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So I'm listening to The Magnus Archives (I'll have a full post on it later, with opinions and fic recs and links and everything once I finish the series and dig through the ao3 tags). If you don't know what it is, in short, it's a weekly horror anthology podcast with a plot interwoven throughout the series. It's very very good, and I highly recommend it.
Anyway, I got to season 3. And one of the rules I set for myself a long time ago (that I break a lot and always end up regretting, ngl) is that I don't do horror stuff I'm not familiar with after dark. I can watch things like Scream (which is, lbr, only horror in that it deals with horror tropes but really it lovingly parodies and also subverts a lot of them (that's another post for another day)), or The Shining, or Psycho after dark, but that's because I know them. I know when the scary bits are, I know when the music is gonna start doing that warning thing, I know when the jump scares are. But MAG? No clue. I'm liveblogging everything to a friend of mine who has already listened to it fully at least once (probably more than once at this point, I know she said she was gonna do a relisten before s4 drops) and she is delighted at my reactions. But I finished season 2 yesterday afternoon after I got off work and plunged right into season 3. And the plot has slowly been coming together over the first two seasons. You get teeny chunks of it in season 1. Mostly just names that pop up in various casefiles and statements, themes that keep repeating. In season 2 you get a bit more. If you're paying attention, you start to notice how some things don't quite fit like they did in the beginning. That's not to say that there's mistakes. They're very intentional. I don't want to go too far into detail, partly because I'm not quite finished yet and I want to wait until I am before I do a full-on discussion/review of it, and partly because spoilers. But anyway, back to the point. The plot starts picking up more in season 2, but when you hit season 3, it's much less "anthology and vaguely connected stories/statements" and more "we've been hinting and nudging and talking around the main plot of the series and now we're gonna throw everything we've got at you". That is to say, the plot really takes off. Everything you've been considering may be connected in season 2 is either confirmed or denied. And it's amazing. But it's also really spooky. There's this underlying terror that starts creeping in that gets ramped up to 11 when you get to season 3. And I, being the insatiably curious type, especially when it comes to stories, had to know what was going to happen. Oh, I could have cheated and looked on the wiki (I admit I've done that quite a bit, though I've since stopped and just let the story unfold), but my curiosity got the better of me. I broke my own rules.
It's winter now, or near enough. Technically it's still fall. But it's the middle of December, and if that's not winter then I don't know what is. At least here, in America. I've got a couple of friends in Australia and it's summer there. Long, hot days. Bright sunshine 'til 9:00 at night, at least. Here it gets dark by 5 PM. I was sitting in the basement while Dad was watching football. I had my headphones in, glancing out the back door every so often to judge how many more episodes I could go through before it got fully dark and I'd have to stop. But then I thought, "this is too good, I have to know what happens. I'm off tomorrow, I should be able to just listen to more with the lights on. Right?" Bad idea. We ended up going to our local zoo to the Festival of Lights, so it was well after 8 by the time I got a chance to start it up again. I really should have left it for the morning. I may occasionally be dumb enough to break my own rules and do horror stuff after dark, but like hell am I doing it when I don't have full control over what lights stay on and go out. Most of the episodes I listened to after we got home weren't too bad, a few shivers here and there but nothing I couldn't handle. And then I listened to episodes 86 and 90. Episode 90 was the one that scared me the worst. I won't go into details about it, but let's just say it was....unsettling. I've got a pretty vivid imagination, and a quirk that lets me replay images on a loop in my head. It's how I can remember film quotes so well. I can picture them just like I'm watching them on my computer, or on tv, or in a movie theater. Sometimes it's annoying, other times it's extremely useful. There was a particular thing mentioned at the end of the episode, and I could picture it so vividly in my head. I was convinced I'd never get to sleep, but at the same time my eyes were drooping so much. Fortunately I'd already taken my contacts out, so my own stupid fear was the only thing keeping me from dropping right then and there. I don't usually wear contacts, but I broke my glasses a couple of weeks ago and I'm just waiting on the replacements to ship to me. Anyway, I didn't want to go to sleep, because I knew I'd have nightmares and would just keep seeing....that. If you've listened to MAG, you know what I mean. But at the same time, I was so tired that all I wanted to do was sleep. So I put on Bob Ross and...actually got a little bit of rest? Not the best night I've ever had, but that's what comes of sleeping on the couch. But no nightmares that I know of. Kept the lights on all night though. Dunno if it helped at all, but it made me feel a little better. I wake up to Dad on a conference call. I think if I hadn't been at my parents house, the nightmares would have been much, much worse. But maybe the thought that there were three other people plus a dog in the house with me helped to keep the nightmares away.
