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criticofallthings · 3 years

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SO IT’S 5:12AM BECAUSE I’VE BEEN TYPING AWAY A NEW HEADCANNON PIECE OF CRACK IDEA THAT WOULDN’T LET ME SLEEP IF I DIDN’T. edit: bc tumblr mobile app is dumb I had to restart in a web browser and it is now 6:03 AM.

Anyway yeah so that Hawkmokn lore tab where we see Guardian lad and Crow get drunk and be merry (brain’s a little scramble rn, but I’m preeetty sure its the Hawkmoon lore tab)?? Yeah so that and trauma bonding / healing bc if I haven’t said it a thousand times and then sme yet, Imma say it again: POOR TRAUMATIZED GUARDIANS OMFG 😭😭😭

No title no beta bc literally just shat this out the past couple of hours:

cw/tw: ptsd, referenced major character death, death, implied depression/major grief, self depreciation

ps. usually I write nonbinary Guardian, but today we got lady she/her Guardian

pps. this fic is a heckin chonker compared to the previous ones

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Crow’s lips were gentle against the Guardian’s own, a bit dry, but sweet and heady with the lingering wine. The kiss was sudden. It was spontaneous. And it made something warm and so soft and so, so very fragile, hatch within the Guardian’s chest.

Until she opened her eyes and saw those golden eyes, glowly softly in the dark, beneath dusky white and raven black fringe. The pale smokey blue of his skin, luminous where it reflected the warmth of the campfire, and cast in deep shadows where the night’s darkness fought to shade his face. The smell of ash suddenly weighs much heavier in the air.

That warm, soft, and fragile thing in the Guardian’s chest goes cold and sharp and hard. Time slows and speeds up at the same time within her mind, stealing her away to a prison of memories. Blood rushes to her ears, drowning out the warning from Ghost to Crow and Glint.

The Guardian shoved Crow away and stood up, a heavy handcannon with a white spade on the stock materializing into her hand, aimed at Crow’s heart. An errant blip of data-Light to Crow’s left is all that hints at Glint’s swift dematerialization. Crow stays prone on the ground, spawled on his back, one hand raised up, in an attempt to pacify —unwittingly making it harder for the Guardian to snap out of that memory.

The stench of burnt oil, sweat, and soot fills her nose. She only hears the crackles of flames and electric buzzing as her heart pounds, coldly staring into Crow’s bewildered eyes. Those deep golden eyes that had haunted her waking hours and chased her down in nightmares. Those eyes filled with cruelty as they watched her stumble to Cayde’s dying side. She doesn’t realize yet, but the tears she couldn’t shed before, now weep from her eyes. The handcannon trembles slightly in her grip.

Ghost floats over into his Guardian’s field of view. He’s careful to let her know he’s doing so by giving her shoulder a bump as he glides to a rest above the stock of the handcannon. He hovers there, his one eye searching both of hers, glow dimmed slightly. His shell gives a soft whirl before he speaks, leaning in gently towards her.

“That is not him.”

The silence is deafening, every second only increasing the tension. Ghost clicks his shell, uncertain if his words were even heard. He tries again, bobbing in the air.

“Crow is not him.”

The handcannon trembles. But the Warlock doesn’t move, bound by so much tension you’d think she was a Hunter about to leap into the air to throw a Blade Barrage.

“Crow is not him.”

Ghost speaks again, insistent, shell whirling softly as he flits closer to his Guardian. A flicker of recognition crosses her face. The handcannon falters, no longer aimed directly at Crow’s chest. Ghost nudges her hand, bumping the Guardian’s aim to the ground.

She trembles, a full body shudder and the handcannon slips from her grasp. Suddenly she’s aware, all too aware of what happened, and the tension holding her still dissipates. She falls to her knees, energy completely spent.

“I, I-I’m so sorry.” She’s barely able to whisper the words in his direction.

Before her, Crow watches, eyes wide and doe-like, shocked and unsure of what to do. Of what just happened. A sinking feeling blooms in his gut.

He knows he wasn’t a good man before he died. Plenty of guardians had made that clear through their boot heels and fists, gunfire and knives, with their Light in three different energies: arc, void, and solar. As did the Eliksni, who cursed him in their language while their Captains tore him apart with their four arms.

Crow knows it’s an understatement to say he wasn’t a good man in his previous life. Even if he could never learn about who that man was, what he did, and would only by the number of shattered bones and bruised flesh just how much pain that man had caused —Crow decided early on that he could take it. It was penance. It was justly due and therefore he couldn’t call it painful.

But this? This hurt.

It hurt because now he knows that the man he once was had struck an incomprehensible blow to the Guardian he had come to know more of. It hurt because he had been holding on to a small hope, an indescribably small bit of hope, that of all the people he had encountered in his previous life that he had never met the Guardian. Because if they had never met, then maybe, maybe there was someone he didn’t hurt. His first friend. His savoir. His now not-so-secret-crush. And the longer he thought about it, the greater that sinking feeling in his gut grew.

He could no longer deny the shock and subdued anger and almost very well hidden grief he had seen flash across her face when he revealed himself to her and Osiris. He could no longer deny the way they had kept him at distance while easily in sight with a hand hovering over their gun every time they met him for a Hunt or to study a newly sprouted Cryptolith. Why his attempts at humor and jokes were met with cool silence. Why whenever he saw that handcannon, he instinctively recoiled away from it, phantom pain bursting sharply in his heart.

——————

Crow remembers the first time he saw the Guardian wield that gun. How she had effortlessly cleared a pack of thrall in one clip, each headshot exploding in a flurry of solar. How his body reacted: legs collapsing beneath him, his heart burning painfully, lungs gasping for air that never seemed to make it into him, retching pathetically, as tears streamed down his face.

Why was he crying?

Why did he feel an insurmountable wall of sorrow and regret?

She had seen him fall and before the last thrall had burnt away completely, she came running towards him. All he could see in that moment was that gun getting closer and all he felt was an innate desire to get away.

Run, run, run, run, run before you die!

Run you before you burn!

The Guardian came close, hands splayed before her, voice speaking in soothing tones, words lost upon his panicking ears. He had screamed then, in abject terror. It was a garbled and pitched sound as he tried to breathe and vomit and scrabble away all at the same time; his eyes riveted to the handcannon now holstered at her side. Her Warlock mind, keen to details, quickly realized what had triggered his panic and she deftly threw the gun to her Ghost who transmatted it away mid-air.

Crow doesn’t remember what the Guardian said to him, but he remembers how carefully she reached out to him. How she framed his face in her gauntleted hands, so gentle, so lightly, as if he might shatter into glass —just to touch her forehead to his. How the puffs of her outward breaths ghosting by his cheeks helped calm his own.

And he knew then, in that moment that no matter what that gun meant that he was already in too deep. When with a simple touch, the Guardian could soothe away old terrors he himself knew nothing of, Crow knew then. He loves her.

——————

Crow slowly got to his feet, mindful of the Guardian (who was despondently staring into her open hands while Ghost hovered on her shoulder). He looks at that gun, chest starting to burn, heartbeat increasing. Clenching a fist at his side, Crow takes a tentative step and then another until he’s close enough to pick up the handcannon. He gingerly picks it up by the barrel, keeping his hands off the stock on purpose. It’s another small step towards the Guardian before he kneels in front of them.

He pauses there, unsure of what he can do —of what he did that caused the Guardian to react so violently before. He doesn’t think it was the kiss itself...that seemed to be fine until she looked at his face, into his eyes. Ah. Crow rests the handcannon on his thigh and pulls up his hood, jerking it to cover more of his face. Cautiously he grabs the handcannon by the barrel again and with his other hand, slowly reaches for one of the Guardian’s own. She lets him guide her hand to the handcannon and once he’s sure she won’t drop it, Crow gently pushes both towards her again. The Guardian looks away, but cradles the handcannon in her lap.

More hesitantly now, Crow raises his hands to cup her face just as she once did for him. He can’t exactly see with his hood covering so much of his face, but he slowly gets nearer and carefully moves his hands over the side of her face. He leans forward to rest his forehead against hers, the edges of his hood brushing across his nose as he did so, fully obscuring his vision. Crow doesn’t know of anything he could say in this moment —what could he of all people say to her, Guardian of guardians, that could possibly make a difference? So he doesn’t say anything. Instead, Crow softly hums.

It’s an old melody, a lullaby he found while exploring abandoned freighters and passenger ships in the Reef. When Glint discovered his fondness for it, the Little Light would often hum the tune, sitting on his chest, to soothe him on several sleepless nights in Spider’s Lair. Crow hopes that this at least, can help ground the Guardian in the present and away from the painful memories in her past.

They stay like this for a while. The Guardian’s breath evens out and somewhere along the time past, Ghost had dematerialized. It was just the two of them now. Crow stops humming when he feels the Guardian raise a hand to cover one of his over her face. She leans into his palm, then forward against his forehead for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Crow, I’m so sor—“ She starts to apologize and it’s a whisper until she says his name to apologize once more. Crow doesn’t want to hear this, he doesn’t deserve an apology. So Crow cuts off the Guardian by dropping his hands to her sides and pulling her into his chest.

