EYES ROLL TO THE BACK OF HER head, leaning down to snag her keys from the floor. “ i ain’t the begging type. ” swiftly, she plops the bundle of jingling keys into her purse, a smile appearing on her face. “ give me a break, i thought you were some creep trying to take me away. i just went through the stages of grief. ” mona is quick to defend herself, arms crossing over her chest. “ nah, don’t bother. don’t take my kindess for granted, though. i’ll let it slide ‘cause you’re so cute. ” she admits with no hesitation, turning to tug on the shop’s door to make sure it was locked. “ well, i’m headed home. —or i might get food on the way, i haven’t decided. ”
“I could see you being the type that gets what she want undoubtably.” Mona was beautiful, that was to be acknowledged without question. But in the same vein, she had a personality that demanded to be viewed above her beauty and thats was Dawson liked about her. “With how quickly you can go through all five stages of grief, I’d consider method acting. Flipping your emotions like a switch could make you a few millions. Plus, I suppose you’ve got the looks for it.” He rolled his eyes playfully at the girl, the small smile tucked in the corner of his mouth never quite leaving his face. When Mona called his cute, Dawson could feel the blood rush to his face and cause his ears to heat up. He laughed softly, his smile only growing wider. “I would never dream of taking you kindness for granted.” As the girl assessed her agenda for the night, he perked up at the idea of joining her. “Should we make it a party of two in the interest of the two of us not getting brutally murdered and dying alone but instead dying together? Romantic, I know.”
Normally, after touring for awhile and coming back home, any and all attempts and writing new music would be done in the recording studio Jen had set up in her home. But with the weather turning to that point where it was feeling nice out? She couldn’t resist taking her guitar and hallowed notebook outside to an empty bench in town. Sometimes just sitting outside, among the townies, gave her more inspiration than staring at the four walls of her studio. Which typically didn’t help her inevitable lack of inspiration some days, something that always pushed her outside. It was just more freeing to be out in the open, kind of like being on stage in front of all the people who for some reason paid to see her and her band perform everywhere. That thought alone still crazy to Jen, despite how many years they’d been performing.
Noticing the camera, she instantly thought that this person had to recognize her…but then his comment when he noticed her looking suggested otherwise. “Hey no worries, I’m kind of use to it by now? Not necessarily in this town but other places it happens.” Jen chuckled before shutting her notebook and setting her guitar to the side. Another soft laugh escaped her. “Yeah? Well thanks. Truthfully though I don’t think I could deal with television, I prefer performing on stage with my guitar.” Jen criss-crossed her legs underneath her on the ground, her back leaning against a tree as she listened to the other, nodding. “That does sound heavy, but also really interesting if I’m being honest. What’s it called? I’d love to check it out, I’ve always been something of a true crime fan. And obviously this has weight considering I’m from here.”
“Are you used to it because you’re a beautiful person or do you have some type of infamy I’m unaware of?” Dawson asked curiously. He wasn’t hitting on the girl by any means, but it was clear as day to anyone who looked in her direction that she was attractive. She probably got a lot of compliments, probably unsolicited by men in ways far more scandalous than Dawson had conveyed. “Well, good for you then. If you’re not utilizing your looks, use your talent instead. It gets you further in the end, wouldn’t you say?” He had barely noticed the guitar in her hands. Dawson wasn’t very observant when it came to everyday life but typically once he found something that sparked his interest he was known to be a bit more intrigued. “It’s not quite done yet. Still in the early stages of interviewing and sifting through hours of footage of people say how awful a tragedy it was and making it about them.” Dawson chuckled lowly. “But when it’s done, I’ll be sure to give you holler. But that’d be difficult only knowing your face, can’t search someone on Facebook through facial recognition quite yet. I’m Dawson.” He held up a hand to the girl as he squatted and lowered himself onto the grass where she sat.
peach hollow had seen better days . which was saying something , considering the constant looming threat of some shadow-y, peach eating figure pulling the strings like a marionette . but now , apparently the town’s beloved peach-eating blackmailer has added murder to his modus , it made nolan think if the incident at the campgrounds was more of a failed attempt ( thank goodness it was ) . he was passing by the square , on his way to visit clarissa back in the bookstore when he saw a camera aimed at him . despite how mellowed out nolan is since two years ago , pretty sure unsolicited photos taken of you is something people wouldn’t want . he calmed down a bit when dawson said he wasn’t filming . nolan shrugged , “ yeah , uh , was it the peacher that did it ? i’m sorry , i haven’t been in town in two years . “ and it wasn’t probably the most sensitive of nolan to ask that . glad to see some things haven’t changed .