Anyway, I wake up and dive right back in. The sun's still out, bright blue sky shining right out the back door. Makes it much easier to keep the fear at bay, knowing that it's just a story and I can still see daylight so nothing's coming to get me. Logically I know that it's just a story, even in the dark. But knowing and understanding something logically doesn't always make you forget that deep-rooted child-like fear of the dark. And what hides in it. Less so for me.
Statement ends.
Anyway, I got to season 3. And one of the rules I set for myself a long time ago (that I break a lot and always end up regretting, ngl) is that I don't do horror stuff I'm not familiar with after dark. I can watch things like Scream (which is, lbr, only horror in that it deals with horror tropes but really it lovingly parodies and also subverts a lot of them (that's another post for another day)), or The Shining, or Psycho after dark, but that's because I know them. I know when the scary bits are, I know when the music is gonna start doing that warning thing, I know when the jump scares are. But MAG? No clue. I'm liveblogging everything to a friend of mine who has already listened to it fully at least once (probably more than once at this point, I know she said she was gonna do a relisten before s4 drops) and she is delighted at my reactions. But I finished season 2 yesterday afternoon after I got off work and plunged right into season 3. And the plot has slowly been coming together over the first two seasons. You get teeny chunks of it in season 1. Mostly just names that pop up in various casefiles and statements, themes that keep repeating. In season 2 you get a bit more. If you're paying attention, you start to notice how some things don't quite fit like they did in the beginning. That's not to say that there's mistakes. They're very intentional. I don't want to go too far into detail, partly because I'm not quite finished yet and I want to wait until I am before I do a full-on discussion/review of it, and partly because spoilers. But anyway, back to the point. The plot starts picking up more in season 2, but when you hit season 3, it's much less "anthology and vaguely connected stories/statements" and more "we've been hinting and nudging and talking around the main plot of the series and now we're gonna throw everything we've got at you". That is to say, the plot really takes off. Everything you've been considering may be connected in season 2 is either confirmed or denied. And it's amazing. But it's also really spooky. There's this underlying terror that starts creeping in that gets ramped up to 11 when you get to season 3. And I, being the insatiably curious type, especially when it comes to stories, had to know what was going to happen. Oh, I could have cheated and looked on the wiki (I admit I've done that quite a bit, though I've since stopped and just let the story unfold), but my curiosity got the better of me. I broke my own rules.
It's winter now, or near enough. Technically it's still fall. But it's the middle of December, and if that's not winter then I don't know what is. At least here, in America. I've got a couple of friends in Australia and it's summer there. Long, hot days. Bright sunshine 'til 9:00 at night, at least. Here it gets dark by 5 PM. I was sitting in the basement while Dad was watching football. I had my headphones in, glancing out the back door every so often to judge how many more episodes I could go through before it got fully dark and I'd have to stop. But then I thought, "this is too good, I have to know what happens. I'm off tomorrow, I should be able to just listen to more with the lights on. Right?" Bad idea. We ended up going to our local zoo to the Festival of Lights, so it was well after 8 by the time I got a chance to start it up again. I really should have left it for the morning. I may occasionally be dumb enough to break my own rules and do horror stuff after dark, but like hell am I doing it when I don't have full control over what lights stay on and go out. Most of the episodes I listened to after we got home weren't too bad, a few shivers here and there but nothing I couldn't handle. And then I listened to episodes 86 and 90. Episode 90 was the one that scared me the worst. I won't go into details about it, but let's just say it was....unsettling. I've got a pretty vivid imagination, and a quirk that lets me replay images on a loop in my head. It's how I can remember film quotes so well. I can picture them just like I'm watching them on my computer, or on tv, or in a movie theater. Sometimes it's annoying, other times it's extremely useful. There was a particular thing mentioned at the end of the episode, and I could picture it so vividly in my head. I was convinced I'd never get to sleep, but at the same time my eyes were drooping so much. Fortunately I'd already taken my contacts out, so my own stupid fear was the only thing keeping me from dropping right then and there. I don't usually wear contacts, but I broke my glasses a couple of weeks ago and I'm just waiting on the replacements to ship to me. Anyway, I didn't want to go to sleep, because I knew I'd have nightmares and would just keep seeing....that. If you've listened to MAG, you know what I mean. But at the same time, I was so tired that all I wanted to do was sleep. So I put on Bob Ross and...actually got a little bit of rest? Not the best night I've ever had, but that's what comes of sleeping on the couch. But no nightmares that I know of. Kept the lights on all night though. Dunno if it helped at all, but it made me feel a little better. I wake up to Dad on a conference call. I think if I hadn't been at my parents house, the nightmares would have been much, much worse. But maybe the thought that there were three other people plus a dog in the house with me helped to keep the nightmares away.
