#pocketknlves

[weakeve]

@pocketknlves: “ you wouldn’t believe what i’ve been through. ”

           the tone is joking, you know that, but that eternally serious little voice in your head says try me. you’ve seen it all, or at least most of it. cruelty + sympathy, pitiful begging + fanatic arrogance. a small hint of a smile pulls at the side of your mouth, almost challenging. “you, um -- y’might be surprised. try me.”

i’ve been putting out fires with gasoline.   /   accepting.

[dadsacop]

❝    hey    —    it’s    gonna    be    okay,    yeah?    ❞

@pocketknlves.    sc   /   still    accepting.

[booktrope]

@pocketknlves​​  said:    👫 : O from:   send 👫 for 4 headcanons about our muse’s relationship / always accepting !

1.      debbie would die for tommy.  yes we are starting out with that because it’s true.  though she initially doesn’t believe what he tells her about jason, debbie trusts tommy a whole darn lot.  she cannot really physically hurt jason, but she will try for him damn it.  even if it is just throwing rocks for distraction purposes.  it’s highly likely that she would literally die trying to protect him when she should have been running away but we aren’t gonna talk about that.  she is simply ride or die for him!  and she only gets more protective post-jason.

2.      debbie sometimes picks tommy up from the police station.  and yes she has dipped into her unused college tuition jar to bail him out without telling him where she got the money.  she never asks why they brought him in or for an explanation.  she only asks questions if he’s physically hurt so that she can know how to properly patch him up.  she just: “i don’t wanna know what happened.  i just wanna know if you want to go get ice cream.”  debbie just sort of quietly moms him without being too overbearing, and borrows one of her brothers’ trucks to go get him.  her parents don’t know about it.

3.      the pocket knife tommy gave her is one of debbie’s most prized possessions.  especially, post-jason.  she uses it to get away from jason once, and hides so well afterwards that he goes after easier prey.  she sifts through leaves to find it from where he dropped it, because she fully intends on giving it back to tommy ... it just never really happens.  it is very important to her because it came from him and saved her life, so she has it on her person at all times after she escapes.  debbie ends up being very paranoid that jason will come back after them one day, so the pocket knife is just a sort of reminder to her that she can fight back and she has succeeded at it already and that tommy trusts that she can.

4.      tommy teaches debbie how to protect herself.  in the middle of everything going down, debbie gets a simple and quick lesson on how to swing a weapon to most effectively stun jason and where to stab with the pocket knife to get away.  but post-jason because they simply both have to survive okay debbie is so scared that he’ll somehow come back again that she gets tommy to give her like full-blown lessons on how to fight back.  she’s simply not physically capable of being all that good at it, but it does make her feel safer to know how.

[booktrope]

@pocketknlves​​​​  said:    “i understand, but god - i need you to believe me. please.”

         ❝  IT JUST ... IT - IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE  !  ❞  she doesn’t mean to be so loud.  it isn’t smart because ... jason or whoever is pretending to be jason is still out there.  debbie’s frustration and unusually high emotions just boil over into something close to a shout.  she deals in facts, and facts in no way, shape, or form suggest that a little kid who drowned in crystal lake years ago has managed to somehow come back from the dead not once but multiple times.  that simply isn’t possible.  she’s studied enough about the human body to know that isn’t possible ...

         ... so why is there a small part of her that believes him  ?

         because so many other inexplicable things have occurred tonight  ?  for the sole reason that tommy looks so genuinely truthful and pleading when he practically BEGS her to believe his unfathomable story  ?  everything has an explanation, deborah ...  but she certainly can’t think of any logical ones.  tommy’s might not fit into her factual, scientific view of the world, but ... it is the only one that makes all of the pieces fit together into the neat, little picture like she wants.

         she pulls at her hair, twists a thick strand around her hand and worries her bottom lip between her teeth while she paces.  she wants to believe him ... she just can’t.  she’s too deeply factual in her thinking, and tommy’s story bulldozes right over too many of those scientifically provable FACTS that she’s placed all of her faith in.  ❝  i - i can’t believe you, but ... i do TRUST you ... whatever you need me to do ... i have your back.  ❞

[dadsacop]

@pocketknlves:    ❝    are you regretting this yet?    ❞

what    was    there    to    regret?    the    fact    that    he’d    agreed    to    wear    the    mold    &&    mildew    scented    sweater    of    jason’s    deceased    mother    that    they’d    managed    to    find    in    some    sort    of    shack    outside    the    camp,    or    the    fact    that    he    was    now    actually    wearing    said    mold    &&    mildew    scented    sweater    of    jason’s    deceased    mother    that    they’d    managed    to    find    in    some    sort    of    shack    outside    the    camp?    personally,    he    believed    they    were    long    past    anything    as    emotionally    aware    as    feeling    regret    when    it    involved    putting    blind    faith    in    the    person    his    father    had    called    crazy    &&    violent    in    the    years    prior.

