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whatyadrawin · 2 years

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Crystal Lake Shadows 18+ Only!

Masterlist

Approximately 1, 845 words

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x AMAB character

Warnings: Violence, strong language, strong sexual themes

A/n: I wanted to write a fic with a created character. This fic may not go anywhere as my life gets busy again but I like what I have done here so far and I hope to see it blossom and I hope you all want to see that too.

Chapter 1

A gentle breeze caressed the face of a scruffy looking man as the noon sun shimmered atop his thick black beard while he drove his pickup truck into the town of Crystal Lake. Sergio Lorry came to the town to make minor repairs to a small lodge that was recently bought by a private owner. Sergio was a jack of all trades craftsman who was extremely good at remodeling and repairing homes, he made his living travelling from town to town fixing up older homes and cabins.

The town of Crystal Lake was not well known to him, he grew up in a town a fair distance away called Forest City in Pennsylvania which did not have much of a population but made up for that with friendly townsfolk and gorgeous nature surrounding it. Sergio loved nature so when he got called for this job repairing a cabin on a lake he jumped at the opportunity. The drive was long and a numbness had taken over Sergio’s legs so he was eager to get out and stretch after he parked in front of an apartment complex with a small café nestled on the ground floor around the side; he was given free housing in the apartment building for the duration of his work here and the building looked like it was built in the late 70s with not much upgraded but nothing run down or unkempt. He walked up towards the double doors at the apartment lobby but they were locked “Now how the hell am I supposed to get to where the manager is?” he said. Sergio looked through the glass into the lobby and it was empty, he took out his phone and looked at the email the private buyer had sent him, the name they gave was just ‘Mrs.P’ and no phone number, the last email sent said to go to the apartment manager to get the key and she could be found in the lobby or in the café, Sergio huffed and said to himself “Cripes this better not have been a scam I swear to god” and with that statement he set out to the café lodged in the corner of the building.

The café was named ‘The Golden Apple’ and the inside was painted a warm pale yellow with white trim, it looked clean and the painted white wood chairs and tables added a rustic charm. Sergio walked up to the counter and looked around, there were two customers but he hadn’t seen a server anywhere so he asked the room “Sorry to bug you guys but do you know where the manager to the apartment is?” an older man sitting in the furthest corner of the café looked up at Sergio, his face was tan from the summer sun and his hair was grey and cut short, he began to speak “You aren’t bothering us son, the person you are looking for is Marina, she owns the apartment building and this café” he then looked over toward the kitchen area and yelled “MARINA! THAT NEW CARPENTER IS HERE!”. Sergio looked shocked, he asked the man “I guess word gets around in this town hey?”, the old man replies “Oh well there’s not too many of us left after all the hubbub at the campgrounds” Sergio raised an eyebrow and said “What hubbub? The cabin I’m working on is at the lake, is there something I should know?”, just before the old man could reply a woman’s voice picks up from behind the counter “Sweety don’t worry nothing has been going on around that lake for years and years”. A full-figured woman with unbelievable curves and heavy chest came out through the kitchen doors, her hair was bright red and curly and her light blue dress hugged her body with a clean white half apron cinching her waist; she peered through her glasses at Sergio and smiled “You must be Sergio, I have your apartment key for you in my office just let me get Bob’s pie” she spun around and went back through the doors to the kitchen. The old man sighed and said “Sorry son, I should have introduced myself. My name is Bob Deerling and I own the garage in town, so if you ever need a repair feel free to swing by”. Sergio smiled and took the business card Bob held out to him, a pie appeared under his arm followed up with “Woop just let me squeeze that in past ya there” Marina placed the food in front of Bob from behind Sergio, she then took her apron off and placed it near the register and said “Alright hun just follow me and I will get you all settled with the apartment”

The two walked towards the lobby entrance and Sergio asked “What um… hasn’t happened in years and years at the lake if you don’t mind me asking?” Marina sighed and replied “Well, don’t get freaked out or anything but there was a string of deaths…eh, murders, that occurred in and around the lake campgrounds for a while but the guy was killed and nothing has happened since 2009 so there’s nothing to worry about its very safe here”, Sergio was taken aback, he asked “Who was the killer?” Marina smirked a bit and reluctantly said “Jason Voorhees… now some of the nutty folk who live here think he’s still alive and he’s not! Its to the point where he’s become an urban legend like the sasquatch but he’s dead, HE IS DEAD OK?!” a long pause followed as Marina unlocked the lobby door, once the both of them got inside she began to speak “I’m sorry, its just that the murders have been a black mark on this town and no one ever comes by here anymore, keeping up in this economy is really tough when we have no tourists or hell even residents spending money… so you see its just… just don’t mention any of that crap to anyone in town ok?” Sergio shook his head in agreement and said “That’s fair, I will try to keep it to myself then, thanks for telling me”. Marina walked over to a front desk area and went in the back, unlocked a drawer and grabbed a key, she walked back over to Sergio and said “Here is the key to your door and the key to the lobby door as well, now I know that sounds strange but I just like to lock up when I am not in the apartment building and I expect you to do the same. No one else lives here anymore except me so you can be as loud as you like if you want, I am at the far-end of the hall upstairs if you need me” Sergio nodded and thanked her for the key, she gave a few other bits of information for his stay and promptly headed back to the café.