Anyway, I wake up and dive right back in. The sun's still out, bright blue sky shining right out the back door. Makes it much easier to keep the fear at bay, knowing that it's just a story and I can still see daylight so nothing's coming to get me. Logically I know that it's just a story, even in the dark. But knowing and understanding something logically doesn't always make you forget that deep-rooted child-like fear of the dark. And what hides in it. Less so for me.
Statement ends.
So I learned how to use photoshop!
Dec. 11th, 2018 09:56 amKinda. Maybe. A little. That icon up there? I made that. I'm so proud of myself.
I used to make textfromlastnight pictures. Like these:
But then my previous laptop died, taking photoshop with it. I managed to find a free copy of CS2, but it is old school. And I've never been all that great with photoshop to begin with. But I remembered how to add text! And add effects to the text! And I learned how to do color shifting! I'm super proud.
And maybe soon, with a bit more experimenting, I can figure out how to make really good icons. Here's hoping.
I used to make textfromlastnight pictures. Like these:
But then my previous laptop died, taking photoshop with it. I managed to find a free copy of CS2, but it is old school. And I've never been all that great with photoshop to begin with. But I remembered how to add text! And add effects to the text! And I learned how to do color shifting! I'm super proud.
And maybe soon, with a bit more experimenting, I can figure out how to make really good icons. Here's hoping.
Welcome, friends
Dec. 4th, 2018 01:57 pmWell, since I dug this thing out again, I suppose I better start posting to it again, eh?
Ok, so. Things you will be likely to find here sometime in the near future. My sad attempts at writing, probably some fic rec lists, various essays/articles about movies and tv shows I like (I enjoy yelling my opinions into the void. It occasionally yells back), and some yelling about hockey. Ok, a lot of yelling about hockey. And racing. I like idiots balancing on sharp knives smacking a plastic disc into nets. And idiots who get into cars and go really fast.
I primarily write Marvel, BBC Merlin, Arrowverse (there is a loooooong post coming about that one and how fucked up it is and how it can be fixed), Leverage, some origfic, loooots of Teen Wolf stuff (mostly Allydia with a bit of Sterek sprinkled in for flavor), one or two Dirk Gently fics, a bit of Doctor Who, and a smattering of others. There's a bit of rpf thrown in, bc I think it makes life interesting.
But, yeah. That's me. So come and say hi!
Ok, so. Things you will be likely to find here sometime in the near future. My sad attempts at writing, probably some fic rec lists, various essays/articles about movies and tv shows I like (I enjoy yelling my opinions into the void. It occasionally yells back), and some yelling about hockey. Ok, a lot of yelling about hockey. And racing. I like idiots balancing on sharp knives smacking a plastic disc into nets. And idiots who get into cars and go really fast.
I primarily write Marvel, BBC Merlin, Arrowverse (there is a loooooong post coming about that one and how fucked up it is and how it can be fixed), Leverage, some origfic, loooots of Teen Wolf stuff (mostly Allydia with a bit of Sterek sprinkled in for flavor), one or two Dirk Gently fics, a bit of Doctor Who, and a smattering of others. There's a bit of rpf thrown in, bc I think it makes life interesting.
But, yeah. That's me. So come and say hi!
To Hunt, You Must Become [Part 2/?]
Mar. 18th, 2016 04:56 pmCHAPTER 2
Lydia ran. She ran farther and faster than she'd ever run before. It felt like she'd been running her whole life. No matter how far or how fast she ran, it never felt like far enough. She was sure they were coming after her. She was the last one left, after all. The last link in a chain of pain, suffering, and death. They couldn't afford to let her live. She'd already proven that she wouldn't cooperate.
Lydia felt a scream bubble up in her chest, trying to force its way up her throat. Her feet started moving, carrying her to where death surely awaited. No, she thought. Not here, not again. The scream erupted from her mouth, piercing in its intensity. And she knew nothing more.
When she came back to herself, she looked at her watch. Ten minutes. Not long, then. She'd had worse episodes, sometimes lasting for hours.
Her eyes slid to the scene in front of her. Taking in the horror in front of her, she nearly screamed again. Blood was everywhere, staining the walls, dripping through cracks on the floor. There were at least three bodies in the small room, possibly more. Lydia forced herself to remain calm and detached. These weren't people, not any more. Now, they were just piles of meat and bone, like you'd see in a butcher shop.
