#And I Must Scream

[skinnybritishdudes]

A thing that makes me want to run off the end of a pier and just let the ocean take me is that while Edwin was strapped to the machine, he was screaming "no!" and "don't come any closer!" when there was nobody nearby; Esther wasn't even in the room. He was flashing back to his death and talking to the fucking demon, fully reliving the moment he was taken to Hell.

[labgrownmeat]

I Have 0 Dollars And No Clean Clothes And Cannot Therefore Use the Washing Machine

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Zatanna: Nightwing- God Damn! Oh boy, I forgot you wore that and looked like that!

Zatanna looks away seeing him in his suit.

Zatanna: Sorry, I've not seen you in a while and the only guy I've been around is Constantine.

Nightwing: Oh okay, understandable, but you called me.

Zatanna: Oh great heavens, right! I- I can't look at your physique and talk to you.

Zatanna turns the other way, looking at a billboard. She pulls out her phone and calls her father, Zatara.

Zatanna: Daddy, explain.

Zatara (sighing): She needs help with capturing a killer and you're the only one she wants to work with.

Nightwing: That's all? Sure.

Zatanna: Yes!

Zatara: One thing, Nightwing?

Nightwing: Yeah?

Zatara teleports himself into the area his daughter and Nightwing are in and grabs the man by the neck.

Zatara: If you do anything with her that is not apart of this mission, if you even kiss her hand, Batman will not be able to stop me from the punishment I will wreck upon you! I will turn you into the glob that was in "I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream." Then I will turn you back with the memories of that pain. You understand me?

Nightwing (terrified): Crystal clear, sir. I won't do anything to her.

Zatanna (lamented): Oh man.

Nightwing: Zattie, not now.

Zatara: Don't call her that nickname or I will make you relive your worse memory and not the one you think it will be.

Nightwing (scared): Zatanna it is. I won't touch her or look at her, I promise.

Zatara: All right.

Zatara releases Nightwing and the man walks a few feet nervous.

Zatara: Sweetie, be safe and keep the mortal alive unless he attempts to have his way with you again, then contact me.

Zatanna: Daddy, I am a grown adult.

Zatara: That doesn't matter when it comes to the possibility of you being with a Wayne child.

Nightwing: I mean I'm not that bad.

Zatara: Did you forget what I just said!

Nightwing looks down at his feet.

Zatara: Good luck, Zattie.

Zatara kisses his daughter on the forehead and vanishes out of the area.

Zatanna: Dad's I swear. Nightwing, you ready?

Nightwing whimpers, laying on the ground scared.

Zatanna: Chill, daddy was kidding around.

Nightwing: He's never cursed a man by turning them into a faceless glob in constant pain?

Zatanna: ...Okay that guy cheated on me with my friend and he turned him back. The guy's in an insane asylum, but you're not that bad.

Nightwing: You're lucky we're at least friends.

Nightwing gave her a thumbs up still trying to analyze what just happened.

Zatanna: Eh, that's more a benefit for you and don't worry I got us two separate hotel rooms.

[solobodor]

i woke up and choose violence /LH so have a mouse doodle of a terrible .. TERRIBLE monolith

[nanomooselet]

Wait. Wait a second.

In Knives's mind, Rem died because she rejected him and Vash.

That the ships were going down and she prioritised the twins' survival over that of everyone else on board didn't occur to him. She rejected them and ran into the flames and that's why she died, and that's why he hates her so much. She was the only human worth offering a chance to live and she refused for the sake of those parasites. It was the most painful betrayal of Knives's life. He's done everything he's done to keep it from ever happening again.

So what can Knives do when it happens again anyway? When Vash makes the same choice as Rem, to betray his family's love and prove he'd rather die than stay? When he's completely out of ways to change his brother's mind?

Knives can inflict the agony that he himself felt when Rem made her final choice. By rejecting Vash the same way Rem rejected them both.

I won't let you take anyone else away from me!

I didn't take her away, brother. She was the one who ran into the flames.

So he'll follow her. He'll make it Vash's fault. And then maybe, finally, Vash will understand that Rem was the one who chose wrong.

