#Sleepytime tea nightmares | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kayesfanfics · 6 months

Text

Helluva Boss Characters When You Have a Nightmare

Characters: Blitzø, Millie AND Moxxie, Loona, Fizzarolli AND Asmodeus, Striker

A/N: I don’t write for Chaz, Stolas or Crimson, I think those are the only major characters I don’t write for. Chaz makes me uncomfortable, I’m not really a Stolas simp, and Crimson is literally abusive SO-

Blitzø

Bro would wake up very confused, still half asleep trying to figure out why you were crying and why you yelled in your sleep. Once he finally woke up and realized you were having a nightmare, he’d wake you up and as you shot out of bed, you’d bonk your head with his and he’d fall out of the bed as you went to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face

“Um, OUCH?” Blitzø would groan from the floor before getting up and walking over to you. “What was that about?” You’d sheepishly explain you had a nightmare and didn’t realize he would be RIGHT THERE, and he’d rub his sore head as he listened to you, before nodding and understanding fully

“Well, wanna get some coffee and stay up? We could watch White Chicks again.” He shrugged, not really knowing what to say in the moment. “Unless you’d rather go back to sleep-“ But coffee and a stupid movie sounded good to you, so you’d go to the living room and he’d make you both coffee before sitting with you and letting you cuddle up to him. You’d fall asleep first, and he’d groan cause he just had coffee, now he was wide awake dammit-

Millie & Moxxie

You’re woken up by Millie shaking you awake, explaining you were having a nightmare and crying in your sleep. You’re a bit confused but let her pull you close to her, noticing Moxxie isn’t in bed with the both of you. He comes walking in with pill bottles in his arms, being all “Okay, what do we need? Melatonin? Prazosin? Triazolam? Doxepin? Trazodone? Doxy-“

“How about tea, Mox?” Millie would interrupt him for you, earning a small giggle from you at Moxxie’s face. He’d rush off to make the three of you tea, coming back with a tray and handing both of you mugs, then cuddling into your other side as you all drank the sleepytime tea with melatonin for you

“Don’t worry, hon, whatever scared you I’ll protect you from.” Millie would kiss you on the cheek

“And I’m here to help you…psychologically.” Moxxie kissed your other cheek as you cuddled into both of them. MOXXIE WILL ALSO SING THE BOTH OF YOU TO SLEEP AND WATCH AS YOU FALL ASLEEP AND HOLD THE BOTH IF YOU

Loona

Ngl, she doesn’t know what to do at first, but then she remembers a time at the kennel when she had a nightmare and an older hellhound rested their chin on her and let her pet them to calm down. So she’ll plop her chin into your lap, and you absentmindedly would start to pet her, which helped calm you down and ground yourself

Once your breathing was leveled, she’d lift her head to look at you and tilt it, asking if you were alright or if you needed something. You’d just grab her and hold onto her like a big teddy bear, and usually she’d protest but this time she’d let you. Turning on her phone to scroll mindlessly, showing you funny videos that came up on her feed and getting you to laugh at them with her

She’d probably fall asleep first, comfy in your arms and tired from waking up from her deep slumber. You’d hold her and pet her, smiling when she kicked her leg and whined in her sleep, probably dreaming of chasing something

Fizzarolli & Asmodeus

Fizzarolli knew all too well why you were crying and whimpering in your sleep. He was a lighter sleeper than Ozzie, so he’d wake him up so the both of you could help you. When you woke up in a panic, they were both right there to assure you you were safe and with them, Fizz’s arms wrapped multiple times around you as Asmodeus held the both of you in his large arms, cuddling up to his furry chest

Asmodeus would shout for one of his workers to bring you some cold water and whatever else you’d ask him for, and Fizzy would be focused on asking you if you wanted to talk about your nightmare at all. Cause he knows holding that shit in for yourself sucks, especially when you have two very doting lovers here to help you

If you didn’t want to delve into all that, then Fizz would want to make you smile and laugh so that you’d forget about your nightmare. Then Ozzie would calm the both of you down and tell you it was time to sleep, pulling you both close and Fizz stretching a hand over to you to hold

Striker

He is not used to comforting someone or receiving comfort, so he may be a little lost on what to do. But then he’d remember how his Ma used to sing him back to sleep and tuck him back in when he was a kid, and usually he’d make you work for him singing to you, but in this case he’ll give you a free show

If he doesn’t think of that, he’d be asking you what you wanted and needed from him so you could calm down. If that was a glass of water, done. If you just want him to hold you, his arms are open for you. He’s not used to this kind of vulnerability, so he might be awkward about it at first but further into the relationship he’d get the hang of it and would be okay showing you his softer side

Sometimes you couldn’t go back to sleep, so the two of you would go sit out on his porch and drink together, chatting and looking at the dark sky above you. Seeing the glow of Bombproof walking around the fenced off area, Striker handing you his jacket if it was chilly outside, passing a bottle back and forth between the two of you until you fell asleep on the porch swing, Striker holding you close

#helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #blitzø #fizzarolli #helluva boss asmodeus #helluva boss striker #millie knolastname #moxxie knolastname #loona

299 notes · View notes

drylan · 5 days

Note

Dylan waking up from a nightmare and trying to comfort himself bc that’s what he’s used to (neglectful parents 👎) , forgetting that Ryan is literally right there and so willing to comfort him

When Ryan wakes, he finds the bed next to him warm, but empty. It's dead silent, Schrodinger still curled up in a ball at the foot of their bed. Obviously, a missing Dylan at 3 am is a cause for concern.

So Ryan is up, moving before he's even fully awake in search of his boyfriend. He finds him pacing in the kitchen, tears in his eyes, desperately rubbing his shoulder with his remaining hand, hiding his residual limb against his chest.

"Hey-" Ryan says gently, but it makes Dylan jump regardless. "...what's up, man?"

"Nothing, just a bad dream. I-It's fine." There's a fake chipper tone to his voice that he should know doesn't work on Ryan. Not anymore at least.

"No, it isn't fine. You're crying."

"Ryan-"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No!" He says too quickly, before flinching at himself. "Not now, at least, I just...w-want to try and forget it, I..."

"Okay, it's okay..."

"No, it isn't. You were dead and bleeding and-" Dylan crumbles then, nearly doubling over as the tears fell fresh. Ryan is at his side instantly, pulling him into his arms and running his hands down his back.

