#Sleep paralysis incident

[why-to-not-have-monster-kids]

2 trollface: can you list down your favorites,, and why theyre your favorite?!?"!!!!!??! neuhedujeheheehehudjckdjcicjlalkxmmc

[swamp-spirit]

I like junky shows where people talk about ghost encounters, but, as somebody whose sensory information gets a lot of junk data, I always get amazed by people's trust in their own senses.

Like there is this dichotomy between "everything I see and hear is real" and "I have Gone Insane"

And like... as somebody who has seen 3-4 ghosts and also does not believe in them, there is an exciting variety of ways to see shit that Is Not There.

You're telling me when you were super stressed and sleep deprived you kinda sorta saw a dude? Bad news, your brain loves seeing a dude. Sometimes it gets a false positive. When you are sleepy or scared or overwhelmed, you get more false positives.

Also, being insane isn't an on/off switch. Everybody is prone to delusional thinking, sensory misinformation, etc. And pretty much anything can make you more prone to getting bad information. Anxiety, trauma, and sleep deprivation increase paradolia (resolving nonsense information into shapes, anything from mistaking a suitcase for a dog to seeing a human figure in the shadows). All sorts of temporary medical conditions cause full hallucinations (being sick, methane poisoning, migraines, trauma, UTIs, dehydration, pain)

To be clear, if you are having regular bad information of any kind (images, scents, sensations) , talk to somebody about it and make sure you know what's going on because things like poisoning and psychosis are time sensitive and deserve care.

But... I just... as somebody who gets a lot of bad information from my brain, the amount of people who will be under tremendous mental stress and feel their options are to conclude "I am literally under attack from the dead" or "I have Gone Mad" without considering "I have a weird, squishy brain that gets bad signals and might have given me some bad info" is wild.

[ryanthel0ser]

Post Episode 16 mood

[syvvieon]

@pocketpen i dragged jay into the fiery pits of this site! say hi to @khakic0at!

[lemonnbug]

Idk bro I just think it's weird that sleeping on my back usually gives me nightmares and those nightmares usually involve being in bed on my back at some point

[violent138]

Bruce has a habit of randomly worrying about his kids and silently lurking in their room until he's done being insane. This usually happens mid prolonged argument or after an incident on patrol that he thinks could've gone much worse.

It would be sweet, if he hadn't raised his kids to be just as paranoid as he is, making them shoot awake every time to see to their Batdad sleep paralysis demon.

[milfstalin]

On the Relations between Lenin and Stalin

M.I. Ulyanova on Vladimir Ilyich Lenin’s relation towards J. Stalin:

[...]

In the winter of 20-21, 21-22 V. Ilyich was feeling sick. He had headaches and was unable to work – Lenin was deeply disturbed. I exactly do not know when, but somehow during this period V. Ilyich told Stalin that he would probably be stricken with paralysis and made Stalin promise that in this event he would help V. Ilyich to obtain potassium cyanide. Stalin promised. Why did he appeal to Stalin with this request? Because he knew him to be an extremely strong man devoid of any sentimentality. V. Ilyich had nobody else but Stalin to approach with this type of request.

In May 1922 after his first attack he appealed to Stalin with the same request. V. Ilyich had then decided that everything was finished for him and demanded that Stalin should be brought to him immediately. This request was so insistent that nobody could gainsay it. Stalin was with V. Ilyich within 5 minutes and not more. When Stalin came out he told Bukharin and me that V. Ilyich had asked him to obtain poison. The time had come to fulfil his earlier promise. Stalin promised. V. Ilyich and Stalin kissed each other and Stalin left the room.

But later on after discussing the matter together we decided that V. Ilyich’s spirits should be raised. Stalin returned to Lenin and told him that after talking it over with the doctors he was convinced that everything was not yet lost and therefore the time for fulfilling his promise had not come. V. Ilyich noticeably cheered up and agreed. He said to Stalin, ‘you are being cunning?’ In reply Stalin said ‘when did you ever know me to be cunning?’ They parted and did not see each other till V. Ilyich’s condition improved. He was not allowed to meet his comrades.

During this period Stalin was a more frequent visitor in comparison to others. He was the first to come to V. Ilyich. Ilyich met him amicably, joked, laughed and demanded that I should treat Stalin with wine and so on. In this and in other meetings they discussed Trotsky and from their talk in front of me it was clear that here Ilyich was with Stalin against Trotsky.

[...]

To this the other conflict was also added, and which was brought about by V. Ilyich’s letter to Stalin on 5.3.23 and which I am going to quote below. It was like this. The doctors insisted that V. Ilyich should not be informed anything about work. The maximum fear was of Nadezhda Konstantinovna discussing anything with V. Ilyich. She was so used to discussing everything with him that sometimes completely unintentionally and unwillingly she might blurt things out. The politbureau gave Stalin the charge of keeping watch so that the doctors’ instructions were maintained. It seems, one day coming to know about certain conversations between N.K. and V.I., Stalin called her to the telephone and spoke to her quite sharply thinking this would not reach V. Ilyich. He warned her that she should not discuss work with V.I. or this may drag her to the Central Control Commission of the party. This discussion deeply disturbed N.K. she completely lost control of herself – she sobbed and rolled on the floor. After a few days she told V.I. about this incident and added that they had already reconciled. Before this it seems Stalin had actually called her to smooth over the negative reaction his threat and warning had created upon her. She told Kamenev and Zinoviev that Stalin had shouted at her on the phone and it seems she mentioned the Caucasus matter.

Next morning Stalin invited me to V. Ilyich’s office. He looked upset and offended. He told me ‘I did not sleep the whole night. Who does Ilyich think I am, how he regards me, as towards a traitor, I love him with all my heart. Please, somehow tell him this.’ I felt sorry for Stalin. It seemed to me that he was sincerely distressed. Ilyich called me for something and in between I told him that the comrades were sending him regards ‘Ah’ – objected V.I. ‘And Stalin has requested me to tell you, that he loves you’. Ilyich frowned and kept quiet. ‘Then what’ – I asked ‘should I convey your greetings to him?’ ‘Convey them’ answered Ilyich quite coldly. But I continued ‘Volodia he is still the intelligent Stalin’. ‘He is absolutely not intelligent’ frowning Ilyich answered resolutely.

I did not continue the discussion and after a few days. V.I. came to know that Stalin had been rude with N.K. and Kamenev and Zinoviev knew about it. In the morning very distressed Lenin asked for the stenographer to be sent to him. Before this he asked whether N.K. had already left for Narkompros (People’s Commissariat of Enlightenment – ed. R.D.) to which he received a positive answer. When Volodicheva came V.I. dictated the following letter to Stalin:

‘Absolutely secret. Personal. Respected Comrade Stalin! You were rude enough to call my wife to the telephone and insult her. Even though she has expressed to you her willingness to forget the incident, but even then this fact came to be known through her by Zinoviev and Kamenev. I am not ready to forget so easily what has been done against me and what is done against my wife I consider as having been done against me. Therefore I ask you to inform me whether you are ready to take back what you said and apologise or whether you prefer to break off our relationship. With respect Lenin. Written by M.V. 5/III-23’.