[raiden-brannigan]

And I Must Scream - 1.7k

"Sometimes he would scream. The loneliness, the bleakness, his inability to track time, it all ate away at him piece by piece. Ripping and tearing at bits of his soul, leaving him bleeding and empty. Longing. Nothing responded to him, not even an echo of his own voice." Higgs spends an eternity on The Beach

My first fill for @badthingshappenbingo!

Read on Ao3

[dizzyhslightlyvoided]

Youkai Reimu: Hm. Maybe I should get a shikigami to help me around the house and stuff.

God Marisa, cheerfully: Hm, maybe!

Youkai Reimu: Also maybe it'll help with making humans afraid of me, that's also a bunch of work and I'd prefer to just have a peaceful life regardless.

Youkai Reimu, not really paying attention to what she's saying and lost in the "am a youkai" sauce: Wait, I know! I could turn a human into a shikigami! The human's original spirit could still be in their body, so it's still a human and they're conscious and terrified the whole time, but their shikigami programming would just override what they're doing!

Youkai Reimu: ... wait no, that's not how shikigami work. Or "still a human".

God Marisa, whom we now see is boggling at her with her jaw dropped: Reimu, what the entire shit.

[leet911]

Reverse 4 You

Ok, so since I'm on this Thai GL kick. I started watching Reverse 4 You because the premise sounded silly and it's like airing weekly now, so I figured I'd watch the first 2 episodes and see what's it like. And yeah, Jattawa is so cute, and Vivi is adorable, and it's funny the way they use their powers (my girl likes to avoid embarrassment, and you know what, relatable). But then I watched the last episode from yesterday and OH MY GOD

Why did I have to start watching the show at this moment in time? I have to wait a whole week to see what happens next? Flashbacks from the war when the Popular (1999) series ended on a cliffhanger. (iykyk 😭)

[professionalnooneatall]

This is a feature-length documentary about being queer, about cyberpunk, about movies and about life and it's free to watch

[jinxquickfoot]

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: And I Must Scream

Find the fic on Ao3

It’s been three months since Dreykov’s death.

Three months of chasing ghosts. Three months of releasing Widows. No matter how many Natasha sees rescued, it never grows easier.

Because they don’t see it as rescue. They see it as capture. As failure. Widows do not fail.

More than one Widow has been found dead before they reach her, preferring to die for the Red Room rather than fall into enemy hands.

Three months since Dreykov’s death.

Three months since his daughter’s.

And now, it’s over. There are no more ghosts to chase. Natasha doesn’t know what to make of the fact that Yelena’s file hadn’t been in those they’d recovered. She hopes that means her mladshaya sestra got out, made her own life. That she hadn’t tried to find her. Yelena had been young, after all. Too young. She might not even remember her.

She and Clint hadn’t talked the entire flight back to DC. She had sensed he had wanted to, but knew she didn’t, so he’d kept his mouth shut. She’s still not used to that—having a need met, not to meet an agenda, and not to manipulate her. Just because someone wants to make her feel safe.

Natasha still doesn’t entirely know why Clint didn’t take the shot. It unsettles her. There aren’t many people she can’t read. And she feels as though she should be able to read Clint Barton. On the surface, he’s an open book. Good soldier, gets the job done, quick with just the right kind of sly comment to make the people around him laugh. She also knows that all of that is armor. What she doesn’t know is what he’s shielding.

Clint doesn’t break the silence until they land at the Triskelion. “After we drop off our stuff, I have something to show you.”

Natasha eases herself out of the co-pilot’s seat, gathering her bag. She’s still not allowed to man any of SHIELD’s vehicles, not until she can prove she’s not a flight risk. It’s not a decision she can blame Fury for making—she’s thought about running more than once. What is left of the Red Room is gone. She’s gotten what she’s needed out of SHIELD. She could flee into the night and never look back, become someone completely different, live in a world where not a soul knows what horrors she’s inflicted on the world.

She follows Clint into the Triskelion.

