#like a mentor figure of sorts

[narratwoda]

Tammy really looks up to her

[danielsarmand]

plagued by thoughts of how cute edwin and monty would have been though because like neither of them knows Anything At All monty was a crow for his entire existence and edwin is only now beginning to accept and navigate his homosexuality so like. they really could have been a cute first relationship sort of dynamic help give me back my crow babe my astrology bitch my sassy legend

[sernik-krakowski]

Just finished orion and uuuh

[yorufi]

i like venti a very normal amount,,

he means a world to me and i can write a lengthy essay on how important he’s to the story lore, his overall story, how he impacted every aspect of my life and-

anyways, happy b-day to Venti!!

[tennessoui]

new wip wednesday

i wanted to get the first chapter of this done as an early bday present to me because ive been talking about this fic for foreverrrrr but its not gonna happen because im bad at measuring time and effort 😮‍💨 but look! hunger games au fic!

Anakin pushes his face into his neck, letting his lips press against his pulse for a moment. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, recognition and warning rolled into one tone. 

But Anakin wouldn’t be who he is if he allowed the man in his arms to so easily twist away. He wouldn’t even be here now, pressed up against him with the scent of saltwater and lilacs and leather filling his nose, if he let one warning word distract him from his goal.

So instead he pushes further, wraps his hands around Obi-Wan’s hips and takes the skin beneath his lips between his teeth. The soft fabric of their pants brush together, so loud in the stillness of the kitchen that it’s deafening—that it’s almost loud enough to drown out the catch in Obi-Wan’s breathing.

But Anakin has trained himself over the past five years to listen for all the small ways that Obi-Wan Kenobi capitulates, so he hears his sigh, feels the slump of his shoulders against his own as his head sways forward and then back.

Anakin takes his time worrying a bitemark into his neck, just at the edge of his beard. On the holos that will film Obi-Wan’s face today, it’ll look like a shadow. 

But Anakin will know. Obi-Wan will know. 

“Anakin,” his lover murmurs, and Anakin’s hand moves from his waist up to stroke down his arm, corded with tense muscle. Fisherman’s muscle. Victor’s muscle too.

Not today, he means. It’s obvious in every line of his body. It’s obvious in the fact that he left the bed so early in the morning when neither of them must work. It’s obvious in the distance in his eyes, the frown across his lips.

Today is not a day where Obi-Wan will accept pleasure from anyone’s lips or hands, undeserving as he feels to be on the receiving end of such a kindness.

Anakin’s left hand falls to cover Obi-Wan’s, tangling their fingers together. His are rougher than Obi-Wan’s, working man’s hands now that he is twenty-one and a man of the sea like most are on Stewjon. The rough drag of his calluses over the hairy knuckles of Obi-Wan’s hand makes Anakin swallow a smile. Victors of the Hunger Games are forbidden from working laborious jobs. They’re meant to languish away in their Coruscanti-funded manors, with idle minds and idle hands, picking at paints or design stencils or any number of different government approved hobbies

Obi-Wan Kenobi is not made to be idle. He has no patience for painting or sewing, for cooking or jewelry design. Luckily for him, Stewjon is the fourth planet from Coruscant, on the edge of the inner rim, and it’s rather small, rather ordinary. In the colder months, during the few months of the star year where the galaxy is not forced to care about the Hunger Games and its Victors, he can slip away to the ocean. Fish and sail like he was born to do, Stewjoni through and through.

But Anakin is out on those choppy seas year-round now that he’s four years finished with his compulsory education. His hands are rougher than Obi-Wan’s and they always will be.

Anakin likes it. Likes the way Obi-Wan’s softness contrasts against his own rougher places. Likes that he can sneak away from Obi-Wan’s manor in the blue of the pre-dawn light, first to the sea and then to the market, and Obi-Wan will be there when he gets back. Likes that when he leaves, his lover is curled up asleep in their bed. And when he returns with the fattest fish from his haul, Anakin can cook it for him too. 

