thimking…
boothill w a mechanic!reader who gives him back his sense of touch via some smart means I am not intelligent enough to describe myself lol, but with how long he’s gone without, it’s way too sensitive at first
he’s breathin all heavy, cheeks flushed and panting like a dog in heat while you run your hands along his body to check and make sure he’s not missing any sensation anywhere. total aphrodisiac effect
you notice he’s overstimulated and you’re about to suggest lowering it when he grabs your wrist and begs you to touch the nice lil implement between his legs you’d given him a while ago at his request…
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the tragedy of wriothesley is that even long after his sentence has been served, even after he fought and clawed his way to the top, after he reformed the fortress' inner workings- it is still an iron ball chained to his ankle. a cage of his own choosing- because he must have not been able to imagine a life for himself in which meropide was not only prison but also home, in the way it had held and sheltered him in its cold and damp innards for years- once he'd driven the previous head warden out like a dog chasing a rat. so he took his seat in the warden's chair and began governing the place that had raised him.
he takes his rare days of leave above the surface knowing he'll make the endless elevator ride down again when the day is done. The motto of meropide greets him from the walls every time the doors finally slide open, and he reads the words even though he knows them not in his heart but in his soul.
if i were especially unfair i could accuse him of being afraid of what true freedom would do to him. he'd have to shatter the pot he'd sat in for so long that his roots had molded themselves to the shape and i think he would wilt a little with nowhere to fit himself into among regular fontanians.
so he holds freedom at an arm's length. he gives it lopsided smiles and playful winks over the edge of his hulking work desk, might take its hand and dance a small circle through his office, but never lets it lean in close enough to kiss.
maybe, through a haze of memories of blood seeping into floorboards, running out of him and staining the wood a deep red, he still thinks he isn't deserving of its gentle touch.
meropide holds its jaws around him and he keeps living with its wet breath at his neck, because no other place ever cared to house him quite as possessively- as if it needed him to continue living, not the other way around.
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i am once again thinking about the fact that Wriothesley was taken in by his foster parents when he was just a baby
he probably took his first steps trying to run towards his mother. maybe his father sat down and practiced speaking with him because he couldn't make a 'sh' sound as a toddler.
they would have read him bedtime stories and sung lullabies and patched up his scrapes and bruises from playing. kissed him on the forehead and gave him piggyback rides when he was too tired to walk.
and all that time, the entire time, they only saw him as a way to make money. they knew they were going to sell him off to someone who would most likely hurt him and at best put him to work somewhere at a way too young age. they didn't give a fuck.
Wriothesley, buddy, how are you in any way emotionally stable??
(edit: i don't actually believe he's emotionally stable, but i think that he thinks he is. check the reblogs for some proper character analysis takes!)
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I have this image in my mind of Wriothesley's trial and it goes like this:
So Wriothesley is like,,, 16. He's fresh out of the hospital and still bandaged up. He's only got one eye uncovered, the other blocked by gauze. He's a little street urchin at this point, alongside just being injured beyond belief, so he's not looking Great™.
And of course, no one even knows enough about him to fact check the name he gave the nurse.
It's not an exciting case and the trial is held first thing in the morning, right after Wriothesley was discharged from the hospital. There's not much of an audience and, of the people who are present, they're tired and grumpy and bored.
Neuvillette lists out the charges: two counts of murder, breaking and entering. He says that Wriothesley was found unconscious in critical condition at the scene of the crime, and the Gardes thought he was another victim at first. While Wriothesley was in hospital, they investigated and proved otherwise. The crowd makes a murmer of noise - if only they'd realised Wriothesley was the murderer right then; there'd be no need to have wasted resources saving his life.
Of course Neuvillette calls for order. Wriothesley is representing himself by his own choice,, how does he plead?
Guilty. Guilty on all counts.
And that's boring. Furina leaves immediately, and most of the small audience follows her in the next few minutes. The ones who stay only stay because they think they'll move onto the next trial quickly, and they hope it will be a more interesting one.
But Neuvillette must finish this one first - he asks Wriothesley for his version of events, which he provides clearly and concisely. How he'd attacked first and then one of the victims drew a knife. He expresses no remorse, but says that he accepts whatever sentence Neuvillette believes is just.
The details don't quite add up. Wriothesley never provided his motive, and the evidence shows that there was no attempt to rob the victims' house. It seems Wriothesley just had some psychopathic urge one day to break into a couple's home and kill them where they stood.
Neuvillette asks after his history; he's some homeless teenager. Well, where are his parents? Dead or gone. Left before Wriothesley could ever know them.
The audience gets a little more sympathetic. They invent this imagine in their minds of Wriothesley's tragic life, leading him to eventually snap and kill in cold blood.
So Neuvillette continues questioning, even though the case is pretty much open and shut. Has Wriothesley been on the streets his entire life? For the last few years. Where was he before that? Foster home. Did he know the victims beforehand? Yes.
And then the motive becomes clear, and Neuvillette asks him to share more. Wriothesley is still young, of course, and desperate. There could be reason to lighten the sentencing. Wriothesley maintains that he should be tried as an adult who fully understood the crime he was committing.
(and it's strange, the audience notices, that Neuvillette is acting more as Wriothesley's Defence than he is as his prosecutor. But Wriothesley himself is more interested in the latter).
Once Wriothesley has explained what his victims put him through, and laid out his reasoning for all to see, the mood shifts. The tiny audience argues among themselves; should this kid be tried at all? It was a vengeful murder, but could it be called self defense? Surely he's not deserving of the full sentence, not after everything that happened to him?
Wriothesley and Neuvillette are both silent for most of the trial, observing the crowd argue among themselves. But no one is really entertained - there's no exciting twists or raucous accusations being thrown around in this case. It's just a sad teenager and his sad life and there's too much nuance to the situation for anyone to really agree on anything.
Eventually Neuvillette has to call for order. Wriothesley is guilty of the crimes, he says. Extenuating circumstances or not, Wriothesley freely admits to having planned out revenge, so this cannot be called self defense. The Oractice has the same verdict, and Wriothesley's only response is to nod at Neuvillette. Some tiny acknowledgement on his blank expression.
Neuvillette chooses the sentence and it's shorter than the technical term. Due to Wriothesley's age and the circumstances surrounding the crime, he's given 15 years instead of 30 to life. Before Wriothesley can argue against his own good, Neuvillette clarifies that this is the most fair punishment.
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