#nigthmares

[trekkiehood]

Based on this Tumblr Post by @marmaladedcroissant

(I wrote this at 2am and am self-projecting <3)

TW: Nightmares, vague suicidal thoughts

The nightmares aren’t bad. Not really. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

It’s not like with Ponyboy. He doesn’t wake up screaming or crying or anything like that. No one ever rushes through his door to calm him down or make it stop.

So it’s not really that bad. 

The clock on the mantel (his parents' mantel. The same clock that’s been there for as long as he can remember) reads three a.m. He should be asleep. He knows he should be asleep. But he also knows what’s waiting for him there. 

It’s the silent terror. Waking up with a sore throat but with no tears on his face. It took him awhile to realize it’s the pain of not crying. Of not shouting and begging and pleading with God for a different life. Of not letting a single sound pass through his lips when they need to so badly. 

That’s what waits for him when he finally closes his eyes. He knows this. But his eyes are getting heavy. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep them open. 

Maybe he can get up and be productive. He can do the dishes (if he doesn’t soon they’re not going to have anything to eat on) or fold the laundry (why is there so much? Why is there always so much to do?). But he can’t. He’s too tired to do that. Too tired to function really. He just sits. And stares. And tries not to sleep until his body physically cannot take another second of wakefulness. 

There’s nothing waiting for him beyond the land of wakefulness except the mutilated bodies of his parents. Maybe his brain will decide to spice it up this time. Maybe it won’t be his parents. Maybe it will be Pony. Or Soda. (Or Dally or Johnny or Steve or Two-Bit or or or or). Maybe it won’t be death. Maybe it’s a social worker. One who claims (knows) that he’s failing. One who believes (correctly) that he can’t do this anymore. 

Maybe he’ll watch again as Dally is shot down in the streets (or maybe it will be Soda this time.) Maybe it will be Johnny crying out in pain, barely able to move (or maybe Pony will take his place like he wants to). Maybe Pony’s body is found at the fountain, not Bob (it’s an oddly clear image for something that technically never happened). Maybe it’s Soda with the vacant eyes of another soldier lost that stares at him from the newspaper (Soda turns eighteen in a few months please God I couldn’t live without him). 

He’s seen them all die in so many different ways. He waits patiently for his own turn. It never comes. Maybe that would be too much of a relief.

He should let go now. Stop fighting the heavy eyelids. But he can’t. Because that would be admitting defeat. 

That would doom him to the horror show that lives inside of his mind. It’s hard enough to keep them at bay when he is awake. When he’s asleep he has no defenses. 

There used to be a time when he couldn’t fall asleep (he still can’t but he’s more thankful for it now). He tried sleeping aides when he was a teenager when his nightmares were mostly failing his exams (he had the death one's back then too. But it was different now. Everything was different now.)

Oh he would sleep. They would have their desired effect. But he wouldn’t wake up. Not when he needed too (not when he couldn’t escape whatever torture chamber his brain had decided to trap him in). Certainly not rested. And the pressure behind his eyes wouldn’t go away for days. 

Maybe Two-Bit had the right idea. Maybe if he went through life just on the edge of intoxication- 

Maybe that would make all of his nightmares come to life even faster (he can’t drink like that if he wants to keep his brothers. How is he supposed to protect the gang if he can’t keep a level head?).

He had to get up for work soon. But how was he supposed to do that when his brain wouldn’t let him move? 

How was he supposed to get up on a roof and work when he could barely see straight? Maybe he could close his eyes for just a minute-

His eyes fly open and he doesn’t remember if he even dreamed. The clock reads four am. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than twenty minutes. He must not have dreamed, something else must have woken him up (his eyes are painfully dry and the ache in his throat tells him that’s not true). 

He used to talk in his sleep. Soda made fun of him for it. He used to say the strangest things. Things that didn’t make sense. Words or phrases that didn’t seem to go together (those were the days that he didn’t remember dreaming at all but he always woke up feeling worse than he had the night before). 

Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and he couldn’t breathe. Sometimes he knew why, knew what he had seen inside of his head. And sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes the pain in his chest and the spinning in his head warned him with the impending feeling that death was imminent and that it was close (but not for him. Never for him. Why couldn’t it just come for him?). 

But no one knew. 

No one heard him sobbing in his dreams. No one heard his screams and cries and begging. Those stayed inside of him. Everything stayed inside. Because the second it came out it would ruin them all. If those emotions, those reactions, ever broke containment, they would never go back in and he wouldn’t be able to cope anymore ( then everyone would know how messed up he was. How broken he was. How not okay he was). 

So he would wake up with a sore throat and aching eyes and a scream on his tongue (one that will never make it past his lips) and stare at the ceiling until his alarm goes off and everything starts again. 