“That’s what the people are saying.” Dawson shrugged as he let the camera hang lowly against his chest. “Of course, there’s no way of truly knowing considering we don’t know who the peacher is nor do we know who committed the murders. But it’s not everyday murders and a local terrorist happen within years of each other.” He shrugged as he leaned back against the tree, looking over at the other man. “What brings you back? Has missing the chaos finally brought you back for more?”
J.D’s days off were often spent out of the apartment these days if they could be, considering the hostility that he felt in his own apartment. It wasn’t like he had done anything wrong, but sometimes it felt like he had, somehow. Like maybe he had brought it on himself. And then even then, he felt guilty throwing a pity party for himself when people were losing their lives, which he was quickly reminded of at the sight of Dawson. For all the loss he felt, it would never compare to his. Still, that didn’t show in J.D’s face when the other greeted him, clearly spying him in the camera. “I mean, no big deal if you were.” He stood up a little straighter and made a face, trying to imitate the seriousness of a model’s expression, but quickly dropping it in favour of a laugh.
“You think?” He held his palm up to his cheek and mulled that over for half a second before reminding himself that he would sooner see pigs flying than acquire any kind of talent in acting. Stepping closer to him as he explained, J.D. nodded at his explanation, peering from the camera back up to him. “Oh… yeah, how’s that going? Are you like, interviewing people?” He questioned, brows furrowing together in concern. “What, it’s too sensationalised? I’m sure you’re trying to do it justice, dude.” Reaching out, J.D. clapped his shoulder, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile in an attempt to be comforting.
Dawson couldn’t fight the chuckle that expelled from his full lips as JD struck his finest model pose. He held the camera up as though he was going to start recording, peering over the edge over the lens with a cocked brow. “Oh, you want to make one of those movies?” He teased before letting the camera fall against his chest. “You’re going to have to pay me to record that, man. You got weird fuck me eyes.” Dawson joked before sighing and looking down at the viewfinder on his camera. He had intended to get a ton of filming done but muse was fleeting today. Nothing seemed extraordinary or grandiose, the whole town seemed simply mundane. Nothing noteworthy for film. “I’m supposed to be but nobody seems to have a unique opinion. All sheep. Ooh, it’s so sad. No shit, it’s sad. Six people are laid up in a morgue, it’s not a fucking summer barbecue where we’re all belting Kid Rock by the fire.” Dawson explained, cynical and sarcastic in his delivery. Since Cecelia’s death, his bitterness had been at all time high despite how well he’d surprisingly taken his girlfriend’s murder. “People are desensitized. They’re not even scared anymore, they get more and more careless by the day. I was a girl walking alone with headphones in the other night while I was out photographing. I haven’t stopped checking the missing persons logs and the obituaries, dude. It’s nearly compulsive.” Dawson explained. “But I’m trying to raise awareness so people aren’t dumb and that we bring this sick fuck out in handcuffs. Justice can wait, I presume. Want half my sandwich? It’s PB and J. It could be a PB and JD if you’ll join me in gooey bliss.” He asked, fishing a bagged lunch from his jansport backpack.
when daysia met dawson, she felt like she’d met someone who wouldn’t judge her, someone who was similar to her without all the baggage – at least, without all the public baggage. it had definitely surprised her when he responded to her ad for a roommate posted on the bulletin boards of most of the shops around town. she was skeptical about letting a boy move in, especially after just being a neighbor to two had lead to a lot of heartache that she didn’t want to think about, but he convinced her pretty quickly. it was dawson’s vibe. he didn’t seem threatening, nor did he seem like he wanted to pursue her, both traits she was looking for in a roommate. “i had a thought,” she mused. daysia hopped onto the kitchen counter, kicking her legs back and forth. “if you ever wanted me in on that podcast – we could be called double d,” she quipped with a quick laugh. “i mean, think about it. think how you could stretch across several different demographics – one, which i’m sure you’re not struggling to reach, women. now, i’m a bruh girl according to tiktok. i can bring you all your women loving women audience members, and i guess men too. they don’t always deserve rights, though,” the feminist in her had kicked it up a notch in the past few years. daysia grabbed her phone from the counter and started scrolling the moment dawson mentioned the alien shakers. it took her less than a minute to order them off of amazon. “picture this – blueberry boulevard, 2020,” she put her phone down and put her hands in the air. “i ordered the aliens and we will be putting ground up weed into them and sprinkling it into every piece we use.”
