#and bread slicer is the best kill | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gayandfairycore · 3 years ago

Text

[Sacrifice] Simon kalivoda x reader

A/n: hi!!! This is my first fic in like four months oh my god! I’m a terrible perfectionist when I wrote so I tend to start wips and never finish them! But I just recently watched fear street for Halloween and fell head over heels for Simon so I decided for my first fic in awhile to be of him! My man deserved better 😭🫶🏻 (this is my first lr second time writing angst? I believe! So apologies of it sucks lol!) I also have to update my master list I don’t write for half the people on there anymore! Also bold and small text means it’s a flashback! And italics mean it’s kinda in simons pov! This is my first fic of Simon so he may be a bit ooc! This is also not proofread

Summary: coming along with the group to save Sam, unspoken feelings arise as it becomes apparent it may be your final night alive. Tho you are determined to not let any of your friends die if you have anything to say about it. Y/n a brash girl decides to fight for love, and her friends lives. Even if it kills her.

Warning: angst, major character death, decapitation, brutal bread slicer, murder, bashing in someone’s skull, OD-ing, drowning, (probably more)

Saving Sam had been the right thing to do you knew this, you voted on not leaving her for dead in the hallway but it didn’t stop the fear of knowing you could be going to your death in a fucking grocery store.

You weren’t even sure how you got mixed up in this, oh wait. No you do remember, you were hanging out with Simon and Kate whilst they babysat doing nothing but talking about stupid shit, with Simon and watching jaws, and sitting in between his legs.

Everything had been fine Until deena had called Kate telling her that sams boyfriend had broken into her house for some dumb prank wearing a skull mask.

No one had expected the same dude in a skull mask to be in the house Kate babysat in, Rummaging through laundry? It was safe to say y’all were freaked.

Honestly none of you were prepared to fight century old murderers you all were along for this ride, but there was no way you’d be hopping off this ride. Not when your friends lives had been in the line, Fuck that.

So here you were standing in a grocery store in bad smelling lost and found clothes, watching as Simon told Sam exactly how to od.

Safe to say you didn’t think you’d watch Simon, your simon, your best friend and crush since diapers teach your other friend how to od on a Friday night. But there’s a first time for everything.

The epi-pens had been bunched in your hands as you listened to simon tell the group when each pile was to be taken.

“You need to take these in order. Now pile one takes the edge off. You’re gonna feel kinda like you’re being fucked by a unicorn!” Simon spurs off his hands gesturing wildly as he smiles at Sam and Deena through his eyelashes

“Pile two is gonna bring your core temp way down, you may feel slightly sick?” He shrugs, a deep serious rasp is in his usually carefree voice.

“Now you need to take a five minute interval between pile two. And pile three. That’s really important, okay?” A deathly serious look takes over his eyes as he stares at Deena and Sam

“Pile three brings you down and out, so you gotta take that “take five” or it’s all gonna go to shit!” Simon instructs his hands gesturing towards the pile rings glistening.

“How many of these do we have?”kate questions gesturing towards you carrying the epi-pens

“Y/n darling pass me the pens” Simon speaks softly, turning towards you, with a toothy grin; before taking them from your grasp lightly

And stating, “Tons like a thousand!”

“Wait? Epi-pens?” Deena asks her eyebrows screwn in confusion

“Epinephrine? Also known as adrenaline. This is what brings her back.” You pipe up determined smile on your face, a proud glint glistens in Simons brown eyes.

“This is Jesus!” He adds shaking the pile of epi-pens.

It was only when you were Smearing sams blood on yourself did you truly feel the fear set in; fear, determination, and anger was all that flowed through you. As you all took different corners in the grocery store a feeling of grief overtaking your heart. As you took the front entrance near The fruit and veg aisle.

Even tho no one had died yet, your old selves would surely have to die if you wanted to survive this. It wasn’t fair, why did you have to lose yourselves,

What did you and your friends ever do to be here today, in this grocery store leading killers away from your other close friend who was meant to be fucking murdered. It wasn’t fair, on anyone.

Century old killers had come to strike again and hurt innocent people, like Simon. He was the sole provider for his whole family, sure he’s a bit of a junkie but it doesn’t mean he should die.

It didn’t mean Kate should die, or josh, or deena, or Sam. No one deserved this not the victims who came before you, or the ones that would come after if you failed. You felt filled with determined to end this. Or die trying.

The fluorescent lights seared a deep blue through the deserted store. Your heavy breathing could be heard as ruby lanes singing surrounded your corner of the grocery store your feet planted on the floor in a crouch of the fruit and veg aisle the cool spray of the water that kept the lettuce wet could be felt on your skin it was oddly refreshing, you’d die wet, and with veggies. Tasteful.

Your forehead felt damp with a mixture is sweat and dew, as ruby’s singing growing louder and louder, your hand gripped your mouth with the strength of whitening knuckles to silence your breathing. As ruby crept closer and closer. Until the singing stopped?

Just as you let out a sigh of relief, the brunette girl had pulled you from your crouched position by your hair, springing up she swing her razor towards your face, knicking your cheek as you felt the sticky red substance leak from your newly acquired cut.

“You bitch!” You exclaimed the pads of your fingers stained a bright red, anger blazed in your eyes, as your fingers tangled in her up do.

Pulling her hair back with enough force to rip a chunk out of her head, the pale girl begin to kick and scratch at you, her razor blade discarded with the shock of her hair being pulled.

Her heels stepping on your converse clad feet, before she whirled her fist back, the sound of her fist colliding with your nose and cheek, her punch was enough to stun you as the bright red blood trickled from your nose, towards your lip, you could taste blood. Bringing your toungue up towards the top of your lips you licked the excess blood leaking from your nose. Breathing heavy your hair messy, and matted.

You Spat the excess blood from the punch into the linoleum flooring you begin to back up, slightly stumbling over your shoes.

In that time ruby had grabbed her razor and started singing, walking slowly towards your retreating figure, the cool leg of a ladder had pressed against your back. Not taking your eyes off of the girl you slipped through the middle in attempt to get away from her.

“Cmon ruby Don’t you know it’s bad luck to walk under a ladder!” You nervously chuckled the brunette just smiled at you. As your eyes searched frantically for anything to help you

a tool box had laid discarded by the maintenance ladder. The yellow rubber of the handle of a hammer caught your eye, like a angled beacon of hope.

“Alright bitch, let’s level the playing field.” You whispered your face hardened with anger as you crouched down for it, your hand almost reaching it.

before you felt your leg being pulled out from under you, as your body hit the linoleum floor with a SMACK! Groaning you turned over to face ruby, something unknown glinted in your e/c eyes. Pity? Anger? Or was it Sexual tension?

“Damn ruby” you smiled “take me to dinner first!” You wheezed out your body had hit the ground with enough force to make you see stars.

As the brunette psychopath smiled at you she brought her razor blade down towards you, whisky you wriggled underneath her weight, the sledge hammer sitting so close but yet so far away from you. Your finger tips only just scraped it, whilst Rubys razor cutt deeply at your arm, and then your stomach, a scream had left your throat as the white hot pain of being stabbed seared within your flesh. The girl had turned her razor blade whilst it had still been in your stomach. Tears leaked from your eyes, as you inhaled sharply stretching just fat enough to grip it by your side.

Your vision dotting with black spots as you closed your eyes and focused on what you could control, you tried to suppress the shock your body was going into by remembering Simon. And where you were and the pain you felt.

Feeling the pain meant you were still alive, focusing on what was happening meant you’d be alive to save Simon.

You refused to die here, in the fruit and veg aisle with a psychopath topping you, and stabbing you repeatedly. You knew what you had to do you had to breathe, as a million thoughts pounded through your skull.

Time it just right y/n-the side of her head -I have to save my friends-I have to save Simon-breathe y/n-I think I’m dying-I’m losing too much blood-fuck being stabbed hurts-

Rubys had tilted her head down, savouring this moment. it was the right time. Whirling the hammer as hard as you could into her skull blood spraying when the force of the hammer collided with her skin as it split the first few layers smashing her skull in the process,the deafening crack of rubys skull echoed throughout the store.

You didn’t even remember the war cry that left your lips as you smashed her. her black blood spluttered against your cheek as the pale girl tumbled off of you.

“Good riddance bitch.” You exclaimed, spitting the blood that got in your mouth on her dead corpse.

your hair messy and tangled,and bruises were sure to start forming on your body, as red pools of blood had stained your shirt, your body aching in protest with your movements adrenaline swirling through you. As you wondered your way further down the store.

Your bloody hammer in your hand, you were in desperate need on a fucking Band-Aid.

Kate’s screams weee the next to quieter the atmosphere of the store with fear, but you couldn’t worry about Kate. You needed pain killers.

Simon heard your screams, the blonde haired boy had known it was you immediately, stifling his sobs he held hope that you would survive.

Until he heard the crack! And then deathly silence. His ears rang with anxiety “oh no, no, no! She can’t be dead, she can’t be.” he found himself thinking at the insinuation of your potential death. Tears welled in his blue eyes as thick spit began to moisten his throat with his stifled sobs

He didn’t care about the chaos around him only you. Kate’s screams had been the next to fill the grocery store. The silence after hers had felt less forgiving.

the sticky substance had cling to you seemingly everywhere, your white band shirt had been sliced and covered in bright red pools of blood. Majority yours.

the sight of your disheveled appearance in a reflection of a fridge at the bottom of the aisle had you double checking it was you, blood covered seemingly every inch of you your adrenaline levels high, despite your desheveled appearance and your wounds you didn’t feel it.

You couldn’t you were running on adrenaline, and your only weapon a god damn hammer.

But you didn’t have much choice you decided, taking a shaky breath and moving further into the store, deena and sams discarded pill bowl was the next thing you saw.

Kates screams went quiet, and your shaky breathing filled your ears as your frantically beating heart slammed against your rib cage. As you crept towards where Kate was stationed.

Your hearing seemingly deafened, when you saw Kate’s carnaged head sheathed through in the bread slicer. A shaky “oh…my…god” left your lips as the souring ting of her blood stained your throat.

And you thought being stabbed was bad.

Every inhale stung with the bitter taste of blood that filled the air, it tasted bitter and stale, as the sound of running could be heard behind you. When both josh and Simon had piled out of two aisles not long after you. Them Too witnessing the carnage body of their friend.

The sight of Kate’s mangled body had stifled the boys “I think I’m gonna puke” Simon whispered, “me too.” You chuckled uncomfortably, simon could’ve sworn he had never turned his head so fast he almost had whiplash

When he saw you it was like everything melted away as Simon saw you, alive and breathing. Simon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Oh fuck- y/n!” Simon exclaimed shakily, when he realised it was infact you, Simons heavy breathing filled your ears as he pulled you into a desperate hug, his pale hands clutching your head and lower back, as you wrapped yours around his back and shoulders Holding on for dear life.

Both of you had been shaking. “Oh my god y/n! Are you okay?!? Whose blood is that?” Simon rambled out, when he pulled back from the embrace.

“It’s mostly mine, but don’t worry I got a few good hits on her too.”

“Mostly yours?!?” He exclaimed giving you a once over “oh my god” he was so excited to see you, he didn’t even assume that you could be hurt. His fearful brown eyes turned to look at you it was enough to break your heart.

As you brought him into another embrace, inhaling sharply, when you realised

Your sledgehammer had been discarded next to you during your reunion, and the sight of a rapidly approaching Tommy slater was gonna put a damper on things, it was apparent time was of the essence.

So you did the only thing you could do. You pushed Simon out of the way with all of your might, watching the blonde boy slide away from you, his horrified expression sending a sharp stab to your heart.

Or that might’ve been Tommy’s axe that was planted in your shoulder, yours ears rushed with blood, your heart beating frantically in your chest, your friends had called out your name as your knees hit the linoleum with bruising force.

A delayed scream ripped from you, as Tommy’s axe sucured itself in your shoulder, you called out to your friends, your head staring up at Tommy’s bagged head anger apparent in your eyes as you brought yourself to your feet calling to your friends.

“GO RUN!” Before pain stakenly slowly pulling his axe from you left hand shoulder flipping it over in your right hand you looked Tommy right in his bagged face where his eyes should be and whispered a

“Fuck you.” Before swinging his own axe into his neck successfully decapitating him, his body cluttered to the floor as you stared at his flannel clad headless body before turning towards the way simon went.

