#Vic Owen

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

[ilovewhiteroses]

Evolution of Boyd's bad boys:

2013: Out of the Furnace - Tattooed Guy

2014: Gone Girl - Jeff

2015: Run All Night - Danny Maguire

2016: Jane Got a Gun - Vic Owen

2017: Logan - Donald Pierce

2021: Beckett - Stephen Tynan

2022: The Sandman - The Corinthian

2023: Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny - Klaber

2023: Justified: City Primeval - Clement Mansell

(gifs by me)

[loser1t1s]

"The Boy Who Could Fly" actually goes so fucking hard I'm screaming rn

[frostbeees]

( x )

[huivsharik]

•° 𝑃𝑒𝑑𝑜𝑣𝑘𝑎°•

Part 2. (the final)

The shade falling from the trees hardly saved from the heat. You stop when you spot a grocery store nearby.

-It's too hot, should we go buy some water?

-Wait at the store.

Before Hockstetter could finish listening, he was already heading towards the store, and you were still standing in the shade, under a tree. Taking a notebook out of her bag, she made a kind of fan out of it to cool down somehow. Pulling her hair back into a low ponytail, she noticed that he hadn't been there for a long time and reluctantly moved forward, but Patrick had already left the store with two bottles of water.

-Let me guess, you didn't buy them, did you?

-You're so smart. - Pat smiles, holding out a small, icy bottle of water.

— Okay.

The guy just shrugged his shoulders and you continued on your way in silence, which caused some discomfort. You decided to speak first because you still didn't understand Patrick's desire to walk.

-Why would you come home with me?

-I just wanted to go for a walk. I thought so, because we've crossed paths so many times, but we've never had a good conversation

-If you hadn't pinched me in front of everyone and didn't always call me by your idiotic nickname, maybe communication would have developed.

-It's already formed, isn't it? - Patrick takes a few small steps forward and turns his back to the road, keeping his eyes on you.

-I don't have a choice, you're not going to leave me alone.

Hockstetter grinned at your hand with the burn.

-We have double burns, it turns out

Patrick found it funny, and you even thought there was a glimmer of delight in his eyes. He thought there was nothing wrong with that, so he didn't even think to apologize, considering you were to blame, because your instinct for self-preservation didn't save you in time.

-How did you come up with that? I'm amazed, Hockstetter. You make me think that all the rumors around Derry about you are true.

-Then you're stupid to come with me at all. - Patrick tilts his head to the side, returning to his previous position, and walks slowly so that you can keep up with him.

-Make up your mind already.

-You have cigarettes. Won't you share it?

In the distance, you could see the red, familiar roof of the bridge, and you just exhale painfully, turning your head sharply in Patrick's direction.

-Where the fuck are you going, do you even know that it's far from our street, or did you do it on purpose? - ignoring the request of a former classmate, you walked faster, inspired at least by the fact that it was relatively dark inside, and therefore cool.

-I wanted to talk, but we still have time to get there. - Hockstetter stopped, stretched and continued to walk after you, towards the bridge.

Once inside, you sat down on the asphalt, leaning against the cold wall, and exhaled softly, putting a bottle of barely cool water to your neck. She lowered her head, looking at her hand. If you go home, you will have to travel exactly the same distance as you walked, if not more. You didn't have the energy to fight with Patrick, so for a while you just ignored his presence. He stood casually nearby, kicking pebbles, occasionally glancing at you, as if he was waiting for something. When the body cooled down, and the wind that passed through the bridge from behind passing cars gently blew over the heated body, you still raised your head to look at Patrick.

-Take it. - Taking a pack out of your pocket, you hand Patrick a cigarette. He sauntered over to you, took it, put it between his lips, took out your lighter, and lit a cigarette.

-Are you going to return it? - Hockstetter turns around in disbelief , looking into your eyes, as if you just said something stupid.

It was the first time in your memory that you could look at Patrick like that, even if it was only for a few seconds, but they were too long, which was enough for you. What was more striking was how calm he was, even thoughtful, which was unusual for him. Or, it was all about the Bowers Gang, which to some extent negatively influenced him.