He likes that he is the only thing Obi-Wan needs. He provides. He cooks for him. He feeds him. He touches him with his rough hands, to dirty him and then to clean him up. Everything that Obi-Wan needs, Anakin is the person to give it to him.

He supposes he has Coruscant to thank for that.

He’s not stupid enough to say that—ever, but especially today. Especially on the day of the Reaping. 

[vilnan]

i do think people undermine how deeply wounding a solas friendship path can also be

[a-lonely-dunedain]

So! this is Gwen, she's one of Lhan Tarren's three resident healers. She speaks in a hushed whisper, is easily spooked, and has a generally unnerving aura about her.

She wasn't always that way though, once she was a bright-eyed healer apprenticed to Cianán (Lhan Tarren's older healer), outgoing, friendly and above all eager to prove herself.

Until one day she ventured into the Mournshaws. I haven't pinned down exactly what it was that drove her there, maybe she was trying to retrieve some rare healing herb, or maybe she was lured there by curiosity alone, but whatever the reason, she did not return. At least not for some time, long enough that the Stag-Clan thought she had died.

When she did finally emerge from that forest, she was... changed. She did not remember anything that happened to her, and her hair had been bleached stark-white.

(on the left is how she looked before The Incident, and the right is her current appearance. the design is probably subject to change tho bc this was just a quick doodle from earlier today)

She would also often see things that weren't there, and would be frequently pulled into waking dreams where strange and sometimes disturbing scenes would play out. These, she did not realize at the time, were actually prophetic visions, but shrouded in such obscure metaphor that she could not recognize them for what they truly were. (A ghostly white hand, growing to giant size and engulfing the entire village, was a frequent appearance.)

Instead, it only reminded her of the tale of Muirgel the Mad, an old story that many in the Stag-Clan thought was a mere myth used by parents to scare their children away from going into the Mournshaws. It told of another young woman who had vanished into the forest for a time, and also came back with stark-white hair, but when she returned she had been either possessed or driven mad by some fell spirit of the forest, and she slew her entire family before she was driven away into the night and never seen again.

Because of this, Gwen does not believe that her prophetic visions are visions at all, and instead thinks they are bouts of madness or symptoms of a fell spirit trying to take over her mind. So believing herself to be a danger to her clan, she locked herself away in her home for months and refused to come out for anyone. She also abandoned her apprenticeship with Cianán as well, as she thought her cursed presence would only do more harm than good to their patients.

It was around this time that Celeair found his way to Lhan Tarren, and with great difficulty as well as a solid wooden door between them, managed to befriend her.

the plan for her currently is that she and Celeair will go on an adventure through the Mournshaws together in order to track down the spirit responsible for Gwen's disappearance all those months ago, and through that find that her current state is not a curse at all but a benevolent spirit's misguided attempt at giving the Stag-Clan a boon in the form of glimpses into the future.

Once she understands the reasons behind her visions and no longer fears them, she can finally begin to discern their meanings and use them to help her clan. She also returns to her apprenticeship with Cianán, and is a key part in helping Celeair adjust to Dunlanding culture and better fit in with the people of Trum Dreng

[clementine-thedestroyer]

141 80’s Arcade AU

Featuring implied/eventual Soap x reader, Gaz x reader, and Ghost x reader.

The small- slightly shabby arcade on the corner- that may not look like much from outside, but was easily the busiest place in town on a Friday night.

Where the constant buzz of games’ themes and sound effects filled the space wall-to-wall, where rows of game cabinets and players crowded the floor, and where you could play a hand full of games for a quarter, but the rest for a nickel.

Where Soap and Gaz- the two college kids the owner hired as arcade attendants- know you by name from how often you come in- and have long since begun to involve you in their shenanigans.

