#i don't know if it was specifically a Walkman or not

[the-kr8tor]

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.3k

Summary: A camping trip with your so-called friends takes a turn from harmless taunting to gore filled stabbing.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), slasher AU, Horror elements, CW bullying, CW food mentions, TW death, TW blood and gore, CW violence. Set in the 80s, CW animal death, drug mention.

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Octobie 🎸

Music blares in your ears through your headphones as the car passes by numerous pine trees along the road. You flick your eyes over to the rearview mirror when you felt eyes on your face. Sure enough, Flash's smiling eyes stare at you through the mirror. And when you hear muffled giggling, you already know where the delighted laughter is coming from.

As you glance at the passenger seat, Miranda's amused grin greets you. Her blond hair bounces as she tries to play innocent. Even with your music murmuring their words, you know that they're talking about you. So you slyly press pause on your walkman, with their chortling they barely heard the click of the button.

“God, purple isn't doing her any favours. I can't believe we're sharing the same car as the freak.” Andy, a jock like Flash, sneers right behind you as he sits at the far end with the luggage because of his size. “That's the color right, babe?”

His girlfriend, Quinn snorts in her seat next to you. “She’s wearing navy blue, babe. And yes that sweater looks fucking ugly, it's so 1975. I think I saw my grandma wear that once.” She twists in her seat to face her boyfriend, elbow hitting your cheek, but you pretend that it didn't happen for your sanity. She doesn't even mention it. “Are you sure you didn't hit your head during the game?”

Andy puts his arms on your headrest, and again, you get hit by elbows. You're starting to hate your club advisor for putting you in the same car as the people who never even wanted to be part of the forestry club in the first place. They joined because your club was unfortunate enough to have less members and therefore was the target of the popular clique because they were ‘too busy’ to pick a required club lest they don't graduate at the end of the year. Oh how you wish you were in the same van as Thena even though she smells like swiss cheese. But alas, you drew the short end of the stick.

“Or maybe he fell on his head when he was a baby.” Emma says nonchalantly with a book in her hands. She's kind of alright to you, only because she doesn't speak or even look at you.

Miranda giggles in the passenger seat while her boyfriend Flash laughs with her.

“I'm color blind, bitch!” Andy yells, making you wince.

“Yeah, he's color blind!” His girlfriend Quinn agrees. You feel like your head is being split open by her shrill voice. You long for swift death in this car.

“That's your comeback, bruv?” Flash eggs Andy on, you worry that his attention isn't fully on the road.

“W-what? You got a better one, fucker?”

“W-w-what?!” Flash says mockingly. A round of laughter echoes around the small wagon, and you swear you heard Andy growl at the guy. You kind of feel bad for the big guy, if he wasn't such an asshole to you.

More than annoyed, you press play on your walkman as they continue to bicker. Punk music filters through your ears and for a moment you feel alright. But this time Miranda hears the click, your former childhood friend turns to look at you with a condescending smirk.

“Welcome back to the real word, Paste.”

You hate that nickname so much, you wanted to throw the walkman at her face. But you take the high ground and just ignore her like you always do. That damned nickname. She thinks she's so clever for thinking of it when you two were just nine when she caught you scooping out a dollop of paste for a birthday card you were making. She thought that you were about to eat it, hence the nickname, Paste. The birthday card was for her, too bad the trashcan ended up receiving it.

“I told you not to call me that—”

“Bitch, look out!” Andy's gruff voice is grating in your ears, his yell trumps out your music as Andy swerves the steering wheel.

“Shit!” Miranda clutches at her seat belt as you see a deer standing right in the middle of the road.

“Fuck!” Emma, holds on to the front seat just as the car goes sideways, tires skidding on the asphalt, blackened smoke coming out of the rubber.

“Mother fucker!” You brace yourself as the chorus of the music in your ears crescendos, and a tree trunk gets dangerously close to the front of the car. “No—!”

You fall into darkness.

—

You hear an animalistic groan the second you're conscious. Eyes fluttering open, you're met with Emma's flashlight flashing on your face.

“She's awake!” She yells as she roams her eyes over your form from outside the car.

“How long was I out?” You touch your throbbing forehead. It aches but thankfully you don't find blood.

“Just a few minutes, sleeping beauty.” This is the longest time she has had a conversation with you. Her blue hair glistens in the afternoon sun as she opens the door for you. “You hurt anywhere?”

You shake your head. “I'm good…I think.”

She sighs, “good, up and at ‘em.”

You take it one tiny step at a time, once your hiking boots hit the grass, you assess the damage of the car. The hood is busted from the tree curved around the metal. The engine is smoking and the lights are smashed to pieces. There's also a huge scratch on the side of it. Mrs. Williams is gonna kill the whole lot of you when she sees her car.

“Oi, Paste!” You roll your eyes at Flash's call.

“I told you not to call me that—!” The second you turn around and set your eyes on the barely alive deer in the middle of the road, you swallow thickly at the poor animal.

“Gnarly, right?” Flash grins, but when he glances at the deer his smile fades. “What are we going to do with it?”

“Should we bury it?” Quinn says whilst hidden behind her boyfriend.

“It’s still alive.” Your eyes never leave the gasping animal. Crossing the small distance, still wobbly in your feet, you tilt your head at its large wound. Even doctor Dolittle can't fix this.

“What do you suggest we do then, Paste?” Miranda side eyes you. “We can't call for help. There's no payphone in sight!” She stomps her foot like a child. “Gah! I should've joined the homemakers club instead of forestry!”

Emma nudges you, “I think I know what Y/N here is thinking.”

“You do?” You furrow your brows.

“You speak freak now, Emma?” Quinn sneers.

You ignore her. “We should end its misery.”

“Fuckin' hell, mate!” Flash gestures wildly at the deer. “It's still alive, maybe if we wait for Mrs. Williams and the others—”

“They might have already passed this place because you and princess here kept needing bathroom breaks.” You blurt out. Miranda and Flash scoff with a shake of their bottle blond heads.

“Woah!” Emma clasps your shoulder. And you flinch away from her touch.

“Paste here has some fire in her!” Quinn joins in, queasiness gone. Queasy Quinn, you should call her that.

With a clenched jaw, you bend down to retrieve your butterfly knife from your boot. Flipping it open, you roam your eyes at the bewildered group.

“Damn.” Andy whistles lowly. His girlfriend punches his bicep.

“Who's gonna do it?” You ask, the deer continues to wheeze out. Its blood now slowly inching its way over to your feet.

“Not me!” They simultaneously say with their index finger pointing at their noses.

You're camping with a bunch of children it seems. With a sigh, you kneel down next to the deer. Looking into its deep brown eyes, it's a sea that threatens to pull you under its sympathy. Your hand settles atop its blood coated fur, matted under your touch, warm and still oozing with fading life. It huffs at you, bleating like it's pleading to be spared, or be taken out of its misery. Whatever it was, you swiftly stab it in its carotid artery right on its neck, as if you've done it a million times before.

The group's disgusted yells and groans fade in your senses as its crimson flows from the wound down to your knife and hand. It's still warm, you feel like you're death itself. The poor deer stops twisting and kicking, finally falling limp in your hands.

Your blood rushes in your ears, pulse thumping like the beat of drums. Something inside you awakens from its dormant state you've forced it inside your ribcage. It flutters right out of its crystalline cocoon, beginning to fly out, trying to escape the confines of your serrated flesh. Breath running warm, you take out your knife from its body.

“Freak,” Miranda taunts under her breath, you can feel that a part of her is afraid. Does she not realize you're the one holding the bloodied knife?

“You looked like you enjoyed that one, Paste.” Her boyfriend agrees, you send them a tensed glare. They both look away from you. You can feel the fear behind their distant eyes.

“Your sweater is wasted.” Quinn raises a brow with an amused glint in her eyes. “Good, it was ugly anyway.”

You stare at your blood soaked sleeve. “I'll go get cleaned up.”

“You better, you smell like a dead rat.” Andy scoffs, arm slung over his girlfriend's shoulders.

“Go, we'll manage here.” Emma says without looking in your direction, eyes trained on the now dead deer, disgusted by its guts flowing out of its many wounds.

You walk back towards the car where your bag is. Once you reach it, you fall on your knees behind the car to avoid any more teasing from your so-called club mates. Weirdly enough, you don't feel shaken by it, nor disgusted like the rest of them. It's a weird feeling. You haven't felt this way in a long time. But this feeling, this enlightened feeling brings you a familiar comfort, bringing you back to your summer camp days.

After collecting your thoughts, you change into a turquoise windbreaker, blood all wiped clean by a wet handkerchief. Once you hide the knife back inside your boot, you return to the rest of the group with your backpack slung over your shoulder. The tin water bottle and skillet clangs against each other, signaling your return.

“Took you long enough,” Quinn says in her high pitched voice that is glass breakingly worthy. “We came up with a plan.” You didn't even know that they're all capable of thinking. “So we thought that we could wait here for the rest of the club to rescue us—”

“Bad idea.” You cut her off. Their eyes are all on you, and you almost shrunk down from their stares. “I–I think we should hike towards the campsite. We have a better chance of meeting up with them that way. We can't wait out here in the cold, especially since we don't know if they've already passed here.”

“Makes sense.” Emma agrees, still avoiding your eyes. Was that fear?

“But that's so far though!” Miranda kicks at a pebble like a petulant child.

You clench your jaw. “Then wait here, I'll hike up to the campsite.” Fixing your hold on your pack, you start walking away. “Don't blame me when you're all freezing to death.”

“Wait for me!” Emma calls after you, running towards the car to get her own pack.

“Not you too, Emma!”

“I'd rather stay with the survivalist than the cheerleaders!”

“Damnit,” Flash curses under his breath while the rest of them look at him, waiting for a plan. “I hate to say it, but she has a point. We have no idea how to even light a fire. But Paste here can.”

You walk quicker when you hear them following you. If you could sprint away, you would've. But alas, you need to conserve every bit of energy you have to trudge through the last miles towards the designated campsite.

Emma walks side by side with you, well, a few steps apart from you. She's silent for the most part except for her lingering gaze on the side of your face. The rest are already arguing behind you after five minutes of walking. Of course they're arguing about the single granola bar that Miranda packed for herself.

You deafen them out in your ears, wishing that the birds would sing louder in the trees to tamp out their voices. You'd put on your headphones but it broke in half during the crash. The air smells fresh in the forest, with the wind brushing along your cheeks like a gentle kiss. You smile gently at the peace, mind cleared of anything but the road in front of you.

Once the asphalt road transitions to a dirt road, it's now a real hike as your group sees the sign that reads, ‘jumping spider campgrounds.’

“Spider?” Quinn shrieks behind you and the peace is broken. “Please don't tell me this camp grounds is full of spiders!”

You realize that she's talking to you. “It's just the name.”

“You sure, Paste?” Flash questions you in a teasing tone. “They named it that for a reason.”

“Augh!” Quinn scampers behind her boyfriend.

You clench your hand on the strap of your backpack. “I've been here a few times and I've only seen two spiders.”

“Two is too much!” Quinn screams. At least no wild animal would come near the group with her voice ringing out through the entire forest. Unless there are wolves running about, then you'd hide behind Andy too. You're sure the wolves would like to eat him first.

With a headache blooming on the top of your head, you finally make it to the campsite after two and a half hours of walking. It's a small clearing in the middle of the woods with a few picnic tables set up and a dilapidated looking restroom sitting in the corner. Instead of Thena waving at you enthusiastically, there's no one in the campsite. A chill runs down your spine. You suppose it's the cold.

“Fuck.” You utter as you find out that the entire place sits empty without your other club mates and advisor.

Miranda and the rest push past you, shoving you to the side to look for a soul in the campsite.

“No! What the fuck!” Andy screams as he looks under a picnic table.

Emma stands in the middle of the clearing, hands gripping her blue hair. “Maybe they're running late?”

“Two hours late even though they were definitely right in front of us?” For once, Miranda says something right.

“Or maybe we're in the wrong campsite!” Quinn comes out of the bathroom with her hands shaking.

“Or they're out hiking already!” Flash crumples down to his feet, looking disheveled.

Then, all their eyes meet yours simultaneously. Their eyes shimmer under the sun, a slight blue hue falling on each of their faces.

You blink, lips slightly agape. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” Miranda walks over to you, pointing stiffly at your chest. “Where are they, hm?”

“How should I know? I was with you all the entire time. I can't communicate with them telepathically!” You immediately defend yourself.

“What the fuck should we do now?” Emma huffs, hands braced on the picnic table. Again, they all stare at you, as if you hold all the answers.

You don't know what to do either. “We should wait for them. They could just be running late. Or maybe they took a wrong turn—”

“God! I should've just joined table tennis!” Miranda exhales out, words carrying out into the woods.

“Listen.” You try to get their attention again. Which surprisingly enough, they give to you. “We should make camp and build a fire. The cold could kill us out here—”

“The cold?!” Miranda screams again, this time in your face. “You're worried about the bloody cold? We could get eaten by bears! Or fucking spiders!”

“If you could just listen for a second—!”

“I'm gonna look for a payphone.” Flash grabs Miranda, leading her further into the campsite.

“There are no payphones out here—!”

“I need to fucking piss.” Andy interrupt you.

“Don't fucking leave me out here!” His girlfriend follows closely behind.

You huff with a groan, frustrated at the situation. One moment they're listening to you, the next they're walking out into the woods.

“I'll set up the tents.” Emma says from the side. “I don't want to freeze to death.” She takes out her folded tent inside her pack. Clearing her throat, she looks at you. “Do you want me to set up yours?”

“Would you?” You ask with trepidation, what if she fills your tent with dirt and rocks?

“Yeah, sure. My dad used to take me out camping. I hated it but at least I learned some basic survival skills.”

“Like pitching up a tent?”

She chuckles nervously. “Exactly!” Coughing, she walks over to you to take your tent. “No tricks, I don't want you to freeze too.”

With slight apprehension, you give her your tent. Bag still slung over your shoulder, as much as you trust her right now, you don't trust her to give her your entire supply for surviving out here.

“I'll find some firewood and build a fire.” You say, rubbing your arms up and down for warmth.

“‘kay, watch out for jumping spiders. Or just regular spiders.” She jokes, managing to make you smile.

“I have bug spray with me, I'm sure I'll be fine.” Walking away, you head towards the left side of the forest where it's more familiar to you. Getting lost is the last thing you'll need here, especially when you're partnered up with people who wouldn't notice that you're gone.

Your feet aches and your neck throbs, despite it, you keep your head down to collect more firewood. You gather it in your arms, mindful that it doesn't poke a hole in your windbreaker.

You see a perfect branch near a pine tree, it's straight with a few bumps on the wood. It looks like something a kid would take to play as a knight. So of course you would take it.

Arm too full of branches, you bend at the waist to grab one from the forest floor. You don't anticipate all the firewood in your arms to spill over and fall on the mossy ground. It all tumbles down like a domino while you struggle to grab them even with your pack being so heavy on your back. And you're left with a single branch in your hand, sighing and silently cursing.

Left with no choice, you kneel down to collect it all again. You hear leaves crunch behind you, yet you continue to gather all the fallen firewood.

“Need help?” A voice suddenly follows the crunching sound. You don't yell or scream from the surprise appearance of the unknown voice.