-I'll take it back, I lost mine.

You already opened your mouth to express your displeasure, but in the end you just exhaled heavily, resigned to the fact that you would buy a new one.

-To hell with her.

Hockstetter nods, agreeing with your words, and silently smokes a cigarette. You would have lit a cigarette for company, too, but you didn't have the slightest desire yet, being in your thoughts. Patrick wasn't verbose either, and he looked like he wanted to say something but didn't dare.

-I haven't told anyone, but I have a strange feeling.. - as if reading your mind, Hockstetter pulls you out of your thoughts, and now you're focused on him and his words, because it's not every day you talk to a school psycho (even though you've denied it in every way) in such a surprisingly, almost calm environment.

You nodded slowly, making it clear that you were listening, and your hand reached for the pack of cigarettes to take one out. Patrick turns the chair around, lighting a cigarette for you, holding his gaze on your face for a few seconds, but after that his gaze turned back to nothing in front of him.

-I want to tell you because I feel like something is going to happen. And why do you?.. -The guy looked at the smoldering cigarette, asking himself a question.

I guess you seem a little more real to me compared to everyone else. But you're still far from that. Hockstetter turns his head in your direction, now openly examining you.

There was nothing superfluous in his gaze, not even interest. It was rather an indifferent look, not seeing anything important and interesting in front of him.

-I haven't told anyone, and I don't think I ever would.

You stare at him uncomprehendingly, ready to get up and go on your way, even though you knew it was pointless to some extent.

Hockstetter's thoughts were blown away, and you chuckled under your breath, realizing that you had misled him, or even pushed him away, but a hunch popped into your head.

-..Are you trying to tell me that it's all true? -You almost hiccuped at your words. The agonizing silence made my whole body goosebumps, shook violently, as if there was a terrible frost outside, while you silently looked into each other's eyes. The question didn't need an answer, it was a kind of confession for Hockstetter, which usually happens when the killer feels that there is no forgiveness for his actions, and even more so there is no way to start all over again, because he himself gave up on himself. You felt it, but you always denied the essence of Patrick because you weren't close to him. Yes, you saw inappropriate behavior, but you thought it was a period that everyone was going through, but it turned out to be much worse than anyone could have imagined.

Hockstetter notices the change in your face, and now he's wary, too. You get up from the asphalt without even shaking yourself off, moving away from the guy, as if this could calm you down and make you safe, but a sticky feeling of fear took over with you. Patrick didn't look like such a harmless idiot anymore, you saw a serious personality, the personality of an established murderer.

-What of everything?

-Almost everyone, many people don't know something. - Patrick gets up from the asphalt after you and takes a few steps towards you, and you stand rooted to the ground.

You backed away from Hockstetter, looking into his eyes. I hoped to see regret in them, but there was none. His gray-green eyes were almost calm, and he immediately grabbed your shoulder so that you couldn't pull away.

-Let me go. - You cut it off firmly, without raising your head.

Patrick frowns, hugging you to him, it was like a hug, but at any moment you expected that a folding knife would be in your back, or your throat would be decorated with a cut.

-I've always really liked you, you stood out from the others, and even killing animals didn't give me as much pleasure and interest as the thought of me picking your flesh with a knife. You know, you're not a stupid girl, you can't eradicate that from me, I live by it.

-Step back, Patrick. Please.. - your voice starts to tremble treacherously, tears come to your eyes, but you controlled yourself as best you could.

There was usually always a spark in Hockstetter's gray-green eyes that expressed the usual excitement, a desire to mess with you, but now, when he squeezed you in his grip, all the signals at once began to ring in your head, piercing the alarm. To run. Run, run, run and don't turn around.

-It's a pity that things are turning out this way, but everything is too complicated. And you can't be real. You can't..