❝    no.    are    you?    ❞    is    he    really    trying    to    start    shit    with    the    only    person    here    who    seems    to    know    what’s    going    on?    maybe.    is    it    because    he’s    scared    shitless    &&    filling    the    air    with    something    makes    the    tremor    in    his    voice    disappear    for    just    a    little    bit?    another    maybe.    ❝    listen    man,    if    i’d    known    this    was    how    i    was    gonna    be    spending    my    weekend,    ❞    digits    curl    harshly    into    fraying    hem    of    mrs.    voorhees’    sweater,    pulling    it    farther    apart    as    his    mind    fights    a    similar    fate    in    such    strenuous    circumstances,    ❝    i’d    rather    it    be    me    than    someone    else,    y’know?    ❞    he    glances    down    at    the    flare    gun    in    hand,    turning    it    over    as    blood     (   his    own?    someone    else’s?    who’s    to    say.   )     leaves    crimson    smudges,    darkening    bright    orange    plastic.    finally,    he    finds    the    strength    to    look    tommy    in    the    eye,    wide    gaze    searching    for    some    kind    of    reassurance    in    survivor’s    own.    ❝    just    tell    me    this    is    gonna    be    enough    to    beat    him    —    that’s    all    i    need    to    hear.    ❞

[booktrope]

@pocketknlves​​​  said:    sacrifice / we will also lay down our life for miss deb from:    one word prompts / always accepting !

         SHE FREEZES.  SHE ALWAYS FREEZES.  in kindergarten there’d been a boy who had hidden under her desk and jumped out to scare her.  she froze ... and then sat on the floor and cried.  in fourth grade her class did a little recital for only their parents and family.  she froze, couldn’t force herself to even attempt to mouth the words.  in high school she’d been in the run-off for class president, but froze on stage during the debate with her fellow candidate.  she’d ended up puking in the girls’ bathroom and losing the election.  when buggzy asked her to go up to his room together, she’d frozen solid.  she said that she was just going to FRESHEN UP ... but only because she’d heard tiffany say that once.  she’d really just sat in her cabin and cried and pulled her hair because she really wanted to go with him, but she was SCARED.

         she hates jason.  she should feel angry and volatile enough to overcome her FEAR ... but she doesn’t.  it’s the same as every other goddamn time.  she freezes.  she can’t help it.  everything about him reeks of a campfire monster, and those can never be killed ... especially, by the nerdy girl.  the heavy wrench in her shaking hands feels like a toy compared to the axe in his.  she’s nothing but another number to add to the body count in the police report once they finally fucking get here.

         TOMMY ... he has a chance, she thinks.  he’s the hero.  she’s just cannon fodder.

         jason knows it, too.  that’s why he attacks tommy first, completely ignores her existence, because she is irrelevant.  she’s just a supporting character in a movie, following every line of the script.  she will die, but tommy might live.

         the gun doesn’t have any bullets left, but it works well enough for him to block jason’s first swings.  it won’t hold forever.  she wants to help.  she has to help.  her feet won’t move.  jason’s persistence and overwhelming strength is enough to snap the barrel of the shotgun in half.  tommy blindly grabs for a fallen branch, but it’s hardly the iron of a gun barrel and if jason could break that so easily ... she has to do something.  he’s going to DIE.

         her feet move, but in the wrong direction, stepping on the rocks of a steep incline.  she can’t make herself run in to help, to beat on jason uselessly with her wrench until she annoys him enough to put her out of her misery.  but she can ...  ❝  HEY, ASSHOLE  !  ❞

         jason doesn’t even glance at her ... until she starts throwing rocks.   ❝  yeah, that’s right  !  come on  !  ❞  she slowly backs up as jason advances on her, now.  her heels are balanced over empty air.  as long as she doesn’t freeze, again ... jason doesn’t seem intelligent enough to not lunge for her and send himself tumbling down the incline.  this is a ridiculous idea, but the best ones always are.

         ... but the best-laid plans also often go awry.  jason doesn’t lunge for her.  he raises his axe to throw it ... and she freezes.  but it never leaves his hands.  on the downswing it connects ... straight through tommy’s shoulder.  she screams.  it’s intended to be another stream of insults to earn jason’s attention again, but no words come out.  she’s just ... screaming, a guttural, defeated sort of thing that hurts her own ears.  not that it matters.  it’s impossible to draw away a predator from a kill once its tasted blood.

         jason doesn’t stop.  he just keeps hitting and hitting and hitting.  the axe lodges in tommy’s side, and he screams and debbie screams louder, as though she can illogically help take away some of his pain.  it’s slow, and it’s brutal, and she can see how much jason hates him.  it’s different than the way he killed her friends.  their murders seemed ... routine.  they were all barbaric and vicious in their own ways, but not like this.  this is personal.  jason was only working towards the end goal of killing the other counselors.  but ... he wants tommy to HURT.

         the last blow, the killing one, is straight to tommy’s head, right down the middle.  it takes everything she has not to collapse in on herself, to just sit in the dirt and cry and wait on jason to kill her next.  he pulls at the axe, while staring her down, but it doesn’t dislodge from tommy’s skull.  it’s almost comical ... even in death tommy is giving jason a hard time.  jason pushes his body with one hand, gripping the axe with the other, and the force is enough to shove tommy’s body into debbie.

         the collision sends them both down the incline.  it’s not very steep, but the rocks and prickling underbrush tear and pull at the wool of her sweater.  she can’t help but blindly reach for tommy, to try and soften his fall, even if he can’t reach back anymore.  her head bounces against a rock, and everything goes blurry and hazy enough for her to not realize that she isn’t falling anymore.  her fingers find a wet trail running down her neck, but that isn’t a priority.  she needs to find tommy.