Simons choked sobs had been enough to make you start crying more then you already were, as the blonde boy had began muttering to himself “holy shit, holy shit, holy shit” as he was sitting with his knees to his chest in an aisle fully believing he had just sealed the death of the girl he had loved.

“Si?” You spoke from the top of the aisle, the fluorescent lights made you look stunning, the blue and pink of the lights framed you as if you were an Angel.

“Y/n?!?” Simon called out his tearful eyes glistened in the lights, Simon was just happy to see you made it out from the clutches of Tommy, he didn’t care you were covered head to toe in blood, h/c knotted, and bleeding profusely. He still thought you looked beautiful leaning your bleeding body on the axe that could’ve killed you.

He pulled himself to his feet, running over to you, and pulling you into his arms, before sliding down to the floor, your bloody body being moved gently sideways in his lap.

“You-you saved me?” And “oh god why would you do that?!?” He whispered softly as he held your cheeks with such gentleness as he rocked you both, it felt safe being in simons grip.

Sitting in his lap had felt like everything would be okay. Like you finally didn’t need to fight anymore. Like he was going to fight for you. Simons other hand had been frantically putting pressure on your shoulder wound.

You were losing too much blood, your head felt woozy, and your eyelids had felt heavier then they ever were, your breathing had begun to shallow. Simon prayed that deena had finally killed Sam and this was all over.

And luckily for him one of those were true, Deena had succeeded in killing Sam, and bringing her back. And an ambulance and police cars had been dispatched.

With every rock of your body simon had held you with increasing tightness it was like he was forcefully holding ro this earth, for just a minute more.

He felt as if his prayers went unanswered when you gripped his pale hand he held to your face and whispered

“simon…si-“

“No! no, don’t speak save your strength” simon whispered gripping your blood covered hand.

“Simon-” Your grip, tightened.

“-im d-dying, I want you to have this.”

Simon had felt like he had just been stabbed you couldn’t be dying! How could you just accept that you were dying?

Wheezing as you gripped the cool silver of your locket, tearing it from your chest, your chest rattling with each breath.

“Si I want you, t-to have it.”

your eyes drooped before lazily staring up at him through your eyelashes.

Letting go of his hand on your cheek you Brough your hand to his cheek before smiling up at him your teeth covered in blood, your body groaning in protest as you begin to move your head forward to place a lazy kiss on his lips.

Slumping back slowly to your previous position in his arms blood began to trickle from your mouth as you choked out a

“Oh si- p-please don’t cry…”

He didn’t even realise he had been crying.

As Your hand shakily held his cheek throughout your love confession placing a bloody hand cheek on his pale skin, you attempted to smile a bloody smile.

“Remember…I’ll always…be… with you-“

“I love you”

Before your grip on his cheek loosened, falling to the floor limply, before…nothing? The grocery store grew silent, It was silence for the last time that night. There was no sound of your breathing, or his friends screams, or the sound of splashing water or the sound of shoes running on linoleum, only his own choked sobs.

“Y/n? Y/n please answer me” He cried wiping his cheeks of his tears your blood staining his hands as you lightly smacks your face.

“Cmon y/n” smack! “wake up!” Smack!

“Please y/n…” simon muttered in defeat, his sobs loud enough to alert his friends what had happened.

“Please don’t leave me” he cried his grip tightly holding your cooling cheeks your head lulling to the side limply with any movement.

You had looked so peaceful in his arms, your eyes closed, a ghost of a smile on your face, it was apparent you had no regrets.

You were prepared to die for your friends, and die you did, you were brave in life, and braver in death.

Though it didn’t stop simons distraught thoughts to cloud his judgement, he was looking for someone to blame, was it Sams fault? She disturbed the witch, was it deenas? For asking you all to save Sam sacrificing yourselves in the process? Was it’s Kate’s? For being so sure that this plan would work? was it Josh’s? For telling us about Sarah fier, or was it his own. For bringing you here and not turning you away? Telling you to run for the hills and never look back? Or was it your fault? For pushing him out of the way. Simon knew it was wrong but be blamed every single person there.

None so much as he blamed himself, clutching the locket he gave you it reminded him of the time you told him that you’d never take it off, you’d rather have died then taken off the locket.

The chilly night air of the park had bitten your skin as you sat on an old park bench, wrapping your arms around your shoulders and attempting to rub out the goose bumps that had begun to form

Checking your watch every two minutes “god I swear! If simons left me out here in the cold I’ll kill him.”

You spoke staring up into the stars angrily, kicking your foot off of the park bench and jumping down you decided to start your walk home, in the cold, dark night.

In shady side, alone. Yep you were definitely gonna kill him. You had made your way half way down the path near the cover of trees before you heard hurried footsteps and heavy breathing.

As they wheezed out an exhausted “y/n!” Before yelling again a little louder, “y/n!” You knew it was Simon but you were still a little mad at him for making you wait thirty minutes in the cold alone at night so you decided to you with him.

“HELP SIMON!” You yelled out mustering hopefully enough faux fear to fool Simon that you were actually in trouble before you let out another blood curdling scream.

“Oh god y/n?!?” Simon called out running in your general direction, stifling a chuckle as you hid yourself behind a tree, laughing at simons scared expressions.

You actually started to feel a bit bad when he called out for the 3rd time in a row voice wavering as he did so, so you knew it was time to throw in the towel and come clean.

Jumping out at simons turned figure shit eating grin on your face at the scream he let out “holy shit! You should’ve seen your face!”

“Oh haha, very funny y/n! I see how it is” Simon sulked sitting down on the dew covered grass breathing heavily, hands on his knees.

“Oh come on! You can’t really be upset?” You asked, planting yourself next to him on the grass, kicking his leg with your leg.

Truth be told he wasn’t upset, he was just relieved that you were okay, and just scared about what he felt when he didn’t see you at the park bench.

“Yes I’m upset! I thought something happened to you!” He exclaimed shaking his head, chuckling at something that popped into his head.

“Whatre you laughing at?”you asked, smiling wildly before placing a hand under your chin and smiling cheekily “My devilish good looks?”

Simon scoffed, “pfft- no! They are no laughing matter!” He said kicking your shoe clad foot lightly “but what I was laughing at was if you ever did get attacked? Can you imagine that? God they’d go crying back to their mamas if they ever faced you!”

“You’re a kicker!” Simon exclaimed toothy grin on his face as you let out a mock gasp “ah! I am not!”

“You so are!”

“Am not!” You pushed

Simon smiled “Are too”

“Am not!” You frowned pulling up some grass and throwing it at him

“Are too!” He replied “but I love ya anyway”

“Oh shut up! You blushed

“what did you want anyway? You called me to the park at the middle of the night and then left me for 30 minutes!”you spoke turning to look at the blonde boy

“Ah! Right, I wanted to give you this.” He replied looking suddenly bashful as he searched his pockets for something.

“I uh…think I lost it when I was looking for you?” Simon spoke scratching the back of his neck as he searched his pant pockets coming up empty handed aside from a button, a stick of gum, and a tissue.

“Simon!” You exclaimed in exasperation“what was it anyway?”

“It was uh, it was a locket!“ a blush littering simons cheeks as he grinned an embarrassed smile his tooth gap on full display.

“Awww Simon, That’s so sweet. thank you! If we ever find it I promise I’ll never take it off!”

Both you and Simon spent three hours in that park in the middle of the night searching for your locket, no flashlights, just the light of the moon.

It didn’t matter if you both caught a cold a couple of days later, both you and Simon had spent hours together searching, you didn’t find it.

If Simon was being honest majority of the time he was just looking at you, in the moonlight, your hair falling in your face, as you chuckled at how dumb this whole thing was.

“Hey y/n why don’t we just call it a night and go back to yours?maybe watch a movie if something?” The blonde boy asked slightly disheartened by your disappointed expression

“Aww okay!” You called back hands on your hips and frown on your face, as both you and Simon walked back to your house, the warmth of the pretty much empty house was already better as you both snuck back into your room turning on a vhs of some random movie you had throwing off your shoes and getting under your covers

Pulling Simon down with you, as you laid your head on his chest, at first the boy didn’t know what to do his hands stayed away from you until you looked up through your droopy eyes

“What…areee you waiting for? Put your arms round me” you slurred sleepily Simon brought his arms to rest around your midriff as he called out your name

“Y/n?”

“Mm”

“I actually didn’t lose the necklace…”

“Hmm then Why did we spend hours looking for it?” You asked your head still planted firmly on his chest, eyes closed on the verge of sleep

“I just didn’t want the night to end…”

“I didn’t want it to end ‘ither, god I love you…” you yawned out giving in to the bliss of sleep

Simon froze at your words his eyes blowing wide, he just pulled you more into him holding you close to his body.

“I love you too.” He smiled placing a kiss on top of your head “I love you too…”

The memory just made him want to cry over and over again.

Until the red and blue lights off the ambulance and cop cars arrived, his tears shone in the reflection of the lights as he stifled his sobs, his hands gripping your body tighter as the paramedics piled in.

he wouldn’t let go of your body, clinging desperately too you. His friends hands on his shoulders were the only thing that got him to let go. Even tho he physically gave you over, your weight felt like it was still there, choking him.

Joshs face has been watching Simon his hand on his shoulder concern clear in his features “simon…”

Simons red and blotchy face wet with tears glanced up at him

“she’s dead, josh.” His voice hardening anger and despair setting into his voice as he continued;

“she’s dead because of me…”

#simon kalivoda x reader #fear street #fear street 1994 #fear street fanfic #fear street x reader #simon kalivoda #fear street simon #simon kalivoda x fem reader #fear street 1666 #fear street 1978

471 notes · View notes

the-real-things-tournament · 2 years ago

Text

0.5mm Pencil Lead

2002 Honda Civic

320 Pack Glitter Gel Pens

A Blunt

A Candle That Smells Like Fragrant Evergreens

A Copy of "The Book Thief" (2005) by Markus Zusak

A Daisychain

A DVD Copy of Over the Hedge (2006)

A Train

Ace of Spades Playing Card

Adderall

Adipose Plushie

Adorable Cow Creamer

Airpods

An Innumerable Amount of Lost DS Styli

Animal Shaped Rubber Bands

AP French Exam Packet

Argon (The Element)

Aviator Goggles

Baguette Body Pillow

Battery

Bead Maze

Beaded Curtain

Beanbag Chair

Bed

Beehive

Best Rock

Big Drinking Fountain

Black Out Curtains

Blanket

Blue Jeans

Blåhaj/Ikea Shark

Bread

Bright Orange VHS for the Rugrats Movie

Broken Alarm Clock

Bubble Toy

Bucket

Bur Oak Tree

Buttons (for clothes)

Can of Beans

Cast Iron Pan

Cat Collar With Bell

Chalk Boards

Cheese Grater

Chew Necklace

Chicxulub Impactor

Claw Hairclip

Clip-On Earrings

Clock

Coconut Broom

Colored Fairy Lights

Comically Oversized Lollypop

Construction Cone

Contraception

Crane Machine

Crayons

Dead Baby Possum Killed by Chihuahua (RIP)

Digivice V-pet

Dildo

Dirigible

Dirty Glass Bottle You Find In The Woods

Disinfecting Wipes

Dice

Dragon Ball Z Volume 4 (Manga Paperback)

Drinking Bird Desk Toy

Earth

Egg Slicer

Elementary School Yearbook

Empty Pizza Box

Every Basket

Every Knife

Eye Mug From a School Ceramics Sale

Fake Dictionary Lockbox

Fancy Showerhead

Fantasia 2000 VHS Tape

Fencing Mask

Ferrofluid

Finger Cymbals

Finger Cymbols

Fingerless Gloves (made of wool)

Flower Bush By The Pavement On The Street

Four Seasons Puzzle

Froggy Chair

Furby

Garden Gloves With Claws

Garlic

Gendang

Generic Paw Of A Monkey

Geode

Glow in the Dark Celing Stars

Glow Stick Liquid

"god i wish that were me" Screenshot

Golden Acorn Statue

Googly Eyes

Guitar

Half An Onion

Halloween Skeleton Decoration

Hand Mixer From The '60s

Haunted Callie Calamari Doll That Drinks All Your Pepsi and Calls You a Bitch

Heart-Shaped Glasses

Holly the Dragon Beanie Boo

Homemade Hand Sanitizer

Hurdy Gurdy

Ice Cube

Ice Maker

Japanese 5 Yen Coin

Kids Watercolor Set

Kitchen Sink

Knockoff Garfield Plush

Knäckebröd

La Croix Sparkling Water Pamplemousse

Late Night Infomercials

Lavender Scented Candle

LEGO Spring 2007 Catalog

Lightning McQueen Crocs

Lindt Gold Bunny

Lint Roller

Lip Smackers Watermelon Chapstick

LNER Peppercorn Class A1 60163 Tornado

Lobster Ornament

Loch and Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster Ladles (one solid, one with strainer holes)