They don’t talk through their post-mission routine either. They stow their equipment, splitting off to their separate locker rooms to shower. Not that it should matter—they’ve been sharing quarters for months now, sometimes the same place for days at a time, and they’ve seen everything. Natasha kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for that first move to be made. And when Clint didn’t make it, she did, only to be promptly told that maybe they could explore that down the line, but not while she was trying to prove that he was some jackass trying to get in her pants.

Her confusion around Clint Barton grew.

She takes longer in the shower than she needs to. It’s a luxury she’s never had before—being able to stand under the hot water for as long as she liked, just because she wanted to.

It keeps Clint waiting, but he doesn’t call her out on it. “Ready to go?”

Clint leads her down to the garage, Natasha hesitating when he indicates for her to get into the readied car. “Where are we going?”

“It’s not a mission,” is all Clint tells her.

The drive is short. Natasha gazes out the window, the passing trees and buildings and people. This is home now. She’s burned her old one to ashes.

They stop at an apartment building, Clint pulling into the car park. “This way.”

She follows him up three flights of stairs, through the unremarkable, totally mundane building, to an unremarkable, totally mundane door. Clint withdraws a set of keys, but he doesn’t unlock the apartment. He holds them out to her.

“What is this, Barton?”

“A gift.”

Carefully, Natasha takes the keys and eases her way inside the apartment.

It’s nothing special. A one-bedroom with minimal furniture in need of a fresh coat of paint, a drooping plant someone has abandoned in the corner. Natasha takes it in, suspicions rising. “I have a room at the Triskelion.”

“You had a glorified cell. You helped us take down Dreykov, Natasha. You completed your part of the deal. So Fury decided you deserved somewhere that locked from the inside.”

Natasha doesn’t put her bag down, even after Clint closes the door behind them. “Fury decided, did he? He wasn’t convinced?”

Clint shrugs that off. “You’ve run missions with us for months. You’ve followed every order. You’ve had every chance to kill me and run, but you haven’t.”

“And what if I run now?”

“Well, you’ll make me look very, very stupid.” He sets his bag down on the couch, looking at her. Seeing her. It’s not a sensation she’s grown used to. “But I believe you’re not going to run, Nat.”

“Belief is for children.” But she eases her bag down, making her way over to examine the bedroom. It’s small, but the bed looks new. Someone’s made it up for her, the smell of fresh sheets lingering in the air.

“Maybe,” Clint allows. “I figured you’d want something more concrete. So.”

She turns around to see him holding out a file. She takes it, flicking through the paperwork.

“You just have to sign,” Clint continues. “And it’s your name on the deed. You can stay here, sell it and get something you like better, whatever you want.”

Natasha snaps the file shut. “So I’ll feel grateful to you. So I’ll stay.”

Clint watches her for a moment. “Because you’re a person and you deserve somewhere to live where you’re not a prisoner.”

Natasha swallows back something sour, threatening to spill over. “Fury’s going to have me watched for the rest of my life. This is just for show.”

“You don’t think he’s got tabs on me too? I didn’t exactly have the smoothest introduction to SHIELD either. But if anyone can escape the eye of Nick Fury, it’s you. And he knows that. He’s willing to loosen the reigns anyway.”

Natasha gingerly sits on the edge of the bed. It’s soft and clean and, if she wants it, hers.

That sour feeling grows. She doesn’t even realize her hands are shaking until Clint sits on the bed next to her, encircling her wrists in calloused hands. “Natasha. Talk to me.”

She knows she shouldn’t. To talk without a goal is to show weakness. But that feeling in her gut won’t abate. It’s not new. She’s just always been able to push it down, ignore it, focus on the mission. She is made of marble. She doesn’t crack.

She’s also so, so tired of holding herself together. “I don’t deserve this.”

“The longer you work for SHIELD, the more freedom you’ll gain, I promise.”

But Natasha shakes her head. “I don’t deserve this.”

Clint goes very still beside her, realizing. “Natasha—”

“You don’t know.” She snaps back to herself, ripping herself out of his hold. “Whatever files you have on me, they don’t even scrape the surface of what I’ve done. You don’t know.”

“I know you didn’t have a choice,” Clint says softly. “The Red Room did those things, Nat. You were just the weapon. You don’t blame the arrow for hitting the target.”

