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feyhunter78 · 8 months

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Pink Pastels Pt 30

Description: You and Miguel have a talk about what happened with his mother. Pt 31

If someone asked you what happened, you really couldn’t tell them. One moment you’re listening to Connie talk about how inadequate you are and how much better Ava is…or was, but she doesn’t seem to know that? Then you heard her say that you would never be Gabi’s mother, and you lost it. You saw red, lost all your marbles, let go of the reins, every saying, every comparison, they’re all true.

You look around the room with tears in your eyes. Miguel has taken you to some side room in the hotel. It’s beautiful, and the heavy mahogany door cut off all sound from the party.

Your hand is bleeding, cut open by the glass you broke in your anger. It stains Miguel’s suit jacket, and you want to curl up and die. You’re just happy Brett had the sense to take Gabi back outside, so she didn’t see you go absolutely insane.

Miguel is kneeling in front of you, removing the glass from your palm, he’s so gentle, so kind, and you… You’re just a girl with a shitty dating record and jealousy? Protectiveness? Issues you definitely thought you had worked through. But apparently not.

Maybe you need to make another appointment with your therapist.

“Miguel, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I did that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I just lost my temper and I swear this doesn’t happen often, and it’ll never happen again, and I’m just so, so, sorry, and so embarrassed.” You ramble, the apologies continuing to flow until Miguel presses his lips to yours.

“You were incredible. Mi ángel vicioso.” He breathes, cupping your face in his hands as he admires you. Trsl: my vicious angel.

You bite your lip, but the tears start falling, and soon any lingering rage has been washed away by the familiar waters of grief. “I didn’t mean to, really, she’s your mother and I should’ve been able to control myself, but she was so cruel and I—”

“She was out of line, you had a right to defend yourself, you are Gabi’s mother. What my mother says doesn’t matter. She doesn’t even know the truth, but we do.” Miguel’s voice drops to a whisper, and you immediately know what he’s talking about.

“She doesn’t know?”

He shakes his head, a sly grin on his face. “No, but she may soon enough.”

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

Miguel smooths his thumbs across the skin under your eyes. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it taken care of.”

Part of you screams that you should ask questions, that you should worry and wonder about these things when Miguel gives you vague answers. But another part of you, the one that’s tired and just wants to be taken care of wins out, over and over again, and you just leave it be, content to trust Miguel. He’s Spiderman for crying out loud, the city’s hero, the man who saved you from that thug, and your shitty ex-boyfriend.

“You’re not mad?” You ask tearfully, meeting Miguel’s eyes.

He chuckles. “What did I tell you? I could never be angry with you, never.”

You sniffle but nod. “Okay, but I’m still sorry I embarrassed you in front of the whole gala.”

“I don’t care about them; all I care about is you and Gabi.” He reassures you.

You fiddle with the fabric of your dress, your mind swirling with memories. This wasn’t like you, not anymore, but ever since the Ava incident—no, ever since that text from your mother, you’ve been feeling off.

Miguel senses your sadness, like he always does. He can read you so well it’s almost intimidating, like he’s in your head or something.

He tilts your chin up, warm brown eyes searching your face. “What’s wrong?”

“I—it’s just…my mother texted me a few weeks ago, she wants to see me, said she’s been seeing someone that’s been really helping her, and she wants to make amends. I just—I don’t know, I’ve begged her to go to therapy time and time again, but now…” You wipe the tears from under your eyes, trying to salvage your makeup.

“But now you’re worried that it won’t be enough? That she’ll just want to move on as if nothing happened?” Miguel asks gently, pulling a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and using it to pat your cheeks dry, preventing your mascara from smudging even more.

How did he know that? How could he just pull your thoughts from your head and voice them so easily?

“Yeah, exactly.” You say, taking the handkerchief from him, needing something to hold in your hands.

“Well, you don’t have to go, you owe her nothing.” He tells you.

You shrug your shoulders helplessly. “She’s my mother, even if I can’t stand her most of the time, she still tried? I guess?”

Miguel nods, waiting for you to continue.

“And it’s not like she was a drug addict or a criminal, she’s successful, and people like her, my friends would never believe that she could be so mean because she was always so kind to them.”

“But to you? It seems that wasn’t the case?” Miguel asks, his hand settling on your knee, the weight of it a comfort.

“It’s just, she was my first hater, so to speaks. No matter what I did it wasn’t right, what I said, wore, accomplished, nothing, nothing was ever good enough. She always had a better way to do things, and if I didn’t do them her way, she would lose it.” You laugh bitterly, burying your face in your hands. “And she could never take what she dished out, if I got upset or angry, she’d act as if I was the villain. As if I was this horrid daughter who just took things too personally and had emotions only to guilt-trip and hurt her. It was so frustrating.”

Miguel hums sympathetically.

“So, I learned to keep everything bottled up, to smother my emotions before they appeared, so I wouldn’t inconvenience her. I was miserable, faking contentment as if I’d get an Oscar for it. Luckily my parents saw what was going on, and they intervened, but it was too late, the damage was already done.” Your voice goes quiet, those same walls you remember so well falling into place around your heart. Your sadness is gone, replaced by a chilling numbness. The cold is familiar, though, you welcome it.

“Y/N…I’m—I’m so sorry.” Miguel says, his tone colored with sadness.

You feel that same stab of guilt, the one that your mother drove into your heart each time your emotions disrupted her day, her good mood, her life. You were the one who caused a scene, not Miguel, he shouldn’t feel sorry for you. You messed the whole night up.

You remove your hands from your face, wiping away any remaining tears and sitting up straight, shoving down every emotion until you could give him a perfectly pleasant smile. “So that’s my sob story. But anyways we should go get Gabi, it’s getting late.”

Miguel, like always, reads you like a book, and sees what you’re doing. “You don’t need to hide from me, cariño, I want to see you, I want to feel the full force of your emotions, good or bad.”

You shake your head, already moving to stand from the ornate chair you’re sitting in. “It’s too much, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“I want to y/n. You could never be too much, I want every part of you, every fiber of your being, every flaw and perfections, mi vida, there is nothing you could say or do that would turn me from you.” Miguel ties his handkerchief around your hand, all the glass now removed.

“Miguel…” You whisper sadly, not able to meet his eyes.

“I want you, whether you’re sweet, and loving, panicked and trembling, seductive and feisty, or even vicious and bloodthirsty. Every aspect of you I desire, every moment of every day, I desire you. In your entirety.” Miguel professes, holding your hands to his heart, his eyes finding yours.

You love him, you love him, you love him, you love him.

“Mi amor…” You breathe, blinking away happy tears.

“I have always desired to know you wholly, to see every part of you, and I’m grateful you’ve shown me this part, though I’m sorry my crazy mother brought it out of you.”

You both laugh at that, and it breaks you out of that icy numbness, bringing you back to the full warmth of Miguel.

“You’re too sweet to me.” You say, smiling up at Miguel.

He chuckles. “I don’t think that’s possible. Now, should we go get our daughter?”

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars

Pt 2: @sxnasbitch, @111gltzpzy, @lucilavenxoxo, @ray-rook, @elizamelody, @soapbar99, @trashieboii, @erissco, @gardenof-venus, @vlads-dracula3 , @yaoisenpaiii, @the-occasional-artist1125, @polireader, @mvchmp, @shadowxfheaven, @hxlytrin, @melomichuwu, @weirdothatwritess, @ash-aragami, @deguzu, @angelarcheangel, @nekotaetae, @milohatesspit, @lollipop974, @miggyyyyohara, @itzsab, @namjooningera, @hana-1235, @amberpanda99, @joceymoo, @tfamidoingwithmylife, @itsashree, @battinsonwhore05, @namjooningera, @tortilla-chips-and-allioli, @fluffy-koalala, @fandom-ash, @angelarcheangel, @yuuotosaka3, @latersgaters-steven, @ariparri, @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast, @lycaninelizard, @angelarcheangel, @yuuotosaka3, @allysunny, @lollipopin, @allysunny, @loves0phelia, @caslistener, @tayleighuh, @namtaeh, @freehentai, @hellomrstikbot, @comeonatmebruh, @jacejawp

#meg's writing #miguel’s pastels #this is just me working out my mommy issues in this chapter #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader

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happy74827 · 2 months

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Just Words

[Siobhan Roy x GN!Reader]

Synopsis: Words can be hurtful (especially to most) but with Siobhan’s “5-star” personality and ability to not care about anything other than herself, you can’t help BUT spill some words. {GIF Creds: @olliviacooke// I took this off of google (fair warning) so I had to dig deep to find the OP}

WC: 2274

Category: Slight Fluff (?), Enemies to… trope {Trigger Warning: Foul Language (I really channeled the Roy family here), Logan}

I did not expect my first succession fic to be Siobhan… but honestly, I’m not complaining 👀 (fyi: this was a request and I stupidly forgot to “answer” so hopefully the anon who requested lovely Shiv finds this 💀)

『••✎••』

Siobhan Roy… mega bitch. You hated her. Well, that might be an understatement; you despised her. From the moment you met her, she was just a total and complete pain in your ass. Not to mention completely and utterly self-absorbed. She had the attitude and ego of a child.