Where Price, the owner of the arcade, can usually be found helping Soap and Gaz or, on slower days, in the back of the building in his “office” (because it’s really a converted cleaning closet). Usually with the door propped open so he can keep an eye on the arcade as he leans back in his desk chair and props his feet up on the corner of his messy desk- giving both customers and Soap or Gaz a stern glare if they start to get too rowdy.

Where Price will never chastise you quite as firmly as he does Soap or Gaz when the three of you cause trouble, even if it had been mostly your idea. Where, when he had found out Soap, Gaz, and you spent an entire day trying (and almost succeeding) to get the leaderboard of one of the less popular games to spell out a minor profanity, he thought it was hilarious. He spent a good minute cracking up at the misspelled curse before wiping the machine’s memory and ruffling your hair before going back to his office- still chuckling to himself.

Where Soap and Gaz won’t let you leave when the arcade closes for the night. Instead, they’ll insist that it’s fine if you stay while they shut down for the night. No, no, of course Price won’t mind. Why would he? It’s you.

Where soap and Gaz coerce you into staying late enough times- sometimes just chatting, other times helping them close up- that Price starts to joke that he needs to talk to you about getting you a paycheck sooner or later.

Where Price always insists that “just John’s fine, love.” whenever you address him as “Mr. Price”.

Where, as finals week at the local college approaches, Gaz (and Soap too, to an extent) is overwhelmed with school work, and you find yourself more and more just trying to… help out. Because poor Gaz is drowning in course work, and it’s really not that big of a deal for you to just wipe up that spill before either of them notice it.

Where there’s actually a fourth person important at the arcade, although you don’t know him.

Ghost had worked there with Soap and Gaz a few years ago, back when the three of them were still young enough to be considered teenagers. But where Gaz and Soap had chosen to stay close, Ghost had left as soon as he could.

He still visits- and is just as close with Soap, Price, and Gaz as before- but he hasn’t had a chance to come around since you’ve begun to get close with them.

But, when he finds out about Gaz, Soap, and even Price’s new favorite person- he decides he wants to get to know you too. From the way Soap and Gaz talk about you, he’s not sure what to expect. He hasn’t seen them this worked up in a while.

But, in place of actually meeting you, he decides it would be absolutely hilarious to beat every highscore you’ve ever set and forbid Soap and Gaz from telling you who he is.

Call it… initiation. That’s what he’s calling it, at least.

Cue you very angrily trying to figure out who the fucking hell “Ghost” is, because for the 3rd time, they’ve beaten your high score by exactly 1 point.

But also cue Soap and Gaz giggling as snapping a photo of your red, angry face to send to a group chat with ghost.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Learning Curve Hall-of-Famer right here. Tuvok making Chell clean the transporter room with the equivalent of a toothbrush as, I assume, a punishment of some sort & Harry coming out of left field with a 'You missed a spot <3' just to kick him while he's down. Harry, the man's gonna be there LITERALLY all day. Absolute bastards these Starfleet types <- said with love

[leatherbookmark]

dear god that would be turbo cringe or whatever, but seeing all those annoying little things in fics over and over again really makes me want to write one in which they're not obligatory funnymoments but rather like, words that have meaning and weight and so on

[devil-doll13]

Crystallized

Tw: Referenced Child Death, Blood, Drowning, Mentions of Bullying, Swearing (pretty much everything you expect from the Friday the 13th franchise) Religious Themes

So… This is a bit of a weird introduction for these two but the idea just stuck in my mind and refused to leave. I’m not sure when I will write a followup yet, but I just had to get this out.

Summary: Jude remembers a person from her past as it comes back to haunt her, as it always does. However, nothing can prepare her for the task she is about to undertake…

Dividers by delishlydelightfuldividers

‘Camp Crystal Lake’ was aptly named, for during the Summer the pure, clear waters glittered brilliantly under the bright midday sun.

She stood at the base of the pier and watched as he was pushed in. Good Christian boys and girls had seen fit to cast stones and jeer cruelly at the poor outcasted creature. Jason Voorhees was tormented daily by the same children whom Mrs Voorhees kept fed and cared for. The very woman he cried out for as he helplessly drowned.

