I Wish People Would Let Creators Finish Their Fucking Stories

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Nonbinary Masc: designating masculinity in non-binary people; people whose gender identity is not binary and gender expression (presentation) is masculine; nby individuals who are masc. of center.

Flag adapted from @pridebois [id: 4 stripes of yellow, white, blue, and pastel black. end id.]

Bye, little Jay

TW: sadness, slight mention of rape?

Character: Jason Voorhees

Ps: okay, it's just something a little sad <3

Jason was a small child, driven into the abyss of his own vile and unhappy thoughts, mired in darkness. His blue eyes from childhood were sad, full of pain and resentment. The boy is not to blame for the strangeness of his appearance. And yet Jason was in the midst of this empty madness; the hum in his head was moaning louder; from somewhere above, strangely worried voices were heard, Voorhees could swear that a pale child's hand was reaching for him; but he could not reach; he could not breathe; after a couple of seconds, when the body became heavier and heavier, a terrible chill ran through the skin, mixed with an electric current beating every cell of consciousness, and the lungs became more and more cramped and painful, burning pain filled them with cold water.

You've been driving along the highway for a long time, hoping to see the familiar sign "Crystal Lake Camp". And even though your sister said that it doesn't make sense to return to this place, even after almost fifteen years, and anyway you're just crazy, you didn't listen to her. There was a burning desire in my chest to see these familiar places again, albeit with a bit of longing and disappointment. After all, this is where you spent the best part of your childhood.

Finally you saw the cherished yellow sign of the camp and turned right. The road was overgrown, massive trees arched around the path; it seems that there have been no people in this place for a long time. You don't know why you decided to take a car at all—after all, you could have hitchhiked to the forest and then walked — but at the time of departure it seemed to you the best idea.

Parked at one of the old cabins, you happily got out of the car. The hardness of the earth and the tall grass tickling your ankles, not covered by jeans, added to your confidence. It was overcast. The wind played with your hair, and you blissfully closed your eyes. All the accumulated anxiety over these gloomy fifteen years has disappeared by hand. A long-forgotten calm reigned in your head, for the first time in such a long time you did not hear these terrible whispering thoughts. Emptiness.

After going further into the camp, you entered the cabin that once belonged to you. It was located next to the cabin of Jason and his mom. You pushed the door with a soft movement, and surprisingly, it gave way. It was stuffy inside, and there were grains of dust in the air. You went inside, looking around the contents of the room with an enthusiastic gaze. Everything remained in its place. You left immediately after the incident, your parents felt that you should study with a psychologist, and not be in this place, reminiscent of the tragedy. It was your shortest shift.

You sat down on the bed. The opposite wall was filled with drawings. You didn't have time to pick them up. These were your doodles that you drew during creative hours (there was even your drawing of shiny pasta hanging on the wall!), as well as Jason's pictures. He was always good at drawing, that's what the boy really liked. Therefore, on the third day of your impromptu friendship, you gave Voorhees your brand-new double-sided pencils, which you haven't used on this shift yet. You will always remember his shining eyes when he took a bright box.

Rummaging around the nightstand, you didn't find anything remarkable, in the end, the rest of the things were probably taken by the counselors. You stood up, dusting off your hands and jeans. This place is abandoned.

You came back here the next day. The weather was sunny and cool, so it seemed like a real pleasure to wander through the forest. This time you were in more suitable clothes: a spacious T-shirt, which is not a pity to get dirty, and soft fabric shorts. Birds were chirping in the foliage of the trees, and in some places you even saw squirrels with copper fur running around. Charm.

After getting everything you need out of the car, you returned to the cherished cabin. A strange, but effective plan appeared in your head, which you wanted to make a reality. To live for such a long time with a heavy heart, with guilt because of his helplessness on that ill-fated day became harder with each passing month. And it's not even that you couldn't save a person, but that you really treasured him. Jason was your best friend at Crystal Lake Camp, your only friend. Perhaps he was something more, as far as the childish naivety allowed. And the fact that you lost him left a deep wound in your soul. Now you wanted to get rid of these feelings by creating a kind of crypt of your friendship in your old cabin. Was this idea strange? Absolutely. Did it bother you? Not a drop.

After washing the room, you tried to return it to its former state: a carelessly made bed, scattered T-shirts with the name of the camp, stacks of books on the floor, bedside table and by the window. In addition, you took out of the car a massive duct-taped box with the initials "J.V.". You kept it throughout your entire life cut off from this place. Tearing the tape with a stationery knife, you laid out on the table a lot of clumsy drawings, soft toys, old magazines, Jason's favorite games. You placed all this around the perimeter of the room, as far as your faded memories allowed. The cabin turned out to be very cozy, however, due to the lack of proper lighting, everything seemed gloomy and abandoned, but this did not interfere with your joyful mood.