Loofah

Lun-Class Ekranoplan

Mammatus Cloud

Manatea Tea Infuser

Meat Cleaver

Meat Tenderizer

Mechanical Pencil

Microscope

Microwave

Mini Cuban Flag on Plant

Mini Fan

Monopoly Dog Piece

Mop

NA Mazda Miata (Specifically With Googly Eyes)

Native American Fire Opal Blade

Nebula

Nokia Phone 3310 (2000)

Occlupanids

Old Faithful

One Crouton

One Flavor Blasted Cheddar Goldfish

Onion Chopper/Mini Food Processer

Opalized Fossil

Oumuamua

Our Sun

Paint Tube

Palm Leaf Rose

Paper Crown

Paper Leaves

Paracetamol Tablet

Pencil

Pizza

Plastic Lightsaber

Plastic Play Food Set

Polly Pocket Website (circa 2005)

Popstar Microphone

Potato

"Previously on X-Men" (YouTube Video)

Rainbow Desk Lamp Christmas Gifted By Aunt

Rainbow Pride Flag

Red Bouncy Ball

Rice

Rocking Horse

Roller Skates

Rounde (Sheep Plush Adored by Friend Group)

Rubik's Cube

Russian Nesting Doll

Salt and Vinegar Chips

Sand-Filled Frog Toy Named Floppy

School Chair Attached To Desk

Screwdriver

Seattle Space Needle

Seki Edge Nail Clippers

Sewing Pin

Sharpie

Shoe Insoles

Shoelaces (From The President)

Silver Hoop Earrings

Simply Southern T-Shirt

Single Macaroni Noodle

Siren Percussion Instrument

Slap Bracelets

Sliced Bread

Slinky

Slip N' Slide

Slotted Spoon

Snowman Headband

Solar Eclipse Sunglasses

Soviet-Era Apartment Complex

Spamton Plush

Sparkly DND Dice That Look Like They Should Be Edible But Aren't

Spoon

Squirmles

Squishmallows

Squishy Water Tube Toy

Stained Glass

Stand-Up Bass

Starbucks Coffee Cup

Steel/Metal Pipe

Stick (From the Ground)

Stop Sign

Stuffed Animals

Styrofoam

Subway Employee Hat

Swiffer

Tamagotchi

The Bible

The Demon Core

The Entirely Of Wikipedia Printed Out

The Giant Canadian Rubber Duck

The International Space Station

The Internet

The Kaaba

The Milky Way

The Mona Lisa

The Moon

The Spinx

The Statue Of The Shoe That Almost Hit George Bush

The Tiny Jack Hiding In The Wall Of My Trunk For When I Have A Flat Tire

The Transistor

The Voynich Manuscript

The Wheel

The World Trade Center (WTC)

The Zener Diode

Theremin

TI-84 Graphing Calculator

Tofu

Tom Scott's Best Thing Survey

Torn Apart Skunk Dog Toy

Trans Flag

Tumblr Anon Hatemail

Tungsten Cube

Two Paper Cockatiels On A Wire Stand On My Desk

Umbrella Hat

Unicorn Pillow Pet

Vicks Vaprorub

Vincent Van Gogh's Sunflowers Painting

Vintage Railway Poster

Walkable City

Water

Water Bottle

Water Snake Wiggler

White Boards

White Out

Wind Chime

Wings of Fire Slightly Used Coloring Book

Wireless Headphones

Working McDonalds Ice Cream Machine

www.hasthelargehadroncolliderdestroyedtheworldyet.com

Xbox 360

Yoga Ball

Yu-Gi-Oh Cards

Zipper

Ōdachi

#info stuff #prep stuff #the real things tournament

9 notes · View notes

mayhemcj · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet Jane - Kate Schmidt x GN Reader

Anonymous asked:

Saw your recent post and that you write for fear street characters (especially Kate)

Since there isn’t one Kate x male reader one shot - at least I haven’t found any - please write one where R is kinda muscular so he saves Kate from skull mask and the slicer

My bisexual heart beats for Kate and Tommy thanks

-----------------------------------------

Fuck y’all Simon lives in this too. It’s MY fix-it fic and you’re gonna read it.

Reader sort of takes Josh’s role, atleast with the relationship with Kate

Don’t think I’ve wrote action scenes like this before so forgive me if it’s not great or drawn out. Also, I didn't really refer to the reader as masculine or feminine or anything so I hope it's okay for any reader!

Thank you anon! And thank you for reading.

WARNINGS: Quite a bit a violence, blood, pills, talk of k*lling someone, overall pretty graphic - read with caution

---------------------------------------------------

Never thought agreeing to help babysit would lead to this, but hey, gotta take chances when it comes to hanging out with Kate, eh? Not that you thought undead killers would come after you and your friends, of course.

Needless to say, tonight sucked (besides maybe kissing Kate). You thought you were finally free after blowing up 3 assholes in the school bathroom, but their actual flesh seemed to pull off the walls and form into people again. You all locked yourselves in a nearby classroom, and after almost sacrificing Sam for your own sakes, you and Josh eventually brainstormed into the second best idea you had tonight; Sacrifice Sam again (sort of).

You all sprinted to the convenience store that Simon worked at, that was thankfully nearby, and started to set up your brilliant plan: Kill Sam Fraser. Sort of.

You planned out everything, to the pills, the blood, covering the exits, and you started to set up.

You guessed you were so caught up in getting everything perfect, that you didn’t realize the real predicament you were in until Kate was smearing Sam’s blood on your chest.

“Uh.. Kate?”

“Yeah?” She asked, finishing up the X on your front.

“What if.. What if we don’t.. Make it?” You spoke quietly.

She dropped her hands and looked up to you, holding your cheeks and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“We’re not gonna die, okay? I’ll make sure of it.” She pressed your foreheads together for a few seconds, then stood straight. “Now go cover those exits.”

She walked off as Simon walked towards you, smirking and patting your shoulder.

There were only 3 killers, atleast that were properly after you, so not everyone would end up with a killer, right? You couldn’t tell if you wanted to come across one, or if you wanted the others to deal with them. Certainly a moral dilemma. Obviously you didn’t want anyone to die in this, but fuck, it was scary.

After watching your assigned exit for a bit, you started to hear noises that you assumed weren’t your friends.

That was when you heard Deena scream, followed by a flash of light and Kate’s voice.

You run to the end of your aisle, and see Skull Mask on fire and Kate running off the other way. You took that as a sign to run back to where you were and looking around the aisle, anything that could possibly be used as a weapon.

You tried to think but heard Kate scream, and all thought except keeping her safe left your head.

You sprint to the bakery/deli, and see Skull choking out Kate.

You launch over the counter and onto the killer’s back, holding your arm around his throat.

He dropped his knife and Kate, leaving her coughing on the ground.

He tries to pull you off, slamming you against walls and counters, but you don’t let go. All you saw was red.

You didn’t know how, you couldn’t really see, but he somehow got his knife back into his hand.

He tried to cut your arm to get you off, which he succeeded in cutting you, but you still held on.

You groaned as he hit your back on the edge of the counter. He leaned back on you, pressing you back onto the edge. You almost let go when you felt him go limp as Kate screamed, black blood leaking onto your chest.

Once Kate had caught her breath, she got up and grabbed a nearby bread knife and put it through his forehead.

You hesitantly let go and watched his body fall in front of you, looking up to see Kate, also splattered in black blood.

“Come on, we gotta go!” Kate whisper-yelled.

You didn’t say a word as you hopped back over the counter, pulling her over with you afterwards. You grabbed her hand, rushing around the back of the store to look for Simon and Josh.

They both came out separate ends of the aisles, seeing you both and running towards you.

When you realized the Nightwing Killer was right behind Simon, you pushed everyone to run towards where Sam and Deena were, but they weren’t there. You were cornered.

Nightwing had turned around to your group, you could hear Ruby around the corner, and you saw Skull after who you assumed to be Sam and Deena. You stood in front of your group, Kate right behind you.

You shut your eyes, but could still see the dim store lights flicker on you. You opened your eyes, all the killers gone.

Sam died.

---------------------------------------------

Sorry if this seemed.. Rushed? I guess that’s how action scenes go in my head, or maybe I just couldn’t think of anything else. Either way I hope you enjoyed!

Pt. 2 perhaps?

#kate schmidt x reader #kate schmidt x male reader

59 notes · View notes

shewholovestoread · 4 years ago

Text

Fear Street Trilogy Review

Beware, spoilers ahead.

I love horror movies but good horror movies are so hard to come by. Fear Street grabbed my attention as soon as they released the first trailer, it looked like a call-back to the slasher films of old, back when they were still good. And the best part was the apparent presence of lesbians, count me in!

Fear Street is based on the books by the same name by R. L. Stine, a lot of us remember Stine for another horror classic, Goosebumps. The Fear Street novels were aimed at older audiences and were way more bloody than Goosebumps- lots of teenagers dying. The films don’t adapt any particular book but rather the tone and rough setting and I think that works to its advantage.

The Setting:

Fear Street is based on the fictional town of Shadyside, the poorer and more unfortunate twin of its sister-town Sunnyside. Sunnyside is sunny, wealthy and where nothing bad ever happens. Shadyside in contrast is poorer, the homes more run-down and where, every few years, some resident snaps and goes on a murderous rampage, killing their own friends, family or whoever they can get their hands on. There are those who believe that Shadyside is cursed by Sarah Fier, a witch who was hanged in the 1600s when she cut off her hand and used it to curse the town.

Fear Street Part 1:

1994 functions like the introduction and set-up for the trilogy. It introduces us to the characters, Deena (Kiana Madeira), Sam (Olivia Scott Welch), Josh (Benjamin Flores Jr.), Kate (Julia Rehwald) and Simon (Fred Hechinger). They unwittingly trigger the curse when they stumble across the bones of Sarah Fiers, soon killers are chasing them, killing-machines powered by the curse and who can’t be killed. Deena, Sam, Josh, Kate and Simon have to put aside their differences and work together to survive the night.

Fear Street Part 2: 1978

1978 opens with the survivors of 1994 going to C. Berman (Gillian Jacobs), the lone survivor of the Camp Nightwing massacre. It provides insight into the massacre that saw dozens of Shadyside kids being killed. 1978 takes us back to the day leading up to the bloody night. We meet the Berman sisters, Ziggy and Cindy (Sadie Sink and Emily Rudd respectively), Alice (Ryan Simpkins) and Tommy (McCabe Syle) When an axe-wielding murderer starts butchering the camp residents, Cindy and Alice, while trying to escape, stumble into the cave system that runs under the camp and discover Sarah’s hand and that the only way to break the curse is to reunite the hand with her body. However, they are unable to break the curse when they realise that the body is not buried where they thought it would be. Alice, Cindy and Ziggy are killed by the cursed murderers with only Ziggy being revived thus being labeled the lone survivor. In the present day, Deena and Josh dig out the hand from where Ziggy and Cindy left it, when Deena reunites the hand with the body, she sees visions of Sarah Fiers, leading us into the third and final film.

Fear Street Part 3: 1666

1666, the year it all started. We see the events play out leading up to the hanging. Deena is inside Sarah’s body, seeing and experiencing her life as if it were own. We learn that it was never Sarah’s curse, but in fact it was the Goodes who had made a deal with the devil, securing power for themselves (their descendants are the mayor and sheriff in 1994) Sarah Fiers was just the scapegoat. Every time someone saw a vision of Sarah, she was trying to show them the truth and un-dead killers hunted them to keep them from exposing it.

The films work individually but their impact really hits home once you’ve watched all 3. Leigh Janiak crafts such an intricate story and links 3 time periods, weaving them through each other seamlessly. With 3 films, she also has the time to invest in these different time periods and the characters that inhabit them.

The story, both in terms of individual films as well as the trilogy as a whole, is engaging and engrossing. It keeps the audience on their toes and the edge of their seats, waiting and dreading as the bodies pile up. Janiak also grounds the story so that it feels real even as the characters are fighting off un-dead killers, adding to the nail-biting tension.

