idk what traumatized or mentally ill person needs to hear this but dreams (especially the really disturbing ones you dont want to talk about to anybody) arent some deep peek into your psyche or a sign of your True Desires or whatever theyre quite literally your brain making fruit salad with whatever it can find on the shelf. just putting all that shit in a blender and hitting obliterate. its fine, youre fine, youre not a weirdo for it
Actually forget what I said. This dream is more important than anything
About this: “Dorm room Marc” college!Marc Spector/ fem. reader. Warnings include past, recent rape, so much internalized victim blaming, violence. I’m adding community labels for this one, myself, because of the sensitive nature of this topic. Read at your own risk.
*sea of sadness*
You slam the bathroom door in Marc’s face, finally allowing yourself to burst into tears once the lock clicks in place. Vision blurred, you stumble to the combined shower-and-tub and fumble blindly for the handle, turning it on. Your body wash and conditioner—balanced precariously on the side of the tub—tumble against the porcelain, the sound ringing loud off the tiles.
Marc tries the handle, the sound of it rattling. Through the wood you hear his voice, low but increasingly panicked:
Open the door. Let me see you and I swear to fucking god I’ll leave you alone. Just show me you’re okay—open the door or I’ll take it off the goddamn hinges!
i dont think you get it. 1980 was twenty years ago. 1990 was 10 years ago. 2000 was 10 years ago. 2016 was two years ago. 2018 was also two years ago. 2017 was last year. 2014 was four years ago. do you understand me now?????
