#it’s for a murder mystery thing they have planned for the 13th
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I walked into my building’s elevator and now they’re trying to tell me DL-6 is real?
#doctorsiren#not art#ace attorney#dl 6 incident#I’m crying bc it was so unexpected#it’s for a murder mystery thing they have planned for the 13th#but MAN#you shoulda seen my face
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Why Writers Use Red Herrings
If a teacher has ever tried to explain an English reading assignment to you before, they’ve likely called something a red herring. Google that term and you’ll see a fish. It’s also a term for a literary device.
These are a few things you should know to use them in your stories.
What Is a Red Herring?
The term “red herring” first appeared only in conversations. People used it to describe a herring fish split lengthwise down the middle (kippered) because it smelled extra bad and looked red. They also called a fish a red herring if it was cooked a certain way because the final dish also had a strong smell while retaining some red coloring.
Literary experts note that it appeared in the written word first in an early 13th-century poem. It was just used to describe a red herring, which likely meant the herring was split lengthwise as well.
The first use of it being anything other than that was in 1981. Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable recorded the phrase as drawing attention away from the main issue with a secondary issue.
No one’s really sure exactly when it became a method of distraction, although there’s a long-running story that trainers teaching hunting dogs would use a literal kippered herring to draw dogs away from whatever scent they were chasing. Back in 1599, a writer mentioned this use of red herrings and praised its effectiveness.
People have generally used it as a literary term ever since.
A red herring is a plot device that distracts the reader from the actual rising action or mystery.
You don’t need one in every story. They’re mostly effective at making the reader think they’ve figured out something essential to your plot, so they’re best in mystery genres. However, there are a few times you can use them to trick and surprise your readers.
Moments to Use a Red Herring
When You Want Your Reader to “Figure Something Out”
Mystery writers have a common goal: reveal the answer to their plot’s primary mystery at the time of their choice. Readers who solve the mystery too early don’t get to savor the rest of the story as much because there’s less tension.
You can use a red herring to make the reader feel like they know where your plot is going, but it’s all a distraction. Don’t plan on writing a story no one will solve early—there will always be a few sharp readers who can put your clues together. However, you can delay the big reveal with a red herring.
Example: Your protagonist is trying to figure out who stole their bike. You introduce a side character who mentions being jealous of the bike and learns to ride after it gets stolen. The reader will think this side character is the thief, but your protagonist finds out it was their own best friend who knew the code to their garage.
When You Want the Reader to Feel Surrounded by Potential Answers
Consider your favorite mystery book, show, or movie. You probably tried to solve the mystery before it ended, but you had a handful of people that could potentially have caused the inciting incident.
That’s because the writer purposefully used multiple red herrings. It makes the reader spin in circles as they try to guess how your story will end.
You can use this option if you feel like your plot is too obvious. Multiple red herrings complicate things if your herrings have good enough reasons to potentially be the bad guy.
Example: Your protagonist’s great-grandfather is found murdered in his isolated cabin. They search for clues to find the murderer by talking with everyone who knew him. Some relatives would stand to gain from their inheritance, while others have reasons to seek revenge. Your protagonist isn’t sure who the murderer is until the last minute when the same person tries to kill them for getting too close to the truth.
When Red Herrings Don’t Work
When the Individuals Have No Motive
You wouldn’t suspect someone of a crime if they had no reason to commit it. Readers won’t try to pin a mystery on a character without a good motive. Make sure you know the specific potential motive for each red herring before writing them into your story.
When They Feel Too Obvious
The point of a red herring is to hint at a possibility. Your reader won’t guess an incorrect answer to the mystery if it’s too obvious.
Example: Your protagonist talks to their cousin to find out if they could be the one to have killed their great-grandfather. The cousin says, “Yeah, I hated his guts. I had a million reasons to kill him. Too bad it wasn’t me.”
This is too direct. The cousin is all but admitting potential guilt. In real life, the protagonist would get suspicious (encounter a literary red herring) if the cousin was shifting on their feet, not making eye contact, and responding, “We didn’t really get along much. There was some troubled history there, but I wouldn’t ever dream of hurting him.”
The words are less direct because they sound like something an innocent person would say. The body language and an indicated tone of voice make this character a red herring because it’s translating as guilt. If they continue doing things that make it seem like they feel guilty, the cousin will be a stronger red herring.
When You Don’t Know Your Overall Plot’s Direction
You won’t be able to mislead people if you can’t confidently lead them to your story’s ending. It’s crucial that you already know who your primary antagonist is before writing red-herring characters or elements. Try making a plot map or outlining your work in other genres to practice for your future mystery tales.
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Anyone can learn how to use red herrings by understanding what they do and when to weave them into your plot. As long as you know what your big reveal will be at the end of your story, you can use red herrings to keep your readers on their toes and help them enjoy your work more.
#red herring#literary devices#writeblr#writers of tumblr#creative writing#writing tips#writing help#writing advice#writing inspiration#writing#writing community#writing resources
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ㅤㅤ Friday the 13th | Modern Headcanons 「AU」
Who would they be? How would they die? Would they serve cunt as final girl? See in the scenes of this chapter.
∴pairing: Aegon and Aemond Targaryen | Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon | Fem!reader | Plus: Daemon Targaryen.
∴warning: english is not my first language.
modern headcanons masterlist
Aegon ↺
In the stereotypical horror movie characters, Aegon fits as the hot asshole that none of the group can stand for very long. This is a fact that you cannot deny. He'd be so interested in having sex with you that he wouldn't notice the Hockey Mask killer hanging around the cabin before murdering you both with a machete. Note that I said “you both”, because there is a big possibility that you will die as couples who have sex in horror movies die together. The probability of Aegon being the first to die is SUPER high, like SUPER high, he's not very smart and would be easily caught by Jason — the assassin — when he wanders away from the group to smoke, masturbate or fuck. If by chance he survives, he will turn into the hot asshole who harms the group and causes the death of someone for his stupidity/shit personality, in which case Aemond could intervene and use his older brother as bait while you try to get the fuck out as quickly as possible from that hell. There is no chance of him being a final girl, sorry Aegon girlies.
Aemond ↺
Aemond is the brain of the group, just that. He would be totally rational and try to come up with a plan to make you all survive and escape the killer, or even try to kill him together. He is the typical serious and mysterious character who turns out to be the big key for you to escape successfully, but there is a problem, even if his plan is genius, there is a great chance that Aemond is the type who would tell the group to separate and look for things that might facilitate the escape process. Okay, by the logic of buying time his reasoning is correct, but THIS IS A HORROR MOVIE, DON'T EVER SEPARATE!!! You guys would probably individually die to Jason if you did. So at the end of the day you would be together trying to survive. I don't see any scenarios where he could die, like no one, Aemond Targaryen is a fucking final girl and you can't convince me of the content. He would survive beautifully and run out of camp with you without a scratch (maybe a stab wound to the leg). He’s fucking fabulous.
Jace ↺
Jace is the good guy protagonist who gets along with everybody. He would likely find Aegon's body — or the first to die — and alert the group. He is protective and sensible on purpose to generate an attachment and fear in the audience should something happen to him. Therefore, in any dangerous situation he was involved and comes face to face with the killer before helping you to escape. He's not the typical dumb good guy, but he's not quite the ultimate brains of the team, however, he will always try to save you and Luke from the hands of the masked son of a bitch. However, I see three possible outcomes for Jace’s end. In the first one, he will survive with you and Aemond and serve as final girl. In the second, he almost manages to escape but ends up being caught in the nick of time to your utter shock. In the third and final ending, Jace would sacrifice himself so that you or Luke could escape with life and serve as bait for Jason — I hate to think about it because it would probably happen, my sweet boy doesn't deserve that kind of end. But it's a high possibility, sorry loves. I have to say that the ending where you're in the sandwich between him and Aemond is more enjoyable :)
Luke ↺
Luke, my dear sweet Luke… sorry, the probability of him being killed is extremely high. He's the cute kid who tries to be helpful but ends up being one of the last to die. Probably while you were trying to look for weapons or things separately, he would be taken by surprise by Jason, which would make Jace completely lose control and try to go after the killer — which no one would allow. He could also be left for dead by Aegon or another asshole who tried to get away with it, but was eventually caught or discovered by the group. In the end, there are more chances that he will die than that survive. However, he could serve as final girl in the scenario where Jace sacrifices himself for the group and ensures his sweet little brother's safety. He is our sweet baby, but unfortunately this type always dies tragically, sorry.
You ↺
Now it's your turn. You’re the protagonist, the only female figure in horror movies who is not some dumb bitch who would die stupidly, you are cunning and smart, trying to keep the group together as they look for ways to escape the camp without running into the hockey mask maniac. Therefore, you completely dismiss Aemond's idea of parting ways. I'm totally clubbing, so you would definitely be a final girl and survive alongside Aemond and Jace/Luke. You would find Jason but manage to escape and lose him, warning the others about the presence of the killer. Maybe you could get hurt during the escape, but it would serve victory and post-trauma mental sequelae. Since final girls never hook up with assholes in slasher movies, you'd probably be platonically involved with Aemond or Jace. Sorry again Aegon girlies.
And now a plus: Daemon Targaryen. The fucker is totally bloodthirsty and would try to hunt Jason down, baiting him with curses while holding a big gun. He could be cruel and use any of you as bait, as the end justifies the means for him. Daemon could lay the son of a bitch down for a moment, or he'd die trying and not mind taking him with him.
For the talented @valeskafics, hope you’re okay honey 💓 and for my babes @damatheirin @faces-ofvenus @madame-fear 💓
#modern aemond#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#jacaerys velaryon x you#jacaerys velaryon x reader#modern jacaerys#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#modern aegon targaryen#lucerys velaryon#modern lucerys#lucerys velaryon headcanons#daemon targaryen#modern daemon
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You know how we complain about pornbots with sickass names and avatars of pretty girls following us, because it's taunting us with a hollow imitation of what we want out of life?
Well today a pornbot with a sickass name and an avatar of a pretty girl liked the pinned post I have advertising my wizard books, and that's, like... that's mean, man. For a brief moment I thought someone who hadn't seen my silly wizard books liked them and wanted to check them out, that's a mean thing to tease me with pornbots.
...
So I guess the only thing to do is to SHILL THEM WIZARD BOOKS BABY!
Wizard School Mysteries is a series of books that follows eight young (re: college student-aged) wizards attending the first ever school for magic, the Academy of Applied Arcana and Magic. While there, they encounter various perilous situations that lead them to unravel conspiracies of kidnapping, murder, and other malfeasance. In other words, wizards go to a school and solve mysteries. The title is very apt, no?
There are two books in the series so far, with eight planned total.
Book 1: The Meddlesome Youths shows how our eight heroes first met, and together unravel a plot by the fair folk to kidnap their peers on campus.
Book 2: Tournament of Death sees our heroes embroiled in the Ultimate Wizard Battle, a competitive tournament of for-fun wizard duels that's turned deadly thanks to acts of sabotage. Can they find the saboteur before the Tournament of Death claims one of their own?
(click on the titles above to go to their amazon order pages!)
I'm a few chapters deep into writing Book 3: Wicked Witchcraft, where the group's resident nerd (well, they're all nerds, but she's the nerdiest nerd of them all), Gretchen Pappenheimer, finds herself in the internship from Hell, while the rest of her pals have to deal with a masked murderer prowling the campus grounds. I'd like to have it out by October this year, Friday the 13th if possible for reasons that should be obvious, but we'll see how that works out. I think it's doable, but I'm not setting it in stone just year. And there are five more books to come after that!
While I'm sure you'll assume, given the premise of the series, that it has similarities with a certain... more... popular book about wizards solving mysteries in a school, I can assure you it's quite different. For one thing, it's got gay people in it, who get into gay relationships that we get to see, rather than me tweeting that they were gay the whole time fives years or so after the series wraps. And two of the main characters are trans, including the very mainest main character of the lot! It feels kinda shallow mentioning these facts, like I'm just pointing out diversity in my book for brownie points, but seriously those feel like low bars to clear in 2023 AND YET certain other wizard franchises just... haven't, because they're written by closeted fascist transphobic antisemite.
....ahem.
Anyway it's also different from Herbie Porber because it's set in a vaguely medieval fantasy land instead of the current day, and because its tones is far more Discworld than anything else. It's good! You should read it! Why, it's so good that the second book only has one review so far, because the people who read it are so awestruck at how awesome it is that all but one of them has been rendered speechless by it.
So check out Wizard School Mysteries, the fantasy book series that even pornbots love!
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➥ The Vampire Widow
⸻Technical Information. // Face, Voice, etc.
01. Faceclaim. Lust [ Fullmetal Alchemist ]
04. Voice Claim. Laura Bailey
⸻Profile Information. // Name, Age, etc.
01. Name. Sortia Morgana
02. Alias. Tia, Sorti
03. Sex. Female
04. Gender. Female
05. Age. Unknown [ Hundreds ]
06. Birth Date. April 13th [ Aries ]
07. Blood Type. Sub-type WAB-
08. Race. Sanguinaurum, American by nationality ; French, Italian, Irish, Japanese.
09. Marital Status. Single, widowed [ Multiship ]
10. Orientation. Bisexual [ Demiromantic / male preference ]
11. Residence. Formerly Enfurious Night’s Estate in Belle Valley, Southern Crossroads ; Currently nomadic.
⸻Physical Information. // Body, Equipment, Family, etc.
17. Physical Description. Sortia has long black hair, elegantly wavy and kept down to spool over her shoulders. It’s thick, soft, multifaceted, and shines nicely, contrasting well with her pale skin tone. Her eyes are a deep scarlet, cat-like and sharp, framed by fluttery lashes, but genuine emotion is hard to glean from their depths. Her body is curvy, perhaps conventionally attractive, boasting natural endowments in both her breasts and backside, sensual and maybe a little scary. She stands at an even 5'3" and will most often be seen wearing black evening gowns, always taking great care to maintain her appearance. Her skin is unblemished and she has no piercings, scars, or tattoos.
