#also it's a way to distract me from the shitty graphics and gifs

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Soap x Reader You decide to reward Soap after finishing a set on the bench press.

NSFW 18+, Explicit, Shameless Smut, Porn w/out Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Gym Sex, Teasing, Fluff, Flirting, Cunnilengus, Blow-Jobs, Cowgirl, P in V, Might be a little tame, but still Graphic Description, no Y/N usage, sorry if this reads kind of cringe or shitty, I'll fix what I can as I come back to it! (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩)

Word Count: 2.4k

OK, so I had an ex who used to take me to the gym with him on a private compound (he was a Ranger, mm good times (っ˘ڡ˘ς), and those gyms were always dead empty after like 5pm. So, I thought it'd be a perfect setting for something freaky. Enjoy!

But also disclaimer: This is a fake scenario I made up! (✿˵•́ ૩•̀˵)৴♡* Masterlink

"Can you spot me?"

Soap takes a seat at the bench press, having just added a fresh, new 100lbs set of weights to the barbell. He'd spent the last half-hour warming up with lighter weights; this time he felt pumped enough to push himself.

You set your dumbbells down beside you upon hearing Soap call for assistance. The two of you have been working out for well over two hours now, and your bodies were feeling sweaty and spent at this point. The showers were practically singing to you.

Any time you went to the gym with Soap, you left genuinely feeling like you got a good workout done. Often times in more ways than one.

As you walked around so you could spot him, you were met with a resounding smack to your ass, making you gasp.

Instinctively, you look around, afraid that someone may have caught that. Then you remembered why you liked this gym so much.

It was inside a compound; the other soldiers would need special clearance to even enter, meaning the place was basically a graveyard once it was time for everyone to clock out. And best of all, all the cameras were in the hallways. Or so you were told.

God help whoever has to watch the surveillance footage later if that's not true.

Now despite that, it wasn't like you and Soap ever actually did anything in here before; Beyond some kissing and heavy petting in-between sets, whenever one of you two looked just a little too good while pumping iron.

When you came to the gym, for the most part, you actually did want to work out. However, you couldn't get enough of how sexy Soap was looking in his gym attire today.

He went with his old rugby shorts and a muscle top, anything to show off how good his body looks when he's getting damp with sweat and flexing his muscles each time he starts another set. The man was almost too aware of how good he looked.

As usual, you knew he dressed like this on purpose too. Knowing you'll eat it up every time. You don't know how many times he's teased you today alone about your lingering eyes.

He wasn't the only one trying to distract with his clothing, however.

Knowing that this gym would be empty, you went in just some extremely short, thigh-high, tight shorts and an equally tight sports bra. When you didn't have to worry about perverted men ogling you as you worked out, it was nice to actually wear some clothes your body could breathe in.

It also made it easier to attract the right kind of attention.

You'd certainly been enjoying looking into the gym mirrors and seeing Soap's eyes smack dabbed right on your ass whenever you'd squat or deadlift. Unaware that you could see him. Each time he looked, he'd sigh to himself like he didn't even know where to begin with you. His hands would adjust the crotch of his shorts, and he'd blink a few times to get himself back into the zone.

You've been itching to tease him about it all day yourself.

You get behind Soap as he lies back on the bench, shifting his body until he's comfortable enough to take the barbell. You watch his hands grip the cool steel firmly, the veins in his arms looking especially mouth-watering from where you're standing.

"Let's see if you can break your last record," you challenge him.

Soap gives you a teasing look suddenly. "What do I get if I do?"

You place your hands on your hips and smirk. Having to look down at him, all laid out with his arms above him. It was making your imagination start to wander.

"Find out," you wink.

Soap takes one deep breath and lifts the barbell from the stand, beginning his set at a decent speed. Little droplets of sweat begin to roll down the side of his face, as his mohawk sat a little wilder for wear on his head. You listen to the little grunts and sharp breaths he lets out each time he raises the weights.

You start thinking about how he might look if you were in that bar's place instead. Having him a panting mess underneath you. It made you more impatient the more you thought about it.

"Almost there," you start to cheer him on now. "You got this."

Soap reaches his last one, as he struggles to lift the barbell up. You give him some time to rerack it himself, wanting him to feel accomplished with this workout. And wanting to reward him for it too. His arms shake and he grunts with frustration, but he manages to get the barbell back on the stand.

The sigh he lets out the minute he finishes felt equivalent to how you imagine he'd sound climaxing. It makes you giggle.

You're ready to put it to the test.

"You did it!" You applaud him.

"Aye," he huffs. Soap then extends his hands over his head, until his callous palms have met the bare skin of your thighs behind him. "Now come 'ere already," he practically growls out. "Give me what I won."

It seems his mind was in the same gutter as you.

His hands slide up your thighs until they've stopped right at the cusp of your ass cheeks, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your gym shorts ever so slightly. It makes the heat between your legs start to radiate; for a second you could have sworn Soap noticed. Judging from how his smile grew.

"Oh, was this the prize?" You tease. "Sweaty foreplay?"

"My favorite," Soap chuckles.

You take one final look around, making sure the gym was as empty as it had been for the past three hours. Soap didn't seem to care regardless, his mind already set on what he wanted. You don't stop Soap when you feel him pull your shorts down, the clothing falling to your ankles as you kicked them off.

Soap takes an eyeful of you, licking his lips and making sure to give your ass a generous squeeze before pulling you closer to him. You step forward, until you're right over the Sergeant, your arms using the barbell to lean on for support.

You already knew the man was about to treat your pussy like a five-star meal. It had you damn near dripping just thinking about it.

"You're good," you give him your final stamp of approval.

"Oh I know," the Scotsman teased.