The sudden movement sends the Guardian toppling onto Crow. He curls forward to protect his head, but keeps his arms around her, falling flat on his back. The Guardian doesn’t move to get off of him and Crow takes that as an okay sign. He keeps one arm around her, the other he moves to card his fingers through her hair.

“Of all the people in this world, Guardian, I am the last of anyone to whom you owe an apology.” Crow let’s his words hang in the air, trying to keep his breathing even so his heart would stay less frantic too.

“If anything,” he pauses to admire a particularly silky strand of hair as it slips through his fingers.

“I am the one indebited to you.”

There’s another pause as he sorts his next words before speaking. His hand idly resumes carding through the Guardian's hair again.

“So much so that I wonder if it’s selfish greed that makes me want to stay like this.” Crow sighs, looking straight up into the star speckled sky above them. At this angle he can’t see the Guardian, but he feel her shift slightly in his arms.

“Even though you’ve done so much for a worthless stain of a being as me…Even though I can never atone for the things I’ve done befo—“ He’s interrupted by the Guardian slapping a hand over his mouth.

“You are not him.” She shifts in his arms, sitting up, moving a leg over to straddle him properly.

Crow grabs his fallen hood in a panic, pulling the fabric so swiftly up around his face he hears the fabric creak as its seams struggle to stay sewn. Still, he doesn’t let the material go, trying to keep his face hidden.

“You are not him.” The Guardian repeats herself, lifting her hand from his mouth. Crow can’t tell with what emotion she said it with and he’s too afraid to check just yet. He doesn’t want to cause her harm again, regardless of how circumstantially accidental it was.

“Crow…”

He freezes at the way she calls his name. It was different from how she usually said it. It sounded soft and so warm in her voice. The Guardian prods at one of hands clamped on his hood. He turns his head to the side, trying to escape beneath a look he could practically feel brushing against his hands.

“I...I-I don’t want to hurt you...again.” Crow’s heart beats skittishly within his chest, causing a lump to form in his throat. He’s barely able to say these words out loud without an audible whimper to them. He tries to speak again, but fails.

The Guardian leans forward over him and a shifting moment later he feels her tap her forehead against his. Her hands rest, half-covering his own, but exerting no force to push of pry his fingers away from his hood.

“Crow.” She whispers his name, just as soft and warm as before. Her lips ghost across his clenched hands when she spoke, sending goosebumps down his arms. Crow tenses.

It’s a full body reaction as Crow completely freezes up. Once more he tries to swallow down the lump in his throat with little success. His tongue feels dry and too heavy in his mouth. He can feel his heart rate spike, beating so hard now he’s unsure if the metaphorical ache that had been nesting there is becoming a real one.

“Please, Crow?” The Guardian pleads softly, leaning back and letting her hands slide from his face to over his chest.

“You can’t hide your handsome face forever.” She tries to make it sound light hearted, an easy joke, but the anxious tapping of her finger against his chest reveals her anxiety. Crow takes a deep, shaky inhale, holding it a second before letting it out.

“I-I can’t.” Crow sputters, the breath he had taken just before speaking seemed too little for all the things he wanted to say. Did she really just call his face handsome right now? Oh Traveler, why was that now all he could focus on??

He feels the Guardian shift in his lap again. The movement snaps Crow out of his thoughts and inadvertently he tightens his grip on his hood again. Somewhere behind his head, a seam in the hood gives way and the fabric tears from the stress.

A small chuckle near his ear catches him off guard and Crow isn’t able to stop his head from jerking sideways. This gives the Guardian an advantage and she presses against him, letting her head rest side by side to his. It keeps him unable to turn his face again. Even still, Crow maintains his hold over his ruined hood.

“Well then...” The Guardian pauses. Her voice, low and smooth, is right next to Crow’s ear. Crow flinches slightly, swallowing rapidly again, not expecting her to be so close.

“...how am I supposed to kiss you back?”

“Huuh??”

Crow lets out a confused sound, brain derailing instantly, but also cutting some of the tension out of his body. Certainly, he must have heard the Guardian wrong. But the sound of two ghosts re-materializing interrupts the Guardian (who Crow is now very aware is straddling him) from speaking as she suddenly freezes.

“OH. Oh! Oh...well uh, w-we’ll come back later!! N-n-not too soon, ofcou—” Ghost’s shocked rambling is halted by metallic clinking as Glint’s shell collides with his. In the background, Glint’s hurried whispers of “Just go! Just go!” are just barely audible before the two Little Lights decompile once more.

Above him, the Guardian lets out a heavy breath once the two ghosts are gone. Beneath his hands, Crow breaks into a brief smile at that. The brief interruption had brought a measure of calm to him and he didn’t want to waste the moment.

“I, well...the man I was did something pretty horrible to you, didn’t I?” Crow lets the question hang in the air, but pushes on. If he lets the Guardian speak now, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to say these words again.

“Not just you, to all the guardians...the Vanguard, and even the Eliksni, maybe even to the Scorn.” The Guardian is still above him, listening, but against his chest Crow can feel the heavy, measured beating of her heart.

“A-and I know. I just know. That that handcannon --the one with the white spade— I know that man died to that gun...This body remembers, but I also think it’s much more than that.” Crow stops to take a shuddering breath in. He focuses on the steady feeling of the Guardian’s heart against his chest to center himself.

“When I see that gun...it’s like I can feel that final shot burning again and again. But then there’s so much more to it. So much pain that isn’t from that bullet, so much grief, and fear, and even anger. Anger at myself, knowing I —all I did was —all I caused was…” He trails off, not able to find the words to describe how those moments felt. When he speaks again, it’s all in whispers.

“But when I see you, I know it’s not right, I know it’s selfish, I know you didn’t even like me at the beginning….but when I see you, I know I’ll be okay. Because the Light gave me a second chance to be okay and you did the same.”

Crow stops when he feels the Guardian shifting again. She grabs him by his elbows and slides off of his lap, tugging on him to join her in a sitting position. His knees are now tucked under his chin and he can feel her legs framing his own. It’s silent for a moment, but then he feels her edge closer to plant a chaste kiss to the back of his hands.

“It was an accident, a trick of the light and shadow…I—you are not like him in many, many ways.” For a moment Crow’s heart plummeted to his gut, wrenching at her first few words. Her hands cover his own again and Crow’s heart grows light.

“Please. Look at me.” The Guardian asks Crow while gently pressing against his knuckles. She rubs her thumbs over the side and backs of his hands, small soothing gestures.

Crow clenches his jaw, then decides against it. He releases his hold on his cloak’s hood, fingers stiff and aching from how tightly he had clung to the material. Crow doesn’t let the hood fall from his face and keeps his eyes shut. The Guardian takes his hands into her own, warming and massaging them to ease the stiffness.

Once she deems his hands warm enough, the Guardian lets them go. Crow rests them at his side, not confident yet to open his eyes. He focuses on the way the air moves instead, trying to anticipate her next move so he doesn’t jump.

Slowly, the Guardian moves the hood off of his head. She cups his face with one hand while the other strokes his cheek before tucking several stray strands of hair behind his ear. Throughout it all, Crow is still. However, his heart beats fast within his chest.

“Wha-“ Crow’s questions are cutoff before he could even start to ask —the Guardian smothering them beneath a passionate kiss. She teases his bottom lip with her teeth and in his surprise, Crow opens his eyes.

He’s immediately consumed by the Guardian’s smoldering eyes, half-open to catch his reaction. Crow’s not one to be outdone, and he raises a hand to cradle the back of her head as he presses into the kiss. He teases the Guardian back with a lick of his tongue, half expecting nothing, but pleasantly surprised when she returned in kind. It’s a sweet and warm moment and once again the Guardian feels that soft and fragile thing flutter in her chest.

“See,” the Guardian whispers against Crow’s lips as she caresses his face, maintaining steady eye contact, “all okay. You are you.”

Crow’s brows upturn at her words, feeling almost overwhelmed. Those words offered more solace to his heart than the kisses —kisses which he could hardly believe happened. He’ll have to make sure she was on the same page as him later, because any further and Crow would fall even more inextricably in love with the Guardian.

They lean into each other for some time, letting the comforting silence speak for them. Beside them, the fire pops as it fades off, nearly just embers now.

Crow’s the first to move, stretching behind himself to reach a spare log. He tosses it onto the middle of the fire. It doesn’t catch right away, but the Guardian flicks a bit of solar Light at it and soon the fire cackles warmly again.

Adjusting himself, Crow scoots closer to the Guardian so that they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder.

“Could you tell me—only if you want to—about…” Unsure of how to ask and knowing it’s taboo for guardians to learn details of their past, Crow trails off.

“I-I just want to listen...if that would help.”

The Guardian catches his hand at that and brings it to her lips. She plants a gentle kiss on his palm. Looking into Crow’s eyes, she slowly nods. He leans forward to give the Guardian a chaste peck on her lips. Crow adjusts how he’s sitting to embrace the Guardian from behind and she shifts to lean into him.

