#NIGHTMARES CW

[tqsg]

I've seen too many people comforting Piper about Jasons death. I need... Leo. Someone give him comfort. Please.

ur so real for this omg 🙏 OKAY here we go .!

His laugh echoed the ship. Leo couldn’t help but bask in it. Leo let himself smile. How could he not?

They chased each other throughout the Argo, laughing, being lost in a moment of pure joy.

Leo stopped running, as to let Jason catch up. Leo always was faster than him.

But he was nowhere to be found.

“Jason?” Leo called out.

He yelled for Jason a second time. No response. Where had he gone?

Leo rounded the corner and suddenly the scene changed.

He was on a sky deck, looking at Lester Papadopolous and Piper McLean.

“Where’s Jason?” He heard himself say.

Tears filled Piper’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” He heard Lester tell him.

That’s when Leo connected the dots. The coffin. No. No no no.

Had he been here before?

He looked up and suddenly he was staring at his old house in Texas.

“Mama!” He heard a little boy’s voice yell.

It took him a moment to realize it was him saying it.

He turned around at the sound of someone’s voice. It was Caligula.

He was standing in a room filled with mirrors, a glass prison, almost.

“You’re too late.” The emperor laughed.

“No!” Leo screamed. “No! Please! I can find a way to heal him! Please!”

The emperor made a tsk tsk sound, and the glass surrounding the two of them shattered.

He woke up in his bed back at camp.

“Leo!” Someone next to him screamed his name.

He fell off the bed in a moment of shock. He lifted himself up, and looked to see who it is.

“Are you okay?!” He heard Piper yell.

Piper had been visiting camp for a few days, and now she was standing next to his bed.

“Yeah yeah, sorry. Bad dream.” He barely uttered those last two words.

Piper’s mouth scrunched up in thought. She went over to where Leo was and helped him up.

“It was about Jason, wasn’t it?” Piper wasn’t really asking, she knew it was.

Leo didn’t answer. In fact, he looked away.

Piper reached out and suddenly Leo’s lungs were being squeezed to death. She was hugging him. Leo let her.

She took his hand and sat with him on his bed. She hugged him again. They stayed there for a long time.

It was definitely against camp rules, but Leo didn’t really care at this point. He needed a friend. He needed Piper.

So he let his tears fall for awhile, not really caring who saw.

#asks #valgrace #leo valdez #piper mclean #toa spoilers #toa #trials of apollo #tbm spoilers #nightmares cw #jason grace #mentions of the guy anyway LMAOO #death tw #these tags are so chaotic sorry LMAOO #minor caps #riordanverse

[gamblingluck]

Ace is in some mcdonald's-y realm and the worst part is the ice cream machine is broken.

SEND AN ANON NIGHTMARE.

Oh that's just not right at all, AT ALL. " ... I hate EVERYTHING HERE."

#nightmares cw #GSFDLKHJLSFHGSDHG

[vekovoysoldat-moved]

@camerica sent : "Let me take care of you."

IT'S ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS HE FEELS LIKE HE CAN'T BREATHE - when his body feels as if it's been drenched in ice , frozen in time. He'd fallen asleep on Steve's sofa - he's yet to find a place of his own although he knows he needs to. NEEDS TO START PUTTING DOWN ROOTS. It's not that easy though. Nothing feels right. No home. Even Brooklyn is different. Haunted. Full of ghosts. He realizes as Steve comes to his aid that he must have been screaming in his sleep - who else in this building had he woken up? the entire apartment block? SHARP BREATHS CLAW THEIR WAY OUT OF BUCKY'S THROAT AS HE LOOKS AT STEVE WITH WILD EYES. "I don't -" He wants to tell Steve that he can take care of himself , because that's just how stubborn he is , but the truth is right now - being alone would be worse.