Letter of Joseph Stalin to Vladimir Ilyich Lenin

To Com. Lenin from Stalin Personal Comrade Lenin! Five weeks ago I had a discussion with Nadezhda Konstantinovna whom I consider not only your wife, but also my senior party comrade. I told her on the telephone something very close to the following : ‘The doctors have forbidden any political information to be given to Ilyich. They consider this routine the most effective method to cure him, whereas you Nadezhda Konstantinovna are violating this routine. To play with the life of Ilyich is not allowed’. I do not think that these words can be seen as anything rude or impermissible directed ‘against’ you nor I did I proceed from any other purposes other than your quick recovery. Moreover, I think it my duty to see that this routine is maintained. My explanation to Nadezhda Konstantinovna confirms that there was nothing except a simple misunderstanding. If you think that to maintain the ‘relationship’ I must ‘take back’ the above-mentioned words, then I can take them back but I do not understand where is my ‘fault’ and what exactly is wanted from me. I. Stalin.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hi do you know how the female character can get kidnapped by a villain? i'm writing about something that has to deal with angels and all, and am kinda stuck with how the female lead can get kidnapped by the male lead's enemy who is the villain. and how he can save her. thank you! love your works.

Writing Notes: Kidnapping

A criminal offense consisting of the unlawful taking and carrying away of a person by force or fraud, or the unlawful seizure and detention of a person against their will.

In all countries, it is considered a grave offense punishable by a long prison sentence or death.

Motives for Kidnapping

The principal motives for kidnapping are:

to subject the victim to some form of involuntary servitude,

to expose him/her to the commission of some further criminal act against his/her person, or

to obtain ransom for his/her safe release.

More recently, kidnapping for the purpose of extortion has become a tactic of political revolutionaries or terrorists seeking concessions from a government.

THE KIDNAPPED

In general terms, the psychological impact of being taken hostage is similar to that of being exposed to other trauma.

TYPICAL ADULT REACTIONS

Cognitive: impaired memory and concentration; confusion and disorientation; intrusive thoughts (‘flashbacks’) and memories; denial (i.e., that the event has happened); hypervigilance and hyperarousal (a state of feeling too aroused, with a profound fear of another incident);

Emotional: shock and numbness; fear and anxiety (but panic is not common); helplessness and hopelessness; dissociation (feeling numb and ‘switched off’ emotionally); anger (at anybody – perpetrators, themselves and the authorities); anhedonia (loss of pleasure in doing that which was previously pleasurable); depression (a reaction to loss); guilt (e.g., at having survived if others died, and for being taken hostage);

Social: withdrawal; irritability; avoidance (of reminders of the event).

Denial - a complete or partial failure to acknowledge what has really happened; has often been maligned as a response to extreme stress, but it has survival value (at least in the short term) by allowing the individual a delayed period during which he/she has time to adjust to a painful reality.

Two Extreme Reactions

Frozen fright - a paralysis of the normal emotional reactivity of the individual

Psychological infantilism - a reaction characterized by regressed behaviour such as clinging and excessive dependence on the captors

Learned Helplessness

May occur during extended periods of captivity.

In which individuals come to believe that no matter what they do to improve their circumstances, nothing is effective.

This is reminiscent of the automaton-like state reported by concentration camp victims (‘walking corpses’).

PHYSICAL REACTIONS

Hostages are likely to have to endure, particularly during sustained periods of captivity, an exacerbation of preexisting physical conditions, such as asthma and diabetes.

Also, the detention itself may generate new conditions due to a lack of the basics of healthy living, such as a nutritious diet, warmth, exercise, fresh air and sleep.

WRITING TIPS: THE ABDUCTION SCENE

Know your readers. Readers have expectations when they pick a novel category or genre. You could lose them with certain content. For the shock element, first construct a world where the victim lives in a secure cocoon with a happy routine and trust in their surroundings.

Be realistic. An abduction is action. There are a myriad of motives as to why someone would be kidnapped, and a thousand possible scenarios. The motives that drive the abduction, and the action sequences themselves, must be realistic. If readers don’t believe the reasoning behind the kidnapping, the scene deflates with no reader engagement. The key to realism is logic. Just as you methodically match puzzle pieces by color, size, or shape, a series of questions must be answered before you can interlock action sequences. Fitted together, the story flows because it makes sense. If it makes sense, the readers will accept and believe it.

Bring in personal dynamics early. As William Shakespeare shared in his brilliant writing more than 400 years ago, emotions—want, love, hate, jealousy, fear, joy—cause people to take extreme actions. Emotion is part of our personal dynamics, the reactive forces that drive us to respond to a situation in a certain way. A tip: Try bringing in the kidnap victim’s personal dynamics with family members and friends as soon as possible. This way, when the abduction occurs, the reader is emotionally invested and will be gripped by the fear and anxiety of the event. With personal dynamics, you control the story’s emotional thermostat.

Read the abduction scenes in your favourite crime novels or screenplays. Learn from other authors [Some Sample Quotes: 1 2]. Alternatively, you may consider researching real abduction cases for inspiration. Read background details of the victims and kidnapper, how it happened, and how they were rescued.

WORKSHEET: THE KIDNAP SCENE

Part I. From whose point of view is the scene? Put yourself in the character’s place and write what they are experiencing.

What do you want the reader to experience?

Firstly, what kind of person is your character? What would their personality permit them to do? How would they react?

Detail in advance who your character is. Are they young? Do they have any disabilities or weaknesses that can prevent them from fighting back?

Next, where is this scene located? A house would probably have to be broken into. Is the character alone? What if the scene is in public? Who is watching? Nowadays people are recording everything on their cell phones. Make sure to state whether there are witnesses or not.

Who is the kidnapper?

Is it someone the victim knows, or a complete stranger?

How do the kidnappers look like/act like? Do they wear a mask and black leather gloves? Or average clothes?

Why are they kidnapping the character? Does he/she plan on asking for ransom? Do they plan on assaulting the character? Killing them?

Detail the speed at which the scene is happening. Emphasise the worry and nerves of the kidnapper too. A great way to do this is by stating that they are sweating, breathing hard, rambling, or just “shushing” the victim.

Part II. Place the focus on the will to escape, dreams and thoughts your character is having about getting free.

Try inserting yourself in their place.

Now, describe physical things (for your character) such as nerves, common signs such as biting of lips, sweating, goose bumps on a person’s skin, the fear of being caught.

