A Gothic Horror Story Where A Gentleman From A Good Family Gets Haunted By Something Monstrous, Which

A gothic horror story where a gentleman from a good family gets haunted by something monstrous, which follows him around and keeps killing people around him at utter random, in cruel and horrifying ways. Specifically within circumstances where the protagonist has no alibi, and everything indicates that he committed the murders.

But the real horror is not that he would find himself accused of the murders, but that the people around him naturally assume that he did do it, but genuinely do not care, because the victims are never people that the society around him considers "important". The scullery maid of his household is found brutalised beyond recognition in a room where even the ceiling has been splattered with blood, and a constable of the local police brushes it off as a case of household discipline gone wrong, being horrifyingly casual with the assumption that the protagonist severely beat a girl in his service to death, and will dismiss it as an accident. The street urchin that the protagonist was seen talking with - wanting to help this poor little orphan - is found decapitated, severed head in the protagonist's fireplace. This, too, is calmly swept under the rug.

After every horrifying murder, the protagonist tries to seek help, to present the crime to authorities in hopes of getting some semblance of help, or at least clearing his own name of this, but every time it's brushed off. "These things do happen", he is reassured, like it's perfectly normal that a mansion of that size has a secret garden of unmarked graves in one shady corner.

The real horror is the ever-encompassing implication that this is perfectly normal.

Prompt List for Cornley Christmas Chaos 2024

It is Friday the 13th, the perfect day for the prompts to finally be released! The AO3 Collection is open, so go forth and write to your heart’s content!

Before we get started, however, here’s a quick recap regarding how the different prompts work;

The 12 Point Prompt List is open for any interpretation you wish, be it literal, metaphorical, or maybe the prompt is only mentioned in passing. It’s up to you!

The 13th Prompt, also known as the Quote Prompt, is our additional challenge. The quote provided must, in full, be included in your fic. How you choose to include it is entirely up to you.

Now, it’s time!

Prompts: 1. Snowed In 2. Hanging Tinsel 3. Wish Lists 4. Gift Wrapping Mishaps 5. Sledding Adventures 6. Christmas Crackers 7. Mistletoe Moments 8. Traditions 9. Decorating the Tree 10. Candy Canes 11. Snow Angels 12. Christmas Movie Marathon

And now, for this year’s 13th prompt.

Quote Prompt: 13. “My buttons are made of biscuits”

Additional Useful Links and Guidelines for the event.

Nine people I want to get to know better!

Thanks for the tag!

Last Song: Road to Morocco (Bing Crosby and Bob Hope)

Favourite colour: dark red, but any colour can look great imo (except beige obviously)

Currently watching: Yes, Prime Minister

Last Movie: Peter Pan Goes Wrong, but that's technically a recorded play and not a movie... Before that I watched Private's Progress

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: sweet I suppose, but the food I eat is usually pretty bland

Relationship status: in a relationship

Currently obsessed with: mischief theatre, basically anything I read on ao3, and figuring out how Tumblr works (I just learnt how to write bold, italic and strikethrough text! I will have so much fun with that knowledge!!)

Last thing I googled: "Wendy Cope poem"

And a non-pressure tag for: @pennzance @memesandmusicalss @the-irrelevant-trumpeter

Nine people I want to get to know better!

Thanks for the tag @catstronaut-one!!! <3

Last Song: By the Sea (Sweeney Todd Original Broadway Cast)

Favorite Color: probably blue or purple — I tend to gravitate toward cooler colors.

Currently Watching: The Goes Wrong Show and The Magnus Archives (if podcasts count as watching 😂)

Last Movie: actually might have been Sweeney Todd (2007) 🤦 a mediocre movie that I ended up watching twice anyway.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: I definitely gravitate toward sweet. I can’t handle spicy at all, as much as I wish I could.

Relationship Status: single

Currently Obsessed With: Sweeney Todd (shocker!), Mischief Theatre, The Magnus Archives (just finished season 2), and Danganronpa V3 (just finished chapter 2)

Last Thing I Googled: I think actually it was Alan Rickman, because he’s… in Sweeney Todd 😂 guys I can’t I’m just realizing how much it’s taken over my brain.

This was super fun! Sending no pressure tags to @musntbill @trips-around-the-sun @caseopened and @blodsten (sorry if any of you have already done this 😅)

And hey, if anyone shares my current obsessions, feel free to hit me up and chat (just no spoilers please!!)

guys what if we had middlecase letters

Bryony Corrigan as Vanessa Wilcock-Wynn-Carroway as Queen Isobel in:

The Most Lamentable Tragedy of the Prince of England and His Long Lost Twin Brother, Prince Regent of France and the Problems Therein Experienced by All When they came to Know of One Another after a Battle (by Simon Shakespeare, cousin to the famous Colin Shakespeare)

6,129 stitches, 43 colours, and 50 hours, 39 minutes, 46 seconds (I tracked it)

The stitching is done!! I still need to iron it and finish it (I might frame it - I’d prefer to hoop it but it’s nearly 9” tall so I’d need to find a big enough hoop for that)

The inspiration photo:

“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.