#The Frighteners Fic

[inevitablemoment]

Chapter Five: She Wanted Sunshine (I Was Midnight Rain)

Anthea's date night with Molly is interrupted when Frank and Lucy call.

------

It's back! It's back! It's back!

[ky-landfill]

[witchofthesouls]

You know the film Who Framed Rodger Rabbit where humans and Toons live there together?

Imagine the sheer chaos to occur if any Transformers iterations landed on that type of Earth. No one knows who the fuck these giant robots are as they definitely aren't Toons. Meanwhile the bots can't help but be confused by these strange creatures living alongside the organics.

The Toons however see both factions as perfect targets for mischief. Starscream crashing into a wall via a super realistic painting, poor Optimus getting flowers full of dynamite or Bumblebee having multiple 'Kick Me I'm Fake' signs plaster on his bumper by Toon cars. Megatron feels like they landed in a looney bin as he fails to intimidate the 50th cartoon rat on the ship.

This probably lead to kidnapping a human cause no one is making progress when they're constantly getting menaced by law defying entities.

Oh man, the childhood nostalgia is so real here 🤣🤣

Look, the Toons would break the Autobots and the Decepticons. Cybertronians are not strangers to special powers, but beings that regularly defy all sense of laws in such a blase, hilarious manner without one ounce of logic yet yield so much damage?

The factions' respective medbays will be constantly full of mecha with processor crashes and circuit burnout. Soundwave, Prowl, and Red Alert will have to be put into long-term stasis for their mental and emotional health.

You want peace? Or a long-term armistice? Send in Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck as Trojan Horses.

There is no escape from their antics. Those creatures are everywhere.

Land. Sea. Air. Fucking space in a random astro-suit.

(Mechs would be driven mad trying to find who the hell is Marvin the Martian in any database. Including the Galactic Alliance.)

Even Megatron will break.

He will become hollow mech, desperate for respite, and beg for mercy. A new phobia for the fear of the sound of carrots being crunched and chewed would be implemented in their disorders. As well as Daffy's crazed laughter once they can reliably track it.

But the biggest kicker? All the humans would just chuckle or outright laugh at their declarations. Aliens? Really? Are you sure? What's the gimmick?

Many humans shake their heads, elbowing people around them because there's a new joke going around. Apparently, the Toons caught into the mecha anime explosion, so now they have sentient Gundams walking around with an epic battle of good versus evil.

(Que some Americans shouting things in Japanese. Some want to improve or keep up their language skills. Others just want to be dicks. It would be funnier if humans had so much experience picking out the robots in disguise from the Toons' general mayhem and shenanigans.)

The Toons know that those are real aliens but are too delighted by the sheer potential chaos of having fresh meat, ahem, new neighbors.

[livingininsomnia]

Reader x Silver: Omegaverse, implied non-con, open ended, yandere Silver

You come to slowly, wrists tied up with silk, sitting in someone’s lap.

“You’re awake,” a horribly familiar voice says.

“… Silver? What…” you trail off groggily, before turning still as his hand rests possessively on the back of your bare neck.

“S-Silver?” you stutter, trembling as lips touch your jaw. “Where are we?” you ask, a jolt of adrenaline rushing with the panic.

“You broke your promise,” he ignores you. His fingers rub your neck, possessive, drawing a shudder.

Unbidden, a whine rises from your throat. He presses his lips to your neck, and you break out into cold sweat.

“W-what,” you cry, tensing. You can feel his teeth against your skin. You struggle in his arms. It’s an empty threat, but it still chills you.

“Silver, please, why…?” you plead for an explanation.

He clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction, easily keeping you pinned in his arms.

“You don’t remember,” he says, voice deadly quiet.

Your voice hitches at the eerily empty tone.

“I’m sorry,” your voice breaks, “Silver, please, I d-don’t, I’m scared,” you say in tears.

He slides a hand down your waist, through what feels like satin, or silk, a beautiful white dress that only frightens you.

“You promised to marry me,” he says quietly, fingers rubbing against your hip bone.