Sergio went to the truck and grabbed all his belongings and started bringing everything to his new living space, once all the bags were packed inside, he sat on the couch which smelled a bit dusty and he looked around. The apartment was decently sized, a living room with a TV, a full kitchen, a bathroom with a bathtub, an in-suite washer and dryer, and a large bedroom with a queen size bed and everything was fully furnished with mostly modern appliances but 90’s style furniture. Sergio sighed “Well at least it’s all free, if not a bit dusty”. The bathroom didn’t have any soap or towels and the kitchen was missing dish soap, along with a few other little essentials, he hung his head and said aloud “Ah shit I guess I need to go to the store” and with that he put on his shoes and headed down to the truck to get to the store.

The drive wasn’t even necessary since the grocery was just 2 blocks away from the apartment, the store was a small independent grocer which had a gas station right next to it on the same property, Sergio parked in the first stall and went in to start looking for his items. The store seemed so outdated and musty, all the items being new was such a flagrant clash of decades and it was off-putting. Once all the items were grabbed, he went up to the register where a chunky man stood reading a magazine with scantily clad women on the front, his head was shaved almost bald and he was pale and mean looking, like he used to be handsome but age claimed what was left of his youth. Sergio started placing his things on the counter and the man didn’t look up so Sergio cleared his throat, the man looked up at Sergio and said “Oh, sorry didn’t notice ya there lil guy” Sergio thought to himself little guy? I’m taller than him! The man started scanning the items and asked “Are you that carpenter dude whose s’posed to fix the shitty cabin on the lake?” Sergio replied “Yeah I am heading out tomorrow to see the damage” the cashier makes a coy smirk and huffs “Hmpf, I hope you aren’t a pussy” Sergio furrows his brow and says “Excuse me? It’s just a lake I am not scared of wild animals or urban legends” the cashier laughs and raises his eyebrows and says “Uh yeah it’s not the urban legends you need to worry about.” The man was being cryptic and it was getting on Sergio’s nerves, the cashier adds “The camp killer is still alive out there, I’ve fucking seen him, he’s huge and he lurks round the whole perimeter of the grounds there” he looked at Sergio waiting for a response but Sergio just glared, the man said “Well, since you aren’t a pussy, maybe he’ll spare your life haha” Sergio looked at the total on the screen and grabbed some cash and asked “What’s your name?” the man looked up at Sergio and said “Names Robert but you can call me Robbie, I own this store” Sergio started grabbing his items and replied “I’m Sergio, nice to meet you… I think” and headed out, Robbie yelled after him “You come back now y’hear? Hahaahahha!”.

Sergio got back to the apartment and lay on the bed looking up at the white popcorn ceiling that the glow of the sunset reflected onto, small gold flecks in the lumpy ceiling material sparkled and he thought to himself What have I got myself into? The people here are strange as hell and the story about that killer… I can’t believe it’s freaking me out, I am a man! Men aren’t supposed to fear anything… I’m not a fucking pussy… that asshole. The night stole the last ray of light from the sunset and Sergio got himself ready for bed, the day ahead of him was simultaneously frightening and exciting, what if the killer wasn’t dead? I better bring my pistol just in case.

#Jason Voorhees #Jason x male character #Friday the 13th #slasher community #Slasher headcannon #Camp crystal lake #gay fanfiction

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sakamaki-richter · 2 years

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ; 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢

❖ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐦

; his manor is located on the outskirts of kaminashi city, hidden deep within the threshold of it’s forests. the courtyard is large, with various statues, sculpted bushes, and other greenery lining the area. like it’s master, the atmosphere is dark, and ‘green’; it feels ‘swampy’, or like walking into a suffocating forest. to the east (if you are facing the manor) there lies a lake within the midst of a clearing.

𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: the exterior of his manor is loosely based Vitzenburg Castle in Germany. whilst i couldn’t find anything that /exactly/ fit the image i had in mind, this is the closest. The history of the place dates back to the 9th century, though it’s likely that it has been remodelled since then.

; the interior is broken up into two stories, separated by a large staircase. chandeliers light the the entryway, as its layout is someone symmetrical.