Natasha meets his gaze, radiating the deadly calm she knows makes the most powerful men shake. Clint meets her head-on, not backing down. “The Red Room didn’t make me kill Dreykov’s daughter,” she whispers. “Antonia. That was all me, Barton. That was me. It was me.”

She’s expecting platitudes. Some speech about how killing one little girl had saved hundreds of others. About collateral damage for the greater good was always justified. About how the mission always, always came first.

He doesn’t say any of that. Instead he reaches out, and takes her hand.

The crack that splits open inside of her has been a long time coming. She’s been forcing it back for years, trying to prove that she was untouchable, unbreakable. She is perfect. She is the best. She’s never been allowed to be anything else.

She expects the first guttural scream that rips its way up her throat to send Clint running for the hills. It doesn’t. Instead he moves closer, letting her scream into his chest, over and over and over again.

Natasha doesn’t know how long they sit like that, but finally she slumps, her throat raw, her cheeks wet. A part of her knows she should be embarrassed, that this kind of weakness should never be tolerated, but she’s too exhausted to care. She feels wrung out, empty. She also feels lighter, as though she’s finally laid down a weight she’s been carrying since she can remember.

“Okay,” she hears Clint murmuring in her ear. “You’re okay.”

“Tired,” she whispers.

“That’s okay too. You want to go to bed?”

When Natasha pulls back, she sees his cheeks are wet too. Neither of them mention it. She lays back on the mattress, letting Clint take her shoes off and arrange the sheets around her like she’s a child. He goes to leave, but she reaches out, catching his wrist, asking the forbidden question. “Will you stay?”

She’s rewarded with a small smile, and for the first time, she sees him clearly. This isn’t a trick. This isn’t some elaborate con to get her to switch sides. She fell apart and he didn’t leave. He has cracks in his own marble that will never be fixed.

He climbs into bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She’s exhausted. She’s been exhausted for a long time. And here, falling asleep in a bed that she owns, next to a person she trusts, Natasha finally manages to rest.

[wispisstillverybored67]

AYEEEEE!! IT'S FRIGHT NIGHT! ARVEN AND PENNY ATE IT!

My God... They're still conscious?!! THEY ARE! ARVEN LOOKS SO HUMILIATED!

[blackwood4stucky]

i scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream | aspen blackwood

steve rogers x james "bucky" barnes | mcu

masterpost | mini playlist

🆃 | word count: 1,110 | complete

tags: quiet horror, omegaverse, bucky-centric

The members of the Rogers family were unpacking their boxes, two rented U-Hauls sitting in front of their new house, when Bucky first heard it, the ice cream song playing from the truck down the street. It was a familiar little jingle, one he had heard for many years where he used to live. Such a tune usually brought joy, everyone loves ice cream.

It was late October by the time the Rogers relocated to a new community in East End, New Hampshire. Their neighbors were getting into the spirit of Halloween what with all the decorations strewn about the block. Fake webs and spiders covered many front lawns while homemade ghosts and ghouls blew in the cool autumn winds. It seemed that everyone in the community was participating from the sheer amount of laughter that could be heard all around them. Bucky decided then that they all would have to participate as well, how could they not? It was his favorite time of the year, family tradition dictated that they celebrate and he would not forsake that ritual. If only they could get everything done in a timely fashion. Looking at his little family though, he could see that his alpha and their daughter were worn out. Even their cat, Alpine, was lying about in the grass. Perhaps it was a good time to pause and take a break now that the ice cream truck was there. He had just begun digging his hands around in his pocket for change when little Sarah tugged on his pant leg.

“Mommy, why is everyone leaving?” His daughter’s voice sounded so small even though he knew Sarah’s curiosity was so big, the little girl could get into so much mischief if left to her own devices.