You breathe in a sharp, bewildered breath. “I-I? When-but then, even if- but I’m beta-“

You break off. Your whole body heats up almost violently.

“Love, was that why? You should have told me.” Silver’s voice comes oddly distant, like his mouth is muffled, or your ears are underwater.

You shake. His fingers grasp your chin. “Ah, is it finally working?”

Dread builds up along with the heat. Your stomach roils. This isn’t normal. This isn’t a simple fever. No, this is a heat. But you’re not-

“Silver… How.. What did you do?”

“The Fae have their ways,” he says vaguely. “And I am blessedly, deeply loved.”

[knickknacksandallthat]

now all i can think about is matt asking jean if he and kevin have bumped baguettes yet and the chaos that follows

anon, the gift that keeps on giving...Matt's completely inappropriate use of french pastries:

*Jeremy, Jean, and Kevin return from hospital*

MATT: Hey, you guys are back! Great! We have a question for you.

AARON: *sliding hand over face* oh no.

DAN: *pointing finger at Matt* Matthew Donovan Boyd, don't you dare-

MATT: so, I mean, clear this up for us if you can, boys. What exactly are you doing with Kev?

JEREMY: *visibly confused* You mean...other than taking him home from the hospital?

MATT: And?

JEAN: And what?

MATT: Come on, Moreau, don't play dumb. Tell us - are you and Knox bumping baguettes together with him?

JEAN: *deadeyeing matt now* What.

AARON: Jesus fucking Christ, Boyd.

ALLISON: Shush, don't stop them - I'm recording.

MATT: Dude, I'm just saying - are you putting the tang in his tart? The cream in his eclair? The flake in his croissant? The meringue in his macaron? The pain in his au chocolat? The tutti in his frutti?

KEVIN: *brow furrowed as he turns to Jean* Are you suddenly opening a French bakery that I'm unaware of?

JEAN: *handing his coat to Jeremy and rolling up his sleeves* Boyd, in the name of Kevin's honor and justice for all of France, prepare to have your ass kicked.

Part 2 to this ask

[theminecraftbee]

Cleo isn’t a fan of the heartbeat, honestly.

Okay, so there’s a lot of things she’s not a fan of about Martyn, actually, up to and including the black eye she has from where she’d punched him, which she has decided to blame him for despite it being her own action, because if he hadn’t been so deserving of a punch in the face, she wouldn’t have a black eye! She hates that she can still feel phantom heat licking against her, hates that he left her all day, hates that she didn’t get a choice in the matter. There’s a lot to hate, really. Martyn should be impressed.

But the thing she didn’t expect, and realizes she hates, is this: she has a heartbeat. She’s lying on her bed, and she feels her heart beating, and it makes her anxious, because, because—

How fast is a racing heart, anyway? She can’t remember! She hasn’t had one of those… ever, really. And it’s not her heartbeat. It’s his. And now that the day has slowed down, it’s all she can feel. That disconcerting thump, thump, thump, thump, that crawls inside her chest and presses against her throat.

God, how do the living deal with this all the time? She turns over. She feels her pulse thump. She feels oddly like crying. She doesn’t think it hurts. The sensation is not something that hurts. She’s not sure how to interpret it, though, so her (long-dead) brain’s trying to tell her something is wrong. Something is moving like it isn’t supposed to.

Something is inside of her and it is moving. Martyn is inside of her and she wants him out.

The traitorous heartbeat keeps thumping.

She hates him. She hates him. She hates him.

(And she’s supposed to be dead.)

She can’t bring herself to sleep all night. In the morning, Scott asks, but when she tries to explain, he barely seems to know what she’s saying. She goes to chop wood, and hopes the exertion hides the traitorous, terrible thing that is alive in her now that she’s noticed it. It doesn’t quite.