There’s plenty to admire for a horror film buff, from the Scream reference in 1994, to Friday the 13th in 1978 and The Witch (or VVitch) in 1666. There’s also a good amount of gore to be found along with some really inventive ways of killing, who knew bread cutters/slicers could be so menacing.

There’s so much attention to detail in terms of costume and production design that you really feel like you’re in 1994, 1978 or even 1666. All of these work to draw you in as the viewer, adding to the authenticity on screen. The clothes and places feel lived-in. The song choices are amazing with popular hits from 1994 and 1978, the soundtrack definitely elevates the visuals. The original score in 1666 was absolutely gorgeous, especially Deena and Sam’s theme.

The sequence of the films with 1994 being the first, followed by 1978 and finally 1666 was a great choice with each film revealing a little more of the puzzle till all the pieces are revealed in 1666. It keeps the tension alive and keeps the characters and the audience constantly guessing. It also allows Janiak to sprinkle just enough subtle clues that become apparent when rewatching the films.

The characters are one of the best things in the trilogy, they are so well written, and I mean that for almost all of the main cast which is rare. One of the best things that Janiak does is repeat actors, especially the principle cast. For instance, a lot of actors we see in 1994 and 1978 appear in 1666 playing different roles but with a similar dynamic. It helps tell the story without worrying about too many new faces and worrying about whether or not the audience will be able to keep track of them. The return of old faces also ensures that the audience is already a little invested in them and their well-being.

Small side-note: I really appreciated that there was no sexual violence. It always worries me when I start a horror show/film and it was such a relief that they did not go that route. There is a lot of violence and a lot of people and kids die but it’s always just slightly campy enough that keeps it from being genuinely disturbing.

One of the things that always irk me with slasher films (especially the old ones) are how white they were, no characters of colour and if there were any, they always died. There were also no queer characters. Fear Street undoes that beautifully, all of our main characters are outsiders, they are people of colour, they are queer. In another film, they would have been nameless characters, among the first to die. Here they are the heroes. I loved all of them and I hated that Alice, Kate and Simon died, to be honest, I expected the core group to survive, Kate especially.

Fear Street is also unapologetically feminist and Janiak does this without it being too obvious. The central conflicts in the story are between women (sister/ friends/ ex-girlfriends) but they also band together and fight for each other. It’s worth noting that most of the core relationships are between women (Deena-Sam, Ziggy-Cindy-Alice, Sarah-Hannah) and those are not coincidences.

I loved how gay this trilogy was, Deena and Sam’s love for each other was the driving force and was at the heart of the story. Even in 1666, Sarah’s crime was not so much witchcraft as it was daring to love someone you’re not supposed to and fighting back against the proprietary nature of the men who sought to control them. Sarah and Hannah loved each other fiercely and we see that same love reflected hundreds of years later in Deena and Sam who fight for each other relentlessly. I also appreciated that Deena and Sam were exes instead of a new relationship. It meant that they already had history, they shared a familiarity and comfort with each other that a new relationship would have had to build onscreen.

The Fear Street Trilogy is one of the best horror trilogies I’ve seen in a while, each film is consistently great and delivers gore and violence coupled with immense heart. It has one of the best queer relationships I’ve seen on screen and spoiler alert, they get a happy ending. I’m sick and tired of lesbian women dying or separating because of realism. Damn realism, give me happy women loving women and who live through their traumatic ordeal. Watch Fear Street for them if for nothing else. Now excuse me as I prepare to rewatch the trilogy.

49 notes · View notes

steveharrington · 4 years ago

Text

i did watch the final fear street installment tonight and it was indeed better than the first two. however. i’m still a hater 💘 here’s my thoughts…..i Love the concept. the idea of having horror villains from every decade to explore the history of horror tropes is sooooooo fucking sick. and the idea of a town being “cursed” as a metaphor for privilege is also great! but the execution of both was so bad it was like painful for me because it could’ve been so good. the villains are barely given any backstory beyond like quick sentence-long recaps of their crimes aside from tommy and there’s really no fun homage being paid to the decades of horror they represent. like yeah i get it he’s a 70’s summer camp slasher but it was done in The most boring way possible and the camp is barely featured in part two because half of it takes place….underground…..and aside from the bread slicer there are zero fun kills!! the sunnyvale vs shadyside thing could’ve been cool if they didn’t bash you over the head with it during every character interaction for the entire first two parts and then have it culminate in a weak ass speech about shadysiders suffering because they’re “the weirdos” which totally dilutes the seriousness of the message they’re trying to convey. and i knowwwwww people like it because it’s “camp” but i’m here to say sometimes things just aren’t well done and nowadays they’re banking off people ignoring that because they use fun lighting and common tropes that will let them get away with it on the basis of camp despite not having earned that title !!!!!!!! anyways. the best part of this series is when cindy brings a burlap sack over to the shelf unthinkingly and it’s later what tommy grabs as his mask. THAT was fucking cool

12 notes · View notes

heloisedaphnebrightmore · 5 years ago

Text

The Unknown - Chapter 2. First day [Minho x Reader]

Title: The Unknown - Chapter 2. First day ➔ Chapter 3. Here! Pairing: Minho x Female!Reader Published: 4 June, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore The Unknown Masterlist | Masterlists

Newt was showing me around the Glade slowly explaining each of the areas that mattered. We started off at the Homestead. He explained they mostly slept in the hammocks hanging from the wooden ceiling providing a roof, but they did have some private rooms built where the privileged people were sleeping such as the Keepers or in other worlds leaders and the injured ones if there have been any. He also said that as I was the only girl I will be given a room for myself. I felt a bit relieved, but I didn't want to seem like I wanted special treatment.

Next up we walked to the Med hut, where 2 boys were working on another who had a long cut going across his arm. They didn't even realise our presence as they worked on cleaning the injured boy's wounds. Newt explained to me that everyone has a job around the Glade and I would also be given one, however first they would let me try myself in each to decide which one I felt most comfortable with. Through out the whole tour I just kept humming and nodding in agreement to show that I was listening.

We went to check on the Slicers next but I quickly turned around and walked off leaving Newt behind. He chuckled at my run away attempt and lead me the the Builders. I just saw a bunch of guys working on some kind of a wooden model that I couldn't recognise, but I didn't feel comfortable standing around any longer. A guy with weird looking eyebrows walked up to us and looked up and down on me with disgust clearly displayed on his face.

"What is this?" He asked as if I wasn't even a human being.

"This?" I asked back. He nodded. "This is called a girl. I'm not a subject of some kind so if you would like to call me something, then 'she' would be the correct word." I replied with anger building up in my body.

"Nah, I'm good. I'm not interested in taking you into account as any more than 'this'." He shrugged and walked off.

"Is everyone annoying here or I'm just getting the best out of people?" I turned to Newt who just chuckled at me.

"Slim it girl, they will soon warm up to you." He kept chuckling.

"Yeah, looks like it." I said sarcastically and followed him to our next station.

Newt showed me the Council Hall, and then the Fields where he instructed some of the guys of the work they were doing. Then we continued to the wall where he explained to me briefly about all the names they had to carve in and how I would be also a part of it soon. We walked over to our next and last part, the Kitchen.

We stood in front of the kitchen counter or food shack as he called it. As I felt the smell of food coming out, my stomach rumbled. Newt laughed at the hunger my body very clearly reminded us of, and asked the dark skinned boy standing behind the counter to give us some food he had left from breakfast. Newt took two plates and lead me to one of the tables.

I kept looking towards the opening of the concrete walls while I forgot to focus on my food. I was wondering what could have been behind it and I felt like walking in there. But it seemed for some reason no-one went in or came out. It felt strange. I put another piece of bread into my mouth, but I didn't take my eyes of the massive walls surrounding the Glade.

"Why are you looking that way?" He asked pulling me out of my daze.

"I want to see what's behind it." I stated still keeping my eyes on the entrance.

"No!" He said firmly. I looked at him not understanding the situation. "Let me clear something up for you, before you even start doing anything around here. We have three rules you have to keep. Breaking them comes with very serious consequences. First of all Never go outside the Glade, unless you're a Runner. Only Runners know how to, when to and what to do when it comes to the area behind the walls. Secondly Never hurt another Glader. We have to trust each other and if you attack someone, that trust is lost. Not just between you, but it could affect the rest of the group. And last but not least, Everyone does their part. No slacking is accepted. Are we clear on the rules?" I looked at him still trying to process the situation. I kind of agreed with some of the things he said, but the the place behind the walls was way too inviting to explore.

"I mean sure, partly." I replied and didn't take my eyes off the concrete walls.

"Bloody hell, I have a feeling you are going to get yourself killed." He said and I chuckled at him.

"By what?" I asked and his face suddenly turned serious.

"I'm not sure I should be talking about that to a greenie." He shook his head.

"Well you already started it, so don't back off now." I pushed him. I wanted to know more. As much as it was possible to be honest.

"Behind those desirable walls of yours, there are monster-like beings, called Grievers. They are dangerous creatures with spikes and rods coming our of their backs. They are about five times the size of us and they attack you at any time if you are on their way. If you are stung by one of them, basically you are dead meat walking. That is why it's very dangerous to go behind the walls if you are not a runner. Even for them, they risk their lives every day when they go in there." He explained and I frowned at the picture that I imagined. It didn't feel like reality. I placed my chin into my palm and focused on the opening.

"What if someone unauthorised goes in there?" I continued questioning him.

"Don't even think about it." He warned me.

"But what if?" I pushed and he sighed at my stubbornness.

"Let's say that person survives for having such luck, then the person has to be punished for breaking the rules. I did mention rule number one before. Never go outside the Glade, unless you're a Runner." He reminded me again. "The consequences could wary. You could be thrown in to the pit, it's like a prison cell of some kind we built or even sent back out there for a whole night. And believe me, no-one ever survived a night in there." I looked at him as if he was telling me the most interesting story I've ever heard. And to be fair he was.

"I can't promise anything." I stated calmly and he just sighed in disagreement shaking his head.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don’t forget to like the chapter. Thank you :)

35 notes · View notes

pvtjoker22 · 3 years ago

Text

Judging the Year in Horror by the films and shows I saw this past year:

2021 releases:

Army of the Dead

Candyman

Fear Street Part 1: 1994

Fear Street Part 2: 1978

Fear Street Part 3: 1666

Halloween Kills

Willy’s Wonderland

Last Night in Soho

Malignant

Werewolves Within

PG: Psycho Goreman

VHS ‘94

Films I saw from previous years this year:

Phantasm II

Phantasm III

I Saw the Devil

The Cat o’ Nine Tails

TV:

Midnight Mass

Squid Game

Hellbound

Them

Podcasts

Alice Isn’t Dead

Books / Comics

The Fisherman

For new releases, campy horror came back in a grand way led by Malignant, PG, and Willy’s Wonderland. I love ‘elevated horror’ as much as the next person, but it’s nice sometimes just to have that way-too-cheesy dialogue followed by a scene taken far too seriously for its own good. Fear Street and Halloween Kills continued the trend of slashers making a come-back, shout out to the bread-slicer scene. Candyman and Last Night in Soho were probably the ‘best’ films I saw, but my favourite by far was Malignant and it’s incredibly well-made cheese. It actually succeeded in pulling off something incredibly difficult and making a ‘bad’ movie intentionally by doing so in earnest, with skill and having people who understood the intention making it. The new VHS was great in comparison to the third film which was admittedly a slog to sit thorugh.

Films I saw for the first time in 2021, were pretty solid as well, continuing my watch-through of the Phantasm films were II and III, with Phantasm II being especially a deliciously splendid slice of action-horror (I didn’t hate nu-Mike either by the way, I think they’re both good). I Saw the Devil was brutal and dark, as many Korean thrillers and horrors are excellent at this. The Cat o’ Nine Tails was both my first Argento film and first giallo and it kicked all kinds of ass. I especially loved the blind retired journalist grandfather, the dude had intrepid civilian detective written all over him.

Finally, the shows I watched this year were mostly good to great, especially the one-two punch of Midnight Mass and Squid Game. Midnight Mass was a meditative Mike Flanagan joint on religion and faith, and how it can be used for evil and good. Squid Game meanwhile was a social horror in the vein of Get Out, and while not the best show of the year (for me personally, it would probably be Resident Alien, that show had a damn big amount of heart) was incredibly tense and well-acted, and that marbles episode was probably the best single episode that year. Hellbound was another mediation on religion and was a solid follow-up for the director of Train to Busan, although it was more of a character piece. Them was meh, it was there.