She stood at the base of the pier and watched, as his large, bulbous head, streaked with blood, was swallowed by deep, endless blue. For a while he desperately splashed around in an effort to fight the undertow, but Jason couldn’t swim. He had never been taught. Eventually he disappeared completely.

She stood idly by the pier, and did nothing.

(I could swim. I could’ve saved him.)

Jude had always tried to push the blame on someone else. It was always the easy way out; as humans loathe to be at fault for their actions. If she admitted responsibility, she might be as guilty as his judges and executioners.

She had always thought herself better than that; above them somehow. Though she knew deep down she was not. She still turned the away other cheek.

(Why did no one come to save him? Where were the adults? Where were they?)

Ever since the ringleader, Evan, had snuck a snake under her pillow, terrifying her to panicked tears, Jude had been wary of drawing his ire. Her fear of the slithering reptiles, to this day, can still be traced back to that prank. Going against him wasn’t worth it.

So was that not enough of a reason? Why should she suffer for his sake? Why should she care at all about that ‘little freak’ Jason Voorhees?

(Did his life have so little meaning?)

It occurred to her only years after the fact that it had been the first time she had watched someone die.

It would not be the last time, of course. Her fate was as intertwined with tragedy as her cousin’s was. It took a lifetime to understand that the inevitable had been set in motion long before she was born, by her mother and her mother’s mother. Their trauma had echoed into her blood; bled into her very soul.

Then, Jude momentarily held the power in her hands to change his fate, but squandered it. She did not send him a passing glance, nor offer a kind word, or even reassure him that she did not find him repulsive; as all the others claimed he was. Because the truth of the matter was that she did. She did.

Her mother instilled within her the holy values of Christ, but she failed to act as he surely would have. Though she dutifully obeyed and assimilated as one with the faithful flock, as meek as the lamb, in her lion’s heart she was a coward.

The hypocrisy is all too real. If only she could atone for those sins, to be forged in fire; if she only could become a woman worthy to wield the sword of God.

But your failures can stay with you for a long time.

Camp Crystal Lake was closed the following day.

“…Y’know, we really do pick the days with the absolute worst fuckin’ mojo to go and risk our lives.”

Zach cast Jude a sly glance from behind the wheel. A stubby cigarette hung lazily from his lips as he puffed fumes of white smoke out the open window.

“I mean, on the 13th? I dunno, Judie…”

She snorted, gladly taking the bait.

“You’re so superstitious.”

Although she knew her partner was only having a bit of a laugh, she would be damned if she didn’t take the opportunity to make fun of him.

“Me? Superstitious?” Zach laughed heartily.

“You’re the one who thinks a bunch of rocks can create force fields, and that being an ‘Aries’ or whatever makes me all hot-headed and impulsive.”

“But you are impulsive!” She argued back, grinning wildly.

“All I’m saying is no amount of, of…” He gesticulated vaguely with his free hand. “… Troglodytes or whatever are gonna save you from getting possessed, get off it!”

She scoffed indignantly, acting mortally offended.

“First of all, they’re called Turquoises and they absolutely do give you great spiritual protection and they ward off negative energy!” Jude scolded him. “And besides, with what we’ve seen in our lifetimes, is it really so hard to believe?”

Zach began to amusedly shake his head.

“You read too many funky internet articles.” He turned the curve on the road, forcing Jude to lean to the right. “They’re gonna rot your brain.”

Jude flipped her hair nonchalantly.

“That’s a pity, yours is already gone.”

“Ha, ha,” Zach deadpanned, rolling his one remaining eye playfully.

“If only your pretty crystals were able stop a rampaging werewolf, huh? I mean, I could certainly do without all these ugly scars.” He rubbed his chin, thumbing the bumpy mark by his lip. He glanced subtly at the rear view mirror, and something dimmed in his expression.