“No questions about details related to your past, alright? Only if you don’t understand something like time or place.”

Crow nods several times, suddenly feeling shy and too anxious to speak. He hugs the Guardian tightly before easing up to let her speak.

“Alright,” She sounds a bit tired now, the exact kind of weariness that only comes from raging against a deep grief and losing the battle, but accepting the scars and moving on. One foot in front of the other. “it’s a Golden Age saying that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.”

“Let me tell you the story of how a beloved space cowboy, an enigmatic jailer, and a terribly misguided, but utterly-devoted-to-his-dead-sister brother collided into absolute tragedy.”

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slasherkisss · 5 years

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CABIN FEVER - JASON VOORHEES X READER [CHAPTER 6]

Summary In an effort to remove yourself from your previous life in the big city, you move to Crystal Lake. The cabin you had inherited from your father makes the perfect place for a fresh start, however, there is a secret in these woods (and within yourself) that you must come to accept…and to love.

A/N I wrote this whole thing like a week ago but kept for gETTING TO POST IT BUT HERE WE ARE NOW ENJOY-

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Jason had taken to sign language well. Better than you could have thought, considering your teachings were less than impressive.

You were learning right alongside him, if you were being honest. The phrases and hand movements were as foreign to you as they were to him, the shapes of the letters that formed the alphabet difficult to formulate as you repeated spelling your name over and over with your hands, before switching to his so that he could see what it looked like. When he spelled his own name with the shapes of his fingertips you felt pride well in your stomach, praising him with kisses and holding him close in a hug that made him return it with vigour. The praise made him more eager to practice with you, the patience you showed him as the two of you continued blocky, awkward conversations with one another was a breath of fresh air. You imagined Jason as a child sometimes in those situations. With teachers sneering down at him and ridiculing him for not knowing one thing or another in their classes… The thought made your blood boil. It made you see red.

It wasn’t the case now, at least, and you were glad. It was a gratefulness mixed with a determination to communicate with the otherwise muted killer.

All the while your farm grew bit by bit as the springtime passed, new plants sprouting their perfect buds from the loamy soil and proudly sporting their flowers that would soon blossom into fruit. The tentative patch of carrots and onions you had planted were rooted neatly in lines, slowly curling their leafy above ground plants in perfect shapes as they evolved with time. Jason had, at some point, surprised you with chickens as well. He wasted no time in repairing the holes and uneven surfaces in the two chicken coops your land sported, allowing the new members of the family a cozy home for the seasons as they kept their open area neat and free of any pests that might serve as detriment to your precious crops.

You had grown fond of one chicken in particular. The beautiful Rhode Island Red hen had a wit and personality that made you fawn over her. The way she settled in your lap as you worked outside, content with your stroke of hands over her feathers, made your heart swell with pride. Her name, you had decided, was Roda. She approved the title with a ruffle of her feathers and a satisfied cluck, pecking at Jason’s fingers whenever he held them out to her curiously. He was startled at first, but soon grew to see it as a sort of love tap from her. You let him think that, not sure of what it actually was in the end, and not caring so long as she still enjoyed your lap.

She nestled herself comfortably against you even now as you worked in your garden, pulling out pieces of weeds from the bed of your lettuce with a hefty sight of exhaustion against your tongue. The day had grown warmer than the past week had been, signaling the slowly approaching summer that dared itself to be around the corner. You stretched your back, shooing Roda off of your lap and back to her coop as she gave an unsatisfied cluck at your actions.

“Sorry, Ro honey,” You apologized with a meek grin, “But I need to hurry! I have a date after all.”

Date… The word made you giddy. So giddy that you signed it to your chicken without much thinking about it. Bringing your hands together in the shape of ‘d’s to touch at the fingertips, pulling them apart, and then putting them back in small and quick movements. Once the two of you had learned the relationship end of signs, Jason was quick to awkwardly ask you out on a date. A walk through the woods and a small time on the edge of the lake to watch the water as it glittered in the springtime light.

Well, he didn’t sign exactly all of that, but it was what you imagined he had in mind. Regardless, it was romantic and you were all sorts of eager for the trip.

You moved to quickly change out of your farming clothes and into a better outfit for your date, choosing a bright yellow dress with a white bow around the center that accentuated your waist line. The pattern of white polkadots that dabbled the entire fabric made you feel bright as you did a small twirl in the outfit and smiled to yourself, slipping on your hiking boots underneath them in a look of something between cute and functional. Flats would have been nice, but, you wouldn’t want to step on any rocks and twigs in them. Besides, Jason would surely enjoy whatever you wore for him on this date.

Your cheeks flushed red as you imagined his face (mask, you supposed) upon seeing your look. It made you all the more eager to grab your backpack and head out of your house, making sure to close the door properly behind you as you moved.

The forest was beautiful that day, the leaves rustling their whispers into your mind overhead as the wind brushed through them like an old friend. The babbling of brooks dueted with the singing of birds as the world around you came alive, nature devouring itself in an ouroboros of beauty that had your chest swelling and your heart bursting as you admired the way the ground moved and grew so many unique things against itself. From the mushrooms that sprouted near the bases of trees to the grass patches that had been nibbled on by passing herbivores, the world was a beautiful thing and you couldn’t help a quick stop to admire it.

A spider, massive in its body, scaled up a tree you had stopped in front of. It burst itself out amongst the purple and white flowers you had been staring at, their shape bending with each step of the insect's heavy legs. You reached out, allowing it to crawl onto your hand as you sat up to admire the way it moved against your skin, giggling at the soft tickling sensation that pressed on your fingertips as a result. Tilting your head to the side, you moved closer to get a look at the being’s strange eyes and moving mouth, the appendages around its front pushing to taste and explore its new environment as you held it close.

A gunshot echoed through the forest, making you startle and drop the spider to the forest floor.

Your head whipped around, eyes wide as you searched the now deadly quiet forest for the source of the sound, your feet moving without thinking about it. Who was that? Jason didn’t know how to use a gun and he would never, unless it was to bludgeon someone… So that meant someone was here. That meant they fired a gun on his property without permission. That meant they were doing something bad. What if Jason was the one being shot? Would he be okay? Your heart raced faster than your mind as you found yourself pushing yourself faster and faster through the forest, biting your lip as you tried to keep your breathing even against the cold rushes of air that pushed passed you. Your dress caught on twigs, ripping at parts and the underbrush stung your skin as you threw your hands out to catch yourself in a trip.

Your palms met the raw wood of a tree, scraping them in the process and making you curse as you heaved a breath of air. Looking outwards through slightly blurred vision, you saw them.

The group of men were smiling to themselves, some missing teeth as they chewed on what you could only imagine to be tobacco. They had a couple of women at their side, slim little things with heels on and shorts all too small for the mosquito ridden forest of Camp Crystal Lake. You felt your mouth fall into a straight line, your heart beating faster as you gazed at the guns they held, some of the tips still smoking from the previous shot you had heard.

Beneath them a deer lay, her body splayed outwards in an unnatural angle and her mouth hanging wide open as blood pooled from her jaw. Her knees were bent so far back that they had broken under her own weight, her chest giving what looked to be a final spasm before ceasing to move. Your heart ached suddenly, your stomach clenching with rage at these men who shot such a beautiful thing when the property itself was private. Your head reeled with anger, a deep and vocal frustration that growled outwards in a huff through your nose.

Without thinking about it too much, you stepped out of your hiding place.

“Oo, well well!” One of the men whistled and adjusted his hat with a laugh, “Looks like this place has somethin’ even better than venison don’t it! What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here alone, sweet cheeks?”

You didn’t answer, your breath held for a long moment s your body shook with fear and rage all at once, you swallowed a forming urge to run away and pointed down at the deer in anger.

“You did this?”

“Sure did, impressive huh? One shot too!”

“Get the fuck out of this forest, all of you.”

The group looked taken aback, surprise apparent on their faces and one of the girls cursed a soft ‘what the fuck’ under her breath before she began to giggle, covering her lips to glance sideways at you. The man you had initially spoken with frowned, approaching you so that you could smell the alcohol on his breath as he raised an eyebrow downwards at you. The stubble of his beard was an uneven thing, his intense eyes making you cringe beneath him as you glared back up in frustration.

“What, you own this place or something?”

“It’s private property and I live nearby. I don’t appreciate poachers in a place that isn’t theirs.”

“Look here, missy, we got a license to hunt!”

“Not HERE you don’t!”

You shoved the man, making him stumble back in surprise as he glared at you, his teeth bared in anger as he pushed himself forward. You saw the massive contour of his torso before his hand grabbed you and shoved you back in return, pushing you into the dirt of the ground and making you cry out in surprise, your leg twisting slightly and digging itself into a sharp rock. The material split your shin open, blood dripping from the wound and down your leg. You whined, gripping the cut and holding it close to your body as you bit your cheek and glared upwards.

