#nightmare thread

@robbiemyboi

Nightfall. It was the most horrific time of day for her, especially when she succumbed to her slumber. It was short lived for Felicity, as the night terrors began to plague her again. It was the same dream over and over again, becoming more and more vivid with each and every time. She dreamt of the dead. Her dead mother, whom Felicity nursed to her grave, her dead extended relatives, such as her cousin, the dead that she had seen in the war, ones that she tried to nurse but was unable to. Bodies of her friends appeared on the ground, dead men, women, and children who did not deserve such a cruel fate. Then, came the neglect, where everyone left her, and she was all alone. Her parents, her brother, Aleksander, people she had loved, Robert…

It was at this moment that the air was nearly squeezed out of her lungs, and she gasped to chase it back. Her eyes glued open. Her hair was slightly damp with sweat, and her cheeks were wet. It was dark, too dark in the room, and she felt like it would swallow her whole. She felt like she was drowning, and the terror consumed her, Felicity shrinking back against she sheets, feeling the spasmodic trembles hit her in waves. She let out a whimpering breath, nearly choking on it, as she fought for control. The tears spilled down her cheeks before she can stop herself, and she desperately wanted this torment to end. It happened nearly every night, and the cloud of loneliness cut her like a blade to the heart, something that she never was able to escape from.

Except she was not alone.

[[Hello friends and FERP pals, just a warning here but this thread is gonna get dark and gruesome, reader disgression is advised.]]

@sapphiresovereign

Hell for Bela had alternated between being some demons plaything on the rack or being forced to relive her worst nightmare on repeat, frankly that was something she hadn’t expected due to the simple fact when you think of hell you think of fire and demons , endless eternity of torture and pain what she hadn’t bargained for though was the emotional torture it inflicted on her. Hell had known her inside out stealing the worst memory’s from her un talked about childhood and using them against her in the cruelest way possible.   Every second of everyday her past played on a loop before she knew it she was fourteen sitting in her bed trembling as her father forced himself upon her she could feel his breathe hot on her neck the smell of whiskey and cigars strong on his breathe as he uttered hush warnings in her ear of what would happen had she told anyone what was going on. The lines between reality and imagination quickly disappeared traumatising her in the worst way possible.

The worst part about being free from hell was that she should’ve been celebrating the fact that she was once again a walking, talking person but instead she couldn’t due to the simple fact she was too busy constantly looking over her shoulder in search of whatever had been strong enough to free her from eternal damnation. Surprisingly enough despite their colourful past Dean and Sam had taken her in on the very day she returned from hell, tracking them down hadn’t been easy but once she had she showed up on their doorstep a broken shell of the person she once was.