“Love the idea,” Dawson began to assure her that he wasn’t turning down the idea. “But there is a possibility that double D may already be trademarked by the popularized, nineties cartoon Ed, Edd, and Eddy. I don’t think double D, being a erratic, whiney character he is would support everything that my podcast is about. He is very matter-a-fact, too boomer to understand a conspiracy theory in my opinion.” He explained before walking over to the fridge. He pulled out an iced tea and began to sip it from the cracked bottle. Their fridge had become a stockpile of sugary drinks since Daysia had gotten sober. Though it wasn’t a good coping mechanism to replace one addiction with another, it was what they did to stay afloat in the face of bad days. Sugar drinks and emergency cookie dough for snacking a possible and in the consequence of energy, baking. “But on the off chance cartoon network will not come for our necks to capitalize on our small, independent business I fear that the title mad be a bit clickbait-esque. We also need to consider another demographic: the oncologists. The breast specialists. What if they’re just searching the web for a podcast, come across ours and are overjoyed by out boob-influenced name just to be disappointed by our misleading title?” Dawson countered with a raised brow. This is how most of their conversations went considering how argumentative Dee tended to be. As Daysia revealed her amazon purchase, he began to slowly clap. “Do you know you’re a genius? A milled kief dispenser that is an alien? Iconic. All we need is a honey pot filled with dabs.” Dawson began to exit the kitchen before turning back to say, “Speaking of which, wanna smoke and watch Beavis and Butthead? I’ll roll.”
STAYING AT THE SHOP LATE wasn’t her intention, but a client’s piece took a surprisingly longer amount of time than originally anticipated. mona’s got her airpods in as she stands outside the parlor, acrylics fiddling with her keys to lock up. managing to do so, she spins on her heels, finding— “ fuck me !! ” the femme exclaims, clearly startled by the other’s presence. her hand stuffs itself into her purse automatically, before her shoulders slack at the familiar ( and harmless ) face. “ bitch, i was about to pepper spray you and break your nose. give a girl some type of warning next time if you’re gonna walk up on me like that. —did you need something, sugar ?? ”
Late nights had become a commonality in Dawson’s schedule among all else. His nocturnal behavior began around the time of the town’s first murder and certain hadn’t slowed since. He often roamed the streets at night looking for something, anything that could be a possible lead in the infamous Peacher case. Dee had been strolling down Strawberry Lane just past the tattoo parlor when he spotted Mona leaving the shop. Dawson approached from behind, against his better judgement when Mona yelled out, a direct correlation between him starting her and her dropping her keys. “Pushy. You could at least say please.” He joked dude to her vulgar language as he looked down at her with a sweet smile. “You must have a war waging inside you like no other. You just called me bitch, sugar and threatened to pepper spray me all in the same sentence.” Dawson noted as he shook his head, startled himself though he laughed nevertheless. “I was just walking around and was coming to say what’s up. But if you want me to do a lap and announce my presence before I approach, we can have a redo.”
it was always weird settling back into town after being away on tour for so long, finding that it was harder to adjust to their quiet hometown. though with the deaths and the peacher, the silence just felt eerie, like chaos was merely just waiting before dawning down on them. lou had become sort of a household name. at least an INSTAGRAM name, still unsure of why they had so many followers on instagram. they knew it wasn’t just because of the music. maybe because they posted a shit ton of shirtless pics of them while playing on the drums. anyways 1M followers meant they had to deal with a lot of weird fucking fans so lou naturally tensed when the camera was being shone her way.
“yeah that’s the same shit mtv said when they offered us a reality tv gig.” lou said with the shrug of their shoulders, pulling out the lollipop that currently preoccupied their mouth, eyeing him suspiciously, “you want something or are you just one of those genuinely friendly fuckers?” to say they didn’t trust people easily would be an understatement. eyes narrowed as he explained himself, “huh. that’s creepy as fuck. like a documentary?”