13. Equipment. She hasn’t needed physical items to aid in her use of magic in over a century, so she carries very little on her person aside from standard personal affects such as money, false ID, a travelling mirror, and a slim silver whistle with which she calls her Blackwyrm.
14. Occupation. Unlike Loux & Vayn, Sortia has amassed an impressive fortune over the centuries, both on her own and as the inheritor to Enfurious Night’s estate. She doesn't work, instead spending her time doing most of the legwork to find the starcutter.
15. Job Performance. Betrayal is likely, but what other choice do you have?
16. Parents. Long dead and forgotten, buried in shallow enough graves wild animals could’ve picked their bones clean and the deathblooms overtook.
17. Siblings. A little brother, Sciath, who died of noxium poisoning when he was young - hence why their parents are dead.
⸻Personality Information. // Likes, Strengths, etc.
18. Likes. Slow dancing, moonlit walks, bathing in the blood of her enemies, soft jazz, absinthe, the occasional confection, the ‘finer things’ in life, David Bowie, putting up playful illusions for little kids in passing, black coffee, red lipstick, etc.
19. Dislikes. Most people as a general rule, dealing with humans, the DRS, sharing personal information, handsy types, techno, needless violence, vulgar language, dirtyness, theatrics and mystery, human tech, etc.
20. Positive Traits. Resolved. Decisive. Ambitious. Deliberate. Intelligent. Passionate. Romantic. Diligent. Effective. Mysterious. Nurturing. Confident. Loyal. Grounded. Controlled.
21. Negative Traits. Cruel. Vengeful. Condescending. Secretive. Manipulative. Absent. Nostalgic. Power-focused. Dishonest. Vain. Selfish. Violent. Literally hellbent on world domination. Indifferent. Murderous. Mean-spirited most of the time.
22. Goals. Once she obtains the starcutter, she aims to make some…drastic systemic changes within the supernatural world. Her stated goal is merely to revive Enfurious, aligning herself with Loux’s goal, though the truth is muddier. In fact, she doesn’t plan to revive him at all.
23. Desires. To shape supernatural society in accordance with Enfurious’ worldview, to destroy the boundary between the mundane and supernatural, put an end to authoritarian control for the benefit of mundane sensibilities. She wants to see the world renewed, raw and coursing with blood - liberation, deliverance. And, to a lesser degree, for Enfurious’ soul to be at peace.
24. Alignment. Neutral Evil
25. Personality. Sortia is a bit difficult to nail down, as she is never truthful about who or what she is or intends. She enshrouds herself in sensual mystery, lulling others into a false sense of security with elegance and romance so she might take advantage of them later, if needed. She’s dangerous and indomitable, as venomous as any viper and just as deadly, though this belies an extreme proclivity toward self-preservation and even fear. Guarded, she hides away the meat of herself, memories, true desires, etc, preventing permanent connections while protecting what remains. She lies, denies, betrays, and manipulates as needed, singularly focused on ushering in the world she wishes to see - anything else is a potential problem, distraction, or point of contention. There is a deep sorrow within her. However, Sortia’s outwardly, shall we say, sociable, born and bred for ‘high society’. In a political game, she would win.
⸻Sorcery Information. // Element, Talent, etc.
26. Element. Blood & Spacial - masterful manipulation.
27. Shapeshifting. Non-natural spider-shifter - mastered alternate talent allowing her to transform into an enormous black widow at will.
28. Utility. Divination & Illusionment - mastered.
29. Specialization. Sanguinauria - in exceedingly rare cases, there comes a witch strong enough to essentially ‘evolve’ into an acutely powerful non-natural, non-turned vampire, abilities once requiring spells now innate.
30. Graduate School. Belegerande’s School for the Arcane, House Scrivener - the first of 11 total sorcery-centered schools established in North america in the 1500s; Quite a prestigious institution despite its current reputation.
31. Classification. Highly Dangerous - Marked for the Triangulary & Summary Execution for the murder of fifteen DRS agents and Enfurious Night.
⸻Background Information. // Past to Present.
Sortia was born some centuries ago in a small village in Ireland. Her childhood was nothing special, really - like any other supernatural’s life at the time, with sorcery being a common practice even around humans. Her parents were also allies of Alistair Belegerande, who led a rebellion against the crown and took a great number of supernaturals with him to settle in the Americas - including Sortia’s family. They made the journey across the Atlantic and settled in the part of Florida now known as Salem’s Crossing before being shipped off to Belegerande’s School for the Arcane, where Sortia quickly rose to frightening renown.
All well and fine. Standard, even, for many. However, there was something very deeply wrong with her parents. In their own quests for power, yearning to become sanguinaurum themselves, they hatched a plan to sacrifice their youngest child in a blood ritual. They were clumsy and foolish, performing the ritual all wrong, and Sciath died of noxium poisoning before the ritual could be completed properly. In their flailing, Sortia found them and without so much as a second thought, she murdered them in cold blood, unflinching and with precision. Vengeance enacted in an instant.
She kept it a secret, too. Very easily.
And, of course, following this event, the classmate she’d often played around with, Enfurious Night, proposed to her. Naturally, she said yes, surrounding herself with the most powerful sorcerer family in order to protect her secrets - but she’d fallen in love with him, too, captivated by his power and intelligence, his ambition and spirit. They were married for a century before he was killed by sorciers in pursuit of his goal of tearing down the newly established sorcier class. Sortia knew when Enfurious was going to die, had seen it flash before her eyes countless times - she loved him dearly, she did, but this particular thread of time was prophecy, not a mere daydream. this couldn’t be avoided. She could do nothing to save him, so she schemed instead, aiming to preserve and carry on his legacy. In order to do so, she sacrificed everything that was precious to her over the course of 10 years, decisively shedding large parts of what it meant to live - love, hope, despair, joy, intimacy, family, compassion. And on the night the estate was raided and Enfurious was murdered by sorciers and DRS agents, the ritual was complete - quick, too, she hardly even noticed it. She slaughtered them all, impaling them with spikes of hardened blood.
She became a sanguinaurum and dedicated her life to putting all the right pieces together so that the future Enfurious dreamed of could come to fruition, and so she could burn it to the ground for taking him away from her. In her efforts, she uncovered a rumor that led to even more mysteries surrounding the existance of a starcutter - crystallized star ichor with the power to grant a thousand wishes. A silly idea, really, but if she could find it before anyone else (if it's real), then… So, she set out, returning to her family home in Salem’s Crossing, having visions of meeting two younger men who would aid her in her journey - Loux Garo and Vayn Morteatum.
Sortia pulled particular strings in the supernatural underground, moving around shipments of illegal alchemical ingrediants and magical beasts, all so she could meet Loux at the Strychnine Theater according to her visions. And, finally meeting him, she struck a deal with him: That they would help each other get to the starcutter and duel for it in the end, to which Loux heartily agreed. Shortly after, they rescued Vayn from Deadeye’s men.
Ever since, they’ve all been together, searching for the starcutter and aiding each other as they go along. In the two years she’s kept them snug under her wing, she has more or less become attached them. This clashes with her ultimate goal, so she’s decided to enjoy the time she has with them before she puts it to a permanent end.
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#25 Summation, reflections and plans for 2024
Now that the calendar is over I want to wrap things up with some thoughts and facts about of what have been and what is coming.
The calendar
In this calendar I've written about 24 series that have meant something to me through my life. There are other series I might actually like more than some of them today, but they've all changed how I see things or how I feel about a certain subject. I started of with M*A*S*H, which will always be my all time favourite and which came into my life early. I ended with Julie and the Phantoms, which just recently came into my life and about which I still have a lot to learn. Some posts almost wrote themselves, while others needed some rewatches and reminiscing.
Here are all the posts:
#1 M*A*SH
#2 The Big Bang Theory
#3 Gilmore Girls
#4 Sex and the city
#5 Oc
#6 How I met your mother
#7 New Girl
#8 Please like me
#9 Modern family
#10 Glee
#11 Gossip Girl (2007)
#12 Miss Fisher's murder mysteries
#13 Tales of the city (2019)
#14 Hollywood
#15 Grace and Frankie
#16 Bridgerton
#17 Young Royals
#18 Emily in Paris
#19 Find me in Paris
#20 Sex Education
#21 Ginny and Georgia
#22 Heartstopper
#23 Xo Kitty
#24 Julie and the Phantoms
Other series/movies that were recommended in posts
Never have Iever, Angus, thongs and perfect snogging, Anne with an E, Queen Charlotte - a Bridgerton story, Younger, Girls, Skam, Élite, Skins, Atypical, Pose, A secret love, Boys in the band, Minx, Tales of the City (1993), More Tales of the City, Further Tales of the City, Looking, Queer as folk, Glamorous, Orange is the new black, Everything's gonna be ok, Nanette/Something special/Douglas, The Good Place, Friends, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, How I met your father, Scrubs, Beverly Hills 90210, 90210, One tree hill, Dawso n's creek, Hart of Dixie, Young Sheldon, Gilmore Girls - a year in the life, Grown-ish, M*A*S*H (1970) and After MASH.
The list for 2024
I stream A LOT of media, and mostly series, some weeks up to 40 hours. This because I usually have something on in the background, it makes me focus even better. I work from home about half the time and the TV is always on, on these days. But it's normaly rewatches and comfort series and I have a hard time starting new ones. So, to help with this, my goal for 2024 is to complete a list of series I want to watch, but haven't dealt with yet. I might not complete them all if I don't like them, but the goal is to start them all.
The unlisted
The irregulars
Raising Dion
Cloak and Dagger
Never have I ever
Everything sucks
Heartbreak high
Elite
Derry Girls
Umbrella academy
Bodies
White Lotus
My life with the Walter boys
The Crown
Minx, season 2
Smiley
BONDING
Everything Now
Todas las veces que enamoramos
Dead to me, season 3
Love and anarchy, season 2
Cunk on earth
Survival of the thickest
Kitz
Julia
Parks and Recreation
The Flight Attendant
It's a Sin
Gentleman Jack
The Sex Lives of College Girls
The Comeback
This is us
Griselda
I'd love to get other tips you think I might like to add to the list! it's mostly Netflix, HBO Max and Disney+ that works, but feel free to tip on anything.
New seasons in 2024
Apart from new discoveries I'll surely get back to some old favourites from time to time. And some of them have some very interesting updates coming up.
Young Royals, season 3 (March)
Bridgerton, season 3 (May 16th and June 13th)
Emily in Paris, season 4
Heartstopper, season 3
Ginny and Georgia, season 3
Confirmed seasons but not confirmed year
Bridgerton, season 4
XO Kitty, season 2
That 90's show, season 2
Ginny and Georgia, season 4 (2025)
Thank you.
Thanks to all of you who've hade the patience to read at least one of these posts. I made them mostly for myself, to be honest, but I'm always glad if someone else enjoys it too! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of you!
#mash#the big bang theory#gilmore girls#sex and the city#oc#how i met your mother#new girl#please like me#modern family#glee#gossip girl#miss fisher's murder mysteries#tales of the city#hollywood#grace and frankie#bridgerton#young royals#emily in paris#find me in paris#sex education#ginny and georgia#heartstopper#xo kitty#julie and the phantoms#bethaven's calendar 2023
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A Bay of Blood (1971)
A Bay of Blood is probably more appealing to horror historians and/or Italian Giallo films than casual viewers. It isn’t quite a proper slasher film but you can see its influence upon the Friday the 13th and later entries in the Halloween franchise - some of the deaths we see here are recreated almost shot-for-shot in the latter. Though its pace is slower than it should be and there are too many characters to keep track of, its mystery is engaging and the body count shocks.
Wheelchair-bound Countess Federica Donati (Isa Miranda) is strangled to death by her husband Filippo Donati (Giovanni Nuvoletti). Moments later, he is himself murdered by an unseen assailant before hiding the body. In the morning, the police discover the dead countess but a note suggests she committed suicide. As the investigation continues, several people begin converging on the property either because they hope to inherit it or want to buy it from the new owners. With a mysterious killer on the loose and everyone’s greed running wild, the bodies begin piling up.
There are A LOT of characters in the film: real estate agent Franco Ventura (Chris Avram) and his lover Laura (Anna Maria Rosati), the creepy groundskeeper Simone (Claudio Volonté), an insect enthusiast named Paolo Fassati (Leopoldo Trieste) and his wife who cares nothing for him, Anna (Laura Betti), the countess’ daughter Renata (Claudine Auger) and her husband Alberto (Luigi Pistilli) as wekk as four teenagers who happen to be visiting the bay - Louise (Brigitte Skay), Sylvie (Paola Montenero), Luca (Guido Boccaccini) and Bobby (Roberto Bonanni). I’m sure someone could remember every face and all of their relationships without taking notes but I wasn’t. This is the kind of movie that needed to cast one Black guy, give someone else an eye patch, a third one some weird verbal tick, etc. Unless you already know how everyone relates, you’ll lose track. Further complicating things are your expectations going in. This is not the story of a lone madman picking off one person at a time for mysterious reasons. Nearly everyone in this story is a potential suspect because they’ve all got murderous urges and several people act upon them. We have all of these conspirators working independently, hoping to take ownership of the bay. In the middle of a scheme, someone will suddenly get decapitated because they're hindering someone else’s plan. Meanwhile, you’re still wondering who murdered Mr. Donati…
A Bay of Blood does an excellent job of keeping you guessing. From their first interaction, you don’t know if Simone and Paolo are potential suspects or just red herrings. Neither appear to have a motive for killing so it could be that if either one of them is a murderer there also happens to be a lunatic messing around with everyone else’s plans. This decision wouldn’t even come out of left field in this film. The teenagers are randomly there so why not?
Director Mario Bava does not give us a protagonist to latch onto. No character is “safe” until the very end. This further obscures the killer/killers’ identity/identities (let’s not assume only one person murdered Filippo) and makes it even more difficult to keep track of everyone. The gore (quite well executed considering the time and low budget) and sudden deaths are more than enough to keep you entertained but this is one of those instances where knowing a little bit about the plot going in would benefit viewers greatly. I can easily see some people getting frustrated by the opaque mystery and dismissing the whole thing. Back in the day, it would’ve been because of the (then) shocking amount of violence. Now, it might be because the ending comes out of nowhere. I have some affection for the final "twist", but it could’ve been foreshadowed better.
