#Nightmare marvel

[can-of-pringles]

Who was going to tell me that there's an evil discount Marvel version of Dream of the Endless /j

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"...LIVING IN YOUR DREAMWORLD IS NOTHING BUT A NIGHTMARE."

PIC INFO: Resolution at 1652x2285 -- Spotlight on a splash page extradimensional demonic entity and Ruler of the Nightmare World in the Dream Dimension, Nightmare, from the pages of "Incredible Hulk" Vol. 1 #298. August, 1984. Marvel Comics.

"Good evening. My name is... Nightmare. And this is my realm. The Nightmare Realm. You've been here before. Oh, yes, you have! Of course you may not remember -- not in detail, not with specificity -- the numerous occasions on which you've been my... guest. No, but you do recall the sense of dread that so unnerved you the morning after that you woke sobbing into your pillow and clutching your bedsheets in terror. My, but we've had some fine times together, haven't we?"

-- NIGHTMARE breaking the fourth wall (Earth-616)

Story/script by Bill Mantlo

Pencils by Sal Buscema

Inks by Gerry Talaoc

Colors by Bob Sharen

Letters by Joe Rosen

Sources: Monsters and Magazines! (blogspot) & https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Incredible_Hulk_Vol_1_298.

[thes-hitoverlord]

art by STUPIDDEAD SKULLHEAD

[pandapetals]

Nightmares

After dating for a while, you try to convince Logan to sleep in your bed despite his nightmares.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Things between you and Logan had moved quickly after that long year of pining, flirting, and stolen glances that led to the inevitable confession. It had taken time, but once the feelings were out in the open, things fell into place—almost effortlessly. Logan was a gentleman, old-fashioned in the way he held the door for you or offered his hand whenever you stepped out of the car. 

While you appreciated all those gestures, what you longed for most was something simpler. You wanted to wake up within arm’s reach of him, to feel his warmth next to you when the early morning light crept through the window.

But that seemed impossible.

Everyone at the mansion knew Logan didn’t sleep much, and when he did, it often ended in nightmares—violent, heart-wrenching ones that sent his body into a battle of its own while his mind relived horrors buried deep within him. It had been that way for decades, and the others had grown used to the occasional sound of his muttering, the low groans that echoed through the mansion in the dead of night.

You weren’t used to it. You wanted to help. From the moment the two of you began dating, you had been determined to ease his pain. Yet, every time you mentioned it, Logan would brush it off, insisting that it was something he’d learned to live with. "It’s part of me, sweetheart," he would say, his voice low and gruff as if the weight of it all was too much to burden anyone else with. "Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it."

So, he kept his distance. Even as you grew closer emotionally, he kept you away at night, a silent barrier between the two of you. He feared hurting you—he feared himself.

One night, after yet another evening of him retreating to his own room, you had had enough.

"Logan," you said firmly, your voice a mixture of frustration and affection. "I’m telling you, I’ll be fine."

He was standing near the edge of the bed, his shoulders tense, the muscles in his arms coiled like he was ready for battle. He shook his head, not meeting your eyes. "You don’t understand," he muttered, his voice thick with that familiar rasp. "I could hurt you. When the nightmares come... I have no control. I can’t... I won’t risk it."

Your gaze dropped to his hands, those calloused hands you knew so well—hands that had held you gently, protectively. You also knew what lay beneath the surface. His claws retracted now, but always there, waiting. The thought of him losing control scared him more than anything.

"I don’t trust myself," Logan whispered, his voice barely audible now as if he was confessing a sin. "I’m sorry."

He turned to leave, but you weren’t ready to let him go—not this time. With a quick movement, you slipped out of bed, catching his arm before he could leave your room. "Logan," you said, your voice softer but firm, pleading. "Please. Just try for me. If it’s too much, I’ll sleep on the floor or... or whatever it takes. But just... be here."

He looked down at you, his expression torn, those stormy eyes filled with an internal battle you couldn’t even begin to understand. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with a resigned sigh, he nodded—barely, but it was enough.

The first night he stayed with you, you had sensed it even before he woke. The way his breathing quickened, his muscles tensed beneath the blankets—small signs that told you the nightmare was taking over. You didn’t hesitate. Slipping out of bed silently, you moved to the chair by the window, watching him carefully from a safe distance. You weren’t afraid—you trusted him—but you knew Logan would never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Moments later, his body jerked violently, a low growl escaping his throat as his claws extended with a harsh snikt. He woke with a start, sitting up and panting, his chest heaving as he tried to get his bearings. His eyes scanned the room until they found you sitting there, calm and patient, waiting for him.

"You... you moved," he said, his voice hoarse, the pain of the nightmare still lingering in his tone.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Just giving you space," you said gently. "I’m here, Logan. I’m not going anywhere."

