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scorchieart · 2 years

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A Midsummer Night's Scream | AO3

Genre: Angst & Fluff (& an attempt at romance)

Warnings: War, Blood, Death, Guns, Night terrors, Spoilers for Chevalier's route

Characters: Chevalier Michel x F!Reader

Summary: Under the sweltering summer heat, truth and fiction meld to a uniformity Chevalier cannot help to pick apart on his own

Word Count: ~3000

A/N: My gift for the Seasons of Love Exchange 2022 for the awesome @ikehoe. Mondo thanks to @aquagirl1978 for setting this whole thing up and helping me pick apart Chevalier's brain.

Just a heads up that I am still very amateurish when it comes to writing reader insert, romance, angst, action... basically this whole thing is a giant melting pot of stuff I tossed in from the back of the pantry. Hoping this experiment turns out a success, or at least enough to entertain.

**FINAL reminder to check those content warnings before proceeding. Nothing's super explicit, but things get dicey right out of the gate (but then it gets better, I promise!)

The red tinge of sunset bathed the land in an ethereal glow so mesmerizing it almost completely masked the splotches of blood scattered across the earth. Slain bodies clad in hefty uniforms of either red or black dotted the wasteland, but Chevalier steered through them all the same. Their colors all melted into a singular crimson under the blazing sky anyway. A sea of humans resting after a long day’s struggle. Side by side, united in death.

Chevalier ran his gloved fingers over the length of his sword, taking in his surroundings as he flicked the gory remains onto a nearby rock. Though he stood in the valley connecting a pair of adjacent hills, the receding summer sun still baked the air around him, overloading his sight with refracting waves wherever they bounced off a sizzling surface. The burning metal of the blade between his fingers. The blinding armor of a fallen soldier by his feet. The scorching stones that congregated the stage he stood upon. He shut his stinging eyes and swallowed breath after breath like the sky was a running stream, willing himself not to succumb to heatstroke. At least he had the foresight to wear cooling white and the fortune to be born with fair hair. No doubt his adversary would be having a more difficult time in this climate, he thought.

When he’d finally taken his fill of the imaginary water, he attempted to focus his vision again by zeroing in on the closest thing to him; the deceased soldier. Now that the horizon nearly succeeded consuming the sun, he could make out the details of the armor without needing to shield his eyes. A charred cloak loosely swaddled the heavily dented breastplate barely managing to restrain the mass of singed limbs so obviously bent out of proportion. Streaks of blood trailed the side of the hill behind the body, and Chevalier wondered whether it was the fire or the fall that did the man in. More probably the latter, he rationed as he sheathed his marginally-cleaned sword and bent down to get a closer look.

The sun-baked helmet seared through his gloves as he lifted it off the man’s head, and though it was badly bloodied and bruised, Chevalier still recognized the face that stared back at him. A prominent Rhodolitian nobleman, a supposed supporter of his faction no less, brandishing the Obsidianite seal on the clasp that barely kept his cloak connected to his armor.

He lowered the helmet to the ground and studied the man more intently. A lord from the east, he was what one would classify as barely beyond the stage of youth, recently married and with a child on the way. Chevalier had only spoken with him on a handful of occasions, always in the company of balls or galas, though he never missed the lingering revulsion that clouded the man’s aura when he remarked about the state of affairs or scowled when the princes’ backs were turned.

The banged armor glinted dully in the final traces of sundown, and Chevalier scowled at his own bloodied reflection in the rough metal. While he wore red as a coat of victory, there existed a non-zero possibility that this man’s rouge wove into its fibers. Such was the consequence of betrayal. The man placed his lot and lost his life on the bet. It was the natural order for the weak to be conquered and the strong to rise atop their ashes and pave the way for the future. But what order lay for a future destined to repeat its past?

Then he heard it. The metallic click registered in his brain before the scuttle of boots scratching the dirt. A sound so new and unfamiliar, yet still echoing the call of a thousand dying screams yet to release.

Sword redrawn and back on his feet, Chevalier faced his assailant with renewed focus. Staring back at him from behind the shaky gun’s barrel were the raging eyes of Lord Flandre, all pointed squarely at his chest. Before Chevalier could even think to speak, a second click reverberated behind him. Keeping his sword pointed at Flandre, he shifted his stance to catch sight of the second gunman clad head-to-toe in ethereal black. His single vermilion eye, practically radiating hostility in the low light, smoothly traveled up Chevalier’s cornered figure before catching his gaze with an amused wink. Chevalier countered with a seething leer before returning to the panting Flandre.

Outmatched in number, weaponry, and stamina. By all accounts, Chevalier should surrender and face his fate like a gentleman. But Chevalier was never one to ascribe to such frivolous notions as propriety.

