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niall-ate-mynamee · 10 months

Note

Please do one Zianourry superhero AU where Niall is the damsel in distress and the other boys are superheroes! Thank you!

note: thank you so so much for the prompt, anon, and im so sorry it’s taken me a while to get to it! i’ve been having writers block for the last few days, but i’ve finally got around to this one!

it’ll be like 2, possibly 3, chapters, depending if i can get it finished in the next chapter, but i really hope you like it! i hope it’s not too bad, and it’s an enjoyable read hahaha! let me know what you think! :)

PART ONE

Everyone knew of “The Lads”. The group of four lads who were always there whenever somebody was in trouble. They were the superheroes of the somewhat small town. Nobody knew their real identities; their names, their faces, their ages, but they all loved them. People had spent the last couple years trying to work out who they were, but they simply couldn’t. They kept their real lives separate.

Niall Horan, a young 16 year old boy, was possibly their biggest fan. Having grown up reading comics and watching superhero shows, he felt he knew them on a level nobody else did. He read through every story in newspapers and online about The Lads, and he dreamed of one day meeting them and becoming one of them. He knew, deep down, that would always remain a dream, but that wouldn’t deter him.

The 16 year old had no idea how wrong he was about to be…

•••

Niall wasn’t what you would call “popular” around the town. He was constantly being beaten, screamed at, had things thrown on him, shoved aside. There was this one time where he was pushed so violently into the road, that a car had to quickly swerve out the way to avoid hitting him, and guess who got screamed at by the driver? Niall. He, who was the innocent, always got the blame for the bullies actions. Even by his own parents.

He was neglected by his family. He was lucky if he got a dinner that wasn’t scraps. He was lucky if he was able to have a somewhat warm shower. He was lucky if the water he was given wasn’t from the washing up bowl. He was simply lucky. That’s what he told himself, anyway. He was always lucky. He could be living on the streets, but he still had a roof over his head. Like, yeah, it’s not the greatest of lives, but he couldn’t complain…at least, not anymore.

That was until that fateful day. It was a chilly evening in autumn, and he had been sent to the shops by his father for more milk. He didn’t have a coat, so he wore his favourite cardigan in the hopes it would keep him warm enough to not suffer the 10 minute walk to the shop and back. But, it wasn’t just the cold he was nervous about. The street he had to walk down to get to his destination was home to his biggest bullies. Roderick and Frederick. Twin brothers 3 months his senior.

They ruled the roost around this part of town. Nobody messed with them. Nobody looked at them. They had 2 other boys in their group, Danny and Charles. They were the four biggest pains in Niall’s ass. Literally and figuratively. They weren’t afraid to leave marks on their victims, because Roderick and Frederick’s father was a police officer, and their mother a lawyer, so they were always safe.

Their father had always defended them, even going as far as to shout and scream at Niall even when he was beaten and bloody on the concrete. He just couldn’t catch a break. He knew Roderick, Frederick, Danny and Charles were anxious when it came to The Lads. They had nearly been caught by the heroes once, when they were pushing Niall around, but had managed to escape by running away before they were seen, and Niall could’ve smirked at the memory.

That was the only time Niall had seen The Lads close. They didn’t stop, they didn’t look at Niall, they didn’t even give him a passing glance, but he still was close enough he could’ve touched them. That was when his “crush” had grown. To live in a town with superheroes patrolling the streets was just incredible, and he was about to realise just how incredible it really was.

As he began his way down that particular street, he could already hear the laughter from the bullies. He hugged his cardigan tighter, and kept his head down, eyes on the ground, praying they’ll let him be this time.

No such luck.

“Oi! Bitch! What’re you doing here?!” Yelled the voice of Roderick, but Niall kept silent. He didn’t want any trouble. However, it seemed that trouble wanted him, because next thing he knew, he was shoved from behind and the concrete was getting impossibly closer to his face before he felt the air knocked out of him.

He was lying, face down, on the cold ground. He didn’t move, he knew the consequences if he did. “You answer when you’re asked a question, you dick!” Frederick growled, kicking Niall’s side, before flipping him over so he was on his back, “What’s wrong with you, huh? We’ve told you to stay away from our street, so why are you here?!”

“I-I had to g-get some milk…” Niall stuttered out, anxiously looking around for an escape. “P-please, I don’t want any trouble,” He practically whispered, tears gathering in his eyes.

The bullies just laughed and continued kicking him. This went on for what felt like hours before Niall was startled by the dizziness he began feeling after a vicious kick to the head. He cried out in pain, curling up into himself tighter than ever before. He wept silently, hoping they would finish and leave him alone very quickly.

It seemed his prayers worked, for barely a minute later, the blows stopped and the cruel sneers silenced. Niall didn’t dare move, though, he didn’t know if it was a trick, so he stayed completely still. Until he heard them.

“And what miserable excuses have you boys got for hurting a young boy like that?” It couldn’t be, Niall thought, I’m not that lucky.

“S-sirs, I-I am sor-“ He heard Roderick stutter helplessly, and if Niall wasn’t in pain and shock, he would’ve laughed.

“We don’t want your excuses, boy, we want the truth. What gives you boys the right to abuse this lad? To beat him so cruelly and so viciously that he can barely move?”

This time, Danny spoke, “E-everyone does it, s-sirs…we’re n-not the only o-ones,” He tried to explain, and when Niall lifted his head slightly, he was shocked to find his heroes, THE heroes, standing right in front of him. And, they didn’t look happy.

“You are cruel, and nasty. We will be talking to your parents about this. How dare you think this is acceptable! Get outta here, now, before we do something we’ll regret,”

Niall heard the hurried footsteps and breathed out a sigh of relief. They were gone, for now, so he could breathe again. “Are you alright, love?” Came a soft voice from above him, and he froze again, remembering who rescued him. When he looked up, he saw them. Properly. Clearly. Like angels from the sky.

“H-hi,” He squeaked, and blushed. He cursed himself, but couldn’t help but feel warm inside when The Lads chuckled fondly.

“Hi!” They chirped back, and Niall could see the way their eyes crinkled with grins behind their masks. “Can you stand, sweetheart? Where do you hurt?” One of them asked, and now two of them were crouched in front of him.

With help from two of The Lads, Niall was eventually on his feet, albeit very unsteadily. The Lads stayed close to him, the two who helped him off the ground were holding his arms gently, keeping him upright. He could feel his face flush.

“T-tanks,” He whispered, his Irish accent leaping out in his pain, “‘m Niall,” He said, smiling shyly at his heroes.

“Hiya, Niall, I’m Lou, this is Li, this is Zee, and that is H, or Haz, whichever you prefer,” The one holding onto his left arm said, pointing at each lad as he introduced them. Li was on his right, and Zee and Haz were standing in front, “We’re sorry it took us this long to get to you, we were caught up and didn’t get the signal until a few minutes ago,” Lou explained.

“I-it’s okay…it was nothing…I’m used to it,” Niall said, resignedly, sighing as he looked down. It was silent for a moment before Haz spoke.

“Would you mind if we took you back to our place? We can patch you up and make sure you’re okay,”

Niall’s heart could beat out of his chest right now. Feeling stupid, he nodded shakily, as Lou told him to hold on tight and before he knew it, he was in the air, gripping tightly to his saviour. Was his dream actually coming true?

note: sorry if it’s awful, im about to start work and haven’t proof read it! hope you like it, anon, and i’ll work on part two as soon as i can! <3

#niall horan #one direction #harry styles #zayn malik #liam payne #niall centric #louis tomlinson #niallerrr #zianourry #nouis #narry #niam #ziall #superheroes au #damsel!niall

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tirsu · 2 years

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I found few days ago this excellent comic called Cursed Princess Club. Damn, it’s os fuckin’ splendid and surprising. It makes me howling with laughter and sometimes it makes me cry and mad.

I love Gwen so much. 💕 She’s such a sweetheart.😘 And there’s so many lovely charachters, for example Prez, Jamie, Syrah, Monika, Jolie...

I want so much to kick Frederick ass, tho. I feel bad for him how his father treats him (and his brothers) and that he was bullied at school (it hit too close). But fuck, he was so cruel, what he said about Gwen. Despite he didn’t know that Gwen heard him. He has to done so much work that I’ll forgive him. I do still root him and Gwen, tho. When he learns what kinda person Gwen is, he’ll fall in love immediately. But I want still kick his ass.

(As sidenote, something in Gwen makes me think barbapapas - maybe her nose. And it makes me love her even more.)

If you ever get change, go check it and give it try (tho, if you’re scared of spiders, maybe you should skip it - I would’ve done that if I had known about it beforehand, now it’s too late for me ‘cause I already fuckin’ read that part and was all like 😱😱 😵. And now it’s too late to not to read it anymore because of those spiders,‘cause I really do love that comic so much and I want to know how Gwen’s story will continue no matter what. Hoping there’ll not be too many spider scenes anymore, tho). It really’s so fuckin’ marvellous and it will give you so many feels. And you’ll fall in love with Gwen immediately. You just can’t not to love her.

Also, you can bet that some day I’ll make fan art from that comic.

#cursed princess club #princess gwendolyn #comic #webtoon #sorry for my bad english #tw spider mention

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yusuke-of-valla · 9 months

Note

I'm not saying Chrom's dad is a good father, but he's not shown as abusive or put in the category of the pure evil guys.

Going over the dialogue on Chrom's father.

Chrom

Finally… Then pull our men back immediately. …It’s strange, Frederick… Walhart and my sister were complete opposites. One gave her life to stop a war. The other took lives to create one. And yet they both inspired those around them; both walked a path to end all war. Both lived, and died, trying to unite the people.

Lucina

Yes, Father, but as they say, the method is the message. Your father suffered from beliefs similar to Walhart, and his legacy is plain to see…

Its acknowleged here that Chrom's dad had good intentions, but a horrible way of expressing them.

Also Chrom does kill the remaining grimleal in the final battle. Its also heavily implied through dialogue and supports that most of the people sacrificed for Grima were the new recruits, bullied and cajoled by the regular Grimleal into joining and being made unwilling sacrifices.

Chrom's father is not depicted as a good person, but the game doesn't depict him as a monster. Though I can get why fans would want to make the conflict less black and white.

1. You’re forgetting that people actually liked Walhart. What that’s saying is the Walhart inspired people like Emmeryn, a good ruler, but if he kept along this path he would end up like Chrom’s dad, a bad ruler. Walhart also didn’t have to conscript people to fight

2. You’re saying that Awakening is black and white and people are making it deeper than it is while also saying that Chrom’s dad has more nuance than people realize, this seems contradictory to me

3. Can you source your claim on the Grimleal who were sacrificed mostly being new recruits? I’ve tried checking Aversa’s supports and it’s not there

4. I’ll grant you nothing says Chrom’s dad is physically abusive, but that’s because no one actually talks about his parenting (probably because he died when Chrom was like. 6) if he was really stern or neglectful or put a lot of pressure on his kids, those are still forms of abuse that people are free to explore and aren’t even directly contradicted. Hell even if Chrom cherishes the ring because it reminds him of his dad that doesn’t contradict his dad being abusive. Also, like you can still love your abusive parents.