So when you were made to work with her, you were less than pleased. Logan Roy, the only man who could top Siobhan in terms of being an insufferable asshole, had made you a deal. If you and Siobhan worked together to find a solution to the media shitstorm he was currently experiencing, he would put you on the team that handled the IPO of Waystar. It was the opportunity you had been waiting for, so you sucked it up and agreed.

You and Siobhan sat in the meeting, both of you looking like a pair of miserable children. It made Roman look like a ray of sunshine, and that was really saying something.

Logan slammed the door, causing you to flinch.

"Fuck," he said, taking his seat.

"What?" asked Siobhan, a tinge of irritation in her voice. It’s amazing how her mood could shift on a dime.

"Nothing. I'm just a bit tired of this fucking circus."

"Well, what the fuck do you expect? You made a public promise. If you can't make good on it, why not just say so? Why continue this fucking farce?"

Logan narrowed his eyes at her.

"If I wanted to hear that, Siobhan, I would have gone to my wife's bed. I don't need a cunt in my ear right now."

Siobhan rolled her eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ. I'm a realist. You're the one who wants to live in your fantasy world. Just fucking drop the bomb, tell the truth, and let's move on."

"The truth? And what is the truth? That my son’s a psychotic, drug-addled mess? That Kendall is a sniveling, entitled little fuck? A pathetic, whiny, little shit stain who can't do his job because he's too busy jerking himself off to his own sob story? Is that the truth you want to set free?"

Siobhan stared him down, and once again, you were surprised. You had thought the woman was completely brazen, but there were still limits.

"I'm not your therapist," she said.

"No. You're not. And I'm not going to sit here and listen to a woman with the emotional range of a fucking teaspoon telling me how to handle this situation. Now, I need to get on the phone with my PR team. Fuck off, all of you. Get back to work."

You and Roman both jumped up, quickly leaving the room. Once you were safely away from Logan, you took a deep breath and relaxed a bit.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you muttered, "I don't know how she does it."

Roman smirked, "Oh, she's a special snowflake—a real ball buster. You should see her with Tom. It's a fucking bloodbath."

“Tell me about it. It’s a raging dumpster fire, even saying more than two words to her. I feel like she's going to snap my head off any minute. I’m so tired of her bullshit, and she's the least of my worries. The whole family is a fucking disaster. And I don't have time for any of it…. No offense.”

Roman gave you a half smile. "None taken. You're right; I'm the best of a very bad lot."

"Well, at least you're self-aware."

“You fuckers talking shit about me behind my back?"

You turned and saw Shiv leaning against the wall.

"Always," replied Roman. "And it's fucking hilarious."

"Well, don't let me stop you," she said, rolling her eyes. Her eyes then shifted to you.

"I didn't realize we were having a fucking slumber party."

"Just having a bit of a break," you said.

"Oh, well, that's very fucking nice. I'm glad everyone is taking a fucking break because I've been dealing with our father, who is a raging psycho at the moment. You know, while the rest of you are fucking around, the company is dying. It's falling apart, and everyone is too fucking busy to give a shit."

"Come on, Shivvy. Take a breather. You’re starting to act like Kendall… and that's never a good look," said Roman.

"Fuck off, Ro.”

Shiv glared at him, then glanced back at you. The glare made you want to hide, but you refused to show fear in front of her. You had done it in the past, and it only fed her.

"Well," she said, "aren't you going to say anything? Or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open like an idiot?"

"I think I'll take option B. I'd like to live through this," you replied.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"I think it's pretty clear."

"Yeah, I suppose it is. I guess I shouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

"Someone like me?"

“Shiv,” warned Roman, trying to interject. Personally, despite his whacked-out sense of humor, you actually enjoyed his company. He was definitely the least obnoxious of the Roy siblings. “Let’s not get into this now, okay? Just drop it."

"No. No, go ahead, Shiv. Let's have it out. Right here, right now. Let's see if you can handle it."

Shiv stared at you for a few moments, then she smiled. It wasn’t her usual smug, condescending grin. It was different, almost sincere.

"You think you're tough?" she asked.

"No. I know I am. It's a little different, don't you think?"

"Okay," she replied, her eyes darkening. She leaned forward, her face just inches from yours. Roman just looked at the two of you as if watching a tennis match. "You're so sure you can handle me. So why don't you prove it?"

"Prove it? Like, what, punch you in the face? Is that what you want?"

"Although, as satisfying as that sounds, I was thinking we all should just move on… maybe have a drink, talk it over? Yeah? No?”

Shiv just looked at you. "Yeah, I'll pass. I'm not here to make friends, and I'm certainly not here to kiss your ass."

"That's good. Because, honestly, I don't see you as the ass-kissing type. Tom, yes. You? Not a chance. You're the type who wants everything to be handed to you on a silver platter. I'm sorry, but I'm not the maid. I'm not going to serve you or kiss your ass. I'm here because I have a job to do, and I intend to do it. That's it.”

"Oh, right. I see. Well, then, why don't we cut the bullshit and just get right to it. How about you go back to whatever shithole you crawled out of and let the real people get on with things."

“Guys-” Roman started.

"Real people? Real people? You think you're real? You think this is real? I hate to break it to you, Siobhan, but you're not a princess, and this isn't a fairy tale. You're not the queen. Your father isn't the king. You're a spoiled brat, and he's… well, he’s Logan. He's not even a king. He's just a bully."

"Is that supposed to hurt me? To insult me?"

"No, but you seem like the kind of person who doesn't take criticism well. You’re doing a terrible job.”

Shiv stared at you, her lip curled up in disgust. She looked as if she were about to hit you, but the rage was just a facade.

"Well," she finally said, "It's a good thing we're not here to play fucking games, then. So why don't you shut the fuck up and get back to work? Unless, of course, you don't think you can handle it. Maybe you should just go back to where you came from, and let the real people get on with things."

Your nostrils flared. It took every ounce of strength in you not to smack the look off her face. But you knew better. If you started a fight, Logan would take your head off, and that was a fight you couldn't win. So, instead, you smiled.

"Fine," you said. "If that's what you want. I'll do my job, and you do yours. But, just remember, the day is coming when this little charade is going to come to an end, and when it does, it's going to be a lot worse than it is right now."

You didn't wait for her reply. Instead, you turned and walked away, leaving the two of them standing in the hallway.

Once you were back in the safety of your office, you collapsed into your chair and let out a sigh. You had just gotten your first taste of a Roy fight, and it was worse than you had anticipated. The worst part was Siobhan had gotten the last word. It didn't matter that you might’ve won. She had gotten the last good word, and you hated her for it.

As the hours ticked by, you became more and more frustrated. You were angry and bitter. You were pissed at yourself for letting Shiv get under your skin, and you were angry at her for getting to you.

So, when your phone rang and you saw her name, you were tempted to ignore it. You let it ring for a few seconds, then decided to answer.

"Yes?” Your attitude was short.

"Get your shit together," she snapped. “We have a meeting in five minutes. We have a lot of ground to cover."

That was, in fact, false. By the time you arrived, the conference room was deserted, and only Shiv remained. She was sitting at the table, her laptop open in front of her.

"What the hell?" you demanded.

"I'm sorry. Did you want a fucking audience? Because that can be arranged. But, if you don't mind, I would prefer not to have any interruptions."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that we are both here, and we have a job to do. Now, either sit down and help me, or fuck off. I really don't give a shit."

You stared at her, and she looked up from her laptop, raising an eyebrow. There was no audience, and there wasn’t going to be one. So, you had two options. Either walk away and look like an idiot, or stay and possibly get chewed out again. You took a deep breath and sat down.

Shiv just hummed in response, then looked back at her screen. "Good choice."

For the next couple of hours, the two of you worked together, trying to figure out a way to turn the situation around. Arguments arose, shots were fired, and at one point, Shiv threatened to kick you out, but overall, it was a productive session. Logan wouldn’t be pissed, so that was a win.

"So," Shiv said as the two of you left the building, "Did you cool down?"

"What?"

"I'm asking if you cooled down. Do you feel better now?"

"Um, yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I? You know, besides the fact that we were at each other's throats for hours and the fact that we both wanted to kill each other. I'm peachy."

"Mm, peachy." She said the word like it was an insult. "That's a strange choice of words, don't you think?”

“What? The real people don’t use the word peachy, huh? Is it beneath you, Shiv? Do you only use fancy words and proper grammar?"

"Oh, I can be a real commoner when the situation calls for it. It's all about knowing your audience."

"Really? So, is this the commoner Shiv? Should I expect a new side of you?"

"Maybe.” She smiled oddly again. The one that made you nervous. "Maybe not. That depends on you. Do you want to know the real me?"