Lydia swallowed the bile in her throat. Eyes never leaving the carnage, she pulled the phone she'd picked up out of her pocket. She dialed 911, hands shaking.
“911, please state your emergency,” the voice on the line said.
“Yes,” Lydia said, her voice flat, “I'd like to report a murder.” She gave the address and details, and disconnected the call before the dispatcher could ask her name.
She looked down at the phone in her hand in disgust. Dammit. Now she'd have to get a new phone. It was damned difficult to find a phone without a GPS chip these days. But she couldn't afford to have a phone that was GPS enabled. They would find her, and kill her. Or worse, drag her back with them, kicking and screaming. On the other hand, it looked awfully odd to be the only person under forty who didn't have a smart phone permanently attached to their hand.
Oh, well. Lydia had weighed the risks of standing out in a crowd versus being tracked, and decided that if anyone asked any questions about why she was using such an antiquated piece of equipment, she could claim that her parents didn't trust modern technology and that it was the only phone they'd let her have.
Lydia heard sirens in the distance. Time to vacate, before the cops found her and started asking awkward questions. Questions that didn't have answers; not sane ones, anyway. She could just imagine them questioning her. No, officer, I didn't know the deceased. Why was I there? I don't know. I have this instinct sometimes. It draws me to where death is. No, I'm not making this up. Yes, of course I know this is a serious situation. Yes, sir. If I have any information, or I think of anything else, I will call you right away. Mentally, she scoffed. Yeah. That would go over swimmingly. Lydia turned and hurried away, in the opposite direction of the sirens.
Lydia ran. She ran farther and faster than she'd ever run before. It felt like she'd been running her whole life. No matter how far or how fast she ran, it never felt like far enough. She was sure they were coming after her. She was the last one left, after all. The last link in a chain of pain, suffering, and death. They couldn't afford to let her live. She'd already proven that she wouldn't cooperate.
Lydia felt a scream bubble up in her chest, trying to force its way up her throat. Her feet started moving, carrying her to where death surely awaited. No, she thought. Not here, not again. The scream erupted from her mouth, piercing in its intensity. And she knew nothing more.
When she came back to herself, she looked at her watch. Ten minutes. Not long, then. She'd had worse episodes, sometimes lasting for hours.
Her eyes slid to the scene in front of her. Taking in the horror in front of her, she nearly screamed again. Blood was everywhere, staining the walls, dripping through cracks on the floor. There were at least three bodies in the small room, possibly more. Lydia forced herself to remain calm and detached. These weren't people, not any more. Now, they were just piles of meat and bone, like you'd see in a butcher shop.
Lydia swallowed the bile in her throat. Eyes never leaving the carnage, she pulled the phone she'd picked up out of her pocket. She dialed 911, hands shaking.
“911, please state your emergency,” the voice on the line said.
“Yes,” Lydia said, her voice flat, “I'd like to report a murder.” She gave the address and details, and disconnected the call before the dispatcher could ask her name.
She looked down at the phone in her hand in disgust. Dammit. Now she'd have to get a new phone. It was damned difficult to find a phone without a GPS chip these days. But she couldn't afford to have a phone that was GPS enabled. They would find her, and kill her. Or worse, drag her back with them, kicking and screaming. On the other hand, it looked awfully odd to be the only person under forty who didn't have a smart phone permanently attached to their hand.
Oh, well. Lydia had weighed the risks of standing out in a crowd versus being tracked, and decided that if anyone asked any questions about why she was using such an antiquated piece of equipment, she could claim that her parents didn't trust modern technology and that it was the only phone they'd let her have.
Lydia heard sirens in the distance. Time to vacate, before the cops found her and started asking awkward questions. Questions that didn't have answers; not sane ones, anyway. She could just imagine them questioning her. No, officer, I didn't know the deceased. Why was I there? I don't know. I have this instinct sometimes. It draws me to where death is. No, I'm not making this up. Yes, of course I know this is a serious situation. Yes, sir. If I have any information, or I think of anything else, I will call you right away. Mentally, she scoffed. Yeah. That would go over swimmingly. Lydia turned and hurried away, in the opposite direction of the sirens.
To Hunt, You Must Become [Part 1/?]
Feb. 24th, 2016 09:18 pmPersonal journal of Allison Argent
Search for the Banshee
July 4, 2014
Day 1
While the rest of the country sets off fireworks and sit on decks and barbecue, I am hunting. My work does not stop for an event that happened over two hundred years ago, especially an historically inaccurate event.