For a moment she was at a loss for words.

“They’re not ugly, Z…” It was all she could think to reassure him, softening her gaze considerably.

He chuckled. “Thanks, but I can still see, y’know?”

Jude watched sombrely as he traced the dark leather of his eyepatch. She wondered if it got any easier to be missing a part of you, or more depressing.

“Anyway!” Zach cleared his throat, putting an end to that little conversation. “You’ve got the map. Are we on the right path or what?”

Sensing an urge to ignore the previous topic, Jude unfolded the laminated material and observed a criss-cross of beige and blue lines and dashes illustrating the New Jersey roads and highways. It was disturbingly familiar, and somehow it was only then that she was reminded where they both were headed, and the significance of that place to her.

“Yeah, we are…” She murmured.

Zach tapped some stray ashes out the window. She felt a sort of regretful prick at the back of her neck; sharp and insidious.

He pondered out loud, none the wiser: “A whole bunch of kids turning up missing, and all they’ve got in common is sex, drugs and Camp Crystal Lake…”

She almost flinched at hearing that name again.

“Makes you wonder why they’re stupid enough to keep going back…” He shook his head in disbelief.

“It’s definitely the work of a malevolent spirit… a vengeful type, probably, I mean,” Jude hastily cut in, fumbling with the map.

“Why, what makes you so sure?” Zach turned to stare at her inquisitively, furrowing his brows.

She swallowed thickly, enduring the telltale drop in her gut that always accompanied confessions like this; it seemed Zach was always receiving them.

“…I think I knew him when he was alive.” Was all she could manage.

“…Ah.” A grimace of sympathy dawned on his face. The mood abruptly soured into grim silence. The car rattled as it hit a bump in the road.

Zach sucked in a breath. “…You wanna talk about it?”

Jude felt something inside her steadily deflate.

“No, not really…” She admitted, tossing the map haphazardly onto the dashboard where it shined in the afternoon sun.

“Okay.”

He nodded, seemingly having expected this reply. Jude focused numbly on the sizzle of his cigarette as blew smoke rather forcefully out of his mouth.

“Well, Ollie’s more or less just kickin’ down the road next to us. Give or take a couple hundred miles…” He sent her a cheeky grin that she knew, even without looking, was masking his genuine concern. “We could always just pawn it off on them, you know.”

She scrunched her face up in distaste at the idea. Zach was not the kind of man to push responsibility on others, so the fact he was actually willing to do so for her sake was embarrassing. She didn’t like the thought of being so sensitive that she couldn’t deal with her past; it made her feel like she was just being a liability.

“…No. I need to do this.” She insisted with finality.

Jude had begun to realise she’d never properly confronted her guilt about what had happened to Jason Voorhees. She liked to believe that she’d changed; that she wasn’t the same weak-willed, easily swayed lamb from her childhood, or the same confused adolescent. That maybe she could make up for all the years that she had been.

But it felt like a piece of her had died five years ago, and with that her cowardly heart. If only that meant she could be strong and resolute now.

“It just feels like…” Jude stared at her pale, shaking hands as she tried to crystallise her emotions in words. “…I can never escape this feeling. Like, like all this stuff just follows me everywhere and I can’t ever do anything about it.”

“…Yeah, I get it.” He squashed his cigarette in the holder before continuing: “I guess some people are just bound by destiny…”

Jude knit her brows in thought for a moment before sending him an incredulous look: “Bound by destiny? And you tell me not to read ‘funky internet articles’”

“Hey now, that was from my favourite book series as a kid!” Zach raised a hand in mock defence. “If you’re gonna accuse me of plagiarism, at least get your sources right.”

“Honestly, that sounds like a pretty lame book series to me, and I used to be a sucker for that YA craze.”

“Oh really?”

His distracting banter lightened the atmosphere considerably, and by the time Jude saw the bright and familiar ‘Camp Crystal Lake’ painted on a welcome sign, she no longer felt that strange, heavy pressure weighing on her chest.