"No, not particularly."

"Good. Because I'm not interested in showing you. I’m just curious if you have what it takes."

"To what, put up with your bullshit? To put up with a spoiled brat who thinks the world is hers for the taking? Mmm, yeah, I think I've got what it takes."

"Okay, first off, fuck you. Second, you're a piece of shit. Third, I have something to tell you. So, listen up. This is important. Okay, ready?"

You were about to say something, but her expression stopped you. Her voice was low, her tone serious. You nodded.

"I'm a bitch. And, yeah, I have a temper, and I'm not a warm and fuzzy kind of girl. But, that's the thing, I don't need to be. I don't need to pretend that I'm anything other than who I am. I don't have to fake it because I know what I want, and I'm not afraid to go after it. That’s what you need to understand. It's not about what you think you need. It's about what you want and what you're willing to do to get it."

You just stared at her, unsure of what to say.

"So, let me ask you, what do you want? And are you willing to do what it takes to get it?"

You thought about it for a second. "I want a drink. A strong one."

A little comedy never hurt anyone. And judging by her expression, you could tell you had made her smile.

"Well, that's a start." Siobhan had a smirk on her face. "Alright, fine. Let's get that drink. Then we'll see how far that gets you."

"Yeah," you muttered, "I'm sure."

But, as you walked down the street, you couldn't help but think about the question. What did you want?

And what was Siobhan offering?

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dzasterdumpterfire · 29 days

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TDDYFYRAHAHWEWHAAAAA

I've turned another!!! @ant1quarian

You get free reign on this bbg too!🔥🌈

COLOUR! Dust

Heres that art you ordered (can his nn be Treble?)

Lore;

Colour was just colour, maybe not the same colour others found it nice to talk to, but he tried his best.

The one thing they usually don't talk about being a Colour sans is that.. You're stuck. In this.. Strange grey place where Gasters usually are.

You can't leave of your own volition. You are stuck there until an Outcode decides to be your friend.. And you have to be a parasite friend, getting them to get you out.. How fucked up is that?

And since he wasn't.. Well? The most popular Colour.. Not to mention he wasn't all that fond of making others his friends just to get out, and use them..

He stayed. He stayed and watched his timeline go on.. And on and on.. Until eventually there was a true Pacifist ending.

No more bullshit stuff..

...

How long has he been here?

He hasn't heard his own voice in a long time...

Can he even hear it?

He doesn't really feel like trying..

He's so tired..

Tired..

Tired.

Nothing ever happens here... Nothing ever changes. Null. Empty. But the same. He's stopped thinking about leaving.. Where would he even go? Why would he go?...

Suddenly, for a split second, all he felt was pain... He was dying.. He can't breathe.. He can't see, where is he? Where am I? Get away from me!-

(+90hp)

...

Nightmare: get up, you useless thing...I swear, never did I think a colour sans would be useful in my endeavors.. But you aren't some hippy therapist from the outside trying to get in, are you?

....

Everything was tinted purple.. He only felt gloomy.. Neutral gloomy... Why?

Why is it that he must still be the parasite?

.. Sitting within the Castle for days.. On the verge of death... He felt a sharp pain in his soul, and he teleported..

Screaming..? Who's screaming?.. He's screaming... Purple, hot red, pink panic- Fear.. the people here aren't his.. Were they? They look different..

WHY DID IT CHANGE WHEN HE LEFT?

WAS HE THE ONE HOLDING EVERYBODY BACK FROM THE HAPPY ENDING?...Red. hot pink, bright blueberry mood, purple.. Null.

.. By the time Nightmare was at his side, holding him still and tight by the waist with a solid tendril.. There was only one person in front of him..

One person who.. Didn't remember him then.. And still won't now..

Papy..

He felt.. Neutral.. Gloomy..

.. Null.

He felt..

(you won! +10exp!) ...(lvl29) -> (lvl30)

.. Like he'd still managed to use other people for his benefit..

(end for now lmao Dustverse colour)

•TLDR; Treble goes on a rage of envy and hate in his AU for the fact that he was the issue the entire time, and he never asked for that.. Eventually causing well.. Another issue(AU got Dust!Sansed) by himself.

(Bros got self hate issues rip)

•Treble for the life of him can't fathom why people would do things in his favor, not realizing they just ended up slightly in his favor, despite it not trying to be.

•Nightmare basically kidnapped him, yeah, he's not sorry, cause he needed a minion. The only other minion he has is Horror, whom he also kidnapped, whaddya know.

•Treble has involuntary voice reverb. Horror likes it cause he's hard of hearing, Treble himself refuses to speak anymore more than he needs too.

•Treble sometimes has episodes of just... Not being able to do anything.. Lying on the floor, sitting in a chair, in bed.. Whenever and wherever.. He just stays there.. Feeling like he doesn't have any reason to get himself up for anything. Eating/drinking/ in general taking care of himself.

•Nightmare plans his days, sometimes instructions that are too vague leave Treble with nothing to do but loathe.. Nightmare does this on purpose sometimes when he needs negativity.

•sometimes Treble is startled when somebody knows who he is, his name, just him and acknowledges that they know him in some compacity. He's used to being a stranger nobody was aware of.

•Treble Sometimes starts to believe he isn't in a real environment (he is, because he doesn't hallucinate); and will touch or hold objects with some light weight in order to fix it. Textures help as well, and anybody he's comfy with making physical contact with him.

#askquellow #copyverse #utmv #Colour!Dust #cvsanses #rant #character lore #dustverse

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lumosandnoxwriting · 5 months

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tale as old as time || Fred Weasley

Title: tale as old as time Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: Y/N knows she’s the problem, and she’s afraid of the day Fred realizes it too Warnings: probably a very bad representation of what therapy is like but whatever im a writer not a clinical psychologist. A/N: im back baby!!!! im going to be totally honest, this is the only fic in the anthology where i really struggled to come up with a basic concept for the storyline when I was brainstorming. The lyrics in this song are less direct in what their meaning is in a lot of ways. Obviously the overarching message is this fear of being alone, this fear that your insecurities and anxieties will drive away the person you love the most, so that’s really what i tried to focus on here.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s just a dream,” Fred soothes as he strokes Y/N’s hair, letting her burrow her face in his chest.

She takes a shuddering breath in, tears leaking down the sides of her face as her heart pounds in her chest. Y/N racks her brain, trying desperately to remember what exactly scared her so much. What happened in her dream that had her waking up in screams once again.

The dream is never the same. Sometimes she’s at Hogwarts, the final battle of the war raging on around her as she runs. Running, running, running - but she never stops, and Y/N is never quite sure what she’s running from. Other times she’s in the living room of her and Fred's flat, heart pounding in her chest as she tears the place apart searching for something. Though it’s never really clear what exactly she’s looking for.

Then at some point they shift, and she’s in a dark room where the only sound is her heavy breathing. But she can feel something looking at her, looming somewhere in the shadows. And as she turns in circles trying to find it the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, the feeling getting closer and closer and closer.

And that’s usually when she wakes. A scream caught in her throat as she shoots up in bed, frantically thrashing to try and fight off the unknown creature. That’s usually when Fred wakes up, strong arms wrapping around Y/N as he murmurs soft words into her ears. He holds her as she comes to, letting her cry in his embrace for as long as she needs.

Fred always makes sure to reassure Y/N, reminding her that it’s just a dream, and that he’s got her. He holds her tight once she’s calm enough to try and fall back asleep, not daring to shut his eyes until she’s back in a deep slumber.

Though what Fred doesn’t know is that sometimes Y/N isn’t asleep at all. She knows he worries, so she shuts her eyes and slows down her breathing, pretending to sleep as her mind races. Because she knows Fred can only put up with so much, that eventually he’ll be tired of her and all of her problems. That one day she’ll wake up and he won’t be there.

Fred doesn’t know that those are the dreams that scare Y/N the most.

“And what do you think those dreams mean, hm?”

Y/N rolls her eyes as her therapist asks the same question he does at every session. Therapy was something a lot of Wizards and Witches enrolled in after the war. Even those that didn’t actively fight sought treatment, finding it helpful to talk to someone about what happened and how to deal with the fallout. But now, almost two years out from the final battle at Hogwarts, Y/N feels like she’s getting nowhere.

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me?” she responds, annoyance apparent in her tone. “That’s why I’m here, right? So you can tell me what’s wrong with me and how to fix it.”

Her therapist gives her an amused look. “Sure, I can tell you what’s wrong with you. But if you’re not ready to hear what I have to say, nothing is going to change. It has to come from you, not me.”

Y/N scoffs, shaking her head. “So then what am I paying you for then? If my breakthrough depends on me, it seems like you’re not really needed in all of this.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” her therapist starts, scribbling something down in his notebook. “But I’m here to listen, offer guidance when you need it. And when you finally hit that big breakthrough I’ll be here to help you through it.”