He stared at you for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as he realized you weren’t afraid. You hadn’t run. You were still here, waiting. It was then that he knew he didn’t have to explain—he never had to explain. While he rarely shared the details of what haunted him, on nights like these, when he felt safe enough, he would start to talk, his voice low and raw, as if the words hurt to speak aloud.

He told you about the wars, about the blood and death, and the faces that still haunted him. About the men he had killed, sometimes not even remembering their names. You listened, always listening, never asking more than he was willing to give. When he grew quiet, you would move back to the bed, curling up beside him, grounding him with your presence.

As time passed, Logan began to relax more around you, his nights spent in your bed becoming more frequent. The nightmares didn’t stop, but he learned to trust that you were there, that he wasn’t alone in the fight.

You made your room a safe place for him—a sanctuary of sorts. The dim light of the bedside lamp, the soft hum of a fan in the corner, and the familiar scent of vanilla from the candles you liked to burn. Everything in the room was designed to soothe, to ground him. 

Before bed, you created a routine—something simple but effective. You’d brew a cup of chamomile tea, and he’d drink it with that reluctant smirk of his, pretending he didn’t need it but secretly enjoying the quiet ritual. Afterward, you’d settle into bed together, and your favorite part came next.

"Alright," you’d say softly, pulling out a book from your nightstand. "What are we in the mood for tonight? Something classic?"

Logan would nod, his body already relaxing into the pillows. It became part of the routine, you reading aloud to him, your voice a soothing balm against the chaos that sometimes lingered in his mind. You’d start with a chapter or two, your voice soft and melodic, and by the time you’d finished, Logan’s breathing would have slowed, his head resting against your shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

Some nights, he’d drift off peacefully before you even closed the book, the tension in his face softening as sleep claimed him. You’d smile to yourself, gently placing the book on the nightstand, and press a kiss to the top of his head before turning off the light.

One night, after you finished reading, Logan murmured sleepily, his voice rough but content, "Don’t know how you do it, darlin’."

"Do what?" you asked, brushing your fingers through his hair.

He shifted, tightening his hold on you. "Make me feel...safe."

You smiled in the darkness, your heart swelling at his words. "Because you are safe, Logan. With me, you always will be."

In the quiet that followed, with the moonlight streaming softly through the window, Logan finally let himself believe it. 

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompts 228

"Dad."

"I am not your father, ghostling- and you cannot attempt to use that to take my sword."

"… Mom!"

"Oh Realms help me, No-"

[okscallion-4221]

The characters I currently like, will add more when I get more

There’s too many tags ugh

[vertigoartgore]

1988's Marvel Fanfare Vol.1 #41 cover by cover artist Dave Gibbons (he did the interior art too).

[dragonsgirl572]

Sunshine plus their angsty evil counterpart

[theultimatejackoff]

Hello my goblins and ghouls, I'm quite happy to introduce you all to...

THE ULTIMATE JACK OFF BRACKET!

The polls will begin soon, stay tuned!

@tournament-announcer

**THE POLLS ARE OUT!!! GO VOTE!!**

[sbd-laytall]

LMAO, I would literally pay to have been a fly on the wall when the writer was thinking up this.

Nightcrawler (1985) #2

[jackassbroadcast]

Totally happened in the movie guys trust

[ghostie-goo]

spooky scary skeletons! 👻☠️

[taw-k]

While I definitely think the mind stone had a massive effect on Loki in the first Avengers film he definitely wasn't under full control, in fact I don't even think that's how the mind stone really works, definitely not like Clint and Selvig were.

What I think happened was Thanos tortured the hell out of Loki, and here's a silly little gorey through for you, forced him to battle other beasts, and if he won, his prize would be dinner... He would be forced to eat his fallen opponent.

Anyway, this took a toll on Loki until he finally broke, and that's where Thanos stepped in with the mind stone.

See, Thanos is evil, but he's not stupid, and he knows that loyalty born from respect and admiration is stronger than that of fear, that's why people die for their loved ones as he's probably seen countess times while invading planets. So he took Loki's broken mind and twisted it, the torture, the pain, the suffering, removed everything, his entire memory of being tortured, but he kept the loyalty. He filled Loki's mind with peace, promises, and purpose because that's all Loki's ever wanted, to belong, all thanks to the glorious Thanos.

That's what the mind stone does, it grants you peace, and a purpose, it makes everything... quiet... it doesn't make you do things for the wielder, it makes you want to do things. That's why Loki never spoke up about his experiences, he doesn't know where the mind stone stops and he starts, and he doesn't remember the torture.

Whenever you disobey the influence you experience something like withdrawal, a deep sense of panic and fear, of loss, of losing yourself and your purpose. This was severely amplified with Loki as he already suffers from intrusive thoughts, hallucinations (when he's having a really bad episode) and having no sense of identity (especially after Thor 1).

Then years later on the ship after Ragnarok Bruce Banner gets the sneaking feeling that Loki wasn't behind the attack. He questions Loki, asks him things like "don't you remember throwing Clint off a building?" or "don't you remember when you held Natasha hostage?" things that never happened and Loki just agrees because it was all a blur to him. That's how Bruce finds out about Thanos sending Loki.

[xycuro-illuminati]

[Has alt text]

Whatever man, most serious post about these three

Do not tag as m/cu

Do not tag as ship either

Reference image below

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 275

Pokemon crossover? Indeed. Because there’s so many ghost pokemon, and many that are specifically stated to be dead children that I bet? They would absolutely adore the Dannies. In fact? They adore the entire Team Phantom. 

Who are in fact on vacation, taking a summer to not have to deal with ghosts. Do they know what Fright Knight is doing back home? No, but they’re on vacation and don’t care. Look at these lil guys! Tucker, don’t steal the rotom- oh they’ve adopted you? Okay. Fair enough. 

Now their world? Pokemon doesn’t exist. And by that I mean not even as a game or series or anything. So it is new and fun and like exploring the zone all over again! 

They’re having fun, making friends with people and pokemon alike. Danny has discovered that pokepuffs don’t become violent if revived and many of his new friends love having snacks they can chase after. Dan absolutely delights in taking care of more than a couple of the evil organizations- and there might have been a cult form, no one asked. 

They had to drag Tucker away from several bits of technology, quite literally drag him. And they had to carefully drag several pokemon away from Valerie because they adore her and her suit. Sam- erm, where did Sam and Ellie- oh there they are. Oh Ellie found a clone friend and Sam. Sam that’s a legendary. 

…

That’s so cool! But like, they do have to go back home- oh, oh they’re coming with. That’s a lot of pokemon. Oh well, it’s fine. They brought souvenirs for their friends and family and plenty of plants- like Sam would let them not do so. 

So now they’re home and with… okay that’s way more friends than they thought, but it’s fine! Let’s go see- oh hey Frighty, erm, what do you mean heroes arrived?? We don’t have much of an issue anymore???

Fright, teacher of theirs, where are the heroes, did you toss them out- FRIGHT-

[thefallennightmare]

Since I’m in the Christmas/holiday spirit, here is a little blurb involving Bucky! I added the song to set the mood while reading!

CW(so much tooth rotting fluff, Soft!Bucky with his anxious gf, Christmas activities, slow dancing).

“Doll?”

Turning swiftly on my heels, I nearly dropped the basket of Christmas Ornaments to the ground when I saw that familiar face staring back at me.

“You’re early! You weren’t supposed to come back until tomorrow night!” I nearly whined.

Bucky's dark eyes tracked all of the bright lights and colorful decor before landing on the tree in the corner of the room, next to our bed. A soft tune from the 40’s played on the record player, basking us back to a time where Bucky was in his prime, as he would say.

He was still dressed in his tac gear, just returning from his mission which is why I was so upset he was back. I missed him dearly since he’d been gone for over a week but I hadn’t finished setting up our room in the compound yet.

“What’s this?” He asked while setting his bag on our bed.

With a slight frown, I set down the box next to it and sighed. “I was setting up the Christmas decor. I was hoping to have it finished before you got back. I know our room here at the compound is small and I can’t do much but I wanted it to feel like Christmas.”

As much as I would have loved to have a large Christmas tree, we shared one of the smaller rooms in the new compound so I was left with a small 4 ft tree that was shoved in the corner next to our bed. I had colorful string lights hanging along the ceiling and on the television was one of those videos of a fireplace.

“You did all of this?” Bucky pointed around with a still unreadable look on his face.

I shifted on my feet, suddenly nervous I overstepped. We’ve only been dating for less than a year and while we shared a room together, I thought maybe it would have been best to ask him beforehand. He was still dealing with the aftermath of everything, leaving Hydra and trying to do good in the eyes of the public. The last thing I wanted was to set him back in his progress.

“Do you not like it? Maybe I should have asked you first. This was stupid.”

I began reaching for the tree, ready to take it down when vibranium fingers wrapped around my wrist to bring me into his chest. Those eyes started down at me, a slight smile playing on Bucky's lips.

“I love it, doll. You didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

I ran my fingers through his short hair as our bodies began sweating softly to the music. “Yes I did. You mentioned how you hadn’t celebrated Christmas since the 40’s. You deserve to feel the Christmas magic again.”

My giggles echoed in the room as Bucky spun me before dipping me low, his lips capturing mine in a tender kiss.

“I love you. Thank you,” he brushed his nose against mine after he brought me back up straight.

I clasped my hands behind his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. “I love you too, Bucky.”

We slow danced for the next while as the music played and the snow began to fall outside, the scent of peppermint lingering in the air.