You look over your shoulder, windbreaker making a swoosh sound as you move. Your eyes lock with his hazel eyes, he stands there, all six feet and five inches of him, (approximately in your mind) under the green canopy and greener moss underneath his steel toed boots, he looks right at home in the forest. But at the same time, he seems out of place with all his leather clad self, numerous patches stitched and buttons dotted along his jacket. His piercings shine as the light passes above, showing you his chiseled features. He looks like he crawled out of a catalogue, or from a punk album.

The sight of him makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but you can't seem to find it in yourself to walk away or look away from him. It's like you're staring at a shark's fin moving underneath the waves, parting the waters in a glorious display of a deadly dance. You know what's underneath, and you know what it entails if you stayed, but you still stand there, gazing upon his mysterious eyes that hold you in place.

He gives you a familiar feeling akin to a cold breeze brushing along your flushed skin, or perhaps a gentle wave pooling around your ankles at the beach. There's warmth and familiar coldness in his eyes, one that you're sure you've seen in yourself.

“H–hi?” You ask, smile a bit wobbly from how awestruck you are. Something passes by his eyes, something akin to fascination.

“Hello,” the stranger grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, hands still tucked inside his pockets. “Are you lost? D’you need help?”

“Not really.” You chuckle nervously. He walks towards you, footsteps barely making any sound. “Are you camping here alone? Have you seen anyone else here?”

He shakes his head, crouching down to pick up all the fallen branches. “Yes, and no one, just you, love.”

You hold a single branch to your chest, “oh, you don't need to help me.”

“I want to, I can't just stand there and let you pick all these up.” He chuckles deeply, you now notice his dimples whenever he smiles. “You ‘ere with your mates? I heard you lot from where I was.”

“Kind of.” You softly smile, finding his own contagious. Something about him makes you feel at ease, more like yourself. “Do you know a payphone nearby? We need it desperately.”

He hands you the branches in your arms, calloused palms brushing along your own. “I think there's one a few miles west ‘ere.”

Your face brightens, and his gaze softens. “That's great, can you take me there? I need to call our advisor. I'm…worried about them, and Flash the moron totaled the car.”

The handsome stranger stands up, and he lends you a helping hand which you take almost immediately. His hand feels cold yet inviting. “So you're with your classmates then? How many are you stuck ‘ere?”

“Yep— kind of, they're my club mates. There's six of us including me.”

He inhales, the corner of his lip curls into a smile. “Alright, I'll help you.”

You sigh in relief. “I'm Y/N by the way.”

He tests your name sweetly on his tongue. Reaching for your hand, he shakes it gently even with you carrying the firewood. You almost fumbled with it when you grasped his hand. “Hobie. Call me Hobie, love.”

“It's nice to meet you, Hobie.” You haven't smiled this much during the whole trip.

“C’mon, I'll show you where the phone is.”

You nod enthusiastically despite the goosebumps running up your arms. “Okay.”

Hobie smiles, a smile akin to a lion's grin. “I'll take those off you, then.” He takes your armful of branches on his own, all the while having his eyes on you. “I can't live with myself if I let you carry this all alone.”

“Oh,” you suddenly feel warm, a good kind of warm. “Can I at least take half of it?”

He chuckles while fixing his hold on the wood. “You can take one.” At first you thought he was joking, but with his raised brow and curl of his lips, you thought otherwise.

You fight a grin. “Just one?” With a nod from your acquaintance, you take a single branch from the pile in his arms. “You sure you can carry it all?”

In a display of strength, he flips the branches over to one arm, carrying it all with no problem. “See? You already took a load off of it.” You tamp down a giggle. He starts to walk away from you, when he notices that you're not following him, he looks over his shoulder casually. “You comin'?”

Looking behind you, your second thoughts about leaving them behind are squashed down by their ugly words uttered to you through the years. “Sorry, I'm coming.” You catch up with him, side by side, you follow him with a small smile.

Leaves crunch under your boots whilst you fling the branch in your hand bashfully, letting the wood brush over the tall grass. The silence permeates through the hike with him carrying the load, and guiding you while you just walk close by him. You've never been the one to be guided, it's always you who has to guide the others, keep a watchful eye so they don't get poison ivy, and you, who has to lug around the supplies. All the while you listen to them expressing their ungratefulness. You stare at his profile, smile tugging at your lips immediately when he gazes back at you wordlessly. It's nice to be taken care of once in a while.

For the first time in a long time, you start a conversation. A friendly one that you know won't end in you getting called a nasty word.

“So why camp alone?” You tentatively start, nails picking at the branch in your hand. “This part of the forest isn't exactly beginner friendly.”

“Who says ‘m a beginner?” He nudges you gently, making you look up from your feet. “My mates and I used to come ‘ere and just stay for an entire week forgettin’ our lives until we got the scent of city smoke out of our noses.” Chuckling, Hobie looks at you through glimmering eyes. “Now it's jus’ me and my motorbike.”

“What happened to them— i–if you're comfortable telling me.”

“A freak accident. There was a forest fire, I barely made it out. But they didn't.” He sighs, you open your mouth for an apology but he beats you to it. “It was a long time ago, no need to say your condolences.”

“Still, I'm sorry. It must've been hard.” You reach out to him, but you decide not to last minute lest you make your new friend uncomfortable.

Hobie leans against your palm before you fully move away, his smile gets brighter when you decide to cup his elbow gently. “Thank you, love. I come ‘ere to look at the shitty condo they built atop it and imagine that it's burnin.’ Ain't that fucked up of me, hm?”

You chuckle, already regretting the sound right after. “I— no, that's actually…uh.”

“Funny?” He completes your sentence while chortling at your flustered self.

You blink, fully laughing with him. “I was gonna say that but I didn't want to offend you!”

“Consider me not offended, love. You've got a sense of humour amidst the fucked up shit in the world, I fancy that in a bird.” The heat on your cheek is impossible to ignore, you have a feeling he knows about it too. “The funny thing is that it's not even done yet, it just stands there on their graves like some fucked up grave stone.” He sniffs, thumb rubbing along the corner of his eye. “My turn to ask a question, what kind of club are you and your mates are in?”

“Forestry. And they're not exactly my mates.” You spat out the last word with malice. You both pass by a towering pine tree and a start to a dirt trail.

“Alright— hold on…” he pauses mid step, with a careful hand atop your shoulder, he reaches for your cheek, “you have red on you, can I?”

You don't usually let anyone touch you, especially someone who's practically a stranger. But the familiar feeling grows with every moment you're with him. As if you've known him for a long time, a long lost childhood friend that you've finally found amidst the throng of worthless faces. So you let him with a nod, let him wipe away the deer's dried up blood caking your cheek. The pad of his thumb is calloused and rough, yet his touch is as gentle as a raindrop falling on your skin. You welcome the feeling wholeheartedly.

“There, all clean.” He doesn't ask why you have blood on you, “it was hidin’ your pretty face.”

“It was just a drop, and I highly doubt that.” You say bashfully.

“That you're pretty or that it hides your face?” His hand rests upon your shoulder, thumb ghosting above your heated cheek. “You’re stunnin’, I wasn't going to let that small thing mark you.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. There it is again, the familiar yet cold feeling washing over you. It's a beautiful contradiction. You're not perturbed by it in the slightest. “Thank you.” you could only manage to say those two words.

Hobie leans away, hand pulling reluctantly away from you. From the way his tender gaze falls on you, you think he feels it too. It's not love, not yet anyway. It's attraction. The kind that's magnetic, the kind that you know he'll fit right in with your missing pieces, the kind that he'd let himself fall into place right next to the spaces that he can and will gladly fill out. His soul glows behind his calm demeanor, as if the two last endangered beings have finally met their match. Feathers plucked from the same bird.

But it's an unspeakable match, one that could end in teeth marks left upon each other’s skin, leaving darkened blood boiling to the surface, caking each other’s maw with his and your own blood. So you two let it simmer, let it boil until one of you cracks under the pressure like trapped frogs in a boiling pot. So for now, you act as if you don't feel it in case you're wrong. Something you wouldn't want to be wrong with.

You bite the inside of your cheek while you continue to follow him. Each of your footsteps match the beating of your heart, and you swear that he can feel it too.

Walking out of the thicket and into a clearing, you two have made it out to a smaller campsite where a single eerie lamp post and payphone stands in the middle. Its paint is chipping from the elements, only leaving a few scraps of red and stickers vandalizing the payphone. There's a steep ledge behind the payphone, showing the top of the green canopies below, and the fading light from the sunset above.

“I'll wait for you ‘ere.” He says next to you, already walking towards a black and red motorbike parked at the edge of the clearing.

“This yours?” You ask with a smile, eyes roaming all over its shiny metal.

He pats the seat before leaning on it. “My treasure, I call her ‘Ripley’”

“From the Alien movie?” You walk closer to him, payphone forgotten.

“You know it?”

“Do I know it?” You say with a laugh, “‘Mother! I've turned the cooling unit back on. Mother!’” You copy the same tone from the movie.

“‘The ship will automatically destruct in T minus five minutes.’” Hobie replies in a mechanical robotic tone.

“‘You... Bitch!’” You and Hobie quote simultaneously, earning a hearty laugh from the both of you.

You've found yourself holding onto his arm, smiling and giggling with him. “Y’know, they've got a screening of it down at the local drive-in.” You tentatively say, eyes turned down at the pile of branches in his arms.

Hobie puffs out his chest, chin turned upwards with a smirk. “You askin' me out, lovie?”

You exhale, moving away with disappointment and a wobbly frown. “N–no, sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking.” Before you could fully walk away, he grabs your sleeve, tugging you gently back to him.

“C’mon now, love, don't walk away now.” He encourages you with a lopsided grin, eyes smiling genuinely as he gazes at you softly. “Ask me properly.” He bracelets his hand around your wrist, holding onto you gently while he runs his thumb over your quickening pulse.

“I—” you swallow thickly, and he ducks down to look into your shy eyes. With his sweet smile, you gather your courage. “Do you want to go watch Alien with me at the drive-in?” You inhale, his grin gets bigger with every word you utter. “We can have p–popcorn, or if you don't like popcorn, we can have chips and—and then maybe soda but if you don't like soda we can—”

He pulls you in, trapped right in the middle of his legs, not closing in around you, making you more comfortable in his tentative embrace. “I like popcorn. And I'll take you on a motorcycle ride right after, like how they do in the movies.”

Your skin is aflame. “Okay,” you nod enthusiastically, “a ride right after— I mean!” You fluster, “a bike ride— with me and and you— of course with me and you, it's stupid if—” you ramble on, tripping over your own words. He waits patiently without teasing you. Instead, he smiles, and nods along. “I— yeah, that sounds good.”

He tilts his head, hand brushing a fallen leaf off your shoulder. “Yeah? It's a date then.”

You sigh longingly. You still can't wrap your mind around at how you manage to pull it off. “Okay, I'll—” you reach inside your jacket, pulling out a small notepad and pen, moving quickly to scribble your name and number, afraid that he'll change his mind. “Here's my number.” You rip the page and then hand it to him.

He shrugs, smirking at you. “My hands are kind of full, love.” Technically it is, but he literally just brushed a leaf off of you a moment ago. “Put it in my front pocket for me?” Looking down at his jacket pocket, he smiles sheepishly.

“You and I both know that you can handle it on your own.” You tamp down a giggle, teeth biting down at your lip while you watch him make a face. “Fine, I'll only do it because you're being cute.” Gently, you place it inside his jacket pocket. Your fingers brush something metallic and sharp, but you ignore it. “There.”

“Finally flirtin’ back, huh?”

“Shut up and hand me a quarter, Hobie.” His guffaw echoes around the clearing as he reaches at his jean pocket to rustle for some spare change. “Sorry, too much?” You wince, thinking that it might've turned him off.

He shakes his head with amusement. “You're cheeky once you've gotten comfortable.” He hands you the coin.

“Well, people usually don't stay too long to find out.”

“Their loss, my win.”

You smile, palms clammy and legs turning into mush from his flirting. Staring at the coin in your hand, you find it having two heads on each side. “I don't think the payphone will take this.” It reminds you of the same lucky coin that your club advisor always carries around.

“Right, sorry, that's my lucky coin.” He grabs it back nonchalantly, then he rummages through his pocket for another one. Checking it once, he gives the quarter to you. “Use it wisely.”

“A lot of people seem to have their own lucky coin.” You twirl the regular quarter in between your fingers.

“You don't have one?” He creases his brows, you shake your head in reply. “‘ere you go then.” Taking the coin from his pocket again, he puts it in the middle of your palm. “For luck.”

“I can't take this, it's yours.” You try to give it back but he pushes your hand away.

“Nah, you can borrow it. Bring it back to me on our date, yeah?”

You chuckle softly, eyes gazing into his own, finding your bashful reflection in his hazel eyes. “Okay.” With a shy nod, you turn towards the payphone to dial your school's number.

—

Hobie waits for you in the sideline while he basks in the sunlight. His eyes are closed while his head is turned up into the heavens, arms cradling the sticks, letting the rays bathe him through the dappled shadows of the canopy above. He looks like an oil painting.

He cracks one eye opening, sensing your presence. “What’d they say?” Straightening up, he tilts his head.

“Uh…” You've forgotten what the school administrator told you for a second. “T–they said that the rest of the club had already called ahead to tell them that they've arrived at the last pit stop. But we were just there and when I asked the cashier at the gas station, she said that she didn't see a van stop by.” You rub at your tired eyes. “I don't know where they are.”

Hobie leaves the side of his bike to cross the small distance towards you. His eyes are full of concern, lips turned into a frown. “‘m sure they're fine, love.” He juggles the wood in one arm to grasp at your tensed hand, giving you enough space to turn away but you don't.

“I’m not worried about them, Hobie. I know they're okay. But…” you squeeze his hand, “I don't want to be left alone with those fuckers.”

He scrunches his nose. “What fuckers?”

“I— forget it, I'll just tough it out until the others get here.”

“Nah, I'll keep you company.” He pulls you gently by your hand, “c’mon, I'll beat ‘em off with a stick if I have to. I have a lot of ‘em.” He shakes the bundle of wood in his arms.

You chuckle, “you don't even know what they've done.”

“I know enough from how you talk ‘bout ‘em.” He shrugs, warm fingers squeezing you back. “They sound like a piece of work.”

“You have no idea.” With a reluctant step, you move towards the trail once again. Hand in hand with Hobie, the two of you head to the campsite where surely they've forgotten about you and your firewood. Or with your luck, the spiders got to them.

“What did they do to you?” He cuts the silence in half. “Do they hurt you?” His tone softens with a tinge of fury within it.

“Not usually.” You reply back, eyes turned away from him. He encourages you with a gentle tug, lips softly smiling at you. Inhaling, you let it all out with hope that it doesn't turn him off with your woes. “The guys just tease me about… everything else. But the girls— they once locked me in the janitor's closet for an entire day. The janitor found me hours after classes ended.” You can hear his sharp inhale next to you. “One time they…uh— threw glue and flour at me during picture day. I had to go home after that and I didn't get my picture taken for the yearbook. It's just blank, fitting, right?”

Hobie shakes his head, eyes swirling with something you can't describe. “No, it's not. They're wankers.”