He lets his grip tighten over your ass and thighs, swiftly bringing his tongue to your clit like a man desperate to feel your body react to his touch. To feel all the love he had to give to you. You jolt initially, Soap's strong grip keeping you still as you continued to hold onto the barbell for dear life.

Soap eats your pussy sloppy, in all the best ways possible, letting your thighs squeeze around his head like earmuffs as he does it. He sucks at your clit, running a tongue up and down your cunt, and slurping up any bit of you he could. The sting of his facial hair rubs pleasurable so against you; had he not been holding you so tightly, you're sure you would have fallen off your feet by now.

Your moans echo around you in the gym, as you try to keep them bottled. Of course, as soon as Soap sees you trying, he takes that as a personal challenge to make that task impossible for you.

His tongue starts circling and sucking at your clit faster, a rhythm having been placed, and your body bubbling with arousal. You feel yourself shake almost violently, your grip on the barbell so tight your knuckles turn white. You're damn near sitting on Soap's face at this point.

You don't even tell him you've just came. The chuckle he lets out was enough of a cue to let you know he was well aware.

So now you felt it was time he was the one shaking.

You step back, seeing his cool, blue eyes follow you from where he still lies. He watches you like a hawk, as you round the bench. You stop right at the rising tent that was beginning to form in his shorts.

You grab the top of them and begin lowering them down, until you've seen the large, hardening, girthy mass of flesh spring free from its prison. How Soap can walk around with this thing would forever be a mystery to you. Your eyes get wide every time you see it, and it always makes Soap laugh.

You let your hand run up his shaft, allowing your thumb to brush over the head teasingly, and seeing the Sergeant shiver in response. You get a cocky look suddenly. "Don't hold back."

You let your warm mouth wrap around him, your lips sucking over the head of his cock, as you let your tongue dance against him, teasing him. It makes Soap's head fall back onto the bench, as he lets out a pleasurable groan.

He lets his hands gently grab hold of your ponytail, as you let him lightly guide you. Though the more you get into it, the harder it is for him to even concentrate.

"Yer doin' so well, love," he just manages to say.

You let your head bob up and down, your hands touching what parts of him your mouth could not reach. Pretty soon your body works as though you were a conductor, hard at work.

Soap grips the edges of the bench now, his hips slightly gyrating, and his breath getting caught every time he felt himself graze the back of your throat, saliva coating his member like lubricant. You gave your services to him like the rent was due.

Your tongue travels down his shaft, as you let your lips hook over his balls, sucking unabashedly, and finally getting that deep groan you'd been waiting for.

The minute he does, you let go of him and stop, seeing Soap look up at you like he was about to burst at the seams. Yearning for you to come back. Fortunately for him, you weren't finished yet.

You climbed on top of Soap, his body feeling like a well-sculpted boulder beneath you. He looks up at you, worshipping everything about you. His hands slide to your sides and rest there, as he takes a moment to admire you.

"You're so beautiful."

You blush, but cover it up with a giggle. You playfully shush him, and bring your mind back to the important things right now.

You grab hold of him again, positioning yourself over him as you use his cock to play with yourself a little, letting the tip massage you. You hum at the warmth it creates in the pit of your groin, enjoying how the sound of your voice just seemed to make him bite at his lip impatiently. Doing everything he can to let you keep the power here.

He certainly enjoyed seeing you so in control of yourself over him. You keep your eyes locked on Soap's as you do, the man looking as though he were about to fall apart if he had to wait any longer for you.

After a few more seconds of teasing, you let him slowly come in, feeling your walls stretch at his length. You're slow to start, as you rest your hands on his shoulders so you can use him for leverage. Soap's hands stay on your sides, as you feel him starting to try and take power below you.

To combat this, you bring a hand to his throat, letting your thumb press in as you start to choke him. Warning him seductively. You haven't met a lot of men who liked being choked themselves; most were too fragile to give it a try. Not Soap though. The man'll do almost anything that'll lead to a satisfying orgasm, no matter the caliber.

Which only meant more fun for you.

You roll your body on top of him, lifting yourself up and down over his cock and letting your pussy smack back against him. You made sure to roll your hips when he was deep in, assuring that special spot of yours was hit every time you slapped back down. You let it make moans spill from your lips, adoring the way Soap craved for it.

Weak groans and whimpers leave his lips. It makes you move faster, wanting the man unable to keep himself from moaning by the time you were through. Just like he had you.

Once he's too overwhelmed by your own dominating nature over him to try, he settles back and lets you use him as you please, his moans low in his throat.

"I can't get enough of you," he moans.

You place your knees on either sides of the bench, resting your hands back on his thighs as you lift yourself up and down with quick, precise speed, grinding against his groin and taking him fully.

Soap starts to grit his teeth, his nails digging harder against your skin, as you feel his hands trail up to the small of your back. He grabs hold, and without warning, begins to join you in the pounding, as he starts thrusting harder into you, keeping up with your speed.

The moans practically hiccup out of you each time he pumps in, the air leaving your lungs and your entire body feeling like it just got lifted into cloud nine.

Once again, neither of you announces when you come, letting your exasperated moans and tightening grips speak for you. Soap brings you down to his chest and hugs you against him, taking your mouth and completely devouring it, as his cock twitches with cum in you. It makes your cunt vibrate against him, a weight-like rush of ecstasy flooding down your body and making your legs turn into noodles.

You both huff and puff for air, as you lie sprawled on top of him. "Fuck," you gasp. "I feel like that was more of a workout than what we just did."

"Aye," Soap chuckles, rubbing his hand over your back as he looks around himself. "We're gonna have to wipe all this gear down before we go," he says.

Forever the Good Samaritan.