"I'm sorry, it's okay, we're here. It's all over. We're safe, man. We're safe." Ryan continues his mantras over and over, Dylan slowly steadying his breathing, pulling back only to press their foreheads together.

"Thank you, love..." He whispers, voice soft and secret and tired. Ryan kisses him.

"Don't need to thank me. We take care of each other, right? No matter what."

"Right."

"C'mon, let's make you some Sleepytime tea..."

"Oh! Can I have honey in it?"

"Of course." Ryan promises, relieved to have Dylan nearly draping himself on his side.

No more terrifying nights alone from now on, he decides.

#my stuff #fanfic #ficlet #the quarry #drylan #rylan #radioheads #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler

7 notes · View notes

froggibus · 1 year

Note

Hello! Its your friendly neighbor hood scrunkly mage here!

I was going to request Kiriko with a Fem! S/o who can't sleep at all or really struggles to. Oneshots or hcs are fine.

Thanks homie sybbbbbbbbbbs

Insomniac! Reader HCs - Kiriko Kamori

CW: nightmares, insomnia, sleep deprivation, wholesome ki + ki taking care of you, melatonin gummies

i got you bbg <3 hopefully you have a better run at things tonight and that you can actually sleep somewhat

————

Kiriko is definitely the kind of person who can fall asleep anywhere, anytime

That doesn’t mean she’s unaware though

She’s definitely a light sleeper (probably trained herself to be aware of any noises throughout the night)

So if her S/O is having restless nights, nightmares or not sleeping at all, she’s gonna notice

The first night she notices it, she lets you be

What if it's just a one time thing? Or do you need some space?

She doesn’t want to be overbearing

But when it becomes more regular, she doesn’t want to just sit by and watch

Follows you out of bed the next night to see what’s happening

“y/n, are you okay?”

When you shake your head at her and your eyes tear up a bit, she immediately moves to hug you

Pulls your head into her chest and rubs your back while you cry it out

Sees the bags under your eyes and just how tired you are and immediately feels sad for you

Instantly tries to think of ways to help you

Just anything to make you feel better

Starts by making you a pot of sleepytime tea and pouring it into her favourite mug

Also offers you some melatonin gummies that she’s had kicking around (she swears up and down that they’re not expired, you’re not 100% sure if you believe her)

Wraps a blanket around your shoulders while you sip your tea and tries to talk things out with you

She wants to know why you haven’t been sleeping and what the two of you can do to solve it

She was really worried about you and honestly she’s just glad you didn’t pass out from exhaustion or anything

When you start to get tired from the exhaustion and the gummies and the tea, she picks you up in her arms and carries you back to bed

She doesn’t want you to exert yourself, after all

Tucks you in so nicely!!

Wraps blankets around you and makes sure you’re all comfy in your sheets

Goes back to grab your tea and a glass of water to set on your nightstand in case you need it in the night

And then climbs in next to you of course

Will hold you while you fall asleep (but let’s be real she probably wouldn’t let go after either)

And even if you do wake up or struggle to sleep tonight, she won’t be upset with you in the slightest

She just wants you to feel better, and she promises you that she’ll take care of you no matter what

#overwatch 2 #overwatch #ow2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #ow #overwatch fic #xreader #overwatch headcanons #kiriko x you #kiriko angst #ow kiriko #kiriko x reader #kiriko kamori #kiriko

90 notes · View notes

dynamite124 · 11 months

Note

When Taliesin has his nightmares does he ever wake with a start? Or does he just wake up and then try and go back to sleep? Or does he even wake up at all?

Either way I'm giving him a teddy bear and some sleepytime tea and snuggling him under a blankie

He usually jumps awake and keeps himself from going back to sleep. Often times, he finds reasons to keep him awake. Like spontaneous rearranging of the furniture, cleaning the entire house, alphabetizing books, organizing spices, or just deciding "hey, I want to learn a new language, lets start right now!"

43 notes · View notes

wolfhowlwitch · 7 months

Text

Super-Charged Anti-Nightmare Protection Enchantment

this is a quick enchantment spray I whipped up because I am completely exhausted with having night terrors every night. my plan for this is to enchant the stuffed animals that I have in my bed, but you could use this for anything connected to your sleep- your pillows, blanket, sleep mask, your mattress… the list goes on.

you will need:

-1 spray bottle

-a chamomile tea bag or two (I use sleepytime extra with valerian- the extra kick for a deep sleep is a nice touch!)

-a crystal you associate with protection or dreams (PLEASE make sure it is NOT a water soluble crystal!)- I use amethyst

-rosemary for sleep and protection

-thyme for nightmare protection and healthy sleep

-bay leaves for protection and good dreams

-cinnamon to protect against psychic attack and for warmth in your dreams

-whatever item you will be enchanting

optional:

-incense to smoke-charge your water (you can use an incense you associate with sleep OR what I do is use an incense I associate with a deity I worship, and use the charging time to pray to Them for protection)

-sigils for nightmare protection (if you can’t or don’t want to make your own, I really like @sigilathenaeum)

to make:

make sure your spray bottle is cleaned and cleansed to your liking. if you’re using sigils, add them with permanent marker to the outside of the spray bottle. (pro tip: I like to add a sigil for strength directly to the outside of the nozzle)

fill the spray bottle 3/4 of the way with water. (pro tip: I use moon water for added strength!)

add your crystal to the water, followed by the tea bag(s), the rosemary, the thyme, and the cinnamon. add the bay leaves last.

close the spray bottle tightly and shake vigorously.

leave the spray bottle for at least 6 hours to infuse itself. if you’re smoke-charging the water or the sigils, now is a good time to do so.

before bedtime (you can do this periodically or do it nightly, whatever feels right to you), spray your item(s) lightly and give them time to dry fully before you lay down for the night. thank the items for protecting you before you sleep :)

BONUS:

if you’d like the additional protection of a spell, feel free to use your own or use mine. repeat the spell each time you spray an item.

thank you for your defenses

against my troubled mind

my dreams are so offensive

all repose is left behind

my sleep once restless will now be stressless, for you will keep my peace

with your protection I take direction towards nightmares now decreased

sweet dreams everybody!