The less stable of the two, Flandre was sure to crack and shoot first. Chevalier swapped his blade between targets, primed his knees, and narrowed his eyes on Flandre’s quivering fingers.

“Look me in the eye, you beast!” Flandre bellowed, pulling the trigger, and it was as though he ignited a second fire in Chevalier’s limbs.

Bang!

In an instant, Chevalier dropped his sword, grabbed the forgotten helmet, and sprinted up the bloodstained hill. The incline steepened the higher he went, but he sucked in breath after breath, ignoring his screaming legs, and pushed forward until he heard the second gunshot.

Bang!

This was the moment. Following the line of the final ray of sun, he dug his boot into a rocky inlet and pivoted his entire body, swinging his arm with the momentum and launching the helmet in the direction of the incoming bullet. The metal whistled as wind swished through its various openings, but Chevalier tuned his ears to catch the one sound he’d been waiting for.

Clink!

Bullseye. Chevalier exhaled and reverted his attention to descending the hill safely. The newfound chill of twilight began to temper his heaving lungs and racing mind, but as much as he wanted to ascertain whether the deed was done, he didn’t dare take his eyes off the jutting rocks threatening to trip him down the slope. If his calculations were correct (and when were they not?) the second bullet would ricochet off the helmet and change trajectory towards Flandre. And if the first bullet didn’t do the other guy in, then a rocketing helmet to the cranium surely would.

Darkness enveloped the terrain by the time he skidded back down to the helmetless soldier, but he heard no noise other than the shifting pebbles that accompanied him on his descent. Blinking through the inky blackness, Chevalier retrieved his sword then cautiously made his way towards the more dangerous of the men. When his boot struck what he presumed to be a leg, he nudged it several times to confirm it was no longer alive.

Such a shame, another two lives tossed in the lot then spat out like the rest. And one of them a prince, no less. He relaxed his sword arm and crouched solemnly by the head. The cool embrace of moonlight crept up the desolate landscape, and Chevalier wanted to look upon the anguished face that plagued his waking and sleeping nightmares in full view. But instead of bubbling with the warm rush of victory, Chevalier’s veins froze when the moon revealed not the lifeless visage of the first prince of Obsidian, but of you.

It wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be. You weren’t supposed to be anywhere near the battlefield. You were back at the palace reading books and sipping tea, just how he left you. Not lying in the middle of nowhere with a terminal wound blooming on your forehead. You were supposed to be safe. Safe with the princes. Safe with his brothers. Safe with…

“This is… all your fault…”

Chevalier automatically jumped to his feet and extended his arm, pointing his sword at the now twitching second body. He’d watched countless dying men in his years to recognize the futility of speech following a fatal blow. But even the raspiness of a bullet to the throat couldn’t mask the voice he’d imprinted over a lifetime.

Moonbeams glistened off the fresh stream of red trickling down Clavis’s paling lips as he struggled to sit up, staring golden daggers into his brother’s vacant eyes.

“All your fault!” he screeched, and at once Chevalier felt the light of the moon taking weight, enclosing upon him and suspending his still-sore limbs, pinning them against his frame and contracting tighter and tighter. He tried to break free, to rip his arms away and reach both of them, one of them, either of them, but his thrashing only accomplished his sword slipping from his grasp and a splitting pain pounding in his skull, growing and growing until all he could see was endless white and hear an ear-splitting scream he couldn’t pin to a source.

As quickly as the squeezing began, it ended. Chevalier’s arms vibrated with the floatiness of surfacing from the saltiest ocean, drenched and stinging, as he breathed deeply in and out his nose and scanned his surroundings. Night shrouded his vision again but he couldn’t spot the moon. He tried shifting his legs when he realized he was sitting now, on something lusciously soft. He lowered his still-shaking hand only to discover it clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword. Didn’t he drop it? He swiveled his head to his other hand and found the whites of his knuckles clutched in the fingers of another. Your fingers.

The next breaths released easier than the firsts, and he could finally make out the familiar scent of his room. Just a dream, he thought. He rested the sword beside him on the bed and leaned over you, brushing his slowly steadying fingers through your hair. A nightmare, but nonetheless a dream. He looped a clump around his finger and tucked it behind your ear, the motion that never failed to make you giggle, your soft snores filling his senses and calming the last of his heaving breaths. But just when he thought he was about to puff out the last of them, it caught in his throat at the sight of the red bump poking from underneath your fringe.

No. No. It was all a dream. You never got hurt. He never hurt you. You were safe and sound here at the palace, reading books and drinking tea with…

Clavis.

Chevalier meticulously pried his fingers from yours and kicked the covers off. Now out of bed, he could see the measly moonlight shining through the high windows. It paled in comparison to that in his dream (was it really just a dream?), but he still easily maneuvered his way around his desk and chairs to the closet following his mind map. That was one memory he could trust, at least.