; on the bottom story, there lays the kitchen, dining hall, servant’s quarters, and the space richter uses for practicing swordplay. amongst other rooms would be storage closets and guest bathrooms.

; the uppermost story is divided into two wings; the west wing houses rooms such as the library, game room, and recreational living spaces. richter hardly ever goes down past the library though, as he feels no need to. the space feels very mellow, in his opinion.

; the east wing houses guest rooms, his own room, cordelia’s room, as well as his office and study area. a few of the servants may have rooms up here as well, if they’re the ones who come into direct contact with him daily. it’s more efficient this way.

❖ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐢

; his castle is an ancient building, likely dating back to the early 9th century. it is secluded at the edge of Vampiric territory, bordered by miles upon miles of forest. There is a large gap of space separating the castle itself from the rest of the landmass, and can only be accessed via a stone bridge from one side to the other.

𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; The exterior of Richter’s Castle takes inspiration from two Germanic Castles; the first being ‘Eltz Castle’, and the second being ‘Neuschwanstein Castle’. (which is also the building that the castle in Cinderella is based on). Another honourable mention is ‘Cochem Castle’, which is also in Germany.

; the interior is vast, and multi-story. upon entering, you’re greeted with a grand staircase that separates the different floors. the first floor housing the areas of ‘basic necessity’, such as the kitchen, dinning hall, and various storage areas. there are also quarters for ‘lesser’ servants on this floor, as well as the ballroom. whilst the upper floors contain the lords/ladies’ sleeping quarters, the luxury rooms like the library, music room, and recreational sitting quarters. the servants who come into direct contact with richter on a daily basis also have rooms on this floor, given that this is where his study is.

; there are several towers in his castle, some of which are empty and/or used as extra storage space, whilst others may contain a few torture devices, and are intended to be used for locking someone in as punishment.

; like his manor in the human realm, richter’s castle has a dungeon. however the one is this location is much more vast, and filled with more ‘sophisticated’ equipment fit for the home of a vampire lord.

#; 【 RICHTER 】#; character info #sakamaki richter #richter sakamaki #richter sakamaki headcanons #[ how do i write the names of these castles properly. ]

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kimberlyharrisus · 1 month

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vexxerveesvoice · 2 months

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The Kabbalah of Writing: Chapter Two Writing Exercises

As a Jewish writer, I've been wanting to explore more about how to connect my writing to my spiritual and religious practices. As a first step towards this, once a week I will be responding to each of the writing exercises provided in Sherri Mandell's The Kabbalah of Writing. For the sake of being careful of copyright, I will not be posting the questions themselves. I encourage fellow Jewish writers to follow along.

The remodel is finally closing in on its final days, so we've started putting our belongings back into the new kitchen cabinets. This gave me the opportunity to unearth the boxes of my kitchen supplies from my old apartment, which I hadn't seen in almost a year. I gently removed each item, considered whether to keep it, and either re-homed it into its rightful spot in the kitchen or an extra moving box, to be given away. The simple act acknowledged the space as part of our home again, as no longer separate and forbidden.

I marched along underneath the dripping wet evergreens, a rhythmic thump and squelch of wet pine needles resounding from every step. Birds faintly chattered while the din of traffic droned on in the distance and planes rushed by overhead. This little segment of forest, filled with sword ferns and salal, is the farthest from civilization one is likely to get in the county. The trail was filled with the smell of decomposing leaves and ripening blackberries. Fresh, baby-green sprouts of new salal plants budded from the ground alongside purple and yellow wildflowers, huckleberry bushes unseasonably full of ripe fruit, and the occasional European slug.

I carve out a tiny portion of our newly renovated kitchen to serve as a hub for coffee and tea. A portion of myself spread out across a narrow cabinet and shallow drawers, I hoard supplies alongside the beans and leaves themselves. The flavors likely seep into each other - I don't properly store them in separate, airtight tins like you're supposed to - but that's alright. They still taste beautiful.

My body did not allow me to shower last night. I wanted to, desperately. I wanted to wipe off the grime and dried sweat from the day that had passed, to brush the food and plaque from my teeth, but my body would not allow it. Instead, I lay curled over my sheets, doom scrolling through YouTube as headline news items poked my mind from all sides. I could not shower last night and today, I am exhausted. I am distracted and dirty. I want to break through the physical barrier of depression, to breach my head above the waterline of the lake drowning me, but it's difficult with the seaweed curling around my legs and wrenching me downward, down down down into quietness and stillness and understimulation.

COVID-19 is not over. Not for me, not for anyone else who is disabled, not for anyone properly paying attention. COVID-19 is not over, but my town treats life as if it is, breathing into each others' faces and gathering in crowds, encouraging tourists to visit our mediocre-at-best bakery we're somehow famous for. COVID-19 is not over, but I have to pretend it is, despite the severe danger to my health, because otherwise I wouldn't be allowed to participate in community theater or eat with my family. I religiously cover my face, wash my hands, switch out my filters and while I've never gotten sick, it's only a matter of time, and G-d knows how my body will respond (or if I'll survive the encounter).