If A Bay of Blood interests you, I suggest you set aside an entire evening. Watch the movie, then read an online synopsis, then watch it again with some sort of commentary to "get it". I know that’s asking a lot. Too much for some people but if you are interested in learning the history of horror films, A Bay of Blood is an important stop along your journey and it’s worth doing right. Even if you just watch it once, you’ll still be engaged by the twisty plot, perplexed by the numerous red herrings, and shocked by its violence. (English dub, November 1, 2020)
#A Bay of Blood#movies#films#movie reviews#film reviews#Mario Bava#Giuseppe Zaccariello#Filippo Ottoni#Gene Luotto#Dardano Sacchetti#Franco Barberi#Claudine Auger#Luigi Pistilli#Claudio Volonte#Laura Betti#Leopoldo Trieste#Brigitte Skay#1971 movies#1971 films
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13th July >> Mass Readings (Except USA)
Wednesday, Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time
or
Saint Henry.
Wednesday, Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time
(Liturgical Colour: Green)
First Reading
Isaiah 10:5-7,13-16
Assyria's arrogance and coming ruin.
The Lord of hosts says this:
Woe to Assyria, the rod of my anger,
the club brandished by me in my fury!
I sent him against a godless nation;
I gave him commission against a people that provokes me,
to pillage and to plunder freely
and to stamp down like the mud in the streets.
But he did not intend this,
his heart did not plan it so.
No, in his heart was to destroy,
to go on cutting nations to pieces without limit.
For he has said:
‘By the strength of my own arm I have done this
and by my own intelligence, for understanding is mine;
I have pushed back the frontiers of peoples
and plundered their treasures.
I have brought their inhabitants down to the dust.
As if they were a bird’s nest, my hand has seized
the riches of the peoples.
As people pick up deserted eggs
I have picked up the whole earth,
with not a wing fluttering,
not a beak opening, not a chirp.’
Does the axe claim more credit than the man who wields it,
or the saw more strength than the man who handles it?
It would be like the cudgel controlling the man who raises it,
or the club moving what is not made of wood!
And so the Lord of Hosts is going to send
a wasting sickness on his stout warriors;
beneath his plenty, a burning will burn
like a consuming fire.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 93(94):5-10,14-15
R/ The Lord will not abandon his people.
They crush your people, Lord,
they afflict the ones you have chosen
They kill the widow and the stranger
and murder the fatherless child.
R/ The Lord will not abandon his people.
And they say: ‘The Lord does not see;
the God of Jacob pays no heed.’
Mark this, most senseless of people;
fools, when will you understand?
R/ The Lord will not abandon his people.
Can he who made the ear, not hear?
Can he who formed the eye, not see?
Will he who trains nations not punish?
Will he who teaches men, not have knowledge?
R/ The Lord will not abandon his people.
The Lord will not abandon his people
nor forsake those who are his own;
for judgement shall again be just
and all true hearts shall uphold it.
R/ The Lord will not abandon his people.
Gospel Acclamation
Matthew 11:25
Alleluia, alleluia!
Blessed are you, Father,
Lord of heaven and earth,,
for revealing the mysteries of the kingdom
to mere children.
Alleluia!
Gospel
Matthew 11:25-27
You have hidden these things from the wise and revealed them to little children.
Jesus exclaimed, ‘I bless you, Father, Lord of heaven and of earth, for hiding these things from the learned and the clever and revealing them to mere children. Yes, Father, for that is what it pleased you to do. Everything has been entrusted to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, just as no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.’
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
-------------------------------------
Saint Henry
(Liturgical Colour: White)
(Readings for the memorial)
(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Wednesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)
First Reading
Micah 6:6-8
The Lord asks only this: to act justly, to love tenderly, to walk humbly.
‘With what gift shall I come into the Lord’s presence
and bow down before God on high?
Shall I come with holocausts,
with calves one year old?
Will he be pleased with rams by the thousand,
with libations of oil in torrents?
Must I give my first-born for what I have done wrong,
the fruit of my body for my own sin?’
– What is good has been explained to you, man;
this is what the Lord asks of you:
only this, to act justly,
to love tenderly
and to walk humbly with your God.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 1:1-4,6
R/ His delight is the law of the Lord.
or
R/ Happy the man who has placed his trust in the Lord.
or
R/ The just will flourish like the palm-tree in the courts of our God.
Happy indeed is the man
who follows not the counsel of the wicked;
nor lingers in the way of sinners
nor sits in the company of scorners,
but whose delight is the law of the Lord
and who ponders his law day and night.
R/ His delight is the law of the Lord.
or
R/ Happy the man who has placed his trust in the Lord.
or
R/ The just will flourish like the palm-tree in the courts of our God.
He is like a tree that is planted
beside the flowing waters,
that yields its fruit in due season
and whose leaves shall never fade;
and all that he does shall prosper.
R/ His delight is the law of the Lord.
or
R/ Happy the man who has placed his trust in the Lord.
or
R/ The just will flourish like the palm-tree in the courts of our God.
Not so are the wicked, not so!
For they like winnowed chaff
shall be driven away by the wind:
for the Lord guards the way of the just
but the way of the wicked leads to doom.
R/ His delight is the law of the Lord.
or
R/ Happy the man who has placed his trust in the Lord.
or
R/ The just will flourish like the palm-tree in the courts of our God.
Gospel Acclamation
John 14:23
Alleluia, alleluia!
If anyone loves me he will keep my word,
and my Father will love him,
and we shall come to him.
Alleluia!
Gospel
Matthew 7:21-27
The wise man built his house on a rock.
Jesus said to his disciples: ‘It is not those who say to me, “Lord, Lord,” who will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the person who does the will of my Father in heaven. When the day comes many will say to me, “Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, cast out demons in your name, work many miracles in your name?” Then I shall tell them to their faces: I have never known you; away from me, you evil men!
‘Therefore, everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a sensible man who built his house on rock. Rain came down, floods rose, gales blew and hurled themselves against that house, and it did not fall: it was founded on rock. But everyone who listens to these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a stupid man who built his house on sand. Rain came down, floods rose, gales blew and struck that house, and it fell; and what a fall it had!’
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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Love Delivered To Your Doorstep
Evan Buckley x Reader
Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of cheating, break ups and killing/serial killers. (<in a joking context)
Category: fluff for the most part.
Word Count: 3.9k
Author’s Note: Doesn’t follow canon, it has a little of buck begins in there but it doesn't follow a strict timeline. It also is written like Buck moves to LA and has his apartment from the moment he moves there while trying to figure out what he wants to do.
-----
Texting and calling was never your choice method of communication.
Letters had always been more of your thing.
Truthfully, they hadn't been your thing until your boyfriend moved halfway across the country for university. The two of you met in high school, freshman year and became inseparable since. Growing together and promising to always love each other no matter what -you always knew that couldn't be true but it never stopped you from telling him.
When he told you that he was going to be applying to UCLA during your senior year of high school, it came as a bit of a shock to you. The plan was always going to college together, get engaged when you were done school and then married with a house by 30.
You held out the hope of that being possible until the day he showed you his acceptance letter.
You were incredibly proud of him but it was real now, he was leaving.
You watched him pack up his entire life and uproot himself from New York and moved across the country. You sent the first letter to him at what was supposed to be his apartment.
September 30th.
‘Hi baby!
Just writing to see how you're settling in. How’s UCLA ? Have you gotten a chance to go around and get to see the place ? I know you’re there for school but you've got to live a little too. Hope your neighbours are sweet, your mom told me it’s a pretty nice place and it’s got a good view, sounds like your type of place. Hopefully I can come visit you soon.
I started my classes last week. My chem professor is a pain in my ass already, he expects us to read an entire textbook in a week - well not exactly an entire textbook but you get the point. My biology professor is a sweetheart, she showed us pictures of her kids and talked about them for an hour, I didn't realize being a mother was so interesting but she was cool. Also showed us a video of an appendectomy that one of her colleagues performed last week. How are your classes and professors ?
Did I mention I bumped into Sam at the grocery store ? Yeah, he’s back and he’s not fine to tell you the truth. He seemed like he was ready to snap but that might just be my judgment. He said to tell you hello if I spoke to you so- hello :)
I’m going to sign off here, I know this one is short but I don’t have much to update you on. Life’s been pretty dull without you. Hope you’re having fun out there, soaking up the sun for me.
Write me back soon, I love you.
Yours always, y/n’
You mailed the letter the next day, a few weeks had passed before you received a letter back. Except this letter had a different sender name but the same address.
October 22nd.
‘Hi y/n,
This isn't your boyfriend. (I'm assuming that’s who you're writing too based on the context of the letter) I’m Evan, I live in the apartment you thought belonged to your boyfriend or maybe you got the address wrong, I’m not sure. I know you were waiting for an update on all these exciting things that are happening at UCLA. I do not go to UCLA nor can I update you in anything exciting that’s happening there, sorry.
Anyways, the reason I'm writing you back is because I figured you’d want to know that this isn't the correct address and the person you were looking for isn't here before you send another letter and get no response. I was debating if I should have even written you back, but here I am, writing you back.
Your professor for chem seems like an ass to be honest (hope that’s not rude) and your biology professor sounds great, is she hot by the way ? because bonus points for that. Anyways, are you studying medicine ? I'm guessing yes because of the classes you're taking. I'm thinking of signing up to become a first responder but I haven’t decided yet on what yet or if I'm actually going to do it. Anyways, good luck on your classes and the shitty chem professor.
Hope you find your boyfriend (again, assuming)
Peace out,
Evan.’
To say you were shocked would be an understatement. How could the letter you sent to your boyfriend’s apartment belong to someone else ? Why was there someone else living in his apartment ? You dug through your apartment, searching for the paper he left you with the address, you finally found it buried in a drawer.
The address on the paper was identical to the one that Evan sent to you and to the one you sent prior to that. Either your boyfriend was lying or you were losing your mind.
November 4th.
‘Dear Evan,
I'm sorry that I sent the first letter to you and as you guessed, I was looking for my boyfriend who seems to be a bit MIA right now. His mother says that’s the right address and the place that she helped him move into. So I'm not really sure what’s happening there. Anyways, sorry for unloading all of that on you.
To answer your question, yes, I am studying medicine and no, she isn't hot. My bio professor is a 65 year old woman who loves her college aged kids very much. If that’s your definition of hot, then yes - she's got milf status
Have you decided yet if you’re going to sign up to be a first responder ? That’d be pretty cool. Imagine all the girls swoon over you and how many girls you’d pick up just for being a paramedic or a firefighter.
Wait, are you into girls ? Or guys ? You know, whoever you're into, just imagine how many of them you’d pick up.
Also, you’re not a murderer or anything right ? because I rather not answer questions when the police come asking about why I've been sending letters to a serial killer.
Anyways, signing off for now.
Yours always, y/n.
ps. if you do end up bumping into or meeting a guy that looks like my boyfriend, (tall, brown hair, brown eyes. he’s got a pierced ear and a little butterfly tattoo by his collarbone- though not sure why or how you'd see his collarbone) let me know or tell him that his girlfriend is looking for him.
Double ps, what size shirt do you wear ?’
Buck laughed at your absurd question. A person he didn’t even know was asking what size shirt he wore. The letter was set on the coffee table with the rest of the mail, getting buried under all of the stuff he had on there. It was almost the end of December when he realized that he hadn't written you back yet.
December 21st.
‘Hey y/n,
Sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. Things have been hectic over here. I’ve been doing some ‘soul-searching’ - I guess you could call it that and honestly, I don’t think if this whole first responders thing is for me.
I tried out bartending or well, the technical term is mixologist and I’m liking it so far, I think i’m going to stick with it for now.
How have you been ? How’s school ? Surely, you’re on break for the holidays right about now or at least when you get this letter. I hope that you're spending the break doing something fun.
I’m not going to make this very long, I’m sure you’ve been busy with whatever you’re doing right now.
Also, I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you located the mysteriously disappearing boyfriend yet ? I haven't seen anyone that fit your description.
well, that’s not true- I did and just to be sure I asked to see his collarbone, he looked at me like I was a mad man so I guess it wasn't him ?
Anyways, I hope you have a good holiday and you're probably gonna get this sometime between holidays, so merry belated (?) Christmas and happy New Years y/n.
Peace out,
Evan.
ps. medium or large, depending on what it is. Hopefully that answers your question weirdo.’
January 13th.
The morning of the 13th, he went down to check his mail. A box was there with his name on it, the return address was one he had only seen on an envelope. The box returned upstairs with him, setting it on the counter before opening it.
Upon opening it, there was a letter and some colourful tissue paper with what seemed like a sweater under it. He opened the letter first.
‘Dear Evan,
Happy New Years! How was your holiday going ? Did you do anything fun ?
I’ve been good and school is good too, I'm almost done my first year, isn't that crazy ? Just a few more months to go.
How’s your job as mr. mixologist going ? I'm sure you’ve met some wild people and heard some interesting stories.
As for the boyfriend situation, that's over. I’m not surprised to tell you the truth but it still kinda sucks. Anyways, so what happened was that his older brother had come home from college last year and brought a friend with him. She went to the same school as his brother but transferred to UCLA- anyways long story short, they hooked up while he and I were still together and he moved in with her after his mom helped him move into the apartment I thought he had.
But! I’m single and chilling now so it’s all good. (bonus, she cheated on him and left him so yeah)
I got you a little something for Christmas and as a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present. I was in the gift shop and it made me think of you. Do you celebrate Christmas? I forgot to check oops. If you don't, count it as a just a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present?
I got a large because I wasn't sure if it would fit. I hope you like it. That’s all for now.
Yours always, y/n.’
He unwrapped the tissue paper to see a blue sweater with the letters NYU on it. He smiled, he assumed that’s where you went. It was sweet that you took the time to get him something, even if it was a by the way thing. Not a lot of people would send something to a person they had been talking to via letters and halfway across the country.