He peeled his nightclothes off his sweaty form and quickly dressed himself, mind running abuzz with all the locations he might find his marauding brother. He didn’t recall giving Clavis any instructions before retiring for the night, but on the other hand he certainly might have, so it was anyone’s guess where the third prince could be prancing at this hour. In the faction office catching up on work. In the garden laying his daily trap quota. On the grounds patrolling for trespassers so Chevalier could get some sleep.

Chevalier fastened his belt and slipped his boots on impatiently. He nearly clawed the door off its hinges, but stopped himself when he felt off balance. Pawing at his side, he turned back to the bed where he remembered he left his sword. He grumbled under his breath and restarted the process of weaving his way through the maze, but tripped and fell on his knees when his foot caught in something.

Chevalier’s icy glare bore holes in the guilty chair that caused his fall, but he didn’t dare make a move lest you were on the verge of waking. Instead, he counted the seconds raking through his brain to determine the origin of the condemned piece of furniture. It wasn’t one of the usual staples of his room. Did Clavis leave it in the way as a prank? No, that would be too tame for his standards. Or was that just what he’d want him to think?

He pressed his fist to his temple as his mind swirled with conflicting thoughts battling to dominate his psyche. What was that chair doing here? Where was Clavis? What was he up to? Did he actually bring the chair? What was that chair doing here? Was Clavis hurt? How did you get hurt? Did you trip on the chair, too? What was that wretched chair doing here?

“My King?” you yawned, stirring. Chevalier stayed silent as a mouse while you patted his side of the bed, hoping you’d succumb to sleepiness and give up soon. But then he remembered the unsheathed blade sitting precariously close to your roaming fingers and leapt to retrieve it, making you sit up in alarm. He avoided your bewildered gaze as he secured the sword to his belt and marched back to the door.

“Ch-Chevalier?” you called hesitantly.

“Go back to sleep,” he commanded. His voice came out gravelly, but whether that was due to the summer heat or lack of use he wasn’t sure.

“But… where are you going?”

“To see Clavis,” he almost barked. So many questions, why couldn’t you just let him do what he needed to? Why couldn’t you just trust him and stay put where he knows you’ll be safe? Far away from any stray bullets or blades or out-of-control flying helmets.

But of course, you were never one to keep quiet when your perspectives differed. It was why he chose you to stand by his side, after all. You were eloquent and firm, able to see through the haze in those rare moments his mind clouded. And right now, you were the lighthouse on his aimless voyage through the thickest fog.

“But Clavis is in Obsidian for the merger negotiations.”

Chevalier stalled his footsteps and dissected what you’d said. The words flurried around his skull, wiping away the chattering lies and unveiling the truth. You were right, Clavis left with Yves last week bound for Obsidian following the adoption of the four-way peace treaty. At the same time, the twins traveled to Benitoite and Jin accompanied Luke to Jade. A triad of delegations comprised of princes from both factions; a testament to Rhodolite’s commitment to cooperation and to the magnitude of this historic alliance. An alliance Chevalier devised long before the dawn of his reign and executed seconds after the title left the Belle’s lips. An alliance sentencing his brothers to the whims of three nations usurped by their smallest neighbor overnight.

The pounding in his skull returned, and Chevalier raised a hand to his temple to quench it. But this time, the pain erupted from a source of realization. The mysterious chair was a gift he’d given you when you’d officially moved into his room. The bump on your forehead came from when you and Leon baked him a “Chin up, King!” cake and you’d tried reaching for a bowl from a high shelf. And the fallen soldier from his dream was merely a character from a romance novel he’d read a few nights prior. The novel where the protagonist’s heartbroken younger brother was lured to turn on his family before tragically losing his life to fratricide. The novel with the colorful life-like illustrations that managed to burn into his consciousness as believably as reality. The novel that you recommended he read to calm down after the princes’ departures.

Chevalier involuntarily jerked his free hand when he felt yours curling around his fingers. He hadn’t noticed you slipping out of bed and crossing up to him, and though a tinge of fear flashed across your eyes you kept your stance and reached again. This time, Chevalier didn’t shy away as he allowed you to pull him toward the bed. He didn’t resist when you unclasped his scabbard and set it on the table. He didn’t protest when you rid him of his heavy white coat and pressed his shoulders to sit. He didn’t argue when you pointed at his gloves and boots then climbed back to your side of the bed. And he didn’t complain when you cupped his head and rested it squarely over your heart, tucking him back under the covers and combing your fingers through his hair as he leveled his breathing and nuzzled closer.

“We’ll write to him first thing in the morning. Promise,” you whispered.

Chevalier closed his eyes and hummed in agreement.

“And you don’t have any meetings tomorrow, correct? Let’s take the day off.”

Chevalier nodded, catching a loose ribbon from your nightdress and twiddling it in his fingers.