5. Your position seems to be “the game always portrays Naga worshippers as unambiguously good and Grima worshippers as unambiguously evil and anything straying from that is reading too much into it,” but what about the priest guy who sells out Emmeryn and Chrom. If most of the Grimleal who are sacrificed were forced into it doesn’t that also mean they’re not unilaterally evil? I don’t understand your insistence that the game HAS to be as black and white as your insisting and anyone digging further is wrong.

6. I understand being annoyed when characters are misrepresented, but Chrom’s dad isn’t in the game enough to be misrepresented, and you’d think the first time he’s brought up Chrom’d be like ‘my dad loved us but he sucked as a ruler’ if they wanted it to be canon that much. You’re just going to have to accept that people are free to write Chrom’s dad as abusive because there’s nothing in canon that 100% unambiguously contradicts it

#alto replies #anonymous

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Hopelessness of Wanting [Part 4]

<- Part 3

Frederick Chilton x Reader

Warnings: NSFW. 18+ only! Suicidal thoughts. Nonconsensual blowjob, dubcon smut with reader (gender-neutral). None of the smut in this chapter is healthy! Two messed up people falling in love, only one is a lot more abusive than the other (Chilton. It’s Chilton). Reader is not in the healthiest of mind states to interpret their relationship. Everyone more or less gets what they deserve by the end.

6,400 words

Red morning light flooded into the bedroom through expansive panoramic windows that gave a spectacular view over the bay. Dr. Chilton—no, Frederick—was still beside you, rolled onto his back, snoring lightly. The bed was warm and smelled like him. A spicy, timeless fragrance. Expensive and a little off-putting at first whiff, until it melted into something complex and beautiful.

You felt hollow. Numb. Like you could float away or sink to the bottom of the ocean and never claw your way back out again. But calmer, at least. The impulse to hurt yourself was gone.

The negativity that had been devouring you from within had been washed away by a flood of tears and joy—crying until your eyes burned and your throat was hoarse, fucking your boss, going home with him, and then falling asleep crying again while he held you.

This morning, you had nothing left except static.

And there was Frederick Chilton, asleep beside you like a dreaming titan—the silhouette of his body beautiful and ominous. You resisted the urge to cuddle up next to him. He reacted badly to being touched without warning, and besides, you dreaded waking him up. What if he wasn’t happy? What if everything from last night was a mistake?

It all seemed surreal. That he had wanted you all along was too good to be true. Now that he had you, you were certain to be a disappointment. Your chest heaved unexpectedly, and you bit back a fresh sob. Suddenly your face was wet again.

Your nerves were so raw.

The peaceful static buzzing through your mind was fragile. Any sudden movement or loud thought might set you spiraling back down that hole again. You’re just going to screw this up, just like you screw everything up. Maybe it would have been better if you’d just gone through with it—saved everyone the inevitable heartache.

But if you had gone through with it, you never would have found out that Frederick returned your feelings. That knowledge—that something wonderful happened after your planned date of expiration—was reason enough not to try again. Sometimes good things happened. Things could change. Things could get better, and you could be happy again. You had to believe that.

So you moved slowly, and thought quietly. You listened to Frederick’s breathing in and out, and remained wrapped in the warm cocoon of blankets.

***

On the spectrum of touch aversion, Frederick Chilton was hardly a dramatic case. There was a Mr. Walton in his custody at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane who was imprisoned for murdering his four-year-old daughter because she would not stop hugging his calves as he walked by. Restraining the man for treatment required four muscular orderlies prepared for him to kick and bite at the slightest grazing of his skin.

That was touch aversion. Dr. Chilton considered himself perfectly normal by comparison.

He was able to shake hands with an acquaintance, hug a close friend or relative when social normalcy dictated he offer one, and even engage in sexual intercourse when his libido overrode his discomfort. As a man with a very high libido and next to no dating life, sex won out at every opportunity.

Yesterday, the hasty, frantic encounter with you in the medicine storage closet had been almost fully clothed. His hands explored your body as he rutted into you, but yours were braced against the tile wall, passive.

It was impersonal, and he was in control.

This morning, he awoke wrapped in the warmth of your body heat after you spent the night in his bed. In his home. He fell asleep watching you and awoke to you watching him thrashing out of a nightmare, your eyes full of so much emasculating pity that he lunged forward at once to kiss the look off your face.

Fuck—he did not know what he was thinking. A muffled noise of surprise escaped your crushed lips and then melted into a moan as you reciprocated. You opened compliantly to allow his tongue entrance. He meant to bully away your perception of his weakness with the aggressive kiss—he had not expected you to coil your fingers deep into his hair and pull him closer. Your leg pushed between his, and as he pulled back, panting, you quickly closed the gap and kissed him again.

Your bright floral scent was everywhere, surrounding him, invading the familiarity of his sheets. Your hands were pulling at him, softly caressing up and down his back.

It was intimate.

And he was terrified.

You saw him freezing up, and your hands stopped grabbing at him. Some of his tension evaporated as soon as you gave him space. A worried smile thinned your lips.

“Sorry. I forgot,” you murmured. “Is this better?”

You remembered. This was usually where his bedmate would call him too cold, or roll their eyes in annoyance. There was the usual guilt trip: if he was attracted to them, he would want to be crowded with physical affection. But you asked if he wanted to stop—asked him what he needed. No one had ever done that for him before.

“I am fine,” he swore to your skeptical frown, and it almost wasn’t a lie.

Knowing that you would stop put him at ease. The sunny persona you used at work may have been a forgery, but your gentle kindness was not. With you, he almost was fine.

He kissed you again, this time as tenderly as he had while you were sleeping. Felt you breathe in as his lips met yours, and then melt into him as you breathed out. He caressed your hair, and when your eyes opened again, taking him in, his heart felt full.

***

As a general rule of thumb, it is not a good idea to fuck your boss. This rule goes double when you are in the middle of a mental health crisis, and increases geometrically when said crisis was precipitated by your boss’s callous, condescending, cruel behavior in the first place. Or—that is to say—when your boss is Dr. Frederick Chilton.

But when you wake up in your boss’s bed having already fucked him, he pushes his tongue into your mouth, and the twitching of his erection against your thigh makes you feel alive again, you might as well accept you’re in too deep and go for it.

Dr. Chilton’s cock was already slipping through the open fly of his pajamas, and your hand helped it the rest of the way out. You licked your lips, imagining the weight of him on your tongue, his salty taste filling your mouth. Bracing a hand on one of his thighs, you lowered yourself to the pink dome.

“N-no,” Frederick stammered. “You do not have to do that.”

“I want to,” you hummed, a seductive rumble to your voice.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward once in appreciation for your willingness, but his eyes kept a haunted dullness that told you there was more behind his refusal than politeness. There was a story there, and you knew better than to push it.

You couldn’t have known it was his conscience intruding.

Taking control, he pushed you back down onto the mattress. The sound of lube squeezing from a bottle shortly preceded a cold slickness spread between your legs. You reached for him instinctively, trying to make it romantic, but he pinned your hands down by your side. The crown of his cock pushed against your tight entrance, which burned at the penetration it was unprepared for. It was cold, rushed—but as he canted his hips forward, his fingers laced through yours.

“Oh god,” he moaned as if he were kneeling in prayer, whispering his sins in confession—guttural, yet barely a breath.

You grit your teeth to cage the pained cry that leaped in your throat, stifling it into what passed for a whimper of pleasure. The stretch of his unceremonious insertion was the punishment you deserved for being so dramatic and causing so much trouble yesterday. For making him bring you home, worry about you, feel like he had to take care of you. For being weak. For all the incompetent mistakes. You didn’t complain that your body screamed in protest at being forced open too fast by such a large implement. It wasn’t that bad, and the sensation was mixed with pleasure. Satisfaction of seeing the handsome doctor’s face contorting with lust warmed your stomach, and soon your body relaxed around his cock, warmth pooling and coiling in your lower back.

Chilton’s first thrusts were controlled, experimental, rocking forward by slow inches and then retreating until the crest of his cockhead was barely hanging on to the tight rim of your opening. Then he rocked forward again while his analytical green eyes studied your reaction.

After a few of these slow strokes, the pain was gone. Perhaps he had been cognizant of it, waiting until you were letting out soft moans, your pelvis tilting to meet his, before continuing. Then his leg muscles tightened, and his next thrust slammed his hips into yours, filling you completely. You cried out in unison—his a satisfied growl, and yours a wail like you’d been punched in the gut but got off on it.

He lost his thin facade of control after that, rutting into you with force, pressing sloppy wet kisses over your mouth, down your neck. Your fingers clenched his tightly, your knuckles turning white, and he gripped back just as hard. He only slowed to arch his back so he could tease your nipples into hardened peaks with his tongue, releasing new yelps and whimpers from your throat. A possessive bite drew a more resounding cry of pleasure and a dark bruise.

The only thing restrained about his performance was his voice. After his first shout of pleasure, he grew silent except for a few strained noises that told you how hard he was working to strangle back the others. You wondered what wild howls Dr. Chilton hid within him.

“I want to hear you,” you panted.

His face was a mask of effort, already covered in a sheen of sweat that betrayed his poor physical shape. He stared down at you like an enemy soldier in a trench—a spy picking at his weaknesses—and gave no reply.

A strange sort of bravery born of lust came over you. “I want to hear it when you come inside me,” you challenged.

The rhythmic motion of his hips stuttered, and a moan slipped past his defenses as if by your command.

“That’s good,” you purred. “That’s a good boy.”

Something shifted in his suspicious eyes at your praise. A wall came down. “Yes,” he rasped. “You want to hear it—” his voice was punctuated by a powerful snap of his hips and a wet sound of flesh “—when I fill you with my seed.”

“Fuck—yes. Please. Fill me, come inside me!” your voice shook as you moaned your assent. You were so hollow. You needed him—needed him to fill that emptiness inside. Needed his thick cock splitting you open, punishing you, claiming you.

“When I make you mine.” His eyes were wild, almost frightening in their focus upon you—perfect green tunnels into a soul as volatile as yours. He pounded into you deeper.

And he was loud. He had been loud yesterday when he took you fast and hard against the wall, but that encounter was a blur in your memory. Now his voice was the only music filling your head, replacing the static. He spoke continually in filthy promises and eloquent details of what he wanted to do to you, but his words were punctuated by inarticulate grunts and moans. An aching need built with each primal noise that was so unlike the repressed, cynical Dr. Chilton you knew at work.

Every trembling declaration of your name, every prayer to god that passed his lips sent a shock of arousal to your core, and when he half-begged, half-demanded, “Mine… you are mine,” you couldn’t help but agree.

“Yours!”