February 12th.
2 days before Valentine's Day, your least favourite holiday of the year. You weren't looking forward to watching all your friends going on with their boyfriends and girlfriends. The mail had arrived while you were out, you picked it up and headed in. There were two envelopes with your name on it, a plain white one and a red one. The red envelope was more squared than rectangular, you assumed it was a card- both had the same sender name.
‘Hey y/n!
Thank you for the sweater, it was nice of you to think of me and get me something. I didn’t know we were doing gifts or I would have sent you something as well and yes, I do celebrate Christmas.
My job as ‘mr. mixologist’ was going well until I quit. It just didn’t feel like the right fit for me you know ? I'm going to see what else is out there for me.
Sorry to hear about your boyfriend, he seems like a douche. Who would cheat on you ? You seem great I mean at least you are on paper (did you get my joke, it’s hard to tell)
Also, remember how I was thinking I might actually give that first responder thing a try? Imagine me as a firefighter, that’s pretty cool right ?
So I kinda did a thing and signed up and then I got in. I started two weeks ago and it was kicking my ass at first but I've gotten a hang of it and things are going pretty well. There's three other Evans in my class so everyone calls me Buck-I kind of like it.
The other envelope, hopefully you opened this one first, is a little something for you for valentines. Hope you like it.
Peace out,
Buck’
The red envelope was on your lap, you pulled the edges carefully not wanting to rip it. Inside was a plain white card with bright red letters that made you laugh. The cover read ‘I’m not sick of you yet!” Opening the card, a $20 fell onto your lap. There was a little message inside that went along with the cash.
‘Since we aren't together and can’t spend valentines together, there’s some cash to get yourself a box of chocolates and a teddy bear. Happy Valentines Day y/n
Love, Buck.’
You smile, this was the first time that Buck had signed with ‘love, buck’ it had always been ‘peace out, buck.’ You tucked the card into the drawer, one you didn’t use very often so you knew it’d be safe there.
*4 years later*
A few weeks had passed since Buck had last heard from y/n. His last letter to her was at the end of June, telling her all about the day he had spent at Hen and Karen’s. He always described every little detail so vividly that it made her feel like she was there with him- but it was now July, end of actually and moving into August.
4 years had blown like nothing.
It felt like just yesterday he got the first letter in the mail. 4 years and they still had no idea what each other looked like but they knew every intricate and intimate detail about each other, their lives and the people in it.
Y/n and Buck had grown rather close over the last few months- more than they already were. Y/n just went through a pretty shitty break up and Buck wasn't exactly big on relationships as of right now.
He had just gotten home from work, his keys set on the counter when he realized that he forgot to check his mail. Stepping back out, there was a woman in the hallway and boxes scattered across her, leading into the apartment down the hall.
She must be his new neighbour.
He wanted to go over and introduce himself but she was busy telling the movers where to set her couch so he decided that he would check the mail and then introduce himself when he returned so he did just that.
Except, she was still busy.
She leaned against the wall, watching the movers move what looked like a coffee table. She glanced up to see Buck walking by, she smiled and he returned the smile.
Buck reaches his apartment, the mail in hand and steps in. He sorts through the pile, bills, ads, coupons and no letter from y/n.
---
Your new apartment was a mess. You decided it was time for a change. You applied to a few hospitals after your break up and the one in LA hired you. So you dropped everything and moved- no family, no ties.
A fresh start.
It was a nice neighbourhood and the building was quiet. The neighbours you met were pleasant and welcoming. When you were having the furniture moved in, there was a blonde man who smiled at you and you assumed he lived in the unit down the hall because that’s where he stepped into.
It was almost 11pm when you finally sat down. You had been on your feet all day and just wanted to eat something. The box with the dishes was beside the couch, you pulled the tape off and opened it. There was an envelope sitting on top of the stack of plates.
Buck’s last letter to you.
You must have tossed it into the boxes while packing and you forgot to write him back. Tumbling through the boxes, you find a sheet of paper and a pen from your bag. Sitting on the floor, the paper resting on an unopened box, you begin writing.
‘Dear Buck,
I’m sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. I quit my job, and uprooted my entire life. The break up sucked major ass as you know, so I decided it was time for a change.
Guess where I decided to go ?
Did you guess yet?
No, not Canada, why would you guess Canada ?
LA!
Yeah, isn't that crazy that I ended up here of all places? Maybe we could get together one day (if you haven’t turned into a crazy serial killer that is.)
Anyways, that’s why I've taken so long to write. I was packing when I got your letter and I tossed it in a box and just found it again. Anyways, I hope you’ve been good, how have things been at the station ?
I promise I'll write again with more details soon, I just have to get settled in first.
Yours always, y/n.’
Folding the paper, you slipped into an envelope. The address being scribbled into the back of the envelope. You were about to seal it when the building number caught your eye.
It was the same number as the place you moved into. The same address, the building number, the same floor.
The unit number was the only difference.
There was no way you moved into the building that Buck lived in.
You knew the address felt familiar when you saw the listing but you didn’t think anything of it nor did it occur to you that you knew the address.
Stepping out of your apartment, looking at the number on the room and back down at the envelope in your hand. Buck’s apartment was down the hall.
Part of you just wanted to mail it and keep things as it was but another part of you wanted to meet him, to see what he was really like in person. So there you were walking down the hallway at a quarter past 11 in the dead of the night to meet a man you had been sending letters to for the last 4 years.
The end of the hallway, you stared at the black wooden door in front of you. Your brain weighing the options right now: he’s a sweetheart and welcoming and makes you feel comfortable or he’s a weird guy who’s been lying to you this whole time and you told him everything about you and now he’s going to kill you.
Before you could register what you were doing, you knocked on the door.
Glancing down at yourself, you were wearing a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt from high school that you found in a drawer while packing. Not an ideal outfit, maybe he’s sleeping and you can go home and change- the door opened, a man wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt stood there. He looked like he had just woken up.
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“It's alright,” he yawned, his hand covering his mouth as he blinked away a few tears. “What can I do for you ?” he leaned against the door.
“Um, this is an odd question-” you shifted, glancing down at the envelope in your hand. “Are you Buck ?”
“I am, who are you ?”
“Y/n.”
You had never seen a man wake up that fast, he seemed surprised, confused and concerned all in one. “How- uh, are you- What ?” he mumbled.
“I found your letter in the box after I moved, I moved into the apartment down the hall” you point to your left, Buck sticks his head out of the doorway and looks at the door you were pointing to. You were the woman in the hallway that he saw earlier, he knew you looked familiar.
“I just wrote your letter and I noticed that the addresses were the same, just a different unit number so I decided to come check. Sorry if I bothered you, we can talk another day- it’s late and you probably have work” “Would you like to come in?” he opens the door a bit more, looking to you for an answer.
“Um, okay sure.” stepping in, you can’t help but glance around. The apartment was similar to yours, the layout was a bit different though. “Can I get you something to drink ? Coffee, water ? A beer ?” he rounded the kitchen counter, you took a seat on one of the chairs by the counter.
“Water’s fine, thanks”
He reached for a bottle from the fridge, sliding it over to you. You gave him a smile, he leaned against the counter and was now looking- studying you.
“I know we’ve talked to each other for 4 years but this is kinda strange” you chuckled awkwardly, Buck can't help but smile.
“Yeah, it is, isn't it? but can I ask why you moved to LA?”
“Well all of that was in the letter” you slide the envelope across the counter and he picks it up, opening it. Giving him a few moments to read, you watch his expression like you were hoping for some insight as to how he was feeling or what he was thinking. He let out a laugh, “how’d you know I'd guess Canada ?” you smiled at him, a small wave of relief washing over you for some reason. “Lucky guess I suppose”
“Do you-” “What are-” the sentences cutting each other off, the two of you awkwardly smiling at each other. “You first” looking at him, he hums.
“Do you have work tomorrow or are you busy ?” His eyes meet yours, you found yourself leaning forwards towards the counter- towards him. He made you feel comfortable, you’d go as far as to say safe, in a way you’ve never felt before.
“No, I don't start until the 21st. Why ?”
“I was thinking - if you're not busy and if you want to, of course. Maybe I could take you out for breakfast and I could show you around ? Or lunch or dinner ? Whatever works for you actually” he rambles, fiddling with his fingers to avoid eye contact.
A small laugh slips past your lips causing him to look up, his brows furrowed as he studies your face, looking for an answer.
“Breakfast sounds good, what time should I be ready for ?”
“Uh, is 10 okay ?” he asks, you nod. “I’ll be ready for 10 then.”
“Okay, I'll pick you up” he smiles.
“Buck, we live in the same building.”
“Oh right,” he chuckles, “well I'll be by yours at 10 then” the two of you smiling at each other.
“Okay.”
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Argo ch. 1
Friday the 13th - Friendship/Romance - Jason Voorhees/OC M/M ship
2897 words, 3rd person POV
This is not following canon closely at all and I'm kinda blending bits of Jason's personality between original movies, the remake, and fan versions so this is pretty solidly AU. I hope you enjoy!
Cross-posting on FFN under PyroTheWereCat
There was no pleasure in killing. It was a task, like any other, but one that had to be done adequately. Even if it took several tries and the body was mangled by the end of it, the life had to be gone from their eyes.
"We can't have them coming back to hurt us, can we?"
Mother was right. Mother was always right. She was the only one who cared. She was the only one who knew kindness. It was her idea and her decision to take revenge against the wicked counselors of Camp Crystal Lake, and what she wanted, she would get.
She had nearly died herself trying to punish the ones responsible for her son's drowning, and so the pair needed to live in hiding, deep in the woods surrounding the camp. It took over ten years of teaching and training, but it was finally time. Mother knew best, and Jason Voorhees was willing to serve her every command.
Four years ago, Jason began his killing spree. He picked off the counselors one by one, catching each in a deadly infraction. He worked carefully at first, making the disappearances look like believable shirking of duties or horrible accidents. That year, authorities ruled the camp could reopen for the next season with some extra safety precautions. Jason was praised so lovingly that year.
The second year, Jason continued his streak, but allowed himself to get a little sloppy. The murders were attributed to one of the staff members, and no one was the wiser to his presence (or, more importantly, his mother's). The camp was forcibly closed for the following season, and Jason's mother prayed it would stay closed and they could be free of the evil of the counselors who knew no compassion.
But, as an investigation cleared the camp of outside interference, further cementing the falsely accused staff member as the murderer, Crystal Lake reopened for another season, forcing Jason out of hiding once more. He did not want to go back, having enjoyed the peaceful summer with his mother last year, but he knew he had a job to do. He dusted off his mask, sharpened his machete, and set out for Camp Crystal Lake once more.
This year already felt different for Jason. Perhaps it was the time off, or perhaps he was growing tired of killing, but this year he decided to approach things in a different way. He spent the first two weeks of camp watching from the shadows, identifying the counselors and their habits. There were eight of them: four men, four women. Their ages were uncertain, but it seemed the youngest was about seventeen and the oldest was about twenty-five, the majority being roughly twenty-one. College age, Mother had said, was the worst age for most folks. Leftover rebellion from their adolescence and newfound freedom created a sinful breeding ground for debauchery and cruelty that needed to be punished. Jason was of this age now as well, and he had promised to not let himself lose sight of his task.
During the weeks Jason watched the camp, he noticed a few important details. First, he noticed that ghost stories about the murders he and his mother had committed were being told at nightly bonfires, embellished to near supernatural lengths. This excited Jason to some degree, seeing that his hard work had noticeable impact years later. Second, he noticed there were no hikes on the outer trails and strict curfews were imposed on both the campers and the counselors, keeping the grounds barren between the hours of 9PM and 7AM. This rule would make Jason's work difficult if he planned on making any of these deaths appear accidental, but he could improvise if needed.
The third detail, and the most curious of all, Jason noticed that out of all eight counselors, one stood out as unique. The first distinctive feature was that he was shorter than the rest of his coworkers, somewhere close to five feet tall. Jason almost mistook him for a camper at first, but the back of his shirt clearly read 'COUNSELOR'. What truly set him apart from the rest, however, was how attentive he was to the campers. He made sure every voice was heard and no one felt left out. He kept a bright and supportive demeanor no matter the circumstances, and helped the campers with every activity. Furthermore, he did not seem interested in sneaking off to sacrifice his job duties in favor of more lecherous behavior. Jason found himself growing fascinated with this counselor, and opted to watch him a little more closely to see if he had any damning secrets that would confirm his impending death with the rest.
Another week dragged on, and Jason regrettably had lost track of time. He followed this seemingly kind counselor as he engaged the children in their activities and lent a listening ear to those who had problems or concerns. What could he be hiding? Mother was certain that anyone who took a job at this camp was a bad person, and Mother was always right...right?
"Alright, everyone!" the strange counselor called one morning, catching the attention of his group, "It's Friday tomorrow, and that means s'mores night!"
He allowed for a brief cheer from the kids before quieting them down again to continue,
"S'mores are really nice, aren't they?" Whoops and words of agreement rose from the group. "Do we agree that nice kids deserve to have nice treats?" More affirmations rang out. "That's right! But it's come to my attention, as well as the other counselors, that there's been some of you who haven't been as nice as they should be."
Jason leaned forward from his seated vantage point on a log, listening curiously to the counselor's teaching moment. Would he punish the whole group of kids for a minority's bad behavior? Would he revoke s'mores privileges? Would he try to drown some of the children in the lake? That last one was unlikely, but the thought still crossed Jason's mind. The counselor continued,
"Here at Camp Crystal Lake, we value honesty, teamwork, and what else?"
"Accountability," the children chorused.
"Exactly right," he praised, "And if one of us is being picked on, it's up to the rest of us to help them feel included, right?"
"Right!"
The counselor clapped his hands together, smiling kindly at the group.
"I don't want anyone to feel like they're in trouble, so we're gonna make this into a game, okay?" he proposed, "We're all detectives looking for clues on whodunnit. We have to solve the mystery of who's being a bully and have them apologize by tomorrow night, or all the s'mores will have to go away until next week. Does that sound fair?"