The only book I got around to was The Fisherman by John Langan which is just a fantastic read. Keep in mind though it’s a story within a framing story, if that isn’t your jam, you might not enjoy this - but what’s there is incredible. Langan had the incredible skill to make something as mundane as a fishing trip seem foreboding and doomed.

In conclusion, it wasn’t the best year horror fiction has seen, but certainly not the worst by a long shot and continues the mid-10′s level of quality

Edit: I completely forgot I had started and finished Alice Isn’t Dead this year as well, which is a fantastic listen. Between this and Night Vale, I’m fairly sure Fink/Cranor are some of the best in cosmic horror fiction.

#horror #fiction #movies #film #podcast #books #tv #show

0 notes

mushstump · 4 years ago

Text

Fear Street: (I have 3 of them)

1: I'm in a escavation. A few people of my crew are with me, we are excited to see what we found down there. We weren't prepared for then. I saw my best friends die in front of my eyes. Blood splurt from their thorats and chest. I was behind then, catching a flashlight, that's why I could live the first attack. That's why I saw then, where should be just another fossil from a dinossaur, had something...else. Thinking know, I wish I could had died there. Now, everyday I wake up feeling my blood all over me again.

2: It should be just another day in my job, go to the lab, search about life in other planets, cry when the tea split at my notes, sometimes screaming out loud because I may found something good. It shouldn't be so hard, just another night doing extra time. But you know, sometimes, other live things don't like to be discovered. Especially with someone, like my lucky ass, discovered that they actually were there all along. They cut off the power and locked me in. I never thought my lab, my second home, could be so terrifying in the dark. I tried to scream for help, but my co workers from another labs were used to my random screams. No one came, except for them, who were curious about how my brain worked. They kept me alive while doing all the research, layed down the table, I could scream anymore, I saw everything while I was dying slowly.

3: I always love to act and make stories for movies. Sometimes, in my newest movie, I made a guy who went psycho and killed all his co-workers from the theatre. The movie was a success! We were going to win a Oscar and had a second movie in mind! But then, one of my closest friends, one of the actors, talked with me in the middle shift. He said that he liked to play the murder character, but for the sequel he had to get deeper in the character. I should have ran away from this moment, but I asked why. My only answer was a bullet in my stomach, then another in my chest. While I was in the ground, trying to be alive and feeling the blood on my mouth, i heard screamings and more fire shooting.

(I didn't put many details bc I'm lazy. But is paleontology, working with astrobiology and be a movie roteirst)

Trilogy:

1666: I'm a non-white lesbian. And write with the left hand

Witch: heroes, they deserve to be portrait like that.

R.L stein: actually is my first time here.

That bitch seemend normal: I don't have know idea, maybe Tommy.

Prep assholes: being the gay Student and miss perfect.

Snapped: Ruby Lane. I think she is cute and probably the fastest way for kill.

Bread Slicer: Kate, definitely Kate, but Alice and the shadyside kid also.

LTTB: Cindy, but bc i can only bring back one person.

Sweet Jane: The man who sold the world, u know, foreshadowing.

Sir Silence: sasa_gamer and Yukino. Don't ask me why, I was in my Minecraft and anime fase.

Crazy Nurse Lane: I don't know, I'm not used to horror films, but I liked The Shining very much, but I didn't liked It.

Shagadelic: Azula, not from horror ofc, but Azula. I think in fear street I don't like anyone who is questionable. Maybe Martin? Bc who would just "ok let me get my coat" with someone inviting u for kill the sheriff? (Maybe, a lot of people. But I get me right?)

Acetaminophen: Metaphoric cannibalism is really accepted by the society. Specially in sex.

Major Tom: Uh...the boy who was Sarah's friend, who tried to defend then. Isaac his name? I don't remember. He seemed sweet.

You know that's a camper: I shipped I little, but I don't think they could work in a long time relationship. Also, Nick was a douchebag and selfish.

Possessed: Fear Street. I refresh the tag on AO3 at least 3 times a day.

C.N: He seems to be really good at swimming don't ask my why.

The witch forever lives: It was Goode all the time. I excepted to Sarah don't be the villain who we saw being portrait, I just prepared to see something that I would "passar pano" (excuse something). And she being a talented charismatic lesbian women.

Deal with the devil: I don't have no idea

Fruits of the land: in a 15' birthday party from my friend.

Red moss: I was in the movie theater with my girlfriend at the time. It was just...chill. I knew she was as happy as me. And in a anime event. We were just really happy that has each other and saw each other. I still remember the way that she looked at me and made me felt loved.

Let me get my coat: the scene in 1994 were Simon said "did they got back together" before running from Ryan.

I'll give them a witch: with Sarah actually had made a pact with the devil.

Tag: I don't remember now.

For eternity: This curse from Fear Street and with u think in a bad way, The Old Guard immortality curse

Final girl: none, I would be dead. But with I lived, probably was bc i hide well.

Fear Street Ask Game

Back at it again with another game. Feel free to reblog for your own use or send asks to me :)

Fear Street: Describe your (dream) job as a horror story plot.

Trilogy: Which Fear Street movie is your favorite?

1994: What’s your favorite 90s horror movie?

1978: Have you ever gone to summer camp?

1666: Why would you be accused of witchcraft in Union?

Witch: Do you prefer witches as villains or heroes?

R. L. Stein: The thing that first got you into the horror genre.

Bitch Seemed Normal: A character you love that turned out to be crazy in the end.

Preppy Assholes: What stereotype were/are you in high school?

Snapped: Who is your favorite Shadyside killer(s)?

Bread Slicer: Which Fear Street death affected you the most?

Let’s Timothy This Bitch: A character that you would bring back to life given the option.

Sweet Jane: The best use of music/song in a film.

Sir Silence: What was your first internet handle name?

Crazy Nurse Lane: What’s your favorite horror movie trope?

Shagadelic: A character that you know is questionable but you still love regardless.

Acetaminophen: Share a random fact about anything.

Major Tom: Who’s your favorite minor character in Fear Street?

You Know That’s A Camper, Right: Opinions on Nick & Ziggy’s camp romance?

Possessed: Name something that has taken over your life lately.

Camp Nightwing: Share a Tommy Slater head cannon.

The Witch Forever Lives: A Fear Street twist that you didn’t see coming.

Deal with the Devil: Your favorite piece of horror movie lore.

Fruits of the Land: What’s the best party you’ve ever been to?

Red Moss: What’s the most romantic thing that’s happened to you?

Let Me Get My Coat: A Fear Street moment that made you laugh.

I’ll Give Them A Witch: What would be your villain origin story?

Tag You’re It: Tag some blogs that you appreciate.

For Eternity: What are some of your favorite fictional curses?

Final Girls: Which of your skills would keep you alive in a horror movie?

#fear street #fear street part 1: 1994 #fear street part 2: 1978 #fear street part 3: 1666 #ask game #spoilers

72 notes · View notes

dontbethatshank · 8 years ago

Text

His Nickname(s) For You

Minho: Princess- When you first came into the Glade, all the guys treated you like precious cargo, seemingly afraid you might break if you lifted more than a sigle box of supplies. So whenever Minho saw you, he would tease yout o end about this, calling you princess and teasing you about your delicateness. You originally hated the nickname, but it became an inside joke. Now, everyday, Minho comes running in from the maze, a grin on his face, and the word ‘princess coming out right after. Dollface- Besides his harassment and his teasing nickname, he often calls you dollface. You once questioned him about it, and he shrugged a bit. You would share blurred memories you both would get - often stupid things, such as the smell of your favorite cookies, or the melody of a song you once heard. But once you remembered this beautiful porcelain doll you once had. you described it as the most beautiful thing you had ever possessed. Minho saw it fitting to call you dollface after that, claiming that you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You were his own little doll.

Alby: Darling-Alby had some simple nicknames for you. Nothing that was too ‘significant’ of meaning. But ever since he met you, he would always call you darling even before you began dating. Whenever you would get stuck doing something or would cause a mess, Alby would shake his head while laughing. “Oh darling...” he would say, smiling at you and laughing, before helping you out. It was something that soon just became a normal word for you. It was his small note of affection, and it was also how you could tell if you had upset him recently. Hot Shot- Besides some of the common nicknames and such, Alby enjoyed calling you Hot Shot. Being the girlfriend of the leader of the Glade sometimes got you a few teasing comments. Most guys would say how great it must be to not have to work as hard. They all meant it in good fun and teasing, but you often got upset over it causing you to over do yourself when it came to proving yourself. Alby called you Hot Shot, since you often got in over your head, but always still managed to work it out. Babygirl- Again, just a simplistic name. But it was your favorite. He often said it only privately to you, mostly out of pity or sympathy. It was his affectionate way or understanding you and nuturing you in his best ability.

Gally: Baby Bear- This nickname has little important meaning behind it. The only reason you got this nickname was because gally had said you slept like a bear. You were the hardest person to wake up and would make the oddest groaning/growling noises whenever someone did try to wake you up. Thus, you became baby bear. To almsot everyone in the Glade. Kitten- Besides being a pain in the ass to wake up, you loved to cuddle. Gally said you reminded him of a kitten, warm and snuggly, always sleeping and cuddling into anything that it could get its tiny body into. So whenever it came time to go to bed, he would always cal you kitten, laughing as you would try to protest but also would continue snuggling into his body and hiding yourself as much as you could. Shortstack- This one is self explanatory. you were the shortest person in the Glade, and Gally never let a day go by without reminding. So whenever he would find you doing your work or he would come and check on you, he would lean his arms on your shoulders, giving a greeting along the lines of “what’s up Shortstack?” often followed with a joke about your height, or anything really. He would tease you constantly baout one thing or another, it was just his personality.

Thomas: Giggles- You were the happiest person in the entire Glade, anything and anyone could make you smile or laugh. You often laughed over jokes that weren’t even funny or over jokes that weren’t even meant to be jokes. It was odd for most of the guys but also helped most of them laugh more themselves and put them into better moods. Even Gally couldn’t help but be in a good mood and let out a few good chuckles when you began giggling over nothing. And this earned you your title of Giggles. Originally, Alby gave you the nickname. He meant it affectionately but also out of annoyance. Soon, it stuck. Thomas was the one who often called you Giggles, but so did everyone else. People knew you by this nickname before they knew your real name. Duckie- Duckie was a nickname only used by Thomas. We you first came into the Glade, you were originally in kitchen, then with the builders, and even spent a few weeks with the medjacks. But you never felt like you fit in right. After awhile, you began hanging out witht he slicers. But you didnt help prep meat, you helped take care of the animals as a farmhand. You soon fell deeply in love with a small flock of young ducklings the Glade had. You gave them names, talked with them, some nights you even fell asleep in the pen with them. The slicers felt so bad about having to kill the ducks, they let you keep two of them. Thomas called you Duckie after the first time you fell asleep with them our in the pen. It has stuck ever since.

Newt: Babydoll- Babydoll is the most common nickname for a girlfriend, but you lvoed how Newt said it. It was sincere and sweet. He just started calling you it one day, no reasoning or backstory, it was just a nickname he picked up for you early on. He always told you that you were as cute as a doll, but that was what came after the nickname. Chipmunk- This nickname was one that had an odd origin. It actually came about after you tried to cheer Newt up after a hard day in the Glade, when there were two griever attacks and the slicers had lost two goats in the Maze. He was tired, drained, and just wasn’t himself. While eating dinner, you sat across from him, making jokes, teasing him, anything to make him laugh. Randomly, you took some marshmallows you had stolen from Frypan (he had actually just given them to you), and stucked a few in your mouth, your cheeks puffing up. You started talking to Newt, your mouth stuffed with marshmallows, carrying on a normal conversation, being nonchalant as possible. And he lost it, “You look like a chipmunk!” he exclaimed, laughing his butt off. And it stuck. It became a small inside joke and a unique little nickname for you.

Frypan: Firecracker- Besides being his girfriend, you were known for being very hot headed and having an insane temper. The boys listened to you, they were afraid of any lectures or explosions of anger. You were like the mother of the Gladers, they all respected you and never wanted to anger you, although they did purposefully drive you crazy. Frypan was th eonly one who could get away with calling you this, even Alby never dared to make a comment like it. You weren’t the leader or second command or anyone of power, but everyone still respected you enough to not test your limits. Except Frypan - he lvoed pushing your buttons. He always did it. Sweetcheeks- Again. Another nickname only Frypan could gt away with calling you. It was soon discovered that you had a sweet tooth. You liked to make bread, adding sugar and honey to it, you enjoyed making sweet cakes for the Glade for one of their celebrations, sometimes you would even ask for small bits of chocolate and sweets to be sent up in the box. Frypan soon started calling you Sweetcheeks anytime he saw you sneaking off with anything to satisfy your sweet tooth. You sometimes would glare at him, but soon you just started offering hima bite or a drink, letting him in on your secret indulgence.

