a victims worst nightmare

anonymous asked:

i wish you would write a KHR fic where Reborn and the guardians' fear of Tsuna being killed(again) happens - but it's actually a nightmare caused by some other villain during a fight and when they wake up and see Tsuna, though uncomfortably asleep in one of the chairs in Vongola's medical wing, is alive and well (just worried out of his wits for his family), and all of them scare him awake when they swarm him in a desperate hug. or as desperate as Hibari/Reborn/Mukuro would openly show, loll

With all the crazy impossibilities in KHR, I can see this happening. The switch would be seamless from their pov, maybe they’re all fighting but then Tsuna gets shot when really it’s them getting gassed by an experimental hallucinogen, and they have to relive being in a world without Tsuna again, just like the other timeline, except it’s even worse because this time, it’s their failure, and they failed their Tsuna, who turned out so very different from the other one despite taking over Vongola. This one didn’t let Vongola and the mafia walk all over him. This one placed his friends above the Famiglia, this one cherishes them enough defy the Vindice for them, this one has enough resolve to destroy one of the strongest and oldest criminal organizations in the world and drag it kicking and screaming back to its vigilante roots, no matter what the Ninth Generation (”You’re retired, Nono. Please at least act like it.”) or Iemitsu (”I fired you. It’s not up for debate. Frankly, I just don’t trust you, not with my life, and especially not with my friends’ lives. Also, you owe Kaa-san the rest of your life, and that still won’t be enough so you may as well get started.”) or even the rest of the mafia world think.

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I hope Ubisoft never sets a game during WWII, I can’t imagine how they wouldn’t mess it up.  As a jew who who comes from a family of Holocaust survivors, I’m sick of seeing video games and movies and television shows where the main characters are non-jewish, non-rromani, almost always white americans, going off to fight overseas for glory.  

[continued below]

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Name: Mara

Alternate Names: Nightmare, Alp (related), Mare, Cauchemar (French)

Mythology: European (almost all European counties have their own version of the Nightmare

Size: Shapeshifter, but have Medium and Large forms mostly

Environment: The dream world, can only be summoned out of dreams by Nocnitsa Hags

In Mythika: Horrifying parasites who feed on fear inside the dreams and nightmares of sleeping creatures, Mara are more a pest than a true dangerous killer, they make people very fatigued and exhausted as they can’t find a peaceful sleep, this makes them dangerous on their own right, as adventures must be battle-ready if they want to win against dangerous monsters. The Mara only becomes deadly if summoned out of the dream world by a Nocnitsa Hag, then they take the forms of black mares with burning manes in a multitude of bright flaming colors. In the dreamworld the Mara can appear in any form it desires, mostly taking on the victims worst nightmare. In the real world the Mara often functions as a carnivorous steed of the Nocnitsa hags.

Mara can breed with a multitude of Unicorns, the result is always a Mara, but a very different one, it will have a crystal-like unicorn horn. Winged Mara’s are also spotted.

Wiki Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mare_(folklore)

The Edge of Sanity (Part 2)

Title: The Edge of Sanity (Part 2)

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Summary: Under the influence of a demon who’s been known to drive her victims to insanity, the reader continues to experience the worst of her nightmares until she can no longer remember what’s real.

Word Count: 3,445

Warnings: emotional abuse

POV: Reader’s, second-person

A/N: boom baby! Part three might take some time considering it’s no longer the weekend, but I have some good ideas for it :) Please enjoy!

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You could feel your mind slipping. It would only be a matter of time before you were curled into a ball in the corner, rocking back and forth, whispering incoherent sounds, unable to form complete sentences.

With your arms wrapped tightly around your knees, lying on the floor, your cheek pressed against the cool concrete, you were halfway there. You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from the metal door on the opposite side of the room, waiting for the high pitched clicking of the locks to ring out before someone, or something, else stepped through the doorway.

Dean came back a few times and tied you to a rack in the middle of room you never noticed was there until he stood eagerly in front of it. He bound you with rope that burned your skin raw and he sliced at you, cutting your skin open and watching with nothing but pleasure in his eyes as blood dripped onto the concrete floors.

He showed you the man he was when he was locked in hell all those years ago. He showed you exactly the man he had nightmares about, the man had confessed to you one night he feared he would become again. Dean Winchester tortured you and broke you in ways you didn’t know you could be broken.

Just when you were on the brink of death, the moment you could feel yourself being pulled into the kind embrace of ultimate and permanent darkness, it all disappeared. You would wake up on the floor, alone in a room you swore had company only seconds before. Your body would be clean of blood and scars and you would remember for a brief moment that none of it was real.

Until someone else walked through the door and you forgot again.

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