You were close, all of your senses lost to an overwhelming need. Chilton released one of your hands and slipped between your legs. Every nerve in your body came alive as he stroked you. Your back arched as you went rigid beneath him, crying out.

His head fell against your shoulder, hips bucking wildly, and he sobbed, “Oh god… yes… yes. Mine… mine… mmm—!”

He shuddered as his warmth flooded you. Though his hand became lazy as his own climax overtook him, you eked out an orgasm from the friction between your bodies. It was enough. Enough to leave a slippery mess on his bedsheets, and enough for the resulting crash.

Your emotional high popped like a soap bubble and left you just as hollow—somehow emptier than before—even with Dr. Chilton’s cock still inside you and his seed filling you. You felt wrong. Guilt churned in the place arousal had been occupying. You almost started to weep as he pulled out of you.

Chilton didn’t seem to notice, glowing with the opposite effect of his completion. He ducked between your legs, grabbed your thighs, and began sucking your overstimulated flesh with renewed enthusiasm.

“Ah! W-wait,” you squirmed in his grasp, but it was firm. “What are you doing? I-I already came!”

The sloppy wet noises paused. His chin was soaked and he took sadistic delight in your distraught whimpers. “Therapy,” he smirked. “I have a theory you have another one in you, and that it will benefit your health.”

“What if I can’t?”

“Be a good little subject for me and try,” he answered, “or we shall be here a long time.” Then he buried his face between your thighs.

It felt sickening at first, like swallowing a cup of sugar—too much of something good that becomes painful. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as his tongue worked mercilessly. Then his fingers pumped inside you, his slick cum serving as a lubricant, and that aching need began to return. Choked cries of misery dissolved into ones of pleasure. He didn’t stop until you came again in his mouth, legs quivering and bruised under his grip. This one was more powerful than the first—you could feel it through your entire body, in every limb, and when it finally passed and his mouth popped wetly off of you, your body was too leaden to move.

Chilton smiled, quite satisfied with himself, licking your release off his lips.

***

Work was less stressful when you returned to it on Monday. Dr. Chilton was suddenly understanding of your mistakes. Though you were terrified he would decide he was wrong about you—you were too much of an idiot and failure for a relationship—things at least improved to the point that you could pretend to be cheerful again. Fake it until you make it was your mantra.

Everyone could tell something had changed.

Shifts were rationed out fairly without the express aim of frustrating employees. Patients received actual treatment. Dr. Chilton’s mood was so much less spiteful that a new hire unironically called him nice.

“He must be getting laid,” was the rumor around the hospital, though no one could decide who in their right mind would sleep with him. Your grin dropped at an orderly’s suggestion it was a prostitute.

You were gathering up your keys and jacket from your personal locker in the staff room when the sound of expensive leather shoes clicking on the stone floor signaled the doctor’s approach. It no longer made you flinch.

Chilton glanced in from the hallway and, seeing you were not alone, politely said, “Good work today,” and continued on, his step lighter than usual.

“You didn’t,” Nurse Clerval said flatly.

“What?”

“You didn’t,” they repeated. A raised eyebrow caused worry wrinkles to erupt beneath a hairline steadily turning grey.

“Of course not!”

“Then what is all this about?”

Your entire body was shifted in the direction Dr. Chilton had gone as if straining to follow, and a tell-tale smile shaped your lips into a fawning curve. Oh, you were so busted.

“We happened to talk the other day, that’s all. In private.”

“How private?” Another brow raise.

Your cheeks burned. “It’s not like that! He’s shy. When we talked one-on-one, it turns out we get along. He apologized for always singling me out, and he’s just trying to be more supportive. As a management style.”

Clerval stared at you hard. Your chest puffed out, really proud of that lie. The older nurse had seen enough within the hospital walls to know the administrator suddenly adopting a kinder, gentler management style was horseshit. But their jaded heart had not lost all compassion. A young nurse caught fucking the boss would get ripped to pieces by the gossip mill in this vicious place.

“OK. Fine,” they surrendered. “Just don’t go around making googly eyes, or people will get the wrong idea.”

***

A timid knock sounded on Dr. Chilton’s door, although it was still open from his last meeting—a junior psychiatrist who hurried out fuming and near tears. Perhaps that was why the next appointment was hesitant to come in.

He looked up from his computer, and the crankiness entrenched in his bones shook off at the sight of your face. You were his eighth performance evaluation that day, somewhere in the middle of the pack, and he’d lost track. Now his demeanor shifted, and he did something he hadn’t done for the others by rising from his desk to greet you.

“Close the door, if you would,” he said before you got too far into the room.

The latch clicked shut.

You were nervous. Though you had been dating for months, you remained distant during the workweek to avoid scandal—if news of a relationship got back to the board, you might be transferred to another hospital. Alone in his office, it was unclear whether Dr. Chilton was your boss or your boyfriend. Letting you dangle in suspense sent a thrill of excitement up his spine.

“Take a seat. Let’s get started, shall we?” he said, sitting back down behind his computer.

His massive desk was known as “the moat” by his staff, and it created an impersonal distance between you. He eyeballed you from across the moat, tapping his fingers together as he sank into his tall-backed leather chair. You sat on a small wooden chair, feeling very much like a specimen, and focused on the space between his eyes.

“You have been late five times this year and had to have an ID card replaced,” he said in clipped syllables, launching right into the review with one “needs improvement” after another.

Your stomach twisted into a familiar knot, but you managed not to spiral into an attack of self-loathing and anxiety. If you were going to cry, you could hold it until later.

Talking to someone helped.

Even Chilton admitted it was unethical for your boyfriend to be your therapist, and recommended you to someone with more expertise. You had been seeing Dr. Bloom for three months, and the dark fog was slowly receding. She taught you how to beat it back. Finding another job, for example, was not an outrageous, impossible idea if your current one was making you miserable. And most of your mistakes were no worse than the mistakes of your coworkers whom you very much wanted to keep living. She started you on a bupropion prescription that helped stabilize your moods, and you found yourself able to focus better because of it, too.

It also helped not being bullied at work every day.

The more your self-esteem improved over the months, the more you came to resent the shameful way Frederick used to treat you. Yet, as those same months went by, his actions drifted further into the territory of Past Frederick. That man was a stranger now—you could hardly hold Present Frederick accountable for his actions. Present Frederick was attentive and warm, always surprising you with lavish meals from Baltimore’s finest restaurants, spa days, and quiet nights at home. And as your boss, he was aloof but polite whenever he had cause to speak with you.

Why was he acting so cold now?

Dr. Chilton’s green eyes bore into you over the top his computer screen. “Tsk tsk… I am afraid your performance has not been exceptional, nurse. Perhaps there is something you can do to improve what goes into my report…” A thin lecherous smile spread over his lips.

You weren’t sure what he meant until he beckoned you to his side of the moat, and his hand slid under your shirt.

“What are you willing to do for a better evaluation, my little pet?” He winked mischievously, a hint of playfulness lighting his eyes, though his desire was deadly serious.

“We said never at work.”

“Yes, but now we have reason to be locked in my office, alone. Nothing that would raise suspicion. You are all mine for the next twenty minutes.”

A gasp rushed from your lips as his fingers expertly found a nipple and pinched. Your skin prickled with need.

“In that case, doctor… what will it take? I’ll do anything!” You added a desperate tremble to your voice as you got into the role he wanted you to play.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to bend you over this desk?” Frederick growled with lust, his breath hot in your ear as he grabbed your arms and spun you to face it. It had been a fantasy for far longer than you had been dating. His erection pressed against your ass.

You twisted your neck to catch the side of his mouth in a sloppy kiss. He smirked against your tongue before shoving you down.

The flat of his hand trailed up your back, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades to push your cheek into the polished mahogany.

“Good… very good,” he said. His breath shook with excitement.

Pulling your scrubs down, he rubbed the thickness of his cock over your opening. You shuddered at the cold sensation of lubricant and moaned as he reached between your thighs to stroke you.

“You are always ready for me to take you whenever I want it. To do anything I ask. It is my favorite thing about you—did you know that, my needy little pet?”

His hips rocked, the blunt head of his cock circling, pushing at your tightness. You let out a strangled whimper that almost sounded like a, “Yes, Doctor Chilton.”

“Be quiet now, remember,” he chided as his strong fingers dug into your hips and drew them against his in one fluid motion.

A gasp erupted from your throat—you fought to comply as he stretched you open, biting down on your fist. You were so tight around his cock, but it was the rush of power that drove him into a frenzy. He felt so in control, gripping your hips as he pounded you against his large desk. The desk was his own furnishing, and he was proud of how substantial it was—too heavy to scrape across the floor even as he fucked you. No creaking to indicate cheap construction. The height of refinement. Silent. No one would know what was happening just behind the closed door of his office—his domain. He had control here. It was something he was desperate for after two near-fatal attacks left him weakened and helpless, and his office was one of the few places he could exert his will absolutely. His office was his safety. And you. You completed it.

“You’re mine,” he grunted. “So submissive for me, bent over… God, yes—”

The one thing Dr. Chilton desired in life more than control was to be adored, and you adored him. The most pleasant ray of sunshine to grace the BSHCI was secretly broken like him. Was secretly his. All his. He had everything he wanted—your obedience, your affection, your strangled cries as you fought to stay quiet, your body writhing in pleasure beneath him—

He shuddered and came.

He finished sooner than he intended, and awareness of being old and weak came flooding back as his release dripped out around his cock and dribbled down your thighs. Fuck. He fucked it all up. But you turned and wrapped your arms around him anyway, kissed him like you weren’t even disappointed, and made him forget he wasn’t good enough. God, he could get lost in you.

Every day, he was a little less self-conscious. More comfortable having you close. He learned to trust you.

After a life of suffering, you were his happy ending.

***

“I love you.”

You hadn’t said it yet, but you were going to today.

Frederick Chilton’s hand was always in yours wherever you went—under the dinner table, on your thigh in the car, on the couch while the other hand typed away on a laptop. Soon he wouldn’t be able to hide his affection at work. You already caught him nearly slipping up and calling you “pet” in front of another nurse. It wouldn’t be long before it all came out. And it would be alright.

You were already looking at jobs at other hospitals in Baltimore. Most even came with a pay increase. Then when your relationship went public, there would be no scandal, no dating your boss, just the two of you together. A real couple. He was going to invite you to move in with him so you could still see each other every day—you were sure of it. The thought sent thrills of goosebumps tingling up your arms.

For once, when you looked to the future, you saw something bright.

“Hey Clerval, have you seen Dr. Chilton? I tried his office, but…”

The old nurse sighed heavily. Swinging their feet off the breakroom table, they set aside the yogurt cup they were halfway through and gave you a tired look. You hadn’t exactly told Clerval about your secret relationship, but they knew, and so far, no one else did. Not that they approved. In fact, you had never seen Clerval so worn down as when the topic of you and Dr. Chilton came up.

“His schedule says he’s in his office, which means he’s probably in one of his ‘unorthodox therapy’ sessions.”

Your head cocked. “His what?”