When Y/N seems to settle back down her therapist continues. “So those dreams, what do you think they mean?”

Y/N shrugs, picking at her cuticles. “I don’t know - that I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” He prompts, giving her an encouraging nod. “Afraid of Voldemort?” When she doesn’t respond he continues. “Afraid of dying?” When Y/N shakes her head he scribbles something down. “Afraid of what, then?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N answers honestly. “There’s never anything in the dreams. Just a feeling. Like something is watching me, I don’t know it’s hard to explain. It’s not a real threat, it’s like the idea of a threat.”

“So what might that mean?” Her therapist prompts when she stops, leaning forward in his seat. “You’re by yourself, facing an invisible threat - what is it that you’re really afraid of? It’s not the thing lurking in the dark - so what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N repeats again, voice firm.

“Yes you do,” he insists. “You do know what it is, Y/N, you just don’t want to admit it.”

“No, I really don’t,” she pushes back.

“Yes, you do. You’re standing, in a room, all by yourself. No one but you and some invisible threat. It’s not the threat you’re afraid of - so what is it?”

“Being alone!” Y/N finally admits, anger coating her words. “I’m afraid of being alone, are you happy?”

Her therapist settles back in his seat, a grin etched on his features. “Now that’s what I call a breakthrough.”

The revelation in therapy leaves Y/N feeling quite raw and exposed for the rest of the day, making her quiet and reserved. Fred of course doesn’t push or pry, letting her have the space she needs. Which in turn only makes Y/N feel even worse, her mind working overtime as she worries that her quiet and aloof behavior is only going to push Fred even further away than her nightmares.

She’s terrified of falling asleep that night, so she simply lays in bed until Fred falls asleep - waiting for his soft snores to fill the room so she knows it’s safe. Y/N ends up creeping out into the living room, letting her exhausted body sink into the sofa. She doesn’t bother with the big light, instead snapping her fingers so a few of the lamps in the room come to life, giving everything a soft glow.

But the lack of light also creates shadows, and she can feel her paranoia start to creep up the back of her neck. So Y/N does what her therapist had suggested towards the end of their session. She closes her eyes and takes some deep breaths, trying to remind herself that nothing is there and Fred is only a room away. Her sweet, sweet Fred that would do anything to make sure she’s okay.

In fact, it had been Fred who suggested therapy all those months ago. When Y/N’s assurances that the dreams would go away on their own started to sound less and less believable and the bags under her eyes were deeper and darker than the night sky. It only made her love him more, knowing that Fred was looking out for her wellbeing and that he worried for her.

Now it only seems to fuel her fears, that the therapy not working is just another thing that is going to have Fred walking out on her.

“Stop, stop,” Y/N grumbles, palm smacking her forehead in frustration. “If only I could get my brain to shut the fuck up.”

“Baby?”

Fred’s sleepy grumble startles Y/N, and she looks over her shoulder to find Fred standing at the entrance to the living room, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Y/N apologizes, stomach sinking. She swallows thickly, her throat suddenly dry as shame washes over her. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Fred shuffles towards the couch, mouth opening in a yawn. “No baby, you’re okay. I rolled over and couldn’t find you is all. I tried to fall back asleep but the bed was too lonely without you.” He joins her on the couch then, grabbing a blanket from their basket so he can drape it over them.

Y/N lets Fred pull her into his side, resting her head in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes again, though she’s not really sure what for. Maybe for leaving him alone in bed, or for making him come out here, maybe even for being a shitty girlfriend who constantly needs the reassurance that he’s going to be there for her.

Mainly for that last one.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Fred promises, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s okay to need time for you, love. I know therapy days aren’t always your best days and you find it hard to fall asleep after. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Her chest feels as if it’s been cracked wide open, all of her worries and fears and anxieties on display for Fred. She knows it must be exhausting for him, always having to deal with her and her constant reassurance that everything is okay. And yet at the same time Y/N needs that validation, almost needs it more than her lungs need air.

Hence the trouble sleeping.

It’s that need that prompts her to keep her eyes downcast, voice only above a whisper as she asks, “Promise?” She needs to know that he really means what he says. That he’ll always be there for her, no matter how weird or crazy or anxious she may be.

“Promise,” Fred confirms. “You’re stuck with me forever, I’m afraid.”

“Forever,” Y/N whispers to herself, needing that extra reassurance. Forever.

“Godric, what the hell is wrong with me?”

It’s a question Y/N has asked herself a lot over the past few weeks, but this is the first time she’s said it out loud in front of someone else. This is the fifth night in a row she’s woken up screaming, thrashing against the bed sheets as she tries to fight off her invisible attacker.

Fred had tried to comfort her as usual, but this dream was a particularly vivid one, and Y/N had a hard time deciphering between what was real and what was her dream as she balanced in the no man’s land between being unconscious and awake - causing her to punch Fred right in the face as he tried to wrap her up in his arms.

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Fred assures, the sound of his voice distorted from the bag of peas he’s holding on his face. “You thought you were still asleep, it happens, love.”

His chest is covered in blood from how his nose gushed after Y/N’s strike, and her stomach is a pit of self loathing. She’d been the one to hit him, and yet as per usual Fred was the one doing all of the comforting. It’s pathetic.

“I made you bleed, Fred. There certainly is something wrong with me,” Y/N insists, nervous energy making her start to pace back and forth. “I’m 23 years old and I wake up screaming more nights than I don’t, and instead of being a normal person and thanking my boyfriend for being a lovely person and comforting me, I sock him in the face and break his nose.”

“Bruised maybe, love, don’t give yourself too much credit,” Fred jokes with a chuckle, desperately trying to cut the tension in the room. When Y/N just continues to pace he lets out a sigh. “Baby, stop, please. I’m fine, it was an accident. It’s not something to get worked up over.”

“But it’s not just this one incident,” Y/N starts, finally stopping her pacing so she can face her boyfriend. “I’ve been having nightmares almost every night for two years now and therapy seems to be doing fuck all to help stop them. And despite the fact that you have been the most supportive, lovely boyfriend anyone can ask for, I'm just getting worse and worse.”

She pauses to run a ragged hand through her hair, exhaling sharply in frustration. “And I know deep down that someday you’re going to get sick of me and just leave and I don’t blame you, I really don’t. But the thought of not having you around scares the shit out of me and no matter how hard I try to be a better, more normal person for you I just can’t get my fucking shit together which just makes me even more panicked and worried and anxious, which just makes the nightmares worse and it’s a neverending cycle and I’m exhausted.”

Fred is silent for a minute, letting everything Y/N has just word-vomited all over their kitchen floor sink in. He tosses the peas onto the table, standing up so he can start to slowly approach her. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me? I thought your nightmares were about the war, love, I had no idea.”

“They were, at first,” Y/N admits. “Mostly about when the wall fell and it almost crushed you. They were all about you dying and me being alone. But then as time went on and the anxiety got worse they sort of just changed. Instead of me watching you die and leave me, I was just there, alone and fighting some kind of invisible threat. And I’d try to run, try to find you and I would just be running endlessly and whatever it was that was there would catch me - that’s usually when I’d wake up screaming.”

She swallows around the lump in her throat as Fred comes closer, putting a hand out to stop him from gathering her in his arms. This is something she needs to say, and the moment Fred puts his hands on her all of her courage will melt away.

“And I know that it’s not easy for you to deal with all of this,” she continues once his hands are at his sides. “I can see how exhausted you are in the mornings after I have a nightmare. And I can see the worry on your face when I come home from therapy when I’ve had a bad day. It’s hard for me to deal with all of this, so I know it’s hard for you too. It would be so easy for you to just walk away from all of it, from me. You don’t deserve to be burdened with all of my problems, but the thought of losing you makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Baby,” Fred coos, fists clenched to resist his urge to reach out and comfort the woman he loves. “Burden me, please. I mean it when I tell you that I’m here for you no matter what. Woman there’s nothing in this world you could ask for that I wouldn’t find a way to make happen. That’s what people who love each other do, yeah? They support each other no matter what.”

“And of course I worry about you, because I care about you and I hate to see you hurting. But that doesn’t make me want to leave, it makes me want to stick around. To be there for you in any way you may need. Even if that means letting you punch me in the face every once in a while.”

Fred takes the breathy laugh that Y/N lets out as permission to step closer, and when she doesn’t protest he wraps his arms around her waist. “You have me, Y/N. Anxiety, and nightmares and all. You’re my everything, and I am going to be here with you every step of the way.”

“Even if the nightmares never go away?” she asks timidly.

“Even if the nightmares never go away,” Fred confirms, leaning in to press a tender kiss to her forehead.

When they end up back in bed together later that night, Y/N’s tears dry and Fred’s chest free of his blood, she lets herself be wrapped up in Fred’s embrace. And as his breath starts to even out she finds her eyes fluttering shut for real. Y/N lets sleep consume her, no longer feeling the need to pretend to be okay. Because she’s not okay, not really.