“The weather’s been lovely as of late. We could take a stroll through the garden and have a picnic under the summer blossoms. Or we could head into town and visit the new café that opened up. Licht told me they make wonderful cream puffs. And we could invite Leon to come along, too—”

Chevalier grunted and you laughed into his hair, disrupting the work you put into smoothing down his bedhead. “Alright, alright. We’ll bring some back for him, then.”

You continued listing caboodles of summer activities into his scalp, pausing only to hear his wordless opinions before recommending something new. Eventually his responses ceased and you looked down at his sleeping form with a smile. Brushing his sweaty fringe back, you pressed your forehead against his, filling his thoughts with warm wishes and good dreams for the king who deserved nothing less.

Tagging: @atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @ikemen-prince-gift-exchange

#ikemen prince #ikepri #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #seasons of love gift exchange #scorchie writes #tw: blood #tw: death #tw: war #tw: guns #tw: night terrors

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annahxredaxted · 1 year

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Just a dream

Characters: milo/sweetheart

Tw: nightmare / cheating (in dream)

KINDA SHORT BUT ITS LONG ENOUGH TO GET MY POINT ACROSS<333333

———————

“Hah you really thought I’d stick around with you? The shortest weakest wolf I’ve ever fucking seen?” They cackled grabbing a man’s arm “he’s better then you anyway” and they walked away. My heart sank to my stomach, I tried to scream I tried to beg for them back but I couldn’t it’s like my voice was lost, caught in my throat, and I couldn’t get it back. No. Sweetheart please, please!

—

I woke up, panting, sweating, breathing heavier than I have in a long time. I was on the verge of tears, I turned to my side to check, to make sure they were still there.

I turned to see my mate, dead asleep, lightly snoring into my side, but they jolted up. I guess my sudden reaction was woke them.

“M-milo?” They said half asleep, one eye still closed

“Hey sweetheart,” I whispered “it’s nothing go back to sleep.” I blew it off like it was nothing.

They opened their other eye to be greeted by my fake smile. I don’t know why the hell I thought I could hide it from them.

“Milo? What’s wrong?” They asked leaning in for a hug; which I rejected

“Nothing, nothing, go back to sleep.” I said once more.

“Milo.” They said raising an eyebrow in disbelief

“Sweetheart.” I retaliated

They leaned closer, mouth by my ear, I could feel their warm breath grazing it.

“If it was nothing you wouldn’t have woken up.” They said, kissing my ear, softly, leaning back up to make eye contact and they smiled warmly.

“I- damn it. I had a nightmare.” I mumbled

“Oh milo..” they said hugging me tightly, putting their hand on the back of my head, gently nudging it into the crook of their neck.

I grabbed them by the waist and pulled them closer, allowing myself to be completely vulnerable, and I just started sobbing. My tears soaking their shirt, and I started to pull away

“No, no, it’s okay it’s just a shirt milo.” They pulled me closer, shushing me, stroking my back.

They started humming, while I was a mess in their arms, no matter what they didn’t let go. They didn’t let go. They stayed. It was a dream.

“Hey.” They whispered I looked up at them in acknowledgment

“Do you wanna tell me what happened in this nightmare?” They asked, not pushing, not demanding, just a kind question.

I shrugged and started attempting to speak. They didn’t rush me. They just looked, with their big beautiful eyes and nodded along.

“I- well- I dreamt that..,” I started taking a deep breath, in through the mouth out the nose.

“, I dreamt that you cheated on me..”I murmured. They looked almost upset. Not at me, just sad I thought that.

“Oh milo..” they hugged me again.

“I’m so so sorry. I swear I would never do something like that. I promise.” There was genuine concern in that promise.

“Yeah I know.” I said looking down.

“I know you know. But just because maybe you know that logically doesn’t mean you know that, emotionally. It’s okay to be upset. C’mere.” They hugged me again.

“I love you so much sweetheart. I can’t explain all the shit you’ve helped me through.” I said pulling them in by their waist to lay on my chest, breathing at a steady rate again.

“You don’t need to explain.” They reassured

“And I love you to milo. With all that I am. And don’t be afraid to wake me up whenever, you have a nightmare okay?” They said looking up at me with a genuine expression

“Yeah, but that’s a two way street. That means you gotta too.”I said.

“Okay I promise.” They held out their pinky and i intertwined it with mine and we made a promise. Too be there for each other. Always

I softly pulled them in for a kiss, rubbing my hands up and down their back.

“Goodnight milo.” They whispered

“Goodnight sweetheart. And thank you.”

They lied their head on my chest and quickly fell back asleep. And so did I.

The end.