"Yes," the kids answered, somewhat anxious now that the promised snacks might be withheld.
"Awesome! Here are the rules of the game: you can't force someone to give you a clue if they don't want to. That would defeat the purpose of the game! You also can't point any fingers until the bonfire is lit tomorrow night. If the person who was mean wants to come forward on their own, they have to come to me or one of the other counselors so it doesn't spoil the end of the game. Once the person is revealed, they have to apologize to the person they hurt and will spend the weekend making it up to them because, here at Camp Crystal Lake, we want everyone to have a great time. If one of us isn't having a good time, we all have to work together to help them so we can leave here at the end of the summer with the best memories and the best friends. So let me hear it from you guys: are we ready to go out and have a great day?"
The kids burst into another round of cheers and the counselor shepherded them off to their first activity of the day. Jason propped his elbow on his thigh and rested his chin in his hand. He frowned in contemplation. This counselor was so dedicated to the kids...could he be an exception? Could Jason's mother have been wrong? He would have to catch this counselor alone to find out more. He still had plenty of time to dispatch the whole staff, he figured, so he had the time to learn what he could about this one counselor.
Jason stalked the counselor over the next few hours, watching him be the perfect role model for the kids as usual. Finally, sometime near midday, the counselor took a break after passing his group to another and announced he was going to check the nearest hiking trail for debris before he took the kids on it later. One of the female counselors offered to walk with him, and Jason detected signs of flirtation in her body language, but he refused, claiming it would be a short trip. Jason felt his heart beat faster with anticipation, following him just out of sight as he walked the trail, moving any large sticks or rocks from the path. Jason flexed his fingers on the hilt of his machete, wondering if he should kill him now despite having no evidence yet that he was a bad person. He resolved he would wait until they were far enough away from the camp where screams would not carry, then he would decide.
The counselor moved at a brisk and energetic pace, enjoying his time alone. He seemed so full of life and vigor...Jason almost felt bad that he was planning on murdering him. The counselor stopped at a fallen branch blocking the path and looked it over, his hands on his hips.
"That's a big one," he commented to himself, "I hope I can get it out of the way on my own."
With that he bent down to lift one end of the branch, stepping backwards to drag it off the trail. From Jason's position, he could see another, smaller branch on the ground behind the counselor, twisted and gnarled, but big enough to pose a hazard. Jason watched as the counselor caught his foot on the hidden branch and tumbled backwards, rolling through the leaves and sticks as he fell down the slope. He went over a slanted rock near the bottom and crumpled on the other side of a rotting log, his ankle caught in a hole in the log. Jason slowly approached, minding his steps down the slope so he would not fall as well.
The counselor grunted in pain as he pushed himself up on his elbows and attempted to free his leg from the log. He had dirt on his face and debris in his hair and, as Jason drew closer and could see more clearly, cuts and scrapes all over his arms and legs. Unsuccessful in his attempts, the counselor fell back on his elbows, breathing hard. He craned his neck to look over the log, having heard the approaching footsteps, and his eyes met Jason's, mere feet away.
"Oh my gosh, you startled me!" he greeted, "Thank goodness someone else was on the trail! I'm okay, by the way, I'm just a little stuck. Can you help me out?"
Jason froze as the counselor addressed him. Oddly enough, he didn't seem afraid, despite Jason's hulking stature, out of place hockey mask, and freshly sharpened blade in hand. He tilted his head to one side, puzzled. He hadn't been this close to another person (aside from his mother) in almost two years, but he distinctly remembered every person he had been this close to fearing him on sight. He looked down at his machete, wondering what was holding him back from stabbing this man and walking away. It was all so easy before...
"Ooh, yes, you came prepared!" the counselor said, noticing the machete as well, "If you're careful, you can probably hack around the opening so I can get my foot loose. If you want, I can get you some free food back at camp for helping me out. It's not much, but Miriam makes a mean chicken salad."
He smiled up at Jason, and Jason felt his heart stop for a moment. There was not a single flicker of fear in the counselor's eyes. All he could see was the same gentle expression shown to the kids back at camp. An unfamiliar feeling came over Jason and, for the first time in years, he felt compelled to help. He raised the machete, his eyes focused on the counselor's trapped leg. His breathing hitched, one part of his mind urging him to kill as Mother instructed, the other begging him to show mercy, just this once. He glanced back at the counselor's face, at that warm smile, and made his choice.
The machete swung down and struck the wood of the log, sending a spray of splinters into the air. The counselor winced, shielding his eyes from the shower, and tried to wiggle his leg loose.
"Still a little stuck," he announced, "I think one more whack on the other side oughta do it."
Jason wrenched the blade out of the wood and swung again on the other side of the counselor's leg. As predicted, the counselor was able to maneuver himself out of the weakened structure. He brushed the splinters and dirt off of his skin and shakily stood up, clearly in some pain from the fall.
"Thank you," he said to Jason, his smile returning, "Really, I would have been in some trouble if you weren't here, so thanks a lot. My name's Lijah."
He extended a hand to Jason to shake, but Jason was too caught off guard by his own response to the situation as well as Lijah's genuine friendliness to return the gesture. Lijah lowered his hand, unfazed by the lack of reaction.
"Not a talker, huh? That's okay," he noted, then became visibly nervous, "Oh, cripes, I'm sorry, are you deaf?"
He made some strange hand movements with that last sentence, gesturing to Jason and to his own ear. Jason shook his head, slowly coming out of his confusion.
"Ah, gotcha," Lijah said, relaxing, "That works for me. I'm not very good at signing."
He laughed at this, and Jason felt a pang of....something. Lijah's laugh was light and pleasant sounding...it reminded Jason of dappled sunlight through trees. He couldn't explain it, but he wanted to stay near Lijah for a while longer.
"In all seriousness, what is your name?" Lijah asked, "I'd like to know who my hero is."
Hero. That wasn't a word Jason thought would ever be associated with him, but it felt surprisingly good to hear Lijah call him that. He looked around himself for a moment, then up the slope at the trail. He motioned for Lijah to follow him and made his way up to the flatter part of the forest floor. Lijah had some slight difficulty following him, being so much smaller and having mild injuries, but he made it up the slope all the same. Jason waited until Lijah had caught his breath and stood next to him. He held his machete out to the ground and drew the letters of his name into the dirt. Lijah read the name aloud once he had finished and looked up at Jason brightly.
"Jason!" he chirped with delight, "Like the Argonaut in Greek mythology!"
Jason tilted his head, frowning. His mother had told him many stories as he grew up, but they were all from the Bible. He wasn't familiar with the character Lijah was referencing, and Lijah could see his bewilderment.
"He's a hero in his story," he explained, "well, for the most part. He goes on adventures with his crew and they see and do all kinds of amazing things together."
Jason nodded, liking the sound of this hero with the same name as himself. And the fact that he was not entirely virtuous...that struck a chord with him. He gestured to Lijah, who seemed to understand that he was asking about his name.
"I was originally supposed to be Elijah," he said, emphasizing the 'e' at the beginning, "but my little sister had trouble saying the whole name, so I changed it to just Lijah. By itself, I don't think it means anything special, but it's pretty special to me."
Jason stared at Lijah. How was he so good-natured? Even with an intimidating stranger like Jason, he managed to keep his upbeat attitude and unselfish way of speaking. Was he stupid or genuinely that benevolent?
"Hey, walk with me back to camp," Lijah encouraged, setting off in that direction, "I owe you lunch."
Jason felt a small stab of panic and shook his head. He looked over his shoulder and back at Lijah, who nodded.
"You've got somewhere to be - that's fine! Don't worry about it, big guy! But, if you find yourself back this way, come find me at counselor cabin 5 and I'll get you a meal to pay you back for helping me. Thanks again!"
He waved goodbye before turning and walking back towards the camp, the pep in his step dampened only slightly by the soreness in his legs. Jason watched him go and wondered wildly what had just happened. Had he somehow accidentally made a friend?
#argo fic#friday the 13th#jason voorhees#canon/oc#slashers#slasher fanfiction#friday the 13th fanfiction
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Feral Fatality
(Part 1)
So this has been in my works for a week now. You see, it was a typical day for me scrolling through Tumblr and visiting some....tags, and then a short drabble inspired me to write about a feral reader totally not because I was craving violence and murder no, which reached more than 4k words on the first draft so here we are! Shitty title, I know. The proofread work went over 7k, and it's not even finished yet. Once I'm done posting this and my main orc fic, I will get into the requests so please be patient!
Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Brief blood and violence at the end of the first part
Contains: Swearing, mentions of neglect and abuse (not graphic)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
-
Screams slit through the twilight as the frigid autumn wind blew harshly through the trees of Camp Crystal Lake. The rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs echoed as foolish teenagers attempted to escape, running for their lives when they were the ones who dared step foot in the place, tarnishing it with their sins.
Jason Voorhees, the innocent kid who died several years ago; pushed to the lake by his bullies and left to drown for being different and unsightly— all because the counselors were busy with their fucking business—, returned as an undead killing machine right after his mother murdered them and died. His sole purpose: to protect the land and purge the people who had no right to be here, sentencing them to a horrendous death.
One by one, they struck the ground, lifeless, either chopped into pieces, beheaded, or stabbed countless times by his trusty machete.
Limbs...ripped off with his bare hands.
-
The muffled snapping of branches reached your ears as the vehicle's wheels ran over them, stirring you from your nap. You rubbed your chilled skin under your clothes as you looked out of the window, thumping your forehead on the glass when you leaned forward the moment you saw the scenery. Trees, both ancient and young, their leaves varying in hues of green, orange and red, filled your line of sight. It was still early in autumn, your favorite time of the year, not hot but not too cold either. You watched in awe as the warm-colored leaves cascaded down from the branches and down to the ground, some carried by the wind farther from their origin.
The view did its best to distract you from a couple in session a seat before yours. They always seem to do that all the time, regardless of place or occasion.
This was a week-long getaway after graduation, they said.
Nothing but a white lie.
An excuse for the girls to hook up with their campus crushes, a week of fucking and smoking drugs.
You, however, just got invited —forced— by your "friend" Eloiza, the self-proclaimed hottest girl in the entire school, typical captain of the cheerleading squad; blonde and curvy. Her words were much too sugar-coated that even a deaf person could tell she had ulterior motives.
She only planned to use you as a tool to raise her fame. A stepping stone for her own gain.
That wasn't the only reason though.
Everyone knew who you were, but only by your name. News and rumors alike spread like wildfire through gossipy mouths. Your deeds were known throughout campus.
(Y/N)(L/N), top academic competitor and multiple-award winner, a straight-A student for five years in succession. Some believed you were a genius, the rest called you insane.
You wouldn't call yourself a genius though, you did not possess the obsessive need to acquire eternal knowledge and discover the secrets of the universe as most of them do, to effortlessly solve every problem that comes their way.
If that were the case, then you wouldn't be here in the first place.
You only love learning and indulging in the beauty of Mother Nature, plus a handful of hyper-fixations.
Fine, a buttload of hyper-fixations. And such came in handy in various situations.
You were unrivaled, not one of your peers could come close to your level of wit. Many people wished to have a brain like yours, and just as many hated you for even having one, praised you just as much as slandered your name and judged you.
Despite your reputation, the poor school didn't broadcast it, at least every time. The staff probably got tired of repeating the same phrase over and over again. Which caused more than half of the whole campus to never believe you to be the one behind all of that, laughing at your face when you said your name.
"You? The (Y/N) (L/N)? Ha! As if I'd fall for that! Everyone knows how she looks. You're the absolute opposite!"
"You got to be kidding me."
"You're a joker, aren't you? Is this a prank? If so please stop it, don't pretend like you're her."
Yep, and it goes on and on and on. They were right, you didn't look like someone who would win contests or excel in class.
You constantly wore clothes that hid your form, silent unless spoken to or asked to answer, distant and reserved, you preferred the company of books and nature to the rowdiness and prying hands of humans. A sociopath they deemed you. Quite an extreme word to use when you simply wanted to enjoy the only things that made you happy in this living hell.
You only know a handful of people who approached you first-hand and praised you genuinely, even asking for an autograph, which really surprised you.
Yet, they would never understand you even if you explained, because you can't, words evade you when it comes down to voice out what you feel. Even if you can, no one would care. And even if they did? You doubt it was real. Everyone wants to use you, and they seem to believe you'd let them. You didn't trust anyone. The last time you did only left you sobbing on the dirt.
You wanted to be left alone.
To connect with nature and get as far away as possible from your parents. Parents who kept shouting profanities at each other, the main cause for your depression and anxiety levels to skyrocket, the shaking turning into trembling, 7 hours of sleep to barely a blink.
That's why you agreed to go in the first place.
You hated your household—despised it— a mess of broken shards of bottles and ceramics littered your kitchen floor more often than not. You didn't bother cleaning it up anymore, your mother would just waste away her money on more things to break and throw them at your joke of a father when they fought anyway.
Not only that, you thought...No, you believed if you worked hard to be the best and win countless competitions, your parents would give you recognition and reconcile for your sake, but no, no, no. They didn't care one bit about you or your medals, it was as if you were never even included in their lives at all. Even birthday celebrations ceased to exist in everyone's books after your 13th.
So you gave up.
Down into the void, your wishful thinking went, that they'll become better people over time, that the attention and love you deserve will be given one day. Instead, you wallowed yourself in your studies, besting everyone in everything academic. Oh, but you weren't athletic. Far from it. Damn, you were getting thin and sleep-deprived from being neglected, dark circles under your eyes every time you looked at your reflection. People hating your existence wasn't helping, some teachers even suspected you of cheating.
There's no way in hell you'd let yourself get dragged down to end up like them! You were of legal age now, a fresh graduate from high school, you doubt your parents even knew that since they didn't fucking show up on your graduation day. You were moving out of that shithole of a town. Anywhere is better than where they breathed and spat their poison.