More One-Shots Coming Soon. Thanks for reading! (ᴗᵔᴥᵔ)

[mercurysstars]

The Shadow Thief (part 3)

Summary: What happens when Peter has to work with the girl he hates to possibly save the world.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Violence.

A/n: Sorry it took me so long to post again! I’ve wrote like 3 different versions of this chapter because I didn’t know what direction to go in just yet.

_

"Woah, dude. Did you see this?" Y/n held out Peter's phone shoving it in his face.

Y/n had gone over to Peters house early that morning to get the last finishing touches on their project done. So they both reluctantly decided to walk together to school.

Peter snatched his phone out of Y/n's hands as they crossed the street. "How did you even get my phone? It was in my hands." She shrugged and pointed back at the article.

Peter scrolled down the page. Incoming reports say Avengers went on a mission and since gone MIA. How didn't he know about this? And why didn't the Avengers at least tell him they were going to be gone. Peter was confused, to say the least. Were they in trouble? No, they couldn't be they are the earth's mightiest heroes. Right?

"They probably just had to extend their mission and forgot to report back in." Or at least he hoped. He didn't want to think of the latter. He decided after school he would go to the compound and make sure everything was alright.

"If you say so." They walked up the stairs to the second floor of the school.  Peter opened the door and they both walked into English. Y/n took her seat next to Mj and Peter next to Ned.

The thought of the Avengers missing did worry Y/n a bit. She wasn't a big fan of superheroes but she also was not, not a fan. It was complicated. Sure she liked the security of having someone to save the day. But she hated that they pretended to be better than everyone else. They judge criminals as they themselves have never done anything wrong. They tend to blame everything on everyone else and never take responsibility.

Y/n felt a nudge to her arm. She turned her head to face Mj. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"No, no it's alright I'm just thinking," Y/n said. She pulled out her laptop and opened her and Peter's presentation to have it ready just in case they had to go first.

Their opening slide was a picture of Anne Frank surrounded by a pretty border and Anne Frank’s name in cursive in the middle. Peter insisted their project had to look nice and not like some shitty last-minute one like she had originally done. Y/n had teased Peter relentlessly about it saying maybe he should be a graphic designer instead of Spider-Man. And he of course huffed and pretended to ignore her.

"Well, you just looked worried. Anyways tell me if you need any help." Y/n gave Mj a grateful smile. Y/n knew Mj could have this cold, hard exterior but she knew she secretly cared.

The bell rang signaling the first period started. The teacher stood up from her desk and walked to the front of the room clasping her hands together. "Good morning class. Today is the first official day for our presentations. We'll be picking who goes first by random. Any questions?"

One girl toward the front of the classroom stuck up her hand "Yes, Betty."

"Did you see the news? About the avengers?" The class erupted within hushed conversation everyone stating their theories of what happened and their worries.

"Alright, class settle down. I did see but we will continue like normal." She said. It kind of seemed like to Y/n she didn't care at all but she didn't really think anything of it.

The phone rang and the teacher quickly excused herself. Y/n picked at her fingers mindlessly. The teacher muttered a few words into the phone and hung up "Y/n, Peter." Her eyes snapped up at the sound of her name "They want you down in the office. And bring your things."

Y/n furrowed her brows. Her eyes met Peters "What did you do?" He mouthed just as confused as her.

What did she do? What the hell did he do. She hasn't done anything wrong. Well, at least nothing she gotten caught for.  "Dude if anyone did anything it was you! I've only been here for like 3 weeks." She whispered-yelled back.

He put his hands up defensively. Y/n shoved all of her things in her bag and zipped it up. Mj raised an eyebrow at her and Y/n just shrugged with a clueless look on her face.

Y/n walked over to the door opening it with her free hand while her chrome book was in the other.  Peter followed not too far behind. They step out and began to walk down the hallway shoulder to shoulder not a word muttered between them.

The hall was empty. No teacher, no janitor, no late students, not even the common lost freshman. It was strange to Y/n. She turned to Peter "This is weird. It's almost like it's too."

"Quiet." He finished for her. Peter felt off. His spidey sense wasn't alarming him with anything but it was almost like a gut feeling you'd get when some strange guy came up to you at a party being a little too friendly.

"Yeah." Exactly. They continued down the hall both on high alert. When they passed a window Y/n could see two men dressed in suits around the corner through the reflection.

"I think they're following us." She whispered to Peter. Y/n has picked up a thing or two of trying not to be noticed but the men behind them didn't seem like they cared much for subtlety. They had their eyes set on Y/n and Peter taking wide quick steps.

This time his spidey sense went off. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Peter reached for his web-shooters "We need to get out of here."

"You think?" Y/n back said in an aggravated tone. The next time they passed by a window she could see them screw something together slowly by their side.

Y/n glanced down to get a better look, it was a gun. All she could hear was the beating of her heart thumping loudly in her ears. Thinking quickly Y/n shoved Peter into a locker. A bullet whizzed past where his head once was and made a tiny thump when it hit the wall.

His eyes went wide momentarily stunned before he sprung into action. He shot out a web, grabbed the gun out of the man's hand, and flung it across the hall, making sure he couldn't get to it.

The men paused for a minute before muttering something to each other end breaking into a spring toward them. Well mostly at Peter luckily for her but still in her direction. Peter began to fight the one whose gun he had stolen hand to hand. The man got in a punch to Peter's face. Peter tripped him and tied him up with his webs.

The second man was coming toward her. Before she could second guess herself Y/n took her chrome book and slapped the man across the face with it. The man was momentarily shocked and Y/n opened an unlocked locker hitting him in the face. She watched him slide down the lockers unconscious.