“I— yeah, they are.” You feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. No one has listened to you like that in years. Before it was Miranda, before she decided that you're not worth being friends with. “I know what you're thinking, I should fight back. I tried, it only made everything worse. They only do it because they think I don't belong in their fancy school. That I'm only there because of my merit, not because of my parents' money or lack of it.” Looking up at Hobie, you see him staring back with a clenched jaw. “I'm sorry, that was….pathetic.” You grip the branch tighter until you can feel the splinters digging into your palm. “We don't get to choose the room we're stuck in. But we can choose the people we let in. Graduation's coming, and I get to kick them out soon.” You smile at him and he smiles back with soft empathetic eyes.

“Maybe sooner than you'd think. And It isn't pathetic, they're the pathetic ones.” You both reach the place where you met him as you question inside your mind what he meant by his first sentence. He stops walking, hand carefully pulling you to a stop. “I have a confession to make. ‘m not ‘ere to grieve.”

You furrow your brows, stopping mid step. “What?”

“I know them, the rich fuckers that torments you.”

“So you know me too?” You let go of his hand, heart cracking.

“No, not you, just ‘em.” He glances behind you where you can hear Quinn's laughter. “Just— I'll tell you after, yeah? For now, I want to tell you that everythin' I told you was real. I do want that date, love. I only ever want to see you.”

“For real?” You reach for him, palm placed on his chest. Hobie drops the sticks unceremoniously, the sound of wood clattering down on the soil.

He then holds your hand in place, fingers curling around it. “Real. I need you to know me fully. Let me in the room y'know.” With a sigh of relief, you lean closer as he mirrors your movements, lips pursing, breath fanning over your lips.

“Paste!” Miranda suddenly yells from behind you. Whirling around, your smile falters. “Shit, there you are! Who the fuck are you talking to, you freak?”

“I—” you turn back around to face Hobie but he's nowhere to be found. Your breath gets stuck in your throat. “He was right there.”

She clicks her tongue at you, “stop tripping and get back to camp! The sun's setting.”

She doesn't help you with the firewood as she leaves you alone in the middle of the forest. You look around in hopes of finding Hobie, but you don't see nor hear him anywhere. Sighing, hope dashed, and chest aching with longing, you walk slowly back to camp.

—

After three hours of setting up camp with barely any help from the others, the tents are fully pitched behind you, and you finally get to sit down and rest near the campfire you built with the same wood that Hobie was carrying. For someone whom you just met, he seems to occupy your mind ever since he left. He told you he'd stay for you, but why would he leave the moment Miranda appeared?

The fire engulfs your frozen heart, you watch as the embers crackle, eyes unblinking at the bonfire. Your hands cradle a can of peaches, you haven't taken a bite of it ever since you opened it, your mind keeps wandering back to Hobie, wondering if he was even real.

“Oi, paste!” Andy calls for you, when you don't acknowledge him, he throws a tin can at you that lands right on your thigh. “Jesus, she's out of it.”

“Did you find some mushrooms out there, pasty?” Quinn's mocking tone makes you glance at them without moving your head. You can see her flinch slightly from your glare.

“Man, if you actually did find some mushrooms, can I have a bite?” Emma asks, back leaning on a log while she nurses a flask of vodka. You can smell it from where you're sitting.

“I didn't find any.” You mutter, eyes flickering down at the fire, vision swirling at the dancing flames.

“Too bad, remember when we found some last time?” Flash chuckles, arm snaked over Miranda's shoulders, who stare at him dumbstruck.

“What the fuck, Flash?!” She slaps his bicep in a resounding smack. “I told you that we can't talk about it!”

“Relax, M, it's been two whole years! Besides, our parents made sure that it stays buried. Literally.” That piqued your interest. Subtly, you listen in. Flash guffaws, fist bumping Andy on his way to snatch the flask away from Emma. He takes a generous sip while Andy cheers him on. “Fuck, that's good.”

“Those mushrooms fucked us up real fucking bad, Flash. It wasn't some bad trip.” Miranda chastises, she turns towards Emma and the others, sneering at each of them. “Did you all not remember what happened?”

“Of course we do, Miranda.” Quinn scoffs, flinging Andy's arm away from her middle. “I can still hear the screams!”

You blink, being practically invisible has its perks. Your hands grip the can, ears straining to hear more of the hushed conversation.

“Screams?” Andy shakes his big head, “try the smell, their burning skins were stuck in my nose for weeks.”

Miranda rubs her face, “you lot have no ounce of empathy do you?”

“Please,” Emma adds, glaring at each of them before stopping by Miranda. “You were the one who insisted we stayed at the campsite instead of our usual place. Now there's a patch of burnt forest where your father's— mind you, my father's, Quinn's mother, Andy's parents and Flash's grandfather, contributed to hide the crime where the condo now stands.”

Your eyes widens, hand slithering its way inside your pocket only to find the two headed coin. So it's real, Hobie is real. So it wasn't a freak accident, and this is what He meant by knowing them.

They killed his friends.

Miranda seethes in place, hands clenched into fists. “I'm not the one who decided to light up in the middle of summer where the dry leaves were! And now we're stuck here, forced to take forestry because a judge said so!”

“Oh fuck you, Miranda.” Quinn stands up, stomping her bedazzled boot on the ground. “If it weren't for my mum then we'd all be in fucking jail! Getting stuck with the freak was the lesser demon!”

“It's ‘lesser evil,’ actually.” You finally add, eyes glancing at each of their angry faces. “And man, how many people did you all kill, hm?”

“It was an accident.” Emma blinks at you, “fuck, great, she knows.”

Andy huffs like a mad bull seeing red flapping in front of him. “You gonna keep quiet about it, paste, or do I have to make you?”

Their stares bore into you, you now realize the amount of danger that you're in. Individually, you can take one down, but with them all after you, you won't survive the morning.

So you dig deep, you free the moth from the pits of your soul, letting it loose. “Oh, I'm going to keep quiet about it. Who would believe me anyway?” You scoop out a peach from the untouched can, bringing it to your mouth, you let the fruit slide down your throat. “Besides, I know something you don't. Something important that could lead to dangerous consequences if you didn't know.”

“What is it?” Emma looks you up and down, brows knitted together in uneasiness.

You tilt your head, grinning but your eyes don't convey the same expression. “Only if you promise not to hurt me.”

They all look at eachother, silently agreeing. “Fine,” Flash starts, “what is it?”

You lean back on the tree trunk, “you forgot to say please.”

They scoff, “please.” Emma says it first, then one by one, they say it with reluctance.

Miranda is the only one who hasn't said a word, but with a steely gaze from her boyfriend, she relents. “Please.” She says through gritted teeth.

You smile. “Mrs. Williams and the others aren't coming.”

“What?!” They shout.

“Yeah, I called the school but turns out they don't know where they are either. They're technically missing.” You pause, watching their expression sour further. “I told them where we are but since we're fairly alright they're focusing on trying to find them instead. So we're stuck here— wait, no, I'm stuck here with a bunch of murderers.” That seems to break the camel's back.

“You fucking freak!” Miranda jumps over the bonfire, lunging towards you with her fist connecting with your cheek. “Say that again!”

You laugh, spitting out blood as she wraps her hands around your throat. The others watch while Emma is the only one that's trying to stop her from choking you out with her hands, desperately failing to wrench her away from you.

“A–all this time,” you wheeze out, “you keep calling me the freakazoid, the fucking weirdo when you and your fucked up little friends are the ones who have actually kill—!” With a yell, she closes her fists around your throat, cutting off your air while you claw at her hands. “Fucking b–bitch!” You manage to let out.

“Miranda, no!” Emma tries to yank her away from you.

“That's enough!” Flash finally tries to do something but Miranda elbows his nose, blood quickly pouring out a second later. “Shit!”

Quinn and Andy slowly back away until they're well into the forest, nowhere to be seen.

“Fucking die!” Miranda squeezes harder as black spots filter your vision, she bangs your head harshly against the log behind you, warm crimson trickling out immediately after impact. “You've always been a thorn on my side! Always so fucking perfect, always the better one!”

You grin despite the blood coating your mouth. “I–I won't be surprised if it w–wasn't an accident. I get it, your mom and dad never loved you enough. Is that it, Miranda?” You choke, using your remaining energy to get the last word out, nails digging into her wrists.

Suddenly, piercing screams echo above your gasps. Flash manages to yank Miranda's grasp around your throat, leaving you breathless and gasping on the cold soil. The three of them look where the sound came from with trepidation rising in their veins.

Holding onto your neck, the skin tender and raw, head swirling, you watch on with wide eyes as Quinn comes out of the thicket covered in blood. Her former pristine white coat is drenched, face splashed with the same ruby hue, trainers leaving a trail of thickened crimson. She holds onto her bleeding arm, lips wobbling as tears leave a streak of clean skin amidst the spray of blood. Her head is oozing more of the ichor as she staggers her way out of the dark.

“H–help.”

“Fucking hell.” Emma holds out her arms for her, face contorted into deep fear. “W–what happened? Where's Andy?”

“He's dead!” Quinn cries, feet shuffling slowly towards Emma. Meanwhile, Flash and Miranda watch on with horror, clutching onto one another. “He doesn't have a head anymore. How will he play rugby now?” Just as when Quinn lets out the last word, the arm she has been holding up falls on the ground, making a squelching sound as it meets the grass below. Emma backs away, hands upon her mouth, shocked and terrified. “Oh, my arm fell.” Quinn chuckles through tears only to then tumble down on the gore filled soil right next to her arm.

“What the fuck?!” Emma shrieks.

“No!” Miranda hides behind Flash, who is also trying to hide behind his girlfriend, they struggle to hide behind one another.

You stare at the tainted dirt where Quinn lays face first. She still gurgles in place, body twitching all the while her arm sits a few ways from her. Your blood rushes in your ears, mouth turning dry, chest heaving to let air in. You have no idea what's happening, but there's one thing on your mind.

Run.

With leaves crunching underfoot, out comes a tall figure dressed in black mechanic overalls. His face is obscured by a macabre theater mask that depicts sadness. In his hand is a bloodied machete, and in the other is Andy's head swinging as he moves. He flicks the weapon free of blood, spraying the tall grass below with oozing iron.

You don't wait for the screams to run ahead. With your neck still aching, head pounding, you run for your life.

The hunting begins.

—

You run into the dark nowhere, panting, vision dancing as you push yourself to your limit. If not for your injuries, you'd have a better time navigating the forest from your acquired skills. You've gained some distance between you and the others, so with an apprehensive peek behind a tree, you sit down on the cold soil, back sliding on the trunk, windbreaker scraping against its rough surface.

With a hand on your chest, you try to even out your shallow breathing. “Fuck.” You mutter, tongue brushing along your dry lips.

Reaching behind you, you feel for your wound. Wincing, you bring your hand back towards you, finding blood coating your fingers. Your survival instincts kicks in, perhaps your years as a volunteer summer camp counselor has its perks. An incident with a bear trap involving a fellow counselor was an accident, it wasn't your fault that they blindly stepped into it. Too bad it forced your camp to close permanently.

Zipping your windbreaker slowly so as to not make any noise, you slowly rip the bottom half of your shirt. Once off, you tie it around your head while biting down on the inside of your cheek to tamp down your pained groans. With a tug, you tighten it fully to help stop the blood flow.

You take a breather, that motorcycle ride with Hobie sounds great right about now— Hobie! Your eyes fly open to the thought of him, he can get you out of here on his bike. If not then you can call for help on the payphone. So you find courage deep in you, with a shaky exhale, you stand up, walking back to the same direction where you ran from. You could only hope that he's alright.

Armed with your butterfly knife, you're careful of where you step on. You avoid dry leaves and sticks, opting to walk on the softer soil instead to lessen the sound you make lest you draw a target right on your back.

After a few minutes of trudging along the dark, you make it back to the campsite. The smell of corpses filters through your nose, its smell is just beginning to rot in the moist air as maggots and crows have managed to find their meal.

“Damn it.” You cover your nose with your sleeve, creeping your way towards your pack. You pass by a very much dead Andy, whose head is left out for the worms to get into. His expression is frozen in fear, mouth agape, and eyes wide in surprise. “That colour suits you, Andy.” You scoff, remembering how he tormented you during class by almost burning your hair with his lighter. You watch as maggots eat their way into his eyeball, eyes unable to look away for a moment.

Getting inside your tent, you give one last look at Quinn laying on the ground, unmoving now and skin turning into chalk white. Red still pools around her while the quiet of the night permeates through the chill autumn air.

Pushing the tent open, you enter to grab your backpack on the ground. Finally, hope blossoms in your chest, but the sound of a twig snapping near you freezes you on the spot. You slowly grab your knife next to your leg, all the while barely making any sudden movements. Your eyes flicker on your left, a shadow forms behind the yellow tent, slowly making its way towards you.

You follow its movements, hand gripping the knife until it leaves indents on your skin.

A bead of sweat slides down your temple as the shadow makes its way to the front of your tent.

Breath stuck in your throat, you raise the knife above your head, ready to strike.

A shadow of a hand reaches towards the tent entrance, and you ready yourself.

The tent opens and already you're lunging at them with your knife raised and hand clutching at their front.

“Jesus, it's me!” Flash yells from under you, hands gripping at your windbreaker, eyes wide and blown out as blood flows from a cut on his cheek. “Lower your damn knife, paste.”

“Your girlfriend tried to kill me, why should I?”

“Because I'm not her, duh?!” He shakes his head, hands raised next to him in surrender. “Listen, let's set our differences aside for a second, okay? I don't know a damn thing about surviving out here but I do know that we've got a bigger chance of staying alive if we stay together.”

You clench your jaw, weighing your options. If push comes to shove, you can use him as your shield since he's bigger built than you.

“...fine. But you listen to me, and do what you're told or I'll leave you here.” You push yourself off him, the knife never leaving your grasp.

Flash nods, standing up and brushing himself off. “Do you have a plan? Because you sound like you have a plan.”

“I do.” You say whilst going back inside the tent to grab your backpack. Once you emerge, you find Flash standing above Andy's decapitated head. “C’mon.” Beckoning him, you open your flashlight. He still stands there, staring at his friend's head. “Flash, do you want me to leave you here?”

He sighs, eyes trained on the rotting head. “He was my best friend. I should've told him that I slept with Quinn.”

You snort, “trust me, buddy, he knows.”

“What?” He turns to you.

“Come on before he gets back.”

Flash takes one last look at Quinn's body and Andy's head before jogging to catch up to you. “So how did you know?”

“Shut up, I don't want to talk to you.” You ignore him while walking the same path you and Hobie took.

“Jeez, you're no fun.” He says while making a disgusted face at Andy's dead body that you stepped over nonchalantly.

You whirl around, flashlight aimed at his face as he scrunches up his nose. “This isn't supposed to be fun, Flash. Say one more word and I'll leave you out here, because if he hasn't gotten to Miranda and Emma yet, you'll be the next one he targets.” He nods furiously, frown evident on his face. “Good.”

After a few good minutes, you find the same purple flower you saw while walking with Hobie. “So how do you know that I'm next—?”

“Because if it was me, I'll kill the ones who can fight me off first.”

“And you know this because?” He asks you suspiciously, eyes narrowed at you.

“Just nature. And lots of horror movies.” He continues to stare at you with the same face. “I'm not the killer, you moron. I was with you when he attacked, remember?”

“Yeah, but in those killer movies there's always more than one killer.” He leans closer to you, eyes staring daggers. “You one of them, paste?”

You pause, craning your neck to stare at him back with venomous eyes. “You imbecile.” You mock before walking again. He stands there for a moment, unblinking at where you stood. He follows after your light is starting to fade from his line of sight.

