tone soft yet laced with firmness. He didn't want to punish you, no. Not yet, at the very least. It was your first time, and William was a generous man. He could let you off the hook this time, bunny.

This time.

"William, please..." you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Afton had to take a long, deep breath through his nose to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head, a cold, sharp shudder running down his body. Begging him already? Oh, sweet little one, you were made for him. You were you were you were. You were what he was put on this earth for. Not his stupid fucking business, or being a father. No. Not at all. It was for you. He was put on this earth for you. To be your man. To give you every single little thing your precious heart desired. Money. Fame. Love. Pleasure. All of it. All of it for you. And oh did he have plenty to give you. You were his soulmate, he was sure of it. How else could you be here now? How else would he have happened to find you in this small, puny town? Amongst all these fucking idiots? You and him were meant to be, little bunny. Couldn't you see it too? Just look at you. William fits so perfectly on top of you, doesn't he? And you look so adorable underneath him with that blushy face of yours. His sweet little rabbit. His darling beloved. His sweet angel. His treasure. His love. His. His. HIS. HIS. HI-

...

Oh.

Oh shit.

Pressing a few more kisses to your belly, he snuck one of his hands down to feel around his crotch. The tips of his fingers were greeted by a small wet patch.

Damn. He really got carried away that time. First on his phone call with you, and again now? Could you notice? No, surely not. It was too dim in his room. His pants were dark too, so that made it all the more unlikely. You probably wouldn't care either way.

He was still plenty hard for you.

Composure, William, composure. Don't ruin all the fun before it even begins.

Making sure to settle down the many thoughts in his head, William gently lifted your legs and cute little butt off of his bed. Slowly, he was able to discard your pants off of you, giving your shins and thighs a few small kisses as his hands returned to the hem of your underwear.

"This too, love?" He asked.

Out of instinct, you nodded again, "Yes, but... what about you?"

William breathed out a chuckle. Silly bunny. Don't tell him you're becoming the impatient one now. As adorable as it was, William had to still go slow on you. Patience, little one.

"That'll be soon, rabbit." He told you, one of his fingers hooking underneath your underwear, "You are a virgin, yes?"

He already knew the answer to that. He just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yeah, I am... Is that a proble-"

"No, no, little bunny, no." He said in response, gently sliding your underwear down your legs and discarding it on the floor, "I just have to make sure you're prepared. Besides..."

William shifted his weight down so he was face-to-face with your lower half, guiding your thighs to rest on his shoulders. Looking up at you, he pressed his kisses into your soft flesh, throwing in a few bites for good measure as he cupped your heated sex in his palm.

"Your body is so beautiful, my love." He said, "I want to savor every part of you. My needs can come later."

William watched as your whined and squirmed underneath him as his hand made contact with your lower half, his cock aching inside of his pants yet again.

"I will warn you bunny," the brit said, "It may sting a little to start with, yeah? Are you okay with that?"

You swallowed the saliva that had been pooling in the back of your throat, "Y-Yes, that's okay. I trust you."

William let out a satisfied hum, "Good bunny."

Slowly, William trailed his hand downwards, the tip of his middle finger inching close to your hole. Mr. Afton had to swallow the saliva that invaded his mouth at the sight, worried about drooling on you and making a fool of himself. If he could focus, he would be able to tell that his hands were trembling with excitement. Oh if only you knew how long he had dreamed of this day. He was already halfway there. Halfway to making you his. He just had to make sure his precious bunny was ready first.

He didn't want you in any pain when he filled you up with his love.

William gave you a few seconds to get ready before he pushed his finger inside of you, immediately making your back arch and your hands find his shoulders and hair. The grip you had on his grey-brown locks was tight, but compared to the elation he felt while inside of you, it was nothing. A pitiful drop in the bucket of his ecstasy. You were so warm around him. So so warm and tight. A million times better than what his fantasies made him believe. And a trillion times better than those sex toys he bought.

Mr. Afton let his excitement get the better of him just a touch as he begun to pump his long, bony finger in and out of you. His other hand gripped as your thigh, squeezing it as his lips placing gentle kisses on the flesh of it as a form of silent praise.

The noises his finger made going in and out of you were sinful, and echoed off of the walls of his room. Or perhaps, his shared room now. It'd only be a matter of time now before he'd ask you to move in, if all went according to plan. He was pleased to see that you eventually loosened up around his digit and you started to become more comfortable, once all the residual pain had subsided. This is when you started to moan for him. Quiet at first, but gradually got louder and louder as he found the more tender parts of your insides.

William's eyes would often flutter shut as he heard his sweet bunny's sounds underneath him. He was elated that you were enjoying yourself. If William knew he did one thing right in his life, he knew he was pleasing you like you wanted. He could die happy knowing that. That he got one chance with you; got to hear his bunny's sweet songs just once.

But, no, no.

William was a greedy man.

He wanted more.

And he would get more.

"That's it, my beautiful little bunny," he praised you, his deep accented voiced husked with his lust, "Just like that. You're doing so amazing, my darling. So perfect for me..."

William forgot to give you a warning as he inserted another finger into you. But, with the moan that escaped your lips as he did so, he was pleased to see you didn't mind. And, he was even more pleased with the way you found your own rhythm with his fingers, helping him to finger-fuck you all the better.

"Ah- Ahh! Oh my god, Mr. A-Af- William..!" you cried out to him, your grip on his hair becoming tighter as he found the most tender part of your insides.

You were playing with fire, little one. Did you want him to have another accident?

"Oh, my sweet bunny," he groaned, trying to shift his weight to relieve some pressure off of his crotch, "yeah, that's it. Keep making those pretty sounds for me, love. Make them for me."

"W-William, I-I feel-"

"Shh, my darling, it's alright. Let it happen. Make a mess all over me, my love. I want you to. I want it, bunny. Cum all over my fingers, goregous. Don't dare hold back on me. So, so good... my precious bunny. My bunny."

The pace of William's fingers quickened the more he said, until he felt you spasm around you and a flurry of moans escaped your lips.

He did it.

He finally did it.

William has waited for so long, and he had finally done it.

Halfway there.

Halfway to go.

Mr. Afton helped you to ride out your orgasm by pressing his fingers into you a few more times. Once you had settled down, and your moans had turned into soft, breathy pants, William took his fingers out of you, pressing reassuring kisses into the plush of your thighs.

"So good, little one," he whispered to you, "You did so well, my love. Perfect, absolutely perfect."

After a few more kisses, to allow you to catch your breath, William sat up again on his knees, looking down at your sweat-gleamed, adorable little face. You were still breathing pretty hard as his hands found his belt buckle, the clink of the metal making you look up at him again.

"William... please, I need you so bad..." you breathed.

Mr. Afton's breath hitched in his throat, "I know, love, I know. And you'll have me. You've been such a good bunny for me... 'Gonna make you feel so good, my adorable little rabbit."

A rush of relief washed over William as his belt was shed to the floor, along with his sleek black trousers, making him groan. He watched as you little eyes kept flickering between his tented crotch and his face, not sure of where to look to be polite.

Silly bunny. You were allowed to look anywhere you wanted.

As William finally was able to pull off his boxers, he breathed a sigh of relief. His cock had been aching for what felt like hours now, and he was finally able to give it some relief. He could feel how he throbbed against the cold air of his room as he looked down at you once again, drinking in the sight and committing it to memory.

William knew he was a well-endowed man. Hell, that's probably why he was so popular to begin with, at least amongst the women. None of that ever mattered to him before. He didn't care. Yeah, he had a big dick. So what?

It never mattered to him, that is, until now. He could see how scared you were when you looked at him. See it in your eyes, how you worried how something like that would fit into you.

You needn't worry, sweet bunny. William would never try to hurt you. Not ever. It'll fit, sweet one, don't worry.

Don't you trust him?