Depending on your character, they could manipulate the kidnappers and pretend to go along with their plan and/or pretend to be knocked out until an opportunity comes for them to fight back.

What tools and techniques does the kidnapper use? The scene should be in accordance with what kind of kidnappers (thugs, mastermind) you are describing. Keep in mind, thugs won’t plan a perfect abduction like a cold, calculating criminal.

Gagged, tied, put in a body bag.

Add if the character is blindfolded and if they try struggling to get away but ends up tripping instead and is pushed roughly back onto his/her feet.

Chloroform tends to knock out a person. If the victim is old, too young, not well built then chloroform works faster.

Tape over mouth is common to stop the victim from screaming, esp. duct tape.

Drugging food or beverages is a sly way a kidnapper can be anonymous.

If the victim seems to able to fight back then the kidnapper might use melee to soften them and then use whatever means necessary (e.g., drugs, chemicals).

Part III. Is anyone contacted?

Depending on why you want to write this scene, you must think about the loved ones.

Most likely the victim doesn’t have any way of contacting their loved ones. Therefore, the kidnapper holds the most control in this situation. The victim can try to convince the kidnapper to call their parents and tell them they are okay. In movies this happens quite often, and that’s when ransoms are made.

If they aren’t allowed to contact their loved ones, then the victim stays quiet and refuses to talk to anyone until they can have something that goes their way. But, this is only if torture isn’t involved. Otherwise, the victim will most likely open their mouth and start to talk. Remember, though, they can lie. If this whole thing is about money, they can lie.

Add another threat to heighten the stakes. Does the kidnapper tell the victim that they also have their parents? Or maybe if they tell them all the information they need, they’ll let the character go free? If they keep silent they’ll die? In other words, what is the next dilemma? Yes, they are kidnapped, but then what? What makes this whole ordeal that much dangerous?

How long are they held for? Where at and under what conditions?

The time can be anywhere from five minutes to several days or even weeks. It really depends on the motives behind the kidnapping. Usually, if the timeline is from five minutes to a full day you can write it out in full i.e., in real time. Otherwise, if it expands over several days and weeks, you can just sum it up in a paragraph or two.

Hopefully you stated where they are being located. If not, you can state it here. However, it’s not mandatory to say where. No need to go in detail, either. A simple: ‘The building was grey and old looking, but that’s all I knew’, would do.

Is the victim treated like well? Are they deprived of food or drink? Or, are they treated like royalty? Usually, if this happens, the victim might end up with Stockholm syndrome, where they actually start to like their captors.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Worksheets ⚜ Crime Fiction

So glad to hear this, thank you! Hope these notes help with your writing :)

[steviewashere]

CW: OCD, Impulsive Thoughts/Behaviors, Compulsive Behaviors, Anxiety? (if you want to look at some of this that way), Sleep Paralysis (Brief Mention) (Totally not inspired by my own brain)

Thought for a fic!!

What if I wrote a steddie fic where Steve saves Eddie from the Upside Down, but...

He gets horrible intrusive thoughts, nightmares, and sleep paralysis in the aftermath. Just nightmares upon nightmares of every version of Eddie he can't save. When he wakes up, he physically can't move, can't even speak, can't catch his breath. He's confused, doesn't know where he is, thinks he's still down there with Eddie, unable to save him. He helps Eddie fix his bandages, but he has to check them over and over and over—because he thinks he sees blood and what if he didn't wrap the bandages right and what if Eddie gets an infection and what if I accidentally cause Eddie's death and then I'll be a monster and then and then and then—

And then he also develops a lot of compulsive behaviors. Washing his hands over and over and over again because he can feel blood on them, he put his hands down too hard on the counter and it reminds him of broken ribs so he has to keep placing them on the counter until it's soft enough. He invites Eddie over, but sticks too close—has to hold Eddie's wrist and check his pulse every few minutes. He wraps and unwraps Eddie's bandages three times, cinches them and loosens them and cinches them until he's satisfied with how they pull closed.

He starts to incorporate the trauma from the other incidents, too.

Stands too close to Robin at work, brushing her back with his hand when he passes just to make sure it's moving up and down with her breath. He overchecks his trunk to make sure the nail bat is there. He washes his face over and over until it feels like there isn't blood caked around his nostrils; sometimes he picks at his skin over and over because he thinks he's scraping off the flakes of blood from Scoops; he rubs his biceps raw because of the heavy phantom sensation of bindings on his skin. He turns on and off the lights in his house, double checking and over checking to make sure that it didn't flicker that time he flicked the switch. When he learns about what happened to Barb, he prowls the edge of his pool, cleans it everyday, stares out his window until the vision of a bloated corpse washes away—blinking and blinking and blinking in a pattern until it fades.

Isolates himself when he can only see Eddie as a mangled mess. Freaks himself out when he hears Eddie burble his spit, thinking it's a rattle from his chest (the death rattle). Fears that he's getting too in Eddie's space, hands all over his body, fingers tracing healed scars.

Isolates himself from the kids in the party because he keeps doing walkie check-ins every hour; swearing it's because he heard a demodog (it was just a dog growling), swearing it's because he saw the Upside Down flakes (it was just dust from his broom closet), swearing it's because he heard Dustin crying over the walkie (the walkie's battery is dying and it just makes garbled static sounds).

I also feel like he'd try to hide these behaviors, even if they become obvious to everybody else. He tries to do them all in secret. Tries to keep that cool, calm, collected mask he wore in high school. Tries to keep the jokey, older brother, funny best friend persona.

He'd try his best for a while and then when it becomes too much and he feels close to breaking, he slowly lets the others in. Has to let them take over, much to his own chagrin.

Anyway. Just...just Steve with OCD, I guess. He just didn't take the time to process or talk about any of his traumas. And this is what he gets in the aftermath.