More men turned the corner and came down the hallway. Y/n kicked a waist-length garbage can with wheels toward them as a small distraction. Peter grabbed Y/n pulling her into an empty classroom.

Y/n locked the door before she grabbed Peter and dragged him further into the classroom into a supply closet. They both crouched behind a mop bucket leaving the door cracked for a tiny bit of light.

"Would you like to tell me why there's someone outside this classroom trying to blow my brain out!" She huffed.

"Don't ask me. For all, we know they could be after you!" They both flinched as they heard the door handle shake.

"They were attacking you. Shooting at you. And you'd have a bullet in the back of your head if I didn't push you out of the way if I might add." She poked him in the chest.

The men began to start kicking at the door trying to break it down "Maybe if we figure out who they are we can get out of this."

"You know what I have an idea." Y/n reached back and grabbed the gun out of the waistband of her pants. Y/n started not to care much for introductions when they tried to assassinate her. Her motto was to shoot first ask questions later because she was not going down without a fight.

"What the hell Y/n! Where did you even get a gun?" Peter tried to put some distance between them but failed and ended up bumping into a shelf.

"Calm down bug boy I'm not going to shoot you." She rolled her eyes "I grabbed it off the guy while I smashed my laptop over his head."

"You are not shooting anyone!" He exclaimed. He was going to die with a psychopath. A literal psychopath. What would his uncle Ben say if he could see him right now?

"Fine whatever. How many webs do you have left?"

"Only one." He muttered.

"Only one! How the hell do you only have only one web left?" Oh lord. She was going to die in a janitor's closet with an idiot.

"Oh well, I'm sorry I didn't know I would have someone trying to paint the walls with my organs. I must have forgotten to mark it on my calendar!"

"Oh god, Okay." Y/n rubbed her forehead with her free hand.

She took the clip out of her gun and counted the bullets she had. Two. Okay, she could work with that, Somehow. She just had to live long enough to beat Peter up for almost getting them killed.

She turned back to Peter "Alright here's the plan so we are going to jump out of the window and see just how far that web can exactly get us." She could hear the pounds on the door getting more frequent and if she was being honest she was surprised it held this long.

"Are you crazy! You going to get us both killed." He didn't need the answer because he already knew she was. He swore he could see the shadows swirl around her for a moment but as quickly as it was there it was gone.

"Do you have any better ideas because I'm all ears, Parker?" He didn't say anything and just ran a hand through his hair letting out a frustrated sigh.

"That's what I thought." Y/n knew there was a good chance that they get hit by incoming traffic like a bug on a windshield but it was either that or the SWAT team outside.

"Let's get this over with." Said Y/n. They both stepped outside of the closet. The men outside the room gave the door one last kick and it broke off of the hinges. "Go." That was all Peter said.

Y/n shot the window with the two bullets she had. Peter ran over to Y/n and grabbed onto her tightly. They jumped through the window shattering it. Peter shoots out his last web hooking onto a nearby tree. At the peak of the swing, Peter let go of the web. They flew over the traffic narrowly avoiding the cars.

When they finally reached the ground they hit it hard. Peter took most of the impact but Y/n still hit her head. They continued to hold tightly onto each other as they rolled through the grass from the momentum of the swing.

They came to a slow stop and Y/n landed on top of Peter. She slumped off to the side of him and sat up. Peter did the same but with a groan feeling all of the bones in his body.

He noticed blood began to trickle out of Y/n's nose. "You got something." He pointed to her nose.

She wiped under her nostrils with her fingers and then again with the bottom of her shirt without a second thought "Oh, Thanks."

Peter rested his head on his knees. What was he going to do? As much as he didn't like Y/n he felt bad for dragging her into this. "We need to get going they are going to come looking for us soon."

"Where are we going to go?" The light was starting to become too much so Y/n put her hand over her eyes to shield her from the sun. She was starting to get a headache and just wanted to lay down. Peter stood up and dusted off his shirt and pants.

"Avengers compound." He held out a hand to her. She took it and he pulls her up onto her feet. They began to walk toward the street.

"I just don't know how we are going to get there." He added. They made it onto the sidewalk. Y/n was stumbling around so Peter kept his pace slow so she could keep up with him.

Y/n stopped walking "What do you think of this car?" She nodded to a 1997 Honda Accord.

"It's cool I guess." He said confused the car was a little old but he didn't say anything.

"Alright good. Now hand me your web-shooters." She held out her hand toward him.

"Okay?" He didn't really know what she was trying to get at. Peter just assumed she hit her head too hard but he complied anyway.

Y/n crouched down facing the car. She broke his web-shooters over her knee taking out two long curved metal pieces. She handed him back the rest of his broken web-shooters. Peter stared at her wide-eyed as she stuck the two metal pieces into the lock of the car.

"What are you doing." He hissed. Peter walked closer to Y/n trying to cover her as she picked the lock to the car.

"I just gave our problem a solution." She said without looking. She continued to twist the pieces around until she heard a little click. She gave a little cheer and opened the door.

"Yeah by stealing someone's car. Need I remind you is illegal."

" I like to think of it as borrowing. Besides I will happily leave you if you wish." She rolled her eyes. God, her head was throbbing.

Y/n took the plastic cover off of the steering column. There were three sets of wires and she grabbed the middle one. Y/n cut the red and blue wire. She touched the wires together until she heard the car start. She smiled to herself and lastly twisted the wires together.

She turned to Peter "Are you getting in or what?"

Peter looked around and then sighed "Fine, but I'm driving."

"What? No way, you don't even look old enough to drive." She crossed her arms.

"You have a concussion so I'm our best bet at not dying." He gave Y/n a sarcastic smile.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes but got out of the driver's seat.