#the wolf speaks #witchblr #paganblr #my spells #nightmare spell #nightmare ward #dream spell #enchantment #witchcraft #pagan #witch #nightmare sigil #stuffed animal ward #spray bottle spell #enchantment spell #enchanting spell #anti nightmare spell

16 notes · View notes

spideystevie · 1 year

Note

Maybe moonlight or historic 🥺🥺🤝 literally anything you write is amazing ❤️❤️🌞

thank you sweets! i went with moonlight, i hope you like it <3 (0.6k)

25. moonlight [request a november prompt]

It’s well past midnight when you find Steve in the kitchen.

The cold sheets and absence of him next to you in bed were enough to stir you awake. He’s looking out the kitchen windows, the expanse of forest that stretches behind the big house inky and foreboding in the dark.

A mug is cradled in his hands, no doubt containing the sleepytime tea you’d bought when the nightmares became more frequent.

“There you are,” you muse, feet padding across the kitchen floor. Steve looks over his shoulder, face softly beaming like the early morning sun when he sees you.

“Hey, did I wake you?” the ghost of a frown crosses his face. You shake your head, stepping closer to wrap your arms around his waist. He’s warm despite the gray November cold that seems to linger inside the walls of the house.

“Not on purpose. Bed was cold,” your voice is a little rough from sleep. He sets the mug down on the counter, turning so your chest is pressed to his instead of his side.

The moonlight spearing in through the kitchen window paints you in a silver spotlight. It softens your features, leaves you blurred around the edges as you smile at Steve. He’s not sure he’s ever seen you more beautiful than right now.

You have moonlight in your eyes, Steve thinks. Shimmering, celestial pools that light up whenever they see him. They’re glimmering like moonbeams right now, clouded with sleep as you look at him.

“M’sorry,” he says, brushing a rogue piece of hair off your face.

“Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?” you ask. Your hands slide down his back to slip beneath the soft cotton shirt he wore to bed. The muscles beneath his skin tense when your icy fingers meet the warm skin of his back. He doesn’t say anything, used to letting you warm your hands beneath his shirt by now.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugs. “You know, the usual.”

You do. Shared countless sleepless nights with Steve since March despite things in Hawkins seemingly returning back to normal. Because there were ghosts that still haunted this town, invisible shadows that still lurked in your minds.

You hum, hands rubbing up and down the expanse of his back. He presses his lips against your hairline, rests them there as you hold him in his parents’ kitchen in their house that’s too big, too empty, too cold.

Steve was your summer sun, sunkissed warmth and beaming light. He lit up your every day, kept you grounded, made you happy. But for Steve, you were the moon. All gentle touches and gleaming reassurance, a steady light that illuminated his darkest nights. You rivaled the moon especially on nights like this.

“Come back to bed?” you ask, blinking your eyes open to look up at him. Steve takes a beat just to look at you, the lines and angles of your face. The moonlight in your drowsy eyes. He softens into a gooey mush, soft and sweet like the lazy kiss he dips down to press against your lips.

“Yeah. Okay,” he says, lips hovering just above yours. His hands slide over your arms to pull your hands out of his shirt. They miss the heat of his skin almost immediately like the moon misses the sun when it rises in the sky.

He lets you tug him back upstairs to his bed, slipping into cold sheets and curling around each other as soon as your heads hit the pillow. And when he looks at the way your face softens further with sleep, Steve knows things will always be okay.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #📝: a writes!#not rlly sure how im feeling abt this one but cest la vie #also obvs v obsessed with the sun x moon dynamic but not sure how it translates here forgive me

124 notes · View notes

star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 2 years

Text

Alone

You awoke with a start, sweaty and heart racing. Steve was out on a mission, and your shared bed felt lonely. It had felt lonely for months, even with him there, and your brain was playing with you in your dreams, reminding you of how distant he had been, how he’d almost been pushing you away. Like he regretted not going back and staying with Peggy when he had the chance. All the ways you could never measure up to his lost love taunted you in your sleep, particularly when he was gone. You shook off the nightmare and pushed out of bed, first visiting the bathroom and then heading to the kitchen.

You boiled a kettle and made a pot of sleepytime tea, sitting down at the breakfast bar to stare out into the night in the darkened room. The only light was from a small light in the hall that you’d insisted on. Steve had made fun of you for wanting it, but after breaking your toe stumbling to the bathroom one night, he understood you were just too clumsy to walk around in the dark and relented. The dim yellow light just barely crept into the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep?” A low voice asked, startling you.

“Jesus, Buck, make some noise when you walk,” you complained with a soft huff. Bucky had been in the second bedroom of your apartment for months. You’d grown accustomed to his nighttime prowling, but not enough to not be startled by him.

“Did you make a pot or just a cup?” He ignored your complaint. You tipped your nose in the direction of the tea pot and he sent you a grateful smile as he pulled a cup from the shelf and poured a cup. He sat down beside you and sighed.

“Bucky, I have a question. It might be stupid,” you started, just barely noticing he’d come out into the kitchen with just his pajama pants on.

“It’s the middle of the night and neither of us can sleep, that’s the best time for stupid questions,” he replied, blowing on his tea before taking a sip.

“Why Bucky? I know your middle name is Buchanan, and in theory that’s where it comes from, but it’s not pronounced Buckanan, so why Bucky?” You asked.

“That’s not so much a stupid question as a strange one. Why are you thinking about that, doll?” His laugh was soft and breathy.

“I dunno. I think about weird things when I can’t sleep at night? I mean, does anyone call you James at all?” You asked.

“I dunno how Stevie’d feel about you thinking about me at night,” he teased. “My ma did. Rebecca. Stevie’s ma did too, when she was still alive.”

“Did your girlfriends call you Bucky?” You pressed.

“Mostly, yeah,” He nodded. “James was for when teachers caught me defending Steve and when Ma was mad at me. Otherwise I was always Bucky,” he shrugged.

“Not a Jim? Jimmy?” You teased. His nose wrinkled.

“Do I look like a Jimmy?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Nah,” you agreed.

“Do you not like Bucky?” He asked.

“Hardly something you’d call a lover. And James is so formal,” you replied.

“Well, I don’t exactly have a lover to worry about what she’s calling me,” he laughed again. “What would you call me? If you were my lover?”

