Tw: Self Deprecation - Tumblr Posts
Is school supposed to ruin me this bad?
IT’S NOT THE FIRST TIME HE’S DEBATED TRYING TO KILL HIS FATHER. Not like it’s a frequent thought — for all the blood on his hands, he still shies away as often as possible from the actual killing blow, as subtly as a twenty two year old can be in the face of paternal authority. For the most part, he’s content (ish) by his father’s side. Pleased to have a purpose, satisfied with parental warmth. He has nobody else, and he’s not sure anyone else would be anything less than horrified at his violent ways — why would he kill the one man that accepts him?
And besides, it’s a useless thought. Wishful thinking, whenever his bitter memories from childhood get the better of him, remembering the man his father used to be — because William has long outgrown his humanity, and stabbing him or poisoning him would be entirely unproductive.
…But this might be the first time he’s ever seen his father so weakened.
The command rings in his ears, and Michael jerks towards the shelf automatically, pausing while halfway there. Power: not often he has it unless it’s over him and his father’s victims. Powerless: not often his father is ever even close to it. He’s tempted, just for an offhand moment. To just smash the vials, in one vicious sweep. To make his father say please. Just for a second.
“What did . . . What did they do?” He asks, morbid curiosity settling like a weight over his bones, trying his best and delaying his task. “Holy shit. What pissed you off so much?”
Because it really is a horrific scene: if he hadn’t been so used to blood and bodies by this point, he’s certain he couldn’t have handled it.
@bitterborne ★ ❛ you’ve lost a lot of blood. ❜
It is not often that one of his targets would get a solid struggle in, enough to remove all semblance of control of his anger. Hell, this was the first time William had lost all control, enraged by his victim struggling far too much -- reminded him a lot of that boy who broke his jaw. But oh boy, this one pushed her luck. The actions were one thing, but the words were a whole different park. When Michael finds his father, the scene is far more gruesome than anything before. William breathes are heavy, feeling light headed from the simmering rage and the fact a good amount of blood has been lost in the struggle. What could resemble a human body is torn to shreds, like a wild animal had gotten its claws on it -- all done with the wrath of a god and a single claw hammer.
Slowly, his breaths grow into something normal, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe some of the blood off his face, “I'm. . . fine. . .” There is a subtle shake to his hands, feeling the fatigue starting to take over. The amount of blood lost would have killed a man, but William still stands, even if on weakened legs. He gestures towards one of the shelves, “Grab one of those vials, one of the silver ones. Bring it over. . .” It can be felt, the reserves of the remnant inside his body starting to drain. He must replenish it, before it runs dry. How finicky his immortality could be, but it is worth the prices, worth the risk.
Warning: self-deprecation (but nice ending)
❤️
⚠️WARNING⚠️
!SELF DEPRECIATING THOUGHTS, SU!C!D@L IDEATION, BRUISES, IMPLIED SH!
He went sparring with the furniture in his room. :)
(Without Words)
(Without Shadow and Background)