Zach whistled as he took in the dilapidated cabins. They had certainly seen better days; though this was made somewhat more palatable by the bountiful Summer vegetation and good weather. The titular lake lay beyond the woodland, and shone pure and bright just as it did all those years ago.

“Wow… Empty. Nice view, though.” He lightly pushed the car door shut, his signature trench coat hoisted over his shoulder.

“…Yeah, it’s always been great here.” Jude said airily, pointing toward the flash of blue obscured by trees. “See the lake? We used to go swimming in the mornings, it was that temperate.”

Zach’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “And it didn’t freeze your bones the second you jumped in?”

“No, actually, but it was always really refreshing! Woke you up straight away.”

“Damn! I bet it did.”

Her smile faltered as that happy memory was soured by another, more arresting one.

“For those of us who c-could swim, at least…”

Zach had fortunately fixed his attention on their trunk, so he did not see her grimace. He licked his lips as his calloused hands found the cold, humming surface of his prize. Jude turned back around only to click her tongue at the sight.

“Really? You’re gonna take the whole damn cooler of whiskey in there with you?”

“Hey, I don’t wanna be thirsty!”

“Or sober.” She finished for him, shaking her head disapprovingly. Zach gave a flippant shrug and lifted the icebox into his arms. He returned afterward for his razor and toothbrush, which he had apparently deemed as comparatively less important.

To be entirely honest, Jude wasn’t too worried. If there was one special skill Zach could brag about, it was the ability to still manage to hit perfect bullseyes while completely sloshed; not to mention his obvious lack of depth perception. She noticed, too, that he was wearing all his fighting equipment today. Only a fool would think him unprepared.

None of the cabins left behind by the mass exodus had been particularly appealing, but they chose the biggest one that had all the different bedrooms - albeit they were in various stages of disrepair - because it was both the most defensible and most protected from the outside elements. It may have been Summer, but that wasn’t accounting for the late night chill.

Jude felt a pang of recognition hit her as she entered, realising far too late that this had been where the old staff members would usually stay. Her focus was drawn irresistibly to a picture frame resting crookedly on a wall, some kind of relic of the distant past. Behind the ever-so-slightly cracked glass were the previous camp councillors, their joyful faces forever frozen in time.

She tried to look elsewhere, but all of it turned up a new, fresher scar in the landscape. The entire house reeked sickeningly of death, something she’d become far too accustomed to. She already regretted coming here at all, even though she was the one who’d convinced her partner to do so.

“Looks like this is about the only place I’d feel good about staying in.” Zach huffed as he tossed his coat onto a dusty hanger. “I’m sure you feel the same.”

“Now, we’re both gonna have to do a bit of investigating, it seems. I don’t think this is gonna be an Albuquerque situation on our hands here.”

Jude watched him light up another cigarette, floorboards creaking as she approached. “I don’t think so either, but I don’t think we should get too comfortable here too quickly…”

His cheek twitched, thin grey smoke curling out of his nose.

“It’s only temporary until we take out the target.”

“I know, but… I mean, look at this place.”

“Well, it’s the best we got, Judie.” He retorted. “I get you might not wanna linger too long in a place that reminds you-“ He wisely stopped that sentence before it continued, busying himself with unpacking instead. Jude found herself inexplicably fascinated with the frayed rug on the floor.

I need to get away. It’s too stifling in here…

“How about…” She started, letting a bag of spare clothes drop onto the floor. “You go chum it up with the locals, and I go inspect the camp grounds?”

Zach, who had been in the middle of extracting several pairs of black socks from his suitcase, studied her carefully for a moment. She caught a momentary flash of concern in his eye, a sight not so rare.

“…You sure?” He questioned her gently.

“Mhm.” Jude nodded. She briskly zipped open a duffle bag and began to empty out the contents onto the sofa. It contained all of her usual ghost-hunting equipment, medical supplies and ammunition, spilling out in a sort of jumbled mess.