I take my time, checking and rechecking each potential lead. My client would rather I find the Banshee quickly, but a sloppy research trail would mean I would have to follow every lead twice. Why do more than once what you can do correctly the first time?
I don't ask my clients for details on my targets. I don't want the whys and the wherefores. Knowing too many details can cloud your judgment. Mistake number one, when you're a bounty hunter. Stick to the basics: physical details, any known aliases, last known location, allies, contacts, and any known abilities. People tend to notice a boy with glowing eyes or a girl who can absorb electricity.
Most of the time, I don't look too hard at my clients, either. I know most of them are unscrupulous. They're hiring a bounty hunter to do their dirty work, after all. As long as they pay me and don't ask me to do anything too illegal, I usually find that some questions are better left unasked. Fortunately, the family name carries quite a bit of weight, so if anyone in my family is ever arrested, nothing sticks.
Sometimes what I do bothers me. Every once in a while, I'll start thinking about how these...kids, for lack of a better word, don't have anywhere else to go. It's not their fault they are what they are. But I don't allow myself to think like that for long. I can't afford to. So when those thoughts come around, I square my shoulders, take a deep breath, and lock them away in a little box and throw away the key.
My services are discreet. I keep a series of burner phones, changed every three days. My clients never give names, and we never meet. Any relevant information is passed on to a contact service I keep, who put together a file and pass it on. Included is the contact number used when the job is done.
My target is known only as “the Banshee”. A pretentious name, to be sure. According to the files, she has the ability to sense death. It shouldn't be too difficult to find the one person who keeps finding the bodies. People like that tend to stick out.
Allison Argent closed her journal. She couldn't dally too long. The Banshee had a nice head start already, several days at least. Allison wasn't terribly worried though; she'd caught much more dangerous bounties with a bigger head start before.
Don't get cocky, she chided herself. Cocky hunters made mistakes and got themselves killed. Hunter rule number three.
She reached for her bag and traded her journal for a green spiral notebook and a thick folder. Once she'd arranged the contents of the folder to her liking on the table in front of her, she opened the notebook to a fresh page. While the university campus wasn't strictly closed during the summer, the library was typically largely unoccupied. No one would bother her here. And if they did, well...it was a college campus. No reason she couldn't say the unusual research wasn't for a project of some sort.
Allison's eyes flicked tirelessly over the pages, her hands mechanically jotting down pages and pages of notes. Years of research sessions nearly identical to this one had taught her focus, and honed her ability to block distractions. Even the most focused people, however, got distracted by a flashlight beam being aimed directly at their faces.
“Sorry miss,” she heard a voice say, “the library's closed. I'm going to have to ask you to leave now.”
Allison blinked hard several times, trying to clear the spots from her eyes. “Of course,” she said, reaching for her folder. “I'll be out of your way in just a few minutes. Just let me get my stuff.” She flashed the guard a charming, empty-headed smile. Authority figures tended to underestimate women they thought were brainless. It was infuriating at times, but ridiculously helpful at others.
The guard lowered his flashlight. “Don't take too long,” he said, and walked away.
Allison's stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in quite some time. She packed her bag, checked her watch, and cursed silently. It was already after 2:00 in the morning. No wonder the guard wanted her to leave.
She passed the guard on her way out. She stopped just short of the door and spun on her heel to face him. “Do you happen to know a place where a girl can get something to eat this late? Studying makes a girl hungry,” she said, plastering a sheepish grin on her face.
The guard's eyes slid up her body, pausing first at her short skirt, then at her low-cut top. “You hang around for half an hour or so, and I can show you a few places,” he leered.
Inwardly she sighed. Fantastic, she thought. The kind of guy who only cares about two things: my boobs and my ass.
“Actually,” she said, “I'm supposed to meet my boyfriend soon. He works the early morning shift and his car's in the shop, so he needs a ride to work. I'm supposed to pick up breakfast for us.”
His eyes hardened. “There's a UDF up the road that's open 24 hours,” he growled.
Allison flashed him her most dimwitted smile. “Thanks!” she chirped, turned, and walked out the door. She counted the ways she could break his fingers with every step.
Fuck it, she thought, getting into her car. There's probably a Waffle House somewhere near.
Search for the Banshee
July 4, 2014
Day 1
While the rest of the country sets off fireworks and sit on decks and barbecue, I am hunting. My work does not stop for an event that happened over two hundred years ago, especially an historically inaccurate event.
I take my time, checking and rechecking each potential lead. My client would rather I find the Banshee quickly, but a sloppy research trail would mean I would have to follow every lead twice. Why do more than once what you can do correctly the first time?