The guy pulls away, not letting go of you, pressing his fingers firmly on your shoulders. Here it is, the very moment. Adrenaline surged in your blood, you miraculously twisted out and took off. The blood was boiling in your ears, you were running as fast as you could. Patrick's height played a big role, and it wouldn't have been difficult for him to catch up with you, almost at the same moment you heard his angry screams as he ran after you. You're racing, trying not to turn in any direction. You know the city well, and almost all the nooks and crannies, but rushing like a wounded antelope, while a veil of tears covered your eyes, blocking your entire view, you barely make out the road, eventually falling on the asphalt, breaking your knees in blood.

-Damn it. - The pain signal has not yet reached the brain, due to the adrenaline rush, but attempts to get up are not crowned with success. Patrick's screams can no longer be heard, but that doesn't mean it's over. A plot is already forming in my head, as Patrick comes up from behind, grabs you by the hair, and cuts your throat, and only on the third attempt do you manage to get up, dragging along the road. Your nervous system malfunctions and you start crying, smearing mascara on your face. You can see the street and the house in the distance, but you're not sure if Hockstetter won't jump out from around the corner, holding a folding knife in his hands.

You managed to reach home, but even within its walls you didn't feel safe, not now that this has happened to you, and Patrick knows your house. There was no one there, which made you uneasy, because if you have to spend the night alone, it's not the best idea. The sun was setting, going below the horizon, you close and check all the locks several times, and only after that you go up to the bathroom to treat and bandage the wounds. All the procedures took you about an hour. After getting out of the shower, you're still sobbing anxiously, glancing at your home phone. First you need to call your parents, and then call the police. The horn sounded twice, and there was no response, but a familiar car was parked in the courtyard. For a moment, you thought it was Bowers' blue car, but you breathed a sigh of relief when you saw your mom getting out of the car.

It took a long time for you to tell your father and mother the whole situation in detail, breaking into tears, in order to finally decide that you will go to the police station in the morning.

After going to your room, you couldn't sleep for a long time because of the aching pain in your knees. There were periods when you were shaking, as if from the cold, or you were hot, forcing you to throw off the blanket. The hands of the clock were already showing the second hour of the night, and with great effort, you began to fall asleep. Due to a sharp blow on the window, your heart starts pounding fast, and for a few seconds you stare thoughtlessly at one point before getting up and going to the window, which was not the best decision.

Your lighter was lying on the windowsill, and under it was a piece of paper on which it was written: "I'm sorry that I didn't finish what I started."

Your body feels like it's being electrocuted again, and you don't sleep until you have to go to the station. You put your lighter in your dresser, but you decided to take the note with you.

Your eyes were red from lack of sleep and shed tears, which made you look depressed and tired. While your parents stopped at the gas station, you got out of the car, deciding to sit on a bench in the shade.

Nearby, you notice a woman gluing a poster onto a pole. When she walks away, you see a familiar face, and you begin to understand everything.

"Missing boy, Patrick Hockstetter, 15 years old"

He didn't come home yesterday. Another missing person who almost killed you, who returned your lighter in the middle of the night.

If Patrick is no longer alive, even if that's not the case, Hockstetter will always remain a sick bastard in your head, from whom you miraculously managed to escape. The secret of which you managed to find out, even if not completely. He opened your eyes at the very last moment, and now it will never be an ordinary bully with a bunch of bullies.

And his loss has brought you, and perhaps many others, relief.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

We Are So Back!

Water Lilies in Spring: Roy offers to help Garth fix up his new home. Including the seemingly impossible task of planting the garden in his backyard. (No Powers AU, Mutual Pining, GarthRoy)

No Stone Left Unturned: Vic runs into an old friend hoping for a first shot at romance. The only problem is, she's on a soul-searching trip in the wilderness. (VicKory; Angst)

Ancient History: AU where Tim finds out Bart and Owen are brothers right after Jack Drake was killed. (Angst; Hurt/Comfort)

Freaky Fridayed: Tim and Conner wake up in each other's bodies after a huge argument. (BartTimKon)

Muscle Memory: Bart and Grant win a contest to go visit the set of a new sci-fi movie, and they're surprised to see each other there. (Canon Divergent AU; Found Family; Best Friends/Brothers)

