#tw implied hallucinations

[ah-the-reblog-blog]

I think it’s interesting that people tend to characterize pre-distortion Michael as a person who was simply a very sweet, generally clueless/awkward/silly person-

I don’t mean “it’s interesting” as in “I hate this and you’re wrong”, I genuinely love people’s characterizations of him, their interpretations are often really friggin cute, I mean that I think it’s interesting how people have interpreted distortion-Michael’s comment on his pre-distortion “ignorance”- at least, that’s where I’m ASSUMING it’s coming from? Or maybe people just auto-blorbo’d him cause we don’t know much of anything besides the… honestly frustratingly small amount of information about him that we’ve got from the episodes- /lh

Pre-distortion Michael, to me, feels… definitely kind, well-intentioned, and socially awkward as heck — the kind of awkwardness that includes: mild-to-moderate stammering when asked questions in that tone that means “you did something wrong”, tries to make conversation and keeps trying to do so with different topics if one fails to actually stick, at least until he can’t think of anything else or feels like maybe he’s just actively being ignored, at which point he makes an excuse and an awkward “bye” and leaves to mull over and stress out about how awful that interaction was and how dumb he must have seemed — (wow sorry that was unexpectedly detailed) but also like the kind of person who would probably have been able to do pretty decently as an assistant and whatnot if anyone had actually bothered to let him know what was happening and how it worked.

Listen, there’s a reason he’d been sent on trips for the institute before, (not necessarily only for Gertrude, either, he’d gone on little expeditions for the institute in general), and hadn’t just been confined to a desk job where he was filing papers or something in the years before the final trip with Gertrude.

It’s reasonable to assume that he was, in fact, considered extremely capable, instead of seeming like some throwaway, “red-shirt”, bumbling “klutz”- I think he just saw himself that way. Think Edward Nygma in season one of Gotham, (minus the riddles, and less okay with blood).

Also, the distortion implies that when Michael’s friend, (Ryan Nolastnæm Fursumreason), died to the spiral or distortion, he was reacting to something that he could see and Michael couldn’t, and basically said that the whole experience never left him, probably influencing his studies very significantly because it had bothered him so much. It wasn’t necessarily just the fact that his friend had died in such an unnatural way that had haunted him. It was the thing Ryan saw, the thing Michael couldn’t see, that terrified him. Because it was out there, still. He could feel it, somewhere, somehow. In his head. Like it was waiting for the moment where it could sink its claws and teeth into him and pull… and rip… and break him in two, scattering the pieces of his mind like it had done to his friend’s.

It was going to hurt him, too, he knew it. And he had to be prepared. Perhaps to fight- or perhaps, more likely, to run away. To get out and be free, and not be chased after by it any more, or run far enough so that it could not reach him could not place him in that centre of the place it kept his friend in and

Head trauma.

He had been drunk and hit his head. That was the story that the police had told to Michael, and he half-believed them. He didn’t want to believe that the thing Ryan had seen was real. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been, because there wasn’t anything there to be real, there was nothing there-

No, it was alcohol. Mixed with whatever sort of thing had already broken his friend’s head.

He had been screaming…

No, he wanted to forget. Not to think about it, not to dwell on the thing further, he had an answer. And that… had to have been what had happened.

And he didn’t want to know what else it could have been.

#tw head trauma #tw implied hallucinations #tw hallucinations #tw police mention #holy shit this randomly sort of turned into one of those funky statements from season 5 what #uhhhhh #michael shelley #tma #tma spoilers #the Magnus archives fan works #the Magnus archives spoilers #the Magnus archives #gertrude robinson #the distortion #rambles #statement???????? #I THINK THERE’S MORE I JUST HAVEN’T GOTTEN IT ALL YET AND I FELT LIKE IT WOULD BE A BIT MUCH #TO PUT INTO A SINGLE POST HJSHSHSHSHS #ENJOY I GUESS

[earthbaby-angelboy]

caramel macchiatos, croissants with nutella, and an angel with sideburns: the musings of a grown child whose trying.

theres a stilling comfort in knowing that i’m awake when everyone else is asleep, being left with an amalgamation of ghosts from past, present and future; it’s like mist dissipating over a lake.

one breath, and it’s all gone.

my head feels fuzzy, and my body hurts. i’m fighting sleep off like a priest fighting demons. the reality of my situation hits me, and panic ensues two or three times; it’s like i’m 7 all over again. except now, there’s something different…

there’s an angel with black hair and sideburns whose wings are covered in multicolored diamonds.

and while i feel like i’m back in the house and like you can hear the screams echoing off the foyer walls, something is different.

this time, i’m sitting in his lap and we’re backed into a corner. my head is leaning against his chest, my arms crossed over my front in lieu of a shield, and loud whine or quiet hum (i can’t tell which is which) is coming from the back of my throat.

our hearts are beating together in rythm, even though his stopped 47 years ago.

for a second, i feel embarrassed for even writing this; it quickly diminishes, though, because i am just a small child having emotions bigger than my own body.