There was a deathly silence that followed, the man grimacing as he raised his hand up, as if to strike you. You heard the women and his friends beside him snap at him to stop, the echo of their words falling flat on the enraged man above you. You bit your cheek as you waited for the pain of his assault to bare down on you, your body clutching handfuls of dirt and squeezing it into your nails as you refused to shut your eyes. You wanted to make him know that you knew what he was doing. You wanted him to know that you saw him.

But the assault never came.

The man looked beyond you instead, his eyes wide and horrified. No sooner had he gazed up and a single curse word of confusion left his lips did he fall to the floor before you. The axe that now embedded itself neatly in his skull covered you in a spray of blood as an artery divided itself beneath his skin. You felt the wetness of the crimson across your mouth and forehead, leaking down to your collar bone and across your dress as you exhaled a long, deep breath that you didn’t realize that you had been holding. Slowly, ever so slowly, you turned your head around to see what had just happened… Though, honestly? You already knew.

Jason had found you.

The ruckus had drawn him out of his waiting spot to the noise, the instinct alongside his mother’s voice to protect his home driving him more than anything else ever had. When he saw you bleeding in the dirt, the man’s arm raised to strike you, he felt panic rise in his chest. Panic mixed with protective rage to fill his throat with something akin to possession. Bloodlust decorated his insides like a picturesque landscape and the instincts that came with practiced precision filled his movements as he walked forward to pull the axe out of the dead man’s skull, spraying blood across himself as well. His breath heaved, heavy and set as he watched the group before him, standing dumbfounded at the death of their leader.

“You son of a b-bitch!” One man stuttered as he moved forward to try and defend himself against Jason, but he was small. He was weak compared to the behemoth of Camp Crystal Lake before him. Jason’s hand wrapped around his throat with ease. His legs kicked weakly as he was lifted off of the forest floor and, with one easy squeeze of his neck, the sickening crack of the man’s bones echoed through the screams of the others at his side. His body spasmed for a moment before falling limp, Jason tossing his half-hanging off head to the side before focusing on the remaining two women and man who had started to scramble away from Jason out of fear.

One met the same fate as the first, the axe Jason held thrown to lodge itself neatly in her cranium, making her companion scream as she scrambled away. She pushed herself off of the forest floor as the man she accompanied tried to grab his gun, fumbling with the safety in an effort to fend Jason off with it. The few seconds of lost time were his downfall, however, as Jason grabbed the rifle from his hand, only to turn the firing end over and shove it neatly through his throat. The machine came out the other side of his skull with ease, pieces of hair and skin falling like snow against the spring ground.

Every inch of you felt wet. The blood had seeped into your dress, staining the front crimson as the trail of viscera not your own dribbled down your brow and chin, the coppery taste of blood not your own making you gag slightly as you pulled yourself into a ball to watch the events of the world transpire around you. By the time Jason had pulled himself away from his last victim, eyes searching for the final girl whomst he had already let live for far too long, she was nowhere in sight. You could see the heave of his shoulders as rage burned inside of him. You could all but hear his mother’s voice echo with fierce frustration in the back of his head and yours, a shared coinsius that startled you as you bit your lip and watched your boyfriend begin his hefty push forward and after his prey.

Kill her, Jason! She hurt dear, sweet [Y/N]... Kill for her and for mother, Jason!

“J-J-Jason!”

Your voice was a weak ghost on the wind. You spit out trails of blood and skin as you spoke his name against your mouth’s will, teeth chattering and chewing down on brains all at once. Jason’s body froze at your town, though. His entire body rigid as he tried to organize the hefty gasps of his breath against his body.

He turned to you, the splattering of blood across his face mask churning your stomach as you stared into the holes of his eyes with dry lips and shaking breaths.

“I… want to go home Jay…”

Your voice was a pathetic whimper. A plea to nothing as you reached out to him, fingertips shaking as you begged with your form for him to drop it. Your heart ached with panic and your mind had only one reaction to the situation: Go. Get out. Go and be safe. Safe and away from this place filled with gore even though you knew, oh you knew, it would remain on you as it was. Trailing down your face. Splattering across your form. Your entire body shaking as you bit your lip and offered your other hand this time, both outstretched towards Jason in patient hope that he would listen to your plea. To protect you as he always had.

Jason cast one last long glance towards the forest where the woman had run, her bloody footsteps a testament to her movements, but with a sullen lack of expression Jason put the gun he was holding down and returned to you.

You were lifted up in strong arms. You could feel the steady movement of his chest as he breathed to keep himself calm, grip tightening sharp on your body as you were cradled against him. You snuggled into Jason without thinking about it, your nostrils assaulted by the scent of metal and wet, rotting, fleshy blood as you shut your eyes. Your hands felt around his chest, touching the wet texture of his shirt. Squeezing the droplets of blood out of his coat. Your hands found his bare skin and smeared the redness across him, making him shiver as some of the intestines you had against your skirt dribbled onto him.

Your legs shifted despite yourself. The ease with which he had lifted you up, cradling you so carefully even after such a scene making your body betray its fear, turning it into arousal instead as the two of you arrived to your cabin.

Jason put you down on the steps of the front, where you shakily opened up the door and entered on wobbly legs. The two of you together trailed stains of fresh blood across the hardwood floor, footprints of such vastly different sizes ingraining themselves on the oak panels as you all but fell to the floor for a moment to catch our breath, splinters digging into your palms as you scratched at the wood with manic intensity.

Jason fell to your side in return, a hand touching your shoulder with worry if you were okay. A head tilt and a gentle sign with one hand asking that same question. Your voice found no air with which to speak, so you simply began to sign in return:

‘I’m okay. Thank-you for protecting me.’

Jason stared with an almost incredulous look before returning the movements slowly, with shaky and careful gestures of fingertips to body parts as he offered his gesture in return:

‘Of course. I love you.’

This was enough to make tears well in your eyes as you threw yourself at him, shaky limbs falling around his neck and bringing him into a kiss that you swore you could feel through his mask. Jason was startled at the suddenness of it, but fell into the motions with practiced ease. Hands found your sides, smearing the blood on your soaked dress as he pulled you closer, the both of you a tangle of limbs on the floor as he leaned back to allow you more access to him. The gentleman that he was, even in this situation you could feel him giving you space. Offering you room to breathe should you need it and space to run should you crave it. Your hands gripped at his shirt tighter as your mouth pulled away from him. Jason’s eyes through the mask followed your body. Blood had smeared across your lips and down your face. You licked a small drop of it from the corner of your mouth as you held onto him, your bodies pressed together in a slick of arousal and gore.

His eyes snapped forward after a moment and his hands moved despite themselves, sturdy fingers sliding your dress up your form until your lower half was shown to him. Jason pulled himself up to admire the entirety of your shaking form: From your cut leg smeared with dirt and your blood to the stains of red that had patched themselves up your thigh after it had soaked through your dress… You were beautiful. More perfect than anything Jason had ever seen. His blood soaked hands rose to smear the liquid across your thighs some more, painting them darker red as you moaned and whimpered into his touch.

“Jason,” You whispered with breathy hunger, “Touch me, please.”

It was adrenaline. It was fear. It was a sick, twisted beauty that you found upon staring down at the behemoth of a murderer after he had splattered you with the gore of four separate people. It made your body tingle and your mind wander with sensitive, careful arousal that amplified as Jason’s finger pushed itself up into your core, soaking your panties in blood before pulling them aside to play with your slick folds. His breath picked up now, shaking as he felt you from the inside. As he painted your walls with the blood of his victims in a hungry, voracious manner. Two fingers slid into you as he picked up his pace, twisting them as you instructed. Moving them in the way he knew you liked it.

You mewled his name as your hips rocked against his body. You felt the cleft of his dick on your ass and you moaned at the feeling. The blood and your slick made the most sickeningly beautiful sound as he played between your legs, making you clench and gasp as your orgasm began to creep up on you.

You whined when his fingers pulled out, pouting before yelping as his hands grabbed your hips in a white knuckled grip and pulled you up.

“Jason… “ You murmured as you saw the wild in his eyes. The hunger that came with seeing you so beautiful painted red. You shuddered, legs trying to support you as his dick was freed from his pants and you were positioned over it. Despite his animalistic nature that had suddenly opened up so loudly to you, you could feel his hesitation. His unsureness of the situation as you reached out to cup his cheek, smearing more of the blood of the people on him and scooping some on your finger. Without much thinking about it, you licked it off of your hand and sucked down on your index finger, swallowing the coppery blood off of your skin as you looked at him in the eye, the communication of acceptance warm in your body as Jason’s breath grew ragged and he lowered you down onto his cock.

You moaned at the feeling, the stretch impossibly wide and physically difficult to handle as you whimpered and squirmed on him, pushing down and adjusting your hips so that you were able to lower yourself at your own pace. Meanwhile Jason’s body was shaking, the feeling of your tight heat overwhelming him as he threw his head back, splattering still wet blood across your walls as you pushed yourself to take more of him with wet whimpers and tears building in the corners of your eyes, falling soon to stain a trail of clean across your bloody face. Your hands scratched at Jason’s chest, your form falling forward on him for support as you bit out his name in syllables so sweet Jason swore he was in heaven.