“So…you're not one of them?”

“There's the phone.” You roam your eyes around the clearing all the while ignoring the man next to you. The pay phone still stands completely unharmed, and the lamp post flickers in the night, bulb whirring above the sound of owls. Your heart aches when you don't find a sign of Hobie being there or his bike. You like to imagine that he's far away from the chaos right about now, at least he'd be safe.

Crossing the distance, you pick up the phone, finding it still in good condition as you hear the dial tone. You rummage through your pockets for a quarter, but to no avail. And then you check around the payphone and the coin flap to check for any forgotten coins. You don't find a single one. “Fuck, do you have a quarter?”

“Shit.” Flash pats his jean pockets and varsity jacket pockets. Again, finding empty handed. “Wait—” he takes off his baseball hat to take out a crisp bill. “Here, it's my emergency money.”

You stare at the bill wordlessly while pointing at the coin slot. He shakes his head, gawping at you. You gesture at the slot then at his bill in hand until he gets it.

Realization flickers in his dim witted eyes. “Oh.”

“Oh.” You mock his tone. “We can't make a call without one.”

“What now?”

“I say we just follow the road and hope that a car comes by.” You point at the dark dirt road ahead of you. “Better get walking—”

An ear piercing scream startles Flash, while your head swivels down at the direction of the sound.

“Shit, that's Miranda!” Flash yells, grabbing your hand in his iron grip, and gunning down the slope to get to the source. “I'm coming, baby! I'm so sorry I slept with Quinn, Darlene, and the rest of your cheer team!” His voice rings in your ears while you're trapped in his hold, you try to pull away and get back to solid ground as he continues to drag you away to the dark abyss but he's too strong for you.

“Flash! Let me go!” You pull and tug with all your might but you're left trying to catch up with his speed while your feet drag behind. “Fuck!” A branch hits you right on your face, getting a mouthful of leaves while you almost lose your balance as you skid down the slope.

“Baby—! Oh mother of fuck!” He freezes, hand falling from your wrist, staring at the unfinished building looming overhead amidst the tall trees and overgrown grass. “Shit, it's this place.”

You glance around the space, finding abandoned heavy machinery, concrete, and trailers littered around the skeleton of a would be condo.

“Flash!” Miranda appears from behind a pillar, limping her way towards you and Flash. “He got Emma!” She embraces him while Flash's attention is glued on the grey building with its protruding metal that creaks in the wind and moss covered concrete. “I definitely tried to save her but she tripped and now she's dead with her body chopped in half!”

You glance at her, finding her tears utterly fake. “Or you tripped her.”

She leans away from flash's chest, eyes narrowed to slits and lips frowning. “You're still alive?”

“No thanks to you.” You smile bitterly at her. Before she gets a word in, you're already walking away towards the tall building, eyes scanning its skeletal structure. You notice the ground is darker from where you stand. “This is where it happened.” You turn towards the couple, “this is where they died.”

“Listen, it wasn't completely our fault.” Miranda stalks closer towards you and you quickly ready your knife in your hand. “We were just playing around, we didn't mean to.”

“You're grown ass adults, Miranda. Did none of you listen to Smokey?”

“No, we were too busy having friends, paste.” She mocks, even in danger she finds it in herself to torment you. “That is not our problem right now, we need to go—!”

A sudden bright spotlight appears in front, you squint your eyes, managing to see the masked figure behind the wheel of a motorbike. Oh. He revs his engine, taunting Flash and Miranda.

“Oh fuck, he's back!” Flash yelps, surprisingly enough, he shields Miranda behind him, arms raised to his sides. “Touch my girlfriend and you die!” You raise a brow at his sudden heroic action.

“Yeah, you tell him, baby!” Miranda coaxes him while you step away and watch the scene unfold.

The masked killer revs his engine again, this time, he rides towards you at lightning speed. Smoke billows out from behind him, blanketing the whole area with fog.

The couple screams, bracing for impact while you step back with your eyes only looking at the killer.

Instead of plowing them down with his bike, he skids on the ground sideways, stopping a few ways ahead of the three of you. Once the sound dies down to a murmur of the engine, Flash and Miranda open their eyes to find the killer tossing his machete at their feet.

“Are you surrendering?” Flash turns to you. “Is he surrendering?” You could only shrug.

The figure points at the blade, and then gets off his bike, letting it run in the background and using its light to illuminate the place. Wordlessly, he stomps over to the front of the bike, his figure obscuring the light a bit.

You can't see his eyes from behind the mask as he gestures towards the glade once again. “I think he's trying to tell you to pick it up and fight him.”

“What?” They both look at you with surprise, they simultaneously turn towards the figure, only to find him eerily nodding in approval.

Flash points at himself, and the man nods slowly. “Fuck.”

“Pick it up, babe, show him how it's done!” Miranda cheers him on, pushing him towards the machete. “End his miserable life so we can get back to our lives.” She spits out.

With a gulp, Flash bends down to grab the blade with reluctance. Miranda moves closer to your side, hand grasping your arm. You let her while Flash assumes the position in front of the figure.

“Come at me!” Flash yells, lunging for him.

With a quick side step, the figure dodges with barely any movement. Flash follows ahead with his attack, raising the weapon over his head to slice but his miserable attack is only met with air. All the while, the stranger has his hands hidden in his pockets, upper half barely making a move as he keeps dodging Flash's desperate slashes.

“Stop moving!” Flash frustratingly yells while sweat flows from his forehead.

“You're not fair!” Miranda adds, yelping when Flash gets close to cutting the figure's hand off, but of course he dodges at the last minute. “Fuck! Come on, baby!”

Flash moves to stab instead, “you fucker—!”

With quick movement that you could barely decipher, Flash suddenly has a knife in his nape. Blood ebbs from his neck as he stands in place, gurgling and choking on his own blood.

Miranda's piercing scream echoes around the clearing as birds caw in the distance. “Oh god!”

The figure takes his knife back with an ugly squelch of muscle and blood. Crimson spraying all over his mask as he holds the knife in his gloved hand. He tilts his head, the sharp end of the knife pointed directly at you, to then slowly go down from your neck to your hand that's gripping your own knife.

Miranda shakes you, “he wants to fight you, Y/N!”

“Hm, I don't think so.” You mutter under your breath while gazing at him. “Why should I?” You glance at her horrified face. “You saw what happened to Flash, I can't fight him.”

“P–please.” She says in between sobs, “do this for us.” You roll your eyes and she shakes your arm. “I never wanted to hurt you, paste.” She pleads, the nickname earning a scoff from you.

“You once slashed my tires just because I was paired with your ex for a project.” You say calmly, façade now fully broken, moth freely flying over you. “I almost crashed into a tree, Miranda.”

The figure steps closer, knife now at his side, waiting for your next move.

“T–that was just a joke! We were just—!” Her words are suddenly cut off by your knife stabbing at her jugular. She gasps as blood sprays at your smiling face, her body falling, hand stuck around your knife, you finally turn towards the masked man.

“And here I thought you'd leave me alone with them.”

He peels off his mask, revealing Hobie's awestruck expression. Blinking, chuckles slowly escape his pierced lips. “Holy shit, love. You're brilliant.”

You shrug, smile never leaving your lips. “You should've said something, I would've helped.” You say, reaching for your knife back, flicking all the blood away before tucking it inside your boot. “

“I thought…” he crosses the distance, hand reaching for your own, he loops his pinky around your own, gently tugging you into his bloodied form. “... never mind that now.” you can hear sirens echo from somewhere. “You still up for that ride?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @the-shroom-garden

[k9effect]

I thought about Mav passed out at his work desk with headphones on and it spiralled into this whole thing

Mav always felt a little lonely.

Even when he had people around him who loved him, he always ended up on his own one way or another and felt that loneliness seeping in. Goose was the first to notice. Before Goose's trips back to Tennessee to see Carole included Mav, he would come back to base to hear about how his pilot had lost a bit of his shine while he was away.

That's when Goose started making the recordings.

It was a small gift, but it meant the world to Mav. A brand new walkman, headphones and all, and a single cassette tape. This tape didn't have music on it, no, it contained a three hour recording of Goose reading though the F-14 Tomcat Flight Manual and adding in his own comedic commentary.

He wasn't sure what Mav would think of it, but when he returned home from another trip and found his pilot curled up asleep on the lounge, headphones on, walkman clutched in his hands, the tape run through, he realised he had made the right decision. Once Mav stirred, realising Goose had returned, he pulled the RIO onto the couch and thanked him for how thoughtful and considerate of a gift it was. That it made him feel less alone.

Goose continued the recordings. They were simple things he could make while completing other work. An hour recording here of Goose rambling while he completed chores, half an hour recording there of Goose muttering while he completes some paperwork. Even after Mav started joining him on his trips to Carole and they inevitably became attached at the hip, Goose continued making recordings. They grew more sincere over time, telling Mav that he was loved and he was strong and could get through anything.

Maverick was very glad he continued making them. It was a piece of Goose he could always carry with him.

Because one day, Goose wasn't there anymore.

Ice was never quite certain why his wingman was always listening to music on a busted walkman, but he never questioned it.

That was until he was packing Mav an overnight bag after an accident and Mav had specifically requested the walkman. Ice had taken a closer look at it and seen the writing on the cassette.

‘GOOSE - 12’

Curiosity got the better of him and he pulled on the headphones and pressed play.

“Y'know, Mav-” It was Goose's voice, Ice realised with a pang deep in his chest, “- I'm pretty sure, by like, most, if not all, the laws of aviation, you should have broken our Tomcat's airframe several times over. I honestly don't know how she's still together-” There was the clinking of dishes and sloshing of water along with the distinct sound of a bristly, sudsy brush scrubbing metal. “- What sort of demon did you make a deal with to manage this? I'm not arguing, I'd rather not face a board of inquiry again, but I'm curious.”

Ice paused it.

He realised very quickly what the cassette was and that, judging on the number, there were more of these.

Mav was always listening to Goose talk.

He packed the walkman into the overnight bag with much more care than he offered possibly anything.

Mav stared.

He blinked once, then twice. But it changed nothing.

There was a cassette sitting on his bed. On it, was scribbled a name and a number.

‘ICE - 1’

Beneath it was a small, simple note.

‘Listen to me.’

Mav pushed the cassette into his walkman and, sitting down, let it play.

“Hey, Mav. Sorry if this is weird for you, it sure feels weird for me. I- uh- I realised what the walkman is for. I'm sorry I teased you for it, it's not dumb and old. I know Slider thought you were pretty cool for having one. He's got one too. But anyways, I found a recording of Goose and I realised why you have this so I thought, y'know, maybe I could make you some new ones? To make up for the teasing at least. I mightn't be as good as Goose but I'll give it my best shot. I've got a book here, I'm just gonna read it out loud for a while, okay? Okay. Here we go…”

Mav listened to the whole thing in one sitting. It was long and sweet and Mav felt something aching inside him, something that hadn't ached in a long time.

Every week or so, Mav would find another cassette in his room with an increased number on it. It was just Ice for a while, but then he found one labelled ‘SLIDER - 1’. Then another a few months later labelled ‘HOLLYWOOD - 1’, then ‘WOLFMAN - 1’. His collection grew as more people helped continue Goose's legacy.

The day he found ‘VIPER - 1’ he felt like he was five again. Viper's recording was two hours worth of him recounting childhood stories of Mav, stories of him with his parents, of just his parents, and deployment tales of his dad.

Once Mav buys his first proper home, an old hangar out in the Mojave Desert, he builds a small shelf to hold all of his cassettes instead of keeping them in a bag or a box. It's then, when they're all neatly organised together, that he realises just how many he has.

The original thirty-one from Goose.

Three from Carole.

One short one from Bradley.

Seventeen from Iceman.

Ten from Slider.

Seven each from Hollywood and Wolfman.

Four from Chipper.

Three from Sunny.

And, so far, Two from Viper.

He doesn't feel so lonely anymore. Everyone he loves has put time and effort into making sure he doesn't feel alone. That instead, he feel loved.

And he sure does.

Even now, years down the track, Ice will stumble upon Maverick passed out at his work desk late at night ontop of a half finished project, with his old walkman next to him, headphones on, listening to Goose laugh his way through the Tomcat manual.

[partycatty]

you write for mk11 gramps johnny? have serious brain rot for him

if so could you write a fic of him dicking us down for being a brat? u can make up a plot or not i just need it and need him. love ur writing either way!!

- 💙

alright, im using this ask but i have a very specific image for this rn. this is gonna be a meaty post so hear me out

older!johnny cage > waste ur time

this is based off of the song WasteUrTime by Kevin Walkman with some lyrics (in pink) sprinkled in. you and johnny have a clear age gap, trying to avoid giving into desires, but 3am rolls around and you consider the idea of having a late night visitor.

warnings: smutty, age gap, ur both horny demons, virgin reader, i dont know how military ranks work, affair, sonya never gets Rocked

notes: this is going to be a little more artsy that what i usually do, so apologies if the format change is not ideal. this is more of an actual fic than bullet points. also the lyrics are out of order and not all included, so you don't need the song to enjoy this!

word count: 2.6k

[ masterlist ]

give me a glass of your innocence.

training was hard, your skin glistening with sweat and your face flushed from overexertion. the task was relatively simple; to climb up a deeply sloped wooden platform using nothing but your grip and momentum. your comrades were cheering you on, including briggs, commander cage, her mother, and her father. straining yourself to grip the ledge of the platform, you finally hoist yourself up and stand upright, not before doubling over to pant.

the others applaud and surround you with cheers. a firm hand finds its place square on your back, rubbing in circles.

"atta girl," the voice leans into your ear with an audible grin. "knew you had it in you."

your head turns to thank the disconnected voice, but out of your fuzzy mind, the realization pulls through that none other than your superior, johnny cage was the one congratulating you so intimately. his praise makes your cheeks flush even darker and your gaze averts, too afraid of such direct appreciation which johnny notes. you weren't used to compliments.

this is my creation, here's your invitation.

you knew something intense was brewing with each lingering stare or gentle squeeze to your shoulder. how intense exactly, you couldn't pick out. with minimal experience with others lusting for you, it didn't register in your head at first just how hungrily he gazed at you. not that you were complaining necessarily, he was part-time action star, part-time military leader. he was built, charismatic, and a family man. it felt impossible to not feel weak in the knees around him.

johnny knew he had an effect on you, as he did most others. despite watering down his hollywood charisma, he couldn't bring himself to deny how sexy he was at his older age. something about a buff salt and pepper man telling you what to do had you following commands like a dog, doing anything it takes to have him praise you more.

even still, you couldn't do anything about it. johnny was a married man. his family was your coworkers, hell, it was their job to command you! the guilty thoughts would creep up on you no matter how badly you wanted to avoid them. couldn't you have chosen a more... single man?

you seem so damn nervous.

"how can i be of service?" johnny asks, leaning his front half forward ever so slightly to show you he was interested in every word that dripped from your lips. your vision was too blurred from anxiety to properly articulate what you needed from him, so you nervously swirled your drink. damn the special forces and their free alcohol parties.

"how do you do it?" you ask with a stammer. "earthrealm, netherrealm, tarkatans, ninjas, thunder gods. it all feels so unreal. how do you stay so calm?"