[alittlevillainy]

finally caving and dropping my host!vic character playlist over here on tumblr. my music taste is kinda weird asf but i take my analysis of this character very seriously and i have explanations for every single one of these songs. (please feel free to ask about any song i spent so much time deciding and debating and analyzing)

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7ohkVxDOA0yp7vhkMw1U6a?si=sOhR1p6HS421RR15Co1H9g&pi=u-vGVb70QCRuSY

[izabelakillz]

clush - isles & glaciers

[sacredtrial]

i got too high and fell asleep to emarosa and i woke up in a cold sweats thinking about these images

[v4vile]

—⠀⠀‘yo,⠀would it be okay if i borrowed this?⠀just for a few days.’

ONE-LINER 4 @kissmedcadly <3

[rleonard9]

parents

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

any Boyd fic recommendations?

Absolutely!! It’s a long list, so I’ve divided it up by character:)) And fair warning, my preferences for fics and ships skew dark - I’ve included some major archive warnings, but also read & mind the tags on the associated works!!

Steve Murphy

Don’t Hold Your Tongue by ilookedback

It’s bordering on disrespectful to the label how quickly they’re downing the scotch. It’s one that should be savored, peaty and complex and fucking expensive. But this whole thing is a little bit not about the liquor at all and a lot about the principle of the thing and their private resentment over the ambassador continuing to block every request they’ve tried to make for what feels like the last six months.

And anyway, respect is clearly not of any concern to Steve, sitting as he is in the ambassador’s chair with his feet propped up on her desk. He’s at an odd angle, from Javi’s position on the floor, but he can still see Steve’s bright eyes and lazy-drunk mouth, how his cheeks suck in briefly as he takes a sip of whiskey and rolls it over his tongue to the back of his mouth. He watches his eyes flutter shut and Javi’s reflexes must be impaired because it takes him a second to realize when Steve’s eyes open again and are boring directly into him.

“Hey, Javi,” he drawls. “Truth or dare?”

This one was just so sweet and fun!! Bratty, drunk Steve and first time Stavier vibes! You can’t go wrong with that!

¿y cuáles deseos me vas a dar? by feygeleshmeygele

Peña's hiding something. Murphy's going to figure out what, even if it wrecks his entire fucking life.

(Or, finding out that your partner fucks dudes and losing your mind about it in a completely heterosexual way.)

If you want a gorgeously written Stavier long fic, this is absolutely the fic for you. It’s incredibly sexy, the slow burn is so delicious, and seeing Steve unravel and have to confront his own internalized homophobia is top tier.

The Corinthian

If the Devil Dress You by Mare_Adamantis

This was the crux of fighting the Corinthian, Dream thought. You could fight him. People did it all the time. Sometimes they even won, but the price was high enough that losing at the very least looked easier. Losing was often less painful than what it took to win. Sometimes it was even less humiliating.

All of Mare’s nightmare king Corinthian fics are utterly delectable and wonderfully dark, and this one is probably my favorite. Crossdressing and the Corinthian being the both the most adoring and most vicious monster??

(cw: non-con)

Tame Wolves in Dark Woods by Mare_Adamantis

Instead of a muse, Richard Madoc gets a nightmare.

Not that he knows the difference.

This is a fic that I absolutely cannot read unless I’m in a good mental place, and I mean that as such a compliment. This is incredibly dark, gorgeously written, and exquisitely constructed. Being in Madoc’s head and seeing the mental gymnastics he does to pretend he’s a good person?? Incredible. And I’ve got such a soft spot for imperfect victims, and the Corinthian is so wonderfully messy and sympathetic here.

(cw: non-con)

and when the morning light comes streaming in by romanticallyinept

“Not the first,” Cori manages, after a moment, and Dream hums in acknowledgment. “It’s just… people don’t, usually.”

“Keep you?”

“Want to.”

This one is just so fun and cute!! I don’t typically go for human AU’s, but I was blown away by how much I adore this one. Both Corinthian and Dream felt very much like themselves, despite the light setting and them being human.

A Handle on the Situation by Anonymous

"Isn’t this something that your friends could help you out with? You seem to run around with a sex-positive, anything for a friend crowd.”