[keepthedelta]

As a sport newborn, I need you to go on the longest tangent about how Seb was a misogynist and an asshole because these guys are so, so, so into their personal bubbles and their rebrands are so incredibly effective that I just know hippie Seb, not Mark Webber's sleep paralysis demon Seb. Pretty please? I'm asking because I loved your very well-worded Lewis takedown too. I just want to know what I'm supporting here.

i do want to preface this by saying that i'm not saying any of this to try and make people dislike seb, and i didn't say any of that stuff about lewis to make people dislike him either. i am incredibly aware that this is the millionaire tax evader oil company sport and absolutely none of them are perfect, therefore people should feel able to like whichever drivers they like. having said that, i do think we should be honest about who the drivers are and the things they've done, especially when they are trying to present themselves as activists for that cause.

with seb specifically, i think there are a lot of incidents of him being pretty gross and sexist. one time he told an italian journalist that he would only answer her question if she kissed him. another time he derailed an interview with a british journalist by talking about her wearing a revealing dress. he's made numerous jokes about grid girls and even objected to f1 introducing grid boys in an attempt to make the entire practice less overtly sexist because he only wanted to look at grid girls.

seb was always a very charismatic driver, and so a lot of the things he said and did were categorised as him being funny and cheeky, but i think when you look at what he was actually doing and saying, it does border on workplace sexual harassment. he was friends with some of the female journalists like lee mckenzie (the revealing dress incident) but she was very clearly uncomfortable in that moment, and it was really unfair of him to do that to her on international television and in front of her colleagues (mostly men who found it very funny that someone was kind of hinting at her breasts). that moment is also in a bunch of youtube compilations of seb being "funny", so she can't really escape it, if she ever wanted to. as a multiple world champion, seb had a lot of power and influence with f1, certainly more than the female journalists who likely had to work incredibly hard to get their positions and the respect of colleagues and viewers, and seb used his power to put them in uncomfortable positions where they likely would never be able to complain about their discomfort. and given that he never demanded a kiss from a male journalist, you know that it was gendered. i also think that it was incredibly disrespectful to his girlfriend/wife who was at home taking care of their children while he was doing all of this.

[shimisstuff]

Terrible sleep paralysis torment you for months. The problem does not seem to be psychological... what really happens at night? As much as you’re afraid to admit it, something seems to torture you... maybe rape you?

❗️I��m not trying in any way to romanticize what will happen in this shot! Everything you read will be quite dark and strong, so please, if you are sensitive to this, do not interact!

18+/ sleep paralysis/horror/gore/mahito rape you

Rape/Non-con ElementsRapeRape FantasyRough SexVaginal SexRough Oral SexPenis In Vagina SexVaginal FingeringFingerfuckingMahito is His Own Warning (Jujutsu Kaisen)Mahito Being an Asshole (Jujutsu Kaisen)Yandere Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Creepy Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Slutty Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Top Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Blood and GoreGoreMild GorePsychological HorrorBody Horror

Sorry for any errors, this fic is translated from italian!

SLEEP PARALYSIS

-Mahito x Reader-

«How long have sleep disorders been going on?».

«Months», your lips had rippled, «about six months», you had corrected yourself, while you made to wander your tired look on the furniture of your doctor’s office.

He called your name, taking you away from your thoughts.

«I read your medical records, you changed more than three psychoanalysts before you got to me. I wonder, are you sure that it is only this?».

Your eyes had met his. Two heavy shiners made you look like a rag, and the young man in front of you, no matter how professional he tried to be, couldn’t help feeling sorry for you.

What I’m trying to tell you is that even sleeping pills don’t work, and you know that? I tried everything, natural remedies and not-», you were angry, you hated, when they suggested that your problem was only in your head, because it wasn’t.

The more you convinced yourself, the more the doctors turned against you, and even this time it was no different.

«I mean the presence and the phantom sensations of pressure on the chest can be a symptom of post traumatic stress. It is easy for you to experience frequent sleep paralysis for this reason. Perhaps if we faced the problem psychologically it would be better. I think you understand, I can not continue to prescribe drugs, without knowing what could be the trigger».

You had sighed, swallowing. Yet another hole in the water.

Coming out of the clinic where you had gone in the morning, you had inhaled the air of Tokyo as if it were the best air in the world- it was absolutely not and your lungs filled with smog and tar.

You swallowed, your throat was dry, your eyes were burning, your head was beating.

All feelings you had begun to endure.

You were a young girl in your twenties, with a wonderful career ahead of you, a capable and brilliant woman, yet, life had decided to put you in front of all this.

As you walked through the crowded streets of Tokyo, the chaos of the metropolis seemed like a distant echo in your mind. The doctor mentioned the possible link between the trauma you suffered and your sleep problems, but it was difficult to accept that the solution could simply be psychological. You had sought comfort in sleeping pills and remedies of all kinds, but nothing seemed to relieve your tormented mind.

The memory of the incident kept haunting you, the details of the horrible day bouncing around in your head like an incessant echo. You had tried to escape reality, but the pain persisted, crept into your dreams and attacked you in the form of night paralysis and feelings of pressure on the chest.

A few months before the accident happened. A terrible car accident took away the love of your life, your sister.

Seeing her half beheaded between the sheets of the car had horrified you to the point of making you vomit on the spot. You screamed desperately, your brow ragged with blood, and his dead eyes now filled your nightmares.

If only that day you had not chosen the wrong path, you were sure, that now life would not be so unlivable.

Your soul weighed like an anvil, dragged you down, and your wings struggled to give you the push you needed to survive.

The nights were all the same: you lay down in your bed, trying to calm down, trying not to think about anything.

And what happened was you fell asleep... but then... then...

At first, you could only feel the languor of falling asleep. However, soon that numbness turned into something more sinister. An invisible but inexorable presence began to tighten your ankles, crawling along your hips and even creeping into your belly. It seemed like a subtle force, unpredictable, penetrating the depths of your bowels.

The sensations became more and more invasive, as if invisible hands shuffled you from within. As you tried to fight against the immobility that imprisoned you in your bed, your ability to breathe was being tested. An invisible but oppressive weight made every inspiration a titanic task.

«We will make it grow», a voice whispered, «we will make it grow», again.

And then the same hands came to your chest, squeezing you, choking you.

Then you’d wake up, turn on the light in panic, your forehead full of sweat, and your heart rate.

The monotonous routine of this anguish was constantly repeated, night after night. Something, a dark, elusive entity, crept into your intimate space and tortured you mercilessly.

It wasn’t just passing visions or post-traumatic stress hallucinations. Reality was carved into your skin, in painful bite marks on your breasts and bruises scattered all over your body. You couldn’t ignore the physical testimony of what happened during those nights of terror.

You looked for answers everywhere, you explored every rational possibility, but the conclusion was inevitable: you were not crazy. Those marks and scars you were carrying were tangible proof that something dark and insidious was happening.

It was a night predator that fed on your terror and vulnerability. And there was no room for rational explanations or psychological excuses. It wasn’t a matter of post-trauma, something real, at night, crawling into your bed, and it wasn’t something you were hiding from yourself: this presence was raping you.

You couldn’t explain how you came to this conclusion, but inside you the answer was becoming more and more obvious.

And so, desperate, you decided to adopt plan B.

The medium you asked for an audience with seemed to be one of the best. You paid her handsomely, and when you let her into your one-bedroom apartment, she twisted her nose.

You had no knowledge of this world, you had no interest in it, and despite your attempts to pretend, you still felt perplexed.

«Miss», the woman in her fifties had called you, while she was searching the living room, «can you take me to the exact place where the "contacts" take place?».

You had gasped, as a slight fear crept into your bowels and appeared in your face.

« I feel your discomfort, how could you not have it? This apartment is full of cursed energy».

Failing to understand what she was mumbling about, you had obeyed her request, making your way down the narrow corridor, and then opening the door.

You stopped in the window and nodded.

You didn’t mean to cross that threshold, just the thought of it made you sick.

The medium, however, had proceeded with her head held high, turning on the lights of the chamber.

The steps resounded muffled in the carpet, while carefully inspecting the desk, then the blankets and pillows of your bed.

«It happens here...», she whispered. She walked the blankets with her hand, until she reached the foot of the bed, «rising from here», she had crouched, as if she were imitating what that presence did to you. Her hands were on the covers. «it blocks your ankles», her hoarse voice resounded in the walls of the room, «it runs through your legs», she crushed the fingers between the unmade blankets, «coming to your belly», she crushed the mattress as if under her there had been you.

«And then...», her hands went up again, cup-locking on those you imagined your breasts might be.

The woman, lowered her head, had no idea what she was actually doing, but you had to admit that her explanation was accurate enough for you to understand that she was not a charlatan.

«It tastes you».

An unpleasant sensation made its way into your stomach, «I understand», she had said to herself, as she was getting out of bed.

He went through her purse, pulling out what appeared to be a talisman.

«In the realization of the talisman it is very important to respect the hourly and planetary correspondences, in fact there is always a specific day and a precise lunar phase to build and consecrate it. You are lucky, today the Moon and the stars are clearly visible», said the woman while consecrating some.

She placed one right under the bed, one above, and another in your bedroom door.

Perplexed, you frowned, «that’s all?» you asked, «three stupid pieces of paper?».

The medium smiled, «do you have other alternatives?».

The question left you motionless, unable to answer.

«no...», you had answered, driving her back to the front door.

«The curse is powerful, but I am sure that this will be able to keep it at bay for a while».

«What?! With all the money you asked me for? Did you manage only to "keep it at bay for a while"? Are you kidding me?» The woman smiled, then gave a small laugh of derision, «maybe you should have called an exorcist?».

You were so frustrated, so... so...

Bitter tears had run down your cheeks, you had dried them almost immediately, trying to keep calm.

Don’t worry, you thought, crashing on the living room couch, wait to see if these talismans work.

***

With wonder and relief, the sleep paralysis that had tormented your nights seemed to be a distant memory.

A week had passed since you could finally close your eyes without the fear of being trapped in a limbo of impotence. Your night’s rest had become a precious refuge, an oasis of peace that you had begun to fully enjoy.

The evenings followed a reassuring ritual: the return home from work, a hot shower that dispelled the accumulated tensions, a satisfying dinner and finally the refuge in the blankets of your bed. Everything seemed to fall into the natural order of things, as if normality had finally returned to claim its place. However, the tranquility you had so longed for was perhaps only an illusion, a prelude to a new chapter of horror.

In the second week of serenity, a strange feeling had crept into the air.

One night, while you slept deeply, the pungent smell of something burning had disturbed your sleep. Your awakening was immediate, and in the darkness, putting the blankets aside, you realized that something was wrong.

Your eyes slowly adapted to the darkness, and before you, the atmosphere lit up with a sinister light. A crackling blue fire enveloped the talisman hanging from your door.

A sense of disbelief enveloped you as a figure began to take shape.

It was a robust body, but its humanity seemed distorted. A man, or perhaps something that might have looked like a man, materialized before your eyes.

Your mind tried to deny what it saw, but terror took hold of you as the breath became disjointed. Your lips rippled in a desperate sigh, while your terrified eyes closed as if they were denying reality. Gasps and sobs were released from your chest as you carried your arms in front of you, as if that impotent gesture could protect you.

You just hoped the last talismans could protect you, but... well...they couldn’t.

You saw it when they both caught fire at the foot of your bed and a cold breath began to move some of your hair.

«You surprised me», a voice made your blood freeze, «closing me out like this...» it was distorted and gruesome as it echoed in the darkness. It had a stamp that sent chills down your spine, and as you desperately tried to move, your impotence became more and more overwhelming.

His scornful laughter echoed through the air like a macabre background. «You tried, you and that stupid bitch», his mocking tone crept into your ears, causing you another sob of terror.

«Go ahead yes, continue to be afraid, it is even better if you cry».

His body locked you in a corner of the bed, leaving you with no way out. You were alone, you and his dark presence, which seemed to devour the air around you. Every word spoken was like a direct blow to your soul, bringing out a sense of degradation and unspeakable terror.

«Did you really think you could stop me from still possessing you? Naive, stupid inferior human», he whispered in your neck, his breath cold as frost on your skin. «I thought you would behave well, like the good pet you are».

His words were filled with contempt, a humiliation that imposed itself on you like a chain, enveloped your spirit.

His words didn’t make sense to you, and yet, you didn’t have the courage to argue, you had the feeling that if you tried to move a muscle, he would tear you apart right in that moment.

You hadn’t yet had the courage to open your eyes to look your tormentor in the face, let alone have the strength to escape from his clutches.

His hands ran down your hips, embedded in their retracting curve.

They put pressure on you, made you scream in fear.

«I had a continuous thought, I have always had it from the first day in which I have seen you», his lips settled languid in your half uncovered belly. Your chest was hurting, your hiccups were shaking and your throat was parting, making it sore.

«Please», you had whispered, «don’t hurt me», your eyes were still closed, full of salty tears.

You had finally had the courage to speak as you laid your hands on his in a desperate attempt to divert them from yourself. You put a little pressure on him, but the guy on top of you didn’t seem to want to cooperate with you. In your desperate act, you saw that his hands presented what appeared to be scars, perhaps... seams?

«Hurt you?» he laughed almost out of control, «I don’t know, I’ll probably do». Your eyes became two saucers, so scared that who was in front of you couldn’t help but notice it.

«Are you afraid? Yes, I imagine it is so, otherwise how could I feel so regenerated?».

Then his face took shape in front of yours.

His two-tone eyes peered at you in the darkness of the night, so evil, so frightening that they cut your breath. His hair covered his sewn face, it was so surreal it felt like a horror movie.

His hands grabbed your wrists with a surprising force, far beyond what would be expected of an ordinary man. Despite your attempt to resist, his grip intensified, and in response to your affront, he gripped your wrists until they broke.

A deafening and desperate scream broke free from your mouth, but the man’s reflexes prevented you from venting your pain altogether, resting his lips on yours.

Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.

He had the urge to lick your lips and grunt angry when you didn't want to.

With your wrists completely broken by now, you couldn’t defend yourself, so he freed them, putting his big, rough hand in your cheeks.

You were hurt and violated, could something worse have happened?

When his hand slipped in your belly to make room between your legs, you knew there was something worse.

«No!» you cried desperately, «no... no, no-».

«Yes, yes, yes, cute, little…».

Your head was beating, your heart seemed to want to explode in your chest, your sore wrists, victims of a broken fracture, were hurting so much that you missed the air.

«You will love this, you will love to take it, won’t you? Will you become the key to my experiment? You will carry my child so well, yes... you will be perfect».

You weren’t listening to almost anything that was vomiting on you, too traumatized, too aching to focus on his words, and it was bad, since he had just confessed his no longer hidden desire to impregnate you.

His hands stripped you of the oversize shirt you were wearing, lifted it up to your breasts, leaving your sensitive boobs exposed.

«I have raped so many women in my life by curse... but you... you are by far the most beautiful of all».

His hands landed in your ribs, forcing you to settle under him.

With one hand he would block you from the neck, keeping you under control as his head went down into your chest, tickling your collarbones with his hair.

When his mouth closed in your turgid sensitive nipple, you tried to look at the ceiling as much as you could. You just hoped it would be over soon, yeah, it would be over quickly, you’d just be estranged, and everything would just seem like a bad nightmare, right?

You told yourself that, but it seemed more complicated than expected.

His mouth sucked mercilessly, popping into your irritated reddened skin.

Bites and bruises took shape in your body, immediately you were back to being the pitiful girl of a few weeks before, while your body lay untidy between the covers of your bed.

Another sinful kiss reached your lips, but you, once again, had not returned it. Your muteness was followed by some hiccups and supplication but nothing seemed to stop the monster above you.

Your body’s natural reaction to his touch made you felt sick . Your bowels twitched at the thought of pleasure, you hated it, you hated that feeling so much, you would rather die.

«Now you will be a good girl, but there is no danger that you will be a bad girl, isn’t it true, pet?» Your half-opened lips made the curse above you even more aroused.

He bit your shoulder and made you bleed, and then, under your increasingly obvious shock, he took off your shorts and panties.

In a moment of lucidity you had brought your sore hands towards your intimacy, crying like a defenseless little girl and still begging him to let you go, to stop, not to do this to you... but nothing seemed to change his mind.

The curse slowly and forcefully pulled your hands from your most sensitive spot, giggling at you and your despair.

«How rude I am», he smiled , «I didn’t even introduce myself».

You struggled frantically in his grip, «As if I could give a fuck! Disgusting monster!».

The sick look of those who were torturing you became even more intense, He licked away your tears, while keeping you perfectly under his control.

«Oh, then you too have a spirit of survival, I thought you had lost the desire to fight», two fingers crept into your wet folds, surprising you.

You had bitten your lips, unable to restrain your weeping, disordered moans.

«I am Mahito», he had whispered in your right ear, while he was fucking you with his fingers, «keep this name in mind», he said kissing your ear shell.

«I am sure that soon you will shout it of your own free will».

Overwhelmed by his brute strength, you couldn’t help but cry.

Your sexual experiences could be counted on the fingers of a hand, what it was doing to you was something so abominable, and yet, your body could not help but react to unwanted caresses.

Dissociating seemed like something impossible, no matter how hard you tried to prove it, the feeling of his fingers inside of you wouldn’t let you get distracted.

Beyond that, the pain in your wrists grew stronger and stronger.

When you saw the face of the curse dipping between your thighs, settling on your violated pussy, you thought this was the first time someone was eating it, and no, it wasn’t something you wanted to get done; your shyness had always blocked you, but now there were no alternatives.

Still clenching your eyes, salty tears fell down your cheeks, now in a silent cry that heralded your destiny.

It was obvious, you couldn’t save yourself, it was too late, and when his tongue had sunk into your wet folds, you couldn’t help but arch your back to get away from his ruthless mouth.

In that desperate refusal, Mahito grabbed you by the side, trapping you in a cruel vise.

He licked all your excitement, lingering on your little feminine bud, there was nothing more annoying when his teeth grabbed him making your lower abdomen numb.

«No... I beg you, enough... I don’t want it», a guttural lament made you tremble like a leaf while the curse didn’t give sign of wanting to yield.

He sucked, then dipped his fingers in your tight opening.

You would have cum, you would have orgasmed, and you would have hated it, you would have hated yourself so much, so much...

With a choked-up moan you let yourself go into the spasms of orgasm, and as much as you hated to admit, it was painfully enjoyable.

He continued to overstimulate you as your thighs squeezed into his face, prey to a primal instinct that even you didn’t understand.

He caused a few complaints, while, horrified, you had noticed that his hand had rushed to rub the erection in his pants.

With a trickle of saliva tying his lips to your messy pussy, you couldn’t help but think the scene was tremendously erotic. Something made you pulse down there, and you certainly wouldn’t forgive yourself.

«Try to be honest with yourself», his voice teased you, while his hands spread out your legs again.

«And don’t hide», he said by rubbing your clitoris quickly.

Your sighs had become little squeaks of torment.

«e-enough... Enough... Too-»

«Poor little pet», he said slapping you in your core, «you are so desperate... You want more, don’t you?»

You were still crying, louder and louder, as you felt something rigid make room for yourself.

«Indeed...», he said, turning on your stomach, his lips in the shell of your ear, «I want to fuck you like a fucking dog, yes, as if we are two animals».

You were shaking like a leaf, and your wrists were throbbing with pain.

«they hurt me, this position... I can’t...», a slap angrily hit you on your buttocks.

«Shut up... be quiet», he bit you in the lobe, while his hands pushed you in the back, forcing you to adhere to the mattress.

Your butt was high, your femininity completely exposed to him, who was still torturing you with his fingers.

When he penetrated you with his monstrous cock, the squeaking from your throat intensified.

When he had started to move his hips in slow but deep and angry thrusts, you had screamed in pain.

Your pussy opened up to him, wrapping his long and big excitement.

A ring of delicious cream had formed around the circumference of the curse, and the more he stopped to study it, the more his horny cock enlarged.

«Don’t you feel what you’re doing to me?» he pulled your hair, forcing you to suffocate in your pillow.

«Don’t you feel how much we are made for each other?» one more push, one more scream from you.

You were a total mess, so physically challenged, you couldn’t even think straight.

The thrusts had become stronger and faster, his hands now, had run down your delicate neck, clutching him in a vise.

Her teeth sank into your back and shoulders as you trickled blood down and dirty the bed and your shirt crumpled over your tits.

«h-help», you had whispered in terror, unable to think clearly, «please».

«I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but nobody will help you», with three other pushes he had come angrily inside you, filling you with his hot cum. You could hear it drip, while in an animal act, it continued to penetrate you without mercy.

«s-someone... Help me».

As you closed your eyes, you couldn’t help but feel the evil laugh of the curse above you.

«We will be together forever», He kissed your back , imperlated of sweat and blood.

«we will be together forever and you will adore it, you will love me, you will give to me a half cursed son».

Completely unconscious, your vision had become clouded, and even this could not block the cursed spirit.

«Open your legs, it will be a long night, you know?».

[ineffectualdemon]

Had a sleep paralysis incident which went better then normal because when I fell asleep my cat was on my chest and when I "woke up" in sleep paralysis she was still there. And when I was starting to freak out she headbutted my face and rubbed against me before settling down again and it helped.

Everytime I started to panic or think something else was in the room I immediately was like "the cat is still chill and happy on my chest" and would calm down

Eventually I broke out of it but it was far less distressing this time

[choppersconfirmedkills]

the first time i recall shifting

So I have finished my homework and as the votes would have it, you all get a storytime of the first time I ever shifted (that I can recall).

I affectionately like to refer to this as the crying baby incident (lord knows why, I'm just screwed up in the head).

Let me set the scene...

The year is 2021. I am living with my older sister as the live in nanny for my then 10-month-old+ niece (she's now nearly 5, someone sedate me). During this time I was shifting to my very old MCU DR, and was still majorly under the influence of 2020 shiftok.

I was dear friends with the person who coined the original ADHD method (the one with 8D audio), she told me stories of how much it worked for her so I decided to try it. I managed to do all the steps right (which I now know does not matter one bit), and during the subliminal section of the method, I was floating in and out of consciousness rapidly.

I have sleep issues and night terrors so this was not unheard of for me. However, during one of these moments of consciousness, I am awoken, from the opposite side of the bed I fell asleep, to the sound of a baby crying, and an exorbitant level. So I immediately jump into action. I say something like "Don't worry ____, AT is coming, just give me a second." Again this is all while I'm half asleep.

I go to grab my phone to turn on my flashlight as it is dark in the room and I realize, the shelf next to my bed isn't there. The room I'm in looks like a combination of the room I fell asleep in and my DR bedroom.

The baby cries again and that is when it hits me. My niece is asleep soundly, 2 floors above me.

I lay back down, knowing I've shifted, and have the mentality of "fuck that" and I close my eyes and immediately slip back in and out of consciousness rapidly. I then woke up the next morning in reality, where I had initially fallen asleep.

Even though while I was there I knew I had shifted, I still tried to find an explanation for what I experienced.

1st it was a dream, but that made 0 sense as everything was moving in real time and I experienced all my senses.

Next, it was sleep paralysis, but I obviously could move so it wasn't sleep paralysis.

Maybe I heard my niece actually crying? Not in the basement when she was on the second floor.

So I determined it was a shift, and allowed myself to bask in the excitement of doing it even though it was weird.

[bagelbun333]

Diego's evolution, plus a long list of my headcanons for him below ^-^

This is what I have in mind when I write fanfiction about him c: (feel free to use them if you want!)

I was too lazy to draw him as a baby, but he was bottlefed coffee once

Born in 1984 (Between Feb 16th and Aug 27th)

Hispanic

Bisexual

Has ADHD

6'1 (Canon height)

Can speak fluent Spanish, English is his second language

Will slip into Spanish mid-sentence when emotional

Became an orphan at 5 y/o

Was adopted by Grossberg at 10 y/o

Inspired to become a lawyer because of Grossberg

Grossberg often took him fishing, he likes it as a hobby

Good at cooking

He had a mohawk fade haircut as a teenager (it kinda looks like one in the image below, and it's before the DL-6 Incident so he must've been around 16 or 17 here)

Good with kids (was often responsible for looking after the younger children when he was in the orphanage)

Red is his favourite colour

Went to law school with Jake Marshall and Eddie Fender

Loves reading books and studying literature

Is a big fan of the “Adventures of Herlock Sholmes” novels

Started smoking at 16 y/o with the influence of Robert Hammond, but he stopped at 21 y/o when he got addicted to coffee instead (idea came from this concept art)

His smoking phase is why he has a deep, raspy voice

Started studying law at 17 y/o, became a lawyer at 21 y/o

Started having a promiscuous relationship phase at 17 y/o, stopped at 23 y/o (a couple years before he met Mia)

Physical touch is his love language

Power-bottom (submissive for Mia)

"Intellectually" attracted to Jake

He loves the feminine aspects of himself as much as his masculine aspects

He got his first piercing at 19 y/o

Started getting cats at 22 y/o (he has five of them, all named after coffee blends)

Big cat dad

Him saying “Ha…!” is one of his vocal stims

He keeps his attorney's badge in his pocket a couple years into his law career

Has an overprotective personality

Met Mia two years before the events of 3-4

Mia gave him a dark blue magatama as a good luck charm

He gets flustered when his own flirtatious words are used on him (especially when it's from Mia)

Blushes when receiving compliments (especially from women)

Very good at doing voice impressions of people, even if it's feminine (this is actually canon, but not many people know that)

Has a habit of copying people's methods and using it against them (he does this in court)

Will flirt if it means it can help him win a trial

He was planning on proposing to Mia

Used to love cream and sugar in his coffee before he was poisoned (mocha latte was his favourite)

Depends on the AU I'm writing, but for canon events, Mia took Diego's cats to a trusted cat shelter while he was in a coma

After his poisoning, Diego refuses to put anything in his coffee, even if it's too bitter for him

Awakened from his coma sometime between August and November 2017 (At 33 y/o)

Starts having an identity crisis and existential crisis around November 2017 until he came up with his Godot persona in April 2018

Often forgets how old he is after coma

His attention span worsened after coma

Received his visor in March 2018

Released from the hospital sometime around April 2018 (after 2-4)

His coffee addiction became more severe after his poisoning: the scent woke him from his coma and he doesn't want to fall back to sleep, plus the scent reminds him of the wholesome memories he had with Mia and he wants to relive that time constantly

Suffers from Somniphobia/Insomnia because of his coma

Sleepwalks sometimes

Gets nightmares regularly

Often gets sleep paralysis

Has paler skin after coma

Skinnier physique after coma

Hurts himself physically to show that he's emotionally hurt (he's so used to hiding everything behind a smile that he doesn't really know how to express emotions)

Has one of those blind cane things but he hates using it

Gets chronic migraines

Hallucinates sometimes (I got the idea from when he saw Mia's spirit at the end of 3-5)

Gets panic attacks regularly (bc his emotions are so repressed)

Has Lepidopterophobia - fear of butterflies (trauma from Dahlia Hawthorne)

Became a prosecutor sometime during July 2018

Doesn't like looking at his own face during the events of AA3 (hates appearing vulnerable to others)

He never turns the lights on in his apartment (his visor allows him to see in the dark)

Because of his visor, he thinks he's wearing a black shirt and red tie (switched the colours from how he used to look, plus he wants to wear black bc he's grieving)

Extremely touch-starved after coma

Throws away his Godot persona after the events of AA3, February 2019 (This is canon but apparently a lot of people seem to think otherwise??)

[hapi-transformers-enthusiast]

"Wayward Soldier"

General and Romantic headcanons for TFP Ultra Magnus.

He has made a lil office in my head and he's paying rent, so I'm indulging him.

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, PTSD, sleep paralysis, and general mental-health related things that may hit very close to home.

General HCs first, then Romantic ones Under the cut!

Ultra Magnus has been through quite a lot, just like the other Autobots. However, unlike the others, he's had very little time to get used to Earth.

His uptight demeanor and formal speech is a front, but he's had to hold it up for so long, that it's become difficult for him to ever truly lower his guard anymore.

After he starts getting used to the team, he does loosen up slightly. He's still very strict and orderly, but he starts learning what the other bots won't appreciate - especially Wheeljack.

Earth as an environment, however, takes much longer for him to acclimate to. The first time he gets caught in a thunderstorm, it sends him into a panic attack from the sudden noise. He... rather dislikes rain, really.

The weather that he does enjoy, to everyone's surprise, is Snow. The cool air and the way it seems to muffle noises around it calms him down, even if he needs to be careful about the temperature.

That being said, please do not send him up to the Arctic. Bulkhead told him about the Scraplet incident, and he really doesn't want there to be a second wave of that.

Ultra Magnus also has a pretty religious sleep schedule, which he only diverges from in the event of an extreme emergency. However, there is one particular hinderance that occasionally robs him of rest: Sleep Paralysis.

Every now and again, Magnus gets extremely intense bouts of sleep paralysis, rendering him unable to move for hours at a time. He has a repeated hallucination of a dead comrade holding him down, whispering just barely too quiet, and every time it destroys him.

He'll usually break out of the condition before the sun rises, but it's never pleasant. He'll be extra uptight and particular about things the next morning, as well as a little bit jumpy.

The way that Magnus tends to calm himself down is actually with creative writing. Contrary to popular belief, he's actually a very adept storyteller, and he enjoys putting his extensive vocabulary to use. However, he never shares these stories, always deleting the files after he finishes them.

Onto the Romantic Headcanons!

This mech is extremely out of touch when it comes to romance. It takes him a long time to even recognize that what he's feeling is love, rather than just particularly deep comradery.

Once he does realize he's in love, he'll withdraw pretty deeply. He has lost so many people that he has cared about, and the very idea of losing the one he loves most shakes him to his spark. That, and he overthinks things quite a bit.

After his significant other lets him know that they love him back, though? He is on Cloud Nine. He has trouble putting it into words, but he smiles a lot more now.

Ultra Magnus' love languages are Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation. He's a chivalrous mech, always willing to help his S/O with even the smallest tasks, and he'll always go just a little bit above the standard.

However, he absolutely needs his S/O to verbalize that they love him. He can be very insecure if it's not something war related, and thus needs reassurance that he's doing things right: That his lover is happy with him.

Touch Starved. He spent way too long alone on that ship flying to Earth, and it shows. Put a hand on his cheek, or (if you can) the small of his back? He'll be putty in your hands.

At first, he doesn't really like cuddling, because he starts to overheat. However, if his S/O helps him through a Sleep Paralysis or Traumatic Episode, he'll start liking it a whole lot more.

Similarly to humans, Cybertronians tend to sleep better when in groups, and Ultra Magnus is no exception. He often wales to find his hand entwined with his partner, or even spooning them lovingly. Don't ever mention these things to Wheeljack, poor Magnus will never hear the end of it.

Alright, that's all I have for now!! Stay tuned, folks, I'll be writing more often soon!

[fleeglefazbeagle]

TW: Disturbing imagery, distorted faces(?), body horror, death, murder, mentions of choking.

This here is Wraith Secret History Tails.

Gender: Bxy(agender boy).

Sexuality: Aroace.

Pronouns: He/it.

Age: 14 years old.

The story takes place during the "Secret History of Sonic and Tails" video.

It basically goes as normal with Tails wanting to be Sonic's best friend and committing murder. However, when Sonic and Amy confront Tails and it was getting heated, Sonic went into a blind rage and basically started to beat up Tails, punching him and everything while Amy watching in shock and horror. Eventually, Sonic killed him off by spindashing into Tails' face and when Sonic was done, he instantly snapped out of it and realised what he had done, he did what he was scolding Tails for, murder. Horrified, Sonic hid Tails' now dead body somewhere in Tails' warehouse with the help of Amy, they hid him in a empty open crate and covered the body with a bunch of scrap metal.

They left the warehouse and closed the door behind them while agreeing to not mention this to ANYONE, hoping no one finds out but however, weeks have passed since the incident, Amy and Sonic both feel like they're being haunted by something at night, Sonic's was the worst. Tails' face on the posters would be covered by a black scribble or void, he would hear choking and sobbing and sometimes when he's laying in bed, he'd have sleep paralysis and see what looks like Tails but with a gaping black hole for a face.

One day when Sonic decided to go for a walk to get some peace and fresh air during the night, he found a figure in the far distance through the fog. He called out to the figure, asking what they're doing but there was no response.

Sonic carefully approached the figure, wondering who they were and what they're up to but then he found out who it was...

It was Tails, well, it looked like him but it can't be because Tails is dead.....right?

Sonic carefully and gently tapped the figure's shoulder and suddenly, the figured slowly and painfully turned around to face him. Bones cracking, raspy, wet and heaving breaths and what showed was definitely Tails but there was a black, gaping hole where his face should be with black liquid dripping from said hole.

Sonic quickly gasped in fright, he never saw Tails like this when he was alive even when he went crazy. Sonic froze in fear as Tails slowly leaned towards him with his shaking hand reaching out to the hedgehog, there were black veins on his forearms and his legs, they pulsed, his neck dribbled with the same black liquid and his crooked teeth slowly came into view in his otherwise empty void of a face as a gurgling hiss was made.

Eventually, Sonic snapped out of it and ran as fast as he could but at the corner of his eye, he'd see what was supposed to be Tails following him. Tears fell from his face, horrified that the hauntings he dealt with previously were actually hauntings and not just guilt induced hallucinations.

Sonic met a dead end with no safe way to go, Tails slowly approached the hedgehog, gurgling and choking with his arm reached out as Sonic repeatedly muttered his apologies but then he suddenly passed out.

Some time goes by and Sonic wakes up back in his home with Amy looking at him, clearly worried about what happened. Sonic explained everything that happened and it caught Amy off guard.

The two of them studied various supernatural creatures for more info and then they came to the conclusion that Tails was now a zombie and an onryō. Now, on certain nights, they'd see him nearby and even interacting with them especially with Sonic, the person who caused his demise in the first place.

If you have any questions, please ask in my ask box. :)