#nightmare tw

[bunny-lovers]

Imagine your f/o comforting you after a nightmare.

proship/darkship/neutral DNI

[gregorovitch-adler]

An Intimate Friendship

CW: Slight Violence and Nightmare.

--

A loud bang from opening fire, and there he was, lying flat on his back, dead, bleeding through his right temple.

*

Watson sat bolt upright on his bed, staring at the wall in front of him in his bedroom in horror. He took the napkin from his pillow and wiped the sweat from his face, taking quick and shallow breaths in the process.

As his breathing returned to normal, he recalled his nightmare and frowned at it. Or rather, he frowned at the sheer realism and vividness of it.

If such a day were to come for real in his life, if his life were to end in this way, would anyone care?

Watson gave out a soft, mirthless chuckle. Who would? The public of England talked about the detective and the wonders that the said detective had done in the field of criminology, quite rightfully so.

As for Watson himself, well, he was just a humble and clueless man. He wondered whether the world would even blink an eye if he were to pass away someday.

Watson swallowed and got up from his bed and stepped out of his room to get some air.

He was met with the sight of Holmes having an intense conversation with someone in the living room. Watson raised his brow at the thought of visitors at this odd hour.

Watson did not wish to interrupt, so he decided to go back to his room. However, the intense whispers were quite distracting.

Curiosity got the better of him in the end, and Watson stopped halfway through closing the door of his bedchamber. He cocked an ear to give a part of that conversation a listen, even though he knew how extremely rude eavesdropping was.

"... but what you are asking is to make Watson a bait in the case this time, which I absolutely refuse. You will have to look for a different method, officer. The killer will have to pass through me if Watson has to die. He is my intimate friend..."

Watson finally closed the door and leaned against it, smiling brightly to himself. He did not know about the world, nor did he care, but he now knew that there was at least one person who would blink an eye. Probably more than just that.

Watson walked over to his bed and lay down. He knew he was going to sleep better now.

*

May Prompts: Eavesdropping and Nightmare.

Tags: @keirgreeneyes , @calaisreno , @topsyturvy-turtely , @helloliriels , @jamielovesjam , @lisbeth-kk , @peanitbear , @totallysilvergirl, @gaylilsherlock .

[oyeixcher]

Khao as Ayan in The Eclipse ↳ Episode 1

[earthdcfended]

@leschanceux (Gordy) said: "Relax. We're safe here."

Red patterned carpet runs down the corridors as far as the eyes can see as Howie bolts through the never ending maze. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want to get eaten. He doesn't want rooms full of clowns, spiders, angel statues or gorillas. Rita promised him it'd be okay. The Doctor promised him he wouldn't leave him. But he's separated from them, and there's nothing to be done. And how wonderful it is... It's all so clear, now. He's so happy.

Praise him... Praise him... Praise him...

Howie wakes with a start, and for a minute, he isn't sure where he is. He's on the floor in a makeshift bed of blankets and a spare pillow. In that initial moment, he's back there, using blankets from one of the hotel rooms because Rita declared they shouldn't split up for anything... His eyes adjust. He's not back there. He's in Gordy's room. He's in his aunt and uncle's house.

"Yeah..." He tightens his fists around the borrowed blanket as he tries to catch his breath. "Yeah... safe. We're-- We're safe here. Ed and... Ed and Kate are-- they're down the hall. Your sisters are asleep. We're... okay. I'm okay."

[hidefdoritos]

uhh anyone who prays or sends good vibes or whatever appreciated

PTSD stuff under the cut

So yesterday I went shooting for the first time (I once bartered my mending for some ammo, then my friend and I have spent two years trying to make a range trip happen). A gun was present in my trauma (I wasn't threatened with it directly but it existed). I also flinch hard at loud noises. This resulted yesterday in a couple difficult hours where I faced up to some fears, had fun, and tensed my core muscles over and over.

On the trip back, my friend (who knows I'm traumatized but didn't know details) asked me if I wanted to talk, and I did, so I ended up spilling the whole story, which is a good thing but also exhausting.

Then I went and played D&D and Mario Party for several hours with other friends, which was exactly what I needed.

Anyway overnight I had an actual screaming nightmare and woke up punching my pillow (it's been a couple months since that happened). Also my back is INCREDIBLY sore and tight, almost like I pulled something from flinching so hard and repeatedly.