You turned on your stool to look at him. He was beautiful. More handsome than Steve, in some ways. Darker, both in looks and demeanor. Steve was good for the sake of being good. Bucky sometimes seemed like he was good more because he felt he needed to atone. He didn’t, you thought. But there was something about that history that just gave him that bad boy allure, even though he was just as decent and good as Steve. Almost like he was more beautiful because he’d had to work at being good again. It often confused you. You took in his whole appearance, the dog tags, the vibranium arm, the soft dusting of hair across his bare chest, the perpetual five o’clock shadow across his jaw. Beautiful. Definitely not a Bucky, but also not a Jim or James.

You reached out and scratched your nails across his stubbled cheek, laying it against the rough whiskers and sighing. His eyes closed and he leaned his face into your hand.

“Jaime,” you breathed, “if you were my lover.” His face turned into your palm, and he pressed a kiss against the skin there.

“I’d like that,” he murmured, his lips still against your hand, “if we were lovers.”

His hands slipped to your hips and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. You relaxed against him and stayed there, faces touching, in the quiet dark. With a jerk, Bucky leaned away, a flush creeping up his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, angel, I was out of line,” he started, rising from his chair and stepping away. You followed him, standing and stepping into his space, shaking your head. You took his hand in yours and leaned against his chest, placing his arm at your waist.

“Just hold me,” you asked. “He never does anymore.” Both his arms came around you and brought you close. You felt his lips on the top of your head, and your arms slipped around his waist. You were both silent for a few minutes and then Bucky pressed his lips against your forehead.

“Sweetheart, I’m in a bad place. I can’t do this to Steve,” he murmured. You tipped your head back, and nodded, a single tear slipping from your eye.

“I know.”

“It’s killing me,” he breathed. “I think I fell in love with you the first time we met.”

“Jaime,” you breathed, bringing your hand to his cheek again. He closed his eyes and let out a soft groan, and his head dipped to press his lips against yours.

__________

@rampant-salamander @bolontiku

22 notes · View notes

kaleidoscopexsighs · 6 months

Note

hi kels<3 bat and spooky please 👻

hi lune 🎃

Bat: If you could transform into any kind of animal, what animal would you be?

i will once again invoke the Sleepytime Tea bear

Spooky: What was your last nightmare about?

oh boy. was just a few nights ago i had a very realistic dream that made my skin crawl:

i was standing in my bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror — and i saw this dark spot on my temple, right by my eye. i thought it was dirt so of course i tried to rub it off but then i realized it was something poking through my skin so i tugged at it and proceed to extract this long, black CENTIPIDE-like thing from my FACE. like, so long it just kept going on and on and on. and it somehow knew i was trying to pull it out so it tried to wriggle back inside my skin so i freaked out and yanked it out in one fell swoop and flung it into the toilet.

anyway i think @achilleslikespeas’ host/parasite horror rubbed off on me

halloween asks

#ask game #lune tag

1 note · View note

spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 2 years

Text

Blood in Heaven and Hell — Chapter 6

**Trigger Warning: Anxiety. Trauma. PTSD. Grief. Loss. Drug use (marijuana)**

Summary: They try to find a way to wake up Alex; she finally explains her siblings.

Canon: Supernatural (AU), Season 10ish. Bobby and Charlie lived. Angels wings healed.

Word Count: ~3.8K

Warning: Angst. mental health, anxiety, depression, discussion of trauma, drug use (marijuana), apocalypse, discussions of abuse, SHOW SPOILERS

Beta’d: @myloversgone (Always thankful for their time!)

Author Notes: This is a serious chapter. It discusses mental health and disorders due to trauma and abuse.

Chapter 5 || Chapter 7

It’s been almost a day since Alex was hit with a spell from a gift Castiel gave her. He was so angry and felt so guilty that he has been trying to hunt down the merchant he got it from; however, the building turned out to be an abandoned building with residuals of magic that were unable to be traced. Meanwhile, Alex was moved to her bed where she lay unconscious and watched over, primarily by Castiel. It was as if she was stuck in a nightmare. Her hands would become clenched with white knuckles, tears would fall from her closed eyes, and she would toss and turn as if chained. There was a point where she was talking, begging for someone to stop, and another where she appeared to be in physical pain.

Rowena had confirmed what Castiel had said that it was a spell affecting the mind but she advised it was for communication, traditionally. This spell had been altered and shielded to prevent interruption but how to disconnect or end the spell had yet to be found. Rowena was searching through the library looking for ways this could have been altered in hopes to find a solution. What she didn’t understand was why this occurred.

“Her siblings,” Sam said out of nowhere. “Dean, remember? Her Father wanted to stay with Bobby and told him it was because of her siblings.”

“Siblings?” Rowena looked confused. “Magic in families can be difficult to decipher at times especially if it came from their own devising. If it's blood magic, it might be a place to look but would make the spell much harder to deactivate.”

“Sam! Dean!” Castiel yelled.

“Let go, dammit,” Alex demanded. “I need to,” she started falling but Castiel caught her. Her eyes fluttered closed a moment then she shook her head, “Nope.” She had a bag in one hand and a large, thick leather-bound journal in the other, “I need an empty glass, now.”

Castiel went and got one.

Alex threw the journal down on the kitchen table and then went into the pantry with Castiel behind her, holding the glass. “Salt. Rosemary. Chamomile, wait, no. Yarrow root. Read the box to me,” she said.

“Sleepytime tea,” he stated.

“That’s not going to help. Is there peppermint? I can’t really read at the moment,” Alex stated.

“Yes,” he stated.

“Grab it and the Chili or cayenne pepper,” Alex commanded and walked out of the pantry. She went straight to the fridge, “Dairy.”

Castiel came behind with ingredients.

She pointed to the table where he placed them.

Sam, Dean, and Rowena stood there for a few moments watching and listening. Rowena came down and approached the table to look at her ingredients.

“I think you’re missing an ingredient, Dearie,” Rowena stated.

“I know,” Alex stated as she grabbed the half gallon of the buttermilk out and brought it over. “Knife,” she asked. Castiel produced his angelblade and she took it. She started pouring all the ingredients into the cup with an extra bit of chili powder. The milk was last and Alex used the angelblade to stir it all together. She took the blade and cut her hand, allowing her blood to drop in,” I hate this part.” She groaned as she could feel herself being pulled back in.