Clerval pinched the bridge of their nose, giving yet another sigh at your naivety. (At this rate, they were going to run out of air.) “Experimental procedures. Things the good doctor doesn’t want on record.”

There was a bitter bite to their words, yet at the same time, resignation. This hospital sucked the soul out of everyone who entered it, and Henry Clerval had been a nurse here longer than anyone. Longer than Frederick Chilton had been a doctor.

“Oh,” you said. “Well,” you scuffed the white rubber sole of your sneaker on the stone floor. “I’m sure he has a good reason.”

“I always see those hypnotherapy lights flashing around Ward A when no one is scheduled for therapy. Try there,” Clerval suggested with defeat.

“Thank you!” you called, sneakers already running down the hall in the direction of the women’s ward.

“Are you sure you want to interrupt his session?”

“I want to surprise him! I’ve got something important to say!”

***

If anyone had been outside women’s wing cell 4B on any Wednesday around noon, they would have heard a wet choking sound, but the staff was too jaded to care. If the guards had any idea what was happening, they got off on it, and didn’t try to stop it.

“Am I good girl, daddy?”

“Yes… yes,” Dr. Chilton hissed between his teeth, biting his lower lip to keep his breath from exploding out in a tortured moan. “A good girl.”

It was an accident the first time a hypnotherapy session regressed Julianne back to a sexually abusive childhood. She grabbed for his belt, and he froze. He almost yelped out in terror and called for a guard, but then she had his cock in her warm, wet mouth, sucking it to fullness, and moaning for him (or rather, for the memory of the father and brother she eventually murdered).

This wasn’t therapy.

When you became a soft part of his life, he stopped trying to justify his actions as anything other than more exploitation in her long life of being exploited. He let it happen because he was lonely, and he continued doing it because he did not care who else got hurt. There were no possible therapeutic benefits for the patient. He himself noted an exacerbation of dissociative symptoms, if there was ever any doubt that he was not thinking of her care. He only wanted a warm mouth to service him, even if it was not the one he longed for.

Then you became more than a daydream, and he recognized how deeply he hated himself. Because he had you—not only your body, but your heart.

But he never stopped.

Every week, like clockwork, he continued the hypnotherapy sessions and left Julianne confused with the bitter taste of his ejaculation in her throat.

You could have been his happy ending.

It wasn’t too late. You filled his lonesome days with affection and understanding he never thought possible. You taught him that he wasn’t too old and broken to love. In forty-five miserable years, he hadn’t ruined things so badly he could never find happiness.

You could have been his epilogue if he only loved you as well as you loved him.

It was not your fault what happened next.

But of course, of all the nurses and orderlies, doctors and guards in the BSHCI, you were the only one kind enough to want to surprise him with lunch. The only one who would have a sinking feeling about the rhythmic squelching coming from cell 4B. Anyone else would have said it was someone else’s business and walked away before seeing something that might obligate them to fill out paperwork.

You were too kind for this place. Too kind for the scarred doctor whose heart died a long time ago.

He watched your eyes widen from the other side of the bars. Saw your face turn from confused to nauseous, then crumple into tears as an involuntary groan escaped his lips—Julianne kept sucking at an unwelcome, now painful pace.

Then you turned and ran.

Julianne never stopped until he finished, though he was no longer in the mood. He never touched her, but he tried to back up, wanted to run after you. She stayed with him. This time he broke his rule and placed a hand to her forehead to push her away. Grasping his thighs, she hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder. Blood hammered in his ears. If he ripped her away, she could become violent or wake from the hypnosis, and he did not know how much was she aware was real. What her reaction might be. She was surprisingly strong as she held on, teeth grazing threateningly along his shaft the more he struggled.

She never stopped until he finished.

He was trapped.

He whimpered, cock going soft even as she bobbed faster. He tried to close his eyes and think about you, but that was ruined. You were gone forever. There was nothing he could say to explain himself, unless he drugged you with the right cocktail of psychotropics to make you suggestible, your memory malleable…

Solutions he knew would never work raced through his mind as the throbbing between his legs became an agonizing burn devoid of pleasure.

Panic rose and tightened his chest.

***

An anonymous call was made to the board of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The subsequent investigation found “no conclusive evidence” of Dr. Chilton’s alleged breach of ethics, owing not to the lack of such evidence existing, but the board’s desire to sweep the incident under the rug. He was, however, summarily fired and replaced by Dr. Alana Bloom. A forward-thinking move—if the truth ever came out, the hospital would have a friendly feminist face for public relations.

He never went to jail. Never got what he deserved.

Within a month, his book Hannibal the Cannibal became a national best-seller, and he was on tour, raking in wealth and acclaim. He probably would have left his position at the hospital anyway.

There was only one thing he lost, and he used much of the book’s royalties hiring a private investigator to keep tabs on you. It was the only way he could be sure you were safe when you would not return any of his calls.

As much as he was terrified of you becoming suicidal again, the truth hurt more.

You were doing well.

You resigned from BSHCI. Within a month, you had a new job as a graphic designer of all things. He never knew you were an artist. There were so many things about you he never asked, and now he never would.

Every so often, he would drive by your house and slow down, trying to catch a glimpse of you. He imagined seeing you hanging a rope, and rescuing you just in time. A thousand versions of the confrontation played in his mind—you screaming, “Stay away from me!” with disgust. Tears streaming from your puffy red eyes. Him pleading, “Do not hurt yourself because of my mistake.” The bark of your sardonic laugh at the realization that he cared.

In a few, precious few, of these fantasies, you would throw yourself into his arms and forgive him.

But he never saw you in danger, and he rarely indulged dreams as unlikely as reconciliation.

Eventually, he didn’t even get to hear your voice directing him to leave a message—only an automated recording that the number has been disconnected. Sometimes, however, you were sitting on the couch in your living room near the window, and it was enough to justify the forty-minute detour through your neighborhood.

One day, your silhouette was not alone.

***

Nurse Clerval quit two days after you left.

They couldn’t forget the shock on your face when you burst into the breakroom and nearly collapsed. It was the most heartbreaking thing to see someone so innocent crushed.

“Ch-Chilton… he—”

Sobbing and stuttering, you told them what happened, and Clerval took care of it. You were in no state to get on the phone, be put on hold, and fill out the miles of paperwork that went with everything in a government-funded hospital. It was a pain in the ass, and nothing would get done anyway, which was why no one ever bothered… but they couldn’t ignore the look on your face.

“You’re going to get through this,” the nurse said when you hadn’t moved for a long time. “Just breathe. It’s going to be bad for awhile, but you just keep breathing, keep surviving, and one day you’ll wake up, and… you’ll be through it.”

You rubbed the tears from your eyes to look up at Clerval with new appreciation. The jaded nurse had been haunting these halls for too long and it hardened them, but they were always watching out for you.

When you tried to throw yourself at them, desperate for stability, they turned you down, patting your head like a child. “You’re not in a clear mental state.”

***

A brown paper takeout bag sat on your kitchen counter. You’d missed your own “congratulations on the new job” party, and Clerval got worried, hiding their relief when you answered the door. Your eyes were lifeless.

“I couldn’t face everyone. If any of them knew I was… seeing him”—you shuddered and avoided saying his name—“they wouldn’t be caught dead with me. How could I be so stupid?”

A calloused thumb wiped a tear from your cheek. “I miss your smile.”

They gave you a small, sad smile of their own. It was the first time you’d seen Clerval smile. Their face looked like it was made to smile, you decided—like it used to a long time ago, but forgot how.

“When you were dating Dr. Chilton... fuck that bastard, but you were happy. I loved coming to work and seeing you smile like that. It brightened up the gloom. I’d like to see you smile like that again someday.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked. “I don’t know if I can anymore.”

Suddenly you were wrapped in a hug, with a comforting voice in your ear. “You can. You will.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Shut up, I’m clair-fucking-voyant, and I goddamned know you will. Now go on and live your life like you believe it too. Don’t you dare turn into an old cynic like me.”

***

Frederick Chilton thought his lungs would burn through his ribcage—that his throat would close up, and he would die. Seeing you with someone else was more than he could stand, and he drove home with a death wish, gas pedal to the floor. He would rather be wrapped around a telephone pole than make it back to his empty, too-large house.

But the universe does not dole out fair consequences.

He deserved to die in a jealous rage. To be arrested. You should have thrown wine in his face in a dramatic public confrontation. Screamed at him. But you never did.

There was no satisfying comeuppance or divine punishment.

There was only the memory of your heart breaking, and knowing three things in that moment: You loved him. It was over. And it was his fault. There was a time in his life when he was happy. When he had you to hold in his arms, kiss away his nightmares, and fill his days with love.

And then he didn’t.

All he had left was the smell of you on his sheets and a hoodie you had forgotten. He laid it out on a pillow beside him and inhaled until even your scent was gone.

Years later, lying in his own charred remains inside an oxygen chamber, he wondered if you would visit and start to cry at the sight of him. Forgive him.

He never saw you again.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg

#Frederick Chilton x reader #darkfic #angst #gender-neutral reader

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enbies-and-felonies · 3 years

Note

Hi! Infodump? Infodump

alsoooo this is what I remember from hours of documentaries and wikipedia that may not necessarily be remembered correctly and w/ minimal wikipedia fact checking lol

The old Prussians were a bunch of baltic people who lived around where Kaliningrad is today. after the crusades in the Middle East, European christian leaders wanted to get rid of the last pagans in Europe 😬 and promised the same rewards for driving out the pagans in the area as the crusades in the Middle East, incentivizing crusading orders to begin the northern crusades in the area (which also included Lithuania.)

the Teutonic Knights, who were from germany (hence "teutonic") converted or killed/drove out the pagans from the area, and started a huge migration of German people to the area. they also tried to convert Lithuanians, but they failed. the Lithuanians later converted to christianity anyway when they joined with Poland to create the polish-lithuanian commonwealth.

after setting up a government there, there was not much left to do, as far as crusading went, and they chafed a lot with the christian neighboring countries as well. at the battle of grunwald (1410) they were defeated by the polish-lithuanian commonwealth and reduced to the duchy of prussia, under polish rule.

then, Albert, the elector of Brandenburg, (1490-1568) an electorate in the Holy Roman Empire (800-1806, could be called the predecessor of Germany, a precarious collection of >1000 germanic countries that was more of an alliance than an actual country, "the Holy Roman Empire is neither holy, nor roman, nor an empire" -voltaire) also became ruler/grand master of prussia/the teutonic order (though prussia itself was not a part of the hre, and a fiefdom of Poland).

he passed down the title to Frederick William the Great Elector (1620-1688), who seized a chance in the 30 years war to ally with Sweden against Poland and force Poland to let prussia go. voila, the kingdom of prussia-brandenburg. however, he was not allowed to call himself king because a) Poland kept a small chunk of prussia for themselves, so the king of Poland also had the right to call himself king of prussia, and b) Brandenburg was still a part of the hre, which already had an emperor, and they didn't like having another guy in the hre call himself king.