I don't ask my clients for details on my targets. I don't want the whys and the wherefores. Knowing too many details can cloud your judgment. Mistake number one, when you're a bounty hunter. Stick to the basics: physical details, any known aliases, last known location, allies, contacts, and any known abilities. People tend to notice a boy with glowing eyes or a girl who can absorb electricity.
Most of the time, I don't look too hard at my clients, either. I know most of them are unscrupulous. They're hiring a bounty hunter to do their dirty work, after all. As long as they pay me and don't ask me to do anything too illegal, I usually find that some questions are better left unasked. Fortunately, the family name carries quite a bit of weight, so if anyone in my family is ever arrested, nothing sticks.
Sometimes what I do bothers me. Every once in a while, I'll start thinking about how these...kids, for lack of a better word, don't have anywhere else to go. It's not their fault they are what they are. But I don't allow myself to think like that for long. I can't afford to. So when those thoughts come around, I square my shoulders, take a deep breath, and lock them away in a little box and throw away the key.
My services are discreet. I keep a series of burner phones, changed every three days. My clients never give names, and we never meet. Any relevant information is passed on to a contact service I keep, who put together a file and pass it on. Included is the contact number used when the job is done.
My target is known only as “the Banshee”. A pretentious name, to be sure. According to the files, she has the ability to sense death. It shouldn't be too difficult to find the one person who keeps finding the bodies. People like that tend to stick out.
Allison Argent closed her journal. She couldn't dally too long. The Banshee had a nice head start already, several days at least. Allison wasn't terribly worried though; she'd caught much more dangerous bounties with a bigger head start before.
Don't get cocky, she chided herself. Cocky hunters made mistakes and got themselves killed. Hunter rule number three.
She reached for her bag and traded her journal for a green spiral notebook and a thick folder. Once she'd arranged the contents of the folder to her liking on the table in front of her, she opened the notebook to a fresh page. While the university campus wasn't strictly closed during the summer, the library was typically largely unoccupied. No one would bother her here. And if they did, well...it was a college campus. No reason she couldn't say the unusual research wasn't for a project of some sort.
Allison's eyes flicked tirelessly over the pages, her hands mechanically jotting down pages and pages of notes. Years of research sessions nearly identical to this one had taught her focus, and honed her ability to block distractions. Even the most focused people, however, got distracted by a flashlight beam being aimed directly at their faces.
“Sorry miss,” she heard a voice say, “the library's closed. I'm going to have to ask you to leave now.”
Allison blinked hard several times, trying to clear the spots from her eyes. “Of course,” she said, reaching for her folder. “I'll be out of your way in just a few minutes. Just let me get my stuff.” She flashed the guard a charming, empty-headed smile. Authority figures tended to underestimate women they thought were brainless. It was infuriating at times, but ridiculously helpful at others.
The guard lowered his flashlight. “Don't take too long,” he said, and walked away.
Allison's stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in quite some time. She packed her bag, checked her watch, and cursed silently. It was already after 2:00 in the morning. No wonder the guard wanted her to leave.
She passed the guard on her way out. She stopped just short of the door and spun on her heel to face him. “Do you happen to know a place where a girl can get something to eat this late? Studying makes a girl hungry,” she said, plastering a sheepish grin on her face.
The guard's eyes slid up her body, pausing first at her short skirt, then at her low-cut top. “You hang around for half an hour or so, and I can show you a few places,” he leered.
Inwardly she sighed. Fantastic, she thought. The kind of guy who only cares about two things: my boobs and my ass.
“Actually,” she said, “I'm supposed to meet my boyfriend soon. He works the early morning shift and his car's in the shop, so he needs a ride to work. I'm supposed to pick up breakfast for us.”
His eyes hardened. “There's a UDF up the road that's open 24 hours,” he growled.
Allison flashed him her most dimwitted smile. “Thanks!” she chirped, turned, and walked out the door. She counted the ways she could break his fingers with every step.
Fuck it, she thought, getting into her car. There's probably a Waffle House somewhere near.
Fixing Donna Noble
Nov. 15th, 2015 04:15 pmNOTE: Donna is a widow. Her husband was killed in an accident shortly after Big Bang 2
.