"You know if you keep rolling your eyes they are going to get stuck like that." She flicked him off and he laughed.

Y/n basically collapsed into the passengers seat. Peter closed his door and started the car. He pulled into the street and Y/n rested her head against the window. The cool glass felt nice against her forehead. She notice a bruise on Peter's pale cheek from when he got hit earlier.

Every now and again he would glance at Y/n to see how she was doing. He figured she must not feel the best because she hasn't said one witty remark since they got into the car.

He hoped by now the Avengers were back at the compound and could Tell them what's going on and who was following them.

He looked over to her again and she had her eyes close. He jabbed her with his elbow "Hey, don't fall sleep. You might not wake back up."

"Hmm Okay." She said but didn't budge.

"I'm serious Y/n, open your eyes." Peter was starting to get worried. It wasn't that he cared about her. But he didn't know what to do with a dead body. Or at least that's what he told himself.

"Don't get your panties into a bunch, my eyes are open."

They pulled into the road of the compound. When it came into view Y/n suddenly sat up wide eyed "Holy shit."

"What?" Peter took his eyes off of Y/n and followed her line of sight.

"What the fu-"

Part 4

Taglist

@fandom-strumpet • @ginger-swag-rapunzel • @libraries-and-coffee

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Feral Fatality

(Part 1)

So this has been in my works for a week now. You see, it was a typical day for me scrolling through Tumblr and visiting some....tags, and then a short drabble inspired me to write about a feral reader totally not because I was craving violence and murder no, which reached more than 4k words on the first draft so here we are! Shitty title, I know. The proofread work went over 7k, and it's not even finished yet. Once I'm done posting this and my main orc fic, I will get into the requests so please be patient!

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Brief blood and violence at the end of the first part

Contains: Swearing, mentions of neglect and abuse (not graphic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

-

Screams slit through the twilight as the frigid autumn wind blew harshly through the trees of Camp Crystal Lake. The rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs echoed as foolish teenagers attempted to escape, running for their lives when they were the ones who dared step foot in the place, tarnishing it with their sins.

Jason Voorhees, the innocent kid who died several years ago; pushed to the lake by his bullies and left to drown for being different and unsightly— all because the counselors were busy with their fucking business—, returned as an undead killing machine right after his mother murdered them and died. His sole purpose: to protect the land and purge the people who had no right to be here, sentencing them to a horrendous death.

One by one, they struck the ground, lifeless, either chopped into pieces, beheaded, or stabbed countless times by his trusty machete.

Limbs...ripped off with his bare hands.

-

The muffled snapping of branches reached your ears as the vehicle's wheels ran over them, stirring you from your nap. You rubbed your chilled skin under your clothes as you looked out of the window, thumping your forehead on the glass when you leaned forward the moment you saw the scenery. Trees, both ancient and young, their leaves varying in hues of green, orange and red, filled your line of sight. It was still early in autumn, your favorite time of the year, not hot but not too cold either. You watched in awe as the warm-colored leaves cascaded down from the branches and down to the ground, some carried by the wind farther from their origin.

The view did its best to distract you from a couple in session a seat before yours. They always seem to do that all the time, regardless of place or occasion.

This was a week-long getaway after graduation, they said.

Nothing but a white lie.

An excuse for the girls to hook up with their campus crushes, a week of fucking and smoking drugs.

You, however, just got invited —forced— by your "friend" Eloiza, the self-proclaimed hottest girl in the entire school, typical captain of the cheerleading squad; blonde and curvy. Her words were much too sugar-coated that even a deaf person could tell she had ulterior motives.

She only planned to use you as a tool to raise her fame. A stepping stone for her own gain.

That wasn't the only reason though.

Everyone knew who you were, but only by your name. News and rumors alike spread like wildfire through gossipy mouths. Your deeds were known throughout campus.

(Y/N)(L/N), top academic competitor and multiple-award winner, a straight-A student for five years in succession. Some believed you were a genius, the rest called you insane.

You wouldn't call yourself a genius though, you did not possess the obsessive need to acquire eternal knowledge and discover the secrets of the universe as most of them do, to effortlessly solve every problem that comes their way.

If that were the case, then you wouldn't be here in the first place.

You only love learning and indulging in the beauty of Mother Nature, plus a handful of hyper-fixations.

Fine, a buttload of hyper-fixations. And such came in handy in various situations.

You were unrivaled, not one of your peers could come close to your level of wit. Many people wished to have a brain like yours, and just as many hated you for even having one, praised you just as much as slandered your name and judged you.

Despite your reputation, the poor school didn't broadcast it, at least every time. The staff probably got tired of repeating the same phrase over and over again. Which caused more than half of the whole campus to never believe you to be the one behind all of that, laughing at your face when you said your name.

"You? The (Y/N) (L/N)? Ha! As if I'd fall for that! Everyone knows how she looks. You're the absolute opposite!"

"You got to be kidding me."

"You're a joker, aren't you? Is this a prank? If so please stop it, don't pretend like you're her."

Yep, and it goes on and on and on. They were right, you didn't look like someone who would win contests or excel in class.

You constantly wore clothes that hid your form, silent unless spoken to or asked to answer, distant and reserved, you preferred the company of books and nature to the rowdiness and prying hands of humans. A sociopath they deemed you. Quite an extreme word to use when you simply wanted to enjoy the only things that made you happy in this living hell.

You only know a handful of people who approached you first-hand and praised you genuinely, even asking for an autograph, which really surprised you.

Yet, they would never understand you even if you explained, because you can't, words evade you when it comes down to voice out what you feel. Even if you can, no one would care. And even if they did? You doubt it was real. Everyone wants to use you, and they seem to believe you'd let them. You didn't trust anyone. The last time you did only left you sobbing on the dirt.