“This isn’t something you can ask your friends!”

“Sure it is.”

“I’m not going to just go up to Lyta and say, hey, I need some help on a story! Can I get close and personal with your bits?”

“Don’t know why you can’t. You could say it to me.”

Rose stared, and the Corinthian gave her a faintly injured look.

“I mean, unless we’re not friends. I sort of thought we were, but it’s cool if not.”

Rose needs to do some research on her novel, the Corinthian volunteers to help.

This one is SO good, and it really propelled me into being as big of a Rose/Corinthian shipper as I am. Baby dom Rose Walker figuring out her sexuality and kinks with the help of her nightmare friend/guard dog?? Yes please. (Also. Corinthian with a vagina is HAWT)

Written in Ink and Burn by Anonymous

The Corinthian knows what he is.

Now everyone who looks at him will know as well.

Look, I’m always gonna go a little feral over Dream being a mean boss who feels entirely entitled to the Corinthian’s body, and this one hit on so many levels. Sexy slut-shaming that becomes degradation fast when Dream gets involved? Hell yeah.

Vic Owen

Our Temperatures Rise, I Hear the Devil Outside by Hexate (Hexate2)

Vic can take a lot of punishment. But it wasn't the lashes, the hour bleeding at the pillory, that taught him the law.

This one is vicious in the best way. Check this one out if you’re looking for some incredibly toxic sibling dynamics and Holbrook’s character being one of the prettiest things in the room despite being a greasy, slightly mutilated mess.

(cw: non-con)

weak spot (everybody has one) by doctorkaitlyn

Dan Frost’s heavy footsteps are still within earshot when John speaks again, voice low and steady, like the rumble of thunder on the horizon.

“If you cannot hold your tongue, I will cut it out of your head.”

Again, such a wonderfully twisted dynamic, and excellent writing to boot. Bratty Vic is so fun to read, especially because he’s actually skating on very thin ice with his brother.

Donald Pierce

better the devil you know... by doctorkaitlyn

...than the one that you don't.

or, follows the plot of Logan, but with one key difference; namely, that Pierce and Logan slept together prior to the film's events.

This series is exceptional! The actual sex is so wonderfully dubious and dirty in every sort of way, and we get the treat of seeing it from both Pierce and Logan’s POVs. I doubt it’ll happen at this point, but in my heart of hearts I’m still holding out hope the author might bless us with a continuation!!

Cornered by Anonymous

Logan hasn’t been a good man for a really long time in his opinion. Donald Pierce is probably a worse man in his estimation. So he doesn’t feel particularly bad about taking some of his irritation out the little fucker to really drill into his head what will happen to him if he doesn’t back off.

After I read this fic I had to sit down and just process for a very long time. It is utterly dark and harrowing, supremely fucked up in so many particulars, but if you’re looking for something unapologetically brutal and deliciously raw, this is the fic. Donald Pierce gets put through the wringer in this, and seeing all his affectations and defenses pared away over time is so good.

(cw: non-con)

part time sorry, full time problem by the_everqueen

Logan survives.

He gets a dog.

Non-con pet play?? Non-con pet play!! I think my favorite thing about this is how, from Logan’s POV, this is just the thing he’s doing. Meanwhile, Pierce is going through probably the worst events of his life, and the juxtaposition is so, so good. Pierce is the best scrappy little survivor, and as far as gorgeously imperfect victims go, he is IT.

(cw: non-con)

girl in saskatoon by thefudge

Seven years after the events of Logan (2017), Donald Pierce tracks down Laura Kinney again.

This was not a ship I’d ever considered, but oh god did this fic make me love it. Gorgeously dark and sensual and incredibly bittersweet, and Laura as a feral creature who is so much her father’s daughter is a delight. Also, Pierce being much more mechanized in this is… very hot.

(cw: major character death)

Melancholy by shittershutter

"You're making that face again," Don tells him. "Don't."

"The the doomed lover face, that one. I can't take all the melancholy."

All of shittershutter’s Pierce/Logan fics are absolutely worth a read, but this one is my all-time favorite that I keep going back to again and again. The sex is fucking hot, and the characterizations are top-tier: Pierce’s feral vulnerability is especially wonderful, and his relationship with Logan is so raw and real and achingly human.

The Enemy of My Enemy (is Mine) by SubverbalDreams

With Laura safely (he hopes) off with her friends, Logan’s got some housecleaning to do.

Meanwhile: Pierce fucked up royally, and the Reavers aren’t known for their forgiveness. Especially with such a pretty victim on their hands.

If you want mean, but grudgingly caring daddy dom Logan, SubV is the author!! This is SUCH a tasty fic, the tangle of Pierce’s trauma and desire and shame combined with just how much Logan hates his guts (and is also coming around to him. Just a little.)

(cw: non-con)

after all is said and done i feel the same by spock

Donald's got this theory that people don't ever really change. He himself being the rule, rather than an exception.

Yeah, this one is a pure delight. Pierce is so complicated here, at points pathetic and likable and deeply pitiable. The relationship is so problematic from every angle, but somehow manages to be endearing, too, which is no mean feat! And the ending sends me straight to waterworks city.

(cw: underage)

Eli Klaber

A Sinner In Church by jackelope

what is even the POINT of having evil henchmen if you're not having gay sex with them let's be real

Klaber being from texas is not canon but idk i just thought his accent sounded texan so I went with it. anyways he's a cumslut

This is just hot as shit. Guaranteed good time. Klaber is such an eager to please dog here, not even minding how he’s being degraded. Delicious stuff.

Ty Shaw

The Going Rate by darthpumpkinspice

Ty Shaw needs to get Sancholo in on his plan, but Sancholo isn’t biting.

Fortunately, Ty knows how to be persuasive.

There’s not a ton of Ty Shaw fics out there, so I couldn’t resist sneaking my own entry in!!! If you like Ty being a conniving little sweetheart trying his best to deal with grief, you might just enjoy this!

[fuscorooni]

A Goatguy Mini Comic:

“This hero crap is easy.”

If you can’t read it, see below:

Panel One

Goatguy: So how do you get around? The Hub City El is fine, but I’m maybe the 2nd or 3rd weirdest thing on there.

Is there a Questionmobile?

Panel Two

Goatguy: I’ve been workshopping some stuff. Mullin’ some ideas around. Like maybe some kinda motorcycle, or…

Panel Three

Goatguy: *GASP*

Panel Four

Goatguy: A goat-orcycle!

The Question: PLEASE.

[sc1ssorhandz]

more ppl need to talk about the musical transition from oceans for backyards to viola lion by isles & glaciers actually

[huivsharik]

•° 𝑃𝑒𝑑𝑜𝑣𝑘𝑎°•

(Part 1)

Sorry for the mistakes in the text, I write through a translator specifically in English, and it is quite difficult to control that the text does not distort what I originally wrote, but unfortunately, I can’t do anything about it!!

Enjoy reading♡

A call from class. The long-awaited bell rings, and the long minutes of hell of a combined lesson with elementary school students pass.

There is a slap and a heavy sigh from the next row.

Lazily lifting your head from your desk, you rub your sleepy eyes, then glance at the source of the noise. When you hear a nasty laugh, you turn your head and meet the gaze of Bowers, who just slapped Ben Hanscom on the back of the head, a new, rather chubby guy who, because of his excess weight, became an object of ridicule, which you found very strange, looking at the same Belch Huggins from Henry's company.

Raising your eyebrows, you don't take your eyes off Henry, clearly showing your dislike for the foursome.

— Don't stare like that, Pedovka. — Bowers grinned, and Vic, Patrick, and Reginald laughed as if they were hearing this nickname for the first time, but it annoyed you so much how they repeated it over and over again, seeing it as a witty joke. They left the classroom almost immediately, without lingering, leaving you and Ben alone in the classroom.

— Go to hell, you second-year students. — You mumble to yourself, packing your textbooks into a bag, you nervously try several times to fasten the lock on the bag, which did not budge from your shaking hands due to a sudden awakening, and besides, waking up to Hockstetter's laughter is not such a thing. You always compared his laughter and appearance to a hyena.

Getting up from your seat, you slap the eighth grader on the shoulder, he looks up uncomprehendingly.

— Forget these assholes. They're stuck here because they don't represent anything, and you have every chance to get out of school and leave this dump. Don't give up, Hanscom.

You smile with the corners of your lips, and you noticed how Ben was really encouraged by this.

- Thanks. — The boy gets up from his seat and leaves the classroom, nodding to you at the door.

— Good luck.

After leaving the building, you take out a walkman and wired headphones from the left pocket of your worn blue jeans, and a lighter and a pack of apple cigarettes from the right. Going around the corner of the school, you hold a cigarette between your lips, and, covering the tip with your hand, open the zippo lighter, which makes a characteristic metallic sound every time, twisting the handle, lighting up the cigarette, making a thrust.

You always tried to do it out of sight of the children, and even more so not in front of the teachers, who, having seen it, could easily suspend you from classes. That's why you're peering at the kids passing by, hoping that no one has thought to tell the teacher about you.

It was a warm, even hot day in Derry, which made it hot even in a light milky-colored sweatshirt.

The guys who were released after classes hurriedly went home in companies, or one at a time, getting on their bikes, and drove home with a pleasant breeze, and you, figuring out in your head how once again you would have to walk a long way, so even under the scorching sun you sincerely hoped that it would rain, but as luck would have it, there was no sky and clouds.

The wheel of your bike was punctured, and your father promised to fix it this week, but miraculously the car broke down, and fixing it became more important than the bike.

— You stole my lighter.

You start, coughing, from fright and the sudden intake of smoke into your lungs. Turning around, you found yourself a couple of centimeters away from Hockstetter's face, who was leaning over you and silently watching all this time, and seemed to be sniffing. The situation caused a sense of deja vu.

— You're lying, it's mine, Hockstetter. Find another way to get attention. — You look into Patrick eyes with displeasure and take a few steps to the side. Patrick was your age, but he stayed several times in the second year, when you were in the same class, before his academic problems (if not with his head), but you never talked, at most you could sit at the same desk.

Despite all the rumors about Patrick, the way he behaves in class, sitting next to the girl, you were shocked every time, because at the time when you studied together, you did not notice such behavior on his part.

You've never been afraid of him. Patrick, as well as the Bowers Gang in general, could try to contact both you and your friend, trying to say something sarcastic, or try to "press" somewhere, but everything was in vain. It was enough for you to say one phrase, and they immediately lagged behind in the search for those who would be afraid of them and who would not be able to fight back.

In one such attempt to attract attention, Hockstetter found it quite funny to hold you from behind in the school hallway, in full view of everyone, while you were sorting through things in your locker, which at that time gave rise to many rumors about your relationship. Apparently, it was his strange habit of approaching you from behind and scaring you.

"You know, I like the way you dress" — Even though you didn't see his face at the time, you knew that this bastard was smiling like a hyena, and his skinny fingers were reaching for your neck, which was adorned with a velvet black choker that you often wore, it became an integral part of your style.. His other arm is wrapped around your waist, and considering that you were smaller and shorter than Patrick, you could call his hand huge.

Without looking, you elbow Hockstetter in the side, and he takes a step back. Maybe it didn't hurt him, but it made it clear right away that you wouldn't tremble with fear if you were trapped by him.

"You know, you should wash up, Hockstetter."

"Pedovka" — The friends standing next to each other burst out laughing, after walking further down the corridor, without stopping repeating this word, adding something else from themselves. After staring at you for a long time, Patrick still winked, disappearing into the walls of the school.

From that day on, you were a freak to the Bowers Gang, and every time they met you at school, on the street, or on other neutral territory, they became like a bunch of parrots.

— Are you afraid of burns?

- What? — Being in your thoughts about that situation, you forgot for a minute.

But Patrick silently stretches out his hand to yours, clasping your palm. His other hand reached into the front pocket of your jeans, unceremoniously slipping his fingers in and pulling out a lighter.

You were standing in a stupor, not expecting such actions from Patrick at all, and before you could do anything, he opens it, scrolls through the mirror and brings the lighter to the back of your hand. First you feel the heat, which is almost the same as the temperature in the air, then your skin gets hot, unusually hot, and only after that you feel like your skin is burning with fire. Everything happened quickly, you tried to pull your hand away as soon as you realized what he was going to do, but Patrick held your wrist too tightly.

— Asshole, let go!

You remembered about your other free hand, which was holding an almost extinguished cigarette, and pressed it to the same place where Patrick burned you with a lighter. Unlike you, he didn't immediately pull his hand away, as if he pulled it away for the sake of decency, and not because it hurt.

— Are you all right in the head?

He laughed, finally letting go of your hand, and watched as you dropped the cigarette butt to the ground, pinning it with your foot. You were thinking how nice it would be if you were in that Hockstetter's place.

— You just stood there, which one of us is still not friends with his head.

After examining the burn site, you don't notice any significant changes yet, but you were sure that in a few hours a blister would appear that would hurt.

When you looked up at Hockstetter, you were ready to knock this skinny hyena to the ground and stomp on it.

— What do you want? Did your faggot-friends leave you alone, that you started messing with normal people?

— Actually, I was looking for you.

— To try to scare me with school stories about you, or to start pretending that I stole your lighter?

The dark-haired man grunts, not answering, which was expected. He had changed a lot, you couldn't say anything about his character, because you didn't know Patrick at all, but you could say a few words about his appearance, and if it weren't for his perpetually untidy appearance, bad reputation, and disgusting behavior, you could safely say that he was cute. But not in this life.

— Shall we go for a walk?— He tilts his head to the side and looks expectantly, punching through the lawn with his massive boot, causing bits of dirt to fly around.

— Is your head on fire? Do you know what you did just now, and now you're saying this?

In fact, you wouldn't mind walking with him if your meeting hadn't started with his "jokes."

— You could have pulled your hand away.

— You had a death grip.

— It's not my problem that you're so weak.

You can't stand the semantic load of this senseless skirmish and giggle nervously, looking down at Patrick's hand, which kept opening and closing your lighter, completely forgetting that you burned his hand with a cigarette, leaving a mark more serious than yours.

— So what is it? He looks up at you.

— Where are you going? — Blowing lightly on your hand, you don't stop glaring at Patrick with a displeased look.

— We live on the same street, I often see you.

— I'm so glad you're not here.

— I know a shortcut. — Hockstetter continues to insist on his point, nodding towards the main road near the forest, through which you walk most often.

— I don't care, I'll go my own way, I don't want you to set me on fire and dump the coal out of me into the sewage.

Hockstetter laughed at the joke, imagining in his sick head the burnt body of a Pedovka, which really looks like coal, floating in water with poop.

When he sees you actually leaving the school grounds, he immediately follows you.

— Wait for me!

You don't stop, turn on the music on your walkman, and walk down the path to the sidewalk. Hockstetter kept up, keeping the distance between you.

Not having the slightest idea what he was up to, you just hoped that he would lose interest in your person, meeting his friends on the way, but at best, you hoped that a truck would fly out of nowhere at him.

As you quickened your pace, you just grinned at how ridiculous you must look from the outside. Perhaps you should be scared by the fact that Patrick clung to you and wouldn't leave you alone until you got home, that he burned your hand and took the lighter, you found this situation just funny and stupid, like this tall, lanky psycho following a high school student.

—Oh, my God.. — Taking out your earpiece, you turn around to check if Hockstetter is following you, but you almost bump into him, as both he and you stopped abruptly.

— Lead me where you're going. Just know that if I disappear, it will be on your conscience, and everyone will think on you. I'm not giving you any fucking peace in the next world, you know? — You hiss, but more in a joking manner. If only you knew that this guy's hands are soaked in animal blood, and that he once killed his brother.

— It's okay. — Hockstetter smiles slyly, feeling advantageous in this situation.

End part 1.