i realize that he’s not here (nor was there) to fight the screams off, or tell them to stop fighting.

he doesn’t care about that, he’s here to help me survive.

it dawns on me now that the universe is recreating a scene from that damned year, but it’s playing out in a way completely unexpected…

cause i’m not 7.

i’m almost 17, but i’m still just as small.

difference is that now, i’m not powerless against the screaming, and i’m not filled with fear.

instead of trying to fix everyone else’s problems, i’m worried about regulating my own.

for moments more slight as forever, he cuts through the cymbals crashing in my brain and i can hear him saying something.

his tone isn’t angry, demeaning, accusatory or mocking, like all the voices i had become accustomed to hearing but banished out to hell.

it’s bizarrely gentle and kind and parental and romantic, all wrapped up into one.

i’m in the present now.

everything has changed, yet nothing at all.

it all happened so fast, and i take a moment to pity myself.

the angel is dead, survived by books and records and the creation of others.

as i’m writing this, i now realize he was dead way back when too. if now, he seems more alive than ever.

but it wasn’t really ‘way back when’, was it?

i see glimpses of his face everywhere i turn now, for nothing more than a few seconds.

sometimes it’s 2:22, or the rainbow made by the moon, or audubon drive popping up on google at 10:34 in the morning.

those few seconds give me enough hope to walk through a dark valley that just keeps getting steeper.

i’ve come to realize the angel that is (and was) with me was NOT the one they claimed to know.

if i try hard enough, he can remain untouched.

it seems that my generation is not rewriting, but retelling the story, his story, all while creating an intense reflection of the comfort so very many of us were denied.

call it inaccurate as you please, we are taking something that was far beyond its time, and applying it to ours.

and i wonder for more than a minute if there was a reason he behaved the way he did.

was there a reason for all the peculiarities other than an eccentric-erratic personality? or is it more like “it takes one to know one?”

because even in our year, i’ve never seen someone in his position behave the way he did: so loving and kind and brutal and rough and erratic…

and terribly brilliant.

#elvis presley #poetry #idk if this counts as poetry?? #but i’m putting it anyway #i wrote this at 3am #when things were real bad and i was looking back on everything #looking forward too #but it was all too much #so i did what i do best and put my neurosis into words #this touches on more in one than some of my other fics ever had #this encapsulates my close past and distant future #how he was there and is still here #and it’s supposed to be cryptic and poetic and sappy and whatever else #cause i want another kid who is also in an abusive situation to see that someone else is there too #(this was heavily inspired from HOWL by allen ginsberg) #i would love to answer questions about this #tw implied death #tw implied child abuse #tw implied hallucinations #remember #you are loved♥️

[loaffofbred]

joe?

#tw implied death #tw dissociation #tw hallucinations #your turn to die #yttd #sara chidouin #joe tazuna #yttd fanart

[scover-va]

[ “ON THE COUNT OF THREE?” ]

You think Michael ever looks at Jeremy and just sees the product of his own guilt?

#scov.art #security trio time travel au #fnaf #michael afton #jeremy fitzgerald #crying child is implied here if that counts #blood cw #tw eyestrain #cw eyestrain #eyestrain #cw gore #artistic gore #uhh lemme know if i should add any other tags #must suck to frequently have hallucinations doesnt it mikey

[beatrixblog]

Dark Cacao December Day 4:

Loss

TW!Implied hallucinations

Decided to go traditional for this one

#cookie run kingdom #dark cacao cookie #tw!implied hallucinations #darkcacaodec2023

[ikamigami]

I wanna hear your rant. It's okay to let it out.

Thank you, dear anon 💗

I think that situation with Sun is more complicated than what I said in response to that post about how protagonists are acting awfully, no better than villains..

I don't know how many of my posts about Sun did you see but Sun was laughing at villains, yes but he did that mostly in reaction videos and I don't even remember him mocking villains mental state.. or anything like that..

Sun has every right to express his disdain for Eclipse and BM and I don't like how people often act like he doesn't or it's okay with Lunar or it's apparently okay for Eclipse to mocks Solar's death..

Whenever Sun called Eclipse insane it wasn't in a mocking manner.. he didn't want to listen to Eclipse, understandably and he also didn't want Moon to talk to Eclipse and be angry..

Moon's anger was even more of a reason why Sun tried to dismiss Eclipse's words by calling him insane than that he didn't want to listen to Eclipse because Sun is scared of Moon's anger.. Again very understandably..

I know that people can and have right to be upset at Sun for saying to Eclipse that he should kill himself.. That wasn't okay for Sun to say.. But Sun's anger is understandable..

But I think that there's more to that because for me Sun didn't sound angry in a "I'm fed up with you and your shit, get lost" type of way.. for me Sun sounded tired.. And I think that what he told Eclipse was sitting in him for quite some time and he was holding it all in himself..

Someone could say that "but Sun already said his piece of mind to Eclipse when he told him that he has nothing etc" which is true.. but here's the thing.. I think that Sun's words weren't meant for Eclipse.. he was talking about himself..