I'm exhausted from poor sleep quality and my back really hurts, so I'm skipping church this morning and just catching the livestream. So I'm missing out on community support, but I also had such a big day yesterday and I need to process that it was good and I'm alive. I wish I could do that with other people, but also I'm scared of being in a crowd and punching someone who touches me, which seems really likely to happen today, given that trauma reminder + loud noises = jumpy, and talking about trauma + physical pain today = sensitive, and nightmares + punching things subconsciously = danger to others.

Anyway yeah if you pray or send good vibes or whatever I could use them today. Its lonely, I'm tired, and I physically hurt; though the catharsis of facing my fears and talking about them has been wonderful.

[youllalwaysbemyporcelain]

@magicalsmusings

James woke up, hearing Katie scream. He hurried into her room. “Katie? It’s just a dream.” He scoots in with her, holding her. "I'm here."

[mischiefxmuses]

Closed starter for @rcvcrics (harwin x rhaenyra)

Life was odd. Last thing he remembered of home was the bite of the fire and smoke filling his lungs before black. Fear, anger and pain was what his last moments were. Sleepless nights filled with terror. He often just found himself wandering later in the evening, putting off sleep. He was just out for a walk, lost in his own mind and thinking about home when he saw an all too familiar face. "Rhaenyra?" He worried they were an insomnia driven hallucination. "If this is a dream it is the best dream I have had in a long time."

[gollldrush]

@exquisitexagony sent: [ fears ] sender talks to receiver about their fears & [ blood ] sender notices that receiver is bleeding | arthur and leo.

The gentle waves lap at the shore, sand cold beneath her body as she stares at the stars. One hand is twined with Arthur’s, both engulfed in silence. The only light trickles down from the moon, reflecting hauntingly across the water. Behind them, the dune grasses dance in a soft breeze.

She had been to the beach plenty of times, both as a child and as an adult. Summers spent on yachts, trolling boardwalks, and getting kicked out of bars for being underage. A completely different life than the one she was living now. This life where she had somehow found peace even if on the surface it was more chaotic than the previous.

Her hand releases from theirs as she props herself up on her elbows. She looks at them once, then back out across the sea – back again, except,

They’ve become taller. Their curly hair replaced with a short, side-swept style – no longer Arthur at all, in fact. Eric rolls on his side, a wicked smile on his face. His hand closes around her neck so quick there’s little time to react. He drags her under him, choking, choking, choking –

Leo wakes up gasping for air and hideously clawing at invisible hands on her throat, catapulting herself backwards and off the bed. A few kicks have landed against Arthur’s skin – a terrified scream peels from her mouth as she hurriedly shoves herself into a corner. She flails against the wall, hitting a nail head that’s jutting out and ripping her skin. She doesn’t notice the blood – only thinks she sees Eric when her eyes pop open and Arthur is in front of her.

“No, no, no, NO!” She kicks at them, terrified – trapped in the throes of her nightmare. “Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me.” Eyes are wide and wild, feral almost. “Eric I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

[clawsofakiller]

A short fanfic my partner wrote for me I did a re-translation I love it just want to share with y'all

🤭🥰😋☺️🥴🤗，👍👍❤️🖤💙，😼🧡🥷🐺，❗😼🧡🧡😨

Hurt/Comfort

Creed held the mutant boy who is two turns smaller than him, and said nothing.

Every muscle in Daken's body trembled, and at the moment, an aura of disturbed pheromones surrounded his whole body. He lay motionless on Sabretooth's chest, clenching his teeth against some unknowable nightmares.

"What did Romulus do to you again?" It was a long time before Creed asked.

Daken still said nothing, the blood from his nose gradually staining Sabretooth's suits; he was badly wounded. Even in such a terrible condition, he resisted Sabretooth's embrace with all his might. Being so close, he could clearly hear Creed's heartbeat, so he knew that the giant mutant didn't really care for his wellbeing, he just god damn enjoys smelling the fear of others.

[rd-eternity]

Words: 5.3k || Rating: Teen and Up || AKA the alternate, happy ending of her heart, his hell

Summary: Doing what he could to redeem himself to the pack clearly didn't work. Theo's back in the hospital of hell, running from his sister. He's losing his heart, and his hope. No one will save him from hell this time; except he's not in hell. Liam's desperately trying to pull him from his nightmares.