——

Taglist<333

@itsdaifuku @shellssstuff @verrverii @youisagayhooman @darlin-collins

#redacted asmr #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #tw: night terrors #tw: nightmares #tw: cursing #annah’s fanfiction

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beenovel · 1 year

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What do you see?

What do you see

Trapped behind your eyes

Silver pools of starlight

Melting to the forest floor

Or fire, dancing through the trees

Every caress deadly

Billowing curtains

Weightless in the breeze

Or waves beating stones into blood

#tw: trauma #tw: ptsd #tw: flashbacks #tw: night terrors #tw: nightmares #tw: blood #tw: fire #original poetry #my poems #my poetry #poetry #poem #original poem #my poem #I just added a bunch of TWs because I wanted to be safe #this is sort of about my ptsd/flashbacks and sort of about my night terrors/nightmares

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guardian-of-cybertron · 11 months

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⚠️TW: Trauma, War, Night terrors ⚠️

Night Terror//Reblog To Roleplay

It was like he was back in wars, fighting for his life, everywhere he looked there was the sound of gunshots and the screams of bots dying or from injuries, but what was worse was seeing those he called family going down one by one, the other Guardians, because of the Decepticons, it was brutal...it was too much.

Omega gasped a little as he awoke from recharge and immediately transformed, his hands transforming into his weapons, for a moment it was like he was seeing the battlefield, bodies laying everywhere, but as he came to his senses he realised that he was outside the Autobots' base, on Earth, back in the present. He huffed out a sigh of relief and retracted his weapons, he glanced around, hoping no one had heard anything.

#tw: trauma #tw: war #tw: night terrors #[🔴 Guardian Of Cybertron 🔴]#[✏️ Let's Roleplay ✏️]#verse: transformers animated #transformers animated #transformers tp #roleplay starter #reblog to roleplay

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picavecalyx · 11 months

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it's always the same. ALWAYS the same MEMORY. not her mind, not her mind, not her MEMORY. they are not dreams, they were never dreams, it was never an accident, it was always purposeful, wasn't it? yet she would never remember them, she would always be trapped in that web. of those that do not belong to her, and thoughts that were not her own. she just wanted to wake up.

#ic ;; blue bird bloom #verse ;; pokemon ;; beyond destructing and falling petals #yvelgr #tw: night terrors #tw: nightmares

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calebcresswell · 1 year

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🤫

🤫 for a secret I’ve never told my partner

i’ve only ever kept it from merle because i knew she’d worry but it was also something i’d rather have talked to her about on my own terms and not because you stupid witches want to mess with our free will and force us to speak the truth.

she knows that i suffer from really strong and vivid night terrors since harry’s passing, especially when she’s not around. but sometimes they get so bad i can’t breathe and wake up suffocating or i suffer sleep paralysis for long periods of time and i just... i’ve never told her until now i guess. i’m sorry you had to hear it this way, merle. please don’t worry about me, i promise i’m trying to deal with it.

#answered #confessions #event: valentines #tw: night terrors #tw: sleep paralysis

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godspecd · 1 year

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where: the iron islands, the sea tower when : month 4 of the seven months of hell in westeros who : ames harlaw @amesharlaw

if only someone could see the two harlaw sisters. how horribly broken they had been. in this scene, one could hear how the rushed steps of the remaining elder harlaw uncle attempting to climb the roped bridge that divided this tour to the rest of the great keep in pyke. he was summoned by one of dyana’s handmaidens, as they soon came to realize just critical of a state their lady had become. thank god dyana’s staff was all paid handsomely for their ability to keep their mouths SHUT. a long tradition in the harlaw family, her mother would tell her to continue it. after all, who wanted their house to be gossiped about outside of the walls of the great keep? or even within it? it also helped that dyana was just desperately in need to ensure aurore never heard of her breakdowns. she didn’t need to be reminded how much stronger her sister had been, how her sister could just silently clench her fists on a sponge and scrub away at a boat to get her feelings out.

dyana’s will had been finalized, hidden away and stashed somewhere in the great keep. her great council had significantly decreased, aurore’s seat now being replaced with victarion. all were made aware that dyana had made a will, but only sigfryd and ames were made aware of where to find it if she didn’t have to write a new one. the thoughts that plagued her mind were tremendous, hauntingly so. her dreams wouldn’t leave her alone and she tried to hide in the sea tower the day before. yet, upon waking up to yet another night terror, her cries wouldn’t stop. she didn’t have her nuse maiden anymore to comfort her, nor did she have euron and lani to remind her to stop screaming. after all, she was dreadfully scary as euron remarked once.

she would find herself gasping for air and curled up in a ball against the black cold old stone of the tower when her uncle arrived. it was a breathing alike hyperventilation. if she stopped, she would die. if she stopped, the cold air would stop entering her lungs. if she stopped, she would begin to taste the horrible taste of ash in her throat. the heat of her own body was an enemy as it only felt to escalate to unbearable levels. her fingernails scratched at her arms as if flames still danced near them, enough to cause her panic. she was awake, the night terror ended but this...this attack wasn’t. she felt like she lost everything in king’s landing, anything in front of her was forgotten as she only could hear the giggles of alanis harlaw in the fire slowly turn to screams. aurore’s hand was above the bush that just lit aflame in front of her. dyana saw it turn to ash right before her hands. davios’ firm grip on her was long lost already, his touch and the memory provided no comfort. she was alone in the pyre, with only the phantoms of her family both dead and alive telling her to just give up.