I know that it probably sounds ridiculous but I'm truly convinced that Sun has a hard time to differentiate between Eclipse that we see and the Eclipse he hears and sees in his head (the voice in his head)..

Also I think that Sun puts a tough guy persona act in front of some characters such as Eclipse.. just like Earth said about Jax from The Amazing Digital Circus when she reacted to it with Sun.. Earth said that Jax still cares but he puts a tough guy persona act so he wouldn't get hurt by all this madness..

And because we can see that Sun cares and can't stop caring and that he suffers because of this.. I think that he decided to put a tough guy persona act so he could pretend that he can't be hurt anymore by people like Eclipse for example.. and even more so because he doesn't want to show that he's hurt..

I think that Sun more than anything else tries to convince himself, even more than other characters such as Eclipse, that he isn't good because he believes himself to be evil..

Or that's what I think it is..

I think that Sun's dream proves that he sees that Eclipse is different and that he believes that not only Eclipse but also BM and even Creator can change..

His traumatised mind shows his desire to see them turning good and apologizing for their wrongdoings and to be the part of his family..

Yes, even Creator because remember how Sun didn't told Moon that Creator was in their house and called himself a grandpapa to Sun's cats.. I think that it struck Sun right through his heart (in positive sense, I mean)..

Though when Sun woke up from his dream he quickly dismissed it and wanted to forget about it.. and I think that's because he tries to deny his own kind nature..

But why, you may ask.. I think that Sun is doing this because like I said he tries to convince himself that he's bad..

I think that what Sun told Earth at second therapy session is a proof that he believes himself to be evil or at least that he's a cause of everything bad that happened to his family..

Because remember that Sun said that he sometimes wonders if it'd be better if Moon and him never separated? It's a callback to the episode where Sun went to a dimension where they didn't separate and Moon killed him there.. This heavily implies that Sun thinks that it'd be better if he was dead.. Because what he later told Earth? That if they didn't separate most of these things could've been avoided - these things which are their problems.. which again with known context heavily implies that if Sun was dead none of this would've happened.. They wouldn't have that many problems if he died in the right moment..

Even his response to Earth saying that it's beneficial that Sun is independent individual tells us that Sun doesn't agree with it.. His only response was "yeah.. yeah.." But it sounded almost as if Sun was sceptical about it but because he didn't want to argue with Earth he just resignedly agreed.. because what could he possibly tell her?

That's why he says things like I want them dead - about Eclipse and BM and Creator.. to convince himself that he's bad..

And his dream tells us what he really wants but he denies all of this for himself.. because he isn't good.. Just like hallucination of Old Moon told him that he's no different than him, that he's just like him which means that Sun thinks like that about himself because it's all in his head..

I also think that Sun could possibly laugh at villains and say some things to not oppose Moon because like I said he's scared of Moon's anger.. he's scared of causing Moon to be angry..

I don't like when people lump Sun with characters like Moon or Monty who treats villains harshly and mock their mental state.. because Sun isn't like that.. we never saw him acting like that..

I'm glad that Eclipse understood why Sun was angry and that he let him let it all out.. He didn't even interrupt when Sun was talking.. And he didn't sound as mocking as he's when he talks to Moon..

Even his remarks didn't had as much bite to them as they usually had when he was talking to Sun.. You can call me crazy but I think that Eclipse cares about Sun but he has a hard time to show him this side of himself, understandably..

I wish that some fans could also understand Sun more just like Eclipse did..

I think that's all that I wanted to say.. I hope this response satisfy you, dear anon ^^

If not, go ahead and ask me more questions :)

And I hope that I didn't do too many mistakes and that what I said isn't confusing.. QwQ

#anon #anon ask #ask answered #sun and moon show #sams #sams sun #sun and moon show sun #sams moon #sams eclipse #sams bloodmoon #sams solar #tw implied suicide #tw suicidal thoughts #tw hallucinations #tw mental disorders

[serotonincemetery]

Darkiplier + Male!Reader

TW//Implied self harm, depression, anxiety, implied hallucinations and paranoia, violence, mentioned suicide.

Legit this is just angst. Thats it.

He left you.

He fucking left you in this shithole.

This fucking purgatory against the wall.

When William, the Colonel, shot you, it was Damien and Celine who seemed to catch you when you fell from the second floor over the railing.

They had promised to help you get revenge. To put you at ease. But they needed a host, they promised to come back soon with someone’s body for you to take as your own. You lent them your body.

Fucking backstabbing assholes.

You had watched from behind the shattered glass, of Damien and Celine, walking away in your body, it slowly morphing into one of their features.

They didn’t come back for a long time. They still haven’t returned

Soon that one mirror in the endless void turned to hundreds, surrounding you in a circle, not letting you leave the confine and having to watch the same image for years. It was hell.

Having to watch the same thing, over and over and over again. Constantly. You watched as the manor grew old, and dusty. You watched teens run through it exploring to see if there were ghosts.

Commonly they looked at the mirror. You never showed yourself. No reason to. It wasn’t like they could get you out.