         ❝  NO ... no, no, no -  ❞  she can’t stop repeating it.  she’s scared when she crawls over to his body.  there’s so much blood.  she can’t remember there being this much blood when anyone else died.  it saves her from having to face the more gruesome parts of his injuries.  it’s hard to see much of anything at all behind the blur of tears and red.  she wipes at her eyes, smears blood across her glasses.  ❝  why  ?  why the fuck -  ?  ❞

         she lifts his head up, slides her legs underneath so that he isn’t just laying on the rocky ground anymore.  why deb  ?  he can’t feel it.  he can’t feel anything anymore.  she straightens his jacket, tries to cover up the deep slices that cause her hands to shake and sobs to wrack her body.  ❝  you - you were supposed to LIVE ... you stupid, big-hearted IDIOT ...  ❞

         she doesn’t know why her hands keep wandering on their own.  she doesn’t know why she shifts so that he looks more comfortable, or why she pulls out the leaves and sticks caught in his hair, or why she brushes his hair to cover up the gash in his head, or why she tries to wipe the blood off his face with her sleeves.  it just smears it more.  so she just cries more.  because he deserved better than this.

         branches crack.  she looks up, sees JASON standing at the top of the hill.  he just ... looks back at her ... and debbie wonders if he somehow understands how backwards this all is.  she gently moves tommy’s head from her lap to the ground, tries to smooth his hair back but only gets more blood on her hands.  she can hear the trees cracking, the rocks shifting, from jason climbing down after them.  her fingers are slippery around the handle of her wrench.

         this time ... she doesn’t freeze.

[punishr]

     𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐌  𝐈𝐒  𝐍𝐄𝐖  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑,   but  its  darkness  seems  to  house  a  familiar  sense  of  foreboding,   of  hope  abandoned  and  snuffed  out.    each  passing  second  plays  on  his  memories,    heavy  footsteps  echoing  through  the  school’s  decrepit  halls  as  he  stalks  along,    great  knife  in  tow. 

       even  separated  from  his  charge  and  creator,    left  to  wander  foggy  gray  streets,     he  is  consumed  with  the  same  great  need  to  punish,    an  unquenchable  hunger  sated  only  by  watching  his  blade  derive  blood  as  penance,    glinting  scarlet  in  the  dim  light  above. 

       unseen  tendrils  come  to  wrap  around  his  broad  shoulders,    spindly  talons  digging  insistently  into  his  split  and  bloodied  skin.     𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭  𝘪𝘵,  𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵  𝘺𝘰𝘶?    a sudden  whisper,  echoing  beneath  the  helmet.     𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳  𝘩𝘢𝘴  𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥.  

        leather  boots  seem  to  move  of  their  own  accord  as  he’s  propelled  forward,    dragged  along  by  the  spider - like  arms  of  another  deity  he’s  been  deemed  fit  to  serve.    bare  muscles  clench,    the  razor - sharp  edge  of  his  knife  dragging,    scraping,    across  the  tile  as  he  shuffles  along  to  enact  righteous  judgment  upon  the  sullied  soul  that  dares  defile  this  ground. 

@pocketknlves​ 

[soulguards]

@pocketknlves​

' do you think you have a destiny? '

            “   destiny?   ”      she   repeats   the   word   with   apparent   revulsion,   her   face   screwing   up   at   his   question   --   reminds   her   of   the   way   the   cult   loons   talked   about   the   future   of   which   she   was   to   be   the   harbinger.   but   she’s   quick   to   sober,   lets   her   expression   fall   into   one   that’s   softer.   “   you   mean   besides   the   one   where   i   birth   god   and   bring   eternal   paradise?   ”   she   jokes,   sarcastic   smile   pulling   her   lips   up,   and   brown   eyes   meet   his.

            she   shrugs.   it’s   hard   to   feel   fated   for   anything,   anyone,   anywhere,   when   you’ve   spent   your   whole   life   packed   up   in   bags,   ready   to   leave   again   by   year’s   end.   two   years,   if   she   was   lucky.   “   i   don’t   know,   ”   she   admits,   and   she   lets   her   eyes   fall   to   her   hands.   “   it’s   hard   to   think   about   destiny   when   i’m   just   trying   to   live   day   to   day.   ”