And so here you are. Standing in this breath-taking and mysterious place. Camp Crystal Lake, it is named, secluded, barely touched by modernization as it is hidden between mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. Not to mention its namesake, the lake, you imagined it would mirror the sky, be it day or night. You loved it, you adored the fresh, breathable air that went through you the moment you stepped out of the van.
You also knew about him.
Resolved to never go back to that goddamned house, you took everything you had and needed; the special little trinkets you've collected through the years shoved into a box, the few clothes you had, art materials, and your precious books carefully packed inside a big travel bag, along with your stocked up canned goods, convenience food, snacks, and toiletries.
And other, important things.
You hauled your baggage out of the van and got off, immediately moving to the side and away from everyone.
You got used to people ignoring you that you didn't care anymore.
Why waste your time with them when you can have all of it to yourself?
Eloiza led the group into the larger cabins, the others went straight into the lake for a swim. You even notice some teens disappear into the trees, most likely for a quickie.
In return, you stayed out of their way, fully satisfied being invisible and with your own company as you trudged to a cabin, the one you caught a glimpse of earlier in the van. It was a long way's separated from the rest, closest to the forest and hidden behind a few trees.
You were panting when you finally stopped in front of it, clearly not used to walking long distances and carrying stuff near as heavy as your weight.
Upon closer inspection, you found yourself gaping at its appearance. The wooden walls lost their color as they aged, white and brown mushrooms grew on the ground along with green moss sticking to the beams, and a few vines crawling their way up and on the roof. Despite all of that, the cabin looked sturdy still.
There's this "one with nature" vibe that drew you to it, like a string pulling you closer and inviting you. Ominous most would say, but you almost cried when the rich scent of earth and oxygen filled your lungs as you took one big inhale, sighing in content for once. It was a lot smaller compared to the others, but you didn't care. As long as you were left alone with your stuff you were a-okay.
Perfect.
You turned the knob and peeked inside, letting out a small gasp and opening the door wider to see the whole thing.
Old as it is, it was proper and neat, regardless of the tiny cobwebs on the upper corners. A small, square dining table sat in the middle of the first part of the place, two wooden stools placed underneath. There were cupboards on the wall and a simple sink with an empty space to the side. You went to the next room, doorless and separated with but a wall of thick plywood. It had a single bed in the corner, off-white cotton sheets sitting atop, not a wrinkle in sight. No pillow though. There's a decent-sized closet along with a small table on one side of the bed. One of the windows had a hole in the middle, a ray of sunlight streaming in through the cracks. It was too big for the size of a gunshot, so maybe a rock.
A bit hesitant, your fingers traced the wood, feeling the inconsistent texture. When you went through the back door, your smile reached your ears when trunks of trees and bushes greeted you...
Wait, is that what you think it is?
Stepping closer to the treeline, your jaw dropped when you spotted a thicket of fruit-bearing plants past them, gathered in a tiny clearing.
Blueberries.
Purple little cuties poked out of the green shrubs, sporting a vibrant hue that caught your eye. The sun shone overhead and providing the energy they needed. Blueberries managed to grow in the area despite the trees fencing them.
Tempted and suspicious, you crouched down, inspecting the shrub if it really was a blueberry plant and not a deadly doppelganger. Once you were sure it was, (it would be hilarious if you simply died from nighshade poisoning), you plucked one and brought it to your mouth. It was sweeter than you expected, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. You hummed in delight, wiping the juice with your thumb when it dribbled out, staining your finger and lips.
You didn't want to anger anybody. Hell, coming here was already trespassing, so you didn't push your luck and left it alone, hoping they'd forgive you for picking one. They surely didn't look wild with the way they lined up.
You scanned the rest of the area, eventually going back inside to unpack after your little evaluation.
-
The sun was a hand's away from setting when you finished. Pride swelled in your chest at the work you did, your things stocked and organized with care inside the cabinets and drawers. You won't have to worry about your food for now as cupboards were filled to the brim with them. You also had a decent amount of money left from your savings account that your parents weren't aware of. Prize money, allowance, and the salary you got from doing online jobs all went into it. The camp was a few miles off the road, and a couple more to the nearest gas station with a convenience store. Very far yes, but it's better than living with the people who made you do this in the first place.
You just hoped you wouldn't die walking.
Everything was worth it, anyways. You were free now, at least that's what you think.
You trudged to the bed, eyeing the cushions, wary and a little scared to touch the sheets that appeared to be cleaned just recently, you didn't even lay a finger on them ever since you got inside. Oh, but your tired muscles were screaming to just flump down and relax.
So you did.
You dumped yourself face first and inhaled. It wasn't smelly nor fragrant, just the simple freshness on the cotton fabric. You felt beat but ain't sleepy, yet, so you reached to the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a book to pass the time as you waited for the sun to go down and give way for the moon. Its spine and pages had creases, worn out and yellow-stained from age and use. It was a horror-mystery novel told through a first-person narrative, a story of a middle-aged detective and her Maine coon in their attempts to solve a murder case of a young European lady named Cassandra Chase.
You dozed off in the middle of chapter 21, the part where Dinnie, the cat, discovers a valuable clue to the crime, a rotten limb in the dried basement well.
—
—
Jason settled down on the stairs of his porch; shoulders relaxed and hunched as he leisurely sharpened his machete with a small whetstone. Lines of sunlight kissed him through the leaves of trees, the birds in the area chirped on their perches, and the grass swayed, gentle, as a cool wind passed by.
His day be so fine. No troublemakers to deal wi—
The alarm rang, announcing unwelcomed arrival. As if a switch flipped inside, he's already on his feet, making his way swiftly to their location.
A new batch of wretched youngsters, another day ruined. Hunting them down makes his blood thrum in his veins, yes, but they soured his mood, just when he was at peace. He's dead set on slaughtering them in the most gruesome ways possible, only then he could go back and enjoy the serenity the nature around him brings.
He surveyed the area, camouflaging with the wilderness, silent as he watched and counted the soon-to-be corpses, his mother's voice at the back of his mind, guiding him.
They decided to go either to the main cabins, or the lake...even into the trees.
All but one.
Jason already planned to cut down the couple later as they lose themselves in the forest, doing nasty, dirty things to his camp. The killer shifted his attention to you, curious as to why you didn't join the lot. Instead, you walked back down the road. He followed and saw you approach the small cabin, separated from the rest, your eyes widened...
Adoration?
You were quiet— except for the little gasps of awe you let out in between pants—as you looked around and over the place. The ones you came with were rowdy and destructive, a complete opposite. He hid as he observed you from afar, moving around to adjust his vision on you. You smiled every time you looked to the trees, he noticed.
Why were you smiling like that? Why did you pick this cabin? Were you planning on defiling it?
The last question in his mind made his blood boil. He'll kill you first if that was the case. That cabin you chose was special, it was where he and his mother used to stay. He occasionally visits that one to keep it clean and free of dust. If you even think of—
Jason, sweetie...look closer. She does not have such intentions.
His mother's words rang in his head. Even from where he stood, he could see what you did inside. You looked a little hesitant, touching and drawing back your hand before letting your fingers feel the wood as if it was something delicate. Despite the initial...shyness? You proceeded to make it your home, somewhat, dropping the large duffel bags you carried on your front and back, and a similarly large roller case on your left. It was as if you planned to stay for a long time.
Jason hears you take a long breath and sigh as you went out the backdoor. You grinned wider when you saw the nature around you. You stepped forward, straight in his direction...
For a moment he thought you saw him, seeing your jaw drop. You moved closer, and he just froze there, until you crouched down.
Oh, his plants.
He watched you as you gently picked a fruit, your gaze...soft. You brought it to your mouth, some of the juice spilling on the side and you wiped it with your thumb.
Cute.
You went back inside and continued to unpack your things, carefully maneuvering around the cabin.
Maybe he'll spare you if you continue to be good. You didn't do anything dirty, yet. It's only a matter of time before the camp is shrouded in darkness and his hunt will begin.
Let's see what you'll do before that happens.
-
Jason tracked down the three that went into the forest. He knew the place like the back of his hand, and it was easier to pinpoint them as he heard moans.
What he saw was utmost disgusting, two girls pleasuring a male with their mouths in broad daylight.
Kill them, my boy! Such foul beings need to die! Kill them, kill!
He circled them, steps soundless. Jason gripped his machete and brought it down the guy's neck, embedding the weapon into the bark, the head rolled down, oozing with blood, and fell against the women, drenching them in red. Not a single cry left from their mouths as he sliced both with one swing, blood pouring out of their throats and staining the ground. Jason dragged their bodies and tossed them into a pit he dug beforehand, making quick work in burying them.
A swift end. Now he waits.
#jason voorhees x reader#jason x reader#friday the 13th#blood#violence#slatra#lmao#my writing#fiction#horror#slasher x reader#feral reader#slasher x fem!reader#reader insert#slasher fic#slasher x reader fic#jason voorhees#friday the 13th fic
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The REAL Story Behind The Crooked Man And The 7 Other Fairy Tales & Nursery Rhymes With *Even More* Disturbing Backstories
It was 4 years ago that we first met the Crooked Man.
With a *sickening* reveal via rottweiler fit for the latest season of Rupaul’s Drag Race, the suited gentleman staggered his way from The Conjuring 2 (2016) into our nightmares.
But his ashy undertones, gnashing teeth, and general aura of “I’m a demon, or something, which means I have no real motive apart from wanting to kill you” isn’t the only thing that fits the film far too well.
The Conjuring universe is the definition of ‘based on a true story’. And the Crooked Man fits the brief.
In the opening scenes of the film we see lovable and bulliable Billy stutter through a nursery rhyme:
There was a crooked man, and he went a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile;
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse,
And they all liv'd together in a little crooked house.
Accompanied by a totally-cursed-i-mean-just-look-at-it zoetrope (it’s a bit like a mini projector that shows you a moving cartoon), Billy introduces us to one of the handful of extra entities terrorising London’s most haunted house. You can discover more about the true story of 284 Green Street which inspired The Conjuring 2 here.
But Billy also introduces us to a real nursery rhyme inherent in British culture - and British history.
Yes, the nursery rhyme, like many, is based on dark and twisted reality softened for a bedtime story. And amongst this history was a real person. Unfortunately, the Crooked Man is not the only fairy tale monster or nursery rhyme entity that will be haunting your dreams.
Are y’all tucked in?
The Crooked Man
The nursery rhyme was first told sometime in the 17th century during the reign of King Charles I. But the Crooked Man was not the Stuart King - it was allegedly inspired by Scottish general Sir Alexander Leslie and the covenant he signed.
The covenant secured religious and political freedom for Scotland despite prevailing animosity between the English and the Scottish.
The crooked stile is the awkward alliance between the two parliaments and the crooked house refers to the collective union the Scottish and English lived together in. But the ‘crooked’ part works on another level, too.
The great recoinage of late 17th century meant sixpences - which feature in the rhyme - were made of very thin silver and thus easy to bend.
An alternative origins story links it back to Lavenham, a village in Suffolk (England). The half-timbered houses leaned at off angles as if supporting each other, creating a crooked aesthetic that matches the nursery rhyme.
The Pied Piper Of Hamelin
I distinctly remember hearing the story of the Pied Piper when I was about 7 years old. I was there, sat crossed-legged on the wooden floor in assembly and listening to the headteacher tell us the tale of the musical maverick with an overhead projector.
I remember it being far more nostalgic and not so traumatising.
The story goes that sometime in the 13th century a peculiar man dressed in brightly-coloured clothes (pied clothing) was hired by the town to rid them of the rats with his pipe-playing abilities. Hamelin had been suffering from an infestation that would threaten the locals with the plague. The piper was to play his pipe, entice the rats with his magical music, and lead them to a river where they would promptly drown.
He was hired and he did the job - but they didn’t pay up.
The piper couldn’t exactly refund his services. Instead, he sought vengeance, luring away the children of the town with his magical pipe. He waited until Saint John and Paul’s day where the adults would be in the church, dressed in green like a hunter, and played his pipe. The children of the village swarmed to him, all 130 of them, following him out of the town and into a cave. Three were unable to follow due to being blind and deaf and thus told the villagers what had happened.
The real story:
Some versions of the story claimed he made them walk into a river, others claim he returned them after payment. But what we do know for sure is that there is a street in Hamelin called Bungelosenstrasse. On this street - ‘the street without drums’ according to translation - the children were seen last. No music and no dancing is allowed on this road.
Bluebeard
We open on a typical Medieval scene: a powerful and wealthy man is looking for a young wife to replace the last one who mysteriously went missing. Bluebeard’s been through quite a few women, actually, but it’s his latest bae that stars in this story. Bluebeard marries his neighbour’s daughter and goes on a business trip.
He tells her he can stay alone in their house but she cannot open a certain door.
Of course, she opens the door and finds the corpses of his ex-wives. Her and her sisters band together to kill Bluebeard, showering themselves with a wealthy inheritance.
The real story:
This tragic tale of murder and mystery is unfortunately all too true.
There are many alleged origins of the folktale. Let’s start with the Medieval ruler of Brittany, Conomor the Cursed: his new wife agreed to marry him to prevent him from invading her father’s lands but accidentally walked in on a room full of his dead, old wives. She was visited by their ghosts who warn him if she falls pregnant, he will kill her, preventing a prophecy that claims he will be killed by his own son.
She gets knocked up, gives birth, and then she gets her block knocked off.
An alternative inspiration could be a similarly brutal figure: Gilles de Rais (15th century). He was accused of murdering approximately 140 children who suddenly went missing in the Nantes countryside. He was condemned to death and executed in 1440.
Snow White
It’s one of the most popular fairytales of all time.
The story goes that a queen gives birth to a baby girl but dies in childbirth. The king’s new wife is wicked and vain, asking her magic mirror ‘who is the fairest one of all?’ on a daily basis. When the child turns seven, the mirror changes its answer from the queen to the child, Snow White (yeah, that’s weird). The queen hires a huntsman to kill Snow White, but she begs for mercy and says she will live in the woods and he can pretend he killed her.
