It's undeniable (open, nightmare)

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    [align=center]

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 70px; height: 250px; background-image: url(here); background-size: 210%; background-position: center;][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 1px solid white; width: 50px; height: 60px; background-image: url(http://66.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_llts4teNQR1qbdfj5.gif); background-size: 160%; background-position: center; margin-top: 8.5px; margin-left: -5.3px;][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 1px solid white; width: 50px; height: 60px; background-image: url(https://67.media.tumblr.com/08…pib3lvKr1ub3147o1_500.gif); background-size: 168%; background-position: center; margin-top: 8px; margin-left: -5.3px;][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 1px solid white; width: 50px; height: 60px; background-image: url(http://67.media.tumblr.com/961…no885oMyc31spqrb6_500.gif); background-size: 140%; background-position: center; margin-top: 8px; margin-left: -5.3px;][/fancypost][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=white; border-top: 3px solid white; border-bottom: none; border-left: 3px solid white; border-right: 3px solid white; width: 425px; height: 249px; overflow: auto; padding: 4px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; color: black; line-height: 11px; margin-left: -4px;]/another down thread opps




    After Fawnpelt showed him the horrible memories, there was something different about the tomkit. No one but Fawnpelt, himself, and maybe Castiel would know why. He seemed more subdued, not stirring up as much trouble, if any. He was almost constantly by Birchkit's side, wanting to make sure his brother was always safe, not wanting anything to hurt him. Dean always seemed wary, as if a world war was going to break out at any minute, and he'd be caught in the middle of it. His own mother had shown him images he never wished to see, what would the passing NPC do? The warrior who faught in countless battles could easily turn on them, the elder who doesn't so long loyal to the clan might decide otherwise. Anything could happen, and he seemed to trust no one. Just as Fawnpelt had said.




    And with traumatic events like what had happened then, usually came with some sort of price. In Dean's case, he had post traumatic stress disorder. And in Dean's case, he was having a nightmare.




    Trigger warning for gore, blood, death




    It was everywheres. He couldn't stop it. His mother was fighting again, deaf to his protests to stop, that the attacked person was innocent. It wasn't Stoney, not this time. Blood and fur flew everywheres, and glass was littered on the ground. And then it happened. What always happened. And what always would when he dreamed that dream. Dean watched helplessly, his paws glued to the floor, as mama fawn pinned whoever it was to the ground, and tore into their throats. The same evil, maniacal laugh and taunting filled his ears, and he repeated the same ordeal. He shook his head furiously, screaming for it to stop. It had to stop. Just make it stop. Then, the sound stopped, but the images didn't. There was a dead body, killed mercilessly by the familiar cream pelt he wasn't even sure he could trust.




    End trigger warning




    Dean woke up with a gasp, breathing heavily and his face stained with tears. This wasn't the first time he had had a nightmare about this, not necessarily the same exact one as this, they always varied at least slightly. Dean steadied his breathing as fast as he could, not wanting to wake anyone as it was barely even dawn, the camp was still mostly dark, the sun not even risen, but the brown kit gently pressed into his lighter sibling for comfort, wiping the tears that had formed in his eyes.
    [/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=white; border: none; width: 509px; height: 25px; margin-top: -3px;][/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 550px; font-size: 14px; color: black; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -35px;][size=14px]✧ . °[/size] [b][i]I NEVER MEANT TO BE YOUR PROBLEM CHILD[/fancypost]
    [size=7px]template made by marsy

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 402px; border-top: 1px solid grey;][/fancypost]
    FAWNPELT
    [size=2pt]spacehere[/size]
    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 400px; height: 15px; border-left: 1px solid grey; border-right: 1px solid grey; border-top: 1px solid grey;][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 400px; height: auto; margin-top: -15px;][justify] Fawnpelt's own anxiety disordered prevented her sleep. She would always see the terrible images of everyone dead, her own fur bloodied as if she had killed them all. She never really would know as it would send her straight into when she was captured.


    Now that she had shown Dean those images, she had been even worse. Sleep wasn't an option for her, and if it was, she would always wake herself up. She was aware of her son's nightmares. She saw herself in him. But she was always there. Unlike Bloomingskies. Fawn always faced the nightmares alone, no brother, no mother.


    That night, when Dean woke up again, she decided to face him. She turned around, lime green eyes glowing in the dark. To help comfort him, she did a thing she did when she was scared. Her markings began to glow a soft mint lime green mix, illuminating the nest but not the entire den. "You okay, sweetheart?" She would softly ask.[/justify][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 400px; height: 15px; border-left: 1px solid grey; border-right: 1px solid grey; border-bottom: 1px solid grey; margin-top: -15px;][/fancypost]

    [align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0;font-size:8pt; text-align:justify; line-height:125%; width:350px; margin-top: -5px;]"B-brother?" Birchkit would whisper, letting out a small yawn, keeping his eyes closed for now. Was Dean crying? Why was that? The tom was unaware of what FawnPelt had shown him, and oblivious to the fact that she had even shown him anything to being with. It was just one day that he was brought back to camp after sneaking out with some strange red stuff on his shoulder and a bite mark. His first battle scar! At first the male had thought it was cool, but it looked like since then his brother had been haunted by something. Normally, had he of seen the glow FawnPelt was making, the cream kitten would of woken the whole den out of excitement, but seeing it was so late, he didn't even open his eyes get. "Dean? Mama, Dean's crying!" he would mew, flipping around to where he would be facing his big brother, and would aim to give him a quick lick on his forehead before curling up closer to him, pressing himself into Dean's side (or attempted to) with a light purr, and doze off once again, letting out quiet, little snores.