#tw: night terrors #tw: panic attack #tw: death mention #tw: death #tw: fire #𝐃𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐖 ◤ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ◢

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daydreamsandcrashingwaves · 1 year

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TW: nightmares, processing trauma, implied SA, smoking and sobriety

Dreams, I used to have vivid dreams, so real I could taste and feel them. I was a child when I started having chases, unending darkness and monsters in my dreams. I didn’t like dreaming very much at that point, the cheery landscapes and bright colors becoming more rare. When I would go over to my Grandmother’s I would dream of the water, being under the waves. Without fail I’d startle awake, because what person can breathe water? None! and the next night I would be confused, water again? and in my growing awareness I would again realize I shouldn’t be under for so long and jolt up in bed. Now the third night is special, I remember I’m sleeping and as I explore the deep wonder fills me.

Dreams... I dreamed of having a family. A husband and 2.5 kids the good ol American apple pie, white picket fence life. I held my hands to my stomach more times than I could count, breathing deep into my belly to stretch and stretch that area to see what I could look like pregnant. I dreamed of legacy and having grandkids in my kitchen baking pies and cakes, just like my grandma does with me now.

I don’t like dreaming anymore, when peaceful waves and the warm sun were replaced with the dark, monsters, and serial killers I despaired. My therapist said years of smoking turned my dreams into something I couldn’t remember, when I stopped, my dreams sprung forth. Five months I dreamed of things trying to kill me, five months of not sleeping longer than four hours at a time. I’m not sober anymore. Part of me is disappointed, but the other part of me is so thankful to finally be able to rest. Does that make me bad? I don’t think so... Using something natural directly from the ground doesn’t bother me, but as they say, moderation.

I don’t have dreams for my future anymore. I was a tortured child, angry. Holding onto everything bad in my life, blaming myself. I still want to find my person, but I know more now, men, women, NB, doesn’t matter to me anymore. What concerns me is myself, how can I be with someone when the idea of someone touching me makes me pale, or having someone look at me with lust in their eyes makes me want to run the opposite direction. how do I give myself freely when all I’ve ever known was being taken. I’ve lost pieces of myself in places I ran too fast and far from, not that I would want to go back to look for them. I find myself going back and forth over the having my own child thing, it just keeps tripping me up. I don’t think I would like pregnancy, and if I decide to not have my own children adoption is and option-expensive but an option. I desperately want a family, but don’t like giving the idea too much light. More than anything I want to be known

#daydreamsandcrashingwaveswrites #nightshift #thinking out loud #introspection #at least I can be honest to myself here #Therapy #tw: nightmares #tw: night terrors #tw: weed #tw processing trauma #tw smoking #tw implied sa #tw: sobriety #lonely tonight #Long posts on work days #sending love to you all #please treat yourself kindly and with grace #as always your welcome to message me or interact w my stuff #not edited

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orreanintrepidness · 1 year

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Just woke up from some fuckin horrid night terror so like... asks would be VERY welcome rn. I'll try and answer what I can but if I fall asleep again I'll get them when I wake

#ooc: rye speaking #haha chronic night terrors go brrr #tw: night terrors

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gravemud · 7 months

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There You Are

#dark art #artists on tumblr #creepy art #horror art #horror #spooky #weirdcore #nightmare art #scopo tw #scopophobia #night terror #sleep paralysis demon

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acefusti138 · 1 year

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not me being fucked up out of my mind after the first surgery of my life, begging my best friend literally incoherently for any form of comfort because I was having nightmares and night terrors thanks to the anesthesia, and get nothing. fucking NOTHING. just ‘you should be resting 🥺’ AS IF MY BODY WASNT SO STRESSED FROM SURGERY I WASNT LITERALLY LAYING IN MY BED SHAKING, BARELY ABLE TO KEEP MY EYES OPEN BUT TRYING TO FORCE MYSELF TO STAY AWAKE BECAUSE GOING TO SLEEP MEANT MY BRAIN WAS GOING TO PROVIDE ME WITH NOTHING BUT WONDERFUL IMAGES OF ALL KINDS OF TORTURE AND PAIN.