[starcurtain]

I think my favorite breed of RenHeng is definitely:

Even in the Shackling Prison, Dan Heng had just enough memories of Yingxing to be hopelessly, achingly in love with the man despite never meeting him in his current life, spending years agonizing over the cognitive dissonance of wanting to leave every single shred of his previous incarnation behind but being unable and unwilling to let go of the exquisite gentleness and warmth of that one person--

Only to be told that Blade is Yingxing. That his greatest source of horror and anger is the same person whose calloused fingers nightly trace the line of his cheek in his favorite dream, the one that used to make Dan Heng feel like a treasure, like something worth keeping--

And how, how is it fair that he's still being punished? How deep are the sins of his past that he isn't even allowed to keep the illusion of being wanted? How could Dan Feng take every fleeting glimmer of Yingxing's love and leave Dan Heng with only his hate?

How is he supposed to live, having all these broken, beautiful memories--and still having nothing at all?

[leupagus]

A Gale of Wolves, Chapter 3: Tommen

When Tommen was little, he and Myrcella would spend hours trying to find the hidden passageways that their septa told them ran through Maegor's Holdfast. They found a few, mostly ones that allowed for a quick escape should the castle be breached, but the one they used the most often connected their two chambers, so that they could sneak in late at night when one or the other had had another nightmare. They would read each other heraldic tales by the paltry light of the nightlit candles. Sometimes Myrcella would teach Tommen how to embroider, the way the septas had been teaching her, or Tommen would teach her how to fence using the willow branches in her flower arrangements. Myrcella had given him Ser Pounce when she had left, "so you'll have someone else to read to when you can't sleep."

*note: chapters will be posted once a day from April 18 to May 11. Some will be shorter than others, but hopefully this schedule will work for people who a) like to know when they can read the whole thing in one go and b) like to read chapter by chapter as they come.

[mildcicada]

If you surrendered to the air you could ride it.!!! .....I give up, I surrender etc.

[quoth-the-goblin-nevermore]

Frightened Rabbit is so Grantaire coded. Modern Leper has been fueling my writing for that oaf for a month.

LOOK

Actually check out Frightened Rabbit if you don’t know them. They’ve got some really good Scottish indie music.

[thebest-medicine]

when normie critical role blogs like and reblog my critickle role fics: 🙇‍♀️ hello 👀👀👀👀 ?

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by @devirnis and @rewritetheending for wip Wednesday! Buck’s still going to die

"Do you think this is the last time we'll all hang out together like this?" Buck asks, in Bobby's backyard, at the party celebrating Hen passing her practical. He gets indulgent smiles in response, honest reassurances, and he can’t clarify that he doesn’t think any of them will leave him but that he is a man with a timer he can’t see the numbers on. He smiles back, and lets Eddie squeeze his hand in comfort, and hugs Hen tight, and helps Bobby clean up sort of to be helpful but also, mostly, just to be close to him.

And then he is reminded that he is not the only person who can die. He’s not the one helping Karen and her coworker, busy knocking down the surrounding flames so they can get out, and it’s smoky and all a disaster in there anyway so he doesn’t get a good look at her until he’s escorting her out of the building. It takes several increasingly desperate are you sures after he’s asked if she’s feeling okay to discover the shrapnel, but he gets her onto a stretcher before things can get any worse than a chunk of metal embedded several inches into her side. He watches as Hen, the strongest person he has ever, ever met, crumples when she sees her wife injured. He watches her be strong anyway, climbing into the ambulance to do anything up to and including throttle the universe itself to keep her alive until she gets to the hospital. He holds her in the waiting room as she weeps gratitude into his shoulder and he looks across the room at Eddie looking back at him and thinks he was wrong, he was wrong entirely. It’s not going to be easier if they aren’t married yet. He dies and Eddie is destroyed. It’s too late to pull away because they were both in this from the start. He imagines someone else holding Eddie like this, as he’s off in surgery or some colder, more final room, and his knees almost buckle.

Karen is okay, will be home soon. Hen comes back to work.

Tagging @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @alyxmastershipper @forthewolves @bigfootsmom @rogerzsteven <3

[butchfalin]

realizing that a p5r false reality bad ending fic could be nearly indistinguishable from an ooc "akechi never did anything wrong" no metaverse high school au and amusing myself about it

[bumblingbabooshka]

I was curious so I went to your Voyager fics on ao3 and filtered out Tuvok's character tag. Three remained, one of them still centered around him without him appearing (the one about his family coping with his disappearance) and another still mentioned him by name in the text. Twice.