Rowena looked around and brought a lined trash can over, setting it on the table in front of Alex as she drank the concoction, nearly passing out. She caught herself but dropped what remained in the glass cup as she did. “Fuck,” she closed her eyes and panted, a hand on the trash can as she waited for the concoction to take effect.

“Alex?” Questioned Dean.

Alex held a hand up and gritted her teeth, then threw up purple into the trash can. It took a few minutes for it all to come up. Once the vomiting stopped, Castiel set another glass of water in front of her. She smiled weakly at him and took the glass. “I hate her so very much, that bitch,” she said quietly.

Rowena pulled up a chair and placed her hand on Alex’s shoulder pushing her to sit. Castiel cleaned up the mess of the trash can while Alex took a sip of water.

“Hello, Rowena,” Alex began, her voice rough sounding, and looked at Rowena.

“Little Lizzie Morgenstern. You grew up. I’m surprised you’re still alive. Thought your mother would have killed you by now,” Rowena confessed with a half smile.

The brothers exchanged a worried look then focused back on Alex as Rowena and Castiel interacted with her.

“Nope. Demonic cancer got her first, at least that’s my theory. Also,” Alex added,” it’s Alex now.”

Rowena nodded. ”Alex,” she accepted with a nod.

Castiel pulled up a chair on Alex's other side, “Who did this to you?”

“My siblings. Well, Aggie,” she sipped the water. “I wasn’t thinking and forgot they try to do something to kill me on my birthday.” Alex put her hand on Castiel’s thigh, “It’s not your fault, Casi. You couldn’t have known. They’ve been doing this for nearly a decade and have only gotten better at hiding it.”

Castiel put his hand on hers and smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

“It was a wonderful thought and you did nothing wrong, Casi. I promise,” Alex insisted.

Sam and Dean were standing on the other side of the kitchen table from Alex now as she spoke, listening. Sam moved the leather-bound journal in front of him and began to look through it.

“Family grimoire,” Alex explained. “Mostly.”

Sam glanced at Alex then back at the book as he flipped through, amazed at the spells in there.

Rowena glanced in it too.

“I would have thought you’d know most of that already, Rowena” Alex stated.

“Your mother was not a fan of sharing, especially once she had her own homegrown coven,” Rowena responded.

“You’re welcome to look. I have nothing to hide,” Alex replied. She groaned, hand on her stomach, and drank the rest of the water. “Would you get some more please?”

Castiel did as she asked at once, then sat back down next to her.

“Is this why they attacked you? For the grimoire?” Dean asked.

Alex weakly chuckled, “No, they have their own copy. We aren’t typical witches, Dean. I have more magical knowledge than they do, last I knew. My brother still has problems tweaking and making up his own spells."

“Really?” Rowena was now standing next to Sam as he flipped through the pages.

“The handwriting change is where the family grimoire stops and my own additions begin. I don’t have all the materials yet but I plan to make a copy for your library once I do. I just need to get or make enough parchment in order to make a journal big enough to copy it all down into there.”

“Your mother would roll over in her grave if she knew you were going to share, let alone duplicate your family's grimoire,” Rowena grinned.

“My mother is in Hell, a deserving tortured soul that I would gladly put up on the rack myself. I could give a rat’s ass about her views and opinions. Abusive, manipulating cunt that she was. God, I hated doing her magic,” Alex scoffed, a curl to her lip and an eyebrow raised.

Rowena looked at Alex for a few moments then spoke, "That’s because you’re more angelic than your siblings or father are.”

Alex looked at her confused, "Say what now?"

“She never told you?” Rowena asked and rolled her eyes.

Alex shook her head, still very confused, and chuckled," Rowena, we had to literally burn down her old workshop, a room in my childhood home, in order to figure out the safeguards she put in place before her death so we could actually use the room again after she died. Hell no, she doesn't tell anyone shit."

Rowena shook her head. “ Your mother found your nature infuriating. Anything that went against your angelic nature would make you physically ill. I remember the first time she called me and I came. Do you remember?” Rowena asked.

She shook her head, “But there are a lot of repressed memories from my childhood, so don’t take it personally.”

“Oh, my dear. No, I took a look at you and the safeguards on your property are almost as powerful as this bunker.” Rowena walked over to Alex and sat back down. “When I figured this out, your nature, and explained it to your mother, she refused to believe me and tried to curse me. That woman.”

“Sounds right for Mom. She punished when she didn’t like what she heard.” Alex rubbed her forehead.

“You have always been more in tune with your angelic nature than your siblings or your father. I don’t know why but I know that is how you are. I’m sure they have demon abilities you don’t and you have angelic ones they don’t.”

Alex nodded, confirming the information and looked at Rowena. “This explains so much of my childhood and adolescence. I’m not surprised she never told me. I'm surprised I never figured this out. Just thought genetics were stronger than....nature?”

Dean looked at Rowena listening to her words and watching her interact with Alex. This knowledge that Alex was more angel-focused than demon seemed to make Dean more comfortable and safer, a great deal safer around Alex, suddenly. He mentally shrugged and pushed it away to examine later. He asked, “Alex, why are your siblings trying to hurt you?”

Alex looked at Dean, tiredness and sadness plain on her face, “I’m in their way. I’m actively trying to stop them.”

“Stop them?” Sam asked.

Alex sat back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling, “I’ve been wanting to tell you, Castiel, but I didn’t know what to say. I was scared you’d just react when I did and not think it through.” She looked at his face, “In my trunk is a photo album, it’s unlocked, please go get it.” As she waited, she chewed on her lower lip as panic began to set in and she took quiet, deep, slow breaths and sipped on the water. She wiped her palms on her jeans as her hands began to become clammy. Her leg bobbed up and down as if impatient but was only to burn off the adrenaline coursing through her at the task ahead of her.

Castiel returned with what appeared to be a large photo album. He set it on the table in front of Alex.

Alex opened the book for all to see: the first page was a picture of Alex with two other people who resembled her. Flipping through the pages were handwritten notes and cut-out or printed newspaper articles. Many of them were about people who had their blood drained, others that had their throats cut and hearts cut out. Interlaced with additional articles about people with their eyes and insides burned out and/or wings burned into the wall or floor. Nearly every article had a Coroner’s report and pictures of the deceased individual and funeral preferences as well as religion if any.