Donna fused with the Doctor during the Biological Metacrisis (Journey’s End). During the battle with Davros, Donna was electrocuted which fired her synapses, causing them to work overtime and unlocking the new Time Lord portion of her brain. Due to the fact that human/Time Lord Biological Metacrisis has never happened before and Time Lords and humans are not biologically compatible, the Time Lord portion of Donna’s brain began to burn up the human portion of her brain, causing HER to burn. The Doctor locked it all away (being as he couldn’t erase it) and told Donna’s family that if she ever remembered even for a second anything about the Doctor that the lock would release and she would burn. He also included a failsafe in case anything were to happen. This failsafe would knock her unconscious before she could remember too much and begin to truly burn. (The End of Time)
The lock does not apply to dreams. Anyone could make Donna remember anything about the Doctor and she wouldn’t burn, so long as she was in the dream world and the other party had access to Donna’s dreams. The TARDIS, sensing the End of Days is near, begins making preparations to pull a suicidal move and force Donna to remember and take the lock into itself. It begins contacting Donna through her dreams, telling her to be at a mortuary on a certain day at a certain time. Then, while the Doctor, Amy, and Rory (and possibly River) are off having adventures, teh TARDIS would travel to the same Mortuary that Donna will be at, transfer its vortex matrix into a human corpse (a la The Doctor’s Wife, albeit willingly this time), kiss Donna (a la The Parting of the Ways), thus taking the Time Lord bits into a TARDIS-inhabited corpse and releasing the now-completely human Donna from her mind-prison. The corpse then begins to break down, prompting Donna to bring it to the TARDIS (which has powered down due to the vortex matrix being inside the corpse). After the corpse completely breaks down, the vortex matrix (along with Donna’s Time Lord bits) gets released back into the TARDIS. Donna is left unconscious on the floor in the TARDIS’ main control room. The TARDIS, now back in full control of itself, takes the unconscious Donna with it back to where the Doctor left it. Roughly halfway through the flight, Donna wakes up and memories begin coming back.
The Doctor and his companions are off having adventures while all this is going on. Once they’ve finished with their adventures, they make their way back to the TARDIS and the Doctor is shocked to discover Donna sitting on a rock just outside the doors. Donna already knows all about the Doctor’s regeneration and the ensuing adventures because she and the TARDIS are temporarily telepathically linked (more than just the basic telepathy that allows the TARDIS to translate virtually any language instantaneously). Amy and Rory have no idea who Donna is and are shocked when she walks right up to him and slugs him in the face and starts swearing at him in rather creative ways. She then breaks down sobbing and demanding to know exactly why he would force her to forget everything about all their adventures when she was clearly so important that Dalek Caan would drive himself mad by flying directly into the Time War to release Davros and manipulate Time to bring her and the Doctor together at precisely the right points in time. He explains that it was the only wy to save her after the Biological Metacrisis occurred and that if he let her die, her family woul have never forgiven him and possibly tried to kill him (or at the very least expose him to the masses, prompting all kinds of nasty government research that would best be avoided). She tells him that she would rather have died than go back to her boring, everyday life.
The Doctor then becomes suspicious (as the initial shock of seeing Donna outside the TARDIS on some random alien planet has by now worn off) about how exactly she COULD be standing there when all of her memories were locked away and she couldn’t remember without burning. The TARDIS then takes advantage of its temporary psychic link with Donna and explains through her exactly how everything was put together. The Doctor then puts two and two together and gets four and realizes that the universe is being threatened (AGAIN) and it’s up to him and his merry band of companions to fix it. Amy and Rory are then introduced to Donna properly and they all travel off to pick up the other members of their merry band.
Whew!
Edit 12/17/18: I'll probably come back and tweak this at some point, when I've had more time to think about it. Davies really did Donna, and all the ladies really, a huge disservice. And we're not even gonna go into Moffat and how he treated female characters. I'm liable to blow a gasket if I did.
.