Over the next couple of days, you've made this house and the lot around it presentable. The grass had to be trimmed a little, to remove excess garbage, to wipe the outer walls of the cabin. In general, it turned out to be in very good condition, if we take into account the coming of fifteen years. It seemed that this particular place was untouched by rains, thunderstorms and thickets that covered the steps and walls of other houses. A God-forsaken place. Your own paradise.

When you went into the cabin again, you saw a bouquet of bright blue flowers on the table. Outwardly, the plants resembled simple buttercups, which could be found around the perimeter of the camp, but they were different: the petals had a delicate blue hue. The stems were pulled together by another, especially long flower. You smiled and, this time securely, tied them together with the green ribbon you found in Jason's box. And although you didn't know where these flowers came from, you didn't feel any threat from their addressee.

Finally, when you thought you had done your best with this house, you were sitting on your old bed again. Painfully running your worn fingers over the bedspread, you looked around the room with a sad smile. Just like that day. Absolutely everything. And now you felt like that little girl of eleven in a red plaid shirt that you stole from your mother's wardrobe, and black breeches, with a wreath on her head. That day you wove identical wreaths for yourself and Jason. You remembered everything down to the smallest detail, how you painted his hands with crayons, how he smiled cheerfully, and how you got together for this trick from his mom. Pamela has always been kind to you.

And now you've made two wreaths again. One was resting on the table, the other was tangled in your hair. You gently tucked your hair behind your ear, humming sadly.

"It all started here," you smoothed the yellow flowers with your palm, "This is where it ends."

The cherished relief did not come immediately. And yet, when you got into the car and took one last look at the neat cabin, you smiled bitterly. Time to move on. It is impossible to exist all your life because of one tragedy, and even more so to blame yourself for it. We need to live.

Pressing the gas pedal, you turn the car around and look back at the cabin through the rearview mirror again. Something shone sharply in the bushes. You shifted your gaze to the road and tensely frowned. Now everything will be different.

"Bye, little Jay."

think i found a brush that i like.. plus i had like barely drawn this big man

"My life started the day I met you"

The day in question:

Spooky time, losers! Get out of the writing crud, and let's do this!

We humans live, thrive, hate yet need change. If aliens changed at a much slower pace than us, how fascinated would they be at us?

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

Human: Ah, fellow per-x dweller! How are you?

Alien: Hello! I haven't seen you in- *eyes widen and looks up and down at human* you look...different.

Human: Oh. Yes, I've been exercising. You notice the difference?

Alien: ...how so fast?

Human: What do you mean? It's been an entire month! I would be disappointed if I didn't see this much progress.

Alien: ...I've been exercising for a year...and I still look the same. *distraught, staring into space*

Human: o-oh, how often do you-

Alien: every.freaking.day.

Human: ...I see.

Human #2: *walks by* hello, how are you both? It's been a while.

Human: *desperately looking to change topic* a-ah, your hair! You dyed it pink! Looks great!

Alien: ...I thought you hated pink like a day ago?

Human #2: Oh well, I just changed my mind.

Alien: ...a...day later?

Human #2: yes?

Alien: ...next thing yall tell me is going to be that you can change your mates often.

Human: like lovers? Haha, we rarely fall out of love easily-

Human #3: *rushes to them crying* Guys! My lover broke up with me in just a week of dating! A week!! Cuz stupid idiot "fell out of love" with me.

Alien: ...

Human #2: ...

Human: ...um...I'm sure it wasn't a week-

Human #3: *stealing tissues and blowing into them* A FREAKING WEEK!!!

Alien: ...why am I friends with you lot?

petition to make it real:

It needs to be real for me.

a scooby doo series set in community college where the gang is in a criminology class and end up in a huge debate on the first day of class that leads to them starting a podcast talking about local urban legends, only to realize things aren’t quite adding up and they go to investigate for ~journalistic authenticity~ and end up solving a real-life crime disguised as supernatural occurrences. this happens every week and they’re frequently featured on the school newspaper. they only have twenty listeners

setting for the next writing blurb

"You're not upset that our alternate universe selves aren't together?"

"I don't know. Being together in every universe would make it seem... inevitable. I like that I chose you. I like that this version of you chose this version of me. Does that make sense?"

💗💗💗

kirishima would be so happy to see barbie with you btw