Mr. Afton gave a few pumps to his length, coating it in the slick of his pre-cum as he lined up at your entrance. He could feel waves of excitement and need wash through him as the tip made contact with your flesh, making him let out another shaky breath. Though in the past the brit found missionary to be rather boring, he found himself to not mind it with you. It allowed him to be close to you. To see your face, and hear you well. All he ever wanted.

Besides, he could always try new positions next time. If you were ready.

"It might sting a little again, bunny." He warned you, "But it won't for long."

"O-Okay..." you said, "Just... Can you hold my hand? Please?"

William felt his lips part, "Yes, my love. Yes, of course."

Shifting his weight briefly onto one arm, William slipped one of his large hands into your own, interlocking his fingers with yours. His other hand was firmly situated next to your head, careful to avoid pulling on your hair.

"Good?" he asked.

You nodded, "Yes.. I'm ready now. Please, William..."

"As you wish, darling."

Excitement bubbling in his veins, William gently pushed his hips forwards, the tip of his cock entering inside of you. Along with your gasp, the man above you let out a low, breathy groan of pure, raw pleasure, a shudder making its way down his spine.

Holy fuck. It was so much better than he had imagined. You were so much better than he imagined. He was sure of it now, more than ever. You were made for him. You were pure perfection.

And all the more reason to make you his.

Get to work, William. His bunny is waiting for him.

Careful not to squeeze your hand too tightly, William let out another breathy groan as he slowly pushed the rest of his length into you. At the feeling of being fully sheathed inside of your hole, William felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to save-face. You were breathing rather hard underneath him, your other arm having come up to drape across his bare, scarred shoulders for extra support.

As you he felt you slowly start to relax around him, Mr. Afton pressed soft, loving kisses to your jaw and neck, the hand next to your hair stroking it softly.

"Th-That's it, love..." he whispered to you, "So good for me... My adorable bunny."

You whimpered underneath his touch, "William, I... i-it's okay to move now. Please..."

Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, William gently pulled his hips back, then thrusted up into you. He watched as you bounced slightly underneath him, a low moan escaping your lips. With all the conformation he needed, William was quick to find a steady rhythm inside of you. He never found himself to be that vocal in the bedroom from past experiences, so the brit continued to surprise himself with every groan and sigh that escaped past his lips. But, then again, it was quite different now. This was you.

And damn did you make him feel amazing.

After finding a good pace, William was able to angle himself better, trying to find the most sensitive part inside you. With one lucky guess, he was able to see how you threw your head back in pleasure, your nails digging into the skin of his back as you moaned for him.

"Ohh goddd, William..! F-Fuck, right there!" you cried out for him, your encouragement making him pick up the pace.

"Yeah, bunny?" he goaded you, "Does that feel good? You're so fucking cute. You- hahh - you feel so fucking amazing, my love, fuck..."

The brit could feel your peak drawing nearer with every clench of your walls around him, his cock twitching back in response as it continued its barrage of your most sensitive parts. This only made him snap his hips into you all the more sharply.

"(Y/N)..." he cried out to you, "(Y/N), my love. So fucking good for me. So, so good... You're perfect, (Y/N). Perfect, my bunny. Perfect."

"W-William, I-I'm gonna-"

"Me too, bunny, me too. Please, bunny - fuck - please, together, my love. Let me fill you up, my darling. With my love. Let me show you how much I adore you. Will you, my love? Please, please."

"Yes, Will! Oh my god, yes please!"

With your sweet words ringing in his ears, William made one final push inside of you, sinking in as deep as possible. Mr. Afton groaned loudly as he could feel your orgasm around him, his following not long after. He was able to manage a few tiny, sloppy thrusts inside of you as you both rode out your high, feeling as how your insides became coated with his orgasm; no, with his love.

So, so much love.

And, you, finally

were now

his.

At long, long last. He finally had you.

Happy was an understatement. Overjoyed even more so. No, William was a new man. He was now yours. Your man to protect and take care of you. And no one else's. Just as you were his now, and no one else's.

His.

It took a good while for William to catch his breath again, as well as you. Once he did so, William found the strength to pull out of you, one last ripple of pleasure washing over him. You were looking up at him through your glossy eyes and heated face, a small, dumb smile on your face as you breathed heavily. He was able to get one more kiss on your lips before he shifted his weight off of you.

"Wait here, love." He said, "I'll get something to help you clean up."

As much as it pained him to leave you without him, William knew that aftercare was important. Especially to the inexperienced. In the past, he was never fond of doing too much of it, but with you, it came naturally to him. You were such a good bunny for him, it's the least he can do to show his appreciation.

The brit was quick to disappear into his bathroom and grab a towel, feeling the cold air around him in the dark. By the time he returned, he saw that you had already turned on your side, and had wrapped yourself in nearly all the covers on his bed. Creeping closer to you, William saw that your eyes were closed; soft, steady breaths escaping past your little lips.

Damn. You were asleep already. William knew tonight would wear you out, but damn.

Looks like he still has it.

And you were far too cute to wake up now. It would just be mean if he did so. Very well. You win, bunny.

Placing the towel on his nightstand, William peeled back the last little bit of blankets you allotted him and slipped into bed behind you. You being much shorter than him, he found it easy to meld his body against yours, wrapping his arms around your little waist and pulling you close to his chest. You were so warm, and he couldn't help but take a long inhale of your scent. He was hoping to talk to you a little more after, and tell you how amazing you did, but this was fine. He could do all the in the morning. You were too cozy for now.

But that couldn't stop him from giving you some praise.

"You are perfect, my darling." He whispered into your air, as soft as he could as not to wake you, "Just as I knew you would be. You're going to learn just how much better I can make you feel, sweet thing. This is only the beginning."

William pressed a few soft kisses to your hair.

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you to get you here. I just couldn't think of any other way to get us alone. But, you'll forgive me, right?"

You didn't answer, of course.

"Oh, I know you will. If you ever find out, that is, bunny."

There's some things you're better off not knowing, anyway.

"Get plenty of rest, love. I'll be right here, I promise. I promise."

How could he ever leave you now?

"I love you."

Goodnight, little bunny.

~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 , @the-official-memester , @randomwriteralan , @mrsrogerwaters , @laylaaftonshit , @cherry-slushee , @insert-memical-username , @mrssafton , @horrorking2000

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!!

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 6

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink @ajmiila02 @liquidsmoothdomme @shady-the-simp @that-one-persons-posts

TW: Self Harm, Blood

Y/n knew that tonight was Mayhem's first show and as much as she wanted to be there for support, she knew she had to work. She had tried to call and wish him good luck but she got the voicemail. Since he lived with the band, she decided against leaving a message and just hoped he would come by and tell her how it went.

When they all piled into the restaurant, face paint half smudged off and louder than normal, Hammed started taking orders as quickly as he could. Y/n couldn't really interact at the moment as she was working the line instead of tables. The amount of drinks she had to uncap hurt her hands but she made sure to stack them all on a tray to be dropped off to them. Once Hammed got tired of taking orders, he switched onto grill and Y/n was able to greet Oystein.

"How did it go?" She asked brightly seeing little bits of his makeup still on the corners of his eyes and mouth.

"It went really well. Wish you could have seen it." He smiled back taking his food.

"Maybe someday." She knew it wasn't her scene but she would tough it out to see Oystein play.

"You didn't stick around for the party. I looked for you but they said you took off pretty early." He looked disappointed.

"I was still on the clock so I couldn't really stick around. I figured you wouldn't even have noticed surrounded by groupies." Y/n tried to keep it light but Oystein screwed up his face.

"Hardly. I don't give a shit about groupies." Y/n felt a slight uptick in her heart but she didn't want him to know it. She took a napkin and leaned over the counter to rub some of the smeared makeup away from his eye.

"I'm definitely going to need a shower at some point." Oystein laughed.

"I'd say so. I can't believe you brought your stench in here with that crew of misfits." Y/n finally noticed Pelle sitting in a chair with his head down.