190 notes · View notes

vacationsoup · 6 years ago

Photo

New Post has been published on https://vacationsoup.com/homemade-spicy-bread-and-butter-pickles-yum/

Homemade Spicy Bread and Butter Pickles - Yum!

Spicy and Sweet, So Fun to Eat (and Make)

Howdy howdy howdy - Daniel Jr again. For Christmas this year Sherry got me a Guide to Preserving by Ball, along with some canning supplies. Best. Gift. Ever.

We made up a batch of bread and butter pickles a few days ago, and holy cow are they good! Better than any bread and butter pickle we've ever purchased at the grocery store. By far. By a mile.

We made up another batch today, this time adding some jalapenos for a bit of kick, and will be diving into those in a week or so.

The process is very easy, and if you find yourself with a few hours to kill, why not make up a few pints of these scrumptious goodies?

It took us about 3 hours start to finish to make up 6 pints of these delicious bad boys. If you're wanting to make some, we've got the step by step for you.

I'm not going to go into great detail about prepping your canning supplies here. If you're looking for more information on that please check out Ball's excellent write-up - they literally wrote the book on canning.

Ingredients:

For 6 pints, you will need the following:

4 pounds of cucumbers. We used big honking waxed cucumbers that were on sale, but typically you would use 4 to 6 inch non-waxed kirby cucumbers.

2 pounds of onions, thinly sliced

1/3 cup pickling salt

2 cups sugar

2 tablespoons mustard seed

2 teaspoons turmeric (wear gloves!)

2 teaspoons celery seed

1 teaspoon freshly minced ginger

1 teaspoon whole peppercorn

3 cups vinegar, 5% acidity

1/8 tsp per jar pickle crisp (optional)

2 jalapeno or other spicy pepper (optional)

1 bag ice

You will need 6 pint jars, bands, lids and a large bowl. NOTE - never ever reuse canning lids. They are a one-time use only affair. You can reuse the jars and bands. Replacement lids are cheap. We try and keep an extra dozen on-hand at all times should the canning bug bite us.

Step 1: Cut your onions and hot peppers

Cut the onion crosswise into thin slices, place in a bowl

If using spicy peppers, wash under cold water and cut however you like. I left the seeds in the jalapenos and cut into rings. Add the peppers to the bowl with the onions and cover (optional, but I hate to cry with all the onion fumes)

Step 2: Cut the cucumbers crosswise

Wash the cucumbers under cold running water and drain. For the big honking cucumbers I'll cut a good half inch from both ends. If using the smaller kirby cucumbers you'll remove the stem and 1/16 inch from the blossom end.

Cut the cucumbers crosswise into 1/4 inch slices. This is a LOT of cucumbers to slice up. If you have a mandoline slicer, now is the time to pull it out! With a mandoline you can use a wavy blade that gives the pickles the classic crinkle cut look. It's certainly not necessary, but sure looks groovy.

A mandoline will also allow you to set the thickness of your slice, and provide consistency with the thickness of each piece, along with saving some serious knife time.

These suckers are sharp! Using one of these incorrectly or not paying attention to what you're doing is a real easy way to win a trip to the emergency room after you slice the tip of a finger off. I HIGHLY recommend you use a protective glove when using a mandoline. It can be a real flesh saver.

Step 3: Salt and Chill

In a large bowl, combine the cucumber slices, onions and peppers.

Sprinkle the 1/3 cup of salt over the top and toss well. I've found that digging in with both (clean!) hands and tossing a half dozen times or so does a good job of mixing the salt with the veggies.

Cover the veggies with the bag of ice - told you that you would need a large bowl! I sprinkle a wee bit of salt, maybe a half teaspoon or so, over the ice to keep it super cold.

Let stand for 1 1/2 hours.

Step 4: Prepping the pickle spices

While the future pickles are chilling under ice, combine the the sugar, spices and vinegar in a large saucepan. Do not add the pickle crisp at this time! Do not turn on the burner just yet.

Let's chat about turmeric shall we? Turmeric is an amazing spice, but this stuff stains anything it touches. Fingers and wooden stirring spoons are all fair game. My wife won't let me touch the stuff unless I'm wearing disposable gloves. We have a huge 2 pound bag of the stuff, and it stays inside a large gallon ziplock bag for storage.

Once you have your pickle spices in the saucepan you can begin heating up your canning supplies, which brings us to...

Step 5: Prepping your canning supplies

Wash your jars, bands, lids and canning tools in hot soapy water, rinse well and place in your canning pot, bringing the temp up to 180F. Do not boil yet!

If you have a bbq thermometer it comes in handy to monitor the temperature of the water to ensure it's hot enough, but not too hot.

Depending on the size of your canning pot and the heat output of your stove top it can take quite a while to bring the water up to temp.

We just picked up a 21 quart pot, and takes a good half hour to bring it up to 180F. The lid will help speed things along.

Step 6: Rinse, repeat, repeat

After the future pickles have been under ice it's time to rinse.

You're going to rinse the bejeezus out of these to get rid of the salt. I do three full rinses under cold water, starting with a colander, then back to the large bowl fully submersing under cold water, back to the colander, bowl, colander, bowl, colander. Whew!

Step 7: Time to cook!

Bring your spice mixture in the saucepan to a boil, stirring until sugar dissolves. Add the cucumber mixture to the pot and bring back to a boil. It's going to take a bit as the future pickles are quite cold from the ice bath. Once you have a full boil turn off the burner and remove pan from heat.

You're almost there - now comes...

Step 7: Can the pickles!

A canning funnel is your best friend for this next process. Keeps things MUCH less messy.

Using a ladle, pack the hot pickles and liquid into a hot jar, leaving a 1/2 inch headspace (the space between the top of the jar and the liquid). Don't be stingy with the pickles - fill those jars up!

If you're using pickle crisp now is the time. Add 1/8 teaspoon to a pint jar.

Remove air bubbles.

Clean the jar rim using a damp cloth.

Center lid on jar and adjust band to fingertip-tight, then place jar on the rack elevated over simmering water.

Repeat until all jars are filled.

Lower the rack into simmering water. IMPORTANT: Water must cover jars by 1 inch. Adjust heat and bring to a rolling boil, using lid. Boil pint jars for 10 minutes. Turn off heat and remove cover. Let jars cool 5 minutes.

Remove jars from pot; do not retighten bands if loose. Cool 12 hours, then check the seals.

You'll hear a distinctive 'pop' sound as the lids form seals. It typically starts within 10 to 15 minutes after we've removed the jars from the pot, but can take longer. If they haven't sealed after 12 hours you can place the jar(s) in the fridge.

We've been lucky - we've yet to have a jar that didn't seal. Hoping that trend continues!

The pickles will be ready to eat after 4 days, even better after a week, and fantastic after 2 weeks.

Let me know how yours turn out!

Happy canning, and thanks so much for reading!

Daniel Scurlock Scurlock Farms

#AustinTX #GeorgetownTX #HolidayInGeorgetownTX #RoundrockTX #VacationInGeorgetownTX #VacationSoup

0 notes

dontshootmespence · 8 years ago

Text

Passive-Aggressive Partnership

Parts 1-9 Can be found here

@coveofmemories @bleedreid @my-xomatosis-s

Part 10

Warnings: Talk of Rape and Graphic Violence

-----

“Do you know what I would do to you if I wasn’t tied up right now?” the man said, straining against the ties that bound him.

Cara looked down at him with dead eyes. “For a man that’s tied up, you’re not that smart. I know exactly what you’d do. That’s why you’re here. You’re here because of Dillon Scinto,” she enunciated, getting right up in his face. “You remember that name, don’t you?”

At the mention of the boy’s name, the man’s face went flat. He thought he’d left that all behind him. With his connections, he had been able to post bail and then a friend got him a new identity, instead of John Cardenas, he was now Jack Salmassi. “You raped that boy after school every single day, didn’t you? Then you spooked when you thought he was going to tell his parents, so you killed him. You put your hand around his throat and squeezed until you saw the light leave his eyes.”

As a dedicated college student, Cara thought she deserved a night out with her friends, so that night, the night that changed her life forever, she got dressed in her best top, skirt and heels and partied the night away. Given how long it had been since she’d been out, she drank a little more than she intended and ended up throwing up outside the bar. That’s when he arrived. Bryan Stoppard. Another student at the university that felt entitled to whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. She tried to push him away. She screamed no over and over again. She screamed for help. But no one came. And 10 minutes later she was crying in the alleyway - with the ability to never feel truly safe again.

Realizing why he was here, knowing that his past had caught up with him, Jack stilled, searching this woman’s eyes for anything he could use to manipulate her. But she continued. “Then you used your connections to pay your way out of the system and run from what you’d done. That’s why you’re here. Because I’ve had enough.”

Bryan Stoppard, who even in her altered state, was positively her attacker, had a very rich, very high-ranking business executive father, who paid all the right people, leaving him not only not in prison, but right back where she was. College. That was the day she dropped out - and vowed to take revenge on him and others like him. As Cara continued, telling him of how her own attacker paid his way out of trouble, she unbuttoned his pants, despite his best efforts to keep her away. “Do you wanna know what your undoing was?” she asked. “How I found you? Decided on you?” He said nothing. “The internet. People think that because they sit behind a screen, no one will ever find them. No one will hold you accountable for the things you say. Well I found you - on Twitter of all places. Thanks for exposing yourself to me. It gives me great pleasure to do this.”

With a sharp twist, she grabbed him and brought down her knife, severing the offending appendage from his body as he screamed bloody murder. That was the great thing about her day job. The job she’d gotten purposely to stay away from the general public, away from the men she couldn’t trust. Her company was in the process of closing down an old warehouse, but it was caught up in legal problems, so no one showed themselves here. “Go ahead and scream. No one will hear you.”

-----

The next morning, Magdalena showed up at the station and gave a description of the man that approached her. The man they believed was connected to these murders in some way. By description, he was a very average looking man. White, short brown hair, light brown eyes, average weight and height. There was nothing extraordinary about him, but the forensic artist was amazing, so Garcia ran the picture through the system to see if she could find a match. Within a couple of hours, they had a match - and a new body.

“We’re looking for a Michael Plasket,” Hotch said, tacking the mystery man’s picture onto the board. “Reid, I need you to go back to the ME’s office for information on the third victim, while the rest of us check to see what the connection is between the first two victims and this one.”

-----

“Jack Salmassi and John Cardenas,” Y/N said as soon as Spencer walked in the door much to his confusion. They only had one victim, right? “His body was found with two ID’s - one for each name, but they are both him. Same picture. This victim was even more brutalized than the last one - and I find myself incapable of feeling bad.”

“I guess I don’t really blame you,” he replied. “But we still need to find who did this. We can’t have vigilantes running around.”

Y/N wasn’t so sure. “Why not? I’d sure like revenge on a few people.”

"What do you mean?” Spencer asked. Was there something about this case she connected with?

“Spence, I...” she started, watching as his face changed from confused to sad. “I wasn’t raped, but I...I was assaulted in college. He molested me before I was able to push him away and run for my life.”

He was stunned. It just proved that literally anyone could be assaulted. There was no ‘type.’ “Y/N...I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, Spence, but it did put me on the path I’m on now,” she said, “So something came from it.”

Spencer walked around to her side of the table and pulled her close to him, with her swaying in his embrace for a few moments in silence. “I’m still sorry. What can you tell me about Jack slash John?”

“Jack John had his genitals cut off, just like the last two. Serrated knife, like Colin Kincaid. The serrations would cause more pain, so either the killer is deciding on this knife because it causes more pain, or there is some special circumstance that leads them to use the serrated as opposed to the straight-edge knife,” she said, walking to the other side of the table to pull up the sheet. “However, there is a slight difference from the last victims to this one.” As she pulled up the sheet, Spencer noticed it was quite a big difference. The victim’s right hand was missing.

“The hand was severed, actually sawed is a better word, off with the same knife that was used to remove his genitals,” Y/N said, holding up a very long, serrated knife. “This is your likely murder weapon. An Orblue stainless steel serrate bread slicer knife.” Spencer involuntarily clutched his legs together. Ow. “Judging by the tissue near the severed hand, it was sawed off after the other thing was sliced off. That’s where most of the blood loss came from. The hand was after.”