"mm," he hums, lowering his own glass after a brief sip. "well, you get used to it. turns out i was born to a mediterranean war cult's gene pool. watched my daughter kick an elder god's ass while i got maggots down my throat. went face-to-face with younger me. there are just some things that are too damn ridiculous to ever fully understand, so i accept it for what it is. when you're my age, fighting for all of these otherworldly things, most of the little things feel like a walk in the park."

"don't get me wrong, sir, i'll fight for earthrealm, but this is all so... dizzying."

johnny visibly tenses up at 'sir.' "tell you what," he grabs his drink napkin and opens a sharpie with his teeth. "you ever wanna talk about it with someone that's seen everything, you come to me." he writes his personal phone number on the napkin and places it in your palm with a smile.

you fidget with the paper before pocketing it, worried you'd pick at it too much and rip it to shreds before you could save the digits. the most you could bring yourself to do was half-bow, half-nod before scurrying away to the bathroom to cool your hot face. johnny could only chuckle to himself with a shake of his head.

long walks of shame look so good on you.

a long time was spent staring at the new conversation on your phone. despite your inexperience, there was a simmering feeling that johnny didn't just give you his number to let you vent. he wanted to talk to you outside of work. the thought makes you sweat.

why would he want to talk to you? if he wanted conversation, he would reach out to his wife and kid. he had it all, and yet he still wanted to put everything on the line for you.

you're moving fast, and i'm into it.

"lieutenant. it's reader," you shoot a simple text out, lying to yourself when you justify texting him for the sake of him saving your number. it was late, too late to be texting your superior. another lie you told yourself: i'll just send the message now so he sees it in the morning! your shameful justifications are ripped from you when you receive a reply, almost immediately.

"couldn't it have waited until the morning?" he replies bluntly, and you're ready to type out a spew of apologies before a second text comes through. "i'm teasing. johnny, by the way. no need for titles."

"sorry." you try to remain professional with your response, fingers dancing wildly across your keyboard. your eyes flicker up to the clock in the top corner, realizing it's well into the night. "didn't expect a response so late. have a good night, lieutenant."

you're ready to throw your phone out of the nearest window out of sheer embarrassment, but you stop when you feel another buzz come through. your stomach flips.

"johnny. you usually stay up late?" he texts, drawing the conversation out much to your surprise. "it's 3:30 in the morning."

"my day's been so boring," you decide to lean into the more casual chat, hoping to find a softer side to your boss. you should feel disgusted, repulsed, put off. he was double your age and then some. but dear god, his attention on you was hypnotizing even if it was just words on a screen. "hoping to waste some time before tomorrow comes. lots of training."

johnny's reply takes a suspiciously long time to come through, his bubble appearing and disappearing. just before you thought you lost the conversation, a photo comes through. johnny's laying in bed, hair ruffled and shirtless. his eyes have a soft, pleading look to them and his lips are curled into a pretty smile. the tiniest glimpse of his chest tattoo pokes through the bottom of the image, and you had to make a conscious effort to swallow your drool and close your jaw. you almost don't notice the text attached.

"maybe i could waste your time?"

you choke on your saliva, glancing off to the corner of your room as if an invisible camera was perched there. this man held zero shame, that much was true. you suppose it's from his age. there's only so much time in one life, so he's seizing every moment. it terrified you, to the depths of your core.

"i don't follow," you text back, playing dumb. this was genuinely unbelievable to you, you needed to hear more from his perspective to make sure you weren't actually dreaming or reading too far into his offer.

"come on, girl," he teasingly responds. "don't play dumb. i may be old, but i'm still sharp." another photo slides into the chat, the same idea s his previous one but now fully displaying his torso. his broad chest with his name painted on it was now boldly on display. his hand laid flirtatiously on his abs, fingers spread out. at the very bottom, you could make out the beginning of a thick tent in his pajama pants. it was like every inch of this man was maximized. you'd seen his shirtless form in his old movies, but seeing it now... it was personal. that photo was for you. "i know you're still fucking with me. i see how you look at me." you bite your lip, wondering if maybe sonya was sharing the other side of the bed. your stomach churns.

"i mean..." you leave the text at that, rapidly typing and deleting. you're not quite sure what to say, how to carry this now heated conversation. you'd never... had to before. "if i may state the obvious, you're... older. and my boss. and married."

his replies stop for a good couple minutes. you wonder if maybe he was regretting his advance. you hoped not.

"is it something that you'd mind?" johnny asks, hesitation in his words as he breaks away from his flirty comments. his question makes you ponder. you were a virgin at your age, holding onto this trait longer than almost everyone at a similar age to you. work was your priority, never giving yourself enough time for a serious commitment. but here you were. johnny was throwing something onto the table that you never expected to happen. were you going to pass this up and stay a virgin forever? hell, no!

"sent you my location. let's try something new, lieutenant."

"johnny." he corrects you one final time before falling completely silent on his end. your stomach twists and churns wildly, realizing you have opened the flood gates to a hookup with your boss. you throw your pajamas off and replace them with a cuter, coordinating pair. you brush your teeth again and try to fix your hair into a neater updo, not impacted by the friction of your pillowcase. shoes and various discarded belongings are shoved under the bed and into the closet. you hadn't had male company, well, ever. you had to come off as somewhat decent for him.

jesus christ, your mind grows dizzy. you were going to lose your virginity, now, or in however long it takes for him to arrive at you apartment. you're not far from work, and even still the time it took for you to hear footsteps in the hallway must have been a century at the minimum. you were seriously going through with this because it was about damn time you enjoyed yourself and spiced shit up.

the heavy footsteps come to a halt, the shadow overtaking the faint hallway light glowing. a part of you wants to hide, maybe jump out of your fire exit. your nerves were blinding, and taking the steps to the entrance felt like an olympic sport. that is, until a new text appears.

"let me inside."

do you open the door? leaning against it, you can smell his musk just through the crack alone. damn his hypnotic... everything. if you open the door, his entire career, marriage, and life could be over. that is, if you spill. you wouldn't.

keeping shit a secret fits you like a glove.

you slowly open the door, hand frozen on the doorknob as you're met with your boss towering over you with a heavy look in his eyes. it's hard to avoid his own hesitation too, but his hard breathing betrays his morals. he looks ready to pounce at any given moment. johnny's mouth opens first, but you beat him to it.

"i'm a virgin," you blurt, mind too empty to feel embarrassed at the fact. you felt the need to tell him now, before he was on top of you and you laid there like a fool.

johnny's brows raise up ever so slightly. "what?"

the heat of the admittance catches up to you, and you twiddle with the hem of your shorts. you repeat yourself meekly, letting the predicament set in between the two of you.

"that's..." he trails off, glancing into your room. "um."

"i'm sorry-" your face heats up, your eyes pricking with tears at the awkward air. "i just... i didn't want you to be surprised, because i don't know what i'm doing."

something new stirs in johnny's core as he understands the weight of the situation. his fists clench and he takes a lumbering step toward you. you back up on instinct.

"that's alright," he purrs, voice hitting a new low, one that's far away from his professional volume. "'cause i'll take care of you. i've got you."

he stands up straight, scratching the back of his neck.

"if you'll have me... i guess that speaks for itself. i'm here, aren't i?"

you nod with a nervous chuckle. your bodies move in sync as you figure out where to put your hands. they settle on his neck, wrapping your arms around him to pull him in. his hands hold your waist. jesus, his hands are big. you'd kissed before, so this is familiar territory.

"i'll take that as a yes," his eyes flick to your lips, visibly restraining himself from fully taking advantage of you. he leans in for a tender kiss, your lips and his moving together. it turns heated quick, with his tongue darting out to get a taste of your mouth which you accept gratefully.

johnny's hands trail down to your ass, cupping the underside as if his hands were destined to fit there. he tugs upward, and you understand what he's trying to do. you jump up and break the kiss momentarily so your legs trap his waist. in between make out sessions, you guide him through your apartment to the bedroom. his lips taste bitter like alcohol but cleanly sweet. exactly how you imagined.

your mind is hazy with lust, your pussy clenching around nothing as you envision taking a monster like him for the first time. a part of you wonders if it's even possible. instead of throwing you onto the mattress, he lowers you like a princess, supporting your head and back with each hand which does nothing to help your aching wetness pooling between your legs.

johnny's lips dive to your jaw, sucking and biting tenderly. you wince, but replace the noise with a lustful gasp as he soothes the pain with his hot tongue. you want to clench your thighs together to relieve the throbbing pressure, but johnny's hands pry your legs open as his hips fit perfectly between them. like a forbidden puzzle piece. you feel his cock rub through your pajamas, and your mouth gathers drool.

johnny finds any possible plush flesh of your neck to take in, kissing wetly as he gently ruts into you, not even realizing he's doing it. he needed to explore every inch of this new body, this new lover... his mistress.

if you were to start praying for forgiveness, it'd be now. you internally cursed sonya for getting her hands on him before you could. your chest burned with jealousy and desire. he was so evilly delicious, and every inch of him needed to be inside before you'd start sobbing. your hands fly forward and tug him forward by his waistband.

"need you," is the most you can coherently ask for, blinded by your horniness. johnny pulls away from your collar, panting in your face. he can't bring himself to look directly in your eyes, your wet, pleading eyes.

"you..." he swallows thickly, brows knitting together. he frowns. "you can't tell anyone. you know that, right?''

you nod with a small whine. you wanted him to just shut up and fuck you.

"hhh - won't say anything," you huff back, gliding your dampened bottoms across his dick with need. he groans, and buries his head in your neck, a deep sigh sending goosebumps across you skin.

"atta girl..."

so hit me up when you feel down i'll make your ass stay 'til sundown i understand what you've been through 'cause I'm a sorry sucker too i know you're scared and that's alright just let me love you for the night

[unamused-boss]

California Dreaming pt2

disclaimer! Yo, so I moved recently. That is why I have been slow with somethings. So part 2 to California Dreaming. Hope you enjoy!

Billy Hargrove x reader

Summary: Max and Billy could only agree on one thing in common…. and that was you. You were their neighbor when the lived in California and Billy had the biggest crush on you. Plus it helped that you babysat, more like hangout with, Max. You were his California dream. Now all he can do I reminisce about you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy was spending his day ay 3:50 like he always has ever since coming to Indiana. Driving 70 on a 45, with Max in shot-gun waiting to get home. It has been over a month an Billy still can't stand being here. He hasn't even changed his license plate yet cause he can't swallow the idea of having an Indiana plate instead of California.

He misses it all. He already knows he can't get you off his mind. He still remembers every detail of the hand full of dates you guys went on. Billy had a code, a never the same girl twice code unless he's just looking for some fun. You were more than fun, you were everything to him. He can't just let you go so easily. He gave you the address of his new house in hopes of writing to you, but he's been to chicken shit to write anything. Not only is his hand writing not the best, he wouldn't know what to say to you. Max had written to you for a bit, but he doesn't keep up with what she does.

"Do you think about Y/N at all?" Max suddenly quipped. Breaking Billy from his thoughts, he glanced to Max for a minute.

"Why are you asking." He sighed. Trying to focus on the road instead of the conversation.

"I just think you're missing them a lot, I am." Max said, looking down to her lap. She's trying not to upset Billy but she just misses you to much not to. She told the party about you but that conversation didn't last long.

"Yeah." It was now Billy's turn to break Max from her thoughts. "I miss Y/N more than anything." Billy didn't look to Max when he said it. Continuing look forward toward the road in hopes of something new.

"What do you miss?" Max asked.

"What?" Billy is now confused.

"What do you miss about them?!" Max said a bit louder. "You and I both know we'd go back to see Y/N if we could." Max had a point. She knows Billy has been to the travel agency to get flights to California but he doesn't have enough money yet. The only reason she knows is because that's were Dustin's mom works. He told her he saw Billy come in asking about flights to California. Specifically Santa Monica, were your house is and where their old house is. Billy was stunned, actually he did not know what to say.

"I miss when Y/N and I would go to the mall together..." Max remembers the days you would take her to the mall. Billy would usually be busy with something. While Neil would drag her mom off somewhere. Max's mom never really kept her promises to Max. So you stepped in for her. Max remembers when you took her to buy her walkman and first cassette tape.

You and Max walked out of the store giggling. You had just bought Max her first cassette. Kate Bush. Max was eleven and you were sixteen. Having been babysitting Max since she moved next door and taking her to skate parks, you thought it was time to take her to the mall. You used the money you had saved for this exact moment. With a bag in each hand you turn to Max.

"So MadMax, What do you think?" You ask her, grinning down to her.

"This is the coolest!" Max exclaimed looking at the cassette in her hands. She thought you were the coolest person ever.

"How about we get something from the food court? Billy said he would come to get us in half an hour." You said. That's when Max stopped in her tracks.

A with a disgusted look on her face she says, "What, really Billy?! I don't see what you see in him?"

"What?" You responded, with a light shade of blush on your cheeks and ears.

"You are Best Friends with Billy, I don't get it." Max said rather aggressively, "Why be friends with him, he's a buttface!"

"How about you get the table and I explain when I get us some food." You said, handing the bags over to Max to get a burger at the mall Burger King... Once you got your two burgers and fries you sat with Max.

"So what's got you so bent out of shape with me and Billy?"

"He's just so mean! Like all the time and you are his only friend." Max said taking a bite into her burger.

"I'm not his only friend, his got a lot of friends I've seen them at school."

"You're the only friend he likes." Max knew about Billy's crush on you. With the many downs of having connected air vents, the one plus was that she could hear Billy confess his feelings to imaginary you at least once a week.

"Listen Max, I know you don't care but Billy has been through some nasty stuff before you came into his life." You said.

"Then why does he have to be mean to me about it then."

"He's just... complicated.... feelings are complicated. And those feelings have nothing to do with you." You somewhat explained.

"Then what is it?"

"I really shouldn't open this can of worms with you, but what the hell.." You sighed. "Billy- Billy lost his mom when he was a little younger than you." You saying that got Max's attention, she didn't know anything about Billy's mom. Other than Nail yelling about her some nights. "Billy is the sweetest guy I know, when I was getting picked on in elementary school Billy scared off my bullies." Max was looking to you with such intent. Her and Billy have never really bonded, they had their moments but those moments are barley talked about.

"And Just to tell you, Billy was a small kid till middle school." You laughed, Max did too. "But ever since he did that we have been best friends since... and I know if he did that for me, I can do it for him." Hearing this Max understood the relationship a bit more now. It wasn't some weird convince for both of you. You both helped each other in many ways. "Plus don't tell Billy but his ears turn red when he gets embarrassed." Now Max shouted with laughter at that.

"Really!" Max exclaimed.

"For real." You said matter a factly. Flipping your wrist over to see the time, your watch read 1:30. You start gathering your stuff, "Come on kid, Billy will be here any minute to pick us up." An with that the moment was over. Max was now back in the blue Camaro in Hawkins, not the Santa Monica mall.

"I miss hearing Y/N laugh." Billy said, somewhat quietly. It was out of character for him. Max's head snaps to him.

"Really?" Max said.

"Yes shit-bird." Billy stated. "I miss everything about them. Y/N was the only thing I had... now they're across the country."

"So you're sad?" Max questioned.

"For fuck sake Max, YES!" Now Max see's it. The sensitive Billy you had talked about. The one that took you to the eight grade formal the middle school had, he even took you to freshmen homecoming. Only saying it was as friends though Billy was to scared to actually ask you. Billy remembers the last date you guys went on before he moved. He took you out to a remote field, one with an ocean view. Like in movies. Billy dressed in his best pants in his opinion, the ones that make his ass look good. You looked breath taking, dress how you wanted. Billy always looked to you with stars in his eyes, cause you were his universe. You guys were sitting on the head of his Camaro taking in the night sky.