Donna fused with the Doctor during the Biological Metacrisis (Journey’s End). During the battle with Davros, Donna was electrocuted which fired her synapses, causing them to work overtime and unlocking the new Time Lord portion of her brain. Due to the fact that human/Time Lord Biological Metacrisis has never happened before and Time Lords and humans are not biologically compatible, the Time Lord portion of Donna’s brain began to burn up the human portion of her brain, causing HER to burn. The Doctor locked it all away (being as he couldn’t erase it) and told Donna’s family that if she ever remembered even for a second anything about the Doctor that the lock would release and she would burn. He also included a failsafe in case anything were to happen. This failsafe would knock her unconscious before she could remember too much and begin to truly burn. (The End of Time)
The lock does not apply to dreams. Anyone could make Donna remember anything about the Doctor and she wouldn’t burn, so long as she was in the dream world and the other party had access to Donna’s dreams. The TARDIS, sensing the End of Days is near, begins making preparations to pull a suicidal move and force Donna to remember and take the lock into itself. It begins contacting Donna through her dreams, telling her to be at a mortuary on a certain day at a certain time. Then, while the Doctor, Amy, and Rory (and possibly River) are off having adventures, teh TARDIS would travel to the same Mortuary that Donna will be at, transfer its vortex matrix into a human corpse (a la The Doctor’s Wife, albeit willingly this time), kiss Donna (a la The Parting of the Ways), thus taking the Time Lord bits into a TARDIS-inhabited corpse and releasing the now-completely human Donna from her mind-prison. The corpse then begins to break down, prompting Donna to bring it to the TARDIS (which has powered down due to the vortex matrix being inside the corpse). After the corpse completely breaks down, the vortex matrix (along with Donna’s Time Lord bits) gets released back into the TARDIS. Donna is left unconscious on the floor in the TARDIS’ main control room. The TARDIS, now back in full control of itself, takes the unconscious Donna with it back to where the Doctor left it. Roughly halfway through the flight, Donna wakes up and memories begin coming back.
The Doctor and his companions are off having adventures while all this is going on. Once they’ve finished with their adventures, they make their way back to the TARDIS and the Doctor is shocked to discover Donna sitting on a rock just outside the doors. Donna already knows all about the Doctor’s regeneration and the ensuing adventures because she and the TARDIS are temporarily telepathically linked (more than just the basic telepathy that allows the TARDIS to translate virtually any language instantaneously). Amy and Rory have no idea who Donna is and are shocked when she walks right up to him and slugs him in the face and starts swearing at him in rather creative ways. She then breaks down sobbing and demanding to know exactly why he would force her to forget everything about all their adventures when she was clearly so important that Dalek Caan would drive himself mad by flying directly into the Time War to release Davros and manipulate Time to bring her and the Doctor together at precisely the right points in time. He explains that it was the only wy to save her after the Biological Metacrisis occurred and that if he let her die, her family woul have never forgiven him and possibly tried to kill him (or at the very least expose him to the masses, prompting all kinds of nasty government research that would best be avoided). She tells him that she would rather have died than go back to her boring, everyday life.
The Doctor then becomes suspicious (as the initial shock of seeing Donna outside the TARDIS on some random alien planet has by now worn off) about how exactly she COULD be standing there when all of her memories were locked away and she couldn’t remember without burning. The TARDIS then takes advantage of its temporary psychic link with Donna and explains through her exactly how everything was put together. The Doctor then puts two and two together and gets four and realizes that the universe is being threatened (AGAIN) and it’s up to him and his merry band of companions to fix it. Amy and Rory are then introduced to Donna properly and they all travel off to pick up the other members of their merry band.
Whew!
Edit 12/17/18: I'll probably come back and tweak this at some point, when I've had more time to think about it. Davies really did Donna, and all the ladies really, a huge disservice. And we're not even gonna go into Moffat and how he treated female characters. I'm liable to blow a gasket if I did.
Edit 12/17/2018: This fic is very long, and I'm trying to clean up my tags a bit. The fic is still there, just below the cut. I doubt I'll ever finish this fic, honestly. I started it years ago after watching Casper around Hallowe'en. It was supposed to be a Casper au, with Tony inheriting the manor house in Manhattan only to find that Steve, who actually did die in the Arctic at the end of the war, was haunting the house. It was gonna be Stony, but honestly I don't remember how I'd intended to end it. Maybe one day I'll pick it back up. Who knows. But for now, enjoy.
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Kill of the Night
Nov. 12th, 2015 05:53 pmShe stalked down the street, heels clicking on the pavement rhythmically. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, and it was like the slow-motion shampoo commercials. Derek Hale’s jaw hit the ground.
She grinned at him wickedly, dark heat in her eyes. They promised so many things, dark and dangerous and exciting.
The streetlights haloed her, and she turned towards him, walking backwards effortlessly. She crooked her finger at him, and he followed her without hesitating.
She’d tied him up that night. She’d bitten and scratched, twisted and pulled, done things that he never dreamed was possible. She tore him apart and put him back together again.
And he’d thanked Kate Argent for the privilege.
She grinned at him wickedly, dark heat in her eyes. They promised so many things, dark and dangerous and exciting.
The streetlights haloed her, and she turned towards him, walking backwards effortlessly. She crooked her finger at him, and he followed her without hesitating.
She’d tied him up that night. She’d bitten and scratched, twisted and pulled, done things that he never dreamed was possible. She tore him apart and put him back together again.
And he’d thanked Kate Argent for the privilege.