You wanted to be left alone.

To connect with nature and get as far away as possible from your parents. Parents who kept shouting profanities at each other, the main cause for your depression and anxiety levels to skyrocket, the shaking turning into trembling, 7 hours of sleep to barely a blink.

That's why you agreed to go in the first place.

You hated your household—despised it— a mess of broken shards of bottles and ceramics littered your kitchen floor more often than not. You didn't bother cleaning it up anymore, your mother would just waste away her money on more things to break and throw them at your joke of a father when they fought anyway.

Not only that, you thought...No, you believed if you worked hard to be the best and win countless competitions, your parents would give you recognition and reconcile for your sake, but no, no, no. They didn't care one bit about you or your medals, it was as if you were never even included in their lives at all. Even birthday celebrations ceased to exist in everyone's books after your 13th.

So you gave up.

Down into the void, your wishful thinking went, that they'll become better people over time, that the attention and love you deserve will be given one day. Instead, you wallowed yourself in your studies, besting everyone in everything academic. Oh, but you weren't athletic. Far from it. Damn, you were getting thin and sleep-deprived from being neglected, dark circles under your eyes every time you looked at your reflection. People hating your existence wasn't helping, some teachers even suspected you of cheating.

There's no way in hell you'd let yourself get dragged down to end up like them! You were of legal age now, a fresh graduate from high school, you doubt your parents even knew that since they didn't fucking show up on your graduation day. You were moving out of that shithole of a town. Anywhere is better than where they breathed and spat their poison.

And so here you are. Standing in this breath-taking and mysterious place. Camp Crystal Lake, it is named, secluded, barely touched by modernization as it is hidden between mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. Not to mention its namesake, the lake, you imagined it would mirror the sky, be it day or night. You loved it, you adored the fresh, breathable air that went through you the moment you stepped out of the van.

You also knew about him.

Resolved to never go back to that goddamned house, you took everything you had and needed; the special little trinkets you've collected through the years shoved into a box, the few clothes you had, art materials, and your precious books carefully packed inside a big travel bag, along with your stocked up canned goods, convenience food, snacks, and toiletries.

And other, important things.

You hauled your baggage out of the van and got off, immediately moving to the side and away from everyone.

You got used to people ignoring you that you didn't care anymore.

Why waste your time with them when you can have all of it to yourself?

Eloiza led the group into the larger cabins, the others went straight into the lake for a swim. You even notice some teens disappear into the trees, most likely for a quickie.

In return, you stayed out of their way, fully satisfied being invisible and with your own company as you trudged to a cabin, the one you caught a glimpse of earlier in the van. It was a long way's separated from the rest, closest to the forest and hidden behind a few trees.

You were panting when you finally stopped in front of it, clearly not used to walking long distances and carrying stuff near as heavy as your weight.

Upon closer inspection, you found yourself gaping at its appearance. The wooden walls lost their color as they aged, white and brown mushrooms grew on the ground along with green moss sticking to the beams, and a few vines crawling their way up and on the roof. Despite all of that, the cabin looked sturdy still.

There's this "one with nature" vibe that drew you to it, like a string pulling you closer and inviting you. Ominous most would say, but you almost cried when the rich scent of earth and oxygen filled your lungs as you took one big inhale, sighing in content for once. It was a lot smaller compared to the others, but you didn't care. As long as you were left alone with your stuff you were a-okay.

Perfect.

You turned the knob and peeked inside, letting out a small gasp and opening the door wider to see the whole thing.

Old as it is, it was proper and neat, regardless of the tiny cobwebs on the upper corners. A small, square dining table sat in the middle of the first part of the place, two wooden stools placed underneath. There were cupboards on the wall and a simple sink with an empty space to the side. You went to the next room, doorless and separated with but a wall of thick plywood. It had a single bed in the corner, off-white cotton sheets sitting atop, not a wrinkle in sight. No pillow though. There's a decent-sized closet along with a small table on one side of the bed. One of the windows had a hole in the middle, a ray of sunlight streaming in through the cracks. It was too big for the size of a gunshot, so maybe a rock.

A bit hesitant, your fingers traced the wood, feeling the inconsistent texture. When you went through the back door, your smile reached your ears when trunks of trees and bushes greeted you...

Wait, is that what you think it is?

Stepping closer to the treeline, your jaw dropped when you spotted a thicket of fruit-bearing plants past them, gathered in a tiny clearing.

Blueberries.

Purple little cuties poked out of the green shrubs, sporting a vibrant hue that caught your eye. The sun shone overhead and providing the energy they needed. Blueberries managed to grow in the area despite the trees fencing them.

Tempted and suspicious, you crouched down, inspecting the shrub if it really was a blueberry plant and not a deadly doppelganger. Once you were sure it was, (it would be hilarious if you simply died from nighshade poisoning), you plucked one and brought it to your mouth. It was sweeter than you expected, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. You hummed in delight, wiping the juice with your thumb when it dribbled out, staining your finger and lips.

You didn't want to anger anybody. Hell, coming here was already trespassing, so you didn't push your luck and left it alone, hoping they'd forgive you for picking one. They surely didn't look wild with the way they lined up.

You scanned the rest of the area, eventually going back inside to unpack after your little evaluation.

-

The sun was a hand's away from setting when you finished. Pride swelled in your chest at the work you did, your things stocked and organized with care inside the cabinets and drawers. You won't have to worry about your food for now as cupboards were filled to the brim with them. You also had a decent amount of money left from your savings account that your parents weren't aware of. Prize money, allowance, and the salary you got from doing online jobs all went into it. The camp was a few miles off the road, and a couple more to the nearest gas station with a convenience store. Very far yes, but it's better than living with the people who made you do this in the first place.