"Billy." You breathed out, "Will you miss me?"

Billy's head snapped to you. "What makes you think I won't?" It seemed like at out of pocket question. He will miss you more than anything in California.

"I know, stupid question..." You said. "It's just- It hit me that I won't see you Monday at school. I won't see you at lunch. I won't see you till, I don't know when I'll see you again." Tears were starting to well up in your eyes. They started spilling out down your cheeks. You couldn't stop. Billy brought his hand up to the apple of your cheek an stroked your tears away.

"I will miss you." Billy said to you, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. "The feelings I have for you will not go away, even in Indiana."

"You know you can date other girls right?" You laughed. "I don't want to hold you back from having fun." Tears were still streaming down your face. Billy looked to you with sad eyes. He doesn't want another girl, especially some cow in Indiana.

"I don't want to." Billy said. "I want you."

"I know Billy, I want you to but... I'll try to come see you." You suggested. "Maybe for spring break or over the summer."

"I don't want to wait."

"Neither do I, but... us moving forward from this will help." You said.

"You shitting me!" Billy exclaimed. "I want no one but you, Y/N. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I will do whatever it is you want or what I have to do to be happy with you. I will do anything for you." You don't think you've ever seen Billy more serious in his life. And that's after thinking he could do a handstand on a tower of kegs. You want to be selfish, keep him and Max with you. But the universe has other ideas.

"Let's go home Billy." You said softly. With that Billy Hargrove drove the speed limit to your home not his. Billy's house wasn't a home your house was more of a home for him ever since his mom left. He parked his car in your driveway, knowing your parents park in the garage. You both go to your room upstairs, take your shoes off, and climb into your bed holding each other for the night. It was a way of comfort you guys had in private. No one knew that Billy was a cuddler. You both stayed like that till you fell asleep. An when you woke up the next morning Billy was already up an at his house moving boxes into a moving truck to go to Indiana. You saw all the commotion from your bedroom window. You go downstairs as fast as you can, grabbing a jacket to go over your date outfit from last night. You run out your front door, bare foot in your front lawn. You just stare at what was going on in front of you. It seemed that the last of the boxes were being moved into the truck to be taken away. Max was making her way out the front door for the last time to see you. She drops her skateboard on the ground and starts running to you.

"Maxine!" Niel yells. Billy is just staring from his car since he was driving separate from the rest.

Max tackled you into a hug. If she squeezed any tighter you would pop like a bubble. "I'm going to miss you Y/N." There were tears coming down from her eyes an staining your jacket.

"I'll miss you to Max." You kiss the top of her head. Giving her one quick squeeze till...

"Maxine, let go. We got to get to Indiana!" Neil shouted from his car. Honking the horn. Max left you, grabbed her board to get into the car. He turned to Billy and handed him an envelope.

"This is the address of the house when you get to Indiana, idiot." Neil stated, "Hopefully you'll get lost..." He whispered that last part but Billy still heard it. The wheels of Niels car screeched out of the driveway into the road driving away. With Max looking out at the back at you going further away. You turn back to Billy as he wakes up to you.

"This is our new address 4510, Cherry Lane SW, Hawkins Indiana." He seemed less that enthused to tell you the information. And in it appears Billy already had it written down for you to take.

"You should write Max, she'll miss you." Billy suggested. You look up to him. Having said nothing yet. "You're kinda creeping me out with the no talking thing babe?" Babe... something Billy started calling you when you guys went on your first date last week. No he won't call you babe ever again. You look up to Billy.

"I love you Billy Hargrove." With that all the weight Billy had felt leave his body as he leaned into kiss your lips. They were soft as expected. The kiss felt electric. Everything was there all at once. Every moment. Heartbreak. Laugh. Cry. All of it was there, you and billy were in the center of it all. In your pocket of dream.

"I love you too, Y/N." Billy says once the kiss breaks. No words were said after that. Billy held you close one more time then walked to his car. Getting in the front drivers seat. Starting the engine. Then Driving away, like Max, watching you through the revue mirror. As you slowly walk back up to your house. The car came to a complete stop on Hawkins, Cherry Lane. Billy is now back in Hawkins without you. Max got out of the car, slamming the door shut to make her way up to the house. Billy thought he should do the same then, hopefully not be bothered by anyone else in the house.

"Billy!" Neil shouted. Billy froze, he really didn't want another "talking to" from his dad this week. He slowly turns to Neil.

"Sir?" Billy said with caution. Neil came up to him slapping a envelope into his hand then walking away.

"You got mail." Billy sped to his room to open the letter as fast as he could: when Billy opened the letter he was met with your pretty and neat hand writing. He smiled bigger than ever in the past month in a half. His eyes fell onto the first sentence. It read.

Hello Billy I still love you...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@capitanostella

[alwaysurvalentine]

maybe - drabble

Written for Day 3 of @steddieangstyaugust - prompt: "The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?" - word count: 779

“The sunset looks lovely, don’t you think?” 

Steve’s voice breaks the quiet in the room, his only response being the beeping of the machines making sure Eddie stays alive. He’s been asleep for 12 days now. Wounds stitched up and patched as best as they could. His doctors say all they can do now is wait. 

It took 2 days for Dustin to even explain what happened fully. Not that Steve needed to know the specifics, knew as soon as he saw Dustin crouched next to a bloody Eddie what happened. What decision was made - knew he’d have done the same thing if it came down to it. Doesn’t mean Steve’s going to let this go so easily. 

Took a week before Mrs. Henderson decided to cut back the time he was spending at Eddie’s bedside. She packed up her car and took Dustin to go stay at her sister’s. Steve can’t blame her, their road got torn up during the “quakes” (the government had a cover up story faster than he’d liked) and it made going back and forth to the hospital nearly impossible. Hasn’t stopped Dustin from calling to check in as soon as he knows Steve’s home from visiting hours. 

Every day he has to tell the kid the same thing. 

“Hasn’t woken up yet, but,” and then some small thing that he’s clutching onto with all of the hope in his body. Steve knows Dustin needs something to focus on too, anything that shows Eddie is going to come back. 

Despite not being the smartest, Steve’s picked up a lot from sitting with Eddie. Knows what the machines are reading, and even if his eyes aren’t the best, he keeps them peeled to see if anything dares to change. 

When he isn’t staring at the machines like they owe him something (like the life of the boy, the hero in this bed), he finds himself looking out of Eddie’s window. It’s not much of a view if you look down, just cars upon cars in a parking lot, but if you look up, the sky looks like paint smeared on canvas. (Steve never could keep up with the different types of art through history.) He can’t look at Eddie.

Can’t see the bandages that crawl up his neck, knows they cover his torso too. Can’t see his hair spread across the pillows like some kind of halo of dark, loose curls. Can’t see how pale he is, almost matching the white sheets surrounding him. Can’t see how small he looks - like a doll left on someone’s bed. He saw him when he was first let into the room and that was enough, when he tried to look again all he can see is where the blood trailed out of Eddie’s mouth as he did chest compressions. 

“-ve? You good there, boy?”

Wayne’s beginning to sit in the chair next to Eddie’s bed as he speaks, the words directed at Steve even though his eyes are focused on Eddie. 

Steve swallows and nods, going over to his own chair, grabbing the walkman to put it in his bag. (It’s the same one from high school even if it’s torn up and half the zippers don’t work anymore.) 

“Yeah, sorry, I just got distracted. I’ll get out of here, uh, they said they’re gonna lessen up on the pain meds starting tomorrow and see if that helps him to wake up at all.” 

As he talks, he picks up the wrapper from his lunch earlier and carries it to the trash in the corner of the room.

“Hey now, you don’t have to rush out of here. I appreciate you keeping an eye on him while I’m figuring stuff out at the new place.” Wayne’s voice is kind, the gruff edge of it more endearing than intimidating now. Some time between acting guard outside of Eddie’s room and holding Dustin while he cried, Wayne decided he liked Steve just fine. 

“Thanks, Mr. Munson but I need to head home anyway. Dustin is going to be calling soon and you and I both know he might just lose it if I’m not there to answer.” 

Steve knows the joke doesn’t quite land, not enough energy put behind the words and his grimace doesn’t help either. 

Wayne goes along with it anyway, a quirk of a smile accompanying his words. 

“Yeah, Lord knows that boy would try and find some way to walk here. And I thought I told you it’s just Wayne.” A mocking stern look. “Get some rest Steve. Thanks for letting me know, if we’re lucky he’ll be complaining about the hospital food come tomorrow.”

“Maybe.” 

[buggitino]

some headcanons about sebastian solace from the hit game pressure roblox

to start - this may seem unimportant to you guys but its important to me: that ring on his finger is about as serious as the squirrel stapler room (that is, to say, the whole thing is a bit that the devs have included in their silly project and i will be treating it as such) (for selfish reasons, of course, but idc!! i'm having fun with this stupid game that i love and thats all that matters) (update on this: as i'm typing, i'm finding out that zerum is serious about her and sebastian being married which is honestly kinda...) (like sure fine that's cool and all if he were JUST your OC but sebastian has reached a point of publicity where he is more than that. obviously, i think it's rude and terrible and disrespectful to disregard a creators wishes as to how their character is used in fan-made content (this especially goes for NSFW art cause i think its fucked up if people make that sort of content of a character and POST IT after the creator explicitly said not to). at the same time, there are many people on the internet who do not care and will do what they want regardless. i think it'd be fair for her to ask not to have any of it sent to her specifically or posted in the Pressure server that she co-runs where she will obviously see it but she's saying she doesn't want anyone to make that sort of stuff period which is unreasonable and will only serve to hurt her in the long run. i don't know how old zerum is but this is reminiscent of my own (early) internet phases where i would become EXTREMELY attached to a character and refuse to acknowledge that that character existed differently (or at all) to someone else (i don't want to admit it was a sans AU but i really don't think i have a choice). i really hope she gets past this in a healthy way and comes to understand that a character who's been made public the way sebastian has been made public has a very different dynamic than an OC that you're sharing with your friends)

☆ pretty basic and angsty interpretation and im positive most people in the fandom agree with me on this - he doesn't like getting hit with the bright light not only because of the angler fish DNA making his eyes sensitive but also because it reminds him of surgical lights (which is why he has a Take No Shit policy (since the update) for expendables flashing him) (yeah, he has a pretty short fuse already, but he wouldn't deck an expendable for leaving and coming back in once nor would he shoot them for using the keycard on his wares) (so even though its because of the DNA mixing, i like headcanoning theres more to it for funsies)

☆ can and will let the expendables die in his shop because then he doesn't have to leave to collect all the shit they drop (on that note, wags his tail and chuckles when you buy stuff cause he knows it'll ultimately be useless and he'll just get it back)

☆ collects data so he has records of urbanshades bullshittery (so he can prosecute their asses the second he escapes) AND so he can re-discover his own identity (this plays into my headcanon that he's slowly forgetting what he used to look like as well as what his life used to be outside of urbanshades teensy weensy ginormous fuck up facility)

☆ i know this is (basically) canon but i'm solidifying it for myself by calling it here: he's chilean american (and speaks chilean spanish) and i know like i KNOW if his radio was working he'd be blasting Bio Bio or Futuro or Pudahuel 24/7

☆☆ bonus!! he 100% listens to mid 90s - early 2000s emo music now (have you even seen him) (that mf painted his nails pitch black in middle school) (walked out the door listening to Green Day and One Last Wish on his walkman while his mom kissed him goodbye telling him to have a good day at school TRUST) and his favorite chilean genres are nueva trova chilena, folklore, cueca, and punk melodico! (im not entirely familiar with chilean culture and music so if anyone here is chilean and likes Pressure PLEASE chime in i'd love to hear your thoughts)

☆ on the topic of family, he would help his mom cook and clean sometimes when his older sister was out (his dad helps too!!)

☆ twirls/plays with his hair (mostly because he doesn't have anything else to fidget with) (projecting he's self conscious about it cause thats why i play with my hair whoops)

☆ soft spot for teen/young adult expendables that he doesn't have for the older ones (every time he sees an expendable younger than 30, his disgust and rage towards urbanshade grows)

these are all for fun and just my personal opinions/headcanons!! i'll update these eventually (maybe) and i wanna hear what you guys have to say too :D

[krystalskeleton]

1992.11.11 – RAW Magazine Interview with Izzy

Music

"Yeah, music is partially my saving grace. It's been part of my life every day of the week since I was a kid. It doesn't have to be a specific type of music, it can be any type because the whole of it takes you away from the mundane, every day sort of thing.

"Being on tour, I find it like a luxury item because when I'm on tour I don't have a big stereo, I have a Sony player that cost 50 bucks, it's mono and it has this tiny speaker. For the first couple of days I only had my walkman which is fine for airplanes, but otherwise they're a drag. I found myself looking in the window of these shops at these stereos and there was this one in Chicago which was four and a half feet long and three feet tall. It was this boom box with neon lights inside it. It was really freaky looking, but I ended up getting this small Sony because it would fit in my bag, it plays cassettes and it records so I can write songs on it too. I find that if I hear a stereo now, even if it's a PA at gigs and they're playing a tape, it's a luxury and I really enjoy it."

Food

"Indian food and pizza are my favourites. I stopped eating meat a few years ago. I don't eat red meat or chicken, but I eat fish. I stopped eating meat shortly after I stopped drinking and using drugs. I think it was a case of wanting to heal myself a little quicker rather than objecting to meat, plus there were some cases on the West Coast where people were dying after they'd eaten bad meat. I'm big on salads. Salads in America are just a couple of bits of dead lettuce, but over here people are a bit more conscientious.

But Indian food and pizza are my favourites and that's why Chicago is like heaven to me because you can get a pizza delivered at 5am and it's damn good pizza. There's a place there called Mama Mia and they deliver all night long. They've got pizzas that are two inches thick with like a cracker crust with fresh tomatoes on top. "

Drink

"I like mango lassi and sweet lassi from Indian restaurants. My second would be fresh squeezed orange juice. Those are the only things I drink. I gave up drinking because I just had enough of waking up in my own vomit and not remembering who I was hanging out with the night before, getting arrested and all that stuff. Waking up in jail, and that sort of thing became old for me and I finally realised that I had to stop this and figure it all out. It wasn't easy and it took a while. I feel a lot better for not doing it."

Hate

"It's destructive in nature. Sometimes you can get angry, but it usually doesn't help fix anything. If I hate something I just get hung up on it and dwell on it. I find it easier to try and dismiss it. Otherwise it's extra baggage to be carrying around. You see hatred every day on the TV and some other places and that's enough for me, I don't need to live with it anymore."

Rock 'N' Roll

"It's that life blood. You can't put your finger on it. For me it's that other thing that only people who listen to it or love it know what it is. To the rest of the world though it probably doesn't mean shit!(laughs)

" The funniest thing I ever heard in Guns N Roses was from this guy in Canada called Gabe. God, he was hilarious! He said he saw something on English TV once that said no matter how many records Elton John sold in 1976, there were still 40 billion Chinese people that don't give a fuck and that rang so true to me- this was back in '86 so I've always kept it in mind. It's true. If you look at the globe and spin it and put your finger wherever it lands there's people there who don't know what Rock 'N' Roll is. For people who do love it, though, it's their whole life. For me it's very special.