They made stories and theories about you. About the man who went missing in this failing frame of a once beautiful mansion. The rich man who had gone missing during the death of the owner. They theorized that the owner had killed you and then took his own life. Another famous one was that you killed Actor and ran off with his riches, changed your name, made a life for yourself.

You often imagined yourself running away, starting a new life, making new friends, never going anywhere near that fucking mansion again.

You slowly watched as your own appearance didn’t look like your own. Your face looked like it morphed into someone elses, your hands looked weaker, eyes sunken in.

Nothing changed except your mental stability. You were hallucinating.

You sat in one spot for as long as you could remember On the floor, in front of one big shattered mirror, watching the manor. Your knees pulled to your chest and your arms wrapped around them, gripping back at your shoulders. Nails unconsciously scratching at your shoulders and collarbone.

Your eyes seemed dry. You cried a lot before. But now it just seems like a waste of hydration. Your eyes burned, burned at the corners and along your waterline.

Sleeping was a thing that never happened. If you could sleep, it would only be for a few minutes.

All there seemed to be everywhere is silence.

Every little while(it seems like a little while yet its actually years) you start muttering to yourself. Any memory you can remember. Each time, losing details. But the most common memory you recite it the one that got you here.

When Mark died. You mainly recalled the night you all had, partying.

How you kept running Damien’s account slowly dry, every $100 here and there.

You missed being free.

Being able to go places

see things.

Instead of this fucking mirror.

You felt your nails dig into the nape of your neck, you felt nothing but anger. How could they have left you here?

Backstabbing

Fucking

Traitorous

Son of a-

Static.

You jolted before turning your head.

Eyes scanning the area lined with mirrors that you were a slave to.

The static-ringing sound got more intense. You saw a mirror to your right become bright. You stood and felt every joint crunch under your weight.

You watched as a black shiny shoe walked through your side of the mirror, followed by a pant leg. You watched as a man slowly emerged from the mirror.

Your eyes widened, was this freedom?

The man’s face, phased out beyond comprehension. When his face cleared. Your hopes dropped.

Motherfucking traitor

It was Damien’s face. You felt anger bubble within you.

He looked around before his gaze landed on you.

“You poor thing..”

He sighed.

You furled your hands into fists, feeling your nails dig into your palm.

“You’re still here?” He asked. Seemingly in a taunting tone.

“Traitor.” You muttered, your voice hoarse and raspy from disuse.

“No, I said I would come back, thus I am here.” He scoffed.

“It has been years!” You hollered. “You have left me in here for fucking years! You said you’d come back soon!”

“And I have.” He replied nonchalantly.

“No! I have been alone for fucking years. Only being able to watch the same fucking wall, the same fucking window, and the same fucking railing I was shot over!” You ranted. “I have been in this fucking mirror for longer than you have!”

He listened to you rant to him. He could sense your loneliness, your depressiveness. He felt guilt in the beginning. Having the constant words of “He let you do this.” and “He’s okay with it.” play through his head, the words Celine would coo to him.

You seemed angrier at his silence.

You trudged over. Muscles still stiff, unused like your voice. “I have been here long enough for the dust to settle between the cracks of the mirror. I have been here long enough to watch children wander through this abandoned mansion!” You reached your hands up and gripped the lapels of his suit coat. “I have been here long enough those fucking children made stories about me being here! Little fucking fairy tales that I killed the Actor and ran with his money!”

“I heard of that one.” He muttered. “Quite interesting, a theory was that you were hiding in Europe, away from here.” He shrugged before grabbing hold of your wrists and tugging them off harshly.

“You left me here! You promised to come get me soon!”

“Here I am.”

“NO! It has been years Damien! You-” He cut you off by his right hand snapping for your neck like a python. His hand grabbed at your neck and picked you up and walked with you as he shoved you back into one of the many mirrors surrounding you. His hand squeezed at your neck as he raised you higher against the mirror.

“I am not Damien anymore.” He spat. “I am no longer just that fool. I have grown better and stronger than he ever was. His foundation grew into me now. You will not address me as ‘Damien’ you fucking parasite.” He seethed. The ringing and static surrounding the room getting exponentially louder and more harsh on your ears.

“Fucking bitch.” You strained.

“I came to get you. But now I see you deserve to be in here for at least another hundred years! You fucking buffoon.” He snarled. “You don’t deserve to be walking around, you don’t deserve my mercy, you don’t deserve to be free from this hell.”

You reached up to try and pry his hand off.

“You deserve everything you get here. You deserve to suffer, to rot in this miserable wasteland.” He growled. He leaned closer to your ear, voice getting noticeably deeper, more dark and staticky.

“I’m going to leave you here to rot, little parasite.”

With that he squeezed his hand tighter before pulling you back from the mirror, and slamming you back against it.

He pulled you back again, and threw you against an opposite mirror across the void gap.

“I hope you suffer.” He mused before straightening his jacket, and walking back over to the mirror he came from.

You pushed yourself up, and looked at him. “W-Wait!” You called out.