But she will be, someday. With Fred by her side, anything is possible.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #golden #fw #harry potter fanfiction #midnights: an anthology

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marblecakemix · 3 months

Text

Welcome to my humble domain!! 🫧✨

Hi, I'm Marble, a lesbian in her early 20s from Poland. Just vibing here on Tumblr from time to time. If you want to look into my post/reblogs read my takes on #talk tag.

You can ask me anything you want. I won't shy away, but remember that I'm not your therapist and all my opinions are biased forward women!

More information about me under the cut! 💕

If the part has * in front of it that means I changed something in the text and/or my views are different than before.

*I'm still quite new to radical feminism and I'm trying my best to learn how to take action. In short, I fight for women's rights and freedom from sex-based oppression. Right now I'm looking into creating a small radfem activism group in my area. If you're from Poland and feel comfortable, dm me!

I detransitioned in the middle of 2023. I used to be a non-binary/agender and asexual individual for around 3 to 4 years, but I understood all of that was because of internalized misogyny and homophobia and I actually wanted to have sex and did like me being a woman before I entered the trans community.

I'm an ex-Christian, now I probably would call myself a spiritual person, researching my Slavic roots at the moment.

I believe in critical thinking and triple-checking facts. Everyone can have their opinions, but actions should have a base in grounded reality and unbiased scientific research. Read those books ladies!

I'm mostly talking about my experience as an ex-TRA, a lesbian, a woman, someone who lives in a misogynistic/conservative family and a country that has yet to legalize same-sex marriage, but you can safely transition here even as a minor.

*I'm a trans identified men hater, a terf if you will. I don't care. Fuck all men, I don't care anymore. Gender dysphoria or perversion (autogynephilia) should have never been "solved" with a surgery and/or irreversible "gender affirming" treatment. No other mental illness has permanent body modification as its treatment, same should be for gender dysphoria. The trans movement (men's rights movement in disguise) is the most harmful thing right now and I'm so tired of seeing more people being pushed into it just because they are themselves and aren't scared to dress unconventionally! I'm fuming with rage.

I make mistakes! I'm just a human being and, naturally, I will be in the wrong sometimes. May it be because of the language barrier or me just not thinking things through, doesn't matter. I will try to acknowledge my mistakes and say sorry. I'm still learning and there isn't a better way than through your own downfalls!

I don't block people, unless they're insufferable. We can have different opinions, different lifestyles, different views, but if you're annoying I draw the line there.

I also draw sometimes (I don't have much time for it right now, bc I'm in the middle of my academic years), you can find my work under #my art.

Nothing here is set in stone. As I grow as a person my views will probably change. If you have any questions, just ask them! I'm happy to answer all of them ❤️

Last update: 30th March 2024

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jessicas-pi · 10 months

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I Am A Little Addicted To The Incorrect Quote Maker.

Anyway. Twin Blades And Beskar (Lifeswap) AU?

Inquisitor: Well, aren’t you all a rag-tag group of adventurers with unclear goals and good hearts! Oh, let me guess: you’re out to save the galaxy! Kanan: Well, actually, that sounds like a pretty fair assessment. Sabine: More or less, I guess... Ahsoka: That sounds awesome! Let’s do that! Ezra: I’m new here, but I am open to the concept. Hera: I thought that’s what we were doing, guys, come on!

---

Sabine: My aesthetic is "would be suspected of witchcraft by small town citizens."

---

Ahsoka: Throw lamps at people who need to lighten up, and throw handles at someone who needs to get a grip. Kanan: Throw a refrigerator at someone who needs to chill. Sabine: Throw scissors at someone who needs to cut it out! Hera: Throw a clock at someone who needs to get with the times! Okadiah: Throw matches at someone who needs to get fired up! Ezra: Throw a brick at someone to kill them!

---

Ahsoka, making coffee: This is going to fix everything.

---

Sabine: Rules were made to be broken. Kanan: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken. Ahsoka: Uh, piñatas. Chopper: Glow sticks. Ezra: Karate boards. Hera: Spaghetti when you have a small pot. Sabine: Rules. Kanan:

---

Ezra: I hope no one lowkey hates me. Ezra: Highkey hate me. Hate me with every fiber of your being. Ezra: Go big or go home.

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Chopper: Drink your school, stay in sleep, don't do milk, and get 8 hours of drugs.

---

Hera: Just be yourself. Sabine: Really? Hera, I have one day to win over Ezra’s clan! Sabine: How long did it take for you guys to like me? Okadiah: Couple of weeks. Kanan: Six months. Chopper: Jury’s still out. Sabine: See Hera? ‘Just be yourself,’ what kind of garbage advice is that?!

---

Okadiah: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life. Ahsoka: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back… Hera: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this. Ezra: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years. Kanan: I knew I lost that potential somewhere. Sabine: Mental stability, my old friend! Okadiah: Force, could you lighten up a little?

---

Ezra: Of course I have a lot of pent-up rage, you fool! I've been the same height since I was twelve!

---

Okadiah: If you got arrested what would be the charges? Ahsoka: Theft. Hera: Disturbing the peace. Kanan: Aggravated assault. Sabine: Arson. Ezra: All of the above. In that order, probably.

---

Ezra: So, what’s Sabine's type? Kanan: Awkward, overprotective, oblivious, terrible sense of humor, Mandalorian. Ezra: Sounds kind of like me. Too bad she loathes me. Kanan: Did I mention oblivious? Ezra: Yeah, why? Kanan: Just making sure.

---

Sabine: If I die, you can have what little I own. Ezra: Wait. What do you mean "if" you die? Sabine: My unending existence is fueled by pure spite, that of which the painful experiences of life have rendered me full. Ezra: Ezra: *Sighs* You need a therapist.

---

Chopper: All of your existences are confusing. The Spectres: How so? Chopper: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me.

---

Kanan: If you put 'violently' in front of anything to describe your action, it becomes funnier. Kanan: Violently pilots. Hera: Violently lightsaber trains. Ahsoka: Violently sleeps. Ezra: Violently murders people. Okadiah: Violently worries about the previous statement.

---

Sabine: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. Sabine: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

---

*The squad's reaction to being told they're the chosen one* Hera: I will not let you down. Ahsoka: Sounds fun. Kanan: K. Sabine: Like kriff I am. Okadiah: Do I have to be? Ezra: Please manda I am so tired

---

*after a perilous life-or-death escape/rescue* Sabine: Oh, gods, I could just kiss you right now. Ezra: ... Ezra: Neat. *later* Ezra, lying face down on his bunk: I said "Neat," Kanan. Who says neat? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm kriffing stupid. Kanan, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, kid. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Did Oke ever tell you what I did when Hera confessed her love for me? Ezra: Didn't you thank her? Kanan: *closes the book and looks at the ceiling* I thanked her.

---

Kanan: I have met some of the most insufferable people. But they also met me.

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Ezra: Capitalizing every word in a sentence is vomit inducing. Sabine: Enjoy Your Trip To Puke Land, Boy!

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Hera: I think my guardian angel drinks.

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Ezra: The only thing I'm guilty of is being adorable... ...and also assault with a deadly weapon.

---

Sabine, at the slightest provocation: I came into this galaxy screaming and covered in someone else's blood and I'm not afraid to leave the same way.

#twin blades and beskar au #sabezra #incorrect quotes #jedi sabine wren #mandalorian ezra bridger #i am going to be so insufferable with this incorrect quote thing you have no idea

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brights-place · 1 year

Text

A/N: Me when I first watched Marble Hornets, Tribe Twelve and Every Man hybrid ^

Anyways these are some funny Headcannons for the cast of marble hornets that popped up into my head sooo hope you enjoy them!

Marble Hornets Head Cannons

Timothy Wright/Masky

Tim:

-he has a limp due to masky not wanting to rest when he is injured

-bookworm

-The mom friend

-gives big bear hugs

-trust issues

-likes taking naps

-has road rage

-socially awkward around strangers

-neglects himself

-makes really good pancakes

-likes to annoy his coworkers

-very ticklish

-has some bandages and bruises due to masky

-when singing karoke he rocks the stage

-Rollerskating on them haters

-the last thing Tim said to Alex as he stabbed him to death was "This is for everything you took away from us" by 'Us' he mean't Jay,Brian,Seth,Jessica,Amy and his alternate split personality Masky along with Brian's split personality Hoodie.

Yes Masky and Tim are two separate people stuck in the same body. Tim is the man being caught up in a crazy situation and Masky being his crazy murder version, thats why Tim forgets everything that happens when Masky is taken control.

Masky:

-major adhd

-usually pretty chill but when he gets angry, he gets violently angry

-throws tantrums sometimes

-likes climbing trees

-sneaky, but not as sneaky as Hoodie

-loves throwing stones and pebbles at Alex then running away

-jumps onto Hoodies back and clings to him to get on his nerves

-he changed the way his mask looked four different times before he was satisfied with it

-has a habit of tackling his problems (literally)

-hes ticklish, but not as much as Tim

-he was jealous of Jay at the start because Hoodie insisted on protecting him

-Competitive

-Also Roller Skates and flexes on the other proxies about it cause he can do tricks.

Brian Thomas/Hoodie Brian:

-egotistical

-social butterfly

-therapist friend

-sunshine boy

-good grades

-probably the most athletic of the group

-laughs at his own jokes

-always planning fun little road trips

-Mama's boy

-he makes sure to smack anybody who disses on there mother

-Is a Gentleman

-overprotective of his friends

-he once let Tim copy his homework in middle school

-pays for other people's things

-loves playgrounds. Like a lot. When he sees one, he HAS to play on it

-likes taking photos

-under his bed he has a nerf gun stash... Tim and Alex Have been victims when they come over to Brian's

Hoodie

-Serious

-has a BIG love for nature

-unpatient as hell

-does parkour

-sneaky

-secretly clingy

-easily annoyed

-quiet

-enjoys bossing Masky around

-insomniac

-listens to music while doing a job/task or just walking around

-has a habit of chewing on spoons

-His gloves where a gift from his mother...

-He's a mama's boy

-great at hide & seek

-breaks into Alex's apartment and moves stuff around to mess with him (once he rearranged the whole apartment while Alex was sleeping)

-Records the others doing random shit

-has blackmail of everyone

-Always plans everything out

-Hates when they rush in without a plan it pisses him off so after the mission he stares at the group intensely and starts signing in sign language to piss the group off.

Alex Kralie

-Listens to classic music

-Alex Understands and knows sign language due to his mother being deaf so when brian signs he understands whats he's saying

-Laughed when he called Tim 'A man Who's ass is even bigger then his fuck brain'

-Him and Brian have nerf battles when they feel like messing around

-Top student in his collage class

-Allows Amy to put makeup on him cause he loves his girlfriend but is annoyed when someone brings it up.

-Good with Computers

-Serious

-Theater Kid

-Equal rights = Equal Fights

-He has a video of everybody doing dumb shit

-A Rihanna Fan

-Sleep Talks & Walks

-Major Anger Issues

-Send Help to Seths Dog

-Hates dogs (Cause they loud)

-Knows how to play guitar

Jay Merrick/Skully

Jay

-Also A Theater Kid

-Keeps to himself alot

-Introvert

-Tired 24/7

-Doesn't eat a lot so the group have to remind him.

-He was on Set design

-Wrote some Scripts for other Projects

-There all in a box somwhere

-ADHD

-Stims

-gets cold easily

-Collects random stuff

-Wears lots of comfy clothes

-Likes Abba

-Sings his heart out to disney songs when they all are drunk

Skully

-Feral

-Jay's alter

-Fast Runner

-Introverted until you get to know him more

-becomes an extrovert when he feels comfortable -More annoying than scary but can be scary

-Jay doesn't know about skullys existence until years later.

-I feel like he acts like he's on drugs without actually being on drugs, you know?

-Like either crackhead energy or just really caffeinated (same with Jay sometimes)

-Tried Smoking once

-he was in a coughing fit

-Knows Basic Medical treatment

Jessica

-best delivery person

-She and Tim gossip alot

-Feels like she owes Tim & Hoodie for saving her

-The Cool Aunt

-BEST music taste

-Always brings extra stuff to wherever they go.

-Fights with everybody on who pays for dinner

-Can ROAST the shit outta you

-Her and Amy likes doing girls night

-Amazing Actor

-Paints

-Knows how to play Piano

-Played Rush E to convince Alex for her and Amy to go out

-AMAZING Dancer

Amy

-Did costume design in highschool

-Artist

-Loves Baking

-Did violin, piano, flute and drama in highschool

-Amazing Singer

-Knows how to multi-task

-In Med School

-Gossiping with Jessica and Tim makes her laugh

-Use to drive without a Licences

-Very Flexible

-Goes on picnic dates with Alex

-posts photos of her days on her social media's

-Alex was so shocked when seeing Amy do an Gymanstic trick

-Girl is SKILLED

-Likes pet sitting for seth

-Alex gets pissed due to Amy not letting him have a say

Seth

-Loves his dog -Best uncle figure -Has dozens of photos and videos from trips

-Did cinematography in high school, still doing it in collage -makes music -Met Jay freshman year in high school

-Knows how to make drinks

-being a Bartender was a side job

-Plays with his dog and wants to cry leaving his dog

-Seth has a smirk when dropping off his dog

-Knows how to play Instruments

-Was in the school band

-Fluent in English,German and Dutch

#marble hornets #timothy wright #brian thomas #alex kralie #jay merrick #masky #hoodie #skully #the operator #slenderman #jessica #amy #seth marble hornets #jessica marble hornets #amy marble hornets #Seth #slenderverse

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cinnamon-phrog · 17 days

Note

Saw you like one of my posts, glad you're still here even if it's just another day. Had me scared shitless worried

I had a lot I wanted to say but my laptop froze and reset again. And for the past few days I've had an awful headache and it's only now began to subside.

I've been coming on to try to reply to my friends because a staff member at my housing told me it's best I do so the sooner the better and I didn't want to worry people even though I already have, a lot.

I feel much safer now, although due to my situation and the staff at my housing not being able to leave the house, and my 'outreach support' worker being weird with what days she's free she'll ask me what day I personally want before tsking when I say for example Monday and say 'ooooooh I can't do Monday. How about all the way to Thursday' like girl you ASKED come ON.]

I've been feeling really tired despite getting eight or nine hours sleep and staying in all week. But I'm slowly getting less so the further I try to stop feeling so awful.

In my original version of this reply I wrote about everyone who hurt me. Without naming names. Because ever since I took matters into my own hands and found the courage to tell my old school and social worker what my foster carer was doing to me I've had this rage.

This feeling that these people have stolen something from me and I want to get it back by telling people what they've all done. And I'll finally get all those petty thoughts out because they've been stewing in me and I can only let them go if I write them down. I'll get embarrassed later but that's the point. If I cringe I move on. If people agree with me I feel closure. If people read it it I'll feel seen. Advice on how to move on is welcomed but not obligatory.

In getting removed from my foster carer who told me there was no way I could cross a street without holding her hand or being near her or ever have my own autonomy to going to places I want to go to on my own and living my own life almost as I want a piece of me I didn't know was taken has been given back.

But I can't get back at my school bullies. The 'friends' in school who ignored me and belittled me for their own gratification. I can't make the boys and girls who groped me simply ungrope me. Neither do I want them to experience what they did to me out of karma because it's a sick thought.

The proshit who thinks I give a shit can never take back what they said or undraw all the things they've drawn. For pretending to be my friend and giving me advice and telling me the world won't hurt me only to tell me they were a nonce all along. How can I have faith in the world when the only one to give me that faith turned out to be a monster. Who lashes out when they're not given attention AND when they're given attention. And stalks my account because now they claim to s/elfship with the trio and have stolen my 🚦🏠 tag [I have screenshots, posts, blogs, names, the lot. That can be another post if you're curious and I'm fully recovered]

No gatekeeper will ever apologise for standing 'by' me only to vaguepost that they hate people with similar or the same headcanons as me. In fact they're praised for it by even people I considered to be friends of mine.

My ex will never apologise for writing out my name in their public blog, after I'd been more or less a therapist to them. After they told me they had something 'special' planned only for it to be a huge google doc full of reasons why I made them want to kill themselves and how awful a person I am. They will never apologise because they didn't know I had no experience with these sorts of things.

I broke up with them because not only was I afraid of being bombarded with so much love was because I'd never been shown it. How I was always treated like a thing to be put away by 'friends' and my foster 'family' and so I learned to be soft. Malleable for you, for them. But I didn't want to be.

They'll never apologise for drawing Duck upset because I'm so so awful. For writing things like 'You could have had a second chance if you weren't like this, I'm poly, you and my current partner could have shared me' which is. Bonkers and petty.

My foster carer is the only person I've gotten closure from, despite her never saying sorry. For making me stay locked in my room all day, for making fun of my weight despite it being her fault, making me bathe once a week, now I bathe as regularly as I can. For calling me names and blaming me for things out of my control or for something I never did just to have someone to scream at. She'd come up with a disgusting reason and force me to write it down and her own reason why I wanted to do what she thought I did.

I am constantly told I shouldn't assume. Fuck you. I can't control that. I lived in a house where I had to walk on eggshells, in a school where I'd be humiliated but I was never allowed to retaliate. How dare you.

How dare my ex, and this one petty gatekeeping popular bitch use them taking their own life against me and blame me for how I feel. I can tell you right now you've flipped tis on it's head. But I'm living because unlike you I won't leave my friends and I actually bothered to take that step and make them.