His heart - the one he knows isn’t going to be his for much longer now - tumbles. He swallows hard, chest heaving with sharp breaths. The hand on his chin is warm, but so rough and unforgiving. “Theo!” His eyes snap to the doorway. To… Liam? He’s exactly the same as the one on top of him, just with blood across his shoulders, staining the white t-shirt he’s wearing. Lips brush across his, as a taunt. “How long have you held out hope that I’ll ever love you in return?” he teases, biting at the skin of his jaw, next to where his hand is holding him. “And look at this, the one time you thought you gained something, it was a trick.” His free hand tugs on the ropes around his hands, the rough cord biting into his skin. “Such a wasted life.”

[strawbrryrush]

closed starter for silco !! @mischiefmuses

sleep felt rare- it was hard to sleep nowadays.. especially with her night terrors plaguing her mind- reminding her of how silco died.. died at her hands- every nightmare ended the same.. she left him sinking in the open water- and every morning she woke up just the same- a loud gasp.. as if some of the water never left her lungs- she searched frantically- expecting this house to be empty.. for nothing of silco to remain- for it to be cold.. to be just her- and her racing thoughts and hallucinations.. where was he?? was he dead.. -but she swore she saw him before- felt his touch- but still.. his death was so real and agonizing.. "silco?" she called out with a crack in her voice- straining from the devastation.. as her eyes fell on him- she was quick to wrap him in her desperate arms.. they were weak- as she swore the man she was clinging to- wasn't here.. was he just a figment of her imagination?? her way of coping.. blue and pink flickers danced in and out of her sight- "-i killed you- why don't you hate me?" she asked- with a sniffle.. surely her words were shaky- and barely audible.

[darkkitty1208]

Entry for day 17 of Whumptober 2023, prompt no. 17: Touch Aversion & "Leave me alone."

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Doctor Strange (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Stephen Strange & Wong Characters: Stephen Strange, Wong (Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Doctor Strange (2016), Aftermath, Healing, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Nightmares, Touch Aversion, Stephen Strange has PTSD, Wong is a good bro, Mentioned Dormammu (Marvel), Dissociation, References to Depression, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sort Of Series: Part 15 of Whumptober 2023 Summary:

He did it. He defeated Dormammu.

The world is saved.

He should feel triumph, or glee, or at least relief. But he doesn't.

All he feels is exhaustion. A bone-deep, spreading tiredness that leaves his knees weak and his head spinning. He feels like collapsing.

OR

Post-DS1, aftermath of Dormammu, because MCU has the audacity to not show how it affects Stephen. 

[zakariaxwolfe]

Haunting Memories || Self Para

This threat takes place a week or so ish ago, their first night back in the new place since the raid.

Zak wakes up in the middle of the night to find out the bad dreams his mother lightly mentioned were a bit worse than he expected. tw: nightmares, guns, a traumatized child

ft. Sophia and @rcsesnoir (Oxana)

Zak and Oxana had finally settled into their new house, and Sophia was back home with them. For the first time in weeks, he felt a glimmer of hope, a sense that things might finally start looking up. He couldn’t have done it without Jason and his mom, who had stepped up to care for Sophia during the chaos. Still, Zak had been adamant, Sophia needed to be with someone who could protect her with their life. Nothing less would do. Now they were together again, and their first night back as a family felt like a fragile step toward normalcy.

Sophia had spent the day exploring the new space, arranging her toys, and watching her favorite movies. Dinner was a quiet affair, but the exhaustion of moving had taken its toll. By late evening, Sophia was asleep, and Zak wasn’t far behind. His body gave in before his mind, and though he held Oxana close with his gun tucked under the pillow, sleep offered little peace.

Dreams twisted into memories, and memories became nightmares. The raid replayed vividly in his mind, the shouting, the chaos, and worst of all, Sophia’s screams "Daddy! Daddy, wake up! Help me! Please, Daddy, wake up!"

Zak jolted awake, heart pounding. The cries weren’t just in his head—they were real. Grabbing his gun, he bolted from the bed, every nerve on high alert as he raced to Sophia’s room. He pushed the door open cautiously, gun raised but aimed low, ready for anything. The sight that greeted him made his stomach drop, Sophia, thrashing in her bed, screaming in her sleep.

Quickly, Zak swept the room, ensuring no threats lingered. Satisfied, he engaged the safety, removed the clip, and set the gun aside in a drawer. Only then did he approach his daughter, climbing into her bed and pulling her trembling body into his arms. “Sophia,” he whispered gently, stroking her hair. “Shh, baby. Daddy’s here. You’re okay.”