He stopped and glanced at you.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me here.” You cried out softly. “I can’t deal with this any longer.” You felt tears running down your face. Your voice wavered.

You watched as the man, formerly known as Damien, walk over and stop before you. You must look pathetic, some scratched up, crying little bug, for him to squish beneath his shoe. He crouched down in front of you and harshly grabbed hold of your chin. “My, my, little bug. Sweet little parasite. Oh how the mighty have fallen, little cockroach.” His grip tightened on your face. “I can’t wait to watch you lose your mind in this eternal prison.” He chuckled softly. “To watch you cry for a freedom that will never come.”

He dropped your face, wiped the tears off his hands with a handkerchief and returned it to his pocket, he stood and walked over to the tall gaping mirror he entered through. “Goodbye, little bug, may your paranoia reach no bounds.” He chuckled and began walking through with a laugh.

Leaving you alone. Alone again.

You had one chance to get out.

And you fucked it up.

You weren’t leaving.

You couldn’t leave.

You let your head rest on the ground and let your arms reach for your shoulder. You cried quietly before letting out a loud, ear piercing cry, followed by incomprehensible sobs.

————————

//If you like this piece, consider checking out my other oneshots! I just recently got more into the markiplier fandom so if you like this, be sure to check out my other oneshots of the other egos! My requests are open as well!!//

#darkiplier #darkiplier x reader #markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos #serotonin.writes #fanfiction #fanfic #markiplier #just angst #thats it #nothing else just angst #implied death #implied darkiplier x reader #paranoia #hallucinations #implied sh tw

[ditzydreamsss]

Little Devil Left Alone (Crimeboys)

Hey guys! Want angst? No? Well that sucks! Here you go :] (There's a drabble the second half I'm quite proud of)

warnings: death, anxiety, hallucinations, major character death(s)

TITLE: Little Devil Left Alone SETTING: hybrids au IDEA:

-- Wilbur has hanahaki, and Tommy doesn't know what that is. He just knows that whenever Wil visits from his trips (it would last a week to months) he comes back with pretty flowers. Tommy loves WIlbur's visits. Then the number of flowers Wilbur brings increases. Until one day, Wilbur doesn't come back. No one tells Tommy anything. Tommy is still waiting for Wilbur's return because he always returns, until one day, someone tells him the news.

-- "Tommy, Wilbur Soot died four years ago."

-- Then Tommy sets off, following the trail of blue orchids, refusing to believe that his brother is dead. He finds Wilbur's two best friends, Quackity and Slime who are living in Las Nevadas. Where Tommy almost gets dragged away, but Quackity himself shows up to stop the guards from throwing Tommy out when Tommy mentions Wilbur. Quackity has to explain to Tommy what hanahaki is. Tommy passive-agressively shoves the chair he's sitting on and runs out after the explanation.

-- Tommy runs and barely stops until he's far away from the city. He runs into a resting place of Wilbur. Then his denial breaks.

-- His child self remembers when Wilbur arrived, it was just all happiness and Wilbur happily gifting Tommy flowers and everyone laughing. But really, Wilbur was obviously sick. He now remembers Wilbur pretending to be magic whenever a flower came up and hiding his pain. His tears. Nights in the house Tommy hears coughing and weeping. The night he heard Wilbur breaking his guitar into pieces. A lot of swearing, then apologizing. Arguments. More memories with flowers.

-- Until Tommy realizes he's drowning in flowers. But it can't be possible. Tommy doesn't love anybody romantically. The person he loved the most, his brother, is dead.

-- Tommy lets himself drown in flowers. Blue orchids cover his vision.

--drabble-- [more death(?) warning. this are were most of the warnings comes in.]

His whole body was consumed by the blue flowers. It entered his lungs and all Tommy could see was blue- ghostly vines tearing his body from the inside, his horns softly falling to join the mass of petals… His hands weren't his. A blue snake made its way to wipe his tears, and everything was blurry but his tears were blue orchids, they just kept appearing and appearing and Tommy felt like he dissolved so why could he still feel the nightmare happening around him? His body belonged to the flowers now, but his consciousness was still there and he could feel splinters of the guitar digging into his skin but he couldn't feel it, he could see he was bleeding blue, and-

and…

this was all a nightmare, right?

it has to be. Please, say it's all a nightmare. Please say it's just all a dream. Please, if there is anyone out there-

CRASH.

See, Tommy could hear Wilbur calling to him now! He could feel his brother's arms around him, giving him a bear hug. Squeezing the life out of him. He smelled so familiar, so safe. He was with Wilby now. He was safe. He was safe. The little devil wasn't alone anymore.

Tommy heard someone scream.

----------

So what happened at the end: The person screaming is Tommy. He imagined all the flowers (and guitar splinters) in his breakdown. Tommy possibly (if you want to go down the gruesome path), smashed his head by himself with a rock to attempt to free himself from the pain of the memories. Whether he lives and arrives at the acceptance stage, or dies and reunited with his brother, is a choice to be made by the reader.

Maybe Phil or Techno finds Tommy.