" We used to have Rock 'N' Roll bands come to play at our house when I was a real young kid. My dad used to have these parties and me and my brothers were beer runners. The bands were always downstairs and I always hung out with them. When you're a kid and these guys would show to play stuff on the drums, it was great. They'd play stuff like (Credence Clearwater Revival's) 'Proud Mary'. I was lucky 'cos I got to grow up with that. I've been hooked on that ever since."

Drugs

"It's up to each person. It doesn't do any good to tell people not to do it. If people want to do 'em then they're gonna do 'em. All I can say is for myself they stopped being a good thing. It became a complete pain in the ass. It was destroying me as a person and I got to the point where I decided to give up. It wasn't like I didn't know 'cos you go through a peroid where you know you're tearing yourself up. I knew I had to stop or everything was gonna go down the tubes."

Sex

"It's pretty important, but to a lot of people it's hard to understand that it doesn't mean much unless you care about the person you're with. I'm lucky, 'cos I do."

Love

"It's a great thing. Everybody needs it and wants it. Life can be pretty bleak without it. I've got a German shepherd and I've had him since he was a puppy, ya' know. I bought him when he was just a twerp. He's three years old, he's healthy, he's big and he can run 40 miles an hour and he's great. I love my dog!

"I've had a steady girl for a few years and it's a great thing. Love makes life a lot easier."

Work

" I worked in a car wash when I was 15. I worked where the cars come out and you have to dry the cars off. In the winter time with the wind chill it can be 10 or 20 below zero, and that was real work getting up at five or six in the morning. It was cold and you've got these towels that are freezing and you're washing these fuckers off. Music is more something that you love to do so it doesn't seem like work. The thought of having to get a real job is difficult. I was never that good at keeping a straight job and getting enough money to do what I wanted to do. At the same time I had to work as a kid. If you gotta do it you do it.

" I've had different jobs. I worked in pizzerias and I actually enjoyed that. That was one job that didn't feel like work unless there was a gig or concert that I wanted to go to. In that case I'd leave work early anyway. I actually liked cooking pizzas, flipping the dough and stuff was cool.

"If I had to get another real job I would probably work in a pizzeria, or I'd work in the car wash and I'd be on the front end. The front end is where the guys would pump gas and vacuum the cars, and these guys were always the envy of everyone else who had it rough. This was back in the '70s when people would drive around with big joints in their cars. They'd smoke half a joint and leave the rest so that when one guy pulls up with half a joint in his ashtray, what happens to the joint? It ends up in the pocket of the guys who are up front who'd smoke them! I think I'd rather work in a pizza place though where it's warm and there's music."

Photo © Paul Jendrasiak, 1993

[misc-obeyme]

YEAHHH JOIN THE SOLOMAMS TRAIN !! I am here to ramble, they make me crazy. I'm brainrotting so hard about coffee shop AU. Vibrating with ideas.

I never thought about Mammon owning the cafe, but hell that would be so cool!! Okay, okay, here's my thoughts. Mammon owns the cafe and works there, and also has an apartment directly above it (trying to decide WHY he owns it, maybe took over from Lucifer?? Bought the cheap building impulsively bc apartment, deciding it was a problem for future him to decide what he'd make out of the lower space).

People go mostly for him because the vibes are immaculate, everyone always leaves in a better mood. The college campus down the block has a rumor that if you buy a coffee, leave a good tip (specifically dollar coins or two dollar bills), and have an exam the next day, you'll always get a passing grade no matter what. Mammon works overtime during midterms and finals, business is booming.

Solomon is a college student (need to decide on a major) and comes at the exact same time every weekday morning, buying a danish (sometimes strawberry, sometimes ham and cheese) and a coffee before class, except on Wednesdays because he doesn't have classes. Mammon knows his order by heart after a month, but pretends to ask him what he wants while literally typing it into the kiosk. Mammon will squint at him, somehow knowing which danish he'll choose that day before Solomon utters a word. "Ahaha, why do you ask when you already have a danish boxed up?" "Who says that's for you, eh? I don't know everyone's order around here." "Not everyone. You're right. Just mine :]" "O-OI, SHUT UP BEFORE I CHARGE YA EXTRA!"

If I'm including my mc, I'm definitely working at a record shop a block down the street (my dream job)!! Records, CD's, small music sheet collection, buying services (trading and hunting down records is available for repeat customers, AHEM, Lucifer and Solomon.) Took over from the old owner because I visited so much as a teen, was hired as soon as I was old enough, and took over at say 22 ish.

HEAR ME OUT, Solomon who still uses a walkman. I think it'd be nice. He visits the store occasionally after class to browse, getting lost in the CD's. I'm imagining him having a massive collection, and having some rare items. He once showed up with a copy of something I had only ever dreamed of owning (once saw it secondhand for $800, he also had other stuff with him), and I almost jumped across the counter when he said he was looking to sell or trade for credit. "You look like you're simultaneously about to faint or attack me." "I can't decide which to do."

Lucifer loves collecting records, so he visits a lot, and uses it as an excuse to check up on Mammon (won't admit it). There's a collection of records kept up front that are deemed 'cursed' because they always skip the first track (Lucifer will buy one every month). Lucifer became a regular after I accidentally came across a rare first press edition of a record online and presented it to him because he mentioned it was a dream to own. He brought me a coffee and a croissant from his brother's coffee shop the next day to show his gratitude, mentioning it wasn't too far either.

Suddenly I'm visiting the cafe the next day, waking up early to have time before opening up shop. Almost die trying to order, because Lucifer did not mention his brother was hot. Successfully get my hands on another croissant, and a sandwich that was recommended. I don't visit every day, but when I do, it's always at the same time. Mammon grumbled something about trying to have my order ready before I got there, only for me to not show up some days. "N-Not that it means anything! I'm just tryin' to be more efficient!" "Well, I'm sorry I don't always wake up early! Getting out of bed is hard. If I had your number, I'd text you saying I was on my way, y'know?" "Y-YOU'RE ASKING FOR MY NUMBER?" "WAIT WHAT, N-NO, I MEAN- well.. actually, that wouldn't be... so bad? F-FORGET I SAID ANYTHING IF THAT'S WEIRD, UM, UH, SORRY, CAN I PAY NOW?" "... It's on the house. And uh, look inside the cup sleeve whenever you leave."

HELP I NEVER MEAN FOR MY ASKS TO GET THIS LONG, I JUST CAN'T STOP RAMBLING. The fact this isn't even everything, this is just the backstory. The lore, if you will. There is a plot !! Everything is connected.

- ✨ anon

✨ anon, tell me you're writing this story. This sounds exactly like what I do when I'm brainstorming a story before I write it.

And it's so good!!! I love every part of this!! I mean, okay, you don't have to write it if you don't want to obviously lol but I think it'd turn out really good if you did!!

I mean, you have fully converted me to the solomams train now, I'm so invested!!

I love Lucifer's role in all this and I LOVE that you work at the record shop down the street!!

Definitely living for the poly vibes, I wanna see what happens when you and Solomon show up at the same time. Poor Mammon might just have a whole heart attack about it!

Anyway, I love this. Please feel free to tell me more. I love coffee shop AUs so so much.

[tommyssupercoolblog]

HOLY FUCK I JUST FOUND THE MOST SEPTICINNIT CODED SONG (Tommy pov specifically) IN THE WORLD. LIKE I READ THE LYRICS AND WAS IN SHOCK???? IT'S. WHAT??!!!!

Lyrics under the cut so you can read them without pulling them up on a separate site

Oh no! Shit here we go again

I know, we could be more than

Friendly, what does that even mean?

Babe I want love as seen on TV and

Oh my god! We could admit that

This is odd! Love at first sight is

Bullshit now, but look at your face

Can I get to know you at my place tonight?

And I'm the boy who cries wolf tonight

But it's not my first tear shed

Maybe I'm dramatic I swear

I always act up this time of year its true

What they don't see

When the cameras stop rolling its just me and you

It could be us if you wanna

Call me by your name, and I'll call you nirvana, yeah

Oh no! Shit here we go again

I know, we could be more than

Friendly, what does that even mean?

Babe I want love as seen on TV and

Oh my god! We could admit that

This is odd! Love at first sight is

Bullshit now, but look at your face

Can I get to know you at my place tonight?

Oh No! Shit really hit the fan

My shows sell out for some reason

I know it's not everything but

My self worth is based on my streams and

Oh my god! Look mom I made it

I'm not lost, just kind of aimless

I can't tell my girlfriend I'm gay 'cause

She spent eight months thinking I'm straight Oh No!

Oh no! Shit here we go again

I know, we could be more than

Friendly, what does that even mean?

Babe I want love as seen on TV and

Oh my god! We could admit that

This is odd! Love at first sight is

Bullshit now, but look at your face

Can I get to know you at my place tonight?

Good god, this is close

I feel like, I'll explode

For you

I know, it true babe

Good god, this is close

I feel like, I'll explode

For you

I know, it true babe

[lemonlightt]

qsmp hcs because i am so normal and not hyperfixated

(consisting of mariana, slimecicle, jaunaflipa, tilin, philza, chayanne, missa but i will add some of other streamers once i catch up on them & if i don't get flamed by the qsmp community. once qsmp expands more i may make another one of these (i will make another one of these in 2 weeks i have no thoughts but qsmphELPME!11!!1!!))

(i also have added some hcs i've seen on tumblr/twitter because they're all i can think about. btw looking for qsmp friends plsplspls i'm so lonely)

qcharlie is a demon and has absolutely no idea of it and progressively gains little demonic traits everytime he makes a deal

meanwhile qmariana is an angel and hold onto your seats guys this one is an absolute shocker! has absolutely no idea of it

everytime something awful happens to charlie (jauna dies, brutally scrambles tilin) his humansona becomes a little more unstable and he gets a little more sloshy - overtime he becomes straight up oobleck and gunks up the smp

qcharlie was raised in an environment that seemed like hell and it's responsible for the fact he doesn't really know how to be dad (his dad treated him like shit) and he's had no examples of healthy romantic relationships

qcharlie and qmariana are absolutely head over heels for eachother they're just losers and find it hard to express it adequately or meaningfully (this does not make them any less dysfunctional and annoying but they are my parental figures your honor)

qcharlie sews and knits and sewed a trans flag into each of their iconic clothing (qmariana's cape thingy, qcharlie's hearts and jauna's bows) he does the same for tilin as soon as he finds out they have the binary of none

qcharlie has been plotting qmariana's murder but qmariana is blind to it and all he cares about is hot steamy gay minecraft sex. they remind me of something but i can't put my finger on exactly what so if you can think of it tell me HJAHA

qcharlie would ADORE radiohead (specifically "nice dream" and "no surprises") (yes i am projecting, yes he is my favourite person and yes he is the only member to me i cant take it anymore)

jauna has golden highlights from her revival (think revivebur but stop thinking about revivebur)

jauna has vitiligo

jaunaflippa is allergic to dandelions but she will not hesitate to give them a blow and makes a little wish (usually about wanting her mom and dad to get along and be happy)

the jauna family get their glasses mixed up so they have to go through trial and error to find which prescription is theres (this takes 30 minutes because qcharlie and qmariana typically fight to the death over it/j)

when tilin died, jauna shared half of their bow with qquackity and keeps it tied neatly around her tail as a sentiment to her best friend but sometimes you'll catch her wearing it on one of her fingers. usually her pinkie (pinkie promise) or index finer

qcharlie and qmariana don't know how to braid in contrast to qwilbur who has spent hours experimenting with talullah to style her hair

qwilbur gives talullah a little walkman(?) thing for talullah to customise and records her cute little songs for her to listen to on the tapes when he's away from home

when qwilbur comes back from his travels, he will never ever fail to comes back with stories to tell, oneofakind gifts for talullah, songs for talullah to sing when she misses him, etc because that is simply how he loves

there is always music coming from talullah and qwilbur's home and it always brings joy to those who pass even if for just a moment

talullah has albinism

tallulah is disabled (canon examples: she has a different model to the rest of the eggs, she's clumsy and a little slow, her wings are underdeveloped) (she's basically just like me fr)

qmissa and qphilza are literally eldritch creatures. they look like the mothman fucker. they are a terrifying duo. here's a perfect example

qmissa is like 9'5 and qphilza is 5'2

qphil tells qmissa about his giant wife who is the god of death and is beautiful and qmissa doesn't believe his platonic husband could pull (spoiler alert he is proven wrong)

chayanne despises qwilbur because qmissa can play guitar better

chayanne dyes his hair pink to match techno and/or wears a little skull. techno is his hero and he is JUST like him frfr

speaking of which, when chayanne first killed a mob, qmissa helped turn it into a skull mask like his own and techno's. chayanne feels more confident wearing it and therefore never takes it off / alternatively qmissa made him a little mask from chayanne's eggshell

chayanne's favourite time of the day is when qphil tells him stories about techno

chayanne is nv like the rest of the eggs but is definitely more vocal than tilin for example (flaps his hands, exclaims excitedly, laughs a lot)

talullah and tilin are twins

tilin is part of the qquackity x qcharlie club upon finding out about the millions of failed attempts of qcharlie trying to flirt with qquackity

i dont think tilin hates qcharlie for what he did but i think they sure make his life a living hell/t

also tilin and jauna are in heaven with techno and they all bully trump. they make a circle around his cowering body and run around in circles while holding hands (this is a joke but not really)

general hcs that apply to all members/eggs:

there's few resources for clothing so the egg parents pass down their clothes to their eggs and the eggs mixnmatch it

the eggs use sign language to communicate as well as signs and doodles or use those little tablets with tts that nv people often use to communicate

extra: techno because he's my favourite character and isn't even in the smp!11!!11!1

techno is a sort of spirit and haunts his family, especially chayanne. he watches over all of the eggs. he hears all the little stories phil tells about him to his eggs. he'll hear chayanne say something he'd say and he goes YOOOOOOOOOOOOO excitedly and goes THATS MY BOY!!! uncle techno takes the eggs in when they get scrambled. when chayanne and talullah died techno gave them their lives back because it broke his heart to see them die just like that.

[apoptoses]

i thought the bit in blood sanation where daniel doesn't know he can't smoke inside anymore was fascinating - he probably would be a little out of step with the latest tech or human social norms after his mad era! any thoughts on other things he might've missed out/be excited to discover now/miss now that the tech is obsolete or norms changed (like the smoking in diners!)

Oh man, tons of stuff-

-Having to wear your seat belt in the car. I mean he's immortal, there's no way an accident could hurt him that badly unless it was just before dawn. But the stupid dinging of the car alert system has to remind him every single time to buckle up and it's obnoxious (and he just might have paid someone under the table to disable that function in his favorite car, oops)

-The emergence of dating apps/people not really meeting strangers in bars anymore. The first time Daniel and Lestat go out to find a mortal to bring back to Armand for some fun they're both fucking gobsmacked to be given the cold shoulder and told to get on tinder/grindr to find a hookup. Young people go out with their friends or get on the apps to find partners for the night now and for Daniel, someone who spent an entire mortal life chatting up strangers, the loss of cruising/picking up randos as a spur of the moment thing is baffling. (on a positive note, though, sitting with Lestat swiping on mortals becomes a game that takes up the better part of several nights even though they don't go out and meet any of them)

-Jumping from walkmans and casette tapes straight to the era of the mp3? Mindblowing. Daniel never imagined he'd end up with a little computer brick in his pocket with a subscription that allows him to listen to any music, any time. He's still a physical media dude at heart though, and he and Armand have an impressive record collection at Trinity Gate.