#camerica #( verse : from one fight to another // main ) #nightmares cw #panic attack cw

[solarisgod]

Ever since Micah was a child, they would only dream of the infinite darkness, with its coldest and loneliest space ( yet, where it held the most peace that they could ever have ), and while they got older, the darkness would often fall into different colors and shapes, becoming more vivid, ever violent.

( There was the fire that burnt them.

There was the waves that drowned them.

There was Micah, strangling themself— )

Phoebus was the one who learnt how to develop their awareness in these aching dreams to control them better for Micah and their starmates who were haunted by the consuming nightmares. They soon taught Philos and Phobos how they could make their dreams be only of never ending light.

Nothing but love itself.

Their shared dreamscape became more brighter, then. Occasionally, bits of darkness will bleed over it, often hurting Micah who is the most vulnerable of the Starwake System, through, they will always try with everything that they can to make their dreams feel as much home as possible, and they could achieve it most of the times.

When July began and ended with blood, however, everyone had lost their control.

Blood consumed it all.

Then, in a dark dream, from the distance ahead, there is a silver glint.

Shaky breathings leave Micah in terrible trembles as they gaze at the field of corpses, unrecognizable, almost meaningless— though, how they still know that these ruined bodies once belonged to everyone who they had closely known and ever only loved—They fall to the red surface on knees and it ripples beneath them, their deep sorrow. Clenched hands grip onto the heavy chest while they try to collect their composure, find the calmness in their breathing pattern— they make an attempt to inhale deeply and everything in them burns like childhood— Micah tightly shuts their eyes and sobs harder, allowing their guilt and grief to tear them apart, so they can be eaten alive by the entity that stands perfectly still before them, smiling and smiling and smiling—

"To be loved is to be consumed."

Sharp echoes of a cutting truth tear across Micah's starless dreamscape. Awareness flickers, then, telling them that this is a being made of dream sands and dark shards. They do not try to move away, or even shift. Micah still remains on the infinite blood of their dead loved ones, feeling themself being slowly dragged in the sanguine sea. They can never understand why does the world look for every chance to hurt them. Have they not bled enough? Been bruised enough? Their body aches in every single ways that no others should ever get to experience— exist with for the rest of their life. Each pulse of a heart forms a phantom burn in the damaged body. Each breath taken makes Micah long more for a galaxy to hold them, loving them with unending lights.

"I want to die out of love."

Micah's thought breaks through the silence, causing the sky and sea to waver gently, saying, you have always wanted to die for love— their sobs fall into silent crying and they glance up to see @nightmarecountry for the first time, its endless terrible teeth. Still, even then while facing the white night destruction, they do not leave it behind. They only try to understand its horrors. "But not like this." Their mind continues to speak to it with softness, despite the violent dream the entity builds against them. Micah does not want to hurt it. They do not want to remember the pain anymore. They just want to be loved, but in ways that can remind them of the clouds and stars. "Loving and being loved," they say, "They mean more than what you are familiar with."

While Micah continues to stare at it, the blood beneath them both slowly fades away. "Please," a begging, "Let me live so I can teach you how love can mean more than hunger and consumption." How it can always mean more than all forms of horror.

How love will always be more than the endless violence.

#ASK TO TAG CW #DEATH CW #MURDER CW #NIGHTMARES CW #NIGHTMARECOUNTRY #/// #// #/ #𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ IC . › #𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ ANSWERS. › #𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ V : TSNMN. . › #𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ MICAH . › #[ ✨ : uuuuummmmmmmmm genuinely speechless here! ] #[ cried badly writing this but jhbgksgs UGH / not neg ] #[ thinking about setting this after C.orinthian uuuhhh stabbed them if you plan to reply to the prompt we just sent you UH ] #[ Micah has been through so so so much... I am so hrghrgrhgrhrgrhgrhrg HODLS THMEST ] #[ Micah and C.orinthian together though... gonna be such an interesting pair fr fr ... head in HANDS ] #[ also this prompt is so so so C.orinthiancore it's PERFECT fucking losing it here oUGHHJHK ]

[notfromcold]

It's always "Oh, you're going to bed? How about the same recurring nightmare you've had almost weekly for nine years that causes you to wake up in fight/flight/freeze?" and never "How was the eight hours of sleep? Was the eight hours of sleep restful? It looked restful."