Once your body was finally used to the girth of him, you moved your hips testily. No able to take all of him in at once, it was a simple movement to pull out from the tip and then slide yourself back down, the blood an unfortunate but helpful lubricant in your endeavors as the two of you shook and moaned at once. Jason’s large hands held your hips again, his body pushing you further down on his cock in a way that made you scream with both pleasure and pain, your cervix not ready for so much at once. His fingertips dug deeper though, bruising white knuckled grip halting as he waited for you to say okay. To give him instruction on just how you wanted him to move, even though his body wanted to begin on its own.

“It’s… Okay,” You moaned beautifully above him, “You can keep going Jason… Make love to me, darling.”

No sooner had you said it, spit dribbling out your mouth and your body impossibly full, that he began to match your movements. Hips touched hips as he all but pulled you off of him and slammed you back down, your rag-doll form useless against his strength as he held you close. As he fucked you deep and perfect and near. Your floor was smothered in blood now, pools forming beneath the both of you as your leg’s wound left unpatched. As the sweat washed the blood from your body and the scent of sex overwhelmed that of the blood itself.

“Jason! Jason! Ja-ayson oh-” You moaned desperately in his ear as your orgasm built in your stomach, “I’m going to- mmm - Good boy yes-yes-yes-yes-ah-!”

You clenched around his dick as you came, your body releasing the desperate want for him in a flood that made Jason gasp and moan, fucking you faster and with little rhythm to his movements before stilling inside of you. There was nothing to fill you, no sperm to echo in the cavern of your uterus as he shuttered and gasp. Only a strange coolness, like air hitting somewhere in your body, before his dick grew flaccid within you, the softness doing nothing to ruin the thick, beautiful feeling of being full as you rested atop your killer with heavy gasps for air.

Jason’s hand touched your head, looking down at you with concern as he remained inside of you.

You smiled back, exhausted and bloody but okay as you sighed.

“I’m alright, love… We should get cleaned up though, okay? I… I want to go to bed as soon as possible today. It was… a lot.”

Understanding, Jason stood, lifting you with him so that the both of you remained connected. You giggled as you felt his dick twitch within you, still not quite ready to let go of your warm cunt just yet as you were moved to the bathroom at a slow, careful speed. You shut your eyes, holding him close as you hummed in his ear.

Perhaps for a moment you could forget about what happened. As you washed yourself with him… Perhaps it wouldn’t even happen again!

Oh, you wish you weren’t so naive.

#jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #Friday the thirteenth #Friday the 13th #cabin fever series #cabin fever #slasher x reader #slasher imagines

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amieyhko · 4 years

Text

Escapril 2019

escaprilday 2019 // 1: a fresh start

two Costco bags full of

umma-certified clean clothes,

“unpacking cannot begin with wet clothes”

Taipei humidity is unkind.

coins clink,

white noise revs

drowning out the drizzle

as heart somersaults

to the rhythm of the cycles:

what — tum — am I — ble

doing — tumble — here?

the darks tumble its final spin

as the lights

click —

into a stop.

a whiff into a warm towel

warns me the comforts of home,

promising

of munchies, blankies, and speedy wifi

of cushy floor space where crafting

and writing past midnight can be done in secret

but —

fold — maybe — toss — I changed —

yellow blouse — or gave up too easily —

fold — or could it be —

toss — I’m listening to all the wrong voices? —

red turtleneck — no — flick —

wait, this is so soft now, I guess the washing machine in that guest house in Seoul was indeed really terrible —

fold — yes, this is how it should feel on my skin —

toss – my heart knows, though —

fuzzy sock — maybe home is where I need to be right now —

into basket — there’s nothing wrong with —

grab — starting over again.

escaprilday 2019 // 2: april showers

you said all memorable moments

include an unexpected deluge

I nod and laugh

as the metro ac pierces through

my drenched jacket

I shiver as I feel my clammy socks

cling onto my not-rainproof Docs

("they're not?" you ask in shock)

ears ringing still

from speakers booming

throat scratchy from scream-singing

at the top of our lungs.

still, you smile, shiver, and say,

with half-dazed eyes,

all good memories

end in rain.

escaprilday 2019 // 3: incorporate music

“Hope I’m not tired of rebuilding”

at this in-between

this time of heating up lukewarm lattes

and microwaving soggy french fries,

a surrendering of old and new

kindles a familiar tune:

“not what’s easy, what do you want?”

at this in-between,

the seconds between a squat and a jump

or the hours during an endless free fall,

a whisper sings an awakening:

“even a phoenix dies”

so at this in-between

muster up the strength to

inhale blue

and exhale gold.

escaprilday 2019 // 4: anxiety

lacuna

¡amiga!” he chimes like clockwork

with a sonrisa that has probably charmed plenty of hearts.

my fist bumps his and I walk toward the dark halls

where they tilt their heads forward and say

“안녕하세요” they grin,

some fake, others genuine,

mostly muscle memory.

“哈咯“ she greets as I turn the corner—

a sound of familiarity.

the velcros on my lips finally relax

till we part ways to our stations

“how are you?” their words flow dry

they probably don’t want to find out

my tongue lands on one syllable:

“good”.

escapril 2019 // 5: back to nature

I’ve a secret spot for seeing stars in Taipei City.

after a day downtown,

blasting my headphones at damaging decibels,

fixing makeup with samples at drugstores,

and chasing after buses,

I skip down the announced “platform two for Taipei Zoo”

and gaze down at the light show stage named Zhongxiao Fuxing.

as the red greens, a rush of headlights streams at me—my eyes

lose focus, my heart

leaps back into my chest just as

the home-bound metro approaches.

I’ll always remember the yard at Tiszavasvári

where we lay to see a starry night drawn by the Creator

after a day of listening to screaming children,

braiding their hairs,

and chasing after the impossible ones,

we stood in awe, jaws dropped, then soon learned

our necks weren’t strong enough

so we lay down, evening breeze

accompanied by the crickets sang a lullaby—

my eyes played a senseless game

of connect-the-dots, my heart skipped several beats

as I let go of the memories of beds and blankets.

escapril 2019 // 6: nostalgia

missing you is easy.

remembering you creeps

up in little mundanities

like a cup of fruit tea

a bottle of Clorox

or an inappropriately loud laughter--

to my consolation, yours is unmatchable.

although,

the sound of your laughter rings

quieter

till I can whisper:

escapril 2019 // 7: start with a time of day

3 a.m.

why wait

for dawn when

we can set yesterday

in flames

over this river?

escapril 2019 // 8: love poem

I cannot recall the exact words uttered

but something in my heart fluttered:

our eyes met for a millisecond

we cracked, till our breaths weakened.

our words, lost in the waves

transformed into safes

I open in my heart of hearts

to feel at home within the laughs of your loves.

escapril 2019 // 9: focus on the color

chorok hadn't found its form in

korean of old. fields of

grass and evergreens,

little plates of herbal banchan,

lush of summers,

and squirming caterpillars

all existed as paran-- that same

color ascribed to vast oceans,

and sunny skies

then one lively spring, chorok

creeped its way into our tongues,

demanding to be seen on

street signs,

the mountain tops, and

cross walk lights

though some still speak "the light

turned paran",

and the incorrigible children's tune

singing of spring

blossoming into paran,

chorok sprouts an entrance

undeniable to out naked eyes.

escapril 2019 // 10: femininity

the bus,

back slides down on the uncomfortable bus seat,

fingers stroke through my freshly buzzed head,

while many eyes fixate above my eyes,

asking:

"is she a boy or a girl?"

"is she a lesbian?"

"what happened to her… hair?"

eyes read their faces,

mouth struts a big yawn with no reflex system telling me to conceal it.

imagination floats to a stadium,

feet stands on the podium,

voice declares:

I'm still so-very-much a lady--

just not fair like Audrey,

nor dainty like a stereotype,

or as brave as Joan,

and definitely not as attractive than most

but maybe more like

the ones writing history

now.

escapril 2019 // 11: not from your perspective

most of the time I sit beside the maroon sofa

where you watch tv and transform into a potato

I wait and wait for that sweet moment

you grab my handle

travel me to a flat desk

wind me up with thread

hook me up to a pedal

switch my light on

smooth out a piece of fabric

pinned up in zig zag

then

zoom, crackle, buzz,

your hands sync to my rhythm

you pray I don’t jam

or break your thread

then you announce with pride

“et voila!”

escapril 2019 // 12: spring cleaning

it takes two countries

few cities

thirteen houses

fifteen boxes

thirty trash bags

and an infinite repetition of

"do we need this?"

for a soul to grasp the spider web line

between a desire and a necessity.

then a decade teaches the

same soul

sometimes,

spectrums soften

escapril 2019 // 13: celestial bodies

if only

seeing you was as easy as

some nightly glow at your half

reflecting off

a big blazing ball of light on my half

escapril 2019 // 14: make it rhyme

a sonnet-full of embellishments, fake

notions of how lovely you are like some

weather in summer or spring, homemade cake

that tastes like cheap flour and rotten eggs, numb

from clichés, the love songs that never shut

up, posed photos of arms around my waist,

a let-me-take-that gentleness, so what

are you doing? leaving sour aftetaste

in our hearts. no, this sonnet is not for

us. we don’t need guidelines to fall in love,

nor the recipes known to prevent war

(it cannot be all fair in war and love),

so stop. steep in this silence as your hand

finds mine in this complicated quicksand.

escapril 2019 // 15: describe a smell

a dash of prickliness:

prickly, like appa’s beard attacking my forehead as he plants a kiss.

then an overwhelming sense of saltiness:

salty, like that time I accidentally used the spoon side of the seasoning bottle

or tasting my own sweat or tears.

something rotting at slow decay.

fruit flies feast.

my nose shoots me back to

halmoni yelling something in dialect, umma replying.