The most recent time I felt shame was when I had to leave a job over how it was impacting one of my disabilities. I was in my first year of graduate school and couldn't walk without the assistance of forearm crutches from how intensely I felt pain along my spine and in my legs. We still don't know why I was in so much pain. About halfway through the quarter, my pain became so overwhelming that it was no longer safe for me to drive, so I had to transition to online learning and quit my job, since it could not be done remotely. I couldn't give proper warning, nor could I accept the offer my supervisors extended to me to come back later, since I was unsure if or whether my status would improve. It was suffocating. I was living alone in a one-bedroom apartment, unable to care for myself properly, unable to cross a room without a cane. I'd been a captain of my undergraduate color guard team for three years. This felt like my body betraying me. To my former supervisor: I'm so sorry I couldn't give you proper warning. I know it was unprofessional and I know it made your job and the jobs of my peers more difficult. Thank you for being patient and understanding and extending olive branches to me even when you didn't have to. I wish I could have stayed, because I truly enjoyed that position, but my health would only decline over the course of that year. I don't have much else to say, other than I'm sorry. I hope you're doing well. To my shame: I promise you things get better. Your terrible partner breaks up with you, setting you free. You grow roots back in your home town. Your pain improves, although no one is sure why. It is not your fault that your body broke down the way it did, and it's not your fault that you had to leave your job. You did what you could and you were responsible. Thank you for reminding me of what is important, but it's time to let go now. What's happened has happened and it's okay now. From my shame: You were inconsiderate of others in placing your needs above the needs of the whole. Was it really that necessary to leave so suddenly? I have my doubts. We needed to hide after what you did. We still need to hide. You left a mess in your wake and ignored efforts to care for it. I'm not ready to be left behind.

It takes a lot to make me truly angry. Annoyed? Sure, I feel that frequently. But red-hot, fuming angry? That's uncommon. I think what really gets me is when others display a blatant disregard for the health, safety, and wellbeing of those around them. A driver swerving between lanes, a parent ignoring their sobbing child, someone smoking at a bus stop. These examples may not be comparable to each other, but the underlying theme is. In these types of situations, I feel upset for my own sake, but more so I feel upset for others around me also impacted by reckless or damaging behavior. I don't often have the chance to do something about these situations - not that I would have the bravery to approach a stranger about their behavior in the first place - so I'm usually not able to do anything about it or enact change, and that irks me.

I don't use the name my parents gave me. It felt too feminine, enclosing, like it was a sentencing for something that wasn't me. My name is androgynous and fairly uncommon, since it's an unusual shortening of many common names. I won't share much information about my name because I don't want to connect my real name to this account, but it feels like home.

I wish I knew more about boating and being on the water. I live near an environment rich with marine life (human and otherwise), but I rarely have the chance to get out on the water because my family doesn't own a boat and can't afford one. I like the idea of knowing more about space and astrophysics, but I think the reality of learning about those things isn't quite as magical as we often make them out to be, so I'm not sure I'll really learn about them. I'd also love to learn how to use an espresso machine and use syrups to make drinks, because I'm so terrible at it and I feel like it would be easier to write cafe scenes if I knew more about what was going on behind the counter.

I wouldn't say inspiration has played as much a role in my life as spontaneity has. I frequently experience spontaneous desires to do an activity or try something new, which often leads to interesting and well-worth-it places, but inspiration hasn't made as frequent of an appearance in my life.

My favorite quote, which has gotten me through a lot, is "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened," by Dr. Seuss.

I don't dream often, so I'll answer this prompt focusing on a repeating nightmare from my childhood instead. I tend to think of it as a stress dream, because sometimes it will reappear when I'm under significant amounts of stress. The dream begins on an empty suburb street, entirely gray, with perfectly identical manicured lawns and porches and no cars in the driveways. A small girl will knock on one of the front doors, holding a perfect little flower in one of her hands. When the door opens, the scene switches to color as bright, writhing, bloody, uncontrollably pounding viscera seethe across the entire view of the scene. These scenes repeat over and over again for the entire night, or until I wake up. I interpret this now as a symbol for my discomfort with lack of control and fear of the trauma and violence inherent in portions of my home life. I don't think there's much more that can be explored in that dream, to be honest.

#sorry for skipping a week #i forgor #jumblr #writeblr #writing practice

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thecazagroup · 4 months

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houseofremodelinginc · 5 months

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emergencyplumbingil · 6 months

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houseofremodeling9 · 5 months

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jeremymcdo · 8 months

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