“Well… Alright.” He said finally, with a hint of reluctance, gesturing to her weapons pack. “Go prepared, though.”

She bit back a sigh, unable to help feeling agitated at his cautious tone. “I’ll just secure the perimeter, there’ll be no need to drag around a big heavy axe…”

“But you’ll be sure to take your dagger with you, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah… I’ll be fine. I’m not a newbie anymore, remember?” Jude reassured him, sending him a chastising glare. “You worry too much.”

At this Zach backed off, holding his hands up in defeat. Between his fraternal ribbing and casual teaching style, he often felt like more of an older brother to her than a mentor, but she still was distantly aware of his seniority and felt a tinge if remorse for her short responses…

“See, I know your aim is shit…” He teased her with a rising smirk, single brown eye gleaming with mirth.

“Oh, shut up!”

An hour later, Jude found herself standing once again at the wooden pier leading out to the lake. The crystal clear waters lay still and serene, almost mirror-like in form. She saw herself reflected back in those glassy depths; once a girl, now a woman.

It’s been 12 full years since Jason Voorhees died, she thought. 12 years since I've been here… Standing in this exact spot.

At first she wondered if it would feel different now that she was older and had time to reflect on the past, but nothing had prepared her for such a disturbingly familiar sight. Now it seemed her guilt gnawed at her anew; though she knew she had no right to feel sorry for herself in the wake of that poor boy’s death.

Still, Jude watched herself frown, It’s quite haunting.

It had been strange for her to come back and walk the same paths she had so often tread as a child. The camp might’ve undergone a brief revival once or twice, but now it was neglected and overgrown, and she passed by many an abandoned communal building and overturned canoe on her way here. That had instilled a sort of nostalgic sorrow in her heart, despite it all. Her Summers here were typically enjoyable and fun, particularly Mrs Voorhees’ wonderful cooking…

The smile that tugged at her lips was bittersweet. In her childhood memories, Camp Crystal Lake had been filled with smiling, laughing children and friendly camp counsellors who all wore happy faces and played guitar. Seeing it so deserted now was strikingly eerie. There was something so intrinsically wrong about the barren silence, only punctuated by chirping birdsong and warm, gentle breeze rustling the leaves.

Unexpectedly, a shocking pinprick on the back raised her finer hairs and made her shiver despite the heat. Jude whirled around, startling a flock of nearby birds. She backed away slowly from the pier - mindful that the ghost of a boy who had drowned would most likely reside there - and scanned the forest treeline with a steadily rising heart rate.

Zach? No, he can’t have come back so quickly… And he wouldn’t scare me like that, not in this place.

Suspecting the other possiblity, Jude clicked through various frequencies on the spirit box that had been clipped onto her belt. In her experience it was rare to actually hear any tangible voices through it, but with enough practice radio static and spikes of activity had become a sort of code to be cracked and translated into human tongue.

But…

Nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a hint of a ghost.

Jude kept a ready hand at her gun holster as she hiked up the somewhat overgrown brush, searching further for any signs of supernatural activity on the box. Still, after half an hour of blindly searching, no signals. She actually doubted if there was any Wi-Fi or radio waves that could reach this far away into the wilderness since the area wasn’t exactly very populated, but it was still discouraging nevertheless.

And creepy, she noted. Jude was consequently no longer in the sightseeing mood, and began to wearily trudge her way back to the cabins. It seemed her gun burnt a hole through her jeans as she walked, just like she itched from nervous tension.

It would be too easy to write that off, but she wasn’t stupid. Her sharp instincts had been honed by years of hunting and being hunted by monsters.

Someone, or something, had been watching her from behind in those supposedly uninhabited woods, and she had just felt it.

Jude bit her lip anxiously. She was absolutely certain the revenant they were searching for was Jason. It almost felt like all this investigation was pointless, she now realised was most likely the very entity that had been lurking by the lake.