She finds shelter in a cottage belonging to seven dwarfs who agree to let her stay as a maid until the evil queen asks the mirror her favourite question. It claims Snow White is still alive and the fairest of them all. She goes through several methods of attempting to kill Snow until she falls into a deep coma. The dwarfs host a funeral, a prince comes along, and he, uhhh, kisses what he assumed to be a corpse and she is awakened.
They then get hitched but don’t invite the queen to the wedding. The queen asks the mirror yet again the identity of the fairest, assuming Snow is well and truly deceased but the mirror breaks the bad news to her again. The queen tries to kill her once more but Snow’s hubby forces her to wear red-hot iron slippers and dance in them until she dies.
There’s a lot going on here.
But rather than unpacking everything that's wrong with all of this *gestures to everything*, let’s just get to the dark reality beneath it all.
The real story:
The inspiration is generally deemed to be Margaretha von Walbeck, a young woman who had a terrible relationship with her stepmother. She was forced to move to Brussels and fell in love with Phillip II of Spain, a romance not popular with her parents.
Suddenly, however, Margaretha died. Rumour has it she was poisoned.
Another detail of her life also links her to Snow White: her father’s copper mines were often filled with child labourers whose growth was stunted by working in them, mirroring the ‘dwarves’ in the story.
But Margaretha is not the only contender: Maria Sophia Margaretha Catharina Freifräulein von Erthal *inhale* also hated her stepmother. This - and the fact that her stepmother was given a mirror as a gift by her husband - also ties her to Snow White.
Hansel And Gretel
It’s possibly the most simple fairy tale up for discussion: a brother and sister are sent out to the woods by their father. The mother asked for him to send them away so they can survive a famine. But Hansel uses stones to trace their steps back home. One day, however, he uses crumbs. They get eaten by the local wildlife, so the kids get lost.
They then discover a witch's house, a gingerbread cottage. She lures ‘em in, fattens up Hansel, and prepares to feast on his flesh. The kids plot against her, throw her in the oven, and steal her stuff before heading back to live with their father.
Okay, so maybe this one isn’t based on a true story. It’s based on true stories. Yep - plural.
The real story:
Child abandonment and infanticide was pretty common during plagues, famines, and all other circumstances of poverty. In fact, this particular tale is believed to come from the Great Famine which stretched across Europe from 1315 to 1317. Child abandonment surged during this time.
Rapunzel
Turns out Disney lopped off a lot of Rapunzel’s real story to make it a family friendly movie. Yep, this is a weird one.
A pregnant woman begins to crave a kind of salad leaf (Campanula rapunculus, also called rapunzel) in the garden of the house next door. He goes out to nick it but is caught by the homeowner - a witch. She says he can take the rapunzel, but in return he must give her the child once it is born.
The witch raises Rapunzel as her own but locks her away in a tower when she is 12 to protect her from the outside world.
A prince eventually rocks up and decides to climb her immensely long hair. Unknown, probably PG-13 and probably not consensual acts happen. Still, given it's the medieval era they agree to get hitched after escaping.
The witch discovers her plan, cuts off her hair, exiles Rapunzel, and uses the locks as bait for the prince before throwing him to the briar roses below where he is promptly blinded. Rapunzel gives birth to twins and the prince finds her, identifying her only by her voice. Her tears restore his voice.
The real story:
Being kidnapped or being kept hidden away from the rest of the world is pretty common, well, all of the time. But Saint Barabara, a Greek saint, was the main inspiration for the tale.
She was locked away in a tower in Turkey in the third century by her father in an attempt to protect her Christianity. But her Pagan father’s efforts did not succeed and she discovered the ways of Jesus. She escaped but she was eventually caught by her father who then tortured and beheaded her.
Religious intolerance, y’all.
Beauty And The Beast
Time for another Disney classic with a heavily edited plotline.
The father of a family seeks shelter in a grand palace during a storm. In the morning before he leaves he takes a rose from the garden but is caught by a beast who threatens to kill him for nicking a flower. But the beast agrees not to kill him if his daughter takes his place instead.
The daughter moves to the palace but asks to go see her family for a week. She is then convinced by her sisters to stay at home. A magic mirror then reveals the beast is dying because she isn’t with him. She returns to him and her love breaks the curse that makes him appear so monstrous.
The real story:
Petrus Gonsalvus (1637-1618) was born with hypertrichosis. This meant he had a thick layer of hair all over his body - his physical difference didn’t go down very well. He was kept as a ‘wild man’ in a cage and fed raw meat.
When he was 10 years old he was gifted to the king of france. But he wasn’t kept as a ‘beast’. He was educated like a nobleman and was taught to read, write, and speak three different languages. He was then married off to the daughter of a court servant.
He was married to her for over 40 years and they had seven children together.
(Aww.)
Three Blind Mice
Three blind mice, three blind mice,
See how they run, see how they run,
They all ran after the farmer’s wife,
Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did you ever see such a thing in your life,
As three blind mice?
The real story:
It's one of those nursery rhymes you grow up with - and 17 years later you realise how traumatic it actually is.
This nursery rhyme can be traced back to the reign of Bloody Mary (16th century) who had a tricky relationship with Protestants. And by that I mean she burnt them alive, hence the nickname.
The three blind mice represented three Protestant bishops who may have been blinded before their execution or spiritually blind for following Catholicism. Another reference to Queen Mary was her as a farmer’s wife.
Her husband, Philip of Spain, owned several estates and thus was technically a farmer.
Welp, there goes your childhood.
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See you next week, kiddos. Sleep tight.
#crooked man#the crooked man#the conjuring#conjuring 2#the nun#valak#the crooked man movie#fairy tales#grimm#fairytales#origins of fairy tales#nursery rhymes#scary stories#ghost stories#true ghost stories#based on a true story#Ed and Lorraine Warren#folklore#urban legend#creepy urban legends#paranormal#supernatural#the conjuring 3#Horror Movies#horror#best horror movies#disney#dark fairytale#nostalgia#history
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Hi! I was wondering if you could help me with something... Right now I'm in the middle of preptober since I plan to write one specific part of my stories during nanowrimo. The thing is, the part me and my friend chose to write is centered around a 8 years long war and I'm at a loss to what could happen other than battles during the war. Do you have any tips? 8 years of battles nonstop doesn't seem something that can realistically happen, but I also don't know what to put in between because I know there wasn't really peace during that time.
Well if you look at any war in history, it isn't all just back to back battles. There are changing alliances (Soviet Russia and Nazi Germany), political upheavals, revolutions (Russian Revolution in WWI) and hundreds of minor cogs in the great machine of a war. Battles do not happen successively or else wars would not last long. Think of each battle like a string of bus stops, the bus (your story) must travel to get to these destinations. Let's take the Wars of the Roses as an example, a war which technically lasted from 1455 and 1487 but had only a few battles.
22 May 1455: First Battle of St Albans. The King's Lancastrian forces are boxed into the town by the Duke of York's men, the first violent step in the increasingly hostile atmosphere between the faction of the Duke and the faction of the Queen.
23 September 1459: Battle of Blore Heath, the Lancastrians attempt to head off forces raised by Yorkist allied lords. It is a Yorkist victory.
12 October 1459: Battle of Ludford Bridge. The Queen's forces rout the Yorkists, scattering them and forcing the Duke of York to flee.
10 July 1460: Battle of Northampton. The Yorkist return from exile amid chaos of changing of foreign posts by the Queen's men, landing to invade England. King Henry VI is captured. The Queen & young Prince Edward flee the kingdom.
10 October 1460: Richard of York comes back from exile and is made heir to throne over the King's son Edward. Queen Margaret begins raising a new army in response.
30 December 1460. Battle of Wakefield. Margaret besieges Richard of York with Wakefield Castle. The Yorkist idiot leaves the nice safe castle and he and his son are executed. The Yorkist faction looses its head.
2 February 1461: Battle of Mortimer Cross. Richard of York’s son Edward marches to cut off Welsh levies heading to bolster Margaret's forces. He routs them.
17 February 1461: Second Battle of St Albans where the York-aligned Earl of Warwick attempts to block the Lancastrians from taking London. He is defeated and captive Henry VI is rescued.
4 March 1461. Edward of York is proclaimed king in London.
9 March 1461. Battle of Towton. King Edward faces off with the forces of King Henry, Queen Margaret and the Prince of Wales. The Yorkists win and the Lancastrian Royals flee.
24 June 1465: Henry VI captured while roaming around in Northern England, quickly imprisoned in the Tower of London.
1 May 1470. The Earl of Warwick is pissed off at King Edward so he storms out of England after two failed rebellions and joins Queen Margaret in France. He returns with the Lancastrian army and takes King Edward by surprise, causing him to flee. The Earl restores Henry VI (13th October.)
14 March 1471. King Edward returns from exile with an army.
14 April 1471. Battle of Barnet. Edward defeats the Earl, smashing his forces to pieces. The Earl dies.
4 May 1471. Battle of Tewkesbury. Queen Margaret had landed earlier to find her allies scattered or dead. Margaret fled toward Wales to join Jasper Tudor's levies. The Yorkists caught them at Tewkesbury thanks to a swollen river and smashes them. Queen Margaret is captured and the Prince of Wales is killed in battle.
22 May 1471. Henry VI mysteriously dies in the Tower from which is likely murder. Other Lancastrian heirs, notably Henry Tudor flee the Kingdom.
9 April 1483. King Edward IV dies. His heir Edward V is 12 and placed under the Protection of his uncle the new Regent, Richard of Gloucester.
June 1483. By Parliamentary action both sons of the dead King are declared bastards. Richard of Gloucester is offered the throne
Summer of 1483. Death/Disappearance of Edward V and his brother the little Duke of York. They became known as the Princes in the Tower.
October 1483. The Duke of Buckingham raises support for Henry Tudor, who is allied at this moment with the sister and mother of the Princes in the Tower. Tudor is delayed by bad weather and Buckingham is stopped from joining his army with supporters because of swollen rivers. Buckingham is defeated and Henry flees.
7 August 1485. Henry Tudor lands in Wales.
22 August 1485. Battle of Bosworth. Richard III meets Henry Tudor in battle. Richard is killed and Henry becomes Henry VII.
24 May 1487. A pretender Lambert Simnel who claims to be Edward of Warwick, nephew of Richard III and Edward IV is crowned by rebels.
16 June 1487. Battle of Stoke Field. The Rebels are defeated and Lambert Simnel is captured. This is considered the last battle of the Wars of the Roses.
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Institute (13th Doctor x reader) Part 4
Summary: An adventure with the Doctor leads you the outback, with a mysterious stranger
Word Count: 2.8k
AN: 2 parts on one night because I’m feeling nice :) hope you enjoy! -L x
Warnings: none
Tags: @startrekkingaroundasgard @penguinwithitsarseonfire
(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 5) (PART 6) (PART 7) (PART 8) MASTERLIST
Travelling in the TARDIS was weird, you’d imagined it handful of times and yet it couldn’t actually compare to it happening
“It’s bigger on the inside. Sorry I always wanted to say that,” You chuckled in awe of the ship
“Any weird burning questions?” She asked flipping a few switches and looking at you over the console
“Is it actually psychic? And are the bunk beds still around? I really want to believe Amy was kidding about both of those”
“Yes, no and no. Yes it is psychic, no the bunk beds aren’t around although I still love them and no she wasn’t joking,” She explained stepping over to you and tapping a few buttons “We’re here, wardrobe is down the corridor, a left then a right then another right. I mean I am assuming you don’t want to wear a work suit on another planet, that is” She said with a small laugh escaping her lips. She was beautiful.
Eventually you found the wardrobe got dressed and wandered back out, the TARDIS was suspended in the air and she was on the phone, “Just calling to say hi, fam. Where are you? We said an hour. You're late. Very late. All of you. And I picked up (Y/N), on the way we finally matched so we had that date, right see you soon,”
“You have a group chat?” You asked disrupting her thoughts as she messed with various tubes and cables
“Yeah, just in case. You look nice, I think that’s the most casual I’ve ever seen you, other than New years,” She laughed, helping you out of the box with her surprisingly strong arms. She didn’t notice the black cars pull up behind her, or a few men dressed in all black step out
“We need you to come with us,” One of them stated, in a monotone voice
“Can I finish up first? I'm just draining the water slides. And the boating lakes. And the rainforest floor. Plus, I'm waiting for my mates,” She frowned clearly not pleased by his request
“Your friends are inside the car. We went to your office to find you Miss (L/N), however you weren’t there,” The agent further explained. At that point Graham stuck a cautious and slightly confused head out of the window “This is the worst uber ever,” He joked
“Please, it’s in your best interest you come with us,” The man urged again. The doctor looked at you, and you nodded and gave a cautious smile, she took your hand and stepped into the car. She got into the front and you got into one of the backseats, greeted by the confused faces of Graham, Ryan and Yaz. You explained the situation quietly to them whilst they nodded at brief intervals. That was until the car got murder obsessed and killed the driver and decided to fire at you until the Doctor managed to fix it and you arrived at M.I.6 headquarters in one piece.
MI6 was busy and despite the Doctors lack of faith in them they managed to get the TARDIS to the building in one piece. A heavy looking, important man wandered over to the group and tried to introduce himself to Graham, “Well, well, well. Finally we meet. You actually do exist.”
Graham stood there a confused look clear on his face, whilst an advisor whispered into the man's ear. You recognised him as C due to brief encounters MI6 and the institute had had over the years
“No, I’ve read the files. The Doctor is a man,” was his response. You laughed at that, earning a glare from both C and the Doctor.
“Some of us have been lucky enough for an upgrade. Hi sorry, I’m the Doctor, the car you sent for us tried to kill us,”
“Oh we tried to escort you here not kill you,” He man laughed
“I swear, we have better tech at the institute and we aren’t ran by the government,” You frowned
“Ah Miss (L/N), lovely to see you again. How’s the institute? Still up to date on conspiracy theories and wasting money I see?” He shot back, a smug smile resting on his face “We need your help Doctor.”