"Ey he might need some more tape." One of the guys shouted to Oystein.

"Hey do you have any duct tape?" Y/n cocked an eyebrow.

"Um we should. Let me check the back." Oystein nodded and went to sit his food down on the table. When Y/n found the tape, she walked of the door and immediately say Oystein trying to help Pelle pull tape from his bloody wrists.

"Fuck!" Y/n's eyes went wide pushing the swinging bathroom door and seeing what they were doing.

"What the fuck happened and why are you putting fucking duct tape on it?!" Y/n looked at Pelle who was paler than normal.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Oystein said stupidly. Pelle made eye contact with Y/n and she walked back out of the bathroom towards the office. She grabbed the first aid kit and her purse from her locker. When she returned they had gotten all the tape off and she was staring at how scarred his arms were.

"Grab me a chair from the table please." Oystein ran out to grab the chair and Pelle was shaking.

"You don't have to-" Pelle started.

"Listen, I'm not here to judge you. If you want to die or feel or whatever, its your life to have or end but you can't come here and expect me to serve meat sandwiches when you're bleeding out in a booth." Y/n wasn't trying to scold him. She had a brother who battled terrible mental illness so she knew the anguish someone must feel to do this to themselves but she knew Hammed would lose his shit.

Oystein sat the chair down and she pushed Pelle into it. She knelt in front of him and Oystein watched her clean his wounds up, disinfect them and attempt to put bandages on them.

"These are only butterfly band aids but you need fucking stitches, Pelle." Y/n was about to open her second box of band aids.

"Dead....my name is Dead." She clicked her tongue against her teeth annoyed.

"You know, these stage names are starting to piss me off." Y/n looked at Oystein in the mirror. She put a long gauze pad on his wounds before getting up from the floor.

"Take him to get stitches as soon as you can." Y/n said as Pelle walked past her as if she didn't just stitch up his gapping wounds.

"He'll be okay. I'll make sure to get him stitched up." Oystein assure Y/n as she cleaned up the bloody gauze and bandage wrappers. She felt a hand on her back and she tensed.

"Hey...it's fine. He's done much worse than that." Oystein's words made her turn around.

"I can see that but that doesn't mean he's fine. If anything he's furthest from fine Oystein." She felt a weight on her chest like she wanted to cry and he could tell she was upset. He pulled her to his chest and she dodged it as the door swung open again.

It was the guy who was lurking around at the party the other night.

"Hey I wanted to say you guys were very good tonight...at your gig. My name is Christian-"

"Do you see I'm a little busy here?" Oystein snapped. The way he spoke to Oystein gave off much different vibes than she would have thought. She assumed it was a friend but he came off more as a fanboy. He backed out of the bathroom leaving them both standing alone. Y/n quickly scrubbed her hands in the sink wanting to be out of that confined space.

"Y/n.." Oystein reached out again.

"I've got to get back to work." Y/n wiped her face and pushing past him. They continued to cut up and eat for another 20 minutes before they finally left. Y/n felt so tense and uneasy, all she wanted to do was scream.

[buckysmith]

Request from TikTok

How TFP decepticons would react if they find out that reader was starving themselves

Includes: Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave, Shockwave, Dredwing, Knockout, Breakdown, Predaking

HUGE TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of mental health issues and ED

Soundwave:

- He would notice it after a while

- Don't get me wrong, but he does in fact not need to eat and only knows that humans have to eat to survive.

- He would only notice it after you visited him more often.

- He can't really go out like knockout or the Autobots, but as you spent more and more time on the nemesis, he would realize that he never saw you eat anything, not even the slightest bit of a thing.

-He would ask you if you need something and you would politely denie his offer, telling him you already ate something

- You in fact did not and he knows that.

- He wouldn't want to confront you about it as long as he doesn't have a single clue what you might have and why you're lying to him about something so easy

- He would learn that eating something is in fact not as easy as he thought

- He would learn about ED. That some tend to eat way to less and others that eat to much, those who sometimes eat nothing and than eat anything.

- So you had a so called ED? He would ask himself not knowing how to approach you with his new earned knowledge.

- After a few days he would tell you what he noticed, that you eat nothing and that your starving yourself

- At first you would try to denie it, but no chance he already knows

- He would recommend therapy for you and he would do anything to help you

- In your whole recovery he would stand by your side, being your rock

- He would never judge you for your illness or try to play it down.

-He would be so incredibly proud of you for healing yourself and for trying to get over your own shadow.

Shockwave

- He would notice it pretty early

- He already had some test objects that happens to be human and he had to feed them regularly so they wouldn't die, so he would get curious why you, his human doesn't seem to eat anything.

- Don't get me wrong but this man would simply ask you why exactly you were not eating, not caring that it is a hot topic for you

-He would force you to tell him why exactly your not eating

- Whatever your reason is to starve yourself, he would simply tell you that it's not logical. Why? Cause humans needs to eat to prevent themselves of getting weak and dying.

-He would notice that his stone cold characters does in fact not help you, so he would try to comfort you.

- He would find a way with you to fight and get over your ED

- But it would need him a while to search those things up, but at least he would try his best to support you trough this hard time

Dreadwing:

- He wouldn't notice that you in fact do not eat

- But he would notice that you seems to get somehow weaker and weaker.

- he wants to know why you lost weight and look somehow ill.

-don't lie to him about it, he would notice that your lying.

-He would try to understand you but would terrible fail

- He would try to get you to eat something when he's with you and he would always praise you

- It doesn't matter to him how long it takes for you to recover, it would matter to him that your trying.

-He fought so many battles but not once was it him against himself so he would be so proud of you

- Not everyone would fight against themselves, but you are and it just shows him how incredible strong you are.

Knockout:

- He wouldn't notice it till you randomly pass out

- He would bring you back on the Nemesis, confronting you why exactly you passed out

- You would tell him that you don't know

- So he would go trough all what might cause your pass out and he would notice your lip biting when he comes to „did you eat enough"

- He would ask you why you're not eating and when the last time were you ate something

- after telling him the truth he would make sure to get you to eat.

- He would research on how to help you with your illness

- He wouldn't be great but neither bad

- what I mean, sometimes he's understanding sometimes not as much

Breakdown:

-He would hear your tummy

- Then he would ask you if you're hungry and you would denie it

- That would happen numerous times and  so he would get confused

- It seems your hungry, but he never saw you eat anything except a little salty cracker

- After a while he would ask knockout about it and he would tell him that something humans do that

- But that wouldn't really be an answer for your behavior so he would ask you directly

- After you told him what's wrong, he would be your supporter number one, helping you through the hard times and praising you for every little milestone.

Predaking:

- He would notice that you're not eating anything while being with him

- He wouldn't ask you about it, thinking you just eat at home for whatever reason

- But it seems your getting weaker, you’re always tired and your eyes look pale and dull

- after bringing you home he would watch you and now he knows you're not eating

- He would try to understand why you're not eating before asking you about it, watching you all day and basically stalking you.

- He wouldn't understand it even after a few weeks so he would just approach you and ask you about it

- you of course would denie it or at least try to

do so

- in the end you would tell him your reasons

- He cares for you deeply so to see you suffering it's spark breaking for him

- He would try anything to make you enjoy food and to eat at least one meal per day

- but he wouldn't force you, he would take his time with you

Megatron:

- He knows humans need to eat so seeing you not eating anything while being with him would confuse him

- He would ask you about it

- even if you try to lie to him he would notice it

- so to tell him the truth ist better for both of you

- he wouldn't understand your reasons

- in his eyes you're perfect and you deserve to eat and to enjoy your life

- he would suck at comforting you but he would try his best

- He would get you the best therapists and docs he( or better Soundwave ) can find on earth

Starscream:

-He wouldn't notice it

- Don't get me wrong, he adores you and wants you to be happy and healthy but because he doesn't need to eat something he wouldn’t notice it

- if you vent to him about it after getting some dumb comments from your family/friends he would ask you about it

- what exactly do mean you’re starving yourself? Why are you doing this?

- after you tell him your reasons he would try to help you

- He would suck too, but at least he helps you a bit

[doraambrose]

I normally don't really feel comfortable discussing NSFW topics, but I've seen an increase in a very specific type of jason todd content, mostly from one user in particular, that, to me personally, is kind of weird and inaccurate.

Disclaimer: I am in no way trying to kink shame anyone or attack anyone. As long as it's consensual, legal, and not hurting anyone, do what makes you happy. This particular subject is just not for me and this post is going to be more about my headcannons that I've based on canon events as well as my own opinion of jason todd.

🚨Warning: NSFW topics such as:

choking, rough play, foreplay, controlling and dominant behaviors during sex, crying during sex, talking during sex, talking down to someone during sex, making fun of someone during sex, vaginal sex, oral sex (female and male), daddy and mommy kinks kinks. Submissive behaviors during sex.

I've never done a trigger warning so please let me know if I did this right.

So, I've seen an increase in a particular kind of jason content, mostly fueled by like 1 or 2 specific users, portraying jason as this real rough, dominant dude who likes to degrade and choke during sex. I don't really like blocking people, but I might have to block these users. Don't get me wrong, they're not doing anything wrong, it just makes me uncomfortable, personally, as someone who's not into choking or stuff like that. and they don't put the read more line so you kind of have to see it when you're scrolling. I also find it completely inaccurate. Like the people requesting these and writing these looked at one or two images of jason but don't really know anything about the character themselves. So, I'm gonna put some of my own headcannons as someone who has studied this dude for a few years now:

First, Judd Winnick has confirmed over Twitter that jason cries during sex. Now obviously, judd winnick doesn't own Jason and many writers have their own interpretation, but winnick is basically the father and creator of post resurrection Jason and kind of set the blueprint for his behaviors, beliefs, etc. So for that reason, when he posts his own headcannons about jason, I feel more obligated (if that's the right word) to kind of accept it as canon, even when it's really not.

It also just makes sense. It's not as widely talked about, but it's very normal and natural to cry after an orgasm. Sex for a lot of people is considered a very intimate act and an orgasm is like an explosion of pleasure. It can be a little much for people, especially those who haven't experienced it alot, and some people (like myself) don't always know how to handle that much stimulus and feeling all at once and crying is a normal reaction to that. And jason is someone who's not the most intimate person.

Second, I feel like Jason is inexperienced. A lot of these blurbs have him knowing exactly what to do, what spots to hit, totally experienced and "professional". We're talking about a guy who spent 12 years in poverty, 3 years as robin while also being in school, dead, and then training with the league while battling mental illness, ptsd, brain damage, etc. And then in under the red hood, he's very focused on his plan. Even after that in general, he's with the outlaws, on a case, you name it. Dude is always busy with something work wise. I don't see him having a lot of time and energy to be fucking enough to not be awkward.

Speaking of awkward, I've always headcannoned that dude has ZERO rizz. All the reasons I mentioned above, he's probably super socially awkward. That dude is definitely terrible at dirty talk like the stuff I see in those blurbs. I mean, even Isabel has canonically said jason is not a very good kisser.

Third, I DOUBT he's into choking or being rough. All the abuse and shit he's been through, i headcannon that he is more like the opposite. It's intimate, relaxed, soft, etc. He can get a little intense, but not rough or anything.

He's probably actually what some would consider "boring". Pretty standard missionary stuff, maybe sometimes he's getting ridden , probably has oral and stuff, but he does not strike me as a kinky guy

Dude also probably has a normal average dick. I've seen some "8 inches" type shit. Really? 8 inches? I don't remember exactly what the average is in the us, but I'm pretty sure it's like 5 or 6inches.

I can't explain this one, but it's a pretty common headcannon for no real reason, but the vibes, jason is an ass and thighs man. Enough said.

As much as I'd love to think he's the kind of guy who loves spooning and all that, I feel like he's actually the opposite. Bare minimum aftercare kind of stuff and then he's back in his own head again.

I apologize for the explicit subject matter. There's probably more that I'm not thinking of off the top of my head, but those are the big ones for me. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[jasntodds]

i’m not sure if this is the correct place to request something but i was wondering if you could write stiles stilinski x ocd!reader? maybe stiles notices her becoming overly anxious and sees her picking every one of her scabs back open or just picking at her skin repeatedly? sorry if that doesn’t make sense, it’s just something i do obsessively especially when things don’t “feel right”

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x OCD!Reader Words: 676 Warnings: OCD, mentions of panic attacks, a little bit of anxiety, mentions of picking skin and scabs, a little bit of fluff A/n: I’m sorry this took awhile but I was having issues thinking of plot 😭I hope you like it!!

masterlist | tag list | request info

Stiles has always been one of the most supportive people you have in your life. With his own history and battle with panic attacks, he gets how crippling any form of mental illness can be. It’s a constant war inside your head all the time, even when it doesn’t feel like a war. And he understands it and has been there to support you ever since you told him about your OCD.

He had questions, of course, because no one really, truly understands OCD until they have it. It’s not that you always just want your room to be clean or that you’re flipping a light switch three times. It’s more about something, very specific having very specific steps and if those steps aren’t done in the exact way your brain tells you, you have to repeat them and if you don’t, this terrible, awful thing will happen and you’ll have anxiety about it. The thought of redoing that thing will sit in the back of your head haunting you and taunting you until you just do it. But, the worst types if just when something just doesn’t feel “right”.

You haven’t necessarily done anything that goes against your compulsions, in fact, according to your recollection, you did everything “right”. But, something that is almost embedded into your bones, screams that something isn’t right. It’s a large flashing red light in the very front of your head telling you that something isn’t RIGHT. You don’t know exactly what thing is but it’s SOMETHING and it’s a vibration in your bones telling you to figure it out so you can fix that one thing to be right again. But, you can’t, not right now so instead, you’re stuck picking at your skin and scabs, reopening the wounds to try and ease the anxiety that wraps it’s self around your bones like selfish barbed wire.

Stiles, though, he’s always been attentive. It’s one of his best qualities, nothing really sneaks past him and he’s almost always right about everything. And he notices, everything, including the distant look in your eyes as you sit looking at the TV.

“Hey, are you okay?” Stiles asks, his voice calm as he looks over to you.

“Huh?” You raise your brows at him, the picking stopping for only a second.

Stiles glances to your hands and sees a small blood spot. “You’re picking, you only do that when it’s bothering you.” He refers to your OCD as it because sometimes, mentioning it by its name turns into this looming monster, like saying its name allows it to materialize in a way.

“Uh…” You stutter, the picking continuing. “I don’t know….something…feels…” You pause again because the other really annoying thing about OCD is that even sometimes talking about it not feeling right, is another trigger. If you acknowledge it, maybe something really bad will also happen.

“Doesn’t feel right?” Stiles finishes and earns a worried expression from you. “Alright, well,” Stiles takes your hands in his, resituating himself on the couch to face you. “I’m just gonna hold your hands for a little while, okay?” He asks and you nod at him. “Because picking isn’t gonna help and then we can try to figure out what isn’t right.” He gives you a warm and reassuring smile. “And if you can’t, that’s okay.”

“I feel like I did everything….ya know? But it just….” You pause again, growing annoyed at how everything stops in your throat even when you want to talk about it.

“I’m positive everything is fine.” Stiles gives you a reassuring nod. “But, if you think something might happen because it doesn’t feel right, then I guess you’re gonna have to deal with me all night cause I’m not going anywhere until you feel better.” His voice is airy but still holds this seriousness to it where you know he will not leave unless you’re okay. And you’re so thankful for him. He’s the only one that gets it.

“Thank you, Stiles.” It’s a weak smile that tugs at your lips, but a smile.

[notoriousbeb]

TTPD Thoughts - The Manuscript (Pt. 1)

TTPD Notes Glossary

"Fortnight"  

Definitely written in the spring of 2023. I think the video was shot in the fall.  

The concept of treason/being a traitor comes up in reference to Harry in 1989 as well (“you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor”)  

In the music video, the typewriter Taylor is using is missing the 1 key (like the song “The 1”?) and she leaves several blank spaces in her writing of “I love you, it’s ruining my life” (perhaps a nod to the “Blank Space” song?)  

When Taylor and Post Malone are laying in the Taylor head silhouette it's a callback to the "Style" music video from the original 1989 era, where the Harry stand in guy is standing on a beach in a silhouette of Taylor's head.  

You know who is tattooed and kinda hot and thus a good Harry stand in a MV? Posty.  

I think she's envisioning a kind of nightmare future of being trapped in the metaphorical neighborhood that is their small industry and having to watch him move on while she continues to love him (ugh. thanks, it's beautiful and sounds awesome and i hate it).  

The last new album, "Midnights,” ends with "Hits Different,” on the line, "Is that your key in the door, down the hallway? Is that your key in the door, is it okay? Is it you? Or have they come to take me away? To take me away?" First line of Fortnight, the first song on TTPD? "I was supposed to be sent away but they forgot to come and get me.”  

A slight diversion into "Hits Different" and why I've always believed it's about Harry:  She's clubbing, so that narrows down the choices right away to either Harry or Calvin, but based on how she went right from Calvin to Tom to Joe and was definitely not heartbroken enough to be puking, but rather immediately enamored with someone else....We learn that, technically, she broke up with him ("curse the space that I needed") but she's devastated. Like "I broke my own heart, cuz you were too polite to do it?" This really seals it as 1989 Harry to me.  

“The Tortured Poets Department”  

Definitely written in the spring of 2023  

“Who else decodes you?” reminds me of how Harry called their back-and-forth song writing to/about each other (cue the “Fortnight” typewriter smoke battle) “the most amazing unspoken dialogue ever.”  

A “tattooed golden retriever?” I mean… come the fuck on. That’s a Harry descriptor if I’ve ever seen one.  

“You’re in self-sabotage mode, throwing spikes down on the road, but I’ve seen this episode and I still love the show.” “You awaken with dread pounding nails in your head. But I’ve read this one where you come undone." These aren’t the words of someone who merely wondered about what it would be like to be with a friend or acquaintance. These are two people who deeply know each other and have been together before.  

Also, Harry has documented anxiety that she’s also sung about it previously (“did you get anxious though, on the drive home?” - Now That We Don’t Talk)  

I hate and love the fact that they both told people they would kill themselves if it didn’t work out. I hate it, because that’s a terrible, dumb plan. But I love the passion. Also, who is Lucy? Was he taking to Lucy from Boygenius? That Lucy openly dislikes Matty on main, so I think it’s weird people are using her as a proof point that this song is about him. Did Taylor change that particular name here because it would have been a dead giveaway for this song being about Harry?  (Someone like, Ed, perhaps?)

“My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys  

Probably written in spring 2023  

She refers to the muse as the “sickest (I believe this is a double meaning as in cool and also having mental illness issues) army doll purchased at the mall.”  

You ever seen a G.I. Joe under the fatigues? They don’t look like a pasty ex heroin addict. They do look like a certain former boy-bander from Manchester, though. Just saying.  

“Oh, here we go again,” “put me back on my shelf,” “we could’ve played for keeps this time,” “I knew too much/there was danger in the heat of my touch,” “he saw forever so he smashed it up.” Again, these are things you say about someone you’ve been with before, on and off, not someone you saw in concert twice and worked with once. You, especially, don’t see forever with someone after only 20 days.  

“But you should’ve seen him when he first got me.” We did see Matty. Was there someone else in the background who, perhaps, we did not see? Perhaps a certain curly haired former Boy Bander?

“‘Cause it fit too right/Puzzles pieces in the dead of night.” Hmm. Doesn’t sound like the mediocre sex described in “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” to me

Want to know what lines had me crying in the club on my sad girl walk? “Just say when—I’d play again. He was my best friend down at the sand lot.” Again, these are two people who know each other very well, and have for a long time.  

[lawtistic]

I mean, in all fairness to Leon in Vendetta, he went through some terrible shit in a short amount of time and then Chris and Rebecca demanded that he assist on their mission despite him clearly being mentally unstable and unwilling to go back out on the field after losing his entire squad to an assassination attempt. I don't think anyone would be too pleased in his position. He told them what was wrong with him and why and they basically told him to get the fuck over it already like it didn't matter.

and youre right, i'm not saying leon didn't have any reason to act the way he did, because he did

i probably should have worded what i was trying to say better because what i meant was jill had a reason, too. the entire city she lived it was crumbling in front of her while a (his height on google is really inconsistent, but i'm just going to assume) 7 foot tall creature who was just eating bullets at this point was chasing her. jill was also primarily rude to members of umbrella, an othanization she KNEW was responsible for the outbreak, and, like, no one else.

she wasn't mean to brad. she wasn't mean to that old guy or even the umbrella soldier that was injured and likely dying in front of her, and after she had figured out that people like carlos and tyrell had genuinely no idea what umbrella was doing, and were people that cpuld be trusted, she wasn't a bitch to them anymore.

not to mention she's very obviously battling mental illness as seen in the beginning of RE3R with the mountains of pills and alcohol around her house, and the nightmare she claims is reoccuring and only seems to get worse.

i could make other claims about, say, death island, but this gets my point across well enough

but yea. i do agree with you. leon had every right to be angry, especially since in vendetta, he was very clearly intended to be at one of his lowest points. they're both heavily traumatized people, and it'd be weird to compare who's traumatized more out of the two, but they're both irritable people for their own reasons and honestly, they deserve to be.

i just see a lot of fans piss on jill for being angry and not cut her any slack, but when the male characters do it, it's okay. which i'm not saying you're doing, this is just a general statement.

[drjohannn]

Name: Woland Callsign: Satan Age: (unknown) Height: 181 cm Marital Status: Was in a relationship many years ago, now single Biography: Woland is the most mysterious member of the crew. According to him, he caught the City back when it was founded, witnessed every war and saw all the prominent people live. The story of the present day, on the other hand, begins in one of the Districts closer to the centre of the City, the Nest. The events begin in one of the parks, where Woland joins a conversation between the budding writer Bezdomny and his pal Berlioz about God, during which he predicts the future for one of them - death under the wheels of a tram. They don't believe him, but it really happens - Berlioz loses his head because he falls under the wheels of a tram, and Bezdomny is hospitalised because he is suspected of mental illness. This news quickly spreads through the district along with all sorts of intrigues of Woland's entourage: a small team of the cat Behemoth, the translator Koroviev-Fagot, the mysterious man Azazello and the beautiful Gella in various places organise mystical performances, driving people to madness. Woland himself at this time is interested in the story of a certain Margarita, who seeks revenge on the people who prevented her lover and deprived him of everything he had, including his life. To help his new assistant and fulfil his personal mission, he mysteriously becomes the manager of one of the teams in the Limbus Company. Character: The man is very intelligent and quite tough, but fair. Treats everyone very friendly and gentle, but likes to laugh at the ignorant. Criminals and just terrible people he does not mind to punish. He treats his team with special kindness. Otherwise, he is reserved and is more of an observer than a participant in any events. Even the events taking place in the District were just an idea, and his entourage were the executors. As a manager, he is a good strategist and is quite good at building relationships within the team. Facts: -He doesn't use all of his abilities to their full potential, explaining that he wants to teach the sinners to experience things on their own. -The old man's guise is not his real body, but he uses it as a disguise. He rarely uses other guises. -He made a blood pact with each of the sinners - they had to drink one glass of his blood. The glass was made from Berlioz's skull. -The very tram that marked the beginning of all events became the basis for the team's transport - it was named after the "bad flat" - "number 50" where the entourage lived for a while and also, according to Koroviev and Azazello, has the spirit of Pontius Pilate, the judge of Yeshua Ha-Nozri (ascending to Jesus). For this reason the crew is called "crew number 50," and the tram itself is affectionately called "Pontius" by the sinners. -Woland has a weapon - a sword, hidden under the guise of a cane with a headboard in the form of a poodle's head. However, he himself is not involved in battles. -Source: Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov - The Master and Margarita

[farshootergotme]

I know it wasn’t your intention but be careful with claiming Bruce having a personality disorder or having narcissistic personality disorder because people with trauma can get easily mixed up with disorders like that. Also, if you’re going to purpose the idea of Bruce potentially having it do handle it with care. It’s already a disorder that is heavily demonised by media and has many misconceptions about it.

Hell, as an autistic person, we also get mixed up with disorders like that, due how it is a spectrum and some of us come off as quite cold and unfeeling at times. Like I have a lot of empathy for people but I struggle to show emotion with my face. Now, I am no expert so feel free to correct me on things, if I have gotten something wrong or have misunderstood something.

Honestly, I feel Bruce is at the mercy of the writers but also time period as well really and how media tends to not write mental health very well in general like Bruce most likely has childhood trauma and ptsd due to his parents dying in front of him and seeing their corpses. It’s the same with some of Batman villains as well, they’re meant to reflection of mental health at least in modern interpretations it depends but it’s rare to see there mental health problems handled with care or how Gotham made them this way.

Now, I am not saying all of Batman villains need to be reformed but Arkham itself is about trying to rehabilitate them. Because at Batman core he believes in compassion and genuinely wants to help people. Does he always do it well no but god damn he tries.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying Bruce is a saint and cannot do bad things or make mistakes like seriously this man puts me through the wringer on if I want to strangle him or not. God, being both a fan of Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne as character is me fighting a never ending battle with myself in my brain. Oh god and then you have all the eras of the characters as well ahh. So many soft reboots and retcons, gosh don’t you just love superhero comics.

Golden age, sliver age did a soft reboot,Bronze Age pre crisis did some soft reboot while also doing full reboots to other characters, post crisis probably a soft reboot again, new 52 a full blown reboot, rebirth a soft reboot while also back tracking and now 2020 anti reboot which basically killed rebirth and 52 and brought most of 85 continuity I don’t know. That’s comic logic baby.

Sorry, If I am accidentally coming off as rude, but I get a little concern when people talk about mental health and mental health disorder in general due to how much misinformation there is about it. With comics it really also depends on the writer and they view Batman in general. To me, I feel Bruce core much like Richard is empathy and compassion but he struggles to show it, he is more actions speaks louder then words guy. Seriously, his terrible communication skills drives me insane sometimes. Free feel to disagree with me, after all this just my opinion at the end of the day. Still love your posts though mate even if I don’t always agree with everything , it is still nice to see your perspective and takes on things with both characters. ☺️

Hey, no need to apologize! Is good to call people out on this type of thing with all the spread misinformation and demonization there is about disorders and mental health.

It wasn't my intention to use the term so carelessly or imply Bruce must be mentally ill or an evil person, but I'm sorry if I made it sound like that.

I assume you're talking about the part in my post about golden child/scapegoat Dick Grayson in which I mentioned I had a thoughts about Bruce possibly having BPD? I promise you I didn't do it with bad intent.

BPD is not inherently a disorder that makes someone evil or a worse person than others. People with this disorder struggle with maintaining stable relationships and many self-destructive habits. It's not a topic I take lightly, but it is still true that I consider possible that Bruce deals with many of the symptoms included in this disorder.

If I ever make a post about it I will make sure to mention not to use it to self-diagnose or demonize it when the character with said possible diagnose has acted in negative ways towards others.

And I'll say that I've read multiple articles about the disorder and searched talks about personal experiences of people diagnosed with the disorder before all this, so even though I'm not an expert I'm not just throwing the term around.

Again, sorry for mentioning it so casually.

Thank you for telling!

[bitterrobin]

See, when people go full scorched earth fanon with their opinions on Damian (he's evil, he actively poisons Tim, tries to kill Tim all the time, and also warping everyone else around him to be meaner to Tim etc) I have two minds about it.

One half of me, the nerd "um ackshually" one that sticks to comics canon is generally in disbelief and anger about Damian's character being so degraded by the fandom to the point he's barely a character anymore. Damian is usually just an abusive plot device to either whumpify Tim or induce some weird righteous anger on Tim's behalf to justify his hatred and being the "right one" in the situation (when there is no right side). I actively try to write a lot of my Damian-centric content to battle against the idea and ignore these portrayals as much as I can.

The other half, the one that also adores comics but loves to read into fanon and pick it apart bc sometimes fan's opinions on characters are great and unique, goes "okay but what if I think about it?" If Damian is really this evil and terrible, that brings everyone else down with him. Dick is often mischaracterized as a terrible brother by default in these types of fics, and so is portrayed as intentionally ostracizing Tim or being utterly stupid and oblivious to Damian's antics. Alfred's even more of an enabler than he already is (for Damian in this case). A lot of other characters, Steph or Cass or Jason, are either Tim's holy protectors or just as terrible to him. And Tim...just comes off as a little immature bitch or the righteous one above everyone else. Either he's utterly unable to fight back against a literal 10 year old, constantly sick or dying, throwing tantrums over a mantle he did not create, has enough breakdowns you genuinely wonder if he's even fit for his Brucequest - or he does fight back, kicks the shit out a child, denounces everyone else except maybe Bruce (but its negotiable), and is positioned as the ever injured party who was wronged and deserves retribution and compensation. I don't know man, but then everyone just ends up looking like utter assholes. These aren't even Batman characters and heroes anymore, they're all dumb, angry, violent, or just weak enough that there's no way they're vigilantes who operate nightly. I concede they all do have various traumas and illnesses but at some point it starts to get ridiculous. Do fans of Tim really like portraying him as super mentally unstable and childish and do they really hate Damian that much? Is constantly writing him on his breaking point that interesting?

[cecilthecowardly]

Do you have a favorite historical event by chance (favorite is an odd word to use, but i mean one you find particularly interesting)

JDHDCBXJDDBSJBSIM IM SO GLAD YIU ASKED. ok warnings for suicide mention and horrible age gap and abuse. Putting this under the cut

the mayerling incident of 1889 indicates the murder-suicide of crown prince rudolf of austria and his then 17 year old mistress mary vetsera. the girl hadn’t been a one true love or anything like that, but the story is often sensationalised that way. what fascinates me is how easily it could have been avoided had the world then been at least slightly less rigid, at least in the monarchy. suicide was a sensation in vienna at the time which filled many people with a fervor that it was the most romantic action in the world, something mary vetsera unfortunately dealt with considering she really was just a girl who felt everything people feel today. rudolf also had several underlying struggles with mental illness, having been abused as a child and constantly stuck in this battle for attention from his mother and approval from his disapproving father. it’s a tragedy in many ways but i especially feel for mary — she’s barely a year older than me and i understand what it’s like to be terribly infatuated with someone to the point that it seems like love. her mother was extorting money out of the affair the entire time as well alongside rudolf’s cousin i believe. she was in on it. she was willing to sacrifice her child in the name of profit, to an extent.

it’s just a tragedy all-around. it’s fascinating to research because while rudolf was a terrible human being in many ways there’s so much more nuance to it that it hurts as someone with similar issues. He was an asshole to his wife though. justice for stephanie of belgium

[logicalarachnid]

Spider-Man (2018) Aftermath Otto vs Spidey Boss-Battle Ramble

Just finished playing Spider-Man (2018) and that final Peter & Otto scene RUINED me. I expected to lose it when Aunt May would die, bcs they were setting it up to end like that, but gosh, I did not expect that heartbreaking scene between mentor and student.

To me, that final scene between them was such a good depiction of someone like Otto who is mentally unstable/ill, and it isn't their fault, but they lose their way and lash out. And Peter, who is like a carer, someone close to that hurt person, who loves them, and wants to help, but they can't anymore.

It's like Peter says to Otto when he tells him that he can't save him. "I guess you'll have to save yourself." It's the motions that they go through during the conversation, how it shifts because of how Peter doesn't respond the way Otto wants/hopes. The way Otto suffers, we can understand it and partially sympathise, and we are able to do this purely because of Peter's perspective, bcs of the journey we go through with him up to that point. Peter loves Otto, and it hurts to hear him talk the way he does. It hurts him to know about the terrible things Otto did that has hurt all of NYC...all of it is far from who he knew the man to be before.

"You were everything I wanted to be!" This line really got to me in particular. How, while Otto tires to backtrack and get out of the situation the best he can, if he could only convince Peter, it doesn't work, bcs it just shows Peter just how far gone Otto is from what he knew. And yet, despite that knowledge, despite his crimes, and despite the trouble, the betrayal, the physical assault made against him, the attempted manipulations, and Aunt May...despite all of it, Peter chose kindness. He chose to look after Otto.

Otto: I should have known you'd turn on me, just like all the others.

Peter: Turn? Turn? I worshipped you! Your mind...your conscience, wanting to help others...the way you never gave up!

Otto: That's because men like us have a duty. A responsibility. To use our talents in the service of others. Even if they don't appreciate it...we have to do what's best for those beneath us. Whether they understand it or not.

Peter: No. You're wrong. You were everything I wanted to be! You just...threw it away!

Otto: Yes, of course. You're right, Peter. I see that now. The neural interface affected my mind. But I can fix it. We can fix it...together. If you'll help me.

Peter: I'll do everything I can. I'll make sure you get the best help.

Otto: No! If they put me away, they'll take my arms! I'll be trapped in this *useless* body! Please, Peter.

Otto: That...wasn't me. You said...you'd never abandon me, you promised, remember? And, of course, you'll rest easy knowing your secret is safe with me.

Peter: You do what you think is best, Doc. It's all any of us can.

Otto: Peter-?

Peter: Even when it hurts like hell.

Otto: Peter? Where are you going? Peter? PETER!!

This whole bit shows Otto trying different tactics but at his core he's scared of being vulnerable, of not having his arms. I'm not sure if Otto came back for a few moments or not. However, I am sure that when he began to agree with Peter, telling him he was right, and trying to show that they're similar, and subtly said that they're superior to everyone else...that was definitely manipulative in nature.

Does he still care for Peter in some capacity? Honestly, it is difficult to tell, it was left ambiguous. I personally hope that somewhere deep down Otto does still care for Peter. He did tell him that he saw him as a son, but whether or not that was also manipulation or partially true idk. I hope we get to have a scene of him regarding Peter in the sequel, or a mention of him at least. I mean, Peter lost two people he loved in one day and both were very traumatising. Hopefully, it won't be swept under the rug completely.

[themidnightcircusshow]

I am lowkey highkey obsessed with Thomas. He comes across as having a streak of earnestness in some things I read (it was either his knightly brotherhood agreement with Charles Duke of Orleans or his letter to Henry about how awful his situation in Ireland was) but I also like the hotheaded, reckless image of him. I think a lot of modern historians either overlook him because he wasn't around for Henry VI's minority or just tend to assume that the Battle of Bauge tells us everything about his personality and thus we end up at the hotheaded, reckless idiot image.

(also re: Henry; I think CGW says something like he could have been a good king but the way he became king meant he could never be a good king because usurpation left too great a stain on his character. That makes a lot of sense to me. Plus he got so sick just as he was starting to gain stability on the throne… you can almost sort of read this trend of Henry being like "time for kingly awesomeness! (a fun party ala Edward III; going on a military campaign)" and then ending up having another rebellion or health crisis. The dickhead was still doing it up to 1412 - he was going to lead Thomas's expedition! Until he couldn't…)

(I have written and re-written this so many times to try and clearly explain my view and I'm still not happy with it v.v)

I kind of like the mental image of Thomas as a hot head, but a hot head with a heart of gold iykwim. It really annoys me that we don't know more about him, because reading about his stint in Ireland and campaign in France knowing how much people wanted him to be heir instead of Hal really just... baffled me. The failure of those two things don't exclusively or even predominately fall on his head, it just doesn't explain why people were so ready to back him over Hal, who already had a quashed rebellion under his belt (it'd be easy to brush it off as just people really hating Hal, which they did seem to, but they also seemed to genuinely want Thomas). I think it mostly comes down to Thomas' strengths being in areas that weren't necessarily conducive to leading a country, the way Hal, John, and likely Philippa's were, but we only know of those strengths because we have been able to evaluate their and their successors achievements to examine what does make a good monarch.

CGW coming to that conclusion about Henry IV didn't make a lot of sense to me, because that book did a really good job at detailing all the ways Henry was ill-equipped to be king ^.^'''' A lot of it was definitely because of him being a usurper, like being unable to convince parliament to raise taxes because they would leverage his own promises against him, or his habit of basically never standing up for himself and then going too far in the other direction, realising how much he screwed up, and then swinging too far back again (see the Scrope debacle). And even without all the ways his being a usurper affected him, there are so many instances of him straining against the monetary confines he now has to live with (I understand why he wanted the Duchy of Lancaster to be kept separate from the crown. Terrible outcome, but understandable), or wanting to be on crusade and not being able to because he is king, or the trouble he went through for marrying Joanna because it wasn't a good marriage for a king... all of it very much suggests to me that again, the 'princely virtues' he was so often praised for over Richard did nothing to actually prepare him for running a government, and there is a lot that suggests to me he didn't enjoy it. I guess you give him more credit that I do

[muu-kun]

Upcoming Verse: Demon Days..

Disclaimer: Though this verse is not Fandom required, it is not exempt from involvement within the h*zbin h*tel / h*lluva b*ss franchise. Anything pertaining to either series will be tagged accordingly for the consideration of others. If one needs it tagged in a different manner in order for their blacklist to actually catch, please let me know via ask or IMs. I absolutely have no qualms about assisting in making this a safe space for my mutuals.

General Information:

Name: Mu. He maintains no association with his earthly birth name as he hardly ever went by it when he was alive. He's admittedly never liked the ring of it in his ears when he slips into communicating out phrases set in the third person.

Cause of death: Cancer. A ill fated death for an individual who dedicated his livelihood to ridding his body of perceived filth and damage in order to achieve his idolized version of goodness and innocence. He'd battled his brain for years to form into perfection when instead it became disease ridden in an entirely different manner well before he was ready to call it quits.

Age at Death: Unknown. Perceived Age: Twenty. It is of no surprise that the soul within himself was molded to express how old he was when he was at the crossroads of experiencing too much life, even if the instances causing the overload were not great, and not at all on account of an impending pandemic set to enable his already agorphobic tendencies. It would be just like him to transfer from one plane of existence into another as a mirror image of himself at a state best described as colliding phases of the moon. Once again is he stuck in the patterns of an outdated way of life leading into one in which he's yet again lost without an instruction guide to the journey ahead. A completion of an intense life cycle that veers onto a road that's empty spare some obvious ongoing construction. One in which he'd describe as been in pre-pre-pre-development.

Introspective Information:

Disabilities and Mental Illnesses carried over from life into death: A generalized intellectual disability, Autism, and OCD. Limited speech capabilities are most prominent as he is utilizing the counting of his words as his only form of control in a new environment. All other conditions have slithered into dormancy as they pertain to trauma inflicted upon him as a human. The memories of them carried over, yes, however the impacts of them onto system were compartmentalized and tucked away when his arrival into Hell required his brain to have a greater focus on something in particular: survival. He's having to relearn how to manage his surroundings and personhood all over again. Only this time without any sort of parental figure to model how to get his needs and wants fulfilled from.

Likes: Knowing what the Hell is going on around here. Biting those who tread into his space without an indication of why they are there in the first place, or if they do not have information to satiate him with knowledge in exchange for a completely docile temperament. Petty mayhem. In his ignorance, and existing difficulties with comprehension, he finds himself having complications with understanding a need for a form of currency in any afterlife. Hence a bit of a problem with sticky fingers. Technically speaking, everywhere offers a five finger discount if he has the means to scurry away as undetected as he came in.

Dislikes: There are just TOO many tall people around him constantly. Things not going his way, or being the way he'd like them to be in terms of how he would have anticipated Hell to have been like prior to end having been met. It is the unnecessary cruelty behind everything that irks him; however, who else than himself can he really blame for his situation when it was his nosy behind that asked for damnation in the first place. He'd wanted to find out if it was as terrible and lonely as his peers on Earth had told him it would be when they warned him not only was he going to die alone, he was going to stay that way while all of his friends and family ascended into Heaven. His shaky uncertainty is of no fault of his own. That is what one gets for wanting to be the hand behind their own demise instead of allowing anyone else such an opportunity. Leave it to him to have brought fruition to the claims of others when he didn't even have to do such in the first place. For new, he'll never get to know what the maker truly had in store for him if he'd just left the choice to fate and assessment.

Appearance and Identity:

Height: 160cm / 5ft 3in. He has gotten his wish of always remaining small, but was it really worth it this time?

Gender: Male. He / him pronouns.

Sex: He's keeping this one a secret. Not that one would guess him to have anything different than the genitalia he had while he was alive, which were none other than a penis and buttocks, and yet.. He confirms nothing. Such stubborn is mainly a result of internalized insecurities over the impact of his condition of Kallmann Syndrome had on the development of his sexual characteristics as puberty took place. He also doesn't trust a single being to perceive him as is without making anything weird, so he's keeping how the changes to his body impacted his nether regions a secret. Frankly, there is no one to stop him from walking around with his hands in his pants for extra security measures. He has absolutely no qualms about looking completely weird as he adjusts to society.

Sexuality: More so undetermined more than unknown. The internal yearning for a connection with a man is still very much an integral and underlying aspect to his personhood, and yet he also couldn't put it past himself to join forces with a band of women if even just one was nice to him. An opportunistic bisexual with an innate and heavy male lean if one could call themselves such.

Occupation: Unemployed. Though the desire to find one is there, he is admittedly more so along the lines of waiting for someone to simply give him a job. An easy way out really. A place to live in without paying rent would also suit his needs very well. Being homeless in Hell has actually proven to be a very manageable problem in of itself. Nevertheless, his desire for the princess treatment clearly has stayed with him from life into death. Godspeed to the little buddy just as much as it is extended to the paths of those he crosses.

[aroundtheworldiej]

SPECIAL EDITION ERNEST HEMINGWAY

Ernest Hemingway is described as the « God of Art” and a “Lost Generation” representative. He won several literature prices in many countries. He is known for his unique narrative talents to his favorite themes which is adventure, surpassing oneself and major political battles. The writer of The Old Man and the Sea is one of the most influent novelists of the 20th century. This week is gonna be a special week dedicate to this very famous writer and his legacy.

TODAY WE SPEAK ABOUT THE CURSE OF HIS FAMILY AND HOW PARIS INFLUENCED HIM. TWO ARTICLES BY I.FOURGEAUD AND M.FREITAS.

The terrible curse of the Hemingway family

By Iris Fourgeaud

For many generations, the family of Ernest Hemingway was victim of strange suicides. This gossip started due to the release of the documentary of Ernest grand-daughter, Mariel Hemingway. The documentary portrayed the highly estemeed writer and journalist with terrible allegations. In which we will go in depth about those.

Drugs problems or Random Suicides ?

There have been several suicides in the Hemingway family. This includes his father, who killed himself when Ernest was only 29, three of his siblings (Ernest Jr., Ursula, and Leicester), and his granddaughter, Margaux. Margaux, who was a famous model, took her own life by overdosing on barbiturates.

Mariel Hemingway describes her family as extremely creative but victims to mental health problems and addiction.

Ernest's last days were extremely troubled, and while it seems as though loved ones did try to help him, he ended up succumbing to his mental illnesses. 1960 was the year when things began to really take a turn for the worse.

Ernest had left Cuba to live in New York City but had traveled to Spain for a photo shoot with Life. Reports of his deteriorating health began circulating, but he assured his wife Mary that he was fine. He ended up getting treated at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. And then went through electroconvulsive therapy for at least 15 times. He was diagnosed with depression, a few medical experts at the time thought his state was due to abusing drugs like Ritalin.

The horrendous secrets

“I grew up watching a family that was completely amazing and creative but also destructive and self medicating. All of them, they were addicts. I didn’t want to end up like that. I was on a mission," said Mariel Hemingway. Shortly after the release of the documentary by Barbara Kopple in 2013.

“Running From Crazy”, Mariel shares that she believes her own father, Jack Hemingway, sexually abused her sisters Margaux and Joan (her father passed away in 2000). Mariel told CNN, that although she doesn't remember Jack abusing her, she remembers sleeping in her mother's room, which she thinks could have been a way for her mother to protect her. She also added that Jack may not have known what he was doing because he'd be black-out drunk.

However, nobody talked about mental illness in her family up until recently. “Nobody spoke about anything. It was a different generation," Mariel said.

“We were just like the Kennedy family”, said Mariel. The documentary was presented at the Sundance Film Festival. She reflected on her past, and says herself that she suffered from heavy depression and had suicidal thoughts. “We were this American family followed by this damned curse” Mariel said.

The title of the documentary is strongly percussive, however despite every horrible accusations, nowadays, his granddaughter Mariel, has made it her mission to spread awareness about mental illness. We can Learn more about Ernest Hemingway's life and his and his family's battle with mental illness in the documentary “Hemingway”, released in 2021.

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Ernest Hemingway and la ville lumière

By Maya Freitas

Ernest Miller Hemingway, famous American writer known for his novel, “Le Vieil homme à la Mer” have been for a long time inspired by Paris. Symbol of freedom after World War II for Americans, the City of Light quickly became synonymous with modernity.

On the advice of the American novelist Sherwood Anderson, the young Ernest Hemingway, then 22 years old, landed in Paris on December 22nd, 1921, accompanied by his wife. From his arrival in the capital, Hemingway trained, improved his style, met many English-speaking writers, and marked the beginning of a long road with Paris.

The influence of Parisian places

From the small miserable apartment, 74 rue du Cardinal-Lemoine, to the bar "le Falstaff" 42 rue du Montparnasse, Ernest Hemingway has been able to immerse himself in the diversity of Parisian places in his own way.

The writer began his writings in his small apartment whose walls "smell of musty and cabbage" as he described it in “Paris est une fête». He then discovered the refuge of English-speaking expatriates, "Shakespeare and Company". There he met the American poet Gertrude Stein, who encouraged him to abandon his journalism side to devote himself fully to literature.

Alcohol at the service of literature

Known to be an insatiable drinker, Hemingway frequented many bars such as "Le Dôme", "La Coupole" or even "La Rotonde". But very quickly, the famous American writer established his headquarters at "La Clauserie des Lilas", where he completed in just six weeks. One of his many masterpieces “Le soleil se lève aussi”, considered one of the great English-language novels of the twentieth century.

Ernest Hemingway finishes his ego during an improvised boxing match between himself and his Canadian writer friend, Morley Callaghan, in the bar "Le Falstaff". The author of "The Gatsby", drunk by the rain of blows but especially vexed, was convinced that Fitzgerald had done it on purpose to better humiliate him.

Despite his many adventures in the Parisian bars as well as a penniless arrival, Ernest Hemingway was able to extract the benefits of the City of Light. A lost lover of the capital, the latter was able to highlight his vision of Paris in his books and writings.