You just hoped you wouldn't die walking.

Everything was worth it, anyways. You were free now, at least that's what you think.

You trudged to the bed, eyeing the cushions, wary and a little scared to touch the sheets that appeared to be cleaned just recently, you didn't even lay a finger on them ever since you got inside. Oh, but your tired muscles were screaming to just flump down and relax.

So you did.

You dumped yourself face first and inhaled. It wasn't smelly nor fragrant, just the simple freshness on the cotton fabric. You felt beat but ain't sleepy, yet, so you reached to the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a book to pass the time as you waited for the sun to go down and give way for the moon. Its spine and pages had creases, worn out and yellow-stained from age and use. It was a horror-mystery novel told through a first-person narrative, a story of a middle-aged detective and her Maine coon in their attempts to solve a murder case of a young European lady named Cassandra Chase.

You dozed off in the middle of chapter 21, the part where Dinnie, the cat, discovers a valuable clue to the crime, a rotten limb in the dried basement well.

—

—

Jason settled down on the stairs of his porch; shoulders relaxed and hunched as he leisurely sharpened his machete with a small whetstone. Lines of sunlight kissed him through the leaves of trees, the birds in the area chirped on their perches, and the grass swayed, gentle, as a cool wind passed by.

His day be so fine. No troublemakers to deal wi—

The alarm rang, announcing unwelcomed arrival. As if a switch flipped inside, he's already on his feet, making his way swiftly to their location.

A new batch of wretched youngsters, another day ruined. Hunting them down makes his blood thrum in his veins, yes, but they soured his mood, just when he was at peace. He's dead set on slaughtering them in the most gruesome ways possible, only then he could go back and enjoy the serenity the nature around him brings.

He surveyed the area, camouflaging with the wilderness, silent as he watched and counted the soon-to-be corpses, his mother's voice at the back of his mind, guiding him.

They decided to go either to the main cabins, or the lake...even into the trees.

All but one.

Jason already planned to cut down the couple later as they lose themselves in the forest, doing nasty, dirty things to his camp. The killer shifted his attention to you, curious as to why you didn't join the lot. Instead, you walked back down the road. He followed and saw you approach the small cabin, separated from the rest, your eyes widened...

Adoration?

You were quiet— except for the little gasps of awe you let out in between pants—as you looked around and over the place. The ones you came with were rowdy and destructive, a complete opposite. He hid as he observed you from afar, moving around to adjust his vision on you. You smiled every time you looked to the trees, he noticed.

Why were you smiling like that? Why did you pick this cabin? Were you planning on defiling it?

The last question in his mind made his blood boil. He'll kill you first if that was the case. That cabin you chose was special, it was where he and his mother used to stay. He occasionally visits that one to keep it clean and free of dust. If you even think of—

Jason, sweetie...look closer. She does not have such intentions.

His mother's words rang in his head. Even from where he stood, he could see what you did inside. You looked a little hesitant, touching and drawing back your hand before letting your fingers feel the wood as if it was something delicate. Despite the initial...shyness? You proceeded to make it your home, somewhat, dropping the large duffel bags you carried on your front and back, and a similarly large roller case on your left. It was as if you planned to stay for a long time.

Jason hears you take a long breath and sigh as you went out the backdoor. You grinned wider when you saw the nature around you. You stepped forward, straight in his direction...

For a moment he thought you saw him, seeing your jaw drop. You moved closer, and he just froze there, until you crouched down.

Oh, his plants.

He watched you as you gently picked a fruit, your gaze...soft. You brought it to your mouth, some of the juice spilling on the side and you wiped it with your thumb.

Cute.

You went back inside and continued to unpack your things, carefully maneuvering around the cabin.

Maybe he'll spare you if you continue to be good. You didn't do anything dirty, yet. It's only a matter of time before the camp is shrouded in darkness and his hunt will begin.

Let's see what you'll do before that happens.

-

Jason tracked down the three that went into the forest. He knew the place like the back of his hand, and it was easier to pinpoint them as he heard moans.

What he saw was utmost disgusting, two girls pleasuring a male with their mouths in broad daylight.

Kill them, my boy! Such foul beings need to die! Kill them, kill!

He circled them, steps soundless. Jason gripped his machete and brought it down the guy's neck, embedding the weapon into the bark, the head rolled down, oozing with blood, and fell against the women, drenching them in red. Not a single cry left from their mouths as he sliced both with one swing, blood pouring out of their throats and staining the ground. Jason dragged their bodies and tossed them into a pit he dug beforehand, making quick work in burying them.

A swift end. Now he waits.

[cazzylimerence]

LONG PERSONAL POST

(I’d like it if someone read this at some point ever . . . Be nice to know there’s another planet out there in this vast, black galaxy of mine)

. . .

I don’t like posting personal stuff on here. But I legitimately don’t feel like I’ve got anybody else to talk to.

First off, I am depressed. Intensely depressed. Like, Picasso’s Blue Period depressed. And I don’t know if it’s hormones, brain chemistry, or my living situation – which, on the outside doesn’t appear to be that bad, but to me, is in fact DEEPLY unsatisfying.

Here’s the deets, for any of you reading (and/or giving a shit):

I moved this year to a new city, got myself a new job – the same as before. Working in advertising as a motion graphic designer. It was my hope to find more engaging work for hirer pay. Instead, I think I got swindled on the pay, and the work is absolutely soul-crushing. It’s the type of work that kills my artistic drive and makes me feel like I’m wasting my life. We’re talking “utterly pointless, throwing eight hours (ten if you count fucking traffic) into a trash-can every fucking day” bad. I mean it’s boring, repetitive, and annoying.