Glancing up, Bucky saw that Sarah was right though. Their new neighbors had all but dropped their various decorations to scramble for the doors. Even the pets knew the drill. With his heightened hearing, he could hear the telltale sound of locking mechanisms and whispers coming from inside of the houses on the block. Perturbed, but not one to stick around for danger, Bucky followed suit and beckoned for his husband, Steve, and little Sarah to do the same. Taking whatever they held in their hands, the Rogers family hastily went inside and closed their doors, making sure the deadbolt was securely in place. The song from the ice cream truck grew louder and louder, the pitch taking on a strange note at the end, one that caused a chill to run down Bucky’s spine. It wasn’t until a pained yelp rang out a moment later that they all realized Alpine was still outside.

Ever since that day, life went on as normal for rest of the members of the East End community. Bucky, on the other hand, developed trust issues. Not a single one of their new neighbors batted an eye when he and Steve asked what was up with the ice cream truck, when they questioned their new neighbors on the whereabouts of their beloved pet. All anyone ever had to say on the matter was when the ice cream song plays, you best get inside, don’t come out until it’s over, even then don’t come out until the day is over. If you’re caught outside when the song plays, you best pray for it to be over soon. For if you see the heads, if you see the eyes, it’s over. It’s over, it’s over for you.

Bucky had begun to question their decision to move to East End then. All the research he put into finding this community didn’t seem to be yielding the results it should have. All the reviews he read boasted of its exclusivity and safety for all sorts of people. All the interviews he and Steve had gone through were a testament to how serious East End appeared to take its application process. It all was supposed to result in a sanctuary. He knew his little family was different. Heightened senses, enhanced agility, and a less than stellar diet certainly didn’t make it easy for them to settle down. This was supposed to be their big break. He didn’t know how wrong he was.

A few weeks later, Bucky, Steve, and Sarah were enjoying the cool play day in breeze on their front lawn, when they heard it, the ice cream song playing from the truck down the street. Bucky and Steve were wary but gathered what was immediately around them to head inside.

“Excuse me.” A little voice called out from behind Bucky. “I missed you last time. May I have some ice cream, please?”

Turning around, Bucky saw their daughter standing in front of the ice cream truck with her little hand outstretched. His eyes widened when he got a good look at the truck. It was all white with a strange black symbol painted on the side facing their home, a sea creature with multiple bulbous heads and tentacles. To his utter horror, a familiar pale red light had begun to shine through the window on the driver’s side. It was one that bought horrific memories from his past, flashes of torture and pain.

“Sarah, get away from that truck!” Bucky’s body moved like a flash before he could even issue it a command, fear gripping his heart as he snatched the child up from the edge of the sidewalk. It was only when something cold and tight gripped at his leg as it latched onto his skin, that he realized his grave mistake. “Take her and get inside, lock the doors!”

“No! Not without you!” Steve had materialized at his side to take Sarah into his arms but he refused to leave. “I won’t leave you, not again.”

“You have to!” He groaned in pain and looked down at his leg, it was wrapped in some sort of chain with barbs that dug into his flesh holding him in place. There was no way he would let them get ahold of his entire family, there was no way in hell he would give Hydra a real win. Bucky’s fear was to be ripped from his daughter, from Steve, his husband and mate. It was his greatest fear to be returned back into the clutches of those that created monsters like him and Steve. All the while, that ice cream truck played its haunting song. It tormented him as he prayed for a swift end that he knew would never come. The first time the Rogers family heard the ice cream song, they lost their pet. The second time they heard it, the Rogers family lost Bucky.

[alpaca-clouds]

Bad Things Happen - And I Must Scream

Here we go. The last story for my @badthingshappenbingo bingo card! This one with the prompt "And I must Scream!" Technically this story has seven chapters in total - but the prompt specifically is relevant for this chapter.

Please note, this chapter is very bloody, as it features the canonical genocide happening in Targoviste.

The story is featuring Isaac between seasons 2 and 4, having nightmares in which he is haunted by religious guilt about the things he did in his life.

[erporo]

what the everloving fuck is spanish grammar.

[wizard-tinky-winky]

HOLY FUCKING SHIT HOLY SHIT FUCK FUCK FUCK HOLY FUCK

[thatfantasylovingdork]

My poor, sweet Bee, having to endure an And I Must Scream situation. Thanks TV Tropes, I’m ready to cry and write hurt/comfort fic in advance.