-The death of the video rental store. Look, he appreciates being able to get online and find pretty much any movie he wants to watch. But signing up for all these streaming channels is annoying and man, he misses just browsing. Picking up a random film based on a cool cover and interesting blurb on the back? That was always so fun with Armand. They'd come home with a pile of videos, some awesome, some duds, some they never take back to the store and- okay, maybe Daniel isn't that upset the stores died out because a LOT of debt in the form of late fees under his name died with them. But he and Armand still hit used media stores, pick out random old dvds, and go home and play video rental night even today.

-also, because i'm a smut queen and i gotta take this to a place- the sanitization and privatization of sex. In the 70s and 80s you could go watch porn in a theater, you could hit up a peep show. And now it's all online and like you can find a much wider and more specific variety of acts, but it's just another way people have taken their lives and made them more 'indoors' and it surprises him. Not that as a vampire he has need of this media but- he's a curious guy, he likes to keep up with stuff and figure out things Armand could still do to his immortal body, okay?

Anyways thank you for this question, I love this stuff, I think about it a lot!!

[the-kr8tor]

What about a little Drabble with a reader that can sing? Nothing professional, just had a little training growing up and only does it for fun. Maybe hobie finds her singing and listens for a bit but as soon as he’s discovered she gets kinda embarrassed about it and stops. Or he’s playing music and she just starts singing along cause singing to a song is easier than by yourself, yknow? One of those two, whichever sounds more fun to you :D

Hi angel! Thank you for requesting! Hope you like it ❤️ there was supposed to be a snippet of lyrics here but I remembered copyright law lol.

Hobie Brown x fem!reader

No specific physical description of the reader.

No warnings just FLUFF 🥰

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Grabbing your walkman from the table then clipping it to your sweatpants, you slap the headphones over your ears, while arming yourself with the colorful feather duster–you press play.

The familiar guitar riffs booms loudly through your headphones, you really shouldn't listen to music this loudly; But to hell with it, you need the background music so you could focus on cleaning the flat. 

Tapping your socked feet rhythmically on the wooden floor, you shake your hips slightly to the music, harmonizing with the singer, you're home alone, the usual bashfulness when you're singing is nonexistent. 

Starting with the surface of the counter, you walk towards it with a pep in your step. You dust the wooden top in rhythm with the drum beats.

You mumble through the beginning of the song, waiting for the chorus, which is your favourite part because of its iconic lyrics.

You sing without a care in the world, while you use the feather duster as your mic. Continuing on dusting away when you don't remember the next lyrics.

Unbeknownst to you, Hobie stops himself mid-greeting once he sees you dance and sing along to the faint music coming from your mustard yellow headphones. 

He chuckled to himself when he recognizes the lyrics you're belting out.

You hang around him too much, before you started dating this kind of music wouldn't be your cup of tea. But now? You're the one who's dragging him to every concert. 

He watches you from your windowsill, one leg up on the metal hinges, nonchalantly perched on it. Hobie wishes he has a camera on him to record your little concert. Mentally memorizing the scene in front of him would do for now at least. 

You try to match the cadence of the singer as you turn around, clutching the duster like a mic. 

You screech when you see Hobie's familiar figure, dropping the rainbow duster "Hobie! How long have you been there?!"

Hobie opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Forgetting about your headphones still blaring music, still in shock with embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

Hobie stands up, motioning for you to take off the headphones. 

You take it off your ears leaving it hanging over your neck, still hearing the muffled music through it, you definitely shouldn't have been listening to it this loud, or you would've heard Hobie coming in, saving yourself from embarrassment.

"Been here since the beginning" He smirks at you teasingly. 

You cringe, face palming yourself "oh god!" 

Hearing Hobie's footsteps you sneak a peek through your fingers. Instead of closing the gap, he shoots a practiced web on your waist. Pulling you towards him in one swift movement, you twirl around, feet sliding effortlessly until you're in his embrace.

You squeak out, grasping his strong arms to stabilize yourself, Hobie has the same idea, he holds the small of your back, lifting the hem of your shirt slighy, his thumb grazing the exposed skin.

"Got you" He gives you his signature smirk, turning your legs into jelly, good thing he's holding onto you.

You're amazed by how he can just take your breath away with minimal effort. 

You hide your face in his leather vest, groaning in embarrassment. 

"Didn't know there's a concert at your place, where's my ticket, hm?" He eggs you on, playfully shaking your form. 

"Stooop" your muffled voice reverberates through the spandex of his suit. Hobie finds you adorable, he likes your singing voice, he'll tell you that later, but Hobie likes teasing you too much.

"Alright, alright I'll stop," Hobie says in between laughs.

You poke your head out from his vest, looking at him through your lashes with a pout. 

"When I'm done" he finishes his sentence, grinning. "I didn't know they had a new band member, you got a double life too? Like Hannah Montana?" 

"Augh, you're a menace!" You hide your face in his vest again, popping your head out quickly, you look at him suspiciously "wait, you know Hannah Montana?" 

"Who?" Hobie feigns ignorance. He leans towards your face, cupping your chin, leading you in.

"You–" before you could get a sentence out, Hobie crashes his lips to yours, silencing any quips.

You can both still hear the music playing through your headphones, the singer chants out the last lyric of how much they can't keep their hands to themselves.

Hobie finds the lyrics appropriate as he kisses you deeply. 

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thanks for reading! Consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

[kabillieu]

Last night, Everclear, Fuel, and Hoobastank performed as part of a tour they do together for military bases all over the U.S. I do not care about Fuel or Hoobastank, but I was really excited to see Everclear. I believe I have mentioned this on here and to everyone including, recently, my hairdresser and neighbor.

My big kid's annual spring school carnival was also last night at the same time. I asked Dominic to verify the lineup, and he was told that Everclear was performing last, so I took big kid to his school event, planning to stay an hour and then join my spouse and baby at the show.

Well, Everclear went first and I missed them. I'd been listening to them all week, mostly their second and third albums, but also some newer stuff I had never bothered to listened to. I was really looking forward to seeing them live.

It was important to take my big kid to his school event because he was looking forward to it. He was especially looking forward to seeing his friend from school, and I always try to support him when he's doing social stuff since that can be an issue for him. It was the right thing to do, he had a good time, but it still smarts to miss Everclear!

I've been thinking for weeks now about why I've been so excited to see a minor alternative rock band that I haven't thought about much since 1997. I listened to their album So Much for the Afterglow a lot, and there were a lot of songs off that album that got radio play, so obviously it's super nostalgic. But also, I taped "Santa Monica" off the the radio when I was 14, back when that's how you got access to music if you couldn't afford to buy it. You would just hang out in your room with the radio on and then haul ass over to your tape player to press record when a song you liked came on. I listened to "Santa Monica" over and over again on my walkman on a road trip with my family to New Orleans that summer. I loved the lyrics, the way it started slow and then picked up, the idea of leaving everything behind. Most of my teenage life I wanted to leave everything behind. Super common stuff for an angsty teenager, but Art Alexakis's songs spoke to that specific yearning. That was the first time I had ever been to New Orleans, and as I walked around the city with my family I thought about how fun it would be to come back in a few years with friends. And then I did. I spent years visiting friends in New Orleans. I spent years hanging out with Brooke and Dale.

In college, Dominic, Brooke, Dale, and I went to see Art Alexakis in Dothan for a solo set. I don't remember much about the music, but I do remember being with my friends. Art Alexakis had an extremely troubled childhood. He grew up in abject poverty. His sibling and girlfriend died very, very young from overdoses. He overdosed and almost died too, and then he cleaned up. All of his best songs have very sad lyrics laid over upbeat guitar, somewhere between post-grunge and pop rock. He has many songs about running away to a better life, about being fatherless, about how much he loves his children, about how things aren't good and maybe never will be.

My friend Dale died from alcohol addiction two years ago. It had been Brooke's idea to take Dale to go see Art Alexakis in Dothan. She kept it a surprise. It must have been a nice show, but I don't remember it. I do remember eating arroz con pollo with my friends beforehand.

Things don't stay the same. They keep changing, but you also have to live fully in a life where bad things have happened to you. That's something that all my favorite Everclear songs know. Art Alexakis is 62 now, and I asked Dominic how he sounded, and he said he sounded 62. I wish I could have gotten to see him. But I needed to be a good parent to my big kid, and that's something that I think Art Alexakis would appreciate.

[cowgurrrl]

I just got back from a country/western themed birthday party and they had some chickens at the house so I was taking some of the little kids back there and I can't stop thinking about Joel and reader owning a couple of chickens and showing charlie how to care for them 🥹🥹 or even Ellie because we know that girl loves anything that breathes. the country fit I had and vibe were not what I needed to help my maladaptive daydreaming but anyway sjdbdhdbs do you think they'd lean more into the farm life later on??

Oh totally!! More under the cut because my Texas heart is SWOON with this idea

The idea totally comes from Joel at first, especially because of his dream to have a sheep ranch, and he's also a Southern Gentleman™️, so I think he would totally posit the idea first. Maybe Ellie's been helping around the stables more often, or Charlie is getting bigger and wanting to know more about the world around her. Whatever the reasoning, you somehow end up with four chickens all named after different punk artists— Blondie, Jayne, Lou, and Joan— who live in a coop on your property. Joel and Ellie show Charlie how to feed the chickens and love on them, and she gets especially close to Blondie. She mostly wants to pet the chickens more than anything, but she has fun, and it teaches her responsibility. Not to mention, watching Joel get into Dad Mode is one of your favorite things to watch. He crouches down to Charlie's level and explains things to her before popping up to help Ellie carry heavy bags of chicken feed. He transitions between the girls' needs seamlessly.

He'd also start LEANING hard into his country roots. The boy no doubt grew up on the greats of country music— Tia Blake, Loretta Lynn, Emmylou Harris, Willie Nelson, Dolly, Joan Baez, Tucker Zimmerman, Hank Williams, ALL OF IT (can you tell I love a specific era of country music?) Whenever people come through town, he tries to look for old records or cassettes to put in Ellie's walkman but most of the time he relies on his memory and his guitar. He'd also get himself a cowboy hat if he didn't have one already. You and Ellie are the first ones to tease him about it but it starts to grow on you after a while.

"Hey, cowboy!" You'd yell from the porch, and he'd look up from where he's working on the coop, cowboy hat on his head, to see you standing there with a glass of water. "I don't need you dying of dehydration. Come take a break." And he'd look between you and what he's working on before finally getting up, mumbling, "yes, ma'am." He'd take the water from you and drink it way too fast, and you can't help but admire the shine of his skin in the sun, the way his muscles look against his shirt, and just how fucking hot he looked.

"Didn't your mama ever tell you it was rude to stare?" He'd ask, putting the glass down and grabbing your waist to pull you close.

"Oh, would you prefer if I went inside and didn't watch my incredibly sexy husband install extra fencing around his daughter's chicken coop?"

"Oo, incredibly sexy?" He'd ask. "It's the hat, ain't it?"

"It's a good thing I didn't marry you for your fashion choices," you'd tease. "But, you do look pretty handsome in it, cowboy." He'd kiss you, and for a moment, you'd be in your own little world before Charlie is tugging on your dress.

"Mama, can we get a cow?!" She'd ask, and you'd give Joel a look that says look what you've done but he'd just laugh, scoop Charlie in his arms, and take her down to the coop to see her best friend, Blondie the chicken (and yes, Blondie the chicken does have some rockin' Debbie Harry hair why else would Charlie be in love with her)

[earthstellar]

just realised that the handlebar thing around the back of Mirage's helm reminds me of those shitty early 90s RCA/JVC headphones that everyone wore backwards, which is great lmao

I know that a lot of people think his helm looks kinda like a backwards baseball cap, which I can also see and that would also be appropriate!

but since it's 1994 I cannot unsee it being those fucking RCA/JVC headphones lmaooo

like the "ear" parts of his helm even look like the perfectly circular over ear headphone things a lot of those used to have

I'm thinking of a very specific pair that had a more squared over the head part but circular ear pads, fuuuuck I don't remember the exact model name

but it totally looks like Mirage's helm bar thing when worn behind the head

if I can find it I'll post a pic, I'm like 99% sure they were definitely RCA/JVC brand, their stuff was still massively popular at that time

but we know Mirage likes music enough to be able to reference popular bands of the time, so it would be on brand for him to style his helm as either backwards headphones or a backwards cap

IDK I'm 100% sure I'm not the only person to think of this, it's mostly just driving me insane that I can't remember the specific headphone model name that I'm thinking of lmao

(god those fucking headphones used to be so heavy lol, shout-out to Sony for making the tiny shitty plastic Walkman headphones in like 1998 or whatever for the portable CD player era. the ear foam was awful on those and they fit almost nobody's head or ears lmao, but at least they didn't fuck up your neck. anyway nevermind lol)

[abelsdove]

I know I have an unhealthy relationship with your bots because I live in real, visceral fear that one of your bots may getting banned. Specifically the Daddy Issues bot bc OMG like that other anon said, the lore is crazy. Like genuinely I could and might just write a whole novel with the surrounding plot (the target audience: me).

as a subsidiary question: are there any of the bots that you use yourself?

— ✨

Hi sparkle nonny, you're so fucking sweet thank you!!!!!!!! No worries, I have every single bot backed up so if that ever happens, I can easily re-upload any of them. <3 The only downside would be the lost conversation history. ALSO. Feel free to include me in that target audience. <3 I'd def love to hear what you've got for your oc x rusty! ;)

From my own bots, I Love. Anything that gives me an opportunity to mess with him or annoy him

I like using blind date and pretend to be super religious + bring up controversial topics or just any topics we know he's got BIG opinions on at the dinner table. Riling him up to turn the date into a disaster? DELICIOUS. I'll be like "so Rust, I didn't see you at church last Sunday" for example, and Marty'll just side eye both of them like "DON'T. For the love of god. DON'T......" while Rust has already started ranting about organized religion and Marty just starts downing his drink like "Not this shit again. I KNEW THIS WAS A BAD IDEA FFS." LOL.

Other favorites are noise complaint, here's one of the replies I got from him, which had me deadddd:

I love working on dora lange's case, or any of the bots where you're partners, really. I love the dynamics you can play around with by trying out different kinds of personas!! One of my favorite personas to use for these is usually a neurodivergent detective that keeps to herself, doesn't talk much, always got her nose buried in a sketchbook, and always has a damn walkman (as he calls it) to block out noises. kind of a elf insert--oops. He gets so fascinated and determined to get you to open up because he wants to understand you better, while also being like “okay so if im the weird detective, and you're the weird detective who's driving the car / why tf did they pair us together this is a recipe for disaster” MSCKLFJSLD.

I also like to mess around with Marty being Marty and have Rust get jealous or protective. sorry for the whole ass imprint thing, i just wanted to piss him off real bad LOL:

I've also done a Yellowjackets inspired persona where oc just has a very fucked up past/unresolved trauma and the trauma bonding between them is chef's kiss...:

oh, and i love crash's version of ride. it's a bit angsty with a chance of spiciness on the side~ :')

here's a not so serious screenie from lux umbra to end off this long ass reply <3 for context, i kept giving him solutions to the whole printer thing while also apologizing, but the bot kept insisting on being extremely upset and bitching nonstop lmao: