#me: hates dealing with drama
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nocofamilyau · 2 years ago
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total drama moment (4/8)
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vasito-de-leche · 1 year ago
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okay I read your analysis on Forget Me Not and I'm in tears now thank you. (No but really thank you, it's such a touching piece.) Can you PLEASE for salvation of our fans souls write anything to like,,, give him hope? Forget Me Not x reader but it doesn't have to be actually all-out with hugs and kisses. We may,,,,,,,, just show him a new hobby? Any hobby of your choosing or idk play an instrument together. Just to give him something else to focus on, to channel at least part of his energy from self-destructive activities to something less hurtful. I'd personally like to bandage his (not actually wounded but still) hands as if they were bleeding. Something of the kind. Sorry for mistakes writing is incredibly inconvenient cuz tears aaa.
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;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "hands, fingers, scales"
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Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.3k words. self-harm implied You've befriended Forget Me Not the same one befriends a rabid, beaten, old dog. And while he's much too busy fighting his inner demons, you're more worried about stopping these "pernicious habits" of his. A casual afternoon trying to make sure he's taking care of himself turns into something deeper.
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thank you so much for the ask, nonnie!!
I got a little carried away with this request because thinking about how fucking insufferable and confusing FMN has to be just to indulge in HAND HOLDING and GETTING A FUCKING HOBBY made me so deranged and feral as if hes not fucking TOUCHSTARVED lmfao. this guy's love language is straight up worshipping, mf is not subtle about it
either way, hope you like it! here's the lil preview!
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Sometimes, Forget Me Not understands the reason men and women kneel at the pew to worship and pray.
Devotion is something arcanists and humans share, whether honest or not. He's witnessed the rich and the poor, the pure and the depraved, and every binary that rules this world - all of them begging, pleading and praying at the end of their lives, casting away the pride they've held on for so long for the chance of salvation. Once stripped down to their core, there is nothing to do but hope God has enough love in His heart to look their way. 
And sometimes, Forget Me Not prays that you’ll find someone else - anyone but him - to fill the role of devotee.
The gentleness in your eyes whenever you look at him is enough to bring him to his knees, and Forget Me Not doesn't know what to do with himself but to worship and pray. Praying that you'll continue to look at him for a little longer, silently begging for your attention until you finally tire of him. Do you think yourself holy enough to replace the vitriol in his veins?
He does.
On good days, he even hopes that you can save him.
You never asked him to become your one and only believer, of course. You're not even aware of the space you take in his mind, nor the conflicting images he keeps conjuring of you at night, he's certain of this. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, holding his hands and inspecting them for any injuries. This role is one of the many self-imposed tragedies in his life.
Your thumbs knead and massage his palm, as if you could soothe the pain away, and yet you refrain from pressing down hard. He's at your mercy, why hesitate? What do you see that he cannot?
Something is bothering you. It's obvious in the way you touch him, like you're afraid of hurting him, as if you were the one with a body count between the two. Every so often, your movements come to a halt and you both sit in silence, until you return to your ministrations, filling the nothingness with your sighing and humming.
All he needs is to look up, right at your face, to know everything he wants to know - but he's too much of a coward for that. Instead, light grey eyes follow your index finger as it slides under the cuffs of his shirt. You trace over the bone of his wrist and continue upwards.
He can't tear his eyes away.
Normally, Forget Me Not wouldn't mind. There is an addictive thrill to witnessing the shock of anyone who dares get so close and personal, but he feels himself shrink when you brush against his scales and recoil away on instinct. That's when he raises his head and finds your eyes in the dimly lit staff room.
That expression on your face - surely, you were regretting every choice that led you to him. By now, you might've surely realized that there is nothing for you to salvage in this shipwreck he calls a life. All attempts to check on him were surely a façade for whatever ulterior motives you continued to withhold from him. He's stubborn, believing that he can read you like an open book, but now he's just as lost as you are. When he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and he grows a little restless at your words.
"Sorry, sorry! Did I, uh, hurt you? Dumb question, you would've definitely told me if that were the case. Anyway, it looks like you're okay! I don't know why I was so worried, actually."
His silence prompts you to continue, and all Forget Me Not can focus on is the absence of your warmth.
You raise a hand to gesture dismissively at your behaviour, brush it off to ease your embarrassment, that much he understands - though it's painful to watch you fumble like that, to deny what he hides under his clothes. Forget Me Not thinks of filling the space between your fingers with his own, just to drag you back to that quiet, albeit suffocating, moment of peace. Instead of doing that, he retreats and places both hands neatly on his lap.
"Thanks for indulging me and, yeah uh, again - sorry about that? It just caught me off guard. I should've been more careful."
But you were never careful with his space or his rules, plunging in and out of his life and leaving him to figure out where he stood in his game of push and pull. Why were you being careful now?
"It's nothing, I understand," he lies. Everything you do means the world to him and he doesn't even understand why. "It cannot hurt to know what sort of things the person pouring your drinks might be hiding under their sleeves."
The word "hypocrite" lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out with as much venom as he can muster, but it stays lodged behind his teeth because he knows he's even worse: Forget Me Not prays that you'll stay with him, while also opening the door right out his life for you. As much as he wants to, he has no right of calling you out.
He's not used to receiving apologies and so he chooses not to think too hard on yours - though he's dreamed countless of times for the perfect situation in which he finally rips out one apology after another from the throats of those who wronged him, this one feels different. Undeserved, even.
His heart, that wretched lump in his chest, finally settles down and he prepares to end this interaction to save you the awkwardness of addressing his "deformities". But then you go and surprise him once more.
"Come on, I already told you..." You sigh and he inhales in tandem, but you're much too busy rolling your eyes to notice. "That whole thing you do, when you start scratching or, like, picking at your hand? You've been doing it more lately. It had me worried you might've been doing, I don't know - something."
Forget Me Not's eyes widen in surprise. The audacity to notice such things about him? And to put them on display without a warning? What else did you find out?
Part of him wants him to embrace his nature and scare you away, but that's the side of him that's been slowly losing this battle of attrition in his heart - you're a bad influence for him, after all. The other part... Well, it's still trying to sort itself out.
He settles for slowly undoing the buttons on his sleeve. It only takes a moment to roll up the fine fabric to his elbow, knowing you're staring right at him, through him maybe. The expression on his face is one of indifference, one he fights to maintain - this is the most vulnerable he's felt in decades.
That unsightly pattern begins exactly where his sleeves usually end, coiling around his forearm not unlike a snake and traveling upwards. The scales are dark, an iridescent black that reminds him of an oil spill in the middle of the ocean, and the ones at the edges fade away into lighter hues until they mix with the pale, sickly tone of his skin. He knows the sort of beauty he holds, one that can only be admired at a distance, turning into a grotesque imitation of a man when up close.
Forget Me Not presents himself to you and, with his free hand, gets ready to pluck one of the scales off.
"Wait, don't do that-!"
Seizing his arm and holding it close to your chest, you deprive him of the catharsis that comes with this level of self-mutilation. He knows you're connecting the dots, feeling the scattered, empty spaces from all the times you saw him pick himself apart and more. Your fingers brush against his bare skin looking for said spaces, counting them in your head, mourning their loss.
Some scales are in the process of regrowing like unwanted parasites, and he wishes he could feel anything at all just to be closer to you.
"God, what is wrong with you?! What was the point of that?"
Something compels him to laugh (perhaps it's your heartbeat reaching out to him loud and clear through your clothes, he feels it faintly) it comes across as sinister and condescending, the only way he knows how to express joy. Like he's making fun of your concern.
"Apologies," Forget Me Not begins to say, readjusting his glasses. The way you try to keep his own arm out of his reach doesn't go unnoticed. It's such a petty, childish gesture that makes his grin widen and your frown deepen. "I was under the impression you found this little oddity distasteful. There's no need to worry - they will return in a few days, they always do."
"Still, don't do that. It's not funny. It must...hurt a lot."
"Ah, but it doesn't. If else, I'd compare it to being pricked by a very small needle."
"You're just going to find something to nitpick and contradict everything I say, aren't you?" It's the least he can do to repay all the headaches you've given him, and for forgiving his transgressions too easily.
An intrusive thought makes itself known from the depths of his mind - would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you? If he showed you just how destructive his arcane skills could be when given free reign? Where would you draw the line? And how much could he continue to push his luck before he lost you?
Before Forget Me Not realizes it, you've loosened your grip on his arm and returned to that previous moment of suffocating peace - the only difference is that you've gone from being deep in thought to troubled and miserable, one hair away from darting out the room and refusing to speak to him. At this, his pinky finger wraps around yours and neither of you mention it.
"Can't you... I don't know, do something else?"
"I could be doing my job, but alas, you're keeping me prisoner here." He says, like he's not delighted to be given your undivided attention. There are no complaints when you step on his foot with a huff, he deserved that one.
"I'm talking about the scales thing! You could wear gloves. If it happens when you get distracted then, I could hang around to make sure you stop in time." A pause, and then the sound of your voice becomes unsure and so very small. "Maybe if we covered them with bandages...? But that could be annoying. Band aids? No, no - too unprofessional. It would ruin the whole aesthetic you're going for."
You continue to trail off, coming up with many different ideas and solutions to a problem he caused. He doesn't understand why you'd even bother in the first place. For you to reciprocate the attention he gives you, to care about him? That's the hardest pill Forget Me Not has ever swallowed - it's something he twirls around with his tongue, as if deciding whether to poison himself with bliss or spit it out and continue latching on to his doubts and insecurities.
Outside, in front of everyone at The Walden, he's the one leading the crowd and talking for hours on end, commanding their attention and manipulating the flow of every conversation.
Behind closed doors, all he does is listen to every nonsensical thought, unnecessary opinion and strange anecdote you throw at him.
"...No, that won't work either." Absentmindedly, you fix and button his sleeve back into place.
You've grown used to his silence the same way you've adapted and grown used to his flaws.
"I mean, it worked on me - getting a little slap on the wrist whenever I started biting my nails, but..." Without even thinking, you rub circles with your thumb across his knuckles.
You might as well be the stupidest angel in heaven.
"Why don't you just get a hobby? That's good enough, right? It's been so long since I've heard you play piano, the one by the stage." And just like that, you're on your feet attempting to drag him outside for a demonstration. "You could teach me! That way, we get to do something fun and I get to keep an eye on you."
Forget Me Not knows he has nothing to offer to this world, but when his saint looks at him with such hope, he cannot refuse. The path to recovery seems almost doable when you bump your shoulder into his, challenging him to play the hardest song he knows.
The stars in your eyes whenever you recognize all the songs he plays becomes intoxicating, more so than the sweet, sweet revenge he's yearned for since he spiraled into decadence.
Some days, his patrons join with their own singing or humming, and he forgets that he hates each and every one of them for as long as his fingers dance across the keys - a momentary reprieve from the constant stream of negativity. It doesn't take long for his body to remember his training and soon, he's improvising.
A melody for gloomy, rainy days. A whimsical tune here and there for celebrations.
A song for you and himself - the first one he teaches you and the only one he plays in private, when he's all alone with nothing but his thoughts. Solitude has gone from a noose wrapped around his neck to the perfect time to compose and hone this long forgotten passion. For the first time in forever, he doesn't dread the silence of an empty room, the endless wait between his shifts at The Walden - not when he can simply fill them with more and more music.
And so, Forget Me Not plays, hoping that you'll continue to cheer him on. Hoping that this tiny spark you've ignited in him can truly become his salvation.
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pinkyjulien · 13 days ago
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Funnily enough, online bullshit always happen when I'm forced to take a PC detox 🚶‍♂️
Peeps here to tweak the electricity, means I get plenty of time to yap and chill in the sun like a lizard while sippin tea and cuddlin catos ☝️
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rins-batcave · 5 months ago
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wow reaching levels of wow literally no one cares about me i thoguht i couldn't reach
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doing-something-unholy · 5 months ago
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Another very specific headcanon: victor ardelian would've hated the warrens.
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movielosophy · 1 year ago
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Derailment | Holding back is okay for me.
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gotta-bail-my-quails · 4 months ago
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man i thought i moved out to escape my family but it turns out i've jumped from the pan into the fire because holy shit my guys what the fuck??
#at least at home we have people competent enough to not flush wet wipes and tampons down the toilet#let alone FOOD???#and we don't leave our dishes out for so long by the sink that they start to RUST#like ok my lil brothers make a mess sometimes and accidentally shat on the floor a few times but at least they're fucking children why tf#should i deal with shit water because of your incompetence#and yknow i can deal with noise. im the noisiest at night at home b/c i always go shower late but im not fucking SCREECHING and chatting#so loudly you'd think i was at a concert or some shit#and this bitch?? can't comprehend i just want to not have crumbs all over the couch???#like girl. how did this become a slight against you. why would i ask you to keep the couch clean b/c you slept there once or twice#BITCH I CLEANED THE COUCH COVER ON MY OWN DIME *BECAUSE* I KNEW YOU MIGHT SLEEP THERE AGAIN & WANTED IT TO BE CLEAN FOR YOU#YOU NOT ONLY INSULT ME BUT ENTIRELY MISCONSTRUE MY KINDNESS TOWARDS YOU??? WHY WOULD IT BE DIRTY B/C YOU SLEPT THERE???#you can't make this shit up i hate having roommates holy hell#only slightly made up for by the fact i get a room to myself these days#the other one smells like weed all the time and the other other one doesnt wash her hands properly after using the toilet + keeps her dishe#out by the sink + doesn't pick her hair up#also i'm the youngest so that's just even sadder#i was also the youngest last year and bitch. you have no idea#this is what being the eldest sibling does to a mf#not really related but they made the ugliest doormat ever i wish i had been there to stop them from that atrocity#and why do they not take their shoes off. girl i mop the floors like every 2 weeks#it's fucking clean trust me just take them off bitch#am i being holier than thou? probably but fucking DESERVED#i can't be taking care of people two years older than me like this. yall have too much fucking drama
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slightlytoastedbagel · 6 months ago
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with how hard the total drama train has hit me this time I'm doing a tier list on every character tomorrow (guygirlthing who has not even watched Pahkitew Island) (or The Ridonculous Race)
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crimrosenberry · 2 months ago
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Zarry Documentaries woman is a Zionist oop
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hotasfahrenheit · 1 year ago
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"I've already told you, right? I'll always be there for you no matter what and will never abandon you." (I might have to let Tew go and go back to living my same life.)
[My Dear Gangster Oppa, Episode 7]
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cawziiku · 1 year ago
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I'm not gonna be responding to these anymore, I don't want to have to think about this rn, but I'm keeping the posts up
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reflectionsofgalaxies · 7 months ago
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tomorrow is my first day of classes as I go back to school for the first time in eight years and my family has picked today to blow up at each other and drag me into it
#VERY long story short#after my Papa died my dad buying the house out from my mom became a real possibility again#so all of us slowed down on the house sale stuff#and that included me shifting my focus from packing and looking for a place to getting ready to start school#but as of about two and a half hours ago my father is again freaking the fuck out#and saying we need to have the house ready to go on the market in seven fucking days#bc my mom has asked for a downpayment which he says he can’t afford#(when I asked him how much she was asking for he said he didn’t know. so it’s less ‘can’t’ and more ‘doesn’t want to’ but whatever)#anyway I asked him to ask bc if it comes down to it I would prefer to loan my dad the money for the downpayment#bc in exchange I get stability while I go back to school and the money I lose in interest would just be going to increased rent anyway#so now I get a text from my mother saying ‘do not give your father money for the downpayment’#and I’ve been trying so hard to be supportive of them both without it seeming like I’m ‘taking sides’#but I kind of snapped and said ‘I love you but don’t tell me what to do. I’m not doing this to ‘bail dad out’’#‘I’m doing this bc it’s the best option for me right now.’#and now she’s not responding to me#I fucking hate this#she needs the money. I need a stable place to live. let me loan him the money so YOU have the money mom!#I know you’re worried he won’t pay me back bc he’s proven to be less than honest with his finances in the past but also.#I’m his only kid. not to be macabre but I’ll be getting it back eventually one way or another unless he somehow writes me out of his will.#just fuckin. I’m supposed to be reading through my syllabuses and figuring out bullshit websites for school rn.#I don’t want to be dealing with family drama and impending homelessness rn pls chill#personal
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smilepebble · 1 year ago
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it feels like the octopath 1 fandom largely either treats cyrus as shipping fodder or babies him and it's very sad to me for many reasons but especially because i feel like we're missing out on some great workplace comedy-like interactions between cyrus and the other royal academy scholars
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egg-emperor · 2 years ago
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there's genuinely something deeply fucking wrong with this anon who keeps blaming and complaining to me over and over for things they've seen in other people's posts before I've even seen them myself and now to the point of asking if I "know their address" because they "want to kill them" wtf is wrong with you genuinely please get help
you're no better than whatever the fuck it is you're angry about and I still don't even understand because I still haven't seen all of what they're talking about, I'm not even involved and I don't wish to be. get the fuck out of my inbox and stop block evading to say disgusting vile things every few hours and do something more worthwhile with your life
if you're raging and seething this hard at shit you read people saying online because you don't agree with their takes on fucking fictional characters then you seriously need help because this isn't how to deal with that. and trust me, I have anger issues and intrusive thoughts and feel angry at things I hate all the time but even I don't say fucked up shit and harass people on anon
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mountmasns · 2 years ago
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Are you telling me this is last 24 hours when Mason is Chelsea player
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valenfield-inspo · 1 year ago
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Block Warning
I don't mind ppl blocking this blog, as that is your right on here to curate your experiences but if I find you still managing to reblog my edits, you are getting blocked right on back. I am not up for weird shit this early in 2024.
I just find it unfair as hell as I actually wanted to reblog some of their stuff from before. I really only found out I was blocked b/c months ago I wanted to reblog one of their edits on here but it would not let me reblog it, not even draft it. I tried reblogging their stuff on my main and it let me reblog as normal yet on this blog it wouldn't let me. So I am taking that as a sign that they indeed blocked this blog. Now fast forward some to a few days ago, I found them reblogging an edit of mine and yet I still can't reblog from them, so that's not going to work for me. You cannot reblog stuff from me and then still proceed to have me blocked, nope. Can't have your cake and eat it too, I'm afraid.
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