ART IS NOT BY ME!!!!

i found it on pinterest :( one big bad thing about that. idk who to credit sob.

#sleepy bois inc #sbi #sbi fanfic #sbi au #hanahaki #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #crimeboys #they are brothers your honor #tw major character death #tw hallucinations #ditzy story corner #implied quackburcicle :D #wrote this who knows how long ago

[pokemonveterinarian]

⚡BRZT! WHAT THE FUCK AM I MEANT TO DO HERE? BRZZT!⚡

[Attached is a video of Saint, who is quite clearly having a panic attack. He's yelling at nothing, and backing up towards the wall. He looks terrified for his life... Just what could this "Lucky" person have done...?

This goes in for a moment. It's incredibly hard to watch.]

⚡WHERE ARE WINNIE AND BETELGEUSE WHEN YOU NEED THEM? BRZZZT!⚡

#tw implied assualt #tw panic attack #tw hallucinations #hoagie speaks

[battiegutz]

TT donnie is so funny bc theyre blasting emo music in their lab like "no one understand me...." mascara running down their face while they code a virus that rickrolls ppl any time they press a button meanwhile in th other room mikey is having a break down bc hes hallucinating splinters corpse

#theyre so silly #Turtle Terrors #silver spills #tw hallucinations #implied at least #ask me abt turtle terrors teehee

[runelocked]

❝ you passed out, i carried you here. ❞ — vanessa @hazardess , but she’s bitter about it

FEVERISH  MUTTERING  HAD  HAUNTED  HIM  ALL NIGHT,  ALL DAY,  AND  THE  LAST  MEMORY  HE  HAS  IS  LEAVING  THE  PIZZERIA,  still  shivering  uncontrollably  in  the  heat  of  the  sticky  summer  sun.  Head  aching,  angrily  waving  off  his  daughter’s  questions:  I’m  fine,  he  remembers  snapping,  more  of  a  groan  than  anything  else,  I  just  need  air.  Don’t  you  even think about. . .  

The  rest  is  a  sliding,  slippery  blur.  Despite  everything  he’s  done  and  the  lengths  he’s  gone  to,  it  seems  he’s  still  just  as  human  as  ever.

That’s  the  really  terrifying  part.

He  can  barely  even  face  lifting  his  head  from  the  makeshift  pillow  Vanessa  has  propped  under  him,  the  whole  world  tilting  precariously  on  an  axis  of  its  own  bearing.  But  he  does:  persists  in  rising,  his  pale  face  ghostly  and  off - color.  Even  trying  to  keep  his  daughter  in  focus  hurts.  She  blurs  in  front  of  him,  fades  in  and  out  between  the  little  girl  he’d  initially  doted  on  and  the  young  woman  he  knows  logically  that  she  is.  Is  this  his  fever - addled  brain  trying  to  offer  him  a  reprieve  from  the  disappointment  he  feels  his  daughter  has  become ?  –  Clumsily  reaches  out  for  her,  words  heavy  and  absent.

“ ‘S  a  good  girl,  Ness.  Always  so  helpful. ”  Her  father’s  right  hand  man,  through  and  through.  Remembers  getting  her  to  hold  his  tools  as  he’d  painstakingly  built  that  old  Spring - Bonnie  suit,  his  pride  and  joy;  remembers  more  recently  handing  her  his  knife  to  wash.  Clean  that  up  for  me.  We’ve  done  well  today.  Both  killers.  Nobody  suspects  him,  of  course  they  don’t.  Confident  words  and  faux  charming  smile  keeping  him  out  of  public  scrutiny,  the  loss  of  his  own  son  only  years  before  at  the  hands  of  his  daughter.  

He  smiles  that  same  smile  now,  but  it’s  pathetic.  Laden  with  the  sudden  realization  he  feels  helpless  for  the  first  time  in  a  long  time.  If  she’d  wanted  to  kill  him,  she  could  have.  Ended  it  all.  He  wouldn’t  have  even  known.  Maybe  that’s  why  he  addresses  her  now,  in  an  exhausted  facsimile  of  love  he’d  once  shown  her  as  a  young  child.  “ Help  me  stand.  [...]  How  long ‘s  it  been ? ”   How  long  has  he  been  lying  there,  human,  vulnerable ?  How  long  has  she  been  watching  over  him;  how  long  has  she  served  her  duty  to  him  loyally  today ?

#(( I THINK I REMEMBER SEEING YOUR VANESSA USED TO HAVE A YOUNGER BROTHER SO I INCLUDED THAT !!! if it's wrong tho lmk :3 )) #(ii) man behind the slaughter — roleplay thread. #(ui) original: standard. #tw child death #tw child murder #tw mental instability #tw sickness #tw hallucinations #tw illness #tw child abuse #tw dysfunctional family #( most just referenced / implied ! ) #a; hazardess #(oxo) rabbit in the headlights: william & vanessa. #(xi) ‘the owner was pretty sentimental i guess 🤭’: movie verse.

[thelunarsystemwrites]

(TW: SA and tactile hallucinations!)