#trauma llama #ptsd cw #nightmares cw

[cflight]

😰

Send me 😰 for a glimpse at one of my muse's nightmares!

Hooves scraped through the bloodied earth as Ekira took in the sight of what once was their home, pink smoke billowing and surrounding the weathered buildings. Every step they took felt as if they were walking through molasses, vision blurry and blinded, trying desperately to claw their way through the smoke with each cough and choke of their breath.

They’re trying to run, why can’t they run?

“Mama! Mama!” Their mouth moves, but no sound comes out. They’re only getting more desperate, the faster they seem to go, the farther their destination gets. Bodies soon surround them, becoming blurred and blackened, twisting and mangling themselves in ways that weren’t humanly possible. Sickening cracks of brittle bone and squelches of burnt flesh ring in their ears, followed by laughter, cackling, piercing laughter that gets louder the more they try and wave away the smoke. “Mama!”

Shadowed hands reach from the abomination of bodies, forcefully grabbing at the goat in any way they can. Their horns are yanked, hands scraping on the freshly burnt flesh of their back, and Ekira screams, but the hands are quick to silence them, jumping down their throat. Ekira gags as a plethora of hands grab at their neck, squeezing it further until they’re gasping for air.

Pink fire surrounds them, the flames growing higher and higher, laughter spilling over as the bodies themselves twist and change themselves into the silhouette of Hemlock— he’s choking them, one hand gripped tightly around their neck and the other, pressed into their back, melting and burning it until he can see bone. Choked screams pierce the air until Ekira realizes it’s no longer then he’s holding, but their mother, the sickening, wicked laughter ringing in their ears as Hemlock watches her take her final breath—

—and then, they wake up.

#🌻 | ic. #kinda #anyways is Ekira okay? absolutely not thanks for asking #🌻 | grey strangers. #nightmares cw #nightmares tw #ask to tag #body horror

[magioffire]

TENDER - but Erastus still thinks Vali is asleep tho lkasjlkfjs

hurt/comfort prompts ; accepting

Usually nightmares never bothered him if he was curled up in the bed of a lover or friend, comforted by their presence, keeping any dark memories or sordid projections of his imagination from tainting his dreamscape. Erastus and Valeriu often slept at different times, so Vali felt comforted by the fact that the vampire was up and about, guarding him while he slept. Made the fae feel secure enough to actually get a few good nights of sleep in Erastus' apartment. A lover's presence did not always guarantee safety from nightmares, though. He hoped and prayed he would never bare such weakness before Erastus, hoped that his mind would spare him the mortifying shame and pain of having to relive trauma after trauma in his sleep.

Valeriu writhed and kicked and cried and begged and cursed whatever phantom of his mind's eye that tormented him through the night. Just leave me alone, he would cry. Please don't, he would whimper under his breath. Apparently his twitching and kicking around on the bed, followed by moments of strange stillness, eventually became concerning enough that Erastus stopped what he was doing, and climbed into bed with Valeriu. Even in his sleep, Vali's brain stood on high alert. He felt arms wrap around him, which only made the fae shake and struggle more, as weak and restless as those movements were. It was like being on the ground, with weights around his limbs, trying to crawl while everyone else walked just fine, or trying to throw a punch in a dream, it just never connects. He couldn't fight back from whatever arms were enveloping him in his dream, no matter how desperately he writhed.

 Vali awoke with a start, or more so in a state between wakeful awareness and asleep panic. He kept his eyes screwed shut, breathing heavily, whimpering. He tried to throw a series of kicks, but his legs felt weak and heavy, and his legs hardly connected with anything but the sheets and pillows scattered about. He realized someone was holding onto him, and only panicked thoughts rushed through his mind. But he was also being hushed, caressed, simply held still so that Valeriu would not harm himself.