What do I DO at work you ask? Well, basically, I build shitty low-quality TV commercials all day. And not the glamorous type, either. The “Sal’s auto parts”, “Vicky’s Salon, “ Pete’s Pizza” type of commercials (SSDD) – and the clients are awful. They want shitty powerpoint presentations with grainy photos of fucking dogs instead of actual, engaging, colorful designs that draw attention. And I, with my BA in Visual Communications, my Masters in Computer Animation, and my 5 1/2 fucking years of Agency Experience (where I actually worked with not-for-profit clients and felt like I was contributing to something) have to produce these POS commercials the way these awful clients want them produce. I.E. badly. So, like, too much text on the end screen, terrible photos, ugly color scheme, lame cross dissolves, etc, etc.

Sometimes I can ignore how bad this makes me feel. How useless and wasted it means I am. I mean, I grew up wanting to be an animator for Walt Disney for fucks sake. I grew up wanting to tell stories! Now look at me! Churning out cookie-cutter :15s-:30s TV spots for a company that has no idea how to operate coherently. 

Sometimes I distract myself with music, or TV shows, or books, or audiobooks, or films. Other times I try obsessing over an actor, or writing my crummy little fan fictions that I feel like nobody reads or comments on anymore.

But it’s always the same. In the end, I ALWAYS go back to feeling depressed.

And what’s worse, my husband – (disclaimer: I love the guy a ton) – is just as bad. As in, he’s just as depressed. Maybe even worse than I am. In fact, it’s gotten so bad lately that I’ve started actively worrying about suicide risk with him.

So I can’t be the unhappy one in the marriage because he already is, and ONE of us as to be the rock, don’t they? And yes, that’s an awful, scummy, selfish way of looking at it. But that’s how I feel. I don’t resent him, not really. I just feel like I’m not allowed to be sad because, well, he’s got it worse – plus, he’s an immigrant, and he literally has no one to talk to (well, unless he wants to Skype, but the time difference is so severe he’s never really able to).  

To recap: I’m depressed, and I can’t talk to my husband about it. And I can’t talk to my mom, either because she has a heart condition and I don’t want to stress her out. I can’t talk to my dad because he’s turning 60 and he just wants to fucking retire and be done with the “grunt work / labor ant / rat race” routine that he’s had to put up with for his whole insignificant little working-class life. I can’t talk to my sister because she’s an artist in Boston, has a brilliant soul-invigorating job and just started a new relationship with a nice, financially stable guy (or so I’m told). I can’t talk to my brothers because they’re in a band and they only ever text me to help them with logo work for their album covers. And I can’t talk to my friends because I left them in another fucking city – and oh yeah, I’M SOCIALLY AWKWARD AS FUCK. I can’t really ever start a conversation, let alone THIS conversation, with them and when I think about trying to I remind myself how long it’s been and just wind up guilting myself into silence again.

So yeah. Part of me thinks this is not a big deal. Like, it’s not so bad. I’m happy some of the time. And other folks have it worse.

But MAN ALIVE, when I’m NOT HAPPY? Like, HOLY FUCK. It’s AWFUL. Because I still have to function.

I still have to go to my shit job and provide for my sad husband. And I have to fake a smile through all of it.

And when I go to do something meaningful, something I enjoy, or used to enjoy, like writing, or painting, I have no drive left. I just feel like - what’s the point? No one reads my stories, and no one will want to. Paint something? Well that just takes too much effort (I mean I gotta set the paints out and the canvas and set everything up, ugh fuck that).

What’s that you say? Join a gym? Drink water? Eat healthy? Take vitamins?

Well, I do drink water, and take vitamins. And I do try to eat healthy, as best I can given my budget. As for joining a gym, that takes time and more importantly energy - energy I just don’t seem to have anymore. And yes, I know I have to expend energy to make energy. But honestly? I already cover the few small hours I’m not in the fucking office like a dragon hoarding it’s treasure. I don’t want to give up the only free time I have to go to a place that smells of sweat and awkwardness only to have odd men gawk at my lack of decent gym clothes – or self esteem.

And yes, I could jog around the block but my neighborhood is sketch central in the summer and an ice berg in the winter and again, time and energy.

Also, I’m going to be 30 next year. And 10 years after that, I’ll be 40 – 

–which, as you all know, is the cut-off-date for attractiveness and purpose in a woman. I mean, at 40 you don’t look good and you can’t have kids, right? So why try anything after that? (I’m being sarcastic here, in case you didn’t realize . . .)

I’ve tried looking for other jobs, but there’s really no other jobs around here that appeal in a ‘won’t also crush my soul’ kind of way, and I don’t know how to cross the gasp from advertising into another field. I do know this, however –

I don’t want to be where I am. I don’t want to be in advertising anymore. I don’t want to feel empty and pointless.

I WANT TO WRITE.

I WANT TO ACT. I’d love to voice-act, but I can’t come up with my own project (see above for reasons why).

I WANT TO COLLABORATE WITH SOMEONE. I want to find that creative partner who sparks a fire me, and who I spark a fire in too. I want someone to talk to about crazy creative project ideas at 1am, someone to try stuff with, someone to motivate me and inspire me. A muse to surpass all muses.

But most importantly I WANT TO CREATE AGAIN AND FEEL HAPPY, LIKE I’M CONTRIBUTING SOMETHING to SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE!!!!!

But instead . . . I am alone. Utterly alone. (At least, that’s how I feel right now, anyway.)

Here’s hoping this transmission reaches someone. And if it does, here’s hoping that someone wants to talk, too. I could use a friend.