Okay so these happen every day or so normally, whatever, but they're not stopping and it's been a couple hours and i am NOT a fan, anyone got tips on how to distract or stop them?

#tw sa #tw sa mention #tw sa implied #Tw tactile hallucinations #Tw phantom feelings #Tw

[lingeringscars]

Ben 🤝 akilah 🤝 mari

Surviving s2 death allegations

Hallucinating for months because of starvation

#ooc. #starvation tw #thinking about mari hearing the drip early in s2 and it being implied that she has for a while #akilah had the mouse for a long time too #ben hallucinated through most of this season

[serickswrites]

Crashing Waves

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Warnings: restraints, kidnapping, captivity, buried alive, referenced/implied drowning, hallucinations

Whumpee woke with a start. It was dark and their shoulders were pressed in on both sides. Where were they? They didn’t remember falling asleep. They tried to control their breathing as their heart raced. It was dark and tight wherever they were. They couldn’t move. Their hands were bound tightly in front of them. They strained against the rope, but it didn’t budge. They tried to kick out, drawing their knees up as far as they could go. They brushed a hard surface very quickly. They kicked their feet with as much force as they could muster, feet colliding with another hard surface. They screamed in frustration and pain. They were trapped in a box. A box!

As panic set in, they reminded themself that panicking wouldn’t help. That they needed to think their way out of this one. They braced their knees, feet, and bound fists to the lid of the box and pushed with all their might. The wood didn’t so much as creak with the movement. They were trapped in a box God knows where. 

They wracked their brain for the last thing they could remember. How did they end up in a box? They remembered walking into the office that morning, a carton of coffees in hand. They remembered meeting up with the team in the conference room, their latest board filled with pictures, papers, and Whumpee’s neat handwriting. They remembered being frustrated with not having more answers. Not having enough information. And they remembered everyone’s tempers were running high. Teammate Two had snapped at them. Teammate One had left in a huff saying something about needing air. And finally Caretaker had had enough of them, too. Told them to take a walk, clear their head, and come back later. Being dismissed by Caretaker had been hurtful. They’d left in a hurry. They hadn’t meant to frustrate anyone. They were just so close. They knew it. They remembered walking out into the cool sunshine. The air was crisp. Autumn had finally settled over the city. They remembered walking a few blocks, and then they didn’t remember anything else. 

Someone had grabbed them? Who? Who would want them? Whumpee realized that was a dumb question. A lot of people wanted to do them harm. But who wanted to act on it now? For the life of them, they couldn’t think of anyone in particular. Or anyone who’s methods were to put people in boxes. 

Besides their father. I wouldn’t do that to you, my child. I would never put you in a box. Father’s voice whispered through their mind. 

“Not helpful. And yes, you would if it served your purpose.”

I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that last part. Let’s try and think our way out of this one. You’re in a sticky situation, my child. 

“I realize that, again, not helping.”

Think, Whumpee. Use that big brain of yours. 

Whumpee closed their eyes and took a breath. They could hear the rattle of chains. “No,” they whispered, breath quickening. “No, no, no, no, please, no. Please.”

No, you’re not hearing that. Take a breath, my child. She’s not here. I won’t let her come here. You found her. Remember?

Whumpee did remember. It didn’t change the fact that they still felt as though they were trapped in a box with Father’s Victim. But she was alive. Unharmed. They took a steadying breath and listened again. 

Waves crashed in the distance. Gulls called. “I’m at the beach.”

Very good, my child. Who would take you in a box to the beach?

Whumpee’s heart sunk. There was only one person that they knew of that would do that. And it was the person they were hunting. “Whumper.”

Great! So you know who has you then. I’m sure we’ll be able to work our way out of this, my child. 

Whumpee tried not to let despair take over. “No.” They swallowed. “No, I don’t know who it is. And there’s no getting out. I’m going to die soon.” Tears pricked at the corners of their eyes. 

The case had been a tough one. The first body turned up after some beach goers were digging for crabs in Beach. The next had turned up at Other Beach, children digging at some driftwood buried in the sand. And the latest had turned up at Third Beach, a concerned citizen had called in about a driftwood cross at the waterline. All three victims were buried at the tide line in a pine box coffin, hands bound with coarse rope in the front, and a scuba mask and light tank attached to their face. They had all drowned, of course. They would have been able to hear the tide coming in, feel the water crashing around them, and they would have lived for a time while they were submerged. Until their air ran out. None of the victims were related to each other. Even knew each other. Whumpee had suspected they were dealing with a serial killer, but the team hadn’t wanted to hear it. There had to be a connection. Whumpee wasn’t so sure. 

And now they were going to be the connection. Their breath quickened as they started to panic again. They beat against the box with their feet. Pounded with their fist. Screamed in rage. This was not how they wanted to die. They wanted to live!

You are, my child. Think about it. They bury the victims with a scuba mask on. Your face is free. 

“Yeah, maybe because they want me to drown faster.”

Nonsense. If they are what you say they are, they will not deviate. You have time, my child. You’ll be able to talk your way out of this. 

Before Whumpee could reply, there was a creaking sound from above them. They flinched back as the lid of the coffin was pried off by a crowbar. 

“You shout quite a bit, don’t you,” a heavily accented voice came as Whumpee was blinded by the sudden brightness. 

Once their eyes adjusted, Whumpee could see the person who grabbed them. They was short, stocky, with sandy brown hair and green eyes. They smirked down at Whumpee as they leaned on a shovel. 

“Only way I knew how to get your attention.” 

“Oh, you’ve had my attention for a while, Whumpee.” Whumper squatted down so they could lean over Whumpee. Far enough away that Whumpee couldn’t head butt them. But close enough that Whumpee could see their freckles. 

“Should I be flattered?” Whumpee licked their suddenly dry lips. 

Do whatever you need to get out of here, my child. They’re seriously unhinged. And that’s coming from a man who killed many people! 

“Definitely,” Whumper chuckled. “But you aren’t my usual type, Whumpee. Even though you are a pretty, wee thing. Still not my type.”

“People make exceptions for me,” Whumpee tried to sound less sarcastic, more inviting. They weren’t above flirting their way out of this. 

Whumper looked away. “Tide’s coming in.”

Whumpee felt bile creeping up the back of their throat. They had to do something now. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”

Whumper looked back at Whumpee, their eyes tight. “Aye, but I do, Whumpee. Can’t have you catching me, now.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go and I won’t come after you.”

“Pretty to think so, Whumpee. But I know who you are. I know what you do. The code you live by.”

I’ve seen their face. They were never going to let me live. They was just playing with me. “Then why open the box up at all? Why not let the tide just take me?”

Whumper grinned. “Had to let you see who finally beat you. The person who caught the Father’s Child.”

Father took a snarling breath. Whumpee spoke first to Whumper before addressing their father’s hallucination.. “And yet you call me Whumpee.”

“Well, had to be sure I was writing the right name on your tombstone.”

Before Whumpee could reply, Whumper was shoving something into their mouth and pulling something else over their head. “Best take slow, even breaths, Whumpee.” Whumper rose, pulling out a phone from their pocket. “You know, this Caretaker texts you quite a bit. And calls. A lot. They your significant other?”

Whumpee growled around the regulator. 

“Guess they’ll be the one we call then.”

No! Don’t call Caretaker. I don’t want them to be the one to hear this. See me. Whumpee raged around the regulator, but didn’t spit it out. They didn’t think Whumper would stick it in their mouth a second time.

Whumpee could hear the ringing of the video call. Heard Caretaker answer. Heard Caretaker gasp. “Caretaker, I presume,” Whumper said as they aimed the camera at Whumpee. 

“Let them go. You don’t have to do this,” Caretaker shouted. 

“Tide will be in in two hours. Come get your Whumpee. You make it, I won’t interfere. You don’t, well, I know what you’ll be busy with.”

Before Caretaker could reply, Whumper hung up the call and tossed the phone away. “Any last words, Whumpee?”

Whumpee glared at Whumper, putting as much venom into their gaze as they could. They did not want Caretaker to be the one to find them. They never wanted Caretaker to be the one to find them. 

Fuck you. 

“Duly-noted. I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing each other again in this life. Until the next, Whumpee.” And Whumper slid the lid back over. Whumpee heard them hammer the nails into the lid. 

Two hours is a long time, my child. Caretaker will track your phone and be here soon. 

That’s if I’m still in the city. 

You are, my child. They wouldn’t deviate. Caretaker will be here soon. Loathe as I am to let them save you. Better them than no one. 

Whumpee had a snarky reply ready to fire off when the first shovel of sand hitting the roof of the coffin silenced them. They were being buried alive.

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw restraints #tw kidnapping #tw captivity #tw buried alive #tw implied/referenced drowning #tw hallucinations #queue #this is a series #it's on my ao3 #thought i would post here as well #because it is fun to write lol

[monsieuroverlord]

Inspired by the Inktober Prompt Day 12 -- Forget

Some nights are just like that, you know?

#daken #daken akihiro #tw implied self-harm #tw drug use #tw implied drug use #tw self harm #is romulus really there #or is it a hallucination? #you decide #shadows are hard

[ikamigami]

I know why Sun most of the time play horror games! Or why he's playing anxiety inducing games most of the time...

He's also watching the news.. which definitely arises one's level of anxiety.

So why Sun does that?

Because he have to occupy his mind at all costs. And what occupies ones mind the most if not the things which induces anxiety? This is the best distraction Sun could come up with! That way he'll avoid having hallucinations and all those bad thoughts.

But it'll only get worse. Because it only makes Sun more nervous and anxious which whenever he'll have to take a break, it'll backlash on him badly! And the cycle will continue.. until Sun won't be able to take the stress anymore.. and he'll snap.. and have another mental breakdown...

Let's just hope that this time Sun won't harm himself... or worse...

#sun and moon show #sams #sun and moon show sun #sams sun #fnaf sb #fnaf sun #tw hallucinations #tw breakdown #tw self harm #tw sui implied #tw anxiety