(also these guys were all hohenzollerns)

okay! so his son Frederick I inherited Brandenburg- prussia, then his son Frederick I (not a typo, they were both Frederick I), then Frederick William I, also called the "soldier king." he put a great focus on military, but funnily enough, while his son Frederick II is known as the promoter of the arts who turned prussia from a backwater country into a European superpower, Frederick II entered a lot more wars than his "soldier king" father ever did. Frederick William I was also known for 'the Potsdam giants," his army of carefully selected soldiers who were all over 6 ft. also, Frederick William I was a terrible, strict father who was so bad that Frederick II tried to escape with his gay lover. Frederick William I was... not happy.

Frederick II was also known for being short, making his coffee with champagne and mustard, playing the flute, being even more misogynistic than other European rulers at the time, and tricking germans into liking potatoes (which grew well in German soil) so that they wouldn't have to rely on other countries for crops.

okay so Frederick II is also called Frederick the great (or große, which sounds like "gross" lol) completely reformed prussia, and also engaged with a lot of wars (that he won) with his military genius (cough cough using the fantastic military he inherited from his father cough). notable wars include the war of Austrian succession, in which he contested the legitimacy of Maria Theresa's succession to her father's throne (which was sort of an excuse to stole the fertile land of Silesia from Austria), and the 7 years war, the world war before the world wars, which was started again over Silesia.

prussia really rocketed to the European stage during the 7 years war, when it was surrounded by extremely powerful enemies (the French, Austrians, and Russians) on all sides, and was forced to do most land fighting by her own because her ally Britain was a) focusing on fighting France on the American stage, b) focusing on naval battle, and c) did not have the resources for huge land army. Britain mostly helped financially (on the European front, at least). prussia was losing terribly, but after a series of miracles, including russia withdrawing because the queen died and her nephew (I think?) who succeeded her loved prussia ("I'd rather be a Prussian soldier than a Russian czar," or something like that) and the Austrian generals being too careful and not seizing chances like prussia did. the fact that prussia managed to come out on top (even though they failed miserably in the beginning) was huge, and would continue to put them at odds with austria in the years following.

prussia also participated in the first partition of Poland w/ russia & austria. Poland should have dissolved prussia when they had the chance when they defeated the Teutonic Knights back in the battle of grunwald. :/

because Frederick II never had children with his wife (I wonder why) his nephew Frederick William II succeeded him, followed by Frederick William III, Frederick William IV, followed by William I.

(if you ever need to guess a Prussian monarch's name, guess frederick, William, or Frederick William)

William I bullied other northern German states like Saxony and Hesse into the northern German confederation, which was set up very soon after the seven weeks war with austria, in which prussia and austria fought to be the dominant power in the German confederation, a group of German countries that followed the dissolution of the fragile hre after the napoleonic wars.

(fun fact about the napzoelanic wars- Frederick William III, who was king of prussia during the Napoleonic wars and got his ass kicked, was incredibly indecisive and rather useless. his wife, queen Louise, became involved in politics and was very well-liked by the people.)

prussia won the seven weeks war, and thus was created the northern German confederation. in 1870, after the franco-prussian war broke out (in which Otto von Bismark, who knew the power of media, cleverly made it seem that France had been the aggressor), the southern German states joined the northern German confederation against France, laying siege to Paris. this sort of set up the stage for ww1 Franco-german aggression, in which France tried to take back the alsace-lorraine region prussia had stolen.

so! the southern German states joined the northern German confederation and officially became the German empire, and William I became Kaiser William I. prussia was the dominant force within the German government.

however, following Germany's defeat in ww1 and kaiser William II's (kaiser William I's grandson) abdication, prussia was reduced to the free state of prussia. while it still existed, all its power was sucked out. however, prussia was, compared to the rest of germany, much more economically stable during the disaster that was the Weimar Republic.

during n*zi germany, h*tler looked up to Frederick the great (who had nothing to do with nazism, and brandenburg-prussia had been known for receiving religious refugees), and the legacy of Prussian militarism, tarnishing the legacy of both. after ww2, the allies officially dissolved prussia because they wanted to remake germany during occupation, and they believed prussia would be an enduring symbol of aggression and militarism. (which, to be is fair, is its legacy- Bismarck himself described prussia as "not a nation with an army, but an army with a nation). Prussia was split into different German states, and east prussia became Kaliningrad, which was given to russia, and exists as an exclave today. while other germanic countries that existed alongside prussia like Bavaria and Saxony still exist as current-day states in germany, prussia does not.

Prussia's flag is also very cool- white, with black horizontal stripes at the top and bottom and a black eagle.

uh yeah! also look up the prussia meander kokoshnik- it's really cool. it was a wedding gift for duchess Cecile when she married kaiser William II.

bro,,,,,,,,,,, this was so fucking cool and when i asked for infodumps you DELIVERED /positive!!!!!

thank you!! this was really interesting and i loved it!!!! /gen

#tw emoji #tw caps #tw swearing #!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVED THIS???#tfw frederick ii ran away with his gay lover

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randomgentlefolk · 2 years

Text

CPC chapter 124 and future (there's no spoiler dw lol)

I love this comment so much 😭

This is my first time posting tumblr on (in? I forgot grammar) my phone, how do you do this-

I don't really write much in my phone but here we go-

First of all, why- queen polygon. WHY. Goodness gracious I feel so bad for Curtis and Prez in the chapter like my guy here is wow he lied and put the blame on himself like man you deserve a reward for your hardworks. And my gal here, holy molly guacamole.. what is wrong with her parents (especially her mom) 😭

I already feel bad and all but NO, it doesn't srop there because Whitney says "angst go brrr" and then

Okay Whitney's family. Can we talk about how messed up they are ಠ,_｣ಠ

Like oh yeah Whitney here attempted to murder his ex fiance's nurse by turning him into a spider and then stepped on him, but failing in the process and turn his ex fiance into a giant spider instead haha anger am i right? Not to mention his brother ALSO attempted to murder Whitney by cursing him into a white tiger AND THEN TURNING HIM INTO HIS CAPE GOODNESS SAKE WHAT THE HECK. next thing we know their sister will curse Greyden but also getting cursed in the process lmao. (Is it just me or Blacquelyn (how to spell her name) looks like Wednesday Addams)

———————————————————————–

In 2 weeks we're getting a chapter about Frederick's bullies! I miss this boy.

He will probably stand uo for himself but damn I want his brothers to stood up for him, I'm a sucker for brothership

Speaking of Frederick, I have a little opinion that may or may not get me attacked.

I'm honestly a little annoyed whenever people in comment or smth else call Frederick "sunflower"? I don't know. It's just from the frederick chapter, we saw how Frederick was traumatized by this nickname right? Like that one scene where we saw a little bit of Frederick's past, he got reminded of the past when he saw sunflowers right? So yeh just a thought.

But now that I think about it, he already kinda had a peace with his past?? The one with Whitney I mean. And he didn't seem bothered with the sunflower balloon

Woah the picture is big

Soo.. I guess? I don't know. What do you think?

Ehem, okay, next topic.

I'm nervous about the next episode because so far Lance and Lorena is like, a pretty healthy and sweet relationship and the thumbnail of the episode is making me worry

okay you can't really see the thumbnail but anyway

Speaking of thumbnail, I think we're gonna have some.. ✨drama✨ of the polygon fam based on the thumbnail

Oh. Nevermind. He just looks like he's choking.

Well, last but not leastttt...

Let's appreciate lambcat here for creating an awesome webtoon with a wonderful message. CPC helps me relax and calm down when I'm overwhelmed and thank you SO SO MUCH. Every episodes are wholesome and it always brings my mood up, and of course, it gives my brain something to theorize about which I love. You've done a really great job, lambcat.

#cursed princess club #cpc

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alexandersimpleton · 8 months

Text

Y'know, I ended up rereading some of the series to make something, and I'm now starting to realize that Blaine is massive d***.

Even if you exclude the gaslighting and beating of Frederick, he's a total jerk to literally everyone. He basically bullies Dandridge (I'm probably spelling that wrong), because he has a crush on a girl. He's really egotistical, and has this holier than thou attitude with almost everyone, including his own family. He is a smug d*** in the worst way possible, and I'm saying that as a proud smug jerk, so you know it's bad. He lectures everyone else, and his inflated ego just makes me angry. I have no idea how I didn't notice this on the first read, but I'm noticing it now, and I'm pissed off that this borderline narcissistic behavior gets encouraged by everyone around him for almost the whole series. You could say that the recital was him comeuppance, but after it he gets comforted by Maria like he isn't a total b****. He's just so vindictive, he has an inflated ego the size of Jupiter, and he treats everyone around him like inferiors.

And again, this is almost completely excluding his relationship with Frederick. His holier than thou attitude is blown up to monstrous proportions whenever he talks with him. He beats Frederick, calls him names, and gaslights him, while still thinking that he's some perfect angel and that Frederick is at fault for everything. He's so hypocritical with Frederick, saying horrible things to his face, and then hitting him for saying something remotely similar about Gwen. He rats Frederick to their father, who he's said himself that he doesn't feel same around, for literally no reason other than spite. He treats his own brother like a god damn cockroach and it's encouraged by the narrative. Considering all that's happening to Frederick over a single insult, I'm franky offended by how Blaine and narcissistic, self centered attitude, not only goes completely unpunished, but gets encouraged. Later in there series, when they reconnect, there is no change whatsoever from Blaine. Sure he starts kinda thinking of Frederick better, but he doesn't try to treat him any better. I mean, he doesn't treat Frederick like a cockroach anymore, but he really doesn't treat him much better. He still talked to Frederick like he's some inferior being that he has to push along. And Frederick is just expected to play along. Frederick did agree to the marriages, but I think I know how Blaine would have reacted if he didn't. Blaine would have forced two LITTERAL CHILDREN to get married and spend the rest of their lives chained together, because he's Blaine, and Blaine is the only important person on the planet and everyone are inferior being looking up to their god in hopes of guidance. "Oh, who cares that they're 17? Let's get married!" "Oh, who cares that Frederick is afraid of Gwen and flinching when she makes sudden movements? Gwen is lovely and Frederick deserves to get beaten and coerced into child marriage by his own family, and this is absolute and right because I am Blaine and I think so and I an always right and Frederick is always wrong because I am a perfect angel sent from heaven and Frederick is just a dog at my heal."

In conclusion: BLAINE IS A FUCKING BITCH

#cursed princess club #cpc blaine #prince blaine #sorry for all the swears #i am just #very passionate about this subject #I'm not upset that Blaine's a jerk #that could just be his character #I'm upset that it's encouraged #Everyone tells Frederick about how much his siblings live him #and tell him that he doesn't deserve siblings like that #and his sibling treat him like a freaking slave #and then Frederick is expected to comform to what they want #with no character development on their part #and nobody even acknowledges that Frederick was completely justified in hating them #or at least Blaine #his attitude with Frederick is disgusting #and nobody even acknowledges it #like it's right #like treating your little brother like garbage is just “goofy character trait” and not disgusting #“haha LOL. Blaine just inderectly coerced a 17 year old child into marrying soneone that he was genuinly unconfortable around!”#“What a goofy sibling dynamic thay have!”#pissed off

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lambourngb · 4 years

Text

This Hard Lie

Fic prompt: “Just trust me.”