“What would you do that for? So the media can twist each one of your narratives and shape it in whatever way they want to make you look like egocentric musicians with God complexes? I don’t know why I’m still surprised when people still ignorantly sign those contracts with stars in their eyes and metaphorical cuffs on their wrists. Sometimes literal. Snooki, Lindsey Lohan, it’s all relative.” Dawson rambled on as he stared at the person before him without a camera glue to his cheek. His eyes squinted due to the exposure to the sunlight but also to see if he could recognize their face in his mental catalogue. He had never been good with faces but rather facts and names. Surely there had to be one celebrity roaming Peach Hollow, but it wasn’t like him to swoon at this person’s will. “No, no,” He laughed softly. “Don’t want anything. Definitely not friendly either. Just stupid and apparently have no spacial aware.” Dawson wet his lips at their question. Maybe he paid too much attention to the homegrown murder case but it always came as a surprise when people were rather tame and nonchalant about the subject. “Kind of. I have a YouTube channel. Not like Smosh or like.. Kids React. I don’t know what you’re thinking of. But, I - uh, make true crime videos. Missing persons cases, conspiracy theories, all that jazz. I talk, people watch, I get money for rambling. It all works out.”
“I’m..trying to be polite.” He looked down and let out a laugh but the smile was gone within seconds and he scratched at his face before slowly looked back up. “I haven’t been back in town long, only for a few months. I’ve..still got a lot of catching up to do.” He said solemnly. There were still some people he hadn’t reconnected with, he’s been avoiding them for as long as he could. He’s made it this long, so far. He shook his head. “holy shit.” was out of his mouth before he could think properly. Six murders. He hoped that he wasn’t making poor judgment choices but he suddenly remembered the Peacher and how the anonymous entity had made tormented Nate and everyone Nate knew. “I’m sorry.” Nate let go of his thoughts for a moment and realized that this guy must’ve known the victim.
“You don’t have uphold the southern hospitality. The more we feed into the stereo type, the more shocked people are when we’re assholes.” Dawson burrowed his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a soft shrug. Inside his head, the man wondered why the other had returned or why he’d left to begin with. The exposure of his father’s identity had likely put the gas in his getaway car but again, Dawson wasn’t going to ask any unnecessary questions. “Well, I’m your guy if want to know anything.” Dawson flexed his blows, his face less than thrilled to be the town’s go-to source for all things surrounding the brutal murder of his ex. “It happened.” He dismissed, instead of saying It’s Okay because truly it wasn’t. But that wasn’t Nate’s fault. “Cece was my girlfriend. So it’s a pretty personal case.” He said plainly though he couldn’t stop thinking about that perfect smile. “Crazy it started out with just some stupid texts.”
Nate shifted uncomfortably, it’s been too long since a camera’s been on him but he still hated them. Oddly enough, Nate’s been told that before. He’s been on local news stations and what not. He still remembers cameras flashing at him when he walked out of the courtroom after his dad’s trail in Florida. The large professional film cameras still intimidated him to this day. He shook his head as he realized that he was thinking about the past again and he shrugged. “thanks, I think.” he managed to say, hoping the guy wouldn’t realize who he was. He blinked at the next sentence, swallowing as he registered what the other had said.
“wait, someone was murdered? Here?” He felt his heart drop. Nate’s mind started racing, he couldn’t comprehend the fact that someone in Peach Hollow had been murdered.
“You’re welcome. Though you’re graciousness does not seem certain.” Dawson said, his brows knitted together at the other’s uncomfortable behavior. Of course he knew who Nate was. The common person probably wouldn’t have recognized him upon first glance but Dee was a different breed. He’d researched every serial killer and major true crime story within a five hundred mile radius, inside and out. But the last thing he was going to do was pry, those involved with tragedy didn’t like that and Dawson knew that first hand. “Six someones to be exact.” How hadn’t he heard about the Peacher’s murder? There were all the town could talk about since the entity’s return for the first time in two years. “You really haven’t heard about it? The mayor’s mistress.. the Caledonia’s owner daughter?” The generalization of the victim’s identities hurt, sending a pang rippling through his chest as he thought about how he just referred to his recently deceased girlfriend’s among her parent’s accomplishments. “-- Cecelia. Pham.” He corrected himself, as if speaking her name into existence would grant himself some type of relief.