I stand in the middle of the market square, I’m ten.

they promised me jjajangmyeon,

my nostrils can hold out just a minute more.

escapril 2019 // 16: any dreams?

five—

I was to be a Pokemon trainer by day

and Sailor Moon by night

but adults hung my creativity dry

seven—

a singer-songwriter

but music chose me not

ten—

fashion designer,

draw designs, sew coutures, walk the runway myself

but whispers yelled discouragements

fifteen—

couldn’t care: I was a realistic teen

now—

I tip-toe about my heart

trying my best not to pick on scabs,

unable to answer any questions

albeit an I-don’t-know

has never sounded more

comforting and clear.

hear the wounds heal

to the beat of the unicorn hooves.

escapril 2019 // 17: body as friend or foe

I was born in Guatemala,

but my father’s from Georgia

he’s a musician, he produces

K-pop albums and we travel the world

searching for the next big deal,

my mother paints apples, she’s from Zimbabwe

she also writes Chinese poems.

It’s all true—

my body deceives every bit of reality within me.

escapril 2019 // 18: a happy place

hear nose tickle

with the sound of lavender feathers

fluttering by

eyes will open up to inhale

the golden hours spent

under Your glorious dance

escapril 2019 // 19: without your name, who are you?

if an utterance of a name

can form a heart,

her name has been called by many

if each spoken word forms

a vibration into what we are,

she's a someone

whispered into a myriad of paradoxes:

she's an asteroid, crashing fast,

uncontrollable, unexpected.

she's a cup of tea, calm,

idle, ready for nothing.

escapril 2019 // 20: a liminal space

this amorphous ground feels comfortable,

excuses acceptable:

the excruciating humidity,

drowsy rain, busy friends,

false pride, miscalculating time.

they say:

Prufrock measures his life in coffee spoons,

but Zeno says nothing ever reaches its destinations.

the Knight holds his tongue

yet his heart flutters a violent beat.

I’m just another contra, letting my feet skip away

as each step echoes heart beating somewhere

back.

escapril 2019 // 21: it’s the end of the world

no zombie apocalypse,

the sun still functions,

stars are still, hearts

unbroken, no one

escaping to Mars,

no fatal goodbyes.

one silent pink noise

a purple glow,

“welcome back home”

it said.

escapril 2019 // 22: nourishment

last month, I met a little

potted plant.

I took it back to my little

suffocating room

and named it little

foggy star.

I loved it little

by little

I gave it little

droplets of water,

spoke little

words of compliment,

took it to my little

window sill

the sun peeped through

a little.

it grew a little,

I did too.

escapril 2019 // 23: when the party’s over

recollect spilled laughters —

this, for unworthy jokes,

that, for suave comments,

maybe one for someone dreamy —

bottle them up,

keep them fresh

for the next sea of

stragglers,

mutual someone,

you-look-quite-nice,

wow-so-interesting.

escapril 2019 // 24: liar, liar

how to be a compulsive liar

one: disregard empathy, embrace despondency, think selfish,

my life doesn’t have to tell truth tales, no one needs to know.

two: rehearse recollections, think practicality, use names they’d never check,

let myself believe in each detail, each sight, smell the scenario

three: speak the perfectly fabricated phrases into existence,

no need to bat an eye, stutter a detail, overthink a loophole.

for example: “yeah, the party was fun. we walked around the park afterwards.

who? oh no, he wasn’t there. he had an important family dinner.”

four: remember the lie, inform reliable partners in crime if necessary,

never bring it back, stick to your guns.

promise yourself: they can’t hurt, they’ll never know.

remember: truths hurt, they’re inconvenient, it’s none of their business.

dig: until your shovel breaks.

drown out: every kindness the world has to offer.

die: in the said dug hole, climb out just to

repeat: until trust is a pair of cracked glasses, refuse to see a redemption until

die again: learn that these walls must go —

invite: the uncomfortableness that is vulnerability

repeat: until system reboots.

escapril 2019 // 25: pick an animal

my giraffe friend

shades me when the sun’s high

and warms me when the wind’s rough,

meeting her eyes pains me with

an aching neck,

she will always stand tall in a room,

there’s no shelf too high for me,

when she’s close by.

escapril 2019 // 26: girlhood, boyhood, childhood

when I was older, I had a pair of

very pink sneakers

they'd glitter in the sun,

glamoured in gemstones for dignity

velcros loud enough to turn heads

when it was time to take them off

I glanced over my neighbors' shelves:

ugly. blue. brown. ugly. mine trampled over all.

then my eyes stood silent

as I zone in

on her pair of Gundam sneakers

secretly jealous, mostly confused,

extremely frustrated of rule-breaking

girls, defying pink, watching animation

for boys only

now, I wear boring black or white shoes

so do most humans with feet.

escapril 2019 // 27: the state of it all

“you're it!”

a harmless push from their arms

my chest thrusts back

limbs under a spell

all bones removed

“catch me if you can”

why don't you save me

'cause you can?

escapril 2019 // 28: reflection

memories retraces a blur

crooked smile

red dye fading

cigarette between your fingers

standing mostly on your right leg--

you let out a puff as i tell you “i’m imaginary.”

you say you couldn't have

so i tease you more with a kiss

“that wasn't real

that was you imagining it all

new school

a manic pixie

the loneliness got to your brains

that's all”

you flick away the cigarette

eyes reflecting my face

you kiss me back and say

“please don't do this to my brain

you're real

far too real for me i'm not smart like that”

i snicker

the buzzing bus terminal is real

you and i are real

but i'm not

you're no more

escapril 2019 // 29: may flowers

she died a few days ago—

flew off the rooftop

fallen against teeming

reborn lives

the most beautiful of flowers

only last a day or two

you said we are beautiful

because we’re ephemeral

but what happens when

fleeting moments like

a crash kilometers away

pain for someone I never knew?

escapril 2019 // 30: catharsis

yesterday, I cleaned out my room

bugs infested each and every corner

I tried to catch them but they

hid away between the nooks and crannies

whispering schemes to each other

learning the dustiest corners I’ve ignored

waiting for a perfect time to kill

so I dusted out the corners

rearranged the furnitures

repainted the scratches

thinking cover-ups should make anew

yesterday, I cleaned out my room

praying for the bug spray to kill,

I felt seventeen, rearranging photographs,

filling up a space with desired personalities,

she would have been proud

there’s nothing I’d tell her, but to say

yesterday, I cleaned my room, for another hundredth time

they say an odyssey is a cycle

ending with a catharsis

where you come clean

but yesterday, I cleaned my room

again

#poetry #poems #escapril #escapril 2019 #writing #writer #amieko #journal #reflections

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winchester-with-wings · 5 years

Text

My Favorite Place is With You

Peter Parker x Reader // Patron Benefit Fanfic for @writer-jess !

Promo: @writer-jess is a writing blog! She posts about writing and her WIPs. She enjoys writing fantasy! Check her out!

A/N: Another Patron-Request fic for Jess! She requested a Peter Parker fic from my old requests. It still took a while but I'm happy with it! Enjoy!

W/C: 1500ish

Request Prompts: What’s the matter? - You’re so beautiful - I wish we could stay like this forever. - Stop hogging all the blankets!

Summary: Pure Peter Parker fluff

Wanna get previews, early access and make exclusive requests? Become a Patron! You can follow my Patreon for free too!

Can’t become a patron? please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi (Tips are appreciated!) Commissions are open too!

Mobile Masterlist / Check out my Commission & Patreon Masterlist too!

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

“I want to show you my favorite place in the city.”

“Peter, we go to that deli all the time. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who took you there the first time.”

“No, no, not that. I guarantee you’ve never been to this place before.”

“Okay, which way?”

Peter offers his hand to you which you take, giving him a playfully suspicious look. He pulls you down an alley and behind a dumpster.

“Oh, wow, how romantic.” You’re teasing of course.

“Shush,” Peter presses a finger to your lips and you smile. You and Peter have been dancing around with this little game of mutual attraction for so long now, it’s become a joke.

It’s a joke with no punchline...no resolution...no declaration of love...nothing but secret looks, cheeky smiles, and two teenagers engaged in a stubborn game of chicken with no victor in sight.

Who will slip up first? Not you, that’s for sure. You’re in it to win it and the ball is in Peter’s court.

Peter either... declares his love for you on one knee with a bouquet of roses, sprouting words of poetry to you, while you stand on your fire escape sighing and saying “O Peter, my Peter, wherefore art thou Peter?”

...or nothing. You won’t crack first.

“Where are we going?” you ask him. At the same time, Peter dons his Spider-man mask and starts taking off his clothes.

“Up, of course.”

“You know I always imagined that the mask was the last piece and not the first piece you put on. Seems kinda like putting on your socks before anything else,” you comment while enjoying the show. Peter is always frantic when he changes in public.

“Isn’t that how everybody does it?” his voice comes through the fabric only slightly muffled. You laugh.

“I put my socks on last, right before putting on my shoes. That’s how I get dressed.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” Peter giggles, dodging your swatting hand. He finishes putting on his suit and shoves his clothes in his backpack. You offer to take it from him since you’re not carrying one. He then raises his hand and shoots from his webshooter. The line tightens instantly when it connects to the side of the building.

Peter pulls you close to his body, wrapping his arm around your waist and encouraging you to put your arms around his neck. Peter appears to jump vertically 25 feet with ease, using his line of webbing as a bungee cord. He releases your waist, leaving you to hang on out of habit, and uses his other webshooter to alternate and bring you up to the roof.

You’re not used to climbing up the edge of a roof on a 6 story building. Your adrenaline spikes and you’ve got butterflies in your stomach.

“I’ll never get used to that,” you say, shakily and Peter laughs at you. “So is this it?”

“Close. Come On.” Peter leads you on from rooftop to rooftop with little distance in between them, thankfully. The last building on the block is too far for even Peter to jump. He shoots his webbing at a construction crane in the distance and takes you in his arms once more.

You soar across the open space. Your breath escapes you as you feel the weight of gravity pull on you, the only thing holding you up and keeping you safe is Peter.

The rooftop he brings you to is one with a layer of grass, a garden, and a perfect views of the city across the river.

“Wow.” Peter offers you a seat on a stone bench while he changes back into his normal clothes. “It’s beautiful Peter.” From his backpack, he pulls out a blanket and two wrapped subs from the deli you’d spoke of earlier. “So predictable. I love it,” you say, accepting his gift and ignoring the casual way you use the L word.

“I’m nothing if not dependable,” Peter mumbles, agreeing with you. He lays out one of the blankets on the grass and indicates for you to get comfortable for a picnic. The sun is setting over the river, casting a warm glow over the two of you. You watch as he spends time getting everything just right. He pulls out some sodas and his laptop.

“I could think of a few other adjectives,” you tease, rubbing shoulders with him.

“Heh, stop,” Peter mutters under his breath, blushing.

You eat your sandwiches while watching the sun drop below the horizon and then focus on his laptop. He’s selected the last episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. that you started together the other day.

With retreat of the sun, you eventually get cold and snuggle deeper into the pillows Peter borrowed from the rooftop furniture.

“Stop hogging all the blankets,” you whimper. Peter responds by putting his arm around you and pulling you into his side and effectively sharing the blanket. Resting your head on his chest , you nearly drift off to sleep. But then Peter heaves a great sigh. “Peter? What’s the matter?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, nothing. I--I’m--it’s fine. Better than fine,” he murmurs. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“Oh?” You look up at him while feeling his arm around you tighten. “You wanna stay on this roof forever? Come to think of it, do we know if the door to the roof is locked?” you giggle, trying to distract him. You expect Peter to scowl at you but he just stares with a soft smile.

“You’re so beautiful,” Peter sighs. “You know that, right?”

“The boys at school don’t seem to think so,” you deflect with a nervous chuckle. You sit up, removing yourself from Peter’s embrace. You’re so quick to put yourself down, it’s practically a gut response. Peter rolls his eyes.

“I hate it when you talk like that. I can’t believe that you would think so little of yourself. You know you’re amazing. You have to,” Peter insists. He closes his laptop and turns his body to look at you. He reaches out to cover your hand with his.

Your cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. You’re still reluctant to answer him.

“Are you going to say something?” he pauses. “Will you at least admit that I’m right.” You glare at Peter in that moment, too stubborn to give him what he wants. “I don’t care what the boys at school think of you because...I don’t...well...I don’t want them thinking about you.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“I kinda...I want you all to myself. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Um….no.” Or was it and you just ignored it?

“Well then, Y/N, let me explain…” Peter frames your face between his hands as he brings you in for a soft and tender kiss. The curls overhanging his brow tickle your head and when he pulls back, he presses his forehead to yours. You think you can actually hear his heart racing.

“How many girls have you brought here, to this rooftop garden?” you ask.

You dread hearing the answer answer until Peter kisses you again. He sighs into the kiss, a small hum reverberating in his throat and his fingers tangle in your hair, holding you close but not too hard so that you can’t pull away if you want to. Your hands clench onto your thighs, trying to restrain the urge to reach for Peter yourself and hold fast.

He pulls back, leaving your lips tingling.

“Only you.” Peter’s hand slides down your arm until he holds your hand. He brings it up to press flat to his chest. You can feel him shaking with the nerves he built up. “It’s always been about you, Y/N. I love you.” You’re practically gaping at him, still disbelieving, and you stay that way until Peter uses a gentle finger to close your mouth and kiss your pouting lips again. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I--I mean,” Peter starts to get flustered and you’re kinda enjoying it. “I mean I’ve only just kissed you for the first time so if you need some time to work up to that...up to possibly...liking or lov...I mean...you know...that’s okay.” Peter winces at his own words before you stop him with a giggle.

“N-no-no, it’s not okay, Peter. I can’t believe you’ve kept this secret from me? You’ll tell me you’re Spider-man but you can’t bother to tell me this...sooner? This is huge.”

“Is it?” he looks purely confused.

“Absolutely. Do you realize how much time we’ve wasted?” you start laughing and he takes your laughs almost like an insult and starts to mope. “Prom is just one week away and we could’ve been dating this whole time.”

“Wait? Prom? Dating? You wanna date me?”

“Of course, Peter. I love you too, you nerd.”

“Oh, so like...you’d wanna go to prom with me?”

“I mean, you didn’t exactly give me much time to look for a dress but it seems like we suck at timing things anyways.”

You loop your arms around Peter’s neck and lean into him. The two of you sigh with contentment and happiness as you lay back on the pillows.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Peter murmurs.

“Me too.”

tagging: @abbessolute @book-loving--anime-chick @faithtrustandpixiedust95 @fabinapercabeth4179 @sanya-gryff @softdudebro @thinkwritexpress-official @autoblocked @karazoiel @therealcap @overlyobsethed @whoopxd @bookworm4ever99 @geeksareunique @potterwolf16 @barry-writes @ravenhaviland @clockblobber @melaninspice11 @parkerschurros @starksparker @montytheravenclaw @smutfornerds @woaahkelsey

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #my writing #tom holland #spider-man #patron fanfic #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #marvel fluff #tom holland x reader #spider-man homecoming #spider-man far from home

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basaliskwrites · 6 years

Text

Comic Script 2 - Sundown

"Sundown" is a comic originally published in the horror-themed 4th volume of the Lilies Anthology series: Spider Lily. This was a collaborative effort, written by myself and illustrated by the incomparable Sparklenaut.

"Monstrous, predatory and villainous depictions of queer people continue to be a common occurrence in modern day media. What to do, when in the middle of being nervous about your “first time together” your girlfriend starts growing enormous claws and teeth that could tear you in half? When the sun is setting, the lines between hopes, fears, fantasy and reality are blurred. Can the fear of intimacy be conquered, and does love belong even to those with a fuzzy snout?"

- Sparklenaut

Page 1 - 4 panels:

Panel 1:

Establishing shot, showing the location and environment. This panel shows a small house, tucked away somewhere in a city/built-up area. It is late evening, and only one light on the upper floor is switched on. In the foreground, crows caw ominously.

Panels 2 and 3:

These are transitional shots, showing the two characters, A and B, walking into a room, from the perspective of the room itself. B walks in first, and A follows after. In panel 3, A produces a key from her pocket.

A is wearing comfortable clothes, including baggy jeans,a t-shirt and a red flannel shirt.

Panel 4:

A stands in the centre of the panel, as she LOCKS the door from the inside. For the first time we see her face, and she has a concerned expression. In her long, fluffy hair, there is a PINK RIBBON tied in a bow. She addresses B, who is off-screen.

A: Are you sure you want to do this?

Page 2 - 6 Panels:

Panels 1, 2 and 3:

These are more transitional shots, while A talks to B, who remains off-screen. A is clearly cleaning up the room, though it is still not obvious which room in her house this is. In the first panel, she is placing delicate items into boxes. In the second, she is drawing the curtains, allowing the reader to see the setting sun on the horizon. In the third panel, she is clearing furniture into the corners of the room-

A: It’s just that...

A: I always thought…

A: People like me shouldn’t…

A: Do this kind of thing with people like you.

Panel 4:

This panel features a close-up of B’s face - she is much more stylish than A, with short, curly blonde hair and an undercut. She gives A a reassuring grin, but she is holding up a pair of shining metal HANDCUFFS.

B: Do I look like I’m being held against my will?

Panel 5:

A, who is rolling up a huge rug in the middle of her room, smiles and laughs.

A: Haha, of course not!

Panel 6:

A close-up of A’s face shows that, while she laughed at B’s joke, she is still worried and concerned.

Page 3 - 3 panels:

Panel 1:

This is a wide-angle shot, featuring A standing alone in the room holding the rolled-up RUG. The room is revealed to be her BEDROOM, with a bed to one side, and HUGE SCRATCHES can be seen all over the hardwood floor where the rug used to be. This shot makes A seem SMALL and VULNERABLE.

Panel 2:

Close-up of the HANDCUFFS, dangling by B’s side, as she addresses her GIRLFRIEND:

B: Are you ready?

Panel 3:

This panel shows A laying out a small ‘doggy mat’, something that one might place in a dog basket, or in a cage.

A: Yeah, I think so.

Page 4 - 4 Panels:

Panel 1:

This panel shows A’s bare feet and lower legs, while her OVERSHIRT falls to the ground - she is now stripping naked, making it more clear that she is to become the WEREWOLF.

Panel 2:

Close-up of A’s arm, as B locks the HANDCUFFS around A’s WRIST. They talk to each other, though we cannot see either of their faces.

B: Will these hold you?

A (NERVOUS): W-well, they always have in the past!

Panel 3:

A is now sitting naked on the little MAT she laid out earlier. The HANDCUFFS are connected to a RADIATOR by her side, so that she cannot leave this spot. She is looking self-conscious and nervous, clearly anxious about the night to come. A narrow gap in the curtains (out of shot) leaves a narrow strip of light up the middle of A’s body. The same DEEP SCRATCHES on the floor from before are visible here.

Panel 4:

B lies awake in bed, staring straight up at the ceiling. Her arms, crossed behind her head, shows that she has no intention of sleeping. There is the suggestion, from her being in bed, that some time has passed.

A (OUT): You know…

Page 5 - 5 Panels:

Panel 1:

Close-up of A’s feet, showing that she is fidgeting nervously. The sunset is bathing her in increasing shades of red and orange.

A: This is the first time I’ve had anyone with me.

Panel 2:

Close-up now of A’s face. She is looking away from the reader, gazing at the floor nervously, but she is now smiling a little. This suggests that she is feeling a little more comfortable with her situation, and with B’s presence.

A: It’s been a bit scary, but now I’m really excited about that!

Panel 3:

A wide-angle shot of the setting sun outside. The sun is now only a small glimmer above the rooftops.

Panel 4:

This panel shows the floor by A’s feet again, but instead of showing her nervous fidgeting, we can see her arm, still restrained by the HANDCUFFS, but now sporting a set of claws that are digging SCRATCHES into the floor.

A: In fact… It’s like I’m even more excited than usual!

Panel 5:

Now we see A’s face again, and she is staring directly at the reader. Her eyes are much more feral than before, and her wide grin shows long, sharp teeth.

A: I’m pumped! It’s hard to sit still! I can’t wait to be over there with you.

Page 6 - 6 Panels:

Panels 1-6:

In these panels, we see fantasies and fears through A’s mind’s eye, as the power of the FULL MOON (not shown) starts to rise within her. She continues her monologue to B, detailing her physical desires, and there are parallels drawn between her sexual fantasy and the fears of her predatory urges.

In the first panel, they are passionately kissing.

In the second, her desire to kiss her lover and “taste” her skin has taken on a more monstrous appearance within her mind, and she is leaving LOVEBITES with sharp teeth and long claws on B’s NECK and SHOULDERS.

The third panel shows her monstrous mouth, licking her lips with a savage hunger.

In the fourth panel, the WOLF in her mind has taken over more, and we can see B scrambling towards the reader, huge CLAWS reaching out of the SHADOWS behind her.

In the fifth panel, B is running for the LOCKED bedroom door, with the shadow of A’s enormous, LUPINE body cast over her.

In the sixth panel, a TERRIFIED B is pinned to the ground beneath the formless horror of A.

A: I wanna hold you so tight I can feel your soft skin against mine…

A: I wanna make out with you so I can taste your lips and leave dumb marks all over your neck...

A: I wanna go wild, and feel the rush of your beating heart...

A: I wanna run my nails through your hair and down your spine...

A: I wanna feel my teeth against your skin, so I can taste everything about you…

Page 7 - 4 Panels:

Panel 1:

This is an entirely black panel, as A has closed her eyes during her fantasy, and features only B’s speech bubbles. She is shouting, to break A out of her reverie.

B: Hey!

B: Hey! You okay?

Panel 2:

Close-up on A’s EYES, open wide with panic and fright. Her eyes are now RED, but are looking less FERAL than before.

Panel 3:

Panel depicting B holding A by the shoulders, having crossed the room during A’s FANTASY. B looks at A, worried, while A is staring up at the moon with a terrified expression, which is bathing them both in a pale white light.

Panel 3:

A view out of the window from B and A’s perspectives, featuring the FULL MOON that will complete A’s transformation.

A (OUT): I-I’m scared.

Page 8 - 6 Panels:

Panels 1-5:

These are the transitional panels that depict A’s transformation. The transformation is grotesque and uneven, shown mostly through suggestion.

In the first, she is silhouetted against the FULL MOON, as FUR sprouts all over her body and her hands start to become huge PAWS.

In the second, we see her FACE as it loses its last shred of humanity.

In panels 3, 4 and 5, we see glimpses of her huge CLAWS, long fur and wolf-like MUZZLE.

Panel 6:

The now fully-transformed A towers over B, who stares up at her with a TERRIFIED expression.

Page 9 - 4 Panels:

Panels 1 and 2:

These panels show A and B, who is now cowering some distance away from A. A is sitting silently on the floor, and doesn’t seem to move. In the second panel, B starts to realise that A is not moving, and pauses. A is an enormous creature, a mostly formless monster made up of jet black fur with canine features and a pair of white, glowing EYES.

Panel 3:

Close-up of A staring directly at the reader (and B, out of shot) with her expressionless EYES. They do not openly show any emotion, and she still has not moved. The cute pink RIBBON is still attached to A, now sitting behind one of her EARS.

Panel 4:

Close-up of B, who is still afraid and cowering. She tries to reach out to A with her voice. She is afraid that A will not recognise her, and might react violently if confused.

B: B-Baby?

Page 10 - 7 Panels:

Panel 1:

Shows B’s feet, as she walks slowly across the room towards A. To highlight the danger, the DEEP SCRATCHES are clearly visible on the floor.

Panel 2:

Close-up on B’s face, sweating nervously but forcing a reassuring smile, as she reaches out her hand towards A.

B: H-Hey there sweetie…

B: I’m...

B: I’m gonna Trust you now, okay?

Panel 3:

Close-up on A’s ears, that twitch as B talks.

B (OUT): I'm gonna come a bit closer, alright?

Panel 4:

This panel shows that B is now much closer to A, nervously reaching out to her. A is looking at her with CURIOUSITY.

Panel 5:

Close-up on B’s face again, now even more nervous and lacking the reassuring smile from before.

Panels 6 and 7:

B’s HAND reaches out towards A’s NOSE, which sniffs at her with interest. In panel 6, her hand shakes with fear at the cautious sniffing, but in panel 7, A has clearly recognised her GIRLFRIEND, and presses her NOSE happily into B’s HAND.

Page 11 - 4 Panels:

Panel 1:

Closeup on A’s tail, which wags eagerly at B’s touch. Now that A regonises her, her body language and depiction is much less frightening.

Panel 2:

Close-up on A and B’s faces. A has gotten closer to B, and affectionately LICKS her FACE with a huge pink tongue. B laughs, raising her arm as if to ward herself against the gross lick.

B (LAUGHING): Hey! Cut it out!

Panel 3:

B scratches A affectionately behind the EARS, showing A’s RIBBON. A has her EYES closed with HAPPINESS.

Panel 4:

B hugs A’s enormous head affectionately, and the two share a tender moment of shared relief and love.

B: See? This isn’t so bad, you’re doing great!

B: I’m glad you’re okay, sweetie.

Page 12 - 4 Panels:

Panel 1:

B has A’s PAW placed on her lap, while she removes the HANDCUFFS. Because A has grown so much, the HANDCUFFS are now painfully tight around her WRIST and looks as though it has been rubbed RAW.

B: Aww, sweetie… I knew these were a silly idea.

Panel 2:

Close-up of B’s hand, as she lights some romantic CANDLES.

Panel 3:

B embraces A’s HEAD once again, placing a KISS upon A’s FOREHEAD. The CANDLES have replaced the lighting of the MOON with a warm, orange glow.

Panel 4:

A large, open panel featuring B leading A over to the bed, now confident in her GIRLFRIEND’s self-control. They both seem HAPPY, and any trace of a threatening atmosphere has vanished from A’s appearance.

B: Now come on, you!

B: We’ve only got all night!

END.

#Writing #Comic Scripts #Original Fiction #Sundown Comic #Lilies Anthology

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