After showing you all, the body of a former human in a coma and various spy gadgets, C explained the situation. “All of the spies that have ended up like this have been assigned to one man, Daniel Barton. Founded VOR.”
“We need skywatcher on this, where is he? I haven’t seen him yet?”
“We fired him-” He began. The Doctor pulled out her phone, typed a text and sent it, “kisses. Very french isn’t it?” She said another small wink aimed in your direction. Her phone dinged, in response a picture of a fish. She pushed the phone back into her pocket
“I can’t believe you fired the only person with an open mind about aliens-”
“Can we focus, look, we think Barton may be a double or triple agent he could be working for-” You heard the glass smash first, before C’s head rocked forward revealing a gun wound. You all ducked, running out the room as fast as you could, sprinting to the TARDIS. The Doctor typed away at the console as you stared in horror as something broke through the doors and tried to reach for you as the others were busy arguing
“That’s definitely not supposed to happen!” You shouted as the final button was pushed sending the thing vanishing
“Right, Ryan, Yaz, undercover work, investigating Daniel Barton, anything you can get on him, anything unusual, anything alien. (L/N) you can hack the list and get them in right? You can do it through the console,”
“On it,” you nodded calming down, and clicking away at a few buttons on the console
“So me Graham and (Y/N) will go and investigate my friend. Me and her, we’ve got the best chance of getting him to listen, I’m literally an alien and she’s my assigned stalker.” You stuck your tongue out at that, as you finished typing.
“I see you decoded my message. Fancy a cuppa?” A man sat in a chair asked, when the three of you exited after dropping off Ryan and Yaz.
“Always. Hello, this is my friend Graham, and my other friend (Y/N), she works for the Bad Wolf institute,”
“And you’re?” Graham asked
“O,” He responded, standing to greet the you all
“O?”
“O. It was an inside joke, C would always say it when I entered a room and it just stuck,” O explained
“Can I take a nose around your gaff?” The doctor asked, not waiting for a response before heading in
“Sorry to hear about you being fired. I would have offered you a job if I’d have known about your interests,” You smiled
“Thank you, that’s kind. I heard about the attack, I’m so sorry that happened cybermen are especially awful,”
You wandered into your house, a mess of technology and paperwork was strewn about the house
“What is all this stuff?” Graham asked, trying to sound as polite as he could
“The full MI6 record of the unexplained, as compiled by me. Human disappearances, sightings of unidentified objects, mysterious beings, possible alien incursions going back centuries,”
“So basically my department then?” You asked sipping something that vaguely resembled tea
“I’ve read about you,” O began “You’re amazing. A missing person’s case, a ghost but you have all that power, that knowledge.”
“Had no family left, and a few friends when I joined the institute, no one to miss me. Better that way, connections to the institute make you vulnerable. Especially dealing with aliens and time travel,” You explained
“Still, you appear throughout history, that’s amazing! Even as a missing person,” he rambled, light in his eyes. The Doctor cringed at that, she did not appreciate the way he looked at you or asked questions like that
Panic flooded your system, the two guards were gone, and one of those glowing figures remained.
“It’s coming through the wall!” Graham shouted
“There’s another trap, it won’t release we need to get it to that spot,” O gestured as he fiddled with controls. Without thinking, you rushed to the spot and made lots of noise, it took steps toward you until the heavy trap glass cage slammed down over it. More typing and shouting between the two of them until the energy had been rerouted. You fell to the floor in relief after it was contained
“You ok?” The doctor asked, waiting for a brief nod before she turned to scan the thing, ignoring you. O helped you to your feet, “It worked, it actually worked. You were brilliant, thank you for doing that. You can stay if you like. It worked,” He buzzed, small excited jumps coming from him as he held you hands for support. You simply laughed at him as the Doctor attempted to interview the being. It had begun glowing
“It’s fighting back,” O announced, suddenly rushing back to the monitor “It’s trying to overload the systems,” The monitor shocked him angrily. The thing vanished and in its place was Yaz.
After a bit of time hopping you were back, you’d picked up Ryan. It was daytime in the outback. You were sat on a kitchen counter, as Graham and O talked at the table
“How do you know her?” Graham asked O in attempt to make conversation
“I had brief encounter with her once, back when she was a man,”
“Everyone keeps saying that. Even her. She was actually a man?” Graham questioned as you and O laughed
“What do you know about her home planet? They can cheat death, on there,” O started before he was cut off by the Doctor existing the TARDIS holding a large glass jug. More explanations, more confusion, more plans. Barton’s DNA was only 93% human. A vaguely threatening animation. Your head was spinning, you were overwhelmed. O went to talk to you, the doctor stopped him and offered him a trip as you had to break into a party, talk to Barton, she guided him towards the TARDIS. Before turning back to you, “You alright?”
“Overwhelmed, tired. Very different to case files and vortex manipulators,” You mumbled, resting a cautious head on her shoulder. She pressed a finger to one of your temples and the sensation went, “should be fine now. C’mon party to investigate, let’s get dressed up,” She said, tugging you towards the TARDIS as O exited it and rambled about how impossible everything was.
You were dressed in a suit and at the party, it was crowded and loud. “Is this the time to mention I never did much undercover work?”
“You said you worked for MI6 didn’t you, son?” Graham asked
“Yeah as analyst,” O responded “I don’t think I did any missions,”
“Breathe, you’ll be fine. Done this loads of times,” You responded, the Doctor frowned, “What? I don’t just use my time in other periods for work purposes, my time travel isn’t too dissimilar from yours.”
You split up, Graham and Ryan going in one direction, Yaz going in another, you nodded at the Doctor before splitting from the others O trailing behind you.
“Sorry, you just seem to make this look so easy,”
“It’s alright, don’t worry about it, we'll play some games and try to get you relaxed and also look for Barton.” You reassured him. You selected a game and played. You tossed the dice casually as people cheered
“Did we win?” You asked confusion clear
“No, not remotely, but you know what they say unlucky in dice, lucky in love,” O said, staring at you a small smile on his face
“I’ve never heard that,”
“That’s because they don’t actually say that,” He laughed. The Doctor stormed back into the room, “We have to go now, Barton’s getting away,” You nodded and sped after her. She insisted on stealing motorbikes outfront and insisted you stay with her
“Promise me, you know how to ride this,” You said as you held her waist tightly
“I have a vague idea, I’m sure we’ll be fine,” She said as she started it and sped away the others following closely behind her “I could get used to this you know, you clinging to me,” There was smug element to her voice
“You chose to flirt now when we’re being shot at? And when you’re riding a motorbike,” you hissed slightly sarcastically
“Never a better time, I do some of my best work under pressure,” She laughed
Eventually you arrived at an aircraft carrier and you snuck past what little security there was.
“We can’t let him get away c’mon,” the doctor said chasing the plane,
“It’s not as if we’re going to jump on the plane- no- you can’t be serious-” Graham muttered. The Doctor threw herself into the plane followed, by you, the fam and O trailing slightly behind, you grabbed his arm and helped pull him into the plane
“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” You said as he caught his breath. The Doctor frowned as she closed the hatch. The six of you headed further into the plane. “Sorry about that, I’ve never been good at sprinting. I was the last one in every race at school” O explained a sheepish smile stuck to his features
“Sorry what?” The Doctor asked, cogs turning in her brain “I read your file, you were a champion sprinter?”
There was a heavy pause. Followed by a laugh and a shift in O’s demeanor “Got me. Well done.” A sharp clap punctuating his sentence
“I’m sorry what?” Yaz piped up
“Might want to look out the window, a little bit wicked witch, but you get the gist. Maybe. Maybe not.” His house was hanging outside the window suspended in midair.
“No,” was all the doctor managed to say
“Come on Doctor, catch up you can do it!” He pointed a finger at you “And you should be using your pathetic human brain, c’mon you can do it, you’ve read all the files,”
“Oh,” was all the doctor managed to say. You swore, loudly.
“That’s my name, that’s why I chose it. Oh, so satisfying. Doctor, I did say look for the spymaster. Or should I say spy... Master? Hi. And you, you’ve read countless files upon files about me and yet, you couldn’t figure it out,”
You sat there stunned, unable to move in shock “But you can’t- you shouldn’t- you- you died-” was all that managed to stutter out of your mouth
“I can be and I very much am, sweetheart,” He replied, cool confidence in his tone
“So, what’s going on? He’s not O?”
“I’m her best enemy, call me Master. Me and her,” he said gesturing towards the doctor “go way, way, way back,”
“But I met O years ago?”
“I know, I know,” He laughed jumping like a giddy child
“But there was an O? C mentioned him,” Ryan asked clearly still confused
“Yeah, a man very close to my heart,” he said placing a hand on his chest “Not that one the other one. Well, my pocket actually,” He pulled a small matchbox out of his pocket revealing a small miniaturized figure within it “It’s always good to keep a backup of one’s work. Tissue compression it’s a classic. Aw you should have laughed at that,” He nudged you as he said it, “ambushed him on his way to work for the first day, shrunk him down and took his identity. That staff canteen was surprisingly good,” He tossed the matchbox casually to one side “I have had SO much fun!”
The doctor snapped into action, “We have to warn Barton! He’s not here? What did you do?”
He fell into the chair next to you, “I don’t understand what you see in her, she’s not very bright is she, love? Wrong question, dear. Check the seat,” He smirked, you sat there still processing everything. “Oops, made it sonic proof, no parachutes, deadlock sealed. Cockpit bomb, short fuse. I can relate,” The master stood up overdramatically.
“Where’s Barton then?” You asked
“Called away before take off. Stick with me (Y/N), I control everything.” He clicked his fingers and two of the Kaasavan appeared. You backed into your seat and shook your head violently
“Get back, I can’t stop it!” The doctor shouted, slamming the door as a loud boom sounded.
“Oops. One last thing, Something you should know in the seconds before you die, everything you know is a lie.” And with that, he had vanished. The last thing you saw of the Doctor was her panic filled eyes staring at you.
#13th doctor x reader#thirteenth doctor x reader#doctor who self insert#13th doctor imagine#thirteenth doctor#thirteenth Doctor imagine#Doctor x reader#Doctor who x reader
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LUPERCALIA.
the exact origins of this pagan festival are uncertain, but it was thought that in ancient times LUPERCALIA took place to honor the she-wolf who raised romulus and remus, the founder of rome, and please the roman fertility god LUPERCUS
while traditionally held from february 13th to 15th, it is not to be confused with the later christian tradition celebrating saint valentine — it was not a celebration of pure and courtly love, but instead an intense, sexually-charged, and even perhaps bloody one filled with animal sacrifice and naked ritual
most notable to the festival was the random matchmaking ; during lupercalia, it is said that the men randomly chose a woman’s name from a jar to be coupled with them for the duration of the festival in the hopes of warding off evil spirits and infertility
NEW YORK, FEBRUARY 2021.
this would, in all likelihood, not be something in your mind in the modern day. a celebration that died out ages ago, lupercalia hardly finds a place in the memory of any contemporary new yorker.
however — that doesn’t stop a beautifully sealed red envelope from showing up on your doorstep, delicate filigree addressed to you specifically and bearing a striking resemblance to an invite long since pushed into the back of your mind
and you think back to the gala, that hedonistic mischief filled night, and the mysterious benefactors behind it. it was well done, lavish and over the top, and idly you recall being asked if you’d be interested in any future events. it hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time, because it was an exciting evening and what's the harm, who wouldn’t want another night of magic, it wasn’t like you had to foot any bill — so you’d agreed, put down your name without much thought, and moved on with your life. it wasn’t until now, months later, you feel a spark of recognition
the origins of the sender are not any more clear than they were the first time around ; the invite claims you’re paired to go on some sort of quasi-date with another member, claims it’s so everyone who said they were interested in more events can get to know each other in a more intimate setting than the gala, but otherwise is void of much more explanation. a little off-putting maybe, but the reality of it stares up at you from a perfumed piece of parchment — you’ve already been matched. what are you supposed to do now, be the asshole that stands them up ?
OOC.
the event will take place IC at any time between FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 12TH, and SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 14TH — though, your muses will have received the notice in the mail sometime before this, as well as the contact information for their partners
OOC, the event will start on SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13TH. we’ll give you until the following TUESDAY to plot, plan, and start threads with your writing partners, but we’d like for your starters to be posted by then ! feel free to take as long as you need with the actual completion of the threads, though !
we’ve chosen an event of this kind to promote our anti-bubble rping stance. we want to create and uphold an environment where everyone plots with as many people as possible, that’s why we think randomly paired events like this could have a positive influence on the climate we have here
on another note, especially if your character is in a relationship or aromantic / asexual, there is absolutely no obligation to make the thread romantic in nature. although valentine’s day and lupercalia definitely were, we’re not forcing you to have threads that are similar in nature when you’re not comfortable with such things for whatever reason. the pairings and locations are meant to work more as a framework or jumping point — feel free to make it as platonic, or even antagonistic, as you want, have your pair ditch the location they’re at completely midway through, etc. make the thread your own !
finally, please post any event content under #theikosevent002, including showing off any outfits if you so wish, and any event starters under #theikoseventstarter !
PAIRINGS + LOCATIONS.
minni / helena + new york science centre
parker / shepherd + tour at the museum of modern art
miranda / lucie + area 53 laser tag
percy / yujin + chambers pottery
alex / prim + 5 bar karaoke lounge
rosalie / omar + salsa classes at baila society
harley / devon + tour at the red hook winery
henry / amelie + indoor picnic at the botanical gardens
taeil / kenji + central park zoo
ash / jane + fine dining at coeurs affamés
cass / damien + cozymeal cooking classes
phineas / levi + frames bowling lounge
poppy / chris + hayden planetarium
zelda / stella + go karting at naskart
alice / mackenzie + new york aquarium
mingyu / zak + ice skating at rockefeller centre
willow / forest + pier 25 mini golf
hadrian / hana + board games night at winners corner
katherine / hajun + escape the room nyc
hunter / felipe + two-bit’s retro arcade
astar / azim + murder mystery at the metropolitan museum of art
mei / ara + rock climbing at the central rock gym
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