It was rare to find Dawson without a camera somewhere on his person. It just so happened on this particular day, he was peering through the viewfinder in an attempt to adjust the lighting through his lens. The older crowd in Peach Hollow knew Dawson Sawyer as a crazier kid, always preaching about education and the ignorance of the townspeople in the face of something as astronomically devastating as an entity now not only emotionally but physically tormenting the town. Other sympathized, knowing it hadn’t been too long since his girlfriend Cecelia has died at the Peacher’s hand. But, he didn’t talk about it much, rather opting to dedicate his sadness to bringing the killer to justice that took someone he care about from him.
Dawson had been turning around when he suddenly viewed someone’s face through the lens, immediately startling him. “I wasn’t recording. Don’t worry.” He assured the other person, shrugging his slender shoulders. “But you do have a face for television, I’d say. Cable is a dying industry though so don’t take that advice to Hollywood.” Dee then slung his camera around his neck as to finally look the other in the eye. Despite the popularity of his youtube channel, he wasn’t quite sure if people knew what he was doing it all for. Most days he just looked like a freak with a camera. “I am recording a video though about a murder’s impact on a suburban town. Heavy subject matter, but it is considerably reality television at this point.”
Cardboard had been piling up in their Blueberry Boulevard’s home recycling bin for weeks. Broken down boxes had consumed the barrels, making the house an eye-rolling sight for the bypassing garbage men. Dawson had just finished the breaking up the last lingering box when he said aloud, “That’s the last one. We’re officially moved in.” He sighed as he tossed the flat cardboard on the counter, not bothering to carry it outside but instead leaning against the kitchen counter to look at Daysia. “I know I was skeptical about the third bedroom at first but having a podcasting, weed studio that we can fondly refer to as The Green Room is not only a luxury but a necessity.” Dawson ran his fingers through his mess of curls, a smile running across his lips as he looked around. “We did pretty good. The only qualm I have is that I wish we got the alien salt and pepper shakers instead of the owls. They have sophisticated bowties but we simply did not pay enough homage to extraterrestrials in our living space and for that I’ll never forgive myself.”
/ * { jordan fisher ☁ twenty-four ☁ he/him } among the whispers around peach hollow, have you heard of dawson sawyer? no? well, let’s catch you up to speed. rumor has it, they’ve been seen strolling around blueberry boulevard & have lived in peach hollow for twenty-four years. it’s good to have them around because i hear they’re a true crime youtuber for a living. the grapevine hasn’t turned out much about them, but that doesn’t mean they’re not hiding something. a word of advice to them, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching. { haley ☁ twenty-one ☁ she/her ☁ est }
personality
dawson is my little conspiracy theorist baby. he runs a true crime youtube channel for a living and also has a podcast. is skeptical ab everything.
loves learning, always reading and researching
SUPER GOOF loves joking around and getting reactions out of people
EVERYTHING !!! SPOOKY !!! ALIENS. GHOSTS. HALLOWEENS. GIVE HIM ALL OF IT.
kinda closed off ab his personality life. keeps to himself mostly.
doesn’t rly know how to flirt, super weird when it comes to making a move
life
if you were to ask dawson’s parents about him, they’d tell you he was always a curious kid. literally the phase kids have when they’re two where they ask why to EVERYTHING, he’s done that all of his life. literally didn’t even believe in santa as a kid.
he was always a good student in school because he’s always loved to learn but he’s always been kind of a smart ass due to his skepticism.
grew up in peach hollow with his parents and his younger sister. they lived on peach place all of his life but he just recently moved to tangerine towers.
graduated college with a degree in broadcast and a minor in film studies. planned to work on the news or in film but his youtube channel took off where he talked ab true crime and conspiracy theories. (he started his channel in high school before the peacher was even a thing)
his youtube channel began to blow up around the time he made a video about the peacher
he’s DETERMINED to get to the bottom of the peacher’s motives even though he has his own secrets :eyes:
he started dating cecelia pham three years ago when they met both living in tangerine, was obviously devestated when she died. is still super fucked up about it but doesn’t really talk about it.
yeah idk im trying to figure him out to be continued
dailybridgerton
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