THIS HARD LIE follows THIS HARD TOWN an AU that explores what Michael’s life might change if Alex hadn’t joined the Air Force. It’s not necessarily an easy rosy life . This part includes the following warnings : Kyle/Michael, sexual content, a homophobic slur directed at Michael by an OC, Michael’s cynicism about the US military and some more plot musings. This is finished in full on AO3.

***

[UNDER the cut because it starts NSFW]

There was something intensely meditative about sucking cock for Michael.

Opening his mouth wide past comfort into an ache of effort, the firm press on his palate mixing with the surge of salt on his tongue, the mess of saliva and pre-cum smearing sloppily over his face as he dropped into a state where listening to his partner’s enjoyment was the only thing that registered. The world slipped away as he took measured breaths, his mind finally quiet, until all that was left was Michael being good.

Michael could just be a vessel to fill with pleasure instead of pain.

Normally skating his hand down to gently squeeze and massage his partner’s testicles was enough to get that hitched-curse and uncontrolled jerk in his mouth that signaled an impending orgasm. The draw and shiver of warm pliant skin before the warm, thick release in his mouth, except that was not happening.

After a firm swipe of his tongue against the slit, rubbing against the edge of the frenulum, another foolproof trick in his experience that garnered nothing more than a sigh and an absent clutch of the hand on the back of his neck, Michael pulled away abruptly to stare up at Kyle Valenti’s face.

“Wait, why’d you stop?”

Michael wiped his mouth with the back of his hand rocking back on his heels, his voice rough from his activities, “‘Cause you don’t seem to be into this? Which I gotta admit, that’s a mood killer for me and slightly hurtful to my pride.”

Instead of arguing with Michael over his observation, Kyle sighed guilty and shifted to pull up his lightweight shorts over his erection, signalling the close of the encounter. “Sorry, you know you’re great at that, it’s me. My brain,” he gestured to his head with a twirling motion with his long-skilled surgeon hands.

Michael couldn’t help but follow the motion with interest, he had always been a sucker for a set of strong, confident hands.

Alex had hands like that.

Fuck, Michael pushed that thought away like he did every time it slipped in uninvited and collapsed next to Kyle on his expensive leather couch. It’s been two years since Michael’s last glimpse of Alex, no contact from him outside of the impersonal birthday and holiday cards that had begun after Michael mailed his ‘I’m sorry I dropped in your life’ letter. They’ve officially been apart longer than they were together and still Michael couldn’t stop thinking of Alex daily.

Perhaps Kyle wasn’t the only one distracted tonight.

“Listen, I won’t bore you with the details and break our agreement here,” Kyle continued, knocking his shoulder against Michael’s. “I can still do you here-”

“‘Do me’, so romantic, Valenti. I think I’ll pass on getting a disinterested handjob, thanks.” Michael rolled his eyes at the offer and reached for the bottle of water from the coffee table to swish around his mouth before swallowing for effect.

It was Kyle’s turn to roll his eyes but fondly. “I could give you an absent-minded blowjob instead?”

Their eyes met. Kyle lifted his well-groomed eyebrow as Michael pretended to be seriously tempted with a stroke of his stubbled jaw in turn before they both broke and started to laugh helplessly.

If someone had told a seventeen-year-old Michael that one day he would be laughing with Kyle Valenti in his high-end, ultra modern condo after a failed conclusion to a ‘U up?’ text, well he probably would have been interested in the type of pharmaceutical high that would have made that possible. Hell, the Michael of a year ago wouldn’t have believed it either but that was before he met the post-med school Kyle that returned home to Roswell.

It had started one night at the Wild Pony, where Michael frequented more and more for the scraps of news about Alex from Maria. A practice she did her best to discourage, repeating her policy of ‘I don’t play messenger between exes’, which had given Michael hope that maybe Alex had asked about him. He had been one beer in, contemplating a second when Jake Frederick’s sneer had interrupted.

“I hear they’re finally opening a place that caters just for the fags in town.”

That word, not unfamiliar to Michael in Roswell, brought his shoulders up to his ears. Its ugliness brought back so many memories of how it was whispered, spat, scrawled, or just strongly implied whenever Michael and Alex had ventured outside the safety zone of the Crashdown or their own four walls. The Wild Pony once Maria had bought it was eventually added to the list, though some patrons still thought otherwise.

On cue, Maria’s voice barked from behind the bar, “Jake, you use that word again in here and you’re banned for life!”

There was a titter of amusement as Jake’s crowd of admirers teased him for the call out, before an artificial apology was offered in return. After a moment though, Michael could hear him perfectly well pick up his conversation, “it’ll be wall to wall fake wigs and limp wrists there, probably playing nothin’ but Alex Manes’s shitty music.”

The laughter echoed, and Michael started to reach for his wallet to pay for his beer. It was clear that tonight’s entertainment was focused on Michael. He thought at this point, without Jesse Manes drumming up hate for his son, that these bullies would finally move on to something new. Unimaginative pricks.

“Hey Guerin, you off to join your people at that gay bar?” Jake called, noticing Michael’s departure. “Gonna find yourself someone new to ruin now that your boy left you?”

Closing his eyes as he swept his hat over his curls, Michael said a silent apology to 17-year-old Alex for breaking his promise on violence. He turned, noting a few new faces gathered at the table, probably guys from the base with their short haircuts, along with a silent Wyatt Long. For all of Wyatt’s racist blustering, Michael knew he had a queer cousin in Austin. Still, Michael pasted a bright and fake smile, “those are my people at Planet 7, Jake, but how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not gay.”

“My mistake, buddy. Must have been all the cocksucking you do that threw me off.”

Michael laughed harshly, ignoring the movement in his peripheral, and stepped closer, his smile growing darker, “I’m bisexual, which means, not only will I feed you my dick, Jakey, but I’ll give it to your sister too. Just not at the same time. Unless you’re into that sort of thing? You look like your parents were into it…”

The slam of chairs falling backward as Jake jumped to his feet at the insult. After that it was more blurs of movement, jostling, and chaos as Maria shouted in the background about the police while Michael traded punches indiscriminately. At one point he realized he had help against his back, as the fight spilled outside into the cold, raw New Mexico night.

Dark spiked hair, a nice set of shoulders that gave Michael an inch or two of height advantage was all he could register in the melee. It wasn’t until the breaking of glass that was shortly echoed by the boom of a shotgun that the fight dropped into stillness and Michael recognized his unsolicited ally as Kyle Valenti.

Maria stood next to the door of the Wild Pony as a lone siren picked up in the background, “All right you assholes, you’re all out of here. Drop your weapons and fucking leave before I have the sheriff lock all of you up!”

“Gotta admit, you’re kind of the last person I expected to be fighting a bigot,” Michael commented, dabbing at a fiercely bleeding cut on his eyebrow. “Kinda remember it the other way around in high school.”

Kyle smiled humorlessly as he caught his breath, grabbing Michael’s shoulder to pull him away from the bar toward the parking lot as the sirens picked up volume. “Well, I remember you as being some sort of secret genius in high school. Taking on five guys seems kind of dumb.”

“It was just four guys, Wyatt wasn’t gonna involve himself or else Maria would have called his uncle and aunt on him.”

“Oh well, if it was just four guys, I should have stayed at the bar, I wasn’t finished with my drink yet,” Kyle quipped sarcastically, as he kept pulling Michael through the parked cars. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Fuck off, I didn’t ask for help-” He shook off Kyle’s hand, his previous pliancy in following Kyle at an end as he bristled with indignation. Whatever strange amnesia over what a dick Kyle Valenti was in general and to Alex in particular passed at the prod for gratitude. “And my damn truck is over there-”

“Can you even see out of that eye? Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Kyle answered for him and dug out a pair of keys from his pocket as an expensive sounding unlocking chirp echoed. Of course. The dark blue BMW in the sea of modest pick up trucks and domestic sedans was his. At least it wasn’t the bright red Camaro from graduation, that car had too many associations with it for Michael. The hatch popped open on the X1, Kyle leaned in to pull out a towel to toss to Michael. “I’ve got my bag here and I could use the practice in sutures, so?”

Normally the idea of a doctor touching him at all was enough to instill a mix of dread and panic, but Michael didn’t see anything in Kyle’s face other than genuine concern mixed with exasperation. The open air of the parking lot with police on the way seemed like a bad idea. “All right, free medical care is hard to turn down, but I don’t want your dad arresting me, so can we-”

“Your place, it is.” And then as they drove in silence, with Michael still holding the towel against his cut, Kyle spoke gently in the dark. “I was a dick in high school, I was even a dick in college. But then some things changed for me, um, so I’m glad Roswell is getting a gay bar.”

“No, no, high school homophobe does not come out as gay, not happening, no way-”

“No not gay,” Kyle cut his eyes over to the passenger seat, giving Michael a quick up-and-down appraisal. “Just learned the package isn’t really that important to me. I like sex. Med school was a small pool of sleep-deprived, competitive people and I stopped caring if they had a dick or not. I also learned a lot about anatomy.”

The appraising look, the hint of good-natured humor in Kyle’s eyes, and his suggestive words were all enough to push Michael to grunt, “changed my mind, your place instead.” He never took anyone back to his Airstream as a rule.

And that was the beginning of Michael’s almost-friends, only-benefits relationship with Kyle Valenti. It revolved around those unsaid rules from the first night, only at Kyle’s condo, and rarely did they engage in anything more substantive than talk about sports or the general stupidity of Roswell. The sex was easy, the conversation stayed light enough to fill the gaps of loneliness, and if Michael had been a different species, he might have considered it the start of something more permanent.

If only Max had been wrong. If only Michael hadn’t fallen in love with Alex as a teenager. The first year after Alex left had been devoted to trying to make it on his own financially and getting the down payment together for the Airstream. The next year he had tortured himself with believing that now that Alex was successful, he’d come back to Roswell, to him. Then after Isobel’s wedding and that trip east, Michael had to accept the truth.

Dating in the years since, women and the occasional out man, had changed nothing for Michael. It was still Alex filling his every odd thought, and especially his fantasies at night. Doomed indeed as Max warned him, to drift through life enjoying the surface companionship of others but never anything more.

The reminder of what he did have currently, good sex and the ability to laugh with someone, loosened some of the private rules that Michael had had kept to with Kyle. “So, I mean, you don’t have to, but if you want to talk about what’s on your mind, you can.” Michael tipped his head back against the couch to meet Kyle’s surprised expression. “It would make me feel better about my sexual prowess, okay? You nodding off during a blowjob hurts man.”