None of this is meant as criticism btw, people obsessed with one particular character are literally the backbone of fandom and I genuinely love this for you. Strongest soldier in the Tuvok army. And you're impeccable at it! Love you

I AM. A TUVOK GIRLIE. TO THE BONE!!!!!!!!!!! <- Cheering I would never take this as a criticism, please don't worry - I love him!

[theminecraftbee]

So False is sitting, and there's a potion she doesn't know how she knows the ingredients to in a cauldron to the side, and downstairs she can hear that guy she hired in exchange for room and board snoring, and outside it's dark, and inside it's light, and there's a blood-red sign above her telling her to run away, she's the evil one, run away, and -

Right. Think about it. Her head hurts. She opened a chest and took a trident with her name on it that she's increasingly suspecting isn't actually hers and she looked at a map, and her head hurts. And her memories hurt. And she can't sleep. And she wants to remember.

(And she doesn't. She doesn't, she doesn't, she doesn't, she needs to. It's a process. Her dreams hurt.)

And she's standing there, and she's thinking, and the air smells a little like gunpowder, because the guy she'd hired already had more rockets than he had any right to, right, and he'd given her a book telling her that the person in the tower she didn't build was her in different clothes and they're watching her, they're going to hurt her, except maybe False is going to hurt them, it's not clear, and she's fine, she's good, she is, except her memories hurt and her sword is bloody and she cleaned out blood that had soaked straight through the mattress of her inn the other day and -

Sometimes, False is tired. Sometimes, she wants to look at these people who have been nice to her (and have yet to admit what they want and/or don't know what she is), and look at them and their arguments, and she wants to ask them:

Do you know what it feels like to be afraid?

Not just like - she's witnessed the others get startled. She vaguely remembers the sound of that archeologist mourning losing something he cared about, and that's similar, but - that's not what she means. That's temporary. That's not -

There's a type of being afraid that False is. She's been it since she woke up. It's the kind that sinks into your bones. And after a little bit, you get used to it, right? You get used to it, because it's always there. Except you don't get less afraid; you get better at ignoring being afraid. You get better at ignoring it right up until someone does something that reminds you how afraid you are, and it all comes crashing down on you at once, and then everything goes kinda fuzzy, and it's hard to remember when you are. That kind of afraid.

There's a type of being afraid that - the thing is you don't really live with it, because you can't, but you do, because you have to. And you know there's a reason you're afraid. False knows there's a reason she's afraid. But you aren't quite sure you remember the right reason. False isn't quite sure she knows what she's afraid of. And besides, even if you - she - False did, it wouldn't matter.

Because being afraid makes everything, like the fireflies outside and the stranger she hired snoring downstairs and there's a potion she shouldn't know the recipe for and she wonders if the False that her spy had reported is up in that tower, watching her, she's watching her, and her memories hurt. She hurts. She remembers what bruises feels like.

She thinks maybe she's running away.

She thinks maybe she's just -

She wants to ask the world if they know what it's like to be afraid, is all. To be afraid, and not know what you're afraid of. To be afraid, and finally remembering what's so scary.

She thinks maybe, if they could answer that, they'd understand. Maybe after that she'd be less frightened.

Or maybe there's no fixing it.

She hates that she left herself that sign in red; she wishes she could dream without waking up in pain; she, she, she doesn't know how to not be scared, and it's probably reasonable, so she won't ask for that not to be the case, and she'll keep her supply of hydrogen peroxide fresh for anymore mattresses she'll have to clean before it's over, and she'll dream, and maybe one day she'll wake up, and outside it is dark, and she is not asleep yet.

Somewhere in-between, she is. That's how it's always been, since the first time she woke up where she hadn't been the night before. Somewhere in-between.

And afraid, of course.

(She can't forget that.)

[piosplayhouse]

Not going to get involved in the ao3 politics shit but I just want to say after reading some of the top posts on this site I can tell most of the people talking about this subject very clearly did not experience Sexytimes With Wangxian