How dare this ONE person on here pretend to be one of their own cronies and tell me I'll make them kill themselves because I had the audacity to ask if they were the same person who said if people see a fictional character as anything other than a foetus to get out of the d/hmis fandom. I still didn't get a no 'Hannah Montana' and I meant nothing as maliciously as you perceived me to be. I left college because of you. You broke my last bit of perseverance and now I have nothing. The last thing I wanted to be was someone who would want to drive someone to suicide and in saying that to me you've become someone who both proshit and I agree is a bitch. Despite me not agreeing with anything else and hating you both.

I'm told to let it go but I can't.

But if they all said sorry, and meant it, I still wouldn't believe any of them, and I wouldn't forgive them.

I've never had an apology, never a sincere one. But I always apologise, I always mean it. I've always had this earnest sincerity but nearly everyone I've tried to stand up against has such an ironic, pitiful outlook to the point where I nearly adopted it.

They all see themselves either so highly they're gods, how everything they do is so Out There and incredible [I'd almost envy them all if I wasn't feeling so sorry for them, and it didn't impair their ability to actually make friends instead of stewing in their own sour air in their own little bubbles] or so lowly it circles back to being egocentric. So afraid to change, made a step, even just a little one, out of their comfort zones.

And it's bled into me. But I refuse it.

I can't talk to my friends because I'm afraid they're like all of you. But I know they're not. But then again, I always assume the worst, don't I. Always. But can't you assume why?

But I'll try to talk more. Keep reaching out to me, a beg you. It helps so much and I am so grateful to have met such kind people despite all the awful people I've mentioned I've met.

I met my amazing R/ed D/warf mutuals not long after my ex gave me that glorified bible of every reason why I am awful for having left them. I felt horrible but you guys taught me I wasn't. II am not. And thanks to that I became more comfortable, I became more active in the s//elfship community because I gained more experience with people, getting me more friends. I'm still not as outgoing as I wish I could be but I promise you all that I love you /plat.

Even though people like me, I still don't like me. But it's still better than thinking nobody likes me.

I still have my hope and sincerity, and in writing this forb the past two or three hours I've felt so much better.

#let me know if anything needs to be tagged #i've been writing for hours jesus fucking christ #i am back. i plan to stay. i won't say such awful things again #it's good to finally say what i've wanted to say to all those people who've hurt me out in the open #instead of just hidden in tags or vaguely mentioned #in fact. i don't think i'll mention it again #until i'm finally fully over it all

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total-feminism-takes · 1 month

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Lesbian Courtney anon here!

HOT TAKE!

Beth don't need to main three because the main three need her and love her who they are!

Imagine this and the scene: Bratz style girls x TD

Beth, the sweetheart they all love Beth even Courtney in her own I rather punch the wall or die then admit my feelings to anyone because that's how I was raised and my therapist with I am working on it.

Courtney angry feminist trope stick up her butt religious type everyone says (Mom of the group and puts herself in dangerous situations make sure all her girls are alright!)

Lindsay the bubbly cute (she more than likely get away with it after being caught once)

Leshawna - true leadership

Heather ('Leader' but not really the figure head, she will tear people apart in heartbeat that stare in sexual way at her girls)

All of them have sleepovers, a bit fights over teenager things like Lindsay no! Frosted tips for Tyler so gross! AHHHhh

Boy troubles are in comfort and cuddle times! Maybe Lindsay and Courtney cuddle the most after Duncan and Tyler got detention with Alejandro again and Heather is like no tears boys are stupid! Then they all cuddle together and stuff!

Girl dates!

Beth with Lindsay holding hands and Courtney then carrying them when they get tired sometimes because Courtney strong and works out with Eva!

Heather makeovers! Lindsay and Beth in beauty school poor Heather as their test subject and Leshawna happily waiting her turn!

Eva and Courtney teaching Beth self defense!

That's it and immediately someone draw these girls in fluffy strawberry cowgirls, blueberry cow, and farmer moon outfits like NOW!!

I like Beth but I have hate relationship with people who are like she gets a glow up and rest the cast can't tell it's Beth!

Everyone is ugly sometimes.

Beth is not ugly due to her looks. I don't like Beth trope of her thinking everyone wants her because I was like that once but then I was like male validation ain't it. BUT THEY DON'T GIVE HER GROWTH AND GIVE HER BRADY!!!

ANGOY

BETH DESERVES BETTER. BRO!

I am say it.

Fat, chubby, acne, greasy hair, and depression- I don't care.

I love you, girl or not. I have in my whole life care over others from throwing up toddlers and older people in mental distress.

Baby, let me tell you something, ugliness is when you look hollow look in the mirror due to being the 'prettiest girl in the world' but alone just for validation for a guy who can't even remotely recall your favorite color or birthday!

I rather tell you I have bath my sick loved ones when they weren't healthy or just happy in general. Beth is not meant to be perfect girl or the prettiest girl because she just a girl.

Her warmth, her smile, and her willingness to help is just her that we should value.

And she ain't even that ugly.

All these girls not even ugly. Mess up drawing shaped bodies but not ugly.

Speaking with experiment from a little girl who was Beth growing up and became the Courtney archetype of rage, acting like I know better to push everyone away, and etc, the world was cruel and killed a little girl of hope now I have rage and my tan skin with angry makes people think I am danger for not knowing how to let go or grieve all of it yet.

Basically Beth. They- I - the fandom should leave you alone if we don't love all of you with flaws and such too.

Beth for president and Courtney vice president! for a school AU trope and Heather gets jealous runs against them with Leshawna! Lindsay just wants to make their posters!

- 🧡

#total feminism takes #total drama #mod emma #td beth #td courtney #td lindsay #td leshawna #td heather #lesbian Courtney anon

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sunieepo · 1 month

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been thinking of quitting tumblr or at least... idk... using it really differently

i feel like scrolling the dashboard i'm just inundated with so many bad takes / sexism / racism / horrendous world news / doomerism / things i've asked ppl to tag but aren't (not upset about it because i get that i'm asking a lot). and i get that it's supposed to be funny/absurd seeing people online say bad takes but it just makes me feel pretty down sometimes. in general i think exposure to random people's takes on the internet is just very damaging to my mental health. same with the constant stream of awful news

i'm currently finally seeing a therapist to try to help me with some of my more serious mental health issues and i think i'm overall just much more sensitive now than i was in the past. especially with the sexism stuff man. and i get why people wanna post about and complain about bad takes they see online regarding this but... god, i'm just exhausted. i'm tired. i don't have any more rage or ridicule left in me. i'm just incredibly sad at the state of the world rn and i have no more energy left to feel anything but sad about it.

scrolling specific character/fandom tags is still pretty safe so i'll still have that, but... yeah, for similar reasons to why i left twitter, i'm kind of feeling evacuating my main tumblr dash if nothing else.

that or i could get really aggressive about muting/unfollowing people for posting untagged bad take shit, but i'm already only following about 200 users and my dash would literally just be a ghost town if i did this lmao.

shrugs. idk. tl;dr i'm a baby and my headspace is the worst it's been in years and i just don't have it in me anymore to tolerate being exposed to bad takes, even if i'm supposed to find them ridiculous.

#this includes stuff about like 'girl dinner' and shit like that #i have those phrases blacklisted entirely but it's still... yeah #i just... idk lmao i know i'm being too sensitive but this is supposed to be a site that i scroll for fun and comfort #it's not feeling very much either of those things anymore #feels more like a habit that isn't doing me much good at this point #sunie posts

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jerzwriter · 8 days

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Nonny,

Do you seriously think I was going to post that? Come now...But I wanted to address your insanity.

a) I have no fucking idea what you're talking about. b) (and this is the big one) I don't CARE to know either.

I'm so sick and tired of the bullshit in the Choices fandom - like, SO sick of it. Looking back, I am convinced that I am out of my mind for staying here and putting up with it... but you know what? I'm going to make my experience my own here.

I'm here to have fun - write - share funny shit - laugh a little - be there for someone when they need a shoulder - take a shoulder from someone when I need it - look at stupid animal videos together.

So, if you want drama - there are plenty of blogs where you can go and take care of whatever rage you're not addressing properly in a therapist's office... I'm sure they'd be all about that. But not me. That's beyond my paygrade, dude, and honestly, I don't even give a damn.

Ciao.

#this place is crazy town #choices fandom #some of y'all are so f*cked lol #and I'm just here like oh #lets have some fun #CHILL

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darkthingshappen · 1 year

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Reckoning (Merry Whump of May Day 1)

A Brother's Keeper Story Set about seven month's after Ben's initial rescue after fourteen months of captivity with Volkov.

Thanks to my always whumperful crew @whumpcereal @sparrowsage @quietly-by-myself, and @oddsconvert for the flash beta job this afternoon.

Tags list at the end.

Warnings: BRIEF mentions of past torture, captivity, and noncon. Though nothing too explicit. PTSD. Ben just has a moment where he's tired of being told it's okay and unfortunately, Jake gets the full brunt of it. Ben's not wrong, but Jake... well... you'll see.

@themerrywhumpofmay (I'm so excited this is back this year!)