But his touch startled her awake, and she let out a heart-wrenching wail, tears streaming down her face. Zak’s chest tightened. He’d seen his little girl fearless, wild, and sassy, always ready to speak her mind and take on the world. But this? This was a version of her he didn’t recognize. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, holding her tighter as she struggled. “It’s me, Sophia. It’s Daddy. You’re safe.”

Her resistance melted into sobs, and she buried her face in his shoulder. Zak felt a cool wetness on his cheeks and realized he was crying too. He wiped at his tears quickly. He couldn’t break—not now. Not in front of her. “I promise, baby,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’ll never leave you. No one will ever hurt you again. Not ever.” Sophia’s small, trembling voice cut through his resolve. “I don’t want them to come back for you.”

“They won’t,” Zak assured her firmly. “That’s why we moved. This house is safe, and no one can find us here. I swear.”

“I’m so scared, Daddy.” Zak pressed a kiss to her forehead, guilt washing over him in waves. “I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” His voice broke again, but he continued rubbing her back, whispering soft reassurances. Even as he spoke, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lying. Nothing about this was okay.

Minutes passed, maybe twenty, maybe more, until Sophia’s breathing slowed and her body relaxed against him. “Come on, kiddo,” Zak said softly. “Let’s go back to my room. You can sleep with Mommy and me tonight, okay? That way, you’re extra protected.”

He stood carefully, lifting Sophia despite his own injuries. He knew he shouldn’t, but there was no way he’d let anything stop him. As they made their way back to the bedroom, Sophia’s head lolled against his shoulder, already drifting back to sleep.

Oxana was waiting for them, concern etched on her face. Zak tucked the gun away securely, then eased onto the bed, settling Sophia between them. “We should call that therapist tomorrow,” he murmured to Oxana. “See if they can take her in right away.” Oxana nodded, her hand brushing over Sophia’s hair. Together, they lay in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, bound by the shared weight of keeping their family safe.

[themadauthorshatter]

... I'm not apologizing at all😆

Recently, I've been checking back in with Welcome Home and have had my fancy caught buy an AU called Greyscale Wally AU by the superbly talented @sweetest-honeybee (I highly recommend it, it's AWESOME) and got this idea after seeing some spoilery endgame stuff that was posted

This will contain some spoilers for the AU, so you might want to check that out first before reading this, and this is purely speculation based off of what I've seen

This doesn't really have a title, but Trigger warnings/content warnings for abuse, manipulation, swearing, and humanoid Home being mean and scary

With that out of the way, ENJOY!

Sleeping was steadily becoming something that Wally was familiar with, along with the feeling of nearly unbearable discomfort in his entire body that rarely faded. The only real time it left was when he slept, thanfully.

But he also dreamed when he slept, and he resented it with every fiber of his being.

Each night, he would be haunted by a horrible visage of one of his friends shouting at him, hurting him, turning on him as if he had caused the desaturating plague that slowly, seemingly spread to the neighbors.

It had gotten to Barnaby, at least.

And Home won't tell me why.

Wally burrowed deeper into his blankets, letting sleep overtake him.

And he saw Barnaby and Sally, their colors muted and their demeanors drained and skittish.

Barnaby seemed more agitated than fearful, but kept his eyes averted.

A hand clapped onto Wally's shoulder, covering it entirely as a shadow loomed over him.

"What's the matter, Darling?" Home asked, speaking clearly rather than using the creaks and clatters Wally was used to. "Aren't you happy to see your friends?"

Words failed Wally in that moment, even when he craned his head up and saw Home.

Or, at least, some twisted visage of Home that had a face, one that was... rubbery as it moved, being stuff and movable all at once with enough edges and shapes making up his face to make Wally's head spin.

It would have been better to see Home as a body with Home The House on its shoulders.

But Home doesn't love you. He hurt you, remember?

"You're not," Home surmised, his tone light, but disappointed. "Well, I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? Ungrateful as you are, you're never satisfied with anything I do for you."

Wally stumbled back as his eyes locked on Home's, Home towering over him.

He also managed to find his voice.

"I.. I'm not," he quivered. "Why should I be? You hurt them."

Home followed him, easily keeping up with long legs and an even stride. "I wouldn't have had to, if it weren't for you."

Wally cringed and flattened his hands against the sides of his head; foolish as it was, he couldn't stand hearing the careless tone Home used to say horrible things. "I didn't do anything!"

"But you did."

Home held Wally's hands on one of his own and caught Wally by the jaw, forcing the smaller of the two to meet his now dark eyes.