“When I discovered the Angel killings, I went back and covered them up. The images were altered and/or a retraction was done stating it had been altered. Made sure the Coroner’s report was as undivine as possible but I kept all the original findings and images,” she explained.

“Why? Why would they be killing Angels and Demons?” Castiel asked.

“Heaven has a kill order for my family and Hell wants us to be their new generals. Why do you think?”

“Agnes and Aloyusius, really? They just never seemed--” Castiel was having trouble believing this.

Alex’s face just dropped at the sound of their names and nodded. "I know. While my family got so fed up with everything, my siblings were never filled with this sort of hatred until after Mom died." She shrugged. "Everyone grieves differently but, I agree, this is ridiculous."

“What is it they want to do?” Rowena asked.

“They are working to destroy Heaven and every angel they can, not caring about the collateral damage. But they’re going after demons too, doing the same things. It was just easier to trap a demon versus an Angel, originally.”

Alex pushed it over to Sam and Dean to look through. Dean made faces of disgust and Sam just looked very concerned.

“Why are they eating them?” Asked Dean who looked a bit queasy.

“When an angel or a demon possesses a vessel, their essence becomes interwoven, albeit temporarily, with the human. So as long as they are in possession of the body, they are effectively divine or demonic in nature. You can consume their essence by consuming them.”

Alex scoffed and shook her head, “Why do you think Lucifer actually made demons? To just be soldiers? Ha. He knew that his human vessel needed for the end of the world, per Revelations, would only be able to handle him possessing them for so long without a way to reinforce it, empower it.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a knowing look as Alex spoke.

“Demon blood is a very powerful thing, just like Angel blood and their bodies. It physically strengthens the host body to be able to handle the angelic or demonic essence even longer but can weaken the human soul’s connection to its body over time due to the bastardization of how the essence was acquired and eventually detaching their soul from its physical form, causing effectively death. Anyway, as long as a blood source and/or bodies are readily available, Lucifer could have been in that vessel indefinitely. Whoever-they-were’s soul would have eventually gone to Heaven, I think. It’s the same idea here.” She sighed, “It’s my fault they even know that.” Her face fell in her hands.

“Why?” Asked Dean, gently.

“Being the great-granddaughter of a Prince of Hell means the other Princes find you fascinating too. Azazel,” she paused, drinking her water. “Azazel was a fucking fanatic of Lucifer’s and his right-hand demon, Alastair, was the same. I don’t know why but he decided to…mentor me, I guess. Being born in Hell and all is my guess why. Maybe Lucifer thought I could relate to him— the whole angel/demon thing. I don’t know. I would be brought to that damned cage every few weeks to talk and learn from him.” She openly shuddered as she talked, “He, he…I get the snake comparisons. When he talks, it’s like his voice is trying to violate you and slither all over and in you. Whatever divinity he had, is gone. He’s all demonic despite his form.” She rubbed her arms and thighs as if wiping something off of her.

Alex continued, “He told me about the universe. He told me about ‘Dad’s’ plans for humanity…” she used air quotes as she talked, “and the apocalypse. How that would work and supposed to go down. God is a terrible writer. He told me about The Mark but mostly just how much fun he had fucking with Cain and Abel. He hated that thing and blamed it for his Daddy issues. He loved to talk at length of his manipulations and lies, boasting about them. That piece of information was of the few tidbits that were useful from what he would say. He can talk forever if you let him. Ugh.” She paused to sip her water then proceeded, “And when we got topside, had a home of our own and I was trying to connect with my siblings, I just told them everything, and they’re using that information to strengthen themselves to be able to destroy Heaven and Hell. They plan to do both now.”

“Now?” Asked Sam.

“Well, the universe is all about balance. If you destroy Heaven, it’ll destabilize the universe and can even lead to its destruction. How do I know that? I have no idea.”

“Innate divine knowledge,” Castiel quickly replied, and that her knowledge was instinctively known. “She is right though.”

“So, when I pointed out the flaw in their plan, which I didn’t take seriously at first, they shrugged and said they’d destroy it too,” she shrugged and looked drained.

Dean empathized greatly with Alex. He could see how her words were getting to her, like a confession she knew she had to tell no matter how uncomfortable or draining it was…or much like a victim talking to the police after a traumatic event.

“And then asked me how to go about it. I remember looking at them like they were crazy when they asked me. I didn’t give them any piece of information on that but they did ask on and off for a few weeks which made me highly suspicious. I even tried telling our parents but they both refused at the time to believe them. Hell, our Father still doesn’t believe me. I need definitive evidence and them telling me is not proof since I can lie. Ugh. I rarely lie to family and he knows that but still mistrusts me.” She shrugged as if she had given up.

“Go get some sleep,” Dean suggested as he leaned on a chair.

Alex looked at Castiel, “You need to tell Heaven. You need to get them to listen. Take this with you and if they want to talk to me, fine, but it has to be here. They need to investigate and avoid Agnes and Aloyusius. I’m working on a way to find them and stop them, even if it means…” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart pounding against her ribs and the tension headache developing at the back of her head, “even if it means killing them myself. I’m not going to let them destroy Heaven and Hell.”

Castiel stood up and nodded silently. He took the album and left, the sound of fluttering of wings lingered for a few seconds

“I don’t know if I can sleep, let alone any time soon,” Alex stated, slowly getting up from the table.

“How about I make you some tea?” Rowena asked gently, squeezing her shoulder.

Alex nodded with a forced smile that dropped the moment Rowena turned away. She rubbed her face, “Sorry to worry you guys. Sibling rivalry can be deadly in my family,” she gave a weak chuckle, attempting to break the air of seriousness but failed. “Castiel will be gone for a few days minimum. I’m sure they’ll want him to go with them, which I pray he doesn’t. Castiel needs to stay away from the danger. Not feed them more potential victims.” Alex took a step away from the table and chair to stretch. She extended her arms up fully and moved side to side twisting as various pops were heard. She even popped her neck, which was surprisingly loud.

Sam grinned at the noise, “Think you needed that for a while.”

“Well, I’ve been laying down for, what, a day? Yeah. Gotta move,” Alex agreed.

“Rowena,” Alex began.

Rowena hummed in response as she worked to make a kettle of chamomile tea.

“I’m gonna go lay down in my room.”

“It should be ready in a few minutes, Dearie. I’ll bring it to ya,” Rowena replied.

Alex walked to her room and looked in her chest of drawers. She grabbed two joints and a small cigar box before she disappeared, the sound of fluttering wings lingered in her room.

She found herself outside the bunker up, leaning against a brick wall; she sat down on the ground and put the small cigar box in front of her crossed legs. Tears welled up and fell down her cheeks as she stared at the box. She slowly opened it and looked inside at an assortment of pictures and items.

Her hand roamed gingerly across various rings of different sizes and decorations, including two different engagement rings, a few very small teeth wrapped in tape protectively, a picture of her parents, siblings, and her at her childhood home a few months after getting it; a picture on her wedding day as she said ‘I do’ to her now dead husband, Braxton; a picture of a teenage boy in all black baggy clothes and chains with matching eyeliner, and light brown hair flipping the camera off that made her chuckle. She sighed heavily as she picked up a picture of her siblings and her that their Dad had caught as they roughhoused one afternoon when he was teaching them how to wrestle. It made her grin, which turned to anger. Tears poured profusely down her face and she tore up the picture as small as she could, and stuffed it back in the box slamming the lid closed.

She lit a joint and deeply inhaled. She hugged the box to her chest and brought her knees up, wrapping an arm around them as she quickly sucked at the drug in her hand, devouring it. She closed her eyes and rocked. She lit the second one and did the same thing.

Slowly, her heart rate began to calm down and the fear began to ebb. She looked at her phone and texted Sam and Dean, telling them she went for a walk to clear her head and she would keep her cell on her but not to bother her. She wasn’t in the mood to talk. The Winchesters tried to coerce or demand that one of them go with her but she never knew as she didn’t bother looking at the text messages.

Alex just sat there after she finished smoking the two joints. She sat there staring at the night sky, allowing her mind to wander. Every memory Agnes made her relive in her mental prison walked freely.

She’d cried.

She’d sobbed.

She’d screamed and yelled obscenities until her throat ached. Thank the Builders that you can’t really hear anything from outside the bunker.

She finally grew tired but reluctant to head back in. Everything in her said to run. It was the fear and anxiety talking that she was tempted to listen to but knew better from past experiences. She did the only thing she could think of, she prayed to Castiel: Castiel, if you can get away for a few minutes, I could really use my best friend right now. I’m not ok and I feel completely lost. I don’t know what I am doing. I just want to run and know that won’t help. I would just appreciate an understanding friend.

She knew he wasn’t going to come because of the mission she just sent him on, but what happened next was unexpected.

Feedback is gold!

Tag list: @fluffiest-dreams @riley-phoenix

10 notes · View notes

obsidiancreates · 2 years

Note

You know what would be a super cute scenario?

Date has nightmares a lot, probably in relation to the manor, and the fact that he’s the closest in personality to pre- entity Actor

I bet that Illinois also has a lot of nightmares, due to his previous partners

What if one night, after a few nights of hanging around the living room and not talking, Illinois caves and lets Date sleep in the same bed as him

A red robe that fits too well, a voice he's only heard a handful of times whispers how he was born for it, a memory of a gunshot that was nearly aimed at him, strung up on stage at his favorite theatre with a voice directing him calling him Son, Star, Legacy Role-

Date sucks in a breath as he wakes, squeezing his eyes shut tighter for a moment before slowly peeking them open.

Nothing is in the room. But that doesn't mean nothing is in the room.

A shiver runs down his spine, and he wraps his covers around himself and heads to the living room. Illinois is already there, sipping sleepytime tea.

Date sits next to his older brother (sort of, who can say who's older and younger with all the fucked up timelines?). Illinois gestures tiredly at another cup.

"You made some for me?"

Illinois shrugs like it's no big deal. But it is, because Illy wouldn't just think of that on the fly, he would have had to stop himself and consider it first.

They sit there for a while, drinking the tea.

Illinois starts to get up. "Well... goodnight."

But then Date would be left alone in a dark room, silent, shadowed, just like their father had been and even though there's no demon here (besides their uncle) the thought is unbearable.

"Can I come with you? I know I'm a grown man and shouldn't be scared of sleeping in my own room, just- I could sleep on your chair?"

"Sure." Illinois yawns. "You could sleep in the bed too if you want. I've shared sleeping bags with strangers for survival, I don't care if I share a bed with my brother."

Date always feels better when they call each other brothers. Even though none of them were raised together, he loves his family like he's known them his whole life. It's nice when it's reciprocated, even if Illy might not realize how much that means to him.

And it really does help stave off nightmares.

#descendants of the trio au #markiplier #markiplier egos #if anyone reblogs this with the slightest hint of shipping I'll bite you they're literally brothers in this AU #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

10 notes · View notes

kydoesthings1 · 7 months

Text

now why did the sleepytime herbal tea give me the worst nightmares and i woke up at 4:30 feeling like i got run over by a car. celestial seasonings i will be seeking damages

#i dreamed a man was going to assault me and i had to cut his head off with a fucking kitchen knife??#i have a full day of classes tomorrow should i just drink more??

0 notes

progressing-on · 1 year

Text

Maritime for the dream weaver. Defunct submariner with the sandy eyes of white beaches. Knit their way through yards of yarn and contemplate what could be theirs to ascertain. Patience and pant thread running thinner than before then. The length of the leg who's patched to the waist was an energy that's wasted on me. I wear them down, sand and hone them there. Play in the snow a bit to feel the wet cold steep my tea ridden body. Jumpy boat who takes this sandy man's body from coast to coast. Hatred survives underneath like crabs under rocks. Sands run dry so they're moreover dust, and the sleepless dreamer kicks apart her jammies because nightmares make her kiddish. Red in the cheeks and red hands on her waist are blue heat and the pole she rides would never dance a second. She'll always be a Goodwill steak plugging up the ground. Rare and bloody, a step stool for breast pumps. Inches above her it's just a pole in the ground. The sleepytime mariner is a hostage. She fell asleep in the stowaway quarters. Now the rats make her eat all her dinner.