“Well, as long as it makes you feel better,” Kyle teased sarcastically before accepting the offer made. “I was thinking about my dad.”

“Kinky, but gross, dude.”

“Ha ha, funny.”

“Sorry, sorry, that was wide open.” Michael nudged his shoulder more seriously, “what about your dad?”

“He’s been acting weird lately. I actually thought he was drinking again,” Kyle waived his hand restlessly, “it’s an open secret my dad has been on and off the wagon. Most cops have a close relationship with booze.”

The Roswell circle of repeated gossipry was wide enough to reach Sanders, customers often needing to make some sort of conversation as they waited, so Michael was pretty familiar with the rumors about Jim Valenti. Most of them he ignored, like the infidelity whispers, because he could still remember the man showing up to Mimi Deluca’s house to offer Alex that first steady job in the face of Jesse’s smear campaign. An act that Jesse had retaliated by sponsoring a challenger to the next year’s sheriff’s race.

For a police officer, Michael cut Jim Valenti some slack in the character department. He also wasn’t a bad boss according to Max, though his brother’s opinion didn’t sway Michael as far as Jim’s act of kindness to Alex had.

“You said you thought he was drinking again, but he’s not?”

“Well, my other suspicion was he was cheating on my mom.” Kyle met Michael’s concerned glance with a tired, dark smile. “Yeah, not a great thought to have, but he’s been disappearing a lot. Acting paranoid too, he always carries but I noticed he kept his sidearm on him during Sunday dinner. Like he’s afraid someone is going to show up and attack him.”

“You think he was cheating with someone else who was married?”

“I can’t really figure out what’s going on with him, other than he’s lying. But I followed him today, and he didn’t go to work, he drove a hundred miles north.”

Michael blinked in reluctant admiration, “I guess you pick up stuff with two cops as parents.” He racked his brain for something more to say, but his conversational skills had never been gifted to begin with outside of charming someone into bed. “Um, in my experience, cheaters stay close to home. Like coworker, favorite waitress, etc. it’s definitely weird for your dad to drive that far for a little something on the side.”

“That’s the thing, he’s all secretive but it's over something nostalgic. I followed him to some old prison my grandfather worked at in the 60s called Caulfield. It’s been shut down for years. I can’t figure it out, and short of asking him directly I doubt I will.” Kyle shook his head again before inching closer to Michael on the couch, with a slow growing knowing smile, “So now you know where my head was when-“

“When I was trying to give you head?” Michael snarked playfully, picking up the change in mood easily. Apparently talking it out loud had released whatever mental block Kyle had been struggling with before. The moment reminded him of how he used to hold Alex at night, listening to him vent over the various customers in his day before he was able to wind down enough to enjoy any intimate touch.

Fuck. He was thinking about Alex again.

This time he let Kyle pulling him into a kiss distract him fully from the renewed spiral of remembrance. His body warmed slowly as Michael shut down his brain from wandering east again to Nashville.

***

“Your soul and your heart have been in such opposition,” Mimi murmured, holding Michael’s palm between hers as she gave him a reading at the Wild Pony. It was his way of distracting her while Maria gently soothed two customers that had received a deep lecture about the sins on their souls from her mother. To be fair, Michael could tell from their demeanor and close cut hair that each of them had served or were actively serving in the military, so Mimi Deluca probably wasn’t too far wrong from the mark with her lecture. “I know you’re a traveler, child, but this pull north and east could tear you in two.”

“My heart hasn’t been mine for a while,” Michael replied truthfully. Once he and Alex had moved in with one another, the small family of outcasts with Alex, Maria and Mimi had expanded to include him for a while. And once upon a time it had boasted more members like Rosa and Liz, but his sister’s actions had trimmed those branches in one way or another.

“That’s the east, and while it travels ever closer to you, you’ll never get that back. But north though, if you follow that path, perhaps your soul will find peace.”

“Not sure what I’d do with peace.”

“Maybe pay your bar tab once in a while?” Maria injected as she moved back behind the bar with a gentle hand on her mother’s shoulder. “And not starting a fight in my bar would also be a good start.”

“Come on, Deluca, I have been a very good boy since that last go-around Jake. I swear that kid is a closet case with how badly he seems to want me to lay hands on him,” Michael protested weakly. Truly he had only bent his old promise to Alex a handful of times in the last year and all of them because the Fredrickson kid had brought up Alex in some way. The comments about his job, clothes, and cheap taste in booze could all be ignored, but one word about Alex’s music or success and the gloves came off.

“Maria! Don’t be so mean to Michael, his people aren’t designed to live like this, divided in two.”

Despite the chill from Mimi’s words, Michael knew that Maria didn’t take her mother’s talk too seriously with how often she peppered her premonitions with nineties alien blockbuster movies. She always interpreted her mother’s words as being a romantic metaphor about a lost love.

Suddenly Mimi straightened, looking over Michael’s shoulder. “I guess good can come from evil dying.”

In the mirror over the bar, he caught sight of what Mimi saw. A grip closed over his heart, squeezing it until the fluttering motion ceased under the force as he watched Alex Manes move confidently through the crowd toward the front where Michael was with Maria. His head was shaved close up the back of his head, leaving a long, silky dark fringe over one eye and his face was bare of makeup and piercings. The black shirt sporting long sleeves made of crisscrossed fabric over a pair of tight black jeans looked more at home on Rodeo Drive than Roswell but the completely indifferent look on Alex’s face showed he didn’t care about fitting in to the locals bar.

Fuck it was so quintessentially Alex’s attitude from high school, before the shed, that Michael was having trouble remembering it had been at least six years.

“Alex Manes, in my bar!” Maria squealed, vaulting herself over the bar in one smooth motion to cross the distance to throw herself into his arms.

Michael’s mouth was dry as he picked up his drink to take a sip, feeling awkward and out of place. Should he offer his hand to shake? A hug? Could he pretend to be European and kiss Alex’s cheeks? What were the rules on an ex that he traded Hallmark cards with now?

A soft cool touch pulling him back from his spiraling thoughts to look up into Mimi Deluca’s clear and focused gaze, “he sings in the wrong key every night, but you know his song. You’re a good boy, you’re not rotten inside like your sister.”

Before he could do more than blink, Alex was suddenly next to them, looking at Mimi’s hand covering his curiously before smiling at Michael. “I would have thought you’d be tired of this place, after all those nights waiting for me to finish my shift?”

“Alex,” Michael took a deep breath, floundering for something more than the obvious, “you’re here. In Roswell.”

“It wasn’t really my idea,” Alex admitted gently, before taking a seat next to him. He reached smoothly for Michael’s glass to steal a drink from before making a face. “Oh man, it’s been a long time since I’ve had Crown Royal.” He fished out an expensive wallet to pull a crisp hundred dollar bill from a stack to lay on the bar, “Maria, please rescue him from this with some good tequila.”

Mimi gave Michael a significant look of encouragement before interjecting, “Maria, honey you should let these two get reacquainted, Alex isn’t going anywhere for a while. Jesse is dying, but he’s not dying today or even tomorrow.”

Michael jerked his head toward Alex, “that’s why you’re here? It’s your dad?”

A small smile of satisfaction twitched over Alex’s mouth before he nodded in confirmation, “Brain tumor. Doctor says he might have a month, maybe less. I’m only here because my brother threatened to go to the press if I didn’t show and my agent is worried about how that would look.”

“Oh.” Michael picked up his fresh drink, a high end alcohol he could have never dreamed of ordering for himself, out of a need to do something with his hands to keep from reaching out to touch Alex. “If I said that sucks for you that he’s dying, I’d be lying, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too, Michael.” Alex clinked his glass against Michael’s softly, “I’ve been back for a couple of days, this was the first time I could get away actually. The movies all lied you know, cancer isn’t this quiet death. My dad is ranting and raving all night long, about aliens, about being murdered, about all sorts of random shit about Roswell and the crash and hands that kill. Your name has kept coming up too. I should record it and put it on youtube, make him famous too.”

***

#guerinweek20 #mgweek20 #malex #malex fic #guerenti #the lost decade #au after the shed #there will be a happy ending #angst first #pining idiots in love #roswell new mexico

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schoolmascotbyday · 3 years

Photo

BASIC QUESTIONS

First name? “Frederick.”

Surname? “Frederickson.”

Middle names? “Flamarion.”

Nicknames? “Fred, Freddie, Dumbass, Knuckle Head, Idiot, Mr. Fred, Lizard Guy, Fredzilla… Fredzilla totally counts.”

Date of birth? “I was born on August 15th of 1997.”

Age? “I am twenty three years young.”

PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE

Height? “Six foot even.”

Weight? “140 or something. Don’t body shame me.”

Build? “I guess I’d be a mesomorph.”

Hair color? “It’s blond-ish.”

Hair style? “Medium length. Sometimes it is straight, sometimes it has luscious waves.”

Eye color? “Grue. (That means green-blue.)”

Eye shape? “They’re kind of squinty, whatever you call that.”

Glasses or contact lenses? “No sir!”

Distinguishing facial features? “I have a big nose.”

Which facial feature is most prominent? “My nose.”

Which bodily feature is most prominent? “My chest.”

Other distinguishing features? “My hair. If you see my hair, you know it’s me.”

Skin? “White. Disturbingly white. I should get more sun…”

Hands? “Big.”

Make up? “I don’t understand how people wear makeup everyday. It’s hard. It would take me hours to not look like a clown. I wore eye shadow for the pride parade, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

Scars? “Nothing too noticeable.”

Birthmarks? “Nada!”

Tattoos? “None, but I think one day I’ll get a big monster on my entire back .”

Physical handicaps? “I don’t have any.”

Type of clothes? “Worn out.”

How do you wear your clothes? “Too long.”

What are your feet like? “Also big. My socks are dirty. So are my shoes. There’s a hole in my favorite pair, and the bottom is coming off…”

Race / Ethnicity? “Caucasian.”

Mannerisms? “I am overexciteable and it shows.”

Are you in good health? “I keep forgetting to make a doctor’s appointment. Actually, I just don’t wanna do it by myself. But probably.”

Do you have any disabilities? “Fortunately no!”

PERSONALITY

What words or phrases do you overuse? “I think I just shout too often.”

Do they you a catchphrase? “I say whoa-ho-ho a lot. Is that a catchphrase? Or should I have said that for my overused word and/or phrase?”

Are you more optimistic or pessimistic? “Optimistic!”

Are you introverted or extroverted? “Extroverted.”

Do you ever put on airs? “I turn the AC on a lot.”

What bad habits do you have? “Sometimes I chew with my mouth open and I stay up too late and I ramble and I don’t eat healthy foods and get obsessed with entertainment and I don’t blink enough when I’m playing video games and I choose being lazy over being productive and, oh, yeah, run-on sentences.”

What makes you laugh out loud? “A lot of things. I laugh all the time.”

How do you display affection? “Bear hugs and hair ruffles.”

Mental handicaps? “I don’t give myself time to be sad.”