The kitchen was brightly lit, it was Fall again. Ben and Jake were doing the dishes. They were nearing the second anniversary of Ben’s abduction, but it felt like the first since he’d spent the previous one still with Volkov. Jake was dreading it. Everyone was dreading it. Ben was jumpy and distant, caught up in far too many dark memories.

Still, he had made so much progress, especially in the last month or so. He was smiling more, Jake had even seen him laugh once, with Zoe. Ben was slowly coming out of his shell after a brief stint in a mental hospital and months and months of intensive therapy. Ben stared blankly out the window. He never seemed to be able to get enough of looking outside.

Jake slapped him playfully on the arm with his wet washcloth as he’d done a million times throughout their childhood.

He shouldn’t have done that. The loud smacking sound of the cloth on Ben’s arm sent him to the floor, arms over his head, curled in a ball and rocking.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Ben whimpered.

Jake glanced around the kitchen in panic. He was alone with Ben. Their parents were out, his dad at work and their mom grocery shopping. They were counting on him to take care of Ben. He’d told them he could do it. He was eight years Ben’s senior for god’s sake. Think! He could do this. He could handle it. Couldn’t he?

“Shit! Benny. It’s okay. Sorry. That was stupid of me. I was just playing like we used to. I didn’t think... Shit I’m sorry. Please Benny. Please,” Jake begged, trying to recall what the therapist had said about how to bring Ben out of these horrible flashbacks.

Jake got up and ran to the living room. He grabbed the heated and weighted blanket they’d got Ben recently. They left it on most of the time for emergencies like this. Jake draped the warm blanket over Ben and held Ben’s hand, rubbing soft circles on the back of it with his thumb.

“It’s okay, Ben. Don’t worry. It’s okay,” Jake assured him for the millionth time since Ben had come home and had one of his prolific flashbacks that, at best made him freeze dead still and zone out, and at worst made him panic and react as if he were in the moment that he was seeing in his head.

“It’s not fucking okay!” Ben snapped suddenly, throwing the blanket off and getting to his feet. “Stop fucking telling me that! You don’t know a damn thing about it, do you?” He glared at his brother. “You. Weren’t. There!”

Jake recoiled, taken aback by the sudden and uncharacteristic anger and volume. Ben was always quiet now, rarely talking and when he did it was barely above a whisper. Jake attributed it to months of wearing a fucking shock collar. He stared at Ben in disbelief. He knew he deserved his brother’s anger. Whatever Ben wanted to say, he deserved it. He deserved to be reviled by the shell of a brother in front of him. He wished to God he could fix it; could make his baby brother whole.

“He didn’t take you, did he? He didn’t fucking torture you on daily basis, did he? He didn’t ra-” Ben’s voice, dripping with rage, cut off and he was left standing, heaving in breaths of air. His whole body trembled and Jake saw the dam of emotions and torment and memories that threatened to overwhelm his baby brother.

They both knew what he was about to say.

“It’s not okay,” Ben finally finished, more quietly than before.

“I-I know, Benny. I’m not meaning to make light. I know what he did to you.-”

“No. No you fucking don’t. Seeing my scars or reading that damn file that they gave mom and dad doesn’t mean you know. It doesn’t. It doesn’t. There’s so much more than what they could fit in my fucking file.” Ben made air quotes over the last word.

“I spent almost every night curled up in a cage. A fucking cage, Jake. No blanket. No pillow, no mattress. Just a hard plastic or metal bottom of a cage. And it was cold. All the time. I asked for a blanket one time. Do you know what he did to me?”

Jake’s expression reflected the horror of what Ben was telling him. It was the most Ben had directly said about what happened to him when he was with Volkov and Jake felt ashamed to want him to stop talking. He shook his head minutely.

“He tied me to a fucking cross outside. Outside in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Outside in the fucking Russian winter. I thought I was gonna die. Over and over and over I thought I was going to die. Until it shifted from being afraid of dying to…” Ben’s voice dropped to a whisper. “To hoping for it.” He looked at Jake. “I don’t know who I am anymore because of what he did to me. Do you know what it’s like to hurt so bad, in every part of you, that you just want it to be over. Permanently. Do you?”

A tear slipped down Jake’s cheek and he shook his head, “N-no. No, Benny, I don’t. I’m… I’m sorry. I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew how to take it away. God! Fuck! Benny I wish it were me. You have no idea how badly I wish it had been me. It should have been me.”

And for once, Ben didn’t disagree. He just stood there watching his brother crumble. He had always said, believed, told himself, that he wouldn’t wish what happened to him on his worst enemy. But he was so angry, and so terrified, and so overwhelmed with all that he had been through, that a furious mean little voice that he never used to have reared its ugly head and screamed inside him, ‘I wish it had been you!’

Ben clamps his lips shut before he can utter the hurtful words, but he knew it was too late, he may not have said them, but Jake heard them loud and clear all the same. Ben sighed.

“I… I need to… I need a break, Jake. I-I-I don’t blame you. I don’t.” He said the words, but he was no longer sure if he believed them. “But I can’t do this right now.”

Ben turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jake standing in the middle of the room, holding a warm blanket that offered him no comfort.

Tagging List: @i-can-even-burn-salad @peachy-panic @deluxewhump @arwenadreamer @whumpcereal @melancholy-in-the-morning @dont-touch-my-soup @whumpsday @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @oddsconvert @melennui @susiequaz12 @morning-star-whump @crystalquartzwhump @whump-and-other-things @mylifeisonthebookshelf @reflected-pain @hold-him-down @quietshae @quietly-by-myself @there-will-always-be-bloodblood @whumping-seven-days-a-week @hiding-in-the-shadows (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it. I’m still getting used to this)

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indiaalphawhiskey · 2 years

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Fake title (sorry, H, for stealing): One million futures and in all of them, you

🔮 One Million Futures (and in All of Them, You)

Harry sat at his desk, his left leg bouncing incessantly. Wild eyed, he checked the clock.

02.12 AM.

Fuck, he thought, teeth already gnawing at the skin around his thumbnail. He could feel his eyes itching, begging for sleep, and still, he chanced a desperate glance at his empty coffee cup.

It was a bad idea, he knew it was. But, the alternative…?

God, it seemed so much worse.

Again, his mind replayed it.

The sound of his handmade, glove leather Italian shoes clicking steadily against the pedestrian crossing. The screech of tires. A familiar arm pushing him out of the way as he hit the safety of the sidewalk with a thwack! Louis Tomlinson’s stupid, irritatingly handsome face marred with worry and anger, appearing in his dimming vision as he yelled over his shoulder at the rogue idiot of a driver, “If he dies, I’ll sue you for every cent your sorry hide is worth, arsehole! Mark my fucking words!”

It was surprisingly in character, although Harry wasn’t exactly used to that Northern brogue speaking in defense of him. In fact, not an hour earlier, it had been used to cuss him out extensively, just as it had been every year since they’d met at Eton. (Being the sole heirs to the two most lucrative and competitive record labels in Britain did not fast friends make.)

He sighed at the memory and, reflexes understandably addled by thirty-two consecutive hours of wakefulness, he stupidly, stupidly allowed his eyes to fall closed. The effect was immediate.

Louis, drenched in dirt, blood, and rain, heaving as he protectively held a limp Harry to his chest, war raging around them. ‘I’ll get you out of here, my love. I swear I will.’

Louis, dressed in medieval armor, leaning against the door frame of an opulent bedroom, arms crossed over his chest and smirking at Harry, who was happily laying, naked and wanting, in his bed.

Louis bathed in sunshine, face glowing with happiness, leaning down slowly to press a smiling kiss to Harry’s lips under the shade of an apple tree.

Harry’s eyes shot open.

“Fu-uck,” he groaned, fingers frustratedly digging into his own curls.

Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis.

Every single time he closed his eyes since the accident, fucking Louis, in every raunchy, bodice-ripping, historical fantasy Harry could think of, no less. It was ridiculous.

And, apparently, a real thing. Transference (thank you, Google); a trauma response, where a victim suddenly falls in love with— (��Fantasizes over,” Harry corrected determinedly, out loud) —the person who saved their life. Normal. Perfectly normal. And yet, still extremely inconvenient, given Harry’s savior also happened to be his lifetime rival.

But, like, whatever. No big deal, Harry reasoned, easily. He’d see his therapist, pop a few pills and get over the fantasies, no one the wiser.

Except, maybe, for the part where they didn’t really feel like fantasies, per se. They felt like… well… memories.

— Or, what is Harry meant to do when it turns out the person he’s hated all his life is actually the love of all his… other lives?

Based on an old tumblr prompt (that I now cannot find.)

✨ Send me a title for a fake fic and I’ll write a fake summary!

#iaw ask #iaw anonymous #fake fic titles #fake fic game #let's play!#this is definitely helping #enemies to lovers #reincarnation au #always wanted to write this #iaw drabbles

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