so instead i laid in my bed bawling every time I managed to wake up after some new fucked up scenario destroyed every last ounce of peace my body had. eventually my mum had to leave an important work call just to lay with me until I could calm down enough to drink a little bit of water and eat something before i made myself sick. as if the stress of having a surgery that could very well severely limit the entire rest of my life and livelihood at 22 years old hadn’t already stressed me out so severely over the past two months that I started pretty heavily using CBD just to fucking sleep, along with pretty intense thoughts of s*** h***. which i told said best friend about multiple times, and usually just got ‘yeah but like i have chronic fatigue and have a sleep disorder too, so maybe just deal with it?’ in response.

i’ve dropped everything to comfort them when they need it. even if they don’t always say they need it at first; i do my damnedest to make sure they know I’m always there for them— they’ve been my best friend for ten years, since we were in the sixth grade. but god fucking forbid i be selfish and ask them to do the same. like damn, sorry i’m having a severe mental episode after months of extreme mental issues because my entire lifestyle and livelihood that i’m going to college and paying thousands for may all go down the drain. sorry i begged for comfort while anesthesia, stress and being off my anxiety meds for said procedure weren’t enough to warrant a fucking response.

#vent #tw: drugs #tw: sui ideation #tw: surgery #do not reblog #i started crying again just writing this #tw: self loathing #tw: self deprecation #tw: self half #tw: night terrors #tw: nightmares

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raethethey · 1 year

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must fucking terrifying nightmare ever.

《《was falling asleep in a sleeping bag/tent and dad walked by to give me smth to fall asleep better. said it was his restless leg syndrome meds. called it torrent??. i had like 7 of them in my hand for some reason. he thought he dropped one on my pillow and tried looking for it. searched under my pillow too. i said i need water to take these. so i get up and cant fucking see a thing. start walking on a sandy path. hes nowhere to be found anymore (i only ever saw his hand). my sister randomly pops up in front of me and is now leading me on this path. i grab a stick and start putting perpendicular ditch marks into the path to tell me where ive been. sister comments, says she does the same thing. we eventually come up on a bend in the path (my vision is a little better i can see the sand and trees around me). i say wait a sec. i know where i am. i turn around and happen upon and old building. looks kinda like a tiny church/the building where you would rent these kayaks and paddle boats at a vacation spot i know well. suddenly the entire vacation spot appears and im standing on the beach i know very well. but the kayak shack is still a bathroom. i cant see anything inside but i know the toilet is there smwhere. i try turning on my flashlight on my phone. it turns on for a split sec and then never again. as i sit on this toilet i wonder to myself, i need to get to the shop/game center this place has for some internet bc its the only place with some stable wifi. and for some reason thats when i realise im dreaming. so i finish using the restroom and walk out (now holding a lot more stuff?? sunglasses, a blur which i can only identify as my hanquokka stuffie bc its blue and brown, a bag that usually holds my money, earplugs, and rocks and crystals, and smth else. as my sister and i make our way back to the tent i was sleeping in i say 'im dreaming' to her. shes like lol no you arent. and i say 'yes i am. youre wearing sunglasses in a pitch black area. i need to wake up. watch this' and all of a sudden the sandy path we are walking on is actually a dock and theres a large lake in front of us. i fucking leap off and she freaks out cuz why the fuck would i just jump into a lake in the middle of the night holding all this important shit?!. a flash scene happens and shes now standing over my dripping body, assumingly done resecitating me. i still know im dreaming. then that reality fades out and another fades in. im now in a supermarket like a target or ikea (never been in an ikea btw) and im being dragged around by what i can only assume are my parents in this reality as a cat (who i look at and just know is actually my sister) drags a cart behind her that has a large portrait of smone (a king george i think) in the cart. my parents (keanu reeves and jamie lee curtis with a fluffy auburn bob haircut) are fighting as they pull my arms to where they want me to go. im resisting bc i still know im dreaming. i start shaking my head violently. a ringing in my ears starts and i am now experiencing the dream world in 4d instead of my usual 3rd person pov. and i can feel my real head moving just a tad. i start shaking more violently and the dreamworld "moves farther away and gets smaller" (kinda like if you were watching a youtube video on your phone right up against your eyes and then moved it away to arms length)》》 i am now awake. groggy as fuck and hot and sweating. i open my eyes and check the time: 3:34 am. i turn on my phone. blinded by the bright light knowing i need to write this out for some reason.

so yeah it wasnt even all that terrifying of a nightmare it was just terrifying in the sense that i knew i was dreaming and couldnt wake up for the longest time. i lump it in with my nightmares because i didnt really have control over what was happening. (i can lucid dream 80% of the time. 19% of the time i have no dreams. that 1% are nightmares)

#nightmare #night terrors #tw: nightmares #tw: night terrors #no control

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zee-rambles · 9 months

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Trigger Warning: Disturbing Imagery

—————

Don’t close your eyes.