And maybe, she thought, he recognises me…

Her uneasy mood stayed with her as she watched the skies and the sun begin to sink below the horizon, coating the world in blazing orange hues. Jude watched from the cabin window as their shared car pulled up again in the mounting darkness, left headlight still busted from their last battle.

“It’s Jason, I…” She began as he wedged the door open, stopping at his flabbergasted look.

“I… Got takeout.” He presented a plastic bag wafting aromatic spices from across the room.

“Oh. Right.” She uncrossed her arms, and it was as if the smell of food reminded her stomach it had been empty almost the whole day.

Oh my god, It’s McDonalds… Did he just drive like five miles for that? You know what, who cares…

“By all means, continue.” He offered, striding over to the couch to unwrap the steaming package. Jude felt all will to do anything but eat completely leave her body as she impatiently took her share from him.

“No, actually…” She reconsidered it. Would she really even be telling him something he didn’t already know? “You go first.”

“Well…” He began, the old leather couch sagging under him as he sat down. “I’ll tell you this: just about everybody I spoke to told me this was a bad idea.”

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at this, munching on some chunky chips.

“I mean, it really seems like the locals believe this place is under a curse… Pretty standard, but I’ve rarely seen people as spooked as this.”

He shook his head at the memory.

“But that’s good, right? Means the locals at least aren’t foolish enough to poke the bear.” Jude offered, licking her greasy fingers.

He paused to eat, first digging heartily into his burger. Their lack of electricity meant they were forced to use an emergency supply of candles and lanterns to provide light, casting an eerie glow over Zach’s face as his expression grew more grim.

“…It would be, except for the fact this place’s reputation has somehow made it into a weirdly popular tourist trap.” He shook his head, pursing his lips. “Must be the danger of it. I could think of a more obvious reason why they might be lured here though…”

“I don’t think that’s the case.” Jude cut in.

“Oh?”

“See, what I was about to tell you was… It’s Jason. I’m absolutely certain it’s him. I was at the lake earlier, and… He was definitely watching me.”

It all sort of spilled out in a hurry, and she gave a nervous little laugh, skin prickling in discomfort.

“But how can you be sure?” Zach, ever the contrarian, set down his half-eaten burger. “You’re not just basing this off ‘vibes,’ right?”

“No, no.” She reassured him.

The sinking feeling in her gut started again.

“It’s just… What happened with Jason, well…”

Jude suddenly felt as if something was caught in her throat, and took a sip of her soda.

“…Jason drowned.”

“…He-“

BANG

In an instant Zach had his revolver in hands, aiming it directly at the source of the mysterious noise. Jude’s heart jumped right out of her chest as she drew her own pistol, following his lead. He abandoned his food, cautiously moving over to peer out the dusted cabin window…

Outside, their car’s hood had been caved in.

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @soupbabe, @bluecoolr, @flower-crowned-lady, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @solmints-messyocdiary)

[sonknuxadow]

I believe that IF Silver IS a descendent of Sonic/Shadow/Amy/anyone else, he's a descendent via adoption because the only Sonic character that I accept having kids is Vanilla.

honestly part of the reason im not a fan of the ideas of silver being a descendant of other characters we already know is because i just dont see why its necessary for them to be related ..? idk i just dont think anything that could be gained from him being shadows kid or sonics descendant or whatever is worth losing part of whats already compelling about silver and also making things super confusing. plus none of the pairings of already existing characters people have suggested as silvers bio parents make any sense, usually because its impossible from a timeline perspective but also because theyre always picking characters who would NOT have kids either in general or with the specific people theyre being paired with

[trevisos]

:))) ieriyn having a normal one

[coffeebooh]

this is from zatanna: come together (1993) issue 4 btw but i was reading some of the letters and comments people sent dc abt the series and I’M CRYINGJFDJSJSJSJSSJ

[burning-thistles-bt]

family tree fun facts

Dawncloud is Badgerfang's maternal half-aunt :)