0 notes

aparticularbandit · 2 years

Text

Finding Family: Part Two: Chapter Three

Summary: When America begins universe-hopping again to try and find her moms, she realizes that’s too much scope for her. She looks for smaller scope, and instead she finds Wanda.

AO3

Wanda is unsettled.

Her façade fades as she re-enters her house, leaving her in her grey lounge pants and scarlet hooded sweater, in her bare feet now splattered with hot tea. She leaves footprints on the floor as she walks. Those will need to be cleaned later, otherwise the floor will be sticky. She hates sticky.

That’s a strong word – hate. Maybe she doesn’t hate sticky. There are so many other things she has much more passionate and negative emotions towards than sticky floors, which don’t really do anything to anyone and certainly won’t leave her alone. In point of fact, they’re really only an issue if she’s wearing socks and they leave fuzzies all over the floor. Annoying is a better word. She is annoyed by sticky. She doesn’t hate it.

Hate should be reserved for things that are far more challenging to change or things that cannot be changed.

Like her aversion to peppermint. (Not like her aversion to peppermint.)

For the past several months – for far longer, if she’s honest – Wanda has been buying a multipack of tea. Most of the flavors are ones she likes and will readily drink, but the peppermint she avoids like the plague. Probably because, in her opinion, it is a plague. Peppermint and all forms of mint leave her mouth all tingly and uncomfortable. It isn’t an allergy; Vis had checked. It’s just a sensitivity. She doesn’t even use peppermint bath soaps or lotions, as they cause the same tingly uncomfortable sensation on her skin. Toothpaste was complicated until she found the cinnamon flavor (before that, she’d used one of the kids’ fruit punch flavors – both of which come in a bright, shining red. She’s always been drawn to the color. Is that her, or is that the Scarlet Witch of her? She doesn’t think about that).

When she lived in the Avengers compound, Wanda had been able to shrug off the peppermint tea onto the others. Natasha would drink tea with her on the colder nights, staring up at the stars from the flat roof and picking out constellations, telling folklore from Russia and Sokovia, smiling at their similarities and their differences. Sometimes Clint would join them to listen, but Wanda always felt like he was there for Nat more than her. Like he was waiting for his moment to pull her away for a private conversation, but he didn’t want to interrupt.

Tony was purely a coffee man. He would joke that she should try it sometime, and she would point out the various health benefits of the varying teas as well as her refusal to be stuck in the same caffeine addiction he so clearly had all while waiting for her own tea to steep. Banner sided with her in what was less of a debate and more of an open conversation, and by the time Vis chimed in, Tony felt obligated to try a cup of tea. He hadn’t liked it because he either didn’t wait long enough for the leaves to steep properly or forgot that he was leaving them to steep and ended up with overly bitter tea.

Of course, this led to others in the compound intentionally bringing Tony tea just to mess with him, which meant that Wanda’s own stores were depleted more often than not, but considering, she counted it more than worth it. Up until Tony realized he actually liked rosehip tea and that sleepytime tea helped him sleep without his debilitating nightmares, at which point her favorite tea kettle – a porcelain one etched with indigo and ruby flowers over a soft silver background – completely disappeared. She found it a month later full of moldy tea leaves in the garage, cleaned it as thoroughly as she could, and then hid it in her room until she needed it. Like most things it had, of course, been destroyed when the compound was.

A lot was lost in the war with Thanos. The porcelain kettle is little and less in comparison with everything else.

Wanda pulls out her cardboard box full of peppermint teabags. There are so many. She hasn’t thrown them away, but she doesn’t have any use for them. Her thumb runs along the box’s perforated edge. She pulls out one of the bags, stares at it, and then sighs.

Why not.

America punches a hole through the universe and lands in another one entirely. She’ll go back to the other one eventually; she’s just tired of the witch literally throwing her out whenever she’s decided she’s tired of her. Like she can’t walk out or make a magic circle to leave – funny, how she can make those to leave the front porch, but she can’t make one to get to the front porch. Like she’s just a bag of trash that the witch puts up with on occasion but can dispose of whenever she wants.

…actually.

This version of Earth is burnt to a crisp. Where at least the witch’s devastation arena has a scarlet sky and semi-scarlet earth (a mixture of that and the same black of the dead trees’ bark), there is no color here. Everything is in grayscale. America lifts her hand and stares at it. Yep. Also grayscale. Which means—

America pulls her backpack off. It’s still rainbow shades, but all in gray and white and off-white and black. It’s like she’s stuck in an old-timey TV show. Like The Twilight Zone. She’s not impressed. One of those episodes ended with someone dying but thinking they’ve actually just taken a different train stop, and in another one, once the people got out of the bucket, it was revealed they were just a toy all along. And the one with the mannequins who took turns being real people! She doesn’t know what the trick twist will be on this universe, but she doesn’t want any part of it, thank you very much.

She punches another hole through the universe and books it out of there as quickly as she can.

…only to find herself in another burnt Earth landscape, filled with ash and burned trees and stormy grey skies.

America squints. She looks at her hand. Nope, nope, that’s got color now. Her backpack strap is its bright pink and yellow stripes, with a smaller turquoise color near the bottom. So – not grayscale here. Just dead. Dying? She glances up at the sky. There are only clouds. Dead.

There is an all too familiar log cabin in the center of all the dead things, but America strongly suspects there isn’t a witch living there. If there was, then the world would have flashes of scarlet running through it, illuminating everything with a sickeningly sweet red light. Maybe….

Nope.

America punches a third hole through the universe. She stares back into Earth-616. For a moment, the world flickers.

Cool.

She grins and steps through her portal back onto the witch’s porch. Good to know that her universe-hopping portals can do precisely what the sorcerer’s golden glam circles cannot. That will make all of this hopping a lot more easier. She can just come here at the end of her hopping instead of at the beginning…if she goes back to Kamar-Taj, that is, and she still really, really doesn’t want to go back there. It’s just so boring.

This time, America doesn’t wait for the witch to find her. She pushes herself forward and without a second thought knocks on the door, grin dropping from her face only to be replaced by determination. Her eyes meet the witch’s when the door opens. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“Didn’t think so.” The witch answers her like she hasn’t expected anything else. This time, there are two mugs in her hands. She holds one out to America. “Tea?”

#bandit fic #finding family with wanda and america #wanda maximoff #america chavez #scarlet witch #mcu #queue

0 notes