…I’m sorry.

…brace yourself before hitting “next.”

First I Prev I Next

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beesonhoneytoast · 6 months

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“I’m hopeless without you.”

♡ Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader ♡

synopsis: on his day off, mike hears that you were involved in some freak accident at work. he wastes no time in getting dressed and driving to your workplace. however, when he calls you, something bizarre happens. cws: hurt/comfort, established relationship, mike being a narcoleptic mess and a disaster pansexual (?), crying, confusing dreams for reality

~800 words | divider creds @firefly-graphics

Mike runs out into the living room, putting on his shirt as he rushed out of his bedroom.

Abby is lying on her stomach watching cartoons but turns her head at the sound of her big brother shuffling around and panting. “Mike?” She called for him.

“Y/n was involved in an accident. I don’t have time to call anyone to watch you, so get your shoes on. We’re going to find them.” He explained, hopping on one foot as he put his shoes on. He grabbed the keys as Abby slipped her little Mary Janes on.

The two Schmidts went outside and Abby rushed to the backseat on the passenger side of Mike’s car.

Mike got the front door of the house locked after a moment (as trying to do anything with trembling hands is understandably very difficult). Mike slammed on the gas after hurriedly backing out of the driveway, and he pulled out his flip-phone, selected your number on it, and put it to his ear. Every time, however, he was sent to voicemail. He left a message every time he was.

“Y/n, it's me, Mike.”

“If you're alive, Y/n, please reach out if you can.”

“Please Y/n, I- I'm hopeless without you.”

“Okay. The third time wasn't the charm, neither was the fourth. Maybe the fifth time will be the one? I dunno. I have no idea if or when you'll hear this, but... Ever since I've known you, I've felt... So at home. You're the only person I know who seems to care about me, and- I… I can't lose you. Please.” Mike said into the phone.

“Mike?” Your voice came from the receiver, laughing slightly.

Mike’s heart nearly leaped out of his ribcage. “Y/N?!” He shouted. He was so alarmed because your voice sounded perfectly okay. “This- isn't some sort of prank, right?” He whispered in denial.

Your airy chuckles came crackling over the phone. “Mike, I'm okay. I'm at work. I just went on break and saw you were sending me like, three or four voicemails. Is everything okay?” You asked him seriously now.

Mike pulled over on the side of the street and teared up in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair after putting the car in Park.

Abby was very confused by this entire situation. She was looking out the windows with her brows scrunched. “What's going on, Mike?” She asked.

“Ah, I hear a certain little girl is there with you?” You teased.

“Yeah, uh…” Mike mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen, I- I have no idea what happened. I just heard you were in danger and I panicked and didn't think things through and-”

“Oh, Mike. I'm coming over to you. Are you out of the house already?” You asked.

“I'm… right next to your work building, actually.” Mike chuckled breathily.

“Ah, I see. I'll be right out, okay?” You told him.

“M’kay.” He muttered, sniffling slightly, causing you to frown.

“I’ll see you outside.” You said before hanging up.

Mike pulled into a parking spot in front of your workplace and you walked right out the front door and trotted towards his car. He couldn't believe it.

There you were, perfectly fine and alive. You got in on the passenger side of the car. “Hi, Mike.” You greeted him softly.

And just like that, the man crumbled, and tears spilled. He hid his face in his hands and his shoulders shook with each sob.

“Oh, come here, buddy.” You cooed, unbuckling his seatbelt and hugging him over the console between the both of your seats. You pet his messy hair softly. Clearly, he had been in a rush to get here to you, for he didn't have the time to brush his hair and get himself tidy. “It's okay. I'm here, I'm okay, I'm alive.” You whispered reassuringly, holding him to your chest as best as you could in this awkward setting of the front seats in his car.

Eventually, you had all gotten home and you made dinner, as you felt obligated to, considering you unintentionally scared Mike that day.

Once Abby was sent to bed, Mike revealed that he had a dream that you had gotten into an accident at work, and to him, it felt so real that he believed it was reality.

“I’m so sorry that happened, baby. Dreams are so weird.” You told him, hugging him for the nth time that night.

Mike had a special little spot under your chin and on your collarbone where he could just bury his face into. He whimpered softly, holding your shirt in his balled fists.

You kissed his forehead softly as he relaxed in your arms, moving his head down so it was now in your lap, resting against your thighs and using them for pillows. You played with his hair and hummed softly, the quiet sound of your singing gently lulling him to sleep, and soon you found yourself joining Mike in the realm of dreams.

>> end.

#five nights at freddy’s movie #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddys #fnaf mike #mike schmidt #hurt/comfort #tw nightmares #tw night terrors #poor little meow meow #poor baby #unemployed #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson simps get y’all’s juice #mike schmidt x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #second person pov

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