How do you want to be seen by others? “Helpful, loving, loyal, genuine, fun!”

How do you see yourself? “Helpful, loving, loyal, genuine, fun!”

How are you seen by others? “I don’t worry about it too much.”

Strongest character trait? “I care so much.”

Weakest character trait? “I care too much.”

How competitive are you? “I can be kind of competitive, but I don’t trash talk or anything.”

Do you make snap judgements or take time to consider? “It depends on the situation, but I usually make snap judgements.”

How do you react to praise? “A lot of thank you!s and beaming.”

How do you react to criticism? “I don’t usually let it get to me, I try to be better.”

What is your greatest fear? “Losing another person I love.”

What are your biggest secrets? “Sometimes I say I know what I’m doing when I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Shh.”

What is your philosophy of life? “Life is short, have fun.”

When was the last time you cried? “I don’t remember. A long time ago.”

What haunts you? “Losing Tadashi. Not being able to save him.”

What are your political views? “I’m probably a liberal.”

What will you stand up for? “Anyone that needs me to stand up for them.”

Who do you quote? “My friends. They’re so smart.”

Are you indoorsy or outdoorsy? “Indoorsy.”

What is your sinful little habit? “Buying a lot of merch. A lot of merch.”

What sense do you most rely on? “Definitely not common. Hearing.”

How do you treat people better than you? “I try to learn from them!”

How do you treat people worse than you? “I try to teach them!”

What quality do you most value in a friend? “Genuineness.”

What do you consider an overrated virtue? “Chastity.”

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? “I think I’d like to be smarter. Just a little bit, just enough to understand half of the things my friends talked about.”

What is your obsession? “Manga, comic books, video games.”

What are your pet peeves? “Being rushed, people being mean, being ignored.”

What are your idiosyncrasies? “I talk too fast.”

FRIENDS AND FAMILY

Is your family big or small? Who does it consist of? “Small. It’s just me, my dad, my mom and Heathcliff — the butler.”

What is your perception of family? “They’re supposed to be loving and accepting.”

Do you have siblings? Older or younger? “No. I think that would’ve been nice, though.”

Describe your best friend. “I have five, and they’re the best friends in the whole world. Tadashi isn’t here anymore, but he’s still one of my best friends. They’re all smart and unique and I love being around them.”

Ideal best friend? “Anyone who can be themselves around me.”

Describe your other friends. “Most of them are online.”

Describe your acquaintances. “I don’t have acquaintances, just friends.”

Do you have any pets? “I have a bunch of fish in my saltwater aquarium!”

Who are your natural allies? “Hm, Haven.”

Who are your surprising allies? “The rest of our friends.”

PAST AND FUTURE

What were you like as a baby? As a child? “Loud, wild, energetic, friendly.”

Did you grow up rich or poor? “Rich.”

Did you grow up nurtured or neglected? “I don’t want to say my parents neglected me…”

What is the most offensive thing you ever said? “I don’t even know of anything I’ve thought that was offensive.”

What is your greatest achievement? “My current grades.”

What was your first kiss like? “Quick and nervous.”

What is the worst thing you did to someone you loved? “I didn’t save Tadashi.”

What are your ambitions? “I want to write comics that people want to read.”

What advice would you give your younger self? “Enjoy being a kid while you can!”

What smells remind you of your childhood? “Freshly cut grass, pancakes, steak.”

What was your childhood ambition? “To be a superhero.”

What is your best childhood memory?

What is your worst childhood memory? “The birthday my dad told me they’d be home in time for, but missed. They didn’t come home for another week, and I’m pretty sure he forgot about it completely, because the handwriting on the card that ‘came in the mail’ looked an awful lot like Heathcliff’s.”

Did you have an imaginary childhood friend? “A few.”

When was the last time you were crushed with disappointment? “Sometime last month.”

What past act are you most ashamed of? “Shame is not an emotion I know.”

What past act are you most proud of? “Beating Dark Souls (Demons Souls).”

Has anyone ever saved your life? “Probably.”

Strongest childhood memory? “The day I broke my arm falling out of a tree.”

LOVE

Do you believe in love at first sight? “Why not?”

Are you in a relationship? “Nope.”

How do you behave in a relationship? “Like myself. I’m an affectionate guy.”

When did you last have sex? “It’s been about five months, probably.”

What sort of sex do you have? “All sorts.”

Have you ever been in love? “I fall in love all the time.”

Have you ever had your heart broken? “My heart broke when Tadashi… when I lost my friend.”

CONFLICT

How do you respond to a threat? “Just shrug and say ‘bring it’.”

Are you most likely to fight with your fists or your tongue? “I don’t like fighting, but I’ll do what a situation calls for.”

What is your kryptonite? “Funko Pops.”

If you could only save one thing from your burning house, what would it be? “My fish.”

How do you perceive strangers? “50/50. Could be friends, could be villains.”

What do you love to hate? “Cliffhangers and hard to beat games.”

What are your phobias? “Death.”

What is your choice of weapon? “Depends on the game I’m playing.”

What living person do you most despise? “I don’t despise anyone.”

Have you ever been bullied or teased? “I’ve been teased, but it doesn’t bother me much.”

Where do you go when you’re angry? “The kitchen to get a snack. The only time I get angry is when a game is being really frustrating.”

Who are your enemies and why? “I don’t have any, but maybe one day I will be a true crime fighter and I will.”

WORK, EDUCATION AND HOBBIES

What is your current job? “Sign spinning.”

What do you think about your current job? “I love it. I don’t need the money, I just like bringing in more business to the local shops and showing off my skills!”

What are some of your past jobs? “I’ve never had to work.”

What are your hobbies? “Sign flipping, gaming, writing and drawing, reading comics, binging anime, practicing guitar, coming up with new costume ideas.”

Educational background? “I didn’t do so hot in high school, but I’m in college now.”

Intelligence level? “You could say I’m a selective learner.”

Do you have any specialist training? “I wish! That would be so cool!”

Do you have a natural talent for something? “I want to say my sign spinning is a natural talent — I kind of just picked it up one day and realized I was good at it. Also, super-hearing, headlights and flame throwing.”

Do you play a sport? Are you any good? “I’m not much of a sports guy.”

What is your socioeconomic status? “Ask someone who knows what that means.”

FAVORITES

What is your favorite animal? “Maybe lizards.”

Which animal do you dislike the most? “I don’t dislike any animals.”

What place would you most like to visit? “I’d like to go on a family vacation someday. I don’t really care where we go.”

What is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen? “The ending of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.”

What is your favorite song? “You’d laugh.”

Music, art, reading preferred? “Reading mixed with art.”

What is your favorite color? “Blue. No, orange. No, green! Yellow! I don’t know! There’s too many colors!”

What is your password? “FredzillaRulesTheWorld.”

Favorite food: “Changes too often to really say.”

What is your favorite work of art? “Death Note.”

Who is your favorite artist? “My dad. He counts, right?”

What is your favorite day of the week? “Sunday.”

POSSESSIONS

What is in your fridge? “A whole lot of ingredients I’ll never use and probably some I can’t pronounce.”

What is on your bedside table? “A lot of junk. I should clean that off...”

What is in your car? “Phone charger, aux chord, a half eaten bag of barbecue chips, stick of deodorant, loose change, hair ties.”

What is in your bin? “It’s empty. I have a butler.”

What is in your purse or wallet? “A group picture with my friends, money, a few different bank cards, a condom, more loose change.”

What is in your pockets? “My keys and my cell phone.”

What is your most treasured possession? “All of my pictures with my friends. I wouldn’t trade them for the world. You never know when you won’t be able to take another one...”

SPIRITUALITY

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? “I’m sure Tadashi is somewhere looking out for me right now.”

Do you believe in the afterlife? “Yes.”

What are your religious views? “Loosely Christian.”

What do you think heaven is? “A place where everyone is happy and free and there’s no pain. And you can play games all day.”

What do you think hell is? “Sad and lonely.”

Are you superstitious? “A little bit.”

What would you like to be reincarnated as? “A fire breathing dragon!”

How would you like to die? “In a way that matters. If I’m going to die, I’d like to save someone while I’m doing it.”

What is your spirit animal? “Probably iguanas or something.”

What is your zodiac sign? “Leo.”

VALUES

What do you think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? “Torture.”

What is your view of ‘freedom’? “Pretty much how my life is now. I can do what I want, when I want --- for the most part.”

When did you last lie? “It’s been a long time. I don’t lie unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

What’s your view of lying? “It can be easily avoided. Just be honest.”

When did you last make a promise? “I can’t remember.”

Did you keep or break your last promise? “I’m sure I kept it, I don’t make promises unless I plan to do something about it.”

DAILY LIFE

What are your eating habits? “Questionable.”

Do you have any allergies? “I’m allergic to assholes!”

Describe your home. “It’s big. Real big. The yard is big and freshly cut. There’s not a blimp of imperfection until you get to my room, then it becomes a randomized mess.”

Are your minimalist or a clutter hoarder? “Hoarder.”

What do you do first thing on a weekday morning? “Turn my alarm off.”

What do you do on a Sunday afternoon? “Relax. Wait for my dad to call.”

What do you do on a Friday night? “Stay up late gaming.”

What is your soft drink of choice? “Mountain Dew.”

What is your alcoholic drink of choice? “Just beer is fine.”

MISCELLANEOUS

What or who would you dress up as for Halloween? “Oh, I love Halloween! I go all out! I’ll dress as another superhero this year, or maybe a villain to spice it up!”

Are you comfortable with technology? “I love technology.”

If you could save one person, who would it be? “Tadashi. I wish I could’ve saved Tadashi.”

If you could call one person for help, who would it be? “Haven, she always knows what to do.”

What is your greatest extravagance? “All the merch in my room, or my tank.”

What is your greatest regret? “Not doing anything to help my friend.”

What is your perception of redemption? “Putting someone else before yourself. If you do that, if you selflessly risk your own life or needs or wants for another person, you’re obviously redeemed.”

What would you do if you won the lottery? “Donate it all to charity.”

What is your favorite fairytale? “Jack and the Beanstalk.”

What fairytale do you hate? “I don’t hate any fairytales. People put a lot of hard work into their stories and I respect that.”

Do you believe in happy endings? “I do.”

What is your idea of perfect happiness? “Living every day how you want to live it.”

What would you ask a fortune teller? “I’d give my opportunity to someone else. I don’t need anything answered.”

If you could travel through time, where would you go? “Back to save Tadashi or die trying.”

What sport do you excel at? “Is flame throwing a sport?”

What sport do you suck at? “Soccer. I get confused and score for the other team. Every. single. time.”

If you could have a superpower, what would you choose? “All of them! Fire breath, x-ray vision, flying, rocket fists, gravity manipulation, invisibility, walking through walls, the ability to teleport through people’s phones so if they needed me I’d be right there... yeah, all of them!”

#yes i gave him my birthday what of it #this one took me a hot minute whew #walttasks #tasks.

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