Wally pulled and twisted to try and break free, but Home shook him, adjusting his grip to grab Wally just under his cheekbones, nearly crushing Wally's face.

"And you just can't learn your lesson."

Wally whimpered when Home pulled him close and snarled loud enough to make Wally kick at the ground to get away.

"You have all of this because of me, you miserable mound of cotton!"

Home all but threw Wally into a turn, wrapping his arms around him, one trapping Wally's arms at his sides as he grabbed a fistful of blue hair.

Wally yelped at the sharp tug at his head, but it quickly numbed when he saw Barnaby and Sally, both with their mouths stitched shut as they gazed brokenly back at him.

Black fluid-like tendrils crept up and around their bodies, and both of them withered the further it climbed.

It wasn't like the discomfort he'd grown used to.

Instead, it hurt.

"Stop it," Wally begged, his voice quiet.

"I didn't want to do this, Darling," Home said ruefully, too close for Wally to bear. "But you left me with no other choice."

The inky black covered both Barnaby and Sally completely and shrank into the ground, then flattened against it.

He killed them.

A burning grew in Wally's eyes, one followed by a trailing dampness that ran down his face.

He killed them. They're my friends! He killed them, but they didn't do anything!

"I can always remake them," Home remarked, "it'd be easy."

He moved closer, forcing his poisonous words to drown out Wally's rampaging thoughts.

"But that means it would all happen again, if you keep being disobedient."

"Please," Wally sobbed, grasping onto Home's arm in order to stay standing. "Please, Home, stop it."

The harsh grasp on his hair turned gentle, long fingers with sharp nails combing through blue threads.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

Wally only cried harder, burying his face into Home's upper arm. "What did I do, Home!? Just tell me!"

The hand in his hair lowered to his back, rubbing circles and occasionally patting Wally's shoulder.

"None of this would have happened, if you'd just listened to me," Home mused. "All of this can go away, Darling, and all you have to do is accept that what you did was wrong."

A tugging at his ankles caught his attention, and a scream ripped through Wally as the black tendrils climbed up his legs.

"Home, stop! Please, Home, make it stop!"

The corner of Home's mouth curled upward before falling once more, his arms loosening as he stood and stepped away from Wally.

"I want you to apologize," Home said sternly. "And I want you to accept that you wronged me. If you can do that, I'll let you come back, I'll take all the pain away, from you and anyone else I gave it to, and everything will be the way it was before."

The tendrils continued to rise, trapping Wally's hands and dragging him into the ground.

"But I don't know what I did!" Wally shouted as he thrashed and clawed to keep himself above the ground. "What did I do to make you do this!?"

Home smirked and crouched down as Wally was dragged further down, cupping his face with one large, clawed hand.

"Think about it, Darling."

The tendrils wrapped around Wally's mouth and eyes, silencing his screams, but also intensifying them.

He only knew how intense they were when he opened his eyes and saw Frank and Eddie over him, both shaken and wide eyed, but overly relieved to see he'd awoken.

Even if they'd done it in the dead of the night.

"Easy, bud," Eddie murmured as Wally shakily sat up. "Just us. Just came to check on you."

Wally hugged his knees to his chest, eyes brimming with tears.

Frank lightly placed a hand on Wally's forearm. "You wanna talk about it?"

Wally only lunged and threw his arms around Frank's torso, and Frank carefully hugged him back.

"It's okay," Frank soothed him. "You're gonna be okay."

Wally barely heard him, not with two raging and terrifying thoughts tearing through his mind.

I hate this.

I hate Home.

[one-abuse-survivor]

I find it interesting that when I have nightmares about my mother lately, she almost always kidnaps me and forces me to live with her again with no way out. But when I have nightmares about my dad, I dream he leaves be behind or stops being by my side.

I also find it interesting that the latter are more distressing than the former lately.

Like, the emotional abandonment (and all the abuse) from my mother traumatised me and fucked me up deeply, but the thing that hurts most now is the irrational fear that my dad could one day do the same. Just. Decide he's tired of being nice to me or having me around.

Idk. Idk. I don't need my mother anymore but I feel like I need my dad now more than ever. Or maybe I've always needed him, but because we're closer now than ever I've never been as scared to lose him as I am now. Idk.

[fili-lionofdurin]

Fili had been awake and sitting at the dining table since early that morning after a nightmare. Much earlier than his usual, and it showed on his face. Though, when Kili comes out of his room, Fili sits up, trying to look more alive. "Oh hey, good morning. Did you sleep, alright?" @coreofgold