The realization took longer that he liked to admit, but eventually, Vali felt Erastus against him, his arms tightly wound around his body, holding him still and close. Erastus was embracing him, comforting him, not the source of the nightmare but the refuge. Erastus' fingers trailed through Vali's hair, ignoring the terrified night sweats that clung to every part of his body. He cooed against the fae's flushed skin, hushed him, rocked him, pressed Vali's face close to his chest, perhaps not even aware that Vali was now awake to witness this act of compassion and care. Slowly but surely, his flailing and squirming eventually ceased, the tears on his cheeks burning as they slowly dried.

His mind felt muddy, clogged full of heavy, draining thoughts. Intrusive reimaginings of torment and pain long past, recreated in the mangled depths of his mind. People touching him, hurting him, rejecting him, shaming him, making an example of him, laughing at him, stealing his freedom and will, sapping his strength until nothing remained but a smoldering ember of his former self. All his fears amalgamating into one vengeful phantasma of dreams. A dreamstrider submitting as a victim to nightmares? The very medium from which Valeriu  used to inflict terrors upon others? That was pathetic. Vali thought.

A profound exhaustion swept over the fae, as if he wrung himself every which way, squeezing every last bit of himself out of the rag he called his mind. He felt so tired, so ashamed, a little pathetic too...he didn't even know how to describe it, but he didn't dare raise his head, or give any indication he was actually awake. He couldn't stand Erastus leaving him in this moment of desperate need.

Instead, he simply tried to lose himself in how Erastus played with his hair, rubbed his back in wide circles, whispering comforting words in his ear that Vali might never hear while Erastus knew he was awake. He couldn't help himself, he had to return the gesture, show he was okay, somehow. Vali tenatively reached up and coiled his arms tight around Erastus. He let out a deep sigh, and then peeled his wet face from the vampire's chest.

"I'm sorry." Vali hiccuped. What was he apologizing for? He didn't quite know, but likely something to do with the profound pain he unwittingly shared with Erastus. How it managed to scare off many more with even more of a reason to stay than the vampire. A part of himself hidden deep away, until he even managed to forget it lurked there in the shadows. Erastus shook his head, perhaps he didn't know what to say, but he knew Vali did not need to say sorry.

Erastus didn't pull away, he didn't shirk Valeriu, and instead wiped the wet tear stains from Vali's cheeks. He just wanted to cry again. That was more than he could have ever expected. There was no need to apologize, yet here he was, begging for forgiveness for the pain other people caused him. Vali laid his head back down, forcing himself to close his eyes, to shallow what he was feeling, even as he wore it plain as day on his quivering lip and sunken, red eyes. The caress of calloused fingers against his cheek brought him back into reality, grounding him back down to earth.

Erastus was being extraordinarily tender with him. He felt a little skeptical of the vampire’s intentions - if there was ever a perfect moment to take advantage of a fae’s weakness, it would be now. With bated breath, he entirely expected to feel those fangs against his neck, a sensation that grew disturbingly familiar and uninvasive to Vali. It never came. He didn’t do anything but cradle Valeriu, watching him carefully, carding his long fingers through messy chestnut locks. He actually felt safe, secure within his lover’s cool embrace, like a gentle autumn breeze against his skin. Maybe Erastus could act as a sort of safe haven to the fae, as counter-intuitive as it might sound. A vampire and fae were two creatures not meant to be, they could never truly work by any stretch of the imagination. And yet here they were. The fae relaxed, and eventually went limp again, falling back into the much needed realm of sleep -- hopefully this time without any nightmares to torment him.

#ic. #ask. #draggeddowntothedark #modern verse. #long post cw #nightmares cw #:) enjoy

[bricky-brikson]

Merry Whump of May

27/05/2022

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Mask | Nightmare | Pliers

Content warnings: PTSD, nightmares, blood, stalking, comfort, male whumper, male whumpee, male caretaker

Cassedy wandered down the streets of Toronto. Well, wandered was the wrong word to use. He was bleeding. Wherever he looked, there was blood. On his sweater, dripping onto the pavement, on his hands, everywhere. It was a miracle he was still standing, still moving. But he had to.

“Caaaassedy...” 

It seemed his voice was coming from every direction.

“You can’t run. That leg of yours won’t support your weight forever...then we’ll be together. Like we’re supposed to be.”

Cassedy wanted to scream. He opened his mouth but nothing came out but strangled whines. Tears began to stream down his face. His movements became like molasses, his legs becoming frozen. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do anything. Cassedy just wanted it to all be over. Vomit began to creep up the back of his throat as he felt frigid hands embrace him from behind.

“I told you that running was a waste, yet you still did it...”

Felix moved to stand in front of Cassedy, looming over him, more shadow than man. Hands roamed from shoulders to neck, gripping with intent. Felix leaned down, pulling Cassedy closer. Their lips met.

“GET AWAY! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!” Cassedy sat up in bed, screaming, clawing at his face.

“Cassedy- Cassedy,” Cecil reached over, trying to hold the terrified man.

Cassedy shrieked, swinging his arm and punching Cecil in the face. “STAY AWAY FROM ME!” he struggled, trying to escape from the bedsheets.

“Cassedy it’s just me! Detective Hawkins! You’re safe!” Cecil exclaimed, this time steering clear of Cassedy’s arms just in case he got another slug to the face.

“D-Detective Hawkins...” Cassedy panted, pushing himself up. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just-” Cassedy began to cry.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Cecil wrapped an arm around Cassedy, holding the sobbing man close.

“He was there, he was-”

“He’s not here. You’re safe. You’re with me. I’ll protect you.”

#ptsd cw #nightmares cw #blood cw #stalking cw #comfort cw #male whumper #male whumpee #male caretaker #original story #original character #cassedy lowell #felix abner #cecil hawkins #dear cassedy #brick scribbles #brick wall

[godzexperiment]

Not a single muscle twitched; despite the activity in his dream which- was vague but horrifying. Until his hand found it's way to his knife, out of it's sheath and holster where had been strapped out of sight. Fingers seeking purchase of the cold metal in attempting to wake up or settle the dream down. It didn't work, the metal warming up as he struggled with knowing he was asleep and that he wanted to wake up. Battling his subconscious yet held down by the fear. What managed to wake him up was the taste, feeling of blood in his mouth.

Sitting up on his bunk slowly, drowsy pinpointing that he must have bit his lip and just pinning his knife flat between his palm, the sheets. Just letting himself sit there not trying to force himself to calm down or get up entirely.

#nightmares cw #<< dream you cannot escape >> drabbles #(archangel corps man just casually having an bad night as he tends to)

[stil-lindigo]

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

#cw: suicidal ideation #cw: suicide #cw: self harm #cw: mental health #cw: depression #i made the balloon the main representation of my self destructive urges for a reason but im not going to explain it #i tried to keep a lot of the details in this vague #it would be my worst nightmare if this comic encouraged someone to hurt themselves #so. please dont #for a long time even the thought of making this comic felt so insipid and narcissistic #with the state of the world as it is #having the only threat to your life be yourself felt so privileged and trite and shameful #but doing this comic made me sit down and process things in full #and im just. very grateful i didn't give in to my thoughts back when i sincerely felt i'd be more useful to the world dead #i also feel the need to say that this wont represent everyone's battle with mental illness. its unfortunately different for all of us #there is no fix-all #and im afraid this might be one of those comics that either resonates a lot or misses the target by a mile #i made it for myself foremost. and now that its done im glad i did it #thank you for reading #and please stay alive #stillindigo art #stillindigo comics

[trapton]

❛  can we pretend this never happened?  ❜ sorry will ur son is a troublemaker

🔧 @bravevolunteer (𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚊𝚞)

𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. no -- the creatures of his son's waking nightmares. now they, are the monsters. slow process, ice pick taken to sculpture that is michael bit by bit. breaking down the psyche, relating his salvation to his own father. a night of horrors, yet 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕. and he is the only one who can help him now. his guilt is tearing him to shreds, the poor boy. all recorded by the father on his cameras down below, whilst he checks for any further improvements he can make. his beloved foxy turning to a rotted, bloodthirsty beast from beyond his closet door. [...]

and there he was, with his soft opening of michael's door. the monsters have left the father and son to chat. will sitting upon the side of michael's bed, with a soothingly paternal hand upon his back. 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍. or, so the boy thinks. met with a tear-streaked face, had walked in on a flashlight being shone at the fredbear plush in the centre of the bed. it was all he could do not to smile. biting the inside of his cheek as he walked in with narrowed brows, as to keep himself in check.

cue the fatherly routine of lazily roaming room to check within closets and underneath beds. humming with a reasonable amount of urgency (for william), that there was no monsters left to be found.

𝚒 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. "-- are you sure?" william asks, hand retreating. offering a concerned smile, as he reaches forward to ruffle mike's hair. "you can always sleep on the couch, tonight. i was just in my office - surely the nightmares won't bother you there." he puts his hand on the boy's knee and squeezes. lopsided smile as off-putting as it ever has. "especially while i'm in the next room." he chuckles, teeth baring.

"-- or perhaps it's nothing a pint won't fix."

#bravevolunteer #𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞: ( 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 ) / 𝑤. 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑜𝑛 #I DID IT AHAHAHAH A #au ft. bravevolunteer tbt. #alcohol cw #nightmares cw #manipulation cw #₀₀₁ ᜵ 𝙾𝙾𝙲 ¸ answered

[familiaanteomnia]

~has prophetic visions~

new party trick unlocked

#nightmares cw #♥ i can’t breathe. 》 mun post #♥ aesthetics 》nathan prescott #♥ aesthetics 》xavior carver

[soulgathered]

lil bit more v.ash thoughts,,,

he suffers pretty badly from nightmares. even before the main story starts, he will often have nightmares about past stuff but especially about the day the ships crashed. it isn't too uncommon for him to cry out for r.em in his sleep.

he def. has nightmares regarding his brother though they go from nightmares about how he could not see his brother's suffering to nightmares about having to kill him or just the terror his existence brings now.

the nightmares get so much worse during tr.imax, especially after wol.fwood's death - v.ash goes as far as to light the cigarettes ww used to smoke because that feels familiar to him. he is not coping.

...any sort of healthy sleep is out of the window after he kills le.gato. boy is now a screaming & crying mess.

i really think after the story ends he sticks around until the people he cares for have passed away. & then v.ash may pick between a few places where he wants to go: besides k.nives tree, w.olfwood's grave, the orphanage, july's ruins or where ship 5 crashed... & there he'll become a tree himself, probably an orange tree. & I think for him that really is a happy end,,, being able to rest but still provide protection & food to people.

#about ( vash ). #nightmares cw #trigun spoilers cw #death cw

[flownintothesun]

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── [ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 ]  𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

              ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── a legacy post for @batteredoptimist dated 13 August 2022.

       𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓, 𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 to seek comfort in the presence, the luminescent glow, of the one you love. And yet when all is dark save for the lightning and the thunder, incessantly battering his brain like a ship tossed on the waves — Francis feels almost guilty to tiptoe down the creaky stairs and into the room small enough that surely at one point in time it was a closet.

     And nothing makes sense. God, nothing makes sense. He is both here and there, a time gone away and a time present — one foot in the mud of someone he will never be again, and one on solid ground. He reaches for his constant in the dark — le moineau — sparrow...darling...James.

    The window shakes, and small form is illuminated in bed and Francis goes to him, toward love  — because there is no other way to be, and because he cannot move against it, would not.

     James wakes with a start as Francis climbs into bed with him  — but before Francis can utter two words, the wind howling outside  — the crash bang BOOM — and the rain pelting the window, James is aware. He draws him in as though everything isn’t confusing, and askew, and wrong. As though for one moment, in one place, everything is safe.

      Soft thumbs reach out pad at the tears streaking his cheeks. Their foreheads touch — his own, damp with sweat and James’s cool and grounding. “I’ve got you, bunny,” his loved one says, holding his cheeks to keep him there, keep him close. It wracks more sobs through Francis’s body. He doesn’t deserve, he doesn’t deserve, doesn’t...

     “I love you. I don’t want to go on pretending I don’t love you. I want to stay, James. I want to stay.”

#batteredoptimist #➤ 𝚅𝙸. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂 ┊ francis devereaux. #♡ 𝙹𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂 & 𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙸𝚂 ⤷ like a night in the forest ; like the mountains in springtime ; like a walk in the rain. #nightmares cw #ptsd cw

[solarisgod]

#NIGHTMARES CW #AFTERDARKTRIAL #/// #// #/ #𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ OOC . › #𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ SURVEYS . ›

[eccentricksies]

It was quiet, that never ending absence of any other living occupants of the place. Felt like it vibrated in the air; inside his body till it eventually couldn’t be contained. So he kept busy; deciding he’d start up his own agency and share his space. Most tangible area keeping ties to his childhood- an life of some sorts. And what a difference it made even just finding George. Noises of his experiments and cooking. Sounds of the living. Then came- well he didn’t like to think about it. But that disaster led to Lucy, who for sure had an presence to contend with. More noise, more signs of life filling the place that wasn’t just him, George or the odd clients. And he didn’t want to admit it scared him to imagine losing that. One of them. Both. To move around the space like an ghost again; alone and constantly trying to not occupy the space too long. Staring often at that one door in particular. Sitting there, sometimes not too infrequently talking to memories. Hadn’t done it as much since started work up. Occupying his time and well just not being alone anymore. Only one really strong rule, that room was off limits and he tried to limit the looks or pauses he always had regarding it. --------- He woke up from one nasty nightmare; just sat there in the bed and barely blinking. Throwing on some tshirt, sweatpants in his blind grab for something to wear- it was cold so he also zipped up an jacket. Out into the hallway, figured he’d just do some work till he calmed down. His lack of concentration made it too tough however. So he ended up sat on the kitchen counter. Waiting for the kettle to boil; old mug cradled in his hands and tea sat next to him. Only barely making sure the kettle didn’t loudly wake up George. And while the tea steeped- he thought before jotting down on the thinking cloth. Out of sight. I don’t know how to fix this. ----------- It wasn’t the first time- not likely to be the last one. He’d watched people die before; he had his lungs fail to intake fresh oxygen countless nights. Yet he felt guilty; even if he’d already been sold out. The man had a family, he’d begged them to leave. Maybe, maybe he could have done something to help. Sound distorting, world bending around him and oxygen depleting. Large part of him wanted to grab for the man. Not the time to mourn an stranger. Or to feel the death glow burning into his retinas. Yet his system failed to understand that; fighting against it while getting pulled away from the danger. Get it together, snap out of it and worry about it later. Managing to claw out of the concrete sludge enough to go through the blur of everything following. Only one exit out of the trouble his brain could think of. In the moment; under such duress and he didn’t allow himself to think too much. Or he’d probably just run right for the human threat to his life. Plunging into the water- cold, heavy and it didn’t kill him. As the high emotions, rush of danger wore off unable to help slipping into slight hysterics. Amusement. He wasn’t dead, starting to feel the heavy soaked clothing and rocks underneath him. He’d continue on, she was alive too and when it was all settled. Then he would cry, he would fall apart and feel that cold heaviness but in emotions only. For now he had business, his friends to focus on and all else was future hims problem.

#~you just might end up dead~ lockwood insights #panic attack mention cw #nightmares cw