Given that the first two men had their penises cut off, it was likely that this man’s hand was also involved in whatever crime he committed. “Okay, anything else?”

“I do have a some kind of substance that was found on his pelvic region, as well as a flake of something else I haven’t identified, but I need time to process that. So, I’ll call you later?” she asked, giving him a small smile.

“Yea,” he replied, giving her a soft kiss before he left. “Call me as soon as you can.”

-----

“We’re still tracking down Michael Plasket,” JJ said as Reid walked back into the local station. “And Garcia’s got some news for us, but...we have to close the door.”

As Spencer walked in, he closed the door behind him so the team members were the only ones in the room. “Do I ever have news for you. Be careful over there. The two cops that handled the case for Colin and Robert, had suspicious financial activity in the months after the rape of Magdalena Sanchez. For the three months after, both men received just under $4,200 every Friday, and then it suddenly stopped. When I counted it up, it equaled...”

“$50,000,” Reid said. “Each. Did you trace the money back, Garcia?”

“For a Boy Genius, that was a dumb question. Of course I traced it back. Each cop was paid off by one of the fathers, so we can bust those cops too, right? Because I’m livid over here and watching them get arrested due to my quick sleuthing might make me feel a little bit better,” she said, the sound of keys tapping filling the following silence.

“Hey PG,” Emily said, “What did you find out about Jack Salmassi? Because of course, I know you found a sea of information.” She turned back toward Reid with a wink. He just stuck his tongue out at her. “Jack Salmassi, aka John Cardenas, was, AND STILL SOMEHOW WAS before his death, a school teacher. Five years ago, Jack, then John, was accused of raping and murdering a 10-year-old sweet angel boy named Dillon Scinto. According to the ME at the time, Dillon was repeatedly raped and then strangled using the assailant’s right hand.”

That made sense. Now they had their answer as to why Jack’s hand was also cut off. “So his genitals were cut off because of the rape and the hand for the murder,” Rossi said. “How did he go from John to Jack?”

“Patience, my liege,” Garcia said. “I wasn’t finished giving my spiel. John at that time, was connected to a local hardware store franchise owner with a lot of cash on hand. It was assumed that he paid John’s way out and set him up with a new identity. Doesn’t this mean that not only is the unsub targeting rapists, but they’re also targeting rapists that paid their way out of the system?”

“Are you done now?” Hotch asked with a smile. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt your spiel.”

“Yes, my other liege, I am all finished.”

“Then the answer to your question is yes; the unsub is targeting those that paid their way out.” While they normally would give the profile at this time, they decided to hold back some information, mainly about people being paid off. They didn’t want to alert the dirty cops until the case was over.

“One last question, babygirl? Did you find any connection at all between the three victims?” In order to track down the man that contacted Magdalena, who was in some way connected to these murders, they needed to find a connection between the victims other than their shared past. Nothing explained how they were picked.

“The only thing I could find was that all three victims were big users of social media, Facebook, Twitter and the like.”

“Okay, Garcia,” Hotch said, “We need you to dig deeper into that. That’s where the connection has to be. Once again, they disconnected Garcia from the phone and seconds later, Y/N called Spencer, so he walked outside to take the call.

“Hey Y/N,” he said, hoping to God that she had some kind of information about whatever substance was found on the victim’s pelvic bone, “Find anything?”

“Your killer is in all likelihood, a woman,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“The substance I found on the pelvic region was lotion, specifically a cherry blossom lotion from Bath & Body Works.” He could hear her slide across the room in her chair, probably going between her computer and the body. “As for the fleck, that was a flake of nail polish. I have a specific on that too. It’s OPI nail lacquer black onyx color.”

Both things could’ve been from a woman, but there was nothing that kept it from being a man. And they knew they were looking for Michael Plasket. “How can you be so sure it’s a woman?”

“Spencer this is what I do for a living. I know you’re a genius, but this is my area of expertise.”

“I’m not doubting that!” he yelled a little louder than he had intended. “But black nail polish is commonly used among certain men and the lotion could’ve been there from a woman that Jack was involved with. What makes you so sure the lotion is from the killer?”

“I don’t know. It’s a feeling.” She normally didn’t operate on feelings. She operated on facts, but in her mind, she just knew that the killer was a woman. The man they were looking for was involved in some other way.

“Well, we can’t go after someone based on a feeling, Y/N! I need facts! You can’t just base your findings on feelings because of your background.” Shit. That came out wrong.

“Excuse me!” she screamed. “Yea, I was assaulted as a student, but I am a professional and I conduct myself as such. Frankly, I don’t want you to catch whoever is doing this. I hope they keep going for as long as they possibly can, but I am doing my job, and my professional opinion, based on facts and the brands of product I found, lead me to believe that you’re looking for a woman, alright? So fuck off!” All of a sudden, he heard nothing. That was the problem with cell phones, you could angrily hit the end call button, like you could slam down the phones of old.

He hadn’t meant to accuse her of anything. He knew she was a professional. It just came out wrong. Spencer brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose, squeezing slightly before heading back inside.

“You okay, kid?” Morgan asked as he came back inside. “What did Y/N say?” Spencer did his best to just recount the facts without giving away that they’d just had a fight, but he knew they could tell.

“She claimed our killer was a woman. Lotion and a fleck of black nail polish was found on his pelvic region, which leads her to believe it’s a woman.”

Emily nodded. “It could be. But it could also be a man.”

“That’s what I said!”

An uncomfortable silence fell just as a man was walked into the station - it was Michael Plasket. This was definitely the man that approached Magdalena. One of the first things Spencer noticed were Mr. Plasket’s hands. The nails were painted with black polish.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dontshootmespence #passive aggressive partnership

130 notes · View notes

flapperfromthefuture · 6 years ago

Text

I’ve been struggling to keep up with both baking and writing due to the stress of starting dog agility, Italian lessons and watching Chernobyl all at the same time.

It’s all starting to meld together, honestly, like when A spent twenty minutes clarifying the exact way to say “The dog’s Minnie Mouse ears” in Italian without confusing who the ears belong to (the dog) with the original possessor of the ears (Minnie Mouse), when we haven’t even gotten to possessive pronouns yet.

Meanwhile, I was texting under the table with my dad, who needed some reassurance as he dove into the ol’ nuclear reactor.

“I feel like the radiation is leaking through the TV screen,” he said. “Elizabeth, thanks a LOT. I’m having nightmares tonight from one episode.”

A wanted to go to Canada over the weekend to hit up the sidewalk sale at our favorite kitchen store, Williams Food Equipment, “The Candy Store for Cooks!”

It is, quite simply, the greatest store. Where else can you buy this and this and this, at reasonable prices that are even more reasonable when you figure out what you’re paying in American dollars (which we can’t until we get back across the border, so it’s like a fun surprise!).

A insisted that we get there on opening day, the moment they opened. While I was proud of her for approaching normal life like it’s Disney World, I questioned whether or not it was worth it to show up so early.

“No one is going to be there right when they open,” I said. “They probably won’t even have everything set up.”

“They will,” said A. “Because I’ll be there.”

And then she tossed an invisible scarf over her shoulder and walked out of a room she had just entered.

But before our adventure could commence, I had an agility class. My sister offered to come with me, which was really nice of her, because agility freaks me out. Everyone in agility is intense, even the dogs. Lumi is only in a pre-beginners class (she’s not even a real beginner!) and we’re getting the full Best in Show experience.

(Have you seen that? It’s the best movie of all time. Do you like Schitt’s Creek? It’s like that. Canada has given us so much).

My sister helped me wrangle Lumi and get her crate in and out of my car (it’s apparently standard to have a crate at all agility sessions because that’s how it goes for competitions and apparently I needed better triceps and perpetual open wounds on my hands anyway), but I almost lost her when she caught sight of something on the wall.

“RIBBON,” she whispered, pointing at a four-foot long prize ribbon like she was in a trance. My sister loves a good show ribbon, and this was from a national level, so it was pretty impressive.

You know this scene in Sleeping Beauty?

It was like that.

“Yeah, Lumi loves the jumps, and the instructor is really good, but I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” I said, as she stared at this ribbon. “I get really anxious before every class and then I think she picks up on it—”

“Oh, you have to do this,” said my sister. “Think of the ribbons.”

“I guess so, as long as Lumi’s enjoying it—”

“RIBBONS!”

As she helped me train Lumi on the teeter-totter, she informed me that she and her boyfriend, Steve, wanted to watch Chernobyl next. She didn’t know much about it, other than that my parents were watching it and listening to the companion podcast on the TV because it was somehow easier than playing it on a phone.

“Do people live in the next town over from Chernobyl?” asked my sister. “You know, what is it like to live in Chernobyl Heights?”

“I’m not sure,” I said.

“Steve went to a rugby tournament once called ‘Three Mile Thailand’ once,” she said, “so he and his buddies showed up for their flight to Bangkok in hazmat suits. That didn’t go over too well. Made the flight though!”

I am terrified at offending anyone who could wield any power over my ability to move or access transportation. So the border crossing between Detroit and Windsor sends me into panic mode even though it’s always fine (anxiety!), especially when I’m driving. I still have nightmares about the one time I was asked to open my trunk and was so flustered I couldn’t find the button, then forgot which college I attended, even though I have an alumni sticker on my back window.

When A drives us over the border, she tends to turn into an alien as soon as she puts down the window. The last time we went over, the Canadian border guard asked for our passports and she said, “Have you by chance ever seen a MOOSE?” with the widest eyes outside of a cartoon, just filled to the brim with wonder at the chance of seeing a moose in a very urban part of Canada that does not have moose, and the guy was very nice and gently broke it to her without laughing that he had not seen a moose in twenty years, and I’m sure he tells his entire family about us to this day and hopefully asks the moose gods to smile on us in his daily prayers.

But when we rolled up to the customs booth at 8:30 in the morning on a Saturday, and the border guard narrowed his eyes at me and said, “What kind of animal is in that crate,” I somehow managed to channel a cool James Bond-esque persona without actually being cool at all. I propped my elbow up on the open window, tilted my sunglasses and said, in a nonchalant tone of voice that I have never heard emerge from my body, “So, I’m taking this very intense dog agility class. They told me I have to bring this big ol’ crate with me to every class, but I don’t want to lug it up and down my stairs every week, you know what I mean?”

The guard looked bored the moment I opened my mouth, but I kept talking. “So I’m keeping it in the car for a few weeks. You know how it goes.”

I said all this like it was the most normal thing in the world. And the guard just waved us through! Is this how it feels to be a dude? You say the dumbest thing that comes to mind and people just let you into their country?

Imagine my surprise when we rolled up right at 9 in the morning, on a Saturday, and there were already people outside! With carts!

And before I’d even parked the car, that good old frenzy mode had kicked in. A and I spent almost two hours pondering purchases of heart-shaped pots, bulk ketchup bottles, whisks of all sizes, and the actual bread baskets you see in every restaurant.

This is the land where bread baskets come from!

“I mean, we might need an oyster knife someday,” I said, a person who has never eaten seafood because The Little Mermaid still makes me cry.

A was already filling up her cart with discounted ceramic dip bowls for everyone she has ever met.

It goes without saying that everyone at this store is incredibly nice—if you buy a large cooking pot, they say “Congratulations!” like you’ve welcomed a new family member.

I asked if they had a French rolling pin, and a man emerged from the meat slicers and told me what kind of rolling pin is best to use for brioche and what to use for strudel and then just vanished back into a mist of flour and maple sugar.

I got that French rolling pin, along with a new digital temperature probe (or thermomètre électronique à sonde!) and a few other odds and ends that I genuinely can’t remember purchasing because I was in a glorious fugue state thanks to our glorious neighbor.

A bought enough dip bowls to create her own dip fountain.

I might have to go back for whatever this is, though.

I mean, it will obviously pay for itself.

We made it back across the border—when the dude asked for the purpose of our visit, I forgot to put my elbow on the window and instead blurted “Kitchen supplies!” and started sweating like it might be a federal crime to traffic pie tins across an international border.

He waved us through. The dip bowls rattled in my trunk the whole way home.

We stopped at my parents to share our adventures and pick up Lumi. Steve and my sister were there to check out our haul. My parents had just finished Chernobyl.

“This is a quality rolling pin,” said Steve. “It’s really from France!”