And while he’s lying awake he’ll listen. Listen for Pony’s cries. His screams (sometimes he was jealous that Pony got to scream. Why doesn’t he have to suffer in silence too?). And then he’d wait outside the door to see if Soda could handle it (most of the time he could). Wait to see if he was needed (he rarely was). And in the rare event that Soda couldn’t calm him down, he would step in and do everything he could to make his baby brother feel better (why does Pony get comfort? Why can’t he have it? Why does even his subconscious refuse to allow him to ask for comfort?). 

But tonight Pony remains silent. 

Darry does too. 

Because the nightmares aren’t bad. Not really. 

Notes:

Let me know what you think <3 Much love and God bless, Jamie

[movieposters1]

[christmassavestheyear]

and the words i most regret are the ones i never meant to leave a fic by @thefootnotes for @whumptober

Eddie hasn’t heard anything from Chimney, or Maddie, or Buck, for that matter, since he left the firehouse; the last one seems somewhat irrelevant, seeing as the last they spoke Eddie essentially told him to fuck off in the middle of a supermarket, but the chill down Eddie’s spine echoes the disturbance in Carla’s voice. And if his gut is right, if the panic creeping like sweat across his skin is warranted, then something very, very wrong has happened.

Or the one where Buck loses his life right in the middle of the lawsuit, and Eddie regrets all the last words he spoke.

T | eddie diaz & evan buckley | 1.2k whumptober day 26 - nightmares: breakfast table, parting words of regret, "i'm haunted by the lies that i have loved, the actions i have hated"

read on ao3.

[nipuling]

[svartabergetart]

Nigth lords Death cards of terror tactics. Can you tell me where the death cards come from? Watch my sagas here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCaV7-9fIKAP4FaMHlqSucpA https://www.facebook.com/Svartabergetart/ #nigthlords #terminator #deathcard #warhammer #nigthmares #wh40k #comics #warhammer40k #illustration #digitalart #conseptualart #conseptart #conseptual #terror #elite (på/i Trollgrottan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpSGHDSInoI/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[sir-biszkopt]

LQ and his 4 smoking weed wives

[mscutiepo]

[bee-da-bumble]

I've been dreaming of this girl.

WARNING IM DYSLEXIC JUST DO YOUR BEST AND FORGIVE!!!

Ok, so let's get some background to catch everyone up.

Ive suffers from, Nigthmares, Nigthterrors, and sleep movement (and talking). For my entire life. Which is why this baffles me. But as of late this girl keeps appering in my "dreams" (more like a mix of nigthmare and dream).

She's kind, nice and so pretty. Only one dream centerd around her and if I'm being honest, I wish that dream was real, dispite the apocalypse that the dream was about being horrifying. (The dream felt like I lived 5 months fyi)

Sins then she's apperd plenty of other time and she's always a protecter roles. (I think its improtant to add In my dreams I also play this role for her to.) My dreams are SUPER vivid so I rember almost every detail and I may post about some becase ive gotten some pretty intresting reactions from peaple when I dicripe diffrent things that normally I shouldn't know.

Becase of this I rember almost every detail about her, her wavy golden hair, her oliven skin with small amount of freckles. Her smile being crocked and decorated with her dimples. The fact she smiles with her teeth unaploigeticly. Everything but the eyeshape and her higth (all I know is she's taller then me (5'3") and has Amber eyes)

The only things outright amited is the sound of her voice, but I do rember her suprise squeks. Normally things like this are never in my dreams let alone everytime I dream sins. I guess I just want to know what do I do about this?

I hope this isnt to hard to read I tryed fixing what i could and reread acuple of time. Please have mercy.

[kurumi-tokisakii]

[hnwd]

And the Nightmare top (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ @ruelin024

[iamsofuckinggay]

School things part 2

[srdod0doxydum]

All the smiling critters but in their Nightmare version it can be a bit... worrying

[lovecocoa-blog]

Están en problemas 😦

Dream y nightmare pertenecen a jokublog

Error pertenece a loverofpiggies

Ink pertenece a comyet

[letoscrawls]

Victory celebration for May the Fourth ❤️

[svartabergetart]

Beastmen Ungor smith working and its for the x-mas raid. To get the food and slaves for the Anglende x- mas feast of the monsters of the dark wilderness. The herd is guided buy the grim #krampus of forgotten #nigthmares For my comic and watch my sagas here; https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCaV7-9fIKAP4FaMHlqSucpA https://www.facebook.com/Svartabergetart/ #ungore #beastmen #smith #working #illustration #digitalart #grimdark #warhammerfantasy #darkfantasyart #darkfantasy #fantasy #warhammer #fantasyart #conseptualart #conseptart #comic (på/i Trollgrottan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmeFadEIjdF/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[orbital-inclination]

when you finally convince him to join your snowball fight. There is NOTHING behind his back!

Accompanying piece to this. Rem @ mine