Out of nowhere, my dad said, “Steve, they came this close to killing 50 million people.”

“I wish I’d gotten espresso spoons,” said A. “Should we go back for espresso spoons?”

“We wouldn’t have been able to go to Estonia on our cruise,” said my dad. “They would’ve been toast.”

It surprised absolutely no one that Steve knew the locations of all three nuclear reactors in Michigan offhand.

“We’d be in the exclusion zone,” whispered my mom.

“Chernobyl Heights!”

The Arms Race for Canadian Cooking Supplies I've been struggling to keep up with both baking and writing due to the stress of starting dog agility, Italian lessons and watching…

#baking #canada #chernobyl #cooking #dogs

0 notes

deniscollins · 8 years ago

Text

A Voice of Hate in America’s Heartland

If you owned a welding company, what would you do if informed that one of the welders was a committed organizer for the Traditionalist Worker Party, a Nazi-group, who did podcasts for Radio Aryan, and posted Nazi support material on his Facebook page: (1) do nothing and respect his freedom of speech, (2) speak with him about restricting his political viewpoints, (3) fire him, or (4) something else (if so, what)? Why? What are the ethics underlying your decision?

Tony and Maria Hovater were married this fall. They registered at Target. On their list was a muffin pan, a four-drawer dresser and a pineapple slicer.

Ms. Hovater, 25, was worried about Antifa bashing up the ceremony. Weddings are hard enough to plan for when your fiancé is not an avowed white nationalist.

But Mr. Hovater, in the days leading up to the wedding, was somewhat less anxious. There are times when it can feel toxic to openly identify as a far-right extremist in the Ohio of 2017. But not always. He said the election of President Trump helped open a space for people like him, demonstrating that it is not the end of the world to be attacked as the bigot he surely is: “You can just say, ‘Yeah, so?’ And move on.”

It was a weeknight at Applebee’s in Huber Heights, a suburb of Dayton, a few weeks before the wedding. The couple, who live in nearby New Carlisle, were shoulder to shoulder at a table, young and in love. He was in a plain T-shirt, she in a sleeveless jean jacket. She ordered the boneless wings. Her parents had met him, she said, and approved of the match. The wedding would be small. Some of her best friends were going to be there. “A lot of girls are not really into politics,” she said.

In Ohio, amid the row crops and rolling hills, the Olive Gardens and Steak ’n Shakes, Mr. Hovater’s presence can make hardly a ripple. He is the Nazi sympathizer next door, polite and low-key at a time the old boundaries of accepted political activity can seem alarmingly in flux. Most Americans would be disgusted and baffled by his casually approving remarks about Hitler, disdain for democracy and belief that the races are better off separate. But his tattoos are innocuous pop-culture references: a slice of cherry pie adorns one arm, a homage to the TV show “Twin Peaks.” He says he prefers to spread the gospel of white nationalism with satire. He is a big “Seinfeld” fan.

“I guess it seems weird when talking about these type of things,” he says. “You know, I’m coming at it in a mid-90s, Jewish, New York, observational-humor way.”

Mr. Hovater, 29, is a welder by trade. He is not a star among the resurgent radical American right so much as a committed foot soldier — an organizer, an occasional podcast guest on a website called Radio Aryan, and a self-described “social media villain,” although, in person, his Midwestern manners would please anyone’s mother. In 2015, he helped start the Traditionalist Worker Party, one of the extreme right-wing groups that marched in Charlottesville, Va., in August, and again at a “White Lives Matter” rally last month in Tennessee. The group’s stated mission is to “fight for the interests of White Americans.’’

Its leaders claim to oppose racism, though the Anti-Defamation League says the group “has participated in white supremacist events all over the country.” On its website, a swastika armband goes for $20.

If the Charlottesville rally came as a shock, with hundreds of white Americans marching in support of ideologies many have long considered too vile, dangerous or stupid to enter the political mainstream, it obscured the fact that some in the small, loosely defined alt-right movement are hoping to make those ideas seem less than shocking for the “normies,” or normal people, that its sympathizers have tended to mock online.

And to go from mocking to wooing, the movement will be looking to make use of people like the Hovaters and their trappings of normie life — their fondness for National Public Radio, their four cats, their bridal registry.

“We need to have more families. We need to be able to just be normal,” said Matthew Heimbach, the leader of the Traditionalist Worker Party, in a podcast conversation with Mr. Hovater. Why, he asked self-mockingly, were so many followers “abnormal”?

Mr. Hovater replied: “I mean honestly, it takes people with, like, sort of an odd view of life, at first, to come this way. Because most people are pacified really easy, you know. Like, here’s some money, here’s a nice TV, go watch your sports, you know?”

He added: “The fact that we’re seeing more and more normal people come is because things have gotten so bad. And if they keep getting worse, we’ll keep getting more, just, normal people.”

Flattening the Edges

Mr. Hovater’s face is narrow and punctuated with sharply peaked eyebrows, like a pair of air quotes, and he tends to deliver his favorite adjective, “edgy,” with a flat affect and maximum sarcastic intent. It is a sort of implicit running assertion that the edges of acceptable American political discourse — edges set by previous generations, like the one that fought the Nazis — are laughable.

“I don’t want you to think I’m some ‘edgy’ Republican,” he says, while flatly denouncing the concept of democracy.

“I don’t even think those things should be ‘edgy,’” he says, while defending his assertion that Jews run the worlds of finance and the media, and “appear to be working more in line with their own interests than everybody else’s.”

His political evolution — from vaguely leftist rock musician to ardent libertarian to fascist activist — was largely fueled by the kinds of frustrations that would not seem exotic to most American conservatives. He believes the federal government is too big, the news media is biased, and that affirmative action programs for minorities are fundamentally unfair.

Ask him how he moved so far right, and he declares that public discourse has become “so toxic that there’s no way to effectively lobby for interests that involve white people.” He name-drops Murray Rothbard and Hans-Hermann Hoppe, architects of “anarcho-capitalism,” with its idea that free markets serve as better societal regulators than the state. And he refers to the 2013 science-fiction movie “Pacific Rim,” in which society is attacked by massive monsters that emerge from beneath the Pacific Ocean.

“So the people, they don’t ask the monsters to stop,” he says. “They build a giant robot to try to stop them. And that’s essentially what fascism is. It’s like our version of centrally coming together to try to stop another already centralized force.”

Mr. Hovater grew up on integrated Army bases and attended a mostly white Ohio high school. He did not want for anything. He experienced no scarring racial episodes. His parents, he says, were the kinds of people who “always assume things aren’t going well. But they don’t necessarily know why.”

He is adamant that the races are probably better off separated, but he insists he is not racist. He is a white nationalist, he says, not a white supremacist. There were mixed-race couples at the wedding. Mr. Hovater said he was fine with it.

“That’s their thing, man,” he said.

Online it is uglier. On Facebook, Mr. Hovater posted a picture purporting to show what life would have looked like if Germany had won World War II: a streetscape full of happy white people, a bustling American-style diner and swastikas everywhere.

“What part is supposed to look unappealing?” he wrote.

In an essay lamenting libertarianism’s leftward drift, he wrote: “At this rate I’m sure the presidential candidate they’ll put up in a few cycles will be an overweight, black, crippled dyke with dyslexia.”

After he attended the Charlottesville rally, in which a white nationalist plowed his car into a group of left-wing protesters, killing one of them, Mr. Hovater wrote that he was proud of the comrades who joined him there: “We made history. Hail victory.”

In German, “Hail victory” is “Sieg heil.”

A Growing Movement

Before white nationalism, his world was heavy metal. He played drums in two bands, and his embrace of fascism, on the surface, shares some traits with the hipster’s cooler-than-thou quest for the most extreme of musical subgenres. Online, he and his allies can also give the impression that their movement is one big laugh — an enormous trolling event put on by self-mocking, politically incorrect kids playing around on the ash heap of history.

On the party’s website, the swastika armband is formally listed as a “NSDAP LARP Armband.” NSDAP was the abbreviation for Hitler’s Nazi Party. LARP stands for “Live-Action Role Playing,” a term originally meant to describe fantasy fans who dress up as wizards and warlocks.

But the movement is no joke. The party, Mr. Hovater said, is now approaching 1,000 people. He said that it has held food and school-supply drives in Appalachia. “These are people that the establishment doesn’t care about,” he said.

Marilyn Mayo, a senior research fellow at the Anti-Defamation League’s Center on Extremism, estimated that the Traditionalist Worker Party had a few hundred members at most, while Americans who identify as “alt-right” could number in the tens of thousands.

“It is small in the grand scheme of things, but it’s one of the segments of the white supremacist movement that’s grown over the last two years,” she said.

It was midday at a Panera Bread, and Mr. Hovater was describing his political awakening over a turkey sandwich. He mentioned books by Charles Murray and Pat Buchanan. He talked about his presence on 4chan, the online message board and alt-right breeding ground (“That’s where the scary memes come from,” he deadpanned). He spoke dispassionately about the injustice of affirmative action, about the “malice directed toward white people” in popular media, about how the cartoon comedy “King of the Hill” was the last TV show to portray “a straight white male patriarch” in a positive light.

He declared the widely accepted estimate that six million Jews died in the Holocaust “overblown.” He said that while the Nazi leader Heinrich Himmler wanted to exterminate groups like Slavs and homosexuals, Hitler “was a lot more kind of chill on those subjects.”

“I think he was a guy who really believed in his cause,” he said of Hitler. “He really believed he was fighting for his people and doing what he thought was right.”

He said he wanted to see the United States become “an actually fair, meritocratic society.” Absent that, he would settle for a white ethno-state “where things are fair, because there’s no competing demographics for government power or for resources.”

His fascist ideal, he said, would resemble the early days in the United States, when power was reserved for landowners “and, you know, normies didn’t really have a whole hell of a lot to say.”

His faith in mainstream solutions slipped as he toured the country with one of the metal bands. “I got to see people who were genuinely hurting,” he said. “We played coast to coast, but specifically places in Appalachia, and a lot of the Eastern Seaboard had really been hurt.”

Friendships Made and Lost

In 2012, Mr. Hovater was incensed by the media coverage of the Trayvon Martin shooting, believing the story had been distorted to make a villain of George Zimmerman, the white man who shot the black teenager. By that time, he and Ms. Hovater had been dating for a year or two. She was a small-town girl who had fallen away from the Catholic Church (“It was just really boring”), and once considered herself liberal.

But in the aftermath of the shooting, Ms. Hovater found herself on social media “questioning the official story,” taking Mr. Zimmerman’s side and finding herself blocked by some of her friends. Today, she says, she and Mr. Hovater are “pretty lined up” politically.

As they let their views be known, friends left and friends stayed.

“His views are horrible and repugnant and hate-filled,” said Ethan Reynolds, a Republican and city councilman in New Carlisle, Ohio, who said he had befriended Mr. Hovater without knowing his extremism. “He was an acquaintance I regret knowing.”

Jake Nolan, a guitarist in one of the bands Mr. Hovater played in, stuck with him. “There are people who literally go around Sieg Heiling,” he said. “Then you have the people who just want the right to be proud of their heritage” — people, he said, who are standing up against “what appears to be an increasingly anti-white America.”

Mr. Hovater befriended Mr. Heimbach in February 2015 at the Conservative Political Action Conference. Mr. Heimbach, who two years earlier had founded a White Student Union at Towson University in Maryland, was holding a protest outside the proceedings and praising Vladimir Putin. The pair founded the Traditionalist Worker Party in the spring.

Soon Mr. Hovater was telling people that he would be running for a council seat in his hometown, New Carlisle, population 5,600. The announcement caught the attention of the Southern Poverty Law Center and the heavy metal press. But he never filed papers.

On a recent weekday evening, Mr. Hovater was at home, sautéing minced garlic with chili flakes and waiting for his pasta to boil. The cats were wandering in and out of their tidy little rental house. Books about Mussolini and Hitler shared shelf space with a stack of Nintendo Wii games. A day earlier, a next-door neighbor, whom Mr. Hovater doesn’t know very well, had hung a Confederate flag in front of his house.

“This is kind of brackish territory here,” Mr. Hovater said. “A lot of people consider Cincinnati the most northern Southern city.”

The pasta was ready. Ms. Hovater talked about how frightening it was this summer to watch from home as the Charlottesville rally spun out of control. Mr. Hovater said he was glad the movement had grown.

They spoke about their future — about moving to a bigger place, about their honeymoon, about having kids.

#Freedom of Speech

0 notes